Novice Slaveowner free porn video

Part 1

"Here we are now". My father's business agent stopped in frontof an impressive six storey redbrick building and I got out to have a look.The house sported a well-kept front garden with lawns and rosebushes and anoverall very pleasant old-fashioned look. "Quite nice, isn't it? Thirtyflats, six to each floor and a penthouse". "For me?" "Thepenthouse? Of course, but the rest as well. Your dad considers it a very goodinvestment, so it's yours". "Mine?" "Something to get youstarted in business, he told me". "Not quite like him, but very generous".A teenage boy opened the door to a spacious hall decorated in marble, droppingto one knee and bowing his head as we passed by. Only a pair of grey shortscovered his deeply tanned body and a short chain hobbled his bare feet. A girldressed in the same kind of shorts, but with the addition of a T-shirt waschained to a small reception counter by her right ankle. "Mr. Marshall.The new owner", the agent announced. She too bent a knee in front of me. "Welcometo Marsfield Gardens, Sir". Like the boy, she had a steel ring lockedaround her slender neck. "Thank you". "Your luggage will bebrought up right away, Sir, if it may please you". "It does".She smiled shyly and lowered her eyes. "This is your private lift, John".The agent held the door open. "Coming". I sent the girl one lastlook and sauntered over. "Quite a pretty little thing". "Wasshe? I didn't notice". We rose soundlessly. "They belong to the companyservicing the estate". The lift stopped and the doors opened to reveala spacious hall. "I hope you like your temporary home". "Quitegrand for a student, isn't it?"

I'd come over for a three-year post-graduate study in international politicsand was of course joking. My dear parent has a wide range of interests andinvestments all over the world and I suppose that most people would considerme a spoiled upper class brat. Well, young man rather, I was twenty-three atthe time. Perhaps I am, to some extent, at least used to a life in luxury,but the fast crowd never attracted me. I've always liked studying, have beenreading voraciously ever since I could. Not that I don't like sports and I'vebeen to all the parties I could wish for, but my real interest is the worldaround us. As a child it was animals and plants, later on history, and nowit's politics. Luckily my father appreciates that, so we've always been onthe best of terms, not least, I think, because even if I of course do enjoythe advantages of being rich, I don't overdo it.

The agent looked somewhat unnerved and hurriedly opened the door to a largesitting room, elegantly equipped with modern furniture and Oriental rugs scatteredon the gleaming hardwood floor. One wall was a great window, opening to a roofgarden. "Very grand, I dare say". I passed through the sliding doorsto meet a superb view across town and country. The garden covered two thirdsof the top of the building, with well-grown orchard trees, a little lawn, andbeds of flowers, even a fairly large swimming pool. "But I like it". "Thanks,there's more". "So I expect, at least a place where one can sleep".I followed him back to the hall to look into a bright and airy bedroom, witha luxurious bath, three spare rooms, a spacious study, and a diningroom. Adoor opened to a well-equipped kitchen. "I don't just like it, I'm alreadyfalling in love with it". The agent lit up in a relieved smile. 'Poorguy, my father can be very demanding', I thought. "But I don't know muchabout housekeeping, nothing at all, to be honest, so I'll need some sort ofcatering, and maid and cleaning service. Perhaps that company, you mentioned,can do that for me". "Of course, but I thought you'd be more comfortablewith your own staff". "Wouldn't that be overdoing it a bit? I mean,we do have servants at home, of course, but after all that's a mansion in townand a manor house in the country. Part time help can easily maintain a smallplace like this and I don't much care for the obligations. Servants are fine,but do give you some trouble". "Not over here, John. We use slaves". "ButI know nothing about handling slaves".

I knew of them, of course, had seen them around on previous visits, evenbeen served by some at the private homes I'd visited and at hotels and restaurants,but never had to deal with them directly. My own government had contemplated,but decided not to add slavery to the penal system. When introduced over heretwenty years ago it was meant to save the cost of prisons and therefore includedvirtually all sorts of convicts. Soon, however, it proved much too risky tohave hardcore criminals roaming around, even as slaves, and enslaving peoplepast forty turned out to be unprofitable. So now only younger felons, malesfrom the age of fifteen, females from eighteen, and up to thirty years of age,who'd committed minor crimes, were sentenced to slavery for periods of betweenfive and twenty years. After that adjustment, the system worked well, and wasvery popular. All families, who could afford the not very high prices, keptslaves, and they were widely used in the service sector, at hotels, by cleaningcompanies, gardeners and at housing estates like this.

"Nothing to it, John. They come fully trained, so it's just a questionof deciding how you want to be served and if not satisfied, you punish them". "Well,I don't really know". "It's the easiest thing in the world. I'm surethat you'll soon be a happy slaveowner, just like everybody else". Hecoughed nervously. "As a matter of fact I've already bought some for you". "Withouteven bothering to ask me?" I raised a questioning eyebrow. "It'sso common over here that I didn't think twice about it, just like buying furniture.If you don't want to keep them, I can sell them again, easily, and withoutloss. But why not try them out? I'm convinced that once you've been servedfor a day or two, you won't want to miss it". I considered for a moment. "Verywell, on your recommendation then, but please consult me first if you wantto do something for me another time". "Of course and I'm sorry, but...". "It'sall right. What have you bought and where are they?" "In the slaveroom.There are three of them: A well-educated male of twenty-one as head slave andgeneral servant. A not very bright, but strong and reliable boy of seventeenfor heavier task, like taking care of the garden, your car, driving you ifyou prefer that. And a very pretty girl of nineteen, who's a good cook andcan satisfy your personal needs". "My what?" "Well, serveyou in bed". He grinned and added hastily: "Most of us use our slavesfor sex". "But you're married!" "I am, happily, but a slavegirlisn't a lover, just a tool when you need relief, and my wife sometimes usesour slaveboy. It's normal, actually very good for married couples. No needto be sullen if your wife, or husband, isn't in the mood when you are". "Isee. Very well, please fetch them". "Right away, John". I wentback to the terrace to have closer look at the surrounding grounds far below.

"Here you are now". The agent returned with my slaves; naked andcollared, ankles hobbled by a short chain and wrists cuffed, or so I judgedfrom the way they kept them rigidly behind their backs. They sank to theirknees and bowed their heads submissively. "This is Fred, college graduate.Fifteen years of slavery for manslaughter". "You've bought me a murderer?" Ilooked astonished at the kneeling young man. "Of course not. His sentencewas for reckless driving. Next, Christine, who'd just finished high schoolwhen she got ten years for shoplifting, and last Tim, mechanics apprentice,twelve years for street-fighting. None of them have served another master,but Fred and Christine have had six months of advanced training, includinga special course in French cooking for her. Tim just had the obligatory threemonths routine training for new slaves. Get up, girl, to let the master inspectyou". She rose gracefully and spread her legs as far as the chain allowed,but kept her head bowed. A thick mane of chestnut hair fell almost to her shoulders,her young breasts were firm, with prominent nipples pierced by two small steelrings, and her slender legs incredibly long, tapering down to well shaped feet.A typical teenage beauty. I went around her, appreciating her straight backand pert little arse. "Delicious, isn't she, though not a virgin, I'mafraid". The agent's eyes were gleaming. "And just how would youknow that she's not?" "Few girls her age are and all female slavesare trained to serve their future masters in bed". "I see. Why arethey in chains?" "Standard procedure when delivered to their master.I have the key here". "Thank you, and for your efforts. I can manageon my own now". "Happy to be of service, John Your car is in thegarage. I can see myself out". We shook hands and he disappeared inside.

"Please rise, Fred and Tim, and remove the chains". I unlockedFred's wrist-cuffs and handed him the key. He gestured the girl to turn herback to him and I looked my youngest slave over. About six feet two or threeof bulging muscles under a gleaming black hide. Like Christine's, his crotchwas clean-shaven and his long cock was hanging low over a heavy ballsack. Hetoo had rings in his nipples and I noticed the same on Fred. "Member ofa street gang, were you?" He raised his head. "Nah, Sir, just meand me mates. Guys like us got to stick together". "Fighting othergangs?" "Yeah, nothing serious, just a bit of fun, Sir". "Whichearned you twelve years as a slave". He shrugged his broad shoulders,grinning shyly. "Yeah, that's how it is for poor guys like us, Sir, notallowed no fun". He lowered his eyes, but the grin never left his face. "Andwhat did you steal, Christine?" "Underwear, Sir". "Tenyears for a bra and a pair of panties?" "Yes, Sir". She lookedbriefly at me, then averted her eyes, but not before I'd caught a look of sheerterror. I shook my head. "Can you make me a vodka martini, Fred?" "Atonce, Sir". I sat down in a deck chair beside the pool and was a few minuteslater offered a glass by the kneeling slave. "Thank you". I tooka sip. "Excellent". "Thank you, Sir". He was about my height,with short-cropped fair hair, slim, but with well-defined muscles, a flat stomach,slender cock and strong legs. "What happened?" "Sir?" Hiscalm eyes looked questioningly at me. "The manslaughter incident whichmade you a slave?" "My car skidded on black ice, Sir, and rammedinto another vehicle. The driver was thrown out and killed". "Noseatbelt?" "No, Sir". "But you were using yours?" "Yes,Sir". "Were you drunk?" "No, Sir. It was in the afternoon,I...". He swallowed hard. "I was on my way home from University,Sir". "Bad luck". "Yes, Sir". "I mean; it wasjust an accident, wasn't it? And you were enslaved for fifteen years!" "That'sthe law, Sir. I did cause the death of another man". "Hardly. Blackice was not your fault, neither that he was fool enough not to use his seatbelt".He didn't answer, but his eyes darkened.

"Be that as it may. You know how to organise my household?" "Ibelieve so, Sir". "Then do that. My luggage will be brought up shortly.Have it unpacked". I handed him the keys to my suitcases. "Dinnerat eight". "Yes, Sir". "Don't you have any clothes?" "Yes,Sir". "Get dressed then, all of you". "Yes, Sir".I waved and heard them leave. After a while, I shed jacket and tie, openedmy collar and took off my shoes to be more comfortable. "It's seven thirty,Sir". I woke up with a start to see Fred on his knees beside my chair,now dressed in white shorts. "Ah, I must have dozed off". "Wouldyou want to change before dinner, Sir?" "Well, yes". He offeredme my shoes, but I shook no and padded to the bedroom. The living room seemedbrighter, with vases of fresh flowers scattered on the tables. I sat down onthe bed to take off my socks, but in a flash Fred was on his knees in frontof me. "Allow me, Sir". He bared my feet, then rose on his kneesto unbutton my shirt. "Would you want to shower, Sir?" I nodded. "Tim",he called softly and the teenager came running to bend a knee. "Shower",Fred whispered, while helping me out of my shirt and unbuckling my belt. Timhurried to the bathroom and Fred looked up at me. "Would it please youto rise and allow me to relieve you of your trousers, Sir?" I did as askedand was soon naked. "Tim has the shower ready for you, Sir". I noddedand strode to the bathroom, where the boy was kneeling beside a fresh bathmat.I went under the pleasantly warm spray to soak myself and jumped with surprisewhen a hand slid down my back. Tim had dropped his shorts and was soaping meup! No one had done so since I was a baby, but it did feel nice when his handscovered me in a rich lather, massaged my neck and shoulders gently, and wentbetween my arsecheeks. He came round to kneel and wash my feet, continued upmy shins and thighs and calmly raised my cock to wash the ballsack. When herose to do my chest, I asked: "Were you trained for this?" "Yes,Sir". He smiled broadly. "Feels good, Sir?" "Strange, butyes, very good". "Thanks, Sir". He finished by washing my hairand stepped out to let me rinse, hurriedly wiping himself with a rough cloth.When I left the shower the two slaves were ready with fluffy, heated towelsto dry me, without forgetting the crack of my arse or the spaces between mytoes.

"Something comfortable, Sir?" Fred had laid out a pair of jeansand a T-shirt. "Yes". He knelt to help me into boxers and jeans,asked me to sit down to dress my feet in socks and loafers, and dragged theshirt over my head. "Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes, Sir, ifit may please you". He was combing my hair. "Where would you wantit served, Sir?" "In the garden, I think". "Yes, Sir".He nodded to Tim, who'd cleaned the bathroom. "A drink, Sir?" Fredfollowed me to the terrace, where his fellow was busy laying the table. "Sure".A couple of minutes later I was offered another vodka martini and strolledover to lean on the railing, looking out over the city lights.

When I turned and emptied my glass, Fred held a chair for me and I sat downat table, laid with china and silverware, candles and a bowl of fresh flowers.Seconds later Tim placed an ice-cold gaspacho in front of me and Fred poureda glass of chilled dry sherry. The soup was perfect and I ate slowly, savouringevery mouthful. When I put down the spoon, Tim whisked the plate away and Fredplaced another glass in front of me, cool Chablis. The black slaveboy returnedto serve a hot plate of Dover sole and offer me small potatoes and sauce beurreblanc. The fish was as perfect as any I'd ever enjoyed. Fred stayed behindmy chair, topping up the glass and offering more sauce. When I'd finished,Tim was back to remove the plate. I looked over my shoulder. "Splendid,absolutely splendid!" "Thank you, Sir". Fred looked gravelyat me. "But where did you get this?" "Your slavegirl made it,Sir". "The fresh fish and the other ingredients?" "I askedReception to buy it for you, Sir. There are several very good shops in theneighbourhood". "Why not go yourself?" "We're not allowedto leave the premises without your permission, Sir, and I didn't want to disturbyou. Would you prefer cheese prior to or after dessert, Sir?" "Before,like in France". "Yes, Sir". He left to come back a moment laterwith a selection of fine cheeses, biscuits and another glass, this time a full-bodiedBurgundy. "Excellent; a good wine merchant". "Thank you, Sir". "Ordid you select them?" "Yes, Sir. I've undergone special trainingas a gentleman's slave, Sir". He removed plate and cheese, topped up myglass and left me to enjoy it. Ten minutes later he was back with a lemon soufflé anda glass of cool Riesling.

"Marvellous!" I leaned back and emptied my glass. "Thank you,Sir". "Call Christine". "Yes, Sir. Would you want coffee,Sir?" "And a Calvados, if we have that". "Yes, Sir".She was wearing shorts like the boys and a clean white apron, barely coveringher breasts. "A very fine meal". "Thank you, Sir". Shecurtsied, eyes to the ground. "I didn't know your tastes, Sir". "Ilike almost anything, especially when it's as well prepared as this, so justgo on surprising me". "Yes, Sir". She curtsied again and disappearedinside. Fred came out with a tray. "Your coffee, Sir". I moved toa deck chair beside the pool and sat down to digest the meal. He knelt besideme; head bowed and hands clasped behind his back. "I'm rather tired andsuffering from jet-lag, but you seem to have everything under control, no needfor me to interfere". "Thank you, Sir". "Any questionsthat can't wait until tomorrow?" "Just one, Sir. Would you want uslocked up or just chained?" "Is that necessary?" He hesitated. "Slavesare mostly caged or chained at night, Sir, but there are no cages up here". "Iasked if it is necessary. Do you run away?" "No, Sir". "Wheredo you actually sleep?" "There's a slaveroom behind the kitchen,Sir". "Well, put on those ankle chains when you go to bed". "Yes,Sir". "Didn't I tell you to get dressed?" "Yes, Sir".He looked surprised. "Don't you have a shirt?" "Yes, Sir, butmost masters prefer their slaves in shorts only, if not naked". "Iwant Christine to dress decently. You and Tim put on shirts when leaving thehouse". "Yes, Sir". "You may go now, and retire to bedwhen ready". "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir. Good night, Sir". Herose, bowed to me and disappeared inside.

A moment later Tim came out to kneel beside my chair and top up the coffee.It was a warm evening and I dozed off again to wake up and find that it wasalmost midnight. The boy was still on his knees beside me and the coffee inmy cup fresh and hot. "Fantastic", I mumbled. "Sir?" Helooked up with a pained smile, shifting his knees. "Fantastic serviceyou offer me". "Thanks, Sir, but it's just what we were trained for,Sir". "Still, but I've better go to bed now". "Yessir".He jumped up, grimacing with pain and followed me to the bedroom. I sat downand he dropped to his undoubtedly aching knees to relieve me of shoes and socks. "Youwant your feet rubbed, Sir?" "Why not?" He sent me a smile andbowed to let his tongue wash the top of my left foot. "But what are youdoing?" "Lick your feet, Sir, before rubbing them; feels very nice,Sir". And it did. He sucked on my toes, raised the foot to clean the soleand rub it gently, and then changed to the other foot.

I was surprised, but very pleased, to say the least. One of my childhoodfriends, son of a farmhand at our country estate, introduced me to the pleasuresof foot licking. Well, not just like that. It began innocently enough whenwe were playing hide and seek in the woods. Our games developed into cowboysand Indians, with me as the Indian, who captured and tied the poor boy to atree and tortured him. Just tickling, at first, but later on I used a switchon his bare thighs to encourage him to tell where his fellows were hiding.I guess that he was a natural submissive because he put up with it, even ifhe was about a head taller than me and much stronger, but perhaps it was justbecause I was the squire's son and therefore in his eyes naturally superior.Yet it was he who suggested that we changed roles to allow him dressing likean Indian, in just a loincloth, a headband with a few feathers stuck in andwar paint on his chest. Now he was tortured to tell where his tribe hid itstreasures and we gradually went further. I strung him by the wrists from abranch and whipped his back, sometimes with stinging nettles, or hogtied himand whipped the soles of his feet. Not real torture, but it did hurt. It beganwhen we were about eight and we only saw each other during summer when my parentsmoved down to the country. When turning twelve he began working at the estateafter school and was supposed to spend his summer holidays supplementing hisfamily's meagre income. I complained about the loss of a playmate and my fatheragreed that he could retain his pay when spending time with me. I don't knowif that changed our relationship, but perhaps it did. Learning Latin at schoolmade me grow an interest in ancient Greece and Rome and our games turned inthat direction. Now I became a centurion and he a barbarian warrior, who wascaptured and tortured. We, or rather he, built a secret cabin at the brinkof a forest pond and we spent days there, imagining that it was my villa andhe a newly enslaved prisoner of war. A very reluctant and unwilling slave,who had to be kept firmly in place, chained hand and foot and often chastisedwith a switch. He carried heavy loads through the forest, hobbled and barefoot,served me snacks and soft drinks on his knees, was used as my footstool. Itwas an important part of the game that I forced him to do something unpleasant,so he could rebel against me and be punished. One such thing was licking myfeet, something both of us considered gross and humiliating. But it arousedme to see him there, on his knees, restrained with chains and padlocks andnear naked, reluctantly licking my sweaty feet, always under the threat ofthe switch. Aroused, yes, but sex never played any part of our relationship.I don't remember ever seeing his dick. It went on until we were about sixteenand grew other interests. He matured earlier than I, village boy as he was,began dating girls and go dancing, but we remained friends and still see eachother, even if he's married now, with two kids. It didn't harm him either,our friendship. He's now head gardener at the estate. But I did miss our slavegames and his submissiveness. His wife is a wisp of a girl and sometimes I'vebeen wondering about their relationship when her towering hulk of a husbandis jumping to meet her every wish.

"Good, Sir?" The slaveboy beamed at me. "Very good, Tim". "Thanks,Sir". He rose on his knees to draw off my shirt, opened my trousers anddragged them down. My cock sprang free, grown stiff by his ministrations andmy reminiscences. "You want me to help you with that, Sir?" "Iwant what?" "Me sucking you off, not healthy to sleep like that,Sir, it isn't". "Do you consider me a faggot?" "Coursenot, Sir, but you need relief and a mouth is a mouth, isn't it? I can callChris if you like, Sir". "She's asleep, I hope". "No problem,Sir. I fetch her?" "No, well, do it then". "Yessir".I received another beaming smile before he relieved me of jeans and underwearand began licking up and down my shaft and sucking on my balls. It did feelgood and even better when the hot mouth engulfed me and his tongue worked wonders.Within seconds I was shooting a heavy load and he swallowed frantically, lickedme clean, and looked up again. "Good, Sir?" Good? Damn, it was thebest blowjob I'd ever had! "Are you gay?" "Nah, Sir". "Butyou've done this before?" "Sure, part of the standard training, Sir.Practised on each other, we did". "Why?" He shrugged. "Aslave's duty, Sir. Most masters like it and mistresses too, we were told. Youwant a bath, Sir?" "No, just to brush my teeth". He jumped tothe bathroom to stand ready with toothbrush and a glass of cool water. "Whattime do you want to get up, Sir?" He tugged the sheets and blankets aroundme and put the key to their cuffs on the bedside table. "At eight andI'd like a cup of tea in bed". "Yessir. Night, Sir".

The light was dimmed and he left me to contemplate the day's turn of events.I suddenly owned three fellow human beings, body and soul. Exciting, frighteningin a way, but definitely something to explore further. I hadn't dominated anyonesince my childhood friend and we stopped playing six or seven years ago. Notthat I hadn't dreamt about it, but grown-ups don't do things like that, exceptin a special sexual relationship perhaps. Of course I'd seen magazines, surfedthe net, even sneaked into a SM shop, but none of the girls, I'd bedded sofar, had shown any interest in that kind of sex. They squealed if I gave thema playful slap on their bare bottoms, wriggled delightfully if I caught theirwrists in a firm grasp above their heads while I was up them, but didn't seeminclined to go any further. So I pushed the dream to the back of my mind, butnever abandoned it. Now I had an opportunity to live out that dream. A deliciousslavegirl, wrists tied to the headboard, long legs spread and tied above herhead, sex open and inviting, and, why not, with red stripes across her strainedbuttocks. Not a dream, but something I could just do, without any protestsor accusations of rape and abuse. No one would even think it odd or depraved.Or a strong black body in the same position? Not that I'd had any experiencewith gay sex, but at the bondage sites it did look tempting. Perhaps make allthree of them kneel and raise their bare arses for my whip, before I decidedwhich hole to use? The possibilities seemed endless. 'But you're a decent chap,aren't you, old boy? Could you really treat a helpless teenage girl like that?'I recalled the look in her eyes, terrified, yet resigned. 'Or a boy?' It hadbeen fun when a child back in the woods, but fun for both of us, a consensualgame. It would be no game for my slaves and most certainly not consensual,but then they couldn't do anything about it, weren't supposed to, were they?'They're convicted felons and it's your duty as their master to ensure thatthey're punished according to law'. If I got a bit of fun out of it, wouldthat be more than I deserved for all my hard work? Perhaps not, but not atthe price of losing my self-respect. 'You'll stay a good master, demanding,but not unfair or deliberately abusive. They'll be punished if they deserveit and you'll get your fun out of that. Some 'relief' too when needed. A slave'snatural duty, as Tim told you. But you won't degrade yourself by turning intoa sadistic monster, absolutely not'. With that decision I fell asleep.

Fred brought my tea. I woke up when he drew the curtains aside to let inthe sun; naked and hobbled. "Good morning, Sir. I hope you slept well".He arranged the pillows behind my back and knelt to offer a tray with a cupand a plate of sweetbread. "I did, thank you". "Would you prefera cooked breakfast, Sir?" "Sure". "In the garden, Sir?It's already pleasantly warm". I nodded and he shuffled to the door, whisperingto someone outside, then returned to the bedside. I sipped my tea, lookingat his bowed head, curious about this slaveboy, young man rather, just twoyears younger than I, but limited myself to repeating that I relied on himto run my household to perfection. He meekly promised to do his best, askedwhen to serve my meals and humbly advised me to acquire a slave credit cardand electronic slave passes to allow them shopping for supplies. Upon my questionhe explained that it was a small cell phone clipped to the slave's collar.If a police officer or a shop owner wanted to ascertain that he or she wasacting under orders, they just pressed the button to connect to the master'sphone.

He ran my bath, soaped me up, dried and dressed me, and followed me to theroof garden. Tim was cleaning the pool and called a cheerful 'Morning, Sir',when I sat down at table. Fred poured my tea and Christine came out, nakedand hobbled like the boys. Her body went rigid when she bent over to servea hot plate and my hand slid down her arse. "Relax, girl, I won't harmyou, or rape you". "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir", she whisperedand held the pose. I reached for her hanging breasts, fondling the firm flesh,gently pinching a nipple. "Those rings", I looked up at Fred, "Arethey standard?" "Yes, Sir". He was watching the nude girl anxiously. "Ourcollars and rings mark us as slaves, Sir, and can be used to control or punishus". "How?" "We can be chained or leashed by them, Sir.Weights may be hung from the nipple rings". "I see. Thank you, Christine".She breathed a sigh of relief and shuffled off. Fred remained behind my chairand she came back a little later to take away the empty plate and offer mea basket of warm buns. "Freshly baked?" "Yes, Sir". Herhand was trembling. "Look at me". The terror was still there. "Christine,please don't be so scared. I promised not to harm you and I meant that. You'llbe punished, but only if you've done something to deserve it, and I won't demandthat you serve me sexually. Perhaps later, when you're more comfortable withthis, but I don't want a terrified girl in my bed". "Yes, Sir. No,Sir". "I'm very satisfied with your cooking". "Thank you,Sir". "Now, sit down and give me your feet". "Yes, Sir".Obviously still frightened she lowered her bare bum to the tiles and raisedher legs, exposing her sex. I found the key in my pocket and unlocked the anklecuffs. "Is that another standard for slaves, shaving your pubes?" "Yes,Sir", Fred answered. "You don't have to do that, Christine, if itmakes you feel better". "Thank you, Sir, but I don't like hair downthere". "As you prefer, now get dressed". "Yes, Sir".I was rewarded with a shy smile before she took her chain and fled.

Fred buttered a bun for me and refilled my cup. "Are slavegirls alwaysthat frightened?" "Most are, Sir, at least when newly enslaved. Thehard training and the uncertainty about their future can be very scary fora young girl, Sir". "Understandable. I hope she'll calm down soon". "Shewill, Sir, but Chris is more scared than most. Her family keeps slaves andher two elder brothers can be very rough with their slavegirl, she's told us,Sir". "Expecting the same from me. And she?" "Sir?" "Howdid she treat the slaves?" "I don't know, Sir, but if her brothersare allowed, eh...". "To abuse the girl". "Eh...yes, Sir.I think her family treats their slaves very strictly, most people do, Sir". "Youtoo?" "My parents have no slaves, Sir". "Why not?" "Theycan't afford it, Sir". "If they could?" "Yes, Sir. Theywould have a slave, or more. It's common and very convenient". "Soyou don't consider slavery wrong?" "No, Sir". "You acceptyour own?" "I do, Sir". "All of it?" "Sir?" "You'llhappily suck my cock or take it up your arse?" "Yes, Sir". Hiseyes were as calm as ever. "And Tim?" "We're your slaves, Sir,the three of us, here to serve you in any way you may wish". "Butwon't like it?" "Slaves are not supposed to like what they have todo, Sir". "I guess not. Now take off that chain and get dressed.Tim as well". "Yes, Sir". He took the key. "And don't sendChristine to serve me until told differently". "No, Sir".

I spent the next two weeks getting accustomed to my new surroundings. Ittook me no time at home. Even used as I was to luxury and servants, my slavessurprised me. Fred or Tim was always kneeling beside or standing behind mychair, jumping to my every wish, dressed and undressed me, bathed me, rubbedmy feet and my body. Christine produced a seemingly endless series of marvellousmeals and the three of them kept the penthouse in perfect order. I acted 'masterly',but was polite, and, although sorely tempted by my slavegirl's half naked body,limited my sexual use of them to letting Tim suck me off when he saw me tobed. After the first few days Christine lost her frightened look and towardsthe end of the first week even sent me a timid smile when I thanked her foranother splendid dinner. Fred was unfailingly polite and efficient and Timcheerful, almost cocky, but always subservient. They gave me no reason to complainand I never saw them idle, so there was nothing to justify a punishment.