Novella
SERVANT TWO-THIRTY-SIX CHAPTER 2(Mg* Pedo Inc Cons & Non-cons BDSM MC Anal)By Phil E. Hebe
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright 2010 with all rights expressly reserved by the author unless otherwise explicitly granted. You are free to distribute this story to other venues, providing that you retain the author's name, this notice of copyright, and a link to the original page(s) where you found it. You are NOT free to sell or use this story in any venue which charges any fees to readers without the express written consent of the author.
This story contains sexually graphic and explicit material and as such it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community where you view such material, please leave now. This story and its characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to actual events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. If you are offended by stories featuring group sex, bisexual situations, incest, sex between minors and adults, or any other situation, please check the story codes before reading the text.
Chapter 2
I had rented a room when we had arrived. That was where Sharon had undressed before going down to the servants' quarters. It cost me 300 points a night for the room, but that included food; bar tab and companionship extra. It was a small room with a full sized bed, a dresser, and a tiny bathroom. I looked closely and saw the steel ring attached to each bed post. In the top drawer of the dresser were four thick, white ropes. A certain amount of S&M play was acceptable as foreplay. S&M according to the rules meant servant and member. The S&M foreplay included restraining and/or spanking the servant.
Sharon's servant's quarters cost a hundred points a day, but as a servant she would earn ten points for every hour she spent working for the club. Adding up hours I could see she needed to do something more than just wash dishes to pay for her room and board. Those sexual appointments were the only way to pay off the debt we had with the Club
With nothing to do I went down to the bar in the Arena Casino and had a few drinks stopping short before I became maudlin about my daughter's fate. Even in there all the help were naked children from waitresses to croupiers. I wend my way back upstairs and fell into a dreamless sleep. Up early as usual and with nothing to do I meandered around the building. It was built in the 1920's when labor was cheap and craftsmanship was high, unlike today. I love old architecture and this building was once the grandest hotel in the uptown area. The surrounding neighborhood was declining, but the hotel, once it was bought by the Club, was starting to regain its majesty.
Later in the day the membership secretary took me down to the lower level to show me where Sharon would live once her training was complete. There was a large dormitory like room, which housed the servants. Each servant had a cubicle with a cot, locker, a dressing table, and a mirror. It was neat, nothing was left out anywhere, and all the unoccupied beds were made up to military precision. Some of the beds were occupied with sleeping servants. Other beds had servants reading or writing. Three of the servants were masturbating, one even smiled at me while doing it.
In a hushed tone the secretary said, "Since the servants are not allowed to experience orgasms with the members we encourage them to bring themselves to a climax. They are taught that it is natural and nothing to be ashamed of."
"Why are they treated so cruelly during training?" I asked, a subject not far from my mind.
"It is imperative to break them of their Euro-Christian upbringing. We have found the sexual mores of other cultures, such as those found in deepest Africa, some of the natives of the South American rain forests and especially the South Sea Islands, are much more in keeping with what we wish to accomplish here. At the age they are, it is relatively easy to retrain them, and with our system it only takes weeks to do it."
"You brainwash them?"
"We don't like the connotation attached to brainwashing which is used for ideological-political purposes. We prefer to think we redirect the mind to more basic natural sexual tendencies. We make sex fun."
The quarters were absolutely quiet. At the end of the room was the bathroom with twelve of everything, twelve toilet stalls, twelve sinks down the center back to back and off to one side was a communal shower with, I was sure, twelve shower heads. Taking a shower was a boy and girl washing each other.
"We have accommodations for fifty servants," he whispered. "We presently have forty-four in-house servants comprised of roughly ninety percent female and ten percent male. They all live in this one room. We see no reason to segregate them since bashfulness does not exist here. We ask that they keep quiet here since there are servants asleep at all times, depending on the shift they are assigned. Now, if you will follow me, please."
We exited the dorm and walked down a short corridor. At the other end was a series of rooms. I could hear the children's voices. In each room they were doing something different. In one room there were cartoons being shown, another G rated movies. Several rooms were devoted to video games, none that I could see, were the violent type. Several rooms had children playing with toys. The next door opened into a gym where an instructor was leading a group of servants in exercise and at the end of the hall was a room with a fair sized swimming pool and a lot of children, splashing and swimming. Just like upstairs none of the servants downstairs wore any clothes.
Back in the office the secretary said, "I can assure you, once the servant is on our books, they receive the best of care and attention. All of them are in excellent health. We have a staff of doctors that take care of their every sniffle. We have our own in-house, state accredited school to teach them all they need to know to lead productive lives. Their servitude ends at eighteen. At which time they can go on to college if they so choose. Many come back to visit and I am sure they would not be doing that unless they loved and cherished their memories from when they were servants."
It was a very convincing speech and helped to put my mind at rest about getting Sharon involved.
When I was in the lower level I noticed a barber shop. After leaving the secretary I went back down and went inside. The previous night I noticed at the dining room table each man was immaculate in their grooming, I on the other hand was getting a bit shaggy around the ears
"I would like to make an appointment for later today if possible," I said to the servant behind the counter, then told her what I needed.
"Any time in particular?"
"Not really."
"We can take you right now if you wish."
I thought about it for a few seconds then said, "Sure, why not. I have time to kill."
I got a haircut along with a manicure and a pedicure, again by naked children who did an excellent job.
"Would you care to sign up for a body wax?"
"You're kidding, right?"
"No, all the members are body hair free. It is traditional."
"Isn't that a painful procedure?"
"Not the way we do it."
So I signed up for a body wax. Dr. Franklin came, put me to sleep, and when I awoke I was laying on a cot, my body completely devoid of hair. Two servants were rubbing a soothing lotion onto my skin and they were right, it didn't hurt at all.
At noon I went down to lunch. In the dining room Servant Three-fifty-six was at the head waiter's station. "Monsieur Banner," he said with a fake French accent, "follow me, please." I told him his accent was terrible and he laughed. "What can you expect from a thirteen-year-old?" he asked. I had yet to meet a servant that wasn't in good spirits. He sat me at table number two which had an excellent view of the rest of the room.
I spotted my daughter immediately. She was standing on her knees next to Mr. Reed. He was feeding her off his plate. She was blindfolded. The black leather collar around her neck was impossible to miss against her ivory skin. Attached to the collar was the leash, the other end of which was looped around his wrist. My daughter's wrists were cuffed in black leather and hitched to a chain around her waist, prisoner style. Her ankles were hobbled with leather ankle cuffs and a chain. Her buttocks were bright red and I could only surmise he had whipped her. Hanging from her buttocks down to the back of her knees was her horsetail. I had been told the upper end of the latex inflatable butt plug was pumped up a little more every day until it was the same circumference as an average man's penis, then it was left there until the servants body and mind learned what was expected of it. The secretary assured me it was not hurtful, uncomfortable at the beginning, but not painful. "The servants' young bodies adapt to it quite quickly and it prepares them for what is to come." I knew what was to come, anal intercourse.
On the other side of the room was the boy that was auctioned off at the same time as Sharon. He was decked out exactly the same as my daughter. I looked around the room and realized just how bizarre it looked. All the men dressed in dark suits, white dress shirts, and ties being served by naked children in their horsetails. It was like a surreal absurdist artsy movie that might play down the block at the Palladium Theater.
I excused myself and on the pretext of going to the washroom I passed on the other side of the table from where my daughter was kneeling. Clamps pinched her nipples. I couldn't help but think how much that must hurt. She looked so solemn. I wanted to grab her and run. I wanted to punch the man in the mouth. How dare he hurt her.
My wife and I eventually got involved in a bondage club. We had monthly sessions at one of the member's houses. Everything that took place was between consenting adults. The only rule was that everything had to take place out in the open, there were no private sessions. I got a kick out of watching my wife trussed up and at the mercy of another man, it turned me on. That is why I thought I could handle my daughter's training, it was very similar. Quite the opposite, it turned out.
With the greatest of effort I calmed myself down. I had been warned. I had seen what she would go through. They told me that she would have to be completely torn down. They mentioned the Stockholm syndrome. I vaguely remember something about it and Patty Hurst where the victim becomes sympathetic with the hostage taker, but the secretary was talking psychology too far over my head for me to really understand how it would apply to my daughter. I simply could not imagine what it must be like for her to be removed from the sheltered life she had lived and thrust into something like this.
It quickly became too much for me to take. I had to leave. I remembered that I could lose my membership if I caused a ruckus. They would send me the bill for $100,000 and hold Sharon until I paid. I ended up in the john splashing cold water on my face. Then I retired to my room.
I saw Sharon again the next day in the dining room but I was on my guard against my emotions. She was again on her knees being fed and was dressed, or perhaps I should say undressed, as the previous day. This time though, a rope was tied from each ankle cuff to the collar around her neck. I passed slowly behind her, her buttocks were no longer bright red, but had evolved into short red stripes crisscrossing her buttocks. I told myself, "What was done was done and there was no use getting into a rage over it." Strangely enough the sight of her wearing the horse's tail was growing on me. I circled to the front of her table and from what I could tell from her mouth she wasn't joyful but she was not sad either, not like the day before. I wished I could see her eyes, that would tell me a lot. I did notice that the fine pubic hair that used to grow along the opening to her sex was gone. At the end of the meal as we were all leaving the dining room there was a bottleneck of people in the aisle. When I finally reached the cause, I was shocked. There was my daughter, walking very slowly on her knees toward the exit. I had not thought about it earlier, the ropes from ankle cuffs to neck made it impossible for her to stand upright on her feet.
After seeing my poor daughter suffering I needed a drink. I retired to the bar and met some gentlemen who were interested in building a house on North Island, the Butler brothers. I talked the talk and gave them my business card. I felt much better after that. Those were exactly the kind of contacts I was looking to make, rich ones.
Wednesday things were looking rosy. The two gentlemen from the night before had questions about building permits, which I was easily able to answer. When I passed by Sharon kneeling at the table she still looked out of it. The red welts had started to turn an ugly purple and I could see new ones had been added.
The next day Sharon's buttocks were a bright red again. I fled the room without eating and consoled myself in the bar. I met a member who was apparently drinking his supper and we got to talking. I mentioned I liked the way the servants wore only the black shoes, tail and the matching black leather band around the neck.
"Bondage band," he said.
"Pardon?"
"Bondage band, that's what the servants call them. They are put on the day they arrive and don't come off until the day they leave."
"Well, certainly they can't wear them for so many years."
"But they do. Inside the leather is a steel cable with a one way fastener. Once snapped in place there is no unsnapping it short of using a bolt cutter."
"You're kidding me."
"Nope. They think of these kids as indentured slaves."
"Servants, you mean."
"Servants, slaves, it's all semantics. These cunts and cocks are brought in here and are going to be servants for anywhere from six to eight years depending on their age when they join, as if most of them have a choice. It is their job to earn enough points to pay off the owner's debt. What kid is going to agree to that? So they brainwash the poor kid into believing sex is wonderful. Did they tell you about their ex-CIA member?"
"Not that I remember." He was not the first I heard call the servants by the slang cunt or cock and from their tone I do not believe it was meant to be derogatory. On the day my daughter was auctioned off, a man at the next table said, "She's a pretty little cunt," and while I was ready to shove the words down his throat, I later realized he meant it to be a compliment.
"No, of course not. Ever wonder how they got those prisoners in Gitmo to cooperate? To stack their naked bodies one on top of the other like so much kindling wood? I'll tell you how, hypnosis, drugs, pain and punishment. Sound familiar? Sound like something your virgin contribution is going through? You bet your sweet ass. The servants are slaves, pure and simple. Do you know where that drug comes from that they use? Our CIA friend took the pills they use in Gitmo and gave them to the Club. With that pill anything the servants are told in hypnotism becomes their reality. Tell them they love sucking cock and after they wake up, they love sucking cock. They used it on you, too. You ever think before you joined that you would hunger to fuck ten-year-old ass? I tell you man, this place is hell, a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live here."
I wrote the whole conversation off as that of a disgruntled drunk and wondered what his real problem was. CIA indeed, and some kind of demon pill? Get real! I knew why I find these girl sexually attractive-I went too long without any at all.
On Friday I could not go down to the dining room and see my poor daughter's suffering. Instead I ordered room service. I also called down to the desk. All those naked servants just got me too horny. I understood much better what Nabokov meant by nymphettes.
With my membership I got one freebie which I had to use in the first week. I told the desk clerk that I wanted overnight companionship.
"Yes, Sir. Do you have a number in mind."
"What do you mean?"
"The number of one of our servants."
"No, not really."
"Would you be interested in a boy or girl?"
I am not like that, but at that moment I thought of Servant Three-fifty-six with his small penis sticking straight forward. All the boy's cocks stuck out like that and I wondered how they did it. I shook my head to wipe out the thought and answered, "Girl."
Fifteen minutes later the servant knocked on my door. She reminded me very much of my own daughter. The same thin body. The same just emerging woman. Her areolas were exaggerated like the rest of the girl servants, like Sharon's soon would be. The pubic mound was hairless. All of them were hairless. The black leather ribbon wound around her neck did not have a buckle to keep it closed. I saw no joint whatsoever. There was a D ring at her throat and a gold disk hanging from the ring. There was a word embossed on the ring. I meant to ask her what it said, but then we got involved and I never did find out from her. She did not have the same features as my daughter but the hairdo and make-up masked the differences. I had doubts I could have sex with someone that looked so much like Sharon. Did she sense my apprehension? She moved slowly, never rushing anything. She started by taking my index and middle finger into her mouth and sensuously sucking on them.
Back when I first started going to the club, I complained to Dr. Franklin that it was embarrassing to get an erection every time I saw a naked servant. He said that was an easy fix, and now it takes the servant to suck on my fingers for me to get an erection.
By ten o'clock I was naked and sexually excited. Everything about her was exciting, the way she kissed my cock, the way she rubbed against my body. She mounted me and a stupid little sentence popped into my head "Good and tight, what a delight." Silly I know, but oh so true.
We lay side by side on the bed facing one another. My urges spent.
"Where did you ever learn to make love like that at such a young age?" I asked.
"How old do you think I am?"
"Around my daughter's age, maybe twelve."
"Way off. I am seventeen."
"You can't be seventeen. Girls don't look like you at seventeen."
"It is the drug." She turned her arm and pointed out a circular protrusion about the size and color of a quarter just under the skin by the elbow. "That is my medicator. It keeps a steady flow of a drug that interferes with the development of puberty. As long as I am on the drug I will grow old, but never grow up. My breasts will never develop beyond what they are now. I will never get pubic hair or have a period. I have been on the drug for five years and you can see how effective it is."
"Who put you on the drug?"
"The Club. Haven't you noticed all the servants don't look a day over ten or eleven? We are all on it. They insert the medicator on the first day we arrive."
"My daughter..." I did not remember reading about any medicator in the brochure they gave me. I should have paid more attention.
"Her first time here?"
"Yes, she was auctioned off last Sunday."
"She already had it injected. It is a simple operation. Who won the bid?"
"Mr. Reed."
"Your daughter is in good hands, a wonderful mentor, a strict disciplinarian. He is quick with the whip, but he has a 100% success rate. Don't worry about her. We all have to go through it."
"I saw her in the dining room and her backside was a mass of welts. It looked terrible."
"It is not as bad as it looks. What you saw was the culmination of her whippings. Actually she is struck only once for each offense, but, of course they add up until her buttocks have multiple red stripes. She will be better for it, wait and see. I don't know how they do it, but we have a love for our job once our training is complete."
I could not help but think about what the drunk had said.
After that we had sex again except that time I took the lead.
In the morning I checked out. I realized it was best if I did not see my daughter trained. Monday morning I was back on the job, telling everybody how I shipped my daughter off to summer camp that weekend. That was our cover story for her month long disappearance.