tagBDSMJem's Slave

Jem's Slave


"Come here, girl," one of the sitting guards said, leaning back, smiling.

I set my jar down and crossed the slaves' dormitory, kneeling in front of the powerful legs that his uniform handsomely contoured. I didn't look up at him, but I knew his eyes were laughing at my shaking. I didn't have to look at the other seated guard, either, to know he was watching with amused interest.

"It's time to go back inside your cage."

Panic overtook my reflexes at the thought of the cramped, suffocating cage I came in that day, unable to move, so hard to breath. Not knowing what else to do, I flung my chestnut hair onto the grey cement floor. "Please," I begged, "please don't make me go back in there, Master, it's so small..." I'd spent days in there, these guards the first to let me out to stretch...and serve them. I thought I might be given a bed, as the other slaves were already sleeping in.

"Awww..." he laughed, "poor little thing." He spoke deliberately, smoothly, blue eyes flexing, "So scared...and such a pretty little thing to have to spend all that time alone. I'll tell you what: I'll let you stay out here, with me, for a while longer if you want to lick my boots clean." He smiled down at me as the other next to him chuckled.

My wide eyes flew to his dusty boots as I woodenly responded, "Of course, Master... thank you Master," I exhaled, both relieved and upset, as I bent my head to go to work. He reached down and mildly grabbed my hair, guiding me, as he picked up his feet and crossed them on a chair across from him. "There you go, that's more comfortable for us both." He turned to his fellow guard casually, "What time's your shift over?"

I tried to hide my utter disgust for the task since I was grateful for the time it bought me. My tongue glided over every inch of smooth black leather, breathing in the soft, sweet scent as the two men bantered mindlessly about their day, their plans for the next, things they'd like to do; I didn't want to bring attention to myself by doing a poor job. Any speck of dust I found I licked until it shone, sliding my tongue deferentially over the boots of this most kind man. He hadn't hurt me, had let me out of my cage shortly after I arrived, and threw me scraps from his dinner. He didn't have to do any of that; he could have ignored me like the rest of the slaves he was watching over during his shift. He could have left me in the cage until my new owner had called for me. I wanted to delay that meeting as long as possible, and wanted to keep the favor of this guard. I licked, fearfully, gratefully, savoring an opportunity to please him. I didn't want to give him reason to turn on me.

A long while I cleaned, until every inch of his boots was shiny and polished. I desperately searched for new spots, not wanting my task to be over, not wanting to go back inside the cage. But he looked down and noticed the job was finished, turning his feet admiringly. "Not bad, girl, not bad at all." He set his feet on the ground and pulled me in between his knees, forcing me to feel the heat from his body, looking at me with curiosity. "What a good little slut you are. Wouldn't you like to lick the boots clean of any man who asked you?"

I was afraid, unsure of what he was fishing for. "M..master, I would have to do anything I was commanded by a Master," I faltered.

The corners of his mouth pulled his smile just a bit wider. "That's true," he said, pulling me up and onto his lap, "but I think my little slut that I have right here ENJOYS it." He forced me to straddle him, and the small slave's dress I wore rose up far on my hips. I'm never allowed undergarments, so all of my glistening intimacies were widely exposed to him. I couldn't look him in the eyes; I stared at his chest, muscular, tight. He ran both of his hands up the smoothness of my thighs. "And, I think you'd do anything a man asked if it worked to your advantage." His finger reached in between my thighs to tickle my clit. "Isn't that true?"

I squirmed in his lap, my face burning with both intense shame and intense pleasure. "Master, I'd have to do anything a man asked of me, whether or not it worked to my advantage," I whispered, his face so close to mine I breathed in the masculine scent of his skin.

"Ah..." he said, traveling a finger all over my wetness, exploring it as if it were a mystery. "But you know...good slut behavior his rewarded. Bad slut behavior is punished. So I will give you a choice," he kept playing with my clit, driving me further and further to madness, "you may perform for me well and sleep in my bed, or you can leave my fingers right now and go crawl into your cage. What will it be, slut? My bed or your cage?"

"Master, may I sleep in your bed?"

He chuckled, "You'd trade your pussy juice for a nice warm place to sleep?"

"Yes, Master," I choked out.

His sly smile cruelly widened. Smooth and quiet, "Beg me. Beg me to fuck you in exchange for sharing my bed."

"Master," I nearly cried, my eyes filling with tears; how did my life come to this? "This little slave begs of you, please, fuck me and use me however you want, I beg you, and allow me please to share your bed? Please don't make me go back in the cage, I'll do whatever you want..."

"Ah, good girl. Enjoy it, slut; savor every minute of it." One of his hands wrapped around my back while the other hand's fingers pushed deep inside of me, his arms squeezing in on me. "It'll likely be the last time you enjoy sex in a while."

"Speaking of him," said the other guard, "is she a virgin? You know you can't have her if she is."

I gasped sharply as he probed deeper. "Nope..." he cooed, "She's free for us to play with until Prince Jaimeth wants her."

"Damn...this is why I love working for him," said the second sitting upright, now leaning his elbows on his knees. "Best assignment a soldier could ask for."

The guard whose lap I sat upon kept tickling me inside, watching intently my reaction. "What about you, girl...are you happy you are going to be working for Prince Jaimeth? We make it worth you while, do we not?"

My pulse thundered in my ears as my body moved towards ecstasy. I fought with myself to answer him: "Master...I hope...I....am found...pleasing..."

"Awww, such a good little slave," he purred teasingly. "I hope you're found pleasing too."

"Don't hog her all to yourself, let me have a turn."

His mouth twisted reluctantly, but he withdrew his fingers. "Go on, girl. Go show him what I'm going to be enjoying all night."

Nervously, I slid off his lap, hating to leave him, and woodenly walked to the second man. He could clearly see the juices making my thighs wet and sticky. "Well, she likes YOU sure enough! Alright, girl, let's see it. Take everything off; strip!"

I blushed, tears falling from my eyes, as I pushed each strap from my shoulders and let the dress fall to the floor.

"Mmm hmmm, very nice...turn and let me see the back...nice, plump and tight," he gripped my ass and molded my globes together roughly, and I strained to maintain my composure. It's not like I haven't been naked in front of men before. My trainers at the slave school often took our clothes as punishment. But I was still far too new to this to get used to changing hands so easily, having no privacy, no part of my body off limits to any man. When I was sold to Prince Jaimeth, I knew I would have to perform for him. It had never occurred to me that I would also be subject to any man who worked for him, knew him, or was related to him.

"That's enough, you'll get your turn with her. Come here, slut, get on the floor and crawl back to me."

I wanted to cover my body up, run and hide, find a safe place to be. But nowhere was I safe. Nowhere could I hide myself. I would be a physical object for lust, one to work sexual frustrations out on, to give myself wholly to anyone to demand it of me. I wasn't really myself anymore. I was whatever anyone else wanted of me. So my naked skin met with the cold floor, and abjectly I crawled over to my captor for the night, unable to stop shaking from shame. When I reached him, he pulled me back onto his lap, kissing all parts of my body. Although he looked extremely clean shaven, a faint roughness agitated my fair skin. I felt his breath puff against my ear just before he coarsely whispered, "Tell me your name, girl. I want to know who to call for later if you're any good..." I felt him smile, "...and if the Prince keeps you around."

"Saryn, Master. My former Master called me Saryn."

"Mmmm..." he murmured, kissing me, lifting me up to carry me off. "...Saryn. I like it." Once we got to his bed for the night (temporary lodging for this shift), he spread me on the crisp clean sheets. My body drank in the warm embrace of the soft surface before he descended upon me and took me in slow jerking thrusts. I tried to block out the pleasure, tried to remind myself I wasn't always a slave, tried not to enjoy it. But each time his hard heat assaulted my moist cove, I hated myself for thinking I might actually enjoy being a body slave.


My rude awakening came early in the morning, plunged from a deep sleep into shock via a slap onto the cold, hard floor. "Shift's up," my night's keeper explained, pushing me towards the exit with his foot, smiling, "time for you to get to work with the other slaves." He concentrated on dressing himself, and I urgently looked around the room for something to dress myself in.

"Um, Master, what is it that I am supp..." I didn't get to finish before he whipped his belt once at me, still smiling: "Get out of here! Go! The other girls will tell you what you're supposed to do! Stay out of trouble until you're called for!"

Embarrassed, I hesitantly made my way back to the slave's dormitory where most of the girls were dressed and already going about their activities. I found the dress I had stripped off the night before and carefully slipped it on; no one seemed to notice I was there. I suppose a naked girl creeping in wouldn't be anything new or strange to these women. I kept my eyes down for the most part, but I was searching for some indication as to what I was supposed to do. Luckily, I didn't have to guess long; the head slave, carrying a chart and a whip, came and found me.

He looked down at his chart, then up at me, then back at his chart again. Looking at me questioningly, he asked, "Saryn?"

"Um, yes...Sir?"

He chuckled, looking at his chart. "No need for that deary. You'll have enough people to throw respect at. Think of me as your friend." He cocked an eyebrow, and looked serious for a moment, "But a friend who needs to keep both of our hides away from a whip. I carry one, and I'll use it, but only to save us both from a worse beating later. Understand?"

I smiled coyly at him, happy to think I might have a friend. "Yes...I understand."

"Good. Says here you're trained as a body slave." He didn't really need an answer, but he visually assessed me hard. "Good...good, he'll like you." He looked into my eyes and shrugged, "Just don't do anything stupid, like look at him or speak to him."

"Oh come..." I ventured, loosening up to this fellow slave, "could he really be all that bad?"

He jerked back as if I struck him, then stared at me with the same sentiment. "Do you want to live?"

"...yes?" I replied, confused.

"Then fear him like you fear no other."

I stared mouth agape when he paused to let it sink in before he jerked his head, "Follow me." Hurrying after him, trying to keep my head down, I noticed the pensive looks as I crossed the dormitory, myself noticing some differences in some of the slaves. No one was dressed modestly by any account, and no one could be considered unattractive. Still, by small variations in dress and demeanor, I began to sort who must do what, from the cleaning girls in white and cooks in aprons, to what I only assumed were other body slaves wearing see-through dresses, or only simple jewelry. Some of the body slaves must have thought I didn't measure up; their noses high in the air, they seemed to detest my arrival.

I revealed my observation to the head slave as I followed him through wide double doors. "Oh," he laughed, "don't worry. None of the body slaves like each other. There is pretty stiff competition for favor, and they've all done each other in to get ahead. You'll understand... soon." He waved his hand around the room so I would observe it. I didn't realize was this enormous room was at first, because I'd never seen a bathroom this large before. Slowly, however, I took in the large pool for a bath, smaller pools for soaking, ornate mirrors to observe every angle, shelves of creams, lotions, and cosmetics, all varieties of scrubbers, scrapers, and delicate razors, drawers of combs, brushes, and hairpieces, polishes and paints, perfumes and soaps. Beautiful, the entire room, and everything a girl could dream of to pamper herself.

The head slave, however, did not appear overly indulgent as he described what everything was for. "Understand: you're only responsibility when you're not directly with Jem is to keep yourself at all times in a condition that would please him."

"Jem? Who is..."

The head slave cringed. "Shit...it's a very bad habit of mine. Everyone in the palace refers to Prince Jaimeth as Jem, and one hears it so often it becomes second nature. If you hear 'Jem' wants something, do it, because that is your Master. Take very good care of yourself;" he turned back to the room, "everything you can imagine is here for your disposal. Use it. All. Keep everything about yourself, inside and out, clean, fresh, beautiful, and smelling good."

"This..." I ventured shyly, gesturing, "...is all I do all day?"

The corners of his mouth pulled as he shrugged. "Kind of. There's also exercise, which I make sure all you girls stay in top physical shape. The equipment room is off the bathroom on the other side. Immediately after exercise, back in here. Any time of day, you might be called to bathe any master, serve food, dance for guests...anything your owner wants something beautiful to do for him. He entertains often, so you'll stay busy. Any questions?"

"Just one," my voice whispered. "When am I going to...meet Prince Jaimeth?"

"Tonight. He's asked for his new girls: you and one that came in last week he hasn't seen. You'll find he has..." he searched for a polite way to put it, "...varying tastes. Just remember: your skin belongs to him, and anything he wants is his right to have. Do whatever he wants, no complaints or hesitations. Anything else?"

The lump in my throat grew. "I've heard rumors at the school of royalty's 'tastes.' Is...is he going to hurt me?"

He solemnly licked his upper lip before answering. "Most likely...yes."

I paled and my knees grew weak. As I began to falter a bit, the head slave caught and steadied me. "No need for that, there's nothing you can do about it except do your best." Cradling me until I caught my balance, he whispered, "And one little secret some girls figure out, some girls don't: he LIKES it when you're terrified of him. But that's a double edged sword: if he likes you, he's easier on you, but calls for you more often. Play that how you want to."

I nodded, indicating I both understood and was okay to stand on my own. The head slave backed away from me and turned to leave. "Alright, I have other things to do this morning. I laid outfits for you and the other girl on beds I assigned you. Exercise, clean up, be ready by dinner this evening. You two are the Prince's entertainment for tonight."


The day went more quickly than I thought it would. No one seemed to want to talk to me, and being new, I didn't care to make waves by talking to anyone else. I busied myself figuring small things out: where things were, how to use them, and our loose schedule for exercise and eating.

I bathed, exfoliated, rubbed cream into my skin, pinned up my long chestnut hair, and then sat in front of a large mirror to put on my cosmetics. There was something strange about staring at myself, preparing myself to be used by a man I've never met. I looked into my own eyes; who would have thought these eyes belonged to the same girl determined to become a politician to represent the low working class? So many times my eyes practiced staring at themselves, conjuring hard looks of resolve and determination, communicating fiercely that my voice would not be silenced.

Tears now blurred my vision. That look in my eyes is what landed me here! When the soldiers of the palace had come to the village for a routine inspection, and I saw my opportunity to make an impression, make demands for the people. The owner of my family's land had wanted a quiet, event-free inspection, but in my youth I caused a stir, yelling at the soldiers of the injustices being done to us. They didn't seem to pay much attention, but once they left, the land's owner decided I must go.

He sold me to a slave school, where apparently my strong indignation was a virtue. My trainers relished forcing me to do the most menial tasks, and serve at every promotion event. As fortune would have it, one such event was attended by a royal entourage, and as a gimmick to encourage the royalty to buy from the school, a chosen slave was offered to each member. Prince Jaimeth liked my legs; I was crated up for shipment to Princes' Hall the next day. Several days later, here I was, finishing the last touches of my eye makeup to 'please'...Jem.

The occasional tear that had caused me to fix mistakes several times now vanished in amusement. Dare I think of him that way? The pet name seems so much less intimidating. He simply can't be as horrible as people say. My eyes looked back into the mirror, back at Jem's slave. "I need to make the best of this," I told myself. No, this isn't the life I wanted, but it's the life I must live. I have to get through this with as little pain as possible. A new look of determination flashed through my eyes as I lined them with in dark black; how many other girls had the opportunity to influence Prince Jaimeth, the heir to Pangain himself? Perhaps I was lucky, I thought as I dusted light shimmering powder under the arches of my brow. I thought of ways that I might please him, garner his favor, sway his thinking. Stroking the last lengthening creams on my eyelashes to make them look enormous, I was satisfied, and was sure the Prince would be as well. And not a moment too soon; the head slave instructed me and the other new girl that is was time.


We spent a long, contemplative time on our knees in his dark bedroom, waiting. The wait was probably the killer: too much time to think. We had to be ready; on our knees, heads to the floor, hands on either side of our faces, humbly ready to greet our Master, Prince Jaimeth. His enormous bed was behind us on a raised dais; it was a sight I couldn't help but fantasize about when the guards ushered us into our positions. In the dark, nervous, not knowing what to expect, we waited. I had only seen him from a distance before; I could barely remember what he looked like. I've heard rumors of his "preferences", but no one ever really know what to separate as fact and fiction. My mind betrayed my earlier determination as it cried out silently: "This isn't right! You shouldn't be here! Why did this have to happen to me?" I wondered if the girl beside me was thinking the same things. Was she in fear? Her breathing seemed to be in control, silent. We hadn't spoken a word to one another, and I didn't know whether her presence was a comfort or another irritation. At least we weren't tied, I thought. We could have been bound in some uncomfortable position for hours, but lucky for us, we've so far been allowed to move freely.

The giant doors to the room creaked open rapidly, widely, throwing a flood of light onto our two kneeling figures. Blinking up through my eyelashes I could see a guard at each door, holding it open. "Good evening, Sir," I heard one of them greet the approaching figure. A dark shadow fell on us once again as a masculine figure interrupted the incoming flow of light. "Hmmm...," began a dark cognac-laced voice, evidencing a smile, "a good evening indeed. These are my new ones?"

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