Two to Serve

by Jennifer Campbell

  “Doesn’t all this knowledge of our system mean . . .” Master didn’t finish, expecting Dave to.

  “Inside job, or at least inside knowledge. Yes, sir, very likely.”

  “What can we do short of shutting down The Mansion?”

  Kelly came to life at Master’s suggestion and spoke her peace. “Please, no, Master. Don’t even consider closing down, for you’d only be giving in to whoever it is. Mansion slaves are tough; you chose us well, and we can take what he dishes out until you catch him. This is my dream like all your other slaves. Don’t take it from me.”

  Walking to Kelly’s bedside, Keefe Murdoch leaned over and kissed his slave. “Sometimes even Masters can learn from slaves, as you request, I will not close down unless it’s absolutely necessary. Any other requests from such a loyal slave?”

  “Yes, Master. When you catch the bastard, I want his whip and a shot at his balls.”

  Master smiled and nodded his assent, and I slipped out the doorway as I was already late for class.

  Again, I felt my breasts bounce as I jogged down the grand stairway. Is this really an inside job like Master and Dave were theorizing? Who would wish to do that?

  All my fellow novices were there save Kelly, who had the best of excuses, but I did not. As I entered the faithful recreation of an old schoolhouse classroom, I realized the instructor was not yet there. Perhaps I have lucked out. Acknowledging my sisters, I stared at the blackboard and read the message handwritten on it.

  “First lesson, class begins when I arrive, but if you are late, you will be punished. Life is not fair to slaves, and the sooner novices learn that, the better off they are. Touch the box on my desk to your collars to record your arrival time and be seated, strapping yourselves in as much as you can. I will be happy to complete your bondages when I arrive.”

  Lifting the small black box, I touched it to my collar, and it made a soft beep. Okay, I’m checked in now and clearly due to be punished. Turning and looking around, I saw the seats my fellow novices had strapped themselves into. Erotic perversions of the old style one-piece student seat and desk, they had some shocking modifications no schoolgirl would feel comfortable with. Two long metal base plates sat on the floor for stability, but jutting up from opposite sides of them were tubular steel struts that supported both seat and desk. While the desk was near normal, stainless steel in its makeup, the seat we were to sit in was diabolical. Tilted back somewhat so the student’s body would face slightly upward, the seat itself was small, metallic, and uncomfortable looking. Four smaller struts diverged from under the seat and spread themselves in an X shape, ending in leather straps to bind wrists and ankles. I guess there won’t be many written assignments, as writing will be difficult in that position. There was a belly strap at the seat, and a leather collar hung down from thin chains coming from the top of the arm struts. Noticing all my sisters had their ankle, belly, and one wrist strap fastened, I assumed that was all one could do by one’s self and the rest would fall to our instructor.

  Slipping my bottom into the hard seat, I noticed it had a convenient hole for possible anal penetration. Feeling like I was about to have a gyno exam, I fasten what straps I could and laid back against a steel strut which added to my discomfort. Clearly, as students our instructor would have complete access to our bodies for purposes of reward or punishments.

  Reading the message again, I focused on the life is not fair to slaves, wondering where I had heard that before. “Did you girls hear what happened to Kelly?”

  Hearing a chorus of no’s, I related the story. “. . . and Master thinks it’s an inside job, but I heard him promise Kelly he would only shut down the Mansion as a last resort. Our Kelly is quite a pistol. As Master granted her a request and she asked for a shot at his balls.”

  Even Simone laughed at that, and I wondered if she was beginning to pick up English. “Has anyone heard who’s unlucky enough to be teaching us? From the board message, it sounds like they’re a real hard ass.”

  “You have no idea, bitch, what a hard ass I am. What you experienced before was just a taste, but now I get to pull out all the stops, so to speak.”

  The voice took me back, right to the smell of the carpet of the living room floor of my condo, where the speaker had trussed me up like a fatted calf. The only one of my visitors I hadn’t yet seen, why did the quintessential teen bitch, Miss Pink have to show up now? And of all things to be my instructor in novice training, I begged that it not be so.

  My mind almost blanked out with the terrible probability joke that was being played on me. I knew now where I had heard that philosophy of life not being fair to a slave, it was as I was bound, fisted, and fucked on my living room floor. As if to torment me personally, my nemesis Miss Pink had returned.

  “Backs straight, bitches, tits out. Now, let’s see who was late to the very first class.” Pressing a button on the black box, she looked right at me with a hungry look in her eye. “Oh, Jennifer, seems I have to start with you.”

  There was only one thing to say for anything else would have made things worse. “Yes, Miss Pink, as you say.”

  Smiling her sly grin at me, she turned to the class and made a startling announcement. “Slaves, Jennifer refers to me as Miss Pink, which was a role I played in her trial, but my true name is Cassandra, Mistress Cassandra to you. I hope to introduce you all to the harsh realities of being a slave, so as to increase your worthiness to your Master.”

  Mistress Cassandra paused to retrieve a crop from her desk, and stepped out to walk among us, touching breasts and pussies as she passed each one of us. Her touch was gentle, even to me, but I knew how excessive her cruel side could be.

  “You’re all lovely sluts, perfectly suited for your roles as sex slaves, but this class is larger than and other I’ve ever had, and I just don’t feel comfortable with five students. Kelly has been officially excused by your Master for this first lesson, due to an unfortunate incident which befell her, but she will be back. Therefore I choose the one of you best suited to yield up her place as a student of this class.”

  She talking about me, but what does she have in mind. She can’t simply throw me out of the class, can she?

  “Jennifer, get those straps off yourself and stand in front of the class.”

  I obeyed, having no other choice.

  “Now get to your hands and knees while I prepare you for your new role.” Mistress Cassandra opened the voluminous bottom right-hand drawer of her desk and removed several items. Looking at them I had a good idea of my new role.

  First, she put a thick, black dog collar over my silver band, buckling it tight and adding a chain lead. Next, she fastened a hobble right above my knees, making movement possible, but difficult. She then ball gagged me and put thick rubber gloves over my hands obscuring my fingers and making my hands nothing but paws. Lastly a rubber hood, resembling a sheepdog on the outside was pulled over my head, with only two eye holes and two smaller nose holes. I had been transformed into a bitch, literally in front of my fellow novice’s eyes.

  “We shall have four students, and a class pet. Jennifer is too complex a name for a doggie, so we shall stick with and old favorite, Fluffy. Class, say hello to Fluffy.”

  Whether my fellow novices were in shock at what they had seen, or they simply thought Mistress was kidding about saying hello to me, they said nothing.

  Mistress slapped the crop on Clarissa’s desk sharply, making all three jump. “I said class say hello to Fluffy.”

  Slowly they responded. “Hello, Fluffy” coming from Clarissa and Petra, and the French equivalent coming from Simone.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, class. I’ve forgotten something very important. You see when Fluffy is greeted so nicely, she would wag her tail in response, being the excitable bitch she is. But, alas, I’ve forgotten her tail. Now where did I put it?”

  Whether she was play acting or had actually misplaced the tail, I do not know, but when she found it my eyes went wide. A huge but plug with a lo
ng raven hair sticking up at and angle from it, was dangled in front of my eyes holes. It was going to hurt to be a doggie.

  With no further warning, but thankfully two saliva lubed fingers preceding it, the plug was thrust into my rectum. Forced to spasm at the initial pain, I was determined not to cry out in pain if possible.

  “Now, wag your tail prettily for the class, Fluffy. Like a good doggie.” The words were reinforced by two strokes of her crop, none too gentle, on my bottom cheeks.

  Compliantly, I wagged my ass, and craned my neck around to see the raven tail jutting up out of my anus, literally like a bitch in heat.

  “Back to beside your desk, Fluffy, as I inform the your peers of the rules for our new class pet.”

  Slowly, as I could only move clumsily with the knee hobbles, I crawled back to my desk wondering if I had to kneel forever, or if at some point I would be allowed to sit.

  “Now, you’ll all be taking responsibility for pet care. I’ll be posting a schedule next class and on a rotating basis you’ll all share the following duties.

  1.) Bringing Fluffy to class on her leash and taking her back to her room.

  2.) Taking her to the garden for a walk and to pee.

  3.) Fucking her, somewhere where all Mansion slaves can watch. Perhaps in the hall of mirrors, or on the front steps.”

  “Now your responsibilities are simple, Fluffy, be ready, garbed as you are for your escort to lead you to class. Produce a pee while being walked, and never orgasm when you are fucked, else you will be caned by me. Wag your pretty tail if you understand, Fluffy.”

  Sullen and depressed, I wagged my tail. Just when I felt things were going smoothly and I was pleasing Master and making Gail’s dream come true this had to rear up. Now I would have to be Mistress Cassandra’s bitch for a month perhaps more, and I wondered if I could endure that.

  Class got out and it was Petra who got to bring me back to my room, where I was freed from my doggie apparel until the next class. Petra unlocked the hobble chain and spoke to me, unsure of how I felt about this turn of events. “This is good, no. Gives Jennifer a chance to show how brightly her fire of submission burns.”

  Looking up at the high-cheeked blonde, I realized I had been thinking about this the wrong way. Rather than bemoaning my fate I should see this as a chance to prove to every slave, staff, and dominant in The Mansion that Jennifer was the correct choice for the next first slave. “Thanks Petra, you helped me see the forest and not just the trees.”

  The End

  ABOUT JENNIFER CAMPBELL

  Jennifer Campbell lives in a modern log cabin, nestles under the fir and spruce that cover the mountain her ancestors settled under. She lives with her Master, Jack, who she serves in an eight year M/s relationship. Not wishing to live free or die, as the state’s motto suggests, she continues her pure submission. Jennifer would love to hear from other submissives, especially those who are touched by her writings about female slavery. Never wanting to forget who and what she is, Jennifer will sometimes write when she is wearing her collar, or her nipple chain.

  Jennifer maintains a My Space page and blog.

  Fans may email Jennifer at jencampbell8520@gmail.com

  If you enjoyed TWO TO SERVE, you might also enjoy:

  TOP HUNT

  By Jennifer Campbell

  Follow corporate VP Jennifer Campbell down the dark corridors of her deepest desires, in a quest for total submission. Unsatisfied with her current top, she embarks on a sexual odyssey to find a stricter, more thrilling dominant. Soon she becomes a coveted prize, sought by two Masters, whom she must choose between if she proves worthy to serve both. Will she kneel beside the sublimely obedient Gail, to serve Keefe Murdoch, Master of The Mansion, or will she offer her body to Grant Farrell, a deliciously qualified job candidate at her company? What will become of her flaxen-haired assistant, Donna, who longs to be trained as Jennifer’s personal sex slave.

  Warnings: This title contains graphic language, anal sex and bdsm elements including bondage, pain, humiliation and degradation.

  Excerpt From TOP HUNT:

  Later, I spotted a strikingly beautiful, blonde submissive. Kneeling alone beside a corner table opposite me, she had her legs spread wide apart. Ball-gagged, and wearing a latex bra with her prominent nipples exposed, she wore nothing else. What fascinated me about her was how she periodically masturbated herself in front of the entire lounge. She would frig her gash, as calmly as another woman might adjust her skirt, or apply lipstick. Each time her fingers dove into her slit, her eyes searched the room almost frantically, for her missing Master.

  In all honesty, my first thought about her were not about her Master. Feeling powerful, raw envy of her, I mentally saw myself kneeling there, with my wet pussy ready for my Master to use upon his return. Fantasies blossomed in my mind, about what she must be thinking and feeling. How did it feel to frig your open cunt in front of a roomful of people in obedience your Master?

  Finally, I came to know I must meet this Master, who commanded such sacrifice and slavish love from this beautiful woman. Gripped by Carpe Diem, I lifted my glass and walked swiftly over to the table, sitting down opposite the ale mug to wait. Sipping at my Chablis, I waited for quite a while, but felt totally unable to take my eyes off the blonde, whose arousal rose, then waned, with the steady cycle of masturbation she imposed on herself.

  Her Master came up from behind me.

  “Gail, have you found a new friend? I hope you behaved yourself in front of company.”

  He passed by me, as if I were not there, on his way to her. He reached down to feel her wet hole. After ascertaining his orders had been obeyed, he sat down across from me. In his presence, silence was all I could muster as I waited for him to speak. His first words would be so telling. Would he make me wet with his voice?

  “Keefe Murdoch, my submissive is called Gail. She is currently in service to me as a live-in slave. Who might you be? Do you have reason to be at my table?”

  The self-assured voice of someone used to being instantly obeyed. Yes, it did make me wet, but I wanted to know more before I played my cards.

  “Gail behaved very well indeed, obeying what I assume were your orders on a regular basis. She is such a well-trained submissive, I simply had to meet her Master.”

  The instant I laid eyes on him, he had passed all my attractiveness standards. His rugged face, framed with curly brown hair, set against bright, blue eyes was truly inviting. A jutting jaw and trim beard added to his look, enhanced by the simple fact he was not clad in fetish wear. A dark blue knit sweater, tight black pants with a worn gray sports coat made him look genuine, standing out markedly from the herd in leather and latex.

  “I’m Jen, for now. Have you been training female submissives long?” The answer would not be important, only the idea of me being a female dominant which the question should plant in his head.

  Smiling at me, he seemed well aware I intended to be difficult. By not revealing my purpose, I had started a chess game of sorts. It would play out; move and countermove, until I left, or he revealed my true intentions. Wondering how long I might last against him, I listened while he made his first move.

  “Do you have a regular play partner in the club, Jen?” Not even bothering to answer my question told me he knew it to be a ruse.

  “No, I am currently without a partner. Do you allow others to play with Gail?” To remain a mystery to him, I must keep alive the possibility of being a dominant female. Countermove, his play..

  Regarding me for a moment, his eyes still made me feel naked in front of him.

  “Occasionally, but I always know with whom I allow her to play. Gail’s training must not be spoiled by fools. Can you tell me some slaves you have trained?” A devilish smile crossed his face, for he knew he had me.

  With nothing to say to this, as I had not trained any submissives, I opened my mouth and words came out. Finding myself speaking, but not understanding, I knew my subterfuge to be ended.

&
nbsp; “Gail is so very beautiful, along with being well train . . . “

  The chess game over, Keefe Murdoch’s fist came slamming down hard on the table, making Gail and I jump in response. Having my full attention, he leaned in, invading personal space like he owned it, while giving me a hard stare. His blue eyes never blinked, but I buckled, quickly dropping my head, and placing my hands at my side.

  When he spoke next, he extruded a quiet confidence, knowing he had complete control. “Enough of your prattle. You are looking for a Master who will train you well, and use you hard. This can be arranged. Perhaps someday you may be as well trained as Gail is. Your next move is critical, for you must do exactly as I say if you truly desire this dream.” Knowing he had my attention, he leaned back in his chair, his hands beginning to pet Gail.

  Gail knelt there as he ran his fingers through her golden tresses; much like you would an obedient dog. Moving to her mouth, he removed her ball gag, sticking his fingers inside her mouth. Without hesitation, she licked them as the obedient dog would certainly do. Grabbing hold of one of her rosy nipples, he pulled it toward himself with such force he made her cleave to him. She uttered not a sound, yet I knew it must hurt her terribly.

  “Do you want me to feel your body this way? Are you wet, desperately hoping I will do to you what I do to Gail?”

  Soaking wet, I felt sure my silk panties would show it. With nothing left to me than to reveal the truth of my nature, I spoke quietly. “Yes, I am. I need to feel these things, to be your slave.” Laid out now, I bared my desires to him. Clothes still clung to my body, but he had seen inside, and correctly guessed my overpowering craving. The moment of truth had come, I could feel it.