Message-ID: <24506asstr$960174605@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
X-Original-Message-ID: <20000604194115.73242.qmail@hotmail.com>
From: "Cheryl Allen Tessler" <cat47@hotmail.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain; format=flowed
Subject: {ASSM} Jenny, V (slavery; Mm+/ff)
Date: Sun, 4 Jun 2000 23:10:05 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2000/24506>
X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, dennyw
Disclaimer: If you are offended by sexually oriented material, read no
further. If you are under eighteen, whether you are offended or not, read
no further.
Jenny
Chapter V
Jenny's woke up to her second full day at DiMarcos and found herself
looking at Janet. Jenny had slept so well that she hadn't heard the escort
bring Janet into her quarters. Slaves were naturally quiet when they walked
because they were always barefoot. The escorts, however, never walked
softly and yet Jenny had slept right through the escort's arrival and
departure.
"Morning," said Janet when she saw Jenny's eyes open.
"Morning," said Jenny, by now sufficiently accustomed to Janet's
presence that seeing Janet first thing didn't scare her out of her wits.
"That escort," said Janet, "is getting to be a real pain in the butt.
I mean, literally. He walked into my room this morning carrying a cup of
coffee, with me barely awake, and made me take him up the ass. Every now
and then he told me to stop moving so he could take a sip of coffee. He was
having coffee and a donut for breakfast, and guess who was the donut?"
Ewww, said Jenny to herself. "Is that what being a slave does to you?
You can make awful jokes like that?" she asked.
"I have to do something to help me cope with this place." Janet
giggled out loud a little. "I guess you'd have to say the donut was a
chocolate donut."
Jenny groaned. "No more, please. It's early. Besides, next week I
might be the donut. Then the joke won't be funny at all." Jenny turned
serious. She had heard of anal intercourse, but never experienced it.
"Janet, doesn't that hurt, I mean having a guy like that?"
"Yeah, a little at first. I had a boyfriend once who really liked it.
He taught me all about it. I know what you mean about the joking though,
Jenny. Becoming a slave certainly changes your outlook on stuff like that.
But I'm not going to give up my sense of humor just because I'm a slave. I
have to maintain as much of myself as possible, so when I get out I can go
back to living like a normal person."
Jenny lowered her eyes, ran her finger around the ring attached to her
collar, and thought about that for a moment. Just like the previous day,
she thought Janet's optimism was out of place. A slave really had nothing
to look forward to, thought
Jenny. After all, no slave could get up in the morning and ask herself,
'What shall I do today?' Yet in spite of Janet's misplaced optimism, Jenny
liked Janet. They obviously had a lot in common, not least that neither one
of them were felons.
"What are the other girls like?" asked Jenny. "I mean, are all the
others from a prison?"
"Yes," said Janet, "you and me are the only two current BB's who
weren't bought from a prison. I don't know any of the felons very well, and
I don't think I want to. From listening to them at meals, I get the feeling
they're a pretty mean bunch, and crude. Sometimes the way they talk about
sex you'd think they were guys."
Jenny knew just what Janet meant. Late twenty-first century girls
could, and did, talk about sex quite openly. But guys always had a
different language, a different attitude, when they talked about sex. In
sex education it was explained as a hormonal difference, but when it was
explained this way the guys just laughed. When the guys laughed, the girls
cringed.
Sex education classes, though, hadn't really made Jenny notice the
difference between boys and girls. Rather, her boyfriends made her notice
the difference. For example, she had always enjoyed sex, once her boyfriend
had become her steady boyfriend, but she could tell there was a fundamental
difference between the way she enjoyed sex and the way the boyfriend did.
He frequently seemed driven by sex, obsessed Jenny sometimes thought. She
always knew what he wanted because he nearly always wanted the same thing.
If he went slowly enough, she could get herself into the same mood he was
in. If not, that's when having a boyfriend was a pain; like, Jenny thought,
being a chocolate donut for an escort.
"Speaking of guys," said Jenny, anxious to stop thinking about donuts,
"what was it like when a guy from your school visited you?"
"I graduated last month, so a lot of them aren't in town right now,
thank gawd for that. But of course my boyfriend, my ex-boyfriend, found me.
The first time he came to see me, he acted all sad and gentle but he still
wanted sex. That was a real let down for me, his first visit. The second
and third time he came to see me he was like any other customer, except he
told me I should be nicer to him than I was to the other men because he was
still my boyfriend, sort of. Bull crap with that, I thought. The other
guys who found me were like all hot to nail me, just like they had been in
school. Only now, when a guy finds me I'm naked and I've got to do whatever
he wants."
This description seemed too matter-of-fact to Jenny. Maybe, she
thought, Janet left out the parts that were emotionally difficult as a type
of self-defense, something a slave had very little of. It was just at this
point that the escort (of chocolate donut fame) came in to take the slaves
to breakfast.
After breakfast, the escort took Janet back to her quarters, but left
Jenny at the restaurant. "Your master will come for you," he explained.
Sitting alone, just outside the restaurant door, Jenny had a few
moments to survey the surroundings. There wasn't much landscape to see, and
very little human traffic. Jenny occasionally saw a slave with a red collar
pass through a door to her right, entering or leaving the large room that
contained the BB's quarters. She studied each one carefully, for the short
amount of time each was in view, trying to see from expression or demeanor
what the next stage of slavery was like. When she did get a glimpse of a
slave's face she wasn't sure what she saw. The faces weren't sad, but that
was about the best Jenny could say for them. Mostly, Jenny said to herself,
they are young, naked females walking to and fro. She was aware that she
was just such a one herself, though she was only sitting. It made her feel
like a slave, sitting naked in this open place, waiting for a man--not just
any man, but her master--to come lead her away on a leash. This is what it
feels like, at least a little, she thought.
She looked up and saw, at the far end of the BB's section, her master
walking toward her. My master, she thought. The possessive seemed
completely inappropriate. He doesn't belong to me in any sense. I'm the
one that's owned. I must follow him, sit at his feet, worship his genitals,
obey his commands. It all sounds very set, very pat, so much so that it
should be easy. All I have to do is have sex, over and over, day after day.
Can it really be so hard? Jenny had to answer her own question with a
simple 'no.' Surely I can do something as simple as sex. It's not rocket
science, after all. Sex, she said to herself, sex. The word used to make
her giggle. Sex, she said again. Once it meant something mysterious and
romantic. Sex, she kept repeating to herself. After her first sexual
experience, sex meant excitement and intimacy and boys and being queasy.
Sex. In high school it got more attention than anything else. And now,
after she had spent her junior year in high school talking, frequently,
about sex, she found herself bound over as a slave to perform--sex. She
kept repeating the word over and over, and the very repetition of the word
made the act itself seem unreal.
When Maurice walked up to Jenny, she noticed for the first time that he
was carrying a strap with a wooden handle and three long, smooth, slender
sticks. She guessed immediately what, and who, they were for. Sex, she
said to herself as her master led her away, sex and punishment. What could
be simpler than that?
Maurice had no plans to use the canes or the strap on Jenny. He had
brought them because Jenny's room had nothing with which to punish a slave,
and because he wanted her to be aware of their presence. He had something
much more important in mind for Jenny than punishment. Today, he would make
Jenny an offer, using yesterday's discussion about Alicia as a starting
point. He was confident Jenny would accept.
Had he known what Jenny had been thinking while waiting for him he
would have been pleased. It would not, however, have changed his strategy.
When slave and master were in Jenny's room, Maurice fetched the chair and
sat down without first taking off his clothes. "So, have you thought about
my question concerning Alicia?" asked Maurice.
"Yes, master." Jenny wasn't very pleased with all this talk. I'm a
sex slave, for christs sakes. Just make me do what you want and get it over
with.
"And what did you decide?"
"I'm not sure, master. I didn't know Alicia very well, master."
"Well, speculate a little. How would she handle being a slave?"
"I guess she'd have to just get used to it, master. She wouldn't have
much choice, master."
This, of course, was more revealing than Jenny realized.
"Could she get used to having sex with strangers every day?"
Alicia? "Yes, master, she could."
"And she would learn to obey her master in all things, without
question?"
Here Jenny balked. The answers she was giving were based partly on her
opinions and partly on what she thought about Alicia, and unquestioning
obedience was not something to which Jenny was reconciled.
"Perhaps not, master," Jenny answered cautiously.
"And what about you? Is that the kind of slave you plan to be?"
This unwelcome question nonplussed Jenny. To the casual observer, it
must have appeared that Maurice was trying to get personal with his slave
much to early in their relationship. But Maurice knew that the relationship
between a master and a slave did not develop the way normal relationships
did. It became intimate almost instantly. One moment, a man and his new
slave had never seen each other. The next moment, the man was her master,
demanding and receiving obedience. Within forty-eight hours of meeting her
master, the slave had sex with him four or five times. The slave was
compelled to get to know her master better than she had ever become
acquainted with any other man in such a short period of time. The master
was like minute rice, but instead of adding water, you added a slave.
Instead of a meal, you got a relationship. It was not a normal
relationship, of course, but the slave was just as aware of it as she would
be of any other relationship.
"I, I don't know, master," Jenny finally replied, afraid that her
answer might get her punished then and there.
"Then I shall make you an offer, if you like," said Maurice.
Since it would have been impolitic, to say the least, of Jenny to
decline her master's offer, she readily accepted.
"You must work for DiMarcos for over three years," said Maurice.
"That's a long time to struggle against your owners and your master. You
will suffer a good deal from the cane and the strap, or worse, and after all
that suffering you will still have to do what you are told. If you will
agree to let me train you, though, agree to obey me faithfully, I will teach
you everything you need to know to get along. Whether you struggle against
me or not, things won't be easy at first; but I can make it as easy for you
as it can possibly be."
This offer, as Maurice had called it, was little more than a veiled
threat. He had couched it terms calculated to appeal to Jenny's emotions.
The offer to take care of Jenny, more apparent than real, and the
implication that their relationship would be one of mutual trust and
faithfulness was a powerful appeal. A new slave always felt alone and
helpless, and such an offer would usually fall on receptive ears.
"But, master," said Jenny, as she thought not of how Alicia would
respond to this offer but how Janet would, "if I agree I will have to become
a slave, I mean really be a slave."
"Yes, that is quite true," said Maurice gently. Jenny had cut to the
heart of the matter immediately, "and it will make your life here all the
easier. You'll be able to take things in stride."
Jenny wasn't sure she wanted to take things, like an escort up her ass,
in stride or any other way. However, it appeared that her master was being
open with her. Could a slave ever expect more than that? Even more
important, what would it mean to her if she were to decline this gracious
offer? She would be admitting that she intended to defy her master,
admitting that she preferred to submit only after being punished. Her
choices seemed stark and very unappealing. On the one hand, she could take
the cane, the strap, or whatever it was that was worse than the cane and the
strap. On the other hand, she could take voluntary servitude.
Maurice could tell she was struggling to find a response to his last
statement. "A slave's life is never easy at first," he said. "But if she
can reach an understanding with her master, it need not be so bad." He
paused for a moment. "Can you agree?"
Jenny thought it best to agree, but held back for just a moment, long
enough to tell herself that she was abandoning her freedom. The words
caught in her throat for a moment, but then she said, "Yes, I agree."
"Can you be a bit more precise?" asked Maurice gently. "Say that you
agree to be my slave and obey me faithfully."
Again Jenny hesitated for a moment, but then repeated the necessary
words.
"Good," said Maurice. He wanted to immediately show Jenny that she
would get some benefit from this new arrangement. "I know that a new slave
has several unanswered questions. Is there anything in particular you would
like to ask about? Anything that has you worried? Ask me anything at all."
Jenny knew right where to begin. "Master, your di . . .," she stopped
in the middle of the word, "you're so big. I don't think I'll ever be able
to do everything you want, master."
Maurice grinned to himself at Jenny's language scruples. Those, among
many others, will soon fall by the wayside, he mused. "You underestimate
yourself," said Maurice. "I know you're convinced now that you'll never get
all of me inside of you, but believe me: women are a lot tougher than men.
I promise you that in one week you will feel differently. If I'm wrong,
don't hesitate to mention it then, or earlier if you want. Now, what else?"
"Master, Janet, I mean the blond slave had a man, an escort, put it in
her ass this morning. I've never done that before, and I'm pretty sure I
couldn't, master."
This, Maurice said to himself, is the most sexually inexperienced slave
I've ever had. "I can help you with that," he said. "I'll tell the escorts
your ass is off limits for the next two weeks. In the meantime, I'll get
you something to help ease you into it. Is that all that's worrying you?
Surely there must be something else you'd like to ask?" Maurice was
thinking Jenny would want to know how long her training would last, or what,
in general, she would have to learn.
The thing in the forefront of Jenny's mind at the moment was the
agreement she had just made with her master. I just gave away my freedom,
she said to herself. I just agreed to be a slave. I can't believe I did
that.
"No, master, I can't think of anything else right now, master."
"That's all right," said Maurice. "When I come back this evening,
perhaps you'll have something to ask then." He stood, took off his clothes,
and placed the chair, and himself, in front of Jenny. "If you like," he
said, "I can tell you something about oral sex that's worth knowing."
Jenny, of course, said she wanted to know.
"As long as you're giving oral sex, and doing it well, you are safe.
No man, unless his balls ache from too much sex, ever tells a girl to stop
giving him oral sex. You have to be sensuous, you have to be sexy, but as
long as you are, the man you're with belongs to you. It helps considerably
when the sensuous, sexy girl is also young and pretty. You've got the young
and pretty part taken care of. If you can also take care of the sensuous
and sexy part, you'll get along very well. Don't hold anything back. Use
your tongue, hum, make little girl sounds. If oral sex doesn't turn you on,
imagine that you're with the sexiest guy in the world, a guy you would do
anything for."
Make little girl sounds? said Jenny to herself. What does that mean?
She hadn't missed the compliment about her looks, but Maurice's instructions
about sounds made her wonder. No, she thought, she had never really been
turned on by oral sex--well, perhaps once--but she didn't think oral sex was
repulsive. Still, that part about licking a man's balls was not appetizing
at all. But now, with her agreement to be Maurice's faithful slave fresh in
her mind, she had to do just that. She tried very hard to do her master's
biding because she took that agreement seriously, as the weaker party in an
agreement between unequals nearly always does. She licked, she hummed, she
tried to decide what a little girl sound was. Maurice was very pleased. He
let her go on for only five minutes, being one of those men not particularly
turned on by having a girl lick his balls. Besides, he was anxious to see
how hard Jenny would try once she had his dick in her mouth.
"That's very nice," said Maurice. "Now do the same with my dick."
My first blow job as a real slave, thought Jenny, and then she realized
something awful. Licking a man's balls may not be fun, but it certainly was
easy, in the sense that it involved no physical challenge. Her master's
dick was a challenge, too big a challenge thought Jenny.
As she began to stoke him, Maurice gently encouraged her. "Let
yourself go completely, don't think too much about what you have to do. Try
to remember the best sex you ever had, the best boy you ever had. Remember,
as long as you're working hard, you're safe."
Jenny could see the advertising posters for DiMarcos now. In large
letters across the top of the poster were the words, "Be a slave! Be safe!"
Below this inspiring message was the picture of a naked slave, on her knees,
halfway to getting a huge dick in her mouth.
After thinking of the ad poster, Jenny took her master's advice and
thought about the best sex and the best boy she ever had. Just three months
ago, at a party, she had met a wonderful boy. He was a senior, but not from
Jenny's school. He had a gorgeous face and smile, and introduced himself to
Jenny (his name was Gary) almost as soon as she arrived at the party. He
had a way with words, he knew how to give a compliment without it sounding
phony, he knew how to make Jenny laugh. Within ten minutes of meeting him,
she was smiling right back at him. He suggested that they get away from the
crowd and the noise and take a short walk. When he took her hand to lead
her outside she did not hesitate to follow. A minute later when he put his
arm around her shoulder and squeezed gently, she felt a little leap of
excitement. Just before they had finished circling the block, he stopped
and kissed her, a gentle, sexy kiss that made her hope there was more, much
more.
When they got back to the house, he suggested they sit in the backyard,
at a picnic table that was well away from the house. Once there, and
seated, he kissed her a second and a third time, and Jenny could not recall
ever being so aroused by just a kiss. After a fourth kiss, Jenny was ready
for nearly anything.
She was wearing only a Caribbean style blouse and shorts. He squeezed
her breast through her blouse and her bra, and Jenny knew that she would
either have to stop him there or have sex with him. One more kiss, one more
squeeze, she said, then I'll decide. The next kiss and squeeze decided for
her.
He took off her clothes slowly, so slowly that it was nearly erotic
torture. He began with her blouse. He untied the knot at the bottom, then
slowly, button by button, he opened the front of her blouse. After undoing
each button, he paused for several seconds and ran his hands over her body.
Any other boy would have had her clothes off in the time it took him to
unfasten four buttons. Jenny, of course, knew what should happen next. He
has to slide the blouse off my shoulders, she said to herself. Her
expectation that this would soon happen made the wait for it to happen seem
very long. Rather than remove her blouse, her lover gently squeezed her
breasts through her bra. Her bra rubbing against her nipples aroused her,
but not as much as his hand on her bare breast would have. To herself she
said over and over, 'Take off my blouse.'
Finally her lover removed the blouse from her shoulders, then let it
fall, first from her right arm, then from her left. He kissed her, squeezed
her breast through her bra again, but seemed in no hurry to remove it. He
hooked his finger under the front of her bra and ran it slowly back and
forth, pressing his finger gently against her breast. I'm going to turn
into a pumpkin before he gets me naked, thought Jenny.
After slowly running his finger under the front, the back, and the
straps of Jenny's bra, he carefully, one by one, undid the hooks at her
back. As her bra hung loosely in front, he cupped Jenny's left breast in
his hand, squeezed, then began running his finger around her nipple. Her
nipples had been erect almost since he first kissed her, and her nipple was
very sensitive. He was the only guy who had ever made her moan, albeit
quietly, before he took her pants off.
'Pants off,' coming from her lover, would have been welcome words to
Jenny. Instead, he placed his finger against the outside of Jenny's right
breast and ran it up the side of her breast, over the nipple, down between
her breasts, up her left breast, over the nipple, and down the outside of
her left breast. He did that four times, going back and forth, and it was
nearly enough to make Jenny scream. Instead of screaming, she began
thinking ahead. When the time comes to give him a blow job, she told
herself, I'm going to put him through the same thing he's putting me through
now.
It was a cool evening, but Jenny noticed not at all when her bra
finally came off. All she was thinking about were her shorts, her shorts
and her panties. Take off my shorts and my panties, she kept repeating
silently, but her lover proceeded no faster with these than he had with her
blouse and bra. After another long kiss, and more squeezing, he hooked a
finger inside the front of her shorts, and pulled very gently. Too gently,
thought Jenny. She wasn't sure what the little tug on her shorts meant, but
she was sure what she wanted and she was sure didn't want to wait for it any
longer. She unbuttoned and unzipped her shorts, then pulled her shorts and
panties together down to her ankles and over her sneakers. She then put her
right arm around her lover's neck, her left hand on his belt buckle, and
whispered 'I need you' in his ear.
This was not the first time Gary had a girl, unasked, take off her
clothes for him. Just that afternoon a girl with whom he had slept a few
times showed up at his door, engaged him in a few minutes of small talk,
then took off her clothes. She explained that 'he needed a woman' and led
him into his own bedroom to show him why. The demonstration took over two
hours. Now, some six hours later, another girl had taken off her clothes
for him. Things had reached this pass because Jenny was the type of girl a
boy just had to smile at. 'My sides will be fucked out tomorrow, but I
can't say no to this girl,' he said to himself. He stood to take off his
clothes and no sooner had taken his pants off when Jenny took his dick in
her hand and pulled it gently toward her mouth. This, she said to herself,
will be the blow job of all blow jobs. I'm not going to make him cum until
he begs for it. Since Gary, at that moment, was still several minutes from
an orgasm her strategy perfectly suited the situation. After giving him
head for a good three minutes, she began stroking as much of his cock into
her mouth as she could. He got a bit tired of standing and, after asking
her to stop for a moment, he sat on the picnic table with his feet on the
bench.
It was a measure of Jenny's level of arousal that she would even
consider letting a boy sit on the table in front of her. Under the
circumstances, though, it seemed perfect. His dick was positioned just
beneath her. Her eyes had long since adjusted to the darkness, and she
could see that his cock was nearly perfectly straight. Get ready to wait,
she said, as she lowered mouth to the head of his dick. She wrapped her
right hand around him, but rather than stroke his dick she simply squeezed,
then relaxed, squeezed, then relaxed. With her lips and her tongue, she
went over the head of his dick, feeling how perfectly smooth it was.
Incredible, her lover said to himself, there are some truly incredible
girls in this world. This afternoon a girl uses me for sexual acrobatics,
and now this girl is trying to make me cum by only squeezing my dick with
her hand and giving me head. If I could stand to let her go on this way, it
would probably be an incredible orgasm. He leaned back and tensed his body,
trying to hasten his orgasm. He was too far away, though. He waited
another few moments, tensed again, but didn't cum. Jenny could feel his
body tensing and made her squeezes longer and firmer. But her mouth did not
leave the head of his dick nor did her hand move up or down.
The boy suffering under Jenny's intentional teasing was enjoying the
moment too much to simply pull her head down on his dick. He leaned forward
a bit and took Jenny's left nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Jenny
could not help but respond. Her breathing quickened, she involuntarily
nodded her head a little, then tried to hold herself still. Stop that, she
said to herself without meaning it at all, stop, but he squeezed her nipple
again and this time she groaned a little. Stop, she said again, even though
it felt wonderful. Then he cupped her right breast in his hand and squeezed
gently. With this squeeze, Jenny's lips slid down his dick three or four
inches, and as he released her breast her lips returned to the top of his
dick. Ah, he said to himself, that's the ticket. He waited five seconds
and squeezed her right breast again, and again Jenny slowly slid her lips
four inches down Gary's cock.
It was the kind of game that only teenagers could play with each other.
Jenny refused to do anything more than give him head and squeeze him with
her hand unless he played with her breasts. Her lover was too amazed at
what his touch could do to the girl sitting in front of him to stop touching
her. So they played with each other, back and forth. Each time he squeezed
her nipple or her breast, Jenny glided down on his dick as far as she could,
groaning, moaning, enjoying. Each time, when he stopped playing with her
nipple, she returned her lips to the head of dick and ran her tongue
completely around the head of his dick as if to say that she was done and he
would get no more from her.
It might have gone on this way for a very long time, except that no
eighteen year old boy, even one who had already cum several times, could
resist the stimulation that Jenny was giving him. He felt the surge that
told him he would finally have an orgasm, and Jenny herself recognized it
only a moment later. He squeezed Jenny's nipple, Jenny dove down, and she
knew the battle was over. Let him cum in my mouth, she said to herself.
For once I can't wait. When he did, it wasn't the violent explosion Jenny
expected. The cum flowed from his dick like wine poured slowly from a
bottle. The intensity of his orgasm reflected eroticism rather than
passion, and Jenny drank as though it were a love potion she herself had
concocted.
Sex, for Jenny, had been good before, but never like this. After
swallowing all of her lover, she climbed off the picnic table's bench and
sat on the table next to him. Then, as she laid down on her back, she
gently pulled him on top of her. He was not a muscular boy, but as he began
stroking himself in and out her, Jenny could feel his arms and shoulders,
especially his shoulders, tense up. She had only to touch him lightly to
feel how wonderfully firm and hard those shoulders were.
It was that magical night that filled Jenny's mind as she stroked her
master. She was aware of being in two places at once, aware that she was
picturing herself with a gorgeous boy while giving her master a blow job.
To a degree, it worked. She was very sensuous and Maurice could tell. He
could feel himself at the very back of Jenny's mouth, at the entrance to her
throat, time after time. If she could tease this way, then get me down her
throat, he said to himself, she would be wonderful. But the head of his
dick didn't cross that last threshold. Jenny was too aware of the present,
too conscious that the dick in her mouth was huge. She couldn't
accidentally get her master down her throat. Nonetheless, Maurice was
pleased. Jenny was taking their new agreement seriously and he had to take
this opportunity to express his satisfaction.
"Very good," he said, "you can stop now. I can tell that your promise
to faithfully obey was genuine. I will be back this evening. In the
meantime, I want you to promise me something. Promise me that you will try
very hard today to get one man entirely in your mouth. Promise?"
"I promise, master," said Jenny, as she squatted back on her heels.
She was a little worn out from trying to do just that with her master.
"Good," he said. "I know you will try hard. You know, by the way,
that the bathroom has everything you need to clean up, don't you?"
"Yes, master," said Jenny. She had checked the bathroom and found it
well stocked.
"Good. Make sure you clean up after each customer."
"Yes, master," she answered as he walked out.
Jenny immediately began going over the agreement she had just made with
her master. Why had she done it? she asked herself. Surely there must have
been a way to avoid making such a terrible commitment. I really am a slave
now, by words out of my own mouth. I have handed myself, my body, my mind,
my will, everything to my master. He can rightfully demand my obedience at
all times. If I disobey, I'm a liar and a cheat. She curled up on her
blankets. A slave, she said to herself, I really am a slave.
________________________________________________________________________
Get Your Private, Free E-mail from MSN Hotmail at http://www.hotmail.com
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations. |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+