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Subject: {ASSM} Jenny III (slavery, Mf, nc)
Date: Thu, 11 May 2000 21:10:08 -0400
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Disclaimer: If you are offended by sexually oriented material, read no
further. If you are a minor, whether you are offended or not, read no
further.
Jenny
III
The alarm clock in Maurice Tirpitz' bedroom went off at 7:30 AM. He was
not accustomed to rising so early, but the new slave assigned to him would
require his attention as soon as she arose. This was her first full day,
and there were several things he had left unsaid the night before at their
first meeting.
Maurice had been training slaves at DiMarcos for over seven years. He had
just turned thirty. He thought that he could be a trainer for five more
years, but no more. It was a job designed for a man in his twenties. Aside
from the chief trainer, whose job it was to instruct new trainers, Maurice
was the oldest slave trainer at DiMarcos.
He had taken the job on a lark, when he was twenty-three. The pay was not
that good, but the benefits looked great. You could have any slave you
wanted, for free. In addition, you had personal charge of a slave whose
duty it was to obey your every command. Maurice thought it would be fun for
a few months, and times were tough. He had passed the physical, which in
itself was quite an accomplishment. DiMarco called it a physical because
they couldn't come up with a better term. A doctor examined all of
DiMarco's applicants, but there were only two requirements to be met: the
applicant had to have a very large penis and had to stand over six feet
tall. Over the years, the physical had acquired a certain cache around
town. Every now and then a man at a bar could be overheard to say that he
had passed DiMarco's physical, then quickly add that he had never actually
worked for DiMarco.
Maurice learned how to train slaves from a man who had been in the business
since punishment by slavery had become legal. The `old school' method was
to terrorize a slave into submission with severe punishments. For three
years, Maurice imitated his teacher. His slaves submitted under a hail of
blows from the cane, the strap, the whip, and whatever other implement that
was ready to hand. When his slaves had finished their training, they were
servile, abject, and obsequiously obedient. After her training, a slave was
integrated with the rest of the trained slave population and worked as a
prostitute.
Trainers were usually given a month off after training a slave, and during
one such break Maurice ventured into that part of DiMarco Slaveholdings
which housed the main slave population. DiMarco's was known as the place
for sex, from private one-on-one encounters to huge orgies. DiMarco's would
also accommodate most fetishes, and women customers were just as welcome as
men.
As Maurice wandered into the main entry room, where available slaves
awaited customers, he saw one of his former slaves. She saw him too, or
perhaps felt his presence. She turned ashen white and immediately assumed
the sitting position of a trainee. She was trembling. Maurice paused in
front of her for a moment, but said nothing. Just then a host recognized
Maurice and hurried over to offer his assistance.
"Sir, would you like to have this slave? Perhaps her and one or two
others? I have some real beauties over here by the fountain. Take as many
as you like." The host gestured toward a large Roman-style fountain in the
middle of the room. Several slaves sitting around the fountain were
striking provocative poses. Maurice followed the host's suggestion, but he
wasn't interested in seeing the fountain slaves. As soon as they were far
enough away from his former slave, Maurice asked the host about her.
"Is she a good slave?"
"Oh, yes sir, very obedient. Never had the slightest complaint about her.
She does act a bit timid at times, but then most slaves do. Would you like
to have her?"
"No," said Maurice, "thank you for the offer, but I'm not here for a girl.
I hadn't been to this side of the building for a while and wanted to see how
it had changed. I heard about the new fountain, and I must say I'm
impressed. It makes the old one look like a bucket of water. DiMarco
certainly doesn't spare any expense."
"You're quite right there," said the host. "DiMarco knows just what to do
to make pretty slaves even more attractive. Why don't you go into the
lounge? The bartender is new, so I'll go on ahead and tell him you're with
the company."
Maurice walked into the lounge, which was dominated by an enormous mahogany
bar that stretched for over one hundred and fifty feet. The bar formed one
wall of the oversized lounge. Around the perimeter of the lounge were
discretely lit tables, partially recessed into the wall, where slaves were
frequently employed. Maurice sat down at the bar and ordered a beer. His
former slave's image, and reaction, had unnerved him a bit. The host's
comment had bothered him, too. When a host says that a slave is `a bit
timid,' it's usually a huge understatement. Maurice's slave would probably
jump ten feet if anyone said `boo' to her. `Timid' was a nice way of saying
completely broken.
She had been purchased from a prison, but Maurice was not pleased with
himself for turning her into a frightened animal. Surely, he thought, it's
possible for a girl to become a slave without also abandoning all human
qualities. Maurice fully realized that a slave was property. He knew that
they could in no wise be considered citizens. He thought dignity was
entirely unbecoming of a slave. That said, however, he also believed that a
slave was not subhuman. He resolved to try, once, to train a slave without
terrorizing her. He wouldn't stop punishing altogether, but he would try
gentler forms of persuasion. If he lost his job, he thought, it would was
probably time for him to move on anyway.
Thus, the `new and improved' Maurice went back to work three weeks later.
His new trainee, like all but one of his trainees, had been purchased from a
prison. Gently, Maurice tried to turn her into a slave, but it was very
slow going. He realized that he knew nothing about women and had never
looked at slavery from a slave's point of view. This he never was able to
do, but he did learn to identify his slaves' fears and needs. The more he
responded to those, the more his slaves responded to him. It had not
happened that a slave he trained was never caned or whipped, but with one
notable exception his slaves were very rarely punished. It happened so
rarely that other slave trainers couldn't help but notice. New slaves,
those who wore yellow collars, were usually called BB's because when
DiMarcos first opened they were nearly always black and blue. The amount of
punishment meted out to slaves had decreased over the years, but even now a
slave being trained by Maurice could be distinguished from one hundred
yards. She would be the one without any red stripes on her back or bruises
on her ass. A few other trainers tried Maurice's methods, but few were
successful. If ten of DiMarco's BB's were put on a line, seven of them
would have some signs of recent punishment.
Nevertheless, it could be argued that Maurice's methods did influence
all slave training. Before Maurice arrived at DiMarco's, there were always
two or three slaves tethered to posts outside the little dungeon reserved
for BB's, waiting to be whipped. Sometimes the line was more than half the
BB population. By the time Maurice began training slaves, such lineups were
rare. Since then, the severity and frequency of punishments had continued
their decline and Maurice's methods were simply a logical extension of that
trend. In short, by the time Maurice had become Jenny's master whippings
were rare.
Though Maurice's methods had saved a good deal flesh, it was also true that
Maurice took longer to train his slaves than the other trainers, sometimes
two months longer. But Maurice's boss was so pleased with his results that
he gave Maurice a free hand and a handsome raise. Ten of Maurice's slaves
had passed into the regular slave population since Maurice had visited the
main part of the DiMarco operation. That visit had been enough, not only to
make Maurice change his methods, but also to keep him from visiting the main
part of the DiMarco operation again.
Jenny, Maurice's newest charge, was almost a new experience for him. All
of his previous slaves, except one, had been purchased from prisons. Jenny
had gambled her freedom, and lost. Maurice had asked for a girl who wasn't
a prisoner, and after a year the head trainer had complied. The head
trainer had not been eager to grant Maurice's request because girls who had
been free were thought easier to train than felons. The head trainer did not
want to waste Maurice's talents. However, he was equally afraid of losing
Maurice altogether.
Maurice's first impression of Jenny was quite favorable. She was only
seventeen, the youngest slave he had ever trained, and very pretty. She
didn't have the hard eyes or the `tougher-than-you-are' attitude of a felon.
Jenny, thought Maurice, would not only be easy to train, but fun as well.
He had asked the older slave who had helped Jenny on her first day whether
there was anything interesting about the new girl. "Only that she is
terrified of punishment, sir" said the older woman. Ha! thought Maurice,
that's even better. At most I will only have to punish her once. If that
one time is severe enough, she will become a wonderful slave.
Maurice pondered this last thought as he drove to work, and as he did he
mentally compared Jenny with his other slaves. When he first met a new
slave, he used these comparisons as a point of reference to help him through
the first few days. Since all his previous slaves but one had been
prisoners, there weren't any good comparisons. He thought, however, there
was something in Jenny that was similar to a slave named Mary. The first
few days Mary was with Maurice, she behaved much as Jenny had behaved on her
first night. She was obedient, but not servile. Then, at the end of Mary's
first week she purposely disobeyed Maurice. Maurice knew Mary had disobeyed
on purpose because she told him she had. Maurice caned her, though not
severely. Mary then behaved herself for three days, but again purposely
disobeyed. This time Maurice used a strap on her and was not gentle. Three
days later, Mary was misbehaving again, only this time she simply asked
Maurice to beat her. Slaves were forbidden to address their masters unless
spoken to, so merely by speaking Mary had disobeyed. No slave, though, had
ever violated the speaking rule to ask for a beating. Maurice thought Mary
was a little crazy, but not so crazy that she would twice ask to be beaten.
He was wrong, and there began a vicious downward spiral for the two of them.
No matter how savagely Maurice whipped Mary, she never begged for mercy,
never asked Maurice to stop. She screamed, screamed loud enough to be heard
outside the little dungeon reserved for severe punishments, but if she
thought Maurice hadn't been cruel enough she would tell him so. This was
nearly an impossible situation for Maurice. Mary wasn't being trained as
much as she was training her master.
There is a small, very small, section at DiMarco's for s&m devotees, and
Maurice decided that the only way to get Mary out of training, and away from
him, was to send her there. When Mary found out where she was to go, she
burst into tears and begged Maurice to beat her again. "This time, though,
don't stop beating me, master. Keep beating me until I'm dead."
Maurice decided that Mary was insane. She was sent to the s&m dungeon.
Three months later she was beaten to death by three men who swore that she
had told them she could take one hundred and fifty strokes from a heavy
whip. Since nineteenth century sailors routinely died when given forty
lashes, Mary's claim was obviously absurd.
Maurice wasn't sure just what it was that made him compare Jenny to Mary.
He was firmly convinced that Mary was one of a kind, and truly insane. Mary
had been purchased from prison, and Maurice later learned that she had been
sentenced to thirty-five years for a three-week crime spree of robberies,
arsons, and assaults. What Mary had in common with a seventeen year-old
high junior was not clear to Maurice. Still, there was something, something
that was just out of his reach.
Maurice arrived at the enclosed garage reserved for DiMarco employees and
showed his pass card to the mechanical gate sentry. Slave trainers were not
the most popular people in town, and occasionally their cars were
vandalized. The covered garage was a necessary precaution.
Maurice entered DiMarco's massive complex through the employees' entrance
and changed into his working clothes. He usually wore dark slacks and a
simple short sleeve shirt. He made his way to Jenny's room and found her
waiting there for him. She had already learned how to sit, and though her
position needed improvement she was quite presentable.
"Your first few days here will be spent getting used to the routine," said
Maurice.
Great, thought Jenny. She could imagine a conversation between her and a
friend. "What was your day like?" the friend would ask. "Oh, I had sex
with ten men, maybe more. Just routine."
"I'm going to take you to the little restaurant we run for the new slaves.
They serve breakfast from nine to nine-thirty. You'll get to sit with the
other BB's." Jenny didn't know what a BB was. "You can talk to them, but
don't get loud. You may also see some slaves who are wearing red collars.
They're in the second part of their training. Don't try to sit with them.
Since this is your first time, I will take you to breakfast. After today,
an escort will take you to breakfast. Remember, you can't leave your room
without me or an escort."
"Yes, master," said Jenny.
Maurice looked at the wall to his left, but didn't see what he was looking
for. "Where is the leash?" he asked Jenny.
Jenny dug around under the blankets that she had used for a bed and
produced the leash. Maurice thought there was something very cute about the
way she did it, and smiled a bit to himself.
"Put the leash on. From now on, hang it the nail over here," and he
pointed to the wall on his left. "Hand me the other end of the leash, and
come with me."
Jenny handed him the leash and stood up straight. When he didn't move, she
quickly bent over at the waist and put her hands behind her back. Maurice
walked around behind her.
"Don't forget how you are supposed to stand," he said and he gave her rear
a light tap with the palm of his hand.
This little tap reminded Jenny that she was liable to any punishment for
any reason, or no reason at all. She barely knew her master, and feared
that another little mistake would result in more than a single tap. Jenny
had never had any direct experience with punishment, but she had once seen a
girl paddled. The girl was trying to get into a tough-girl club that didn't
particularly want her to join. Part of her initiation was to submit to a
paddling, which could be viewed by any girl invited to watch. Jenny had
tagged along with a friend who had been invited. The paddling was bare
bottom. Every time the initiate screamed, the club members would accuse her
of not being tough enough. Then the paddling would resume. The new
initiate cut loose with some screeches that curdled Jenny's blood. When it
was over, the initiate was black and blue.
Maurice, of course, already knew about Jenny's fear of punishment, and his
tap was meant to get her thinking about it. Even though she hardly reacted
to his hand, he spoke as though she had.
"You're a bit sensitive, aren't you?" he asked.
Jenny didn't know haw to answer. If she said yes, her master would know
how much she feared punishment. If she said no, he might decide to put her
to the test then and there. Maurice waited a moment for her answer, but he
knew in advance his question would present Jenny with a dilemma.
After a moment of silence that seemed like an eternity to Jenny, he
said, "I will punish a slave for disobedience or disrespect. It has
happened, though, that a slave of mine has voluntarily agreed to be punished
as a token of her readiness to obey. I hope that some day you can offer me
a similar token."
Jenny didn't know whether to cry or scream. Ask you to beat my ass? she
nearly said out loud. I'd rather, rather, . . . , but she couldn't finish
her thought. Then she realized her master had addressed her and she must
reply.
"Yes, master," she said in her meekest voice.
The effect of this little exchange on Jenny was not lost on Maurice.
Each of his last ten slaves had, in fact, voluntarily offered to do
something above and beyond what is normally expected of a slave as a sign of
obedience or affection. He had never suggested punishment because there
were much more worthwhile things to ask for. His purpose at this point was
to plant a seed in Jenny's mind.
"Very good," he said to the frightened girl. "Now follow me to
breakfast."
They went out the front of Jenny's little house and made their way to a
small building in one corner of the airplane hangar. Jenny thought now,
unlike the previous evening, that the room that held her house was too large
to be a gym. So she christened it an airplane hangar. Jenny noticed that
there were a few other slaves with yellow collars being led in the same
direction she was being led. When they reached the open entrance of what
was apparently the restaurant, several slaves wearing red collars, who were
already waiting outside the restaurant, immediately sat down. When Jenny's
master stopped, she also sat down and did her best to avoid making eye
contact with anyone.
"Unhook the leash," said her master, and she did. "Once you are
inside, don't walk out without me or an escort."
"Yes, master," she said barely audibly.
"What?" he asked. "I can't hear you."
"Yes, master," Jenny said again, louder this time. Addressing her
master as `master' in front of other slaves made her cringe.
Maurice walked away and a moment later a female voice announced that it
was OK to come in. Jenny stood up, cautiously, but kept looking down.
Still afraid of looking at anyone, she began to follow the general movement
of bodies into the building. Then she felt someone take her hand. A voice
whispered to her, "Let the sophs go first." Jenny cautiously looked back,
while trying to take her hand away. A girl somewhat taller than Jenny,
blond with green eyes, smiled a bit then whispered again. "BB's always go
last."
Jenny still didn't know what BB meant, but she guessed she must be one.
Once the sophs, which Jenny guessed were the slaves with red collars, went
in, the rest of the slaves went in. Breakfast was served cafeteria style by
a slave with a brown collar who appeared to be at least forty. Some slaves
were whispering to one another, but that was the only sound Jenny heard
besides the clank of metal serving spoons on metal trays. Once she had her
food, Jenny waited for some other slaves to go ahead of her so she might
know where to sit. The blond girl stayed behind Jenny, then whispered for
Jenny to follow her to a table. Once seated, Jenny found herself sitting
between the blond girl and another girl she couldn't bring herself to look
at.
"My name's Janet," whispered the blond girl. "What's yours?"
Jenny didn't want to answer. She wanted to run away. When Jenny
simply stared at her food without saying anything, Janet whispered in her
ear again.
"This is your first day, isn't it? I know how it is. I've only been
here two weeks myself."
A girl across the table leaned over to pick up the conversation. "Who
is she, Janet?" Jenny heard her ask.
"I don't know yet. This is her first day."
"Well she's got a name doesn't she?"
"Yes, you bitch, she's got a name and we'll know it soon enough. Let's
eat."
Jenny was on the verge of tears, though she couldn't say why. Being
new is always difficult, but Jenny was finding being a new slave among
slaves almost unbearable. For some reason obeying her master the previous
evening was so much easier than this.
"Do you drink coffee?" asked Janet. Jenny just shook her head without
looking up and knew she was just seconds away from bursting into tears.
"Come with me anyway and we'll get you something to drink."
Jenny didn't know Janet at all, but she was happy to get away from the
table. She got up and followed Janet's lead to a coffee machine. As Janet
poured herself some coffee, she whispered to Jenny again.
"I know you're having a tough time, but if you talk a little bit the
other girls won't harass you. C'mon, can't you tell me your name?"
Jenny started to cry a little, but nodded her head yes. She turned to
Janet and inaudibly whispered her name. Janet couldn't hear, and asked
Jenny to say it again. The second time Jenny said her name loud enough for
Janet to hear her.
"Jenny," Janet whispered, "get yourself something to drink. You'll
look a little silly going back to the table with nothing."
Jenny nodded and got herself a little orange juice. When they returned
to the table, Janet whispered to the girl across the table. "Her name is
Jenny. She just got here yesterday. She's got a cold, so she doesn't want
to talk much and give it to everybody else."
Jenny heard all this and silently thanked Janet. Breakfast seemed to
go on forever, but Jenny ate almost nothing. The other slaves whispered
among themselves until the sophs got up on their own and left. Janet
whispered to Jenny that it was time to go. They left their trays at the
table and walked toward the open entrance. Jenny balked at leaving the
building, remembering her master's orders. Janet whispered to her that they
were expected to wait at the entrance. Jenny never looked up to count, but
she sensed that there were about eight other slaves with her. Janet, with
her back to the wall of the building, sat down and pulled on Jenny's hand to
get her to do the same. They waited in silence. One or two at a time,
slaves were led away. Jenny's master was one of the last to fetch his
slave.
Once back at Jenny's little house, Maurice ordered his slave to bring
in the chair. Most dates are `dinner and a movie,' Jenny thought to
herself. My date today is `breakfast and a blow job.'
Maurice sat in the chair and Jenny positioned herself on the floor in
front of him.
"How was breakfast?" he asked in a very soft voice.
Jenny couldn't answer. She would much rather that her master demand sex
than ask her about breakfast.
"I know that the first time being among other slaves can be hard,"
continued Maurice.
Hard? thought Jenny. I'd rather be dipped in boiling oil. Let's get on
with the training, she said to herself. Just pull out your dick and I'll do
the rest.
"I know how it goes at first," Maurice went on without demanding a
response from Jenny. "It can be more embarrassing for a slave to be in the
company of women than in the company of men, even if the other women are
themselves slaves. Still, I can easily imagine a more difficult situation."
Yeah, thought Jenny, we could go around the table and have each slave
describe the highlight of her day.
"It would have been much worse if some of your friends from high school
had come here to have breakfast with you."
Ohmygawd, thought Jenny. Her chest tightened. "Yes, master," she
said. "Are you, I mean, can they do that? I mean, if they want?" Then,
belatedly, "master?"
"No, no," Maurice said soothingly, "you don't have to worry about
seeing one of your friends at breakfast, or any other meal. Slaves are only
allowed to have visitors who are customers. Most slaves seem to like it
that way."
Jenny's chest loosened up a bit. Yes, she said to herself, no visitors
is an excellent policy.
"Did you eat anything at breakfast?" asked Maurice.
"No, master, not very much master," said Jenny.
"That's not good. You'll have to eat something at lunch."
"Master, do I have to go to lunch?" Jenny definitely did not want to
be counted among the company of slaves.
"Well, yes, I think you should. Was breakfast so bad that you don't
want to eat any more?"
"No, master," said Jenny, realizing her answer meant nothing.
"Did you meet anyone at breakfast?"
"Yes, master, I met one girl, I mean slave."
"Didn't you get along?"
"Yes, master, we got along OK."
"Would you like to go to lunch with her."
Jenny knew that she would have to go to lunch, so the prospect of going
with Janet rather appealed to her.
"Yes, master."
"What does she look like?" Maurice asked. It would not have helped him
to know Janet's name.
"She has blond hair and green eyes, master."
"Very observant," said Maurice. "I will try to find her and have an
escort take both of you to lunch at the same time. That, however, won't be
until three." His voice became more businesslike. "In the meantime, you
must get on with your training."
"Yes, master," answered Jenny. Even though her conversation with her
master had a positive result, she was happy it was over.
"I told you yesterday that you must give five blow jobs a day your
first week here. It would have more accurate to say that you must have oral
sex five times a day. In practical terms, that means you must learn what to
do with a man's balls as well as his dick."
Oh my gawd,
said Jenny to herself. She had never done anything like that, even once,
and now her master was taking off his clothes. She slumped her shoulders.
Maurice sat down in front of her, as he had the night before, but Jenny
did not move immediately.
"You are a slave," said Maurice in a voice that bordered on sternness.
"When a man takes off his pants, you are not to wait for his commands. Do
you understand?"
"Yes, master," said Jenny. Her master's change of tone stirred her to
action. She closed the gap between them and took his dick in her mouth.
"There is a standard pattern for oral sex that you must follow. If the
man you are with wants something else, he will tell you. In the absence of
any command from him, you must start by stroking his dick, every inch, until
he is hard. Then you must take his balls in your mouth, one at a time, and
discover as much about them as you can. Your tongue must do all the work.
Some men like this treatment a lot, some get nothing from it."
Maurice paused for a moment. Jenny hadn't heard much beyond the `every
inch' part. Shoot me now, she said to herself, as her master got harder.
"Stroke me as deeply as you can," the master ordered, but that was not
very deep at all in Jenny's case. "Just try to go a bit deeper each time,"
and she tried, halfheartedly, but saw no prospect of improvement. Every
time she felt her master approaching the entrance to her throat, she
instinctively drew back. "Get it all the way to the back of your mouth,"
ordered her master. Jenny came as close as she could to complying with this
order, but Maurice still thought she could do better. He spoke to her
gently. "I know you think I'm asking the impossible. I am speaking from
experience, though. You can do much more than you think."
Why, thought Jenny, why oh why oh why did I ever even consider gambling with
my freedom. I have 1250 days to do, and things are getting very bad on day
one.
"Just a few more strokes," said Maurice.
I'm seventeen, for Christ sake, said Jenny to herself. I'm not
supposed to be blowing a man who could star in a sex film.
Maurice knew, pretty nearly, what was going through Jenny's mind. He
could afford to be patient, but more than that he wanted to be patient. For
the first time he sensed that Jenny was just a girl and had to be treated a
bit differently than all his previous slaves.
"OK," said Maurice, now do my balls.
Jenny wanted to hold her nose. Gawd this is awful, she said to
herself, and there is no way out. Very tentatively she began. Maurice
wanted her to become sufficiently accustomed licking a man so that she
wouldn't be tentative with her customers. The men who would pay for her
would know in advance that Jenny was a new slave, but they would still
expect her to perform like a slave. Maurice let her go at her own pace,
occasionally encouraging her try to learn something.
After hearing Maurice say, for the fourth time, that she should be trying to
learn something, she thought, `I'm learning something. I'm learning that I
hate being a slave.'
Maurice kept Jenny at it for half an hour. He kept telling her to use
her tongue more liberally and whenever she did he would praise her for it.
Maurice thought it likely that Jenny had never licked a man's balls before,
and he smiled inwardly at the thought. Maurice felt that the first few days
of a new slave's training were the best because it was then that the
master-slave relationship was established. He was thoroughly enjoying
establishing that relationship with Jenny. Not every new slave, he said to
himself, was initially as obedient, yet hesitant, as Jenny.
Finally he told her to stop, and then instructed her to work again on
getting as much of his dick in her mouth as she could. "I want you to get
the head of my dick to the very back of your mouth at least ten times.
Understand?"
"Yes, master," came the reply.
She tried to obey, at least by her own reckoning. Her mouth and her
jaw, however, were simply not sufficiently accustomed to such exercise. She
did get Maurice very nearly to the back of her mouth ten times, but the
effort required nearly exhausted her. After counting what she thought was
the tenth stroke, she went back to stroking just the first five or six
inches. Maurice wasn't entirely satisfied, but he told her to stop. As he
got up and began putting on his clothes, he repeated again that Jenny was
required to give five blow jobs that day. "And remember, don't wait for
them to tell you what to do. As soon the man takes off his clothes and sits
down, you go to work."
"Yes, master," said Jenny very disconsolately as Maurice walked out.
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