Slave Academy Ch. 08

I remain kneeling—no one has commanded me otherwise, so as a slave I do not break position—until two men come out of the office and stand in front of me. One of them is the head of the sales department, the other is...my new master. I still do not move or look up.

"You've made an excellent purchase," says the sales chief. "In our head slavemaster's opinion, as you just heard him say, she's one of the finest pieces of prime slaveflesh we've ever offered for sale. And of course we stand by our guarantee, should you ever wish to trade her in or resell her. So, will you take her with you, or have her sent? We can package her for shipping if you like; you'll have her tomorrow afternoon, ready to use."

"No," says my master—the first time I hear him speak, a deep, English-accented voice. "I'll take her with me. Just get her ready. I'll be in my car." He hasn't touched me or spoken to me, and I kneel trembling at his feet; I'm sure he sees me shivering. He abruptly leaves the office, and the sales chief commands me to stand.

Two assistants come in and start preparing me for travel. Plugs are placed in my cunt and ass, sound-cancelling earplugs in my ears, and a blindfold and gag are placed on me—security measures. Then a tunic, slit to my waist and short enough to barely cover my ass and cunt, is slipped over my head; and soft leather slippers put on my feet. My hands are drawn behind my back and cuffed there, my ankles are fastened with shackles, and chains run from my collar to my wrist cuffs to my ankle shackles. Finally, a long soft warm wool cloak is wrapped securely around me and strapped closed, and the hood is pulled forward and down over my head and buttoned in place. I'm completely helpless within the cloak and bindings; I can't even walk on my own.

One of the assistants picks me up and slings me over his shoulder like a rolled up rug and carries me out of the office, out of the building, out to my new owner's car, where he places me carefully on the back seat, straps me in securely, and closes the door. I can't hear anything through the earplugs, can't see, can't speak; I have no idea who bought me, or where I'm being taken, or what he intends to use me for, and I lie there trembling and defenseless. Then the driver's door opens and I feel the car shift as my owner takes his seat behind the wheel and slams the door closed.

He still doesn't speak to me, or if he does I can't hear him. The car starts up: it feels like a large powerful car, it runs very smoothly and silently. He swings it around the drive circle, then down the long drive I once escaped down, and out the gates, the gates I was brought through four months ago as a terrified new captive. Now I'm going to my new home, with my new master taking his newly purchased slave to her new life. Whatever that life will be, I have no say in it, and no choice but one: to serve with perfection, and to always have the last words in any conversation: "Yes, master."