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Subject: {ASSM} Jenny II (slavery)
Date: Thu, 4 May 2000 21:10:18 -0400
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Disclaimer: If you are offended by sexual situations, read not further. If
you are under 18, whether you are offended or not, read no further.
Jenny
Chapter II
Jenny was trembling uncontrollably as two large men, one on either side
led, or dragged, her into the room where slaves were punished. Her hands
were already cuffed together in front of her. One of the men attached a
wire hanging from the ceiling to the short chain that connected her
handcuffs. The wire then ascended, and along with it Jenny's hands until
she was standing on her toes. Next her feet were bound to the floor, to
keep her in place. Without further ado, one of the men began whipping her
front with a long, slender leather whip that tore away a thousand tiny
pieces of flesh with each stroke. After the whip landed, the other man
struck her bare bottom with a smooth, heavy strap. Jenny wailed and
screamed as the whip and the strap alternately struck her. The louder she
screamed, the more intensely the men went about their work until it became
difficult to tell where one scream stopped and the next started. The man
with the whip was slowly working his way down the front of her body and had
just reached the place where her waistband would be, when a female voice
whispered in her ear.
"Hey, sweetie, wake up. Wake up, honey."
Jenny awoke suddenly and would have sat bolt upright if the older slave who
awakened her didn't have her arm around Jenny's waist. Jenny's breathing
was short and fast, her heart beat like a hummingbird's, and her mind could
still see the two men beating her front and back.
"Calm down, sweetie," the older woman said, holding Jenny very close. "You
always thrash about in your sleep like that?" The older slave's tone was
very gentle. She hovered over Jenny and lightly brushed away some hair that
had fallen across the girl's face.
Jenny barley heard the older slave's words, but she did hear the word
thrash.
"What--what did you say about--about thrashing?" asked Jenny in a disoriented
voice.
"Just that you started flailing about when I tried to wake you. You have
really pretty hair," the older slave said softly. "The rest of you--" at
this point the older woman ran a finger lightly over Jenny's skin, just
about where the next lash of the whip would have been--"is really pretty
too."
Gawd, maybe this slave was beating me in my sleep, thought Jenny. Then she
recovered a bit a lay back on the blankets. No, no, she thought, that can't
be it. Christ, she thought, I've never had a dream like that. I've only
been here a few hours and I'm already losing it. I wonder what they do with
slaves that go mental? Do they have a little asylum for them? Maybe they
have some sneaky way of getting rid of them.
As Jenny was pondering the fate of lunatic slaves, she became aware of the
woman next to her. Jenny had never been this close to a woman before, much
less this close and naked. The older slave was getting much too friendly
from Jenny's point of view. "I--I have to go the bathroom," said Jenny a bit
hesitantly. The older slave let Jenny get up.
There was no bathroom door to close, so Jenny had to go in public, so
to speak. The older slave came over to the doorway and watched.
Fortunately, Jenny did have to go, a little, and as she did the older slave
spoke to her.
"Your master will be here in a few minutes. He'll give you a few orders,
then he'll take you to your room. Remember how I told you to sit. Don't
look up at him. Just look straight ahead. One way you must be able to
recognize him is by his voice. Got that?"
Jenny nodded silently as she got up from the toilet.
"OK, fold up the blankets and sit down."
After Jenny had sat down, with her feet under her, the older slave sat down
herself. Her back was perfectly straight, and she sat completely
motionless. Jenny thought the older slave looked more like a statue than a
human.
"Don't look at me," the older slave said without moving her lips. "Sit
up straight and look straight ahead."
The older slave's demeanor had changed so much, and so quickly, that
Jenny was feeling apprehensive about her master's arrival. The two of them
waited for quite a long time. Jenny thought it had to be at least half an
hour, probably more, before she heard a door open and then footsteps,
obviously a man's footsteps, approach. When the door swung open, Jenny
found herself staring at the legs of what she thought must be a very large
man. He was wearing dark slacks, but beyond that Jenny could tell nothing
else about him.
"Is this the new slave?" he asked. His voice was low, but not what
Jenny would call deep, nor was it mean or menacing.
"Yes, sir," replied the older slave. Jenny could sense that the man in
the dark slacks turned toward her.
"You are a slave," the slacks began. "Your owner is DiMarco
Slaveholders. Your owner has appointed me to be your master. When you
address me, you shall say `Yes, master' or `No, master.' I am the only one
you shall call master. All other non-slaves you will address as `sir' or
`miss.' Do you understand?"
"Yes, master," Jenny replied quietly.
"You shall obey my commands without question or hesitation. You shall
speak only when spoken to. If you do those two things, you shall become the
slave I want you to be. Do you understand that?"
"Yes, master," Jenny said again. Jenny was trying to take some measure
of her master from his voice, and his slacks, alone. She didn't have much
to go on. He didn't sound threatening or cruel, but Jenny wished she could
get a glimpse of him. The master was Maurice Tirpitz. He was, like all of
DiMarco's masters, a large man, but not heavy. He stood about 6' 3" and
weighed just under two hundred pounds. He had been a trainer at DiMarco's
for seven years, which was twice as long as most trainers lasted. He had a
way of turning young women into slaves. He wasn't quite sure himself why he
was so successful, but he put it down to attitude. He enjoyed his work, but
more importantly he believed that if he could make a woman become a slave in
her heart, then she would need enslavement far more than any master would
need her. Indeed, nearly all of the women consigned to him had gone on to
serve DiMarco obediently and profitably. He was highly valued by his
employer and well paid for his services.
"Good," said Maurice in reply to Jenny's two words. He turned to the
older slave. "Do you have everything you need?"
"Yes, sir," the older woman said.
"Very well," said Maurice, "I will be back in fifteen minutes." He
turned on his heel, and walked out. It was only then that Jenny realized
she had been naked in front of a total stranger without even thinking about
it. Maybe I have a slave gene, she thought.
As soon as Jenny heard a door close behind her master, the older slave stood
up and instructed Jenny to do the same. "I have to cut your hair. All
slaves wear short hair." Jenny had shoulder-length, light brown hair. It
was quite pretty and she regretted having to lose it. When Jenny hesitated
at bit, the older slave reassured her. "Don't worry, I cut hair for most of
the slaves here. It's one of my regular jobs. I think you'll look good
with short hair."
I think I'd look good with my high school friends, thought Jenny. The
older slave spread out some newspapers that were stacked in the corner and
had Jenny sit, in her slave position, in the middle of the papers. Then the
barber took up her shears, her scissors, and her comb and knelt behind
Jenny. The hair at first fell on the paper in large clumps, but when the
scissors were put to use, Jenny could tell that the older slave was trying
to make the haircut look good.
"You're quite lucky," said the older slave. "Your master is one of the
best DiMarco has. I know several slaves he has trained. Most of them
worship him."
"You've got to be kidding," said Jenny dryly. "I can't believe any
slave would even like her master. Worship him? Unbelievable."
"No, it's true. I guess it sounds strange, but when my master was done
with me I was very fond of him. Your master, though, commands real
admiration."
"You were fond of your master?" asked Jenny incredulously.
"Yes, I was very fond of him. There was nothing I wouldn't do for him.
I was very sad when my training ended."
What kind of cuckoo house is this, wondered Jenny to herself. Or is
this just all a mind game? Are they trying to convince me that being a sex
slave, against all reason, is the good life?
"I know it sounds a little crazy, but you'll see," said the barber.
A little crazy? Only a little crazy? Jenny thought she now knew where
they kept the slaves who were mental. They kept them everywhere. Maybe
that's what happened to women here. They go mad and end up believing that
sex slavery is the good life.
"Did you like being a slave?" Jenny asked. "I mean, was the sex ever
good or anything like that?"
"At first I didn't like it much at all. I don't think I ever really
liked it, I mean liked it enough to look forward to working. But sometimes
the sex was very good, and my girlfriend is the best."
Jenny could hardly believe her ears. "Your girlfriend? You had a
girlfriend? You mean a friend girlfriend or a, I mean, ahh, the other kind
of girlfriend?"
The older slave seemed, to Jenny, to be completely oblivious to Jenny's
mounting amazement. "I mean," said the older slave, "the girlfriend I have
been sleeping with for years, the girlfriend I'm going to sleep with
tonight. I can't say any more about it, though, since it's up to your
master to handle that."
"Oh, so a master can order his slave to take a girlfriend?" Jenny was
now convinced she was in a nut house.
"Not exactly, but something very close to that. I'm done with your
hair. Help me fold up the newspapers. Then you can wait for your master."
Jenny was happy to end this conversation. She was no longer worried
about being beaten. She was worried that her sanity would be gone long
before her three plus years of slavery ended. Jenny had copied down the
conditions under which a slave lived, as required before she was allowed to
gamble her freedom, but she was quite sure none of those conditions said
anything about sleeping with a woman. She had lived in the same city all
her life and had heard about DiMarco's since she was a little girl. She
knew DiMarco's could throw a wild orgy, that the slaves had to do what they
were told, and with whom they were told to do it, but she never imagined
that any slave slept with a woman. This, she decided, must be incorrect. A
guy might get excited watching two women play with each other, though Jenny
could not imagine why, but why would a guy get excited knowing that slaves
were sleeping together?
After the papers had been folded up, Jenny sat down. The older slave,
rather than sitting, fetched a tape measure. "I need to get some
measurements," she said. First she measured Jenny's neck, then her wrists,
and finally her feet.
"For my collar and bracelets?" asked Jenny.
"Yep," was the simple reply, and the older slave disappeared out the
door. She was back in less than three minutes with a bright yellow collar
and bracelets. "I have to make sure they fit. Your master will actually
put them on." She tested Jenny's new wardrobe for fit. Satisfied that
things fit well enough, she placed the collar and bracelets neatly on the
floor in front of Jenny. Then she stood up. "My job's done. I'm to wait
outside until your master returns. You're on your own."
On my own? Yeah, right, thought Jenny. Just like a Sunday afternoon
in the park with nothing particular to do. The older slave went out the
door, but Jenny could not see whether she remained outside the door or not.
In a few minutes, she could hear that her master was returning.
"Ready?" Jenny heard him ask. "Yes, sir," was the reply. "Go, then,"
said Jenny's master. In another moment he was standing in front of her.
"Pick up the collar and hold it out in front of you," Maurice said.
When Jenny did, Maurice took the collar from her.
"Do you know how a slave is supposed to stand?"
"Yes, master," answered Jenny.
"Then stand up."
Jenny did, and Maurice slipped the collar around her neck. He fastened
it in the rear with a pin, which was then held in place by a metal ring.
The collar also had a ring in front.
"Put on the bracelets so that the rings face inward," and Jenny did as
her master bid. "Now stand up again."
This time, when Jenny put her hands behind her back, the rings of her
wrist bracelets were attached together.
"Now stand up straight." When Jenny did so, Maurice attached a leash to the
front ring in Jenny's collar. Jenny didn't look straight at her master, but
did give him a quick glance. He looked to be about thirty, she thought.
"It's probably unnecessary to say so, but when I have you on a leash you are
to follow me."
Maurice's tone was such that Jenny had only a small urge to say, "Well,
duh." She followed him through what seemed to be an endless maze of
hallways and doors, until they entered a very large room. It was as big a
gymnasium, perhaps bigger. There were three clusters of what appeared to be
small blockhouses in the larger room. Each cluster looked to have about ten
to twelve houses. Jenny couldn't help but notice that there was no one else
to be seen. Maurice led Jenny to one of the clusters, and then to the
entrance of one of the houses. He stopped in front of a numeric keypad long
enough to key in some information, during which Jenny was able to see a bit
of him in profile. Then he led Jenny inside. The house didn't have a door.
Rather, two walls overlapped each other, like the entrance to a bathroom.
There was a chair against the wall, outside the house, but when Jenny
entered she could see there was no furniture in the house. In fact, it was
very similar to the room she had just left.
All the time Jenny had been following her master, she had been trying
to get another glimpse of his face. He was too tall, and too broad, for
Jenny to see anything but his back. She had seen a bit of him outside the
house, but now she thought she might see him face to face again, but a bit
longer. Before he turned around, however, he ordered her stand, that is
stand like a slave. Bent over, she could see nothing. He unhooked her
wrists, then ordered her to sit.
"Take off the leash," he said and as she did she could tell that he was
taking off something too. From the clothes that ended up on the floor, she
could tell he had taken off everything.
Here we go, she thought to herself. Tomorrow's headline reads, "Jenny
begins life as sex slave."
"Stand," said Maurice, and again she was bent over at the waist,
expecting her master to be inside her any moment. Instead, Maurice
inspected her rather carefully, running his hands over her, though there was
certainly nothing sexual in it. He did touch her breasts, briefly, and put
a few inches of one finger inside her, but busier hands than Maurice's had
been over her before.
"What is your name?" her master asked.
"Jenny," the slave answered, then quickly corrected her herself.
"Jenny, master."
"Very good," said Maurice, acknowledging the correction. "I won't use
your name very often, and never when there is anyone else present, but it's
worth knowing. Now, sit again."
As she did, Maurice walked out a brought in the chair. He placed it a
few feet in front of her, then sat down. Jenny could now see the man who
was her master from about the chest down. He clearly didn't spend any time
in the gym, but he had a nice enough body. He was fair skinned and not
particularly hairy. Maurice had not positioned himself thus, however, so
that Jenny might admire his physique. He wanted her to see his cock, and
she certainly noticed. She didn't stop noticing all the while Maurice
talked to her.
"You understand that you are to become a sex slave, don't you?"
"Yes, master," answered Jenny.
"It's my task to see that it happens. It may seem strange to you,
though, that I can't really teach you much. You can learn a great deal, but
I can't teach you much. That is because you learn by doing, not by being
done to. For example, if you would learn how to give a blow job, you must
teach yourself male anatomy. You must know everything there is to know
about a man's genitals. I couldn't begin to teach you about that. You must
learn yourself.
The best way for you to learn is by doing. I want you to examine me,
like a doctor. Don't think about sex. Just try to learn something about
me. Before your training is done, you will be able to recognize me, in five
seconds, from among a hundred other men, by simply getting my dick in your
mouth. So I don't want you to give me a blow job today. Rather, I want you
learn as much as you can about me. Discover what you can in half an hour."
Jenny wished that he had just asked for a blow job. Taking a
self-guided tour of her master's dick didn't sound erotic or fun. It
sounded crazy. Nevertheless, she inched forward and took her master's
nearly flaccid dick in her mouth. Jenny was certainly no stranger to oral
sex. Two boyfriends could brag that Jenny always swallowed. A third boy, a
one night stand, could say the same. But they were boys. Her master was a
man, and a too big man at that. She struggled to get half of her master in
her mouth. She could feel him getting hard, and bigger, as she worked his
dick. She was sure that if all of her master ever got inside her mouth, all
of Jenny would pass out.
"Just work on the first four or five inches," said Maurice. "The rest
can come later."
Jenny appreciated the suggestion, but thought it only postponed the
inevitable day of reckoning. Still, she thought, there must have been lots
of girls who couldn't take all of her master, or even most of her master.
Maybe he could be satisfied with something less than being completely in her
mouth. So Jenny worked the first four or five inches of her new master,
trying to detect something unique about him, something that could be quickly
noticed. She went over him, again and again, with her tongue. Once he was
hard, she noticed that he had a prominent bulge on the underside of his
dick, but she thought other guys had the same thing. She put the tip of her
tongue into the slit at the top of his dick, but noticed nothing unusual.
Gawd, she thought, maybe there really isn't enough to absolutely distinguish
one guy from another. She was sure should could tell the difference between
her master and her boyfriends, but that was equivalent to telling the
difference between a cucumber and a kiwi fruit. Then her master stiffened a
bit, the universal sign that he was on the path to an orgasm. He may have
said he didn't want to cum, thought Jenny, but I've never had a guy say it
would have been better if I had stopped sooner than I did. So she hummed a
little, something her boyfriends had always liked, and focused on bringing
her master to an orgasm. She even got an inch or two more in her mouth
while trying. Soon enough her master did cum, quite a lot but less perhaps
than she expected. She swallowed as much as she could, and felt that
overall things had gone pretty well.
"So, what did you learn?" her master asked.
She had learned very little, but was afraid to say so. "I, I don't
know, master."
"For a while I thought you were trying. But then you went for the
orgasm. So you didn't learn anything."
"No, master," Jenny said quietly.
"Don't worry about my orgasm just yet. After all, I've been lucky
enough to get blow jobs from some very accomplished slaves. I want you to
learn something you don't know now. Before today, you knew what it was like
to have a man cum in your mouth. Am I right?"
"Yes, master."
"Then try again, try to discover something you don't know."
Pretty stupid, thought Jenny to herself. Of course he's had a thousand
blow jobs better than the one he just got. At least he was nice enough not
to say it quite like that. She began again. This time she ran the tip of
her tongue back and forth over one small area after another, trying to
notice something, anything. She finally decided to work all around the head
of his dick. She spent fifteen minutes trying to memorize this part of her
master. Maybe she got to know him a little, but distinguishing him from one
hundred other men was another matter. Then it hit her. She would have to
take one hundred men in her mouth, in one day, to finish her training?
Christ, shoot me now, she thought.
She was getting tired and the muscle on the underside of her jaw was
cramping a little. Afraid to stop, she kept going but without much vigor.
"OK, that's enough for now," Maurice said. He stood and began putting
on his clothes. "That was interesting. I hope you thought so. Tomorrow,
you begin your regular training. For a week, you must give five blow jobs a
day. You must avoid conversation with your visitors as much as possible.
The best way to do that is to get the man's dick in your mouth as soon as
you can. Don't wait for him to tell you what to do. After all, you know
he's there for sex.
"You may never sit in the chair. If a man asks you to sit in the chair
while you blow him, tell him you can do that without sitting in the chair.
If a man leaves you without moving the chair outside the room, move it out
yourself. If a man asks you to do something other than blow him, do what he
says. Most of your visitors shouldn't ask for more than oral sex, though.
Finally, when you're giving a blow job, try to learn something new about the
man.
"Also, don't go outside this house without me or an escort. Slaves
wearing a yellow collar are not allowed out alone. You'll meet the escorts
in time. Got all that?"
"Yes, master."
"Have you had anything to eat since you got here?"
"No, master."
"Would you like something?"
"Yes, master." Sex nearly always made Jenny hungry.
"I might be able get something sent over from the pantry, but you may
have to wait until breakfast. Slaves' diets are watched carefully so that
they don't gain too much weight, but that's not a problem for you. There's
plenty more for you to learn, but you can only get so much at one time.
You'll see me again tomorrow."
With that, Maurice walked out. He left the chair behind, so Jenny
moved it outside. She went to her bathroom. It was small, but had all the
necessary items. She took a shower, but quickly, not wishing to miss a food
delivery. When she dried off, she went into her room and found a cold
sandwich, a Coke, and a small bag of potato chips on the floor. Jenny
realized she was completely defenseless. Anyone could walk in any time they
wanted. She ate, brushed her teeth, and went to bed. As she lay on the
floor in her little room, her mind went over the same ground again and
again. I'm a slave. My master seems nice, but I'll never satisfy him.
Tomorrow I start having sex with complete strangers. I'm a slave. My
master seems . . .
And so her mind worked until she fell asleep.
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