Slave Read online

  Everyone outside the palace is terrified of The Winter Queen, but so far the people here had a healthy respect for her but didn’t seem to be walking on eggshells.

  “I’m good at what I do, Little One. Her Majesty rewards those who please her and punishes those who don’t. She’s fair and just — I couldn’t ask for a better employer.”

  “Thank you for answering my question, Ma’am.”

  When I finished eating, the cook had someone take me to the baths. I was handed off to a handsome man, naked and in a tiny cock cage and slave collar.

  I wanted to ask him if he was being punished or if he was always in the cock cage, but I followed him into a room clearly set up to give enemas, so I kept quiet. It’s best not to annoy the person about to clean you out, whether they’re a fellow slave or not.

  “Is there anything I need to know before we get started?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “I’m a pleasure slave. I’ve been regularly cleaned out as long as I can remember.” Even child slaves are cleaned out on a schedule, so they don’t annoy people with their need to go at random times. Toddler slaves lose their diapers when they learn to walk, and they’re spanked for accidents. However, they really only need to learn not to pee all over the place, because their enemas keep them cleaned out so they don’t make stinky messes.

  “Her Majesty was clear this isn’t a punishment, but she expects you to be squeaky clean when you come to her. I’ll be punished if you aren’t, so you understand I’ll need to be thorough while trying to keep you as comfortable as possible?”

  I sighed and looked to my feet. “Let’s forego comfortable and try for fast instead, please? I’d really like to get this part over with.”

  His cock pulsed in its tiny steel cage. “You like pain.”

  He said it as a statement and not a question, but I answered him anyway. “I do, but I dislike enemas. Keeping me comfortable means giving me five or six, each larger than the last. However, if you load the first up with soap and force the whole thing in me even if I beg for relief, we can get me clean with two soapy enemas and then I’ll just have to deal with the clear-water rinse enemas.”

  He sighed. “And I thought someone was taking it easy on me by giving me a slave who didn’t need punishing. Very well.”

  I noted the whips on the wall, the lemons in a basket, and the rack of spicy oils, and realized he probably specialized in giving punishment enemas. I chuckled without thinking, and then stopped myself. “You’re a sadist in a cock cage, forced to hurt people when you can’t enjoy it?”

  “I am, Little One. Let’s get you strapped in.”

  “So, with neither of us allowed an orgasm, she’s managing orgasm denial on both of us, without lifting a finger?”

  “Our Queen is very good.”

  He grasped my hand, moved it to a corner of the enema table, and locked it in. I moved my feet and my other hand to the corners, so he wouldn’t have to move them.

  I’d remain here until we were finished — the table was tilted so my feet were slightly lower than the rest of me, and with plumbing between my legs to drain the mess away, there’d be no need to let me up when it was time to release. He’d hopefully hose me down to clean me off when necessary, but slaves don’t get to go relieve themselves in private during routine maintenance.

  As a child, we’d been bent over a short wall outside, lined up side by side, and tubing stuck in our bottoms like an assembly line. Someone squirted water to wash the mess away almost as soon as it hit the concrete under our bare feet, but the place still stank.

  However, I hadn’t been put on an enema table and so thoroughly cleaned until the day I’d lost my anal virginity. It had been auctioned off to the highest bidder, and I’d never had anything large put inside my bottom-hole before — only the narrow enema nozzle used on children. I had no idea how to prepare for such an invasion, and didn’t have an opportunity, even if I’d known what to do. I was cuffed that morning when they told me what was to happen, and had no access to myself throughout the day, while I was cleaned out, then waxed from my neck down, and then professionals worked on my hair, nails, and make-up. My owner had taken my woman-hood three months before, and I knew I’d eventually be required to submit to having my bottom violated, but I’d thought I had much longer.

  Also, I had no idea it would be auctioned off in the manner it was, but my initial pleasure training alerted them I’d be a good candidate. I knew none of this at the time, and only figured it out later, when I was occasionally called in to help train the younger slaves.

  Later, I was taught how to relax and accept such an invasion into my bottom, but the first time had been a horrible nightmare — hanging in a harness with no way to move or protect myself, my arms and legs bound out of the way. Men were allowed to bid to be the first, the second, the third... all the way to the thirtieth. My bottom-hole had hurt for weeks, afterwards.

  This slave pulled the monstrous plug from my bottom with as much care as he could manage, but part of me wished he’d just tugged it out and hurt me. However, he was in charge of seeing to me while I was in his care, so I didn’t comment.

  So far, none of the slaves or employees at The Dark Queen’s castle had treated me with cruelty. There was no guarantee this would continue, and I kept expecting a horrid taskmaster to step forward with implements of torture hanging from his or her belt, but it hadn’t happened yet. Her Majesty had enjoyed hurting me, but that was different.

  I’d been abused by other slaves who had seniority over me before, so I knew it could happen, but something told me the Winter Queen’s castle ran differently than the other places I’d lived.

  This slave was methodical, precise, and professional, though I noted his caged cock fruitlessly tried to grow when I cried, squirmed, and begged to relieve myself of the soapy enemas. He didn’t leave the first in for terribly long, but he set the timer for the second at forty-five minutes, and only released the valve when the timer dinged. When I’d also endured the two clear enema rinses and fully evacuated them, he sent for someone to get me.

  I was taken to a waxing area and fully depilated from the chin down. Large ball gags were placed in every slave’s mouth as we walked in the door, and removed as we left. Slaves who attempted to speak around the gag were also outfitted with a chinstrap and full-face hood, so I didn’t attempt to communicate in any way. Once again, the person who handled me was methodical and professional, and she hurt me no more or less than the job required.

  A tiny, soft-spoken woman was waiting when I was finally pointed towards the door. I was certain she was older than me, but she was so small — barely taller than me, and certainly thinner. She gently removed my gag, dropped it in a bin with other gags I assumed would be cleaned and reused, and delicately asked me to follow her.

  She was naked with a slave collar, but I didn’t try to speak to her, and she remained quiet until we entered a room with a bath. I was used to being in a large bath area with lots of other slaves, and I wasn’t sure what to think of the small, private room.

  She pointed to a bar hanging to the side of the bathing area. “Please grab the bar? This won’t be pleasant right after you were waxed, but it can’t be helped.” She turned some knobs and soothing music filled the room. “If you don’t like my choice of music, let me know and we’ll select something else.”

  It felt like she used oiled sand, though I suppose it could’ve been sugar or salt. At any rate, it seemed as if she sanded the top layer of skin off my entire body while I stood with my arms over my head, hanging on for dear life. Only what was inside my cunny lips, mouth, ears, nose, and eyes were avoided. When she’d done everything except my shoulders and arms, she had me let go with one arm so she could work on it, and then had me swap arms.

  When I finally sank into the warm water, I was all pink and red.

  “Have you been in Her Majesty’s castle long?” I asked.

  “I have. The hard part’s over with, now it’s time to relax. Close your eyes
and let the warm water work its magic.”

  My head had been shaved regularly as a child, so there was no need to waste time washing or brushing my hair. It’d been allowed to grow out before I took on my official sex slave duties, but no one had ever washed my hair for me. I had absolutely no feelings around the enema or depilation processes. I was an object being prepared for use. It was routine. However, having my hair washed felt decadent. Wrong.

  The other slave was patient with me, but it was clear she wasn’t used to having to give so many directions. Eventually, I figured out how to relax my head and neck so she could move my head while she washed, conditioned, and rinsed my hair.

  My emotions were a strange mix while I was catered to. The pleasure parlor had given us enemas, kept us waxed, and trimmed our hair when the ends were uneven, but we’d been responsible for our hair, makeup, and nails — and failing to keep ourselves maintained to standards meant we didn’t get the next meal.

  My most recent Master’s slave-manager had expected us to help each other with anything we couldn’t handle on our own. I’d helped the other girls with their enemas, but had preferred to take care of my own without assistance. No one had ever drawn a bath for me before, asked about my music preference, or washed my hair.

  The most bizarre treatment was yet to come though, because a masseuse rubbed me down and oiled me everywhere, and then a stylist gave me an incredible updo while someone trimmed my toenails and shaped my fingernails. She put a clear coat over the top of my lavender and green swirled nails, and even made an offhand comment about how much the Queen liked my nails, and how Her Majesty had made a note not to hide the natural colors with polish.

  Finally, I was taken to a doctor, who listened to my heart and lungs, examined every inch of my skin, looked inside my cunny and ass with a speculum, counted my teeth, peered in my ears, felt around on my stomach, mashed and poked at my breasts and nipples, and asked me lots of questions about my general health.

  “Today’s exam was a formality, of course,” he told me when he finished. “Her Majesty checked you out and her magic would’ve told her if there were problems. You’ve been fed fruit and nuts throughout the day while you were prepared for Her Majesty, and while we can offer dinner, I’d advise you to turn it down unless you’re especially hungry. Her Majesty is likely to test you this evening, to see how much you can take. It’ll be easier on an empty stomach.”

  “I had so much to eat for lunch — I didn’t eat much of what was provided for snacks. I’m fine, Sir, and thank you for the advice.”

  “One of your responsibilities here is to let people know if you’re in need of something. You’ll let one of the grooms, maids, or guards know if you’re thirsty or hungry. If you’re terribly thirsty and one isn’t around, you’ll let whoever’s using you know — even if it’s the Queen. If you’re sick or injured, you’ll let someone know right away — groom, maid, guard, another slave, castle employee, or even Her Majesty. You’re the property of the Queen, and she’ll punish you severely for not taking care of her property.”

  “I understand, Sir. Thank you.”

  “Unless they’re given a pass by Her Majesty or me, all slaves are required to run with the pony slaves at least three times a week. The trainer may also assign weight training or other calisthenics, totally at his discretion. I understand you’ve had extensive yoga training and you’re quite flexible. We don’t currently have a yoga teacher on the staff, so don’t be surprised if you’re asked to teach a class to the other pleasure slaves, and possibly some employees.”

  I must’ve looked shocked at the idea of teaching a freeperson, and he patted my bare leg. “Don’t fret. Protocol will be explained, should you be required to teach.”

  There’s so much to learn when you’re sold to a new owner, and this castle was huge. I was terrified I’d screw up without meaning to, and it was important Her Majesty knew how badly I wanted to please her. “Where are the pony stables, Sir? How will I know when to go or who to report to?”

  “When Her Majesty is finished with you tomorrow morning, you’ll be handed off to a groom. They’ll see to it you’re fed and bathed, and you can speak with them about your daytime schedule. Your first days will be hectic, but you’ll soon be assigned your own groom, and Her Majesty will decide the best use of her new acquisition. Much will be expected of you, but you’ll be taken care of.”

  The doctor nodded to someone behind me. “She’s ready for Her Majesty, but please see she gets some juice before you take her.”

  Chapter Four

  Little One

  The same tiny girl who’d walked me to the baths came to get me, though she wore a thin shift and was no longer nude. I followed her through the castle without asking where she was taking me.

  “I’m Nissa,” she told me, slowing until I walked beside her. “I have three pleasure slaves under my care at this time, and I sometimes have as many as five. Since this is the second time I’ve been asked to assist ye, there’s a chance ye’ll be assigned to me.”

  Her voice was full of the lilting, musical notes of the wee folk from the mountains to the north. I could listen to her talk all day.

  “Hi, Nissa. How long have you been with the Queen?”

  She touched the collar at her neck in reflex, and let her hand drop when she realized what she’d done. “Going on three years.”

  “You weren’t raised a slave.”

  “No.”

  She obviously didn’t want to talk about it, so I didn’t push. She picked up speed again, and I matched her because she seemed to want me to walk with her, and not behind.

  We made two more turns before she said, “The castle was designed to be confusing, so no one can find their way around unless they do so daily. Don’t rely on a stained-glass window or a decorative column as a landmark to tell ye where to turn — these things change frequently. Only a handful of people are taught how to find their way to the Queen’s private quarters. If ye’re caught in one of the hallways near her suite without a proper escort, the guards will treat ye like a convicted criminal unless Her Majesty intercedes and stops them.”

  “You’re a proper escort? You know the way?”

  “I do, which is another reason I believe ye may be assigned to me. Our Queen has taken a special interest in ye, and she’ll likely want ye brought to her at least a few times a week until she tires of ye.”

  In that moment, I determined to do whatever was necessary to keep her from tiring of me. I’d be exactly what she wanted, and I’d give her so many orgasms, it would be my name on her tongue when she needed or wanted release.

  We turned a dozen more corners, but when we finally rounded one and I saw two uniformed guards standing watch outside huge, intricately carved doors, I was certain we’d arrived. They impassively watched us walk the final thirty yards to them. Their faces showed no emotions. Their entire bodies still, as if they were made of stone.

  “This slave is known as Little One,” Nissa said when we stopped before them. “Her Majesty is expecting her.”

  I stood naked in the hallway while everyone else was clothed. Every castle has different rules about where to look during different circumstances, but it’s usually safest to look down when in doubt, so I focused on the men’s belts. Technically, I’m supposed to look at their cock, but belts can make me just as happy.

  The make-up person had rouged my nipples and lips with a bright red almost the same color as my hair. She’d smudged dark eyeliner around my eyes and painstakingly put mascara on every lash. Sometimes, I feel self-conscious being the only one nude in the room, other times I’m proud of my status as pleasure slave. Mostly, how I feel doesn’t matter. I’ve never been anything other than a slave. My station in life is to be of use to my owner.

  “Look me in the eyes, Little One,” ordered one of the guards.

  I obeyed, but his look was so intense, I had to force myself not to look away.

  “What are your intentions with the Queen?”

&nbs
p; “To make her love me.”

  The words came out before I meant to say them, but he didn’t seem surprised.

  “You’ll do, then. Go with peace.”

  I looked to Nissa, in shock. This guard could pull the truth from people.

  “Our Queen rules by both love and fear,” Nissa told me with a gentle smile. “Some do as she says because we love her and want to do our best to make her happy. Others do so because they fear her. Nearly everyone allowed close to her falls into the first category.” She touched my shoulders and ran her hands down my arms. “Walk through the sitting room into the bedroom. She’s expecting ye.” She adjusted a stand of my hair. “Ye’ve pleased her. Just keep being who ye are, Little One.”

  The guards opened the doors with a flourish. I walked through a sitting area and into a huge bedroom, took ten steps into the room, and dropped to a graceful kneeling position. The queen was riding a man on her bed and looked as if she were moments from a spectacular release. I’d cleared less than a quarter of the distance across the room, but no way did I want to disturb Her Majesty’s pleasure.

  The doors closed behind me seconds after my feet moved from the cold stone floor of the hallway to the wood floor of the Queen’s suite. Plush area rugs were scattered around, but I went to my knees on the wood.

  I didn’t know what to do, so I’d wait patiently until given orders.

  I assumed a position I was used to — my butt on my feet, knees apart, and my arms at the small of my back. I focused on the intricate designs in the rug ten feet in front of me while the Queen rode herself to an orgasm.

  Her release seemed to energize her, and she climbed off the bed and stepped across the floor as if in a dance.

  “Little One, I trust you’ve had a nice day?” She wore a black corset, but only her torso was covered, with her breasts and pussy bare.

  “I have, Your Majesty. What can I do for you, my Queen?”

  “August is a rabbit shifter. What do you know of the bunnies?”