Allison's Descent into Slavery Part Five, Making New Friends at Broadstone

[Mr. Smith]

The Broadstone Etiquette Academy in which Allison and Lindsey found themselves had evolved over the years with the advent of slavery. Many well-to-do families purchased consorts or concubines for their sons as companions and/or pleasure sluts. These men often were more successful in their studies or jobs than those engaged in the chaotic dating scene with temperamental free women who often as not under-performed sexually. It was not uncommon for these men and their consort/concubines to fall in love and eventually marry.

The best consort candidates were attractive college women with the slave grade of choice plus or higher facing insurmountable debt. Headhunters now located candidates and persuaded them to voluntarily indenture or purchased their debt as a means of involuntary indenture. Some women, knowing indenture was inevitable, sought voluntary indenture as a consort. The period of consort indenture was generally two to three years longer due to the added educational cost and more importantly, the life of a consort was significantly safer than the uncertainty of the auction block for most attractive young women.

Elite finishing schools such as the “Cotillion School for Ladies” in Houston and the “Broadstone Etiquette Academy” in Dallas for consorts groomed these young women into the perfect mates. These ten to twelve month long boarding schools’ curriculum included finance, grooming, cooking, physical fitness, the art of conversation, posture and moving with grace in slave ballet, and sexual proficiency in a wide range of areas. Electives ranging from golf, fencing, wine tasting, to pegging and dungeon play were also available. They also offered a one week course for men covering effective discipline and bondage techniques that included blocks of instruction on the proper use of the riding crop, paddle, cane, flogger, whip and bullwhip.

Some wealthy families enrolled their free daughters in these elite finishing schools, making them more eligible for marriage or as a means of keeping them safe from involuntary enslavement by others. Enrollment required a minimum voluntary indenture of five years to the student’s mother who was then responsible for transferring the indenture to a prospective master/husband.

The Cotillion and Broadstone included mandatory branding on the buttock, thigh, back or vagina for successful graduates. Displaying the Cotillion or Broadstone brand became a popular status symbol for many. It was not uncommon for a now free and married Broadstone girl to prance around a Dallas country club pool in a thong bikini prominently displaying the Broadstone brand on one buttock and the Big D Slave Market “Sandy Foot Girl” brand on the other extolling her fine purebred filly status.

The mandatory branding requirement was a ritual right of passage for these women at Broadstone that symbolized three things: submission, attainment and permanence. The consort demonstrated her submission to her new master by voluntarily draping herself over the branding bench. The Headmistress and mother of the new master burning the Broadstone and their family brands into the consort demonstrated that they deemed her worthy as a consort. Finally, the permanence of the mark left from a scalding hot branding iron brand burned into the skin signified the enduring nature of the consort and master relationship that she was entering into.

Some owners chose a visible placement as a status symbol for the brand dead center on the buttock, the arm, back or thigh where it would be easily noticeable. Others chose less noticeable options such as “between the cheeks”, on the exquisitely sensitive skin on the inner butt cheek or on just above or next to the vagina. These novel placement options allowed the logo to be displayed when needed, and even fondled by her master while breeding, without marring the girl's day-to-day appearance in any way.

Consorts were not treated as common slaves and wore distinctive collars that clearly identified their status. Consorts were often bred by their owners generating children frequently before the end of the indenture and before marriage. Some couples found the consort relationship superior to a traditional marriage resulting in the woman extending her voluntary indenture. Rarely was a Consort out in public slave naked while she was often unescorted by their owner or surrogate owner. Consorts whose college education was put on hold during their initial indenture and subsequent training were expected to finish college obtaining their degrees. While Consorts were still viewed as property a free person could not decide to demand sex or re-direct a Consort to perform a task. To do so was interference with a vested property ownership interest that could have severe civil legal consequences or viewed as theft or attempted theft under criminal statutes. Violators were dealt with harshly.

*****

Mistress Johnson led Lindsey and me down a hallway through some doors and turned right into a large, long hallway that was all glass to my left, opening up into a large courtyard. Across the courtyard was a large three story building that was a twin to the one I was in.

“There is your dorm mother now,” advised Mistress Johnson, as we walked down the hallway.

I hear a loud “Thwack” followed by “Nine, thank you mistress,” in a female voice.

“Thwack” followed by “Nine, thank you mistress,” by a different female voice.

“Thwack” followed by “Ten, thank you mistress,” in the first female voice.

“Thwack” followed by “Ten, thank you mistress,” in the second female voice.

Mistress Kara, my new “dorm mother,” was an attractive, fit muscular six foot tall statuesque woman in her mid thirties with black hair shaved short on the sides, spiked on top with a purple streak. She wore above the knees black leather boots with three inch heels, a black leather skirt, and a grey blouse buttoned at the neck. Just visualize a punk BDSM mistress from hell and that was our new “dorm mother.” She looked up as we approached and either smiled or sneered at us, I could not tell which, sending a chill down my back and a tingle in my pussy. This just reinforced the idea that I have some serious issues with submission.

She was wielding a paddle, a long, cricket bat looking piece of wood that was a cross between a sorority punishment paddle and one best found in a sex dungeon. There were two naked sobbing slaves bent at the waist with red and swollen buttocks lying across a cushioned black leather bench. The bench resembled a pommel horse and was clearly wide enough to accommodate two girls at a time and possibly three.

Further down the hallway I saw two Saint Andrew’s crosses facing the hallway occupied by two moaning gagged naked sweaty teary-eyed slaves complete with slave grins adorning their cute faces. Both were decorated with little bells attached to their pierced nipples that would jingle as they moved about. They also had a device that resembled a chastity belt that would buzz from time to time. When you heard the buzzing the girl would start thrashing around, bells jingling, attempting to hump the air in front of her.

We stopped about three yards down the hallway from the bench when Mistress Johnson stopped walking. She advised, “It will be instructive for the two of you to observe Mistress Kara administering the evening punishments.”

“Nine and Ten, we are done, I do not want to see you on my bench anytime soon,” directed Mistress Kara.

“Mistress Kara, thank you for educating us on the error of our ways,” said the two girls, with tears streaming down their faces, as they stood facing Mistress Kara. They then walked away into the sleep room.

To my left was a glass wall that went the length of the building. To my right going backwards was a large dance studio that looked like it had room for sixty individuals for slave yoga. To the right of the punishment bench were two desks, one for Mistress Kara and the other for security that backed up to the wall between the dance studio and slave quarters. If my back were to the glass wall, to the left of the desks was an open area with the before mentioned St. Andrew’s crosses right on the hallway.

The wall that backed up into the sleep room, opposite the glass wall, had 50 numbered iPads charging in nooks that also had some sort of carrying case and a glass refrigerator with 50 numbered water bottles and a large sink to the left of the refrigerator. Further along the wall were metal dog dishes in three stacks on a counter over shelves full of 20 oz. cans of Purina slave food. Along the top of the wall were ten pairs of brands under the words “First Class.” To the left of the counter was a large doorway into the sleep room which had room for fifty to sixty slaves. Further to the left was the communal bathroom facility.

“Twenty-five and Twenty-six step forward.” Two nervous slaves stepped to the fore. Mistress Kara walked behind the bench, depositing the paddle in an umbrella holder that also contained four canes and another identical paddle. She opened a drawer in the desk and pulled out four small objects and a flogging lash that was just a six foot long thick leather strap attached to a twelve inch handle.

“The flogging lash if swung with full force, even if it doesn’t break the skin, will still hurt terribly. It is designed to bruise and create welts without breaking the skin or causing any permanent damage,” advised Mistress Johnson turning her head towards Lindsey and me.

“Broadstone has a corporal punishment system where trainees are given demerits for a wide variety of offenses, with being late to class, not paying attention in class, not putting forth sufficient effort in class as a few examples. We have rules that we expect you to follow and there will be consequences for non-compliance. Instructors may impose immediate punishment using a riding crop or paddle or assign demerits. Trainees are subjected to corporal punishment every time they rack up twenty demerits. Mistress Kara has wide latitude in how that punishment is delivered. She has the option to use her bare hand, a riding crop, a paddle, a flogger, a cane or a whip. Let’s observe now,” she continued.

While Mistress Johnson was speaking Mistress Kara had attached the wicked looking weighted nipple clamps to the two girls and positioned them bent over the punishment bench.

“The two of you have found yourselves draped over the punishment bench at least once every day since arriving here last week and I have increased the pain inflicted upon you each time. If you do not get your acts together you will be sent to the Obedience School for a week and that will make this look like a walk in the park. This is your final warning,” advised Mistress Kara.

“Ten strokes for each of you for failure to demonstrate sufficient effort in oral and anal skills classes, do not count the strokes as I administer them, do not move off of the bench,” directed Mistress Kara.

Mistress proceeded to lash Twenty-six with the flogger. Each stroke left a livid red stripe that quickly grew into a long welt on the buttocks. After nine lashes Mistress Kara walked up behind Twenty-six and jammed the handle of the flogger into her cunt and started fucking her with it, proclaiming “The next time you do not put 110% effort into your sex skills this handle will be in your ass.” Mistress Kara reached around the girl’s body with her left hand rubbing the sobbing girl’s clit. “Cum for me you slut, you live for this,” as the poor girl erupted.

Mistress Kara stepped back and stated, “And one more to remember me by,” as she delivered a vicious underhanded blow striking the poor girl’s spread-open ass and curling around to lash the entire length of her vagina. The evil tip striking directly on her clit instantly dropped the girl to the ground in a fetal position. After a nod from Mistress Kara’s head, four slave girls scurried over to the sobbing girl and carried her away after removing the nipple clamps.

After seeing Twenty-six carried away by her peers, trainee twenty-five was sobbing and begging, “Please no, I will be a good slave Mistress,” as Mistress Kara moved into position.

“Silence, ten strokes for failure to demonstrate sufficient effort in class, do not count the strokes, do not move off of the bench, if you speak again I will string you up outside and apply all ten strokes to your crotch” commanded Mistress Kara. “Stay in position,” she ordered as she quickly applied nine lashes, each leaving a livid red stripe on the bawling girl’s buttocks.

While Mistress Kara proceeded to fuck the unhappy girl to her own orgasm, I felt Mistress Johnson move closer to me. This demonstration of authority was causing me to pant and my cunt to tingle and start dripping again. I soon felt Mistress’s hand running up the inside of my thigh, over my mound and two of her fingers plunging into my sopping wet hole as she whispered, “This is turning you on. Are you a pain slut, wishing you were bent over that bench?” As quickly as she had her fingers inside me she pulled them out acting if nothing had happened.

Just then, Mistress Kara delivered an excruciating final blow to Twenty-six that was identical to that she had given to Twenty-five, instantly dropping the unhappy girl to the ground curled up on laying on her side. She then walked behind the punishment bench, putting away the lash and retrieving her trusty riding crop.

“Follow me,” directed Mistress Johnson as she walked up to the area in the hallway in front of the two girls on the St. Andrew’s crosses. When I was closer I noticed that both of them had puddles of pussy juice on the floor below them and copious amounts running down their thighs to the knees.

Mistress Kara walked up to them asking, “Do the horny little slave sluts want to be put out of their misery and all that entails or will you wait for the batteries to die in a couple of hours?” Both girls frantically nodded their heads and Mistress Kara removed their gags.

“Eighteen explain why you are being punished,” demanded Mistress Kara.

“Because I had too many orgasms, aaaaahhhh,” she groaned as the device began vibrating again until it quickly shut down. “During slave yoga this afternoon, Mistress,” she continued.

“Seventeen, what is the rule?” asked Mistress Kara.

“During Slave Yoga each slave must have one climax but no more than three each session,” she responded when her trainer began vibrating again. “Please Mistress, help me now,” she begged tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Eighteen look at seventeen and the anguish you have caused her by being an orgasm greedy little cunt,” directed Mistress Kara.

Eighteen turned to look at her fellow slave and started crying. “I am so sorry,” she sobbed.

Mistress Kara walked up to Seventeen and removed the device. It had two dildo like prongs, one for the anus and another larger one for the pussy that was coated in a white creamy vaginal discharge. Mistress Kara took one step back from Seventeen and delivered a blow from her riding crop right on Seventeen’s clit releasing hurricane Katrina.

“Yes! Fuck yes!” she screamed her back, arching as her nipple bells jingled.

As Seventeen started to come down from her thunderstorm Mistress Kara struck a second blow to her clit and the earth shook again for her back arching, a silent moan escaping her lips as the bells continued jingling. Mistress Kara stepped forward, jammed the handle of the riding crop into Seventeen’s snatch and started fucking her hard with it while vigorously rubbing Seventeen’s clit.

“Cum for me slut, do it now you needy climax chaser,” demanded Mistress Kara driving Seventeen to two more quick sexquakes one after the other until she hung limply from the cross as the bells ceased their song. Mistress Kara then turned her attention to Eighteen as she removed the trainer.

Mistress Johnson picked up Seventeen’s device and showed it to us while Mistress Kara attended to Eighteen.

“This is a piece of equipment called the Trident and inserts into the anus and vagina with this pad here in the front goes up against the clit. Using sensors it adapts the shape of the device to fit each woman’s unique anatomy so that it perfectly stimulates the anal nerves, G spot and clitoris. It can sense and safely adjusts to accommodate fresh vaginal piercings. The Trident has numerous programs that can be controlled remotely from a computer or phone and can also detect when the wearer orgasms,” she explained as she pointed out the different parts of the device to us.

“The program used on these slaves is one where the device vibrates at different levels until sensors detect that the wearer is on the verge of a climax and then it shuts down. It can be programmed to do this over and over again which is what happened to these slaves who likely have been hanging there well for over two hours. The batteries can last for about four to five hours,” she noted.

“We use this orgasm denial as a form of punishment as it can be truly agonizing even after a short period of time,” sniggered Mistress Johnson. “As a slave your master controls all aspects of your life from branding, body piercings and when you are allowed orgasms.”

Lindsey and I briefly exchanged horrified looks at the last portentous comment by Mistress Johnson. Just the concept of orgasm denial as a means of control was an insidious concept that I had never contemplated as a free woman used to being in control of my body.

“Beware; it can also be set for continuous orgasms one after another like a rollercoaster ride that never ends which is even more stressful than what you observed here. Every slave punished in this manner has passed out before the battery has died. We also use this device in one of the treatment protocols for hyper slave heat when we have a slave that becomes afflicted with this disorder,” advised Mistress Johnson.

“It is never a pretty sight watching a sister slave writhe in agony for hours on the Saint Andrew’s cross. One of the reasons we use a bite gag is so nobody has to hear hours of begging for relief,” sighed Mistress Johnson.

Mistress Kara finished bringing Seventeen to her last eruption and released the two slave girls who needed assistance from other slaves to walk into their sleep quarters.

Mistress Kara then turned to us saying, “Good evening Mistress Johnson, how can I be of assistance?”

“Trainees Twenty-seven and Twenty-eight arrived this evening and I am turning them over to you. As you probably noticed they are filthy little slaves that stink. Please get them cleaned up, fed, describe what is expected of them and put them to bed. They meet with the Headmistress tomorrow at 8:00 am sharp to start orientation. Good evening,” without waiting for a response she turned and walked away.

I was trembling and my pussy dripping when Mistress Kara walked around the two of us. When she finished her circuit she smirked. “Get into those showers, get yourselves clean, and present yourselves for inspection. If I find a grain of sand on either of you or a hair where it does not belong you will be introduced to the punishment bench. Now move!” she commanded.

Lindsey and I hustled into the shower and started bathing each other in a desperate attempt to get clean. We found ourselves in a large communal bathroom with twelve sinks on the wall that backed up to the sleep room to the left of the sleep room entrance. The far wall made of glass was where the toilets were lined up without stalls. There was an enema station in the corner. The showers were in two rows: One against the two way mirrors that backed up to the hallway and a second row in the middle of the room.

Lindsey shaved away my landing strip and I removed hers. After two shampoos and thoroughly washing each other we dried each other off and presented ourselves for inspection.

“You will stand with your hands behind your heads and rise on your toes when I am inspecting you unless I direct otherwise,” Mistress Kara ordered as she approached me.

Rising on my toes I felt her stick a finger in my ear and I felt the sand that she found when she scooped it up and put her finger in front of my eyes. Then she roughly scratched my scalp finding more sand.

“You failed inspection, you have sand in your ear and scalp. Turn around, display,” she commanded. I felt her breath on my anus as she inspected me for a hair. “Good job no hairs out of place.”

Then she moved on to Lindsey who was trembling. “Display,” she ordered. “You have a few hairs around your anus, stand and turn around.” Mistress Kara then found sand in her scalp, “You also have sand in your hair. You both failed inspection, get over to the punishment bench and assume the position,” she directed.

We were now bent over the leather punishment bench with our butts sticking out.

“You will each receive twenty lashes with the riding crop. I cannot use the paddle, flogger, whip, and lash or cane until your brands have healed.”

She then proceeded to deliver twenty blows to my tender buttocks that stung tremendously. I could feel welts emerging on my behind on each spot she delivered a lash sending shock waves to my erect nipples. My purring pussy was juicing in anticipation of the riding crop handle. The pleasure pain dynamic was fueling my slave heat just as it did when Fred and George fucked my ass. After the twentieth stroke tears were streaming down my cheeks and my cunt was leaking even more onto my thighs as I waited for my reward.

Mistress Kara stepped behind me and delivered, jamming the riding crop handle up my dripping cunt and proceeded to fuck me hard with it, taunting, “You are a pathetic horny slave slut who wants me to use you like this, cum for me now!” and I did and I came hard.

My slave heat drew energy from the pain and pleasure I had just experienced.
The handle driving in and out, the rough leather ridges stimulating my cunt, her other hand diddling my nub, as I convulsed in an exquisite orgasm gasping for breath as my body stiffened in pleasure.

After Mistress Kara pulled the riding crop out of my dripping cunt it was still tingling out of control as my tears adorned my cheeks and my pussy’s drops decorated my thighs. Then she moved on to Lindsey, repeating the procedure culminating with my partner creaming on the handle.

As Mistress Kara worked over Lindsey I lay there on the bench, thinking back to Amelia looking into my soul telling me that I was a submissive needing to break free. She advised me to embrace and enjoy the lack of sexual restrictions that a slave enjoys while at the Big D.

Did she somehow understand how being a slave; bound naked wearing a collar would affect me? What insight did she have into my newfound slave heat? How would a conservative Texas housewife in her fifties even recognize a submissive yet alone know anything about slave heat? I was beginning to suspect there was more to my future mother-in-law.

At the beauty salon yesterday Amelia had cautioned me about slave heat, or more specifically overactive slave heat as she called it. She had warned that being treated like a slave can unleash a woman’s full unrestrained sexual potential where the amount of pleasure becomes heightened turning into the equivalent of an addictive drug leaving the woman seeking more and more sexual gratification. This causes the slave to become more submissive in search of sexual pleasure, needing to sexually serve a master to achieve physical fulfillment.

According to Amelia one symptom of excessive slave heat to be aware of was seeking “good pain” from a spanking, whipping or nipple clamps to trigger greater sexual bliss. The same neurotransmitter that helps control the brain’s reward and pleasure centers, dopamine, is also active in the woman’s chemical reactions that make us feel pain. This dynamic leads to a woman suffering from extreme slave heat to seek “good pain” as I had done when asking to be spanked while being sodomized this afternoon or when I craved more “punishment” from Mistress Kara just right now.

I needed more pain because it would lead to gratification. I needed my ass stinging from the crop while she fucked me again with the handle, giving me more pleasure and pain. I need more pain, I thought, not realizing that my slave heat was taking over again.

“Whip me, whip me hard, whip your disobedient slave, whip your badly behaved slave Mistress,” I moaned out loud in disbelief that those words emanated from my mouth as my slave heat overwhelmed me. Why, I ask myself, what is wrong with me?

Mistress Kara heard my pleas.

“Twenty-seven has not learned her lesson,” proclaimed Mistress Kara as she pulled the handle out of a disbelieving Lindsey who looked at me in blissful confusion.

“Spread your legs wider,” commanded Mistress Kara ominously as she kicked my feet out spreading me legs a good three feet apart.

“You are getting another twenty lashes, both of you since you are a pair,” announced Mistress Kara as she proceeded to whip me with a ferocity that I had not witnessed before as she rained down blows in rapid succession to my red buttocks.

The hurt from the blows evolved into a good pain, throbbing from my ass sending heated tingles to my nipples and cunt in anticipation while tears flowed down my cheeks. I felt as though I was floating, riding the airwaves while being whipped, each blow was a strong gust of good pain engulfing me. Then in a rapid series Mistress Kara delivered the eighteenth blow on my starburst, the nineteenth blow to my pussy and the coup de gras to my launch button, sending me into orbit.

“Yes!” I shrieked, my slave heat burst into flames from the sequential blows to my asshole, cunt, and clit ignited my senses as I saw red with hot sparkles in the background.

I crashed onto the punishment bench, my eyes rolled back in my head, my back arched, my muscles stiffened as the red hot climax tore through me.

Mistress Kara stepped behind me quickly ramming the riding crop handle up my drenched kitty making it purr as she proceeded to fuck me hard while she rang my devil’s doorbell with her other hand, taunting, “You are embracing your slavery trainee as your slave heat transforms you into a feeble horny slave needing to serve her mistress, cum for me again, and again!”

I rode multiple waves; my muscles clenched the leather handle as I creamed hot lava all over her hand. My orgasms felt like I was suspended in air, no I was floating in red hot churning magma, I saw red and orange swirls and eruptions, until I came crashing down on the bench again and again. I knew I was hers and that from this day forward Mistress Kara owned me. My erupting orgasms drew energy from the pain and pleasure she delivered.

Mistress Kara finally pulled the riding crop out of my dripping cunt. My slave heat was momentarily satiated although my kitty retained a faint purring tingle as I lay draped over the punishment bench gasping for breath, sweating, tears on my cheeks, returning to my troubled thoughts as she moved on to Lindsey for round two.

Amelia had advised me that to survive the slave’s personal qualities and uniqueness had to remain in control over the new slave persona and not become overwhelmed like had just happened. My individuality as Allison Stevens was quickly eroding away revealing slave Twenty-seven.

They took away my name and gave me a number!

As a free woman it was my vagina, pussy or kitty, when being playful, to control but now it was their cunt, snatch or twat to use as they saw fit. As Fred so inarticulately put it a free woman controlled access to her asshole but a slave had no power over the use of her dirtbox, rusty wagon wheel, puckered browneye or sluthole. Where did they come up with these names I wondered? My body could now be branded by my owner on a whim without my consent.

My unquenched slave heat had strengthened the new Twenty-seven slave identity as Allison Stevens slipped away.

There was now a duality to me, one part Allison Stevens, the independent young woman in love with her fiancé and the other a new persona of a perpetually horny slut seeking sexual satisfaction that derived happiness from being sexually dominated needing a mixture of pain and pleasure to achieve fulfillment. How would these two identities coexist within me? How much of Allison Stevens would remain five years from now let alone next month?

Twenty-seven’s unquenched slave heat wanted more, much more, from Mistress Kara while Allison Stevens wanted to run away to hide in the safety of Calum’s strong arms with her head safely resting on his chest.

“Stand,” ordered Mistress Kara, snapping me out of my reverie. The leather on the bench was warm; it felt sticky against my skin, my own perspiration forcing me to "peel" myself off of it at the end as I stood unsteadily.

“Three and Four,” bellowed Mistress Kara.

Two slaves came running, stopping in front of Mistress Kara.

“Give these two an orientation tour of our quarters, what is expected of them in the morning, feed them, get them clean and put them to bed,” directed Mistress. “I am going to my quarters now and may or may not return,” as she walked down the hallway.

Three was a cute short shapely blonde with freckles and Four was a tall brunette. Both had nipple and vaginal piercings as did most of the other slave girls; something that I had not noticed until now.

Three took charge, “We do not use our names here at all, you will get demerits if you are caught using your name or another slave’s name. Let’s start by showing you around.”

Moving towards the wall “Over here are your iPads and carrying cases, take the one that corresponds to the number on your collar and put your thumb on the pad. Once it is synched to your thumbprint only you or staff can open it. Attached to the iPad is your apple watch which goes on your left wrist. It is synched to your iPad,” she explained

Lindsey and I donned our watches, turned on our iPads and linked them to us with our thumbprints.

“While I show you how to use the iPad and watch, Four will get you your food. Take some time to familiarize yourselves with all of the functions,”

“Here is your internal email for messages, always check for messages as you are always wrong if you miss one. There is even a GPS guide linked to your collar that you can use to find your way around campus,” Three continued.

“This is your schedule for tomorrow. We have wake-up at 6:00 am and you must be in the dance studio next door by 6:10 to start Slave Yoga on time with Mistress Kara. You do not want to be late ever. Your first appointment is with the Headmistress at 8:00 a.m., followed by medical at 9:00 a.m. You also have Oral Skills and Toys Intro in the afternoon. Toys is one of my favorite classes,” Three giggled as she showed me my scheduling display. I then spent a few moments looking through the apps on the iPad and put it back in the charging cradle.

Four returned with two dog bowls containing a substance that looked disgusting and smelled even worse. The bowls contained a brownish gelatin substance with chunks of something in it. She placed them on the floor, saying, “This is Purina’s Organic Slave chow in a can, a nutrient rich food substitute that we eat three cans a day, breakfast, lunch and dinner. You cannot use your hands to eat the food and must lick the bowl clean after every meal.”

Moving behind me, Four put my hair into a ponytail with a scrunchie advising, “You want to keep your hair out of the food, so support yourself with one arm and hold your hair with your other hand.”

Lindsey and I moved to our knees. Holding my hair with my right hand I leaned forward and took a bite, nearly vomiting almost immediately. It was tasteless...no, that wasn't quite right; it tasted awful and smelled worse. It was clear that Purina did not concern itself over such trivial matters as taste or color or consistency when developing this product.

I was hungry and forced myself to eat the entire bowl of food. The hard part was licking the bowl clean enough to satisfy Three. Finally we polished the bowls leaving each of us with slave food chunks stuck on our chins, noses and cheeks.

Three kneeled in front of me saying, “This is how we clean each other,” as she proceeded to lick the food off my face until clean while Four took care of Lindsey. She finished with a big kiss on my lips saying, “Welcome to Broadstone sister, let’s get you cleaned up.”

She then stood up, pulled me to my feet and led me into the showers as she yelled out, “Welcome party for two.” Suddenly Lindsey and I were each surrounded by five giggling girls who started to scrub us clean. I was in bliss as my sister slaves bathed me. I think my hair was gently washed three times and every nook and orifice was sparkling clean.

Then Three dropped to her knees between my legs and tongue fucked my slit with a passion while the other girls kissed and fondled the rest of my body. One girl even dropped to her knees behind me, pulled my ass cheeks apart and started polishing my rosebud, which by the way felt fabulous. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Lindsey getting the same treatment. Soon I was erupting in another very intense orgasm followed by a second as the girls brought me down gently. After my climaxes they toweled me down.

“Thank you, what a welcome party,” I gushed.

“You are welcome. It’s just our way of getting to know you better,” giggled Fifteen.

“All of you have pierced nipples and pussies. What is the story with that?” I queried the girls.

“The two of you will get pierced this week unless your owner forbids it. The nipples can be pierced at different angles although most of us get a horizontal piercing. This is going to sound strange but the anatomy of your vagina determines which piercings you will get down there. Dr. Allen will explain it all during your medical intake tomorrow,” explained Three.

“Do they hurt?” asked Lindsey.

“Yes, but it is a walk in the park compared to branding,” answered Four.

“The hood ornaments as we call them will stimulate your slave heat by rubbing on your clit. They affect each girl differently but expect to be really horny the first few weeks until you get used to them,” giggled Three.

“I am always wet now and cum quicker, more intensely and more often with my hood ornaments,” sighed Four.

“Most of us actually like our lid knick-knacks once we get used to them after the first couple of weeks,” advised Fifteen. “The Consorts wear all sorts of beautiful jewelry attached to their piercings when they graduate from here. I have seen a couple of girls all decked out and they looked hot.”

“This may sound weird, but I am looking forward to my master’s mother making me beautiful for him by adorning me with body jewelry for my graduation when I submit for my branding. Even if it means I am a slave because I never wanted to be a slave,” sighed Three.

“What do you mean to submit for your branding?” asked a startled Lindsey as we exchanged worried looks with the painful memory of our Big D branding experience fresh in our heads.

“The Broadstone graduation and promising ceremony has a number of rites that include the branding ritual which is taken very seriously. Each girl will get between one to three brands when they graduate and are promised to a master. Everyone will receive the Broadstone brand, usually on the buttock. Some girls are daughters of graduates and their mothers will brand them with their family brand. The mother of the master will also brand the girls with their family brand if the girl is promised,” explained Fifteen.

“Every graduate is escorted by the Headmistress and the mothers involved and voluntarily drapes herself upon the branding bench thus demonstrating her submission as a consort to her new master,” said Four.

“The permanent brand signifies the enduring relationship the consort is entering into with her new master,” clarified Fifteen.

“We are expected to find love and marry our masters. That is why you are given the choice to opt out of this program and be resold at auction,” continued Three.

“The brands signify that our new master’s mother and the Headmistress both find us worthy to be his consort and future wife,” explained Four.

“Each girl is adorned for her branding in beautiful ceremonial jewelry hung from her collar, cuffs and piercings that is a gift from her new mother-in-law. I look forward to the day when I will look gorgeous for my new master,” gushed Three.

“This is one reason all of us are pierced in preparation for that ritual,” reminded Twelve.

“Keep in mind you are a slave and do not have a choice. Your owner has already decided your piercings for you and Dr. Allen will finalize which you will get,” advised Four.

“Accept it now and work with Dr. Allen, ask her questions about the piercings you are getting, what the options are, and how they will affect you, she is really great, she will work with you,” said Three.

Don’t be surprised if she strips down and shows you hers,” giggled Fifteen. She graduated from Broadstone and married her master and has children with him.”

“Now we need to get you ready for bed,” advised Three. She took me to a sink and brushed my teeth while Four took care of Lindsey. “We all use the same toothbrushes, so rinse it off when you are done,” she advised.

Then they led us to the toilets to take care of business. Once we were done, Lindsey and I wiped each other clean and washed each other’s hands.

Three walked up with two small butt plugs and some lube saying, “I will do the first one for you,” as she had me bend over.

She rubbed a cool gel onto the plug and then worked her finger into my tender ass, pulled out her finger and shoved the plug in. I gasped in surprise. It did not hurt even though I was sore from this afternoon; I just had a strange fullness back there that I quickly became accustomed to.

“Every day you get a bigger one so you will be ready for pony play on Friday,” explained Three.

“Pony play, what’s that,” asked Lindsey.

“You are scheduled for pony play at the equestrian center on Friday. All ponygirls have tails that are held in place using a large butt plug,” explained Four. “Have you ever seen ponygirls on TV?”

“I have when channel surfing. How the tails were held in place never crossed my mind,” I responded.

“Trust me you do not want the pony tail inserted cold turkey. I saw one girl who had not practiced get her tail. When her master could not get it in, one of the trainers bent her over and forcefully jammed the tail into the wailing girl,” explained Three. “Her high pitched scream reverberated through the barn. Stupid ponygirl.”

“I guess we need to take this seriously,” said Lindsey looking at me with another apprehensive look.

“If you practice, increasing the size every day you will be fine, it is easier than anal sex,” explained Three. “It is the same training procedure they use to help make anal sex pleasurable and it works.”

“I was an anal virgin until this afternoon when two wranglers forced themselves on us and that hurt like hell,” said a visibly concerned Lindsey tearing up. “I never want to feel that kind of pain again,” sobbed Lindsey as she began to lose it.

Four and Twelve quickly took Lindsey in their arms and began soothing the frightened girl. “They will teach you how to enjoy anal sex and one way is using these plugs to prepare your ass to accommodate the pony tail plug and a cock. They start small with plugs like this one and then gradually use larger and larger plugs until you are ready,” explained Twelve.

Four bent Lindsey over and Twelve gently worked some lube into her asshole while Eleven helped out and started massaging Lindsey’s happy button and fingering her kitty. Instantly Lindsey was shuddering in bliss giving Twelve the opportunity to push the plug into her ass while Lindsey was in the throes of yet another orgasm.

“Oh,” exclaimed Lindsey as she felt the plug invade her tender ass. “Thank you for helping me through this,” she giggled as she came down from riding her wave. “That did not hurt and my ass just feels a little full,” as she turned and hugged each of her new sisters that had helped her.

“It was not as bad for me between my slave heat being on overdrive and having done it before. My only anal was when playing slave girl for Calum and it hurt bad when he forced his cock up my ass, then if began to feel good until I had an anal orgasm, and then it hurt like hell the next day,” I whispered blushing to the sniggers of the other girls. “My plug feels fine right now and I think I can take a bigger one tomorrow.”

“You may be a natural then,” laughed Three talking to me.

“She is a natural hero. She saved me multiple times during that ass fucking this afternoon and I will always be grateful,” said Lindsey as she gave me a warm hug.

“Time to put you to bed and you can dream about anal,” giggled Four taking Lindsey’s hand.

Four and Three led us into the sleep room which had 50” by 75” futons along both walls. A few spaces had thin pads instead of futons and some futons had comforters and/or pillows. She led us to our futon with the numbers “27 & 28” over the pair of five foot chains attached to the walls at the head of the futons.

“Futons, comforters and pillows are all rewards for good behavior. You start with a futon and can either lose it or earn a comforter or pillow. Twenty-five and Twenty-six lost their futon and comforter so they will sleep on the pad. You must be chained every evening by 10:00 p.m. lights out or you get demerits,” explained Three.

“Lights go on at 6:00 a.m. when your chain releases you have ten minutes to go to the bathroom and be in the dance studio standing on your number ready for slave yoga every morning. Slaves wear a sports bra for all physical activities unless instructed otherwise. Your bra is hanging on your number in the studio,” advised Four.

“You will not be released to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night so make sure you go to the bathroom before going to bed every night. You can cuddle together for warmth if you are cold. Ask any of us any questions that you have and we will try to answer them. You are now part of our sisterhood here. Good night, sisters,” said Three as she and Four each kissed us both on the cheek and left us on our futon.

I was lying on my right side, arms around Lindsey, now Twenty-eight, our breasts pushing against each other and our legs intertwined. We looked each other in the eyes and I felt like I was being held by my best friend, a friend that I had not met until this morning and never had the opportunity to have a meaningful conversation with.

“Thank you, I never had a chance to thank you for; when those men butt-fucked us, I was losing it,” she said, choking up tears forming in her eyes. “Something weird happened that I am still trying to understand.”

“I saw. We survived it,” I whispered back as I wiped away the tears with my fingers and kissed her forehead giving her a reassuring hug. We held each other for a few minutes while she regained her composure.

“Cumming like I did when I was butt fucked begging to be spanked was so embarrassing. I do not know what got into me all I know is that I am always horny. It happened once more with me asking Mistress Kara to whip me resulting in another incredible orgasm. I am so sorry to get you whipped a second time,” I whispered.

“There was a part of me that enjoyed it. The second orgasm was more intense,” giggled Lindsey. “Part of me wanted to thank you for asking for more while I was still horrified at the prospect of more whipping.”

“My pussy is always moist and tingly ever since I was slave naked wearing the collar for my grading,” I confessed. “I had the most powerful orgasms of my life today and it really scares me.”

“Did you cum on the auction block?” she asked.

“Yes, and it was the most intense one of my life, almost a tie with the last one with Mistress Kara, followed by when I squirted on the pussy post, and the one when I was butt fucked while kissing you. I have never squirted before,” I said in a soft voice. “I keep wondering what is so wrong with me that I am constantly aroused and having powerful climaxes as a slave.”

“Mine on the auction block was my most powerful ever, I squirted and almost passed out,” she sighed. “I have also been constantly horny since seeing you squirting on the pussy post and I too, have been wondering what is wrong with me all day. This constant sexual arousal scares me.”

“It frightens me, too. I am glad that I am not alone with these weird sexual feelings,” I murmured. Lindsey nodded in agreement and we held each other in silence.

“And now they will pierce our pussies to make us horny,” Lindsey sighed. “I am already too aroused. My clit is extremely sensitive now, if it is touched I will cum instantly.”

“How are we supposed to take more sexual stimulation?” I groaned softly.

She whispered fiercely, “We stick together, support each other, pick each other up when she is down and no matter what we never abandon the other no matter how hard the challenges.”

“Deal,” I whispered back as I moved in for a kiss. “I feel like I have known you forever and can trust you like no other friend I have ever had,” I responded.

“Same here, let’s get some sleep, I’m exhausted, we can talk more tomorrow,” she responded snuggling in closer.

“Together forever,” I whispered.

“Together,” she replied with a kiss on my cheek.

I was now a slave, collared, chained to the wall, lying naked on a futon in the arms of another naked slave girl who I had just met today. Although I was scared and terrified I felt safe right now in Twenty-eight’s arms as we cuddled together for warmth. I felt a love for her, not like I felt for Calum. It was a love of camaraderie, common purpose, friendship and trust. Yet, even now my cunt was tingling and wet. It had been that way ever since I put on the collar in the parking lot. What is happening to me? As I fell asleep my last thought was “What is wrong with me? What is causing me to constantly feel tingly and wet?”

Addendum:

In the story Fifteen mentions the “The Broadstone graduation and promising ceremony has a number of rites that include the branding ritual” for all of the school’s consort graduates. As will be explained in greater detail later in the story the use of family brands on the consorts was developed by the Broadstone founders and instituted in the first graduating class. Each of the founders developed a family brand, many of which were from former cattle ranches. If the consort has an identified master at the time of her graduation she is “promised” to that master and will receive his family brand on a location to be determined by him or his mother (family). Some girls are daughters of graduates or are sponsored by a family that has a brand. These girls will also receive that family brand, usually between the cheeks on the left buttock, at the graduation ceremony.

By reading the brands on the slave consort you can often to a certain extent track her lineage. The eventual branding for the Barbara character as she was sold at auction at the Big D and graduated from Broadstone with traditional brand placements looks like the following: She received the Big D brand on her left buttock (when purchased), the Broadstone brand on her right buttock, the Davidson family brand between the cheeks on her inner left centered on her asshole, and the new master/husband’s family brand on the upper back around the right shoulder blade.

The losing family’s brand is generally smaller in size than the gaining family and is discreetly placed by the consort’s mother. The new master’s family brand as it signifies current ownership is often larger and more prominently displayed. This brand is applied by either her new master’s mother or another female relative at the consort’s graduation or later at a separate promising ceremony when she is promised to her master.

The ultimate location of the Broadstone brand on the consort is a discretionary decision by the new owner and is placed on the slave by the Headmistress. The family brands are optional as some families may have no brand or opt not to place it on the consort. I hope this helps clear up some of the branding components for the story that would not easily fit into the narrative.

Addendum 2: I had a chart with the scheduling display but when I pasted on this site it turned into gibberish. I may add it later if I can figure out how.

[jeepster]

Wow! This just keeps getting better and way more interesting!

[Mr. Smith]

Nice continuation of the story and the new idea of a high class slave finishing school for concubines is wonderful.
On a minor note, I have been wondering about how much other people can use a slave that isn't theirs. Can you make a slave pleasure you without asking the owner? If anyone could use a slave it could turn into a free for all and damage the slave. Maybe a master could place a special symbol, or just write on the slave that it is fine to use it. Thoughts?

[Mr. Smith]

Gary,

I have read in a number of stories where slaves are used without their owner's consent by a number of different authors. These instances occur at the slave markets, during transport and at other times. We even have instances where a free woman to two has been sexually or physically abused. I envision some of these expensive consorts out in public unaccompanied by their master or his agent. In order to protect them since slaves have limited rights I created a class of slaves that is hands off. I guess another way of putting it regarding consorts is their owners take their property rights seriously and obtained statutory protection for them.

Who had legal ownership of Amy when the figure eight clit piercing was put in her at HCI? The court eventually ruled against HCI.

I do not believe a slave can really decline to service a free person if their owner is not present? I am also curious as to other opinions on this as it impact to some degree how I write this story.

I am glad you have enjoyed the story so far. It is more challenging creating this new consort structure for characters than putting them through an existing slave market structure.

Mr. Smith

[Mr. Smith]

I have been wondering about how much other people can use a slave that isn't theirs. Maybe a master could place a special symbol, or just write on the slave that it is fine to use it. Thoughts?

This consort idea is clearly new territory and I can see the need to protect these unique slaves (and one's investment) from harm. I like the idea of an outward identifiable symbol identifying a particular slave as off-limits. There are stories where attempts have been made to protect a slave from abuse during transport using chastity device. however, the culture of seeing all slaves as something less than human with little or no rights works against this system.

It seems only natural that if someone spends a great deal of money on a slave, he/she would want to protect their investment in some way. I did read a story some time ago about an crime syndicate that used a pendant on a slave collar that identified them as syndicate property. The pendant had a camera that continuously captured images - a surveillance device as it were, to allow the syndicate to monitor their property. The syndicate was so ruthless that only idiots attempted to mess with a slave wearing the pendent as serious prolonged torture followed by death ensued.

Just food for thought.

Hooked6

[Carl Bradford]

Gary raises a very interesting issue about use of slaves by non-owners. I'm certainly no expert, but for me, it goes something like this:
In theory, the owner controls whatever the slave does, beyond showing respect for a free person. This would be particularly significant if the slave were, for example, functioning as a sex worker such as a lap dancer--no pay, no play (see my description of Nikki Sheldon in that role, which reminded me of a Kajira with a cashbox on her collar in the Gor novels).
In law, I suspect that this is something similar to the question as to when an organization can telephone you under the do-not-call rules. By that, I mean that if the free person has a pre-existing relationship with the owner and slave, sex is OK--someone in the family, someone whom the owner allowed to use the slave yesterday, a house guest, a servant, etc. should all be able to demand at least oral service from the slave unless expressively forbidden. When I wrote "Adjusting My Attitude," the managing partner of a law firm "borrowed" Danielle, the feminized slave-protagonist, from his/her owner to fix a computer problem, and then (since Danielle was already on his/her knees, under the desk) used Danielle for a blowjob, just as the boss would have done with any of the other "sissy slaves" owned by the firm. I believe (could be wrong--my memory is declining) Joe Doe once suggested that a slave left in a pet waiting room at the club, beauty parlor, etc., might be used unless the owner put a do-not-open sign (or some other restriction sign) on him/her (which also applies to shipping seals on gags, butt plugs, etc.)
In practice, since a slave is not supposed to defend herself/himself, then an unaccompanied slave might be considered fair game, at least by disreputable free people. The citizen could always claim that the slave had been disrespectful and needed to be disciplined. Legally, using a slave under those circumstances would be theft of services and/or trespassing on someone else's property, but in practice, how many people would be prosecuted for that? I deeply regret to say it, but I suspect that slaves, like prostitutes in our real society, wouldn't get much consideration if assaulted in that manner unless the owner (or in our society, some powerful person) pushed the issue.
Thoughts. anyone?