Jillian in Babylon

More pain than I imagined possible flowed through my body. I and all of the other women screamed in pain. Some of us fell to the floor in agony. The matron smiled evilly again and the pain vanished instantly replaced by utter bliss. It was better than the terrific high the dentist gave me when he extracted my wisdom teeth. Just when this sensation was getting really enjoyable, the matron's remote buzzed once more.

"That pain setting was "medium." That pleasure setting was "minimum." Whichever of those two poles of sensation you experience from this moment on is entirely up to you!" Most masters prefer the carrot to the stick, but recalcitrant slaves WILL endure the upper limits of pain. I really don't have to tell you which option you want to explore do I?"

Her point made the matron said, "All right, break down by hair color, brunettes to my right, blondes to the left and redheads in the center. I'm talking your NATURAL color, NOT your current dye job, for all I know some of you sickos dye your pubes!"

I found myself in what the guards called the "brunette consignment" and sent to a large room. Even though it was essentially a holding cell. It had comfortable chairs and padded sofas. There was a TV in the corner. On the earth I knew, the TV might be showing an "Andy Griffith" re-run or a soap or a game show, here it was something straight out of the "Twilight Zone." There was a PSA on "How to conform," a short drama about how great the Empire is, and some game show where the prizes were hand grenades and various other weapons!

I tried picking up a magazine and attempting to make sense of the chaotic alphabet. Some things are apparently universal, the coke bottle was the same shape and so I learned my first word in this crazy- quilt "English." I figured with a couple of weeks practice, I could not only read it but write it as well. I love to read and I hated the fact that I was suddenly illiterate.

One of the matrons stopped by with a carton of chocolate bars. For that moment at least, every woman was happy. Just as I began to wonder if we were all going to spend the night here, we were herded together and marched the full length of the building. I swear this place was a couple of miles wide. We entered some sort of enclosure. Dimly, I heard voices and other noises of civilization. Suddenly I realized that there were people beyond the barrier, observing us. With a sinking realization, I realized that those were the buyers! "It can't end like this," I thought. "Just sold to some skeevy pervert who can't land a woman on his own. Or a woman!" I realized with a shudder.

I was in some weird emotional state, not sure if I wanted to cry or scream when a matron entered the enclosure grabbed me by the hand and pulled me towards an exit. I was led to some room, very like an office, two armed matrons made me wait patiently. All at once the door to the office opened and the big cheese herself, the head matron, entered followed by slim, tall, severe looking woman with graying hair. One of my guards whispered for me to come to attention. I did.

I've attended enough banking and finance activities as a part of Philip's job to recognize people with lots of money. The woman had an that same air, gobs and gobs of it certainly, and from ancient sources. There were nice sized but tasteful diamonds in her earlobes, an impressive girasol on her right hand. A huge diamond on her left and that dress did not come off of any rack. She took a long penetrating look at me. I could tell that she might have been a handsome woman, once.

"Turn slowly in a circle." It was not a request from her, it was an order. Even without the collar and its threat of pain, I would have obeyed her.

When I had completed my turn her sour face almost smiled and she stated simply,"You will do."

She must have seen the question cross my face.

"Oh yes, I do suppose, I should offer an explanation. My youngest grandson, Anton just graduated college. He's been a good son to my daughter, a fine brother to his siblings, and a delight to myself. I've decided to reward him with a nice present. You, my dear."

I stood, stunned a moment.

"You'll like him, dearie, he's really handsome, at least I think he is. Do you have a name?"

"Jill... Jillian"... I was about to utter my last name but I suddenly realized that I no longer had one.

"Jillian. I like that. Nice and mod."

The dowager turned to the head matron handed her a business card and ordered, "Have her delivered to my estate no later than seven and get her something to wear. I don't care if Anton keeps her naked twenty-four hours a day in his room, but I simply will NOT have a naked slave in my living room. Is that clear?"

The Matron returned a weak, "Yes, Ma'am."

The Matron walked the dowager to the door and vanished. One of my guards stated,

"You lucky stiff! Old lady Ulanov and her family are richer than God! Hell, I wish she's buy ME!"

"I wish I shared your enthusiasm." I replied.

I was led back to the ornate holding cell, only this time I was alone. From somewhere, a matron materialized with a pair of ballet slippers and a simple short gingham dress. No underwear was supplied. They provided a comb and a brush and some makeup. I dealt with my always unruly hair. A dash of lipstick and color to my eyes and I was, apparently, good to go. While I was preparing myself, the big cheese watched me carefully.

"Dame Ulanov really did you a service, woman. You could not possibly in better hands. She didn't even haggle over your price tag."

"Which was?"

"I'll be damned if I'll tell you. Now get moving or I'll zap you."

What other choice did I have? Because I cooperated, she did not return handcuffs to my wrists. I exited the building just after twilight. A male trustee drove the vehicle to the address given by the head matron. We headed out of the city to the suburbs. There was an armed checkpoint along the way, but the head matron flashed Dame Ulanov's business card and we sailed right through. The landscape became dotted with huge mansions on sylvan hills. We stopped at a guard house and then progressed into a huge circular driveway. The clock on the dashboard read 6:45 P.M.

The collared butler looked askance at us. The Head matron produced a note from his Mistress and his face became an amiable smile. Dame Ulanov met the head matron and myself in a huge library. I realized that my quest to become literate in this strange new world could not possibly have more ammunition. Dame Ulanov placed a huge wad of bills in the head matron's hand and stated, "For your time and efforts."

The head matron, smiled, nodded slightly and left the room. I was alone with the woman who "owned" me. I still hoped that this was all some crazy, awful dream and that I would wake up, poke Philip in the ribs and laugh as I related it to him. I pinched myself. Damn! I was still awake. I took in a deep breath and left it out softly.

"Anton's party is two hours. You will be the final present of the evening. His section of the mansion is quite private and soundproofed. I expect that you will be spending most of your time there. I'll tell him the same thing, I do NOT care for unsolicited nudity. If you are in the main part of the house you MUST be clothed. Anton will have to purchase clothing and sundries for you from his very liberal allowance. You a sort of living competency test, my dear. If Anton can be a good and providential master of a creature as beautiful and demanding as you, then I will know that all of my instincts about him are correct and that I can leave the bulk of my estate to him. His siblings will not lack, of course, but family tradition demands one great heir and any number of lesser heirs."

I nodded and finally choked out, "Yes, Ma'am."

"What was your crime, Jillian?" she asked.

"I don't know..." I began.

"Espionage, girl. I NEVER buy a pig in a poke! To attempt such a complex and daring nonviolent crime demonstrates that you are quite intelligent. I abhor airheads. So many men purchase slaves that are utter morons. Disgusting! A slave should be her master's sounding board and cheerleader. Think you are capable of that Jillian?"

"I'll do my best."

"That's the spirit!"

She eyed me carefully, "That dress. It's barely adequate to travel in. I knew that I would select a woman about your size, Anton NEEDS a tall girl, so I purchased something more suitable to the occasion. Follow me."

We made our way into a large room on the first floor. I realized that this was the dowager's receiving room. She had me wait while she vanished behind an inner door. The room was bedecked with photographs and beautiful oil portraits. The family resemblance was notable on nearly all of the framed faces. I wondered which smiling figure was Anton. One young man seemed to pop up next to Lady Ulanov with some regularity. He was pleasant looking, not really handsome in a classic sense; also darker and softer than the men who usually caught my fancy. If this was Anton, I could have done far worse, still...

The dowager reappeared with the dress on one arm and slinky underthings on the other. The dress was gorgeous! A label reminiscent of one I was familiar with from home adorned the inside neckline.

"Slip this on, Jillian. I'll have the maid burn the abomination you wore here. The ballet slippers will have to suffice. I was not about to waste good money on shoes that might not be your size."

The underwear felt just like the very best stuff at Victoria's secret. The brassiere was a bit too small for me. It dug into my back but I was not about to complain. The stockings were sheer black and seemed VERY expensive. They were held up by the sturdiest, nonslip elastic I had ever encountered. There was also a wedding type garter I was instructed to wear high on my right thigh I realized, that sans dress, I was the perfect walking wet dream. My skin became clammy, I tried to ignore the sensation. The dress itself was satiny and soft, it felt absolutely divine on my skin. It fell above my knee but was a flattering length, not an overly revealing one. It opened subtly in the front, revealing the top of my breasts in a classy way. I would have given anything at that moment for Philip to see me in this dress. I gazed at my naked ring finger, spied the faded tan line and my eyes teared up.

"You DO like the dress, Jillian?" asked Dame Ulanov.

"Yes, Ma'am" I replied after a moment. "It's just, for a moment, I was reminded of my old life."

"I understand that there is an adjustment period, however, there will NO tears of grief in front of Anton and the other guests tonight! Is that clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Splendid. Sit here a spell. I'll have the maid bring you a nice dinner. I know they don't feed you at that God awful place. I'm providing a bib. DO NOT muss that dress!"

I sat at the appointed table and The dowager exited. Helpfully, she had also pointed out the door to the powder room on her way out. I was alone with my thoughts but not for long. A perky collared maid entered with a covered tray. She bent, and with a look of distaste, picked up the gingham dress. I did not recognize the food, but it was all delicious. I made sure to wear the bib. I gazed at the inscriptions on the wall. I KNEW what they said, "Congratulations" Happy Anniversary", Happy Birthday" and the like, I just could not read them. I wondered if I could confide my ignorance to Anton. I knew I could not inform the dowager, Would I have to struggle for literacy on my own? "Learning a new alphabet has to be easier than learning a new language." I told myself.

Dimly, I could hear music being played. As I ate I contemplated. I found myself subconsciously imitating the dowager, "Come into my parlor, dearie, put on this beautiful dress, of course, it comes off later when I gift you to my favorite relative as his personal fuck toy!"

I wanted to scream but knew that I could not. In a few hours, I would be horizontal, or vertical, or on all fours, or however the little weirdo wanted me and there was NOTHING I could do about it! I have little tolerance for pain. The demonstration from the chief matron in the slave processing center was quite effective. I knew that I would do ANYTHING to avoid pain like that again. My idyll brought other memories to mind as well, few of them pleasant. One of my college boyfriends had pressured me into sex. That bad night still haunted me. A short time later I met the man of my dreams. Philip helped me recover from that event in every way. He even gave the punk who molested me a broken nose! Even though I am used to attracting attention, I had always intended to stay faithful to my husband. While Phillip had not yet scaled the ladder very far of high finance, the big wigs above him sure took notice of me. One old goat was quite forthright. During a company dance, he held me close and whispered in my ear, "How much?"

I replied without missing a beat, "Every dime you ever made or ever will make!" Naturally, I told Phillip nothing about the exchange. Apparently, the old codger liked my spunk or my silence because, a few weeks later, he gave Phillip a nice raise and promotion! This was a whole new ballgame. I had no idea where Philip was, nor did I ever imagine a future in this world where I would encounter him again. I wondered if he was a slave now as well. Did some spoiled trust fund wench purchase him? Was she even now ordering him to dine on her kitty? I'm not much for organized religion, I'm a recovering Catholic, but I offered up a bit of thanks to the powers that be for giving me Phillip, even for such a short time. I also forgave him for any infidelities he might have to commit in this new, strange world and prayed for forgiveness for myself. After that, I felt a bit better,

I finished my meal, replaced the food cover and explored the room. Dame Ulanov clearly owned magnificent taste. Antiques have a special aura, no matter what planet you encounter them on. I was also almost positive that the tall, dark-haired young man in so many of the photos was Anton. Not the face I would have chosen to wake up next to every morning, but not something I would throw out of bed before I gave him a chance either. Unbidden I had an image of Phillip's magnificent cock. Would I still be able to recall his taste in the future? Would my mind still recall with delight that session of skinny dipping on their honeymoon? Would I always recall his abs and tight butt with the same passion? Did I want to? God, I wished it was party time right then so I would have something else to think about!

I know it was only a few hours but it felt like an eternity before Dame Ulanov reentered her parlor. "You are almost set, Jillian." she stated. "Here is a corsage, and I KNOW it's corny but I would like it if you wore this bow about your neck."

Who was I to argue?

The ribbon was broad enough to conceal my entire collar. I wondered what the old bat was up to.

Dame Ulanov took me by the hand and led me into the main part of the mansion. In coming days I would realize just how enormous this manse actually was. We entered a cavernous ballroom. A jazz combo was playing in one corner. I THOUGHT I recognized the guitarist from one of Phillip's many vintage album covers. A huge cake sat on the table and around it sat a collection of mostly young people. It was quite obvious that most of the people at the table were related. As I entered, some of the women eyed me with interest, others, jealousy. Most of the men were discreetly undressing me with their eyes. "Almost. classy." I thought. The young man at the head of the table, seated behind an enormous pile of presents proved to be the dark-haired man from so many of the Dowager's photographs. The room fell silent.

The next words were the dowager's "Now, children, grandchildren, friends. It has come to me, your old crotchety matriarch to present Anton with his present."

With a single tug on her part, the concealing ribbon fell away, revealing my collar. The table erupted in gasps and then applause. Anton's mouth fell open in a stunned "O".

"This is Jillian and she a very big responsibility, Anton, one I believe you will successfully embrace. I expec maturity, gentility, and tenderness. A good slave is a perfect complement to a young man's life,"

Anton gasped like stuck fish for a few moments before uttering, "Oh, Gran. How can I ever thank you?"

"I just told you, by being a firm, gentle, intelligent and tender slave master. A good master of slaves is a good master of free men as well."

As I stood there, I could feel the color coming to my face. I thought, for the first time, that Anton might be easier to handle than I feared. He certainly seemed inoffensive enough but then again it is the quiet ones who tend to be the biggest perverts... I left the thought trail off.

The Dowager turned to me and stated. "Why don't you seal your relationship with your Master with a kiss, Jillian?"

Again, that was not a suggestion. I crossed the short distance and found myself encircled by Anton's strong arms. After a brief, tentative kiss, we shared a deeper longer one. Anton was a more than capable kisser at least. Perhaps, in the future, I'd even enjoy this. The crowd around the table applauded our osculations. I felt a surge of euphoria and noted that the old bat was subtly fingering my controller. I realized that I MIGHT have felt this good even without the collar. What kind of world was this where I could not even trust my own emotions?

To his considerable credit, Anton did not immediately end the festivities and rush me up to his bedroom for an immediate quickie. He had a seat brought forth for me and set it next to his. He offered me a plate of superb cake and whispered softly to me. "My God, Jillian, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen!'

"Thank you, Master." I replied, surprised that I did not gag on the words.

An appalled look danced across Anton's face. He bent towards my ear and whispered, "Please call me Anton, reserve that OTHER word for when we are in the presence of my grandmother!"

From that moment on, I found the kid increasingly likable. I had a bit more cake, some wonderful homemade ice cream and a bit of sparkling cider, despite still being full from my private meal. Like a polite gift receiver, Anton gently fondled all of his presents and expressed a nother round of thanks to the givers. I did not recognize all of the objects on the table, but I did spy something that looked like my late, lamented i-pod. There was a solid gold watch, what were clearly coffee table books, and more. With a sly smile, the dowager presented a final gift. It was obviously a book. Anton opened it. The border of the book seemed eerily familiar. Anton chuckled as he read aloud, "Slave Mastery For Dummies!" Everybody laughed and I died a little inside.

Over the next hour or so, a steady stream of party guests departed. Anton shook hands or air kissed where appropriate and the butler escorted to the door. A good number of the other guests had residences of their own in the rambling mansion or its various outbuildings. Not yet integrated into the "mechanism of the manor" I sat alone and watched the roster of party guests dwindle, fearing the departure of the last one. Like an unwanted tomorrow, Anton and I were alone.

Anton turned to me. For a moment he appeared to be a scared little boy. "Jillian, I NEVER expected my grandmother to be SO generous. Quite frankly, your presence stuns me."

Surprised by that reaction I replied with the completely inane, "You DO like girls, don't you Anton?"

To this day, I do not know if those were the right words or the wrong words in determining my future. All I do know is that as soon as I had uttered them a change came over Anton's entire being. He smiled sweetly, stared at me intently for what seemed like the first time and replied,