Happiness filled my life in a way it never had before. No one had ever thought to treat me the way Mistress did every day. I was her slave; she owned me, yet Mistress often brought me breakfast in bed! She continued with my reading lessons, and I continued with her sex lessons. It was probably a result of the circumstances, but for the first time in my life, I realized that I was falling in love. Love was something that I’d never known, and I didn’t really know how to respond to it. The strange thing was that the situation was mutual; Mistress began to fall for me, and she didn’t really know what to do about it either. Mistress began to give me an allowance, in the fashion parents did with their offspring. I got fifty dollars a week, in cash; fifty dollars that I could spend on little luxuries for myself.
When Mistress took me home, on the first day, she told me that there was one wardrobe in the bedroom that was out of bounds for me. I wondered what was in it; in fact I was desperately curious to find out its contents, but I left it alone. It was two months until Mistress gave me permission to open the wardrobe, and I was quite surprised to see the contents. They weren’t exactly things a young lady was expected to keep in her bedroom. That wardrobe contained almost two dozen swords from around the world. I was immediately fascinated with the collection, and asked Mistress to teach me all about swords, and the cultures that created them.
After almost four months of mutual sexual pleasure with Mistress’, it was my thirty-third birthday, and on the morning of that day, Mistress gave me the first birthday card I’d ever received. The wording from Mistress was, ‘For my Princess; my companion and my friend. All my love, Mistress.’ Inside the card was a smaller envelope with no markings. I opened the envelope to find hundred dollar bills; ten of them, and I found myself speechless. No one had ever given me a noticeable amount of money before, and told me I spend it on whatever I liked. My first thought was to save my present and hope that Mistress gave me many more such presents. That way, I was sure I would be able to buy my sister’s freedom. Perhaps I could even buy my own eventually. Of course, being a slave meant that I couldn’t have a bank account to save the money in, so I asked Mistress if she would open an account for me, so that I could save my money easily. Naturally, she agreed, and I got my savings account in Mistress’ name. Then, whatever out of my allowance I didn’t spend, I saved for the future.
My first problem, of course, was that I had to find my sister. I didn’t know where she was, so I was obviously going to have considerable work ahead of me. However, she was my sister, and I wanted to help her.
My first thought was to ask my parents if they knew where my sister was. If I was lucky, she would still be where they were, and hopefully would stay there until I could save up enough money and try to convince her owner to sell her to Mistress. Again, being a slave meant that I could not have property, but if I gave Mistress the money, she could buy my sister, and free her for me. I would pay every dollar of her asking price, and more, if Mistress would do what I wanted. I knew that my father was able to read and write, so I typed a letter on Mistress’ computer, bought a book of stamps the next time Mistress asked me to go shopping, and sent it to my father, along with a supply of envelopes, paper, stamps and pens; just hoping he’d get the package. My luck was in, and my father received it. He replied to me, in considerable surprise at my literacy, and gave me some bad news. My sister had been sold a couple of years earlier, but he could give me the address of her owner, and he confirmed that she also could read and write, so would be able to reply to any letters she received, if she received them.
When I got the reply from my father, Mistress handed me the envelope with a smile on her face. “Never had post before, Princess?” she asked. I almost took Mistress’ fingers off, when I snatched the envelope from her hand and ripped it open. It was a fabulous feeling, reading my first ever letter, although the feeling didn’t last when I read the news it contained. It was clear to Mistress that I was upset, so she put an arm around my waist, and kissed me. “Need a new letter pack then, Princess?” she asked.
“Yes Mistress; I just hope she’ll be able to answer,” I replied.
Mistress supplied me with my pack of stationary and stamps and I wrote to my sister. She was every bit as surprised as my father at my newfound ability to write. She was an administrator, which required her to be literate, and she asked me what I did for my owner. What did I tell her? I asked Mistress for her opinion and she said that I should describe myself as a ‘domestic.’ All of what I did for Mistress would be classified as ‘domestic’ work, in as much as it was done inside her apartment. As long as my sister remained in her position, she was safe, and I could be content with knowing that, until the time arrived that I could try to free her from her life of slavery.
She and I traded letters intensively for months, and I kept her well supplied with letter writing materials, at Mistress’ expense. In that time, Christmas came and went, and the contents of my savings account tripled to more than three thousand dollars, and my bra increased by one cup size. I took Mistress by surprise by giving her a Christmas present bought from my allowance. I told my sister the story of my first trip to the fetish store with Mistress, and included the story of our second visit.
That was every bit as entertaining as the first time, and I could even read the writing on the products. Mistress had decided that she required a larger dildo for me to make love to her with. I knew we were going shopping, the way we usually did, but she didn’t have to tell me where we were going. The spiked collar around Mistress’ neck indicated that we were going to the fetish shop, and that I was again going to have to pretend to be Mistress’ owner.
As instructed by Mistress, I clipped on her leash just after we got out of the car, and I led her by it into the store. The response was much as predicted. “Hey, look who’s come back. It’s the lucky bitch with the fantastic bit of pussy! Are your tits bigger than the last time you were here?”
“Yes, I’ve been under the knife.”
“Thought so. You broke the little bit of pussy in properly, after you took her home, last time?”
“Given the price I paid for her, you’re damn straight I did! She’s a wonderful fuck, with such a lovely tight pussy. There are times I wonder how it might feel to be a man, and whenever I’d got my double-ended rubber prick buried clit-deep in her pussy, I do think like that. What would it feel like to be able to spunk in her cunt daily, I wonder? With tits like those to squeeze, I fuck her several times a day when I have the energy!” I had to laugh dirtily, like a letch, as I spoke; it was expected of me.
You gonna tell me what you paid for her, yet?”
“Due to favourable circumstances, I got her for the bargain price of thirty five grand!” I replied; even managing to sound as if I was gloating over my purchase. I suppose that if I had been in that position, I may well have gloated over what I’d gotten, at the price I supposedly got it for.
“Thirty five? Lucky cow! How did you achieve that feat?” I could sense the jealousy in her voice, and I was sure I could see it all over her face.
I pulled Mistress closer to me, and put my arms around her waist. “She’d been bought as a gift to her previous owner’s son, but for reasons unknown, he was still unable to get his prick solid enough to stick it in her. She was kept intact until he was going to be capable of fucking his present; he never got the chance. Financial trouble hit the family, and they needed money, fast. Coincidentally, I happened to hear about their troubles, and remembered the girl they’d bought for their son for when he overcame his limp prick problem, and made an offer for her. They needed a quick sale, and thirty five thousand in cash, was sufficient incentive for me to take ownership. I realize how lucky I was to get her so cheap, and I intend to take maximum advantage of that as often as I can.”
“I’d ask if you were willing to sell her to me, but in your place, I wouldn’t let that go any time soon either.”
“Not a chance, and you know it!”
“I can dream, can’t I?” She produced a business card, which she handed me, “In case you change your mind, or, however unlikely it is, eventually get bored with Miss. Tits, there. I’ll pay top dollar for her in either of those situations.”
I took the card, but I knew it wasn’t relevant; after all, I couldn’t sell what I didn’t own. Even if did own Mistress, I could never have sold her to the sort of pervert that room was full of; they wouldn’t have treated her the way I would have, and the way I already did. She treated me better than most, if not all, of the women in that room would have treated her. Some men didn’t treat their wives as well as Mistress treated her obedient, horny, blonde sex slave.
(For example, there was the time I’d come down with food poisoning. At the time, we didn’t know the cause of the condition, but I was ill; very much so. Mistress summoned a doctor to attend to me, and with the experiences I’d had, that was something I had not been expecting. No other owner had summoned a doctor for me, or for any other slave I’d ever known, yet Mistress didn’t bat an eyelid at the expense of the doctor, or the hospital visit she recommended. Mistress took me to A & E, and paid my bills. She even got all combative with the doctors who didn’t originally want to treat me because I had no medical history. It was beautifully done, and in a way I wouldn’t have dreamt of. Mistress told them that they had a responsibility to treat any sick person with the money to pay, and seeing as Mistress could pay for my treatment, they were obliged to treat me. She also threatened to sue the asses off them all if I didn’t survive the treatment. I was an expensive piece of property and she wanted me back in first class condition, ‘or fucking else!’ Mistress also commented that at home, she never restrained me, and if I complained about being chained up, or otherwise mistreated, there’d be absolute bloody hell to pay! She left me in hospital for three days, visiting twice a day on each of them, with flowers, chocolates and kisses. The bill for my treatment was half as much as my purchase price, yet Mistress paid it without hesitation because I was worth it! “It’s only money,” Mistress commented, when she signed the forms.)
During that visit, I was asked how I got such fine service from my girl. At first, no one there would believe that I’d never had to beat Mistress. I explained it very simply. “When I got her, she’d seen other slaves facing their punishments for infractions, and she knew what she could expect if she misbehaved. She didn’t misbehave, and at the end of the first week, I rewarded her with a shopping trip. That was before you first saw her, and before I first fucked her. I mastered treating a beautiful young woman, as what she was, and not mistreating her. I trained this one, with the carrot, rather than the stick, and it works. I get what I want, and I treat her like a lover! I give her fine clothes, and good food; and I make love her, making the experience as enjoyable for her as it is for me. And that, my new friends, is the way to get such service from a slave; it gives her an incentive to do what you want her to do. Give her treats and presents, and lots and lots of orgasms. She drives, too; she’s my chauffeur!”
When my reading and writing skills had reached high school standards, and after year and a bit, Mistress handed me an A4 envelope with the instruction to fill in the forms it contained. It was my application for a driving license. Everyone knew that slaves didn’t get to drive cars; it would just make it easier for them to escape from their owners. However, it wasn’t illegal to teach a slave to drive; it was just assumed that no owner would ever bother. I hadn’t expected that I would learn that skill either.
It took me a while, but I actually learned to drive, and was added to Mistress’ insurance policy. I had trouble with the local police on a couple of occasions, but Mistress got me out of trouble, and then, to avoid that sort of trouble, she bought me my own car. I got the car delivered on Mistress’ and my second anniversary. It had my name on its registration document. Mistress’ lawyer found a loophole in the property law, in that in the case of cars, the registered keeper isn’t necessarily the legal owner, which was why we got away with it. I knew nothing about the car until it got delivered, and I was asked to put my signature on the paperwork to confirm that it was mine. When Mistress told me that my car had arrived, I was stunned. When I saw it, I was even more stunned! I’d expected a little family compact, and when I laid eyes on a mint condition nineteen fifty seven Cadillac Eldorado convertible; all gleaming black pain, fins and chrome, I didn’t know what to do, or what to say. I didn’t even move to catch the keys, as Mistress threw them to me. She had to pick the keys up, put them in my right hand and wrap my fingers around them, before I seemed able to keep hold of them. Even then, I didn’t make any move towards the car until Mistress stood behind me and began to literally push me towards it. I saw the irony though; Mistress had given a five thousand dollar slave a car worth ten times her value; maybe more! I didn’t ask Mistress what she paid for the car; I just promised her that that I would be careful when I drove it.
When I finally got in the car, and Mistress had encouraged me to go out and burn some rubber, she also opened her purse and put her hand in it. I was surprised when she handed me a tazer and said, “Just in case some cunt tries to steal your nice new car.” Being a slave, I wasn’t allowed a gun, but the old laws had been written before the invention of the current generation of non-lethal defensive weapons, and the majority of them weren’t on the list of prohibited weapons for a slave. For example, Mace was a prohibited weapon for a slave, so Mistress gave me a can of corrosive oven cleaner instead. Nastier than Mace it might have been, but it was a domestic item, and therefore not illegal for a slave to have in her purse. Mistress’ lawyer eventually found a loophole in the law which allowed me to have a gun on my person, and not get arrested, and put to death for it. Laughable though it sounds to everyone, including myself and Mistress, I am legally Mistress’ personal bodyguard! We both know that a medal winning kick-boxing champion such as Mistress, would very easily, and very quickly kick seven shades of shit out of yours truly in a fair fight, but that single piece of paper showing me to be a licensed bodyguard, permits me to legally carry even a fully automatic firearm in a public place; just like Mistress.
After three years of service to Mistress, I’d almost forgotten that she’d bought me from my previous owner, for cash, and took me home, rather than met me in a gay club, charmed me, and made me want to go home with her at the end of the night for the obvious reason. I like to think that in that situation, I would have gone home with Mistress from that club.
In those three years I had been able to save almost eight thousand dollars towards my goal of freeing my sister from her bondage. I knew that a trained administrator wouldn’t be cheap to buy, and that the paltry eight thousand I had saved up, was going to be nowhere near enough. I’d need three or four times what I had, but figured that I had plenty of time to save up, because I didn’t see it likely that my sister’s owner would sell her any time soon, if she was any good at what she did.
In those three years, I had taught Mistress to make love like an old fashion courtesan, and she became very good at it. I think that over the same period, my own pleasure skills improved, too. At least Mistress thought that they did! It was on our third anniversary that Mistress gave me her third, and final, cherry. I’d thought that her pussy was tight, but when I first tried to push the smaller of our double-ended pricks up her ass, I realized that it was even tighter.
Mistress offered me her ass, and instructed me to fuck it. I had always given Mistress anything she wanted; in or out of the bedroom, and what she had just asked for would be no exception, but it would be different. While Mistress would get what she wanted, it would not be the way she wanted; well, not the first time anyway. Even the smallest of our toys would be too big for an orifice so tight. She got on all fours, sticking her ass in the air, and repeated the demand for what she wanted.
I settled down, off to one side of Mistress’ thighs, caressing, stroking and cupping those lovely firm young buttocks in my hands, while making sure that Mistress could hear my voice quietly. As my fingers explored the crevice in between her buttocks, she lifted her hips up off the bed, and I quickly pushed all six of our pillows underneath her belly to support her shapely body. As I lowered my head and began to run my tongue over her buttocks, she responded by reaching around with her hands and parting them to make it easier for me.
Mistress had the most delectable little asshole imaginable, and I couldn’t resist the urge to kiss it. Nor could I resist the urge to rim that lovely little anus, while slipping a couple of fingers into her pussy at the same time.
When I did that, she let out a little, low groan, of pure pleasure, and that just encouraged me to go a little further. I put my mouth to that tight ring and started to probe it with my tongue. After a couple of minutes, I reached into the drawer in the bedside cabinet, for my tube of KY and for the only item in my little collection of toys that I used on my own asshole on rare occasions back in Marseilles.
I applied the lubricant to her ring, smiling in pleasure at the low moan that the sensation elicited. She cried out as my fingertip slipped into her rear entrance, and she gave little gasps as I moved that finger around, probing and stretching her ringpiece, quickly adding a second finger, and then a third. Once the third finger was sliding in and out without a problem, it was time to go a step further. I lifted our one and only anal dildo from where I had put it on the pillow next to Mistress’ head, and very gently, I eased the tip of it into her asshole.
Mistress moaned as I moved the dildo in and out of her rectum, clearly enjoying what I was doing. I started to move it faster, in and out, and she thrust her hips up in time to my thrusts. After a while I stopped using the anal dildo, pulled it out of Mistress’ ass, and reached back into the bedside drawer for a conventional, vaginal, vibrator. I squeezed lube onto that, rubbed it in, and switched it on, before seeing if it would fit up Mistress’ ass. I didn’t force it in; I didn’t dare try to do that. It had to go in without too much pressure.
As I was gently trying to insert the large vibrator into Mistress’ tight little asshole, I asked her to, “Try and relax your little botty Mistress; this is quite large, but I’ll be gentle, I promise I will.”
“I’ll try,” she whispered back, and slowly the vibrator disappeared into her bum. Mistress groaned loudly as I started to push the vibrator up her adorable little bum. I began pushing it in harder, and she started gasping and panting, fingering her pussy as I did so. Mistress moved in time with my thrusts, pushing backwards and upwards with her pelvis, as I pushed down with the big vibrator, moaning, as the obscenely large piece of vibrating plastic disappeared within her slender little body, and the sight was just so beautiful.
I could tell that Mistress was just about ready to climax as I reached underneath her, pushing her hand away from her pussy, to tickle her clit. The resulting climax was just wonderful to behold. I’d heard her squeal in orgasm before, but that time, she simply screamed, as the climax overtook her, and seemed to go on for an inordinate amount of time.
Gasping for breath, those lovely tits still heaving, she rolled over to look up at me, face flushed red with her exertions, and looked up into my eyes. She said just three words to me, “Fucking wonderful babe,” and those simple words made my entire day. Mistress took me by surprise, yet again that night, by pointing at the double-ender we normally used and saying, “Use that on me next time, Princess, that way you’ll get some pleasure as well.”
“When’s ‘next time’,” I asked, hoping it wouldn’t be too long; the next night perhaps, or at least that same week.
“Right about now, babes,” was the answer, before Mistress rolled back over and positioned herself on all fours, pointing that delectable little bottom right at me; both of her holes still glistening with different types of lubricant. What could a woman do at a moment like that, except what her Mistress asked?
I knelt there for a few seconds, just looking at her bottom, before she began to get impatient. She took me by surprise by turning very serious and looking right into my eyes. “Princess”, she said, in her most stern voice, “when I tell you to vigorously nail me up the ass like a proper little cheap whore, I don’t mean kneel there and drool like a baby at the prospect. You and I both know that you’ve wanted to bugger me witless since the first time you pushed a large piece of latex rubber up my pussy, and now is your chance. I mean, grab the dildo and do what I demand; and I am demanding to be buggered witless.
I’ve done it to you so many times, and I’ll admit that I enjoy buggering you, so tonight, I’ll take it the same way if you’d like me to. You’ve earned it so many times over by now, and it’s overdue that I repay the pleasure. How could I love you so much, and not give you the odd little thing that I know would make you so happy? You will be gentle with me though, won’t you?” Despite the words, it wasn’t a question! I had wanted to do my Mistress in the ass, for a considerable while, but I hadn’t realized just how transparent I was with my wants. I hadn’t mentioned it to Mistress, and never would have, but once the offer was made, I was going to take it.
“I’ll be as gentle as you like, Mistress, I swear I will be. You already know that I will, or you wouldn’t have offered me this gorgeous little peach.”
“In that case my big Princess, now’s your one chance to convert me to your way of thinking; on the all-important subject of ass fucking, anyway. I feel brave enough to let you shove your rubber cock up mine, tonight; the way you’ve wanted to do for a while; but if you don’t do it now, you may not get another chance. If I don’t get my pleasure now, I may not find the nerve to ask again, and you’ll have blown your chance.” She changed her position ever so slightly, pointed at her bum with one finger and said, “Ass… fuck… right now…you beautiful, dirty blonde cow!”
I grabbed our double-ended dildo and said, “Yes Mistress, whatever you demand!”
I did what she demanded of me, and I was still a little nervous as I knelt behind her and placed the tip of the double-ender at her rectum before very slowly, and very gently, pushing it in, all the way to where my pubes would have been, as Mistress encouraged me. “That’s it Princess, shove it in nice and deep. Bugger your randy little Mistress rigid, the way you’ve been dreaming about since the first day you pulled my knickers down to my ankles and I watched as I stepped out of them. I can take it all the way, just like you can.”
The feeling of pushing the double-ender up Mistress’ ass was wonderful; her ass was even tighter than her pussy, and when I had the toy as deep as it would go, and was pressing the front of my thighs against the back of her own, I held still, and reached forward to gently cup Mistress’ big tits in both of my hands. Then I asked her if she felt ok with what was happening. She nodded, and said, “Continue with the big rubber cock, Princess, and make me squeal!”
Following the very clear instruction I had received, I began working the dildo back and forth slowly, in short thrusts, and gradually extending the length of the thrusts, while keeping them soft and gentle. I knew, right from the start, that Mistress was enjoying anal sex, and I was quite proud of myself for giving the woman I loved the pleasure she wanted. I was gentle with her, as I should be; only becoming vigorous when asked to be, or more accurately when it was demanded of me that I be more vigorous, and that I thrust a little harder. That was the moment when I realized just how tight Mistress’ asshole really was. I don’t suppose that my own was any less tight, the first time I got fucked up it, but my memory of that instance was of the pain I endured from it, and the way I cried and begged for my Master to stop hurting me. Needless to say, the bastard did no such thing; he simply pulled my hair harder, and told me to shut up.
As I held my position with my legs pressed up against Mistress’ legs, and felt her wiggle her hips, I knew it was time to do what she wanted, and slowly pulled the rubber prick out of her asshole, in preparation to push it back in again. I knew I was going to have to be very gentle with my Mistress, and her virgin ass. She was right when she asserted that I’d wanted to do that for a long time, although not as long as she thought. The day I first pulled her lace panties down and got a good look at her considerable bush, I was more concerned about making sure that she was willing to keep it out where I could get at it. Doing her up her lovely peachy ass didn’t enter my mind. It was an idea that I didn’t have until much later, and we were watching one of her newest porn films. I had Mistress on all fours on the living room floor; skirt up around her waist, panties around her ankles, and three fingers knuckle deep in her pussy as I stroked her clit and talked dirty to her. We were watching a particular scene where one woman was vigorously doing another woman in the ass with a big double-ended dildo, and I was sure that Mistress’ pussy was getting wetter and literally pulsating around my invading fingers as she watched the big rubber prick being pushed into a greased-up ass in front of the camera, while the owner of the ass moaned loudly.
Then there was Mistress’ third trip to the fetish shop, in her spiked collar. She wanted to take her role-playing in that store to the next stage, presumably in one of the rooms on the upper floor. I wasn’t quite sure how it would work out, but, as was always the case, what Mistress wanted, Mistress got! She dressed herself like a fifty dollar whore, put on the collar and gave me the leash. Mistress chose to return to the store on the same day, and at roughly the same time as the previous two occasions, hoping that the same women would be in the store, as the last two occasions.
They’d been green-eyed before, and she wanted to make them even worse. There were ways of doing that, as long as she had the nerve to go through with a performance on a bed in one of the rooms, and I wasn’t entirely sure if she would, or not. After all, I was the only woman she’d shown herself to, and I doubted her willingness to take her clothes off in front of many other women. Of course, everything depended on one of the other women creating a situation where Mistress could get her wish without being seen to be offering herself on a plate. She couldn’t offer, and being the jealous owner type, I wouldn’t either. We’d have to be seen to have been maneuvered into having Mistress perform on another woman.
My part was going to be quite difficult to get exactly right; I had to get Mistress the sort of woman she wanted to play with, while making it all appear to be completely unplanned. A lot of it was going to have to come from my instinct once things began. I knew Mistress’ taste in women; I’d had plenty of time to judge what got her nipples to stand to attention and her pussy to get wet. Her taste in women tended to run, mainly, to those like herself; small-boned and petite, with a large, round ass and big, firm tits. Facial features weren’t so important, though; big tits were far more important than a pretty face. Now, I knew she wouldn’t want to be made to service another Mistress; she’d want to give a little pleasure to a slave who may not have had a great deal of it recently.
Mistress’ idea worked out quite well. When I led her through the doorway, on her leash, in her sexy outfit, we got a round of applause. There were several familiar faces; all women who seemed to spend a considerable amount of time in the store, along with their girls. While a couple of them had men on leashes, most had young women in tow. Running on my instinct, despite my initial surprise, it only took me about five seconds to guess which set of panties Mistress was going to want to get into. The girl was of mixed race; uncommon in the day. She was in her early teens, standing about four feet ten inches tall, with an ass like a peach and tits like watermelons; just Mistress’ type! Her skin color didn’t matter too much, or at least I didn’t think it would. To look at her, I was a little curious about her parentage. If she’d been born in America, then the black half of her parentage would have to have been slave stock, but what about the white half? Was the other half also slave stock, unable to find a white slave to marry, or a member of the Master’s family; probably one of his sons.
Master himself probably wouldn’t have bothered with a Negro woman, but a horny son with no girlfriend just might have. For a teenage boy, pussy was pussy, and waiting until she reached eighteen often wouldn’t feature in his plans! Sons of rich families often forced themselves onto young, often pre-teen, slave girls, because they were too young to have sex with free women. While it was technically illegal to have sex with any underage girl, even a slave, the cops tended not to give a damn. Usually the illegitimate child would end up in the slave compound because its father didn’t give a damn. After all, he’d already gotten what he wanted, and the kid was often just an embarrassing reminder of how desperate he had been to get himself some pussy. I’d seen it happen with my own eyes. In some households, slaves could do what they liked to one another, as long as it didn’t interfere with the duties they had to carry out for their owners, and if that included the big slave raping any and all of the cute female slaves, strictly according to rota, then who gave a flying fuck? In other households, slaves were required to treat each other the way the owning family treated each other. In my household, if a slave man wanted to fuck a slave woman, he had to get her permission first. Just as a child, I saw the effects of not doing so. He was in his late twenties, stood about two meters twenty, and was built like an ox. The young woman didn’t stand a chance of fighting him off. He was a new purchase and didn’t understand the rules of his new household. A hundred strokes of the lash, and eight hours staked out in the burning sun, taught him the error of his ways, and he never did anything like it again.
I had heard stories whilst in the slave compound of other ways a mixed race child could be conceived. One woman told us all her horror story. Her owner liked live sex shows that he could watch along with his guests. Those shows usually had but one theme, her, and often one or two other white women, being repeatedly raped by several male black slaves, to the cheers of the audience. She’d had three babies to the other slaves, and as soon as those children had been weaned off milk, they were sold off. That was the one thing a slave owner could get into huge amounts of trouble for doing! Whipping an adult slave to death was quite acceptable; yet selling a child of under thirteen could get an owner five to ten years in a jail cell, maybe more, depending on the age of the slave! No slave could be legally sold until he or she had reached thirteen years of age. That was to prevent babies being sold to pedophiles, as had happened in the past. Slaves or not, no baby should be subjected to that, and her owner had been caught breaking that law. All his slaves were confiscated by the state, and auctioned off, and he had been banned from ever buying any more. One of the other young women in the compound with us had been one of those babies and she added her horror story to the others. I realized, as I was listening to them, that my life could have been far worse than it actually was.
Anyway, it was time to manipulate the women in that room, so that Mistress got what she wanted. The outfit was to begin the conversation, and I was to steer it in the direction Mistress wished. Her plan was fine. “Well then, lucky bitch…you’re still hanging on to Miss. Tits, I see. Don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind on parting with her yet?” The same woman who had asked to buy Mistress the first time, was clearly still intending to buy her from me.
I didn’t even see fit to answer the question; mainly because I thought that silence would serve me better than any choice of words. “Didn’t think so. What does she do for you that no other girl could do?”
“She serves me well in the bedroom, like no one else I ever owned. She knew nothing when I bought her, and I taught her personally. Could I buy better? Could your girl do better than mine” I challenged.
“Seems like we need a comparison here! Would you permit your bitch to give a demonstration on one of us?” she asked. Bait taken then!!!
“Well, Princess?” I asked Mistress. “Would you care to demonstrate your talents on one of the women in this room?”
“Can I pick my own partner Mistress, please?” Mistress asked me.
“Anyone have an objection to my girl picking her own demonstration partner?” I asked the room in general.
“No,” was the standard answer from those who voiced an answer. “Bingo, Mistress; you’ve just got your girl,” I thought to myself. “Time to see if I read you as well as I think I can.”
Mistress looked around the room and walked towards the girl I expected she would go for. Seeing as she was still on her leash, I had to follow her. “I’d like this girl, Mistress, if that’s ok,” she said. I looked at the girl’s owner, and she nodded her head. Mistress had got her busty piece of teenage pussy!
“I’ll allow a basic demonstration down here, but any more than that, and she,” I pointed to the woman who had requested the demo, “can pay for the necessary room upstairs.”
“Agreed, just as long as I get a bedside seat,” she replied. “Oh, Mistress” I thought, “this is going to be fun.”
Mistress took the girl’s hands in her own and asked, “What is your name, young lady, mine is Jennie.” I knew that Mistress’ first name was Erika, and I just ignored the lie.
“Abigail,” replied a young woman with a smile on her face at being addressed in such a pleasant manner.
“Well then Abigail, will you allow me to make love to you?”
“Yes, Jennie; if Mistress wants me to.” She turned to her owner and asked for permission. That permission, of course, was immediately forthcoming. Everyone wanted that demo’, and allowing her girl to be fucked by another girl was a small price to pay while I put my money where my mouth was.
“Mistress,” asked ‘Jennie’, “Where should I make love to Abigail; behind the empty counter?”
“It’s as good a place as any,” I replied, seeing as it was as good a place as any.
Mistress unclipped the leash from her collar, and did the same for Abigail. Then she led her behind the empty counter, as many of us leaned over to watch what was going to occur. “Lie down, sweetie,” instructed Mistress. Abigail lay down on her back and Mistress parted her legs, before kneeling between them. We all watched as Mistress open Abigail’s sexy little top and began to tease her little nipples. The music had already been shut off, and we could all listen to the soft sounds of pleasure that Abigail was making. The expression on Abigail’s face told a complete story. I don’t think that her Mistress was a tenth as gentle with her as mine was with me. Abigail was smiling, whimpering and writhing, as Mistress fondled her nipples. After a few minutes, Mistress knelt upright and scooted backwards. She then lifted Abigail’s skirt and pulled down her panties. Poking out her tongue, she began to gently suck on Abigail’s clit and probe the inside of her pussy, at the same time as sticking her ass out. She was giving the body language equivalent of the words, “Here are my dildo holes ladies; does anyone want to play with them for me while I eat this under-age pussy?”
As Mistress munched on Abigail’s pussy, one of the audience members knelt down behind her, and looked up at me; clearly she’d recognized the gesture, and was the first one to work up the nerve to interfere. She raised her eyebrows in a questioning gesture, and I nodded my head. She quickly lifted Mistress’ short skirt to reveal the surprising fact that she hadn’t bothered to put panties on before we came out. I didn’t even know that she hadn’t put any on. “She’s got no panties on!” she announced very loudly. Running a hand under Mistress’ crotch, she brought it out and showed everyone that it was wet. She licked Mistress’ juice off her hand, and put it back where it had come from. After which she began to softly finger Mistress’ tight pussy. I was surprised when she released her grip on her girl’s leash and told her to, “Go and please Miss. Tits’s owner, and keep her sweet!” For the first time in my life, I was going to have a slave girl treating me like a genuine Mistress. I could get her to do anything I reasonably wanted, in order to be pleasured! She walked up to me and asked, “What can I do for you, to give you pleasure, Mistress?”
What indeed? “I want what your Mistress is doing to my girl,” I replied, as I leaned over the counter and stuck my ass out. The girl reached up my skirt and pulled down my panties, allowing me to step out of them. What surprised me most was the fact that I recognized feeling within myself; feelings of jealousy! Despite the fact that I had a teenage girl with her hands up my skirt, I was jealous of the woman who was crouching behind my Mistress and had fingers in her pussy. She was my owner, so what right did I have to be jealous of anything she did, or anything she got? While I wanted to keep that young, fit, body all to myself, I shouldn’t have expected Mistress to be faithful to her slave. The funny thing was that I did expect Mistress to be faithful to me, even though I knew I shouldn’t. After all, Mistress had told me that she loved me, and everyone knew that lovers should be faithful to each other. I suppose, however, that the teenage hands wandering around my ass and pussy were indications that I also was in the process of being unfaithful to the woman I loved, and I wondered if Mistress would feel as jealous of me, as I was of her. However, to judge by what Mistress was doing, I doubted that she’d even see what I was doing, let alone be feeling anything but the pussy on her tongue and the fingers in her own pussy. Hopefully, I also wouldn’t be feeling much more than the fingers in my pussy quite soon.
I felt the touch of the slave girl’s fingers around my crotch, and the unmistakable sensation of the application of artificial lubrication being applied to my pussy lips. Then she slipped the first finger inside me, and as I hoped, my jealousy began to fade as my pleasure began to take over. In a way it was a strange feeling, as the girl giving me pleasure wanted none in return. She didn’t expect to gain anything out of what was happening, and concentrated purely on my pleasure. Despite merely being in her teens, the so far unnamed girl was pretty good at what she did. Her fingers were stimulating my sensitive spots like a professional; as I did for my Mistress. My first thought, after that one, was to offer the girl the same in return, but that probably wouldn’t suit my role.
Anyway, as I enjoyed the sensation in my loins, and listened to Mistress vocalizing her pleasure through Abigail’s pussy, I noticed that everyone in the room was looking down at the three women on the floor. Mentally, I compared the shy, reserved and innocent young woman I had to encourage to show me her pussy, in order to show her what my fingers and tongue could do to it, to the dirty little lesbo slut on the sex shop floor, being fingered by a complete stranger, and eating out another complete stranger. How my beautiful, shy, little Mistress had changed since that first night! I wondered how far Mistress was prepared to go, that day, but I figured that after she’d worked up the courage, she’d go all the way with the woman kneeling behind her. In a way, she was going to discover how the other half lived, because the woman was not going to treat her in quite the same way I did. Mistress wouldn’t be hurt, because that was property damage, and the penalties could be severe if the other woman willfully damaged my property. Injuring another owner’s slave was equal to damaging her car, or breaking the windows of her house. In America, a slave was a valuable piece of property, and prison sentences had been known to be handed out to people who intentionally injured them. Another question I asked myself was ‘did I want to watch Mistress be fucked?’ I decided that I did. I had a gun in my purse, and I thought it likely that I‘d be the only person in the room, apart from Mistress, who did. (Getting a permit to buy a gun wasn’t exactly easy, and getting one to allow you to carry it concealed was much more difficult. The articles of Confederation originally allowed a citizen to carry whatever the hell he damn-well pleased. Times, of course, had changed considerably. The much revised articles from the nineteen twenties put very strict limits on what a citizen could own, and that hadn’t changed much in the following hundred years. While you could own a rifle, it had to be manual operation. Machine pistols were only allowed by special permit, and Mistress and I both had those permits.) I intended to make sure that Mistress was not mistreated, with force if need be.