Two to Serve

by Jennifer Campbell

  “You will enjoy our accommodations; all novices do. The Mansion has three floors and a full basement. Novices start on the third floor, move to the second eventually. Only Master and this slave sleep on the first floor. All rooms house pairs, unless occupied by a single novice. Nylon is formalwear, meetings and ceremonies only, so you must strip down once we get to your room.”

  Looking around as we climbed the stairs, I began to see more and more naked slaves, as girls relieved themselves of their nylon skin. On the third floor, we walked down the long corridor, and I noted mirrors, flowers, and highly sexual paintings of slave girls in bondage. Clearly, The Mansion was capable of housing many more slave girls than it did. Another interesting feature was the rooms had no doors, assuring that a slave would never have privacy.

  “No doors, Gail. Does that mean anyone may walk in on you at any time?” My dominant side raged, it wanted some brief period of alone time, but my sub side wanted her to say I never would have it.

  “Yes, anyone may enter your room and use you at any hour of the day or night. As a novice, you are obliged to obey both Masters and slaves. Once you graduate, sex or punishment between sisters becomes consensual play. For example, if say Amelia wants to warm your bottom, she must have your permission.” Gail smiled at me, knowing that her use of Amelia as an example would get a rise out of me.

  “Right now, Amelia can beat me freely?” Alarmed by being at the whim of my near double, I hoped for some comfort from Gail.

  Gail pulled me into a room, near the end of the corridor, and kissed me passionately, pulling my body next to her. Breaking the kiss, she hugged me pressing our breasts together and whispering into my ear. “So long I’ve waited, and this last week, it was the worst torture, but now you’re here, live, beautiful, and my future pair mate.” There were tears of joy in her eyes, and her red and yellow lights were blinking madly.

  “I’m so glad to be here, to be close to you. When will we serve Master, together?” Her passion had made me forget about Amelia, as I waited for her answer.

  “In about two hours, we will attend him together, in the Victorian Room. Don’t worry about Amelia. None of your sisters will put you through too much punishment. They realize it can easily be turned around on them, so we are not harsh with each other. Truth be told, Master, and the staff, give us plenty of tough bondage and pain.”

  Staff. My mind instantly flew back to my trials to be accepted into the Mansion. All but one of the colorfully named visitors whose torments I had endured were my Master’s employees. So did that mean I would meat them again here at the Mansion? “The staff may use us at will, at any time?”

  “Day or night. It is a perk of their employment, and the funny thing is, MSC is technically their employer. There checks are MSC checks, but they can fuck the CEO at their leisure.” She laughed softly, and I joined her.

  Having her here was such a relief, I thought, watching my yellow light confirm my contentment. “What is the schedule? When do we eat and sleep? When do my novice classes begin? I’m, sorry, but I’m full of questions.” Grimacing, I hoped she would be patient with her fledgling pair mate.

  “Yes, you are. Your collar will dictate your sleeping schedule. It too is a Master in a way. The rest in good time. But now, look around your room, learn its many secrets, and understand your new life. Be sure to strip off your nylon and hang it neatly in the closet. When it is time, I will fetch you.” She kissed me again and walked out my open door.

  My room took my breath away, in many ways. Looking about, I saw it was fully furnished, but many of the furnishings were quite different. A queen-size four-post canopy bed and oaken bureau and dresser reminded me of the outside world with the civility, but the bureau and dresser were empty, as a slave did not need clothes. As I stripped off my cat suit, I examined the bed and found it too had special accoutrements.

  The bed frame was of a rich, lighter wood texture than the walls of the room and was made up in a forest-green motif, sporting soft pillows and silk sheets. As I walked to it, the soft pile carpeting feeling good beneath my feet, I noticed a chain hanging from one corner of the bed. Pulling at it, I saw the headboard rise, so I continued until the false outer shell of pressed wood that covered a metallic plate inside was revealed. The plate extended up to the canopy and had cold steel shackles imbedded into it, in positions that would bind a slave in an X position. However, there were no punishment tools, and I was sure there would be some somewhere in the room, because it would be inconvenient to carry whips and crops around.

  Moving on to the bathroom, I found it to be more straightforward, less disguised. The over-the-sink cabinet contained only two items, but they were in copious supply. There were douches to keep my holes clean to be used and birth control pills, my brand. No deodorant, shaver, skin cream, bath soap, or lipstick sat in the cabinet. Oh, the harsh realities of being a slave. However, it did not make sense to me, Gail and my sisters were well maintained, smelling sweet and clean, so somehow, we were kept in beautiful condition. The question was how?

  There were three clues in the bathroom that had me starting to understand slave hygiene. First, the toilet, which had no seat, had a low bowl meant to be squatted over to pee or eliminate. Second, there was a tub, certainly a luxury item slaves did not deserve, but this was not a usual tub. A brass dildo rose up from its bottom, and there were leather straps at the four rounded corners. Clearly, I would be impaled, and then washed, by someone else. Apparently slaves did not wash themselves at The Mansion.

  Lastly, there was a chair, almost identical to Brown’s chair in its basic design, except that there was a side shelf empty now and hooks to hang things on. Looking closely, I thought I could imagine its use. I would be strapped into it and made up; my lipstick blush, eyeliner applied and perhaps my hair washed and brushed out. My legs and pussy would be shaved, and other intimate maintenance would be preformed by a stranger, who would like carry all their beauty aids in a case they would set on this side shelf.

  As I left the bathroom, I noticed an odd-looking button on the wall beside my dresser. Closer inspection revealed it to be a hand push button similar to what you would find on heavy industrial doors, like receiving door at a warehouse. Insanely curious, I wanted to press the button, but should I? What was it Gail had said? Explore my room, and learn its secrets, which sounded like permission to press the button.

  To my amazement, when I pushed the button, the whole eight-foot section of wall beside the button slowly lifted. What was revealed made me wet and answered most of my questions. An eight-by-eight-foot barred cell beyond the hidden door sported an ominous X cross on the back wall. All the wall space outside the cell was filled with shelves and mounting brackets that held all manner of instruments of torture and restraint devices. Hanks of rope, ball gags, spider gags, quirts, four-holed steel manacles, canes, singletails, and copious nipple clamps and weights were just some of the BDSM gear that was packed in this secret room.

  The true nature of my new life came into clear focus in my mind. It was all a matter of degree. How much of my time would be spent sleeping in silk sheets as opposed to strapped to that X-cross in excruciating agony. As was the case everywhere in The Mansion, there was a mirror on the wall beside me. As I looked over my naked body, my eyes settled on the red and green lights of my collar, as they pulsed brightly.

  Two to Serve

  Chapter 4: Meeting Amelia

  I pressed the button again to close the secret torture chamber, thinking how it was not concealed well at all. Slaves were meant to find it and think about its significance long before they felt it. In the life of a slave, anticipation can sometimes be reality.

  Glancing about my spacious room for more things to discover, I easily found them. Cameras were all over, small and unobtrusive, but definitely meant to observe slaves at all times. The cameras made me imagine some huge control center, perhaps in the basement of The Mansion, where eyes watched us 24/7. There had been legalese about permission for electronic surv
eillance in my contract, and now I knew why.

  Spotting sliding glass doors to a balcony, I slid them open. Sashaying out into bright sunlight, I saw that my room did not have a view of the sculpted front grounds of The Mansion. Instead, a deep forest of stout conifers with a few oaks, maples, and birches, scattered throughout met my eyes. It gave me the feeling of complete isolation, The Mansion being a world apart. The summer breeze was invigorating, and I grasped the wooden rail and looked about while the sun bathed my skin.

  The balcony seemed normal save for one thing. On the left side, facing the woods, was a tall wooden post that rose out of the floor to a height a full two feet above my head. Had it just been a simple post, it would have been strange, but not as alarming as it was. There was a V-shaped branch sticking out of the post about four feet off the balcony floor. The V was inverted so that the sharper single edge was on top. Further up the post two branches diverged from the central pole and formed a Y shape. Leather straps hung empty at the top of the central pole, the tops of the Y branches, and just above the V branch. When I glanced at the balcony floor in front of the post, my worst suspicions about the pole were confirmed. Two lengths of chain lay coiled up on the floor, anchored to it with leather cuffs at the ends of the chains. They were about as far apart as one might be able to spread one’s feet.

  The mental image formed easily in my mind. My head, chest, and waist would be strapped for support while the rest of my body weight would cruelly press my open crotch down on the inverted V. My ankles would be in the chains, pulling my legs helplessly apart and adding more weight and pressure on my split sex. One further observation made the whole image come alive in my mind. Examining the inverted V closer, I found the underside was a light shade of wood, but the top was much darker, having been stained with the sexual juices flowing from many a slave’s tortured gash. Leaving the balcony, I tried to push the thoughts of the post from my mind.

  A quick glance at a mirror, once I was back in my room, confirmed green and red lights blinking. Blue was the last color to solve, but I had not yet seen it blink on anyone, so it was impossible to hazard a guess.

  Suddenly, I got my first lesson in the no privacy policy, as Amelia popped unannounced into my room. Looking me over, she gave me the look girl’s give when they confront a girl who has been flirting with their boyfriend. Deciding my best policy would be to be friendly and perhaps show some deference to her, I tried to be nice. “Hi, Amelia, thank you for dropping by to check up on me. Can I count on you for help if I need it? We look so much alike, it’s freaky.”

  “Freaky all right, and, no, you can’t count on me for anything. I came up here to see if you’re a true slave or just a stupid bitch playing games, as we get that here. Bend over your bed, bitch. I’m going to redden your bottom. Test your mettle, so to speak.” Amelia took my arm forcefully, pushing me to the end of the bed, and forcing my head down.

  As she began to slap my cheeks hard with her bare hand, I winced but tried to be stoic and silent in the face of her assault. The biting sting of her spanks convinced me this was no play spanking. Amelia, for whatever reason, wanted to hurt me, make me prove I could take pain. Having no understanding of why Amelia did this to me, I concentrated on my response and developed a plan of action.

  “Thank you, Amelia, may I have it harder? It is good to know a sister slave can dish out a good hard spanking like this. I need them daily; do you?” Letting little gasps escape my lips, I wanted her to think she was arousing me, and in truth she was.

  “Like this, do you. Well, we’ll see. Stay there.” Clearly dismayed I was not screaming in agony, Amelia left me briefly, stabbing the button to reveal my punishment cell. Grabbing the first tool hanging on the wall, she returned with a leather crop. “Let’s see if you feel the same about this, bitch.” Cracking the crop on my right buttock, she still did not produce noise from me. Yet, I did have to bury my face in the comforter, because my eyes began to tear at the pulsing pain.

  “I want to hear numbers, scum. You, counting off your punishment. This doesn’t stop until I hear the number I’m thinking of.”

  Dutifully, I began counting her crop strokes on my flaming ass. For some reason, Amelia spanking reminded me of Ned. Her strokes were clean and crisp like my first top, but not as motivated.

  Apparently, twenty-five had been in her mind, for she stopped there. My bottom was red and sore, with copious crop welts, but I had a surprise for Amelia. Flipping over onto my back, I spread my legs and begged. “Amelia, may this novice have some of your work on her pussy. She likes it there more.”

  The red light on Amelia’s collar told me she was aroused, but a barely glowing violet light told of her frustration at not making me beg her to stop. I was winning this first confrontation.

  “Yes, since you want it so badly, I’ll give you a few there.”

  Instantly, I sensed she was in over her head, never cropped a fellow slave on the pussy before. Her violet light began to blink slowly now, as her frustration increased, which was perfectly understandable, because her bluff was being called. Giving me a few, sharp crops right on my exposed clit, she seemed to lose her motivation, but I was fired and really did want more.

  “Please, Amelia, take me now. Frig me rough like a filthy slave. I need it.” Holding open my slit, I begged Amelia for release again. “Let me be your slave, Amelia, and come at your command on your fingers.”

  Finally, she relented, slipping three sweet fingers in my needy hole, and I sensed I had control from the bottom. “Climax only when told, slut,” she said, “or else I’ll go find a cane.”

  Amelia held me back three times before she gave permission to come, but when she gave me leave, my orgasm was earth-shattering in its intensity.

  As I lay on the bed recovering from my bliss, I decided to break the silence first. “Not sure if you hate me, or not, but I pose no threat to you, Amelia. I’m just a slave seeking perfect submission, pure and untainted. Can we declare a truce?” Propping myself up, I offered her my hand to shake.

  Not taking the hand, she broke down into tears instead. “I can’t, she won’t let me.” Mumbling something about Gail, which I could not understand, she collapsed on my bed.

  Trying to dry her tears and get her long hair out of her face, I asked. “Who won’t let you, and what about Gail?” It was now easy to see, Amelia was a victim of some pretty raw emotions. Could I turn her to be my friend?

  “I just wanted to pair with her, and I didn’t know about Selina, but now I’m marked as Selina’s bitch. You’re going to pair with her, and once you do, I will never see her again.” Amelia paused, and I noted that her green light was blinking. What is she so afraid of?

  “I thought if I frightened you, you might go, and just maybe I would have another chance with Gail.”

  “So, you wanted to pair with Gail, but she didn’t?” When we first met Gail had told me she longed for a pair, so why would she reject Amelia and pair with me, as we were near doubles?

  “Oh, she wanted to, but Master forbade it. She loved me, and I have no idea why Master rejected our pairing three times.” Amelia looked right at me, seemingly sincere in her upset, but her blue light went on and blinked rapidly.

  My eyes must have flashed as I noticed the blue light for the first time, and Amelia caught her breath, as if something had gone very wrong. “And you’re absolutely sure you have no understanding of why you were rejected three times?” I asked.

  Looking like she had gotten away with something, Amelia shook her head. “No clue, but I’d like to be you’re friend, and Gail’s too. “ Still the blue light flashed on her collar, and I had a working theory as to why.

  “Well, I best be off, but it was such a joy playing with you.” Her voice came out syrupy sweet and insecure, and again the blue light pulsed. Things relating to Amelia were becoming all too clear.

  Not long after Amelia’s departure, Gail arrived, to find me pondering on my bed. Gail noticed my punished bottom immediately and smiled at m
e. “I see someone has laid out some ground rules for you. Who has been chastising my pair’s pretty ass?

  This was my perfect opportunity to test my blue light theory, on myself. “Oh, one of the employees just came in and spanked me. He said he wanted to test out my behind.” My eyes firmly focused on the mirror, I watched for what I knew would happen. When the blue light came on, I could not contain my excitement. Clenching my fists, I hissed, “yes.”

  Gail laughed, and chided me. “Oh, testing a theory are we, perhaps one on blue lights? Care to elaborate?”

  Pushing my body to hers, I felt the warm skin and took in her scent. “Just had to know; the blue light is like a lie detector, right? It comes on when a slave lies.” I pressed my face to her neck, nuzzling her. At this moment, I felt so lucky to be with her.

  “You’re correct, Jen, but who lied to you to make you realize?” Gail was concerned. Her tone told me so, perhaps because she was the leader of our slave girl corporation.

  “Amelia, her blue went on when she told me she wanted to pair with you and had no idea why Master rejected her.” Moving my lips up to Gail’s ear, I deposited tiny kisses up her neck, thinking this matter was over. “Do we have time to get reacquainted, or is Master expecting us?”

  However, it was not to be, as Amelia’s actions perturbed Gail. “Damn her, and damn Selina for her fucking games. She knows why, the whole house knows, that she’s Selina’s pawn, doing anything the bitch commands.”

  “So, Selina manipulates Amelia?” I questioned, seeing Gail so agitated.

  “Like a rag doll she uses her in her constant plotting. Master rejected Amelia because she was Selina’s handpicked candidate to be first slave. Selina’s naked ambition is to control the first slave position, thereby controlling MSC, so she can cash out the holdings of MSC. The bitch is a gold digger, nothing more.” Gail looked at me and saw my lack of comprehension.