Stephanie's Slave Journal

"Ah, Anabelle," he said with barely a trace of accent. "I've been waiting for you. Mohammad suggested I wait until you were fattened up a bit, but you look good anyway. Mohammad assured me that I'd get my money's worth out of you, and more so."

He took off his silk robe and gestured toward the bed. I sat down on the edge of it, and he didn't waste any time. He put a hand in the centre of my chest and pushed me down on the bed, then grabbed the waistband of my harem pants and started pulling them down. I put my heels into the bed and arched my bum up a bit so he could get them off without wrecking the first decent set of clothes I'd had in four years. My panties followed, revealing a scraggly bush that, like my hair, hadn't been trimmed in four years. He put his hand on it and patted it gently. "Ah, feels better than it looks. Soon we'll get that neatened up for you."

He reached up for the shoulders of my halter top. Normally he wouldn't have been able to get my arms out of it with my hands still tied, but this one had been designed for the occasion, with little snaps over the shoulders that allowed him to undo it and slip it all the way down my body and off. The same with the bra -- the straps unhooked so he could undo the clasp at the back and pull the whole garment right off in one piece. He certainly could have had me arrive already naked, but he seemed to be the kind who enjoyed the extra titillation of undressing a woman himself, watching he slowly revealed piece by piece.

Once he had the last article of clothing off, he grabbed my breasts in both hands. They had shrunk and fallen a bit on my steady diet of not enough of anything, but they were still generous and full. He thumbed my nipples for a minute or two, then he squeezed my breasts, hard enough that I suspected I would have bruises later.

That seemed to be the extent of his idea of foreplay. He pulled off his fancy pajamas, climbed on top of me, and forced my legs apart with a knee. Then he reached down, parted my labia, and shoved his cock in me, hard, all in one motion. Since I wasn't the least relaxed or moist, it hurt like holy hell, and I screamed involuntarily. He smiled a bit and ignored me, starting to thrust in rapid, animalistic motions, his eyes screwed shut with the effort and the building sensation. Later I learned to masturbate a bit in my room beforehand if I knew it was going to be an Ali night, getting a bit of pre-lube going. I also added a little hand lotion, since I knew that I wouldn't get any lube from Ali other than maybe a bit of pre-cum.

It took him about two minutes to shoot off. He pulled out and lay back getting his breath, not worrying about the cum that was leaking out of my pussy and puddling between my legs. I guess he had lots of people to change his sheets for him.

Once he had his breath back, he sat up in bed and took a sip of his wine. There was a carafe of it on the night table, and a second glass, which he filled and offered to me. I twisted around and showed him my hands to remind him that they were still bound. He held the glass to my lips and tipped it for me.

God, that was good. A little sweet for my taste perhaps, but as someone who used to enjoy a glass or two and hadn't been able to touch wine for four years, it was nectar from heaven.

After we ad sat there sipping wine for a few minutes, he started asking me about myself, starting with how I had ended up with Steve and Artie, and I told him the sad story of me falling for what should have been an obvious scam with the fake sales rep job. Then I filled him in on how they had treated me and other women in their power.

"Ah, I thought as much. That's why I could get such a good deal on you. Those assholes obviously don't know how to care for a slave. No wonder their business wasn't doing well."

I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be the subservient slave with my eyes downcast who said nothing beyond, "Yes, Master," but my new friends downstairs hadn't mentioned anything like that, and I figured I'd find out soon enough. Since he seemed to be chatty, I dared to ask him what had brought him to Canada.

"Well, Yemen hasn't exactly been on good terms with Saudi Arabia for years. It didn't make for a good business environment. And also, since our government didn't really approve of the fact that I wasn't paying them the taxes they thought they deserved, Yemen had become a bit too -- how you say? 'hot' for me. Money tends to make immigration a lot easier, no? All I had to do was show that I had at least half a million dollars to invest here, and that i intended to employ at least three Canadians within a year. Most of my staff here are Yemeni, but a couple of the serving women -- that one who brought you dinner, for instance -- are permanent residents, which is close enough for your government. And then there's you."

"Me?"

"On paper, you are my third Canadian employee. Domestic help. I don't really have to pay you a cent, but of course I'll have to submit money toward CPP and EI benefits, allegedly deducted from your paycheque, as well as income tax on money you don't make. Still, it's a small price to pay for staying in this wonderful country of yours. And of course, I get the side benefits." He gave my breast another squeeze and rubbed his fingers gently in my pussy.

We talked for a few more minutes. It would have been quite amicable if the ropes weren't chafing my wrists so badly. Then he said, "Well, thanks for a relaxing evening, but it's getting to be my bedtime." He put my wine glass, now empty of its third drink, on the night table, stood up, and gestured toward the door. I guess he wasn't hankering for an overnight bedwarmer, for which I was glad. He picked up my clothes, folded them neatly, and hung them over my bound hands behind my back. He opened the door, and as I had expected, Mr. Muscles was still out there, waiting patiently for his boss to finish getting his balls drained.

"It's been lovely," Ali called after me as Muscles escorted me away. "We'll do it again soon."

**

That was a typical night with Ali. Sometimes he selected one of the other women, but I guess my status as the new toy brought him around to me more often. Still, it was only one or two nights a week, a far cry from the slavers' dick parade.

I gradually put back the weight I'd lost, and did whatever exercise I could, given the limited options available to me, so it didn't all go to fat. One day another of Ali's serving women came in with a professional-looking set of hair cutting tools and gave me an expert haircut and a pussy wax. I was beginning to feel somewhat human again.

After a few weeks, the routine took a new turn. I was escorted upstairs by the usual silent muscle man, had my wrists bound, and was shown into the bedroom. Ali was sitting in his usual chair, but the bed as occupied by a large man I hadn't seen before.

"Stephanie, this is Abdukrahman. If that's too difficult, just call him Abe; most English speakers do. He's a business associate of mine. I thought I'd share one of my women with him to make him more comfortable."

Ali walked over to me and undid the snaps that let him strip me naked in less than a minute. When my breasts fell out of my bra, I could see Abe's face change. Ali had always admired my various personal bits, but Abe was absolutely leering. I suspected that maybe he hadn't had any for a while.

Ali send, "See you later Abe, Have a good time." Then he turned to me and said, "Don't be surprised if you find that Abe's taste in sexual practices is somewhat different from mine." Then he left and clicked the door behind him.

I looked back at Abe. He was already naked, sitting up in bed with the covers up to his waist, showing off a light brown, very hairy chest. On the night table I noticed the usual carafe of wine was absent. Instead there were two pairs of leather cuffs and a ball gag. Yes, I could see that he was going to be more creative than Ali in his bondage style, or at least more thorough. I also noticed a bottle of lube, so maybe the evening would even out after all.

"Get on the bed," he ordered, in a tone that I had never heard Ali use. I sat down on the bed and swung my legs in. "No. On your belly!" I rolled over obediently.

He reached around my head, pushed in the ball gag, and buckled it tightly. I had never experienced a ball gag before -- the slavers favoured the rag-and-cleave style of shutting me up. It wasn't uncomfortable, although I suspected my jaw would get pretty tired of it quickly. There was no need for a gag -- Ali never bothered, and there was no-one around to hear me if I tried to scream. Or no-one who cared, anyway. I guess he just found it increased his sense of power to cut me off from language.

He untied the rope around my wrists and substituted one end of each of the pairs of cuffs. "On your knees!" I complied, lifting my bum into the air and bringing my knees up under me. He pulled my arms down and buckled the other ends of the cuffs to my ankles, holding me in a half-folded position with my ass sticking up.

He fondled my pussy, now sporting a small, neatly trimmed bush, and ran his fingers between my labia, around my clit, and into my vagina. That seemed to amuse him for a little while. Then he got a dollop of lube and ran it around my asshole, pushing some right inside with a fingertip. I wasn't surprised to feel a cock-head pressing firmly on it a few seconds later.

His cock was big, and it hurt some going in, but he didn't rush it like Ali always did with my pussy. He worked it in a bit, waited a few seconds, then pushed it a little further. Done that way, it didn't hurt nearly as much as it could have. Once he finally got it all the way in and my sphincter had gotten used to being stretched around it, it didn't hurt much at all, even though I didn't like it.

He started thrusting gently at first. His style in bed was a strange contrast to his sharp, commanding way of speaking. He gradually picked up speed, grunting slightly with each thrust, his balls bouncing against my taint. Finally he held a thrust all the way in, shuddered, and emptied warm cum into my rectum.

He pulled out, and like Ali, didn't pay much attention to the mix of cum and shit puddling on the expensive sheets. He lay back for a while, a very satisfied expression on his face. "Ali was right. You are an absolutely great piece of ass."

I wondered how long I would have to lie folded double, my face pushed into the bedsheets. Not long, it seemed. He unbuckled my ankles, and I was able to stretch out my legs at last. Then he rolled me over on my back. He reached into the drawer of the night table and produced four more bondage devices: chains with cuffs at one end and carabiner clips at the other. He buckled two of them to my ankles, pulled my legs apart, and wrapped the other ends around the bottom bedposts, securing them with the carabiners. Then he did the same with my wrists, substituting the chains for the cuffs he had used to keep me folded up. I ended up in a tight four-point spread.

He leaned back and admired my helpless body for a long time. Then he started running his hand over me. He massaged my breasts gently and sucked my nipples. Then he went back to my pussy, stretching out and releasing my labia and massaging my entire pubic area. I noticed his cock slowly getting hard again. I guessed I was probably right that he hadn't had any for a while.

Finally he started pushing his cock in my vagina. Not a very sanitary idea after a somewhat messy ass fuck, but I guess he didn't care much about transmitting germs from one part of my body to the other. He just enjoyed a repeat visit to my body parts.

The second time around, he took a lot longer to build up to orgasm, but he certainly seemed to be having a good time doing it. Finally he squirted a little more cum in me, having used up most of his load in my ass.

That seemed to do it nicely for him. After another few minutes of admiring my spread body, he unbuckled me from the bedposts and let me take the ball gag out of my mouth. "OK," he said as I looked at him questioningly. "You can pick up your things and get your white cunt home to your room." His abrasive manner of speaking was grating on me, but I tried not to let it worry me. I gathered up my clothes from the chair that Ali had folded them over and headed out the door without bothering to put them on.

**

Now I'll bet you're wondering how I ended up in Theo's possession. I'm not entirely sure, but some of the conversation I'd picked up. and a few things he's said to me, made me think that things weren't going well for Ali financially at that point. Some of the expensive artwork had disappeared, suggesting that he needed some liquid capital in a hurry. Perhaps he'd made some large investments that had gone bad. He always looked a bit frantic, as if maybe he owed a lot of money to someone he was deathly afraid of. Anyway, it seemed that I was one of the assets he planned to liquidate.

One day Mohammad entered our questers, which was unusual. Ali usually sent the silent goon to fetch us upstairs when he felt like a piece. He had us strip naked and get in a line in a stereotypical slave position, hands behind our heads and feet apart. This position lifted our breasts and flattened our abdomens to make us look maximally sexy. This was even more unusual. Ali never bothered with that play-BDSM shit. He just made a choice in advance and sent his muscle to escort whichever of us it was to his bedroom.

Then Theo walked in with Ali. I didn't know him at all then, so I didn't know what to expect. I just stared straight ahead and didn't make eye contact, which I assumed was the correct slave response.

Theo made a slightly derisive face that I couldn't unpack at the time, but I think he was a bit disgusted at this theatrical performance. I suspect hat Ali had seen similar tits-and-ass shows when he bought the others from slavers, so he just assumed that was the proper thing to do.

Ali waved his hand and said, "Take a look and select the one you like best."

Theo turned to him. "You know I'm just doing you a personal favour, right? After I saw what those two slavers did to the last one I bought, I swore off buying from traders. But you're not really a trader, just an old colleague who has some distressed merchandise that he needs to move in a hurry, and I could still use a few more slaves. We might have a deal."

I didn't let my face change, but I wondered. Could it be possible ...? I just hoped that if this guy bought me, he would turn out to be more like Ali and less like Steve and Artie. Not that I would exactly miss being here. Being tied up and raped, even just a night or two a week, isn't anyone's idea of a way to live. But Steve and Artie had shown me how very much worse things could get.

He looked each of us up and down, and walked around behind us to look at us from the back. His manner didn't suggest that he was just sizing us up as sex objects. It seemed more clinical, like a medical exam to assess whether we were healthy and whether we had sustained any damage while in Ali's care.

"You seem to know how to look after expensive property, I'll give you that, Ali." He stopped in front of me and gave me an especially long look. "But what's with those whip scars on this one? That's not your style."

"They were there when I bought her. You can see they're old."

I have no idea why he chose me, the only one with visible damage from captivity, but he seemed to like everything else he saw. "They all look great, but this one looks the best to me. We settled on, what, eleven thousand? In bitcoin? You'll have it in your account by this time tomorrow, at which point I assume I can expect delivery?"

"Within hours," replied Ali.

Eleven thousand dollars. I didn't know how much Ali had bought me for, but I'm sure it wasn't anything like eleven thousand. But then, he had spent some time getting me back in shape. This particular investment was paying off well.

"You're killing me here, Ali. I could snatch my own for free. But it would take weeks or months to track down the perfect candidate, check out everything about her, and find a way to get her with minimal personal risk. This is clean and simple, and pretty close to risk free." He looked me straight in the eye. "See you tomorrow."

**

The next afternoon, we were sitting around as usual, chatting or reading magazines. The outer door opened, and Mohammad came in, flanked by his usual two toughs. He pointed at me. "OK, off with them." I stripped again, and walked with Mohammad and his entourage down the hall to the garage.

Once we were in the garage, I noticed that many of the fancy cars I had seen before were missing. That added to my suspicion that Ali was undergoing a forced liquidation. But the usual black limo was waiting. It looked as though I would leave as I had arrived, trussed up naked in a very expensive trunk.

After we had driven for what seemed a very long time, we finally stopped. The trunk opened, and the toughs picked me up by armpits and ankles. I had expected some kind of ceremonial hand-off, or at least a receipt-signing, but instead they just dumped me as is, naked, gagged, and bound hand and foot, on Theo's garage floor. Then they got back in the car and drove off.

I didn't have to lie there for more than half a minute. Theo was obviously expecting me, and showed up immediately. He looked at my bonds a bit disgustedly. "Why does Ali always have to make performance theatre out of a simple transaction?" he muttered under his breath as he untied me.

He helped me to my feet. I was a bit unsteady from having been tied up in a trunk for so long, but he waited for me to get my shore legs back. Then I walked with him out of the garage and down to the slave quarters.

The rest you know. I had wondered vaguely if the two slavers he had mentioned were Steve and Artie, and also who it was that he had bought back then. I didn't expect for a minute that it would be you. I almost had a heart attack when you called out my name.

**

So that's Anabelle's story, at least as she related it to me. After she wound up the main part of the story, she added thoughtfully, "I haven't seen enough of Theo's operation yet to make a good comparison -- just the whirlwind tour when I arrived -- but I suspect I'll miss some aspects of my life with Ali. You definitely have better accommodations. I like the access to media, and I was especially impressed when Theo showed me the gym."

"On the other hand, I only had to service Ali once or twice a week, not every day, and I generally knew what I was going to get when I went upstairs, unless he was going to lend me out for the evening to one of his buddies. Some light bondage, a good PIV fuck session, then some chit chat over a few glasses of wine. I didn't appreciate being a captive, and I got pretty tired of drinking wine with my hands tied, but that's really the worst I have to say about it. It sounds like life here is too much like a box of chocolates for me to be looking forward to it."

She glanced down at her very basic jump suit. "And the costumes aren't nearly as cool."

At that point, she had said all that she had energy for, and I had finished telling her a few of my adventures, if you could use that term, at Theo's since we last saw each other. Finally talked out, we gave each other a final hug and headed off to our cubicles for bed.

**

And that's all of this journal I've had time to edit and clean up so far. Like I said, it's unlikely that anyone will read it but me and a few of the other women, but I still pride myself on getting the whole thing as readable as I can.

I don't know when I'll have time to get any more of it in shape. There's certainly lots to tell, even if I leave out all the totally routine days. That will just have to wait.