by Xaltatun of Acheron
This work is copyright 2000-2008 by Xaltatun of Acheron (A Pseudonym). It may be posted on the Internet to any free forum. It may be reformatted to match the forum's look and feel, and the forum editor may make minor spelling and grammar corrections. Otherwise it must be posted in its entirety, including these notices. It may not be sold, or included in any compilation that is sold, or posted on any forum that requires a fee for access, without my written permission. My permission will require payment, terms to be negotiated. For purposes of this notice, sites guarded by Adult Check or similar packages are considered pay sites. Posting on any site must include this copyright notice.
Adult Content Warning - this story contains adult themes, including non-consensual bondage/slavery and forced sexual acts. If you are under the lawful age for such materials (18 in most jurisdictions) or if you would find such material offensive, please go elsewhere.
Safety Warning. This story may contain descriptions of practices that are decidedly unsafe, either in general, or if performed by someone without adequate training. There are a number of good books available on safety in the BDSM scene. Most large cities, and some not so large ones, have organized BDSM groups that will usually welcome a newcomer. I'm not going to point out which practices are safe, and which aren't. Any practice is unsafe if performed by someone with inadequate training and experience, or if performed when not paying attention. Please think before you act. Don't make yourself a candidate for a Darwin award.
Now on to the story...Chapter 1. An Offer She Can't Refuse.
The two prison guards walked up to cell 34, cell block H. Josephine, as usual, was pacing front to back and back to front, five paces each way, whirl and pace back. Josephine's two cellmates, Judy and Faith(less), were, also as usual, sitting on their bunks on opposite sides. Faith was reading something from the prison library that hadn't quite fallen apart yet. Judy was working crossword puzzles by blanking out the filled in part and trying to visualize a grid as she visualized filling in the letters. Whether she ever got past the first words was something she wasn't telling; but she'd quit throwing the crumbling puzzle magazines across the cell block a year ago.
"Faith, you're wanted down in administration," the taller of the two guards, a blonde, said.
She stood to the side as the other guard opened the cell door. Faith threw the book down in disgust and walked out. The guard locked the door behind her and Josephine resumed her pacing.
Faith took up her position two paces in front of the guards and walked toward administration.
"Siddown," the woman behind the desk said as the two guards took up their position behind the chair. Faith sat. She looked at Lt. Greta. Petty Tyrant Greta was more like it, she thought but didn't say.
"You've been selected for the Private Custody program," Greta said and then stopped as if that explained everything.
"Uh, what's that?" Faith asked when it became obvious that Greta wasn't going to say anything more unless prompted.
"The government is trying," Greta said as if the situation was all Faith's fault, "to get this prison back to where it isn't overcrowded. It was designed for one or two women per cell; we're starting to put a fourth prisoner in some cells. If you want to share a cell with an ax murderer, just say no." She picked up a piece of paper that had someone's picture in the standard front and side views.
"So what's this great opportunity?"
"You get to spend the rest of your sentence being someone's slavegirl. They can't kill you, maim you, torture you or anything like that, and they've got to make at least a good show at abiding by the safe workplace and health regulations. Beyond that, they say do it, you do it, they say jump, you'd better be in the air before you ask how high."
"Why would I want to do that?"
Greta picked up the paper. "Josephine. Judy. Talina. The Turk." She said each one slowly and distinctly, letting Faith get the full impact of people she'd really not like to see for the rest of eternity. Then she read off the sheet. "Naria Dunigan."
Faith went white. She knew Naria, and Naria knew her. Even worse, Naria was one of the people she'd embezzled out of her life savings, and Naria wasn't a shrinking violet. She was built like a tank, and had all of a tank's finer feelings for the rights and concerns of others. She wondered vaguely what Naria had done to earn a prison term.
"I'll take it."
"I thought you would." She switched her attention to the two guards. "Chain her and take her out to the wagon."Chapter 2: At the Leviticus Enclave.
Jenny walked into the function room at the Enclave's meeting building. When she saw the Council head she sketched a barely visible curtsy and said: "Mistress Evandim."
"Over there," Mistress Evandim pointed to where she wanted Jenny. Jenny walked over to Master Jason, the Enclave committee's ground's manager. "Sir," she greeted him and gave him a much more visible curtsy before taking a seat next to him and dropping the package she carried in the next seat.
Mistress Evandim frowned and then shook her head in mock resignation. The very feminine looking she-male had gotten more dominant, or at least more self-assured and less submissive, over the last few months as the feminization DNA mods had dug in. The classes in taking care of an Adult Baby and in being a First Girl hadn't slowed the process down any.
Master Jason, in turn, was definitely on the interesting side of being a very desirable hunk. The feminization and sex DNA mods hadn't changed Jenny's natural inclinations at all: she was still attracted to women and not men. However, her feminization trainer had made sure she behaved as if she was a normally heterosexual female, and once she had accepted it she seemed to enjoy teasing the guys. She wasn't quite as good at concealing her attraction to women, however.
Jason was as straight as a laser beam but he enjoyed the flirting game as much as anyone. Jenny's attention reinforced his considerable masculine ego, and his responses reinforced her imposed role.
She would do it both ways with a male if ordered, and according to the monitors she enjoyed it, but she simply wasn't interested otherwise. Evandim snorted. The she-male was pretty good at keeping her attraction to women to a low level, but if you knew the signs it was very obvious that Jenny would love to get into her panties. It was equally obvious that she knew her interest was returned. In fact, if it wasn't for the political situation she'd have asked Jenny's owner for a loan quite some time ago: the monitors showed that she was very, very good.
The back door opened, and a pair of prison guards led four female prisoners in. The four were dressed in bright orange jumpsuits that did absolutely nothing for their figures. Their hands were cuffed to the sides, attached to a chain around the waist. Jenny was mildly surprised that they weren't hobbled or linked in a coffle.
Faith looked at the room as the guards led the prisoners in and placed them in a line.
There were three people in the room. One of them, a woman, stood to the side. She had a combination of beauty and assurance, together with an attitude that Faith recognized: "don't mess with me, or I'll make your life a living hell."
The man seated in front of the row seemed to be a generic alpha male: probably around 6 feet tall, angular face, square jaw, muscles that obviously came from hard work rather than a workout salon. She switched her attention to the woman seated next to him.
It was hard to tell seated, but she was probably five eight or thereabouts. She was dressed, if you could call it that, in a single shoulder tunic with a scandalously short skirt that required her to keep her knees firmly together to avoid showing off whatever she was wearing as panties. She had a pair of heeled sandals and a red ribbon around her neck with what looked like an old fashioned cameo mounted on the front. It couldn't be that; every picture of a cameo she'd ever seen had someone's face engraved on it; this seemed to have some kind of bird.
She had a bracelet on her left wrist, and a pair of small earrings. And that was it. No hose. If there was any makeup she couldn't see it. The tunic or whatever fit tightly enough to show that she wasn't wearing a bra even though her boobs were definitely big enough to need one.
As if that wasn't bad enough, the tunic had a pattern of brick red and canary yellow blocks that made her look like a court jester in some idiot fake historical drama.
"Third one is yours?" Master Jason rumbled quietly.
"Looks like it," Jenny answered as she looked the four over. "Any of them would do, but she was the one we bid on."
"I don't really want her," Jason continued. "Cooking the books isn't the best background for clearing brush."
Jenny laughed. "I'm sure master and mistress can handle that."
The lead guard cleared his throat. "OK, ladies. You get to ask questions to decide if you really want to spend the rest of your term in private ownership rather than in our comfy prison system."
"Uh, we weren't given a whole lot of information," the first prisoner spoke up.
"Then let me fill you in on some background about where you are," Mistress Evondim said. "This place is called the Leviticus Enclave. We're a very private BDSM residential community. I'm Mistress Evondim; I'm the current head of the Enclave Council. The gentleman in front of you is Master Jason; he's the head of the groundskeeping operation. The woman is Jenny; she's Master and Mistress Drake's girl. They are looking to add a new maid and housekeeper to their household.
"The Enclave covers a bit over a square mile; the boundaries are around a hundred yards of woods and impassable rose thorn barrier. The inside is a bit over three quarters of a square mile, and is maintained to look pretty much like a park. That's why we want additional groundskeepers. There's a lot of work keeping the place looking like we want it.
"I said we're a BDSM residential community. That could mean a whole lot of things, but in our case it means our primary organization is master-slave. That does not mean that anyone is deliberately mistreated! Modeling What It Is That We Do from Colonial and post-Colonial American practice will give you a very distorted impression. For example, we have to abide by the same safe workplace and health regulations as everyone else, and we are very strict in making sure that everyone complies.
"What it does mean is that we expect prompt and respectful obedience to orders, and that the assigned duties are carried out cheerfully and well. Failure will be occasion for additional training, and we are very creative in how we train. It also means that you'll see a fair amount of dominant-submissive, bondage and other game-playing right out in the open; that's what we're about.
"Since you can't seem to take your eyes off of Jenny, I'll say that zhe's one of our slavegirls. Zhe's here to take one of you as a second maid and housekeeper for zer master and mistress. The red ribbon around zer neck is called a control collar: it lets us monitor exactly where zhe is and what zhe's doing at any time; it also lets us administer discipline if needed.
"The control collar doesn't come off without the proper key administered over the network. There's a bit of black humor that says the easiest way of taking it off is to remove the head first. The takeaway is that there's literally no escape once you accept the position. The control collar is a network device; we can find you wherever you are."
Jason said: "We want three of you for our groundskeeping operation. Work shifts are 8 to 12 hours a day, six days a week. You have one day a week off; one seventh of our staff is off every day. Living quarters are in a dormitory that's shared with other indentured staff. Our groundskeeping operation is fairly standard; our team leaders will train you on what you're to do."
Jenny added: "And mistress wants one of you as our second housekeeper; I'll be first girl, at least while you're settling in.
"Let me expand a bit on what Mistress Evondim said about the control collar. The biggest thing you'll need to get used to is the Permitted Area and Invisible Fence system. It's exactly what it sounds like: if you try to go outside of your Permitted Area you'll run into an Invisible Fence. The fence feels like a bit of pressure on your neck when you get close; once you're used to it you'll recognize one immediately. Get too close and the pressure ramps up to pain. Cross it and the pain increases to a takedown. Then you get to explain exactly what you thought you were doing under a verifier."
"It's powered by your body heat," Jason added. "The current config is stored in the collar itself, so even if the network goes out it'll still work."
Jenny said: "Mistress Evondim mentioned that you'll see some pretty unbelievable things here. By coming with us, you're actually signing away your implied right to be assigned to duties that are, um, conventional. You can be told to do things that most people would regard as, at the minimum, totally kinky. As long at it doesn't violate the safe workplaces and health regulations, you'll have to do whatever it is."
"You'll be here to work, not to play games," Jason rumbled.
Jenny added: "Unless you really want to, and your master or mistress is agreeable to the kind of games you like. That's very unlikely if you go with groundskeeping. Master and mistress may have some hidden kinks I don't know about, but for most of it they're so vanilla it's amazing. The major kink is that we've got an Adult Baby at home. Eve is kept at slightly under one year physically: she's not allowed to either walk or talk, and one of your jobs will be changing her diaper; she's not potty trained either.
"That doesn't mean that anything like that will happen to you! Master and mistress want another housekeeper; they're not into bondage, pain or any of the other, um, perversions you'll find right out in the open here. What they are into is good service and instant obedience. If you come with us you'll be trained to be like some of the oh-so-perfect maids you see on historical dramas, only more so.
"It's surprising easy to learn once you get the idea through your head and into your guts that, when your mistress says jump, you're going to be in the air before you think to ask how high." She shrugged. "I learned it, and it only took me one real lesson to get the point to where I wasn't going to forget it."
"So what do you do for discipline?" the third girl asked.
Jenny shrugged. "Remember that this is a BDSM enclave. It might be best to say one of the things that we don't do: we don't have conventional punishments. Conventional punishments simply don't work consistently.
"The various masters and mistresses have some fascinating ideas about how to enforce proper discipline among their slaves. They're very good at finding whatever it is that will really get to you. So the answer is that it depends on your master or mistress; the only thing you can expect is that it'll be very, very effective at correcting whatever they didn't like about your behavior.
"The best policy is to make sure it doesn't come up by remembering that doing what you're told promptly and well, and maintaining a cheerful and respectful attitude, will give your owner no cause to discipline you."
The third prisoner asked: "What are your master or mistress likely to do?"
"Frankly, I have no idea. As I said earlier, mistress had to discipline me once to get the idea across, and that was before she took any training in how to be a Dominant. Master has never had to discipline me at all."
The third woman in the line took a deep breath and then laughed. "I told myself that anything is better than going back to those ... I'd better not say it, I'm sharing a cell with... I suppose scrubbing floors and changing diapers for the next 35 years is better than anything." She paused. "I'm yours."
Jenny leaned over and took the package off the floor. She nodded at the guards. "Release her." She waited for them to take the cuffs and chain off.
"You need to go over to the booth and agree to the contract while wearing the verifier helmet. That makes it official." She waited while the woman walked over and put the helmet on her head. She answered a couple of questions on the screen. The verifier flashed green.
"That's it. You're ours now. Take off your clothes right down to the buff. Stack them there." Jenny pointed at a vacant chair.
"Huh what?" Jenny said, looking her in the eye. The convict's eyes dropped first. "Yes, mistress." She started to strip.
"It's yes, ma'am," Jenny corrected her. "I'm not your mistress. I'm your mistress' maid and housekeeper. I'm first girl in the household, which is why you use an honorific with me. Everyone else uses my given name, which is Jenny." She paused and looked at the other prisoners. "That's one of the formal politeness rules. Master Jason will tell you the rest of them." She looked over at her new subordinate. "Keep taking them off."
A minute later the woman stood there, completely naked.
Jenny took what looked like a strip of red ribbon from the package and walked behind her. She wrapped it around her neck, and then placed a cameo on the front. Then she went back to the package and took out a thong and tunic and handed it to the woman. "Put them on."
The woman took them. She slid into the thong and then dropped the tunic over her head. She made a quick gasp as it tightened around her.
"We'll practice that a bit later," Jenny told her. "Sandals."
The girl put them on.
"Follow me," Jenny told the woman, and headed for the door. She turned at the door to drop a curtsy toward Mistress Evondim and wait for a couple of seconds for the new slavegirl to catch up.
She led the way out of the meeting complex, the new girl following her.
Chapter 3. An Encounter at the Punishment Pavilion
"Walk beside me, Sally," Jenny said.
Jenny put her finger to Sally's lips. "You were about to say your name isn't Sally. It doesn't matter what your name was. Mistress decided her new slavegirl was going to be named Sally, you're her new slavegirl, therefore your name is Sally. In case you're wondering, your name is going to be changed legally in the next few days. You'll get a new ID card and everything."
"Oh," Sally said.
"Huh? Oh, mistress?"
"Remember what I said in there? It's 'Oh, ma'am.' I'm not your mistress. Your mistress' name is Darlene Drake, but you will probably not use it more than a few times a year. Now try it again."
They rounded the corner of the building, and Sally stopped to stare.
"Huh? Oh. What's that, ma'am?"
"Better. The that wearing the blindfold is Trica, and the other that is a pillory, sometimes called the stocks. She's being punished. At least that's the theory."
"That's the theory?"
"Is there an echo in here? She's in the pillory just about every week, so one wonders how much is really punishment and how much is a game they're playing. Neither she nor her master are really saying."
"Oh. I've only seen pictures."
"And they probably don't show one like this." Jenny walked over to stand in front of the pinioned girl. "Notice the headset that covers her eyes and ears: she can't see anything, and it's set to cancel any outside sounds. She has no idea that we're here and talking about her."
"That's, um, cruel. Ma'am."
Jenny laughed. "Remember that I said they're most likely playing a game? The headset could be set for silence or white noise, but it isn't. She's listening to something off the net. I have no idea whether it's something her master has specified, or whether she's selecting the program."
"How can you tell?"
"The little status LEDs tell me what it's doing. The reason I know how to interpret them is that we use the same headset on Evie; she's our Adult Baby, but we use it mostly to put her to sleep for her nap and at night. It keeps her from fussing too much."
Jenny paused for a response. When there wasn't one, she continued: "This is classified as unattended light bondage. Light bondage is when the prisoner can get out of the bondage if she really needs to; I don't know the exact detail of how she can do it. Also, this has a fail safe." She squatted and pointed at the bracket holding up the bottom panel of the stocks. "This will pull out if power fails. The lesson here is that we as a community, not we as our household, do a lot of bondage, and proper procedure to insure that people don't get injured or, even worse, die, is very important."
Sally walked around the setup. "I don't see it either, ma'am," she shrugged. "I assume that if she pulled the trigger the bottom would fall out."
"Most likely. Notice the other safety precaution: The head and arm holes are standard, but there's no chair: she's got to stand. The bar under her shoulders and arms is to support her weight so it doesn't come down too much on her neck and wrists. The stand under her hips is the same in case her knees buckle. I think," Jenny said with a grin, "I'm going to harass her a bit. Watch and don't be surprised at anything."
Jenny walked up behind the girl and flipped up her tunic skirt, showing that she wasn't wearing anything under it. She reached under her own skirt and took off her thong. She started stroking the inside of one of Trica's thighs. Trica gasped. She continued teasing the poor girl's thighs with almost feather-light touches, listening to her gasps, as her own skirt started showing a definite bulge.
Sally's neck almost cracked as her head swiveled from watching Trica quiver to look at the bulge in Jenny's skirt.
Jenny lifted the front of her skirt, letting Sally see the very masculine, and rock hard, penis. She teased Trica with it for a couple of minutes, listening to the gasping turn into panting. Then she very daintily penetrated, slowly deepening the thrusts. A moment later Trica's hips started gyrating in time to her panting. Then she came with a howl at the same time Jenny's hands spasmed on Trica's hips and she gave her own gasp. Jenny slid out, and cooled Trica down slowly. Then the she-male stepped back and flipped Trica's skirt back down. She picked up her thong and dropped it into her purse.
She brought Sally out of her shocked trance by running a hand under her skirt. Sally quit staring.
"Got you puzzled, eh?" Jenny said.
Sally shook herself. "Uh, yes, ma'am?"
"Well, the first thing is I'm not a female, I'm a she-male. We'll talk about that later. Remember I said that whether Trica is actually being punished is a bit uncertain? I'm not sure how many times she'll be taken, but I expect to hear her orgasm several more times before she's released."
"Oh. Uh, ma'am. I've got a question? How does she, um, while she's bound here?"
Jenny laughed. "Don't worry about using the taboo words here: they're not taboo. Good questions by the way. First, she's got an incontinence catheter installed. It's got a small valve at the end. Whoever tends her just attaches the container, and her bladder empties. She bitches about it occasionally because she has to use a little gizmo to release the valve. The gizmo is almost impossible to use sitting on the toilet; she has to use a urinal."
"Uh, ma'am? She doesn't know who's going to take her?"
"Well, yes and no. She doesn't know beforehand: each one is a total surprise because she can't see or hear anyone coming, and there's no set schedule. On the other side, she definitely knows that ‘V' just took her. She doesn't know that I'm ‘V', although she ought to have a pretty good suspicion."
"Uh, "V", ma'am?"
"She can tell who's using her. She gives each of us a letter. She and her master have been playing this game for several years; master and mistress just moved in about six months ago, so I'm fairly far along in the alphabet. That's why I'm pretty sure she knows that I'm ‘V'; I started using her as soon after we moved as I knew it was permitted, so the time sequences match.
"Let's go." Jenny led the way from the punishment pavilion onto one of the winding paths.
Chapter 4. Da Rulz.
"Let's go over the basic respect rules. You address your owners as master and mistress. You curtsy to report your presence to anyone who could give you orders; you curtsy again when you leave their presence. You don't curtsy if you're doing something that they shouldn't interrupt, like serving at table. Got it?"
"I'm not sure, ma'am."
"You do know how to curtsy, right?"
"Uh, no. Ma'am."
"OK. I'll show you and you can practice before mistress gets home.
"Now. You address all other free men and women as sir or ma'am. There are several free men and women who you address as master or mistress plus their name because of their position. The older woman who was in the room with us is Mistress Evondim; she's the Council head. The man who was next to me is Master Jason; he's the head groundskeeper. You'll learn who the others are.
"You address other slaves by their given name. Children are master and miss with their given name. You address me as ma'am because mistress has made me first girl, and you come to me for orders if she hasn't given you something specific to do. If she decides she wants to change that, then you'll use my name, which is Jenny. Got that?"
"I think so, uh, ma'am. Uh. How do I know who's a free person and who's a slave?"
"Good question. If a man is wearing a control collar, he's a slave, otherwise he's a free person. If a woman isn't wearing one, she's a free woman. If she is, and she's wearing a tunic patterned like ours, she's a slave. There are some slavegirls who don't wear livery, and some free women who wear a Goodwife Ribbon. That's a couple of dozen people you'll have to learn individually."
"I suppose it'll make sense later, ma'am."
"Now, master and mistress are always master and mistress; you not only use those terms to address them, you use them when you're talking about them to anyone else. Everyone knows who you mean because of the little cameo on the front of your control collar. It's the same as mine and Evie's, and it's the same as mistress' will be once she completes the Effective Woman course at the Goodwife Institute and is awarded a Goodwife Ribbon." Jenny tilted her head back a bit so Sally could get a good look.
"Why a duck?"
"That's because master is Terrance Drake, and mistress is Darlene Drake. They took the duck as their symbol. Each family has its own symbol, plus a couple extra for the groundskeepers and the admin clerks."
Jenny gestured to a small cluster of chairs by the side of the path. "Let's take a minute so you can look around." The two of them sat, smoothing what their was of their tunic skirts under them.
Jenny waited a minute and then asked. "So what's your impression of the grounds?"
"It looks like a park!"
"Good observation; that's what they're trying for. The garage is on the end we came from; the only vehicles in the rest of the enclave are hydrogen-electric runabouts with balloon tires so they don't damage the ground.
"About five years ago a group of rich BDSM enthusiasts got together and decided to build an enclave where they could practice a real aristocrat and peon scenario away from everyone else's prying eyes. The people who live here range from the ultra-wealthy to the merely filthy rich; master makes eight digits a year; mistress makes a high seven. That might put them in the top dozen, but they're by no means the richest of the 40 families we have currently. I've heard that they're aiming for an even hundred families; they're adding five or six a year."
Sally looked around while Jenny talked; it was fairly obvious that she wasn't all that interested in history. At least yet. "So how do you know where the fences are, ma'am?"
"Without running into them?" Jenny laughed. "The permanent fences are marked. For example, you're not allowed to go into anyone else's home unless you're invited; you'll run into a fence if you try. They don't use signs; I'm told that the council thinks signs would distract from the look of the place.
"See those little shrub and flower arrangements that are scattered all over?"
Sally looked while Jenny pointed at a few of them. She nodded.
"Those mark the boundaries. They've got decorative bricks around the base. The bricks are color coded and have the family symbols on them. Once you learn the code you can tell at a glance what the restrictions are. For example, right now we're in a common area. You can go anywhere you want in the common areas on your time off. That's your limits until you settle in and accept what you'll be doing for the rest of your sentence.
"They'll know when you've settled and it's time to relax the restrictions. How do they know? You'll have a session with a verifier every quarter. That isn't just you, by the way. Everybody in the enclave has a session with the verifier every quarter, and that includes all the masters and mistresses. The downside is that you literally can't keep a secret if it affects the security of the Enclave or anyone in it. The upside is that it results in a fairly large amount of trust.
"Once you've settled into your place, you'll be allowed to go to the village on errands, shopping or entertainment on your time off and so on and so forth. You might go with master and mistress to serve them at the theater or parties. Master may take you with him on business trips."
"Hm. That sounds more like a job than a prison sentence, ma'am."
"Well, it is. The government decided that whatever you did was heinous enough to give you a 40 year sentence; now they want to get out from under the expense of housing and feeding you for those same 40 years." Jenny shrugged and then grinned. Sally flinched, the grin was not particularly nice. In fact, it was the exact opposite of nice.
"You're wondering what I know that you don't, eh?"
Sally nodded cautiously.
"Your lawyer was an idiot, and the Bureau of Prisons seems to be staffed by people who are scared of doing the intelligent thing. So here you are."
"Uh, explain, ma'am?"
"You were sentenced under the old guidelines. The sentencing guidelines changed four years ago. Under the new guidelines you should have gotten five years plus the extension for habitual criminality. To get 40 years under the new guidelines, you'd have to have an Altemeyer / Stonebender score of around 32, which is absurd: people with that kind of score tend to be ax murderers, serial killers and really corrupt politicians. We had them do an AS on you. Your score is 10, which means you'd just slide under getting a habitual criminality addition to your sentence. You'd be on your way out if your lawyer had the basic diligence to file a motion to reconsider the sentence under the new sentencing guidelines."
"That's..." Sally sputtered.
"Yeah. You've been very neatly trapped. Feel free to curse to your heart's content. Don't worry about sounding ladylike." Jenny sat back to listen to the show.
Five minutes later Sally had worn out her supply of invective and begun to sob. Jenny held her to let her cry herself out.
Finally the flood stopped. Sally sat up. "I assume that you're not going to let me go?"
"Uh, ma'am. That means no, right, ma'am?"
"See, you can see the obvious. You're ours for the next 35 years. We want a slavegirl to do a job. As long as we can trust you to behave and finish out the sentence without trying to run away, and I've already explained why you will become that trustworthy within the next few months, there's no reason why we shouldn't treat you like an employee, and every reason why we should.
"There are a lot of people who don't like the fact that slavery has reared its ugly head again, and quite a few of them are in government bureaus that could make life miserable for us if we don't toe the line on health and safety regulations."
Sally looked around for a little bit. "Another question. What about sex?
Jenny laughed. "This is a BDSM enclave; of course there will be sex! Master and mistress are fairly conventional: when they're home together they're really quite the love bugs. Master will take an occasional female for a test drive, and mistress lets the occasional alpha male take her for one, but for the most part they're quite content with each other. It's quite touching, really.
"Master travels on business quite a bit; mistress travels occasionally. When one or the other is gone they use me. As you've already discovered, I'm not a woman, I'm a she-male."
"Huh? Uh, ma'am?"
"I look like a woman, right? I'm not; under it all I'm basically male. I've got a perfectly normal Y chromosome, and I've got testosterone, not estrogen, circulating in my blood. These curves come from a DNA mod that switched a whole lot of signals so my body thinks that testosterone is a female hormone! My male equipment is internal except when I'm aroused. So I pleasure mistress when master is away on business. I'm better at it than he is, if I do say so myself."
"Now I really don't understand, ma'am!"
"You'd think there'd be a problem, right? Master is an alpha male with an 8 digit income. Women tend to stick to alpha males with money and social position as if they're welded on, at least if the male treats them right and gives them children. I'm not an alpha male, and even if I hadn't had the feminizing DNA mods and I was on my own I wouldn't have either good earning potential or social position. I'm simply not in the running.
"Good sex, by itself, does not make a relationship although bad sex can certainly break one up if there are alternatives. Not, by the way, that he's bad in the sex department: from the sounds coming out of their bedroom as well as some other reports he's very, very good. I'm the backup for when she wants to get laid and master won't be available in the next couple of days. If she didn't have me, she might be tempted to go find someone else, and there are a lot of alpha males with gobs of money and social position around here. In other words, I'm not only safe, I'm part of master's assurance that his wife isn't going to stray.
"When she's away master uses me occasionally. Mistress gave me the Super Stud DNA modification a couple of years ago, so I not only enjoy being taken up the ass, I'll get a female type orgasm from it! I also don't miss not having sex when it's not available, which means that neither master or mistress worries about me trying to cut in on their relationship.
"Now, for you, master is going to take you a few times over the next few days, partly to find out what you're like, and partly to drive the point home that, when he wants sex with you, you're to bend over and brace yourself. You'd better be aroused by the time he unzips his pants and lifts your skirt."
"Part of the job. Remember that we said that your job isn't restricted to what most people consider ‘proper' jobs. My job includes screwing mistress so her brains fall out her ears when she wants it. That's not under the table: it's well known and accepted.
"You're not only on the menu, you're to flirt with him. You won't find it hard; he's a very attractive alpha male and your dossier says you're very definitely not a lesbian!"
"Flirt with him?" She sounded somewhere between intrigued and shocked. "How's that supposed to work?"
"Remember that this is a BDSM enclave; we are very open about sex! We're a lot more concerned with consensuality than with propriety. Most of the masters enjoy having the pretty slavegirls flirt with them. It pumps up their already over-inflated male egos, and the girls know nothing is going to come of it unless their owners let them off the leash. In fact, most of the girls would like something to happen! Alpha males draw females like flies to honey, and the basic rule for slavegirls and sex is that you take conventional morality and dump it in the trash with the rest of the garbage: your owners set the rules, and everyone accepts that it's the way it works. 'Mistress said I'm not allowed to' is a perfectly acceptable excuse for not falling down in front of him and spreading your legs - if it's true.
"If you're worried about getting between them, it's not going to happen. One of the rules is that masters are not allowed to get slavegirls pregnant: if master wants children, mistress is the only woman who can provide them for him. Master and mistress have clauses in their pre-nup that tie up a lot of loose ends like that.
"Now for the rest of it. Most of the time they're home together, and you won't be getting any from him. Mistress has no lesbian tendencies I've ever been able to see, so when he's gone on business she won't be using you either. What that means is that if you want sex, you do it with me, at least initially. Mistress may or may not allow you off the leash later; I've got no insight about when, or even whether. Unless, of course, you turn out to be a really hot little slut; then she may use you for political favors."
"She does that?"
"She does it with me all the time. I'm allowed to play with any of the slavegirls who are willing, but I'm not allowed to play with any of the masters or mistresses unless she arranges it. Did you notice the interaction with Mistress Evondim?"
"She's curious as all get out, but she and mistress are a bit at political odds." Jenny shrugged. "She'll come around eventually. Rumor has it that she's a hot bit when the blood heats up and the clothes come off."
Sally frowned a moment. "I noticed something a bit odd. She seemed to have a weird accent when she said she and her, but I didn't hear any other accent?"
"Well, that's her and me, but it isn't personal. She was using a different set of third person pronouns: instead of she, her, hers and herself, she uses zie, zer, zers and zerself for people who aren't consistently male or female all the time. We've got a couple of dozen people who switch gender, several full time transvestites who swing the other way on sex, and one shemale: me. There are also a couple of lesbians and a couple of gays that people use the intersex pronouns with because they've got well known tendencies to either use a strapon or take it up the ass consistently.
"Most of us weirdos use the intersex pronouns for each other, and there are around two and three dozen others that use them as well. Whether you do or not is mostly up to you. Master or mistress can tell you to use them or not to use them, but nobody else has any say in the matter. That's a community rule."
"Oh. What if I don't want sex with you?"
"Won't bother me in the least, but it might bother you!"
Jenny laughed. "There are two things. First is that you won't be getting it from Master all that frequently, and you won't be getting it from Mistress at all. Second is that I've mentioned I have the Super Stud modification."
"Uh, yes, ma'am. I'm not sure how that relates."
"It means that I don't have to have sex; it's simply not a driving urge for me. That doesn't mean I'm not interested: I'm quite interested in taking Mistress Evondim for a ride when Mistress finally lets her have me, for example, and Trica is a fun ride. When she gets going that ass of hers has got a real wild wiggle. I'm going to take you for a test drive a few times, but after that it really is going to be up to you."
"Don't make up your mind before you've had a chance to find out what sex with me is like. I'd be boasting if I said I've never had any complaints; since I don't boast I'm just reporting what people tell me, girl!"
Chapter 5: Home, Sweet Workplace.
"Well, here we are," Jenny said as she stopped by a path that lead to a two-story brownstone house. A large two-story brownstone house.
"There's a servant's entrance?" Sally asked a bit acidly.
"I think they forgot to put one in," Jenny replied. "There's a back door, but that's more a convenience for when we want to go out back."
"Oh. Uh, ma'am."
"Before we go in, there's something to do. Notice the boundary bushes." She pointed at two neat circles of multi-colored glazed bricks placed on each side of the entrance path. Each of them held a bush. Sally looked at them and then looked farther, noting several others that marked lines across the otherwise featureless expanse of grass.
"I take it this is where I'd find an invisible fence if this wasn't my, well, master's and mistress' house?"
"Exactly. And it's your house since you live here; you don't need to keep up the idiotic pretense that 'my' means ownership!"
"Oh. Good, ma'am."
"Now the quick tour. The cloakroom and the main room; it's big enough for a party of maybe 40 people. The main dining room on the right, with the kitchen behind it. Rest room on the left, utilities behind it. Nice circular stairway to the second floor in front, and a smaller stairway and a freight elevator in back."
"So upstairs is the master bedroom on the right, with the main bathroom next to it so they've got an internal door. Master and mistress have their home offices next to each other, with an internal door. Then we've got the nursery, and a whole lot of unfinished space that's behind the corridor walls. All the way in the back is our room, with an attached bath."
"It's kind of small."
"Well, yes. It's mostly a dorm for sleeping. If you're not doing anything else, you're supposed to be in here rather than wandering around the house looking lost. On a day like this it's better to relax outside with a book or show."
"Makes sense, but how would they get me?"
"Next bits," Jenny said as she rummaged in her purse and took out a bracelet and a flat object about the size of a paperback book, but slightly thinner. "The bracelet is a communicator. It'll buzz or vibrate if someone wants you. Hold it up to your mouth to speak; it's loud enough to hear if you hold it to the side instead of right in front of your face.
"This," she pointed to the block, "is a reader. It's like most of the e-book readers, except for two really major differences. First, it's got a finger pressure input instead of a keyboard, and second, it's got biometric authentication so the network always knows it's you using it. That's not a major feature for you: since you're wearing a control collar the network knows it's you anyway. It's going to take a little while to learn how to use it, so we'll just put it aside for now." She put the reader on Jenny's dresser.
"When you're in here, you can watch shows, read or do anything similar. That's the reason for the screen at the head of your bed: you can sit on the bed with the reader in your lap as a keyboard, and use a headset to avoid annoying other people. Once you get familiar with the reader there's a shortcut where you can just pretend you've got one. It'll be a while before you learn how to do that, though!
"You can do typical female handicrafts while sitting on your bed: needlework, knitting and so forth. If you want to have a hobby that needs more equipment or takes more space you need to ask master or mistress.
"Our next task," Jenny grinned lasciviously, "is something I mentioned earlier."
"Uh, which something ma'am?"
"Oh, this." Jenny snapped her fingers, and Sally's tunic sagged, fell to her hips and then fell off. Then hers fell off as well.
"I said I was going to take you for a test drive. Now come over here." She pulled the girl into a close hug. Sally resisted for a moment and then relaxed, closing her eyes.
Jenny brushed her lips against Sally's, at the same time gently stroking her back with feather light touches. Sally felt her mouth open slightly, and her tongue begin to probe the mouth crushed against hers.
Fifteen minutes later, Jenny said: "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
"Bad? I didn't know sex could be like that!"
Jenny laughed. "I did say I was good, didn't I? Now you go freshen up and I'll show you the nursery, then we can start dinner."
"Freshen up? I'm not sure I can ooze off the bed!"
"Come on, you can do it!" Jenny laughed as she grabbed one of Sally's arms and pulled.
"Now, how did you make my tunic fall off?" Sally asked as Jenny showed her how to refasten the shoulder latch and put it on so it fit snuggly.
"That's a secret," Jenny whispered and then laughed. "Seriously, your tunic latch is a network device. If you remember what I said about the reader and finger pressure input?"
"Uh, sorta. That went by rather fast. Uh, ma'am."
"There's stuff in the control collar that can read your finger twitches, translate them into commands and send them over the network. Some of that's really new; it comes from the last software update."
"Can master or mistress do that to me?"
Jenny giggled. "They'd have to use a reader to issue the command, and they wouldn't bother. They'd just tell you to shuck the garment. Once Mistress gets her Goodwife Ribbon, she'll probably learn how."
"I've heard of Goodwife Ribbons, but how do they fit?"
"They're the same as Control Collars, although the Goodwife Institute doesn't like you to tell people that! The Goodwife Institute has their own software that doesn't do anything useful, so most people with Goodwife Ribbons can't use them for anything other than bragging rights. There's a way of swapping our software and Goodwife's so she can use ours except when she's in an advanced class at Goodwife."
Sally's eyes narrowed. "So she'll have the mistress' version of the software?"
"It's the same software; it's just got different permissions. For example, I've got some permissions you don't. Mistress will probably use it more at work than around here."
Chapter 6. The Real Job Surfaces.
"And that's the dinner menu," Jenny said.
Sally looked at the menu and the kitchen, and then dug into the stand-up refrigerator and cupboards.
"I've got to go pick up master, mistress and Baby Eve. Think you can handle it?"
"Ought to." She shrugged. "You don't forget simple cooking in five years."
"Before you go," Sally said as she found the cutting board and knife rack. "I've got a real question."
"Why am I here? I don't think this is really pushing your ability to handle it."
"Now that," Jenny said as she slid onto a table, "is an interesting question. As far as anyone else is to know, Mistress is planning on raising a family, so we're going to have a bunch of kids shortly. In fact, she's pregnant; it's just not far enough along to show."
Jenny laughed. "Goes to show you're a girl and I'm not. Anyway, the other piece that you're not to talk about outside of here is that Mistress wants Master to do something about his executive mistress at work."
"His what? Like get rid of her?"
"Like that. On the other hand, he is quite happy with Gracie, that's her name, being willing to bend over the desk and drop her panties on command. She's also apparently really good as his administrative assistant, so he's actually got a good reason for not wanting to get rid of her."
Sally shook her head. "As if I didn't know it happens all the time. She's looking for a ring, right?"
"Yes, and I gather that she's not all that happy that Master married someone else. She's also not ready to face the fact that she was never in line for that ring. According to Master, outside of making the paper work for its living, she's more than somewhat of a ditz. It amuses him, and he catches the occasional employee who figures it ought to be easy to slip something across."
"So what's the plan?"
"He's been taking her with him on business trips. He's gone for two, three weeks at a time five or six times a year. What he's looking for is to slot you into her place. It'll be a while, he really does run a fairly big operation."
"I suppose I'll find out eventually, so what does he do?"
Jenny gave her the same shark grin she'd given her earlier in the day.
"What?" Then she went white. Jenny caught the plate as it slipped out of Sally's nerveless fingers. Sally took a deep breath. "He's the Terrance Drake who owns Internal Investigations, Inc.?"
"Yes. The legendary Paul Drake really is his great-grandfather."
"He wants to parade me as a trophy?"
"Oh, nothing that obvious. He really does want to replace Gracie as his executive assistant and office slut. You'd be able to handle the admin end of it easily; that's one thing we looked for. In fact, you might get a bit bored but your talent for, um, creative bookkeeping might make up for that. I gather that Gracie couldn't find her keys if they were welded to a chain around her neck. He's joked a couple of times about using her purse as a training aid for agents."
"And since he owns me for the next 35 years, I'm trustworthy."
"Which Gracie apparently isn't. He finds her antics amusing. Also, mistress won't bitch about him laying you down and screwing you during office hours. Their prenup allows him to screw the slavegirls as much as he wants as long as he saves enough for her.
"As far as you being one of his catches, that's the icing on the cake. He will use it, but more along the lines of the artfully planted rumor that's never admitted in public. By the time you're ready to slid into the slot, you'll probably think it's amusing.
"Anyway, gotta run." She waved at Sally as she trotted out the door.
Sally looked after her. Then she looked back at the cutting board, the knife and the onion. The cutting board didn't burst into flames, and the onion didn't cringe, although they should have.
If you enjoyed this story, please e-mail the author at XaltatunOfAcheronATgmail.com and let him know. He likes to hear from his loyal fans, and it gives him some motivation to keep writing this stuff. Of course, if you're a publisher and you'd like to buy some of these stories, please let him know. The starving author in the garret makes a great story, but it sucks in real life.