The Sisterhood of Slaves Pt. 06

But every now and then, perhaps once a day (it was hard to tell), she was flogged. Then the Masters were not gentle. Sometimes a whip was used, at other times a strap and once a cane. The latter was not applied a second time, albeit not to spare her tortured flesh from further torment. It was (she guessed) one of the newer Masters who had wielded the cane, and it was one of the slaves who advised "Please, Sir, you will find that the whip is better; it does not break the skin, so you can use it harder and for longer."

She dreaded the floggings but even more the anticipation, because each time she heard the stomping of a Master's boots on the stairs she had no way of knowing in what manner her body would be used to give him pleasure.

She was gagged each time she received her thrashing. Indeed, the women were almost always gagged when being tortured in any way... but this was not to stifle their screams or pleas, for there was no one within hearing distance of the Château but the Masters (who were impervious) and their slaves (who were powerless). No, the purpose of the gags, and the ropes and chains, the blindfolds and the nudity, as well as the tortures and torments, was that the women should not just know but feel, through their confinement and their suffering, that they were in no way free but rather owned property, to be used and enjoyed according to the will and the whim of the Masters. And they would be constantly reminded (as if they needed to be) of what they were and what they were not...

After who knows how long, her twilight existence in the tower ended. It was Robert who came for her. He arrived with two of the other Masters, and when they had finished with her, he went to the door with his companions as if to leave. But he came back and lay beside her and pushed inside her again, with less tenderness than she expected of him. Then he helped her to sit up (as her hands were still locked behind her back) and removed her blindfold. He slipped two fingers between her neck and the front of the collar and pulled her close to him.

She thought she was going to be kissed, but he said "Look up. Just this once."

After all this time, it felt strange to gaze into his face, as if she were his equal.

"You know how much I want you to be mine."

"Yes, Master."

"Call me Robert, one last time." There was something wistful, nostalgic, in his voice.

"Yes, Robert." Her eyes were downcast once more.

"And it is because of what we both desire that I have brought you here and given you to the other Masters... No, don't speak... But now it is time to take the final step. From now on, you must accept and follow this single principle, that pleasure is yours to give but not to receive, that everything you have comes only as a gift from those you serve, and can be taken away, whether you think you deserve it or not. It is no longer your right to decide what you have and what is taken. Your submission must be unlimited and unconditional, with no expectation of reward and no relief from whatever is required of you. If you love me, then you love everything that I and the other Masters demand of you."

It sounded like a speech he had prepared, or been taught to him.

"Do you agree? Just nod."

She already knew this. It was why she had come to the Château. But she understood that it was he who needed to say it, not she who needed to hear it.

He stroked her flushed cheeks and quivering lips, kissed her breasts, played with his fingers in her loins until she gasped and sighed.

"At any time, you can leave the house. No one will stop you. But once you have chosen to stay, you must accept that it is not of your own free will that you submit and obey. Since you belong to the Masters, you have no free will. It is not your choice to obey or disobey, to submit or resist. You are here because you need to be here, so it is meaningless to consent to that which gives you what you crave. So this is all you're offered, all you can expect, to be a slave and nothing more while you are here in the Château, and afterwards as long as you remain our property."

She felt a sudden queasiness. "Our property," he'd said.

He put his hand open the back of her head, lightly grasping the hair, and gently but firmly pushed her face into his lap. She took that part of him which made him her Lord and Master into her mouth. He pushed hard, into the back of her throat, and she choked and shuddered. Alarmed, he pulled out.

"I love you," she murmured.

"Yes," he whispered.

He caressed the red satin blindfold and tied it over her eyes. He lifted her to her feet and unhitched the chain from her collar. Guiding her by taking hold of her elbows and walking behind her, he took her out of the room and down the stairwell, being careful to maintain a firm grip so she did not stumble and fall. When she felt freezing tiles underfoot she trembled, but she felt safe to be on a solid, level floor.

It must have been early afternoon, because the Masters and the women were assembled in the courtyard for their games. Monique did not take part. Rather, she was led to a small flight of wooden steps that rose to a platform about chest-high from the ground. Her shackles were fastened together in front and a cable attached, and her hands were pulled above her head until she was compelled to stand on her tiptoes in order to ease the strain on her arms and shoulders. A rope was then slung from a cross-bar. It ran between her breasts and down her belly, between her thighs and up behind her. It was made tight enough that it burrowed and burned in her clefts, front and rear. A plump rubber shaft was thrust into her mouth and buckled in place.

For most of the afternoon Monique was left alone, trying to decipher, behind her blindfold, from the laughing and squealing and screaming and cursing, what games the Masters were playing with their slaves. The only attention she received during the first hour or so was when someone mounted the stand to loosen the rope that ravished her; but the respite was for just a couple of minutes each time, and the effect was to restore enough feeling to her despoiled crevices to make each retightening harder to bear.

It was a sweet tribulation that she endured, not being able to rest or relax or ease the pressure, except by lifting one foot off the floor as a cramp set in; but she could only hold it there for a few seconds. She hated the pain but loved that she was in pain, for her suffering reaffirmed what Robert had told her in the tower. Submission must be unlimited and unconditional. It is no sacrifice to give up that which you are willing to give up, what you are happy to surrender. Everything must be taken. So she was flattered and overjoyed that the Masters had chosen to test her with such torments, to strip everything from her.

Yet eventually they took pity on her, and while it shamed her that they should do so, she could not help but be pleased. She was ordered to lie on her stomach. Her hands were bound behind her with rope (instead of being cuffed) and her ankles were similarly bound and connected to her wrists. The hog-tie was made severe enough that her body was arched backwards with just the tips of her breasts touching the wooden boards. The astriction this caused to her chest made each breath she took, through the bulbous gag, an exquisite ordeal.

When the games ended and the slaves went inside to wash and begin their new round of chores, Monique was again separated from the others and taken to the library, where the Masters had gathered for their pre-dinner drinks. They made her bend over the Ottoman footstool on her belly, or across it on her back, according to each man's preference. No part of her was spared. Afterwards, they tied her, standing with her arms stretched upwards, to a hook embedded in one of the columns which supported a narrow mezzanine.

The men took turns flogging her, each directing the lashes to a part of her, one her back, another her buttocks, a third her thighs, her shoulders, breasts, belly, and so on. She was blindfolded but not gagged, and felt proud that she suppressed the urge to cry out, to beg for mercy. Once all of her had been seared and scored by the whip, she was untied and permitted to prostrate herself on the rug, the warmth of the coals in the fireplace soothing on her red-raw skin, while the Masters finished their whisky and brandy and waited for the other slaves to beg their attendance at the dinner table.

When the rest of the men had left, Robert called her to his armchair and she knelt at his feet with her head resting on his knees.

"You have been strong, so far," he told her. "Now you must be stronger."

She raised her head, started to look up at him, then buried her face in her hands on the carpet.

"I will be going away... will be gone some time."

She felt the tears begin to well up, but she held them back.

"I'm leaving you in good hands. The other Masters will take care of you, will make you obey. Do understand what I am asking... what I am demanding... of you?"

"Yes, Master!"

The tears came. Robert patted her head.

"Don't fret my dearest. It is for the best. You belong to all the Masters equally. Serve them faithfully as you have served me."

She remained huddled on the floor at his feet, her face hidden, the tears of joy still flowing.

She lay awake, on her back, the Master on top of her, sleeping but still inside her. Even if she could somehow wriggle out from beneath his body, her collar was chained to the headboard and her left bracelet was joined to that of Sophie, who was on her belly, also asleep.

The young man was no lightweight, but Monique's time in the house had made her strong, and she could breathe without difficulty. However, he was restless, perhaps dreaming, and the shifting of his pelvis over hers while they remained conjoined was having its effect. She stifled a moan and peered out the window. The sky overhead was still black, but on the horizon a faint band of pink heralded the approach of dawn. She could not remember what day it was, and it did not really matter. Time seemed to flow at an inconstant rate within the walls of the Château, and it was hard to keep up with how many mornings she had spent doing the Masters' chores, how many afternoons playing the Masters' games, how many evenings serving the Masters' pleasure.

Most of the slavegirls would be starting their duties by now. She missed being with them. She loved that her role in the Château was not only to satisfy the personal and peculiar needs of the Masters but, equally important, to maintain their comfort. Just as they were allowed no possessions, the slaves were denied all but the most fleeting leisure and relaxation, indeed anything which might distract them from their duties or cause them to forget, even for a moment, why they were there. Nevertheless, she enjoyed the silent camaraderie of the kitchen. Although they were not permitted to speak (and there were girls whom she had known for months whose voices she had never heard except in addressing a Master), this was the only time during the day when the women consorted without the overbearing presence of the males.

Of course, at night those who did not have the honor of sharing a Master's bed slept together, and the first time Monique joined them she discovered that the men did not command all of the affection and passion in the house. Such intimate contact between the women was prohibited, but this was a rule "more honour'd in the breach than the observance." For as much as they were devoted to those to whom they belonged, they all, sooner or later, yearned for the love of an equal.

(The Bard is often misunderstood. "More honour'd in the breach than the observance" does not mean a custom more often ignored than followed, but rather one that it is more righteous to violate than to practise. Breaking the "Sapphic" rule, the only injunction from the Masters that Monique ever saw willfully disobeyed, satisfied both interpretations. But the punishment was the most severe of those meted out for any offence, because such relations deprived the Masters of that which belonged rightfully and solely to them.)

The young man's movements had subsided, and he slackened inside her. His dream was over. His eyes flickered open and for an instant connected with hers. She quickly looked away, but he yawned and grunted and rolled off her, sat up and reached for his robe. Sophie was now awake as well, and once the Master had disconnected their cuffs and gone to the bathroom, the two women adopted the customary position, kneeling on the floor next to the bed, arms folded behind their backs, knees apart and heads bowed, tethered to the bed-frame awaiting his return.

He was gone a long time and they never moved or spoke or glanced at each other. He came out smelling of soap and shampoo and aftershave. Monique felt his hot breath on the back of her neck as he crouched behind her. Her hands, pinned between her back and his stomach as he lunged forward, grabbed onto his robe; and when he finally pulled away it took her fists a second or two to release the velvet. She gasped and groaned and toppled forward, her head and shoulders resting on the edge of the mattress, as the Master shifted sideways to enter Sophie.

Though baby-faced and slightly chubby (were they getting younger or was she feeling so much older?), the new Master certainly had stamina. Monique assumed that he was one of the young men who served their apprenticeship in Lydia's apartment. Not all the Masters followed this route into the Brotherhood; and of course Monique was not privy to the details of the men's selection or training. However, there was something different about this Master. When he arrived at the Château he was accompanied by a new slavegirl, and they looked vaguely alike. The whispered gossip amongst the women was that they were cousins. But there was more. Their advent brought a subtle variation in comings and goings.

Something was brewing. Fragments of the muted conversations of the males were passed along in hushed exchanges between the females, which produced scraps of hearsay. So no one was in doubt that there would be changes in the Château, in the Brotherhood of Masters and the sisterhood of slaves.