Two to Serve

by Jennifer Campbell

  “Donna, forward all calls for me to Bri, and you can go home at four if you wish. Tomorrow, we will go over things about my job in the morning, and perhaps you’ll visit Gwen in the afternoon. Oh, and your pics of the weekend, where are they?”

  Turning to her purse, Donna pulled out the pics of her fucking some sandy-haired stud with a massive cock. Smiling as I looked through them, I was glad she had a good time, but I was more happy that she had stated to me by her choice that she wanted a Master when she left me. Perfect, she wants a Master, and I have just the one she needs. “Wonderful, Donna, and you look like you enjoyed.”

  Blushing, she nodded. “Yes, Mistress. I remember not thinking I would on Friday, but the sex was so freeing, so wanton. Is it like that at The Mansion, just sex at your desire, anytime you need it?”

  “Yes, but it’s there even if you don’t want it, because you’re a slave. Any guest or staff member can walk in your room at any time and simply take you, in any way he or she wishes. It takes some getting used to.”

  * * * *

  I had no idea how difficult writing with a marker stuffed into your anus might be. Yet, Donna’s letters on the inner stall walls seemed relatively well formed to me. “Fuck my ass, Mistress” sans the comma was written on one wall. The other held the words, “please fill my holes.” The words themselves were unimportant. What aroused me was thinking about my sexy assistant being forced to write them with a sharpie that was impaled in her bottom hole.

  Those thoughts got me so sexed up, I wanted to go to Patterson & Kline to see Gwen right now, but I knew that was a dangerous idea. Surely we would hurl our bodies into some wanton act, and I might lose track of time and miss the limo, ending my cherished slave life. Leaving the stall, I started down the stairs, feeling my psyche become more submissive with every step I took. Stopping at one deserted half flight in the stairwell, I reached under my skirt to touch my gash, to find it sopping wet inside. Walking faster now, I longed to get to the limo. How can I continue to let this work life intrude on what I truly want? It won’t be long before, like Gail, I can’t tolerate being away from Mansion life for this long.

  Standing on the busy, city sidewalk, I waited for my life to return. My heart had risen to my throat when I came out of the building and the limo was not there. However, a glance at my Rolex showed me I was quite early. Quarter to three. So I should have been calm, yet I paced, fidgeted, and worried about the limo returning with my sacred collar. What would happen if it was they who were delayed by some unforeseen consequence? Would I be left abandoned by a bad traffic jam? By the time I actually saw the long, black messenger of joy pull up and double park in front of my building, I was frenzied and telling myself I could not take this awful chance again.

  I reached toward the door handle, but the door opened for me. Pushing myself into the huge seating area, I seated myself across from David and Glen, making sure my legs were open and my skirt pulled up. Unbuttoning my blouse, I exposed my breasts and bowed my head to my Master’s representatives. Relief rushed through me. I am here now, inside the limo and ready to be collared, so everything will be all right.

  Seeing that David held my open collar, I addressed him with slave deference. “Please, Mr. Red, may this slave have my collar placed back on her neck, so she will be ready to receive it?”

  In a voice almost gleeful, David denied me. “No you may not, for you are not ready to receive it.”

  Confusion reigned supreme in my mind. What can be amiss? My pussy is naked and exposed, as are my breasts. I bowed my head to them and spoke with deference. I don’t understand.

  In desperation for the answer my chocolate eyes pleaded with Glen, for I knew he would be merciful.

  “What my colleague means is the simple fact you still wear the clothes. As you are done work for the day, you must return your body to the natural naked state of a Mansion slave to receive your collar.”

  Callously, with the intent to create terror, David added. “Tick, tock, tick, tock, times ticking away.”

  Glancing down at the borrowed Rolex, I saw it was six past three, and I had four minutes to strip. What sort of fool had I been?

  Fairly ripping off the blouse, I wriggled out to the skirt in record time and slipped the hose off my legs. Pausing briefly to toss shoes and Rolex into the small pile of unneeded clothes, I made a show of presenting my body to the cruel David. Hands on the seat, I pushed my crotch up near his face, arching my back to present my intimate parts. If nothing else, I finally managed to extract a positive compliment from him.

  “Well done, slave. Remember this position, as I shall expect you to assume it every day upon your return.” He touched my pussy, feeling my nearly perpetual wetness.

  “David, she is in position and naked; don’t withhold the collar.” Glad for Glen’s reminder to his crueler half, I could have easily imagine the collar snapping shut as he played with my pussy. Would that have been my fault?

  Feeling the cool silver metal against my throat again was one of the best feelings, and I waited perhaps ninety seconds while David’s pussy play became painful, to feel it safely snap shut, snug to my neck. A Mansion slave once again, I cared not how much David pinched my clit of tormented my labia lips, for I was home from work.

  Two to Serve

  Chapter 11: Kelly

  When we arrived back at The Mansion, a familiar face greeted us at the door, Gordon, alias Mr. Black, was all done up in the formal uniform of his trade, a butler. My mind retreated to that first day I saw the funny, little man waiting in my outer office on a mission from my future Master. He had inflicted those horrible, prickly bitch balls on my pussy, but we had found a common thread that united us in my pure submission.

  Seeming happy to see me, and how I had progressed, he asked me to take a walk with him in the gardens. As he was a representative of my Master, I dared not refuse.

  The gardens were lovely—fountains, dogwood trees, and huge banks of all manner of flowers, and as we strolled by a bank of roses, Gordon touched my nipple. “Tell me, is your submission still as pure as you intended, slave?”

  Startled that he remembered our previous conversation on pure submission, I searched my head for his answer. “I believe so, Mr. Black, I always desire to obey.”

  “You do? How wonderful, but as obedience needs to be tested, shall we.” His ominous smile told me the test would not be easily passed, but what choice does a slave have?

  “Yes, Mr. Black, as you please.”

  “Mr. Black was a role I played for you. Call me Master Gordon from now on.” Grasping both my nipples firmly he squeezed hard. “Now on your knees, slave.”

  Short enough to easily still grasp my tender buds when I was kneeling in front of him, Gordon had me in agony, writhing from his touch as tears came to my eyes.

  “Open my fly with your teeth, and get my cock. Hurry, or I squeeze harder.”

  Motivated, I found his zipper, pulled it down, and went exploring for man flesh, all the while pulsing from his torment of my breasts. Already stirring to life, and not concealed by underwear, his erection was easy to find, and I swallowed it, determined to work it to climax as quickly as possible, for that was likely the only thing that would stop the excruciating pulse in my breasts. Sucking wantonly as a slave should, I produced the sounds of swallowed saliva, as some of my spittle escaped my mouth to run down my chin and drip on my breasts. Holding back nothing, I throat fucked myself on his shaft.

  “Excellent, slave, ohhh, I’m coming.” He spurted seed down my throat, as I thought how relief would now come, but sadly, it did not. Kneeling there in my misery, I looked up at Gordon through tear-soaked eyes, and spoke. “Thank you, Master Gordon, for your sperm, and my pain.”

  The only term I can think of that describes the next few minutes is survival, pure and simple. Enduring the radiating pain, I finally felt Gordon stop and raise me up to my feet.

  “You seem to be dedicated to your principle, slave, and I admire that. Your reward for your purit
y is three honest answers from me, to three questions from you, but before you ask, do you know what lesson you just exemplified?”

  Pausing for a moment, I devoted some thought, as I did not want to ruin this moment after displaying such sublime obedience. “Endurance through pain that may never stop. As a slave, I have no idea if my Master will actually stop the pain, so I must be prepared to endure as long as I can.”

  Gordon’s dark eyes light up. “Oh, you are good, a gem. Ask what you will, but remember you may save the questions for later if you wish. I have a feeling you will be with us a long time.”

  My mind whirled with possible questions I could ask the head butler of The Mansion. Things about Master’s interests, and his hobbies, which would give me insight into the man I served. But none seemed worthy. As it turn out, the one nagging at me most was about how The Mansion ran, and Gordon was clearly the man who would know that.

  “We slaves see no indications of how The Mansion is run: how many people it takes and where everything is done. Can you tell of this, Master Gordon?”

  “Ahh, a curious one. I can tell you some things, and so I will.” Putting his arm around me like I was a lover, he walked me through the gardens and enlightened me.

  “The Mansion is fully staffed Monday through Friday with forty-four people. Staff is split between housekeeping, which is my department, the kitchen, the grounds which is Padraig’s responsibility, and David’s security people. The weekend staff is only sixteen, all part-timers, easy to recruit because the job has such wonderful fringe benefits, as you well know.” He smiled at me, and I thought of how a man applying for a humdrum part-time job would react when he found out he would be allowed to fuck, at his leisure, such lovely slave girls.

  “Everything happens, in the basement, which is off limits to slaves, and I cannot reveal the ways to get there. Pray you never see the basement, as the only reason slaves ever come there, save Brown’s lab, is to be interrogated by security, which means they’re in deep shit. The basement has a full gym and living quarters for employees who do not commute. Our kitchen boasts a gourmet chef, who just happens to enjoy whipping slaves. Every move you make is seen, as the security room has over fifty monitors. That’s about all I can say. Do you have a second question?”

  I’m not sure why, but I kissed him on the cheek. “No, I’ll save my next question for later, thank you.”

  * * * *

  Thank God, my first full week had passed with no terrible incident, and now it was Saturday night and I was coming down the grand stairway in my white-nylon cat suit to participate in a contract signing ceremony. As I entered the formal, mirrored hallway, I caught sight of my collar and noted the flashing red and dull green colors. They were, as I saw it, entirely appropriate to the situation—a little sexual arousal tinged with some apprehension. Gail had asked me to arrive early, to familiarize myself with the feel of the masks we slaves wore at the ceremony. When I arrived at the long table, she showed me to my seat, with its twin dildo jutting up. Noting they were the white of a novice, like my nylon, I lowered myself, impaling my holes on the phalluses.

  “Right now, Jen, as a novice, your place is at this end, next to the new girls, but after you complete the training, you will sit at Master’s right hand, as my pair mate, and the heir to the first slave position.” Nuzzling under my raven locks, she licked my ear and ran a string of kisses down my neck.

  “That will be a wonderful day, but being with the new girls is fine with me. I’d like to get to know them, but I imagine novice training together will take care of that, right?”

  “Oh, quite, we have a little saying here, you know best the ones you trained with. Now don’t be alarmed if you change your position today. Seating at the table is to Master’s whim, and despite your novice standing, he might bring you closer to his eye. I’m going to cuff you now.”

  Gail pulled my arms behind the high chair back and cuffed my wrists, with no more fanfare than if she were putting on a pot of tea.

  “I’ll get your mask, there custom fitted, you know. It was done on the night of your taking. However, even custom fitted, I wouldn’t want to stay in one of these any longer that I had to. Far too hot and sweaty.”

  I wonder, are there more perks to be gained than a closer seat to him, by catching Master’s eye? Are there humiliations for those who sit close to the novices and never move up?

  Noting that my green flashed more rapidly when Gail stood behind me with the rubber hood mask, I didn’t let the apprehension get to me.

  “I’m going to ponytail your hair, so it will fit through the back hole easily.” Setting the rubber hood down beside me on the table, Gail went about fixing my hair. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stop staring at the faceless mask, wondering how Master had initially thought of the idea of making his pretty slaves faceless drones for a ceremony. Did it have to do with our anonymity, saying we where nothings without him, or was it for shock value on the new girl who would surly be alarmed as I had been.

  “There, all set, just let me thread it through. Now the inner face area is lightly lubricated to help when the mask is pulled off, so it will feel funny, oily. Don’t try opening your eyes, there’s nothing but darkness, and you’ll get lube in them and it will burn, so keep them shut. What you do want to do right away is stick out your tongue as far as you can. Use it to feel around for the little hose you need to get in your mouth so it can bring you air. It only sticks out about an inch, and is very flexible, so sometimes it presses flat against the inner lining and it’s hard to find. If you find it and are able to breathe, nod your head vigorously to tell me things are okay. If twenty seconds pass and you cannot find the hose, or cannot get it to your mouth, then shake your head, I’ll pull the area over your mouth forward, and usually that frees the air hose. Do you understand it all, Jen?”

  “Yes, I do, but can you hear anything in there? Will I know how the ceremony is progressing?’

  Gail whispered to me as the seats began to fill up around us. A secret, dispensed to her future pair mate. “No, you only hear muffled indistinct sounds. However, if you place your knees against the table bottom, you will feel me pound the table for the vote. Then you can go wild fucking yourself or not, as you choose to vote. Then you will hear the vibrations in the wood as the contract girl climbs onto the table to sign. When you no longer feel the vibrations, she is signed, and you will soon have your hood removed.”

  It all seemed so simple, as The Mansion slaves had the whole thing down to a science.

  Flinching slightly as Gail pulled the hood down, I ventured into this new, silent, dark, oppressing world. So glad I was never claustrophobic, I felt for any Mansion slave who was, as the experience would have been terrifying. Pushing my tongue out boldly, I tasted the lube and felt for the hose of life. As it turned out, I found it easily, pressed against my upper lip, but I could not seem to free it no matter how I tongued at it.

  Despite Gail’s instructions, the fear flashed through me, and I nearly panicked, before I remembered to shake my head. As I shook my head, I felt the mask over my mouth pulled forward, momentarily. The hose popped free, and I tongued it into my mouth, sucking down air and making the rasping sound I had heard so often at my contract signing. This sensation is very much like breathing through a long straw, slow and noisy, but possible.

  Experimenting with lifting my spread legs to touch the underside of the table top, I found it easy enough to do, but if I did it too long my thigh muscles would suffer. Dropping my legs for now, I decided to wait a while to bring them up.

  Seeing and feeling nothing until Gail’s pound on the table demanded I vote, I was ecstatic to bounce up and down on my cocks to fuck myself to orgasm. Who wouldn’t be in this dark, sightless, sensation less world? Finally, there came no vibrations for a time, and then the pulling off of the rubber head prison, which was a glorious sensation. Very much like a slave girl being reborn, perhaps that is Master’s message.

  Gail stood across the table from me, and besid
e me stood the new girl, whom Gail promptly introduced. I must have looked a mess in my sweaty hair and face, but no one seemed to mind.

  “Kelly, this is Jennifer. She too is a novice, having been taken last Friday night, and she will undergo novice training with you.”

  A short bob of dark brown hair fell around Kelly’s youthful-looking face. Possessing a slim nose with full, magenta-colored lips, she was almost painfully thin, so her round B-cups jutted out of her shallow chest like mountains. Her skin was a ruddy white, and her long pink nipples sported rings of gold. As she moved lithely to the next girl, I could see she was shaven and her clit was also pierced with gold. She wore the same novice white-nylon suit as I was, and her brown eyes twinkled a warm greeting to me.

  After all the girls were introduced to Kelly, we were freed, and I followed Gail and Kelly up the stairway to the third floor. As it turned out, her room was only two doors down the hallway from mine, and was nearly identical, save for her bed, which was done in a cool pink shade. After Gail got her settled in and left, kissing me passionately, Kelly and I stripped off our formal nylon and sat together on her bed.

  “So, Kelly, is The Mansion what you expected, or, like I thought, better?”

  “Oh, very much beyond my wildest expectations. It’s been a long, strange trip here for me, but I’m living a fantasy.” She touched the bedspread as if she didn’t believe it was real, and then she reached out and touched my shoulder. “You’re here, flesh and blood, a real sex slave, and I’m one too. No more e-fantasies.” It was easy to see Kelly was nearly overwhelmed at this being real, and I could see her submissiveness, but I wondered something. How does Master see inside us, to our submissive glory? I don’t think Kelly is from the club, so how was she recruited?