Part 2
Following my interview I was instructed to stand before Master and
Whipmaster, naked except for my collar and heels. My head was lowered in
respect and submission, my arms to my side. My slave ass was still inflamed
from the abuse that it had been subjected to, and moving about only made it
worse. Therefore, I was relatively still and on display for the two Dominants
in front of me. They lingered before speaking to me, no doubt inspecting their
property and hopefully deriving some pleasure from it, for that would mean less
punishment for me. Master spoke.
"We have one more thing to show you tonight, slut. Turn your attention
to the television."
"Yes, Master." I quickly complied.
What I saw next nearly made me faint, as Whipmaster placed a tape in the
VCR and pushed "play." It was a recording of one of my last assignments in the
convenience stores, one where I had been instructed to remove my bikini top and
strut around the store. At one point, I had stopped and jiggled a bit as Master
had told me to do. Everyone around the store was naturally gawking and laughing
and snickering, and all I wanted to do was to get out as quickly as possible.
And here it was on tape. Whipmaster stopped the tape and spoke to me.
"Should you break any part of your slave contract or not obey every
command henceforth without hesitation and as enthusiastically as possible, then
this tape and all of the previous material we have on you will be released to
your co-workers and family. In addition, you will be severely punished and
humiliated if you are permitted to keep your collar. Do you understand, slut?"
"Yes, Sir, slut understands, Sir. She values her collar and wishes not
to dishonor her Master in any way. She will obey fully and with great
dedication and enthusiasm, Sir." I meant every word. The humiliation and pain
would be crushing. Oddly, I thought, though, the idea that I would not be able
to serve these Dominants was most awful. They had begun to enslave my mind to
the point that not serving them would be as painful as the whip or my
humiliation. Both Master and Whipmaster knew this, of course, and were working
it to their complete advantage. Master spoke.
"Do you wish to keep your collar, slut?" Both men saw my knees buckle a
bit at the question, no doubt giving them great pleasure.
My eyes shot to the floor. I wanted to be as submissive as possible.
"Yes, Master, very much so, her collar is this slut's most prized gift from her
Master. She wears it with great pride and thanks Master for the honor and
privilege of allowing her to wear it, Master."
"Very well, up against the wall for chaining."
"Yes, Master." I ran quickly to the wall, arms up to be chained so that
my face was nearly touching the wall. I had hoped that Master and Whipmaster
would simply leave me there, but instead I was pulled up so that I could remain
only on my tiptoes. This helped tighten my already taut ass and thigh muscles.
Master spoke.
"In the store today you did not jiggle as much as we would have liked.
You will learn to obey your commands enthusiastically or the whipping you are
about to receive will be a daily occurrence, and much worse. Is that clear,
slut?"
Master was a harsh, strict, Gorean-like disciplinarian who tolerated no
disrespect, disobedience, or deviation from his commands. I was learning very
quickly that any independent thought of my own, any independent interpretation
of Master's order, was not to be tolerated or unpunished in any way. I was to
be a mindless slavegirl, concentrating only on Master's commands and obeying
utterly, completely, enthusiastically, and without a shred of delay. Any
violation of that rule was to be punished severely.
I could hear Master and Whipmaster both choose whips. Both lashed the
whips in the air once so I could hear them, and I could tell they were heavy
ones. Without warning one of them lashed my bottom, causing it to sear in pain
and me to howl. It felt as though my pretty, fleshy slave ass had been split in
two. No sooner then the ripples of sensation just begun to barely fade then the
second lash fell, this time from another whip and nearly in the same spot. This
whip was much bigger and wider, and hurt so much that I was barely able to
scream. I nearly fainted from the shock and could not even stand, my knees
buckling and my eyes tearing. I was terrified of more lashes but only silence
remained. My body crumpled as my legs weakened, and I was allowed a respite.
After a period of several minutes, which seemed liked hours, I was released to
again stand before Master and Whipmaster. Master spoke.
"You may answer my question now, slut, do you understand?"
I understood all too well. "Yes, Master, your slave slut understands
well. She is to obey Master's commands completely, enthusiastically, and
without delay. Otherwise she will be whipped and punished in other ways on a
daily occurrence, Master. She only wishes to obey, serve, please, and arouse
her Master and will work hard to do so, Master."
"Very well, present yourself."
"Yes, Master." I knelt, naked in my heels and collar, thighs parted for
display, arms back, back arched to heave my slave breasts and nipples, head
lowered in respect and submission.
"You may pleasure us, slut."
"Yes, Master, thank you, Master." I could hardly believe what I was
saying, but I was so grateful that the punishment of the day had ended, at least
temporarily, that I eagerly pleasured both Master and Whipmaster with my hot,
wet slave mouth. I found myself so happy for the opportunity to please both of
them, to show that their slave was now ready and eager to serve, that I bobbed
and licked and jiggled like never before. I knew that I had done a good job
because both men came rather quickly, and I cleaned them well. I was so
grateful for the privilege. Master spoke.
"You may thank us now for your training today."
"Yes, Master." I had learned my lesson about the need to be submissive,
to do more than simply say "Thank you." I therefore got on my belly onto the
floor and placed my arms in back of me, my face planted firmly into Master's
foot. I licked and kissed both filthy feet and was glad to do so. I did the
same with Whipmaster's feet before I was ordered to my feet. I obeyed very
quickly, and lowered my head again in respect and submission.
Upon doing so I was chained with very heavy chains on my wrists and
ankles. In addition, a smaller chain was attached to my collar and then to the
other chains, ensuring that I was not going anywhere. I was then led to the
small cage in the dungeon and placed inside. It had a small cot and blanket but
nothing else. Master closed the door behind me and I was a naked, collared,
chained, caged slave. I had been stripped bare of any dignity. Master and
Whipmaster turned to leave the dungeon. As they did so, I pressed my slave
breasts up against the bars in a vain attempt for leniency (I knew better then
to speak without being spoken to first). I thought that perhaps the sexiness of
it would spur Master to treat his slut with some compassion. Instead, both men
exited the dungeon without even turning around to look at me, and turned out the
light. I laid on my cot and thought about the day. I wanted to masturbate but
had not been given permission to do so. If I touched Master's pussy without
permission I would be severely whipped. I lay in the darkness and waited for
morning, rubbing my sore slave ass, and wondering what was next for me.
Morning came. Master entered the dungeon, turned on the light, and
motioned for me to stand. I obeyed as quickly as I could given the heavy
chains and lowered my head. The cage door was opened and my chains were
removed. I was nervous, wondering if I would be whipped again, but stood
motionless waiting for my command. My world had been reduced to what Master
would tell me to do, and my obedience after that. I was either listening to a
command or carrying out the command. The tightness of my slave collar reminded
me of who I was. Master spoke.
"You are to make breakfast for Whipmaster and myself. The menu is
upstairs in the kitchen. Move!"
"Yes, Master," I said before scurrying up the stairs, my slave breasts
and ass jiggling well and my feet still in heels from the day before. I quickly
reached the kitchen to begin my domestic service. I was an excellent cook, a
trait Master had considered when agreeing to train me. I was happy to cook for
two reasons. One, it meant no punishment and two, I was starving, having not
eaten since early the day before. That didn't matter, of course, as I was a
slave and Master's needs were paramount.
Both men sat at the table as I served pancakes, bacon, poached eggs,
pastries, juice, and coffee. Both ate with a voracious appetite, although I was
not allowed to do so. Gone was my playfulness from the day before. Fear of
another bullwhipping and extensive humiliation made me very attentive to their
beck and call. I knew that any mistake would be costly for me, and hoped that
my nude form would provide an attractive backdrop for their meal. However, I
was largely ignored.
Following the meal and cleanup (also my responsibility), I was permitted
to eat some bland cream-of-wheat from a dog dish. I had to kneel down to do so,
sticking my slave ass high in the air as I ate. I was so hungry that I was
grateful for the opportunity to eat and drink. I cleaned up this meal and
returned to Master for my next command, standing with my head lowered in respect
and submission. This continued for nearly an hour, during which time I wondered
why I had not been given any command. I began to realize that I was there for a
reason, perhaps to teach me that Master can command me at any time, and I must
be ready. Finally, Master spoke.
"You may shower and primp, slut, for you have a full day ahead of you.
Take your time to look your best, though I know you have not much to work with.
Your outfit will be waiting for you. Go."
"Yes, Master." I scurried to the bathroom to shower as I was filthy
from the day and night before. I had always thought of myself as pretty, even
stunning, but from Master's comment began to wonder about my appearance. My
body was curved, taut, and ravishing, but my self-esteem about it was now low.
Maybe it was not good enough to please men, especially Dominant Men. What could
I do to become more alluring? I didn't know, and had to rely on my training to
help answer that question.
Following extensive showering, grooming, and primping, I placed on the
outfit chosen for me. It was a tight-fitting sundress, flower-print, that
barely covered my slave breasts and pussy. It felt like it was painted on me,
and it was difficult to sit in it. Surprisingly, I was allowed to wear a silk
thong for underwear, a luxury I was almost never permitted (I was always to be
on display for Master). Less surprising were the high heels I was required to
wear, understated but difficult to wear and excellent for tightening my leg
muscles. I stared at myself in the mirror for several minutes, doing some final
primping so that Master would be pleased.
I stood before Master and Whipmaster like a horse on display at a fair.
I wanted to be inspected and found worthy of some attention, but was instead
told to get into the car. I wondered if I was to humiliate myself topless in
convenience stores again, but wasn't wearing the bikini from the day before.
Instead, we drove to a shady part of town and next to a tattoo shop. I was
totally confused, but ordered out of the car and inside. Master and Whipmaster
shook hands with the owner, who thoroughly looked me up and down, smiling
crookedly as he did so. I was nervous but that didn't matter to the men. What
mattered was that my time had come for branding.
I was led to a small room full of equipment and told to stand before
the owner. He sat down in front of me and placed his hand on my inner thigh,
pressuring it to move away from my other thigh. I complied, instinctively
knowing that any disobedience or resistance would be severely punished. The
owner then began to place a tattoo in my inner thigh. I was horrified that my
body was being altered or changed without my consent, but knew there was nothing
I could do. I had signed a 4-month slave contract and was bound to it until
then. I could leave then but not until then. The instrument bit into my flesh,
causing me to gasp in pain, but I was not permitted to move and didn't dare to.
The procedure took several minutes.
When finished, my left inner thigh was marked with a "?" Master
explained.
"Slut, you are now marked with the symbol for kajira, or a Gorean slave
girl. Whenever you look at the thigh it will remind you of your status as a
slavegirl, and others who see it who understand will also know."
"Yes, Master, thank you, Master, for this exquisite gift. Your
slavegirl is most thankful and will work hard to obey, serve, please, and arouse
Master." I said these words without hardly thinking and without any care about
the shop owner. That surprised me, but I realized I was becoming a well-trained
slavegirl. However, what I saw next showed me that I had a ways to go.
The shop owner clapped his hands once and out popped an absolutely
stunning woman of immense beauty. She appeared as if from nowhere, long,
straight blonde hair, blue eyes, incredibly well-proportioned with gorgeous
legs, long arms, and perky breasts. She could not have been more than 20 years
old. Most striking was the fact that she was naked, in heels, with a thick
leathered slave collar. She stood next to the shop owner, a grizzly man in his
late 40s, motionless and with eyes lowered. It was obvious that she was his
slave, but even more than that, a very well-trained slavegirl. She was totally
oblivious to anyone else in the room, not caring that she was naked and
collared. All she focused on were her Master's words and his commands. As soon
as he spoke, she instinctively listened and moved extraordinarily quickly to
obey. He did not even have to tell her to move quickly, as she did so.
"Drinks for these men."
"Yes, Master," the girl replied, slipping out quickly and returning
almost as quickly for Master and Whipmaster (as a slave, of course, I was not
entitled to such hospitality). The girl knelt before the two men, her head
lowered as she lifted the drinks to them. They took it without a word and the
girl remained where she was, not daring to move until told to do so. As Master,
Whipmaster, and the shop owner chatted, I kept my gaze on the girl. She did not
move a muscle until several minutes later when the shop owner clapped his hands
twice and she receded from view. I could tell that she was absolutely terrified
of her Master and of disobeying him. I shuddered to think what training had
brought her to the point of a mindless bimbo slut who was incapable of anything
but strict and immediate obedience to her Master. After all, she was an
exceedingly beautiful woman who could have any number of men at her feet.
Instead, she was completely controlled by this decidedly unattractive, balding
tattoo shop owner. It was only later on that I realized she was there for my
benefit. I found myself horrified, fascinated, and even envious of the
slavegirl whose entire world surrounded her obedience, control, and punishment.
Back in the car, I had so many questions but was not permitted to speak.
Above all, I wondered how the gorgeous blonde ended up in the position she was.
I was too naive to know that the path she took was the one I was currently on.
Master drove only a short way to a topless strip club. Upon stopping,
he attached a very small microphone to my high heel (recall he owned several
electronics stores). He then spoke to me.
"Slut, there is an opening for a strip dancer here, and I have arranged
an interview for you. You will go in, find the manager, and interview for the
position. I will hear everything that goes on, so any attempt to sabotage this
interview will be severely punished. You are to do what the manager says, and
be sure you do what is necessary to secure the position. I know this is a lot
for a slut to understand, but do you?"
Inside of me, there was slight hesitation but I did not dare show it on
the outside. "Yes, Master," I replied, "slut understands and will secure the
position, Master, she thanks you for the opportunity to serve and please her
Master."
I then entered the club. My head was spinning at the prospect of
stripping before so many men, my breasts shimmering on the dance floor. But,
what could I do? I had to obey. I walked past the men sitting at tables, a
variety of professionals, working-class stiffs, and low-lifes. The place was
dingy and filthy. The dancer on stage was gyrating for her audience, dressed
only in a thong and heels. She was beautiful, but the men around her mostly
gave her catcalls and laughs. I asked for the manager and was escorted into a
small office. The owner looked me up and down in my tight-fitting sundress and
I found myself immediately straightening up for display. He spoke.
"Why should I give you this job when you have no experience?"
"I am a fast learner, Sir, and very motivated to do well here. I will
do as I am told and will work hard at dancing, serving drinks, and anything else
I am needed for, Sir. I will work what hours you say and be grateful for them."
"I see, well, I have to determine how motivated you are, and how well
you listen. I also have to see the merchandise to see if you have any chance of
earning me a dime, so strip completely for inspection."
I was thrown off by the command but knew I had to comply, especially
with Master listening to every word. I didn't understand why I had to strip
completely when it was only a topless joint, but quickly disrobed. Almost
instinctively and without being told, I placed my hands on my head so that my
wares could be fully displayed. I knew by now that it was my slave breasts and
ass that mattered most, so these had to be displayed prominently. I was simply
a piece of ass that could be of some service to men making money.
The owner walked around me slowly, not touching me but examining every
inch of my body. I was humiliated but also hopeful that I would be found to be
of some use. He then opened the door and let in several bouncers and regular
patrons, about 15 in all, who came in to inspect the new piece of meat. By now
I was thoroughly humiliated as several snickered and no one seemed appreciative
of my body. I had been so used to teasing men with my body before but now I was
constantly surrounded by men who were not intimidated by my curves. Instead,
they saw me only as a piece of merchandise to be bought, sold, rented, and used,
like the slavegirl in the tattoo shop. Each man took his turn examining me
closely, including my new brand. Some took note of the whip marks on my slave
ass and chuckled. They knew.
The owner dismissed the other men and told me I was hired. I kept my
hands on my head for inspection but thanked the man for his generosity to me.
Here I was, thanking a man who had just utterly humiliated me and inspected me
at length. A man who would be making considerable money off my wares. I felt
as though I was his slave as well. I was given my hours, told to dress, and
dismissed.
Back in the car, Master and Whipmaster nodded and drove to a secluded
spot. I knew from the bulges in their pants what I would be commanded to do
next. I was relieved that I was allowed to do so, because it meant my
performance in the strip club was adequate. I knew too that my training had
just begun, that I was about to endure humiliations I had never experienced
before. But I knew it could last only four months before I could withdraw from
the slave contract if I wanted to. But, as I said before, I was naive.
