Allison's Descent into Slavery Part Eight Rewrite

[Mr. Smith]

Below is the rewrite to parts of the original story as posted posted here. The rewritten chapters and in some case renumbered chapters were posted on Literotica. Oncce again Carl Bradford kindly edited the story providing feedback. I have some new chapters that I will post on Stripsearch in the near future so this is my attempt to fill the gap. My apologies for not keeping up on this.

Part One

We entered the infirmary where Dr. Allen was already examining a naked slave girl. The vet wore a long lab coat, buttoned up above her chest, which hung to her knees, her natural blonde hair pulled up in a bun and she wore stylish glasses. She turned to us. “Twenty-seven and Twenty-eight, I am finishing up with morning sick call and will be with you shortly. If you have not completed the survey, do so now. I require that information to properly process your medical files,” she directed, pointing at slave pads lining the wall. “Kneel on those pads facing the wall and finish the questionnaires.”

I opened my medical survey on the iPad and got to work finishing the questions. They were fairly typical until I got towards the end when it started asking about body piercings followed by what can best be characterized as sexual experience. Such as the number of partners, number of sex partners at the same time, role play experiences, when do I squirt, average number of orgasms per day, week and month before enslavement. Had I ever role played as a slave girl or mistress and the sex acts performed in each role? Describe my three most satisfying orgasms prior to enslavement and since enslavement. How many times did I cum the day I was enslaved? When I answered the questions, I saw a pattern that petrified me and sent a cold shiver down my spine and a tingle to my pussy.

Startling me out of my reverie, Dr. Allen announced, “Twenty-seven and Twenty-eight, I am ready to begin. Come over to this exam table and we will start with your brandings. Twenty-seven please hop up here on your knees.”

Dr. Allen then pushed my head down onto the exam table, securing me in place with a chain attached to my collar. The chain pulled through a hole in the exam table until the right side of my face was secure against the table. Dr. Allen stretched my knees apart and latched them in place with straps, then secured my hands behind my back in handcuffs. Being bound like this aroused me for some reason as I felt my kitty getting even wetter.

“The Texas Department of Agriculture, which regulates the medical treatment of slaves, requires all treating veterinarians to physically secure all livestock whenever feasible for safety reasons during examinations. Since human slaves are just another form of livestock, these regulations apply to you. Do not worry, I graduated from medical school in the top ten percent and I am licensed to practice medicine in the state of Texas. To become a certified slave vet I just submitted my transcript and medical license,” advised the good doctor.

“Twenty-eight, watch what I do when treating this wound. You will be removing the bandage every evening, cleaning the wound, rubbing in an ointment and putting on a new bandage. If there are any problems, notify Mistress Kara and me immediately,” directed Dr. Allen. She then sprayed the bandage using an aerosol can, waited ten seconds and peeled it off from the edge, wiped it down with an antiseptic pad which stung, then rubbed in a soothing ointment and sprayed on a new bandage. “Any questions,” she asked Lindsey.

“No, that looks straight-forward,” replied Lindsey.

“Good, ask Mistress Kara or email me if you have any problems,” reminded the doctor.

“I see you are scheduled for pony playtime this Friday so I will do a comprehensive rectal exam. Let me show you why this is important,” she advised as she disrobed to my left so I could see that she was naked underneath the coat.

Her nipples were pierced with barbells in them as was her navel and she had vaginal piercings similar to the Headmistress. Four brands adorned her body: The Big D on her left buttock, the Broadstone “B” on her right buttock, two intertwined horseshoes holding three stars on her upper right thigh, and an “A” in a circle on her back over her right shoulder blade. Her 5’9” body was extremely fit and her large breasts only had a little sag in them.

She bent over with her rear facing me and casually plucked a huge anal plug out of her ass that looked six inches long and four inches at the widest point. I heard Lindsey gasp.

“This plug is the size of the tail plugs that you will get Friday,” remarked the vet, as she stepped over, waiving it before my eyes and then doing the same with Lindsey before pushing it right back up her back door. “I keep my asshole trained because I still do pony play with my husband,” she explained.

I had noticed a smaller fifth brand of a “B” in a diamond located on the inside of her left butt cheek when she pulled out the plug. The Diamond B brand looked familiar but I could not place it.

“Now for your rectal exam,” she advised as she pulled out my anal plug, dropping it in a pan. “This one is too small; we need to put in a larger one this morning and an even bigger one before bed. I will email Mistress Kara,” she advised.

“Your rectum is an erogenous zone with a huge number of nerve endings,” she enlightened me as she jammed one and then two lubed fingers up my sore back passage and proceeded to massage my tender anus.

“Ouch,” I squealed. “Please take it easy doctor, we were buttfucked hard by Big D wranglers yesterday and I am still raw.”

Dr. Jones pulled her fingers out and then pulled my cheeks apart, examining my rosebud.

“There is no rectal tearing and no bleeding so you will be fine. Did they just jam their big bad cocks up your slave holes, pound away hard with no warm-up or loosening?” Dr. Jones asked.

“Yes, they were not concerned with our comfort in any way and even traded girls part way through,” I explained.

“Did either of you cum?” queried the doctor. When I nodded yes while blushing, she said, “Tell me about it, was it your first orgasm? Walk me through all of your orgasms yesterday. I will give you an anal massage while you tell me about yesterday.”

“I was sexually aroused from the minute I was slave naked in a collar in the parking lot at the Big D until I fell asleep last night. I had three climaxes when Amelia, my future mother-in-law, had me polish the pussy post and I squirted for the first time in my life during the third. I came in the cattle wash, when my grader wiped me down after peeing in the grate during the urine test in front of the crowd and then twice more while on display. The first time a young man masturbated me to climax. A slave trader used something called the Midas Touch on me for another really strong orgasm,” I said while blushing.

“I saw you get the Midas Touch treatment. That looked really intense,” giggled Lindsey, adding to my embarrassment.

“The Midas Touch is a trick used by old time slave traders to gauge slave heat. I take it you chased his finger, arched your back as far as you could, and then while he held his finger steady you rubbed your needy clit on his finger until you climaxed all over it in spectacular fashion,” laughed Dr. Allen.

“It was spectacular, all right,” enthused Lindsey.

“I think I saw stars flashing before my eyes when I finally came. It was humiliating, the slave trader made me feel like a wanton slut consumed with slave heat when he used the Midas Touch on me,” I sighed.

“It was a good orgasm then?” chuckled Dr. Allen.

“Yes!” Lindsey and I replied at the same time, with Lindsey snickering.

“Please continue,” smiled Dr. Allen.

After I was graded, I learned that I had been repo’d and despite my terror I climaxed in the block chute while lathering up and then again on the auction block where I squirted again, I think I may have passed out briefly. The next thing I remember is feeling the whip on my body. After that my next climax was while getting ass-fucked. It hurt like hell when he first thrust into me, then a mixture of pain and pleasure until it was pure pleasure to the point where I asked to be spanked.”

“Why did you ask to be spanked?” asked Dr. Jones as she continued her massage.

“I needed the good pain to make the pleasure more intense and when I hit my clit on the table just right it set me off and I squirted again. The weird part is that when the men were done I wanted even more sex so I could cum again. The next orgasm was at Broadstone when Twenty-eight and I masturbated each other followed by three from Mistress Kara that evening,” I explained.

“Why did Mistress Kara give you three climaxes?” asked the perplexed doctor. “She usually only gives one after punishment.”

“I had my first after punishment. This is embarrassing; I asked to be whipped again because I knew the good pain from the whipping would lead to more pleasure. The words just popped out of my mouth, just like when I asked to be spanked, I could not believe I said that out loud,” I explained blushing bright red even though I was secured face down on the exam table with her fingers wiggling in my ass. After some initial discomfort whatever she was doing felt great.

“Keep going,” she directed.

“So she whipped me again; finishing with a quick blow to my asshole, vagina and the last blow was on my clit setting me off. Then she fucked me with the whip handle while rubbing my nub with her other hand. I exploded into another intense climax and I creamed all over her hand. Again part of me wanted more when she was done. I then had two more in the showers when the girls bathed me,” I explained.

“Did you enjoy your welcome party?” she chuckled.

“Yes, it was really nice. The other girls are really great,” I answered, red-faced.

“Please describe the two times you wanted more. How did you feel?” she asked, getting back to business.

“It felt like it was my slave persona or identity, a subconscious part of me, not the Allison Stevens part of me that wanted more sex,” I tried to explain. “I was highly aroused all day.”

“I understand. Were the four squirting orgasms the most intense you ever had to date? Let me guess: You have never before had close to fifteen orgasms in a day and prior to today the best sex you ever had was role playing as a slave or tied up in bondage?” she asked.

“How did you know?” I asked in shock as her two fingers continued their exquisite dance in my rectum. Then she added a third.

“You are a submissive that thrives when dominated, derives sexual pleasure from humiliation and has some pain slut tendencies,” she said, while gently running her fingers through my hair with her other hand looking down at me with a kind smile. “Just like me.”

“Amelia told me that I was a submissive needing to break free when she left me to get graded yesterday,” I exclaimed. “How did she know?”

“I cannot answer how she knew, but getting back to your rear entrance? Most women, if properly trained can experience anal orgasms without clitoral stimulation,” continued the doctor.

A fourth finger joined the first three and fluttered around in my rectum doing some sort of magic dance. She had me quickly panting in heat moaning on the edge of an eruption. Then bam, I exploded without anything touching my lovebud or my purring kitty.

“Twenty-eight, grab a plug out of that drawer, no; two sizes up and grab two. Coat one with that lube and bring it here,” she directed as she picked up the pace with her fingers pumping in my ass.

Then she started massaging my happy button with her other hand and I blew a gasket. I was in the throes of an incredible orgasm while she manipulated my skittle; she pulled her fingers out of my rosebud and slid in the bigger anal plug. I barely noticed it enter me as I was creaming all over the fingers of her other hand at the time.

“The rectum and in particular the sphincter naturally relax during an orgasm making it easy to insert an anal plug as I just demonstrated. Remember that when you increase the size again tonight,” counseled a grinning Dr. Allen while she washed her hands.

I noticed some discomfort only when she released my bindings and had me roll over onto my back and sit up. She proceeded to adjust the table pushing some buttons on the side reconfiguring it into an exam chair. Then she attached the chain to the back of my collar through a hole securing my head against the portion of the table that was now a headrest.

“Hands over your head,” she directed, locking my hands in cuffs attached to the exam table. “Put your feet in the stirrups, I need to do a pelvic exam” she directed, pulling two stirrups out from below the table. Next thing I knew my feet were strapped into the stirrups and my legs spread wide open. I was bound, legs spread for a medical exam and becoming aroused as I felt my pussy beginning to leak juice that dripped down into my winking browneye. The doctor studied something on her iPad while I waited.

“Reviewing your questionnaire prior to enslavement you have only had three sexual partners, all male. The first two were disappointing. You have been in a lengthy relationship with the third, enjoying orgasms during vaginal, oral and anal intercourse. Embarrassment and humiliation arouse you. Hmm, the best sex occurred while role playing as a slave. Interesting,” she summarized. “Your questionnaire confirms my original assessment about your natural submissiveness.”

“First I need to check your nipples for piercing compatibility,” as she quickly sucked on each of them and then simultaneously tweaked both as they went on full high beam mode. I groaned, arching my back as she quickly measured the length and width of my fully erect nipples. I was panting on the verge of another eruption and she was apparently oblivious to my current state.

“Slave heat” is the term they use to describe my humiliating condition. I had never been aroused before during a pelvic exam and yet the second Dr. Allen glimpsed my cunt she knew I was in slave heat. The more I contemplated my embarrassment, the worse it became, consistent with her earlier diagnosis of my submissive nature and the impact of humiliation on my libido. I could smell the odor of my arousal!

“Perfect for piercing,” she concluded. “Most of our slaves will get their nipples pierced in the first few days with us. I had mine done in my first week here when I was a student. Contrary to popular belief, nipple piercing does not lead to any complications nursing a child. My husband gave me the most beautiful ponygirl nipple bells for Christmas the year our first child was born,” she rambled on.

Then Dr. Allen grabbed the speculum. I quickly glanced at Lindsey as she was trying hard not to laugh at my predicament. As Dr. Allen looked at my pussy her face registered surprise, “Oh my, you are one horny hot cunt in slave heat,” she giggled.

Turning serious. “This is an important medical exam which you need to take seriously. Take three deep breaths and calm yourself. You are not authorized to have an orgasm right now and will be punished if you do. Please demonstrate some self-control,” she directed, as she started inserting the speculum.

Telling this bound slave that I was not allowed to cum somehow had the opposite effect on me. Then it happened, I humped the speculum, pulled back and humped it again as I released hurricane Katrina all over the speculum.

“Stop that, you bad slave!” Dr. Allen yelled, quickly slapping my left nipple and breast hard. It hurt like a bitch while also enhancing my arousal extending my climax.

“Yeeeessssssss,” I yelped in surprise as I convulsed again.

“Ha ha ha ha, snort ha ha snort heh,” giggled Lindsey, trying to suppress her laughter, further irritating Dr. Allen.

“Kneel with your forehead on the ground, Twenty-eight,” ordered Dr. Allen, snapping Lindsey out of her merriment.

“Stay in that position until I move you,” she ordered. Striding to her desk, she picked up the phone.

“I need you in the infirmary ASAP. Twenty-seven may be coming down with a case of overactive slave heat. Thanks; see you in a few minutes,” said Dr. Allen, hanging up the phone. She then opened a drawer and pulled out a small riding crop.

Dr. Allen walked behind the unsuspecting Lindsey, riding crop in hand, and unleashed a barrage of vicious lashes to her buttocks as she yelped in surprise.

“Twenty-eight, look straight ahead, chin on the ground and open your mouth,” commanded Dr. Allen. When Lindsey complied with a few tears running down her flushed cheeks, Dr. Allen bent over and stuck the riding crop in the blushing girl’s mouth instructing, “Close your mouth and hold the riding crop until instructed otherwise. You are going to get punished for your disrespectful laughter. I know what I would do with a naughty pony in a similar situation,” she snickered, while stroking Lindsey’s hair.

Mistress Kara entered the room, taking in the sight of me restrained in the examination table while panting in slave heat. Lindsey was on her hands and knees, riding crop held tightly in her mouth, a few tears running down her cheeks with new red welts growing on her buttocks and Dr. Allen was naked in three inch heels with an exasperated look on her face.

“I’ll get Twenty-seven strapped down better so you can finish your exam,” advised Mistress Kara with a grin on her face. She secured me to the exam chair using a large strap wrapped around my midsection, followed by strapping my thighs to the bars connecting the stirrups to the exam chair.

Speculum in hand, Dr. Allen approached me as I was now bound to the table unable to move. As she inserted the speculum in my cunt, I tried to hump it again, unsuccessfully, almost blowing from the simple insertion. After completing the exam, she pulled it out announcing, “Twenty-seven, I need to locate your G-spot. Let me know once I am there and try not to cum again,” she warned.

I didn't even know I had a G-spot, neither Calum nor either of my two previous boyfriends ever found it. A woman’s G-spot was just a myth, or so I thought until Dr. Allen started probing with her right hand the area an inch or two inside my vaginal opening on the upper side of the vaginal wall closest to my belly button.

For some bizarre reason I started thinking about the Star Trek opening narration adapting it to the current situation. Ok, my parents were Trekkies and I became hooked on Star Trek growing up. I heard Captain Kirk’s voice. A woman’s G-spot: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Starship Fingers. Its five-year mission: to explore strange new parts of a woman’s anatomy. To seek out new erogenous zones. To boldly go where no man has gone before!

“Aaaaahhhhhhhhhh,” I moaned, squirting copious liquid on her arm in the throes of an intergalactic climax as my body shook and vision blurred at warp speed. She had located my G-spot in the previously undiscovered final frontier of my vagina.

“Whack,” she slapped my right breast and nipple hard with her left hand while her right hand continued probing my G spot, all while giggling, “Bad slave, no cumming without permission.”

“Fuuuuccccccckkkkkkk,” I squealed while the pain triggered yet another follow on explosion just like the first hard slap to my other breast.

Breathing hard I tried to regain my composure as Mistress Kara stifled a laugh and Lindsey bit down hard on the riding crop. Dr. Allen washed her hands yet again. She returned standing in front of me holding a very threatening Q-tip with a grin on her face.

“Twenty-eight, grab your iPad and stand by Twenty-seven, watch and listen. As the two of you have probably noticed, the Headmistress and I both have vaginal piercings. All slaves receive vaginal piercing while here with the most common being the Vertical Clitoral Hood (VCH) because it stimulates the clitoris by bearing down directly on it,” advised Dr. Allen. Taking Lindsey’s iPad, she pulled up a page. “You can research the different types of piercings in this app. There is a brief description of each and if you click on each one you will find a diagram and pictures,” as she showed us the page on the iPad.

“There are quite a few options depending on the woman’s vaginal anatomy. For example, the clitoral hood needs to be large enough to properly fit the jewelry for a VCH. If you look at my pussy, you will see this one in the middle right on top of my clit is the VCH. The two piercings on the side are Princess Diane’s. My clit gets additional stimulation from the top and the sides during sex increasing my pleasure. They also rub during the day keeping me aroused for my husband,” advised Dr. Allen, as she pulled apart her labia pointing out how they stimulated her clitoris.

“There are piercings like the Triangle, Deep and Isabella that stimulate below or behind the clitoris and you can mix and match different combinations based on your owner’s preference, how they affect you and the anatomy of your vagina. Most owners delegate the piercing decisions to me based on my experience. You will learn to appreciate the advantages they bring over time,” she grinned.

While lubricating the Q-tip Dr. Allen advised, “Twenty-seven, I am going to perform the Q-tip test under your clitoral hood to determine if you have sufficient depth for the VCH piercing. I am going to slide a lubricated cotton swab beneath your hood. If most of the cottony end fits under the tunnel, then you have enough depth for a VCH. If you have a shallow tunnel and only part of the tip fits under your hood, you are likely not a candidate for the VCH but a Nefertiti might be a viable substitute. Please hold still.”

I was still suffering from my slave heat with my panic button on high alert. She inserted the lubricated Q-tip. It barely brushed my lovebud but almost triggered another storm while doing so put me on edge. The Q-tip was cool and slimy as it entered, causing me to hold my breath. The tingling increased as the cotton end disappeared under my hood. She pulled the tip back tickling the inside of my hood as it rang my devil’s doorbell setting me off again groaning in orgasmic bliss.

“Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh,” I sighed, as my body shook through yet another incredible climax.

“Bad slave,” chuckled Dr. Allen, pulling out the Q-tip. “Once more, you came yet again succumbing to your slave heat. Thankfully, the exam is over.” She then flashed a pen light into my eyes.

"Twenty-seven, your pupils are slightly dilated along with all of your other symptoms leading to a diagnosis of the psychological condition I call overactive slave heat. Many new slaves unexpectedly enslaved as you were suffer from another psychological disorder called sudden enslavement syndrome which you also have,” she advised.

“Dr. Sarah Hollister, a Professor of Slave Studies at Harvard, redesigned the Big D slave market a decade ago with the goal of making the Big D more profitable. She also authored the book, Profit Per Pussy: The Art and Science of Slaving. One important purpose of her design was the sexualization of the slave girls. She wanted horny slaves climaxing in the sand on the auction block. That translated into higher sale prices and greater profits. Did both of you polish a pussy post to get some good luck to help you get your prime grades?” she asked.

“I came twice on the pussy post,” chimed in Lindsey.

“Three times, and I squirted,” I reminded Dr. Allen.

“Dr. Hollister engineered that myth to get your slave heat revved up before you were even checked into the Big D. She knew that some of you girls would end up being sold. Everything, including the cattle wash, photo shoot with a handsome photographer, peeing in the grate and hearing the public commenting during the slave grading, and the fact that you were being treated like a slave were all designed to stoke your sexual arousal while making you compliant. Dr. Hollister’s process clearly worked on both of you,” chuckled the doctor, while the two of us blushed.

“Twenty-eight, as a pre-med student have you taken any psychology classes?” Dr. Allen inquired.

“Yes, it was a three quarter series that also included a section on slave psychology. The Walker and Sheldon book, Psychological Impact of Slavery, was required reading,” answered Lindsey.

“Dr. Nicola Sheldon is on retainer at Broadstone and will assess you prior to acceptance into the consort program,” stated the doctor.

“I get to meet her in person!” squealed Lindsey.

Yes, she actually squealed in excitement. Almost jumping up and down, as one would expect a teenager to act when meeting a famous pop star or actor, much to the amusement of Dr. Allen.

“Dr. Sheldon was a guest lecturer last quarter and she autographed my copy of her book. Did you know she graded prime and self-indentured for six months as a pleasure slut?” exclaimed Lindsey, turning to me. “She is the rock star of slave psychologists.”

“She must be crazy or a real slut to do that. What kind of woman self-indentures as a pleasure slut?” I responded incredulously. “Why would I ever want her assessing my mental health? She chose to perform as a sex slave for six months?”

“All slave psychologists must be enslaved for a minimum of one hundred and eighty days in order to practice in that field. The theory is that a psychiatrist cannot treat slave mental health conditions without experiencing slavery. She courageously went through the suffering in order to help ignorant slaves like you,” Dr. Allen responded testily, clearly not pleased with my outburst.

Chastised, I decided to try to keep my mouth shut and an open mind. Never having seriously contemplated life as a slave, my experiences in the last twenty-four hours had been eye opening. I realized that there was a certain logic to this requirement.

“I opted for a combination five-year family medicine, psychiatry residency currently certified in family medicine having finished that portion of my residency. I am just completing the psychiatry portion right now working under Dr. Sheldon and Dr. Walker with the goal of also being a certified slave psychiatrist this fall,” explained Dr. Allen staring at me. “I never want to hear you disparage Dr. Sheldon again.”

“I am sorry Dr. Allen,” I responded.

“Twenty-eight, what is the DSM-6?” she asked, turning to Lindsey who was also glaring at me in disgust.

“The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, 6th Edition (DSM-6) is the diagnostic tool published by the American Psychiatric Association serving as the principal authority for psychiatric diagnoses and treatment recommendations,” answered Lindsey going into her student mode. Her intellect was truly impressive as she promptly answered Dr. Allen’s question.

“There is a Human Livestock section for slave specific disorders such as slave mind and sudden enslavement syndrome. There is also a section covering conditions for future study. I am participating in a study with Dr. Sheldon bringing her in for all suspected cases of overactive slave heat tracking symptoms and treatment procedures used on each patient,” advised Dr. Allen.

“I had a friend that had overactive slave heat and her masters used her for their pleasure, abusing her for days. When she came down, she had vaginal and rectal tears requiring surgery, fractured ribs and bruises everywhere. My friend described it as a living nightmare where she was not in control of her urges. She was never the same in the head afterwards,” sighed a visibly angry Mistress Kara.

“That is why we are studying it,” said Dr. Allen. “My counterpart at the Cotillion is also participating in our data collection.”

“Twenty-seven, imagine how you could be exploited in your current condition. Imagine overactive slave heat controlled and marketed by owners. Some men would pay a fortune for the capacity to induce overactive slave heat on command, creating a sex crazed pleasure slut,” proclaimed Mistress Kara. “That is why I am concerned that your study could unlock the key to triggering it,” she said, turning towards Dr. Allen.

“That is a valid concern which we share and why we are participating in the study. Most slave markets and owners view overactive slave heat as an opportunity to exploit the slave for their profit or pleasure. The slaves rarely receive treatment because the owners do not want it cured. Dr. Sheldon only gets called in when the overactive slave heat gets so out of hand that there is a concern regarding the sale value of the slave,” responded Dr. Allen.

“Listen carefully, while at Broadstone if either of you ever believe you or any of your sisters are showing overactive slave heat symptoms let me and the doctor know right away,” directed a visibly concerned Mistress Kara.

“We will,” Lindsey promised as I nodded my head.

There are hormone shots and oral drugs that can enhance a slave girl’s arousal. We do NOT condone those methods at Broadstone. They can be dangerous when misused,” explained Dr. Allen.

“If someone tries to give you a drug, advise staff immediately. These drugs can trigger overactive slave heat in a slave,” directed Mistress Kara.

Yes, Mistress Kara,” both Lindsey and I responded.

“You will not need the assistance of overactive slave heat to sexually please your masters when we are done training you. The training here is rigorous and effective enabling you to channel your slave heat to please your master,” indicated Mistress Kara with a hard look at both of us.

“Dr. Sheldon, Dr. Walker, and I believe overactive slave heat is a separate mental disorder that is often linked to sudden enslavement syndrome and sometimes to slave mind,” stated Dr. Allen. “Twenty-eight, how would you describe slave mind?”

“Slave mind develops over time and is the result of the constant breaking in of a slave. It is a transformative process starting when a woman loses her clothes as forced nudity is a powerful loss of status as is the forced removal of a woman’s pubic hair. Slave mind is the end result of purposeful conditioning from slave yoga, slave speak, slave grading, sale by auction and obedience training coupled with constant reinforcement that can take months to fully develop. Individuals enslaved for long periods of time, five to ten years or more, may never fully transition back to their former free selves or identities,” described Lindsey, transitioning into brainy student mode. She was truly impressive.

“Good explanation. These individuals lose their sense of self, they no longer have personal dreams and goals, and they exist solely to serve their masters. The slave often feels safest while existing within the parameters of the routine daily existence of their slavery. Slave mind is much like the Stockholm syndrome, but in a slavery context where the slave identifies and attaches, or bonds, positively with their masters. Here at Broadstone we strive to prevent any of our students from developing slave mind and they cannot become consorts if they succumb to it,” continued Dr. Allen.

“The sudden enslavement syndrome symptoms revolve around an abrupt identity shift from free woman to slave, and the syndrome really kicks in right after the branding that drives home to a slave that she is no longer free. The new slave forced into sexual submission to multiple partners at the slave market compounded by new sexual experiences reinforces this new loss of freedom. It is a psychological survival mechanism where the formerly free person becomes inherently subservient and obedient, abruptly developing slave mind without the obedience training and follow-on conditioning. The struggle between the formally free person’s identity and the new slave identity that is emerging is often confusing for a new slave until the two personas achieve balance. It may feel at times like you have multiple personalities while your mind adjusts to your new reality,” explained Dr. Allen.

“Overactive slave heat can be either a physiological or psychological or a co-occurring condition. The psychological condition triggered by sexual stimulation, masturbation, anxiety, depression, stress and low self-esteem suffered from an abrupt enslavement that can occur at a slave market. A woman that is slave graded, enslaved and then auctioned the same day at the Big D as you were goes through an intense sexualization process designed to dramatically increase her arousal level which is commonly referred to as slave heat. For an extremely naturally submissive unaware of her submissiveness and coming to grips with it as you are, this can lead to a serious case of overactive slave heat," advised Dr. Allen.

“In your case your new slave identity combined with your uncontrolled slave heat has pushed you to seek more pain in search of additional sexual gratification consistent with overactive slave heat. A normal woman would not orgasm like you did from humping a speculum or be so easily triggered by slapping your nipples,” explained Dr. Allen. “Do not feel bad. I had a bad case of overactive slave heat when I first arrived at Broadstone and they did not understand it as we do now. That was one of the reasons I went to medical school.”

“So how did you get through it?” I asked, feeling a sense of relief that someone else had been in my shoes.

“I got through it with a lot of help from the people here. We will get you through it too,” answered Dr. Allen. “Let me explain. Persistent genital arousal disorder also called persistent sexual arousal syndrome is a physiological and/or psychological disorder similar to overactive slave heat suffered by some free women. The physiological disorder can be caused by a variety of factors such as Tarlov cysts pushing on nerves attached to the clitoris or a clitoral priapism or clitorism which is the continued erection of the highly responsive clitoris that can become painful due to overstimulation and the related arousal,” said the doctor. “Twenty-eight, did you cover Dr. Ranger’s study in Canada by any chance in your class?”

“Dr. Sheldon covered it in her lecture. It is also in her book. It was a short study published in Canada by Dr. Emily Ranger in 2015 documenting a case of hyper slave heat which occurred in 2013 in Canada where a woman was illegally held as a slave by HCI. Employees pierced her clitoris installing a device with a brush that constantly stimulated her clit. This left her in a constant state of fevered sexual excitement to coerce her into voluntary enslavement. When the device was removed from her clitoris the clit did not retract for days leaving the poor woman with a clitorism which in conjunction with her submissive nature left her over stimulated in hyper slave heat for a prolonged period. During this time, she was sexually aggressive with her sex crazed slave persona in a constant battle for control with her personal identity,” lectured Lindsey, proudly sharing her knowledge.

Listening to Lindsey I could tell she was in her element. My friend was going to be a great doctor one day if given the chance. Now she was just a naked slave wearing a collar.

“Good summary Twenty-eight. This example of overstimulation along with the danger of permanent nerve damage to the clitoris is why Broadstone has a hard policy against clitoral piercings,” explained Dr. Allen. “This hyper slave heat is also very similar to overactive slave heat and persistent genital arousal disorder.”

“Sexual stimulation, masturbation, anxiety and stress can also trigger the psychological form of persistent genital arousal disorder. Many of the symptoms for overactive slave heat and persistent genital arousal disorder are the same and so are the treatments. I am giving you an injection of a low dose of valium that typically produces a calming effect commonly used to treat anxiety and muscle spasms. I am also going to rub in some Lignocaine gel onto your clitoris, which numbs the areas of the body it is applied too. You should feel the soothing effect almost immediately,” advised the doctor. “The small dose of valium will be calming without making you feel groggy or putting you to sleep.”

Opening a drawer, she pulled out a small-needled syringe and a jar of valium from a medication refrigerator. She loaded the syringe with some of the valium, returned and gave me an injection into my arm. Then she grabbed a tube of Lignocaine gel and proceeded to massage it gently into my clitoris. Almost immediately, my tingling slowed and then seemed to cease.

“How do you feel now?” she asked.

“My pussy is barely tingling now although it is still sopping wet. I am much calmer, Doctor.” I answered, smiling in appreciation.

“The injection and gel should last for about five to six hours which ought to give you time to calm down and for the overactive slave heat to burn out. Your Oral Intro and Toys Intro classes are canceled and your piercings will be scheduled for late this afternoon. A slave with overactive slave heat should not attend sex skills instruction until the overactive slave heat has subsided. If the overactive slave heat does not burn out this afternoon, we have developed a different cure here at Broadstone. The treatment is not pleasant, but is highly effective. I am working with Dr. Sheldon on these treatment procedures and we hope to publish a paper soon as advancements in veterinary medicine," informed Dr. Allen, releasing me from my restraints.

“Remember, if either of you are feeling any overactive slave heat symptoms let me and the doctor know immediately,” reminded Mistress Kara.

“Before giving you the vaginal piercings I will consult with Dr. Sheldon as I have concerns; the prudent course is to wait until we get the overactive slave heat under control. Either way your nipples and navel will get pierced this afternoon,” advised the doctor.

“Twenty-eight, your turn, please hop up on this exam table; Mistress Kara will restrain you while I quickly review your medical chart. I am going to cover the exam with you starting with wound care for your branding and rectal exam,” advised Dr. Allen.

Mistress Kara secured Lindsey on the exam table face down chained to her collar, hands cuffed behind her back and knees pulled apart and secured them in place with straps just like me. Dr. Allen examined Lindsey’s brand and showed me how to care for it. Then Dr. Allen examined Lindsey’s asshole for injury; finding none, she started the rectal massage with one and then two lubricated fingers when things became interesting.

“Twenty-eight, according to your survey you had intercourse once in high school and again early freshman year. You found both times unsatisfying which is not uncommon. You have been in no serious relationship since. You completed your sophomore year at UT generally getting A’s in the Pre-Med program, an Academic All-American and were second team All-American on the varsity soccer team. Interesting. You also climaxed during your anal sex yesterday,” summarized Dr. Allen.

I audibly gasped while Lindsey emitted a sob, tearing up and blushing bright red. Dr. Allen looked at me and then back to Lindsey. She still had two fingers working away in Lindsey’s ass or should I call it her rusty wagon wheel. My slave identity kicked in yet again.

“Twenty-eight, start from the beginning and describe your orgasms yesterday,” directed Dr. Allen.

“My arousal started when I stripped naked in the parking lot and my mother put on a collar, handcuffed me and led me into the Big D using a leash. She had read about the lucky pussy posts and told me I would be polishing the lucky one on the way to the Big D,” answered Lindsey. Then she let out another loud sob and started crying.

“I learned she is not my mom after she sold me,” exclaimed Lindsey as she tried to regain her composure. “I feel so betrayed by her. I did nothing wrong and now I am a slave.”

Dr. Allen gently brushed Lindsey’s hair out of her face, gently massaging her scalp and started soothing her. “It is going to be ok. We will take care of you here and we can talk more about her betrayal. Right now, we need to talk about you and your orgasms. Can you do that?” she asked in a calming voice.

Lindsey responded well to Dr. Allen, regained her composure, nodded yes and continued her story.

“I had two orgasms on the pussy post which was really kinky because it was still warm and wet from Twenty-seven’s use. I also came in the cattle wash when one of the boys put two fingers up my pussy and massaged my clit, again during my slave yoga demonstration during my grading, and when a man briefly rubbed my clitoris while on display. In the holding area before the auction, I came when I barely grazed my nub. I had my most intense climax when I furiously polished my pearl during my sale squirting for the first time ever and I think I momentarily passed out. The next time was when I was sodomized and it felt weird,” explained Lindsey.

“Explain why it felt weird,” asked the doctor as she added a third finger to Lindsey’s puckered browneye. Looks like my slave persona has taken over my vocabulary I thought to myself.

“I was in a great deal of pain getting ass fucked, his penis was really big, and then I had what felt like an orgasm when my clit rubbed on the table. There was zero sexual desire at the time and the climax was almost painful if that makes any sense,” described Lindsey.

“Free women sometimes experience that kind of orgasm during a rape so you should not feel bad for having one is a similar situation,” explained Dr. Allen.

“It really freaked me out, having what felt like an orgasm but it felt horrible,” moaned Lindsey.

“How does your rectum feel now?” asked Dr. Allen as she continued the massage.

“That is really beginning to feel good,” moaned Lindsey. “I never thought anything would ever feel this good in my ass.”

“Remember all of the nerve endings you have in your rectum. If stimulated in a positive manner it can feel really good. Now that I know how my body reacts my anal climaxes are amazing when my husband fucks my backdoor,” explained Dr. Allen.

“I feel like I could actually cum from this,” groaned Lindsey.

Let yourself go when you feel your orgasm starting,” advised the doctor as she added a fourth finger to Lindsey’s asshole.

It looked like the good doctor’s fingers were doing the magic dance in Lindsey’s Texas chili bowl as her panting increased. If her response was close to mine, she was ready to blow a gasket any second.

“I cannot believe I am cumming this way,” she gasped, as she suddenly shuddered in the throes of a convulsion.

“Twenty-seven, lube that plug there and hand it to me,” directed Dr. Allen as she pulled her fingers out of Lindsey’s ass.

I quickly grabbed the plug, rubbed some lube on it and handed it to the slave vet. She took the plug and proceeded to rub Lindsey’s love button, sending her into another frenzy as Dr. Allen pushed the plug into Lindsey’s winking starfish.

“How sensitive is your clitoris? Your orgasm started the instant my fingers made contact with it.” asked the doctor.

“It has been getting more responsive ever since I walked into the Big D and really picked up after I found out I was going to be a slave,” sniveled Lindsey becoming emotional again. “Ever since the anal sex, I orgasm almost the instant it is touched. It was like this during slave yoga this morning,” she groaned.

“I understand,” said Dr. Allen. “Mistress Kara will get you into position for the rest of the exam.”

Dr. Allen washed her hands while Mistress Kara secured Lindsey in position for the exam. The nipple test and pelvic exam were uneventful as Dr. Allen avoided contacting Lindsey’s skittle. She expertly found Lindsey’s G spot, triggering another gusher. I wonder if Lindsey also thought the G spot was a myth before today or if she was a Star Trek fan. Then it was time for the Q-tip test and I knew from personal experience that there was no way to complete the test without making contact with Lindsey’s panic button.

“Twenty-eight, I am going to perform the Q-tip test under your clitoral hood just like I did on Twenty-seven. I am going to slide a lubricated cotton swab beneath your hood. I hope to avoid contact with your clitoris. Please hold still,” directed the doctor.

Lindsey was still suffering from slave heat when Dr. Allen inserted the lubricated Q-tip, making incidental contact with Lindsey’s happy button and rocking her world while doing so. The cotton end of the Q-tip disappeared under Lindsey’s hood indicating that she would be getting the VCH piercing. The good doctor rang Lindsey’s devil’s doorbell again while pulling the tip back, sending poor Lindsey off into orgasmic bliss yet again.

Dr. Allen then pulled the clitoral hood away from Lindsey’s enlarged clitoris asking, “How long has your clitoris been distended like this?”

“Since right before the auction yesterday. It is painful at times. Anytime it is touched I have an orgasm,” answered a red-faced Lindsey.

“The good news is that we are done with the exam. The bad news is that you have an extremely sensitive clitoris, almost a full on clitorism, which is another form of overactive slave heat. The treatment is the same as for Twenty-seven so you will be getting a shot of valium and the Lignocaine gel,” advised Dr. Allen who promptly injected Lindsey and rubbed the cream onto her clit while she squirmed.

“How do you feel now?” asked Dr. Allen, after releasing Lindsey from her bonds.

“I feel much better, almost no sensation on my clitoris,” grinned Lindsey as she hopped down from the exam table looking relieved.

(The story will be continued in Part Two below. It contained too many characters for a single post.)

[Mr. Smith]

Part Two

“Good, I will see the two of you back here at 4:00 pm sharp for your piercings. Both of you be prepared to have your nipples pierced; get a VCH or Magic Cross, a Triangle, navel, and outer labia piercings. You can look them up on your iPads. Each of you will eat a can and a half of slave chow for lunch. You will need the extra calories today and bring clean sports bras, as you will be wearing the bras and panties for the next three days to help keep your piercings clean. I have panties here for you to use,” advised Dr. Allen. “Most importantly you are prohibited from climaxing until your overactive slave heat is in full remission.”

“I take it you have not decided to give them their hood ornaments yet?” Mistress Kara asked Dr. Allen.

“That’s right. I will consult Dr. Sheldon and only do the vaginal piercings if we both believe it is safe due to the overactive slave heat. I would prefer to hold off until after their ponyplay. Either way their nipples and navel will be pierced this afternoon,” responded Dr. Allen.

“The two of you are prohibited from orgasms until cleared by Dr. Allen. We will know if you do from your collar readouts. I will use my lash on both of you if either of you violate this order,” menaced Mistress Kara. “Am I clear?”

“Yes, Mistress Kara,” we responded in unison.

“I am scheduling the two of you for a therapy session with me in the next two days to address the sudden enslavement syndrome and a session with Dr. Sheldon depending on her availability regarding the overactive slave heat,” indicated Dr. Allen.

“Twenty-eight, we will also discuss your trauma being sold by the woman who you thought was your mother. I understand what you are going through as my parents sold me in exactly the same manner during my slave grading. One morning I was free and four hours later I was collared standing naked on the auction block being sold,” advised Dr. Allen with a sad look on her face as if it was still a painful memory.

“Are there any questions?” asked the vet.

“Yes, your brands, what do they signify?” asked Lindsey. “I recognize the Big D brand on your left cheek indicating you were graded and sold at auction like we were.”

“You are right; I was graded and sold at auction at the Big D. The brand on my right buttock is the Broadstone brand signifying that I graduated from here. The brand on my back is my husband’s family brand put there by his mother when I was promised to him as his consort. The horseshoe with three stars on my thigh shows that I graduated from the Lone Oak Equestrian Academy, which is the top ponygirl equestrian training center in the nation. I spent three months there to learn dressage, showmanship and vault jumping,” explained Dr. Allen. “My master was so proud of me when I graduated and the ponyplay has remained an important part of our marriage that we both enjoy.”

“Is pony play an integral part of being a consort?” asked Lindsey.

“No, only a few consorts get seriously involved in ponyplay like I did. You are much more likely to find yourself on a golf course,” clarified the doctor.

“What about the last brand?” I asked, noting that she had skipped the least visible one.

“The Diamond “B” brand on the inside of my left cheek may be the most significant to me. It is the family brand of the woman that purchased me, put me through Broadstone, and then helped find my master and future husband. Without her, my five years in slavery likely would have been a horrible nightmare. She had been betrayed into slavery herself and saw some of herself in me and decided to save me from the alternative. I am eternally grateful to her,” said Dr. Allen with a smile. “I am what we fondly call a charity or scholarship case here being purchased by a stranger with no master in mind.”

“Twenty-eight, based on your ownership documents it appears that the same woman that bought me back then also purchased you and sent you here making you another scholarship case.”

“What does that mean for my future?” asked Lindsey, her curiosity piqued.

“If your future is anything like my life has turned out it will be a good one. You will be able to ask her when you meet her sometime in the next couple of months. She insisted that I follow my dream to become a doctor and assisted me in accomplishing that goal even after I graduated from here and moved in with my future husband. Most importantly, she became something of a surrogate mother for me. We are still close,” smiled Dr. Allen, pausing for a moment.

“In the meantime, we need to get the two of you through school here, which will challenge you in ways that you have yet to imagine. When I was here, there were things that I did not want to do, that scared or embarrassed me, but I pushed through it and I am sure you will also. My pairing and I supported each other through our stay here and are still close even today. I am sure the two of you will care for each other in a similar fashion. Always remember you are a slave and what the alternatives to being here are,” counseled Dr. Allen. “Twenty-eight, ask Sara Morales what the plan is for your education when you meet with her next.”

“What if there is something that I cannot do?” asked a worried Lindsey. “This is all happening so fast.”

“It is really important that if you have any physical or emotional concerns that you bring them to Mistress Kara, Sara Morales or myself. It may seem hard to believe, but we are here to help you be successful while you are at Broadstone. You are slaves and your lives right now will be difficult physically and emotionally as you transition from free women into your new roles. There were nights that I cried myself to sleep in the arms of my pairing while I was a slave here. Remember we are molding slaves that are strong, confident, professional women to become consorts for masters with the goal of starting a family in a permanent relationship,” explained Dr. Allen with an air of sincerity.

What about Calum, I thought? How am I supposed to embrace my new life groomed for another man when I already have the perfect mate for life in my fiancé I wondered? During my time with Dr. Allen, I had completely forgotten about Calum and my memories of him came roaring back as I was suddenly on the verge of weeping as my eyes watered.

“Twenty-seven, are you alright?” asked Dr. Allen in a worried voice. “What is troubling you right now? Was it something I said?”

“The part about molding us to become consorts to a master hit me hard. I am, or maybe was, engaged to the perfect man yesterday morning when I walked into the Big D for my grading. I cannot just turn off my love for him because I am now a slave,” I groaned trying to maintain control.

“You were engaged when you were enslaved and sent here?” asked a surprised Dr. Allen. “I have never seen that here before, in fact that is something that Broadstone purposely avoids as it creates understandably serious conflicts for the slave.”

“The headmistress said she had never had this situation occur before this morning. I promised to be strong and work hard here while she looked into the situation,” I explained getting control of myself. “I am sorry; it is just hard to think that I might lose him forever.”

“Let’s try this. In your questionnaire you described playing the little sex slave for Calum and the two of you enjoyed it. While the Headmistress works on this issue, you should envision Calum as your future master while you go through your training. Everything you are doing here is to make him happy and proud of you. I just finished a Hillary Rodham slave romance novel and that is exactly what happened. A man anonymously enslaved his fiancée and sent her to a school to make her a better slave wife,” suggested Dr. Allen.

“I stopped reading those books after seeing that Sixty Minutes episode, this is real,” I testily responded.

“They lived happily ever after in the book. Her books are one of my guilty pleasures,” she laughed, effectively disarming my irritation. “Who knows, maybe Calum is your owner? Right now, you do not know who your owner is or what their plans are for you. The only information I have is that the owner wants to remain anonymous to you and the staff here for the time being. Mistress Johnson retains all of the owner information and the Headmistress has access as needed.”

“I cannot imagine Calum anonymously enslaving me and sending me here,” I answered. “On the other hand, imagining him as my future master is not a bad idea in the short term. I did ask the Headmistress if I could stay here with Lindsey if he rescued me and I would expect him to eventually find me.”

“During slave yoga this morning you had a dreamy look in your eyes. You were visualizing Calum fucking you. Right?” asked Mistress Kara in a tone implying she already knew the answer, as she looked me in the eye.

Suddenly I started sweating, blushing beet red, palms wet, trying to catch my breath and I stuttered as Lindsey and Dr. Allen observed my response.

“Cat got your tongue?” teased Mistress Kara. “This morning I told you slaves to imagine the taste of your master’s cock in your mouth and you visualized the taste, smell and feel of Calum’s cock. You felt Calum penetrating your cunt with his cock when I suggested it.”

God my pussy was leaking again as I thought about my daydream during slave yoga this morning, my breathing was controlled. The treatment was working, my pussy neither tingled nor throbbed although I could smell myself in heat. I hoped nobody else noticed until Mistress Kara wrinkled her nose knowingly with a grin.

“I had to snap you out of your trance telling you that you were allowed to masturbate during slave yoga. What were you feeling then?” she demanded.

“I fantasized about the smell of his body, the sensation of his lips on my neck, the flavor of his cock in my mouth, being pinned to the ground under his body as he penetrated me, his cock pumping into me, the familiarity of sex with him,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I thought back to the moment.

Then I felt two fingers penetrating my sopping wet pussy as I squeaked in surprise. They did a slow circle inside and then pulled out. I realized it was Mistress Kara holding her fingers wet with my pussy juice. Then she passed them to Dr. Allen who licked them, sticking them in her mouth sucking off my juices.

“Your slave grader was right, you do taste good too,” Dr. Allen smirked, snapping me back to reality.

“Did everyone know that Mandy, my grader, tasted my pussy juices at the Big D?” I wondered as I tried taking deep breaths to calm myself.

“The trance or sub-space you were during slave yoga this morning is similar to a state of mind we will train you in. Some slaves refer to it as slave haze. I will help train both of you to enter and exit it at will. It made you wetter just thinking about it now,” advised Mistress Kara, with a knowing look.

“This method has been described as a form of self-hypnosis that sex slaves use when in stressful or physically demanding circumstances that gets them through each situation. Slave yoga training lays the foundation complementing this practice. You will learn to master these techniques before graduating from Broadstone. They also enable you to quickly ignite your slave heat so that you are always wet and ready to please your master or husband,” Dr. Allen explained.

“Let me show you, sister,” she whispered, taking my hand and moving it towards her pussy. “Put two fingers in my cunt and I will demonstrate for you.”

I pushed two fingers into her moist vagina.

“Hold your fingers still,” she directed, holding my gaze with her eyes. Her breathing became more labored in short quick gasps. Her eyes took a faraway dreamy look. I felt her pussy getting wetter around my fingers after about thirty seconds and a minute later juice started dripping down my fingers. Then her eyes came back into focus, her breathing normalized as she pulled my fingers out of her pussy.

“Always incorporate what is physically happening to you in your visualization. I fantasized about my husband fucking me, penetrating my pussy with his cock because you had your fingers there. If your fingers were in my mouth, my focus would be on the taste, texture and feel of his cock in my mouth as I pleasured him as I entered my slave haze,” continued Dr. Allen.

She then moved my wet fingers towards Mistress Kara’s mouth. “Do I taste good also?” she asked, as Mistress Kara cleaned my fingers with her mouth.

“Divine,” grinned Mistress Kara.

“Twenty-eight, these techniques do not require you to visualize a specific person such as a Calum for Twenty-seven. Mistress Kara will train you in these techniques. Rumor has it that she does some of her best work when slaves have sleepovers with her,” Dr. Allen giggled.

“I would like that,” Lindsey whispered.

Suddenly she jerked. As if she just realized she was thinking out loud grasping that we had all heard her as she started to blush.

“We will start next week spending a few minutes on this technique right after evening slave yoga,” grinned Mistress Kara, like a Cheshire cat. “You need to get your slave heat under control first.”

“We will talk more about this and other items later this week. It looks like the two of you have much to work through with me. I have kept you longer than expected. You are dismissed unless there is something else,” advised Dr. Allen.

“Thank you Dr. Allen, Mistress Kara,” said Lindsey as we waved goodbye and left the infirmary on our way to our next appointment.

Lindsey led the way to our meeting with Counselor Sara Morales using the map function on her iPad.

“How do you feel about having the same owner as Dr. Allen? That sounds like good news,” I asked Lindsey.

“I definitely feel safer knowing that. It is amazing that Dr. Allen was able to accomplish so much as a consort, especially attending medical school. It really gives me hope,” responded Lindsey smiling.

Then she stopped and gave me a hug whispering in my ear, “I feel guilty knowing I have a good owner. Although it still sucks being a slave this may work out for me in the long run. I am sorry that you know so little about your situation. I really hope Calum finds you and is able to buy you. We need to try to stay positive and support each other so that we can get through this ordeal. Ok?”

“Thank you. I am sure Calum will eventually find me,” I whispered, hugging her back appreciating her gesture.

We did not say much to each other after that, as we were both deep in thought after meeting with Dr. Allen.

So far, we existed in a challenging dichotomy here at Broadstone. As slaves we lived naked, sexualized, without control of our bodies, slept chained to a wall, ate disgusting slave chow out of dog bowls, and were brutally whipped for failure and yet these women over us demonstrated a genuine caring for our wellbeing as they groomed us for a future that I was grappling to accept. I sensed that the next year was going to be the most challenging in my existence while my budding friendship with Lindsey had the potential to be the most meaningful in my life. Amelia had encouraged me to break my submissive nature free and it looked like I would have that opportunity here at this slave school whether I wanted it or not.

(To be continued)