a life in harem chapter one continued.20:11 Dec 20 2008
Times Read: 587
"Slave," I hissed into her ear. "Learn this lesson well! There is no past, there is no name, there is no future. You exist here and now, and that is what counts. I learned the hard way that thinking beyond my means equals FAILURE!"
I pulled out a whip that hung on the wall near the ring, these little punishment rings and whipping instruments were placed all over the estate for quick correction. Any higher slave had the right to use it on a lower slave for correction. The little Arab girl tested her locked collar. Her face was pressed closely to the wall, her back and ass exposed to me. It was quite effective, as I placed the key out of her reach.
"You do remember what Failure means," I said, reminding her of the first days visit to that cabin. That lesson continued to imprint heavily on every slave, old or new.
She shuddered, "yes," she gasped.
WHACK! I struck her back with the whip.
"Yes, what?" I pressed.
"Yes...mistress." She sobbed.
I smiled. This was my first time punishing a slave. Memories of my torments flooded my mind, as I whipped her good and hard. My frustration finally found an outlet, and for the first of many times, I finally understood how the house slaves could be so cruel to me with their punishments and torments.
"Learn this lesson well!" I screamed. "Unlike me, you will not be logged for this incident as a failure. You are still new, and logging a failure for you will reflect badly on me as well."
I continued whipping her all over her body, her private parts were not spared as I continued.
"You are very lucky to get a warning, slut! Most slaves do not get one and are marked for failure. You will survive this, but after that it's up to you to be the best slave you can be."
I passed the whip to my other hand and continued whipping the sobbing mast of flesh in front of me. She twisted her body as best she could to avoid the blows, but tethered as she was, she was no match to my pent up frustrated rage.
"Failure," I continued, "means your worthless life as you know it now will be filled with the pain you are feeling right now, for the rest of your miserable life, be it short or long! Your mind will turn to mush before the very end! You will not know what no pain is, as you will never stop feeling the pain inflicted on your worthless body and mind. You do not own your body, mind or soul anymore. The sooner you get that through your thick skull, the better you will be able to serve. Only very, very, VERY, lucky slaves are allowed a minor failure. Master does not tolerate failure!"
Both my arms were rubbery from the lashing I had given her. I smacked her one last time, this time aimed right on her pussy. She wailed one last time, choking on her tears.
"Count this as a correction, and be sure you do not fail, slave." I warned her ominously.
I hung the whip up and sat down on the floor to rest. She stood there, rooted to the ring on the wall, sobbing and panting. She tried to rub her sore body, but could only reach a few parts of her backside. She kept muttering in whispered pants, "Yes, mistress, sorry mistress, thank you, mistress." I regained some strength and pulled myself up and unlocked her from the wall and proceeded to dress her wounds and clean her up. I fitted her with a leather cross body harness, and pulled out of the washroom and back to the training.
PROMOTION
The next morning, a house slave awakened me and commanded me to come with her. I was informed that my little Arab girl trainee was now ready to do the tasks I had trained her to do on her own. I followed the house slave past the main house to a small building set in the wooded area. She knocked three times, and then opened the door and brought me in. I was guided to a large room on the main floor and placed in front of a table where sat five house slaves. I was allowed to stand at attention, head back, chest thrust out, arms glued to my sides, and my legs spread open in front of them.
"Slave," said the one in the middle. "You are here, because an opening for a new house slave has become available, and we are to decide whether you will be appropriate for the position."
I tried to hide any hint of excitement and joy.
Another one asked, "Do you wish to become a house slave?"
"I am a slave," I replied. "It is not up to me to wish or decide. I will simply do as I am told."
They smiled. After a few moments, the house slave on the end, a dark woman, held up and read from a piece of paper. "I have here, a recommendation, from Slave Lucinda." She dropped the paper down and stared at me. "She speaks quite highly of you."
"Yes, mistress," I replied keeping my head up and looking at nothing.
"We all have been keeping a close eye on you since you were logged by Slave Lucinda." She continued. "Some of us had our doubts about you, but we think that since then you have proved your worth."
"Yes, mistress," I replied.
"Besides," she continued, since we have the recommendation in writing from Lucinda, then she will be most responsible for your failure...should it come about." She smiled.
The others did as well. Lucinda had gone out on a limb for me. If not for that, the others would most certainly have not given my potential promotion any chance.
The house slave on the other end, a fat older woman, past her prime, had a gentle gleam in her eye. "We all are responsible for her, promoting her will not be on Lucinda's head only. Are you comfortable with that Slave Shirley?"
The others were quiet as they waited for Shirley to decide. They were taking a chance with me, just like they took a chance on anyone that they would use to fill the position. Shirley seemed to be the dissenter amongst the group, but at that moment, I also recognized that her words held sway with the others.
After a minute of quite, Shirley nodded. "I am comfortable with this choice, Slave Mildred."
"Vote," said Mildred, the old fat one on the end. "All in favor?"
They all raised their hands.
"Settled then," Mildred said. She smiled and picked up a file folder with papers and photos in it. "Now to business. Slave, you have been promoted to house slave. No longer will you live in the kennels. You have earned the right to an outfit, and more importantly to a name. We are known as the house council, and we decide what to name one of ours. From now on you have the right to the name Calista." She paused.
I nodded, "Yes, mistress. Thank you, mistress."
Mildred smiled.
"All house slaves before you are your highers. You will answer to them. All house slaves that come after you will be your lowers. They and the kennel slaves will answer to you. You are responsible for correcting anything that comes to your attention. You have new duties and tasks, new protocols to learn. You will be trained. All house slaves have earned the right of their names, however they are still nothing but slaves. Honor them by addressing them with their full title: Slave Calista. Is that clear?"
"Yes, mistress." I said.
"You have a new stature now. You are not required to call any house slave by mistress anymore. That title belongs to our superiors, the Harem slaves."
Harem slaves? There was another group? Just how many people, sorry slaves were on this estate, I thought to myself.
"Yes, Slave Mildred," I corrected myself.
"Good," said Mildred. The others began to rise to leave. "Slave Jacinta, the one who brought you here will be responsible for your training. She will dress you, and instruct you on what is expected of you. We feel confident that you desire to do nothing but serve and become the best slave you can be. That means doing what is asked of you, the first time, every time. I trust we understand each other?"
She looked me directly in the eyes. I met her gaze, nodded and said, "Yes Slave Mildred, loud and clear."
Her eyes were cloudy with age, how long had she been here, how long had she been a slave? She was like the wise old den mother, the madam, and she seemed to take pride in her role. They all had taken a chance on me, and I vowed that they would not regret it as Slave Jacinta led me to her new quarters, to be trained in my new life, in my new world.
The entrance to the main house was not to come for another two weeks. The building where the council had taken place was also the training quarters and housing for the house slaves. I was led upstairs to the top floor attic and was shown a small Spartan room with a mattress on the floor. A small wardrobe was the only other piece of furniture in the room. Jacinta was Latin, but seemed to have more native Indian in her than Spanish. Her face was pushed flat, and her course features made her no real beauty. Her black hair was straight and proper. Her eyes were spread wide apart and gave her an expression of simpleness. What she lacked in facial features, she more than made up for it with her body. She had perfect curves for a Latin woman in all the right places, her ass had that Latin bubble butt, and her breasts were more than ample. As I looked at her, I couldn't guess her age, she could be as young as eighteen or as old as thirty five.
She opened the wardrobe and pulled out the latex wet dream of a French maids outfit, handed it to me and bent over to pull the six inch black patent heels out as well. Heels. It had been a long time since wearing heels, and I was never really too surefooted with them. Never before had I worn heels this high.
"You have two of these outfits," Jacinta said. "This way, you can always have a clean one on hand if you become dirty or...spoiled."
I blushed and nodded imagining that cum would be more of an issue than dirt would be for these outfits.
"It is your job to make sure that they remain clean. If anyone notices you in disarray, that will be a failure." She paused. I tightened as well. We both knew what failure meant.
Jacinta continued. "If you need help or are unsure as to what to do, you may always ask another house slave for advice or help. We all are here to help each other." She looked around, then leaned in and whispered, "Some of use are not as helpful as we should be, so be careful!"
She straightened up and continued. I took heed of her warning well. Unlike the kennels, the house slaves had a little bit of power, and with that power came an arrogance of abuse. I had already witnessed a pecking order amongst them. Slaves like Mildred had languished in the position of house slave for almost all their lives. Watching others apparently getting promoted to higher positions. Politics. High school. All the same.
Jacinta smiled as she saw me register what she had just clued me in on. She then stroked my hair. "Your blonde hair is so pretty," she said as she pulled me to her. "Your lips, so full! You are very pretty." I smiled, allowed her to embrace me. I moved my hips over her leg and ground my crotch onto her stocking leg. She pulled away like I had hit her.
"No, no, no," she admonished me. "You are not allowed that yet."
I blinked, then sighed.
Jacinta pulled me to her again. "We have very explicit instructions for you," she whispered. "Normally, at this point, house slaves are allowed orgasm. It is as much for the trainer as it is for the trainee." She pouted her lips.
"But it was instructed by Master himself that you are not to be allowed an orgasm."
She shook her head at me, a tear welled up in her eye as she could empathize with the frustration I had so far gone through.
"It is very rare for Master to be involved with a house slave. I have heard of this happening before, and normally that means that Master has something special planned for a slave. Whether that is good, or bad, I cannot say. Rumors tell of one that Master sold to a very mean Mistress, who locked their slave up in a chastity belt, and didn't allow her one orgasm for the rest of her life."
I shuddered when I heard this. As it was, I could not remember the last orgasm I had, and I certainly had not been allowed one since becoming a slave.
Jacinta smiled, stroking my face, still in her embrace, she softly said, "Please, Slave Calista, take my warning. Master does not wish you to orgasm. If you cannot control yourself, tell us, we will help you to stay away from failure."
I shuddered again at the sound of that word, and nodded.
"Now," she squealed. "It's time for you to get dressed!"
For two weeks I was trained. Jacinta worked me hard and long. Others helped in my progress as well. All protocols were instilled in my head. I would be in the main house soon. I would be in the presence of guests, harem slaves, and my Master. I was coached on every situation that might crop up. It was fairly easy, if anything happened, all I would have to do is what I was instructed to do. Being the lowest of stature, anything anyone told me to do, I would do. Protocol was what Jacinta and the others worked with me on, how far down a curtsey should go, how the table should be set, how to clean a room, dust, mop, wash, fold laundry. How to great guests, how to pack and unpack guests and Masters luggage. Everything a chambermaid was expected to do, I was trained to do.
LUCINDA
Two days before my training finished, a commotion occurred downstairs. Everyone rushed to see what had happened. In the main room, where the council had met to decide my fate, stood Slave Lucinda, the slave who had taught me my lesson so long ago. She held a leash attached to another girls collar and was yanking it viciously. Lucinda was Italian, olive skinned, dark hair, classic features. She was model beautiful. Tall, strong, and lean. She wore dark red lipstick and painted nails. She had an air of authority over the other girl, who unlike Lucinda's French maids uniform, wore a smart sexy outfit, transparent, slutty, and modern. This girl had a steel collar locked around her, just like the rest of us. She was a red head, pale skin, skinny, with freckles. She had one hand wrapped around the collar between it and her neck, to ease the pain of Lucinda's jerking of the leash.
"This slut here," Lucinda said, above the din of excitement. The others hushed up, "was a harem slave." So that was one of them! I thought.
"Her Master," Lucinda continued, "has grown tired of her and has demoted her back to house slave."
There was a loud murmur as all the house slaves muttered to each other. The harem slave looked around the room, surrounded by house slaves. Her eyes were large like a hunted rabbit. Fear was in the air.
"She has been replaced..." Lucinda said. "By me!" and with that she grabbed at the harem slaves dress and tore it way from her. The harem slave shrieked. The other house slaves lunged towards her and stripped her viciously. She gasped and tried to fend them off, but was soon wrestled to the floor, where she was stripped, scratched and beaten. She howled in pain and fury, as she was kicked to the corner of the room. Slave Shirley now had a hold of the harem slaves leash, wrapped the leash twice around her hand and "heeled' her next to herself. The look of glee in Shirley's eyes, made me feel very sad for the poor harem slave. In my short time in the household, I discovered that it was wise to steer clear of Shirley. She was the most vindictive and cruel of all the house slaves, and all others tended to fear her.
All eyes turned back to Lucinda, who now ceremoniously ordered the house slaves to gently remove her house slave uniform. They were only too happy to join in with the promotion of one of their own ranks to the treasured status of Harem slave. For a moment, in all her regal glory, Lucinda caught my eye. It was the first time I had seen her in ages. She smiled with recognition and a sly grin followed that. There was something she knew that no one else did, and she wasn't going to share it.
Once her uniform was removed, a new outfit was produced. It was a red spandex mini dress, that hugged all her curves. Partially see through, she truly exuded sex now.
"Mistress Lucinda," said Mildred, the old fat house slave. She bowed and all the others followed her lead. "I bid congratulations to you." She came forward and kissed Mistress Lucinda's offered hand. The others lined up and followed. When it came to my turn, Mistress Lucinda stopped me from leaving.
"Welcome Slave Calista," she said warmly. "I trust you are doing well with your training?"
I nodded. "Yes, Mistress Lucinda. I have you to thank for this opportunity. I will never forget it."
She smiled that knowing grin again. "I will hold you to that," she said, then waved me away. Soon afterwards, she left for the main house, and never returned.
That evening, Shirley took it upon herself to show the former harem slave what her new status was. The shrieks and wails coming from Shirley's room made me thankful that Shirley had never focused her "attention" on me. The next morning I saw that the former harem slave, now seemed almost glued to Shirley's right leg. On all fours, she followed Shirley around the house, with Shirley's hand firmly wrapping up the slack from the leash. She was still naked, and had horrible purple welts all along her body. She never uttered a word, looked to Shirley for everything, and had a traumatized fear set deep into her green eyes.
Later that day, a man came to the house and grabbed Shirley and the former harem slave, leashing both of them together. He grabbed the chain, and roughly dragged them out of the house. That was the only time I saw Shirley, as strong as she was, as dominant as she was, as cruel as she was, in total and absolute fear for her entire being. The two of them never came back.
THE MAIN HOUSE
The time had come for me to join the main house. My training complete, I was eager to finally see the inside of the large beautiful French manor house. Jacinta was paired with me, and led me to the servant's entrance around the side of the house. We came in through the kitchens, where the small kitchen staff was preparing breakfast. Mildred, as it turned out, was the head chef, she was busy ordering the other house slaves in her kitchen to finish the meals. The others scurried around, busily getting together plates and dishes, and the cooked foods ready for serving. Jacinta and I waited off to the side of the gleaming stainless steel and bleach white kitchen, out of the way, until Mildred did one final inspection of the breakfast plates. Satisfied that they were up to her standards, she beckoned us to take them away for serving.
I followed Jacinta with a large tray of dishes of my own as we climbed the stairs up to the main floor. The alcove at the top of the stairs opened up to a large formal dining room. A spotless black and white checkered marble floor supported a large, long solid oak dining table that had room for at least twenty guests. Jacinta set her tray down on an equally large oak buffet along the wall, and I followed suit. She pointed out to me where the settings should go, and we quickly finished setting everything out as a few guests wandered into the dining room. Without a word, we backed up against the wall, and stood perfectly still.
I was a bit nervous, and wondered if my outfit was straight. I fought the urge to try to adjust myself, not wishing to draw any attention to myself. As the guests seated themselves, Master strolled in and took a seat at the head of the large table.
Dressed in a dark silk robe, Master stood at six foot, average to muscular build, dirty blond hair and blue eyes. His rounded face was smooth and ageless. He could easily be twenty-seven, but I suspected he was closer to forty. He commanded the entire room with his presence. So this was my Master, I thought to myself. I was both scared and anxious of his notice. He had a boyish cuteness about himself, and although I was trained to not follow my superior's conversations, I did notice that he had a very jovial effect on his guests, as they ate.
One of the guests beckoned me with his hand. I swallowed and strode towards his left side, as I had been trained. It was Sir Jon, and he was eager for some more coffee. The coffee pot sat in the middle of the table, easily within his reach, however, when there are slaves around, even the smallest task, can be relegated to them. I nodded and reached towards the coffee pot, my body bending at the waist, and my black latex maids' skirt, already too short, rode high up my bare exposed ass, my garters and stocking tops revealed for all the guests to see.
His hand, large and rough with calluses, quickly pawed my cheek, as I stifled a yelp and tried to concentrate on grabbing the heavy coffee pot and pour more coffee for Sir Jon, without spilling and without moving my body away from his touch. A glace from the corner of my eye, revealed, that Sir Jon, had continued his animated conversation with Master and the rest of the guests, without paying me any attention, other than idly kneading my ass. A warm vibration buzzed within my loin as this man's touch rode over me and the idea that I was indeed an object, to be used without mind or worry settled in. I focused on finishing my task, and then placed the coffee pot back to its spot. Now what?
For a moment, I panicked within myself, unsure if I should remain, bent over the dining room table, with Sir Jon's hand stroking my ass, or straighten up, and excuse myself back to my station. The humiliation of being an object, exposed for the guests, as they ignored me, got me excited. I remembered my training, and stayed where I was. I was to do what I was told, or instructed, nothing else.
I waited in my position for a few more moments, when Sir Jon, released his hand from my ass, and dismissed me back to my position with a pulling motion. A bit flushed, I backed up to my position, and tried to compose myself. After their breakfast, Jacinta and I cleared the table, and quickly carried our laden trays back down to the kitchen. I then followed Jacinta upstairs, this time taking the second flight off to the side of the dining room alcove and traveled up to the second floor. Presented with a hallway, rightly appointed in red carpet and what I could only guess where antiques. Jacinta, knocked quietly on the first door, waited a moment then entered. I followed to discover that these rooms were the guest quarters, and our next task was going about making up the room.
This room was empty, and looked to be occupied by one of the women who had dinned downstairs for breakfast, as the vanity was filled with various bottles of makeup, perfume, and creams. We changed the sheets, bundling the dirty ones in a pile near the door, and pulling out fresh ones from the linen closet. Master seemed to run a hotel out of his main house, and with that the services that are expected from a fine hotel, plus a few extra services!
The next room we entered, I was startled to find a man and a woman still in bed. The older silver haired man beckoned us to come in and do our cleaning duties while he continued to pay attention to his guest. She was a dark skinned woman, stretched out on the bed, face down. The covers and blankets had been pulled off the bed and lay in a heap at the foot of the bed. I went over to take them, and crouching down to gather them up, I discovered that the dark skinned girl on the bed, was actually shackled to the four corner posts of the wrought iron bed frame. She was panting, moaning even. Her face inches from mine, as I caught a glimpse into her eyes, her face lying on its side. The eyes were dull, exhausted, in pain. I imagined for a moment that she had mouthed the words "Help me", but just then, the old grey haired man, slammed his hand down upon her, and her face scrunched up into a withered out moan.
"There, there," he softly caressed her. Her eyes rolled back into her skull, as the tender damaged skin was being manipulated by the man.
"We've taken all night playing, just to warm you up." He continued. Then hit her again. A deep moan emanated from within her, yet it never reached her mouth.
"We still have all weekend, for the main course!"
Oh my god! I thought. She had been like this all night, and it was only the prelude to his handiwork. I quickly pulled the sheets and covers up and took them to the pile near the door. Jacinta worked quickly, straightening up as best she could, all while this man, continued to strike the bound stretched out dark skinned girl on the bed. Her moans had turned guttural, animal.
I concentrated on the other side of the room, and came across a folding case. It was like a fishing tackle box, only this one was spread wide open with large stainless steel medical type instruments.
"You can leave that as it is," the voice startled me, as I pulled my hand away from it like from a hot fire. I turned around, saw him fully for the first time, and nodded in obedience. He had a gentle face, almost grandfatherly. He sat in stark contrast to the dark skinned woman stretched to the limit in her bounds on the bed. His posture was of one with all the time and patience of the world, contrasted by the prostrate dark skinned girl, exhausted, and anxious to get the unpleasantness over and done with. He stared humming a tune as he picked up a new instrument of torture. Adjusting it, he then proceeded to insert it into her rectum. The dark skinned girl tensed and strained at her bonds. A small whimper exited her pert mouth, along with a line of droll that added to the pool on the sheet under her head. We quickly finished up and left for the next room.
COMMENTS
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Lordpeace
19:19 Dec 24 2008
very nice lil one and much like some of my own thought patterns