FYLLEN ISLAND: Adam’s Story

By Julius Caesar (jcaesar@hotpop.com)

Copyright
	This story may only be held at non-pay sites, such as ASSTR or other such USENET archives. Otherwise you must have permission from me (use email address at the top). The story must not be altered in any way and these messages must be left at the top.

Summary
	This story is based upon a fictitious island where the female population overthrow rationale and institute an all male slavery ideology. The story centres around a college student called Adam Hargreaves and his transition from normality to slavery.

Disclaimer
This story is completely fictitious and is centred on a fictitious island, called Fyllen Island, where the female population turn the male population into slavery. This is not reality, and I am hopeful it was never be reality. This is a searing indictment of what could happen should extremism ever come to fruition. If this is well received I will try and write another one with the male-orientated society instead. You must be 18 or over to read this text, and be in a normal community where this text isn’t outlawed. Read this at your own risk. All characters are fictitious. Be aware there are depictions of depravities which you will probably not agree with. Any likeness with an anything is entirely coincidental.

Contents
	Introduction
1.	Finishing college.
2.	Lake Portswood camp
3.	The auction house
4.	Life at Fellswood House
5.	Life at 22 Emley House
6.	Life with Becky
7.	Liberty

English – American translations
	I am English, so this is written in UK English so my trousers are your pants, pants are underpants, odour is odor, colour is color and car is auto.
	There is also a tiny bit of slang, so here it is - Flowery Dell means cell, Butchers Hook means look and cheers is another word for thank you. Anything else should be blatantly obvious.

INTRODUCTION

It was the result I, and none of males in the nation, wanted. The constitution was changed, to allow Mistress Claire Ryder to have even more power and control of us than she already had. My life was about to change, for the worse, and I am very worried, and with good reason – they don’t call her Cruel Claire for nothing!

My name is Adam Hargreaves, and I live in a small island nation called Fyllen Island. The vast majority of the population are under the age of 25, as it is only recently populated. About 10,000 people live on the island (only 350 are males with voting rights), and so when Mistress Claire Ryder set out her manifesto, it is little wonder that she was elected. The recent revolution overthrew the previous queen, and installed Claire Ryder in her place, who, since 1997 has been removing the voting rights from the men in the population. Her manifesto said she would incarcerate almost all men into special concentration camps to turn them into slaves to the 4,000 females on the island. There would be no education for boys above the age of 14, without court permission. The military would no longer permit males at any rank above private. The list went on, I was doomed to lose my freedom, and so I spent the last day of my liberty in bed, not wanting to come across some fanatical Ryder supporters celebrating if I left the flat.. 

At 8am the following morning, I was woken up by the sound of a van screeching to a halt outside my flat. I live in the smallest of the five settlements on the island, only about three hundred people live here, and my street is always particularly quiet. The flat, which is rented, is very small and is part of a block of about ten such residences. I looked out of my window and saw a police van. Two police officers got out and walked into the building opposite. Crime is not a problem on the island, and so it is rare to see the vans in use, but as I returned to my bed, I heard screams and once again returned to the window. Thirty seconds later, I saw a naked man being dragged from the building into the police van by the two young officers. They shut the door and went inside again, and dragged out another one, also naked, before speeding off. I knew the gentleman in question was an active supporter of the group opposed to Claire Ryder, and it dawned on me that this would be the nation in which I would be living in now.  got dressed, and got myself something to eat, before leaving to go to college. 

CHAPTER ONE: Finishing College

	My college is in the capital City of Fyllen Island called Fyllen, and after a short bus ride, I was in the town centre. It was a nice summer’s day, and the sun warmed my skin as I walked from the bus station to the only college on the island. I did an English course with IT, and was approaching my final exams. English had never been my strong subject, but the small college only offered a small selection of courses, and students with better grades have priority when choosing courses, and my grades were not good. I had surprised myself by the way which I had taken to the course, and out of the twelve people studying English I often came top of the class in assignments. As one of only two males doing the subject, it was particularly satisfying to be doing better than the girls, what with the growing tide of feminism that was sweeping my homeland. 

	On arrival to the college, I was ushered into the main hall. I sat down near the back on a vacant chair and looked round. There were no girls. Whatever was going to be said only applied to the male students, and I was pretty sure what it was going to be. After another fifteen minutes, the hall had nearly filled up and the head of the college, Miss Suzanne Crocker, took to the stage. 

	“I am sure you have all heard that Mistress Claire Ryder is now president, and as the head of Fyllen College, I have been told to implement her policy on higher education. Today, you will remain in this building until called, where you will be asked to state whether you wish to apply to continue with your education or to go to a training camp immediately.” 

	As I am sure, you can gather this is not exactly what I wanted to hear. I had spent most of the last eighteen months learning Shakespeare and Orwell so I could pass my exams at the end of the month, and this was being put in jeopardy. If you have any idea of the trauma it takes to find one joke in Midsummer’s Night Dream then you will understand how much effort it has taken to get this far!

	“I must stress that only ten percent of you will successfully be allowed to continue with your education and therefore those of you who are not in the top ten percent would be wise to agree to join the training camps immediately.”

	Miss Crocker then stepped down from the stage and a quiet murmur engulfed the room as everyone was digesting the news of the new lifestyle that awaited them. 

	“SILENCE!” was bellowed from the corner where Miss Crocker was standing. There had been rumours that she was a massive feminist and sadist and that is one reason why she had been recently appointed as head of the college, and I had dismissed them automatically as pure speculation, but I was starting to see the truth in them. I picked up my copy of 1984 and started reading it as one by one we were called.

	At about twelve o’ clock, my name was called out. I was obviously one of the last ones to be called, as there were very few people left in the hall, and I walked to the front of the hall, where I was marched down to the staff room by two lecturers who I didn’t recognize. A judge was sitting on one side of the room behind a table and I was told to stand on the other side. 

	“Name”, she asked.

	“Adam Hargreaves”, I replied, rather meekly. It was obvious that I was very nervous but I could sense the sheer foreboding and dominance of the woman in front of me, and she spoke with such forcefulness it was disorientating. 

	“Ahh, address Flat 2, 4 Acacia Walk?”

	“Yes”, I responded

	“Right, now do you want to continue with, umm English Literature”, she bellowed, glancing at her page as she said it.

	“I would like to complete my studies”, I answered. The judge glared at me, and retorted, “Why?”

	“My exams are just three weeks away, and I have worked very hard for them. I have also been getting some very good results in assignments”. 

	The judge sniggered, and said “Do you really think that an HLQ [Higher Level Qualification] in English will help you in life? At the end of the day you’re going to one of the three training camps eventually.”

	“I still want to finish my course” I said stubbornly and bravely. She tutted and looked at me clearly surprised at what I had said. My chest protruded from my body and I stared at her, forcefully, desperately trying to appear my confident than I was.  

	“You are dismissed, you’re Class B3”, she said to me and wrote something on her piece of paper in front of her.

	I was relieved that it was over and followed the lecturers out of the door. I was taken to the smaller Lecture Theatre. The experience had made me slightly tired and hunger was also beginning to bite. When I arrived at the lecture theatre, I was told to sit down and be quiet. There were four other male students around me, and a female lecturer at the front of the hall. I recognized her, as she was Miss Amy Yorath, the feminist women studies tutor. She was about thirty and she had a nice body, but her general demeanour was unsavoury and intimidating. I opened my book again, and after about an hour the door was flung open and Miss Crocker strode into the room. 

	“You four – Davies, Hargreaves, Ritchie and Samson – have been allowed to continue with your courses. You will be given the garments you must wear at all times when you are outside your accommodation. The only men’s toilet which will still be in use will be the one opposite the library, which will no longer be cleaned. We can not afford the valuable resources of the college to be spent cleaning up after animals, so look after it. Any time you are at the college, you must give precedence to a female student, or lecturer, and it is a crime to refuse a reasonable request given to you by anyone.”

	Miss Yorath, who had left when Miss Crocker had entered the room returned with a box. Miss Crocker smiled, and said, “Your clothing has arrived.”

	I was passed a parcel, about a foot square by Miss Yorath, and was told to go home and read the literature in the parcel. We left the lecture theatre together, and did not see any female students. Obviously, they had been sent home. I boarded a bus and twenty minutes later I arrived at my flat.

	Almost immediately after arriving there was a knock on the door, and it was my neighbour Becky. She was one year my senior and it was no surprise that I fancied her. She was a about my height (five foot eleven), and had ample breasts, a slim figure, long brown hair, and a lovely personality. She was the perfect girl, and I had decided that she was a bad person to lust over, as every other subsequent girl would always be a compromise. 

	Becky flung her arms around me the moment I opened the door. I was surprised by the response, but was not going to complain. The furthest I had got with Becky was an intimate game of Strip Poker last Christmas when we were both drunk, but never had the thought of us two ever being together ever mentioned or implied. 

	“And for what do I owe this pleasure?” I enquired, slightly surprised by the gesture that I had received.

	“I’m so glad that you’re still here.”

	“Oh thanks, wont be for long, I’m only being allowed to continue the qualifications I am doing, I am not allowed to do anything more than that.”

	Becky released her grip on me and asked me if I was frightened over my future. I answered honestly that I was, and she looked rather solemn. We walked through to the lounge, where I had just deposited my parcel and we opened it. Inside there was a brochure, entitled, “Males living on Fyllen Island”. There were also two caps, two white T-Shirts and two white shorts. Becky looked a bit perplexed and picked up the booklet and started reading aloud.

	“As of the 1st of May, the following laws will become part of the constitution on Fyllen Island. As a male, you must abide by all these laws or face public punishment. Number one, at all times the clothing provided to you must be worn, and kept clean. If you wear anything other than the T-Shirt, shorts or cap, then you will be arrested. You are allowed to wear white shoes and white socks, but underwear is not permitted. The cap is optional, and is for use on sunny days. Inside the grounds of any educational establishments, the T-Shirt must not be worn. If in prison then no clothes will be worn. Number two, all females are your superior, and any reasonable request is an order. Number three, all pubs, bars, clubs and societies are now out of bounds unless the slaves are working there, as are, the streets between the hours of 6pm and 8am, unless accompanied by a female escort.” Becky looked at me, “Oh my god, this is ridiculous” 

	“I know, but there is nothing I can do about it”. Becky continued to read about what happens at the camps. There are three training camps, Fyllen Grange which is the most lax, Windermere Bay which is the strictest, and Lake Portswood which is in between. After completing the training course, which should typically take between six to eight weeks, we are then auctioned off as slaves. Hardly the career prospects I had hoped for!

	“Try your new clothes on”, asked Becky

	“Do I have to?” I replied 

	“Yes”, she said, and picked up the book. “Number two, all females are your superior, and any reasonable request…”

	“Yes OK”, I snapped. “I get the picture”. Becky laughed and I picked up the bundle of clothes and walked into my bedroom. The shorts were very thin material and nearly see through. They were also very short and I figured it’s designed to try and make us feel more insecure and humiliated. The shirt wasn’t to much thicker, and the feeling of the abrasive cloth on my genitals was unnerving, and yet ever so erotic. I always wear underwear, and going Commando (not wearing underwear) was an unusual sensation. My manhood was not used to be unfettered and unshackled and the sensation was a new experience. The shirt was also of an abrasive material, but I had many shirts like it. I walked into the other room where Becky was standing reading the booklet.
	
	“What does it feel like?” she asked.

	“Strange”, I replied. “I’m not used to wearing no underwear”

	Becky laughed, “Except when I beat you a strip poker”. I went bright red. 

	Becky and I spent the rest of the evening together laughing. She had discovered that all money which I possessed would be confiscated at the end of my course, and I had saved up over 4200 Fyllen Pounds. I did not want this money to be used by Claire Ryder, and so made a mental note to do something worthwhile with it.
	
	“When you come up for auction, I will purchase you”, she said. “I could do with some help in the flat, and if I get my promotion I will get a bigger house”.  I didn’t want Becky to ‘buy’ me. While I fancied her, and I would do most things for her, I did not want to have to do things by order, but instead I would prefer to elect to do them by choice. It would make my life very difficult as well, but I said nothing. 

	“I must be going to bed”, Becky announced. “I have an early start in the morning. She left and I was left with the clothes of my new lifestyle in front of me. I am not ashamed to say I cried myself to sleep.

	The following morning, I awoke as usual at 8am and had my usual shower. I made myself some toast and donned my new uniform. At 8.30 I left the flats and made my way to the bus stop. The bus purred towards Fyllen from Applewood village and I arrived at the bus station. As I walked to the college, I could feel the cool air rise underneath my shorts and cause a draft. It was quite sensual, and I liked it. As I neared the college gates, there were groups of girls who stared and pointed at me. I quickened my pace, but as I got opposite the gates a sniggering girl emerged from a group of them and started walking towards me. I was sure she was going to tell me to remove my shorts, as nakedness is no longer a crime in Fyllen, only erections can be punished, but what with the cool wind, I was sure my penis would not react erroneously. Nethertheless it was not an experience I particularly wanted to savour.

	I was lucky as June, a girl from my English class saw this also and moved towards me, and grabbed me by the arm. The sniggering girl looked disappointed and returned to her group of mates. 
	
	“I saw that girl coming towards you, and I was sure she was going to be unreasonable”.

	“Ahh, I didn’t know you cared!” I said rather gratefully.

	“Yeah, well I owe you a favour after the Thomas Hendry incident”. Thomas Hendry was a boy two years younger than me, and at Christmas he held a party, which June attended, where she got very drunk and slept with every guy there is a massive orgy, losing her virginity at the same time. The following morning, when she woke up with a sore body, someone had explained how she had allowed 15 and 16-year-olds to take her up the arse, take her virginity and to take pictures of her engrossed in these acts. It was too late to do anything about it. The stories and pictures quickly made their way around the year, and soon, every boy was going up to her asking her for a good time. She had decided at that point, that all men were scum, until I went round college with her for a few days, as the younger tormentors (which was most of them) would not try and taunt her, when I was in her presence. I was the exception from the scum rule apparently.

	As we entered the gates I saw the sniggering girl leave her group and approach Matthew Samson who was walking up the road. 

	“Matt looks like he is going to get collared by that girl” I said. 

	“He took the pictures at Tom’s party”, she replied. She stopped walking with me and turned round. I also stopped, as I wanted to spend as much time with her as possible. It would be in my interest to spend as much time with her, and away from any other girl. At least June was being reasonable. Well, at the moment anyway.

	The girl went up to Matt, and he went bright red. He removed his shorts and shirt and gave them to the girl. Wolf whistles rang out right throughout the street as the girls all looked at the now naked boy. June turned and I walked with her.

	“Should you still be wearing that shirt?” she asked.

	“Shit”, I replied, and immediately removed it. 

	“Language! Have you done the critique of 1984?”

	“Yes, have you?”

	“No, I’m having trouble with it”

	“Would you like me to help you with it?” I ventured. I knew that June lived in Fyllen, near the school, and that walking out of the school gates with her would be better than on my own, even if it did mean that I would be at the mercy of her when at her house. Better the devil you know I thought. 

	“Would you come to my house after college with me?” she asked.

	“Of course, no problem”. June smiled, as we entered the main building. On Tuesdays I had just three lectures - an English seminar with Tina, an IT practical with Andrew and an English lecture with Rachel. None of those lecturers would be unreasonable I thought. At my first seminar, I realised that the only other male on then course had left, and I was the last surviving man in the class. Tina Ravenn passed me a piece of paper with explained how, since there was one person left on the course, and the IT administrator had since been dismissed, the college was cancelling IT for this year.  Oh goody.

	Tina was very good, and treated my like no other student. She went through some of the points to look out for 1984, and how it can be compared with Animal Farm and The Road to Wigan Pier, also by George Orwell. At the end of the lesson, she asked to see me in my office, and I went in, slightly unnerved.

	“While I support Claire Ryder”, she explained, “As there has been too much male rebellion on the island, and she will quash the hooligan element, I do not want to see your work suffer.” Tina was right, Fyllen, the main town and Deltan, both had football teams, and they played once a year. Whenever they met, the riots that followed were bad, and this was a solution. “How do you feel about what lies ahead of you?” Tina beckoned me to sit down.

	“Worried and nervous”, I said. “I don’t know exactly what fate is ahead of me, and so the uncertainty is unnerving.” Tina leaned forward, and her cleavage showed. Miss Tina Ravenn was shapely, and nice. Her smile lit up her face, and she was my favourite lecturer by a long way. She had a bet with her only male student last year that if he passed his exams she would go to the end-of-year ball dressed in a see-through top and mini-skirt. He passed, and surprisingly she kept her word. She was the only person in authority who I felt I could trust.

	“Could you write down your thoughts for me”, she asked. “I could use them as a project next year. Maybe, your future owners might be more sympathetic to you”.

	“I’ll try, if I got time”.

	“Well it’s a reasonable request, and I don’t want to report you. You’re my favourite student”. This ‘reasonable request’ thing was getting out of hand. Anything was a bloody reasonable request.  I just smiled. “You can leave, Adam, but do remember to document your thoughts and emotions”

	I got up and left and was surprised to see June waiting for me.

	“I thought you might want to be chaperoned”. 

	“Thank you, where are you going?”

	“Library”, she said. 

	We walked to the library, picking our way past sniggering gangs. Once at the library, we sat down and set about studying George Orwell. Loads of girls kept dropping their pens as they walked past the desk we were sitting at, until I realised that the short, baggy shorts were displaying my genitals. I told June, and she suggested I just removed my shorts as it made no difference to me. This worried me slightly, as I am not an exhibitionist, but as June argued, if everyone thinks of me as reasonable and pleasant, then they are unlikely to pick on me, so I removed my shorts and put them on the desk. A number of girls looked round at my naked body, but I continued to help June with her work.

	Thirty minutes later, we had to leave to go to the lecture. I nearly walked out naked but remembered to put my shorts back on before I left. As we left, one girl, who was probably about 16 or 17, asked if I usually remove my clothing in public. 

	“Only when I want to”, I replied, “but it is dangerous around so many pretty girls. Unwanted male arousal is always punished”. I left the girls giggling.

	Rachel Ambelside was bitchy, catty and rude. She was also about 35, but looked older. I disliked her with a passion, but she was reasonable, and she talked through the merits of William Shakespeare with us. June and I sat at the back, and was relieved that she hadn’t picked on me. At the end of the lecture however, she made up for lost time when she announced, “I am sorry that we have not managed to dispose of all the animals in this class. Adam Hargreaves is unfortunately still with us. I would like to remind him that he has to aid you with any request you may have of him and so I trust that you will make him as unwelcome as he is”.  The rest of the class turned around to see my response, but I just raised my eyebrows and closed my file. 

	June and I walked out together to her car which was parked fifty metres down the road. She told me to get in and we sped along the main road and along the coastal route to a large house. Her family were rich, as her mother and father had founded the sea ferry company which takes people from Fyllen Island, to one of the other islands. I had not been to her house before, but was overawed at the size. She parked her car near the main entrance, and I followed her into the house where she dumped her books down in a study, and then said, “I want to go for a walk, come on”. I reluctantly followed the attractive and pleasant teenager into the sunshine.

	I had by now put my shirt on, and we ambled down the main path alongside the coast. After about ten minutes we sat down and looked out over the bay. The wind was whistling down my shorts, but by now, I had got used to the coolness of the summer breeze. June sat down and removed her T-Shirt, to leave just a bra, and laid back on the grass, and weeds that lined the path where we were. 

	“Lovely day, isn’t it?” June suggested

	“Yes”, I answered. I looked over at her. Her response was to immediately cover her breasts with her hands. “Sorry”, I said. I was anxious not to upset the person who could make my life at college bearable. She removed her hands.

	“It’s OK. Since that party I’m very shy about my body.”

	“Why? You have a lovely body.”

	“What do you mean?”

	“I can understand fat 20 stone women being shy about their bodies, but why should you. I mean, you were stupid and you let some immature boys take your innocence, and deprive you of dignity, but…..I’m digging myself a hole aren’t I?”

	“Yes. Be quiet or I’ll make you take your shorts off”. I knew she wasn’t joking, and so I just said, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean any offence”.

	“I warned you, give me your shorts. And your shirt.” I took off my shorts and shirt and passed them to her outstretched hand. “You can have them back when you have behaved yourself.” She laughed out loud, clearly enjoying her new found dominant role. It was one thing which I was worried about. Many girls aren’t control-freaks, but now, with all the dominance they have, they can get anything they want from us guys, and we can't refuse them. Only now, I would really find out, how power-crazed everyone is, and this could make my life much less bearable. 

	Five minutes later, June and I stood up, and walked back. By now I was starting to enjoy the freedom that the lack of clothing gave my body. For ten minutes, my troubles weren’t there, as the hot sun warmed my back, and the fresh air circulated across my body and made me shudder when a breeze came along. When we reached the house, I was passed my clothes and told to get dressed. 

	That afternoon, we went through the George Orwell novels that made our final piece of coursework due in the next day. I wrote most of her assignment, but if she was going to be as nice to me as she has been today, then I was sure I owed her a lot of favours. In the evening, her parents came home. Obviously, due to the closeness June’s mother had with Claire Ryder (she was one of the major backers of her party), June’s father had been exempted from the camps. When they arrived, June introduced me to her mother, who was a little nervous. I was more nervous, as was being introduced to one of the key people who were instrumental in my forthcoming enslavement. Shortly afterwards, June kindly drove me back to Applewood, as it was after the curfew. When I arrived, I wrote out my emotions for Tina and went to bed. 

	The next two weeks followed that pattern. June spent most of the day making sure I wasn’t being harassed, but I was as co-operative with everyone as possible. Miss Jackson wanted a nude model for her biology class, and when Matty Samson refused, he was placed naked in some stocks in the centre of the complex and anyone could throw anything they wanted at him. I am told some girls urinated on him. I subsequently went up to see her, and volunteered myself, which earned me some brownie points I’m sure. Having the biology class fondle me wasn’t the nicest of experiences but it did show I wasn’t being as unhelpful as the other males left in the college. Most of the girls who came up to me in the street or around college just wanted me to do one thing – drop my shorts, which I was only too pleased to do (eventually), but others wanted to insert a banana in my arse, to see if it hurt, and things like that. I was glad I had June with me. I met June’s parents more than once, and June said that they were very happy to see me. I was unlike most boys they had met; I was charming (apparently!).
	
	Becky was as wonderful as ever. We played strip poker a couple of times, but she ordered me to lose. Nakedness is fast becoming the norm for me. My body no longer holds the sort of taboo it once did, and I am beginning to feel much more confident about the future. Even Miss Crocker called in the other three boys in my year for being totally unco-operative and man-like, and spanked their bottoms red raw, but I was spared such a humiliating ordeal. I think Miss Jackson and her biology class may have saved me.

	The mistake I made was just before my first exam. Every day I gave Tina a big page of my thoughts, emotions and feelings for the day previous. I also detailed the requests, and how it felt. I also added pieces about my sexual frustrations with June and Becky. Tina was very impressed. One day, I left my page at home and so I went to see her to explain the lack of the diary extract.

	“Ah, good morning, Mr Hargreaves”, she said brightly.

	“Good morning, Miss Ravenn. I have left my diary at home today; can I bring it in tomorrow?” I asked. Tina swung round and her smile disappeared. She turned on the fan and pointed it towards me, in the knowledge that the cool air unsettles me. I know she knows, as I have put that in my diary on more than one occasion.

	“Adam, I need the diary extracts for a big project next year. This is something that I want my class to relate to, and as you have refused me a reasonable request, I will have to punish you”. I did not want to argue, as I was sure the punishment would be ten times worse if I did, but I did not see that a day’s delay was a big problem.  “I can either report you to the school”, she said, “or we can work out a suitable punishment ourselves”. I nodded in agreement.

	“I live in Applewood, and every year we have a carnival. The school needs two people to be in stocks to have whatever the crowd wants to throw at them, thrown at them. Matthew Samson has agreed to be one of the vict... err volunteers, but we need another. I’m sure you are just the person we are looking for”.

	“Certainly”, I replied. The thought of being naked in front of hundreds of people was erotic enough, but to be pelted with gunge and gunk was a nice thought. Provided Matt Samson’s tormentors don’t live in Applewood, I was safe. 

	She noticed the smile creeping across my face, and said “I will see you tomorrow at 8 then, and Adam, this isn’t an excuse for you to become sexually aroused”. I nodded, and turned to leave, “but if you do, I expect to read about it on Monday”. 

	June was in hysterics when I told her that I was being used as a target by all the messy substances in the town. “Oh well, you might enjoy it”. She was right, I probably would. The day passed quickly, and I left to go home. I remembered the money I had in my bank account that I needed to spend before it was seized. I had a week to spend it, and so I went to the bank and closed the account. I then went to the jewellers and bought two bracelets with Becky and June inscribed on them at 1,900 Fyllen pounds each. I then travelled back to Applewood, and to my flat.
	
	I was not surprised to see Becky waiting for me, and so we went it and sat down on the sofa in the lounge. 

	“Becky, in five days time, I am off to a camp, and the police will seize this flat and the furniture in it which isn’t the landlady’s. If there is anything you want, you can take it. Oh, and this is yours”, I said passing the small gift I had got her. “I needed to spend my savings or Claire Ryder would seize them, and I know you wanted a bracelet.” 	Becky immediately gave me a hug, and they were tears rolling down her cheeks. I also gave her half of the remainder of the money I had, for the summer carnival tomorrow.

	The following morning I arrived at the carnival at 8am, and met Tina. I stripped and gave Becky my clothes and was secured in the stocks. For one pound, anyone could spent sixty seconds pelting me or Matt with whatever they wanted, and as the carnival got busier, there were more people coming. Most of the people were buying a bucket of gunge from the school there, and so I was very messy. The feeling of being dirty was one I was to experience a lot in the coming months, but I was neither nervous nor worried, as everyone was enjoying themselves. Even Becky came up and poured gunge over me, although she made me lean over and poured it into the crack of my behind. I saw a group of girls using Matt as a toilet again, and I recognised them as some girls from the library. They saw me looking and smiled at me. 
	
	At the end of the day I had been pelted with a lot – rotten fruit, gunge, sugar water, and Tina directed us to the showers were Matt and I spent ten minutes making ourselves presentable.  Tina thanked us and we left. I went with Becky and Matt was hijacked by those girls again.

	I was in my final few days of liberty. I did my exams and gave June her present. I think she was quite touched. My exams went well, and at the end of my last exam, I came out of the hall to be handcuffed and thrown into a police van which was dark and dreary. I was to be assigned to Lake Portswood training camp. As the doors of the van closed, my liberty disappeared. A new chapter in my life was opening.

CHAPTER TWO: Lake Portswood Training Camp

	I was surprised that I was assigned to Lake Portswood, as I was sure I would be assigned the strictest of the camps. I thought the Government would want to suppress any male who had the knowledge to challenge the domination put before them. Lake Portswood is midway between Fyllen and Deltan. The camp built around a lake (hence the name), and the regime is fairly lax I was told. There was one policewoman with me on the journey there, who responded by whipping me when I tried to make conversation. There was a boy opposite me that I did not recognise who was crying and sobbing. 

	When we arrived, which took about fifteen minutes, the doors were flung open and the boy was dragged from the van onto the floor where the female guard gave him a really powerful kick in the genitals. He screamed in agony. “Nice of you to re-join us scum”. She kicked him again and he broke down again crying and screaming. “Take him to the dungeon. I will deal with him later”. The hysterical slave was dragged by the two guards alongside the sergeant, who had just administered the beating. 

	“Whip marks across your chest, you men never learn”, she said, “Follow me”. I followed her into a reception area, where I was stripped completely, and given a number, 4551. This number was my new identity. I was taken through to a nurse’s room where she poked and prodded me filling in a form as she went. I had to run as far as I could on a treadmill to assess my stamina. Blood and urine samples were taken, and finally I was told to lie sideways on the bench. She fiddled around my anus for a bit, and then loads of water flooded my rectum. I let out a yell, but she just hit me and told me to be quiet and get used to it. Enemas were a regular occurrence at the camp. I was emptied and refilled a few times until she was happy that my rectum was clean. I was told that later I would be introduced to my “trainer”. This was the dominatrix who would knock everything out of me except undivided obedience and absolute loyalty. To each trainer there were approximately five slaves, and the course lasted until I passed the final test, which would be held in Week 6. If I failed it in Week 6, I retook it Week 7, and so on. 

	For my first night, I was given a meal of bread and milk and a bed which was in a large cell of four other inmates. After I had finished eating, I started reading the literature I had been presented, explaining my training, when Miss Paula arrived. She was to be my trainer, and at 5 foot 11, was as tall as me. She wasn’t the sort of mistress I had expected, as she wore normal clothes. This centre wasn’t being run for arousing the men who enjoyed being dominated. This was for real. Paula was very attractive with long hair, but also a fairly muscular body. Her tone was warm, and yet the whip that she carried, made the atmosphere ambivalent. She spoke softly, and I was sure that if I was co-operative and enthusiastic with them, then they would be warmer and more pleasant to me. This was a great relief. She had to decide what to train me as, as there were many options – sex slave (for use in the brothels), general housework (generic skills such as cleaning, and washing etc), chef (cookery only), manual slave (hard labour tasks) or general (bit of everything). I’m sure most people would want to be trained as a sex slave, but what is being offered, is more general. My body would be theirs, I would have no control. A lot of the brothels and strip clubs do perverted things to cause pain, and misery, and I did not want this at all. The General Housework did not appeal as running around clearing up after other people is not my forte. Neither is cooking or manual tasks, and so a more general slave is better I thought. It was not up to me anyway, Miss Paula would decide what my training should consist of, and this would be known at the auction, and it was up to the buyer to find a use for me.

	When Miss Paula left, two of the other inmates were deposited in the cell with lacerations across the chest. Two minutes later the other two appeared, being marched by another female officer. They looked but did not speak to me, just nodded and curled up on the mats provided. All of them looked shorter than me, and they were all less muscular and smaller.  They also all had shaved heads. These were the sort of people who spent their life behind desks, running businesses and programming computers. I curled up on my mat and went to sleep almost immediately. It had been a funny sort of day.

	I was woken by the sound of whips on the bars of our cell. “Wake up you pigs” greeted us, and five minutes later our reinforced door was flung open and a guard came in. Everyone in the cell leaped to their feet naked, and I did the same, albeit a few seconds later. The guard looked at me, said nothing and walked out. I followed the rest of the clan of naked and tired teenagers outside, and she marched us down a cold stone pathway to a room marked “Showers”. 

	“OK Three minutes”, she growled and we went in. The water was cold, and icy, and soon woke me up. There was no soap, and we had to wash by rubbing the areas which felt sticky and sweaty. After two minutes we were marched back to the cell and given some bread and a cup of watery tea. I bit into my bread with my dripping body shivering in the cold. If the entire regime was designed to be intimidating and menacing, it succeeded.

	A guard came in with an electric shaver, and roughly shaved our faces. I shaved most days, and there was little stubble. She did it none the less.

	After ten or fifteen minutes, a guard came in and called out “2443” and a small teenager rose from the end of the cell and walked over to her. She pushed him in front of her and walked out of the cell, locking it as she went.  Everyone in the cell was called, until about ten minutes after the first, the sour-faced guard came in, and half-dragged me down the corridor and out into the open. She marched me across a courtyard and into another block. I was pushed into a room, and a mistress was there. She looked at me.

	“4551?” she casually enquired looking at her clipboard. I looked around, and answered.

	“Yes Miss” 

	“Good, in here.” The dominatrix pointed to a door, and I went through it, to come into a room which was basically a barbers. One lady stood there, with a younger girl, who I assumed was an apprentice. 

	“Sit here” ordered the younger girl on a big chair. I did, and the coolness of the chair was a shock on my body. She took out a razor and began to shave my head. I never had long hair anyway, but now I had none.

	When she finished on my head she turned her attention to my pubes, and began to shave them as well. I felt violated, and when she finished I looked down and it looked like I was a young boy again. It wasn’t fair.

	After my de-hairing I was taken back to the original mistress, and she looked at me. Around me were two other boys who where chained up on the walls, spread-eagled. There were a group of ladders affixed to the wall, and these were being used as objects to fasten the slaves onto.

	“That’s better, I don’t like pubic hair.” She said, looking down at my exposed genitals. “Pubes make you men think you are someone, and you're scum. Now on your knees”. I immediately knelt before her, and looked up. 

	She pelted me across my back with her whip. It stung, and left a giant red mark. The sound echoed throughout the room, and broke the faint screams emanating from elsewhere in the camp. 

	“I didn’t say look at me, you maggot.” I stared at the floor, awaiting further instructions.

	“Now lick my boots”. She thrust her black footwear in front of me. They were jet black ankle high boots with “Fyllen” inscribed on the side. They were not dirty, but instead dusty, but I set about cleaning her left boot with my tongue, and she watched eagerly. After a couple of minutes later she changed boots for me to clean and I cleaned the other boot.

	After I had finished she yanked me up and pushed me against the wall. “You are here for the next two days to learn general submissiveness. I don’t want any of your stupid macho tricks or I will turn your life into a fucking misery, do you hear me?”

	“Yes Miss” I answered. She was so close I could smell her bad breath as spoke to me. She then proceeded to tie me up like the other two boys were on the other corners of the room. She left the room, but came back with a suitcase ten minutes later. 

	“In here, is some of the worst torture equipment around, and I will be using it on you, unless you do exactly as I say”. She then took down this other boy, who was about seventeen, and very short and fastened him back onto the wall, but so was leaning over and his arse was protruding.  His legs were spread apart. She then got me down and positioned me underneath him but facing upwards and so my crotch was underneath his anal region. 

	This was my torture but I did not realise it, as she took a big candle and put it in this other boys posterior and lit it. She then took down the last boy, and told him to hit the small boy on top of me with a whip until she said otherwise, and not to stop until she said. If the boy moved while he was being hit then the wax would fall onto my newly shaved and sensitive areas causing large amounts of pain.
	
	The blows started for the boy on top of me and he did fidget. Two drops of wax fell but they fell on the floor and not on my crotch. However on the seventh blow, the boy moved to escape the whip and the candle fell. Hot wax covered my region, and I let out a piercing yell. My penis had several globules of piping hot wax on it, including the head, and it was an excruciating burning sensation. My hands were tied up and so I could not alleviate the suffering.

	The boy with the whip stopped beating, but immediately got into trouble. 

	“I did not tell you to stop beating him. Why can’t you fucking lowlife listen?” She smacked him a few times, before we changed places. He was underneath me with the candle. I was good, and it was on the fifteenth hit that any wax made its way to his genitals. He started blubbing.

	After the treatment with the wax candle, she tried something else. Her job was to make us so scared of her that we would obey her without question, and is this unquestioning obedience that would be transferred to not only other parts of our training but also our life as a slave.

	We were not tied up but inside ordered to kneel and from her suitcase of tricks she took out a length of rope. This was a tug-of-war and we were both ordered to win. Whoever lost would be whipped five times.

	I was lucky, I was bigger than both of them and winning my first match was easy. He was whipped accordingly, and then I was against the bigger of the two, but again I won easy. For the next twenty minutes, they got whipped, caned and beaten so badly they were crying uncontrollably. It made no difference to her as she was merciless with her punishments. 

	After this we were taken outside to a pony-carriage contraption. We were the ponies. We were all fastened into it and she took a whip and drove across our backsides.

	“Get going”, she instructed and we moved off. At first, it was hard going but maintaining that speed was easy when was moving. The sun was beating down heavily on us, and I was glad for the lack of clothing, as it meant the cool air was much more effective in cooling me down. She took around the camp for twenty minutes before getting us to stop as some sort of stables. 

	“This is where you will be sleeping tonight. You act like animals, you get treated like them”, she barked at us. We were taken out of the chains and given twenty minutes to drink and eat some food (stale bread) before we were re-harnessed. 

	“We will be having a race today and if you do not win, I shall ensure you spend the worst night of your lives today” We spent the next two hours riding around. She got used to stopping us, and making us work harder with the whip. 

	The race was a 1 kilometre race, and involved three other carriages, all with boys instead of ponies. All the other boys had marks and red patches on their chests and behinds. I was leading the carriage, with the two boys behind me. I heard one of them go for a pee (we weren’t allowed toilet visits; we had to pee anywhere outside!)

	The race started badly for us, as we got off to a bad start. The mistress was doing her nut and you could hear the constant whipping sound, if you couldn’t feel it. At the half way stage we were ten metres behind, but then, suddenly, we gelled as a unit and pushed forward. We slowly made our way from fourth to third to second, and began gaining on the leaders. As the finish line neared, we took pole position and came through as winners.  Exhausted I collapsed and the mistress didn’t say a word. She got out of her carriage and went over to the other mistresses who were tormenting their failures. 

	That night we spent in the stables and it was draughty and cold. But the evening we spent alone, and undisturbed and in the morning we weren’t woken up too early. We heard some of the other slaves getting beaten, and their cries for mercy echoed around the drab stable block. 

	Showers were different, as we were hosed down with icy cold water in the open. The girl who administered it loved seeing us writhe in discomfort, and took pleasure in our continued misery. She cackled as we tried to escape the iciness and humiliation of the “shower”.

	As I was to find out, today would be about humiliation for us. They (the dominatrixes) considered it important that we know what they will do to us so in future we don’t misbehave as we know what will happen. I should have been suspicious when we were given a big jug (about four pints) and told to drink it within the hour. They watched us as we drank the excessive amount of water. 

	“Get out of there”, said a sour faced girl, about an hour later. We left the sty and we taken across the camp to a weird looking building and were pushed inside. We were stripped and put inside. The room was made of rubber and was about six metres squared. Inside were about ten other boys of various ages. At one side there was a big hole in the wall and above it was a “viewing gallery” where all the girls were, eagerly looking on. 

	“You have three hours to stay in there”, said one of them through a speaker. “If you need to go for a piss then go through this hole in the wall, but it will be sprayed back at you if you do”. This was part of it. We were given all the water to make the urge worse. 

	For fifteen minutes no one did anything, although everyone sat down. Not a word was ushered and then one of the boys ran to the hole. He sprayed into it, and we all moved out of the direct line, but as he emptied, a rain of liquid descended from the roof and got everyone. It smelt like urine. It was his piss. Puddles began to emerge on the floor and we carefully avoided them.

	Everyone was cross-legged, desperate to release, and I know the urge to urinate was above all else. Two more boys went and the urine quickly began to cover the floor. Puddles were merging into lakes, and before long everyone had emptied at least once. The girls were clearly excited by our discomfort as they smiled and drank watching us frantically trying to avoid the golden liquid which rained down on us, but also was engulfing the room. 

	The smell was also bad. Anyone who has spent any time at a male public laboratory will know how bad it is. The odour was toxic, and I desperately wanted to leave the room. The next thing that happened was unfair to say the least.

	More urine was sprayed from the ceiling onto our hot and smelly bodies when no one had used the hole. We looked over at the girls at the window, and one of them picked up the microphone.

	“We’re sharing some of the other toilets as you like being dirty so much”. She cackled and put the microphone down. I looked around at everyone and the liquid continued to trickle down.

	Three hours after we were put in there, we were taken out into the sunshine. We stank. As we left cold water descended into the chamber and washed away the urine which had spent so long in there. Once out in the sunshine we were hosed down by powerful hoses which caused us to be thrown across the grass. 

	The cold water was like an electric shock to the system, and it was hard to avoid it. The girl who did was clearly enjoying herself, and she was going to be loathed to stop her pursuit of her perverted pleasure. At the end of the soaking we were addressed by an older woman, about 50 or so, how they would take much pleasure in repeating the treatment we had had over the last 48 hours if we ever stepped out of line during our training. I spent the next five hours undergoing stamina building exercises and routines under the watchful eye of one the dominatrixes

By now I have lost track of what day it is, but it was Day 3 of my training. This was the first day of my domestic servitude instruction. Domestic Servitude Instruction, or DSI, is basically household chores. I would spend a week learning how to clean and wash up. This wasn’t going to be my best area I thought.

	The first day consisted of showers and a meagre breakfast followed by a lecture. About ten of us were there, and a dominatrix arrived and proceeded to give us a lecture on cleaning and tidying. We would be tested on this and she laid down five rules to preparing a room – clean sheets, vacuumed carpet, air freshener, tidy desktops and straightened furniture. These were things we would have to memorise.

	In the evening I did stamina building exercise as usual and then went to sleep. The rest of the week was taken up with me learning how to clean. I had seen little of Miss Paula, except in the evenings, when she would receive an email from whoever had been “teaching” me that day about my conduct and progress. She would then come and see me and then enact any (extra) punishment as necessary. 

	Miss Paula’s room was located in the next block as I was called to it at the end of the week. I guessed I was in trouble but I did not know why. I was told when I enter the room to kneel before her, which when the guard had finished manhandling me to her quarters I did, and I continued to look at the floor until she spoke. 

	“Ah Adam”, she said to me. I looked up for the first time, and her clothing she was wearing was minimal. A bra with matching blue panties and an open dressing gown. She didn’t see me looking at her, and so I went back to looking at the floor – sporting an erection would not leave her in the best of moods.

	“Just received the results from the DSI, and you passed easily, so next week will be your Basic Slavery Skills which I will take you for. I thought it would be a good idea if you acclimatise yourself with the handbook.” She passed me a small book, which had a red cover and was inscribed “BASIC SLAVERY SKILLS” 

	“Thank you”, I said, not sure whether to be truly grateful or not. Miss Paula said nothing other than to dismiss me. As I left, she then added something.

	“Oh and Adam, it should have been ‘Thank You Miss’ or ‘Thank you Miss Paula’. Read the book carefully” With that she turned back to her desk and outside was the guard who pushed my back to my cell.

Week 2 was Basic Slavery Skills, and this was taken by Miss Paula. On Monday I was awoken by the guards at some unsocialable hour and taken to the showers and shaved. After which a pathetic breakfast of bread and water was provided and then Miss Paula descended and took me and one of the other boys up to her room. She didn’t drag or push, she just told us to go and we went. Once we were inside, she shut the door, and walked over to her desk.

“This is Basic Slavery Skills”, she said to us, “and is vital to you passing the course. From now on all females are your superior, and this week I will show you how to show this” She continued. Everything I say from now on should start or end with “Miss” or “Miss Paula”. Unless told otherwise I should kneel and continue to kneel before a mistress, and never to stare or look at them in the face.

Unquestioning obedience was also important, and it was this area she was going to test first.

“Adam, get stripped” she said to me. My first response would be to question the order, but instead I duly disrobed and went back to looking at the floor. The thrill of being naked around women was still there, but I was lucky I did not have an erection or that would be trouble. 

“Ah, good” she replied. “This is the sort of obedience I demand” She played with me and Heinrich for awhile, getting us to disrobe and then walking us through the camps. We were taught to lick boots, and to be silent for long periods of time. It was degrading and humiliating to be reduced to such levels, and as much as I longed for the end to this torture, there was little time to reflect on my current situation.

	Miss Paula even made us drink copious amounts of water and told us to hold it in for an hour, which I only just managed to do! Heinrich didn’t and he was caned for his inabilities to control his bodily functions. Week 2 followed a similar pattern, being degraded to such levels that I began to fear everyone. I am starting to realise why the other boys only looked at me when I first entered the cell. They were as scared as I am now. I also used to go for runs in the evenings to build up my stamina. It was a choice, either run around the track or undergo more training, and I did need to pass the stamina assessments. With me there were few people, under the watchful eye of some dominatrix, but with the weather so nice, it was one of the very few times at the camp I could feel relaxed. 

	The weekend was a mixed time for me. There was some good news and some bad news. Or to put it simply there was some very good news and some very bad news. To begin with, I passed my Basic Skills with ease, so I would not have to repeat the week. As I was doing the General course, I would be tested at the end of each week and repeat weeks as necessary as opposed to a big test after six weeks. This was excellent information. The bad news was that on the Sunday I would be undergoing a health-check. While this may seem perfectly normal for normal people in a normal world, I did not relish the sick regimes of a normal health assessment. It was with some sound rationale that I did not think my time at the “nurse” would be wholly enjoyable. For a start I was warned that enemas were a common place event at the camp when I first arrived. Secondly, I had hardly been treated to the best hospitality since my arrival (food, treatment, etc) and thirdly, Miss Paula thought only caning Heinrich forty times for urinating on the ground was “very reasonable” and “being treated with compassion”. 

	On Sunday I was taken from my running and brought to a nurse’s room. A young girl, certainly no older than me was there. Well qualified I thought! She instructed me to strip, which I did and to lie face up on the bed. She immediately opened my legs so I was spread-eagled.  Various tests were carried out. Reflexes were OK; she did a quick dental check and then tested my stamina on a running machine. I had just been running and was a bit tired but I did much better than the last assessment. She gave me some vitamin pills to take, and then gave me an enema. Half way through, the “nurse” was interrupted by her superior showing some other girls a guided tour of the facilities. There is nothing like being exposed.

	“And this is one of the nurses, Miss Tanya Stephenson, who is giving an enema to one of the slaves in training. Wonderful facilities here at Lake Portswood” said the superior nurse. 

	“Why is he having an enema?” one of the naïve girls asked. To me it was obvious. It was degrading. Humiliating. Painful. Uncomfortable. Endless adjectives, all of them negative!

	“It serves many purposes; it exerts our dominance over them for a start. It also has many health benefits, and a healthy slave is more money girls.” A small titter emanated from a number of the girls.

	“What does this do”, said another voice. It could not see what she was pointing at but I soon found out, when the supervisor told her to “turn it and see what happens”. Suddenly the gentle flow of water filling up my rectum turned to a torrent. I let out a yelp of not only surprise but also discomfort. 

	“It increases the flow of water”, said the supervisor, and one of the girls or Miss Tanya, the nurse must have decreased it as the flow of water subsided massively. “Any other questions?” she asked the enthusiastic groups of girls.

	“What happens to the water when it is in there?” asked another. The supervisor asked Tanya for a demonstration and she agreed and they got me to go over to the toilet seat and release. I did and loads of water came out of my arse and went into the toilet. The toilet is a special toilet with whatever is being released in there goes into a clear plastic tube which is at waist level in the corner of the room. From here, it can be flushed away once the nurse had looked at it. It is done like this so the nurse can ensure that I am fully cleansed, and is this tube that the supervisor showed the girls. 

	“This is pretty clear, he only needs one more refill” she said to Miss Tanya.

	“Well do you want to let one of the girls do it?” asked the nurse. The supervisor looked at her watch and decided that they were well ahead of schedule, so it was a good idea. Miss Tanya took me back to the bench and one of the girls donned some rubber gloves, as Miss Tanya directed her on my enema.

	She got some lubricant and stuck her finger in my arsehole, first one and then two. She was giggling. She then got the nozzle and put it in my anus, gently twisting it in until it was a good few inches inside me. 

	Slowly water began to fill my cavity and she rubbed my stomach as directed. I was in a foetal position and she was very near my semi-erect cock.

	“I can feel the water”, she said triumphantly as it swirled inside me. After five minutes it was all inside and I was told to hold it for five minutes. There were few cramps and it was relatively easy before I released again. I showered and when I came back the little party had trooped off to humiliate some other soul.

	Week 3 would be the most enjoyable of my training – it was Sex! This was being administered by a Miss Roberta. She was 20 years old, and of stunning appearance. Very few slaves do so Sex Training, as it is mostly on a one-to-one basis, and this is expensive, but also there isn’t much demand for it. The slaves who are being brothel-prepared undergo weeks of it, but only the general slaves do it as well, and there are few of those. 

	With me there was one other generic slave – Heinrich. We were taken to Miss Roberta’s office and told to kneel. She then explained what stimulates women, and basically everything which was already known to most of mankind. She also told us to never come without permission or we would be beaten. Monday wasn’t as much fun as had hoped for.

	Tuesday on the other hand, made up for it. At 8am we were both taken to a small room, and told to wait for our company. There were two single beds in the room, although there was a screen which separated them. On the side of the beds there was a television and a chart of female anatomy hung them. Sure enough ten minutes later, two girls were taken into the room, wearing nothing but dressing gowns. They sat down on one of the beds and introduced themselves.

	“This is Helga”, said one of the girls “and I am Emma”. Helga was a little plump but her smile was bright and sincere. Her hair was shoulder length and from what I could see of her breasts they were more than ample. Emma was sheer beauty. Everything was proportioned perfectly. A slim body, a warm gaze, long hair, more than ample breasts and lovely legs. I wanted Emma!

	“This week will be completely different to every other week you spend at the camp”, Helga explained to us, “We won’t beat you or cane you unless in extreme circumstances”. Helga’s tone was soft and gentle. “If you listen and respond to what we say then you will pass this course easily, and in your future ownership it will help you out massively.” The two girls giggled, and then decided to get started. Helga told Heinrich, who was nearer to her, to go and wait on the other bed, so he got up and did so.

	“Say, stop at 11?” Helga said to Emma. Emma agreed and Helga got off the bed. She started talking to Heinrich but when she pulled across the screen I could no longer hear her. The area which myself and Emma had was small but cosy and homely.  She gestured to me to sit on the bed, which I did, and she looked at me. I felt her hands on my back, and she told me to relax.

	“God, you are tense”, she said to me. “You need to relax. Take off your shirt. I removed my shirt and threw it onto the floor. She gently massaged my back for a couple of minutes and then continued.

	“There is no way you will pass this course if you aren’t going to relax” Emma told me. After I had my back massaged she spun me round. Her dressing gown was undone, and you could see her body. I tried not to look at it, or her, but instead stare at the bed. It was the next best thing to the floor!

	“What is your name?” she asked me in a slightly exasperated tone.

	“Adam” I replied.

	“Well Adam, I've told you this isn’t the same as the rest of the camp. You don’t avert your eyes, or do anything else you are taught. While you are in this room you are relaxed. OK?” She sounded a little annoyed to say the least.

	“Yes Miss Emma”, I answered. 

	“Good, well we will start then.” She threw her gown onto the floor, and I surveyed her. There wasn’t a hair on her body that wasn’t on her head. Immaculate. She spread her legs so I could see her genitals, and she then explained what she liked. 

	“Let’s start you off easy. I want you to bring me to orgasm using your tongue. If you flick my clit and swirl your tongue around there, it is very pleasurable” she said. I must confess at this point that I have never had any sexual relations with anyone and this was a new experience for me. I was entering the unknown.

	My mouth made contact with her nether regions and I began to flick the clit and swirl as best I could with my tongue. She groaned in pleasure but kept directing me. After a couple of minutes she stopped telling me what to do as she was groaning too much!

	I could smell her musky scent as it began to fill the room, and she began grinding against my face. She came with a loud orgasm and I instinctively stopped.

	“Adam, that’s a cardinal sin, you should never stop until instructed to” she said to me. I went back to her clit, but she stopped me. 

	“We need to do massage first”, she explained and then proceeded to talk me through the process needed to give her a good massage. I got some massage oil from the counter next to the bed, and started gently rubbing into her back. She kept giving me pointers and tips. I could her Heinrich giving Helga a good time. I know she knew that I was listening to them, and she smiled. 

	“Bit noisy, aren’t they?” she said to me. I was surprised at the question, but responded accordingly. After which she turned on the stereo next to her. Rock music started up, and she started singing along to it. I knew I was getting more relaxed, and after awhile she started talking to me. It was just general conversation, but this room and this training, was a world apart from the rest of the camp.

	I continued to massage her back, and then she leant over and gave me a bottle of cream. It was some sort of moisturiser, with added vitamins.

	“Put this all over me, and rub it in”, she said to me. I took the cream, it came out cool and I started to apply it to her body. She started when the coolness first hit her body, but as I rubbed it into the skin, she got used to it. I did her legs and arms and then she rolled over and I did the other side of her! Her eyes were closed as I applied the cream. I was worried about going near her clitoris and steered clear of it. 

	Emma was enjoying the attention, and continued to talk to me. When I had finished she sat up. She turned the radio off, and then began to recite a spiel about all the different sexual practices and what they are called.
	
[expand] reword next scene – too forward. Emma to be confident but not this forward

	“I will introduce you to some of them later this week”, she explained to me, “but every girl always likes to get a good fucking” She took out a condom and passed it to me. I knew what was coming, and she then went into a long talk about how to have better technique.

	“All girls love a good rogering, and you will be expected to give them one”. She laid back and spread her legs out wide. I donned the condom and started to penetrate her. She did not gasp and accepted it readily.

	I thrust my hips gradually, and she began to moan in pleasure. “You can come when you want”, she told me. I was glad at this, and began to move back and forth more. I visualised Emma as Becky and got more and more excited. She screamed in pleasure, and orgasmed, moments before I did. I collapsed back on the bed, but got a stern rebuke.

	“I don’t want to just stop like that”, she told me. “If you can’t perform again, then I expect you to lick me out until you can.” I started to do as told and she exploded many times. As she came I could smell her juices and she thrust her hips against my face, as my tongue darted around her clitoris. 
	
	“I want to go again”, she said to me, and I replaced the condom with a fresh one, and we started again. My heart was racing, and I pounded against the girl. I thrust my penis deep inside her, and she moaned more than ever. She clearly liked me being very forceful with my thrusting! Once again she came before me, and once I had come I went down to her clitoris again to like her out but she stopped me. She looked at the clock.

	“It is 10:45, we have to meet Helga in a minute, and I don’t want to meet her with juices all over the place. We will take a shower.” She got up and pulled me inside a little room I hadn’t seen before. On one side, sex toys were lined up, and on the other was a large shower cubicle. She got in and I got in with her, and cool water enveloped our bodies. She gave me a sponge and I washed her down, as she washed me down. It wasn’t a slave – mistress thing anymore. It was me being more experienced. Maybe that is why girls like this exist. It gives guys like me, people to learn off, so when we meet that special girl, we can please them in a way they would never have had. 
	
	After the shower I was passed a gown and wore that, while Emma re-robed herself. 

	Helga and Heinrich appeared. They were both stark naked.

	“What shall we do?” Emma asked Helga. “How was Heinrich?” 

	“Very good”, replied Helga. Emma said she could hear them! “OK to move onto Stage 2?” Helga asked Emma. Emma responded that this was OK, and so we retired to our previous quarters.

	“Stage 2” was unprotected intercourse. This was only allowed as my blood tests had proven that I had no STDs in my body, and that Emma was on “The Pill”, and under these conditions it was safe, or as safe as it could be. 

	Unprotected sex is preferable to me, it felt so much better. She seemed to enjoy it more as well, and after lunch, which was much better than the pathetic offering we normally get, she went through a few positions, and we tried them.

	“Before we start again Adam, for today, and the rest of the week, you orgasm, and come when you want to, unless told otherwise.” 

	[EXPAND] ???????

Tuesday afternoon wasn’t as much fun as I had hoped. Helga would be showing me and Heinrich videos and pointing out particular points in them. Emma wasn’t there, as Heinrich and I sat down to see “Pleasuring Women”, “Good boys and bad boys” (Volumes 1 and 2) and “Passion Beat”.

	“Pleasuring Women” was about a succession of men, all pleasuring these three women (likened to goddesses), in a variety of ways. This film was commissioned by Fyllen Island’s Government, and it points out certain features in the sexual activities.

	“Good boys and bad boys” was also commissioned by the Government, and it shows a succession of men doing certain acts. The ones that did it well were the good boys. The ones that did it badly were the bad ones. Hardly Shakespeare is it?

	“Passion Beat” was, in my opinion, the best one of the lot. It consisted of men and women on an even footing, but all the sexual activity took place outside. It was exhibitionism. 

	By the time we had seen the video collection, it was mid afternoon, and we were given some sandwiches. In the late afternoon, Heinrich and I were given leave to do what we wanted and so we jogged round the campus. When I say we were given leave to do what we wanted, what I mean is that the tutor for the course sent us back to our cell, and we then asked the guard if were allowed to do what we wanted to, in this case jog. Otherwise we would be sent to do some work, or, worse taken by a mistress to play some “games”, which normally involved either rape or humiliation and always pain. 

	Wednesday was enlightening to say the least. Emma was going to introduce to me a number of alternative sexual practices, and she had a list in front of her. Most were disgusting, and had I been doing the main course, for me to go and work in Brothels I would have experienced all of them to a much higher standard. Instead, I had a mild introduction and for most that was more than enough.

	The first scene I was introduced to was “Mysophilia”. Mysophilia is the pleasure of indulging in sexual activity in a dirty environment. Emma explained that this can be anything from sweaty bodies and mud pits to sewers and nappies. Either way she selected that we should have sex in the mud pit outside. Lake Portswood has a big assault course, and one beneath the trees there is a big mud pit. It is only a foot deep for most of it, but it consists completely of mud and dirt. We walked over to it, and there was no one around. She disrobed, and I followed suit, before she looked at me.

	“Women want animal passion, Adam”. I did not let her finish, as I threw her into the mud. She smiled and I joined her. Her hair was already dirty and I eased myself between her thighs and began pounding. The mud eased around our naked bodies, and as I powered myself in and out of her, it squelched. Emma began to groan and squeal in pleasure. I drove harder and harder showing her no mercy. She wanted animal passion, she got it. She climaxed and let out a satisfied scream. I ejaculated deep inside her, and then rolled over, into the mud. 

	We laid there half-exhausted for a moment, before Emma started throwing mud at me. To any passer-by the sight that they saw was worthy of closer inspection, but no one came to interrupt us. A naked mistress having a mud fight, which was near enough a mud wrestle, with a naked slave is not a common occurrence at the camp. 

	A shower later we were clean again, and Emma wanted to introduce me to another sort of practise. It was to be Urophilia, or golden showers, as it is often called. For those of you who live in blissful ignorance, golden showers is the term that is used when people urinate, or piss on other people. In practice Urophilia is more than that, with some people choosing to drink or bathe in their partners waste, but Emma didn’t want to do that with me on this course. On the main course, they spend a day in the sewers!

	It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to work out which one out of Emma and I would do the expelling and which one would get the soaking. I was taken back into the shower and laid down underneath her.

She told me to look up and I did. I just had enough time to see her start to pee, before I closed me eyes. I smelt the urine come cascading down as it bounced off my face and down my body. It was warm, and very smelly. She had a lot of pee to expel and for over a minute I endured this disgusting situation.

	I say it is disgusting and it was. When she had finished, she told me to get up, and I looked down. Yellow liquid was at the base of the shower.

	“Do you need to pee?”, Emma asked me. I did, and she knelt down and told me to release. I started getting an erection, and began to pee quickly. She drank some of it, but let the rest bounce of her face and the fall down her body, like a waterfall. I had nowhere near the amount of urine that Emma had, and she looked disappointed.
	
	“Love a good golden shower”, she explained to me. “It's what happens when you teach on the sex course. It turns you into a pervert!”

	Once again we showered, and Emma retrieved her list. She ticked off a couple of things on her list

	[expand]

	At lunchtime

	In the evening, I was called to go and see Emma. I was already jogging around the camp, when a guard came up to me to fetch me. I was getting a little dark, and was beginning to rain slightly.

	“4551, you are wanted by Emma. Come this way”, she told me. I recognised the guard from my previous dealings with her, and she was very nice. She smiled at me as I was escorted across the camps and into the residence blocks. The residence blocks were outside the central camp walls, but within the outer walls. Basically, it was half-way out. I was taken to the most remote of the blocks, well away from any of the other buildings, and then taken up the stairs to the first floor. The guard knocked, and Emma answered. She had a large suite, and was wearing just her dressing gown, which was navy and had her name embroidered on the left hand side in white lettering. 

	“Come in, Adam”, she told me, and I entered. I heard Emma thanking the guard, and the guard was told that if I needed to be picked up she would ring her.

	Emma’s quarters were big. She had a large lounge, a large bedroom, with en-suite, another bathroom, a spare room, and a kitchen with a dining table. I was impressed. She saw me looking around, and spoke to me.

	“Impressive isn’t it? I'm the top tutor in sexual education so they gave me this as an incentive to work at the camps, and here is the only place they do the full sex course.”

	“It’s very nice, Miss Emma”, I answered, looking round.

	“Please, Adam, call me Emma”

	“Yes Miss….err Emma”. She smiled at me, and then walked round so she was facing me.

	“I suppose you are wondering why you are here”

	“It had crossed my mind”, I replied truthfully. I was wondering why I was here, although I guessed I already knew. 

	“Adam, I’ll be honest with you. I know your sort of boy. You are the sweet sort, and to be honest, your sort should never be on this course. You like sex, but you only like it when its with the person you love, and that’s great, and if there were more people like you in the world, then people like me would never get laid. I know I'm a slut, and that’s why I'm so good at teaching sex at the camps. I've had so much experience. I can tell you are tense whenever you walk into that room, and you need to lose some inhibitions or I can’t pass you on Friday.”

	“I don’t want to fail you, but if I do then you will have an unhappy weekend with the special classes, so I am doing what very many mistresses wouldn’t, and I'm giving you some private tuition tonight, and I hope that you will respond to that. OK?”

	“Yes, thank you Emma” I replied, a little stunned by what she had said. She moved over to me, and touched me. Her arms went around my waist, and I looked down at her.

	“Put your arms around me”, she told me, and I did so gingerly, clearly nervous.

	“Properly – this isn’t going to work unless you can be relaxed. You need to imagine I am the person who you have lusted over for years. I am the one true love of yours, and this is the first time you can have me. Imagine me as a princess, or a film star”. I tightened my grip on her, and pulled her closer to me. “That’s better”. Our mouths met in a passionate embrace.  
	
	My tongue delved into her mouth, and I massaged her tongue with mine. My grip moved down to her arse, and her arms moved up my back, before she pulled away from our kiss. 

	“Better, but I can tell you are still nervous. Come with me”, she told me. I was taken to her spare bedroom, where a double bed was in the corner. She removed my shirt, and although it wasn’t cold I covered my bare chest with my arms. She removed them, and then pushed me onto the bed. I had already removed my shoes that I had when I entered, and so she just removed my shorts to leave me totally exposed. 

	She was robed and I was naked. That wasn’t fair, but she corrected it, by removing the robe to reveal her impeccable naked body. She was so sexy, and every move she made was seductive in the extreme. As the robe fell to the floor, my eyes fleeted around her body. She looked at me and raised her eyebrow. She was the closest thing to perfection. 

	“Turn over”, she told me, and I did. She got some oil and began to gently massage it into my back. It felt so good. I could also feel her sitting on my behind as she kneaded and manipulated the muscles in my back. 

	As she did this, she spoke to me. She explained a lot about her childhood, but more was her work. She liked her work. She liked it a lot. She told me a lot of personal things, like when she had a bisexual relationship, and when she slept with her tutor in exchange for “A” grades. Whatever she was, and in many ways she was a slut, she was very good at making me feel relaxed. Her hands glided around my body like skaters on an ice rink. There were no sudden movements, just gentle graceful flowing actions. 

	I wish I had her skills. Any relationship I entered into, I wanted to be able to make my partner feel as relaxed and as unstressed as I felt now. She stopped and then applied her hands once more, this time to my legs. I knew I was getting erect. I could feel it expanding against my chest, as I was lying down. Once again her hands felt around my inner thigh and it felt sensual. I knew that I would probably have intercourse with this girl tonight, but my body was impatient. I felt as though I wanted her right now. Not later, now. This lack of self-control was worrying as I had never had this much passion in me before. Emma had installed this animal instinct into me. Lustful thoughts raced through my mind and I felt as though I no longer had control. The power of my body had been passed onto Emma. 

[expand] rewrite of last passage. Possible. Maybe slight rewording.

	Emma didn’t stop massaging and rubbing my legs, but instead moved down to my knees, and then my ankles. She was making sure every part of my body was applied with the cream that she had. After she had finished, she told me to turn over, so I did. My now, erect cock, stood out for everyone to see, and I went a little red.

	I went very red in fact, and Emma looked at it. “Bingo, we have lift off”, she said smiling. She lowered herself onto me, and I put my arms around her. Once again our tongues met in an embrace. Emma was an expert at sex, and it showed. Even though we hadn’t even had sex yet, my body was tingling, although this was certainly the anticipation of what was to come. It was a double bed, so she was able to roll over without falling off the edge, and I was suddenly on top of her. Her legs parted and I inserted my erect member into her hole. There was no reaction. It had happened often enough for her, and so I began to thrust. She groaned, and moaned, and squealed as I pounded in and out of her. The squelching began to be more than audible, and the sex. Ahhh….it felt so good. 

	It felt good, not because this was a girl I liked, although I did like her, but this was sex. At long last I experienced sex which wasn’t tied to a relationship. I wanted to shed my “sweet little boy” image. I wasn’t a sweet little boy. I was a slut now. I was having sex with this girl – and enjoying it. Who enjoys slavery? No one, and yet I was here getting extreme pleasure from a course on my training. That was bad. That made me a slut. But in some ways, that was good. I felt I was half way towards removing the stereotype that had dogged me since I had been at school. 

	Emma was moaning more and more, and I released inside her. I know she didn’t achieve an orgasm, but I wanted to make sure she did. With my cock still leaking cum, I knelt down on the bed, and began to lick her moist crevice. She was soaking down there, with her own juices, and with sweat, and it was in the air. I could smell it, clearly. I enjoyed going down on Emma, for some reason. As my tongue spun around her clitoris she squealed more and more before erupting into an orgasm. Her hips were thrusting against my face. Her juices leaked more and more. I did not stop, until she screamed at me to do so.

	“Even I have limits Adam”, she told me. I laughed, and move up her so our faces were level and kissed her once again. She pushed me onto the bed, and I laid back, content.

	Emma was clearly not content, as she engulfed me with her arms, and kissed me, more passionately than before. I was tired, and I think she was too, as before long we were both asleep in each others arms.

	A couple of hours later, Emma woke up and then woke me up.

	“Fucking hell Adam, you should have been in your cell by now”

	Clearly finished with the evening’s labour, I got dressed, after we had both had our shower. She held my hand, and led me into her kitchen. She made us both a cup of tea, and we talked while we drank it. 

	“Adam, if you do what you did in there on Friday, I can promise you a good pass” she told me. I was surprised. I was only here as I was under the impression I was not open enough.

	“But I thought I was no good at your course.”

	She laughed. A sort of weird cackle and then spoke. “You are, and you aren’t if that makes sense.  When you can relax then the sex is good. Very good. But when you can’t then it’s a fail I'm afraid. If I'm honest I did want you to be more at ease with me and so you would pass, but it’s a long time since I slept with a boy like you. Sweet and gentle – and they make the best lays. Most of the boys I teach can bring me to orgasm, but so what? Everyone can. I'm yet to find a person – male or female who can’t. You are different as I feel as you have a personality. Underneath the sex, there is a person and not just an object” I listened in disbelief. Here was a girl who thought of me as a human being and not as an object. And more than that, a mistress was saying that. 

	“Thank you Emma” was all I could say. 

	“Come on drink up, you have a long, and stressful day ahead of you tomorrow.” I finished the rest of the tea, and then went to the toilet in her apartment, and then she walked me back to the residence blocks. She saw the guard and waved to her, before I was taken to my cell that I shared with many other slaves. The main guard saw me with Emma, and then went to her list.

	“Ah 4551, the last to come back. Been up to stupid stunts again has he?”

	Emma responded in almost horror, “No he has been fine. This was some follow up from my course. He is my model student”. The guard looked almost horrified, and picked up her keys.

	“Follow me”, she told me and I was taken to my cell smirking.

	Thursday was a mixed bag. Heinrich and I weren’t to know it, but today would be an introduction to a sexual practice I didn’t think I’d ever want to experience but once tried, I wouldn’t object to it. It would not be my endeavour of choice, but I not rule it out completely. Thursday was anal sex. 

	This was on the course for three reasons. For a start, the society was revolved around male enslavement and women take pleasure from our pain. They enjoy seeing us unhappy and in discomfort. The second reason is that if they see a slave stretched out being fucked up the arse, this is their entertainment. It is our humiliation.  The last reason is that many girls like being taken from behind, and I should be prepared for this eventuality.

	Whatever the main reason, it meant that the next few hours would be spent with my arse being taken, and me taking other arses!  

	Emma set the screen up, and began almost immediately. We had already been introduced to what to expect. She didn’t mention last night, and this was good in a way. I didn’t want Helga or Heinrich to know about my “extra training”.

	“To start with, we’ll just spend half an hour, with me showing you how to take women from behind.” She showed me a video of a guy taking a girl from behind. She seemed to like it. I did wonder whether my future owner would prefer it, but that seemed a long way off. 

	“Girls, who like anal sex, won’t be so tight, but girls who are virgins in that department will be, and you will cause them a lot of pain, as you will discover soon. Now I love anal sex. I love all sorts of sex, but I really love anal sex, as does Helga, so we can give you plenty of tips” I was a bit worried, but she continued. “To start with, you always take some lubricant”. She got a big tub and told me to take a generous portion, which I did. She bent over the bed, which made her look very attractive.

	“Now smear half of what you have around the rim of my anus.” I duly complied, and she didn’t even move. “Now lubricate your erect penis” she added, which I did. 

	“Gently insert your penis into my arse, taking care to stop when I tell you to”. I did gently insert my penis into her, but she had been taken many times before, and she had no need to stop me. Once I was in, I started to take her. She didn’t groan as much as she did when we had intercourse, but she was enjoying it nethertheless. The odd squeal or groan she emitted, until suddenly, she burst into an orgasm. At first I thought she was faking it, but as I continued to negotiate her sphincter, she continued to orgasm. 

	I enjoyed taking her from behind, and soon after I came, as she came for her second time. She clearly felt me come inside her, as she told me to withdraw carefully. I did, and she turned round. She sat on the bed, and encouraged me to the same. 

	“See, it's not that hard. Now your sphincter will not be as stretched as mine, and therefore you won’t be able to take anything so easily. Therefore we go stretch it a bit. Bend over”. I duly bent over the bed, still panting, and she lubricated my anus, before inserting, a “small” butt plug in. It felt as though my body was being torn apart. 

	“Now just leave that there for the time being”, she told me, and went to the corner of the room. I wanted to try and get it out; it was not painful but uncomfortable and I didn’t want it there. My anal muscles were trying to remove the plug but it would not move. 

	Emma returned ten minutes later, and replaced the butt plug with a wider one, which hurt even more. “Helga is still with Heinrich, so you are having a head start, aren’t you lucky?” I could detect the sarcasm in her voice.
	
	She departed once more, but returned a bit later, with Heinrich and Helga. I was told to stay bending over the bed. Helga then repeated everything Emma had said to me about stretching my ring of muscle around the anus. 

	“Let’s see if he is ready”, I heard Emma say. She moved about the room, and then removed the butt plug. She replaced it with something else, and it began to vibrate in my hole. My already stretched was taking more than it could. It hurt. It was agony. I began to yell in pain, and Emma slapped me.

	“Be quiet”, she yelled out. “Take it like a man. What are you a man or a mouse?” It was the first time she had ever been curt with me and I did not like it. Tears formed in my eyes, I began to sob quietly to myself.

	“Is he crying?” Helga asked. Emma looked round and saw my red eyes, and she immediately reacted. 

	“Right”, she said. She looked at Heinrich, and told him to mount me. Heinrich paused, and she barked at him. The vibrator was yanked from me, and instead was replaced by a real penis. I wasn’t gay. I didn’t want to be taken by another guy. I didn’t have time to think, as a well lubricated penis violated me.

	Heinrich slowly thrusted deep inside me, and it was painful. I was erect, but how could I be enjoying this? With each thrust, the pain went deeper. I was being split in two. The two girls were cheering us on, and Heinrich came sooner rather than later. It was not quickly enough for me, and as he released, he withdrew. I remained on the bed as Emma and Helga congratulated Heinrich, and left me, with my semen soaked anus alone. 

	Emma left, and I was left crying on the bed, but she returned ten minutes later. I looked up to see her, and she saw my red eyes, and pathetic stare.

	“From now on, every time you are taken, it will hurt less, and you will enjoy it more. Trust me, I'm the expert. It was worth getting it out of the way”. She picked me up, and sat on the bed. She put her long arms around me, and then passionately kissed me on the lips. 

	I could not understand how a girl, so vicious and nasty one moment, could be so loving the next. My tongue delved deeper into her mouth, before she stopped. A scream rang out from behind the screen, and she spoke. It felt like last night once more.

	“Heinrich is getting the same treatment you did.” She went back to kissing me, before she moved down my body. With one hand, she gripped me erect member, and began stroking it. With the other hand I was pushed back onto the bed, as she slowly played with me. Hands ran over me body when she wasn’t toying with my cock and as Heinrich yelled and screamed in pain, I was groaning in pleasure. Emma wouldn’t let me come to orgasm, but instead let me get just before, and then stop. 

	In many ways that was the worst kind of torture. It was teasing. Showing me what I could have, and then cruelly taking it. In a way I hated her for it, but in another way I was becoming to really like her. As I nearly climaxed once more, I looked longingly into her eyes, and she grinned. She clearly did this to every slave she taught. 

	Once again she brought me close to the beloved orgasm and excitement I needed, and then she engaged her mouth around my penis, and began to give me a blow job.  Slowly she sucked my greasy pole, and the excitement was too much. I pumped my hot semen deep into her throat and she swallowed no problem. She took a gulp of the glass of water to wash my love juice down, and then she sat up. I was worn out from her little game with me, and she went next door. 

	Five minutes later, she returned with a slight smile.

	“We think you and Heinrich need some time to get acquainted with anal intrusions, and so we are going to let you.” She walked over and extracted a yellow vibrator. “Get off the bed, and bend over it.”

	I bent over the bed, as ordered, and she spread my legs apart. I was ankle-cuffed to the foot of the bed, and then she handcuffed me to the other side of it. She then smeared some lubricant around my anus, and then inserted the vibrator. It wasn’t big, but it felt enormous. It felt as though they had inserted a sofa into my rectal cavity. Slowly the discomfort died away and the sensation of the vibrating took its place. I saw Emma leave the room.

	I was left alone, with a vibrating buzzing away in my arse, and no way to remove it. To be honest I didn’t want to remove it. Although I wasn’t going to ejaculate from it, the sensation it gave was giving me an erection, and it was different. I didn’t know if it was pleasurable. It was slightly uncomfortable. It was slightly painful, but not all pain is bad. 

	I allowed my thoughts to wander back to Becky and although it's wrong, I did fantasize about the way I wanted her to be here and not Emma. Emma was nice. She was attractive, pleasant, and very good in bed – I just wanted Becky to be experiencing me in this way, and not some stranger. 

	Twenty minutes must easily have passed until Emma returned. She was with Helga, but not Heinrich. She went next door, and picked out a couple of papers. She passed them to Helga who started reading them. Emma then went and checked to make sure my vibrator was still buzzing in the hole, and then turned to Helga, asked her if she wanted a cup of tea, and then left with her to go to the canteen.
	
	For over two hours the vibrator electrified my anus. Pleasure came, pain came, and discomfort came. Everything came and went, and I was glad when Emma came in and removed the sex toy from me. 

	“So do you like anal sex?” she asked me. 

	“A bit. I prefer other things that I have been taught”. I answered honestly and she looked at me. I was crooking my neck to see her as I was still cuffed up, and she walked around behind me. Slowly she began to feel me up. 

	“Bit hairy aren’t we?” I did not possess a large amount of body hair, but I had a fair amount. She went next door, and got, what was a shaver. When she returned she placed the utensils she needed on a chair and released me. It was only momentarily, as she then retied me up spread-eagled on the bed. 

	The electric motor buzzed in her hands, and felt positively bad, after my experience with the vibrator. Every morning we are shaved in the face before we have our shower, but she first of all shaved under my arms. I had a bit of hair there, but it went quickly. She then turned her attentions to my pubes.

	She put down her shaver and instead got the bowl of lather she had and smeared it generously in my pubic hair. I had little pubic hair since it was shaved off on my first day here, but I had a little. What I had went white, and she picked up a big chunk of the lather in her hands. 

	“Now Adam, pubic hair is one thing that stops a man looking like a boy. Why shouldn’t I shave it off for you?” I hesitated, and she got the lather in her hands and started rubbing it over my legs. My penis became erect for the millionth time that day, and she started flicking the soap at me.

	“I'm not going to shave it off, as I consider pubic hair is lower class and that what slaves are, but I will shave your legs though” I smiled gratefully. I didn’t want shaven legs, but I wanted to keep my pubic hair, the little bit I had left! 

	She took her razor, and gently removed my hair. She talked to me as she went. She admitted that she was sex mad, and that she really enjoyed her work, and asked if I had enjoyed the course. I admitted I had, and was not looking forward to returning to normality in the camp.

	My legs were de-fuzzed by 12.30 and she looked at the clock. She said she would return soon, and left me strapped up, having first donned a robe.

	Sure enough fifteen minutes later she returned with two plates of food. It was Chicken Tikka – one of my favourite dishes. 

	“I know you like Chicken Tikka”, she told me, “You admitted it a couple of days ago. I was unstrapped and told to get dressed which I did I still had lather in my nether regions, which I washed off. When I came back into the room, Emma was sitting on the bed. Her white robe was all she was wearing, and it made her look so very sexy. 

	I sat on the bed also and was given my plate of Chicken Tikka Masala. 

	“I figured you deserved a treat, for taking this so well. Most slaves don’t like anal sex. They see it as a violation of their manliness. You and Heinrich have adapted very well. Having seen you today I would say you should have done the full course. I think we could have had a very good partnership”

	This was indeed good news. If she thought I was good enough at sex to work in a brothel then I would definitely pass the course tomorrow, which was one step closer to leaving the camp. Every step taken was not to be scoffed at. 

	After the delicious meal (I think the chef was a bit coconut heavy), Emma said that Heinrich and I would be going for a walk. We left the camp, although I was handcuffed to Emma and Helga was handcuffed to her Heinrich. 

	“We like going for a walk after anal sex”, Emma said. “It doesn’t take long, and the walk does you good”. The views were spectacular. Rolling hills and beautiful valleys, broken only by the odd car. We spent three to four hours walking, before returning back to the room. Heinrich and I were both shattered, and the girls could see this.

	“You two can have two hours sleep, before you return to your quarters.” Helga decreed, and we thanked her. I had no problems in getting to sleep, and two hours later, Emma woke me up. 

	“Come on lazy, I’ll see you tomorrow”, she said to me, before I got up and was taken by a guard to my lovely flowery dell. I made no attempt to do any exercise, instead reading some of my book given by Miss Paula about males living on the island.

	The chapter on slaves working in brothels was rudely interrupted by the guard.

	“Miss Emma wants to see you”, she told me. I put the book down, and was just getting up when a whip landed across my back. I yelped in surprise more than pain, and she told me to “hurry up” as “she hasn’t got all fucking day”. What a bitch.

	I was taken across past the gates, and into Emma’s block. The guard rang the bell, and Emma answered, dressed in her nightie only. Her nightie was revealing to say the least. A very low cut top and a very short bottom meant it left little to the imagination. 

	“Come in”, she told me, and I entered. Emma spoke to the guard briefly before joining me in her vast room.

	“It’s OK Adam, I haven’t brought you here to have sex with you”, she told me. I was a little disappointed. I wouldn’t pretend for a moment that I loved Emma, but I did feel a lot of affection for her. Maybe a sort of affiliation, but everyone else in the camps treated me as dirt, and Emma was the one that treated me with some sort of fondness. I couldn’t thank her enough for it.

	“I need your help” she told me. “I need to talk to you and get your opinion as a guy. Take a seat”, she told me. I sat down on the couch, and she sat down on the chair next to me. I turned my body so I was almost facing her, and she did so.

	“Adam, do I turn you on?” I looked stunned, and wanted to ask her again if I had heard right. She repeated the question, and I wondered how to answer. Of course she did. She turned everyone on – that was obvious, but I was unsure how to answer – this could be a trick question.

	“Of course you turn me on” I replied. “You turn everyone on”. I picked up her hand, and held it. She smiled at me.

	“Well it’s just that I'm considering breast enlargement”. I looked horrified at her. Why, did she need breast enlargement? She was the closest thing I had ever seen to the perfect body. While her breasts were not large, they were ample. They were big enough for any man, particularly when her figure was the envy of everyone else.

	[expand] rewrite I think. Too easily swayed and Adam way too confident.

	“You don’t need breast enlargement – you have a fantastic body, don’t spoil it” I told her. She laughed a little and then looked down at her feet, which was curled up on the couch.

	“Adam, I don’t feel as though I know myself any more. I sleep with at least one different guy every week. Everyone thinks of me as the loose slut, who passes on her vast experience onto everyone she meets. I think of myself as that. I need to change myself”

	“And you think that by having bigger breasts people aren’t going to think of you as they did before?” I replied.

	“Maybe you don’t understand. I don’t want to be a slut”

	“Who said you were a slut? You did. Everyone else thinks sees the person – the kind mistress who doesn’t beat us slaves. The girl who raises thousands of pounds for charity. The mistress who you can go to if you feel as if you are about to break down. I see my mistress, not some cheap hooker”

	“I'm not a cheap hooker”

	“Yes I know that, but you do want breast enlargements…”

	Emma interrupted me, “I don’t want them; I just feel as though I need them. I don’t want to be Emma Hanson anymore. I want to be someone else”

	“You will always be Emma Hanson. Who that person is, is up to you.” 

	“Hmmm….”

	“Well Adam, what you think I should do to make people see me better”

	“Nobody sees you in a bad light. You don’t need to do anything. If I asked the guard if you were a slut, she would beat me within an inch of my life. You are one of the most highly respected people in here. Everybody loves you. Don’t spoil that”

	Emma then burst into tears. She tried to apologise, but I cuddled her and she put her arms around me. This was the problem with slavery and gender discrimination. Sometimes men needs a woman’s touch and vice versa. All Emma needed was reassurance that she was attractive, and well-liked – and that was best coming from a member of the male species.

	Emma left the room, and brought back a key.	

	“Come on I’ll take you back to your cell” she told me.

	“What in that?” I asked her looking at her sexy, but flimsy nightie. 

	“Do you like it?” she asked me.

	“Yes, what there is of it, I mean there is hardly any of it, but maybe that’s why I like it.” I said jokingly. She smiled at me.

	“I’ll change”, she told me and left the room again briefly. When she returned she was wearing jeans with a white blouse, and she locked her room, and then escorted me across the camp, her hand in my hand.

	Before I entered my cell, she thanked me, and I thanked her back. We kissed briefly, before I was taken by a guard into my cell and I fell asleep.

	Friday was going to be the test. Once again, I was awoken at some ridiculous hour, for the umpteenth time since I had been at the camp, and taken to the showers and then to the room. The guards also afforded me a quick shave, as usual. Emma and Helga weren’t there, but Heinrich was. I eyed him slightly differently after yesterday’s events, but he was OK. We joked and then the two girls arrived. 

	“Friday means test”, Helga said to us, “but first we need to do some stamina assessments” I was not aware that there was fitness requirements, but I was not worried about passing them. I had spent hours running to build up my stamina, as had Heinrich, and so I was sure it was a technicality. 

	Helga and Emma took us down to the running machines on the gym. We had to keep running for two miles keeping a speed of 4 mph throughout. If it dropped, we had ten seconds to get it back up. 

	Heinrich and I could not see the display that was on the console which the girls sat at only. I did some quick maths, and worked out that I would have to be running for at least 30 minutes to ensure that I passed as I need to keep my speed above 4 mph. This was easy as I did this all the time when I jogged around the perimeter wall. 

	Emma and Helga sat down at the console. They were only wearing gowns, and from my view I could see Emma’s legs clearly. They started the machines, and Heinrich and I started running. We knew they wouldn’t stop us when we got to our target, and they didn’t. After about fifteen minutes I was sure I had done the two miles but I kept running, unsure if this was going to count towards my final assessment. I didn’t think it would, but I had no reason to stop. I was tired – it was hard running. After about twenty-five minutes I stopped panting. Heinrich did so a couple of minutes later, and we looked at Emma and Helga, and they smiled.

	“Well done, Adam, you ran 2.7 miles, and Heinrich you made 3.1. Easy passes. You can have ten minutes to get your breath back if you want”

	Emma and Helga left the room, leaving us bent over the machines trying to get our breath. Heinrich asked me if I thought I was going to pass the tests and I said I was. He wasn’t so confident. I had had extra tuition from Emma though!

	Another mistress came in, and shouted at us. We were alone in the room, with no mistress, and casually talking. It was a cardinal sin, as far as she was concerned. She didn’t know what we were up to.

	“We are just waiting for Miss Emma and Miss Helga to return, Miss” I said to her. 

	“Wait there and I sit on the floor. DON’T SIT ON THE CHAIRS” she barked at us, and then left the room. Heinrich and I sat on the floor awaiting her return.

	Emma and Helga returned five minutes later and took us back to main room, without saying a word.

	“Do you know who that was?” Emma asked us. Heinrich and I shook our heads and Emma continued. “That was the Director of the Camp, Miss Claire”. I had heard many things about Miss Claire. She was a strict disciplinarian, who was proud of her camp having the best record for amount of money made at auction. 

	Helga looked at Emma, and told her that as they weren’t allowed to do the main assessments until 12 noon, and that was two hours away, what did she want to do with us until then?

	“It would be improper to continue tuition today”, Emma said, “the tests have to be standard throughout the camp and as most of the slaves don’t get taught today we can't do so as well” Helga agreed, and so they agreed to take Heinrich and I down to the football pitches. 

	The football pitches were unoccupied, which was hardly surprising as slaves weren’t allowed to use them, unless they had a mistress with them. Emma saw one of her friends with a slave, and beckoned her over to play with us, and “Miss Roberta” agreed. The pitches had soft grass which was great to the touch. I hadn’t been on a football pitch for weeks and I loved a good kick-around. The smallest pitch was less than a quarter of the size of a normal pitch, which was adequate for a three-a-side game!

	Emma decreed it should be slaves versus mistresses, and so Heinrich, myself and William had to decide who would be in goal, and what tactics to employ. William was goalkeeper for his college, and so he went in goal. Helga was in goal for the mistresses. Heinrich and myself decided to play together in defence, and go forward when necessary, instead of having a midfield or attack. This strategy was employed by the girls with Emma leading the line.

	Helga had got a ball from the side of the pitch and kicked it up to Emma, who kicked off, passing the ball back to Roberta. Roberta settled on the ball and tried to pass it back to Emma, but Heinrich intercepted and knocked the ball to me, who was already running down the wing. I trapped the ball, and looked up, Heinrich was too far away to be worthwhile passing to, and Roberta was bearing down on me so I made a beeline for goal. Helga came out, and I stroked the ball past her to put the slaves 1-0 up. The game continued like that, with Heinrich and me outplaying the mistresses easily. Heinrich scored most of the goals, including one from almost 30 yards. Emma knocked in a couple, but William was too good for most of her efforts. When Helga blew for time, we must have beaten the mistresses by 30-odd goals to 5. It was a whitewash.

	Roberta and William left, and Emma, Helga, Heinrich and I had a nice kick-about before Emma said that we had better go and do “these bloody tests” 

	The test was weird. It was in two parts – oral and practical. When I say oral, I do not mean I get on my knees and lick her out, fun as that would be. Instead, Emma asked me twenty questions. The practical test is me fucking her brains out as directed, and me given a mark out of 20. If the combined mark is above 30 then I will pass the course.

	After lunch, Emma sat me down and asked me the questions. They had all been mentioned in the week, and I knew almost all of them. Questions about female anatomy, was never going to cause problems, or about the perverse sexual acts I have performed. My final score was 18 for the theory, and therefore for the practical I would have to achieve 12 marks or above. I half did not want to pass the course. The thought of spending another week with Emma was somehow appealing, but as the sex course also runs to humiliation, extreme pain, and mass degradation, I did not want to risk spending another week on it.

	I was taken into the room that been my second home for the last week, and Emma appeared. I had been given ten minutes in the open air to compose myself, and I was back again. She looked at me, and ran down what I had to do. I had thirty minutes, and afterwards she would gauge me. I was not demanded to do anything, it was up to me, but she would stop it, at any time, if she was not happy. She duly disrobed.

	 I removed my clothing as well, and picked up a bottle of massage oil, and began giving Emma a sensuous massage. She purred in delight, as my hands darted around her well-toned body. Aromas of citrus fruits and then tropical wafted around the room as the cool breeze from took the scent all over the room.

	By the time I had finished the massage, I had used up 12 minutes of my 30. Slowly I began to massage her clitoris, and she groaned in delight. This made me more aroused, and I immediately dived down to her shaved area, and began to pleasure the young lady. She emitted her distinctive scent, as juices poured out of her. It turned me on even more, and her squeals and screams echoed around the room.
	
	Emma did not stop me, and I did not want to stop, and when I next looked at the clock I had just five minutes left. With this, I remembered Emma telling me how much she liked anal sex, and I picked up a small vibrator, and applied it generously with lube. It inserted in her anus fine, and she began to groan once more. As the vibrator was going, I inserted my more than erect penis into her well-lubricated pussy. She hardly noticed, but did when I began to thrust passionately. She never stopped squealing.
	
	I ejaculated deep inside her, but she had climaxed long before me. She had orgasmed so many times even she had lost count. Slowly I removed the vibrator from her anus. She ordered me to go and get showered, which I did and then clothed myself. I met Heinrich outside the room, and we were taken back down to the open air. Emma and Helga would talk, and then decide on the grades for us.  The guard knew what Emma and Helga were like, and she just took us down to a small room which a desk and four chairs. 

	“Just wait here” she told us, and we did. She left, and so we spoke. Heinrich was happy, as he thought he would pass easily. 

	“I so want to work in a brothel”, he told me. That’s him, and about 95% of the slaves then! We talked openly about our experiences. It was easier talking to Heinrich as he had undergone the same things I had done. After about twenty minutes, maybe more, we were taken back to Emma and Helga. They were smiling, and dressed, and the screens were back.

	“Heinrich you got 18 and so your final score is 34”, said Helga, “and Adam you got 19 and so your final score is 37”. We both looked relieved, and Helga continued. “They are both good scores, and it is a shame you are not doing the full sex course as I think you both could do very well.”

	I, for one, was relieved I was not doing the full course, as the thought of spending an entire week doing “anal sex” was not a nice one!

Friday evening was spent relaxing. Relaxing at the camp meant running around it, under the supervision of various guards. I knew that I would have stamina assessments, and it was in my interests to pass them! I knew I would probably pass them anyway but I enjoyed the cool night air, and while I was out of my cell, it meant I could not be randomly selected by a depraved mistress who wants to practice her “torture methods”. There was light rain, but this was soothing and refreshing as I jogged around the enclosure 

	After two hours of this strength-sapping activity I was ushered back to the cell, and the door slammed home. I did not realise it immediately, but I was alone in the cell. I fell asleep, but in the morning, it dawned on me that I was completely alone. I looked out of the cell “window”. In practice it is about 6 inches square with two thick metal bars across it. I gazed across the main yard and it was awash with police officers. I sat back down and went to sleep. It had amazed me that I had woken naturally as opposed to having my sleep brutally interrupted by some tart on a power complex.

	An unknown time later, I was awoken and taken to the showers alone. I was then taken to Emma. She was in her own study which was next to the room in which I spent a week in, trying to master the sex course. It was bigger than Miss Paula’s. I had no reason to know why I was here, but she ordered me to sit down on the large sofa. Emma’s room was in a different building to Miss Paula’s, and also commanded better views out of the window. Emma lost no time in talking to me.

	“Good morning Adam. I am sure you are wondering why you are here?” I answered in agreement. I was slightly perplexed as to my reason for being here as I knew I had passed her course. “Last night 23 inmates escaped from here, and three mistresses have been implicated in their breakout, one of which was Paula Westbridge. As a result, they have been taken away for investigation, and as a result I have been ordered to take over her slaves for training.”

	“So from now on Adam, I am Miss Emma to you, OK?”

	“Yes Miss Emma”, I replied. I hated saying “Yes Miss” or whatever as it reminded me of when I was in primary school and was eight, but I had to, or else I would be beaten, and I longed to get out of here.

	“Good, well I have a lot of work to do, and so you can go and go some exercises down at the gym or something”. She shouted to the guard who was outside the door, who came in and threw me out of the room. Saturday, and indeed Sunday was spent training for my stamina assessments. I could now run two miles in a little 13 minutes which isn’t that bad a time. My muscles were growing, and I felt stronger. Not that this made a massive difference in the scheme of things. A slave with bulging biceps or a slave without is still a slave, and my biceps weren’t bulging anyway!

	I knew Week 4 was going to be language lessons and manual work. I knew I would pass both easily as I had an English course under my belt, and four weeks of (semi) intense labour. On Monday and Tuesday we sat naked in a classroom while the “teacher” explained what to say and what not to say. A double negative is a not allowed. Be brief. It was basic English and it bored me. Better than getting whipped though.

	The brightest moment was when one of the mistresses, who was clearly new, started by telling us a joke. “How do you know shoes go to heaven or hell? They have soles”. Appalling I'm sure you will agree, but welcome nethertheless. 
	
	Wednesday and Thursday was just as boring. We (that’s me and four other unfortunate souls) spent this time in the gym and running around the camp in the rain. The weather had decided that the cool breezes and bright sunshine would be replaced with gale force winds and excessive rain, for when I had to spend my most amount of time running outside. Someone somewhere has a terrible sense of humour.

	I had no trouble with the weights and come Friday, I sailed through the assessments of both of the courses. Miss Emma was pleased when she told me on Friday, and just for good measure, she instructed me to give her a massage.

	Now for those of you with good memories, I need not introduce what happened this weekend. Saturday was of course spent preparing for my stamina assessments, and Sunday was my little trip to Nurse Tanya. I thought to myself, she is my “n-enema-sis”	.

	I was not to know it would be Miss Tanya again, either way it was two weeks since the last time my rectum was pumped with water, and I knew I was due another one. I was hoping that “they” would forget. It got to midday Sunday and it looked like they had. I got permission to go do some running, even though the weather was raining slightly, and off I went. From one of the guard towers, they observed as me and two other boys jogged around the course, occasionally offering suggestions such as “Move you lazy bastards” or “My dead dog can run faster than that”, with added expletives. After about two hours and umpteen laps later I was knackered, but I would have been prepared to jog more, given the choice between Miss Tanya and running. Two guards approached me, and didn’t give me that option.

	I entered Miss Tanya’s room covered in mud, and sweaty. She looked up, as did her supervisor who was with her, looking over some paperwork.

	“Look at the state of him”, said her supervisor. “Go have a shower” She pointed to an open shower with a glass front. I would be completely visible and exposed, but this the norm for me at the moment.

	The shower was warm and refreshing. Hot water was provided for the first time in four weeks, and I loved the feeling. My aching muscles were soothed, but my joy was short lived. Miss Tanya opened the door and surveyed me.

	“Been running have we?” she asked. “Try anything to get out a visit here, wont you?” She smiled. 

	“No Miss, I just went for a run, I promise” I responded. She had probably seen it a lot, where slaves try and get out of their visit, and she could see through me. She didn’t make it obvious though, and just replied “Yeah OK”.

	I stretched out on the bed, and she took my blood pressure.

	“Bit high, someone has been doing some physical exercise. I’ll take it again at the end” There was a cool breeze in the room, which was particularly noticeable due to the fact I wasn’t wearing any clothes, and any nudist will testify – draughts round your nether regions don’t go unnoticed!  They may be enjoyable to some, but you know they are there nethertheless.	

	Samples of my blood and urine were taken, and then she took my weight, height, and then some running test. Lastly of course was my enema.

	It was different this time; she just put in water and emptied it, until I got to the end when she said “I want to play a little game with you”. These words would strike fear into any slave, and she had access to my arse! 

	I did not see what she did at the time, but she filled my rectum with a substance that wasn’t water. Almost immediately after it was all in, I was having heavy duty stomach cramps. She then put a butt plug in my arse and then fixed it in firmly using a special belt. There was no way I could get it out. 

	“We will have a little quiz”, she told me. “I will ask you some questions and when you have got enough questions correct, I will remove the belt and the plug” This meant I had to hold in this substance for a probably a minimum of five minutes.

	Miss Tanya then proceeded to ask me questions from a sheet she had in front of her. They were all about the revolution and the camp and I got most of them right. The cramps got more and more serious, and after fifteen questions she decided I had had enough.  She walked over casually, and felt my stomach, I could see it contracting and she undid the belt and took out the plug. I rushed over to the toilet, and expelled. The liquid was white and she just flushed it away.

	“You will need to stay here for at least an hour because you are going to keep on cramping”, she said to me, “it's my own special recipe”.

	“OK Miss”

	“You lasted seven minutes 44 seconds, and you didn’t crack. Normally they break down after three and beg and scream. That’s a good time”

	 “How long do you last, Miss?” I enquired. She looked at me for a moment, and then answered.

	“The only time I've tried it was four minutes. I must do it again.” She looked at her watch, and then said, “I can do it now. I got no-one else to check after you”. I smiled. I know I smiled. I wanted to make sure she experienced the cramps as much as I did. She went with me and she prepared the special mixture with me. Milk was the main ingredient, but loads of other things went in. She put it in a bag, and then got a nozzle out. 

	“I'm just going to change”, she said to me, and went behind a screen. When she came out, she was wearing an “all-body sock”. It was white and was thin Lycra, and covered the body from ankle to wrist to neck. When she turned round, I saw there was a big hole (about six inches round) cut out where the arse was. She got onto the bench in the foetal position and I inserted the nozzle, generously coated in lubricant, in her anus and she told me to open the valve. 

	“Tanya’s torture solution” or whatever she was going to call it took just two or three minutes to fill her up and then she told me to put a butt plug in. I took the green one off her desk as instructed and inserted it. I then took the belt and connected it to the plug and she did it up at the front. She looked at the clock and laid down, She then began talking to me

	“I'm an enema fetishist”, she confessed to me. “This is the only reason I became a nurse to do these health checks as I knew I would be able to perform enemas on so many people”. This hardly surprised me. We talked for well over ten minutes when it got so unbearable she leapt up and ripped the belt off and expelled. I was aroused!

	“Twelve minutes eight seconds”, she said proudly, “and that’s my second enema of the day”. She then took my blood pressure again which was much better. We still had forty minutes to kill. She looked over at my notes.

	“You’ve done the sex education course”, she asked me, in a slightly excited tone”.

	“Yes Miss”, I replied.

	“Did they teach you how to administer an enema?” she asked. 

	“No Miss. We had them, but not really how to administer one”. 

	“Oh then I will”, she answered to me, and then proceeded to tell me and instruct me. Finally she had two water enemas which I administered with her providing hints and tips on it. 

	“Next Saturday and Sunday I expect to see you and you can give all the enemas”, she said to me smiling. “Now you need to make sure my solution is out of you, so one last enema for Adam”. 

	As I left the nursing unit I reflected on what had been a weird sort of session with the nurse. I spent Sunday recuperating and preparing for the next week of training. Week five was cookery.
	
	Having lived alone for some time, cookery was going to be not a problem for me. It was hardly hote cuisine that they were “teaching us”. Simple food and I passed the week easily. Three things of note happened this week which I think you would want to know about. 
	
	The first thing happened on the Wednesday and it shocked me. During one of our practical sessions we were cooking some battered fish, and there were eight workstations, which were basically mini kitchens. Five of the slaves picked up their batter and threw it over one of the watching dominatrixes. They must have added some chilli or pepper to the mixture as she couldn’t see out of her eyes. The other mistress turned round to see five boys run out of the room. She screamed something at us, and ran out. It later turned out she said to stay still. Alarm bells rang, and a group of the guards ran into the room.

	The boys responsible were publicly beaten and then raped in the main square. They were chained up and left there, bleeding and crying overnight. Only a few slaves witnessed it, but I saw it and it frightened me. 

	On a much lighter note, what happened on Thursday was much more enjoyable. Not that being in the camp was enjoyable, but this incident was pleasant. It didn’t start that way as half way through my Caesar salad a maid came to the front of the classroom and called out my name. I went over to her, and she looked annoyed so I guessed I was in trouble, but what for I didn’t know. She told me to follow her and I did. I was taken across to the building with Miss Emma’s room in it. 

	I guessed I was being taken to see Miss Emma, which was confirmed when the maid knocked on the door and I was ushered in. I was surprised to see Heinrich there. He was sitting on the floor, and Miss Emma was talking to him. 

	“Adam, come in. Sit down”. Emma spoke in a soft voice. She was clearly not upset with us or was in any sort of trouble. I immediately became more relaxed. I sat on the floor, next to Heinrich at the back of her room. She peered over her desk, with the two chairs stacked on top of each other in the corner of the room.

	“All the mistresses, 19 of them, who are doing the sex course, are struggling with their slaves this week, and we have decided that they need a little demonstration from some of our pupils who did very well when they did the course. We selected you two, so later on today you will be brought to the Elmstree Hall and hopefully they can learn something from you”

	Miss Emma then went and asked both Heinrich and myself about how we were coping with the rest of the camp, and we had a nice chat. Miss Emma wasn’t the standard mistress; she was warm, and generally interested in what we had to say. I liked her. 

	Elmstree Hall was a small hall, which was often used for sexual purposes. “Lucky Man” blurted out as I was “escorted” to the building which was situated on the edge of the camp. I thought the song was pretty apt, given what I was here to do! 

	Heinrich was already sitting in a small unfurnished room. He was naked, and the girl who had taken me from my lovely cell to her, also ordered me to get undressed. I disrobed, and put my clothes next to Heinrich’s in the corner of the room. I then sat on the floor next to Heinrich and he eyed me suspiciously. Occasionally, when there was a break in the music, which by this time had moved onto The Lightning Seeds, you could hear screams and yelps from the other room.

	Finally Heinrich broke his silence, and asked why Miss Emma had chosen us. I just replied I didn’t know, but I wasn’t arguing. He smiled and accepted this.

	Twenty minutes later, the music stopped. Miss Emma came into the room a few moments later, and looked at us. She was dressed in a bathrobe, and looked so sexy. Her gentle curves modelled the garment perfectly, and she looked at Heinrich and then me. 

	“Come on, we are waiting for you…..” Heinrich and I got up and she then added as we were leaving the room, “……and I hope you are feeling horny”

[EXPAND] Finish addition

	Lastly the third thing of note that occurred was on Friday, when I was jogging. There are a few mistresses with a sense of humour, and a couple were known for it. They were Miss Freda and Miss Helga. I was jogging with a slave called Pete, who is faster than me, but we jog at my pace. On our umpteenth lap, these two mistresses had come out to see the guards and saw us running, and so picked up a snowball size piece of mud and threw them at us. They missed and so we smiled at them and waved. Taking unkindly to this they then proceeded to chase us around the camp, before we were stopped by a guard and then rugby tackled into the mud by them. 

	Saturday I was awoken at 7am and taken directly to Miss Tanya’s room. She instructed me to shower, and then provided me with a clean pair of shorts and a socks and a T-Shirt.  I liked showering in the nurse’s room now - it has hot water!

	“We have three slaves today; Adam, and then we are finished. It will be about midday” I nodded in receipt of this. “Gregory was one of the slaves who hit Helen a couple of weeks ago”. She is referring to an incident when three slaves took issue with their dominatrix and pounded her. The ringleader was taken to a high security camp, and the other two were punished severely, but clearly the staff members have long memories! “He is first and we will make sure his trip here is an unhappy one”.

	About twenty minutes later, a thuggish character was brought in, and Miss Tanya ordered him to strip. 

	“Oh my god, you are small”, she said, “You almost need a Hubble telescope to see your penis Gregory. No wonder you have not done a sexual training course, like Adam here”. He went bright red and she took his blood pressure and performed other tests as normal before going to do her favourite activity. While she had been taking the readings I had prepared two enemas for her to perform on the slave. I had used five quart bags as instructed, and put them on the hooks above the bench as ordered.  She inserted the nozzle roughly and without lubricant and then opened the flow. Large amounts of water gushed into his anus, and he received a shock. It was icy cold. She repeated this about six times, and his anus was sore. 

	His punishment was about to get even worse when I prepared some of Miss Tanya’s special solution. She put it into him, added the plug and belt and then tied him down.

	“Fancy a cup of tea, Adam?” she asked me. 

	“Yes please Miss” I answered, and we left the room. Next door was a kitchen and she got a mug and a foam cup down. As we drank and talked we could hear Gregory screaming and yelling in pain. One of the other nurses came in and asked about the noise, and Miss Tanya explained. She went away laughing.
	
	We returned fifteen minutes later, and he was in so much discomfort I almost felt sorry for him. We eventually untied him and he unstrapped him and he released. 

	“Now, I still remember your incident with Helen, and I intend to make sure you are adequately punished”. He started blubbing again, but this cut no ice with Miss Tanya as she went to her desk and got a large strap-on dildo. Gregory was going to be taken from behind. He went almost hysterical when he saw it, and not surprisingly. It was almost two inches in width, and eight or nine inches in length. With my help she tied Gregory, with his body bent double. He was tied up over the bench, and then Miss Tanya made a call. I guessed it was to Helen, and five minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Another mistress entered. 

	“Miss Helen, this is Adam, I thought you would want to see this punishment, Helen” Miss Helen nodded, and then gulped when she saw the size of Miss Tanya’s strap on. “I couldn’t get any bigger I’m afraid”, she said to the mistress. She then offered Miss Helen a drink, and she asked for a cup of tea. 

	“Do the honours, Adam”, she told me, smiling. While I was in the kitchen I could here screaming and crying and yelling and then smacking. I made Miss Helen a cup of tea, and was challenged half way through making it and had to explain who I was.  I re-entered the room to see Miss Helen mounting Gregory, and Miss Tanya came over to me. 

	“This is what happens when you get violent Adam, remember this! I don’t want to ever do this to you”.

	“Yes Miss”, I said. We watched as Miss Helen grinded deep into Gregory’s rectal cavity. When she finished, she said thank you to Miss Tanya and left, taking her tea as she went. Gregory was a pile of crying mess. This thug had been reduced to this.  Miss Tanya untied him, smacked him and he went on his way.

	The other two slaves were normal and they enjoyed only three enemas each, and a check-up. Gregory really was a special case.  About one in the afternoon I left Miss Tanya and went for a jog and then back to the gym in the evening.

	Sunday was a day completely different from every other. We gave two other slaves their health check and then Miss Helen came in. She was smiling, and asked for a drink, so I went next door to make both her and Tanya a cup of coffee as requested. When I returned with the hot drinks I saw a sight which would make any man erect. Both Helen and Tanya were naked, and Helen was receiving, what looked like a water enema from Tanya.
	
	I froze in the doorway, not quite believing the sight I was seeing. Helen saw me looking, and answered the question in my mind.

	“We are both enema fetishists”, she said to me. 

	“And lesbians”, Tanya added. They giggled. I looked at the floor, but I wanted to watch. I wanted to see the nakedness and erotica that would be on show. I put the drinks on the table, but Tanya held out her hand so I passed her a cup of the hot drink. 

“I thought you should see this”, Miss Tanya told me. “A lot of girls are lesbians now, and you should understand them, if you have done the sex course”. She instructed me to film their exploits, using a video camera on the side. I now realised why Miss Tanya had been so hard on Gregory – he had attacked her lesbian lover. 

I began filming, and the two girls were more than happy to spread their legs at every opportunity. As the water slowly filled Helen’s cavity, Tanya was playing with her. She rubbed warm oil all over her, and played with her breasts. Helen groaned in pleasure. Once the water had been absorbed by Helen, Tanya added a butt plug, and then got a strap on dildo, and mounted the mistress. She was going to fuck her, while she was carrying an enema. Different, I thought. 

Tanya rode Helen like a real pro! Helen orgasmed many times, and I circled the bench, getting a different view. I enjoyed using the zoom in function, and the girls were clearly more aroused by my presence, and the video camera.

After awhile, Tanya got bored, and she stopped. She dismounted, leaving Helen panting, and worn out. Tanya went to her desk and took out a vibrator. It had clitoral and anal stimulants, and she went back to the exhausted Helen. She yanked out the butt plug and the inserted the vibrator deep into Helen and turned it out. She was asking to expel and Tanya refused. The anal stimulation was designed to make the urge even worse. 

Tanya ordered me to get Helen’s expression on tape which I did, as she peaked and orgasmed time after time, but struggled to keep the enema in. After her ninth orgasm in as many minutes, Helen allowed Tanya to release. I filmed her release, and she sat down. 

“You are very clean”, Tanya said to Helen inspecting the water. Once Helen had regained some composure, Tanya refilled her with water, and then once she had taken it all, Helen sat on top of Tanya’s face. Tanya reached down and got a pipe which she slowly entered into Helens anus and began to drink from it, like a straw. Helen pushed a bit as well, and Tanya had taken it all in no time. She then began to lick Helen down below, and Helen once again came.

Once thing that had occurred to me was that Tanya was drinking a lot, and she made the mistake of not releasing while she was in control. After Helen had come to orgasm, she tied Tanya up, and got an eight quart bag. She attached two pipes to it, one going to her anus, and one going to her mouth,

“Better hope you’ve got a large arse, or you’re a quick drinker”, she quipped as she released the valve. Tanya took it easily – she is a serial enema lover! Helen then got the vibrator and stuffed it in her “pleasure hole”.

“I'm going to get something to eat. If you touch her, no matter what she says, without my permission then I will use you as my personal toilet tonight, you hear?” Helen said to me. Tanya was groaning. She needed a pee. She needed to expel. And she was orgasming every minute. She pleaded with me to help her, but I could not. Eventually the urge got so great she released, and I got her peeing and expelling the enema at the same time on camera. The liquid hit the bench and sprayed everywhere, almost hitting me. When she finished, she orgasmed again, and looked weary. 

Helen re-entered the room three minutes later and saw the mess.

“You better have that on camera”, she told me. The vibrator which was deep inside Tanya was now half out of her, and Helen reinserted it. She then got another bag of water and reconnected her arse. Tanya protested so Helen gagged her. She was too weak to resist the gag, and with every orgasm she was getting weaker. Her insides began to fill up again and Helen sat back and watched. Tanya writhed in discomfort, and pleasure. It looked weird, and probably felt weird. 

Once again, Tanya released unexpectedly, making the floor very slippery and dangerous. The girls finished by getting a double ended dildo and riding themselves on it, before they collapsed in each others arms. 

“You better have done a good job of filming”, Tanya said to me. “We intend to distribute this among our friends” I nodded in receipt of this, but did not answer. 

“OK Adam, you can go now”, she added. I left the room, and went for my usual jog reminiscing over what I had just seen.

My last week was Stamina assessments, and I knew I would pass these easily. Endurance running, weight lifting, and sprinting, were easy to me now. I began to dream out what could happen when I finish the course. I longed for a nice owner. I longed to get off of the island!

I easily passed the course, which was confirmed when I was called to see Miss Emma on Friday evening.
	
“You will be sold on Wednesday”, she told me. “In the meantime, you will undergo a health check on Saturday; work on the camp farm on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday”. She was reading from her computer as she said it, and there was a warming tone to her voice. 

“Well done Adam. No retaking any courses. Very unusual. I'm sure you will make some nice young lady very happy.” Miss Emma then went through the procedure for auction. I would be taken, auctioned, and “delivered” all on the same day.

After her little spiel about what would happen at auction, Miss Emma turned to other matters. 

“So, what’s this I hear about you and a little video with Miss Tanya?”, she asked, smiling as she spoke.

“Ummm….nothing much Miss, just a little favour Miss Tanya asked me to do for her”, I replied.

“Adam, do you know what my penalty is for lying?”

“No Miss”

“Cos if I thought you were lying to me, I would make you redo the sex course – with a heavy emphasis on the anal sex. By the time you’ve finished, you would have an asshole the size of a car exhaust”

“Yes Miss”

“So is there anything you want to add to this?”

“Umm…” I thought. I was pretty certain she was winding me up but I didn’t want to take the chance. “Miss Tanya asked me to film her giving and receiving enemas”, I answered. I didn’t want to tell her the whole story, but I guessed she would find out eventually anyway.

“That’s better Adam – there is a rumour going around and I heard you were involved so I thought I would come straight in and ask you”

“Miss Helen was there as well”

“Ah was she? Ok you can go now Adam” I made a hasty retreat.

	I know it will sound weird, but I actually looked forward to my health check with Tanya. I haven't become an enema fetishist or anything, but I wanted to see her again, and hoping that she would want to make another video. My hopes would be disappointed. I was to be checked out by a Miss Mya Parkinson. She was just as young as Miss Tanya, and looked even prettier, but she did her checks to the book. I underwent various examinations and tests, and then she performed the enema. As she finished, she asked whether I was the slave that filmed Tanya and Helen. I said I was, and she told me that “the video” had already achieved cult status in the camp. I smiled but said nothing, what was there to say?

	Working on the Camp farm was easy. Getting sweaty and muddy – I was used to that! Where most farmers and labourers throughout the world would not wear white clothes, and would wear trousers, we were not allowed to wear anything other than white shorts and a white T-Shirt, and this showed up the mud especially well. I did not mind. I liked getting dirty in a weird sort of way. 

	Monday night was spent with Emma, but not in the way I would have preferred. There is a little pub in the camp for the mistresses, the equivalent of the Officers Mess really. Anyway, their usual barwoman was ill, and Emma told me I, and Heinrich, who I did the sex course with, would be serving. Working behind the bar was the most challenging part of my time there. I was constantly being inundated with customers, and Heinrich and I struggled to keep up.

	It wasn’t helped by Emma and her friends deciding to “sing” (if indeed that is what you can call it), to some of my favourite songs. “Bohemian like you”, “Buck Rogers” and “Hit me baby one more time” all got a butchering. They got so bad, that we were giving them double measures in the hope that they would collapse in a drunken stupor.

	Tuesday would be my last full day at the camp, and I spent it on the farm. I was in good spirits, but I must not let it show. Two of the girls were there, and we had a mud wrestling contest in the deep mud. It really turned me on, and I wanted to do something to one of the girls, as they played about in the 18 inches of soft mud. I couldn’t, and so when I finished the day there was returned back to my cell.

CHAPTER THREE: The Auction-house

	After completing my six long weeks of “re-education” I was going to be auctioned in the main city’s auction house. The test had been long and gruelling and I was relieved that I had passed the ordeal of the camp. Miss Paula and then Miss Emma had been very tolerable and rational all throughout my stay and I was sure it was this which had contributed most to my eventual success. 

	The final night in the camp was a weird one. I was given leave to go and walk along the banks of the lake for an hour before the cell was locked. As I walked, and breathed in the pure air, my thoughts drifted back to June and Becky. I was more worried about Becky, and whether she did get the promotion she wanted. If she did, then I might see her at the auction tomorrow and that is something I did not want. On the other hand, I knew Becky would be a kind and considerate owner, and that is something I longed for. 

	I sat down on the damp grass and looked out over the lake and towards the forest. The sun was setting behind the trees and the array of colours was spectacular. The lake reflected assortments of yellows and reds and for awhile, my troubles were gone. I thought about the punishment I had endured, as screams of pain echoed around the camp. I thought about the physical exercise I had undertaken to ensure I passed the stamina assessments. I thought about everything, but before long the sun had almost set, and I wandered back to the camp buildings to spend my last night as an inmate of Lake Portswood.

	The morning was not an unusual routine. At sunrise, we were woken up, chaperoned to the showers and then given a pathetic assortment of food and water for breakfast. I was handed some clothes to travel in – a white T-Shirt and a pair of white shorts and told I to be ready in two minutes. I clothed my damp body in the garments and then sat down surveying the cell for one last time. Blank faces looked back at me – they were scared. True to her word, two minutes later, the guard, unlocked, looked at me, and snarled “come on”. I rose to my feet and she handcuffed my hands together and pushed me out of the open cell door. The door was slammed shut and bolted, and was ushered towards the reception area, I last saw six weeks ago.

	“4551 to auction, Teri”, said the guard to the receptionist. 

	“OK, the van is ready” came the response. The receptionist didn’t even look up from her papers, and just as quickly as I had entered the room, I was leaving. The police van was lighter than my recollections of the one that had brought me to the camp, and the policewoman looked young and inexperienced. I smiled at her, and she smiled nervously back at me. The doors of the van closed and started up. I was the only slave going to an auction house today from Lake Portswood obviously. I wanted to talk to the police woman, but I could not think of anything to say. Eventually I just confined myself to saying “Nice day, isn’t it?” She nodded in agreement but said nothing. I left it at that. She was obviously more frightened of me than I was of her and her timid character did nothing to disguise that.

After ten or fifteen minutes travelling the van shuddered to a halt, and I was removed from the vehicle by the young police officer and taken into another reception area, where I was checked in, before thrown into a cell. The cell door banged shut, and I went to the barred window and looked out. I looked out over the city, and at my old college. I could just about make out the gates where Matt Samson was harassed by the girls. The memories came flooding back.

After about two hours I heard someone fiddling with my lock on the door, and so I looked round, to see the young police officer, ask “4551?”. 

“Yes” I replied.

“Follow me then” she said and started to walk out of the door. I had no option but to follow her, and another officer shut and locked the cell. I was taken to a small room, and then two minutes later ushered onto a lowered area of the stage. About one hundred women of all ages, from 16 to over 40, looked at me, before the auctioneer started.

“Lot 9 today is Slave Number 4551, been to Lake Portswood training camp, and passed the tests with an average score of 89.4. Has a Higher Level Qualification in English, and has been trained by Miss Paula Westbridge and Miss Emma Hanson to a “General” standard. Do I hear 250 pounds?”

A youngish girl dressed in a business suit raised her paddle. She had a nice figure, but her face looked mean and uncompromising. She stared at me, and I didn’t dare stare back, instead choosing to look at the floor. 

	“I have 250, 275?”

	Another girl, much older than the first, raised her paddle. She was plumper, and looked much warmer than the first one.

	“300?” enquired the auctioneer looking at the first businesswoman. She raised her paddle. The two women kept upping their bids, past the 500 pounds mark before the plump lady conceded, and the businesswoman, a Miss Suzanne Riesling purchased me for 525 pounds.

	The auction ended with the auctioneer announcing “going, going, gone” and I was shepherded towards the door from which I approached the stage. I was put in a cell for about twenty minutes before being thrown into a van and driven to my new destination. There were two officers in the van, and four slaves, including myself. One was much bigger than me, but the other two were considerably shorter. There were all dressed in the white clothes which had become synonymous with my new lifestyle. One by one the other slaves were dropped off at their new destination, and about twenty minutes after I left the auction house we arrived at the building I would call home. It was an imposing mansion, who had two expensive cars in the drive. A different woman, much older came up to the van from the house, just as I was being bundled from the vehicle by one of the officers. 

CHAPTER FOUR: Fellswood House

	“Fellswood House?” enquired the Sergeant.

	“Yes, is this the new slave?” said the woman

	The Sergeant nodded, and asked the woman to sign on a document that he had on a clipboard, which the lady obligingly did. She was passed a set of keys, obviously for my handcuffs. The police officers re-entered their van, and the lady took a few steps towards the imposing manor house. 

	“Well don’t just stand there, stupid, come on” barked the lady, who I thought was the maid. She looked about 40, had an imposing face, and a rough voice. She was shorter than me, and had virtually no breasts to talk about. I followed her towards the house and into a side entrance, still in handcuffs.

	Inside the house, it was a dimly lit room, and I followed her across the room and into another room, which was better lit. Two other men, also in the white clothing looked at me, and I was told to sit in the corner.

	“I am Marie Thomas, the maid of this house. You will be expected to work every weekday and Miss Riesling’s logging farm and to maintain the gardens at the weekends. I’m sure Robert and Mark can tell you all you need to know.”

	With that Marie (the maid) uncuffed me, left the room and shut the door behind her. 

	“What's your name?” enquired the taller of the two.

	“Adam.”

	“I’m Robert, and that’s Mark”, said the blonde haired teenager. The next thirty minutes was taken up with discussions with the two other slaves. The shorter boy was 17 and was called Mark. He was about 5 foot 8, and had brown hair. He did not possess a muscular body but had fairly muscular arms. The other one was Robert, and he had straw blond hair, and was 19. He was slightly older than me by not by more than a few weeks. He too possessed a muscular set of arms, but his general body was not overly muscular. 
	
	The lady, who owned the house, and now me, was Suzanne Riesling. She made her fortune setting up a logging camp, and then selling the wood to developers building houses. Miss Riesling now owns three businesses, but the logging camp is still the big earner for her. This camp was where I was going to work during the weekdays. This explained the muscular arms which the two other slaves possessed. Miss Riesling (or Miss Suzanne as I should address her) was not married, but had two sisters, who frequently visited, and spent time at the house. The younger sister was Annabelle and was 17 and the elder sister was Gloria, but she rarely came now she has moved to another island. Annabelle was doing English, which might explain why Miss Suzanne was so keen to purchase me! 

	Robert also warned me that Annabelle was very shy and would always avoid going into the garden when they we were working there, and so to be careful not to scare her off! I was also warned that Miss Suzanne always expects us to be clean and tidy when we get back, and so to ensure that I am never wearing stained clothing. I was beginning to think that this lifestyle wasn’t going to be so bad after all. 

	Thirty minutes later, the maid came back and told us to go to bed as we had a long day tomorrow.  She turned off the light from the other room, and I settled down on the spare red mat in the corner of the room. There was a blanket, and I undressed (I was warned that the maid tends to shout at them if they don’t sleep naked) and settled down to go to sleep.

	That night I dreamt of sleeping with Becky, and using sex toys to bring her to ecstasy again and again. All I wanted to do was to give her more and more pleasure. Maybe I did want to be owned by the laughable and “perfect” girl from next door. 

	My lustful dreams were rudely interrupted by Miss Marie who woke us up at the crack of dawn. I followed the two unclothed boys, out of the room, under the watchful eye of the maid and into a small shower room, with an open toilet. The showers pumped hot water, something I was beginning to believe no longer existed. On the side of the showers there was a small amount of soap and shampoo which I used to clean my body with.

	“Feels good to use soap again, doesn’t it?” said Mark.

	“Too right” I replied. He smiled at me as I applied the soap into every nook and cranny of my body. 

	“You’ve got an easy week”, suggested Mark. “It’s Thursday now, and so you’ve only got two days working at the logging plant this week”. 

	I snorted as if the word “only” was absolutely necessary, but I was about to understand what he meant in just an hours time.  After five minutes, the boys left the shower and picked up a towel which the maid had left for us. They weren’t nice towels, pale and threadbare, but it soaked up the water on my damp body.

	“Don’t always get these”, said Robert as we entered the room. I got dressed into the standard white clothes, and hung up the wet towel on a nail embedded into the wall. The cell was more like a dormitory, but had a reinforced door and barred windows, but was carpeted. The carpet was also threadbare and was falling apart in places, but fabric underfoot was welcome and was not to be scoffed at. 

	The maid re-entered the room with a big plate of toast and a tray of water. This was to be our breakfast. “Don’t be long, you have to leave in ten minutes” barked Miss Marie. I was sure by the tone of her voice, and the drowsiness in her face that she didn’t want to be up at this hour any more than we did. The toast was a little burnt, but edible all the same and was gratefully received by us. 

	About five minutes later, the maid reappeared at the door to ensure we were nearly ready and then ushered us into a waiting minibus. The journey was about ten or fifteen minutes, and the sunrise was a fantastic display of colour and life. The minibus twisted and turned down small roads before arriving at the “Rayland Logging Camp”. The camp was near the sea, as the sound of the sea was clearly audible. It had surprised me that we weren’t in handcuffs during the journey, and I asked Mark about this. 

	“’cos Miss Suzanne knows we wont escape” he replied

	 “How?”

	“If you do, when you are found, you will be sent for torture at one of the camps”, he said, looking round at me. “So if you’re thinking about it, don’t”. 

	“Oh I wasn’t, it’s just every other journey I’ve made I've been handcuffed, and I was surprised I wasn’t this time”.

	A woman dressed in a blue boiler suit came up to us and told us to continue what we were doing yesterday. She asked me my name, and told me to watch what the other two did and follow. She was about 25, and had long brown hair, which was tied back in a ponytail. Her body was shapely, and was easily one of the most attractive people I have ever seen. Obviously working at the logging camp kept her body in tip-top condition. 

	I followed the two slaves and they picked up several long lengths of rope and headed into the forest along a track. After about 100 metres, the came to a tree with a bright orange dot on it and Mark began to climb up the tree with the rope wound round his shoulder. 

	“What is he doing?” I asked. 

	“This is what we do, Mark climbs the tree and affixes the rope, and then later one of the girls will come along and saw through most of the tree, and we pull it down, and take it back to the centre. “. What Robert said to me was making sense. Mark was quickly up the tree and threw the rope down to the ground. Robert tied it to a bush a couple of metres away. “So it’s not in the way when they saw”, he said, anticipating the next question. We did this to twelve trees all within twenty metres of each other, until we had run out of lengths of rope. 

	Mark and Robert then walked back down the track, and I followed. We reached the main logging centre, and Robert went inside. I waited outside with Mark. “What is he doing”, I asked after waiting for five minutes. 

	“He is trying to find someone to come and cut through the trees for us”, he replied. “Usually it takes us two hours to set up six or seven trees, and so when we come back to the first one, its done, but we’ve done it quicker today.” 

	Robert emerged with one of the girls who had an electric saw in her hand. She walked quietly down the track with us, until we reached our first tree, when we were told to stand well back. The girl, also in a blue boiler suit was probably also about 25, and was softly spoken. Her brown hair was tied up at the back and as she started sawing, and I edged forward to see the girl sawing through the tree. She saw me, and put her machinery down and lifted up her protective visor.

	“I told you to stay well back”, she shouted. “If this thing fucking falls, you’ll just be crushed, so when I tell you to stand well back, you fucking do it, OK?” I have to admit this was the last thing I expected to hear from the quietly spoken girl, but I just nodded, and retreated to the distance Robert and Mark were at. 
	
“That’s Miss Julie. She doesn’t usually have a temper on her”, Mark whispered to me.

“How many people work here?”, I asked

“About four or five, Miss Julie or the warden, are the only people who you will come into contact with though”

Julie quickly made progress through the tree and afterwards just gestured towards the tree to us. Robert and Mark untied the rope, and fully extended it down the path. 

“When this thing starts to go, just drop the rope and run.” Mark told me. I was in no doubt that when the tree did start to fell, I was going to be quicker than lightning, and as two lumberjacks took their positions on the rope, I picked up the line and got a grip on it.

“OK, on three”, said one of them

“1 – 2 – 3”. On the count of three, we all pulled and the tree lurched towards us. Slowly it inched ever closer to falling, and after a minute and a half of brute force, there was a snap, and the tree started to plummet. Taking, the boys advice, I left the area quickly, and dived deep into the forest. A big crash occurred and the ground shock. A rush of air and dust covered the vicinity, and I felt dust go into my eyes. I rubbed them and looked round to see Robert and Mark surveying the tree, and pick up the rope. They gestured towards me, and between us, we started dragging the fallen tree up onto a cart and then down the dirt track to the logging centre. 

	The work was hard, and very intensive. The heat beat down on our backs, and when Mark removed his shirt, I followed suit. After thirty minutes of heavy labour the tree was at the centre and moved onto some rollers where it was pushed through an open hatch into the centre. Miss Julie looked out of the centre, and we immediately started walking back up the track. After the third tree, Miss Julie came out and gave us a plate of sandwiches and three large glasses of water, which were instantly devoured. She returned inside, and we sat down on a tree log to eat our lunch. 
	
	After lunch we felled the remaining trees, and dragged another, smaller tree back to centre. It became more overcast, and the temperature plummeted, but I was more than happy to keep my shirt off. The physical nature of the work was demanding, and intensive, and my body felt like it was boiling.

	As dusk began to approach, we were called by the park warden, and we trooped into the minibus. It was all I could do on the bus not to fall asleep as it picked its way through the trees and along the narrow winding country roads, which made the area so beautiful and picturesque. 
	
	The vehicle lurched to a halt, and the back doors were flung open. The maid stood there and beckoned to us to leave the minibus, and we were marched into the house and into the dimly lit room. She ordered us to strip, which we obligingly did, and handed her our clothes.

	“OK, you know the drill, in the showers.” We gladly went into the showers to wash our smelly and aching bodies. It was also nice to use a toilet, as I didn’t dare use the toilet at the centre, and so used a tree in the forest. Suffice to say, I was very relieved to see Mark do the same an hour later. 

	The cool water soothed the aching muscles, and cooled my heated body down. We stayed in the showers for much longer, about ten or fifteen minutes, before we were called. 

	Tea was a weird and unusual affair, with a proper dinner being provided. It wasn’t gourmet food, but the beef with gravy and vegetables was a nice change. We were also eating at a table, in the dimly lit room, which possessed an oven, toaster, microwave, and other essentials. It was a sort of staff-room as the other maids, much younger than Miss Marie kept entering and leaving the room with various utensils. Even a cook came in and asked for some ingredients and left with them. Mark and Robert talked constantly through the dinner, but the tiredness meant my mind and imagination wandered off so much I lost concentration and interest in their conversation. 

	As we finished dinner, Mark was told to clean the shower-room, and Robert was ordered to wash the minibus. It was nearly dark, but there was enough lit to hose the bus down, which was dusty and dirty from the logging camp. Miss Suzanne wanted to see me, which made me nervous. I would get a chance to meet the person who had purchased me at the auction, the day before.

	Miss Marie straightened my shirt and shorts before taking me up to see Miss Suzanne.  We left by the door all the maids were entering and leaving by, which led into a corridor into a well furnished and well lit room.

	“What is Miss Suzanne like?” I asked.

	“She is very pleasant, just remember to say Miss, please and thank you”, she replied, in the softest tone I have ever heard her speak to me. Miss Marie knocked on a closed wooden door, which was ornately decorated. 

	“Enter”, said the voice inside, and Miss Marie slowly opened the door. “Adam to see you ma’am, as you requested”. Miss Marie was obviously a little scared of her employer. I was ushered into the room, and the door was closed behind me,

	Miss Suzanne looked up, and smiled. This was different from the sharp face I saw at the auction house. She beckoned with her hands for me to sit down on a stool next to the desk, and not on the big, comfy leather chairs. 

	“I hear that you are settling here OK”, she said, “Marie said she has had no reason to chastise or punish you yet. That’s good”. My nerves were obvious, as I just nodded, and answered “yes Miss”. Despite her apparent warmth, I was still unnerved and overawed by the surroundings. She picked up a document and passed it to me.

	“I received this today; it’s your results from the College. They have awarded you an A in English”. I tried not to smile, but my attempts at keeping a straight face were not successful. The mirror on the wall told me that. “My sister, Annabelle, is doing a HLQ in English, and she needs some help with the subject, particularly on the George Orwell novel Animal Farm.” Miss Suzanne then passed me the book I knew so well. “Tonight and tomorrow night, I would like you to read it, so when Annabelle arrives on Saturday, you can guide her through the work she has. Have you read it before?” 

	I nodded, “I think it is his greatest work. It is a political satire which shows how equality doesn’t work if…” Miss Suzanne interrupted me. “I don’t care what it’s about; I just need you to know what it’s about.” I nodded again.

	Miss Suzanne then explained what would be happening in the next few weeks at the house, and what I would be expected to do. June’s parents would be being entertained this weekend, but I knew it would be unlikely I would get to meet them, as I would be doing what Mark and Robert would be doing, and that was cleaning their cars, and tending the garden. Slaves were not there to be seen! 

	Miss Suzanne dismissed me and pressed a button on her desk. Almost immediately Miss Marie came in, and was told to make sure that I have “the time and peace to read the book I had been given”. I left with Miss Marie, and was taken back to staffroom. 

	“Ok, you read in your cell”, she said to me, and pointed to the door of the dormitory.  I entered and sat down to read Animal Farm for the second time this year.

	Half an hour later, Mark came into the room but was shouted at by Miss Marie and dragged out again. I found it hard to concentrate on the book, as my mind was so drained, but I made the effort to digest the material and most of it stuck in there.
	
	Two hours later, Mark and Robert were allowed in to the dormitory, and I was told to leave the rest of the book for tomorrow.  I quickly went to the toilet, before the lights went out and I went to sleep. I did not spend much time awake on my mat, as almost immediately I was dead to the world and counting sheep.

	At crack of dawn, we were awoken by Miss Marie who ushered three tired and half-asleep naked teenagers into the showers. The water soon invigorated us, and the towels were less threadbare than the one’s from yesterday. I was glad it was Friday! Breakfast was toast, but it was not as cremated as yesterday and a small pot of economy jam was provided. It was obviously it was budget food as it was labelled “Mixed Fruit Jam” and not a particular fruit. There was a pitcher of cool water and three plastic cups. 
	
	The food was quickly devoured, with the jam, and at the end of breakfast, Mark threw the dregs of his water in his cup at me. He laughed, and so I reacted by leaning over and pouring the dregs of mine down the front of his shorts.  He squealed in shock, as the cool water came in contact with his genitals and Miss Marie came in. She saw my shirt was wet, and my water on the shorts of Mark, and barked, “Have you two been fighting?” The lack of a response from both of us was a virtual admission of guilt. The penalty for lying would have been greater than admission, and she just shook her head, “You lot have got to learn to mature, I’ll deal with his later. The bus is here”. We trooped out of the dormitory looking sheepish, and into the waiting minibus.

	One inside the minibus, I broached the question “What does she mean; she’ll deal with this later?”  Mark smiled, and just replied, “Well if she remembers she will probably just use the cane or something.” I sank back in my seat and looked at the sunrise. This was one of the perks of the job, the sunrise was truly spectacular. The bus arrived at the logging camp, and we continued felling the trees we had done the day before. Miss Julie gave us some sandwiches again, and a jug of water as before, and towards the end of the day, she came and helped us move the trees back to centre. The sun did beat down mercilessly, and like us, she also removed her top, so she was working in just her pale green sports bra. 

	I tried not to stare, or even look at her, but the sight of this beautiful woman in just her bra was something no man could ignore. I was sure she saw me looking at her, but if she did, she did nothing, and we removed the three trees from the forest. At four o’clock we were told to go home by the park ranger, and the minibus took us home much earlier than yesterday. Clearly the logging camp suffered from the POETS syndrome (Piss off early, tomorrow’s Saturday).

	Miss Marie was not surprised to see us early, and as usual we were ushered into the shower room and given clean white clothes. Afterwards Mark and I were called into a small room next to the staffroom, which was obviously Miss Marie’s office.  She clearly had not forgotten.

	“I have spoken to Miss Suzanne about your behaviour this morning, and we have decided to curtail your Sunday relaxation period, and instead you will be expected to clean all the tools in the shed. Also today and Sunday you will both receive ten lashes from the cane. Miss Marie picked up the cane and Mark already knew what was coming as he dropped his shorts and lent forward to put his hands on the desk. Miss Marie strode round and to give him ten large whacks of the cane. With each whack, he yelped and screamed in and by the end of his beating his arse was red raw. The brown haired teenager was in tears although it was clear he was trying not to cry. He looked pitiful and remorseful.

	“Second day you’re with us, hardly good is it Adam?” I shook my head, and she pulled down my shorts. I leant forwards as Mark had done, and she struck the cane against my bare bottom. I let out a large yelp of pain, as the force of the impact shuddered throughout my body. Swish, the cane came down for a second, and a third and a fourth. Each time, I yelped, and each time the pain was more intense and more real than the previous one. By the ninth time, I had tears in my eyes, and the last hit was worst of the lot. The scream I made echoed throughout the small room, as the stick struck the part of my body which was so tender. 

	“Right get up, and get out of my office”, she barked, and both us gladly left the cane-wielding maid behind. I went into the dormitory to read Animal Farm but I found it hard to concentrate as the stinging from my behind overcame my concentration. Mark was also in the room, crying in the corner. I wasn’t surprised to see Miss Marie ten minutes later, who clearly came to give Mark something to do, but left when she saw his pathetic and helpless face. She just left, and I continued reading the political satire I had been given.

	She re-entered the room twenty minutes later with a plate of bread and water. We were on punishment menu clearly, but I hoped to redeem myself tomorrow with Miss Annabelle and Animal Farm. For the next three hours I continued to read Animal Farm, with a sore behind and aching muscles. Mark had cried himself to sleep and Robert came in half way through, saw I was reading and left. I could hear voices, so I assumed he was talking to a maid.

	I finished the book, and spent ten minutes looking through the text that I had. Miss Marie came in to pick up the plate and water that was in the centre of the room, and I asked if I could go to bed, and she said I could. I went to the toilet, and retired to bed.

	The following day we were woken up much later. My behind was still very sore from the savage beating that it had received only twelve hours previous. When we got out of the shower there were no towels, and breakfast was just toast and water. It did not surprise me that Mark and I were called to see Miss Suzanne shortly after breakfast, and we were escorted by Miss Marie. 

	We were taken upstairs to her bedroom, where she was dressed in a dressing gown. By the side of the large bed was a table which contained a large selection of vibrators and other sex toys. She turned round and nodded towards Marie who retreated and shut the door.

	“I wont accept fighting or violence between my slaves or staff, you do know that don’t you?” Miss Suzanne was clearly agitated and angry with us, as the warm tone which I had seen on Thursday disappeared.  I was looking at the floor, and just nodded. 

	“God dammit, answer me when I speak to you”, barked the businesswoman. Almost in unison, Mark and I both mumbled “yes Miss”. “Mark this is the second incident of its kind involving you in the last four weeks, isn’t it?” Mark replied in the affirmative. “And Adam, this is only your third day here, isn’t it?”

	“Yes Miss”

	“Right, well consider yourselves on a warning, and if it happens again, I will contact the camps about having you on anti-violence training”. I did not know much about the AVT programme but when Becky read it out, it was subjecting you to high amounts of abuse, and punishment and then measuring your reactions. When your reactions become placid and calm, then the training is considered successful. 

	“Mark I want you to clean all the cars outside today, and Adam when Annabelle is ready for you, she will call you. Until then, you can clean the cars with Mark. Now get out of my sight”. We retreated quickly, and saw another maid was waiting for us outside. She was very young, about 17, and was quite short. “Come on maggots”, she growled. She had a whip in her hand and brought it down across our backs. We moved quickly after that and were ushered to the staffroom and were given a bucket of soapy water each and a sponge. 

	Between the two of us we made light work of the two fast cars, the minibus, and the three smaller cars. The smaller cars probably belonged to the staff. A big car rolled up the drive, and a young girl got out. She was probably Annabelle, and was wearing pale blue short shorts, a pale blue top, and a blue cap. Her long hair was tied up and hung through the hole in the back of the cap. Her breasts were ample, but not large, and as she got out, Miss Marie descended from the main entrance. She didn’t see Mark and I watching the car and not washing the cars or we would have got the rough end of either her tongue or the cane.
	
	“Miss Annabelle, nice to see you”

	“Good morning, Marie. Is Suzanne in?”

	“She is in her bedroom.” The teenager gladly skipped up the steps as Miss Marie picked up two cases. The driver got out of the car and looked over at us.

	“Would you like us to clean that Miss” I ventured. She nodded. “Of course”. Miss Marie looked at us and was happy that we would be busy doing worked and so carried the two small suitcases up the steps, closely followed by the driver. Twenty minutes later, the driver reappeared from the side entrance followed by Miss Marie. 

	“Have you finished that yet?” the driver asked us. 

	“Yes, Miss” I answered. I realised these two words were easily the most used phrase I had said in the last few weeks, but it seemed to find favour, as the driver moved past me into the car. She opened the window and Miss Marie went up to it. “Nice job”, she said to the maid. “You’ll call me when Annabelle wants collecting, wont you?”

	“Yeah, no problem”, said the maid, and with that the driver sped off down the drive. 
	
	“What are you two looking at?” she barked. “The greenhouses need cleaning”. I followed Mark towards the greenhouses, which were located at the side of the large garden. We saw Robert weeding a flower bed as we went past. 

	The greenhouses are hard to clean as the algae and dirt which covers the glass structure is caked on. We found the best way was to leave the soapy water time to soak into the grime and then wipe it over. By the time we started the third greenhouse, Miss Marie appeared with a timid Miss Annabelle, and called to me. I walked over to them.

	“Adam, this is Miss Annabelle”. 

	“Good afternoon Miss Annabelle”, I uttered nervously. Miss Annabelle nodded at me and smiled slightly.

	“Now you’re to help Miss Annabelle with her English”, Miss Marie said to me. She clearly assumed that I didn’t know this already! “Miss Annabelle has put her books under that tree in the shade”. She pointed to a large oak which threw a large shadow over part of the garden. Under it there was a large blanket and a folder full of notes. A book was on top of the folder. “Go and wait for her over there.”  

	I walked over to the blanket, and as I left I heard Miss Marie telling the English student to call her if there was any trouble or if she wanted anything, and by the time I had reached the blanket, I heard footsteps behind me. She sat down on the blanket and beckoned me to sit down, which I did so. 

	“This is my assignment”, she said, and passed me a piece of paper. I scanned down the A4 page of extracts till I found the task. I read it out aloud, “Using Animal Farm as an example, relate the political overtones of this to the present Governments, either at home and abroad. Analyse the seven commandments and present day examples of them”. Miss Annabelle nodded. 

	We proceeded to work the Animal Farm, pointing out parallels between “animalism” and society. As the afternoon wore on, Miss Annabelle became more and more relaxed, until after about three hours, she had two pages of notes which would easily answer the question. She sat back and leaned against the tree, and smiled at me. 

	“Thank you Adam”. The thank you took me by surprise, as it is the first time I had heard those words uttered to me since I gave June her bracelet, many weeks ago. 

	“No thank you, Miss Annabelle”.

	“Why are you thanking me?” she asked. Clearly Miss Annabelle would not make a good mistress, as far as the state would see. She was just too polite and timid, and hadn’t got used to the ‘all slaves are dirt’ mentality. 

	“Helping you with your coursework meant that I didn’t have to weed the garden or clean the toilets”, I ventured. She laughed heartily. We spoke for over thirty minutes under the tree, as Mark and Robert weeded the garden. Miss Annabelle seemed very interested in me and my life. I told her about June and that they would be there tonight, and she said that if June was present she would send her down to see me. I was fast liking Miss Annabelle as she as so kind towards me.

	Miss Marie walked up the garden shortly afterwards and asked Miss Annabelle if we had finished, and Miss Annabelle replied that we had. 

	“Oh good, Adam, the toilets need cleaning. Ask one of the maids they will give you a mop and bucket.” I nodded in receipt of this, and walked up the path to the house. One of the maids did give me the utensils and I cleaned the toilet and shower space that we all used. Miss Marie came in twenty minutes later and I nodded in approval. “Good”, she said. I walked into the staffroom, and deposited the mop and bucket under one of the cupboards where it was given to me from. 
	
	“We’ve got guests tonight, so Miss Suzanne wants you all to be clean and wearing clean clothes.” said Miss Marie. “They are due here in an hour, so be quick in the shower, and put your old clothes in here”. I got undressed and put the clothes in the basket she had told me to. The showers were much colder, but I spent little time in there. The thought of possibly seeing June again was very nice, and it was taking up most of my thoughts. As I was leaving the shower, Mark and Robert were entering. The red marks on Mark’s behind were clearly visible, and I was sure mine would be to. I got dressed, and waited for Mark and Robert to do so too. Miss Marie came in after we had got dressed and gave us a large bowl of salad and numerous samosas, bhajis and small pieces of food. 

	“Compliments of Miss Suzanne”, she said. “You’re fighting aside, the ladyship has been very impressed with the way you have approached your work this week.” Miss Marie also put down a small bottle of weak wine. Mark and Robert looked surprised at the spread of food given to us but we eagerly ate.

	“We’ve never had anything like this before”, uttered Mark gleefully. “Must have been the work you did with Miss Annabelle”. I shrugged my shoulders. “Maybe” 

	After the meal we were given mints, obviously for our breath and were told what we would be doing that evening. Mark would be carrying the dirty plates and glasses from the main banqueting area to the kitchen where they would be washed, and the clean ones back to the banqueting hall. Robert would be cleaning the kitchen of any spillages and breakages, and I would be pouring the wine and other assorted beverages for Mark to take back to the revellers. 

	The evening started slowly, and opening champagne, wine and beer, and pouring them is hardly the most stressful of tasks. As the evening wore on, Mark was coming down much more often with empty trays, given to him from the maids, and taking up the trays I was making full of drinks. About half way through the evening, I heard Miss Annabelle’s voice and looked round. I saw Miss Annabelle and June standing at the entrance to the kitchen. June saw me and came running over, nearly knocking over Mark with his full tray of drinks as she went. 

	Hugging June again was a sensation which was almost indescribable. While she hadn’t been a close friend before the Claire Ryder had instituted reforms, she had become a very good friend since then, when all my other college friends, female or otherwise, had deserted me for one reason or another. June hugged me tight, and then looked up at me. 

	“Feels so weird seeing you like this”, she said. “What did you get in the HLQ?”

	“An A, you?”

	“An A. I'm surprised they gave you an A. I would have thought they would not have wanted to encourage male education”

	“They were probably writing ‘A failure’ and never completed the sentence”, I suggested. June laughed. June then turned round to Miss Annabelle and asked her if she minded if we took a walk somewhere. Miss Annabelle said that was fine, but not to be too long, as I would be missed otherwise. As we left I heard Miss Annabelle tell a maid to do my job with the wine and then leave. 
	
	June and I spent about thirty minutes talking underneath a tree, on the front drive. She laughed at my exploits Miss Marie and the cane.

	“I should have given you a spanking some times with the language you said to me”. I just smirked and said “Maybe”

	We slowly returned to the kitchen where June went up the stairs to be main banqueting hall, and I relieved the maid of the pouring of the drinks.

	“It's not right. You’re a slave, not a guest”, she moaned. “I shall talk to Marie about it”. With that, she walked back up the stairs to the party. The rest of the evening went peacefully and as the evening drew to a close, I bagged up much of the rubbish and put it in one of the rooms. We were then shepherded into our dormitory and we went to sleep.

	Today, is Sunday, and is a day of relaxation. Well it would have been if Mark and I hadn’t have been fighting, but today was going to be a strange day. I could feel it, and I was right. For a start we weren’t woken up till gone eleven. Everyone had had a very long night and the thought of rising early wasn’t on the agenda. When we were woken up, Miss Marie brought us in a big pot of tea and three cups. 

	“You got thirty minutes boys to be ready. Miss Suzanne is coming down here today.” There would be nothing unusual about Miss Marie saying that, except she used the word “boys” and not “slaves” or “maggots” or any of her other derogatory terms she used in the morning. I drank a mug of tea before heading for the showers en route to the toilet and washed myself thoroughly thinking about last night with June. Mark and Robert joined me three or four minutes later in the shower. Miss Marie came into the shower after ten minutes to tell us to hurry up, which we did. She gave us clean towels and clean clothes which we changed into. Breakfast was toast as usual and as we were eating, Miss Suzanne came down to our dormitory. She spoke to Miss Marie for a minute beforehand before opening the door.  She looked into the room and just said “Robert”. 
	
	“Yes Miss?” said the 19 year old	.

	“Come here”. Robert got up and left the room. The door was shut behind him and Mark and I continued to eat our breakfast leaving some for Robert.

	Ten minutes later Miss Suzanne entered the room, and I looked up. “Last night I agreed to lend Robert to Miss Humphreys to help her with her brothel”, she said. “Robert is there on a three month loan, so for the next week or so you will work as just the two of you at the logging camp until I purchase a replacement.” She left the room and Marie bolted the door. 

	I looked at Mark and he shrugged at me. “Lucky boy”, he said to me

	“Why is he lucky?”

	“He gets to play about with all the pretty girls”

	“I thought that at these brothels they made you do sick things for their entertainment”

	“True, but he still gets to play about with the pretty girls. I haven’t released my sexual frustration since the training camp when I was caught playing with myself and given thirty hard lashes for it”

	I snorted, “It is hard to find the time”, I just replied tactfully. I will admit the lack of any time to masturbate was beginning to get me down. My body did have a large urge to release, and I was denying it. I began to think about the extra ten lashes Mark and I would receive later today, and it started to worry me. 

	Awhile after Miss Marie bolted the door, she unbolted it and came in. She took the plate and cups and put them in the staffroom. She returned and told us to go into her office. This is not what I wanted, as I knew what was forthcoming. She entered the room and shut the door behind her. 

	“OK, you know what’s coming”. I nodded. Mark and I both dropped our shorts to leave our exposed, red and battered behinds for all to see and put our hands on the table. It was obvious I was trembling, and was nervous. 

	She surveyed her handiwork from two days ago, and then said, “You two can go, if you promise me you will stay out of trouble in the future.”

	“Yes Miss Marie”, we answered, almost in unison. I quickly pulled up my shorts and left before she could change her mind, and Mark was just behind me. We left her chuckling to herself as she sat down to complete some paperwork. The rest of the day was taken up weeding the flowerbeds and cleaning the windows on the ground floor. Miss Annabelle came out of the house, just before she left, to say that she would see me next week and to behave myself, and one of the maids complained that we hadn’t weeded the flowerbed outside her window, so we went a redid that part of the garden.

	Overall, it was a strange day.

	Monday was a weekday and so Mark and I were awoken at the crack of dawn and taken to the logging camp. The work was more tiring with the two of us, and Miss Julie did not come out to help us until about it was nearly time for her to go home. She came up to me, as Mark was up a tree, and told us tomorrow we would be expected to do a striptease as it was one of the girls 21st birthday. I told Mark when he had descended from the tree and he just smiled. Slavery has turned me into an exhibitionist, and I loved it.

	The following day we started work as usual, until about lunchtime when Miss Julie came down the path with two boiler suits, caps, and posing pouches. We were to follow her, and burst into the canteen and strip to the radio. Mark and I got redressed and followed Miss Julie up the track to the centre. We did as we were told, to see a slightly plump girl blowing out the candles. We did our routine and stripped down to nothing, to whoops of delight and surprise. The girl, Angela, was embarrassed but impressed and afterwards Miss Julie gave us our lunch and we took it outside and ate it. 

	Mark and I had a slight argument on the Thursday when a tree came down. The tree hit another tree on the way down and got lodged there. He blamed me for pulling too far in the wrong direction, and Miss Julie had to break up a fist fight. We were so lucky, she didn’t report us. 

	Saturday came very quickly, and Saturday meant Miss Annabelle. Miss Suzanne was on a business trip and so most of the maids were not working, and the as the weather was bad, Miss Annabelle and myself concerned ourselves with William Shakespeare in her room.

	Miss Annabelle surprised me when she thanked me. Her essay from last week had got her 88%, the highest in her class by a long way.  We quickly went through Macbeth and we then started talking. She explained how she had just bought he first vibrator the other day and when she had reached an orgasm, her bladder had released.  Miss Annabelle was much more open than when I first met her. 

	After she had explained this, I offered to lick her down below, and she originally said no, but shortly afterwards she asked me if I was serious.

	“Why?”

	“My duty is to serve Miss Suzanne and her associates”, I said, “I should do anything asked of me”. I then decided to mention the fact that I hadn’t seen a girl naked, let alone pleasured one, since my sex training at Lake Portswood and it was depressing me! 

“You did sex training?”, she asked me

“Yes, for one week” She smiled, and gradually lowered her trousers and knickers to leave her genitals exposed. I went down on my knees and positioned my tongue around her clit, and proceeded to excite the teenager. 
	
	As my tongue darted around her crotch her cries became more and more audible. I could taste her juices as she oozed pleasure fluid. I then inserted my middle finger into her vagina, and then pulled it in and then out. A squelching noise was audible, and when I settled down into a regular motion, Annabelle began to ride my finger, squealing with every move I made. I then found a particular point at which made her groan more than most.

	As my finger was extended within her, I curled it to the side and then rubbed that point inside her. She groaned more and more as I did it. Her arms went around my head and I stood up and sat down on the bed with her, still moving my finger in and out of her hole and then rubbing her most sensitive point.

	She put her arms around me passionately and then proceeded to kiss me as excitedly as possible. Her lips darted around my face, as she tried desperately to unleash the passion within her. She needed to release and I could tell she was nearing orgasm. She collapsed back on the bed and I moved my mouth back down to her clitoris to finish her off.

With one scream of orgasmic delight she achieved her orgasm, and released her bladder. She hadn’t been to the toilet for sometime, and the amount of urine was considerable. The warm urine bounced off my face and I moved back for a moment. Annabelle looked at me apologetically, but once the stream stopped I went back to licking her crotch.

	I continued to stimulate her with my finger while I used my tongue to flick her clitoris. Her groans were audible. Very audible. I knew I was hard, as this was the closest thing I had to any sort of sexual contact for over a month!

Miss Annabelle orgasmed again, although she did not release her bladder this time. Afterwards she said “no more” to me and I looked up at the weary girl. That week of sex training was paying dividends! 

	“You can go into the bathroom and wash yourself if you want”. I obliged and went into the en suite and washed my face. When I re-entered the room, she was sitting on her bed, and she looked exhausted. I simply said my goodbyes and left the room feeling satisfied. I liked Miss Annabelle, and it was a wonderful feeling to have pleasured her. I still needed releasing, and this would be my next personal task.

	By the time Monday had some round, Mark still hadn’t tired of hearing the story of me pleasuring Annabelle. It's frustrating when you can’t release the pent-up energy and anything sex related turns you on. No matter how repetitive it is.

	The logging camp was also beginning to build up my muscles as well. A slave with big muscles or experience in the sex trade is always worth more. That is maybe why Miss Suzanne loaned Robert to the brothel, so he would have experience inside the sex industry and increase his value. 

	I was also beginning to be more attracted to Miss Julie. On Tuesday she carried out lunch, albeit sandwiches and water up the track to where we were working instead of leaving it in the centre, and then telling us we can eat it when we are next at the centre. She also smiled at us much more, and when we left on Wednesday gave us a slice of cake each to eat on the bus.

	While this chain of events may not seem like much to a normal person, to a slave it means everything, and to me it means a lot. I consider my life has only been bearable thanks to the kindness and consideration that various girls have shown to me, and without them and that consideration, I think my existence would be more depressing, more painful and much less satisfying than it is now. While my life is not gleeful, or particularly enjoyable there are moments which I can savour, such as my time with Miss Annabelle, and the evening with June.

	That evening, the Wednesday, after we had eaten we had to tidy a room which was being used for a party that Saturday. While we were clearing it, Mark fell and was taken to the only slaves hospital on the island, in Deltan. It is advantageous for mistresses to look after their slaves, as if they don’t; the slave could become injured or unhealthy and is worth much less. The treatment is basic, and anaesthetics are rarely used. 

	Mark fell when moving a tea chest of goods and tea chest fell on his arm. His arm was badly bruised, but he was taken to the hospital to ensure that it wasn’t broken. I spent that night alone for the first time since college.

	My usual routine on a Thursday was being woken up by Miss Marie. I showered, ate a small breakfast and was taken to the logging camp. I was hoping that Miss Julie would substitute in for Mark, but I was not expecting it. The park warden did not know what had happened to Mark, and so when I arrived, I was asked in an annoyed tone

	“Where is the other one?”

	“He was injured last night moving boxes, Miss”, I said slightly unsure of myself. It was obvious the park warden was irritated, and I did not want to inflame the situation.

	“Lot of fucking good one of you is”, she replied under her breath. She walked inside the centre, and told me to wait outside in the cool wind. The day was going to be hot, but there was a cool breeze, and as the camp was near to coast it was particularly noticeable. 
	
	Five minutes later Miss Julie emerged in a blue boiler suit.

	“Come on”, she said to me, and started walking down the track. I said nothing to her, and after about ten minutes we reached the trees which had been earmarked for felling today. She dropped the rope she had been carrying next to a tree stump and then passed me a length of rope. 
	
	“We’ll start with this one first”, she said, and pointed to one of the smaller trees with bright painted dots on them. I started to climb up the tree and then tied the rope to the tree. I threw the rope down to the ground, and heard

	“Yeah, got it”, come up from Miss Julie. I descended the tree. Tree climbing had never been a forte of mine, but since Robert had left I did most of the climbing and it was becoming the normality for me. I didn’t mind though, as from the tops of the trees you could clearly see across the bay and onto the beach below. If you had a minute it was a lovely view. More often than not however I did not have time to revel in one of the finest sights I have ever seen. 

	Once I was at ground level, Miss Julie then preceded to saw through the tree. Remembering her reaction from before, I retreated to a more than safe distance. After the tree had been mostly sawn through, we picked up the rope and began to pull. The tree lurched towards us, but it was strong and it bounced back. Clearly we weren’t strong enough. Miss Julie then removed her boiler suit and threw it on the pile of ropes she had brought.  Miss Julie was now only wearing a pair of shorts and a sports bra, and it made her look even sexier than before. She saw me looking at her, but did nothing. The erection down the front of my shorts said it all.

	“It's too hot to be wearing thick clothes”, she said to me and got hold of the rope again. I also got a grip and we started to pull. The tree lurched towards us, and then snapped. It was plummeting towards the ground. We scarpered! 

	The tree didn’t take long to cut down. We usually didn’t do this, but as Miss Julie had her saw with her we cut the bigger branches off the tree and put them in a pile. The main tree trunk we moved out of the main track. 

	Two more trees were taken down by us that morning, before Miss Julie looked at her watch and saw it was ten. 

	“Tea break”, she said to me, and started walking down the path. This was obviously something which I wasn’t used to, but followed her none the less. When we got to the centre she went inside, and I did not follow. I did not want to get into trouble, and Robert had told me that never to go inside unless absolutely necessary. Five minutes later Miss Julie emerged with two mugs. She passed one to me.

	“Thank you Miss”, I said.

	“Yeah, well I wont make a norm of it, but as you’re the only one here it hardly matters”, she replied, and walked up back down the path.

	The tea was slightly watery, and was in an iron mug, but was nice all the same. It was unexpected, to say the least.
	
	Miss Julie and I continued to cut down the trees between us and pile them up on the side of the track. She was much stronger than I thought. When the last tree before lunch came down, we both ran, and tripped each other up, and fell in the undergrowth. 
	
	My immediate reaction was one of fear, but she sat up giggling.	
	
	“I am sorry Miss Julie” was all I could utter. Her giggling went to laughter and then hysterics. I started laughing as well. Laughter is infectious. I got up and helped her to her feet.

	“Oh, how I miss not actually felling the trees”, she admitted to me, as we walked back to the fallen Oak.

	The lunch was better than what I was expecting. Miss Julie proudly presented a plate of Chicken Tikka for me, and for herself.

	“I made this yesterday”, she said to me. “The others have already eaten and so I thought you’d prefer this to those sandwiches.” This was an understatement, as although the sandwiches are very nice, I am a very big curry fan and since my incarceration I have not really had the chance to savour spicy food.

	“Thank you, Miss Julie, it is really nice”, I found myself saying. I was sure I could make a nicer dish, but it was more than passable to a non-slave, and so I'm sure you are aware exactly how nice it tasted to me!

	After we had finished she took the plate from me and put it in the kitchen. 

	“Let’s get going”, she said to me, and once again paced up the path. Miss Julie strode like a man, and it was hard for me to keep up with her. I was often breaking into a jog just to keep alongside her.

	“Can’t keep up with me?” she enquired.

	“You do walk very fast Miss Julie”, I replied. She sniggered, looked at me, and then lowered her pace. We felled the remaining trees, and then Miss Julie walked back to the centre and got the motorised tractor to carry the wood back to the centre. If only Mark and I were allowed to do that!  
	
	Once all the logs been loaded, Miss Julie drove the tractor back, and the logs were unloaded. She also sawed some of the tree trunks in half so they could be moved easier. It was done in less than twenty minutes, and the park warden came out after it had been unloaded.

	“The minibus is being used at the moment, can you walk Adam back to the house?” she asked Miss Julie. “We can’t have him walking back on his own; he’ll get lost or run away or something.”

	“OK sure, shouldn’t take more than an hour and a half”, replied Miss Julie. The park warden nodded her head, and I set off to follow Miss Julie. I just hoped she didn’t go at her normal speed. 

	The two mile walk back to the house went through fields and copses, and across beautiful countryside and instead of haring off down the track; Miss Julie took the walk to be an idle saunter. I was surprised how chatty she was as we walked across the wonderful scenery. She was particularly interested in my training.

	“How often did you get beaten?” she asked. I was more than happy to discuss my training or re-education or whatever they wanted to call it, as my training wasn’t so bad, as some other slaves.

	“More or less every day really. I was lucky as I did most of my training right. I only got the odd slap, not a real beating. Unlike most of the slaves there”, I answered

	“What did you get wrong?” Miss Julie enquired. “If it's OK to ask”. This was politeness, and it is in very short supply on Fyllen Island, but I seem to be lucky as I acquire most of the civility being banded about. I didn’t quite understand why.

	“It’s OK. I got bits of everything wrong. Only the sex training did I not fail in really at sometime or another.”

	“You did sex training?”, she asked, slightly bemused

	“I was trained as a general slave. It means I have to be competent at manual labour, cookery, sexual activities, etc, so I did a week of it”

	“So do all slaves do some of the sex training then?”

	“No, only the few who are being trained to work in brothels or as a general slave. Robert said he was trained as a general slave, but Mark was assigned to work as manual labour only.”

	“I bet you wish you were a sex slave working in the brothels”, she said to be, half laughing as she said it.

	“Not really, there is more to it than just pleasuring the customers”, I said, “It’s also about being humiliated and deprived of any dignity, and I like the work I do”

	“Seriously? You prefer cutting down trees as opposed to bringing girls to the heights of their pleasure?”

	“Yes Miss Julie. I still do give girls pleasure in that department and also I have not been humiliated much since I have been working for Miss Suzanne, and I like the kindness everyone shows to me”. Miss Julie fell silent for a few seconds, and then asked a rather personal question.

	“Who exactly have you been giving satisfaction to then?”

	“Miss Annabelle”

	“Ah, Suzanne’s sister”

	“Yes, Miss Julie, I help her with her English work as well”.

	“Proper little dark horse, aren’t we?” Miss Julie said to me. I felt a little embarrassed, but said nothing. When we next approached a copse, Miss Julie asked me to do something I was only too willing to do.

	[expand]

	“What you did to Miss Annabelle, do you want to do again in the woods we’re approaching?”

	“Certainly Miss Julie, it is my duty to serve.”

	“What exactly did you do to Miss Annabelle?”

	“I went down on her and fingered her, Miss Julie, but I will do whatever you want me to do.”  Miss Julie smiled, but kept on walking. As we entered the copse she looked round and saw a bed of leaves underneath the tree, and sat down on them.

	[expand] [rewrite scene]

	“It's a long time since I've engaged in sexual relations with anyone”, she admitted. “Most men used to be scared off by my work, and the fact I was stronger than them, just added to it. I was going to go to a brothel, but I'm not sure now”

	She looked at me, and then removed her shorts, and then her skimpy knickers. The first thing that I noticed is that she was shaved. It surprised me that this “tomboy” would even bother to take such pride her privates!  She moved her legs apart and displayed her cunt to the world. It would be mine.

	“Fuck me rotten”, she asked. My penis was already standing to attention, and I quickly removed it from my shorts. As I penetrated her, she gasped, and I gently started my rhythmic motion which aroused both of us. As I rocked back and forth, she let out more and more audible screams of delight and excitement which echoed around the trees and the valley.

	One thing I was always taught at the sex training is that I should never climax without permission, and it is at this point I sought to ask the question.

	“Come wherever you want”, she said, before letting off another animalistic cry of ecstasy. Miss Julie is considerably louder than Miss Annabelle! I moved my arms around her, caressing and touching different parts of her muscular body. 

	With one large scream, she came, which set me off and I pumped my love juices deep inside her. She was panting like I've never seen her pant, and her fingers were digging into my back.

	“Oh my god”, she said after she had regained some composure, “it has been a long time”. I looked into her eyes, and she wanted more, I crawled down a bit and engaged my mouth to her privates. I started licking her clitoris, trying to get her come again. The slurping and sucking was clearly audible above the sound of the birds singing in the tree. 

	Once again, she started to orgasm, letting out yells and screams which penetrated the valley, and echoed around the woods. It was like there were many girls climaxing. Miss Julie let me make her orgasm many times before she stopped us and said that we had better be going. We cleaned up with the tissues, and continued our walk home

	Miss Marie was surprised to see Miss Julie walking me home. She was out of the little kitchen / staffroom when we arrived, sweeping the pathway. 

	“Good afternoon, Julie, didn’t expect to see you here”, said the maid

	“Just bringing back, Adam from the camp”, said Miss Julie, “the minibus is busy and so we had to walk”

	“Do you want a drink of any kind”, asked the maid, “its hot weather”.

	“No, I'm fine; I've got to get back to the camp”. I left Miss Julies side and started walking into the house at this point, before Miss Marie stopped me with her acid tongue.

	“Adam, how dare you not thank Miss Julie for coming all this way so you can get back here? Where are your manners? You filthy slaves are a disgrace”, she barked at me. 

	“I am sorry” I quickly replied. “Thank you, Miss Julie, for bringing me back here”.
	
	“My pleasure”, replied Miss Julie, “My pleasure indeed”. I had to stop myself from smiling, and Miss Marie told me to go wait for her in her office.

	Two minutes later she materialised. 

	“Sit down”, she said rather abruptly. “You should thank Miss Julie when you next see her. If it wasn’t for her you would be receiving twenty cane strokes. She explained how you are always polite at the camp, and it was probably tiredness that meant you forgot your manners just then. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but if you dare forget your manners again, I’ll spank your arse so hard it would redefine the colours black, blue and red. Do I make myself clear?”

	“Yes, Miss Marie.”

	“Now if you are tired, then you have your dinner and then you get some sleep”

	“OK, Miss Marie”, I said. That night I fantasized hard about being Miss Julie’s slave. I wanted to take the 25-year-old and pleasure her constantly. I wanted to caress every part of her well toned body. I wanted to make her squeal and scream like she did today. I wanted her. 

	Friday was the same as Thursday. Mark had been kept in overnight as the X-Ray scanner had been broken. While I was getting dressed, Miss Marie came in to see me. I was very used to everyone seeing me naked, and it didn’t bother me. I liked it if I'm honest

	“Just remember to be polite, and remember your manners. If you don’t and I hear of it then I will be very angry”.

	“Yes Miss Marie, I will try and be as well mannered as possible”, I found myself saying. I needed to keep on the good side of Miss Marie, as she was the one that was most linked to my life being bearable.

	The day at the logging camp went the same as the day before. I had two tea breaks, a meal of Chicken Korma, and a hug of Miss Julie. Once again she walked me back, and once again we had sex in the woods.  Her screams were louder and her orgasms more intense than yesterday. Once again I emptied inside her and once again I brought her to orgasm again by the use of my mouth.

	When we arrived back at the house, Miss Marie sent me in for a shower while Miss Julie and she had a chat over a cup of tea. I could hear some of the conversation in the shower, but I tried hard not to listen as I was sure I would be punished if they discovered me ear wigging. 

	The pieces I caught were Miss Julie explaining how polite I was and that yesterday was a one-off. Miss Marie told Miss Julie about Mark and me fighting, and how she had to discipline us. They then talked about the work at the camp. I left the shower and walked into the cell naked. Both of them surveyed me as I walked past. There were clean clothes on the mat where I sleep which I changed into. Miss Marie came into the dormitory with Miss Julie, and Miss Julie spoke to me.

	“Good bye Adam, I will see you on Monday”

	“Good bye, Miss”, I replied. I looked at Miss Marie, half-expecting her to be annoyed, but she looked positively radiant. Whatever Miss Julie had said to her, had made her very happy indeed! They both left the dormitory, and I was told to go and clean the cars in the drive. I got up and got the bucket and utensils from the staffroom.

	After dinner, Mark returned with his arm in a sling, and was called to see Miss Suzanne. He went upstairs with Miss Marie and another maid told me to clean the kitchen. She had an oppressive face and she scrunched it up when she spoke to me. I think her name was Georgina and she looked mean. She was not overly attractive and certainly carried a few extra pounds. I set to cleaning the kitchen and was just finishing it when both Mark and Miss Marie returned.

	“Miss Suzanne wants to see you too”, she barked at me, and she gestured to me to walk up the stairs. I gave my mop to Mark and started walking up the stairs followed by Miss Marie.

	Miss Suzanne was in her study which was imposing, like most of the house. Around the walls were bookcases containing loads of books, and hanging on the centre of the wall was a picture of Miss Suzanne and President Claire Ryder. Miss Marie departed, and Miss Suzanne just stared at me angrily. I just looked at the floor sheepishly. Maybe she knew about Miss Annabelle or Miss Julie. After about twenty or thirty seconds, she spoke to me.

	“Come and kneel here.” Miss Suzanne pointed to in front of her, and I obliged. I was trembling, and it was clear I was nervous. Miss Suzanne was overpowering and installed fear into me. “I want you to tell me what happened between you and Miss Annabelle last weekend.”

	I could not lie, as she already knew the truth. I looked to the ground and proceeded to tell her, exactly what had happened. I explained how she had released her bladder all over me when she had orgasmed and that she had seemed very happy. If I hadn’t been looking at the floor I would have seen Miss Suzanne smiling, but instead I took to apologising profusely, and begging for mercy.

	“I'm not angry with you”. I know I looked surprised. I felt surprised. “What I'm going to do is to loan you to Miss Julie Farinos. She works at the logging camp so you will still work there and in the evenings you will be at the apartment complex where both she and Annabelle live. At the weekends you will still be here cleaning and weeding the garden as normal.” The apartment block was called Emley House and was in the centre of Deltan. I would leave tomorrow.

	Miss Suzanne dismissed me with a radiant smile, and Miss Marie was waiting for me outside. I was taken back down to the staffroom, and locked in the dormitory.

	“I hear you are going to live with Miss Annabelle” Mark said to me.
	
	“Yeah, only during weekdays, you’ll still see me at the camp though”.

	“I won’t be at the camp for the next two weeks. Doctor has told Miss Suzanne to rest me and my arm and so I will be here for a week weeding the garden and doing light duties”

	“And next week?”

	“I’ll be at Lake Portswood, undergoing some physio on my arm, and undergoing a complete healthcheck”

	“So is it broken then?”

	“No, just badly bruised”. Miss Marie unlocked the door and came in. Mark and I stopped our conversation immediately.

	“It's time for you two slaves to get some sleep. If you need to go to the toilet go now”. I got up and went to the toilet, before going to bed, at the early time of 8pm.

	Saturday was weird, as after just two weeks at Fellswood House, I was leaving there for a new destination. While I would not be completely leaving the mansion and Miss Suzanne, my primary place of ownership would be at a new location.

	Miss Marie woke us up at 8am, and we had a shower. She didn’t hurry us, and I had a long shower. The warm water bounced off of my body, which was still half-asleep. The menthol in the shampoo made my eyes sting, but was refreshing all the same. It had a feeling today was going to be an unusual day. 

	After our shower, we had breakfast, and we were told to clean the showers out. While we were doing this, we heard Miss Suzanne’s voice and looked around. She entered the room, with another lady, who was also reasonably young. Mark recognised her, and knelt down. I did the same, as I was unsure who she was. 

	“Ah, you have a new slave, Suzanne.”

	“Yes, bought him two weeks ago actually. He is going to spend some time with your darling little sister”. I guessed this was Gloria. 

	“Carry on you two”, said Miss Suzanne and they left the room. We continued our cleaning. Ten minutes later, Miss Marie came in, and told me to come with her. She put handcuffs on me, and ankle-cuffs. I had trouble walking at any speed, and she pushed me in front of her. A minibus was waiting, and I was pushed into it. A police officer was waiting inside, and she looked at me sternly. The drive to Miss Annabelle’s apartment block wasn’t long, and I was unloaded after ten minutes at a huge building. I was marched inside by the police officer, who carried a whip in her left hand and taken up two flights of stairs to Flat 22. It was on the top floor, and the police officer rang the bell. Miss Julie came to the door, dressed in a light blue T-shirt and dark blue shorts. Her hair was tied back as usual, and she smiled when she saw the police officer.

	CHAPTER FIVE: Life at 22 Emley House

	“Julie Farinos?” enquired the police officer.

	“Yes”

	“Suzanne Riesling asked us to transport this dog to you, could you sign here?”

	“Of course, she did mention it”. Miss Julie picked up the clipboard and signed next to her name.  The police officer handed Miss Julie a set of keys.

	“Should you want to unfasten him”, she said. Miss Julie nodded. With that, the police officer left the doorway and walked away. Miss Julie shut the door. She told me to remove my shoes which I did, and carried them into the lounge where she was.

	“I’ll show you around”, she said. Her apartment is not big, but is adequately spacious. There are two bedrooms, one with en suite, a kitchen, a lounge, a bathroom and a little utility room. From the balcony you can see all across Deltan and the bay. Most of the house is decorated in blue or purple and was done to a high standard. 

	“This will be your room”, she said to me. It was about three metres by four metres, and had a lockable door from the outside. It was decorated in blue, and had a bed to the left of the room. There was also a desk, and sitting on the desk was a pile of shorts and T-Shirts. Other than the bed and the desk there was no furniture. In the corner of the room there was a steel bucket, and she saw me looking at it.

	“In case you need the toilet in the night”, she said to me. “Suzanne has asked me to keep you in ankle chains while you are here, unless I am in the same room as you, but I can remove the handcuffs.” She took out the keys and unlocked the handcuffs. They were hung on a peg outside my room. She went over and sat on the bed, and gestured at me to kneel beside her. I walked over and kneeled next to her, and looked up at her. I felt like a little puppy dog, and yet, I did not mind. I was used to being a submissive now.

	“When Miss Suzanne spoke to me last night we agreed on what you will do. You are here not only to gain experience in being a domestic slave, but also to gain experience for providing your superiors with sexual gratification.” I nodded in agreement.

	“Now I often have people round, Adam, and I do expect the same treatment for them, as you have afforded me, and Miss Annabelle, OK?”

	“Yes Miss Julie”

	 “And while we are on the subject of Annabelle, she lives in the large apartment below, and therefore she may send for you. I, and Suzanne, do expect you to show her the same treatment, if she requests it. Comprende?”

	“Yes Miss Julie”. I answered.

	“Now I will discipline you for every misdemeanour that you do, and I will take pleasure from it, so I do expect you to be on your best behaviour”

	“Good, now I'm starting to get hungry, so please go and make me breakfast. I want a fry-up”. I moved over to the door and she followed me. When we reached the kitchen, she sat down on the table in there and opened a newspaper on the table. 

	“The eggs, bacon, tomatoes are in the fridge, the bread is in the bread bin. Bread pudding is in the fridge, hash browns are in the freezer. Frying pans are in the cupboard next to the fridge. I want two eggs, each on toast. Oh, and some mushrooms, OK?”

	“Yes Miss Julie”. I looked inside the fridge and selected the food I would need and then washed my hands. Miss Julie got up with her newspaper and went next door into the lounge and turned on the television. I turned the grill on and when it had heated up, put in the hash browns and two rashers of bacon. The mushrooms were easy to slice and fried them up, along with the eggs, and the tomatoes. The toaster cooked the bread, and I put the kettle on as well in case Miss Julie did want a cup of tea. Fifteen minutes from when she asked I had arranged her breakfast on a plate for her and I took it into her.

	“Miss Julie, I have cooked your breakfast for you”, I said. I was slightly jealous, as the aroma of the bacon filled the room. I passed her the plate with a knife and fork and then asked if she wanted a cup of tea. She did, so I quickly made one.

	“I'm sure I will like having you around here, Adam”, she said to me, and started eating the breakfast I had cooked. 

	“Shall I go and clean the kitchen now Mistress?”

	“Yes, of course, I don’t want to do it!” She looked at me, trying hard not to smile, and I shirked off into the background to go and tidy the kitchen. The kitchen was done in no time whatsoever, and I wiped all the tables down and cleaned inside the oven. The utensils I used were sparkling, and were put away. The kitchen was spotless.

	By the time I had finished Miss Julie reappeared with her dirty dishes and I went to wash them up.

	“Wash them up later, no point in dirtying more water, is there?”

	“No Miss Julie”, I replied. At that point, the phone went, and went over to the wall to answer it.

	“Oh hello Annabelle”, she said. I guessed I knew what was coming, and the fact the next answer was, “he is right here”, kind of confirmed that she was asking about me. “I have to go out in ten minutes, so do you want him then?” she said to Miss Annabelle. When she hung up she looked at me and said

	“Miss Annabelle would like some help with her English, so you are going to help her in ten minutes when I go out.” I nodded, in acceptance of this, and she left the room.

	Miss Annabelle was waiting for me when Miss Julie dropped me off. On Miss Julie’s floor there were eight apartments, and on Miss Annabelle’s floor there were just four. Miss Annabelle's apartment was double the size. It had three bedrooms, although one was being used as a study. The lounge was massive, and the balcony was twice the size. Once again I removed my shoes and sat down with Miss Annabelle. She handed me small pile of papers which had been bound at the seams. The front title explained more or less what the piece was about “A male living in Fyllen”.

	“Tina gave it to us yesterday, we have to do a piece on it over the holidays”, Miss Annabelle said to me. “You should know the text – you wrote it!” I glanced down at the name, and saw “Miss Tina Ravenn” as author and underneath in smaller text my name. Cheeky cow I thought! I immediately opened the text and under each day heading there was my two or three pages I had written. Also on some pages there were comments from herself, and even one from June. At the back there were a list of twelve essay titles, and I asked which one she had to do.

	“Number three”, she said to me, “I was born in March, and also one other of my choice”. I read out the essay title,

	“Adam clearly has strong feelings for both June and Becky, but how does the limitations and restrictions on him, alter the way he expresses this to them.”

	“I was thinking of doing number seven as well”, she said to me, “or maybe nine. What do you think?” I read both of these. 

	“I think number seven is better” I said “the title ‘How does the change in Adam’s lifestyle alter his views on life’. It gives more scope to write what you want.” She nodded in agreement. We went through the text, highlighting evidence to support both essay titles. For the first question, I pointed out the lack of a freedom of movement, and the way that if I said anything inappropriate then they could make my life less tolerable. For the second question I highlighted the emergence of my exhibitionism, the obvious changing attitudes I had to women, and the submissive viewpoint I was forced to adopt. We spent a couple of hours writing an essay plan for both of them, before Miss Julie came back. 

	“I take it he has behaved himself”, she asked.

	“Oh yes, do you want him back?” Miss Annabelle said to Miss Julie

	“Only if you are finished with him”, said Miss Julie

	“Well I've done all I'm prepared to do today”, she said. “You can have him back”. Miss Julie gestured to me, and I walked out of the apartment and up to Miss Julie’s flat. I was still in ankle chains, and it was beginning to be inconvenient! 
	
	When we got in, I followed Miss Julie into the front room. She looked at me, and then exploded.

	“I told you to always take your shoes off, Adam. I won’t tolerate you not doing as you are told. Now go and take your shoes off now.” I left the room and removed my footwear but it was too late, and by the time I had re-entered the room, she had retrieved a cane. I looked at the floor, hoping that she wouldn’t use it, but it was a foregone conclusion. She dragged me along to my room and threw me up against the bed. My shorts were ripped down to my ankle cuffs and she began striking my bare arse. With each hit, I let out a scream and began to cry in pain. Miss Julie was strong and her beating hurt much more than Miss Marie’s. Miss Julie also rained insults on me as she struck my red behind. She did have a temper!

	After the seventh hit, I started sobbing uncontrollably, as the pain was beginning to really bite. A burning sensation was originating from my behind, and the fact I was crying made her stop. She stormed out of the room, saying “Now think about what you’ve just done” and shut the door behind her, locking it as she went. I cried myself to sleep.

	In the evening, the door was unlocked, and Miss Julie came in. She looked down on me and threw me a book. It was entitled the “Laws of Fyllen Island”

	“Read the law from the bookmark onwards, and I will test you tomorrow. For everything you get wrong, I’ll punish you”. After which she left. The chapter bookmarked was about male suppression and the laws about it. I read the Acts over and over again that evening, trying hard to memorise them before the following morning. 

	Sunday morning started fairly late, Miss Julie had a lie-in. She woke up and had a shower and then came into my cell. She saw me reading the book I had been given the day before and smirked.
	
	“If you don’t know that by now, you’re screwed. Anyway come on you little worm, you need to be showered and I got a house for you to tidy.”

	I was taken to the shower, and she left the door open. I was given only budget quality shampoo and soap, and no towels. My body quickly dried however and put it into my fresh clothes. Miss Julie had got herself some cereal, and so there was no cooking for me to do at the moment. She had had some friends round the night before as beer cans, and pizza boxes were strewn in the lounge. I set about tidying up the lounge and the kitchen, and before long it was spotless again. 
		
	“Do you know how to cook a curry?”

	“Yes mistress, would you like me to?”

	“Yes, and put some of it in the fridge so I can reheat it tomorrow. You know where most of the utensils are. And while it is cooking you can read your book” One thing I was renowned for was cooking curries. It was my speciality in the kitchen, and so therefore cooking it would be simple. 

	Miss Julie had provided some chicken and I set about browning the diced chicken. When it had been browned, I fried it up with some onions, and then added the tomatoes, herbs, spices, wine, vegetables, and chillies. It would be a hot one! While it was cooking on a low heat, I was reading the book of laws. I did not know it all that well and I was sure my sore arse would get another hiding today. I stirred the curry every ten minutes, and I heard Miss Julie watching the football next door. 

	Nearly an hour later she came in and got another beer from the fridge. She went over to the curry and looked inside. 

	“Smells nice”, she said, smiled at me and left. Miss Julie had hardly smiled at me since I had arrived, and it was beginning to trouble me. My experiences of her had been as a confident but reasonable girl, not as an oppressive and unreasonable dominatrix.
	
	She came back an hour later, just as I was finishing the rice, poppadoms and naans. She sat down at the table and looked at me.

	“Is that not done yet?”

	“I'm just about to dish up. There is a lot here; shall I put all of what’s left in the fridge, Miss?”

	“Yes, there are sandwich bags there, put the curry in one, and rice in another. I dished up on a plate a generous portion and passed it to her. She sprinkled it with salt, and asked me to pass her another beer from the fridge, which I did. As I was putting the remaining food into the bags, I heard her cough.

	“Bloody hell, this isn’t a curry, it's a weapon. Are you trying to kill me?!” 
	
	“I'm sorry mistress, is it too hot?”

	“No, I just wasn’t expecting it like this. Long time since I had something like this”. I washed up the utensils and then her plate. She had completely cleaned it, and after I had finished she came back and picked up the book. 

	“Right Adam, I think we have a little test to do”. I was worried. I didn’t know the book as well as I should and I was going to get punished, I knew it! She dragged me into my room and got me to kneel next to her, while she sat on the bed. 

	“For every one you get wrong, you will pose for a nude photo doing whatever my friends ask you to do tomorrow. I’ll ask you twenty questions. Understand?”

	“Yes Miss”.

	“What is the only time a male, slave or otherwise, is allowed into a bar, strip joint or club?

	“When he is working there Miss”, I answered, that one was easy.

	“Correct, what is the place where males must register their address if they are not enslaved?” 

	“Fyllen Registrars Office, Miss”. Miss Julie picked relatively easy questions and by the time I was at question eighteen, I was still at 100%. She then picked impossible questions for the last three, and she proudly announced I would be posing for her friends three times tomorrow. 

	I spent the rest of the day cleaning her flat, while she watched television and downloaded porn on the internet. At 9pm, she told me to go to bed, and I did.

	Monday morning, was weird. I was woken up at 8am, and taken to the showers. After which I made breakfast for Miss Julie (hot porridge oats), and for myself (toast) under orders. I also cleaned up the dirty dishes, and then we walked to the logging camp minus ankle cuffs. It was only two miles away and Miss Julie liked walking. It's part of what made her legs so strong. She took with her a large amount of curry and said that she would get Miss Jenny to try some. The day was spent logging, and Miss Julie was in a much more pleasant mood with me. She gave me some of the curry, although even I needed an excessive amount of water to stop myself from internally combusting! Miss Jenny was very impressed with it, and Miss Julie seemed to have me in her good books.

	That afternoon we managed to fell a very large amount of trees, and altogether, for the day, had sawn over thirty trees. At the end of the day, Miss Julie decided to jog home, and I would have to keep up with her. She jogged fast and I did have trouble maintaining her pace. It wasn’t a hot day but I was boiling. By the time we reached Emley House, I was absolutely knackered. Miss Julie ushered me into the shower, and then gave me clean clothes. 

	I know what happened next as Miss Julie told me. I collapsed on the bed, in sheer exhaustion. Miss Jenny came round at seven, and when they went to fetch me, Miss Jenny asked

	“Shall we wake him? Lazy slave!” She pointed at me on the bed. I was completely naked face down with the clean clothes next to me on the bed.

	“No, let him sleep. He’s worked really hard today and deserves a rest”, said Miss Julie.

	At nine o’clock once everyone had gone home, Miss Julie came in, and woke me up accidentally.

	“Nice of you to rejoin us”, she said. It dawned on me that I had just gone to sleep instead of serving Miss Julie, and if reported I could expect days, if not weeks, of torture.

	“Oh, I am sorry Miss Julie, please don’t report me, I didn’t mean to”. Tears started to form in my eyes, and Miss Julie came and sat next to me. She put her arm around me, and cuddled me, not allowing me to finish my desperate pleas.

	“Of course I won’t report you. You’ve worked really hard today, I'm impressed, and you’re not used to days like that. I feel tired myself” She squeezed me tighter, and then made a confession.

	“I know I was unreasonable at the weekend to you, but I am under orders to ensure that standards don’t slip, and I was told to be hard with you at the beginning. I don’t want you to fear me like you fear Marie or Suzanne”.

	“Yes Miss”, I tried to say through the tears and the tiredness. What came out, I do not know, but I was glad Miss Julie was back to treating me with some modicum of value. I slept very well for the remainder of the night. 

	The week followed that pattern; I made breakfast, dinner and supper. I cleaned the house, washed the clothes, and did the ironing for Miss Julie’s clothes. I was surprised by the lack of any chance to sexually gratify Miss Annabelle or Miss Julie, and half longed for it. This was one part of my time at Emley House I would enjoy.

	Friday morning was different to how I expected it. Sirens were wailing outside and I went outside onto the balcony to have a look. Three police cars were in the next street, and the area was crawling with cops. I went back to cooking Miss Julie her breakfast of toast. A few minutes later there was a crashing sound on the balcony, and I looked round. A teenage male, of a similar height and age to me, was in the front room. The lock on the balcony was smashed.

	He pulled out a gun, and aimed it at me. 
	
	“In the corner”, he said to me, and I walked over to the aforementioned part of the lounge. Miss Julie came in, and she too was ordered into the corner of the room.

	“Phone the police and tell them that unless they back off, and get a helicopter which will take me off this island, I will shoot you both”, the desperate man shouted at us. Miss Julie picked up the phone and dialled “1” the phone number for the emergency services. She explained where we were and what the situation was. She also gave them the phone number before the man snatched the handset off of her, and put it down on the base unit.

	“Now we wait”, he said. I was feeling a little scared, and Miss Julie was a clearly ruffled as well. He was an escaped slave or a slave in training, and he was desperate. He clearly considered the possibility of being shot dead a preferable option to his loss of liberty. There was silence for about five minutes until I boldly broke it.

	“You won’t get away with it. They won’t let you.” I ventured. He looked at me in disgust.

	“And how would you know, you’re just another part of the system I need to escape from”

	“I know they won’t let you waltz off the island letting you make a mockery of them”, I said.  He sniggered. 

	“Anything is better than the life I have now”

	“Well don’t make it any worse for yourself. Let Miss Julie go”, I said, trying hard to sound sincere. 

	“Bollocks. She’s the only reason why they haven’t come storming in”

	“Well would you at least let her the breakfast I made her?” He sniggered again, thought for a moment and then answered.

	“OK, but be quick about it”. Miss Julie stood up and walked into the kitchen. He watched her, as he picked up the toast. I coughed at that moment, and he spun round, and looked at me. Miss Julie saw that as her moment to escape and she ran from the kitchen and into the lobby and out into the waiting arms of the Armed Police.

	He turned to me angrily, “You planned that”. 
	
	“Well now you have no bargaining position, they won’t care about me, and they won’t care about you”. The phone rang at that point, and he told me to answer it. Miss Julie was on the other end of the phone, and she told me the police were waiting for five minutes before they stormed the flat. I passed this on to him, and he looked worried.

	“Life doesn’t have to be as bad at it is now. My life isn’t as good as it was last year. I don’t have a freedom, a love life or anything like that, but I work hard and I don’t get punished much. It is all about who owns you”

	“I'm not owned, I've been at the camps for three months. I can’t pass their fucking tests”, he said, “There is no way I'm giving up”

	“Life is better outside than inside the camps”. I was trying in vain to get him to put the gun down. He stood up and pointed the gun at me. I was terrified; there is no other word for it. I could feel the hairs start to stand up on the back of my neck.

	“The moment you leave this flat, they’ll gun you down, and you know it”. I was desperately trying to stop him, but I was sure he could detect the nervousness in my voice. He threw the gun down on the table, and admitted.

	“It's a fake anyway”. I breathed a huge sigh of relief, and went over to him. He started sobbing and collapsed on the chair almost hysterical. I left the room, taking the gun as I went, and made for to door. When I opened it, the entire landing was full of armed police.

	“He’s unarmed”, I said to the sergeant, who was there, who then pushed past me, and went into the lounge. They picked up the frenzied slave and dragged him out of the flat. He was screaming uncontrollably as he went.

	Miss Julie came into the flat, along with two young police officers. They looked around a bit, while Miss Julie went to made herself a cup of tea. 
	
	“We can do the interviews here, instead of down the station”, said the senior police officer to Miss Julie.

	“OK, is the kitchen acceptable?” asked Miss Julie.

	“Yeah, it's fine”. The police officer tried to interview Miss Julie but she was still in a state of shock, and also she didn’t see the arrival of the intruder, or the departure of him, and so they filled in the gaps in the statement from my testimony.
	
	“We may need to call you up as a witness. This will be going to trial, and it will be next week if the courts have the time”, said the young police officer to Miss Julie. Miss Julie nodded, and then saw the two law enforcers out.

	“There is no way I'm going into work”, she said to me, looking visibly exhausted. “I'm going to ring up and let then know. I walk you over to Fellswood House in the afternoon”. 

	“Yes, Miss, what do you want me to do?”

	“I don’t care, Adam, I'm going to bed, you can do the same if you want” Her tone said volumes, and after a short phone call she did go to bed. I went to bed as well, but woke up in afternoon, when she was still asleep.

	I went into her room with a cup of tea, and woke her up gently.
	
	“Miss Julie, I've made you a cup of tea” She stared aimlessly at me for a moment, and then looked at the clock. I was about to leave, when she spoke so I turned around.

	“You really haven't done much of what you were sent here to do, have you?”

	“Pardon, Miss”, I asked, slightly puzzled.

	“Well, you haven’t had much sex, or practice at it, have you?”

	“No, Miss, I suppose I haven’t”. She pulled back the duvet, to expose herself, and told me to get cracking! If only life outside the island was like that as well! She told me to only perform oral sex on her.

	I attached myself to her shaved clit, and began massaging it gently with my tongue. She moaned in delight, as I swirled around her regions, like I do with an ice cream cornet. I could smell her musky scent, and that turned me on. I wanted to make her orgasm time and time again. As I continued to use my tongue to explore her nether regions, she was pulling away, but then grinding against my face. It made it hard for me to breathe. 

	Miss Julie orgasmed, but she didn’t ask me to stop, so I continued to drive my tongue into her crevices and she came two more times before telling me to cease. She looked satisfied, and slightly tired, but got out of bed all the same. 

	“You may want to have another shower”, she said to me and walked out of the musky room. I left her, and did have another shower.

	The walk across the valleys was nice, and it was only a two mile walk. Most of the trees and flowers were in bloom, and swayed in the wind. The fresh air was wonderful, and it was a pleasant trip, seeing the birds, and wildlife. 

	Miss Marie was surprised to see us so early, but when Miss Julie explained what had happened. 

	“Just not safe is it?” Miss Marie suggested. “These slaves - always willing to cause trouble” They both looked at me at that point, and Miss Julie defended me.

	“He was very brave this morning, and has been good all week.” Miss Marie looked surprised, but then added

	“You must have done a good job; we caught him and Mark fighting once. Anyway, fancy a cup of tea”. It never ceased to amaze me how most visitors to the house ended up having a cup of tea with Miss Marie. She used it as a way of avoiding work I was sure! 

	While Miss Marie and Miss Julie had a cup of tea, I was cleaning the greenhouses again. Miss Suzanne was unimpressed with the state of them, and so this was my first job this weekend.  After an hour Miss Marie came out and saw the greenhouses sparkling, and beamed.

	“That’s better”, she said, “Now I want to see you in my office”. I walked in with her, and she sat down. I wasn’t told to sit down so this meant I was in trouble.

	“You are a very lucky little shit, you know that. I've just been speaking to Julie and she explained how you and Mark were fighting just a few days after Miss Suzanne gave you that warning.” I looked sheepish. I had hoped, she wouldn’t tell anyone, but Miss Julie obviously let it slip.

	“But”, Miss Marie continued her assault on me, “for reasons known only to her, Miss Farinos, has asked me not to tell Suzanne. What is it which makes you two maggots exchange blows? Tell me that.” I had to answer, but I also had to answer tactfully. I thought for a moment, and then said.

	 “We don’t mean anything by it, but please don’t report us Miss”.

	“As I said I'm not going to, but feel lucky. I would report you.” Miss Marie stared at me for a moment, and then continued “I only ever hear good things about you two. Everyone says you are polite, strong, well disciplined and clever. I mean both Miss Annabelle and Miss Julie both think very highly of you, and yet you continue to disappoint me. Is it too much to expect you not to be violent?”

	“No Miss Marie”, I answered. I was nervous about her general demeanour, and she was barking at me almost.

	“Well if you have a problem then you have to come and see me, but otherwise I do expect you not be aggressive or vicious towards anyone. Do you understand?” I nodded, but she was unimpressed.

	“I do expect an answer, so don’t just fucking nod at me”

	“Yes Miss”, I quickly uttered.

	“Good, now the cell you sleep in needs a good clean. Go do it”

	“Yes Miss”, I replied and left the room. While I was cleaning the room Miss Marie came in to see me. 

	“Adam, I have just been to see Miss Suzanne, and I have told her about today with the intruder at Miss Julie’s and she is very happy with your conduct. I think she will ask to see you later, but this proves what I was saying earlier – you tarnish your good reputation by doing stupid things” 

	“Yes Miss”, I answered. I was a little unsure of what to say. She left as I said “thank you”.

Later in the afternoon I was called to see Miss Suzanne in her study. She told me to sit on the stool by the side of her desk and I did, while she was finishing off writing a letter. 

“Firstly, Miss Julie has just told me what happened today, and both myself, and her, are very impressed by your behaviour in a dangerous and difficult situation. Now, secondly, I want you to tell me how you think you’ve adapted to living with Julie”

I was going to be a bit nervous answering that question, but I tried to be objective. I knew Miss Julie would have already told her what she thought and my opinion would be worthless anyhow, but Miss Suzanne would use it to gauge how well I thought I was coping.

“I think I have settled in well. I have got experience of being a domestic and a bit of being a sex slave and I don’t think I've made any big mistakes”, I answered. Miss Suzanne smiled down at me.

“That’s more or less what Julie said to me on the phone twenty minutes ago. OK, that’s all. Oh, and I've arranged for you to do light duties this weekend Adam. I don’t want to risk you still being in shock from this morning” She signalled for me to leave, which I did and went down to staffroom unaccompanied, which surprised me a bit. 

“Ah Adam, this is Miss Emily.” Miss Marie said to me, pointing to a teenage girl, also dressed in a maids’ outfit. She had large breasts, which were easily displayed in the uniform she was wearing. Her brown wavy hair was shoulder length and she smiled sincerely. I cannot deny I was wondering whether I could use my sex training on her in the near future.

“Emily, Adam is one of the slaves. He is only here at the weekends, but he will show you round the site. Adam, Miss Emily is a new maid, and will be partly responsible for you, taking over from me. She will be starting here this weekend. You must therefore show her the same obedience you show me, understand?”

“Yes, Miss”

“Good, now please show Miss Emily around the premises”. Miss Emily and I left the room, and I proceeded to show her around the building. She was very outgoing, and she almost bounced around the premises. She was clearly excited by the prospect of her job.

“I know I'm going to get told this by Marie, but what exactly do you do?” asked the young maid. 

“We have to clean, tidy, do odd jobs at the weekend”. Miss Emily smiled, and continued to ask questions, some more personal than others. At the end of the tour we arrived at the staffroom. Miss Marie was there and she took me and Miss Emily into her office.

Miss Marie turned to Miss Emily and told her to sit down, and gestured at me to sit on the stool which I did.  The office looked more barren than it did before, and only a few things remained, such as the canes and whips

“Emily, normally there will be another slave, Mark, who is undergoing physiotherapy, and Suzanne has purchased another slave who will be arriving tomorrow for work on Monday. This will be your office, furnish it as you wish. The canes and whips you will need are on the wall.”

“Canes and whips?” enquired the teenager.

“For disciplining the slaves; they take advantage if you don’t.”

	“I'm not sure I could hit one”, Miss Emily admitted to Miss Marie.

	“Nonsense, they are animals. They need the discipline. Adam, how many times have I had to hit you?” Miss Marie looked at me in earnest.

	“Once, Miss Marie”

	“See” she turned to Miss Emily “you need to. Mark and Adam were caught fighting….twice.” Miss Emily looked nervous. 

	“Adam, drop your shorts and lean forward on the desk”. I looked worried, but Miss Marie was serious. I did remove my shorts, and lean forward. Miss Marie selected the smallest cane and walked round. She gave the cane to Miss Emily. “You hit them here” 

	Miss Marie proceeded to explain how to discipline effectively, and even got Miss Emily to hit me across my rump. I yelled in pain and her immediate reaction was to apologise.

	“You don’t apologise to these dogs”, Miss Marie explained, “They are here to serve and get beaten” By the end of it, Miss Marie had decided that Miss Emily should take over tomorrow. She was being given promotion to the person in overall charge of all the staff, and wanted to take over her new post as soon as possible, which meant Miss Emily had to take charge of her old duties as soon as possible!!!!

	Saturday was an important day for me. For Miss Emily it was her first day, and having had Miss Marie school her in the finer points of slave management and punishment, she was eager to put her new found knowledge to the test. I got showered and got myself, and her, breakfast before cleaning up. I was going outside to weed the garden when Miss Suzanne came downstairs. 

	“There has been a break-in at the logging camp, and so you won’t be going there on Monday and Tuesday and possibly not till Wednesday. The police are there, and then the Regional Safety Office needs to ensure that it’s still an employable environment, so you won’t be going to Julies till later in the week”. She looked at Miss Emily and then turned to her.

	“Are you settling in, OK?”

	“Yes thanks”. Miss Suzanne smiled, and went to leave.

	“Just make sure this one doesn’t cause any problems. I know what he's like!” She sniggered slightly and then left. Miss Emily turned to me and asked

	“So what are you like?” I didn’t have time to answer before Miss Marie came downstairs, probably passing Miss Suzanne on the way.

	“The new slave is here”, she said and walked out into the sunshine.

	“Its all go isn’t it?!” I suggested. Miss Emily grinned, and then told me to clean the dormitory, as she went to greet the new slave.

	Thomas was five foot ten, slight build and a timid character. These were the first impressions I got of the slave, who wasn’t older than me, and probably was younger than Miss Emily. He looked very nervous, frightened, even petrified as Miss Emily showed him into the quarters, I call a dormitory but Miss Marie calls a cell. 

	“You got an hour to fill him in Adam, before I expect you to do some real work, even if you are on light duties!” said Miss Marie. Miss Emily was right behind her, and nodded in approval. The door was shut and I began to fill him in about the logging camp, Miss Annabelle, Miss Julie, the intruder, everything which had happened. 
	
	“So how often have you brought a girl to heaven in this place?” he asked, slightly more confidently than I expected. I grinned, and answered.

	“Before I moved to Emley House to get more experience it was three times in two weeks.” He laughed, and then looked at my serious face, and asked the most predictable question he could.

	“Who with?”

	“This house and the camp are crawling with girls. I'm sure, once you’ve been around for a few days the opportunities will come for you too – I found favour with Miss Annabelle, Suzanne’s sister, and Miss Julie.”  His eyes opened and a smile crept across his face.

	“I wouldn’t go asking if I was you, let them approach you”, I suggested, visualising the beatings he would get if he tried to sexually harass the girls into sex. He face dropped a little, but he continued to ask questions about which girls I should pursue. I wish I hadn’t mentioned it now.

	Miss Emily came back and flung open the door, “Miss Suzanne wants you to clean the guest room so it is spotless. She looked at us, but we didn’t move. She then barked at us.

	“Well come on, then, I've not got all day”. The guest room was being prepared for someone to come and stay and I didn’t know who although Thomas did keep trying to “wring” it out of me. The room was quickly tidied and freshened. I used some knowledge I picked up at the camps to ensure that it was of hotel quality, and soon after Miss Marie came in.

	“Nearly done”, she said. I was about to tell her it was finished, but the “nearly” meant she wasn’t quite happy with it. She left, but I walked over to the door to look at the room from her perspective. I straightened the rug and the furniture and went back. Thomas was just watching in awe, amazed at how quickly I had picked up the ways of living and working at the house. 

	I surveyed the room one more time and was certain it was clean and tidy to a high standard. I went out of the room and saw Miss Marie storming down the corridor.

	“And where do you think you are going?” she shouted to me.

	“I think we've finished Miss”, I boldly ventured. She pushed me into the room and looked round. It was clean and tidy, and she looked a bit happier. 

	“Good” she said to me “because one of Miss Suzanne’s school friends is coming to stay. Has Emily given you any extra work to do?”

	“No, Miss” She looked unsurprised, and looked out of the window,

	“No of course she hasn’t, silly girl”. Miss Marie was mumbling under breath, but she was aware I had heard. “The cars are looking a bit dirty, go clean them”. Both of us we glad to leave the room as she was clearly in a foul mood.

	It was while washing the cars that Thomas experienced his first taste of being in trouble. It was on the last car we had to wash and while I was doing it I was flicking water at Thomas. It was hot weather, and in an ideal world I would not be cleaning cars! He flicked soapy water back at me, and so the water fight started. 

	On reflection it was a stupid thing to do, especially as Miss Marie was watching us from the house.  It was too late to do anything, as by the time I noticed Miss Marie she was storming across the driveway. She swept me off my feet and had pinned me to the ground. Thomas was looking worried, but she was too busy shouting at me to notice him.

	“Fucking hell Adam, I've told you time and time again not to fucking fight. Right this is it. Come with me.” She dragged me back into the house. She was hurting me but she didn’t care. I was thrown into the dormitory and it was locked behind me.

	I knew what was going to happen. I guessed I would be sent on AVT and probably beaten to within an inch of my life. I curled up on the mat in the corner of the room, and began to worry. I had nothing else to do.

	About ten minutes later, Miss Suzanne walked in; stern faced and looked at me. She walked over and stood over me. I looked up at her but she looked furious. I saw Miss Emily and Miss Marie looking on at the door, and then Miss Suzanne erupted, screaming and shouting at me. Blows rained from above and cowered in the corner trying to escape the multitude of punches that was being thrown at me. 

	“I warned you about fighting, I fucking warned you” she screamed as she continued to hit me. By the time she had finished I had a number of bruises and was crying. Tears streaked down my face, and she surveyed her work. She walked past Miss Marie and Miss Emily, said something and left. The door closed behind her. 

	 I cried myself to sleep. It was more emotional than physical abuse which caused me to cry, but I was allowed to sleep through until the morning. At showering time I could see my bruises, and there were some big, painful ones. Before I could have breakfast I was ushered up to a big conference room and around the table were Miss Marie, Miss Julie and Miss Suzanne.  Miss Suzanne spoke first.

	“This is my court Adam, and I want you to tell us why we shouldn’t send you for Anti-Violence Training.” I looked miserable as I felt miserable and yet at one of the most important times in my life where oratory skills would be needed, I couldn’t speak. I needed to think of something, but I couldn’t think of anything. I started speaking in the hope of what came out would be acceptable.

	“I-I-I-I can’t give you a reason, Miss” I stuttered. “I-I-I”. I couldn’t finish, and so I just looked at the floor.

	“Maybe this is a bit too formal, Suzanne”, Miss Julie ventured. “I think it would be better if just one of us spoke to him alone” This was a much better idea I thought and I looked at Miss Suzanne hoping she would agree. She hummed for a moment and then agreed. 

	“I've got some work to do, so do you want to deal with it Julie.” Julie nodded, and both of the other girls left. 

	Miss Julie took me down to a small room with a bed in it, and a desk.

	“This is my room when I stay here”, she told me. “Sit down”. She pointed to a chair and I sat down on it.

	“Why did you do it Adam?” she sounded exasperated

	“I didn’t mean anything by it”, I said, “We were just messing about. It wasn’t a real fight I promise” I knew I sounded desperate and worried, but I badly wanted to get across the fact that we weren’t fighting as such, just mucking about.

	“It doesn’t matter. You weren’t working, and it is that what is so bad. Also you have been warned time and time again about fighting, whether real or not. Haven't you?”

	“Yes Miss” I said.

	“You can’t tell me that when I caught Mark and you fighting that you weren’t being serious, can you? It's true what Miss Marie says that you do stupid things which are out of character and that has to stop.” I agreed, but she didn’t seem impressed. I could tell Miss Julie was also angry with me, and this was confirmed a little later, when she told me so. 

	“I am really disappointed with you Adam, in the morning you stop an intruder and you could have been nominated for a medal, and then in the evening you get into a fight. You have got to stop this, haven't you?” 

	Miss Julie spent ages constantly digging at me, and warning me, but after a while, she left and took me back down to my cell. In the afternoon, Miss Julie came back to see me. She brought me some cake.

	“Not that you deserve it, but I guess I must be feeling sorry for you” she admitted. I thanked her, and she went to leave.

	“Is Miss Suzanne going to send me back to the camps, Miss?”  I asked. She spun round and looked at me. She shrugged her shoulders, and thought for a moment.

	“You deserve to be, and Miss Suzanne is a strict disciplinarian, but I don’t know if she can have one less worker at the camp, so you might be, you might not.” She shut the door behind her leaving me very worried. 

	I can’t deny I was worried. I wanted to be elsewhere. Anyway seemed better than where I was, and the thought of joining Miss Julie’s flat soon was very appealing. The day dragged on, but from my barred window I could see activity. A marquee was being set up in the garden, and various foods brought out to it. Miss Marie was very busy directing people, and was enjoying her role of bossing everyone around. She loved power, and she used it mercilessly. 

	Music also drifted around the garden, so I presumed Miss Annabelle was present due to the style of the songs being played. In the early evening, Miss Emily came into the cell. 

	“Miss Suzanne wants to see you.” I got up from the mat in the corner of the room, and walked over to her. She gave me a tissue for my tear-stained face.

	“She wont like you with a bright red face, will she?” she said. I thanked her and wiped my face as we walked to the main lounge. When we got there, she had company but she dismissed them, and asked me to sit on the sofa opposite her. 

	“Adam, next time you see Miss Julie I think you should thank her, as she persuaded me not to send you for Anti-Violence training” She paused for a moment and then continued “Everyone who I have spoken to thinks very highly of you, but you do have this tendency to start fights, whether they be playful ones or not.”

	“Julie thinks it is just the over-exuberance and high spirits, and you will soon grow out of it. For your sake, I hope you do – sooner rather than later. I don’t know what goes through your mind, but I don’t want you to ever show any sort of aggression again, do you understand?”

	“Yes Miss Suzanne” I muttered. She scowled at me a bit, possibly due to my reluctance to speak up, or look at her. She thought for a second, and then spoke to me.

	“I've just received details from the police. The case is on Monday and you are expected at the High Court in Fyllen at nine, so Miss Julie will take you as she has also been called.”

	That evening I spent weeding the gardens. Thomas was nowhere to be seen, but at 10pm I was called into see Miss Emily. Miss Marie was there, but it was Miss Emily who spoke. 

	“We've agreed with Miss Suzanne that as you are not going to AVT, we shall provide our own punishment for you.” Miss Emily looked nervous, possibly due to Miss Marie’s presence. I looked at the canes and whips, and they looked menacing at me. Miss Marie could see me looking at them and she smiled sadistically.

	“I've told Thomas not to treat you as a good role model, and he has had his punishment. You will get yours now” She didn’t need to tell me to drop my shorts and bend over, as I knew what was coming. I did it automatically. Miss Emily did not hit hard, and her ten hits did not reduce me to tears, although, I can not deny my rear was burning with pain.

	“Go to bed now and think about what has happened today.” She said to me, and I heard Miss Emily and Miss Marie talking.

	Sunday morning was a lie-in for me. When I went to bed Thomas was not in bed, but when I woke up he was there, although I didn’t hear him come in. When we woke up he looked at me, and said nothing. 

	“I’m sorry I got you into trouble”, he said eventually. I was surprised by this but thought for a minute.

	“I'm fine”, I said, “It's my own fault, I should have known better”. He nodded at me, but said nothing. 

	Thirty minutes after I woke up, Miss Emily came in. She was very scantily dressed but had on a maids outfit, and I found it hard to disguise my erection as I was not wearing any clothes. She looked down at me, and laughed slightly. I think she took it as a compliment that I found her attractive, and could not control my body’s reactions as a direct result of this.

	“Showers”, she said, and went over to Thomas. He also had an erection caused by the attractive maid. She looked at him, but I didn’t hang about, and half-ran into the showers, embarrassed my body’s lack of control.

	That afternoon Miss Suzanne was holding a party where the theme was prostitutes. This explained why Miss Emily was in a maid’s outfit which was very revealing. Our duties would be to bring the food from the kitchen into the tents where the maids would be serving it. I was wondering whether Miss Annabelle or Miss Julie would be there, as I would like to see those very revealing outfits!

	After I got dressed, we had our usual breakfast and were then taken to the kitchen and shown our duties. There was a different chef and she was singing along to her radio in the corner. Fyllen FM was broadcast throughout the kitchen, and her rendition of such classics of “Murder on the Dance floor” and “The Bad Touch” were butchered by her appalling voice!

	The party was full of dignitaries. I recognised some people from the news and I was sure Claire Ryder was present, but I did not want to risk staring at her to confirm my suspicions. Thomas and I were kept very busy keeping the mini-bar and the food tables fully stocked for the revellers. Every woman there was dressed as every mans dream and it was hard to try and not have erections. I spent as little time outside the kitchen as possible, and often fetching new bottles of wine from the cellar! 

	Miss Annabelle was indeed there and was dressed very provocatively. Her friends were also present, and were very attractive. Basically I was at every man’s dream party – two guys, sixty girls, all dressed in practically nothing. Miss Annabelle looked at me more than once, but I did not dare spend much time in the marquee for fear of showing my erection too much! 

	Thomas disappeared for fifteen minutes when the party started to die down a bit. Miss Suzanne had got a preview copy of Unbelievable, a parody of Unbreakable and they watched it projected on the wall of the tent. Only drinks were needed at this point, and I helped clean up in the kitchen.  When he materialised he looked very happy with himself, and he winked at me. It was only later that I found out what he meant when he explained.

	“You’re right. It wouldn’t take long to find a girl”. This accounted for the good spirits he was in. “Guess who?” I thought for a moment, and then asked.

	“Would I know her?” I enquired trying to make it easier for myself

	“Yes” he replied. I thought back to the party and saw the attention Miss Annabelle gave to me, which obviously meant she must be horny so I suggested her name.

	“No” he announced triumphantly.

	“Miss Emily?” I tried. His face lit up as he revealed who had taken him as her sex toy.

	“She was so nice” he said of the young maid “I can’t believe she let me give her oral sex twice”. He blurted out the story repeating most of it several times. Basically, Miss Emily had seen him staring at her breasts and she had taken him outside when the film had started. They wouldn’t be missed for ten or twenty minutes. They had gone up behind the greenhouse, and she had told him that either she disciplined him for gross misconduct or he brings her to an orgasm. He chose the later and used his mouth organ on her clit, to stimulate her “beyond belief”. After which they returned to the party where Miss Marie was beginning to enquire as to her location, and Thomas came back down to the kitchen full of high spirits. 

	My cynicism began to tell as I thought Miss Emily was desperate for an orgasm and used him to achieve this, but he clearly thought that life was going to be rosy as Miss Emily clearly favoured him. I wasn’t going to dampen his spirits. Happiness and hope is a commodity in short supply in Fyllen Island. 

	Monday morning was my court appearance. I was woken at six and got showered. Miss Julie arrived at seven, on foot as usual, and we walked across the valleys and woods to the main town in the island. I was in handcuffs, but Miss Julie had the key. The walk was lovely, and not for the first time I wallowed in the scenery of my homeland, enjoying the beautiful and picturesque views. It wasn’t fair that such a wonderful place was being raped by the extreme element on the island.

	Miss Julie wasn’t in a talkative mood, and walked fairly fast. I tried to keep up with her, and about half way she stopped to have a rest. I used this time to broach the subject of her talking to Miss Suzanne on my behalf two days previous.

	“Miss Julie, I just want to thank you for not letting Miss Suzanne send me to one of the camps for extra training”. She smiled at me, and thought for a moment.  

	“I don’t think you’re all that bad Adam, a little rough around the edges that’s all. I do expect you to behave yourself now, and I do want you to promise me you will stay out of mischief from now on. Do you promise?” I was always going to answer positively. I was starting to like Miss Julie a lot! 

	“And if you break your promise, I’ll hunt you down and kick you in the balls” she then added with a smile on her face. I couldn’t help but laugh, partly because I knew it was so true. 

	The rest of the walk took no time whatsoever and before long we were at the main town. Fyllen looked much better from the hill. The courthouse was in the middle of the town centre, next to the president’s palace and the college. When we arrived there, Miss Julie checked me in. Slaves aren’t usually allowed to give evidence, and can only be done so, with a minder. Miss Julie would not only be giving evidence, she would be there for my evidence. If she had been at the crime scene throughout, there would be no need for me to be there, but she wasn’t. 

	Once checked in, I was taken to a large cell. There was only a police woman there, and I recognised her. She was the shy girl who had been there when I had been transferred from Lake Portswood to auction. She looked at me more confident than I remember. 

	“Good morning, Miss”, I ventured to her, and she responded telling me to be quiet. Familiarity of slaves breads contempt I thought. It wasn’t long before I was called to see the court. The judge was there, and she looked down on me and addressed the jury.

	“This is a rare occurrence; we have a slave giving evidence to a court of law. I want the slave to state his name, number, owner, registered place of residence, and his age”. I stated this, adding, “Your honour” to everything I said. I had been warned to do so by the police officer on the way to the courtroom.

	“Now” continued the judge “You must answer the questions which the prosecutor asks you.”

	The prosecutor took to the stand and asked some questions, mostly about the sequence of events. I answered most conservatively, until he asked a particular question I was not expecting.

	“Your Honour, I would like to ask Slave 4551 if he feels a bond with Miss Farinos, even though she is not his registered owner.” The judge looked at me inquisitively and I in turn looked at Miss Julie, unsure how to answer. After a few seconds thought, I decided to answer truthfully.

	“Your Honour, I can say with all honesty that I do feel some affiliation for Miss Julie. She has shown me more kindness than anyone else as my time as a slave, and in return I have tried very hard to do my best for her. That is why I felt particularly enangered when the defendant threatened the life of her in such a brutal way.” This broke from my usual method of answering of reducing the severity of the offence by choosing my words carefully. The prosecutor looked stunned for a moment, and then spoke again trying (and succeeding) to prove that it was my life in danger as well, which is emotional damage to Miss Suzanne’s property. She concluded that the defendant was a danger to society and should be incarcerated immediately for a minimum term of three years.

	The judge agreed with the prosecutor and sentenced the desperate slave to three years inside the harshest prison the world has ever seen – Fyllen Bay View. He was dragged from the dock screaming abuse at me and crying hysterically.

	On the way home, Miss Julie was very talkative asking me if I really did feel an affiliation for her. I answered truthfully again, but explained that this may have been due to the situation that existed. As we neared the mansion, we dived into a wood, and her eyes twinkled. She leant up against the grass and rolled down her shorts and knickers to reveal her shaven pleasure area. 

	“I'm sure you know what to do” she said to me. I didn’t need any other pointers and delved straight in with my tongue, despite the fact that my cock was now fully erect. I could smell her juices already and the odour got considerably stronger as I swirled my tongue around her clit, flicking it. She groaned in pleasure. Her hips were gyrating; her genitals were getting wet, not only from my spit but also from her juices. I could taste her. She did have a unique taste! Her groans were becoming more and more audible, and soon became the only thing you could hear, completely drowning out the noises the rest of the nature were providing. 

	Before long, she came and I continued. She continued to come, time and time again before she stopped me, exhausted. I badly needed to release but she wasn’t going to let me, choosing to hug me and then laid back panting furiously. 

	When we arrived at the mansion, two police cars were waiting there. As we neared the house, a police constable walked over, and Miss Julie asked the most obvious question possible.

	“What's going on?”

	“Miss Riesling has been arrested, and the entire estate will be auctioned off” said the copper not really answering the question.

	“Why?” Miss Julie was shocked, and worried.

	“Non payment of taxes. Under the new laws we can confiscate all assets owned by the offender and use them to pay off the debt. Is this ‘Adam’?”

	“Yes” said Miss Julie, handing the keys of my handcuffs to her. 

	“Good” she said and pushed me towards the building. Once inside I was taken to my dormitory and locked inside. Awhile later a different police woman came inside to talk to us.

	“I'm sure you are aware that all of Miss Riesling’s assets will be auctioned and that includes you, so you will have a new owner, as early as tomorrow. In between then, I need you and the maids to clean this house up to a pristine standard.”

	She left but Miss Emily came in and directed us to the study. The police hadn’t been careful when looking for their evidence and papers were strewn everywhere.

	That night I thought hard about what new ownership would bring. In the morning the Police arrived again and surveyed our efforts to tidy the house. 
	
	“Miss Riesling admitted that she had fiddled her tax offences in court and pleaded for leniency” a copper said to Miss Marie. I shouldn’t have been listening, but I was. “This is up for auction today”

	They left satisfied with the state of the house. I knew would probably be going to the logging plant tomorrow as it was Wednesday, and I spent the weekdays with Miss Julie so it wouldn’t be a big problem whoever did own me unless she changed the arrangement.

	We spent the afternoon weeding the garden anxiously awaiting the new owner. Miss Emily and Miss Marie kept on coming out to see what we were doing; they were more worried than we were!
	
	In the afternoon we were ushered into the bathroom to wash ourselves. Miss Marie had just received a phone call and was ensuring we were at our best. Five minutes later, a car rolled into the drive, and out stepped our new owner. Lined up on the left hand side were all the maids – four in all (Miss Marie, Miss Emily, and two I did not know the names of) and the chef. On the right were myself and Thomas. Mark was to arrive tomorrow. We all looked, eager to see who would be the next owner of the Rayland logging enterprise. 

CHAPTER SIX: Life with Becky

	I could not tell who the girl was at first but when I realised, a smile crept across my face. It was Becky. She didn’t recognise me at first, and Miss Marie went up to greet her, and then she saw me.

	“Adam”, she yelled and ran up the steps. Miss Marie looked in disbelief, clearly irritated that she had been upstaged. I was hugged and then dragged inside by the excitable girl. Miss Marie followed closely behind her. While Miss Marie briefed Becky on the intracies of Fellswood House Thomas and I cleaned the dormitory we stayed. As Miss Marie gave her a tour, Becky smiled at me, and Miss Marie glared at me. What a bitch!

	It was no surprise to me I was called to see Becky after my dinner while Thomas washed up. Miss Marie was rather rough with me as I was taken to see her. Becky dismissed Miss Marie almost immediately after we arrived in the lounge, and she left. 

	“I can’t believe I am seeing you, as your owner. This is unreal”, she said. She was wearing a low cut T-Shirt and shorts and was beaming. I can not deny I was smiling as well. To have Becky as my owner is something I can not begin to describe. I felt a big weight had been lifted off my shoulders.  She began to tell me what Miss Marie had said about me. I was a good worker but had tendencies to do stupid things and was always in trouble and I should be beaten at every infringement. She looked at me to gauge my response.

	I frowned, and she laughed.

	“Don’t worry”, she said. “I don’t care what she says; I like you just the way you are!”

	Becky told me how she came to own this estate. Her promotion had happened and she was the Finance Director of Fyllen Computer Systems. A large order had resulted in a large commission, and when the firm was taken over her share options had increased twenty fold. She was then left with a large volume of money and no job! 

	It was as an off chance that she was at the auction house and saw the estate and business up for sale. She was the only bidder and therefore got it at the paltry price of 25000 pounds. She then asked me about what life here was really like and I recounted everything. I told her about myself and Miss Julie. She looked a little jealous. I also mentioned the little thing between Miss Emily and Thomas and my (cynical) views on it.

	That night I spent with Becky. She cuddled up in my arms as we watched the sunset and then the stars sparkle in the sky. When it got cold we went into the main bedroom and slept on the bed. We didn’t spoil that night with any sexual activity. It was perfect the way it was.

	In the morning, Becky was woken up by one of the other maids bringing breakfast and was surprised to see me there.

	“Would you like me to take this slave back to the chambers, Miss?” Becky spun round and looked a little confused and then saw me. 

	“Nah, it's alright. I'm sure he can make his own way down there”. Her smile sparkled and I left. The showers were refreshing and I was surprised to see Mark there. Physio had worked, he looked raring to go. One-by-one the entourage from the logging camp arrived at the house. Becky had ordered a summit in the conference room. All the slaves were ushered in there and ordered to sit down on the left of Becky. The girls were on the right, and the maids were straight ahead of her. I had never been in the conference room while it was in session and it was imposing and grand. A big oval table dominated the room and at the top of the oval was Becky, dressed in her usual T-Shirt and shorts. 

	“Right, we are all here, so I’ll start”, she said. “Now some of you many know me, my name is Rebecca Lock, although everyone knows me as Becky. The logging camp is ready for work now, the Health Inspector passed it, but I'm sure you can all do with a day off, so I've got you here so you can get to know me, I can get to know you, and then you all go home and watch TV!!” The room chuckled, but Becky continued

	“I don’t want anyone to fear me, I am not a strict disciplinarian, but I do demand an honest days labour from you lot”. She continued to talk about the logging camp, and then she moved onto the slaves, saying she was going to restructure our workload.

	“Adam will only be at the camp for two or three days a week”, she announced. “He is the only person in this room I know, and I can trust him to be honest with me and not just tactful”. This was certainly true. “I will also need him to be my secretary as he is the only person here with a good knowledge of computers.”

	I was already looking forward to my new duties – it would involve more time with Becky. Becky continued her speech, before getting everyone to introduce themselves. We slaves weren’t given the opportunity, but I hardly needed to introduce myself. After the little summit we were told to clean the sheds, greenhouses, and tend to the garden. Some crops were coming through and some of them needed to be harvested. 

	Becky didn’t interfere with me doing my work. I think she thought the transition from slave to normality would be hard for me to do quickly and so she didn’t come up to me at all that afternoon. I was glad in a way. Miss Marie was looking at me funny, clearly resentful of my previous connections with the new Mistress of the House, and I didn’t need to antagonise the situation.

	That evening we were given a proper spread of food, with a bottle of beer each.

	“Compliments of the new Mistress” Miss Emily said to us as we gladly ate the orgy of good cuisine that had been presented before us. It was so nice to be able to eat properly again, and the delicate aroma of spicy food filled the room. Miss Marie was in the corner looking at us spitefully. Her nose really was out of joint. 

	After the meal we cleared up and Miss Emily was sent for by Becky. Shortly afterwards Thomas went up to see her and I guessed what she was doing. Becky has a wonderful heart and this was evidence of it. My suspicions were confirmed when Miss Emily did not appear with Thomas and Miss Marie came down instead to see Mark and I playing Poker with an old set of playing cards.

	“Just because Emily and Thomas have the evening off doesn’t mean you can lounge around playing cards.” Miss Marie said to us. “You can go and clean the halls and the guest rooms, off you go”. We left pronto. I don’t think she liked Becky much.

	Thursday was a normal day. Miss Emily woke Mark and myself up, and went and had our habitual shower. Thomas was already in there, although his silence indicated he wasn’t going to spill the beans just yet. I would have to wait if I wanted to know, but I could already sense he wanted me to ask. I wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction, he could tell me!

	Thomas made me wait for ten minutes till we were on the minibus. Almost immediately after the doors closed, he began, hardly pausing for breath. It was a short ride to the logging camp, and by the time we had arrived, I had grown tired of listening to his exploits. Emily and he had romped for two hours before she tied him in the corner of her room and played with him. Miss Emily was a dark horse. He had done what Miss Julie and I had done, but I didn’t boast about my heroic acts of sexual magnificence!

	Logging is become a speciality of mine, and despite Thomas making his debut at the camp, he did not seem out of place. Miss Julie gave us sandwiches as usual, and even at the end of the day used the tractor to move the logs. I said goodbye to her and we went home on the bus.

	Miss Emily shepherded us into the showers when we arrived and stayed in the bathroom surveying us. It was not unusual for girls to look at my naked body, but it was unerring to have Miss Emily watch us showering. I just wasn’t used to it. 

	Dinner was not as good as yesterdays, but we still had a bottle of beer each. That evening I was called to see Becky and I went up gleefully. She was in her bedroom, and the giant television paused. 

	“Beverley Hills Cop III”, she said to me. “It’s just started, do you want to watch it with me”. She pressed pause, and the film stopped.

	“Yes please”, I answered, and she sat on the bed. At the bottom of the bed was the giant television and she got underneath the covers.

	“Take off your shoes and you should join me”. He eyes twinkled and I leapt into bed with her removing my footwear in the process.  She cuddled up to me, and I gratefully accepted the girl in my arms. She started the film

	I must apologise to Axel at this point, as we never found out whether Uncle Dave survived, but we presume he did. Becky and I were too busy reaching fever pitch. About half way through the film, Becky put her lips on mine, and we kissed. It was our first real kiss, and many more was to come. 

	I don’t know what came over me, but afterwards I turned my attention to her breasts and then to her shaved area below and began massaging them with my tongue. As I had done in Miss Julie and Miss Annabelle, Becky also began to groan in pleasure, and thrash against my face slightly. I could smell her musky scent, and before long she was climaxing with such volume and ferocity. 

	My erection stood firm, but I wanted to see her come time after time after time. I continued to arouse her with my tongue and she continued to climax, each orgasm more intense and stronger than the previous one. After a while she stopped me, and gestured to me so I inserted my fully erect cock in her. She gasped slightly, but looked into my eyes. I don’t possess a gigantic penis or a little tiddler – I consider it to be average, and so her gasp surprised me a bit. I knew she wasn’t a virgin but she gazed into my eyes lovingly as I rhythmically pounded my weapon deep inside her. She came for the umpteenth time that day and I powered my load within her. I collapsed back on the bed, happy with my work! 

	I know I slept well that night, and when I woke up I was in Becky’s room. She woke me up and told me to have a shower. I did, and when I returned Miss Marie was there.

	“He’s missed the bus to the logging camp ma’am”, she said to Becky. Becky was calm and replied instantly.
	
	“Oh no worries, he can do some work here. I got loads of forms to fill in” Becky smiled at Miss Marie who was not so warm.

	“Adam, do you want to go down and get your breakfast, and we can start in thirty minutes”. I answered to Becky in receipt of this, and left the room. It was over my breakfast that I was both aggressive and confrontational. Over my breakfast Miss Marie came down to see me and started on me immediately

	“I know you think that just because you know that little tart you can waltz all over the place, but you are still a slave so remember that you little shit”. Miss Marie was in a bad mood, but I did love Becky. I loved her with a passion, and it inflamed me and I reacted the way I shouldn’t have.  I spun round and stood up towering over the cowardly power crazed maid. 

	“How dare you insult my friend like that? You're jealous as no one likes you because you are so infectious and Becky is kind and popular”. Her entire body swelled digesting what I had said, and she did erupt. Krackatoa was a mosquito’s’ fart in comparison to her reaction. She yelled so loudly that they would’ve heard her in the garden and I must confess I have never heard her so deafening.

	“WHAT DID YOU FUCKING SAY TO ME YOU LITTLE UNGRATEFUL SHIT?” She started walking towards me; make me back into a corner as she went. “YOU THINK THAT BECAUSE YOU KNOW THAT JUNKED UP TART WHO SWANS IN HERE, YOU CAN SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT. WELL YOU CAN’T, AND I WILL MAKE YOUR LIFE A FUCKING MISERY FROM NOW ON. GET IN YOUR CELL, I'M GOING TO MAKE YOU WISH YOU’D NEVER BEEN BORN” 

	She grabbed me and pushed me towards the cell, but she was interrupted.

	“Wait”, said a familiar voice from the end of the kitchen. “Adam, go and wait for me in the study”, said Becky. I left a sour-faced Becky and an irate Miss Marie and walked up the stairs. 

	Awhile later Becky emerged with a face as black as thunder, but it lighted up when she saw me waiting for her. She had sacked Miss Marie, as she had heard what she had said about herself and found it offensive. Miss Marie had no job and as much as I disliked her, I wouldn’t wish that upon her.

	Becky had to fill in about twenty forms which relate to her taking over the business and the house. Some took longer than others but she told me to complete the forms and she would check them and sign them. She would then take them to Fyllen tonight as she was going there on her way to Kentish Island.

	“I didn’t know you were going to Kentish Island” I said to her, sounding disappointed. I had hoped for some more fun in bed, but it was clearly not to be.

	“It's an old mates 21st birthday. I have to go”. 

	“When will you be back?” I asked hopefully. I was hoping it would be tomorrow as I really loved spending time with Becky.

	“Sunday evening”. She obviously guessed I was saddened by her departure as she added “But I'm sure we can spend some time together then.”

	After we had filled in the forms I was given leave, along with Mark and Thomas to go for a walk. Becky had to sort out a few things and we would just be a hindrance. We weren’t allowed to go far, but just across some of the meadows and woods which surrounded the house. We left the house with pleasure and took in the fresh air.

	When we arrived back, Miss Emily told us that from now on we would have to look after ourselves much more as there were fewer maids around the house since the departure of Miss Marie. This arrangement suited me much more!

	I did not see Becky before she left but she did leave orders for us to have a night off and a nice meal. The maids came down and ate with us and drank some wine, and for the first time in many weeks I felt equal to the people around me. Miss Emily and I shared jokes and laughed together, and although every sentence that I uttered was followed by “Miss” or “Miss Emily” it was a good morale booster to be treated with such respect.

	That evening Miss Emily and Thomas retired somewhere more private, and I'm sure you can guess what happened. I played Chess and cards with Mark while the maids watched television in the main room. It was nice having the run of the house. I beat Mark easily at both cards and chess and then we retired to bed. 

	Miss Emily was in charge of the estate while Becky was away. It had half-surprised me, and Mark, that Miss Emily was chosen due to her inexperience Becky had obviously thought she was the best candidate. Miss Marie would have been the most obvious choice but she wasn’t here, and so Miss Emily was chosen.

	Miss Emily was not a slave driver and she spent most of the time around Thomas. Only one other maid was there and she spent the time tidying the guest rooms and watching television and so for most of the day Mark and I were occupying ourselves. The greenhouses were cleaned, flowerbeds weeded and the sheds tidied. After which we played cards and made lunch for everyone. We also cooked dinner and then went to bed. Sunday was pretty much the same. Mark and I had a water fight, and no one cared. Sunday lunch was prepared by Thomas and Miss Emily but was just salad and cold meats. 

	Sunday evening, Becky arrived back. A taxi pulled up and she got out, and went into her room. She emerged twenty minutes later in a dressing gown and came down to the where Mark and I were. I had just beaten him at cards when she walked in.

	“So this is what you do when no one is around then?” she asked inquisitively. 

	“Oh sorry”, I replied, a bit taken aback by the question. “We couldn’t find anything that needs doing”.

	She laughed at me, and then told us “I'm just winding you up” She sat down and joined us for a couple of games of poker and then said she was off to bed. I went with her, and we snuggled up together on the big bed before dozing off.

[expand] rewrite next scene. Ok now?

	In the morning Becky surprised me. She wanted to loan Mark to Miss Julie so that he could find a female soul mate. She argued that I had found her, and Thomas and Miss Emily were happy and so Mark would be ideal to be loaned out. It would be identical to the arrangement I had had with Julie. 

	Overall Monday was usual, with me going to the logging camp, and felling a vast number of trees. Mark went home with Miss Julie, and Thomas and I came back to the house. He duly disappeared with Miss Emily went we arrived back, and I crept upstairs. She was in her office, and looked a little surprised to see me. I was still dirty, smelly and sweaty. 

	“Have you had a shower, like you are supposed to have when you get back from the camp yet?” she asked me. She need not have asked, as she knew that there was no way I had had a shower.

	“Err….No”

	“I can smell you from here – go have a shower, and when you come up I don’t expect to see any clothes” Becky said to me. 

	I duly descended downstairs to the shower room, and got washed. I then walked back through the house completely naked. When I got to her office, I knocked and she told me to come in.

	Inside there were at least four or five other girls, all around the table.

	“Ah girls, this is Adam.” I looked round in horror as all the girls in the room began sizing me up. 

	“I intend to take him along to your little get together tomorrow and Wednesday, if that’s OK.“

	“Yeah of course” one of the girls said “but we will treat him like all the others”. 

	“I'm sure he can live with that”, Becky said, and then spoke to me “Adam, go wait in my bed. I won’t be ten minutes.”

	I was glad to be leaving the room in one sense, but I really liked showing off my body now, and was a bit disappointed to have my time doing so cut short.

	Becky arrived about ten minutes later, and sat down on the bed. 

	“Adam, we are going to an orgy tomorrow and Wednesday night, OK?”

	“An orgy? Sounds fun. Does that mean that other people will be sleeping with you though?”

	“Adam, I can assure you that I will still only want one person, and that person is Adam Hargreaves. And anyway, you get to play about with some of the other high flying girls.”

	“Well you know I will always still only want you”. I know I was being soft but I really did like her – and it was a feeling that I had never experienced before. It was a deep feeling, in the gut. A sort of butterflies, but more of a fulfilment. Maybe it was love, but it was emotions I enjoyed. I just wanted to spend time with her. Just being in the same room, made me satisfied and content. It didn’t matter what she was doing, or what she wasn’t doing, it was enough.

	On Tuesday I was allowed to sleep in, to conserve my energy for the evening’s toil. Becky was up and about when I awoke, and after my shower and a quick lunch, we sat through some paperwork. Dinner was uneventful before we left to go to the orgy.

	Becky drove us to the orgy at 4 Hellsport Gardens, a large imposing house. She parked next to two or three other cars, and we went inside, ushered in by another male slave. Once inside, a youngish girl – about nineteen, took me down some stairs and into a dark room where four other male slaves (who were incidentally naked) were crouching in the various corners. In the centre of this large room was a raised platform and beams of light from the floor upstairs penetrated the room.

	“Go sit in the corner”, she told me, and I walked over to the corner where she pointed, away from the other slaves. “And lose those fucking clothes”

	I was only wearing my shorts and T-Shirt and I removed these items and then sat down on the cold stone floor. The sudden coolness of the ground sent a shiver down my spine, and I curled up slightly trying to conserve warmth. 

	Two other slaves appeared and were duly stripped, before the girl reappeared with a pen in her hand. She went over to me first and drew a big line down the front of my chest. It was a black permanent marker. The reason for this simple, when she drew a “2” on the next slave” and “3” on the next one, and so on, up to number seven. She left but when a murmur entered the room she materialised to shout abuse at us before leaving.

	After about fifteen minutes, the mumble from upstairs had grown to a roar, and the light was being cut off more and more. The girl, who came back was dressed up a latex cat-suit and had some of sort of whip in her hand, probably a riding crop. 

	“I am Jodie Simpson, and tonight, you are here to provide pleasure and satisfaction for six ladies and to do this you will do as you are told. To begin with, they are having a meal, and they are all sitting on a modified toilet seat, the bottom of which is there”. She pointed to the raised platform, and then continued”. You will sit underneath and do as she asks – if she asks you to lick her out, you do so. If she needs to go to the toilet, you take it without spilling anything – whatever end. Any questions?”

	She looked around and saw blank faces and then cracked her whip. “Well go on”

	We ran over to the platform and each selected a blocked off seat. Jodie upped the lighting in the room slightly, and we sat down underneath. Before long some of the boys were standing up to service their girls. I looked up and saw my girl was wearing bright red knickers – so it clearly wasn’t Becky. 

	I had to keep looking up and before long, some daylight emerged and she removed her panties. I stood up and she parted her legs to look down at me. 

	“I need a piss”, she told me. I recognised her from yesterday when I proudly displayed myself to her. 

	The raised platform meant that was only 4 foot between the platform and the seat, and so I had to kneel, which I did, and then clamped my lips around her piss-hole. After a slight delay she released filling my mouth with the warm salty golden liquid. I swallowed eagerly, She did not release fast or powerful but instead kept up a steady stream, for about thirty seconds, and I swallowed every last drop, before her muscles relaxed, and she sat down slightly lower in the seat. I licked her area, deliberately touching her clitoris, causing her to wince slightly, before I sat back down again. 

	I was called again, when she needed to release only fifteen minutes later, but this time the liquid was not salty or acidic in taste, instead more like water. Whatever she was drinking passed quickly through her. 

	As there was seven slaves and only six girls, this left one slave surplus so Jodie had him – clearly the youngest there, running around and collecting our urine when we needed to pee, which was more likely as we had both our own and our ladies inside us. I beckoned to him after my girl had emptied for the second time and he duly clamped his mouthpiece around my semi-erect member. Jodie eyed us, and I forcefully expelled much liquid from my bladder deep into his stomach. He had trouble keeping up with me and looked like he was going to spill some, so I slowed down so he could keep up with me.

	By the time I had finished, he took the trouble to lick my penis clean, which caused it to be completely erect. 

	My girl, was fairly quiet, did not trouble me for some time. She then leant down and told me to give her cunnilingus. I did not hesitate, and began applying myself to her awaiting nether regions. She groaned as my tongue darted and swirled around her clitoris. I could hear her, even though she was on the next floor, but then, I heard most of the girls, moaning as us slaves applied ourselves with giving pleasure to the girls above us.

	I could feel my lady wriggling in the seat, as I use my mouth organ to stimulate her. Her scent began to fill my nose, and I could taste her juicy, moist womanhood. An uncontrollable orgasm swept through her body, causing her to move so much I could not keep up with her. 

	She moved her hand underneath the seat to indicate that I was not allowed to continue, and for some unknown reason I licked her hand and sat down. I could taste alcohol.

	All the slaves were called into the main room shortly after, and we saw all of the girls. They were all very beautiful, and the girl who I think I had told us to go next door, where Julie duly escorted us. A big mud pit was in the centre of the room, and Jodie got us to line up next to it. Rubber sheets were put all around the pit, and to one side of the pit, some chairs were lined up. One thing that caught my eye was a cage, about 3 metres by five, which was on one corner of the room. This was a real wet-and-messy fetishist’s room!

	The girls trouped in shortly afterwards and they sat down. They introduced themselves to us – and the girl whom I was servicing, was indeed the host – a Miss Lucy Hunter.

	“Jodie, as there is only seven of them, do you mind being the eighth contestant?” she asked the dominatrix. “I know you love being a sub”

	“Of course”, she replied, and then Miss Lucy explained what was happening now. There would be a mud-wrestling contest. You had to wrestle your contestant to the ground and then hold them there for ten seconds. When you lost, you would go into the cage, the winner going on to fight another match, so eventually there would one winner. This person would then choose any of the other contestants to have an hour of uninterrupted pleasure in one of the rooms upstairs, while the remaining six losers were at the mercy of the six eager girls.

	For my first match I was paired with the youngest of them – the one who did the drinking earlier, and was an easy match. Although the mud was slippery and I kept falling over, it took me about 45 seconds to be on top of him, and although I could feel his erection going deep into my chest, I did not let up on my grip and he walked over to the cage. Becky smiled at me from her viewpoint.

	My second match was much harder. The slave I was fighting was much bigger. My hands glided over his muddy body, and as we wrestled, we frequently got our hands into each others cracks. The girls whooped in delight as two naked teenagers rolled around feeling each other up. We both had erections at the end of a gruelling five minutes, which was ended by me using my weight to lie on top of him spread-eagled.

	 The final was to be between Jodie and myself. She had stripped and the mud had made her as black as the ace of spades. The mud was everywhere, and as we stepped into the pit, she looked at me, staring deep into my eyes trying to intimidate me. Six girls were eagerly watching. Six slaves locked into a cage looked on eager to see who would be victorious.

	The whistle blew. We met each other and fell to the ground; our bodies were slippery, and instead of it being a duel it was more of a light-hearted fight. I felt her up in my attempt to bring her down and she certainly felt me up as her hands ran down my body in her attempt to bring me down. With the pit so slippery, the furthest we got was kneeling, before we fell or was brought down. Every time I got her to the floor she wriggled out, so I tried a new tactic, which involved using my hands to stimulate her clitoris. She writhed in pleasure, but knowing that I had found her weakness - her Achilles heel – she had to fight back. 

	Through this haze of excitement and pleasure, she fought back, and grabbed hold of my phallus, and began to pull it in a rhythmic motion. I moved back and she was able to get free, but not before she had lost grip of my member.  We began to fight again, and this time I managed to get her into a hold that she could not escape from and this time I was victorious. The whistle blew, and Jodie remained deep in the mud humiliated.

	“So, Number 1”, she said squinting to read the number through the mud. “Who do you choose to keep you occupied?”

	“I would like Miss Jodie, if you don’t mind”, I answered and looked down at the girl in the mud. I extended my arm to her to lift her up but she refused so instead I knelt down, and began to insert fingers into her anus, and she squealed and got up, slapping me on the thighs in the process. 

	“Jodie, you owe this slave an apology. He is entitled to do what he wants to you for the next hour”.

	“Yes Miss”, she answered, and duly apologised. I was led out by another of the maids there and taken to a small bathroom where we quickly cleaned ourselves up in silence, before being led to a room with a bed.

	“The Bondage room is through there, and the machines are through there”, she said to me pointing to two separate doors which led out of the room we were in. Black rubber sheets and pillows were on the bed, which was sensual to the touch. 

	“Do you want to be the Dom, or the Sub Miss Jodie?” I asked her as we walked over to the bed.

	“You are supposed to be the Dominant one, you won” she said to me with an annoyed tone in her voice. 

	“Do you want to be the Dom though? I've spent all my life as a servant and submissive, that being dominant to women will be hard”. She laughed at me and then sat down on the bed.

	“We could change over in half an hour if you like. I like being both dominant and submissive. I'm like that”

	“Ok, you go first though”, I said to her, and she laughed at me. She left the room and came back with some handcuffs.  Jodie handcuffed my arms to metal brackets on the wall, by the head of bed. My elbows rested on the rubber cushions, which started to feel slightly sticky, as my sweat was making my skin stick to them. 

	Jodie was still naked, and she stopped and looked at me in the half-light pondering what to do with me. She had long, brown curly hair, which cascaded to her averagely-sized breasts. They were firm, and somehow drew all of my attention, but looking down, I could see that she was shaved all over, and like Becky, she was immaculate in her presentation. Jodie cocked her head to one side, and then looked thoughtfully and returned with a little plastic bag.

	Jodie pulled out a blindfold, and then covered my eyes, meaning I could not see a thing. A hand slid over my chest, before I felt an amazing tickling sensation under my arms. I giggled and screeched in delight. Being tickled is a weird phenomenon as it not really pleasure or discomfort in itself, but is a completely separate feeling – a mixture of sexual anticipation, physical irritation and gentle stimulation of sensitive areas of the body. It was fantastic.

	Jodie tickled me everywhere – under the arms, between my thighs, on the soles of my feet and lastly on my genitalia. She must have kept going for easily ten minutes, as at the end I was almost begging for mercy. Jodie took no notice for my pleas for respite – I was her submissive!

	I felt her straddle my body after she stopped the tickling, and sat down on my chest. I couldn’t see, but I knew most of her weight wasn't on me. She ran her hands around my body. A liquid substance – I guessed aromatic oil as I could smell citrus fruits, as well as the rubber – was applied generously, and she massaged my body, paying particular attention to my upper body muscles

Slowly she moved round and down, and then began on my legs. I could feel my erect penis touching her as she sat on me. Her legs we either side of my chest, and she was perched on my body as she undertook the massaging of my body. 

	It felt as though Miss Jodie being a dominant meant she would be in control of my body, and not as her punishing me – it was a different sort of dominance to my lifestyle, and in many ways it was much more enjoyable. 

	Her hands were on the inside of my thighs as she pressed it. I instantly felt a wave of sexual excitement ripple through my body. My muscles in my groin tightened and my erection stood firm. Whatever she did – my body reacted to it!

	She then did something I wanted her to do – she kissed me – a proper kiss. I could not put my arms around her as they were attached to the wall. Her tongue delved into mine, and I could smell her dinner on her breath. My erection was raging. It wanted relief desperately but Jodie was not going to respond.

	Jodie wanted a proper kiss, and this is what she had. 

[expand]

	I was grateful to Miss Jodie for introducing me to a sort of pleasure, which I doubt few people have experienced. For thirty minutes, I got unparalleled sexual excitement and satisfaction, and yet although neither of us achieved an orgasm, I felt sexually fulfilled at the end of it. 

	I was not as flush with the non-orgasm sex sessions as Jodie, and so after five minutes rest, I asked her what her fantasies were. She said her main fantasy, which had never been implemented was to be tied up while a football player roughly took her. She wanted to be at his “complete mercy” to perform “every perverted act under the sun that takes his fancy”. I was not a football player, but I was sure I could oblige with the rest!  

	I retrieved the handcuffs on the side and put her into a spread-eagled position on the bed. The naked girl looked at me as I walked out of the door. I went into the “Bondage Room” and closed the door. I saw there was a wardrobe in the corner, and I looked in there and found a football kit for the national team. 

	Fyllen wore a white strip with navy shorts and white socks. I donned the strip, which was a little big, but was fine really. I walked in and she gasped and the giggled. I wasn't taking that! I was the dominant now – she was a lowly submissive, and so I raised my hand.

	I consider men who hit and beat women the lowest of the low, and yet I was doing it here. Maybe it was double standards but I felt it was excused in this situation, as it was part of a role-play sex scenario. She had asked to be treated roughly, and I had already agreed a safe word with her – “Tokyo” - that she was free to use at any opportunity. 

	“Don’t laugh at me” I barked at Jodie, and slapped her across the face. She winced a little, and I then took out my penis, and began to finger her. Although the role-play said this game was for my pleasure only – a sort of rape really – but in practice I wanted her to enjoy it. After all, it was her fantasy. She groaned – a sort of animal squeal in pleasure. Her noises filled the room, and echoed around creating the effect that many people were there. I stopped fingering her and instead replaced it with my erect member. I didn’t ease it in gently, but instead I roughly inserted it, into her moist opening.

	Jodie didn’t groan with pleasure or anticipation, but instead cried out with discomfort. I didn’t stop, and instead began pumping her with renewed vigour. With every thrust, she grunted. Part of it was with pleasure – this was her fantasy and she was going to enjoy it. Part of her vocal output was in pain – discomfort caused by my rough treatment of her sensitive organs. While I was taking her I used my hands to fondle her breasts (less than gently), and this caused her more discomfort. 

	I could feel myself nearing my orgasm, and I did not want to stop – despite tears forming in her eyes. Her panting became more intense, and she exploded into a shuddering orgasm. Tears streamed down her face, but she was also enjoying this – surely that can’t be happening? I was so lost in watching her I hardly noticed as I buried my seed deep into her cavity, and then sat back exhausted. 

	Jodie said she wanted to be at the complete mercy of her dominant, and so I presented her with my penis – although not erect - for her to clean. She didn’t respond immediately so a slap across the breasts indicated to her what I wanted her to do coupled with the words “well clean it for gods sake”

	Jodie could not use her hands to position my sexual organ into her mouth to clean and so as I straddled her body, I used my hands to place my tool into her awaiting mouth. As her tongue darted around, I could feel myself becoming slightly more aroused. I pulled the foreskin back to allow her to clean under it and then when it was complete, I got off of her and left the room. 

	I went into the Bondage room, and looked for some sort of dildo or vibrator, and found what I was looking for. In the corner was a dildo machine, which could be attached to the end of a bed, and had a dildo attached to a long pole. There was a crank handle to cause it to move in and out, and this was ideal for what I had in mind next. I put this in the other room, and she looked at me half worried, and then I went back to retrieve the enema kit, on a trolley. 

	I consider myself fairly skilled in the art of enema giving – Miss Tanya gave me enough practice. I wheeled the enema kit in and began setting it up.

	“You’re not going to….” She asked me. 

	“I will do what I like Jodie – and you will have to like it”. I was enjoying my role as a dominant – maybe I was just a good actor, or it is part of my personality, but I was being fairly good at is as well I thought.

	I turned Jodie over slightly, and inserted the nozzle in her. She groaned and winced – possibly in pain, but I did not care. She had the safe word to use, and she was not using it.  I then turned on the enema kit, which was filled with six quarts of water, with some added bicarbonate, to pump slowly. Normally you wouldn’t pump the water in, but use gravity, but Jodie was lying down, and it was the only way I could be sure of the water entering her. 

	Once that had started, I affixed the dildo machine to the end of the bed, and positioned it just outside her pussy. I then started turning the handle and it glided perfectly into her. This caused her to groan and grunt much more. 

	The water level was decreasing slowly and she had taken less than a quarter of it when she exploded into her first wave of orgasmic pleasure. Her toes curled, and she tried to escape the dildo machine, but I was resolutely turning the handle.

	Jodie was panting hard as the dildo continued to enter it, and she was continuing to endure it. I'm sure she was considering the safe word, but if she did, her thoughts were quickly curtailed by her second orgasm. The smell of rubber was becoming more apparent now, as I think her body heat was causing the sheets to emit more of their odour. Also I could smell sweat. Jodie’s sweat, combined with her sexual scent. The smell itself was arousing!

	After Jodie’s second orgasm I slowed on the machine. Turning the handle was hard work, and my arms were beginning to ache, but also I did not want to risk Jodie saying “Tokyo”. I must confess I was enjoying being a dominant.

	She had nearly taken all the water when she went into her third orgasm.  She thrashed her legs about much more, and her thighs smacked against the dildo which I had set up. I then left the room, with her calling out to me to remove the plug so she could expel.  

	I returned five minutes later and turned Jodie over, and removed the nozzle and told her she could release if she wanted to. Jodie did, and the water splashed onto the bed and drained down onto the stone floor and towards a drain. Lumps of faecal matter also dropped onto the floor, and I got a bucket of water to wash those away.  
	
	Jodie and I finished a few minutes early, and I uncuffed her and we walked into the bathroom to shower together. We did although I don’t know why as I was certain we would need another one once we had spent some time in the company of the nymphomaniacs downstairs! I washed Jodie down, sponging her in all her important crevices. She did the same to me, paying particular attention to between my legs.

	“No male every washes correctly under her testicles”, she told me, and then kissed me. Our tongues met across and I looked longingly into her eyes. I could feel myself getting another stiffie, although I shouldn’t.

	She pushed me against the cold shower wall and put her hands under my arms to rest in the nook in my lower back, forcing me to thrust forward slightly. I put my arms around Jodie, forcing her to kiss me more deeply than before.

	For almost a minute we were locked in this passionate embrace, before Jodie released me. I felt I had cheated on Becky. Having sex with Jodie wasn’t a problem. Taking Jodie to edges of her fantasies wasn’t a problem – this was an orgy after all – this is what I was supposed to do, but to kiss Jodie as though I loved her, surely that was beyond it? To display that amount of affection was cheating. It was an event, which I wasn’t to tell Becky about for many weeks, although then, she wasn’t bothered. We got dried in silence. I felt dirty and disgusted with myself.

	“Thanks for trying to do my fantasy for me”, she told me as we walked down to the room.

	When we rejoined the group in the room with the mud pit, everyone was naked like Jodie and me. Miss Lucy spoke to us when we entered the room and gave us a wry smile. 

	“I want everyone in the mud pit, and you will close your eyes and walk around. When I tell you to open them you will do so and the person in front you will pleasure until I tell you to stop when we start it all over again, OK?” 

	Jodie and I clambered into the mud pit and we were all told to close our eyes which I did and we began to walk around, slipping and sliding. I bumped into many people, and when Miss Lucy said to open our eyes, I was opposite the guy who I had wrestled with only an hour previous. “Number 4” was the same height and build as me, and equally as muscular. He had a slightly larger penis than me, and his hair was slightly shorter. 

	I began to caress him, rubbing my hands over his well-toned body. The mud on him acted as a good lubricant, as my hands slid over his muscles. He moved his legs apart to allow me to move my hands around his testes, but as he spread his legs he slipped, and fell back into the mud. I leaned over and began to lick his shaft. 

	I must stress at this point, the reasons why I was coming onto him, and not the other way around. It is not because I am gay, or have any homosexual tendencies, but my lifestyle has changed me, and has changed the way I think. I knew Miss Lucy and Co would be watching us, and if they thought we held back then they would make the punishment far worse. But maybe the main reason is being a slave has rendered me very unselfish. I want, I crave to make people happy, and to serve them and it is this that probably caused me to do what I did. 

	He groaned in pleasure slightly as I then completely engulfed his manhood, sucking a little, but stroking him more so. I could taste the earthy texture in my mouth, and I ran my hands around his body. As I did so, his groaning became more audible and he wriggled slightly. His toes curled up as I released a wave of thick cum deep into my mouth. Without a moment’s thought I swallowed, and sucked the rest off a weary penis. I touched him up and he groaned and then sat up. 

	He reached out, but I pushed him back to the ground, and into the mud. The thirty minutes I had spent with Jodie had brought out the dominant side of me, and I was enforcing it with pleasure. I picked up some mud, and began to massage it into his body, and he groaned slightly, but did not say anything. I think he enjoyed it. A whistle blew, which meant we were to continue to move around again. 

	I was lucky that the next person I got was Becky. I guessed Lucy thought I had set that up but I hadn’t. Becky and I did not need an introduction, and once I had opened my eyes and saw it was my mistress, I immediately knelt down to her sex. The cool mud oozed around my toes, and I could feel it touching by behind and my testicles.

	Becky knew what I was going to do and spread her legs for me, but just as the male slave had done earlier, she fell backwards causing the mud to splash into my face. While she was on the floor, I pinned her to the ground using my hands over her hands and slid on top of her. Her legs parted and I gently eased into her open crevice. I kissed her mud-infested lips, and she returned it. I began to thrust deep into her, and she groaned. Weird squelching noises emanated from down below, although these were hardly audible, what with the grunting, groaning, and general noise coming from the rest of the room.

	Becky groaned in pleasure as I thrusted in and out of her. 

[expand]

	Once again, Lucy indicated we were to continue and to go and find another partner, and I picked Becky up and we continued after I had given Becky a kiss on the cheek.

	The next person I got was another slave – “Number 2” to be precise. He looked uneasy once she (Lucy) had blown her whistle and I was opposite him.

	He looked hesitant, and so I reached out, and felt his muddy body. He was tense – you could feel it. He didn’t want to be touched up by a man – he wanted a girl. It came across, as he was someone who had avoided same sex contact completely, and it was unnerving him. He needed to be put at ease, and so I got him to lie in the mud. I then began to jerk his penis, giving him a hand job in the mud. He began to groan slightly, and then extended his hand as if he wanted to continue it. I pushed it away, but he was insistent. He did not want anyone else touching his manhood.

	I was adamant though, that this was an orgy, and he would have to either give or receive sexual pleasure from me. Once again my dominant side was emerging and it emerged more so when I glided onto his body. My penis was touching his. My chest was on his chest. My lips were on his lips. I reached down to feel his manhood once again, and began to jerk it once again. This time he had no energy or desire to object and when there was no opposition to my moves I sat back on his thighs so his erect penis, was just in front of mine. He let out a massive groan, before releasing his seed, for probably the umpteenth time today. 

	I picked up a large ball of mud and engulfed his genitals in it, which wiped away the cum. He was much more open, and afterwards he moved towards me. He did however do something that I wasn’t ready for when he started pissing which left his penis at such velocity that it sprayed onto my chest. The mud which was there was instantly washed away. 

	Lucy told us that everything went in the pit, and there was no problem with doing anything in there. When he finished he looked a bit sheepish and apologised.

	“Sorry, that’s what my mistress loves – she’s really into pissing and shitting”

	“No problem”, I replied, and turned around so my arse was in his direction. I needed a dump, and I knew just the person who would appreciate it. I began to push my rectal muscles and a large shit came out, and splashed in the mud. I looked round to see his feverishly burying his face into it, and I felt a little queasy to say the least.

	Lucy blew her whistle again, and then spoke

	“I'm sure the slaves are hungry, so once they have showered, there is some food waiting for you. Jodie will show you. If all the ladies could accompany me, to the other showers we can then decide what to do next.”

	Jodie pointed to a door by the cage, which we all trooped through to be hit by a mist of hot steam.  Warm water poured out of showers on the wall that cleansed our bodies, relieving aches, and was my fourth shower that day!

	When we had finished, Jodie kindly gave us all a pair of shorts and a T-Shirt – white of course – and then we followed her through the house, and into a smallish room with a table and benches. I sat down next to Jodie, and she rang a bell, and two maids appeared with trays of food. Eight plates were already positioned around the table, and when the food was put down, we were told to help ourselves.

	There were loads of tit bits with bhajis, samoasas and cold meats provided. Salad was on another plate and we were told to help ourselves to Coke, water or orange juice. 

	Jodie started a conversation with me, as I tore into the chicken tikka salad. 

	“You’re Becky’s boy aren’t you?”

	“Yeah” I replied. I didn’t feel I needed to add the “Miss” or “Miss Jodie” as this was a relaxed situation – and less than an hour ago I was dominating this girl.

	“So what is she like?”

	“Becky? She is really nice. What is Lucy like?”

	“Lucy is good – we are on the same sexual wavelength”

	“Oh right” I said, not quite knowing how to handle that admission. “But then Lucy isn’t your legal owner is she?”

	“Err, yes she is?”

	“How come, if you don’t mind me asking?”

	“Well I got involved in some things I shouldn’t, and the court gave me a choice – either go to prison for five years or submit myself to the state for ten. I did, and was ‘given’ to Lucy, because of her work for Claire Ryder. I'm here to look after the house, although she does treat me as an employee and not as a slave”

	“Oh that’s nice”

	“Yeah I suppose, I would like a bit more freedom – to go and discover things for myself. All the sex I get is arranged through Lucy”

	“Tonight wasn’t – we sorted ourselves out pretty well” She giggled and we continued our conversation. She reeled out all her sexual experiences starting from when she lost her virginity at the age of eleven. Since then she has craved sex, and was the only girl in her class to have experienced lesbian sex by the age of thirteen. She recalled her tales of the Girl Guides and the Scouts and how she would relish the camps, as it gave her license to do what she wanted once she was in those tents. Then came the drug addiction and alcoholism, and then the court appearance. 

	She looked at the horror on my face, and then added, “But don’t worry. I'm clean now”.

	After we had eaten we were led into another room, and this one was next to the mud-wrestling room. 

	Lucy was an expert in removing your control of your body. For her next “game”, she took us to a specially designed room. In the middle were two benches next to each other, and other equipment, but I didn’t realise what they were till it was explained to me by Lucy. Electrical contacts were put on me, and Becky, using straps and toys. Any noises which we make are picked up by a microphone and then extra current is then fed into the other one’s supply, which will cause them to make more noise, in pleasure, which would cause the current in my genitals to go up. Basically it was feedback – if I made more noise then Becky got it, and vice versa. 

	We were the first on this contraption, and when it was switched on I felt a slight tingle in my loins. I looked round, and I could see Becky panting furiously. I knew I had an erection, and what I had was no more than a pleasurable sensation – clearly it had more of an effect on the women!

	Becky then let out an audible groan. I felt the current in my circuit increase, and this became more of an uncomfortable sensation. It was different to say the least. I was getting aroused from it if nothing else. Becky then began to grunt and groan a bit more, and at every time she released some noise emission, my current went up.

	I suddenly let out a massive yelp and then Becky went into her orgasm, triggering mine. Hot cum was dripping down my shaft, as I came out of the most intense, mind-boggling brilliant orgasm I had ever had. I was exhausted. After my orgasm, Lucy had shut off the current and after a few seconds I was helped out of the harness. I was given a tissue to wipe myself clean with, which I did, and then I got dressed again.

	Becky and I sat down in the corner of the room, and I noticed a girl who I recognised but couldn’t place. Then it dawned on me – it was Emma – from the camp. 

	I looked at her, and then called her name. She was transfixed by the next pair on Lucy’s little game. “Miss Emma?” I called again, and she turned round, got up and walked over.

	“Yes?”

	“Don’t you remember me, Miss?”

	“No” she said after a moments thought. 

	“Adam Hargreaves from Lake Portswood”

	“Oh my god I remember you. You were my all time favourite student. You have much bigger muscles than before. Is Becky your mistress?” she asked me.

	“Yes”

	“Is he any good then?”, Emma asked Becky, and Becky responded.

	“He's great”

	“Ah, you see I told you Adam, you would make a nice young girl very happy” I sniggered.

	“I see you didn’t have your breast enlargement then”

	“No”. Emma went slightly red, but continued. “I didn’t see the point. I left the camps and am now working part-time in Kentish Island, and part-time here for a brothel. I do the training”

	“You like it?”

	“Much more, I don’t feel as slutty – I'm not sleeping with them. I direct the training, and I tell them what they can and can't do!”

	“At least you are happy now then”

	“I didn’t hate the camps – I met slaves like yourself – sweet and charming little boys”

	“Yeah yeah” I said, half forgetting where I was.

	“Adam. Don’t forget that I am still your superior, and I am within my rights to put you over my knew and smack you” I didn’t think she was serious, but I didn’t want to take the chance, so I apologised.

	“Sorry Miss Emma. I was only joking”.

	“I knew you were Adam”. Emma hugged me and Becky looked on, slightly jealous, I backed off, and told her I would see her tomorrow. 

We watched as other people experienced the table with much enjoyment. The orgasm I had achieved was breathtaking. After the last person had had their turn, Becky announced to Lucy that we had better go as it was very late. Lucy nodded, and told us Jodie would show us out. We followed Jodie and Becky drove home, still thinking about the night that had just happened.

	Wednesday I spent logging at the camp, and although I was touched up by Miss Julie, it was very uneventful. I saw more of the great views from the tops of trees, and was irritating the other slaves by singing bad songs even worse than the original singers. I returned to the house, and had a shower. Becky and I ate a meal which I had cooked – curry! No one can make curries quite like me.

	While we ate the meal, we flicked through the twenty or so channels that were beamed into the house. A newsflash came up, and we started watching the television with renewed interest.

	“The main administration building of Deltan is under siege from almost 250 slaves in the biggest affront to democracy seen on Fyllen in its history. Police are trying to bring the disturbance under control, but everyone is advised to keep their houses locked securely and not to travel into Deltan for the foreseeable future. More on this story as we get it” the newsreader read. Both Becky and I looked at each other, and she looked uneasy.

	“We can’t go to that orgy tonight, with that trouble – we could be killed”

	“I agree, we will just have to amuse ourselves”

	“Not tonight, Adam.”

	“OK, well I’ll go and check on everyone else”

	I went for a wander but got bored soon after. Becky was asleep when I got back and so I went to bed, and just slept. This wasn’t what I wanted for tonight but I think Becky was too worried about the slave rebellion to think about sex!	

	Thursday morning will rank as the most important day as a slave as it is the day I ran away. It started perfectly normally; I woke up with Becky by my side and had a shower. I then went downstairs to make her a fried breakfast and then came back up just as she was getting up. I kissed her on the cheek and then we sat down to watch the news on television. Becky didn’t watch the news often but what with the trouble yesterday it seemed like a good idea! 

	It took a minute to find the remote control, but once I had we turned on the local station, Fyllen TV. They had hourly news updates and it was approaching 10am. The main (and only) story was that the administration building in Deltan had been overrun by (male) slaves and that Claire Ryder was mobilising the army. She turned off the set

	“If they have another revolution, I could be incarcerated” she said to me looking very worried indeed. I agreed. It was highly possible. The tolerance and patience of the male slaves had just fallen through the floor. We wanted equality, and for some, a bloody coup was the only way to achieve this.

	Becky and I agreed that we should run away to another island, and she decided to leave everything behind. We packed a few things and Becky then got all the slaves together to tell them that they were free to go, and the maids were dismissed. I said my goodbyes to Mark, Thomas and Miss Emily. It felt weird, and we then started trekking across the fields towards the harbour. Both of us would hope to achieve freedom.

	Thursday night we spent in Applewood, at Becky’s flat. She hadn’t got round to selling it yet, and it came in useful. We turned on the news, but the television station was down, and instead it was showing Hard core lesbian action. Becky turned off the set in disgust, much to my dismay. 

	Becky and I set our alarm clocks at 6am and then went to bed. We needed to be up early and awake so sex was also off limits - again! Life just isn’t fair!

	Friday morning started for us at 6am. We quickly had showers and Becky got dressed in jeans and T-Shirts. She also wore a cap, and we set off down to the harbour. It was no more than a thirty minute walk down the road, and we did that easily not seeing a single soul as we walked. As we approached the harbour, the army were stopping people from going to the actual boats, saying that only those people with permits could travel. It was here where Becky and I managed to use our ingenuity.

	On Fyllen, to travel to another island you should apply for a permit to do so, although most people don’t bother. The worst is a 10 pound fine, and the permits cost 5 pounds. They are rarely checked and are just a piece of hassle. However when Becky went on her trip to Kentish Island last week she did get a permit and this was still in her jacket. We got a pen and changed the date forward by seven days and then took it to the army personnel guarding the boats.

	“Doesn’t say anything here about a slave”, the guard argued.

	“Well it should do.” Becky was trying to improvise. “I wouldn’t go alone, would I?” The soldiers accepted this as a perfectly reasonable argument and let us pass into the main port. The next boat left for Kentish Island in two hours. We bought two tickets and sat in the departure lounge. In two hours, we would be free. 

	As the boat allowed boarding a little later and we got on. It was a little steamer and there were seats for about 100. Becky sat by the window and looked out while I sat on the aisle seat. Just as the boat was going to leave a group of armed men boarded it and one went to the front.

	“This boat can only leave if there is no woman here who owns any slaves” he announced. A number of slaves were on the boat, and they (and their owner) were detained by the rebellious group before they came to Becky and me.

	“Another slave here, Mike”, one of them said. I was trying to think of a way out and it hit me.

	“I'm not owned by this lady”, I said quickly. Mike, who had just walked down the boat, looked at me inquisitively. “I'm on a short term loan” I added. He grunted and then gestured at the other man to leave us. Both Becky and I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

CHAPTER SEVEN: Liberty

The boat left the island and Becky and I looked back. We had escaped, and despite the checks, we had managed to creep through, and were now ready to set up home in Kentish Island. Becky hugged me as the boat glided across the waves. For the second time in three months a revolution had engulfed Fyllen Island and it was going to fail again. It needed something other than gender discrimination. 

If I am honest I didn’t much care about that, as I had the woman of my heart curled up next to me. I loved Becky. Maybe it was her cheerful personality, lovely smile or the fact she was drop dead gorgeous, I just couldn’t get enough of her. I looked down at her, but she was asleep. The escape had taken its toll on her. 

Fyllen Island looks so peaceful from afar. I know I was lucky right throughout my stay on the island, as I always got the better end of the deal. When I was at college, Matty Samson was tormented much more than me. This was due to his reluctance to co-operate however. You can’t beat the system so there is no point in trying. At the camp, Miss Paula and Miss Emma were as reasonable as they came and I completed the course at the first attempt. I also then went to a reasonable owner, Suzanne Riesling, and wasn’t abused too much.

Overall I did all right as my time as a slave, and I made a mental note to do my best to ensure I never was in a position to alter this summary. I never wanted to be part of a slave trade system, at either end, as it is either degrading and humiliating or turns normal people into power crazed perverts, depending on what side of the system you land.

We neared our destination and I woke Becky up. We hugged again. It was true love! As Becky and I left the passenger vessel, we stepped onto a new island and into a new life, away from Fyllen forever.

I feel it is right at this point to tie up the story completely and tell you exactly what happened to all the characters. 

ANNABELLE RIESLING
	“Miss Annabelle” was enslaved by the revolution and is currently undergoing training at Lake Portswood. She objected to being forced to please men sexually and is now in her tenth week of training. She really was spoilt.

SUZANNE RIESLING
	Suzanne was sentenced to three years for tax offences. She was ruined as a businesswoman. After the revolution she was freed and taken to one of the camps and excelled. She is now a sex slave for a big computer magnate and recently took part in the mud wrestling championships.

JULIE FARINOS
	Julie followed us to Kentish Island, but left to go to a big island called Sark. It is pretty female orientated as well, although not as bad as Fyllen was. She runs a brothel with twenty male prostitutes, and unsurprisingly does the training for them herself. Maybe I did teach her something then. I went to see her, and she still considers me very highly.

CLAIRE RYDER
	Claire Ryder is incarcerated in the prison and is available to see by everyone who goes on the sightseeing tour. She is the main attraction! Each week on a Saturday, there is a lottery, and whoever wins gets to spend one night with the ex-president to do what they want, which is also broadcast on television. Some feelings run high, and it is no wonder that some winners take her to the edge of depravity and humiliation. 

JUNE
	June approached the revolution with a totally revolutionary way. She supported the incoming change, and was therefore made a special case and was exempt from the camps. She is the only female in Government, and carries out regular inspections of the camps for them, from the inside of course! 

TINA RAVENN
	Unlike the previous revolution with Claire Ryder, teachers were allowed to stay in their profession. Her project about my time as a restricted person achieved some fame, and she is now considered to be the best English teacher on the island. She also recently came out as a lesbian and a WAM (Wet and Messy) Fetishist, and always volunteers for the school carnival gunging exploits.

MARK
	Mark recovered from his arm well enough to take over the logging camp. He banned female slaves logging there and instead set up a male workforce. The only females working there were for sexual relief and making refreshments. His company is in the Fyllen Top 10 performing corporations.

ROBERT
	Robert liked being a sex slave so much he followed Julie to Sark working in the brothel there. He says he enjoys satisfying woman and likes it when they humiliate and degrade him, particularly with bodily waste. He also admits that his experiences on Fyllen have turned him into a “colossal pervert. Nothing is too low for me” Maybe his reputation precedes him but he is Julies’ best performer. He has also taken my place of constantly pleasing her and ensuring she is never short of an orgasm or two.

THOMAS
	One thing which never materialised in his stay at Fellswood was Thomas’s artistic talent. He established himself as a top artist, shipping his works to all the other islands. He bought female slaves and videoed himself bringing them to orgasm and then recreated those images with his paintbrush. He is best known however for his piece entitled “Woman and nature” where he bodily painted three female slaves, with the pictures depicting natural scenery. The slaves were displayed at the local art museum and collectors paid hundreds of pounds for a signed photo.

MISS MARIE
	June remembered my time with Miss Marie and therefore adjusted her punishment at the camps to take advantage of her jealous and sadistic nature. I last heard she was undergoing training so she would work well in brothels at the same level of depravity as Robert.

MISS EMILY
	Miss Emily ran off with Thomas originally and hid in his flat. He then registered her, and she is now owned by him. She is his favourite model and often provides him with the material he needs for his erotic art.

MISTRESS PAULA
	Paula was exonerated of aiding slaves to escape and went back to the camp. Come the revolution, she managed to leave and left went to Quillan Island to work as a teacher at an exclusive school. 

MISTRESS EMMA
	Emma was known for her sexual education and after the revolution she moved to Kentish Island. On Kentish Island her reputation spread, and she oversaw training of some female slaves to turn them into better sex slaves. Emma was recently recalled to Fyllen to see the new President, as he was unhappy with his concubines. She not only gave him a week of pleasure, but also trained existing and new concubines to a higher standard. Every Christmas, she dresses up as Santa Claus in the main town centre, and screws anyone for one Kentish pound. The proceeds go to charity. Emma lives next door to me, and I see her every day. Emma is Becky’s friend, and while I have engaged in sexual relations with her, it has only been with Becky’s permission. 

MISS JODIE 
	Jodie stayed on the island, and became a slave (for the second time) for a wealthy family. She looks after the two teenagers, provides meals, and engages in sexual relations with both the parents. When they came on holiday to Kentish Island, Becky and I saw Jodie, although our activities that day were a far cry from what went on in Fyllen.

MISTRESS HELGA
	Helga was a loose slut. End of. Come the revolution, she was worried about not being able to have sex with men any more, and so joined a brothel. They didn’t send her for re-education, as every night she was Midnight Kisses Budget Girl and sleeps with at least 20 men each night. She lets them take her however they want. 

HEINRICH
	Heinrich stayed on the island at first, but then left. He missed being treated as dirt, and had become a massive submissive. He went to Sark, one of very few men to do so out of choice, and was immediately sent to be re-educated. He left the camp after eight hours, when they realised how well trained he was, and now works at the Royal Palace. He is regularly raped, and humiliated by the girls there, and he loves it.  The heir to the throne, Princess Elizabeth, is known to be particularly fond of him and is always a fixture when she throws her “wild parties”.

MISS TANYA
	Miss Tanya loved enemas, but in practice she loved anything anal. She gave herself up on the first day of the revolution, and they sent her to work in a brothel. She loves her work, and regularly gives enemas for sexual pleasure, and “takes it up the Arsenal!” The video tape she and Helen made premiered on Fyllen’s Adult Channel and she regularly makes new shows for them.

MISS HELEN
	Helen was not going to stay in Fyllen and escaped to Kentish Island. There she established herself as the top bisexual porn star. Occasionally she gets a special permit from the Fyllen Island government and she travels there to make more videos and shows with Tanya. She also performs outrageous stunts, and recently set a new island record, with the most amount of enemas taken in one day, all performed outside the presidential palace, and broadcast on the Kentish Adult Channel

MATTY SAMSON
	Matty Samson was sold to the family of one of the girls who used to torment him and overnight he developed an affiliation with her. She warmed to him and within days they were secret lovers. When the revolution happened, he sought to protect her and they currently live in the woods somewhere living off nature. A local lake forms the basis of their new world. Today they are out of reach of the authorities and in touch with each other spending their time surviving and making passionate love.

And lastly, I must tell you about myself and Becky. We left the island on the boat looking back and recollecting about the turbulent three months that gone before it. We both needed a fresh start, and we arrived on Kentish Island penniless. We immediately applied for help, and we got it, given a loan of 1000 Kentish pounds. With that we rented a small house, and we both got jobs. I worked for the police, and Becky as an accountant. We soon moved, and paid off the loan. Oh, and we got married.

	We often hear tales about Fyllen Island dream of the better times there. It needs a stable government and a new start. Slavery just causes resentment. Maybe one day I can go back and help give it the fresh start it needs, but for now, I am happy keeping the filth off the streets, and Becky satisfied in bed. 

The End (for now)

Note
	I would appreciate any comments about this story, good or bad. If there is enough interest I will do a “Buffy-Angel” trick and I may write about Annabelle's or Thomas’s exploits for example! Oh, and sorry about the length – it was only supposed to be 10,000 words but it is very therapeutic to write stories when you are stressed, and as you can see by the length of the story I am very stressed at the moment! Just be glad it's not one of my fantasies or it could have been ten times longer!