The Sold For Service Bundle

by Nadia Nightside

  I felt a little sliver of pride work its way into my heart at that knowledge.

  “You served well,” he said, stroking my hair with admiration. “I see that I do not have to teach you eagerness, which is good. But you still must be taught finesse.”

  “I long to learn from you, Master.” I licked up the cum I had gathered in my hands slowly, letting him watch. “I want to take everything you can give me, Master.”

  The lust on his face was so great, then, so evident, that I almost misidentified as something else.

  In that moment, I almost thought that he loved me. But of course he couldn't.

  A Trainer never fell in love with a slave.

  * * * * *

  After the auction, I was led by a pair of stout guards into a black town car. It was very similar to the one that had taken me from my first home, with my father, and now it would transport me to my True Home. It felt like a rhyme in motion, like I lived in a poem.

  For no particular reason, I thought about how I was no longer on birth control. They had taken me off of it—and my Trainer Franklin had stopped fucking my cunt—a week or so before the auction. With the way what I was on worked, there was no doubt that I was now perfectly fertile.

  Inside the car was a lovely, older woman with a beautiful body and an even lovelier face. Right away I felt connected to her in a way that I couldn’t quite define.

  She took my hand, guiding me to sit down right next to her. As soon as I had, her leg had slid over mine, revealing the long slit in her tiny, sparkling blue gown. Her heavy, hot breasts pressed against mine, and she bit her lip lustfully as she examined me.

  “My name is Pasha,” she said. “I am the First Slave of my Master’s house. Or, our Master’s house, I suppose.”

  “It is an honor to meet you, Ma’am.”

  It took me a moment to place her ethnicity—but she was Berokian. Her bright blue eyes threw me off, as the Berokians so often had dark eyes the color of the night, but the olive complexion of her skin and her lustrous coiled brown hair, not to mention the fragrant accents of her speech, could identify her only as Berokian. Just like my Trainer.

  Where I come from, the Berokians are rightly respected for their considerable abilities in bartering and networking—and, incidentally, spying. Frequent traders, and often hired often by other countries as ambassadors for the negotiations of treaties, they are known for sharp minds and sharper tongues. There is a joke that is passed around how if you don’t think you know any Berokians, you need only ask one, and they’ll be able to tell you of every last one that you’ve come across in your life.

  She was older than any slave I had seen before, though still not old, just more mature. There are preferences in Masters, or so it had seemed, for young women that were just barely eighteen and still quite susceptible to new training and teaching. This was only logical, as the mind at that age is so ripe for learning and instruction. If she had begun her service at the same age as I, then she had at least twice the amount of experience as I did.

  Her bright blue eyes bespoke of a marvelous maturity. It was easy, right away, to know that she knew everything I was thinking and feeling without even saying a word to her, or her to me.

  “Now,” she said, sliding her hands over mine. “I know you’re probably just brimming with questions.”

  “Questions are for idle minds, Ma’am,” I said automatically. “A good slave’s mind is never idle.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “I see you’re better trained than most. Or just more trainable? The auctioneer sounded very impressed with you.”

  “They have said that I took to service quite naturally, Ma’am.” I turned and looked her at her, full in the face. “I have no desire to contradict that sentiment.”

  “I see.”

  She stroked my hair for a moment, and then leaned in and kissed me. I responded appropriately, letting my mouth slide into hers, enjoying as our tongues melded together. I had no sense of propriety for such actions, no desire to wait. If she wanted to kiss me, I wanted to be kissed. In Master’s house, my new house, she held all authority over me. More authority than anyone, as a matter of fact, except for Master himself.

  This had all been drilled into me by my Trainer. He let me know what to expect. He had been very kind to me, very thorough.

  After several minutes of touching and stroking and more kissing, Pasha drew away from me. She looked me in the eyes, and guided my face until I looked right back at her once again.

  “I want you to answer something for me.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  The title of “Ma’am” was most appropriate for someone of her station—the most favored slave in a given house. In all things, even slavery, there are hierarchies.

  “Suppose your Master ordered you to arrange a party for the most honorable guests in town. You put together a list, but a further inspection alerts you to the fact that two mortal enemies are invited. One supplies Master with fine silks, with which his slaves are able to make gowns and decorations. The other supplies Master with wool, with which his slaves are able to keep themselves warm in the wintertime. If either one is invited over the other, no doubt the merchant left out will be duly offended. And if both are invited, they will both be offended that the other has been entreated to, or worse, they will cause violence to one another in Master’s home. Who then is to be invited over the other?”

  I had not expected such a complex situation. Probably, I was expecting something more along the lines of a simple test of obedience: “If Master told you to kill your father, would you? ‘Yes, Ma’am, and with a smile. With Master’s cock inside of me, if he wanted.’” Something like that.

  I also was not expecting my own answer to come so naturally, however.

  “Silk catches a fairer price in the market,” I began, “and so it would be more prudent to deal more often with the silk merchant and re-sell whatever Master is able to obtain from him for more wool.” At this, she raised an imperious eyebrow. “That is, however, only if you truly can invite only one or the other.”

  “You are suggesting a third way?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. I would send them both the wrong invitations.”

  She chuckled a bit at that. “You mean send the silk merchant the wool merchant’s invitation, and vice versa? Why?”

  “Then their ire is thrust on Master instead of each other. But both would know that the other is invited, and they would be sore pressed to not come to the party when they know their rival will be there as well. It’s possible that they might try to take out their frustrations on Master, but I doubt it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because slaves use lots of fabric, and often. Suppose along with the invitation, he sends for an order of their finest cloths. A crate, let’s say, paid in advance. They can’t very well besmirch him at his party when he’s just paid for their next several months of wages, and they won’t attack one another because they’ll be too busy fuming at him. After the party, or during, he can send a girl over as way of apology.”

  “You wouldn’t have any trouble ordering a woman to service someone in the name of Master?”

  “A slave’s duty is to serve, Ma'am, no matter the request.”

  “I see.”

  She smiled warmly, clearly enjoying the touch of my body. This was a woman who had, for many years, touched whatever girl she saw in her Master's home, and did so however she liked. As a result, she was rather good at it.

  “You are to serve a very important function for Master, as time goes on. It’s not final yet, and your list of responsibilities will grow slowly, so that you learn them all well. But you are going to do for him what I did for many years,” she said.

  Her hand slid against my cunt, then. My breath caught.

  “It is time for me to move on,” she said with just a hint of sadness. “He wants someone younger. More able to do as he pleases. I earned my freedom many years ago, but I did not want to leave his service until he found a suitable replace
ment.”

  “You mean...?”

  “Yes. You are his new First Slave.”

  Her fingers pressed harder against my pussy. I almost asked her to bring him to orgasm, but the car suddenly stopped, and she slid off my lap.

  “We’re here.”

  The house was large and ornate. The exterior was tall and white, with wide, light green shutters around the windows. Very quickly I was led inside, seeing a trio of slaves busying themselves in the living room with the preparations for some kind of feast. I had almost no time at all to look at the house, because Pasha dumped me directly into a large bedroom with an incredibly large bed that took up almost the entire space of the room.

  For some strange reason, it all felt very familiar.

  “Wait in here,” said Pasha, closing the door behind her. “He’ll be with you presently.”

  * * * * *

  Every day, Master took me to the training room and had his way with me, filling my trainable, eager body with his enormous cock in any way that he pleased. I loved every second of it, and as often as he would allow me, I told him so.

  I only wished I wasn't forced to be on birth control. If I could just have his child, then he'd own me all the way. I'd be his, forever. I would have loved for him to get me pregnant, to fill me up so hard and so hot that I wouldn't have any choice but to admit to the world how very his I was.

  I wanted to tell him that it was him that I loved. I loved the way he owned me. I loved the way he teased me with the collar that I was so desperate to earn. I loved the way that he touched me, that he licked me, that he kissed me, that he fucked me. I loved everything about kneeling before my Master, and I never wanted it to stop.

  I knew I was getting close to the final moment of real ownership, where I would be a proper slave who was properly processed and indoctrinated. My pussy and heart sang together in unison at the thought. But there were still some obstacles I had to overcome.

  As what had become the custom, Celene and Melinda delivered me to the training room in the morning. And as always, Master was inside, though one day as I entered he had a dark look on his face.

  I crawled inside as I had been instructed to do, waiting patiently at his feet with my delicate ass held high and my face pressed against the ground. He did not say anything.

  “You seem upset, Master,” I said after some time, rising just slightly. “Is there anything I might be able to do to make you feel better?”

  “You anticipate my needs, slave.” His voice was strangely thick. “But you forget your place. No one told you to speak.”

  “You are right, Master.” I dropped closer against his legs, placing my face to the ground. “I humbly beg your forgiveness.”

  “I am upset. There is something that needs to be done today that...I don’t entirely want.”

  I had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Never mind,” he said quietly. “Let’s do what we’re here for. I want you to tell me, slave.”

  I was confused. “Tell you what, Master?”

  “I want you to tell me what you need.”

  “I need...I...”

  In the time since I had arrived, I hadn’t given much thought to my own needs. That was part of the refreshing nature of being there, to being processed. There was much uncertainty, but no cruelty, and I found myself in many ways fortunate to have been chosen to be trained as I was.

  Finally, I said, “I need to be fucked, Master.”

  “Do you?”

  His foot came down on my back, nudging gently on my spine.

  “I need to be fucked, Master. Please fuck your slave, Master? Please?”

  “Is that all you need?”

  “I need to suck cock. I need to suck whatever cock my Master wants me to suck.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes, Master. I love cock. I love servicing the cock of a strong man who knows what I am.”

  “And what are you, girl?”

  He pushed my head, almost a playful gesture, except for the way his fingertips dug into my skin.

  “I’m a slave, Master.”

  “Are you? You don’t sound like it.”

  Stepping away from me, he opened the door out into the hallway.

  “Wh-what are you doing, Master?”

  “Don’t call me that. You clearly don’t mean it.”

  My world felt like it was crashing down. I had no idea what was happening.

  “I...I don’t know what you mean, Master.”

  “You don’t want to be a slave. You might as well leave.”

  Struggling not to cry, I started toward the door. Why was this happening now? I had done everything he had ever asked with a smile on my face. I had been eager to obey, happy to suck and fuck in every manner that he ordered me to. As I passed him, slowly, I noticed a flash of uncertainty cross his handsome face.

  This was all a test, I realized suddenly. All of this together, a test. I was supposed to learn my place. I was never supposed to reject my place, no matter what.

  Right in front of the door, I dropped to my knees before him.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m staying, Master.”

  “Look at that. You can’t even obey orders.”

  “I need to stay, Master. I’ll die out there. I need to be here.”

  “Why?”

  His voice sounded excited.

  “Because I’m a slave. I’m your slave. I’m Master’s slave. I’ll do anything to stay, anything at all! I don’t care what you ask.”

  He was silent. My words echoed softly against the wet stones.

  “I need to be owned, Master. Please? Please own me? Let me stay, please? I want to be a slave, forever. I want to be your slave.”

  For several moments, he was silent. I was terribly afraid he didn’t believe me.

  “I don’t care how you treat me,” I said slowly. “I don’t care if you...if you beat me or yell at me or anything. I don’t care if you fuck me with ten other men. All those cocks sliding in and out of my body, using me like the property I am. I’m yours for your use, until you don’t want me anymore. But even then, even when you don’t want me...I’ll still want you, Master. And I’ll still be yours in my heart.” I gulped, and then added, “Master.”

  “I see.”

  Slowly, the door behind me closed. In a few moments, he had grabbed the collar—the collar that he had teased me with for so many days now—and slid it around my neck.

  His voice was thick as he said, “I think you’re finally ready for sale.”

  And I knew, then, why he had looked so sullen when I entered. He knew I would pass this test.

  He knew he would have to sell me.

  * * * * *

  It was dark outside before my new Master entered the bedroom where Pasha had left me. When he opened the door, he stood in the shadow.

  “Turn around,” he said. “Assume the position on the bed.”

  “Yes, Master,” I said. “A slave obeys.”

  His voice was rough, thick, but familiar. My heart began to beat quickly. Could it be...?

  I tried to ignore the sudden pounding of my heart as I obeyed his orders and bent down onto the bed, getting on my hands and knees. I was obedient. I was a slave, through and through. My heart only sped up as I heard him approach and then slide onto the bed with me. His hands slid down my back, and worked through the thick tumble of my hair.

  “Do you recognize my touch, slave?”

  I did, of course. It was my Master. It was Franklin. But...

  “...how is this possible, Master? I thought a Master couldn’t buy a slave he trained.”

  He chuckled softly. “They often don’t. There are a number of prohibitions. But it’s not strictly forbidden. I bought you from the Guild, like I would any other slave. But...”

  “But what, Master?”

  “One of the provisions is that I have to give every other Master who took a bid on you a turn with your body.”

  I gulped. “I am ha
ppy to obey in any way, Master.”

  “That’s very good. I decided I would have them all take their privilege at the same time.”

  “Yes,” said a man. “We're all quite jealous of Master Franklin, here. You're going to have quite a time keeping us satisfied.”

  I gulped, barely able to contain my excitement. Not only was I to be owned, and not only was I to be owned by my favorite man in the entire world, but I was also to be blessed with a gang bang from a whole cadre of Master cocks!

  “I live to obey, Master,” I said happily, drawing myself up. “I live to obey all of you!”

  An appreciative murmur went up into the room—though Master Franklin held me still, preventing me from looking around.

  “You've had my cock in your cunt more times than I can count,” he said. “I'm going to fuck your mouth while I watch another man take you from behind.”

  I nodded, shuddering with need. “Yes, Master. Please, Master. Let me serve you!”

  The other Masters gathered around me, pushing me, touching me. Their hands so strong and rough. The hot, musty smell of their lust quickly filled the room. I could feel their hardening cocks sliding against my skin. The bed was just big enough for all of them to surround me at once, though I could see behind Franklin a few other men whose cocks were sliding in close to my face, their hard bodies pressed against his.

  “Yes, take it,” grunted a voice. “Take your Master’s cock.”

  I slipped my mouth over Master Franklin's cockhead, eagerly slurping it down into my gullet. He leaned over, grunting appreciatively.

  “Didn’t you tell me you wanted this, slave?” he whispered in my ear. “Ten men all at once, each with cocks hard just for your body?”

  “Yes!” I thought, still eagerly sucking his cock. “Yes, Master! Please! Fuck me! All of you, please, Masters! Fuck me!”

  They must have been telepathic, because as I moaned out my answers against Franklin's sweet rod, another Master put his huge hands on my behind and slowly pushed inside of my cunt.

  I wasn't on any kind of birth control, I remembered. With so many potent men around, it was almost impossible that I would end the night and not be pregnant.