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The Seasoning House: Part 2

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Danicali299
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Joined: Mon Apr 27, 2020 3:37 am
Gender: Male

The Seasoning House: Part 2

Post by Danicali299 »

If you've read anything I've written before you know the drill. My slavery universe is dark, and you've been warned.

If you would like to enjoy part 1: viewtopic.php?t=1141

Also if you would like to know where this character was introduced into my universe, you will find her in this part of Anna's Story - viewtopic.php?t=1088

Also, as usual, I would like to thank Zee, Carl Bradford, Mr. Smith, EroticStorySpinner, and Avvy for all the input and editing that you guys give me while I write these things.


The Seasoning House: Part 2

I could lie and say that I was so exhausted from cleaning that kitchen that I just passed out as soon as I was locked in, and my head hit the pillow, but that was far from the truth. Instead, the reality of what my life had become still overwhelmed me as all I could do was stare up at the ceiling and cry as quietly as I could under my blanket, so I didn’t wake up my neighbors.

By this time of night, we were all locked into our stalls by the cable around our ankles, and though it was late, I could hear a few slaves crying while others were having quiet conversations with their neighbors. What I didn't hear, however, was the sounds of sex and pleasure I had heard earlier in the hallways. It threw me off, but after a moment, I realized that after a day of training as sex servants, the last thing on any of these slaves’ minds would be getting off. It was refreshing to know that this dorm would hopefully be my escape from all the sex and degradation of the training periods, and I hoped to make a few friends myself while I was there. Even if they were just slaves who I would most likely never see again. Unfortunately, I had no friends here at that moment, and it was just me and my thoughts while I struggled to fall asleep.

While I was lying on this uncomfortable mat there was no training to distract me and no mindless kitchen work to keep me occupied. Meanwhile, my thoughts were running free in my head and making me remember all the bad things that had happened since I was arrested. I hated these moments, and hated the constant reminders from my own mind that I was a slave now too. It was like my own conscience was punishing me repeatedly for a single mistake and I couldn’t stand it. Then as I turned over in a futile effort to find a better position to sleep I could see my neighbor lying there staring at me like there was something wrong with me.

She was pretty compared to how she looked earlier, and even had a nice face under that dirty blonde hair once all the “cum” had been? washed off. Still, I could tell just by looking at her that she didn’t come from my kind of people.

Then again, once that barcode was put on my wrist, even I wasn’t “my kind of people” anymore to anyone who didn’t know me. I didn’t even know if my own friends would recognize me in this state. They would probably choose to “not recognize” me even if I greeted them, given how far I had fallen. I had seen it before in our group. Tiny things that people did that got them ostracized. It was just how it was with the richer crowd at school. One day you’re partying it up with your friends, the next day you’re family is on the news because of some scandal, and the day after that you’re being ghosted because nobody wants to hang out with someone that is about to be in the process of negotiating indentures to pay for the rest of their school.

This was beyond all of those petty faux pas and social status bullshit, and I already knew that a few of them were making fun of me as soon as they found out what I was now. I did it too, and definitely didn’t expect my friends to be much better than me. Regaining my previous social position seemed like an impossible dream, no matter how much I wanted it to be untrue.

The shitty truth was that, no matter how much I knew I was better than the majority of the slaves around me, to the general public I was still a slave whose only advantage was having a slightly less shitty job than the others. It was honestly torture being treated like nothing, when I knew what I was.

Still, I humored her attempt to get my attention as she quietly greeted me and said, “Hey honey, I’m Amanda. What’s your name?”

I quietly responded, “I’m Mei, I’m new here.”

This was the warmest introduction I had received from another slave up to that point, and I even felt a little bad for labeling her as white trash before she could even say hi to me. She was still white trash, with her Pennsatucky accent confirming my suspicions, but she was nice.

She even tried extending her hand out to me while quietly saying, “It’s OK, your first days are always gonna suck. If you want to hold my hand and cry it out nobody here is gonna judge you.”

I didn’t want to, and I hated looking so pathetic in front of this woman, but I did take her hand and let out a few tears into my pillow that I had been desperately holding back. It felt good to let it out as I could feel her squeezing my hand, even though I was just going to open my mouth and fuck it all up anyway. It did help however, and after a good cry Amanda let go of my hand now that I was able to just lie there hugging my pillow while the fatigue finally took over and I was able to get a few hours of sleep before they woke me up way too early to make breakfast.

It was good sleep too, until I was roused by an overseer pulling on my leg as he unlocked the cable around my ankle. I didn’t even get a chance to open my eyes before I was ordered to grab my kit and get cleaned up by this guy who was acting like making slaves breakfast was the most important thing in the world. Luckily, after I was on my feet he was a bit more mellow as I shambled into the shower and made sure to take all ten minutes I had on the head’s timer just to spite him. I even took my sweet time brushing my teeth and hair afterward, just to annoy him since he couldn't do anything about me using my allotted time to my knowledge. Still, as I was being taken to the kitchen I realized that what I just did was way too risky to ever do again.

Once I arrived in the kitchen, I got some good news at least. Making breakfast was ten times easier than making dinner, and since I ruined the rice last night my job that morning was going to be putting trays together so I didn’t “ruin” what was already shitty food to start with. I still had to help mix the large amount of powdered eggs with the others, and was disgusted that powdered eggs were even a thing, but after that it was a pretty simple job. All I had to do was put an egg patty with a slice of “cheese” on top, two slices of “toasted” slave loaf, and an orange drink on each tray with a packet of hot sauce and a flat wooden “spoon” the size of my thumb that looked like it came straight out of crappy school lunch ice cream.

All in all, it wasn’t much better than dinner. It was better looking than dinner though, and I was even able to make mine into a cold “breakfast sandwich” like the others after we were done cleaning the kitchen. The biggest surprise, though, was the fact that powdered eggs actually didn’t taste that bad. The real thing was preferable, but these were ten times better than a chicken patty and gravy over rice. I could tell that the other slaves and the overseer were waiting for a repeat of last night, but this time I was going to keep my mouth shut and my face blank as I sucked it up and ate my cold and disappointing meal.

The bitch who tried to deck me last night, Nadia, even had the gall to say, “See, Scab, it’s not that bad once you lower your expectations. Some slaves only get loaf every day, and you’re getting a real meal here. You don’t realize how good you have it.”

I tried to keep quiet and ignore her, but now I was pissed. I snapped back at her, “Well, sorry for having standards little miss everything is perfect. What’s next? You’re gonna tell me that I should be happy that I get a blanket too? Maybe if you had higher standards in your life you wouldn’t be in here arguing with me right now.”

That was obviously the wrong thing to say, and before I could even see it coming I felt a full-force punch hit my face as I staggered backward into the wall and just slumped down in a daze as Nadia was yelling something about her being born a slave at me while the overseer and the others pulled her away from me after another one of her punches hit me. I guess I touched a nerve, and our altercation got the attention of a few trainers and overseers who rushed in to see what was going on. Mistress Khatri was one of them, and judging by her death stare I was definitely going to pay for this, even if I wasn’t the one who started the fight this time.

My prediction was confirmed a little while later, and after everyone was done writing out the report, me and the bitch who punched me were forced to kneel on the floor in front of our respective trainers and find out how we would be punished. We were both to receive a beating, while Nadia was to be starved for two days for her part in the “fight”. I, on the other hand, was seen as the “instigator” and got food reduced to a few slices of bread for for three days, while the rest was a mystery that Mistress Khatri was going to leave up to my imagination.

A few minutes later our trainers came back with a pair of wet bamboo canes, and a double-ended dildo with six inches on each side that had some straps on it. I had no idea what it was for until Mistress Khatri knelt next to me and jammed the thing down my throat and tightened the straps on my head while I was gagging like crazy and struggling to not puke. Then it was Nadia’s turn and as we were forced to lock eyes I could see hers immediately get wider as I could see her struggling not to get sick just like me. I wanted to see her suffer for punching me, but at the same time I did feel a little bad for her as I could see her frantically trying to control her gag reflex and swallow whatever she could while we were being awkwardly moved into a good position for a beating.

Once we were in position, our trainers didn’t waste any time, or even take turns as they gave us our strokes without mercy. Nadia took the first hit, and I felt some satisfaction when I got to hear her pained whimpering through her gag. Unfortunately, that feeling was only temporary and ended very quickly once I felt the cane hit me for the first time.

Like Nadia, I yelped and whimpered in pain while Mistress Khatri was mercilessly delivering blow after blow to my back without a single pause. After a few more strokes we were holding onto each other out of necessity and couldn’t even tell who was getting hit anymore as we just did our best to ride it out.

Luckily it was a short punishment, even if it did feel like an eternity while we were getting hit. Nadia and I were even holding onto each other still as the tears fell down our faces and we caught our breath as the trainers loosened the straps on the back of our heads. I couldn’t wait to get this bitch off me, but at the same time, she was the only thing that kept me from having a panic attack during my punishment. Maybe I did owe her an apology. She seemed to think the same way, and as soon as her side of the dildo was loose she immediately let go of me and pulled away from me before I even had a chance to thank her.

Afterward, I could tell that Mistress Khatri was extra pissed at me and that punishing me had put her behind before the day could even start. There was no first aid, there was no chance to catch my breath, and there wasn’t even a chance to clean up before class. All I got was a cup of salt water poured on my back to “disinfect” it. That only seemed to make the little cuts the cane made hurt even worse as I was pulled to my feet by my hair and led off to my first class by Mistress Khatri.

When we arrived at our classroom, we didn’t go in at first. Instead, Mistress Khatri pressed me up against the wall of the hallway and menacingly said, “This will be the one and only time we ever have this issue, slave. You are nothing now, and whatever life you had before this place is worthless here. You will get along with the other slaves, and you will own whatever shitty decisions led you here. Are we understood?”

I gave her a fearful nod as quickly as I could in the hope that she would stop pressing my recently-beaten and still-hurting back into the wall. I also hoped that the beating and potential starvation would be the worst of it all that day. Unfortunately, Mistress Khatri had other plans that I didn’t know about as she led me in front of my class.

The slaves were confused as she loudly said, “Alright ladies, I have a little announcement to make.”

Then once she had their undivided attention she said, “This is Mei, she thinks she is better than all of you because she was a little rich girl before she was a slave. She is being starved for three days, and if any of you give her food out of charity you will get double the time she got.”

Then she told the slaves exactly what I said in the kitchen to Nadia, in addition to what I had said the night before. Judging by the looks on their faces, they weren’t my biggest fans at that moment and the dirty looks pierced me like needles. Even Amanda was giving me a death stare even though she had comforted me just hours before that. It was humiliating being up in front of everyone like this, and I was almost in tears from the shame of being outed in front of my whole class.

Then she started laughing a little and said, “What I find most amusing about this stupidity is that she accused a chattel slave of being a slave for making “bad choices”. Does anyone else find that amusing? Did any of you choose whose cunt you came out of? I thought not. And yet here she is… the one who made “bad choices” and became a slave like the rest of us? I find that terribly entertaining, and I’m laughing so hard right now”

Her voice as hard and cold as ice, with each bitter syllable driping with scorn and venom as she gave the slaves in front of her a little monologue. Although I immediately felt defensive and tried to spin her words in my head to make myself the injured party, it was futile. She was entirely right, I realized with a sinking feeling, and I was entirely wrong and my own stupidity was going to cost me big time.

By that point I didn’t even realize that I was speaking out of turn and started tearfully apologizing until Mistress Khatri put her hand over my mouth and sternly said, “You’re only sorry that you got called out, now let me finish speaking before I give you another day without food.”

Then she cleared her throat and said, “This slave will be my little gift to all of you for the next few days. Think of her as your class slave, and think about how nice it would be to get eaten out or get a nice massage after a long day of training. If she does good enough, she may even earn a few scraps of your dinner to help her through those hungry days. That one’s up to you ladies, though, now let’s get those asses lubed and those strap-ons ready for some fun.

After that introduction, I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I didn’t like it as we were paired off and I was stuck with Mistress Khatri again. I already knew that anal was going to probably hurt, and started to worry as I bent over the bench and closed my eyes while I waited for Mistress Khatri to make me suffer. Then instead of pain, I got a surprise once I saw her kneeling down in front of me until we were eye to eye.

I could tell that she was still pissed at me, but I could also tell that she was all business in this moment as she curtly asked me, “have you ever done anal before?”

I shook my head and she looked annoyed as she responded, “All right, you need to relax or this is gonna hurt worse than it needs to. Now I want you to breathe like this shit is yoga while I get you lubed up.”

It was probably good advice, but at that moment I didn’t think any amount of breathing or relaxing would help me take that thing. Then almost as soon as she got behind me, I could feel a thin object sliding into my ass before it was slowly pulled out of me. I didn’t know what it was, but I could feel it depositing cold lube inside me and that gave me some comfort at least, even if I doubted whether it would be enough to do the job.

To be honest, I didn’t even think that I could take the strapons we were using. These things were almost ten inches long, and despite how smooth they looked from what I saw hanging on the rack in the middle of the room, looked like they were going to tear my insides apart. Still, I hoped that she would be somewhat gentle with me, even if I was being punished.

After being lubed up I didn’t know what Mistress Khatri was doing behind me, but I could hear her adjusting something before she grabbed my ponytail and sweetly said, “It’s ok to cry your first time, even I squealed like a pig the first time I took it in the ass.”

It wasn’t comforting to hear that, and my breathing got heavier as she pulled my head back by my hair and started to probe me with the tip of her strap-on. I didn’t know what to do, and all I could do was close my eyes and clench my ass in anticipation of what was coming. I didn’t want to get fucked in the ass, but at the same time, I just wanted her to get it over with instead of her toying with me.

Then she leaned in and whispered, “I’m not putting this thing in you until you stop acting like an idiot and breathe like I told you to. Now, breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth and relax. After a few minutes, it won’t even be that bad.”

It wasn’t hard to properly breathe, but relaxing was impossible, as I could feel Mistress Khatri’s gloved fingers in my ass while she was trying to get me used to the feeling of my opening getting probed. It didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the strap-on and even felt a little good as she massaged the inside of my ass with her fingers.

Then she lost her patience with me and pulled my hair back while sarcastically saying, “Ready or not, here I come," before I could feel the cold head of the strap-on enter my ass and stretch me worse than any shit I’ve ever taken.

Luckily Mistress Khatri wasn’t a monster and gradually worked her way deeper with every thrust instead of the sudden hit I was expecting. I was happy about that, and even though I was still whimpering in pain and clenching like I wasn’t supposed to, the lube was doing its job well and she was soon sliding in and out of me like it was nothing.

That being said, her thrusts still had me on the verge of tears from the pain of my ass getting stretched like that. It was like nothing I had ever felt before, and my body was shaking from the pain as I could feel her going deeper and deeper every time I felt her enter me. Eventually, she went so deep that I could feel it in my stomach, and by that point, I was just holding onto the bench for dear life while the uncomfortable bulge was forcing me off of the table a little bit every time she went in.

I couldn’t wait for it to be over as I glanced at some of the others on either side of me struggling just like I was, as their partners were being just as rough as Mistress Khatri was being with me. This was clearly one of those things that would take a while to get used to, and I assumed that these training sessions were just there to get us accustomed to how it was supposed to feel.

Then after a little bit, I could feel the muscles in my ass contract, and a wave of ecstasy washed over me as my pain was momentarily replaced with a long orgasm that came out of nowhere. I didn’t expect it, but it was a welcome relief from how uncomfortable all of this was; I didn’t want that feeling to go away as the discomfort and pain set back in almost as fast as it went away.

Once she noticed me cumming, Mistress Khatri gave my ass a hard slap that made me squeal a bit and said, “Good, we got an orgasm out of you. Now it’s time to get rough and really show you what you can handle.”

I didn’t like how that sounded one bit, and the idea that what was already bringing me to tears was the alleged “gentle” part scared me. Then, as Mistress Khatri dug her nails into my ass cheeks and thrust even harder than she already had I could feel what she meant by rough. The noises I was making after that weren’t human, and every successive thrust left me out of breath and begging for mercy while Mistress Khatri was encouraging me to “let it out” the whole time she was pumping her dildo into me.

The sickest part of it all wasn’t the noises or the fact that I could barely hold onto the bench as she pounded me. It was the fact that I somehow got another orgasm out of that while submitting to a psychotic woman destroying my ass and manhandling me like I wasn’t even alive. It felt good, but it also felt wrong as she finally pulled out of me for the last time and let me collapse onto the bench in a sweaty and exhausted heap.

Luckily, I wasn’t alone, and most of the other slaves on the receiving end were in the same boat as me as we rested our heads on the bench. Unfortunately, we only got to rest for a moment before Mistress Kahtri yelled for the slaves with the strap-ons to clean their equipment while the rest of us were ordered to line up. I didn’t want to get up, and I could just feel the lube leaking out of my aching sphincter as I took my place in line and tried to stand up straight after what Mistress Khatri just did to me.

I had assumed that the slaves would switch positions and all come away from class with a sore ass. Instead, we got the “mercy” of being on the receiving end every other day, so our poor asses weren’t destroyed by the time we left the seasoning house. According to Mistress Khatri, the brothels still wanted us to squeal a little for the customers that were into that sort of thing. I personally found the thought of that sick, but I guess I didn’t have much choice in it anymore as I lined up next to the others.

It wasn’t for anything bad; I was delighted to see each one of us being handed a thick bundle of paper towels to clean ourselves off with. The others seemed happy to help each other get cleaned off, but after Mistress Khatri’s announcement, I was alone with nobody willing to help me get the harder-to-reach areas of my body that needed to be wiped off. So, while the others were getting nice and clean, I was forced to stand there on my still wobbly legs and miss half of the mess that I needed off me before we had to get ready to move on to the next part of our class. Before our class could move on, however, I had to be punished for failing to properly clean myself.

Mistress Khatri didn’t like how much mess was still on me, so while one of the other slaves led the girls in their kegel exercises I was forced spread my ass cheeks in a corner while she sprayed me off with a hose that was in the corner of the room. The water was ice cold, and the pressure from the hose hurt my already sore ass as I was forced to kneel on the floor and get washed off like I was a dirty dog. Then to discourage this “failure” in the future Mistress Khatri thought it would be appropriate to shock me right on my soaked ass cheek. Luckily it was only one or two shocks, and it was time to get going.

Our next class was in the Vaginal Lab, and it was pretty tedious even though Mistress Khatri made an effort to make it “fun”. There was a mix of different sizes of dildos to mount, and we got to play a literal game of musical chairs with them. I was supposed to ride my assigned dildo for a seemingly random amount of time, and as soon as she clapped her hands twice, I was to stop and start cleaning it off with my mouth while she went around the room and squirted some fake cum inside of us. Then she would turn on the radio and make us circle around the room until the music stopped and we had to ride the dildo we were in front of.

Some of them vibrated, some of them were basic, and some of them even gave us a single light shock if we couldn’t go down on the whole length of the thing. The girls who were there the longest could tell which ones were the good ones and would often selfishly do everything in their power just to get a good dildo to ride. Thanks to the efforts of a few of the others keeping me away from them, I never got to find out what the vibrating ones felt like, but I did find out what a shock deep inside of my pussy felt like. It fucking hurt, no matter how mild Mistress Khatri said it was.

It was absurd, but it made sense to me after I figured out what she was doing. This little game was designed to simulate a variety of men using me and teach me how to get used to the constant orgasm denial I would be getting due to these “men”, for lack of a better way of saying, finishing before I got to cum. It was evil, and the frustration of not even being able to masturbate between dildos left me on edge, but it was a necessary evil that was surprisingly helpful once I realized what was going on.

Yet she wasn’t a monster and did let the girls finish themselves off on one of the dildos before the end of the period. All except for me. I was still being punished, so I got to deal with Mistress Khatri lightly playing with my clit and keeping me just on the edge of orgasm while I was forced to stand there watching all the other women have the mind-blowing orgasms that they had been working on for the whole period. She even got me close to a small one with her teasing, and once she noticed how close I was she decided to pinch my clit instead, so my impending climax was replaced with a sharp pain instead. Fucking bitch.

After that session, it was three periods of classroom work, with desks and everything. I had no idea why a sex slave needed to learn anatomy or the basic science behind sex, but here I was sitting there naked at a desk paying attention to a lecture on where nerve endings are concentrated on the human body. I even got my first introduction to the concept of “slave positions” during sex, and the pros and cons of each of them during a lecture about what it’s like to work in a real brothel.

Doggy style was already my favorite, so the slave position version of that seemed right up my alley. What I didn’t like was how there was no middle ground taught to us. We were either supposed to ride the customer and do all the work, or just lay there and take it. I assumed that customers could change things up mid-session, but Mistress Khatri told me that most men who came into her brothel just did it one way out of laziness or preference when I raised my hand and asked her.

Other than those subjects, her lessons spanning those periods in the classroom consisted of boring procedures that were common in brothels, and how the health department screenings worked so we weren’t freaked out by some shitty doctor swabbing the inside of our pussies and/or buttholes.

Overall, it was boring and the only thing keeping us paying attention was the risk of punishment as we all eyed the clock in anticipation of our assigned recreation time. Once that came, I was in for a “fun” surprise, however.

While I was on punishment, I was not allowed to have any rec time. Instead, I got to spend it on my knees sucking a good-sized strap-on that Mistress Khatri was wearing over her pants while she watched the other girls play. She was not gentle, either, and kept her hand on the back of my head the whole time pushing my head into the thing like we were in a porn movie or something while the rest of my class played basketball. When I was a kid, playing basketball or running track was just something I did to please my parents’ need for prestige, not something I cared for. But here and now, gagging on a plastic cock while hearing the delighted sounds of girlish glee… I wanted it so very much.

I did get some semi-good news when I was mentally preparing to work with Nadia again. I was officially banished from the kitchen, and that made me ecstatic inside until Mistress Khatri told me the bad news. The time I would’ve been spending in the kitchen would be spent on my hands and knees scrubbing floors in the hallways until my lower back felt like it was on fire. I walked by our slave doing this same task so many times, and only when I was the one scrubbing did I realize how back breaking such a simple looking task was. It also amazed me that these floors could get so filthy in a single day, and by the time I was done with a single hallway, I realized that being assigned to the kitchen was a gift to the new girls that I had just thrown away. Still, as Mistress Khatri said, I had to own the stupid decisions that brought me to this point and somehow fix this as best I could.

Then, once my cleaning was done, I was finally able to return to my dorm and hopefully sleep my way through the hunger I was feeling by that point. Unfortunately, the slaves in my dorm liked the idea of having power over the new girl and seemed to want to make full use of me. They even made an overseer-approved fucking schedule while I was gone so that every girl in the dorm had a chance to use me like their slave. It was bad enough being a slave, but being a slave’s slave was its own kind of hell and I didn’t know what to think as the first girl on the list took me to her “room” and made me give her a back rub and a foot massage while she laid on her sleeping mat moaning with the same pleasure and relaxation that I used to feel when my slave took care of me after a long day.

By the time I was done with her a little while later, my hands were cramped and felt like they were on fire as she left a good-sized spoonful of rice and a small amount of gravy on the tile floor and said sarcastically, “Here you go slave. Don’t eat it too fast”.

I went to pick it up, but she stopped me and crushed it into the floor with her foot while saying, “No hands, scab. You think you’re so much better than me? Just be grateful that I was nice enough to give you anything at all.”

It was humiliating, and I could tell she was testing me as she crushed another spoonful into the floor and invited me to eat my dinner as I just looked at it wondering what I should do. Was I going to debase myself in front of this woman and make myself even more pathetic, or was I going to starve because I was better than eating mashed rice off of the floor?

In the end, my hunger won that argument as I put my hands behind my back as instructed, and ate this dirty and cold rice off of the floor like I was a dog. The worst part of it wasn’t even that. Once I was done licking it off of the floor this slave, Dawn, made me lick the remains off of the part of her foot that she used to crush the rice with too.

I hated her at that moment and silently hoped to get back at her someday, but she did feed me when she didn’t have to and that meant that I did owe her some gratitude. Still, it was humiliating to be treated like this as I kissed her feet in gratitude and held back my tears while moving on to the next slave I was supposed to service that night.

This humiliation continued for the next few hours, and all I had to show for myself by the time I was locked in for the night was the equivalent of a small handful of rice and a chunk of chicken patty. Most of the other girls I serviced that night didn’t make me lick their scraps off the floor, but it was still humiliating to beg for scraps from the other slaves. It didn’t even make the hunger go away, it just teased me with food while my hands hurt to close, and my body hurt all over.

In the end, all I could do was cry myself to sleep, and this time there was no Amanda to help me as the pain and humiliation overwhelmed me while I was breaking down under the covers. She had already told me that I deserved what was happening to me, and she hoped it would teach me some respect. I was on my own, and I didn’t need these bitches. Hell, being their “slave” was motivating me to do better than them just to make them look bad. I was not going to be beaten this easily, and I was not going to let myself be broken by a bunch of slaves just because I told someone the truth.

By the next morning, however, that fire seemed to be gone. I was even hungrier than the night before, and the knowledge that I wouldn’t get food until the evening filled me with dread as I attempted to wake up as quickly as Mistress Khatri wanted me to. I didn’t even know why I was being made to get up that early, either. I wasn’t working in the kitchen anymore, and assumed that meant that I got to wake up with the other slaves. I obviously assumed wrong.

Instead, I got to deal with Mistress Khatri rushing me through getting cleaned up so I could get some extra training in before my first period. I had no idea what this “extra training” entailed, but to my groggy eyes, the two other trainers joining her in this session made what was about to happen not look very fun.

It also didn’t help that two out of these three dicks were real this time, and there was a pretty big difference between men and dildos when it came to real sex. Still, despite how nervous I was, I intently watched one of the male trainers take off his pants and lay down on the padded platform.

Then one of the male trainers nodded to me and said, “well, what are you waiting for? You know what to do.”

I didn’t really know what a slave was supposed to do in this situation, but I didn’t want to reveal that. Instead, I awkwardly climbed onto the platform and clumsily put the provided condom on him before mounting him in the “slave position”. This was my first time having a free person inside of me like this, and it freaked me out a bit as I guided his cock inside of me and started bouncing up and down on top of him like I saw the sex slaves we rented for our parties do to the guys when I was free.

I wasn’t nearly wet enough for it, but luckily the condom was lubed, and the trainers instructed me to play with myself for a moment while I was riding him. It actually felt good to feel the warmth of the real thing, and I could tell by the trainer’s reaction that I was doing a decent job too. After a minute or two I didn’t even mind the unnecessary audience critiquing my form. Unbeknownst to me, however, there was more to this training session than I thought.

My audience intended to turn this into a double penetration session as soon as I was wet enough with the man on the bottom, and before I even knew what hit me the other male trainer slid his cock into my mouth and started to face fuck me while I was still expected to properly ride the other guy. Then Mistress Khatri joined in on the fun and started groping me to distract me from the task in mouth and in pussy. Overall, it was simply overwhelming having the sex that was usually reserved for slaves.

I couldn’t even freak out at that moment; all I could do was frantically ride one trainer while struggling to keep myself still enough up top to avoid pissing off the guy face fucking me. Luckily Mistress Khatri stopped groping me once she saw how bad I was doing and instead decided that she would use my hand as a dildo instead. It wasn’t any less distracting, but it did feel nicer than my tits getting squeezed like a stuffed animal.

After a few more minutes of this, the trainer I was blowing finally came, and I was able to settle for the much easier-to-manage task of cleaning him off while I was grinding on his partner’s dick. The taste of real cum was still disgusting, but thanks to the fake cum I had been inundated with it wasn’t nearly as noticeable. I was also so hungry that I even welcomed something to swallow and fill my stomach with. I doubted that the small bottle of water we received every period would be enough to keep the hunger at bay and figured that cum had some calories in it to keep me going just a little while longer.

Then a moment later, the trainer on the bottom finished and beckoned for me to kneel in front of him and get ready to clean him off. I was first to remove the condom, and seeing how hungrily I ate his partner’s cum I was instructed to empty the condom into my mouth and “enjoy my breakfast” before cleaning him off too. It was almost as humiliating as licking rice off of the floor, but at the same time, it was all I was getting that morning so I had to take it.

At the same time as this was happening, I could see Mistress Khatri masturbating to this. She was somehow getting off on a sex slave being degraded, and I couldn’t understand it. I didn’t even want to understand it as she got closer and forced me to taste her juices before she got herself into a comfortable position on the platform and made me finish her off.

I already hated how pussy tasted, and now this sadistic bitch was shoving my head in between her legs and making me eat her out too? It wasn’t even sexy, it was just disgusting as I worked my tongue around her pussy and ended up doing something that got the job done and made her cum. Unfortunately, she didn’t have her fill yet, and I was forced to repeat this disgusting process two more times until she had her fun and my face was covered in juices that I would not be allowed to wash off until the day was over.

Afterward, I didn’t know what to do. Juices were leaking out of my pussy, juices all over my face, and God knows what else all over the mat topping the platform. I was just used like a real sex slave in a real brothel, and all I wanted to do at that moment was curl up in a ball and shut down from exhaustion. At the same time though, I wanted to cum so badly, even though I felt wrong asking for it after what was just done to me.

Then in a risky move, I looked up at Mistress Khatri with the most desperate look I could muster and asked, “Mistress Khatri, may I make myself cum?”

She looked down at me dismissively and said, “I guess, slave. Even though I’m punishing you, you might have earned a little reward for surviving your first actual slave sex without crying like a bitch. Now get to it before you run out of time and make it worse.”

She didn’t even finish her sentence before I had my fingers inside me, and my thumb working my clit like I was a fucking nymphomaniac. I was still tired and hungry, but at that moment I didn’t feel like a slave. I was lost in my fantasy of fucking some guy at a party from when I was free and didn’t even care that my trainer was watching me finish myself off. Unfortunately, I was only allowed one orgasm, and when that was over it was back to work and back to hosing off what was apparently one of the assessment rooms.

After my extra training session, the rest of the day was little different than the day before. The only exception was my first period in the Anal Lab. It was my turn to be the one pitching, and for some stupid reason, I wasn’t even close to being excited that I wasn’t being the one fucked in the ass that day. Instead, I was nervous that the slave who I was paired up with that day, Amanda, would get mad at me for going too hard with her and potentially not feed me later that day.

Luckily for me, she pulled me aside when Mistress Khatri wasn’t looking and whispered, “whatever beef we have doesn’t matter in here. Fuck me like you got fucked yesterday or else both of us will be in trouble with her. Do you understand what I mean, scab?”

I silently nodded and she took her place on the bench while I used the lube applicator we were given and slowly slid it into her ass just like Mistress Khatri did with me yesterday. This part was easy enough, but I was still paranoid that I was going to hurt her or something. Then as I was slowly pulling it out, I could hear Amanda moan a little.

She actually liked anal, and I hoped that my half-asleep and amateur-level sex would be good enough for her. Then as I was tightening the straps before starting Mistress Khatri interrupted me and said, “Look at this slave. Tight little asshole begging to be fucked, perfect form, and even relaxed muscles that just invite you to fuck it raw. You can’t get any better than this. Now do what I did to you yesterday and don’t give this bitch an ounce of mercy.”

Amanda was right about the expectations, and I actually felt bad for her at that moment. There had to be a difference between the hardcore sex that she liked, and what was done to me by Mistress Khatri. I was a piece of shit by a lot of people’s definitions, but I wasn’t that kind of shit, and the thought of abusing someone like that scared me for some reason. I didn’t even want to start until Amanda herself was bitching at me to put it in her.

Still, I had a job to do, and my morals meant nothing in that room, so I firmly gripped Amanda’s hips as I slowly probed her ass with my strap-on. I could tell by her breathing that she was enjoying it, and compared to me there wasn’t even that much resistance as I worked my way deeper and deeper into her ass with every pump. Only when I was pushing the ridiculously-long plastic phallus past her second spincter did I finally get any sounds of pain, and even then, she was somehow getting off on this very quickly. It was almost like she was the complete opposite of me in this area, and when I could tell she was cumming I even tried to keep hitting that spot to prolong her orgasm out of some sense of duty to the person I was inside of.

I was not a lesbian by any means, but it did feel nice to make her cum. It also helped that it didn’t sound like I was abusing her. I was feeling guilty the whole time for no reason, and even when I thought she was faking it she was somehow enjoying getting her ass destroyed. I was also happy that it wasn’t me that day, but in the interest of being nice to the other slaves and getting fed, I was going to keep that one to myself.

After first period anal, the rest of the day went about as smoothly as it could with how hungry and out of energy I was. Vaginal training was tedious, lectures were boring, and Mistress Khatri wasn’t dumb enough to have me do PT with the others with how beat down I was. Instead, I got to practice proper posture and form for when I was in my slave positions.

By the later part of the day, it started to get very hard to keep up, and in my oral lessons, the shock collar and the copious amount of water was the only thing keeping me going. I didn’t even know how I was going to dance well enough once that period came, but my partner understood and didn’t make a big deal out of it at least. She even taught me some low-energy dance moves that I could use toward the end of my shift once I was in my brothel.

Even the floor cleaning work I had to do after our classes were harder. Every push of the scrub brush got heavier and heavier, while each section of the hallway I was assigned felt longer and longer as I struggled to focus on my task. By the time I was taken back to my dorm, I was in no condition to do anything for those slaves. Unfortunately for me, they didn’t care and I had to give four slaves massages before I could even think about rest. My only saving grace that night was the generosity of the slaves in my barracks. Like the night before, it wasn’t much, but unlike the night before the rice was supplemented by pieces of chicken patty that Amanda hid under my pillow that were much better at putting much-needed calories in me. I didn’t even care that I still had to grovel for it, I was just desperate to eat anything that night and was willing to do anything for that food.

Then as the end of my third day of punishment was approaching, I was in trouble. The whole day leading up to that night was an exhausting blur where I was just expected to lay there and take whatever was put inside of me and do my best with what little energy I had left in me. I couldn’t even stay awake while I was scrubbing the floors and had to be shocked awake by an overseer twice.

Luckily he realized that I barely even noticed the shocks by this point and decided to “coach” me through the remaining work so both of us could get on with our night a little quicker. It was patronizing as hell, but it was helpful to have some encouragement beyond pain. I still had to pay for that encouragement with a dick in my mouth after I was done, but like the shocks, I was so out of it I barely noticed that I was even giving him head.

Once I was deposited in the dorm, however, I was filled with dread once I remembered that my night wasn’t over yet. My body still hurt, I was still too tired and starved to function, and I still had to serve the other slaves before I could get any rest. When the first slave of the night looked at me I could tell she was looking at me with pity before laying down for her massage. I hated that look. More specifically, I hated how pathetic I looked as I struggled to massage her with my aching hands. By that point, those aches had turned into real pain, and every motion resulted in audible discomfort to the annoyance of the slaves I was serving.

I knew that I fucked up, but at the same time, I did wish for a little compassion from my fellow slaves. They could see that I was in pain, and they could see me struggling to function, but all they cared about those nights were what pleasure they could get out of me. It was like looking in the mirror and seeing a teenage me caring more about my pedicure than the fact that our family’s slave was still shaking and crying from the beating my dad just gave her for whatever stupid reason he was pissed off at her over. I wanted to give up right then and there, but for some reason, I had to keep telling myself to keep fighting for five more minutes. It’s what the slaves I saw around me when I was free did, and I assumed that this was what I was supposed to do in those situations. Just keep pushing and hope for it to be over soon.

Somehow, that little mental trick worked and I got through all five slaves that night. Unfortunately, these slaves weren’t as generous as the others and all I got was a good handful of rice again. Still, it was better than nothing, and I had the comfort of knowing that I was getting a full breakfast the next day. I already knew that it wouldn’t be instant, but I did know that a full day of meals would get me back on track.

By the next morning, however, there was a problem. I didn’t wake up in my dorm, and this new room smelled like a doctor’s office for some reason. There was even a fucking IV in my arm. I had no idea what happened the night before, and all I could remember through the fog was me shambling over to my “room” and that was it. I did feel better at least and assumed that the IV in my arm was delivering some sort of nutrition to me. Thank God.

Then as soon as I turned over I saw Mistress Khatri sitting next to the bed silently watching me while eating her yogurt. I was still too out of it to tell what the look on her face meant, but it wasn’t anger or contempt this time. She seemed concerned for once, and despite my previous few days of being punished seemed happy to see me awake as I attempted to get up and grab the tray of food on the table next to me.

Before I could get up and eat my food, however, she stood over me and gently pushed me back down, saying, “You need to take it easy slave. You had a bit of an episode last night and had to spend the night in medical. Now take it very easy and don’t eat too fast or you will get sick. Do you understand?”

I still had no idea what happened to me and was too beat to care as I gave her a silent nod. After that, she allowed me to start eating my tray but was just sitting there watching me eat for some reason. The silence was awkward, and in between bites I could see her smiling at me like a slave eating like a glutton was entertaining her.

I didn’t know what this woman was thinking, but after I was done with most of my meal I risked speaking out of turn and weakly said, “I’m sorry about everything mistress. I should’ve known better.”

Mistress Khatri responded sternly, “Good, I want you to remember how bad this sucked the next time you want to act privileged here. Now what are you, and what is your purpose?”

I knew the game she was playing, and I already knew that it was just an exercise in telling her what she wanted to hear until she was satisfied that I knew my place. By that point, it wasn’t even acting anymore. I was a slave, whether I liked it or not, and the past three days before that taught me a very valuable lesson. A slave was one moment of indiscretion, or one mistake from being put through hell and there was nothing I would ever be able to do about it beyond surviving and moving on. My past didn’t matter, and my future after slavery didn’t matter. All that mattered was serving my masters to the best of my ability, and the only help I would get to survive it all was my fellow slaves.

I wasn’t Mei anymore, I didn’t even know if I had a legal name still. To the free people lording over me in that place, I was that bullshit number underneath the barcode on my wrist. To the guy who bought me, I was a number on an inventory sheet at some corporate office. In the end Mistress Khatri was forcing me to destroy the last bits of my old life that I held so close by admitting the truth out loud.

All I could say to her through my tears while she looked at me waiting for a response was this, “I am a slave, and my purpose is to make my master happy. My past is nothing, and the only future I am allowed is the one given to me by my master.”
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kaylee36dd
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Re: The Seasoning House: Part 2

Post by kaylee36dd »

So hot. I love where the story is going, as I imagine what her future may hold.
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Danicali299
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Re: The Seasoning House: Part 2

Post by Danicali299 »

kaylee36dd wrote: Mon Mar 27, 2023 2:22 pm So hot. I love where the story is going, as I imagine what her future may hold.
Thank you. I appreciate it
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reddbunnz
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Re: The Seasoning House: Part 2

Post by reddbunnz »

Very interesting storyline. Rich girl get her cumupping. Too bad it doesn't work like that in the real world.
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