“Recite, Gail, before your punishment.”
Recite, recite what, what does Master mean?
“We long to serve. We wish to be taken. We hope to please.” Gail pushed the words out with trained precision.
Yes, the motto, or whatever they call it. I must remember it, as he will likely ask the same of me.
“She is advanced, but I guess not that advanced, as she doesn’t understand her responsibilities fully, yet.” Master’s comment seemed aimed at me, and I wondered what I had missed. However my attention was distracted as Master picked up the cane.
It seemed as if it were over in an instant, but went on in my mind forever. Master’s caning of Gail was ten quick, brutally fierce strokes to the bottom of her ass. She could only take one with out screaming her agony throughout the room. Gail writhed and desperately tried to escape her bonds, and the ten strokes pummeled the most sensitive part of her bottom. This was punishment, which put my first top Ned and even Master’s former competitor the hard Grant Farrell to shame, and I was next.
I touched Gail’s hand, to comfort as she once again knelt beside me, her face stained with tears, but with both red and yellow lights blinking softly.
“Assume the position, Jennifer.” Master’s command was curt, booking no refusal.
Rising, I moved as if in a dream to the position Gail had just quit. Thinking only about the words he would ask me to recite and not the images fresh in my mind of Gail’s harrowing ordeal.
Master secured me and slipped a single finger into my slit, testing my arousal. “Wet and ready, slave, as you should be. Recite if you can.”
“We long to ser. . .” Startled when Gail joined in with me in exact unison, I paused. Then we took up the recital together. “Serve. We wish to be taken. We hope to please.” Now, the light went on in my head, and I knew what I had missed before. A Mansion slave was not allowed to simply listen to another reciting the motto, she must join in, anytime she heard the words.
The crack of the singletail, first felt on my right thigh, brought all thought to a close. Pain reigned supreme, and snap after snap brought full singing bites of excruciating torment. However, like Gail, Master was firm but quick, and it was all over so quickly, as if it had never really been there.
Master did not speak until we where both back on our knees again, our chastised bottoms showing off the welts and red stripes of our punishment proudly. We were Mansion slaves, so punishment and pleasure were our purpose for existence.
“Both of you to the stables at eight, you will draw me to the display. Leave now, as I no longer require your presence.” Master never looked at us, simply strolling back to the sofa to take up his Voltaire volume again.
After we belly-crawled through the slave door again, we stood in the front room, and Gail looked at me, shaking her head. “Look at your collar, Jen. If ever I’ve seen a masochist, that’s the collar of one.”
Not sure what she meant, I focused on a nearby mirror. My thin silver ring was alive with frantically blinking red and yellow lights. The singletail, apparently I loved it far more than I realized.
When we got to my room, Gail pressed close, slipping two fingers easily inside my slick slit. “You gave me eight spectacular orgasms. It’s only fair I return the favor.” Her voice wanted me, as much as I wanted her.
Laying my head to her breast, I nuzzled her nipples, planted kisses up her chest and neck to her mouth, where I offered my tongue to dance. After our kiss, I whispered in her ear. “I’m yours, whenever you desire.”
Two to Serve
Chapter 6: Evening in the Gardens
With three hours to kill before Master required our presence again, Gail and I could have made love, but as it had already been a long first day for me, Gail suggested I take a nap. As she knew what was in store for us this evening, I should have taken her advice, but I was too excited and energized, so we lay on my green satin bed, doing as girlfriends do.
“If you don’t mind me asking, Gail, how old are you and how long have you been a Mansion slave. Forgive me, but I’m insanely curious about this place.” Nuzzling up against her, I kissed her neck.
“I’ll answer any question you have, Jen, except the ones I can’t, if you keep doing that. It feels so good. I’ll be thirty next month, and I’m the last of the MSC original membership. Eight years ago, when The Mansion opened, there were just six of us to serve Master Keefe.” She started running her fingers through my raven tresses and added, “I think black hair is so much more distinctive than blond. These days, everybody wants to be a blond.”
“So, were you first slave back then, or did you have to win the lion’s share of Master’s affections?” Moving my kisses down to her upper chest, I felt a sharp intake in her breath.
“There was no first slave originally, but three years later, when we reached ten, Master introduced the concept, and only the original six were allowed to complete.”
Thinking I knew what came next, I blurted it out. “And you won his devotion then and there.”
“No, I didn’t, Andrea did, but I paired with her, and I didn’t know it then, but that was significant.” She now began to caress my shoulders and arms, slipping intentionally on occasion to flick a pert nipple.
“So, how did pairing with Andrea become significant? Was she beautiful? Did you feel about her as I feel about you?” Getting more serious, I moved down to Gail’s remarkable breasts, at first kissing the valley between her lovely mounds.
“Ohh, I might tell you anything if you do that all day. Andrea was lovely, soft strawberry-blonde hair and gray eyes, and she taught me so many things about my submission. I didn’t love her the way I do you, Jen, but she was my mentor. Breaking off momentarily, she looked in my eyes. “Now, are you sure you want to know why pairing with the first slave became significant? Remember, you’re here to pair with the first slave.”
Gail’s words came with such an honest concern as to whether I was biting off too much for my first full day that I stopped my kissing and thought about it. Whatever Gail had experienced when she paired with Andrea, I might be destined to experience. No, did that mean what I think it means? It simply can’t, I’m not ready for that.
“Do you mean you became first slave because you were chosen to pair with Andrea? Are you saying the first slave position is hereditary to the first slave’s pair mate?” Before she answered, I had the answer myself. It all made perfect sense. Amelia was rejected to pair with Gail, as Master saw her as unfit to be first slave because of her affiliation with Selina.
Gail took my hand and looked into my eyes. “Yes, Jen, you have been chosen to someday be first slave. Master said he knew you were suitable from that very first Saturday night we all met. We had been searching for two years and were delighted, but that is also why your trials were so much harder. Master was not testing just any slave.” Moving aggressively forward, Gail pressed me to the bed and kissed me like no woman ever had, and then we got intimately reacquainted.
Twenty minutes later, I lay spread-eagled on my back on the bed, with Gail laying face down on my tits. We were both sated, but I had taken the lioness’ share of orgasms, because Gail was still clit sensitive.
“So how long, Gail, until this happens? Are you anxious to leave The Mansion, perhaps you’re tired of submission after eight years as a slave?” As I spoke I stroked her soft golden hair.
“Don’t worry, Jen, you’ll have time to grow into it, as I can hold out as long as you need. But understand, I will never leave The Mansion.” Her voice was so choked with raw emotion I looked down at her face and saw tears welling in her eyes. Why was she suddenly so emotional? What had I stumbled on?
“So, if you’re not going to leave, are you going to just step down as first slave?” This concept seemed inconceivable to me at this point, so I wanted to know.
“I cannot say, but understand, it is because I am forbidden, not because I do not wish to tell you. Understand that as a Mansion slave; you are told things when the time
is right.”
Feeling Gail’s pain at not being able to tell me, I thought it incumbent on me to change the subject. “So, are we going to venture together to Angel and Alicia’s room? I think we make a sweet foursome.” Gail turned her head and smiled, grateful to me for changing the subject.
* * * * *
When Master Keefe had said we would “draw him to the display” in the Victorian Room, I had not thought much of it, but perhaps I should have. When he met us at eight, at the bottom of the staircase, he wore only shoes and a pair of tight, riding pants, allowing his slaves to drink in his fit, muscular, upper body. Snapping nipple leashes to us, he led us out the door and to the right of the huge Mansion to a barn-like building.
When we entered through the large barn door, I saw a familiar face from my trails. Standing there, bereft of all his verdant clothing, was Mr. Green. Instantly he took me back to that night during my trials for The Mansion when he had “kidnapped” me from the atrium of Donna’s apartment building. How he had taken the wheel of my roadster, and forced my bound body to suck his enormous shaft all the way back to my condo. Of course, I also remembered the gift he had left me with; a gigantic plug in my ass which made me like I had a tree trunk up my butt.
As it turned out, he was the estate manager at The Mansion, and he held in his hands two complicated, leather harnesses for Gail and me.
“Go ahead and hitch them up, Padraig. I’ll get the other accouterments, and I’ll meet you at the carriage. Jen, as you know, is new, so give her a neck binder and blinders. Otherwise, I might never make it to the fountain with all its pretty sights.”
“Right, Keefe, the new ones are always dumbfounded by the sights. She will be set up as you ask.” He smiled at me as if I were an old flame returned to him and fondled my clamped breast.
At least now I knew his real name and why he had chosen the moniker Mr. Green, because with a name like Padraig, he had to be Irish.
“Come on you two, time to get you fitted up as mares.” Taking hold of our leashes, he led us deeper into the barn.
Trading one of the harnesses in for another more extensive, ominous-looking one that hung on the back wall, he harnessed Gail first, so I got the chance to watch and learn the basics of what would happen to me.
“Your harness will be a bit more restrictive, missy, because you’re new.”
The head harness, or bridle, went over Gail’s head, and the tight leather straps ran down the face just outside of each eye. A strap with a hard-rubber, bit gag went over Gail’s mouth, while another fit tightly under her chin. The main harness strap then dropped down to her back where one auxiliary strap went under her arms and over her breasts. The strap actually contained two metal rings, sized slightly smaller than her breasts, which Padraig pulled her tit flesh into. Now her breasts where captured, squeezed into the two smaller rings, which looked uncomfortable to me, but Gail seemed to take it all in stride.
The second strap went around her waist, and Padraig buckled it tightly in place forcing a gasp from Gail. Noticing the waist strap had other attachments on it, two snap clips on the front, and two thin chains with clamps on the end, I wondered what they were for.
Padraig led Gail a few feet away to a small single-occupant carriage that we would apparently serve as beasts of burden for. He raised the crossbar on the carriage tongue and had Gail dip underneath it. Then, lowering the crossbar to waist height, he snap-clipped her waist strap to the crossbar.
Now I saw how we would pull our Master, with our bellies straining against the crossbar, but there was more, much more.
My harnessing started differently than Gail’s. First, Padraig placed a thick leather collar over my thin silver one. The collar was high, extremely tight, and my chin fitted into a designed notch in the collar. Instantly, I found that I could not move my head at all from a fixed, face forward position.
My harnessing came next, and it was the same as Gail’s save for my head harness, which had black, plastic blinders on each side of the bridle, cutting off any peripheral vision I might have used. Clearly, new mares were discouraged from being distracted by whatever sights The Mansion grounds had to offer.
When my breasts were pulled through the tight metal rings of my chest strap, I realized just how uncomfortable it was. But I took it stoically, as Gail had.
Before Padraig could do more, Master returned bearing long cords with clamps attached. Instantly, I had a feeling we would not like the use to which he put these thin black cords. As Padraig cuffed our wrists behind our backs, Master snapped clamps to our breasts and slung the cords through holes in our bridles on each side of our heads. Even with limited vision, I instinctively knew these would be our reins, so Master could control us intimately through our tender, stuffed nipples.
Padraig made one last painful connection, showing me the true function of the two chains with claps that hung down over my ass. Slipping them between my legs, he attached a clamp to each of my labia lips, and then I heard a snap. Was that the reins being intimately attached to my pussy lips? I must have jumped, shocked at the thought of being reined by my tender sex, for Padraig spoke reassuringly to me.
“Don’t worry too much, pretty one, the pussy connection has extra slack, so your lips won’t be pulled unless your Master pulls his reins really hard. He won’t do that unless one of you is a very unruly mare.”
“Now that you’re harnessed like a mare, Jen, it’s time to make you official.”
It was Master’s voice, coming from right behind me, and I wonder what “officially”-’ becoming a mare meant. With no further words, I felt hands spreading my bottom cheeks, and I screamed through my bit, as a large butt plug of some type was thrust deep into my rectum. Beside me, I heard Gail gasp and assumed she was receiving the same treatment.
“Oh, if only you could see yourself now, Jen. I see a harnessed mare with a lovely raven mane and matching tail plug. Truly a thing of beauty, and teamed with a golden mare of equal loveliness.” Almost as a decorative afterthought, Padraig attached two fake horse ears, perfectly upright as an attentive horse’s would be, to our heads. In between them, he snapped a brightly colored, feather plume with softly jingling bells to the tops of our heads. Indeed, we must be a beautiful team. I wished I could step back and see us together.
Master climbed into the carriage and gave an authoritative yank on the reins, which produce a sharp rippling pain in our constricted, clamped mounds. We struggled to get the carriage started from a standstill. Straining and grunting in our efforts, we received a helpful push from Padraig.
Once we got started, things got easier as far as the pulling, but the clamps on my pussy showed their true colors. It seemed they did not need Master’s pull to torment me, as the simple churning action of my thighs jogging pulled on the clamps painfully. Yet, I was a slave, and pain was half my world, the currency with which I paid for my submission. Accepting this, I raised my head high and proud and took in as much as I could see of the grounds, lit by a mixture of torch and electric light.
The beauty of the sculptured shrubbery, colorful flowers, and variety of plant life made me feel insignificant in the scheme of things here. Feeling a tug on my left breast only, I got the point to turn left as a stand of manicured Juniper bushes was straight ahead. After the turn, I saw a huge spouting fountain, in a pool of shimmering water, with the whole company of my sister slaves standing nude beside it. As we approached the fountain head on, the ring of slave girls parted, and Gail and I drew the carriage right to the pool.
The sight was truly sublime. Alicia and Angel were strapped to clear plastic posts rising out of the fountain water. The posts were so clear that they were indeed hard to make out in the evening light, so the lovely lush bodies appeared to be standing on the water with legs spread. With their heads bent inward slightly, so they were looking at each other as lovers would, their nubile bodies were soaked as they were assaulted by gushing fountain water flowing up between their legs.
As their smooth bodies
glistened in the clear water, I realized the fountain jets had been set precisely to spurt on their clits. As any woman knows who has showered with a massage attachment, the pulsing jets of warm water gushing up from underneath them were giving them orgasm after orgasm. Sighing and moaning at the pleasurable bondage, both slaves had beatific looks on their faces.
Assuming my sister slaves were getting as sexual aroused watching the pair as I was, I wondered if there would be more erotic sights to see. It was then something brushed against my faux horse tail, and very quickly powerful hands reached around me and unclamped my nipples. Booking no disobedience, the hands then pushed me forward me forward over the crossbar and ripped out the anal plug in what seemed like one shocking movement.
Master’s cock or at least I assumed it was, thrust deep into my slave cunt, taking possession of its property. Feeling as the mare does when the stallion takes her suddenly, I let a naked scream of pure submission and raw need. Those of my sisters who could applauded as our Master rutted in my hole, using me over this delectable assortment of slave flesh, from whom he could have chosen. Was this his way of announcing to my sister slaves that their future first slave had arrived, and would someday rule over them?
Unsure and blissfully ignorant of any statement he might be making, I let myself be just a slave, a sheath for her Master’s shaft to find pleasure in. There amongst the sounds of the spurting water, and the orgasmic gasps of Alicia and Angel, I too climaxed, nearly losing consciousness with the overwhelming force of my orgasm. As Gail and I jogged back to the barn, Master’s semen ran down my inner thighs, but I was the proudest slave in The Mansion.
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