Green, Sharon - Mind Guest.htm

by Mind Guest

  are always alternate methods."

  "I dislike being limited in my use of a slave," Fallan answered,

  sounding bored with the whole thing. "I believe I have had enough of

  this slave. What of that black-haired one?"

  "That one you may enjoy as you wish," light-shirt said, professional

  friendliness now heavy in his voice. "The use rooms are to your left,

  and you may also see to the fees there. I wish you a pleasant time."

  There were sounds of movement all around me, bringing Bellna partway

  out of her stupor with whimpering protests, but this time she didn't

  have a chance of taking over and wouldn't have been able to change the

  situation even if she had. I opened my eyes to see the black-haired

  girl being released from the bar and the ankle chain restraint, her

  whole body quivering with anticipation. I didn't have the strength to

  quiver with anticipation, even when light-shirt began unlocking my own

  chains. When my wrists were released from the bar I sprawled face down

  in the furs of the platform, and light-shirt chuckled and parted my

  bottom.

  "You have come a far distance this day, little slave," he said, working

  on whatever held my ankles in place. "You have earned a time of rest

  before your lessons continue. You may thank me."

  "Thank you master," I whispered silently cursing the now disappearing

  Fallan for having put me in a position where I had to say that. I

  didn't know what would happen next, but my mouth was dry and swallowing

  was difficult.

  Light-shirt closed the cuff around my right wrist again, locked the

  chain under the two rings at my waist, then stepped back. My goldenshirt,

  whom I hadn't seen, was behind him, and he was the one who

  lifted me off the platform. I felt completely surrounded and outnumbered,

  which had to be the way I was supposed to feel-according to

  my training program. My golden-shirt steadied me on my feet, pulled my

  wrist-chain out the way he had earlier, then led me out of the tent.

  We moved through the late afternoon sunshine at a slower pace than we

  had on the way there, and although I knew there had to be a specific

  reason for it, I didn't care. The cooling air was like a breath of

  fresh air after the closeness of the tent, and I wished I had the

  strength to appreciate it. I stumbled along in my chains after my

  golden-shirt, feeling my mind uncurl and spread out to the openness

  above. It's almost dark, I thought, relishing the words. Just a little

  while longer, and then you can go. I looked at the crowds of men we

  moved through, feeling their eyes on me as a physical thing, and knew I

  had to get out of there soon. If I were ever trapped in that place

  permanently, my life span could be measured in minutes. Slavers don't

  like victims who refuse to be good, obedient slaves, and usually don't

  waste much time on them.

  I was taken back to the tent I had originally come from, but the room

  was somewhat different from the others I had seen. It was small and

  dim, covered completely with thick luxurious fur, and held a couple of odd-shaped somethings made of wood and fur that I didn't like the looks

  of. There was also a small table holding a familiar bowl, but I wasn't

  given a chance to get more than a single glance at it.

  "Kneel," my golden-shirt said as soon as we were inside, and his slave

  obeyed him immediately. The fur felt strange to my bare legs even after

  the fur I'd been kneeling on on the platform, but I didn't have time to

  think about that, either. The golden-shirt pulled his boots off, got

  out of his clothes, then made himself comfortable on the fur.

  "Crawl to me, slave;" he ordered, and when I reached him he leaned up

  on one elbow and took my face in his hand. "You are incredibly

  fortunate in that you have already declared yourself slave," he said,

  looking down into my eyes. "Had you not, this next lesson would have

  been a good deal more painful for you. Are you prepared for your next

  lesson?"

  "I was told I might have a time of rest," I whispered, shaken by what

  he had said. So Fallan had been right after all-and the dance he'd put

  me through had saved me from something that would have been a lot

  worse.

  "You have already had your time of rest," golden-shirt answered, still

  holding my face. "Our return here was leisurely, and you were to have

  rested then." Suddenly his hand released my face, and I was slapped

  hard enough to bring tears to my eyes. "You must also learn that you

  are never to question a master. You were asked, slave: are you prepared

  for your next lesson?"

  "Yes, master!" I gasped out at once, trembling and letting the tears

  roll down my cheeks-and making sure my hands didn't curl into fists. "I

  am prepared, master!"

  "Excellent," he said, leaning back from me somewhat. "Go and fetch your

  bowl, for it is time that you be fed."

  "Yes, master," I sniffled, then crawled after the bowl standing on the

  small wooden table. The bowl held the same soup-soaked bread I'd been

  fed earlier in the day, and when I brought it back I was put to my

  belly again before it was fed to me. I'd said I was ready for the next

  lesson, but the only thing I was really ready for was about twelve

  hours of uninterrupted sleep. I felt as close to the end of the line as

  I'd ever been, and that had to be why the lessons were continuing.

  Conditioning works best on an undefended mind, and it's hard to defend

  your inner self when your eyes are closing in exhaustion. I was so

  tired I could even feel myself reacting to the nearness of a naked male

  body, and that despite the release I'd so recently had. By the time my

  "meal" was done and I had licked golden-shirt's fingers clean, I was

  almost to the point of squirming.

  "And now that you are fed, we may continue," golden-shirt said, tossing

  away the empty bowl. "Tell me what you are, slave."

  "I am a slave, master," I whispered, making sure I didn't meet his

  eyes. "I am your slave."

  "You are the slave of any free man who commands you," golden-shirt

  corrected. "Raise yourself to kneeling beside me, slave."

  "Yes, master," I acknowledged, pulling myself to my knees with some

  difficulty. The device gave me its usual trouble, and golden-shirt

  chuckled.

  "You appear to be in discomfort, slave," he said, reaching around to

  touch me. "Do you wish this removed?"

  "Yes, master," I gasped, finding it impossible to hold still against

  his toying fingers.

  "Then you have my permission to beg me to remove it," he said, laying

  himself farther back in the furs. "And, as the potion which turned me uninterested has for the most part worn off, you may also, at the same

  time, serve me."

  I gasped at the flaring of heat all through me at the key word, finding

  it considerably worse than it had been. I was too tired to fight the

  conditioning, and Bellna was no help at all. She lay cowering in her

  corner of my mind, sick with fear over the thought of serving the man

  who had done so much to me that day. She was triggered into wanting to

  please him, but she was so
afraid of him that she was frozen in place.

  It was all up to me again, and I had absolutely no choice.

  "Oh, master, please remove the device," I wheedled, remembering the

  advice of the woman who had washed me. At the same time I put my hands

  on his body, and began gently kissing him all over. There was dark hair

  all over him, his body mostly hard but beginning to turn soft from easy

  living. I worked my way up to his throat with kisses, then licked my

  way slowly back down, all the while wheedling and pleading and begging

  in true slave style. His interest was only beginning to stir, and I

  found that I had no choice at all about encouraging it. I wanted to

  encourage his interest, and when his hands came to me, I bad to. I did

  to him what I'd been taught to do, and I could no longer remember when

  I'd been taught it or by whom. When he moaned and twisted under my

  hands and lips the faintly disturbing thought came that I might have

  gone too far, but I was in no condition to worry about it. It might

  have been something to worry about if golden-shirt had still been in

  the grip of that potion and watching, but as the victim of my

  ministrations, he was in no condition to be cooly observant.

  "Stop, s-stop," he said at last, pulling me away from him by the hair.

  "You have-learned your lessons-well, slave, and I am-no longer able to

  bear it. Tell me again what you would have me do."

  "Master, I beg you to remove the device," I panted, breathing almost as

  hard as my victim. I reached my hands out to touch him, but the

  distance he held me away from him by the hair was too far for the chain

  linking my wrists. "Also do I beg for use, master. Please, master,

  please!"

  The words I blurted out were a shock to me, but golden-shirt must have

  been expecting them. He laughed softly in satisfaction, then shook his

  head.

  "The use you beg for you may not have," he said, reaching a hand out to

  tickle a moan out of me. "You have not yet earned the ultimate

  satisfaction, and will not till you have pleased the master you are

  meant for. There is another means by which you may give satisfaction,

  however, and it is for this reason that I am here. Now that your

  lessons have prepared me, we are able to continue on to it."

  He let go of my hair and reached down to untie the front leather strip

  of the device, then had me put my forehead to the floor while he untied

  the back strip. The removal of the device itself was unbelievable

  relief, but that only solved half my problem. I still needed what that

  man was nicely prepared to give me, and I was seriously considering

  raping him when his hand came hack to my hair and pulled me painfully

  to my feet. I mewled in protest, just about all I was capable of in the

  way of protest just then, but I was still dragged to one of those wood

  and fur contraptions and pushed face down across it. Before I could

  blink away the sleepiness clouding my thinking and stressing how much

  in need I was, my wrists had been pushed through holes to either side

  of the thing I lay on and clamped tight in place. Then wheels were

  turned on the thing, and I lay head down and bottom up.

  "This device will hold you as I wish you to be," golden-shirt said as

  he fiddled with something between my legs. "Tomorrow, after your lessons, I will return for the same, and will then expect to have no

  need of the device. Should I find a need for it, you will not be

  released from it before you have been beaten. Am I mistaken in

  believing that you will be pleasing?"

  "I will be pleasing, master," I babbled, feeling a desperate need to be

  pleasing. "I beg you to use me, master! Please, master, please!"

  "I mean to use you, little slave," he chuckled, moving around the room

  somewhere behind me. "Not in the manner you beg for, yet will you be

  used. I must, however, first prepare myself a bit further."

  I knew that what he said should have made me suspicious, but I couldn't

  think clearly. A good part of the begging and groveling I'd done had

  been because of Bellna, but some of it was caused by the conditioning I

  couldn't seem to hold off. I was so tired, and so much in need, and my

  body quivered at the thought that he was going to take care of me.

  "I am now prepared for you," he said from directly behind me, snapping

  me out of a half-doze and making my body burn even more. Groggily I

  tried raising myself to receive him then was roused to the point of

  lifting my head.

  "No, master, no!" I whimpered, feebly trying to escape, but there was

  no escape. His manhood was taking the place of the device, and he'd

  greased himself for the purpose. I tried pulling away from the

  penetration that was beginning to excite me terribly, knowing it wasn't

  what I really wanted and wouldn't satisfy me nearly as well, but I

  struck something scratchy and irritating on the device that made me

  jerk back I immediately cried out, simultaneously with his grunt of

  satisfaction; I'd lost and he had won.

  I'd begged for use, but not the kind of use I was given. I couldn't

  think clearly, but bodily sensations came through clear as the chime of

  perfect crystal. I was battered at over and over again, forced against

  the scratchy, irritating part of the device until I began using it to

  satisfy the screams of my body, accepting the pain in my desperate need

  for release. Eventually I found the release, just before golden-shirt

  found his own, and I was limp when he unlocked me from the device and

  dumped me on the floor.

  "The potion given you in your food has done well," he said, looking

  down at me where I lay curled up on the furs. "It will now make you

  sleep till the time comes for your lessons to continue. Sleep well,

  little slave, for the next lessons bring learning in earnest."

  No, I thought as I blurrily watched him walk to his clothes. I can't

  sleep and wake up still here, still chained as a slave. I can't. I

  can't.

  But my eyes were closing even then, proving that I sure as hell could.

  Chapter 6

  I awoke with a start, my heart racing and my mouth dry. I jerked my

  head up and looked around the dim, fur-decorated room without

  recognizing it, not knowing where I was or what was happening. I

  started to get to my feet but the tinkle of chain caught my attentionand

  then the memory of everything that had happened came flooding back.

  I sank back down on the floor, took a deep breath, then lowered my head

  to my hands. My system was still twanging from the emergency wake-up

  I'd gone through, but being awake was more than worth it. There are a

  lot of drugs that have little or no effect on me, but of the ones that

  do, some are able to trigger emergency wake-up. The light opiate sort,

  mild sleeping draughts and the like, begin to break down in the body

  rather quickly. As soon as that breaking down starts, my nervous system triggers the release of adrenalin, which gets me up and moving even

  sooner than my usual fast snapback. It's a rubbing-bare-nerves-with-afile

  kind of feeling to go through, but I'll take that any day as

  opposed to staying cozily aslee
p.

  I took another deep breath then raised my head, still feeling the urge

  to stretch out and close my eyes, but not about to give in to it. I

  moved over to the device I'd been used on, keeping the chain-tinkling

  to a minimum, then began poking around the underside of the thing. I

  needed something to use as a lock pick, and I was hoping that that

  device wasn't as neat and clean-lined underneath as it was above. The

  Lord of Luck must have come back from the lunch break he'd been on so

  long; the underside of the device had all sorts of thin protrusions of

  metal, undoubtedly the Narellan equivalent of nails. I chose one, got a

  good grip on it, then started working it back and forth.

  Cursing under my breath did no good whatsoever; the damned thing took

  its own sweet time breaking free, and time was the biggest unknown I

  had to work with right then. By the time I had the piece of metal in my

  hand I was sweating, and I went to work with it without wasting another

  minute. I tossed my head to get the hair out of my face and eyes then

  began probing the lock on my right wrist, trying to figure out how a

  key worked on it. The locking mechanism wasn't only primitive it was

  alien, and if you think all locks work on the same principle, then

  you've never opened one with anything but a key or a palm.

  As I probed the lock I couldn't count the minutes ticking past without

  screwing up, but it took all the control I have to keep myself patient

  and attentive. I knew the slavers weren't going to let their red-haired

  slave sleep until she was all rested, but I didn't know how long they

  would give her. Conditioning works best on an exhausted mind, but a

  little too much push and the mind breaks, leaving you with nothing to

  show for your efforts but an empty husk. I was sure they had enough

  experience with twisting little girls to know how long to give it, but

  I didn't know how long to give it. It was surely night outside, but

  that wasn't likely to mean anything to the slavers' plans, especially

  with the way they were training me. I'd had to accept pain in order to

  get release again, and the thought of continuing on further with that

  put a trem6r in my hands that I couldn't quite ignore. If I didn't get

  out of there soon, I'd be bouncing off the walls.

  When the break came, I almost missed it. You can't hear the twang of a