The Lilac Society Ch. 04

She was already walking out. I lay back on the mat, thin padding inside, the outer material sticking to my body. So this is how I would sleep. I waited there, as other slaves, all naked, made their way in and took their places. The new slaves, like me, often were escorted by their owners showing them where to sleep. The more experienced slaves just made their way down on their own.

Eventually, someone took the mat to my left.

"Hey. How's it going? I'm zoe's."

"Nice to meet you, zoe's. I'm..." I had to stop myself from saying "Chris." It was still weird. "I'm lauren's."

"Nice to meet you."

"Yeah. Nice sleeping arrangements, huh?"

"You get used to it. It helps if you think of it as a sacrifice you're making for your owner. In a few minutes, when everybody's here, they'll turn out the lights and lock us in."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Hey - what's with all the black?"

"That's for semen check. Most mornings, one of the owners will come in here with a blacklight, and look for semen stains. Making sure none of us are breaking the law down here."

"The law..."

"Yeah, it's the law. The Lilac Society law."

"Lilac Society. I keep hearing that name."

"You're in it now." A little laugh.

"Yeah, they don't tell you more than you need to know, do they?"

"Absolutely not."

Eventually, another slave plopped down on my right.

"Hey, I'm lyla's."

"lauren's."

Not long after, one of the women yelled down to us.

"One minute, one minute until lights out! Y'all better be on your mats, every last one of you!"

About a minute later, the lights cut off. Then I heard a door slam, and something like a deadbolt sliding. Suddenly, it was black. Absolute, pitch-black darkness. I took a deep breath. I rolled to my side, feeling the skin of my naked back peeling off the mat's surface. Using my arm as a pillow, I tried to settle down. This - this whole day had been intense. Lauren had not been kidding about how serious this all is. I could have never imagined this place.

Lauren looked so damn good today, my god. It was thrilling that she owned me. There were plenty of beautiful women here, but I felt proud in a way. Proud that I belonged to Lauren, that of all the slaves here, I was the one that she owned. I was still getting used to the idea that my name was now "lauren's." Seeing the names over the pegs and the mats made me realize our names were supposed to be lower case. Of course they were. How could it be any different? "lauren's." My new name. It seemed exciting, Lauren's ownership of me coded into my very name. My identity was wrapped up with her.

My cock was hanging free for the first time in months, with no chastity device to protect it. I noticed myself barely touching it, then reminded myself to stop. I kept both my hands up close to my face. God, I didn't need to screw up like that again. I rolled over to my other side, mat again sticking to me. I heard other slaves moving, adjusting. It was so hard to settle down. This was all too much to take in. Eventually, after an hour or two, thoughts of Lauren in my mind, I drifted to sleep.

BZZZZZZZTTT!!!

A loud, distorted buzzer jolted me awake as the overhead fluorescent lights came to life. I squinted and covered my eyes, remembering where I was, adjusting to the feeling of being one naked man in a room full of naked men. Loud footsteps on the stairs gave way to two attractive women walking down the center aisle.

"Up! Up! Every last slave standing up NOW if you know what's good for you!"

The blonde woman yelling this made her way to the end, past me. She wore a crumpled t-shirt and athletic shorts, her tennis shoes without socks. It looked as if she'd just woken up and thrown on some

clothes. To my left, zoe's stood up straight on top of the very end of his mat. lyla's was doing the same. I followed their lead.

"Single file line! No speaking, no touching anything or anyone! Keep your minds on your owners, ready to serve!"

I took a deep breath and thought of Lauren. I couldn't wait to see her. I wondered where she was right now.

"Quickly! Don't waste time!"

We made our way in a tight packed line down the center of the cell. After several feet, the line stopped. While we waited, the lights went out. Two gloved women with blacklights made their way past us, scanning the room, overturning mats, examining the floors, the walls, the bucket, looking for any evidence of the unpardonable crime.

A few minutes later the light came on, the line moved several more feet, then stopped. Lights out again, the women continued their investigation.

Lights on, we moved. This time they stayed on. I was now on the stairs leading up, and could see a strict looking woman at the top, directing the flow of the line. Several minutes later, we moved again, this woman directing men to our right. When she stopped the line again, zoe's was in front, and I waited right behind him.

The woman in front of us had reddish-brown hair, pulled back in a pony tail. She had a freckled face with pouty lips, and looked like she meant business. Naked men were occasionally walking across the way to the line of garments, then walking off after getting dressed.

After a few more minutes, the woman waved us into the large room in the right, where I'd brushed my teeth the night before. I joined a line of slaves at a large urinal trough, where I relieved myself. Then we were waved around a corner into a very large shower area. Several towers sprayed water continuously. I stepped up to one along with four other slaves, including zoe's and lyla's. As soon as the spray of water hit my skin, I flinched. It was freezing cold.

Squirting some of the soap from a dispenser, I set to work quickly washing my hair, my face, and my body. Several women wete stationed around the perimeter of the shower room, just out of range of the spray, watching us closely. The woman I was facing, just feet away, was still wearing pajamas, though she also had on tennis shoes. When I reached down to wash my cock, she leaned forward a bit, eyebrows raised, her gaze on me like a hawk. I quickly finished down there. A few seconds later, someone else must have been taking too long.

"That's enough, hannah's, get your hand off of it!"

After quickly showering we were herded, dripping wet, to the tooth brushing station. Again using my finger and a dollop of the tasteless toothpaste, I cleaned my mouth.

Finally, we made our way to a bench with a pile of thin towels, wet from use. A couple slaves in front of me were just finishing drying themselves, and dropped the towels onto the bench. Picking one up, wondering just how many men had used it this morning, I dried myself.

I was then herded to the garments, where I found the little tag reading "lauren's," and tried to remember how to get dressed. Covered by my garment, I felt just as weird as I had the day before. At last, I followed the crowd up to the kitchen and dining area.

I scrambled eggs, proud of my work, proud when I knelt before Lauren and served them to her. Lauren was wearing old shorts and a t-shirt, and had walked down to the kitchen barefoot. She yawned as I served her, and didn't speak to me. Elyse wasn't at breakfast. Maybe she was picking up her slave.

Later, I had to remember my way to Lauren's room. After I found it, I took my time collecting the laundry, straightening Lauren's nightstand, and, as it was Sunday, stripping her bed foe the laundry. The bed was a mess - covers pulled out, tangled up with the sheets, falling to the floor. Lauren must be a rough sleeper, I thought, before reminding myself not to let my thoughts follow that path. The thought of Lauren in bed could only lead to the thing that had got me in trouble.

I found the common laundry. I was told by a woman named Grace that I needed to work on folding clothes while I was there. Finally, late in the morning, Lauren found me.

"This way, slave." She was matter of fact as ever. Lauren must have showered and dressed. She was now wearing cute patterned shorts, a pink short-sleeve shirt, and those same flip-flops. A few minutes later I was standing on the front lawn while Lauren reclined in an adirondack chair painted that peculiar purple. Off to her side, I practiced kneeling and standing, over and over, as Lauren corrected me.

"Don't plop, slave."

"More fluid. Think graceful."

"Palms up as you go down."

"Quit standing like a free man. From your posture, someone would think you're some kind of swinging dick asshole fratboy. It's not very slavelike."

"A little better, slave."

After my knees had been sore for awhile, Elyse made her way across the grass, followed by a muscular guy wearing the slave garment.

"Look what I have!"

"Oh my god, your slave!"

elyse's looked like he was trying to get used to the feel of the garment. Lauren spoke to him, he bowed, and called her ma'am. I continued practicing. Elyse reclined on the chair next to Lauren, and they spoke for awhile, elyse's kneeling at his owner's feet, while I knelt and stood, knelt and stood.

At lunchtime, I worked in the kitchen with elyse's, zoe's, and katie's. elyse's still seemed very nervous. He was this big strong guy, but he was shy. I wondered if I had seemed that nervous last night.

After cleanup, and after my assigned labor mopping a couple of the long hallways, Lauren found me and led me to the massagerie. She had to jump a little to get up on one of the comfortable looking massage tables. Then she spun around and laid down, knees bent at the end of the table, flip-flopped feet dangling, swinging slightly.

"OK slave. On the table over there you need to find the lotion I use. Ahava Mineral Foot Cream. There should be a few tubes of it. Make sure you get the right one."

"Yes, Lauren."

The table on the side of the room held an enormous array of lotions, creams, and soaps of various brands. I searched through them until I found Lauren's preference. Nearby, another slave was massaging his owner's feet. She was sitting up with her heels resting on the end of the table as her slave, kneeling before her, worked on her feet at about face height.

"I found it, Lauren."

"Hold out your hand."

Lauren took the tube of cream from my hand, opened it, and squirted a little dollop onto my finger.

"That's how much you use. Spread it across your palms..."

"Yes, Lauren."

"and massage it into one of my feet. When they start feeling a little dry again, use that much again. Got it?"

"Yes, Lauren."

"Good!" She smiled slightly, lying back with her hands behind her neck. Taking the tube, I walked to the end of the table and knelt at Lauren's dangling feet. I took off her right flip-flop, then her left. Then, with a closed-mouth grin, I took Lauren's left foot into my hands.

Oh my god this felt nice. It struck me that while I'd kissed Lauren's feet, I'd never touched them with my hands. Her feet were soft and smooth, pale and small. I began rubbing the lotion into her sole and her heel, then slowly massaging her foot deeply.

"A little harder in the arch. Just below the ball."

"Yes, Lauren."

"Wider circles."

"Yes Lauren. I understand, Lauren."

"Just do your best. You'll be taking a class on it soon."

I'd almost forgotten how beautiful Lauren's feet were. It had been so long since my face had been this close, oh wow. Little toes, precisely cut nails, no polish. Little squared off toe shape. High arches. I rubbed her smooth sloping instep, cradled her heel, a little wide for the size of her foot, smoothed lotion into each ankle, inside and outside. I picked up the tube and squeezed more lotion.

Working the cream into the fleshy pad of each toe, I felt my cock grow hard, expanding forcefully into the fabric of my garment. Holy shit I had to be careful. Working again with Lauren's arch, I noticed how strong the foot muscles were beneath her smooth skin. I remembered that Lauren was a runner, competing in 5K's, 10K's, half marathons. Of course she was strong.

Suddenly, I remembered the thoughts I was supposed to be meditating on the last time I'd had my face in Lauren's feet, when my task had been to kiss them. Lauren is better than me. She is my superior. I am her inferior. I can accept it, and be happy under her authority, or fight it, and be miserable. I'd long since accepted it, of course, but it was good to meditate on it now and then. Of course this beautiful, strong, intelligent, insightful young woman was better than me. I was proud to be owned by her.

In fact, at the moment, I felt like the luckiest guy in the world. Just experiencing the privilege of holding this foot in my hands, Lauren's foot, it was amazing. I was so thankful that, of all the men out there with submissive desires, Lauren had chosen me to be her slave. Me! I sighed. My cock was still rock hard. I felt as if I were right where I belonged, at home, at peace, serving Lauren.

Beside my head, Lauren's right foot flexed and squirmed. I continued my massage to her left foot, wondering if I was supposed to wait until Lauren told me to switch, or if I was just supposed to do it. I decided to just keep massaging.

It seemed like hours, yet it didn't seem long enough. Finally, Lauren ordered me to switch feet and I obeyed, reveling in the soft beauty of her right foot. My leg was starting to cramp a bit from kneeling down here so long, but I wanted to keep doing this forever. My entire body, my entire mind's concentration, everything I had focused on service to Lauren and absolutely nothing else.

Eventually, Lauren sat up, and watched me work on her foot. I felt wonderfully self-conscious. I glanced up quickly at Lauren glancing down at me, making sure to keep my focus on her foot. She had a slight smile. I thought we were probably close to finished, but I just kept massaging.

I noticed, to our right, a woman lying face down on one of the tables. Her slave, a man who looked near middle age, was carefully massaging her shoulders through a thin top. I glanced up at Lauren.

"Lauren?" I motioned to them discreetly with my head. "Thar's allowed?"

"jennifer's has been serving his owner for quite a few years. Over time, he's earned her trust, and privileges like that."

I sighed. I wondered what was in store for me, wondered about my future. I kept massaging diligently. Then I glanced up again at Lauren, who was staring down at me.

"I'm proud of you, slave. You're catching on. You're doing so well for your first weekend here."

Quickly looking up, I saw Lauren's slight smile, barely perceptible. Oh god those words made me feel all kinds of good.

"Thank you, Lauren. Thank you thank you so much!" I continued my deep massage to Lauren's right foot. Above, Lauren leaned forward, reached out, and slowly ran a single finger through my hair on the very top of my head. She did it again, and again.

"Never forget, slave. lauren's. Chris. Never forget that you are a very, very good slave. An exceptional slave. It's what you were made for."

And oh my god I nearly collapsed, a single tear running down my cheek as I continued to massage Lauren's foot, breathing deep, barely able to speak. Finally, I whispered.

"Thank you, Lauren. That means the whole world to me, Lauren."

Later there was dinner, then packing, then finding the clothes I came in, then the walk to Lauren's car. I floated through it all. The entire drive back to campus, I could only think of next weekend. I wanted to go back. I wanted to stay.

"Next weekend is a big weekend, slave. It's the ceremony." We were almost at Lauren's apartment, the sun having just set. I had some moving in to do of my own, and not much time to do it.

"What's the ceremony, Lauren?"

"You'll see. There's so much that you'll just have to wait for. You'll see."