George and his Slaves - the New Girl
Posted by: George Page in George, Life under the WSA2000, SlaveBay(This is a somewhat belated response to the ‘Buy these Sluts or they Fry‘ SlaveBay Auction)
I decreed Saturday to be a day of rest.
For me at least. The first proper week of my life in America had left me exhausted. I thanked God I hadn’t brought that pair of teenagers the moving guy had talked about.
Anyway, I decided that I wasn’t going to fuck any of my slaves on a Saturday. The weather was fine, so I set them to clearing and cleaning up the lawns and gardens, the ‘yard’, they called it.
The whole bit, actually: Floppy hats, t-shirts, sunscreen, leg irons with two foot chains.
Spring was fading into summer, so the weekend was fine and clear. I sat back in a lounger by the pool and watched them work, occasionally summoning one of them to refill my drink. I unchained Hillary and let her dress when she got the lawnmower out. I think she took it as a mixed blessing, figuring that I’d come up with some way to get the value back out of her. Perhaps, I shrugged mentally. In the meantime, there was no point in running unnecessary risks, and I’d copped enough stones in the shins in my time.
The pool kept attracting my attention. I’d had my ‘girls’ sweep it for leaves, but it still wasn’t in proper condition to be used. I’d have to get those pool people out to take care of it.
Eventually, they were done with the back lawn, so I set them to the front yard. A mental coin toss on my part ‘rewarded’ Hillary with the loss of all her clothing, although it was partially compensated by having the other two make a production out of rubbing sunscreen into _every_ square centimetre of her body.
Myself, with the action moving out of sight of the pool area, I decided to go for a walk.
* * *
I followed the same route that I’d taken the previous weekend, and with much the same result. Passing the Mullen place I again heard the cadences of the girl, Tiffany, acting as auctioneer.
Entering the garage, I managed to snaffle one of the brochures and caught the low-down on this crop of slaves. Complete reversal of the previous week’s auction - early twenty-somethings, higher sex scores, enormous breasts.
What the hell, I thought. I dropped a blanket bid for one of any left over, but that quickly went by the way as someone else bid on the whole package. I took note of the name; the guy was acting on behalf of the Castleman Trust. Wait, what? I shook my head in bemusement. Castleman was one of the shows that had inspired me to move to Eastlake, and here I was bidding against them.
Surprisingly, the bidding on this lot was very muted, compared to the previous week. I dropped fifteen hundred dollars on the first on the list. Apparently she was an accountant for whatever religious group they’d belonged to, but I didn’t really care. I was looking at those breasts and mentally inventorying the contents of my basement.
I chatted with some of the people I’d met last week, keeping a particular eye out for my Tia’s former husband. The man had brushed off my first enquiry about buying his daughter, and I hadn’t been able to talk to him since.
The auction wrapped up after about an hour of apathetic bidding. I swiped my credit card and made arrangements to have her delivered to my place.
I penned a quick note to be given to my slaves with the delivery:
“Her name is Debbie. Fit her with one of the Shock collars and string her up in the basement. Enjoy yourselves until I get home.
Surprise me!
G”
Watching me write the note, Tiffany told me that the slave’s name was actually Traci Wheelock. “Not any more,” I told her. “Make that official, too, would you? In the Database.” She did, and charged me for the privilege. _Someone_ was making money off of the slave trade.
I was closer to the local shopping centre than I was to home, so I walked. There were a couple of items I wanted to pick up for my new acquisition, and I wanted to give my other slaves time to play before I got home.
* * *
Noreen was waiting in the entrance-way when I came in the door whistling. I’d taken longer than I expected shopping - there were so many ideas to explore - and I’d stopped off at one of the taverns for dinner.
She was still wearing her gardening outfit, and fidgeted nervously. I was late, she didn’t know whether I was expecting a meal, I’d brought a new slave, and since I’d been drinking earlier, was I completely in the bottle now? She probably thought she had several reasons to worry.
I quickly reassured her on several points: No, I wasn’t drunk, Yes, I’d already eaten, so could prepare something for just herself and the others, oh, and a bowl of ’slave chow’ for the new girl.
“So, what do you think of the new girl?” I asked as she prepared the meal.
“She seems … eager to please,” Noreen replied after a moment.
“Oh?”
“As soon as she was delivered, she asked where the master was. Because she ‘needed a good fucking’.” Noreen made the quote marks in the air with her free hand. “When we showed her the note, she shrugged and asked whether we wanted her before we strung her up or after, and when you would be home.”
“And did you enjoy yourself?” I asked as she set places at the table.
“I, ah, took a long bath upstairs,” she admitted as I laughed.
Seeing she was nearly finished, I reached for the intercom. “Hillary, Tia, dinner’s ready. Bring Debbie up with you.”
They took longer than I expected, because Hillary was tugging on the leash of a crawling ‘Debbie’ with Tia walking alongside. “See,” Tia said as they entered the kitchen. “Master’s here. He’ll take care of you now. He’ll protect you from Hillary. He might even punish her, would you like that?”
Debbie glanced up at Hilary warily and shook her head quickly at the other slave’s frown.
I had to laugh again. “Been playing ‘Good Mistress’, ‘Bad Mistress’, have we?”
“Si. Hillary, I think she could be a very bad Mistress.” Tia smoothed Debbie’s hair and, taking the leash from Hillary seated her charge at the foot of the table. Unbound and seated, the girl rubbed her wrists and rotated her shoulders, as if to ease a strain. I could also see the marks of my riding crop on her breasts.
“You didn’t do too much damage, I hope?” I asked Hillary as Noreen dished up salad and cold cuts, and Debbie’s bowl of dog food.
She shrugged. “No worse than _our_ first day. I zapped her a few times, while Tia and I kept up this complicated scoring system. So many strokes with the crop against whatever she could think to offer us. You need to get some more toys, by the way.”
“I’m pleased to see you enjoyed yourself. Although I’m surprised at you, Tia. I didn’t think you had this in you.”
“It was exiting, Patron. She was so eager to please me, so long as I didn”t hit her like Hillary did.”
“Eat, Eat! Bring her downstairs again when you’re finished. Debbie,” She looked up at me cautiously. “We’ll talk about your future then.”
* * *
They must have eaten quickly, because I’d barely finished setting up my latest purchases when they came clomping down the stairs. Tia was leading a walking Debbie, but lightly, while an unhappy looking Noreen separated them from Hillary. There was ’slave chow’ smeared across Debbie’s face and chest.
“Debbie! Explain this mess.” I demanded. I made a mental bet as to what had happened
“Master,” she started, glancing at Hillary. Yep. “Slave Debbie tried to eat her food without utensils.”
“Hillary made her.” Noreen put in. “And then pushed her face into the mess.”
“I see,” I picked up my note from the floor and handed it to Hillary, who was looking a little less pleased with herself. “Read this. No, out loud. The first paragraph.”
“‘Her name is Debbie. Fit her with one of the Shock collars and string her up in the basement. Enjoy yourselves until I get home.’”
“‘Until I get home’. Yes?”
“I should have stopped.”
“Indeed. You’re lucky I’ve got other plans, or you really wouldn’t enjoy this evening. Noreen, Tia, get her cleaned up while I deal with Hillary. Wait a moment. Tia, give me that leash.”
I clipped the leash to the front of Hillary’s collar and led her over to one of the new installations, a five foot pole rising from about three feet in front of one of the sets of ankle stocks. Attached to the top of the pole was a complicated metal head cage.
“Into the stocks,” I ordered as I removed and opened the cage. Once she was in place, I fitted the cage. It was open at the mouth, but had a wide metal band from the nose right over to the base of the skull. Adjustable pads allowed it to be secured firmly in place.
The wide band - and I explained this to Hillary - had six attachment points: Nape of the neck, back of the skull, crown, top of the skull, forehead and between the eyes. Another attachment point under the chin completed the set. The mouth area was open, leaving her able to speak, scream or be gagged.
After a moment’s consideration, I had her turn around in the stocks, and moved the pole closer so that I could attach the cage to the pole at position number seven, the nape of the neck. I also adjusted the height of the pole so that she was in a mild ‘bridge’ position: Tilted over backwards, slightly. Just enough, in fact…
A quick dash upstairs and I was back with a bowl full of slave chow. I rested it carefully on Hillary’s upper chest. “You seem to like making messes. _Don’t_ make this one. If you spill this, you get to lick it up, and I give a collar remote to the new girl, clear?”
“Yes, Master. Ah, how long…”
“Until I let you free.”
I turned and smiled warmly at the others, especially Debbie. “Sorry to have kept you waiting. Debbie. Welcome to my home. I hope that I’ll enjoy having you here. Tia, Noreen, relax. Raid the bar and pull up chairs. I’ll let you know if I want you to assist me.”
“Now, Debbie, Noreen tells me that you wanted a ‘good fucking’, when you arrived. Did my slaves satisfy you before dinner?”
Debbie went to shake her head, stopped, and started to nod. “Mistress Tia made me come, Master, and it was nice, but… Master, I want cock. Please will you fuck me? I can suck you real good, and then you can fuck my ass as hard as you like and - ”
“Enough,” I stopped her before I burst out laughing. Noreen and Tia were smiling, too. “So you’d like me to fuck you, would you? Are you some kind of Nymphomaniac, or what?”
“I don’t think so, Master. I don’t _need_ sex, but I really like it. It’s how we can share the love Jesus felt for the world.”
“Uh huh. Okay. Well, it isn’t going to happen tonight.” Her face fell, and it looked like she was struggling not to interrupt and plead some more. “I think I’ll hold that out as a reward if you’re really, really good. You see, I didn’t buy you for a sex slave, although if you can teach my girls anything, it will count in your favour. Come here.”
She walked over to me and I looked her over closely. Large breasts, of course, I think the brochure called them DDD. Slightly aquiline features, vaguely reminiscent of that actress from one of those teen angst shows. Reasonably broad shoulders, a taut ass and legs. Reddish brown hair down to the middle of her back that matched the neatly trimmed bush. There were crop marks all over her ass and thighs to match the ones on her breasts.
“Did you like it when Hillary whipped you?” She shook her head
I trailed my fingertips around her body and gently hefted each breast, feeling the nipples crinkle under my palms. I traced her lips and let her nibble at my fingers. I could see the hope rising, that maybe I’d changed my mind.
I was still smiling gently as I took half a step away and rocked her head back with an open palmed slap to the cheek.
I was focused on the hurt and shock in her eyes, but I could hear my other slaves gasp, and Hillary’s plate fell to the floor.
“Then, Debbie, dear, you may not enjoy it here too much.”
I thrust my thumb back into her mouth and took a firm grip on her jaw. “You are going to be my torture slave. Noreen,” I ordered without looking away from Debbie. “Unhook Hillary and make sure she cleans up every spot. Then the three of you are free for the evening. Stay, or go upstairs as you choose.”
Tia got up with Noreen, and they both went to help their ’sister’ slave.
“One thing I want you to remember, though. Debbie’s position is _not_ interchangeable. The only way one of you will end up in her place is as the result of the worst offences. Consider it one step short of the Fugu collars.”
* * *
I twisted one of Debbie’s nipples hard, making her whimper.
“As for you, my dear, you won’t get out of here. Your best hope is to somehow mitigate my efforts.” I took my thumb out of her mouth and cupped the side of her face where I’d slapped it. “Traci” - she started and looked back at me as I used her old, her ‘real’ name - “this isn’t anything personal. I’m sure you’re a very lovely person. I just don’t intend to find out. I’m only interested in making Debbie scream.”
Before she could recover, I rocked her again with a slap to the other side of her face.
I led her over to the ether new piece of equipment. This wasn’t as openly elaborate as Hillary’s head cage. It was just a set of genital stocks, like a heavy duty version of the ‘Pole’ sex toys that I’d looked at in the slave outfitters.
Unlike the lighter toys, this one attached into the centre hole of one of my Ankle stocks and consisted of a sturdy adjustable pole topped with a ‘U’-shaped metal band set with two inflatable dildos, and an adjustable linked metal waist belt. Locked into place in the stocks it was extremely stable.
I had Noreen fellate the two dildos to lubricate them slightly, and then I stood Debbie over them and started raising the pole until they were both well seated and she was standing on the balls of her feet. The device as capable of supporting her full weight - and then some - but one of its tricks was a low powered pair of prongs that would shock the perineum if she did rest on it. Which she did, to start with.
With her anchored firmly in place, I inflated the two dildos a reasonable amount - Until she started to squirm - and walked around her, considering my options. I picked up the riding crop and slapped her with it occasionally as I thought. Each slap on the thighs or breasts would make her wobble and occasionally lose enough balance to rest her weight on the device, which zapped her, etc.
I was becoming impressed with how accurate the pain threshold testing was. It had tagged my first three perfectly and was now proving correct again as Debbie did little more than gasp and whimper at the relatively low settings I was using so far.
I wasn’t going to do anything fancy tonight. I wanted some time to consider things more carefully, and as Hillary had said earlier, I needed some more toys. Still, my latest acquisition wasn’t going to get off lightly.
I changed the crop for a whippy plastic cane and dialled the clitoral stimulator to the level indicated for her pain tolerance. Apparently, this aspect of the device could be intensely pleasurable for the victim, but that wasn’t the setting I was using.
Debbie screamed in pure torment as a bomb exploded across her most sensitive flesh, and then yelped as the centre prongs did their thing again. When she finally got her balance under control, she stood there panting and twisting, tying to keep an eye on me.
I stood behind her and swished the cane through the air. “You control how long this lasts tonight, Debbie,” I told her. “I want to give you three more shots exactly like that one, but I give you a choice. You can exchange one of those shots for ten strokes of this cane, and I’ll even wait until you are ready for each one. Thirty strokes, means no shots, do you understand?”
“Yes. Yes, Master,” she said when I tapped her on the thigh.
“Good. Which is it to be?”
“Can I choose again after each ten? Then, Could I have the first ten strokes, please?”
“As you wish. Pull your hair over your shoulder. Nod when you’re ready.”
The first slash with the cane made her yell, a loud ‘No!!’ and pant as the centre prongs zapped her. I turned them off; their effect was distracting me from my appreciation of the major blows. I admired the welt that sprung up and made her flinch as I ran my fingertips along the length of it from shoulder to bottom rib.
After a coupe of minutes, she nodded readiness again. I help off for another ten seconds or so, to spoil her anticipation, and then slashed again, being careful to aim about an inch lower.
In all, it took about half an hour for that first set of strokes with the cane. Debbie was sobbing with the residual pain from the welts. I have to admit, that was a pretty harsh whip I was using.
I took a break while I considered, got myself a drink, then took one of the ice cubes and ran it gently over the welts until it melted.
“One shot down,” I said to her eventually. “Let’s try something else. Your choice this time is between a clit shot and _twenty_ strikes of my riding crop, ten on each breast. At my pace, this time, not yours.”
She nodded quickly at the crop and I smiled. Yes, Hillary had hit her with it, but I was somewhat larger, and had different motivations.
I put my full weight into it and dropped the first hit right across her left nipple, making her scream almost as loudly as the clit shock had. Her arms, free till now, immediately crossed protectively. “Can’t have that,” I tut-tutted. “Can you hold them at your side, or should I bind you?”
Reading my preference correctly, she immediately crossed her wrists behind her back.
“Say it”
“Bind me, Master, please.”
So I did: Padded cuffs around the wrists, and then I gathered her hair back into a sloppy braid. Lifting the cuffs up her back, I used a short chain to link them to her hair, which, of course, pulled her head back.
Coming back around, I stepped in close and licked her exposed throat. I chuckled at her whimper and struggle to get away as I stepped back again and unloaded on her right nipple.
When I was finished, her breasts were well marked, especially since I’d taken care to overlap each stroke slightly.
“Last choice,” I said as I released her braid. “One clitoris shock and it’s all over, or ten more with the cane. Hmmm. I think I’ll move you to Hillary’s post, and … No, tell you what: I’ll take you off this device and pull you into a strappado for ten on the ass. How would you like that?”
She took her time deciding. I think that if it had been twenty with the crop, thirty even, she would have leapt at it. Of course, she hadn’t seen how firmly I like to pull a strappado yet. But the whippy cane? No doubt she could still feel the welts on her back. Ten more of those, on her ass?
I could see her decision as she straightened and braced herself as well as she could on her toes. I shocked her even as she said it, and her scream echoed off the walls.
* * *
Hillary, Noreen and Tia were watching television as I came back upstairs. Some soap opera on ‘SlaveTV’ I saw as I plomped down in the ‘Master Chair’. This show was kinda edgy: The slaves were slowly ruining the life of a villainous ‘bad master’. I’m not sure who the message was aimed at, but it was either a warning to bad owners, or a guide for their slaves.
“Is she still alive?” Hillary asked archly from her accustomed place in the other single seater.
“Go and see for yourself. Hold it!” I barked as she nearly bolted for the door. “Rules first.”
“One: She is _mine_ to torture. Do what you like to her, but understand that I’ll do the same to you. Specifically, for the moment, nothing more than the cross and the crop.
“Two: You can treat her as ‘Tracie’, if you like. However, whenever you are punishing her, she is ‘Debbie’, and you will make sure that she knows it. Tracie doesn’t get hurt, Debbie gets nothing but, understand? Likewise, Debbie only gets slave chow, while Tracie can eat whatever you do.”
“Thirdly, Debbie sleeps on the pad in the basement. If you bring Tracie up for the night, she sleeps with one of you.”
“Are those all clear? Good. Now you can go. One of you remember to detach her before you go to bed for the night.”
Hillary headed off immediately, and Tia fidgeted until the next ad break before following her. Noreen stayed, but she was watching me more than the television.
I patted the arm of my chair and slipped my arm around her waist as she came over.
“Why?” she asked.
“Why the torture slave? Or why the rules?”
“Yes.”
“Okay it’s like this:” I paused to put my thoughts in order. What was it like, exactly? Yeah, sure, the ‘Debbie’ thing was obvious, but Tracie Wheelock bore absolutely no resemblance to her. Was she a surrogate to make sure that I never went too far with the other three? Yeah, that was some of it. I’d grown pretty fond of all three of them.
“Okay,” I started again. “You remember that first night, when you asked if I was going to kill you?” She nodded. “Well, I think the three of you are pretty safe, now, and you all fill certain niches. Debbie fills another, one that I’ve pretty much closed off with the three of you. She’s the one I get to take out my real demons on, where I don’t have to worry about spoiling someone I know well.”
She nodded, slowly. “And the Debbie/Tracie thing?”
“Long story. Let’s just say there’s a Debbie that I’ve been … wanting control over … for a long time. What? Don’t cock your eyebrow at me like that.” I reached up and tweaked one of her nipples.
“I’d figured that part out, but why the split-personality thing. Unless you’re actua- oh.”
“Yup, call it an experiment, a late change to the game plan, just to see if I can do it.” I shrugged. “It probably won’t work. I doubt that we, that I can keep the two personas separate enough.”
I pulled her down into my lap and I idly fondled her while we watched out the slave opera. It continued with the mixed messages right to the end, where the plot against the bad master continued, but one of the slaves got too eager and greedy and ended up in the shadowy - if surprisingly incurious - hands of the brutal security forces. Or the brutal hands of the shadowy security forces, something like that. Noreen flinched as they broke the slave’s thigh with a heavy steel rod just before the credits faded in to her screams.
I looked at the clock and smiled. “Pleasure me, punishment and reward.” I said after a lick into her ear. “Punishment: ten strokes with the crop. Reward: One less for every ten minutes that it takes me to come. If you can make it to two hours, I’ll make love to you however you would like.”
I’d played this same game with both Hillary and Tia on previous evenings, and they’d both failed, receiving partial punishments. I was glad to see that Noreen was willing to try something different as I allowed her to lead me up to the Master bedroom.
Due to matters 
