Popularity Ch. 08

I was ordered into Mistress Constance's office. She was in a foul mood; I could tell right away.

I was ushered in and made to stand directly in front of her. She gave me a dark look and my blood ran cold. I felt a surge of fear with that authoritarian gaze leveled at me. I was sure I had done something wrong, and just as sure I was going to be horribly punished for it.

"Sit down, Alex. I have some bad news," she said.

I didn't want to sit. I was handcuffed, my cuffs fastened to a chain locked around my waist and to another running back to front, wedged between my buttocks, separating my delicate pubic lips. Sitting down would force that chain where it lodged between my labia to dig in further and bite painfully into my tender flesh.

"I'd prefer to stand, Mistress, if I may," I said, timidly, gently nudging my pelvis in her general direction to hint at how uncomfortable sitting would be in my current condition.

"I don't care what you'd prefer," Mistress Constance snapped. "Sit."

I sat down and gasped as the chain dug deep into my poor, pink slit. The chain chafed and pinched painfully, and I gave Mistress Constance a pleading look, but she was unmoved by my plight.

"One of the VIPs made an offer to purchase you," Constance told me, her facial expression hard and serious. "I've always been opposed to selling our slaves, and the Deputy Director shares my opinion on this, but when the VIPs are influential enough, we don't always have a choice but to give them what they want."

"I've been sold?" I asked, my voice incredulous. I almost forgot about the sharp pain of the metal links cutting into my delicate pink flesh. "That can happen?"

Mistress Constance let out a deep sigh of frustration and replied, "It's rare, but yes, it can happen. Some of the VIPs have a great deal of money and influence and can manipulate the rules in such a way that I don't even recognize them anymore."

It turned out that I'd been purchased by Mistress Rose. She had become quite infatuated with me and at some point, she'd decided that she had to have me all for herself. The amount of money involved in purchasing a slave from the OPS was so prohibitive that most people never even considered buying one of us, but Mistress Rose had more money than I initially believed.

First, she had to pay huge legal fees just to get the application process started, then there was a background check to prove that she was suitable and responsible enough to own a slave, and then there was the actual purchase price of the slave, which I'm told was in the six figures.

On top of all that, an account had to be funded in escrow, from which I would be paid a six-figure bonus when my slave contract ended.

Most people couldn't afford all of this, but Mistress Rose was obscenely rich. And she wanted me. When people who are obscenely rich want something they usually get it.

"Her people will be coming to collect you in about an hour. I filed a formal objection against her offer to buy you, but my objection was overruled," Mistress Constance informed me as she brought our interchange to a close. "All that's left is your exit interview and a medical checkup to show that you're in good health before I release you to Rose's people."

The exit interview largely involved questions about my psychological state of mind after having been sexually objectified, raped and abused for several months. I suppose some slaves handle it poorly, and the OPS had a duty to discover which slaves had suffered psychological damage as a result of being spanked, whipped, sexually assaulted and such.

I'd handled it better than most, and even came away from the experience feeling a dark, delicious sense of excitement.

If I'd come away from the experience traumatized and somehow emotionally scarred, the federal government has programs in place to help slaves deal with their anxiety, neurosis or post-traumatic stress. Happily, I wouldn't need any such assistance.

I was taken to a medical exam room and Doctor Weaver examined me for signs of injury, infection or other medical maladies. She didn't find anything worth worrying about.

"You've got some whip marks, some obvious chafing from having a metal chain rubbing up against your labia, and your nipples are inflamed," Doctor Weaver said, after examining me. "You're also running a slight fever, but that's normal for someone who's in a state of intense sexual arousal."

All the slaves were kept in a chronic state of sexual arousal, and we were rarely allowed to have any sexual release. My nipples were so hard they ached, and my pussy throbbed wetly. I desperately wanted to rub my hard clit over and over until I came, but I knew better than to try anything like that. Slaves caught masturbating were always severely punished.

Doctor Weaver removed her latex gloves and pronounced me 'physically fit enough to be transferred from OPS custody, and into the custody of whoever it is that's purchasing you.'

She looked up from my medical chart, stared me right in the face, and said, "I'd wish you well, but I don't imagine your new owner will be any kinder than your handlers here have been."

One of the things that I'd learned as a slave is that the more attractive a slave, the more they got punished. Something about a firm, shapely butt makes masters and mistresses want to spank it, or redden it with a leather strap or a riding crop.

The more perfectly shaped your buttocks, the more likely your buttocks were to be whipped.

"She's probably used to the punishments and the sexual abuse by now," Doctor Weaver's nurse opined. "She's been here for months."

The expression on the nurse's face wasn't cruel or malicious. She was just stating the facts as she knew them. I had been there for months, and my months of slave training had conditioned me to accept corporal punishment and sexual abuse without being traumatized by them.

The Doctor nodded without comment, and she signed the form that declared me medically fit for transport and transfer to a new mistress.

"I'll come and check on you every three months," Doctor Weaver assured me. "Even though your new owner isn't an OPS employee, she's still required to follow OPS protocols when it comes to the handling of slaves. I'll make sure that she's not abusing you any worse than the federal regulations allow."

I knew all about OPS regulations. My new owner wouldn't be allowed to starve me. Slaves were supposed to be given an adequate amount of food and water every day to keep us healthy. We were also supposed to be allowed eight hours of sleep each night and we were to be exercised a certain number of hours each week, to keep us in shape. Slave owners weren't allowed to poison us or give us harmful drugs. It was also against the rules to break our bones, cut off any of our appendages or burn our flesh, that meant no branding.

There are dozens of pages of regulations on ways that masters are allowed to hurt us and ways that they're not allowed to hurt us. Spankings and whippings are not only allowed but encouraged. Spanking and whipping your slave is very traditional; it's expected that slaves will be spanked and whipped. It's when things like knives or teeth or power tools are used, and slaves end up bleeding and have to be taken to the emergency room that masters get into trouble and their slaves are taken away from them.

"I don't think that Mistress Rose will abuse me any more than she's allowed," I said quietly to Doctor Weaver and her nurse.

Doctor Weaver nodded in agreement, but she insisted she'd still come out and check on me several times a year. She didn't say anything out loud, but I believe that Doctor Weaver had a crush on me and that her main reason for her visits was that she wanted to run her hands all over my naked body and get a good look at me.

I've been told by a number of the trainers and handlers that I'm the most beautiful slave in Sacramento and that everybody wants to get their hands on me. I'm a prized possession that everybody wants. I mean, all of the slaves have beautiful bodies and alluring faces, but somebody has to be the most beautiful of all, and apparently that somebody was me.

* * *

Mistress Rose owned a large estate somewhere in or around Napa. I was put in the back seat of her Mercedes, not the trunk, but I was handcuffed and blindfolded for most of the trip, so I didn't see any of the traffic signs. I had only the vaguest of ideas where they had taken me.

There was a chauffeur up front, while I was in the back with Mistress Rose and a middle-aged woman named Shannon. All during the trip I kept feeling hands touching my thighs, grabbing my breasts, and toying with my nipples.

I couldn't see who was touching me, and Mistress Rose had invited her friend Shannon to touch me everywhere and see how wonderful my body felt in her hands. Every time I felt a hand on me, I wondered if it was Rose or Shannon.

At one point I felt my legs yanked apart and then my hips were pulled forward, leaving my bare sex pornographically on display. I felt a finger run down my soft slit and I gasped.

"She's very responsive," I heard Shannon say.

"The little slut is constantly ready for sex," Mistress Rose replied. And then I felt somebody prying my sex lips apart.

"Aaahhh."

I could feel fingers on my sensitive pubic lips, pulling them wide apart, then a finger was worked inside of me. I'm not sure whose finger it was, but while that finger explored my moist interior, other fingers took possession of my nipples and squeezed.

I gasped and yelped as somebody pinched my nipples harder and harder and pulled on them, stretching them painfully.

One woman expertly stroked my swollen clitoris while the other sucked and chewed on my hard nipples. Both women kept up a running commentary, telling me how wonderful my body was and how they were going to fuck my tight pussy and then they were going to do things to my young, tight, firm body that would be degrading or painful.

"I know how much you enjoy spanking a girl's bottom," Mistress Rose said to her friend. "You can't get a good look right now since she's sitting down, but Alex has the most adorable bottom I've ever seen. You'll want to spank her as soon as I get her home."

Shannon made enthusiastic sounds and she assured my new owner that I would go over her lap at the very first opportunity.

The seatbelt, handcuffs, the blindfold and the fact that I was naked all combined to make me feel deliciously helpless. I couldn't see either of the women that were touching me, but I could feel them sucking, chewing and even biting on my nipples.

I gasped and yelped and moaned as my breasts were manhandled, while at the same time my clit was rubbed and stroked by deviously talented fingers. I squirmed and moved my hips in a shameless, suggestive manner, hoping that one of these women would bring me to orgasm.

But no matter how much I whimpered and shamelessly spread my legs, the cruel women wouldn't allow me any sort of relief. They just kept me on the edge of orgasm, feverish, sweaty, panting and desperate.

After what seemed like hours, we finally arrived at our destination and Mistress Rose peeled away my blindfold, allowing me to see once again.

"Welcome to your new home, dear," Mistress Rose said. She undid my seatbelt.

Both women grabbed me and helped me out of the car. Once I was standing, Mistress Rose smacked me sharply on the bottom and said, "Stand up straight, Alex. I'm going to introduce you to the servants, and I expect you to display yourself with good posture while I'm showing you around."

Once the three of us were out of the car, Mistress Rose placed a leather slave collar around my throat and buckled it on securely. Her friend produced a leash, seemingly from out of nowhere, and clipped it to my collar. I was then led away from the car and towards the house.

"Follow me, dear," Mistress Rose commanded, giving a proprietary tug on my leash. I was pulled forward and struggled to keep up as my new owner led me across the verdant lawn. I grunted as I was led naked, handcuffed and leashed.

I gasped as I took in Mistress Rose's estate. The huge fortress of a building was a curious mix of modern institution and traditional elegance, with glass doors and carved angels on the downspouts. Its gray rock was softened by old trees and bright flower beds. There were several low buildings attached to it, but the main one rose three stories up.

As I was being led around, naked and helpless, I spotted a gardener tending the bushes near the parking lot. The gardener was a tall, lanky man with a weather-beaten face and rough hands. Mistress Rose came to a halt and urged the gardener to come closer. "Here, Antonio," she said. "You may touch her if you like."

Antonio smiled at my owner and closed the distance between us. I was naked, handcuffed and on a leash. I couldn't do a damn thing to stop him as he reached out with both hands and grabbed my boobs.

I tried to stifle a scream as his rough hands took possession of my bare breasts, and all that escaped my lips was a girlish whimper. He held my breasts in his rough hands, rubbed his thumbs across my erect nipples, and then, without warning, one of his hands was between my legs, palming my exposed pubic lips.

"Ohhh!"

I flinched at his touch, reflexively closing my legs together. Mistress Rose yanked hard on my leash and scolded me. "Alex! Don't be rude!" she ordered. "Spread your legs and allow him to touch you!"

When I was an OPS slave, I was a naked sex object, but there I was mostly touched and ogled by VIPs or other sex slaves. The VIPs were elegant and polished, and the slaves were some of the most beautiful and bewitchingly sexy people on the planet. The gardener was dirty, poorly dressed and rough-looking. I squirmed inside as I was groped by him.

He got to feel me up quite extensively while I was naked, handcuffed and under orders to keep my legs spread wide. Eventually, he had to let me go, but it didn't mean that I was no longer going to be groped and ogled by Mistress Rose's servants. It just meant that it was time for other servants to have their opportunity to gawk at my helpless nudity and to play with my naked body.

* * *

""Frida, come here!" Mistress Rose called out as we entered the kitchen. "I want you to get a look at my new slave!"

I was in awe of Mistress Rose's kitchen. It was three times the size of my family's kitchen back home, and everything was antiseptically clean, almost as if the house were brand new and about to be presented to prospective buyers. The kitchen tiles felt cold underneath my bare feet and I felt surprisingly even more naked as I walked across them. Then Frida entered my field of vision, and I forgot about the vastness of the kitchen and the coolness of the kitchen tiles.

Frida was taller than me by several inches and had dark, piercing eyes that seemed to penetrate deep into my soul. I mean, of course, she took a good look at my exposed boobs and my embarrassingly erect nipples, but it was when she looked me in the face that I felt the most exposed.

"She's very beautiful," Frida said after looking me up and down several times. "And I think slavery agrees with her."

Then Frida approached closer, got up into my personal space, placed her hands on my hips and said, "You like being a slave, don't you? If I reached between your legs right now, I bet you'd be soaking wet."

My heart sped up and I felt my face heat up with both passion and embarrassment. This woman understood me, and I was ashamed that she'd figured me out so quickly and easily. I had a shameful craving for sexual abuse, objectification and cruel punishments. This woman examined me for three seconds and, it seemed, unlocked my guilty secret without effort.

"Frida is interested in borrowing you," Mistress Rose explained. "She has wicked fantasies that she'd like to have fulfilled, and she'll need a helpless, naked captive in order to make them come true."

The look on Frida's face was both prurient and cruel. My heart hammered in my chest with even greater intensity. I shuddered as Frida's hands worked their way down to my buttocks.

"I haven't decided on whether to loan you out to her or not," Mistress Rose informed me. "Perhaps, if you're bad, I'll loan you out to Frida as a punishment."

I let out a sigh of relief, and then she added "Or if Frida is very good, I'll loan you out to her as a reward."

My emotions were all over the place. I got a certain sort of dark, delicious enjoyment at being abused by cruel, dominant women, but something about Frida gave me pause. It could be that her capacity for cruelty exceeded what I could handle. Or was that just my imagination running wild? Or maybe both of these women were just teasing me, trying to get me agitated.

I didn't know anything for certain, and as a slave, I was extremely vulnerable. They could be playing all sorts of cruel psychological tortures, getting me to fear Frida for no other reason than their own personal entertainment. I had no way of knowing.

* * *

Mistress Shannon had said she wanted to spank me and the more time she spent looking at my naked ass, the more her desire to smack my buttocks intensified. At a certain point her patience ran out and she demanded that somebody bring her a chair so she could sit down and throw me over her lap.

"And could we do something about those handcuffs?" she inquired. "With her hands behind her back, they'll constantly be getting in the way. Her hands need to be far away from her backside while I'm spanking her."

And then like magic, two maids brought over a wooden chair for Mistress Shannon, while Mistress Rose produced a key to unlock the handcuffs from my wrists.

Mistress Rose, Frida, and the two maids proceeded to surround me as Mistress Shannon sat down and I was ordered to lie across her lap.

"You are so adorable, dear," Mistress Shannon commented as she fondled my upturned bottom, leisurely running her fingertips across the curves of my buttocks. "Your skin is so soft, and your glutes are so firm! Oh, I just want to spend the rest of the day exploring your perfect backside."

I bit my lower lip and struggled not to say anything impertinent as she held onto my butt cheeks with both hands and spread them apart. It seemed to me as if she were examining my anus. And I felt a hot flash of shame as I remembered that Mistress Rose's servants were standing over me and would all be getting a good look as my butthole was put indecently on display.

"Keep your hands down on the ground," Mistress Shannon admonished me, "and your hips raised up. That's the proper posture for a slave to be spanked."

"Please, do I have to be spanked in front of all the servants?" I asked. "Couldn't you take me into a bedroom or a private office or something and spank me there?"

"One of the joys of slave ownership is the joy of putting your slave on display," Mistress Rose explained. "Later on, I'll be inviting guests over to witness your punishments, but for now, you'll be spanked in front of the maids and the kitchen staff. Watching you squirm and wriggle your butt as your ass is cooked will be quality entertainment for anyone lucky enough to watch."

I felt the crushing weight of humiliation as Mistress Shannon pried my thighs apart, leaving my bald pubes lewdly on display.

"The raw emotions displayed on a slave's face when they realize how many people will be witnessing their degrading punishments only adds to the entertainment value," Mistress Shannon explained. "Slaves should never be punished in private."

And then the spanking began.

One stinging blow after another rained down on my innocent backside. I jerked and squirmed across Mistress Shannon's lap. My ass was mercilessly smacked again and again, and I clenched my teeth, not wanting to give the servants the satisfaction of hearing me scream.