Chapter Twelve
Six bald, naked girls stood in the center of the gym floor. Their hands were clasped behind their necks and their legs were spread. A burly man stood behind them with a heavy leather strap in his hand. Another stood before them and spoke.
“In three weeks there will be an auction,” he said. “Each of you will be sold to the highest bidder. You have all been conditioned to obey. You have learned to ask for punishment and accept it with gratitude. You have learned to find pleasure in pain, to ask for nothing and give everything. All that remains is for you to be conditioned physically. You must be toned so that you are prepared for the rigorous demands of slavery. You will be happy to know that your diet will be excellent from now on; though you will not be allowed enough food to make you soft and fat. Every other day for the next three weeks you will be brought here for strenuous exercise. On alternate days you will be allowed complete rest. We are going to make your bodies more beautiful than they have ever been before.
“We will start with push ups. I want twenty five from each of you. I will count the cadence. My assistant will be standing by to assure correct form.”
So it went. The strap fell on any girl who wavered or failed to complete the required number of repetitions. They chinned themselves on a bar. They did sit ups, leg lifts, and knee bends. They did parallel bar dips. Within an hour, all the girls were streaming sweat and displaying blushing bottoms.
Two of the trainees, a petite girl and another with Eurasian features, were very weak, and suffered the most. After nearly every exercise they had to bend over in front of the other girls and count aloud the strokes which seared their buttocks. Before the morning was half over, both girls were weeping steadily. Kim’s heart went out to them.
At the end of the session, the four who had performed well stood by and watched as the two who had failed each spent a half hour pedaling frantically on an exercise bicycle while the strap urged them on to greater speed. The bicycle seat was outfitted with two large, rubber dildoes impaling the user, adding to her discomfort as she rode.
After lunch they were allowed to soak in a hot tub together. The churning water soothed the ache of tired muscles. Kim relaxed in the water, finding herself face to face with a tall, pale skinned girl who had luminous green eyes. Their eyes met, and Kim saw the girl silently mouth “Katy”. She was introducing herself. Kim understood the need to reach out to a sympathetic soul. She felt it too, and answered silently “Kim”.
A trainer came in, carrying a strap. “Time’s up,” he said. “Everybody get out and stand over by the blower until you are dry. Most of you will be going to new cells now, comfortable cells with real beds and windows; but two of you seem to have energy for idle chatter, so I think that a half hour each on the bicycle is in order.”
Minutes later, Kim found herself astride the bicycle, the dildoes working inside her, the strap driving her on, pedaling furiously to nowhere. Katy watched and waited her turn.
Afterward they were taken to their cells. Exhausted, Kim fell upon her bed. The last thing she saw before she fell asleep was Katy. The girl was in the cell opposite Kim’s, standing at the window, basking in the light of the setting sun.
Morning brought boredom. Kim lay on the bed, nursing sore muscles. She missed reading. She missed working. She even missed television. She knew that their isolation was deliberate. The old reality had been stolen from them, and they were forced to accept a new reality. They had numbers instead of names, nakedness instead of decorative and protective clothing, pain and uncertainty instead of security and routine. It was human nature to seek comfort and protection, and now their only safety came from pleasing the ones who tormented and controlled them. Kim missed her Mistress. She felt abandoned here, one slave among many, special only when she sinned.
It was a long day.
The next day was better. Kim was grateful for the activity of their workout. She had gained strength during her rest day. Though the demands of the trainers were greater, she only earned punishment once. On the chin up bar she was only able to complete half of the ten demanded, and had to remain hanging from the bar while the strap swept across her seat five times. Otherwise she was untouched.
The small girl who had suffered so much in the last session seemed even weaker today. Kim wondered at it, watching the girl from the corner of her eye. Then she decided that the girl was slacking on purpose, that for reasons of her own she was inviting the kiss of the strap.
This day they ran laps wearing wrist and ankle weights. When the small girl stumbled and fell, an anal plug was forced into her and secured with a chastity belt before she was driven to run again. She wore the plug for the rest of the day.
During “rest breaks” they were directed to assume awkward and humiliating postures and hold them. From time to time, one of the trainers would pull a girl from the ranks and rape her casually while the other girls held their poses and watched.
Katy wouldn’t meet Kim’s eyes in the hot tub that afternoon. She was afraid of being disgraced and punished again. Kim understood this, and knew that she wasn’t being snubbed. A slave girl had to look out for herself.
When they were dry, the other girls were taken to their cells to rest, but Kim was taken to the private chambers of Mistress Gyve. She was thrust into the suite and the door slammed behind her, locking automatically. Kim fell to her knees and bowed her head, expecting the Mistress to appear. It was some time before the complete absence of sound told her that she was alone.
She cast a cautious eye about and saw a piece of paper lying on the bed. She stood up and approached it as though it were a bomb, expecting a trap of some kind. There were two words written on the paper.
“Surprise me.”
Kim knew that her Mistress had written the note for her. She wanted a surprise. Kim thought hard. What was the last thing that a frightened slave would be expected to do? What would please her Mistress most?
Sarah unlocked the door an hour later and found the room empty.
Sarah laughed aloud with genuine amusement. “Hide and seek?” she asked. “Is that the game?” It took her five minutes of searching to decide that 123 was not anywhere in the suite.
Biting her lip, Sarah pressed the intercom. It’s not an escape attempt, she told herself. The girl was doing too well for that. Sarah was dimly aware that she was taking that possibility personally, as though flight would be a rejection of her.
“Yes, Mistress Gyve.” The voice on the intercom sounded faintly amused, as though he enjoyed a practical joke that Sarah was not a party to.
“Did you bring 123 to my quarters tonight?”
“Yes, I did.” He was really enjoying himself now, making her work for the information.
“Do you know where she is now?”
“Yes, I do.” His laughter was barely contained.
Sarah put a little bit of ice into her voice. “Would you care to tell me?”
He recognized the beginning of an ass chewing when he heard it, and his tone became placating. “Nothing to worry about, Mistress Gyve. She used your intercom and called for an escort to the punishment room. We have her down here now, keeping our dicks hard until you show up.”
It was true. When Sarah entered the punishment room, she found Kim bound over the bench. One guard was buried to the hilt in her mouth; a second was riding her hard from the other end. Two men were playing cards at the table, waiting for a turn. They all looked a trifle sheepish when they saw Sarah, like boys caught playing with themselves. This party had not been scheduled, of course, but they had reasoned there was no harm in putting in a little overtime.
Sarah put away the stern look that had settled on her face. What the hell is this? she asked herself. Am I becoming jealous of a slave? The slave girl, her head held fast between the hands of the man who was using her mouth, could only cast questioning eyes toward Sarah.
Sarah used her fingertips to trace a slow line from the slave’s bobbing head to the base of her spine, where a large, greased organ was pumping roughly in and out of her rectum.
Sarah knew what had happened. The girl had arranged for a surprise, calling for an escort to the punishment room. She had probably assumed that the guards would simply secure her there and leave her to wait for the Mistress to arrive. No one had told them to turn this into a gang bang, but then, no one had told them not to. The slave had certainly been in no position to refuse. They were rapists. It was their job. They were doing it well.
Nevertheless, Sarah reasoned that if this slave’s idea of a surprise was asking for a trip to the punishment room, then she deserved everything she bargained for and more.
“Let me know when you have finished here,” Sarah told the guards, and left.
“It’s a good thing that you have tomorrow off,” Sarah commented.
Kim turned her head to look at her Mistress. The slave was still bound fast to the bench. Her head was all she could move. There were circles under her eyes. She had been hard used.
“Yes, Mistress.”
“You were going to be a cocky little slave girl, sitting in the punishment room with a whip in your mouth, waiting for me to find you.” As she spoke, Sarah spread the girl’s bottom cheeks and observed the swollen orifices, seeping slowly with semen. “You didn’t know that the guards you summoned would charge such a heavy transportation fee. Do I have it about right?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Sarah rinsed out a rag with warm water at the sink, and pressed the intercom on her way past.
“Yes, Mistress Gyve,” a voice on the intercom answered.
“Pipe me through to the speakers in the slave quarters,” she directed. “I have an announcement to make.” Waiting, she gently washed Kim’s bottom and said: “Your little friends back in the dorm are having lights out right now. They need something to tuck themselves in with.”
There were clicks on the line. “Done,” said the voice on the intercom.
Sarah raised her voice slightly to be heard in the cells. “Girls,” she said, “I know you all trained hard today, and all of you are tired; that’s why your friend number 123 and I have arranged to perform a lullaby for you.”
She tossed the rag back into the sink, leaving Kim’s buttocks wet. She took a rubber whip down from the wall and slashed the air with it. The whistling sound that it made was audible in every cell. “I will provide the music,” she said, “and 123 will sing.”
Kim sang, but it was a song of joy as well as pain. She raised her voice in praise of the whip. If her Mistress wanted screams, she would give them gladly.
Kim spent the next day in bed with her Mistress, and was amused by the sympathetic looks the other girls gave her when they were assembled in the gym for their workout on the following day. They didn’t know her hours of pain had been repaid with a day of pleasure. What did the marks on her bottom matter, or the fading ache in a rectum repeatedly used? She had spent a whole day making love with her Mistress. It was worth a greater price.
They were worked hard that day, but Kim attacked the exercises with a new enthusiasm. She noted that the petite girl did miserably again, inviting the inevitable strap, and Kim decided that it was all a sham. She had come here to be punished, of course. Kim was the only one among these girls who had entered Domain with no idea of what to expect there. The others had been warned, even allowed time to think it over. She wondered how many of them had come to Domain filled with ripe fantasies, only to panic when they found out the reality was more than they were prepared to bear. Once there, they had to bear it. Their contracts were binding, and escape impossible. Whatever motives brought them there; they shared a common fate. They were all slaves now.
They trained hard as the days went by, and Kim suspected that they were all becoming motivated less by fear of the strap and more by pride. They were making the grade. The fire had tempered them instead of consuming them. They were punished less often now, and their marks began to fade. They filled the places where fat had once been with lithe muscles. They were beautiful slaves who sweated with pride.
During the evenings, and on their rest days, Kim waited impatiently for the summons to bring her to her Mistress’s side. She was amused by the looks of pity the other girls gave her when she was taken away; though she often returned covered with marks. She walked with joy, knowing that her pain was a tribute to the Mistress who had singled her out. She was desired more than the others. She was the chosen one.
Kim sat in the punishment room and waited for Mistress Gyve to appear. She wasn’t comfortable. The saddle she rode was no wider than a bicycle seat, and two large rubber dildoes impaled her deeply. Her feet dangled a foot from the floor. Her arms had been bent up high behind her, bound together, and fastened to her collar; so she was unable to use her hands to ease the strain of her position. Every movement of her hips rocked the dildoes inside her. She had been there for some time.
Mistress Gyve came in, pulled up a chair, and sat down to watch her. The Mistress had an air of sadness about her Kim could not understand as yet.
“Do you have anything you wish to say?” Sarah asked.
“Yes, Mistress.”
“You may say it.”
“May I come down? I have to pee.”
“Do it where you are. You have permission.”
Kim fought back tears. A flood of urine burst from her, flowing over the saddle and dripping to the floor. Sarah used the hose to rinse it down the floor drain and flood the sundered loins with icy water.
“Better?”
“Yes, Mistress. Thank you.”
“You will be sold tomorrow.” That was it, a simple announcement, flatly stated. The Mistress betrayed no emotion, and Kim had no way of knowing how hard it had been for Sarah to bring her this news. Kim mistook Sarah’s control for coldness. The tears that she had been holding back flowed freely now.
“Can’t you keep me, Mistress? Haven’t I pleased you?”
No look of pain was allowed to cross Sarah’s face. “It’s the law. When training is completed, slaves are sold to the highest bidder. I can bid for you, but there will be others, and some of them will be able to afford a very high price.”
Kim wept hopelessly while Sarah watched. If only there was a way to explain, Sarah thought. She was as much a subject to the laws of Domain as any slave. Though her rank gave her some status, she could not select a slave for herself without entering the winning bid at the public auction. She wished desperately that it were otherwise. Now she had to find a way to distance herself from this girl. It was always a mistake to get emotionally involved with a slave.
“I will bid for you,” she promised.
“Thank you, Mistress.”
“It has been hard for you here, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“You have had much to bear, but you have come through. I will always be proud of you. Whoever buys you, you must serve well. Learn to desire only to please your Master, as you once pleased me.”
Kim tried to speak, but a new fit of sobbing prevented her.
“I can’t stay,” said Sarah. “I hope you understand.” She kissed Kim hard and turned to go. When her hand was on the doorknob, Kim pulled herself together long enough to call after her.
“I love you, Mistress.”
The Mistress stood regarding the slave coldly for a moment. Then, striding back into the room as though inspired by helpless rage, she lifted a ball gag from the wall and jammed it into Kim’s mouth. She pulled the straps tight enough to hurt. “That should teach you to mind your tongue.”
She slammed the door when she left.
Kim dangled another hour before two guards lifted her up and carried her back to her cell.