Excessica Anthology BOX SET Winter (48 page)

* *
* *

“You
will leave here today, slave. You are considered trained now and you’ve been
assigned a place within the organization in which you may serve. Today we’ll
make the preparations to ship you to your destination.” My trainer, whose name
I never asked and was never told, stood there in front of my cell and said the
words, but they didn’t sink in.

What
did he say? I’m leaving . . . no please I can’t leave. I want to be with him.
Fear
cut into me and I begged. “Pleeeease, Sir, can’t I stay and be your slave!”
This life was my life now. Nothing mattered except doing as he instructed.

He
only laughed at my suggestion. “No, I will move on to train the next bitch who
may well occupy this cell. There is no place here for you anymore.” He opened
my cell door and I felt terrified to leave this short, dark space which I’d
hated when I first arrived.

“What
will happen to me, Sir? Where am I going?” Fear made me ask this question and
in my anxious state I imagined his answer might make a difference.

“Another
foolish question. It matters not and I must get you ready. Stop trying to
delay.” He reached out with his crop and gave me two quick lashes on my belly.
There was no hint of emotion or concern for me in his voice or his actions and
I realized I was not a person to him just another sexual beast he had trained,
nothing more.

“Come,
we must get you cleaned you up and processed because we don’t ship dirty
bitches.” With that he held out the clip end of his lead and I knew what was
expected of me. Bitter tears formed as I presented my nose ring to be clipped.

Next
I was washed, roughly but thoroughly, including my bodily orifices. Once that
was achieved, I was strapped down to a table and my trainer left only to return
with a man I’d never seen.

The
man carried a tray and when he set it down on a smaller table next to my head I
saw he had all the tools of a tattoo artist laid out on it. He doused a cotton
swab in alcohol and began to clean the inner part of my upper left thigh with
it and I realized I was about to be marked.

I
had never been tattooed, but I was not afraid of the pain for I’d been
subjected to far greater pains as punishments during my training. What I did
wonder was what he would put on me; perhaps some seal marking me as owned by
the organization Fausto used to run, or would it be something more personal,
something unique to me.

When
it was done my trainer was the first to get a look. “It’s nice work, Andy, but
then what we ask doesn’t require your true talents.” He flexed his arm which
had a tattoo of a naked chained woman on it and suddenly I realized it was
Andy’s work which I’d seen many times. “Do you want cash this time, or your
usual?” My trainer asked with a wry smile.

When
Andy turned towards me I already knew what he was going to say. His usual
seemed quite easy to discern considering what I was. How else would a sex slave
pay for services rendered?

Andy
quickly climbed up on the table and pushed his cock in my mouth to rut there
for a while until he was hard enough to stab it deep in my pussy. When he was
done collecting his payment he left and my trainer released me from the table
straps. Knowing I’d be curious, he allowed me a moment to examine Andy’s work
on my thigh.

Oddly,
Andy’s work was all the things I’d speculated it might be as it clearly marked
me as owned and it was unique to me in the sense that I suspected no other
slave would wear one exactly the same as mine. However there was more to it
than that for as I sat staring at the tattoo in a very real way it penetrated
my self-image and sealed my fate by forcing a sort of visual acceptance of what
I’d become. I even touched it to be sure it was real and it was of course.
There was no denying it anymore because I could see it written on my thigh in
half-inch tall, blue, inked letters which read
Slave 278.

* *
* *

Now
I’m lying in pink foam inside a large open crate. The foam conforms to my body
and it’s soft like a cocoon of silk. My trainer stands over me with a syringe
in one hand and an oxygen mask in the other, but before he can attach the mask
and slide the needle in my arm, I need to say something to him. “Goodbye,
Master, this slave will miss you.”

There
is a fleeting moment, perhaps just a second, when I think he will say
something, but he does not. Instead the mask goes on, the needle slides into my
arm, and things get blurry before I pass out. I am on the move again.

* *
* *

The
hacienda is closer now, but my tired muscles strain at the yoke after another
hard day of slavery. There are many enslaved women on this plantation, but I
occupy what must be the lowest form of slave life. Daily, I tend to the base
needs of workers in the fields, the slopes, the barns and other well-concealed
work areas here. The estate is deep in the mountains of Columbia and we grow
coffee, raise small herds of cattle and horses, grow fruits and vegetables, and
of course we also grow, process, and ship the more infamous product of dried
Coca plant leaves.

As
I move about the plantation, I bear the burden of water, but don’t be fooled
because water is not what these sweaty men want most from me.

“Come,
78, faster, you are summoned. I must bath you quickly for
El Maestro
summons
you.” It is my overseer Hector’s voice I hear as he rushes up the hillside to
meet me. This is unusual for this
El Maestro
is my owner, the Master of
the plantation, but he is also a man I have never been deemed worthy of
meeting. As a lowly field slave, I have no access to the main house and no idea
who runs the organization Fausto once owned before I toppled him off his
pedestal of power. This has never been a matter of concern to me until now, but
my mind begins to ponder.
Why does he want to see me now after almost four
years?

However
the pondering of a slave is not what Hector wants. He is a man of action and I
am reminded of this by two vicious stings of his crop on my backside. “Faster,
we must not keep him waiting long.” At first he grabs the short chain lead
dangling from my nose ring to compel faster movement, but then he stops,
remembering I will fall if I go faster due to my hobble chain.

In
an instant he surprises me by dropping to his knees and unlocking the ankle
cuffs and tossing my hobble chain aside. Then I am astonished at his next
command. “Drop the yoke and run, bitch.”

We
do and when we get back to the barn Hector bathes me, but his bathing
techniques are more suited to horses than human females. With cold water and a
brush he removes my outer layer of sweaty grime, but when we arrive at the main
house the house slaves look at me as if I am not fit to enter.

Two
gorgeous slave girls clad in diaphanous silks are ordered to prepare me and
they led me by my nose to a place I’d nearly forgotten, a place where make-up,
lipstick, and feminine beauty are exalted and practiced.

The
house slaves don’t have nose rings, but they do have the same blue numbers
tattooed on their thighs and they set to work making me into the beautiful
flower I once was. Bathed, scented, and made up, I am dressed in the same sheer
soft silks they wear and I experience a thousand memories of a life before as I
stare into the mirror at the face of Kelly Rawlins.

One
of them whispers in my ear. “You’re beautiful and you could be a house slave if
he wishes. Would you want that?”

For
a moment my mind goes blank as I try to reason it out.
Do I want this kind
of life?

“Does
El Maestro
, or other men, use you daily?” The question is embarrassing,
but I must know if I will get enough sex as it now rules my life.

The
tall redhead giggles before replying. “I was used two days ago by the head chef
and tomorrow
El Maestro
will have me
.
”

This
meant she had gone three days without penetration and I have a hard time even
imagining that. Suddenly I am afraid of losing my purpose. “Is that why I’m
here, to become a house slave?”

Both
of them looked at me with odd expressions. “We have no idea. This is for
El
Maestro
to decide.”

* *
* *

Minutes
later I am upstairs, kneeling on a cushioned carpet in the position mandated
for slaves to greet
El Maestro
with my face and chest pressed to the
floor in supplication. For a long time there is no sound, but then a door opens
and I heard footsteps approaching from behind me. Two sets of footsteps I
guess, one male and one female as I hear the telltale click-clack of heels.

What
should I say if he wants me to become a house slave?
To refuse him would be
dangerous, but I felt strongly I would not be happy as a pampered, but less
used sex toy.

“You
may rise, slave, or should I say Kelly. Sofia and I wish to speak to you.” It
wasn’t his words that stunned me and threw me back in time; it was the voice I
recognized so easily.

Alberto!
Alberto is El Maestro. No, it can’t be.

Yet
it was true. As I turned around there is his face. A face I’d loved then hated
and cursed, before ultimately forgiving. I’d invented reasons why he’d betrayed
me, but I’d never suspected it was all a simple thirst for his uncle’s power.

Alberto
was accompanied by an exquisitely beautiful, dark-skinned, green-eyed, young
woman. This I assumed was his sister Sofia who I’d never met face to face.

After
looking over Sofia, my eyes went back to Alberto and it was like being caught
in a time warp. Part of me was still Kelly Rawlins in that dressing room four
years ago and I was enraged at him, but another part of me was a fulfilled and
satisfied slave girl who had forgiven him.

“Why,
Alberto, why did you do it? Was it just to go take over Fausto’s power? You
could have just left me.” More than anything I needed to know why.

Alberto
laughed. “Kelly, do you really think I’m so simple. Do you truly imagine I cast
you down into a pit of slavery on a whim?” He moved toward me, but I took a
step back showing a fear of what he might do.

“Remember,
I own you so if I’d wanted you to experience pain, I could have had you whipped
every day. If I’d wanted to ravage your body why have you never seen me all
these years?” Alberto smiled and I realized he was right and so when he reached
out and fondled by breasts I let him do so. His hands, they felt so familiar,
so damn good, as they brought my nipples up in aroused expectation.

“You
have cleaned up well, Kelly, and you’re still a very gorgeous woman. Sofia
wishes to sample your charms.” Alberto made a motion towards Sofia with his
hand as if inviting her to sample my body. As being used was my purpose I did
not try to stop her.

Sofia
also started with my breasts, but she didn’t spend too much time there before
she slid her soft hand down over my belly to my pussy. Expertly, as every woman
is with their own anatomy, she slipped fingers inside while teasing my already
eager clit with her thumb.

With
the sexual pleasure flooding in, I now closed my eyes to savor it. As a slave,
I had long ago learned to let others do as they please and simply enjoy the
sensations.

Sofia
worked my slippery cunt in a manner which told me she’d done this more than a
few times before. She said nothing until I moaned and pushed my crotch forward
to give her greater access to my sex.

“Yes,
Alberto, she’s clean, in good shape, more than sexually responsive, and I’m
sure with some refreshing she’ll remember how to keep my books. Her training,
her long blonde hair and the blue eyes are a plus I approve of. I’ll take her.”
Sofia’s tone was completely business-like as if she had just done a deal with
her hand deep in my wet cunt.

My
eyes flew open just as Sofia’s hand withdrew from my sex. “What? Alberto, what
does she mean?” I was scared because I didn’t understand exactly what had just
happened. Had I been sold?

Alberto
smiled slyly. “Sofia has just graduated from Dartmouth University, which to my
way of thinking is far too cold a place to live, but she likes it there. As a
graduation gift I’m setting her up in business, but Sofia is a bit, well, shall
we say mathematically challenged. She likes to run things, but abhors details
so she’ll need a good accountant who can double as her submissive bitch slave.
I told her all about you because luckily, you fill both those needs.” He paused
to let me speak, but what he said was too hard for me to grasp right away. The
concept of leaving here and going back to America was frightening, but at least
I had one thing to hold onto; I would still be a slave.

“I
will warn you. She is quite strict with her slaves, perhaps more than you’re
used to.” Alberto commented.

Looking
at my new Mistress, I found his warning hard to believe, but I did wonder how
it would differ to serve a woman. No doubt there would be subtle differences,
but sex was sex right, and surely I’d still get more than my share of hard cock
as her slave.

“Do
you have anything to say to your new Mistress, slave?” Alberto asked, but I
simply couldn’t think of what to say to Sofia, so I just went to my knees and
kissed her feet as a sign of my subservience to her. Yet it was another story
as far as Alberto was concerned, as there was still the one question I intended
to press for an answer.

“As
you wish, Alberto, I will serve Sofia, but I want one honest answer from you
before I go. Before when I asked you if my betrayal was all about you getting
power, you inferred it was not. If it wasn’t, then why did you send me into
slavery?” For me the air went out of the room at this moment as I waited in a
vacuum for the answer to a question which had perplexed me for years.

“My
decision was made the night you fucked Fausto at the hotel room in Phoenix.
That night you revealed yourself to me much as he said women do. I know you
said you did it for us and for my family, but what you weren’t admitting to
yourself was you wanted it and you enjoyed every second of it. I did what I did
because you told me what you wanted more than me.” He paused and kissed me, but
when he looked at my face after I must have looked confused. “Kelly, you gave
me directions. All I did was buy you a ticket to where you wanted to go. Can
you tell me I was wrong?”