Two to Serve

by Jennifer Campbell

  Two to Serve

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  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design: Selena Kitt

  Two to Serve © 2008 Jennifer Campbell

  eXcessica publishing

  All rights reserved

  Two to Serve

  By Jennifer Campbell

  Two to Serve

  Chapter 1: My Taking

  The week I spent waiting for my taking became one of the longest weeks of my life. At least it felt that way. Trying to immerse myself in work, I found my thoughts drifting all the time, to sweet daydreams of being taken away from my condo forcefully, never to return. Wearing the leather collar given to me the night of my trial, I found I was not scared, just aroused and intensely excited. Every morning I left the collar on the little table right next to my front door so when I came home, I could strip and put it on immediately. With no restrictions on my climaxes, Clifford, my ten-inch, sparkle-infused, red dildo got heavy use all week long.

  What would it be like to live in a mansion, The Mansion as it was called, with nineteen other slave girls? There was no longer a question of whether or not I would live there. How could I not take the opportunity to push my submission to such a high level?

  The only real questions now were about work, and my office assistant Donna. How loyal to my job, my career, would I be? How much would I allow it to take me away from this exciting new lifestyle I had carved out for myself? Of course, my VP position was not hourly, and sometimes I put in a sixty-hour week, but I thought I should bargain for forty hours at work. However, was it my job I was really worried about, or seeing and continuing to dominate Donna? Could I bear the thought of abandoning her at this point in our Mistress-slave relationship?

  The only thing that truly bothered me during this week of suspense was the thought of this novice training and how it stood in my way to be paired with Gail. Bristling, I thought certainly my trails with the visitors and my audition had proven to my Master I was no novice. Master Keefe had chosen me, invited me to the Mansion, so certainly he must see something more in me. My dominant self convinced me I would breeze through this foolishness about novice training to be linked intimately with Gail.

  The other thing my dominant side clung to was my G4. The silver roadster was an integral part of my dominant side’s freedom, and a symbol of her success. Perhaps, I thought, the roadster can be garaged at The Mansion, and I can at least drive it to work every day.

  Despite knowing I have to keep the delicate balance between my two sides, I instinctively knew my dominant side would have to take a backseat now, after twenty-nine years at the wheel. How would she take losing control, being overwhelmed by my slavish side? Truth be told, I had no idea, and the thought worried me.

  On Wednesday I received a formal letter from the president of my condo association, the prudish Mrs. Kane, who demanded that I appear before the association to answer for my morally indecent behavior. In essence, I needed to explain why I should not be tossed out of the association and forced to sell my condo. In the current situation, I merely laughed at the letter, and changed the light bulb over the front door to a higher wattage, to allow Mrs. Kane to more clearly witness my taking on Friday night. Give the old bluenose a show she will not soon forget.

  Finally, it was half past four on Friday, and I sat at my desk wondering what I would say to Donna when I left. After all, I assumed I would be in on Monday morning, but didn’t know for sure. My presence behind this desk Monday was linked to a contract negotiation that hadn’t yet started.

  As I exited my inner office, locking the door behind me, I had this eerie sense of being on one side of a door, or portal. Tonight I would step through, experience the heady delights of the other side, but would I be back, sitting in this office, on Monday morning? If I was back, would I be the same Jennifer I had been before I stepped through the portal? You can never see what lies on the other side, so you must have hope, and slaves are so very good at sustaining hope.

  “So, pretty pet, I would say see you Monday, but will I?” The heavy words dropped from my mouth on Donna. How would she react?

  “ Yes, Mistress, your slave hopes to see you Monday.” Her big blues gave me that don’t-abandon-me look, and she continued. “Is there anything your slave may do to please her Mistress over the weekend, or perhaps Monday?” She looked up hopefully, seeming to need me to give her some task, sexual or otherwise, to keep her occupied with pleasing and to help keep her mind off how she would feel if I was not there promptly on Monday morning.

  “Be careful what you ask for, Donna, you might get it. I do have something for you, a choice you need to make that I think you’re beyond ready to decide. We both know you’re bisexual, like your Mistress, but I want to know what you really feel about the sex of your next top. Do you desire to move on to another Mistress after I have trained you, or do you yearn for a Master?” Letting the question hang, I knew seeing her reaction would be telling.

  Donna fidgeted, leaving her flaxen-haired head down, and eventually playing with her hair, all signs that she had no desire to leave me.

  Was I pushing her too fast? No, I thought, she is ready to choose, she just not ready to move on yet. “Easy, don’t stress so, I’m not telling you it’s time to move on, just wanting to know what kind of dominant I’m preparing you for. Donna, it might be years before you feel the need to move on, but I sense you will.”

  She looked up at me finally, I could see the tension flowing out of her face, and although tears did not flow down her cheeks, I could see her eyes were wet. “So . . . how do I do this choosing, Mistress?” Despite her emotion, my loyal slave wanted to please.

  “In the most delicious way possible, silly, take a lover this weekend. The sex of the lover will be your answer to the sex of your next top. Go buy one of those disposable cameras and take plenty of sexy pictures of your body being used by this lover all weekend long.”

  Despite my thought that she would enjoy a weekend tryst, Donna looked glum, a fat frown on her pretty face. “But Mistress, your slave hasn’t had sex for months except with you. How do I find someone?” Her voice squealing the complaint. She looked up at me with pleading blue eyes.

  Nice try, slave, but your complaint tells me more than your eyes do. You know you want a man, you’re just afraid to go out and get one. Afraid it’s a betrayal of Felicia, me, and the promise you made to set sex aside and improve yourself.

  “Well, if you want to choose a Mistress, you can renew ties with Felicia, or check out that sweet Gwen upstairs, I’m absolutely sure either would be keenly interested. However, that’s not the problem is it?” Bending over at the waist, I pressed my elbows down on her desk, casting a quick glance out the windows to see if we were alone. Seeing the coast clear, I pressed my face to hers, close, with our noses almost touching. “My little slut wants a Master, longs for one someday, but seems to have forgotten her power to get one.”

  Kissing my slave,
with resolved passion, I felt her body ooze sexuality. She moved lithely in her seat, taking in my lust for her, as if it activated her. Pressing into our kiss, I sensed she wanted to be taken, right there at her desk, which was just the hunger I wanted to leave her in.

  Breaking off the kiss, I again cast a glance through the windows; still clear. Grabbing her hair, I pulled her close while reaching inside her blouse to pinch a nipple. “You don’t remember how your four studs liked these bountiful, cheerleader breasts? Didn’t they love to knead them, pinch the nips? Didn’t their playing with them drive you wild? Do you think any man won’t like that shaved cunt of yours, with its ringed clit?” Pulling her close again, I took her mouth, my tongue squirming with hers in an intimate dance.

  Releasing her tongue and hair, I pushed my slave back into her chair. Standing up, I looked down on her, so full of raw need and naked passion. “Go hunting tonight, slut slave, find a cock, bring it home, and fuck it all weekend long. Your Mistress will expect pictures when she next lays eyes on you.” I turned away from my slave and walked to the outer door.

  “Mistress, have fun this weekend, and have no fear, your slave will obey.”

  Her voice sounded unsure, needing reassurance. Turning my head back, I spoke soothingly. “Don’t simply obey, Donna, enjoy; you know I will.”

  * * * *

  The moment finally arrived, and as I undressed for my taking, the butterflies in my stomach were like first kiss and prom night rolled up in one fluttering package. It was hard to resist the urge to pack a bag of clothes and personal items that I would need for a typical weekend trip. As a slave, I had to trust that all my needs would be taken care of by my Master.

  Naked but for the smooth leather around my neck, I turned on the brightened door light at five to nine. Touching my shaved pussy, I could feel the wetness seeping out of my hole. As I opened the door, I thought if they keep me waiting long, I would have juices running down my thighs. Placing a black, folded scarf over my eyes, I tied the excess behind my raven tresses. Easing my body forward, I closed the door behind me, leaving me on naked display on my front steps.

  That was it. Marveling at how easily I had stepped through the portal that would lead me from being a play slave closer to the total submission of a real slave. There was nothing blocking my pure submission as my knees touched the cool concrete. How long will they make me wait here, hoping?

  This precious moment was a time to cherish being a slave. I placed my hands docilely behind my back and thrust my hips forward to offer my slave hole. To complete my arousal, I imagined Mrs. Kane watching in shock at what she saw.

  Long, sweet moments passed before I heard an engine pull up in the direction of my roadster. Either my abductors were here, or Mrs. Kane had called the police, who had come to arrest me. A pleased submissive listened as two sets of heavy footsteps made their way up the asphalt walkway. Without speaking a word, as the police would have, they each grabbed one of my arms tightly and lifted me effortlessly from the front steps. I am taken, and so my journey begins.

  Hearing a car door open, I felt one of my abductors let go of me, while the other pushed me firmly into the vehicle, holding my head down so I would not bump it. Feeling expensive leather on my bottom, I had no time to contemplate anything before each of my abductors grabbed a leg, and swung their heavy legs over mine. They had me spread wide as I heard the door close, and the vehicle lurched backward. My torso was pushed forward for a moment, and metal handcuffs secured my wrists behind my back. There must be three men at least, two with me and one to drive, I thought, as my body lurched to a fast turn out of my driveway and quick acceleration.

  “Like clockwork, Mr. Blue, we are getting so good at this. Let’s check out the bitch, see if she is as prime as the boss says.” The man on my right, the speaker, grabbed my right breast with his big hand and enjoyed kneading and fondling it with no concern for my comfort.

  “A fine idea, Mr. Red, we must, after all, entertain ourselves for the long drive, and to entertain us is her purpose. However, be cautious, she has not yet signed a contract.” From my left, Blue’s hand went directly to my moist slit, slipping into my wetness with ease. He laughed boisterously at his discovery of my arousal and pulled his fingers from my gash, bringing them to my nose. “No question she is a slave. Wet with her need, she wants things in her holes. Don’t you, slut.” Rubbing my juices under my nose, he returned his fingers to where I wanted them to be.

  Should I speak? I was not gagged, but would speech from a new slave be considered novice? Not knowing, I decided to remain silent for now.

  Red heightened his breast play, squeezing and slapping my orbs and pinching nipples hard enough to make me groan. Truthfully, I might have groaned louder or screamed under his breast torment, but my mind was occupied, with Blue’s fingers probing my spread pussy. He was deep inside and had found my G-spot, so an orgasm was looming on the horizon.

  “Blue, stop that. I am trying to test this slave’s pain tolerance. With you pleasuring her, I might have to rip her nipples off to get a good scream. It’s all you ever think of, pleasuring them. You might as well be their slave.” Red’s words seemed perturbed to me, but not outright anger at his partner.

  “Well, at least I pleasure them. You would have them suffering through endless agony for what, a chance to suck your cock, or a quick lick on their nipple? They don’t serve for nothing. The bitches cherish their orgasms, and, in essence, it’s how we pay for their service.” Blue’s protests sounded more dismayed, and I sensed they had been around and around this issue many times. Literally, I was in the middle of their disagreement.

  Red demanded action of Blue. “I’m not going to get into your foolish theories now, just get your damn fingers out of her hole so I can get a good howl out of her.”

  To my utter dismay, Blue obliged, pulling his fingers out of my tunnel, to a moan from me. Now at Red’s mercy, I wondered if he had any mercy.

  “Oh, did you hear that, Blue? The slut is all upset that her hole is empty. I see nothing to do but take her mind off her troubles.” With those words, Red gripped my nipples tight and pulled upwards, with a force that would have lifted me from the seat had their legs not held me down.

  The stab of distress that shot through my stretched breasts felt electric, penetrating deep into my nervous system and producing the agonized scream he desired. Wailing out my torment, I felt him hold my captured nipples high for a few harrowing seconds, until he let go, and my back eased back against the seat. Still pulsing in pain, my nipples needed some relief, but being cuffed, I had no ability to provide any. Fortunately for me, Blue came to my rescue, which I sensed might be his relationship with Red. His tongue went to work licking my sore buds, and I wondered if he always did this to Red’s victims.

  “Yes, Blue, go ahead, sooth the bitch, clear the canvas for my next move. Are you going to get down on your knees and worship her cunt too?” Red uttered a mocking laugh in his distinctively lower voice.

  “If I desire to, I will. Nothing you do will stop me. Now you can keep your hands off her, as I am conducting a test of my own, to see how close I can bring her, without letting her come.” Blue’s words came out strong, sure of his ground, and I sensed that despite their pain/pleasure quarrel, neither of these Masters dominated the other.

  Then it hit me. Master Keefe had paired them in this duty for that exact reason. Red was too cruel, and apparently rarely rewarded his slaves, but Blue was the solution, as he desired to give pleasure. Experienced alone, a slave could not receive a full spectrum BDSM experience from either, but paired as a team, they formed into a near perfect Master.

  Marveling at the simplicity of my Master’s plan, I found my attention distracted by Blue’s test, as his fingers slipped deep in my needy gash. Not wanting to utter words, I found the delight of this penetration forced me to lose control, “Ohhhh, yeessss, there, right there.”

  My words seemed to pass unnoticed, as the pulses of throbbing ecstasy only deepened. Blue
had found my clit with his thumb and was slowly encircling the engorged bud to contribute to my drive toward climax. Knowing I would need to speak again soon, as a proper slave asks for permission to come, I felt my body tense up. Would Blue grant my request?

  Jerking a bit in the seat, I gritted my teeth to hold off the onrushing spend, but when I knew it was inevitable I asked as I knew I should. “Please, Mr. Blue, may this slave come. She begs for the privilege of climaxing for you.” His answer horrified me.

  “Ask Red, slave. He must grant you permission.” Blue’s voice sounded dispassionate, as if I should have known to ask Red, rather than him.

  Because I thought it better than not asking, I asked Red, not expecting approval. “May this slave come, Mr. Red?” Trying to keep the naked desperation out of my voice, I failed miserably, making me vulnerable to whatever Red demanded as the price of my climax.

  “No slave. You may not come. When we arrive at The Mansion, Mr. Brown will be putting you through a battery of tests, to determine your baseline, and an orgasm now might skew the results.”

  Frustrated, I was about to cry out for mercy from Blue’s delightful touch, else I lose control, but suddenly his fingers stopped frigging my pussy, and his thumb disappeared from my clit. Heaven had been denied, but it was a good thing, because I did not have permission to enter.

  “Red, you lying sack, at least tell the slave the truth. You deny her orgasm because you will it, not because of Brown’s tests. She could come six times and Brown would still get an accurate reading.” Blue sounded annoyed by Red’s lie, but he had called for his decision.

  “Okay, I fibbed. Just wanted to get a rise out of you, and put her off. You’re going to make her come, you make them all come, so why have her ask me for permission?” Now Red sounded piqued, and I began to see how a slave might not wish to serve a Master not of one mind.