"Can you feel me getting close to an orgasm?" he asked her.
With his dick still in her mouth, Jenny nodded her head.
"When you feel that, stop stroking for a few seconds. Run your tongue around the head of my dick a few times, then resume stroking."
Jenny managed to do this, remarkably, five times. When Maurice's orgasm finally hit, it was one of the most intense he had had in several months. "Keep going," he said as Jenny tried vainly to swallow everything Maurice shot in her mouth, "just more gently." He stroked her hair a few times. "Don't stop until you're told to."
Maurice had not planned to extend Jenny's training beyond oral sex for at lest two or three days, but now he was so excited by his new slave that he decided then and there to accelerate her schedule.
"OK, you can stop now. Turn around and bend over so that your head is on the floor."
Jenny was no more anxious to screw for her master than she was to blow him. She wasn't aroused, but her master's reaction to her efforts had not gone unnoticed. She didn't feel happy about her master's response, but neither was she unhappy.
Also, Jenny noticed, her master hadn't said much about learning the last several minutes. All of that talk about ignoring his orgasm had gone away. She had just enough experience with males to know that when it came to sex, the male orgasm was the one thing a girl couldn't ignore. So as she offered herself to her master for the first time, she wasn't in an entirely negative frame of mind.
Maurice positioned himself behind Jenny, fingered her and found that she was barely moist, and began pressing against her. She was very tight, and Maurice instructed her to guide him with her hand. Jenny had never been screwed from behind before and she thought this order was a bit much. Gawd, I have to screw myself, she thought. She got Maurice to the right place and backed onto him. He felt huge, even bigger than he had felt in her mouth. This, she thought, is going to turn into agony very soon. Maurice, however, was not so wild with desire that he immediately buried himself inside her. He got about halfway in, causing his slave to yelp a bit, and then told her to squeeze him.
Squeeze him? said Jenny to herself. I'm too stretched out to do anything but suffer.
"Come on," Maurice said gently, "I know you can squeeze me a little." He ran his hands over Jenny's hips, up her sides until he brushed against her breasts, then back down again. It was the only thing he had done to Jenny that was at all sensuous, and she involuntarily moved on his dick. It wasn't a squeeze, but it was the closest thing she had to a squeeze at that moment.
"Come on," said Maurice, "try again," and he continued to slowly run his hands up and down Jenny's sides. She tried, tried very hard, but didn't get very far. To her surprise, Maurice said, "All right, that felt good. Do it again." Maurice in fact had felt very little, but he was loving being inside Jenny. Yes, Jenny, he said to himself again, I'm going to make you a spectacular slave.
He began stroking her slowly, telling her to squeeze when he was moving away from her. She tried again, and again thought she had done little. Maurice told her that it felt wonderful and continued to slowly stroke her. It did feel wonderful, but Maurice could tell that Jenny was hanging on for dear life. She wasn't quite ready for real sex with her master, and Maurice reluctantly decided he should stop. When he did, Jenny nearly collapsed on the floor in a heap.
"Sit," he told her as he stood up, and she slowly complied. "We will continue your training tomorrow," he said as he put on his clothes. "In the meantime, I want you to formulate an answer to the following question: What do you think Alicia would be like if she became a slave?"
Just what I was hoping you'd ask me, said Jenny to herself. "Yes, master," she said.
"If you like, I'll ask the escort to bring the blond slave here before you go to dinner."
"That would be nice, master," Jenny said a bit wearily.
He turned and walked out. Jenny laid down on her blankets and tallied the day's results. Six different men had an orgasm in my mouth today, she said to herself. A man who has a dick that's bigger than Godzilla's screwed me for a while. Boy have I had a wonderful day, and her enforced idleness gave her time to think about just how wonderful it had been. Perhaps a bit more clearly than the day before she realized she was a slave, but beyond being unhappy about that she wasn't quite sure how to react to it. She thought that if every day were like today, she would survive. The time she was left to herself, though, was very boring. It wasn't in her nature to lie around for hours doing nothing. If every day is like this, she thought, lying around waiting for a man to show up, having sex with him, then lying about some more, I'll probably go crazy. Surely there is more that I will have to do, but I definitely do not want to know about it now. Let me just get used to this, first, and then she instinctively recoiled at the idea. I don't want to get used to being a slave, the conversation with herself continued, I want to get out of here. But how, she wondered, how is it possible to be here three years without getting used to being a slave?
That question was scary enough to make Jenny change the subject of her ruminations. She tried to consider how Alicia might behave as a slave. She couldn't get very far, though, because she really didn't know Alicia very well. They had never been close friends, and they certainly had never discussed sex slavery. Jenny couldn't help but think that it would be very nice if she and Alicia could trade places, but beyond that she couldn't think of anything. Surely, she thought, Alicia wouldn't like being a slave. She, Jenny, didn't like being a slave, Janet didn't like being a slave, and the older woman Jenny had met the day before didn't like being a slave. How would it be possible to like it? Your whole life is having sex with anyone and everyone who wants you, an endless succession of men using you to get off. Even if you were good at it, how could you like it?
As she was turning these thoughts over in her mind, she heard footsteps outside her room. An escort walked in, but Janet was not behind him. Jenny assumed her sitting position as the escort began taking off his clothes. "I had that blond slave this morning, but I've still got enough left for you," he said. "It's more than an hour before dinner anyway. That's too long to let two slaves yak at each other." He grabbed the chair from outside. Jenny went back to work.
CHAPTER V
Jenny woke up to her second full day at DiMarcos and found herself looking at Janet. Jenny had slept so well that she hadn't heard the escort bring Janet into her quarters. Slaves were naturally quiet when they walked because they were always barefoot. The escorts, however, never walked softly and yet Jenny had slept right through the escort's arrival and departure.
"Morning," said Janet when she saw Jenny's eyes open.
"Morning," said Jenny, by now sufficiently accustomed to Janet's presence that seeing Janet first thing didn't scare her out of her wits.
"That escort," said Janet, "is getting to be a real pain in the butt. I mean, literally. He walked into my room this morning carrying a cup of coffee, with me barely awake, and made me take him up the ass. Every now and then he told me to stop moving so he could take a sip of coffee. He was having coffee and a donut for breakfast, and guess who was the donut?"
Ewww, said Jenny to herself. "Is that what being a slave does to you? You can make awful jokes like that?" she asked.
"I have to do something to help me cope with this place." Janet giggled out loud a little. "I guess you'd have to say the donut was chocolate."
Jenny groaned. "No more, please. It's early. Besides, next week I might be the donut. Then the joke won't be funny at all." Jenny turned serious. She had heard of anal intercourse, but never experienced it. "Janet, doesn't that hurt, I mean having a guy like that?"
"Yeah, a little at first. I had a boyfriend once who really liked it. He taught me all about it. I know what you mean about the joking though, Jenny. Becoming a slave certainly changes your outlook on stuff like that. But I'm not going to give up my sense of humor just because I'm a slave. I have to maintain as much of myself as possible, so when I get out I can go back to living lik
e a normal person."
Jenny lowered her eyes, ran her finger around the ring attached to her collar, and thought about that for a moment. Just like the previous day, she thought Janet's optimism was out of place. A slave really had nothing to look forward to, she thought. After all, no slave could get up in the morning and ask herself, "What shall I do today?" Yet in spite of Janet's misplaced optimism, Jenny liked Janet. They obviously had a lot in common, not least that neither one of them were felons.
"What are the other girls like?" asked Jenny. "I mean, are all the others from a prison?"
"Yes," said Janet, "you and me are the only two current BB's who weren't bought from a prison. I don't know any of the felons very well, and I don't think I want to. From listening to them at meals, I get the feeling they're a pretty mean bunch, and crude. Sometimes the way they talk about sex you'd think they were guys."
Jenny knew just what Janet meant. Late twenty-first century girls could, and did, talk about sex quite openly. But guys always had a different language, a different attitude, when they talked about sex. In sex education it was explained as a hormonal difference, but when it was explained this way the guys just laughed. When the guys laughed, the girls cringed.
Sex education classes, though, hadn't really made Jenny notice the difference between boys and girls. Rather, her boyfriends made her notice the difference. For example, she had always enjoyed sex, once her boyfriend had become her steady boyfriend, but she could tell there was a fundamental difference between the way she enjoyed sex and the way the boyfriend did. He frequently seemed driven by sex, obsessed Jenny sometimes thought. She always knew what he wanted because he nearly always wanted the same thing. If he went slowly enough, she could get herself into the same mood he was in. If not, that's when having a boyfriend was a pain; like, Jenny thought, being a chocolate donut for an escort.
"Speaking of guys," said Jenny, anxious to stop thinking about donuts, "what was it like when a guy from your school visited you?"
"I graduated last month, so a lot of them aren't in town right now, thank gawd for that. But of course my boyfriend, my ex-boyfriend, found me. The first time he came to see me, he acted all sad and gentle but he still wanted sex. That was a real let down for me, his first visit. The second and third time he came to see me he was like any other customer, except he told me I should be nicer to him than I was to the other men because he was still my boyfriend, sort of. Bull crap with that. The other guys who found me were all hot to nail me, just like they had been in school. Only now, when a guy finds me I'm naked and I've got to do whatever he wants."
This description seemed too matter-of-fact to Jenny. Maybe, she thought, Janet left out the parts that were emotionally difficult as a type of self-defense, something a slave had very little of. It was just at this point that the escort (of chocolate donut fame) came in to take the slaves to breakfast.
After breakfast, the escort took Janet back to her quarters, but left Jenny at the restaurant. "Your master will come for you," he explained.
Sitting alone, just outside the restaurant door, Jenny had a few moments to survey the surroundings. There wasn't much landscape to see, and very little human traffic. Jenny occasionally saw a slave with a red collar pass through a door to her right, entering or leaving the large room that contained the BB's quarters. She studied each one carefully, for the short amount of time each was in view, trying to see from expression or demeanor what the next stage of slavery was like. When she did get a glimpse of a slave's face she wasn't sure what she saw. The faces weren't sad, but that was about the best Jenny could say for them. Mostly, Jenny said to herself, they are young, naked females walking to and fro. She was aware that she was just such a one herself, though she was only sitting. It made her feel like a slave, sitting naked in this open place, waiting for a man – not just any man, but her master – to come lead her away on a leash. This is what it feels like, at least a little, she thought.
She looked up and saw, at the far end of the BB's section, her master walking toward her. My master, she thought. The possessive seemed completely inappropriate. He doesn't belong to me in any sense. I'm the one that's owned. I must follow him, sit at his feet, worship his genitals, obey his commands. It all sounds very set, very pat, so much so that it should be easy. All I have to do is have sex, over and over, day after day. Can it really be so hard? Jenny had to answer her own question with a simple no. Surely I can do something as simple as sex. It's not rocket science, after all. Sex, she said to herself, sex. The word used to make her giggle. Sex, she said again. Once it meant something mysterious and romantic. Sex, she kept repeating to herself. After her first sexual experience, sex meant excitement and intimacy and boys and feeling queasy. Sex. In high school it got more attention than anything else. And now, after she had spent her high school years talking, frequently, about sex, she found herself bound over as a slave to perform – sex. She kept repeating the word over and over, and the repetition of the word made the act itself seem unreal.
When Maurice walked up to Jenny, she noticed for the first time that he was carrying a strap with a wooden handle and three long, smooth, slender sticks. She guessed immediately what, and who, they were for. Sex, she said to herself as her master led her away, sex and punishment. What could be simpler than that?
Maurice had no plans to use the canes or the strap on Jenny. He had brought them because Jenny's room had nothing with which to punish a slave and because he wanted her to be aware of their presence. He had something much more important in mind for Jenny than punishment. Today, he would make Jenny an offer, using yesterday's discussion about Alicia as a starting point. He was confident Jenny would accept.
Had he known what Jenny had been thinking while waiting for him he would have been pleased. It would not, however, have changed his strategy. When slave and master were in Jenny's room, Maurice fetched the chair and sat down without first taking off his clothes.
"So, have you thought about my question concerning Alicia?" asked Maurice.
"Yes, master." Jenny wasn't very pleased with all this talk. I'm a sex slave, for christs sakes. Just make me do what you want and get it over with.
"And what did you decide?"
"I'm not sure, master. I didn't know Alicia very well, master."
"Well, speculate a little. How would she handle being a slave?"
"I guess she'd have to just get used to it, master. She wouldn't have much choice, master."
This, of course, was more revealing than Jenny realized.
"Could she get used to having sex with strangers every day?"
Alicia? Jenny asked herself. "Yes, master, she could."
"And she would learn to obey her master in all things, without question?"
Here Jenny balked. The answers she was giving were based partly on her opinions and partly on what she thought about Alicia, and unquestioning obedience was not something to which Jenny was reconciled.
"Perhaps not, master," Jenny answered cautiously.
"And what about you? Is that the kind of slave you plan to be?"
This unwelcome question nonplussed Jenny. To the casual observer, it must have appeared that Maurice was trying to get personal with his slave much too early in their relationship. But Maurice knew that the relationship between a master and a slave did not develop the way normal relationships did. It became intimate almost instantly. One moment, a man and his new slave had never seen each other. The next moment, the man was her master, demanding and receiving obedience. Within forty-eight hours of meeting her master, the slave had sex with him four or five times. The slave was compelled to get to know her master better than she had ever become acquainted with any other man in such a short time. The master was like minute rice, but instead of adding water, you added a slave. Instead of a meal, you got a relationship. It was not a normal relationship, of course, but the slave was just as aware of it as she would be of any other relationship.
"I, I don't know, master," Jenny finally replied, afraid tha
t her answer might get her punished then and there.
"Then I shall make you an offer, if you like," said Maurice.
Since it would have been impolitic, to say the least, of Jenny to decline to hear her master's offer, she readily accepted.
"You must work for DiMarcos for over three years," said Maurice. "That's a long time to struggle against your owners and your master. You will suffer a good deal from the cane and the strap, or worse, and after all that suffering you will still have to do what you are told. If you will agree to let me train you, though, agree to obey me faithfully, I will teach you everything you need to know to get along. Whether you struggle against me or not, things won't be easy at first; but I can make it as easy for you as it can possibly be."
This offer, as Maurice had called it, was little more than a veiled threat. He had couched it in terms calculated to appeal to Jenny's emotions. The offer to take care of Jenny, more apparent than real, and the implication that their relationship would be one of mutual trust and faithfulness had a powerful appeal. A new slave always felt alone and helpless, and such an offer would usually fall on receptive ears.
"But, master," said Jenny, as she thought not of how Alicia would respond to this offer but how Janet would, "if I agree I will have to become a slave, I mean really be a slave."
"Yes, that is quite true," said Maurice gently. Jenny had cut to the heart of the matter immediately. He continued. "And it will make your life here all the easier. You'll be able to take things in stride."
Jenny wasn't sure she wanted to take things, like an escort up her ass, in stride or any other way. However, it appeared that her master was being open with her. Could a slave ever expect more than that? Even more important, what would it mean to her if she were to decline this gracious offer? She would be admitting that she intended to defy her master, admitting that she preferred to submit only after being punished. Her choices seemed stark and very unappealing. On the one hand, she could take the cane, the strap, or whatever it was that was worse than the cane and the strap. On the other hand, she could take voluntary servitude.
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