Strange Days Pt. 04

(Master Daniel uses the facility as well; but to preserve his masculine dignity he does so alone.)

Our cleaning must be quick but thorough. We shower five at a time, our bodies squeezed together under the three nozzles. We're all grubby from the games; there's dirt and grass and lord knows what else in my creases; and the other girls have dried paint to scrub off. Squashed in beside me is Abigail. She's gorgeous, witty and satirical, and a wonderful example of "erotic plasticity". Her sexual orientation can change by the hour or depending on whom she's with. Refusing to admit to being straight, bi or gay, she's "flexible". And now, under the sensual stream of warm water she's flexing my way. "Your turn," she coos once I'm all-over sudsed. As I begin to begin to apply the soap to her torso, Layla steps into the cubicle to make up a threesome. Laura and Emily exit graciously, to give other girls a chance to join the fun. (They're not opposed to these dalliances, just not in the mood.) Our shower-stall shenanigans are the only opportunity we have, while enslaved, for an intimate relationship on terms of equality. And for most of us, what happens in the Commune stays in the Commune.

We can hear the storm approaching as the thunder grows louder and more frequent. Just as the last of us is safe and dry in the hut a mighty torrent pounds the roof.

Even with the afternoon's programmed activities cancelled, we don't get free time. Claudia announces that all slaves are confined to their huts, except those on kitchen detail. In a way that's good news. The Masters have gathered in the mess hall for whatever they have planned to occupy their time; but it won't involve us. We get a break from being their entertainment; but that doesn't mean we put our feet up. We each stand at the foot of her own bed, mute and rigidly at attention, arms behind backs, facing towards the wall and staring directly ahead. After three weeks I've become used to this. You learn how to relax your muscles while keeping a stiff posture, and you devise mentally stimulating routines for warding off what can become excruciating boredom. Today these are crucial because we maintain our positions for perhaps two hours. There is some inevitable shuffling of feet, stretching of muscles and neck exercises, but no one speaks or moves from her spot. During lulls in the rainfall it's so quiet I hear the breathing of Francine and Caitlyn on my left and right. Even our live wires, Layla, Abigail and Stephanie, maintain their silence, knowing that any breach of the rules will get everyone punished.

Sarah, still pallid and frail, has the dispensation to lie down but chooses to join us in the line-up. Notwithstanding her brevity of stature, she's one of the toughest slavegirls in the Commune. Like many of us, she is here to test herself with outré challenges. She has no intention of being the first girl to be sent home, willingly or otherwise.

It must be around five o'clock when sunlight breaks through the clouds, brightens our barracks and, more important, warms our bare bodies. Master Daniel enters. We reflexively straighten up. He calls out Layla and Stephanie. They follow him out the door. They, and we, know what's coming -- retribution for their feeble display of defiance towards Master Oscar this morning. Daniel returns shortly afterwards and gives us permission to lie on our bunks. We are off our feet, but it's not for relaxation. Every moment we spend in the Commune is defined by our slavery. Our sole purpose is to obey and serve the males, and bad weather is no excuse for us to take it easy. I prostrate myself, on my stomach, legs spread, hands folded behind my back. The posture makes it impossible to doze off. My chin rests on the pillow so I'm still looking ahead. We mustn't see each other's faces, because we are forbidden to communicate in any way.

The sun is setting when we are called to dinner. We march in a single file to the mess hall. We are the second shift and the men have already finished their main course. The four chained girls are prostrate on the floor beside the Masters' tables. Layla, Stephanie and Delilah (I wonder what she's done wrong) are beside them, hogtied with rope. All are gagged and blindfolded. We take our seats and the women from H block bring out our meal. It's delicious and nutritious, a colourful chicken salad with more ingredients that I can count. We eat, as usual, in silence, and can listen in on the Masters' conversation if we so wish. I wish not to. Sarah picks at her food, and I'm worried that she's still not well. Claudia glances across the room at Olivia, who is watching from a corner, and encourages Sarah to keep eating.

As soon as dinner is over, Olivia and I go back to the infirmary. (Sarah comes along and insists she's improving.) We complete the daily inventory check, and Andrew arrives just in time to sign the report. He doesn't read it or ask questions. He's just there because... well there's no need to restate the obvious. But he does inquire about Sarah, who appears indignant that she is still being fussed over. Then Master Dion enters. He and Olivia exchange nods and she takes a carton from one of the cabinets. He says "Make it an even dozen" and she counts out twelve condoms.

A couple of minutes later I peek out the window. Eight Masters are each heading to a different hut, leading a slave on a leash. One of the latter is Sabrina. Sophisticated and cerebral, with a laconic spirit and an ethereal blond-haired, brown-eyed beauty, she might be the last woman you'd expect to find in a summer camp for slavegirls. She's never explained what motivates and fortifies her.

Some of the eight women will spend the night with their Masters. Others will be sent back to their barracks. The condoms will not necessarily be used. All slaves, at the beginning of our service, are encouraged to begin a course of contraceptives, and a supply of pills is kept in each hut. However, being available for sex, or not, is one of the few expressions of free will we enjoy, during the first four weeks in the Commune; and most of us forgo it, even those with boyfriends among the Masters. They don't, as far as I'm aware, resent being deprived of that pleasure.

Meanwhile, the evening activities have started. Once she has closed up the infirmary, Andrew ties Olivia's hands behind her back, then does mine. We return to the mess hall where the tables and chairs have been stacked at one end. All the slaves are similarly bound and kneeling along and facing the walls, except for half a dozen; these are standing in the middle of the room inside six circles of Masters, blindfolded, their hands clasped behind their heads. In each circle, a cane is being passed around, and each girl receives whacks on her back, buttocks and thighs from each Master. They are not full-blooded blows. The Master holds the cane against the skin, draws back the tip and lets it go, raising a pink welt but not breaking the skin. Nevertheless, it's scary to behold before Olivia and I take our places against the wall awaiting our turn. When we can no longer see the action, we can still hear the gasps and sighs.

The cane is rarely used for punishment, rather for discipline, in other words what might be called "training purposes". It's also not a nightly thing -- not necessarily out of benevolence towards us, but to give lesions time to heal for the next session.

When I am called to enter one of the circles, Laura, Caitlyn, Claudia and Jessica are also summoned, as well as Olivia (since the other women of her Hut F have already had their turn). Jonathan unties my hands and blindfolds me. I take my place surrounded by the six Masters. I clench my teeth as I feel the cane come to rest on my bottom. When it lifts away I brace myself. I imagine I hear the swish as it rebounds and connects. That's unlikely, but I do hear the "Thwack!" and I certainly feel the sting. I've been through this several times, and it doesn't really hurt. The pain is in the indignity of having to stand there, naked, surrounded by males as they violate my flesh. That's balanced by the pride I feel in not flinching or crying out.

The cane now rests on my back, just below my shoulder blades. I don't know if it's a good thing to have a second's warning of what's to come. Being sightless, I have no idea who it is wielding the cane each time. In fact, this strike is not much more than a tap. That's not good. It's why a merciful Master can be bad news for us slaves. Jonathan sneers "Why don't you just kiss her?" and someone else adds "Try again." Naturally, the gentle-hand overcompensates. I cannot hold in a groan.

"That's better," someone mutters.

The cane caresses my thighs. I don't know who it is taunting me. I'm still paying the price for that half-hearted effort which earned me a bonus whack. But I'm feeling strong. I get through my ordeal, nineteen strokes altogether, unwavering, and wondering if any of my tormentors could do better. My hands are once more tied and I am sent back to the wall.

Sarah does not avoid her caning, though she could. The four girls in chains are also not exempt.

We slaves are sent to our huts while the Masters stay behind to plan tomorrow's activities. During the brisk walk across the quadrangle I look up. The sky is ablaze; Sirius and the stars of Orion glitter overhead; a half-moon is sinking in the western sky. I would love to linger, but that's not allowed.

Regina, freed from her fetters at least for the night, joins us, looking haggard. We assume the usual position, standing to attention at the foot of our bunks but with our arms still pinioned behind us. Just after we do so, Sabrina comes in. As she takes her place, Layla whispers something. I think it's "So, good, bad or ugly?"

Then comes a non sequitur from Stephanie. "God, I could make love to a cheeseburger right now."

Sabrina replies, very uncharacteristically, "Not for me, thanks. I'm all full up."

Claudia, at the other end of the row of beds, hisses "Shush!"

So we wait, not making another sound, until Master Daniel arrives, maybe thirty minutes later. He goes from bunk to bunk freeing our hands. Then he settles down to read in the armchair outside his bedroom; so we have another long wait. We're allowed in batches of three to wash ourselves and use the toilets. When it's our turn we each call out, still facing towards the wall, "Permission to use the bathroom, Master?"

"You may, slave," he replies.

"Thank you, Master."

Finally we can finally go to bed. I take off my collar and place it at the foot of the mattress. I lie on my belly because the skin of my back, buttocks and thighs still smarts from the caning, not much but enough that I'm aware of it and don't want it to stop me getting quickly to sleep. I have no sheet or blanket to cover me, since it's warm inside the hut. However, there are some in one of the cabinets in case the weather gets unseasonably cold.

"Good-night, girls," Daniel says as his door closes.

"Good-night, Master," his harem of fifteen answers as one.

As the room goes dark, all I hear are the breathing noises from my fellow slaves. It's a comforting sound, gradually dying away until I'm one of the last still awake.

My twenty-first day in the Commune comes to an end. There are eight days left before we go home for a four-day Christmas break. Then I must decide. Will I return? If I do, that's when the real fun begins.