Two to Serve

by Jennifer Campbell

  Luckily for me, Blue went right back to work on my sloppy cunt, taking only moments to frig me back to the edge of orgasm. A ready slave, I asked for permission, and Blue granted it immediately, resulting in a quivering, eye-rolling spend that no doubt Red did not approve of.

  “Thank you, Mr. Blue, for this slave’s climax.” As my thighs quivered under their powerful legs, I heard Red’s low voice chuckle, and I wondered what he had in mind. His intentions became painfully clear when Blue withdrew his hand from my satisfied cleft. Three crisp slaps of his hand rained down on my pussy, making me jerk and spasm in pain.

  “Bad cunt, novices should never come so easily, nor so early in their stay.”

  For the rest of the ride, my body became a battleground on which Red and Blue fought their prolonged conflict of pleasure and pain. Red would always forge out new ground on my tender skin to torment, but then Blue would move him out and restore pleasure. Few words were spoken by them, but the battle was marked by my groans, moans, and gasps.

  In the end, it was a stalemate between them, as I assumed it always had been. However, I was fired, a lit fuse waiting to explode with another climax. My arousal level had seldom been this high.

  Still blindfolded, and obviously distracted, I was not sure how long we had traveled when the car finally stopped. More than an hour, I suspected, and I thought about how far away from my office The Mansion obviously was.

  A leash was snapped to my leather collar, giving me no further opportunity to speculate on The Mansion’s location. Their legs moved off of mine, but I maintained my spread, as I had not been told to close my legs, and a slave’s legs should be open, if not otherwise ordered. Again, my torso was pushed forward, and my wrist cuffs were unlocked. When I was again allowed to settle back into the car seat, I tensed, knowing there would soon be instructions to follow.

  “Ease yourself down to the limo floor, slave. Then crawl to my voice.” It was Blue’s voice, which somehow comforted me, but from the other direction I felt a slap on my bottom, urging me to get going. Doing as instructed, I felt Blue’s hand touch my head, as I got closer to him.

  “You’re right at the limo door, so ease your hands down to the asphalt and crawl out.” He kept his hand on my head as I reached down in the inky blackness until my fingers found cool asphalt, but once again a harder slap found my ass, as Red urged me forward in his own style.

  “She’s leashed, Blue. Why don’t you just pull her along? If she struggles or stumbles, no matter, because it is her lot as a slave.”

  “Yes, and perhaps she’ll fall forward on the asphalt and permanently scrap her face, then you can explain to the boss how we injured his slave simply delivering her to him. Do you have an ounce of compassion in your veins?” Blue’s words seemed to quiet Red, as he said nothing, contenting himself with an occasional slap of my butt as I crawled along on hand and knee. The surfaces changed, from cool asphalt to warmer wood, and then eventually to soft carpet, as I passed over various thresholds.

  Then we came to the nightmare of any blindfolded, crawling slave. A staircase running sharply downward, which activated my age-old fear of falling. Crawling blind down a stairway is much harder than crawling up. Pushing your hands down, you hope to feel the next step, but are truly terrified the step will not be there. Blue kept his hand on my head the whole time, which I was grateful for, and I was ecstatic with relief when we reached the bottom.

  On a hard surface, but not concrete, I was led across the floor. I felt bars pressing to my knees, Blue eased me into a cage, and I heard the door snap shut. Now caged, I was granted sight, as the black scarf I had worn since my condo was snatched from my eyes. It took a moment or two for my eyes to adjust to the bright light of a bank of florescent bulbs that lit the room, but when I looked about, there was no sign of Red or Blue. Disappointed, I had wanted to put faces to the two Masters who formed one.

  Yet, there was a man there, peering at my naked body in the silver metal cage. But I knew he was not Red or Blue. Clad entirely in dark brown work clothes, strikingly similar to the uniform of a famous overnight package delivery company but sans the logo, he appeared to be the Mr. Brown Red had spoken of. Apparently, I was now in his charge, and the mysterious testing procedure Red had spoke of would begin. Looking at me, he spoke, but his words offered no comfort.

  “Not ready for you yet, but when I return we will start with the preliminaries. You will be up most of the night, so try to get some rest now. The testing will take several hours with your cooperation, longer if you are foolish. After I fit your new collar, you will be fed and taken to your contract meeting.” Having given me the information, he turned and departed the room, closing a heavy metal door behind him.

  Curiosity soon had me scanning the room, a workshop of sorts, for clues about my testing. There were several cages, identical to the one I occupied, across the far side of the room, but none were occupied. On the other side was a workbench with all manner of electric and computer equipment strewn about. At the end of the workbench was a desk with a complete desktop computer on it that seemed to be directly connected with what looked like a portable server. A bundle of wires ran from the computer to another machine on wheels that had an array of buttons, gauges, LCD readouts, and a screen. Another bundle of wires departed that machine and hung from a hook over a chair that resembled a dentist’s chair. The crucial difference being that this chair had black fabric straps on the arms, legs, waist, and headrest for the “patient” to be securely strapped into. There existed no question in my mind that I would eventually be strapped into the chair.

  Examining the chair and its accessories more closely, I saw black, sticky pads, the kind they use in hospitals to adhere to the skin at the ends of many of the wires. Two of the wires ended in rather large plastic dildos that were wrapped in a shiny, metallic tape. No doubt the dildos would be plugged into my pussy and anus and perhaps would provide electrical shocks to motivate me. The other wires had an assortment of clips, clamps, cups, and long tubes attached to them that might be used in a variety of ways to bring pain or pleasure to my body.

  As my anxiety grew, I turned away from the chair, not wishing to stare at it. Whatever would go on there, I had no choice but to feel it, as it was all part of my journey, which I had willingly chosen to participate in. Of my own free will, I had been taken, and I would let Brown test me to his hearts content, for I was a slave.

  Two to Serve

  Chapter 2: Tested and Collared

  In Brown’s absence, I could not sleep, for I was far too aroused, feeling like a caged bundle of lust-soaked nerves. What I desired was to masturbate, to stick my fingers into my pink wetness to give myself the pleasure I desired. However, I controlled myself, as I did not want to be caught and seen to be a weak-minded novice. There was a clock on the far wall, which read quarter past ten when Brown left me.

  It was a few minutes past eleven when he returned, and I was, as expected, fastened into the chair. My wrists, elbows, ankles, knees, waist, collar, and forehead were all strapped tightly, yet the straps were not horribly uncomfortable. Once I was strapped, he removed the leather collar I wore. First, he placed all the sticky pads, and there were many covering most areas of my nude body. The coverage was so detailed that I ended up with one sticky pad each on the soles of my feet.

  The chair’s design allowed for the dildos to enter easily with me strapped in. My legs were spread for ease of entry to my wet pussy, and there was a hole in the seat of the chair to allow Brown to worm the anal one deep into my rectum. Stuffed, I watched Brown flip a switch, and the dildos grew warm and tingly inside me. Yes, they were electric, which could be pleasant, like right now, or extremely painful.

  Holding my nose to open my mouth, Brown pushed an o-ring spider gag into it. As he worked on me, I began to examine him. Mousy, brown hair, which he combed straight across his scalp with a right hand part made him look like a scientist. His hair was flat and a bit greasy looking, giving him the high school nerd look. Plain,
brown eyes looked out from a face that seemed always interested, seeking knowledge, but betrayed no emotion or feeling. I would be willing to bet he has never had a vanilla relationship with a woman. He had a small nose, thin lips, and a scraggly beard, which clearly had no attention paid to it. Brown was the mad scientist of The Mansion, a high school science nerd run amuck, and I was his latest guinea pig.

  Covered in black sticky pads and plugged with dildos, I thought he was done preparing me for testing, but I was wrong. Clamps and clips came next, all wired to the big black machine like the pads and dildos. Too my great discomfort, he slipped four tight clips under the spider gag into contact with my lips. The thought of my lips being shocked seemed more unnerving than other parts of my body that others would see as more tender.

  His next move, to stick a pair of metal tongs through the spider gag into my mouth to capture my tongue, pulling it out of my mouth, made me wonder if every square inch of my body would be involved intimately in this test. My tongue now lolled helplessly out on my mouth, kept their by weights attached to the tongs. Far more effective than any ball or strap gag, I was rendered incapable of speech and could only utter moans and groans through my nostrils.

  He moved on to my nipples, and I felt him tightly clamp them moving on to run a row of four clamps across my belly. Placing a clip on my clit, he ended by snapping clamps on each of my big toes. Brown stepped back a moment to admire his work.

  “Perfect, now for the finishing touch.”

  What more can he do to me. Already feeling quite like a wired lab rat, I could not imagine what the finishing touch could be.

  He brought out a tube, with a baseball-sized bulb at the end. Holding it so my eyes could see it, he demonstrated its important property. When he squeezed the bulb, the air in the bulb moved down the tube to create a bulb at the other end by expanding the rubber.

  Pushing the tube over my stretched tongue, he slid it down my trachea past my gag reflex. Feeling the tube there in my throat, I found I could still breathe, as the tube was thin enough to allow air to pass beside it. Yet thinking about his previous demonstration, I knew exactly what would happen if Brown squeezed the bulb. The part of the tube deep in my trachea would expand, cutting off my air. Brown now had the most commanding kind of control. Squeeze the bulb, the tube expands and cuts off my breathing, and eventually, if held, my life.

  “Yes or no responses, slave. One blink of your eyes for yes, two for no. Understand?”

  Blinking once, I hoped he would not find it necessary to demonstrate the tube’s effectiveness.

  “Can you breathe now?”

  Again I responded with one blink.

  He squeezed the bulb and I felt the tube expand, cutting off my air.

  “Can you breathe now?”

  Compliantly, I blinked twice hoping for a quick end to this demonstration of his power of life and death over me. Certainly, he would not simply kill me for no reason. As Red had noted, I have not yet signed a slave contract. Blinking twice again, I was now close to panic.

  “Mr. Brown is your Master now. You will do as he says in all ways, being obedient and helpful in his testing of your responses. Is this true, slave?”

  I blinked once to acknowledge his statement, and he let go of the bulb, giving me back life-giving oxygen.

  “I’m going to turn the machine on now, to get some baseline reading on you. It will run for a few minutes, and during that time I need you to remain calm, thinking of bland thoughts if you would. Try as much as possible to ignore your body’s condition. Do you understand?”

  He flipped a large switch on the machine, and it hummed to life. LCD readouts lit up, and the screen came to life, showing a stream of data flowing into the system from the pads and other things that covered my body. They were clearly collecting data about me, but to what end?

  “After the baseline stream is complete, we will begin with the fundamental pain-pleasure tests. Your cunt and clit will be used as the pleasure conduit, as slaves are used to receiving pleasure there. Your anus will serve as the pain conduit. During these tests, nothing special will be required of you, as at full intensity, the conduits will definitely garner the necessary responses. Do you understand?”

  Wishing I could speak to ask what data was being collected and why, I simply blinked once in slave-like obedience. Looking at the black machine’s screen, I watched the digital data about my body flow by, wondering about his purpose. Two or three minutes passed, and then the data suddenly stopped and the screen read, “Baseline readings complete.” Moaning through my nostrils, I knew things would now get much more serious.

  “Ahh, good, we’ll set you up with a 7 in the pleasure conduit first and see where that takes us.” Brown adjusted a dial that I could clearly see read up to 9 and then had a last place that simply read high. He flipped a switch and the electric phallus in my gash began to vibrate wonderfully, sending out a warm, throbbing pulse. After I felt a moment of enjoyment, Brown flipped a second switch, and the clamp on my clit began to do the same thing and radiant waves of ecstasy began to well inside me.

  The pleasure moved unbelievably fast, and in just moments I was writhing against my bonds in the rapturous spasms of pure pleasure. I’ll come soon, if that is as he pleases. As I had no way to ask permission to climax, I resolved to simply enjoy what came to me.

  Speeding past all the road signs on the way to a mind-bending orgasm, I would have been screaming out my joy had that been possible. As it was not, I simply slid ecstatically over the edge and came, and came, and came. I squirted, for only the second time in my life, and Brown’s pants caught a bit of my gushing girl juice. He simply smiled and continued to watch his machine with clear interest.

  As I recovered from my orgasm, I too looked up at the machine’s screen to see the data stream flowing by again, wondering how it might differ from the baseline. Could this machine actually sense my reactions, my feelings, and my emotions, putting it all into numbers for the nerdy Brown to analyze? What did an orgasm look like, digitally?

  “Well, quite an enthusiastic response, if a messy one, slave. I’ll have to examine the data stream later for indications of your ejaculation, but now we will move on.” He flipped the two switches off, and the dildo and clit clamp quieted down. “Now the pain conduit on eight. Let’s see if you squirt from that.” As he adjusted a different dial to 8, I saw that the pain dial had a high as well. Hopefully I will not have to experience high.

  Watching his hand move slowly to the switch beside the pain dial, I braced myself, breathing as deeply as I could. Pleasure’s evil twin was about to get a chance to reek havoc on my bottom hole.

  It was like nothing I had ever experienced. A stabbing pulse of sheer agony ripped through my bowels as the data stream came to life on the machine’s screen. How was this data differing from my powerful orgasm? Was it the exact opposite, or did this stinging, burning torment to my rectum look the same digitally as an orgasm?

  “Moving to 9, and adding, let’s say, 5 on the pleasure conduit. I see you’re not gushing juice, slave. What’s wrong? Not as fun as before?” The look on Brown’s face told me he enjoyed both portions of his duties, dispensing pleasure and pain.

  Blinking twice for a negative response to his mocking tone, I felt minor pulses of pleasure in my pussy and clit, giving me some relief. A strapped, clamped, and stuffed guinea pig, I had no choice but to take whatever Brown dished out.

  “I’m going to move you to high pain now. Normally, I only use 8 in testing, but Keefe insisted you could handle it all, because you are an accomplished pain slut.” Moving the dials appropriately, he remarked further. “I’m going to leave the pleasure conduit on 5, so you can have something to concentrate on during the pain. The high pain setting is quite uncomfortable.

  Uncomfortable, to say the very least. The intensity of the excruciating pain seemed to jump tenfold, as my ass was alive with electricity. The only thing keeping me sane was the increase in the flow of pleasure.

  “N
ow let’s add the extra spark. This was also requested by your Master.” Brown squeezed the bulb, cutting off my oxygen.

  Writhing in my bonds under the pleasure-pain combination, I entered the early stages of asphyxia, but that only fired the orgasm growing inside of me. Quivering to a giant orgasm, I squirted a river, but thankfully missed the black machine and Brown. The intensity of the orgasm in my mind was enhanced by my lack of oxygen, and when Brown released the bulb, I had nearly passed out, practically insensate from my spend. The pain ebbed, and I took in air to Brown’s next words.

  “Well done, slave. You appear to be as advanced as Keefe said you were, which is delightful. We will proceed to the psychological testing. Your cooperation is most important there and will be compelled of you if you resist.” He affixed a sticky pad with a wired button to the chair arms under each of my hands. The buttons were positioned so my index fingers rested on them. Moving to his computer console, he stabbed at the keyboard for a while.

  Watching the screen closely, I saw two pictures pop up. The one on the left showed a grizzled, old man, wrinkled and gray-breaded, with a wide smile on his face, while the right pictured a fresh-faced youth wearing an angry scowl on his face. Clearly, the images offered the viewer a choice between happy old age and angry youth, but what did this have to do with me?

  “What is required of you is an almost instantaneous response to each set of images. You have three seconds to press either your right or left index finger down on the respective button. I want your response to be instinctual, based entirely on the initial appeal to you of the images. Which do you like best, without thinking, or debating it in your mind? Now press both buttons down now.”

  Doing as instructed, I was surprised to see nothing happen on the screen, yet it was clear to me both buttons were hair triggered, requiring little pressure.