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Seeking New Intensity

By: boxwood25



1.

Sitting in the bar, he looked around for her. The online chat had been easy, the usual bantering flirtation and then direct talk, easier to do in this removed way. The conversation had moved to his statements about seeking a higher level of intensity, beyond the casual dating of an older divorced guy, and beyond casual romance. She seemed to understand what he was getting at, and her questions became more direct. They made the decision to meet, to demonstrate his seriousness before she opened that door for him. So here he was, sitting alone at a high top table near the bar, sipping a craft beer with an ironic name, dressed in what he thought might be casual with an upscale edge, a tweed jacket over gray slacks and a dark sweater. He was trying not to pay attention to the TV sports channel when he was tapped on the shoulder.

Swinging around, he was surprised to see two women, one of them a bit younger than he expected. The older woman, about his age, close to 60 maybe, had a thin, sharp face and wore a leopard print down vest over slim jeans, with short dark hair falling over one eye. Her companion, with a rounder face, wore a short jacket over jeans and had blondish hair in a short cut. Both of them wore the same shade of dark maroon lipstick, which seemed an odd detail for him to notice.

"Let's see, I am guessing you are David? Waiting for Ivy, I think?" She smiled tightly, her eyes narrowing. 

"Yes, ah, that's right, I am David, and we said we would meet here, I didn't want to be late, you must be..."

"Yes, exactly, Ivy; Poison Ivy? Clinging Ivy, English Ivy- it depends on how you see things. This is Diane."

She did not explain the other woman, and led the way to a corner table." I find a face to face meeting is essential, to decide whether someone is worth my time and thought or not." She glanced at her watch, an expensive but no-nonsense black practical watch. "So, David, when we chatted so playfully, you told me your goals, I think 'more intensity' was your phrase?"

His face colored, as he saw the second woman watching his confession. "I think; I believe I need to be in a more intense situation, to be overwhelmed with feeling, to experience that new emotion."

"David, you're talking in circles, Diane here knows what you have said to me. It is sexual intensity, loss of control, that you want, is that right?" She leaned across the table, surprising him as she brushed open the jacket and found his nipple with her long nails, squeezing it through his sweater as it hardened. "You want to have no personal space, to be a body with feelings, not your usual careful and professional self. I think that's what you said." She held her grip there, and he did not move, as his eyes flicked first to her, then to Diane watching with a neutral expression. 

"Yes, exactly; I want to move outside my usual zone, to do things I have only imagined."

Ivy released her grip, and then snapped at his nipple hard with her fingernail, painfully. He winced, and both women smiled. "My friend, Miss Sonnet, has a place in the country, and she has training weekends once in a while; you might be surprised how common this desire for loss of control can be. Here is her email address, send a polite but begging note and I will tell her you might be a good candidate for her next party. As a servant, not a guest." She smoothed his jacket as she stood up, and they both walked out without looking back at him. The scrap of paper was in his hand before they left the bar.

2.

The email exchange was simple, like a lot of ordinary social events. His begging but polite request was followed by meeting instructions, a confirmation, an acceptance form he had to sign, and a few instructions. Dress simply, wear black shoes, and bring nothing but the training fee of $200. Park in the public lot at a railroad station, near the small town an hour outside the city. Be prompt, by noon on Friday, and expect to be back late Sunday evening. Hand over phone, keys, wallet or other things to security to be returned afterwards.

It was partly sunny on Friday, as he stood by his car in the station parking lot. He seemed to be the only one here, and he realized he did not know how large this training group might be, or if he was the only one. He waited till what seemed like well after noon, when instead of the car he had been expecting an older truck pulled up, the kind of small box truck marked with the name of a rental agency. A younger man got out of the cab and came over to him, wearing gray workman's clothing. He had a folded paper in his hand, and moved his finger down the list.

"David, right?" He looked up, with no hint of a smile.

"Yes, ahhm David, I was expecting a car.."

"Yes, shut up, this is your ride. Give me the money, then hands behind you."

He handed over the folded bills, $200 from savings, an investment in new experiences, and then stepped closer to the truck, and held his wrists together behind his back as the man pushed his sleeves up and wrapped them with silvery duct tape. He was surprised when he saw the gag, and opened his mouth as the man roughly pushed it in, with a strap behind his head to hold it. The man took his arm and pushed him toward the back step of the truck, then pulled a fabric hood down over his face and pushed him up to stumble into the back of the truck, then sit down on the wooden floor. He was pushed up against what he realized was another person, as the door slammed shut.

As the truck bounced along, he realized he was sitting on the floor with more people, he assumed also bound, silenced, and eyes covered. It was not possible to tell how many, or how long it took as they made other stops and new bodies were pushed into the truck, forcing him to slide closer to others. When the truck finally came to a stop, he heard the doors screech open and several hands guided him to the back step, and down to what seemed like a paved drive. It was a sunny afternoon, and he could feel the late autumn warmth on the hood he wore. The handlers from the truck pushed the group along, shoulder to shoulder, bodies together, until he felt what seemed to be stone paving below him. 

The hands pushed him forward, and cut the tape at his wrists, and he could feel the group being pushed together. A new voice, a woman this time, spoke up. "Good afternoon, slave trainees. I am Miss Sonnet, and this is my country place. I call it Haven. All of you came recommended by my guests, and all of you in your way have said you wanted this new experience. If any of you have second thoughts, put both hands up now and the drivers will get you back to your car, and you will never come here again. If you stay, let's be clear; as of now you have no personal space, no control over your own body, and no rights whatever except my own ground rules: no permanent marks or injury, adults only, and basic health. I think you will discover more about yourselves this weekend than you expect. Ready, then?"

He kept his arms down, curious now and excited but frightened, too, unable to speak or see.

"Our first basic rule of this weekend is that slaves are only allowed to wear what I provide, and are never allowed to touch their own body or dress or undress themselves. There are seven of you here, on my patio, and we are making a video record which you will have later to remember your training. You have three minutes now; undress each other, leave your gags and hoods alone. Just do it by touch; find someone, help them remove their clothing, find someone to remove yours. Just let the clothing fall to the ground, the drivers will collect it for your return. There is a low wall along one side of this patio; I want to see a line of naked hooded slaves along that wall as fast as possible. The last one at the wall will be punished, of course. Go!" 

Before he had time to absorb the instructions, he was pushed forward and felt hands blindly tugging at his clothes, hurriedly trying to find shirt buttons and fasteners. He reached for what seemed like the nearest other person and felt a hard male body, fumbling to open the shirt as other hands tugged at him. It became a grunting mass of bodies, trying to work faster. His shirt came off, hands were on his chest and finding his belt buckle, as he turned and felt a woman's body close by and tugged at her shirt, then her bra. His hands felt warm skin and bodies, breasts and legs and arms as they all struggled together. Several hands were pulling his pants down, as found the snap on a woman's jeans and pulled them down along with her panties. He heard the laughter from Miss Sonnet and the drivers now, as he and the others grappled to feel clothing and skin. He turned again and felt a male body, finding the underwear and pulling it down as he realized he had never before touched another man. The drivers kept them herded close together, as hands found skin and explored for remaining clothing. He still had his underwear, and he had to push into the group to find someone to suddenly pull them down, a small female hand brushing his hard cock.

Stumbling after the others, he kept his body against others as they searched for the stone wall, and took their places, breathing hard. "Very good, for a first time" Miss Sonnet said, with a laugh. "Now form a line, and we can get started. Turn sideways, to your left, and put one hand on someone's shoulder ahead of you, and put the other hand behind you and hold onto them." He reached forward, to feel a hard shoulder, and felt that person reach back to find and hold his hardening cock. He reached behind, and found a woman's body, and his hand curled underneath between her legs, feeling her soft hair there, and her small cold hand on his shoulder. The group started to shuffle, unevenly, trying to maintain the line, walking awkwardly down a stone path and them up a step into the house. His mind was full of sensation, the large hand roughly gripping his hard cock, and his own hand between the woman's thighs.

3.

It was warmer inside the house, and the awkward line of slaves came to a sudden stop. His hood was pulled off, and his gag removed, as the drivers went down the line. He was left blinking in the light, in a plain hallway near the kitchen. He looked around, saying nothing. Miss Sonnet was talking quietly with the drivers, who laughed as they took away the two large black trash bags of their mixed clothing. He was in a line of three men and four women, all in quiet shock at their new situation. Their naked bodies were a sharp contrast with the normal feeling of the house, and they were a range of body types and ages, mostly older. The men ranged from average size to one much heavier than him, none of them very fit or especially good looking. The four naked women were a range of ages and body types, tall and slim, shorter and rounder, small breasts and larger ones, wide hips and small boned. No one in this group was strikingly beautiful or a model type, it was a collection of people united only by their mindset. All of them had to take in this new role as a house slave for Miss Sonnet. As the drivers went out, two young women joined Miss Sonnet in the hallway, both dressed in short gray skirts and cotton sweaters, wearing flat shoes.

"Alright, this afternoon is your first training day, before my guests arrive tomorrow. In the same way your clothing is gone now, you need to understand that as a house slave, you will also lose your personhood, or the idea that you are an individual with a name, with rights, and choices and preferences, or that this is something you can control. The real humiliation here is not just your being naked, it is that all of you have said you needed this and would give up your sense of self to experience this loss of control. And by the way, all of you have paid me for this lesson, and have given permission, which is perhaps even more humiliating for you."

"As I said, one of the first rules is that as a non-person, you have no personal space, no private parts, and no right to touch your body. For the rest of your time here, someone else will do that for you. The first thing all of you need is a good wash; follow my two assistants down the hall to the trainee quarters. You will obey anything they tell you, as you would for me, but we will just call them Alpha and Beta." The women led the naked column a few steps down the hall, to a large room with a row of windows very high in the wall. One end of the room was tiled, with several shower heads, a pair of sinks, and a single toilet with no seat. The other end of the room had two large mattresses on the floor, with a pile of rough blankets. The light fixtures were in the ceiling, and he noticed there was no switch in the room and that the door was made of heavy planks.

Alpha and Beta pushed the group to the shower end of the room, keeping them bunched together, then handed around a basket with black leather cuffs and collars, all well used. "To make the point that all of you are naked slaves, not Roman gods and goddesses and artistic nude figures, all of you need a collar and a cuff on your left ankle. You can't put on your own, take the ones you find and buckle them onto one of the other trainees, then line up facing the wall. "

He felt the thick rough leather and heavy metal rings of the collar and cuff as he took them from the basket, then turned to the nearest other figure, a slim woman with high, small breasts and pale skin, and reached to fasten them on her. As he did, someone else fitted him and he felt the weight of collar and cuffs as they were buckled around him. All of them turned to face the wall, and he felt a hand on his body. Alpha and Beta used marker pens to label each of the trainees with a number in a circle, on both shoulders. Looking down, he realized he was now just #4. The trainers used snap locks to fasten them in groups of 2 or 3, by the ankles; he found his leg cuffed to a small woman, with an older face that showed small tight wrinkles around her mouth, and a curvy figure with heavy, swaying breasts and wide hips. Her eyes refused to meet his.

"You all need a shower, but remember you cannot bath yourselves, that is why you have a partner or two. In each group, use the showers and soap and shampoo to clean each other. I want you to touch and clean all of the other's body, with special attention to between their legs and to their rear. No reason to be shy now, none of you has any personal space." The showers were turned on, and the women looked down as she began to soap his body, her hands sliding over his chest, his face, lathering his hair, working down his back , then between his legs and handling his hard cock. He felt her hands tugging on the collar and cuff as she worked; reminding him they marked him now as a slave. When it was his turn, his soapy hands caressed her roughly and quickly, washing her medium length hair, hefting her breasts and sliding over her belly, between her legs where he washed her mound and lips, kneeling to get her feet. The two of them were pushed under the shower, and then given two small rough towels to dry off each other. Under the other showers, the other two male slaves and one female washed each other, while the other two women were cuffed and showering each other.

"I will decide what the trainees should wear, I prefer not to have you just wandering around naked in my home, but you need to remember your status, actually your lack of status. Here, unhook your cuffs and dress each other." Miss Sonnet tossed them two fresh packages of Wal Mart panties; one size fits all, in a deep pink color. He bent to unhook his cuff from the shorter woman, then pulled panties from the pack and dressed her in them, sliding them up and smoothing them over her hips. She took a pair and tugged them up his thighs, reaching to tuck his cock and balls into them as she pulled them up.

The slaves made a ridiculous picture now, seven half-naked men and women dressed in matching pink panties, numbered and cuffed and collared. "Now, you are ready to work and to learn. Alpha and Beta will assign tasks, we have house cleaning to do, the yard needs some clean up, there are dishes to wash and silver to polish and the cook needs some kitchen help too."

He was sent to the front hall with a bucket and brush, on his knees scrubbing the black and white marble tile floor. As he worked, he looked up to see the other slaves, men in panties taken outdoors in the sun to do lawn work or to the pantry to polish the silver, topless women in the same panties dusting or taken to the kitchen to scrub and peel vegetables. He was just finishing when Beta came into the hall, walked closer to him. 

"Stand up, #4.Look at me." He got to his feet slowly, knees aching, and held himself at attention. She kept her blue eyes locked on his, as she patted his rear, smiled at the feel of a male body in smooth panties, and then slid her hand inside to cup his cock and balls and hold them tightly. "As Miss Sonnet said, slaves have no personal space and no private parts. But that doesn't mean I want you, either."

She patted his belly, reminding him how far he was from a fit, young, good looking man, and then used her finger to open his mouth wide. "Small cock, but a good tongue, we may find a use for you later." She smiled, and as she turned away she took the scrub brush from his hand and tossed it into the bucket with a splash, making a new area he would have to clean and dry again.

4.

The light was beginning to fade when the trainers gathered them again, this time in the large living room. They could catch the smell of cooking from the kitchen, and he realized he had not eaten since the morning. Outside, the large windows showed the deep blue sky and the dark outlines of trees around the lawn, as the half-naked slaves in panties lined up on the oriental carpet.

"It is almost feeding time for slaves, but first we have some important skills practice. Let's have you three male slaves on your knees, here, and the four females sitting on these low tables, after you remove each other's panties. We will start with oral skills for the males" Miss Sonnet led the first of the women to a table, and arranged her sitting on the edge of it with legs wide apart, showing her sex. "Males, we have four females today, they are # 1, 2, 5 and 7. We will blindfold the males, and then have you lick each of the four females. They are allowed to cum if they can, probably not, but your challenge it to identify the order in which you tasted them. If any of you can get that right, which I doubt, you can avoid punishment. Then we will give the females a chance with you three. The point of this is first, that you need to learn how every woman's parts have a distinct shape and feel and flavor, and second that the mouth of a slave is a convenience any guest might chose to make use of. And, as with the rest of your training, this will be part of your video record."

He felt a heavy blindfold slipped over his eyes and a hand on his collar pulling him forward on his knees. His lips were on a woman's thigh, as the hand on his collar pulled him closer. He was aware of her scent, sweat and musky vagina, as his tongue lapped her and slipped into her slit. The hand on his collar kept him there, as he worked his tongue to thrust deeper and to lick the ridge of her clitoris, his nose against her unshaved mound. As he tried to find a rhythm, he was suddenly pulled away and another woman brought before him. He tried to sense the differences as he licked her firmer thigh, her more prominent pubic bone, her different slipperiness and aroma.

He licked and tasted the third and fourth women, trying to collect in his mind their features. As he was pulled back, he was surprised that the hand on his collar gripped him hard and turned him around, spinning him to sit on the low table as the women had. He braced himself as he realized why the laughter from the trainers had increased; they held his legs wide as they led one of the other males to him, and he shuddered as a mouth suddenly found his hard cock and stopped in surprise. The male was pushed forward, made to mouth his cock, as the trainers laughed and pulled him back. He was ashamed to find himself harder, since he had never had contact before with another male. He was trying to remember the order of the women he had tasted, as their positions were reversed. His blindfold was removed and he watched as each of the blindfolded women was brought to him, looking down as each ones lips folded around his hard cock and sucked him distastefully, grimacing as they gulped and licked.


Seeking New Intensity



The trainers pulled each woman away, before he was allowed to cum, and slapped his hard cock to break his arousal. At the end, he was left with a hard cock four women and a man had tasted, but he was painfully short of cumming himself. Miss Sonnet asked each of them about the order they had tasted, but only one of them, the tall slender woman, was able to recall correctly. "It was #3, 6, and then 4. I knew by the size of their cocks- and their bellies."

Miss Sonnet and trainers laughed, as the males reddened, and realized that none of them was so large as to be memorable; it was three degrees of average to small. "Well done #1, you have earned a place at the dinner table."

She led the group to the dining room which was now set with four places, for Miss Sonnet, Alpha, Beta, and now #1. They ate from platters of warm food, with a sip of wine, with Slave #1 looking out of place sitting at the table with the three dressed women, but herself still topless in panties. The rest of them were lined up to watch, eyes on her swaying breasts and smelling and seeing the delicious food. After those at the table were done, the cook scraped their leftover food into one large pot, then mixed it together and ladled it into metal dog bowls on the wood floor, which the trainees bent to eat with no hands, faces buried in the mixed food. The trainers fed them water from large bottles, and then led all of them back to their quarters. It was dark outside the windows now.

"Ok, line up, time for bathroom before bed, slaves." Alpha led them into the room, and he realized the final defeat of any shyness. There was only the one bare toilet, in the open, and none of them were allowed to touch their own clothing. "Each one, help the one before you; take down their panties, wait, then dress them again. He was faced with the large man, and had to kneel as he worked the panties down over the slave's hips, then waited as the man used the toilet, and slid them up again. Then it was his turn, and he had to wait while one of the women undressed him and then pulled his panties back up. By the time the lights went out, and they had found their places packed together on the two mattresses under a few blankets, he realized all of his barriers had been broken down. He was now just part of this naked collection of slaves, men and woman whose bodies he had seen and tasted and touched, and who now knew him in the same way. They piled together, almost naked, bodies pressed together for warmth, too tired to want sex but open to being touched by anyone.

5.

When he woke, he was just Slave #4 in his own mind. The morning followed the same pattern as before, except this time their clothing was blue flowered Wal- Mart panties. They spent the morning finishing the cleaning and party preparations, and the training session was their introduction to slim anal dildo penetration, just another option over which they had no control. The combination of being half naked himself, being dressed only in surprisingly smooth and clingy panties, and seeing the women slaves exposed this same way kept him half-hard all the time now, reminding him of his sexual nature and his condition as a slave and a slut. Lunch was like the other meals, a mix of leftovers fed to them in bowls on the floor, which they ate with no hands.

Miss Sonnet brought them back to their quarters, where Alpha and Beta were laying out the outfits for the party. Instead of their usual gray skirts and tops, the two trainers now wore colorful halter-top dresses with full skirts and high heels, as well as their own collars of silver metal. With no bras, their breasts were barely contained in the halters and their nipples poked at the thin fabric. The party costumes were different, he saw, for the male and female slaves. For the men, they had laid out black leather slave harnesses, worn with only a black thong and lace-up black boots. For the females, Miss Sonnet had chosen gauzy strapless tops which left the breasts mostly exposed and short ballet skirts with nothing underneath. All of the house slaves would clearly be visible and available to guests, and their collars and ankle cuffs made their status clear, along with the numbers marked on each shoulder. She and the trainers watched as they dressed each other, tucking bodies into the costumes and grooming each other. One of the women tugged the harness straps around his chest and hips, fitting the buckles and snaps, and pulled the thong around his cock and balls, smoothing it. He adjusted her breasts in the top and evened the skirt as it lay around her hips. Alpha checked the fit, and leaned down to apply a rosy lip gloss to the woman's labia, highlighting her nakedness under the short skirt.

After they were dressed, all of the trainees were given matching masks, a latex hood which covered their hair and face but left the mouth available, with the eyes hidden behind a thin black fabric. Both males and females had hoods with the same features and the same short hair, giving them an oddly robotic appearance and somehow highlighting the features of their bodies which were exposed and available.

It had become late afternoon by the time they were led to their places in the hall and the living room, with candlelight gleaming in the silver they had spent part of the day polishing. A small band arrived, a jazz trio, whose members tried to ignore the half-naked house slaves as they set up in a corner of the large room, arranging their instruments and music stands. A bartender arrived, a young woman in a tuxedo shirt and dark slacks, and found it hard not to stare at them as she set up a bar in another corner, getting ready with her wine and mixed drinks for a fancy party. When Miss Sonnet appeared, she was elegant in a slim silk dress and heels, with dark wine colored lipstick and her dark hair piled up. She led him to the front hall, to take care of the door, and reached between his legs to cup his thong with a smile, and then squeeze him harder. "Is this the intensity you were looking for, #4? To be displayed to my guests as the slut you know you are? It should be an interesting evening for you."

6.

With the first knock on the heavy door, he stepped forward to open it and bow slightly, saying nothing, just a harnessed almost naked slave. The guests were a couple, casually but elegantly dressed, who seemed used to the idea; they smiled at each other and he felt ridiculous, his out of shape body and heavy belly framed in black leather. The party began to grow, when he was surprised to open the door and see that some of the guests were people he knew from his professional life, and he realized Ivy and Ms. Sonnet must have researched him and the others; many of these guests were people they knew outside, and only the mask separated him from humiliating discovery. Some arrivals ignored him; some laughed and touched his harness, or his body, to watch him learn not to react. When one woman laughed to her companion and reached to feel his cock and balls trapped in the thong, he had to hold still and accept her touch. As he stood by the door, other trainees took coats, or served drinks and small snacks on trays. As one of the females stood nearby, with a silver tray of champagne glasses, two of the guests smiled and cupped her breasts in the thin top, then lifted her skirt to examine her rouged lips as she struggled to hold the tray level.

The evening flowed together as continuing work, with the trainee slaves on their feet, serving and clearing. As the party went on the well-dressed guests became brighter and louder, taking more advantage of the house slaves. As he delivered more glasses to the bartender, #4 caught a glance but she put her eyes down quickly, not wanting to be drawn into what was going on. The music filled the room, as he turned and saw one of the female slaves pulled aside by a small, group, who set aside her serving tray and took her wrists. A woman from the group pulled down her thin top, exposing her small breasts, then reaching to coat them with sugar from the coffee tray she had held and the men holding her laughed as each took a nipple in his mouth. The woman lifted the server's skirt to finger her deeply and watched her eyes as she tried not to respond.

He was watching this with arousal, when two couples took his wrist and his harness to pull him into a corner. He glanced up to see Ms Sonnet watching from across the room, and knew he had to comply.

"You must be a new slave, #4; we haven't seen you at Sonnet's parties before. Have you been trained to amuse us, then?" The two men pushed him to his knees, using snap locks hanging from his harness to cuff his wrists behind him. A woman reached between his legs to tug the thong aside, exposing his hard cock and balls below the harness, and felt him harden as he was pushed forward. The second woman sat on a sofa, legs wide and party dress pushed up her thighs, as his head was bent between her legs. He started licking, knowing his job now, his tongue swirling and thrusting deep into her as hands pushed him. He licked and sucked until his tongue ached, hardly hearing their laughter. When he felt her begin to cum, he licked harder and hoped for release.

"He seems to have a taste for this, Sylvia, give someone else a try." When the second woman took her place, he glanced up and was shocked to realize he knew her, from some business or professional meeting long ago, and he knew that without the mask he would be easily recognized. Her legs were thinner, her thighs pulled him close, and once again he licked and sucked her hard clitoris trying to do a thorough job and be released. His cock was harder now, as he had this encounter with someone he had to picture in other ways, dressed for business instead of in a colorful party dress with her skirt around her hips and her legs kicking his back, urging him on. When she finished using him, he said nothing, afraid to risk his voice. He was still on his knees, face wet, when one of the men took hold of his harness and turned him to the side. They had brought one of the female trainees over, to kneel alongside him, both of them in matching masks and haircuts now, with her top pulled down to expose large , swaying breasts.

"Ok, Jack, he seems to be good at cunt licking, but which one of these is better with a cock, do you think? Try them both." He could only watch, from a few feet away, as the larger man took out his hard cock and put it to her lips, and the trainee began to lick and suck it, her head bobbing and her eyes blank behind the mask. He looked down, shocked since he had never done this. When the man pulled out and turned to him, a slap on the shoulder made him open his mouth, to gag on the thick cock inserted. He gulped and gasped, trying to breathe and find a way to lick it as the man pushed deeper. "#3, this slave need some help; take his cock and encourage him." The woman kneeling next to him reached to hold his exposed cock, stroking it as he licked and sucked what he now realized was only his first cock. His mouth was suddenly filled with a gush of hot cum, choking him and spurting down his chin and body, as he came himself in her hand. The guests laughed and walked away, leaving the two of them to dress again. He adjusted her filmy top, fitting it around her full breasts, and smoothed her skirt; she pulled his thong into place, both knowing they could not dress themselves. As they went back to work, he saw a smiling Ms Sonnet nod from across the room.

7.

At the end of the evening, Ms Sonnet stopped the band and spoke to the guests, a smiling group of 40 or so men and women, gathering them near the terrace. "As many of you know, this has been a first experience for these slave trainees, who paid their own tuition for what they are learning about themselves. One of our traditions is a class photo, actually several photos, and this is always popular too on my web site. Help me arrange them, please."

On the terrace, lights had been set up, and the trainees were led outside. Instead of the lineup he expected, each of them was carefully positioned- first him and slave # 3, with his thong pulled aside, her hand on his cock and cupping his balls, his mouth on her nipple, his hand between her legs, them one by one the other slaves were brought forward, partially stripped and moved into a composition like a classical painting, hands and mouths on bodies and genitals, an interwoven group of seven showing all of the possible combinations of flesh, pressed into the frame and lit by flood lamps against the dark sky. After each flash of the studio size camera, they were rearranged so that by the end his mouth had been on nipples and hard cocks, on firm rumps and between legs, his own nipples and cock, ass and mouth used as well.

Alpha and Beta untangled them, got them dressed, and they found coats for the departing guests. Each guest was given a copy of the disk, with the group photos of masked slaves. After the bathroom ritual, before being led to the mattresses, the trainees had their hands bound behind them, lying together naked in a heap. "Sometimes after an evening the slaves are still excited- so whatever you all do you need to do with no hands." The lights clicked off, and the room was dark with only moonlight from the high windows. With his body pressed against other skin, a slave he could not identify, he found his lips on soft female skin and wriggled to find the curve of her breast, and a hardening nipple. Bodies rolled against his, and he felt a mouth on his cock and no longer cared whose it might be. All his barriers were gone now, and in a few minutes the group on the mattress in the dark was a whimpering mass of flesh. One of the women pushed against him, taking him into her wet center and rocking hard against him. He never knew who it was, but he was warm and no one was laughing at them now. None of them saw the night vision video camera, feeding the images to the Slave Quarters web site.

8. 

Sunday morning was cooler and cloudy, and the slaves were shivering when Alpha and Beta unlocked the door. Once again they had to help each other with the toilet, then line up naked, eyes down. The younger women handed them battery powered clippers, and supervised as each of them sheared off the pubic hair and body hair of another, leaving only light stubble that he knew would grow out and be itchy for days. He stood still as one of the females shaved his chest, his arms, and then around his cock and balls, an area that had not been this naked in 40 years. The women too had only stubble, not a fashionable Brazilian cut or the smooth shaven clean mound of a porn star. 

One of the drivers came in, with a roll of flat metal chain and a riveting tool, and fitted each of them with a wrap of chain loose around their hips, with a long end dangling between their legs. As he watched, the driver clamped a purple metal tag and a small ring on the hanging end of each chain, and he saw that his tag had been engraved, like a pet tag, with his number and "Property of Sonnet.com". It hung between his thighs and clinked lightly a he walked. The rivet closing the chain was permanent, so it would need to be cut off. He looked around, seeing the other male and female slaves tagged the same way.

As Beta came around with a small box, Alpha addressed them. "With this training, all of you have become part of Sonnet House; this place, Haven, is one of several Ms Sonnet has in the country and in the city, for convenience of her members or guests. Beta is giving you new phones, the prepaid kind, and you will be called when you are wanted to serve. When your phone rings, just answer with your number, and if the caller knows the current password, you are to do just as they say, with no comment or complaint. For now, your password will be 'elephant'. Keep the chain and tag, until we have time to arrange for your piercing and rings."

"Well done, Alpha, one might almost think you were not a slave, yourself." Ms. Sonnet came into the room, and Alpha's face reddened. "Show them your chain, and your rings, Alpha. Or do I need to say 'elephant'?" Alpha flushed, as she unbuttoned her thin gray sweater and unzipped her gray skirt. She was naked underneath, and they saw silver hoops hanging from her nipple rings, like her earring, and a chain belt and tag like theirs but in silver. She spread her legs, to and reached down to open her lips, to show them the silver piercings and rings at her clitoris and along her lips, locked with a thin chain and a tiny lock that hung between her thighs.

"So, you see, Slaves, that Alpha and Beta here are no better than you, just more experienced, and like you they are needy sluts who want someone to own and control them. So is Gamma, your driver over there. So many needy submissives, so little time. Get dressed now, dress each other of course and Gamma will take you back in the truck. Last one dressed will be punished, as usual."

Their clothing from a few days ago was heaped on the floor, and there was a scramble as they tried to find each piece and get someone to help them dress. On the way out, Beta handed each of them a phone, and a flash drive with a copy of the computer file with images of their training weekend.

9. 

In the weeks after his training, his life at home seemed flatter. He wore the chain and tag under his clothing, and could never forget his new status. At night, he went over the videos and the images, recalling how it felt to be used and humiliated that way, and to see others in the same situation. He slept naked now, wearing only his chain and tag, waiting for the special phone to ring and dreading it at the same time. Would he serve with men or women he had trained with, what would be asked, and who would call? Would it be the people he knew, who had only seen him masked?

When the call came, it took him a moment to connect the new sound and vibration with the special phone he always carried now. It was mid-afternoon, on a day with a cloudy gray autumn sky, and he was in a corporate strategy meeting with flip charts and briefing books and flat, droning speakers with charts and numbers. He looked up, and quickly went out into the hallway as he fumbled to find the phone and key it.

"Hello, umm, this is # 4." He was breathing hard, and felt the beginnings of arousal, without even knowing what he was hoping for. He waited a beat, and heard a woman's voice.

"Very nice Slave, I am a friend of Ms Sonnet, and she suggested you might be what we need. I will send a car, where are you in the city now?"

"Yes, what do you need, how can I..."

"No questions, all you need to know is 'elephant', just tell me the address!"

He gave her the name of the bank office tower where he worked, near the park, and went back in the room to collect his things and make an excuse, looking a bit ill. Leaving the briefcase in his office, he stopped to clean up and make himself look as good as possible. He got downstairs to the sidewalk before the car was scheduled, and found himself scanning each vehicle as he tried to imagine what might be next, or why he had been chosen. He was imagining a long dark limo when a smaller beige Japanese luxury car pulled up, driven by two bored looking young women. No one got out, as they waited for him to open the rear door and slide in.

"I am, ahh, #4..."

The driver flicked a look at him in the mirror, and then edged back into traffic. They were headed out of downtown when she pulled into a large parking structure and drove up several levels, and stopped in a semi-dark corner of the garage. The second woman got out and opened his door. "Ok, quick now, we need you to get out and show us the tag. Take everything off, except your shirt. This is what she told us, let's go, we are already late."

He slid out of the car, looking around at the deserted garage. Was that a dusty security camera by the stairs? "Look, I don't think this is the place for this..."




Seeking New Intensity



"'Elephant 'is all you need to know, do it now or it will be worse for you."

His face colored, and he slipped off his coat and sports jacket, then his tie. He stepped out of his shoes, and peeled off his socks before he unzipped and slid his pants down. He looked at her, with a slight pause, and then pushed his underwear down and off. The gray metal chain hung between his thighs, with the dangling tag, and his cock shrank in the cool air. He kept his white shirt on. She reached between his legs, with her wrist brushing his cock, to turn the purple metal tag over and check his number. "Ok Slave, toss your clothes in the car and slide in just as you are, pull up the shirt so your bare ass is on the leather seat." She wasn't laughing or smiling but was very matter of fact. He scrambled for his things and slid into the car, with the cold metal tag against his skin as he sat back and they drove off.

When the car stopped again, they were behind a large red brick house in the wooded upscale neighborhood where the city's doctors and brokers lived with their fashionable wives and photogenic children. The drive was a sort of paved service yard, between the house and a garage and pool house, with hedges and tall trees. The day had turned colder, as the woman opened the door and he slid out, wearing only his shirt. His bare legs and swaying cock were chilled when he stepped into the back hallway. Two women slaves were already in the hall, both naked except for the chains and tags like his that they wore. One was a woman from his training class, #1, a slender woman in her thirties with short hair and high, small breasts and narrow hips. Her dark pubic hair was still stubble, from their trimming, like his. The other female was older, perhaps 40's, with full breasts and large nipples and a bit of a belly over her wide hips. They looked at him with no expression, as he slipped off the shirt, seeing him as a much older man with a strong chest but a large stomach, and a chain draped around his hips.

The young woman from the car moved among them, frankly exploring them with no words, her hand between their legs, cupping their breasts, brushing back their hair. "I suppose you three will have to do. Put these kilts on, it is the house colors here." She handed each of them a pleated wool kilt in a green and gray tartan, with a complicated leather belt, and she gave them low heeled black shoes, including his in a large size. All three of them were topless, and the woman used a dark lip gloss to accentuate their nipples, including his. Unlike their training at Ms Sonnet's, there were no masks.

10.

"You can start by serving the drinks, and then I am sure they will find some other uses for all of you. Remember your training, you have nothing to do except follow instructions. You won't be needed overnight, so we will take you back later in the evening." She led them into the kitchen, and handed each of them a silver serving tray with drinks or small pieces of oriental food. They didn't look at each other as she directed them to the main part of the house. 

When he stepped through the swinging door, following the two female servers, and balancing his tray of wine glasses, he saw they were in a luxuriously furnished living area, looking out over the pool and garden, with late afternoon sun slanting in. The women in the room seemed to be those trophy wives of the local executives, fashionably and a bit too formally dressed, with carefully done hair and obvious, expensive jewelry. They were sitting and standing, chatting brightly, when the servers arrived. He saw one of the older women; a blonde with big hair and a bright wrap dress by an expensive designer look up with a small smile. She seemed to be the hostess of the party, and enjoying the surprised hush that fell on the group as chatting slowed. Apparently half-naked house slaves were the newest accessory, to top your peers in this group.

He held his tray level, moving among the women to offer sparkling wine, trying to ignore the fact that he was bare-chested, in a manly kilt, but wearing low heels and with a red gloss on his nipples. No one spoke to him, and he saw the female servers circulating ahead of him in the group of 8 or 10 women. The blond owner stepped closer as they served, and stopped the shorter server to cup and hold one of her breasts, getting the attention of her guests as they saw the female slave accept her touch without comment, and stand holding the tray as her breast was hefted and bounced, and the nipple squeezed. She released the woman, smiling at her friends.

"A friend of mine has a specialty, training these people who love this kind of thing. Did you know that each of these three paid her $300 for the training, to become something with no personality and no rights, here just for our amusement? They may not be the most attractive servants, but they are very compliant at least, and as you see from their markings they now have just numbers, not names." She turned to him as he came closer with his half-full tray, and put her hand on his chest. "She trains them to accept anything, and then she tags them. Isn't that right, #4? Are you happy to be serving us here? Show them your tag."

"Yes, ma'am. " He bent to put his tray down on a low table, and then lifted the front of his kilt a bit to show the tag dangling between his thighs on a gray metal chain. She reached over and took the hem of the kilt from him and lifted it to his hips, to show the chain between his legs and around his waist, and his hardening cock. As he stood there, displayed and humiliated, he looked across the room and recognized one of the women in the group, the wife of a client he had met at some bank investment seminar or reception. Sarah? Sylvia? He hoped she did not recognize him in this setting.

The blonde woman next to him spoke up to the group. "I thought it would be interesting today to have these serving slaves, and to have Marie, who has been showing us the lingerie and toys she sells today, to do a demonstration. I am sure # 4 and the others, # 1 and # 8, will be happy to help. Marie?"

The woman who stepped forward was dressed like the others, in fashionable and expensive party clothes, but with a darker edge and wearing high-heeled boots and a dress that went with her dark hair. "As you may have heard, men can have an orgasm without actually having a release, with the right kind of massage, which can be an interesting way to keep them attentive, with less of a mess." She chuckled, and the women laughed. "#4, get up on this low table, on your hands and knees, so everyone can see. She slapped his rear and led him to the polished table in front of a long patterned sofa, positioning him with legs apart and flipping his kilt up over his back to expose his rear. The table was hard on his knees, as he held his head up like a show dog on display.

"We need him harder and more excited for this, so #1, get in front of him and offer him your nipples to suck while you touch his chest. # 8, hold onto his cock, but just til it gets harder." The slender woman in her kilt leaned closer in front of him offering her small high breasts to him and rolling his nipples in her fingers. He tasted the lip gloss on her nipples, and the sweat on her body as she urged him on. The hand on his cock rubbed lightly and he felt himself thicken and harden.

"Fine, keep on that way, while I use our slim anal probe on him, the key thing ladies is to get it just behind the prostate, not too deep, and use the vibrations there. In just a moment, you can see him orgasm, but produce only a little fluid, not the relief he is expecting. #8 here will catch his release in this crystal glass, watch and learn." He had never had his assed used, until his training, or been displayed and ignored in this way. He felt her warm hand on one side, as she eased the hard probe into his ass and slapped him lightly, to keep his head up. He focused on the nipple in his lips, working his tongue around it and sucking harder on it. When the vibrations switched on, he felt the hum as a generalized buzzing inside his body, and then felt harder arousal as it focused on the wall so close to his prostate, something he had never felt. He was trying to keep the feelings separate, the sucking, the use of his nipples, the hand lightly on his cock, and the vibrations and penetration, when without warning he felt the tension of orgasm in the back of his legs and his body bucked and shook. He lost his grip on the slave's nipple, and arched his back as the wave of feeling hit him, and his body tried to pump and failed. He was shaking, as he pulsed again, and it was only with difficulty that he could force some dribbling juices through his still-hard cock.

As she slid the probe out, he felt the calm after orgasm, but the frustration of not having cum. The lip of the glass was cold against the head of his cock, as the slave collected the pre-cum he had produced, He was sweating now, and shaking a bit as his body relaxed. The woman, Marie, pushed the two slaves away, and pulled his shoulder so he was kneeling up on the low table, with his legs wide and cock still hard, as the kilt fell back down. He was not really surprised when he felt the cold rim of the crystal glass on his lips, and he tilted his head to swallow as she poured his own musky juices into his mouth.

"Now that that's out of the way, we can use #4 for other things, and he won't be distracted with his own needs. #4, show your appreciation to the female slaves while we watch, be generous about it." She rolled him face up on the table, and led the shorter woman, # 8, to straddle his face, He used his tongue deep, swirling and licking, sucking when he found her hardened clit, lapping her and tasting her. Before she was allowed to cum, Marie pushed #1 into her place and he continued his licking as he felt her different shape on his tongue and tasted her flavors.

Marie pulled her away, moved him to stand up, and lined them up. All three of them were sweaty and disheveled now, and his face was coated with two women's drying juices. Women from the party gathered around Marie, discussing their purchases, holding up bits of lingerie or toys from her display in the corner. Their blond hostess came over, and got them moving. "Slaves, back to work, enough pleasure or use for you today, we need another round of drinks here, and some fresh snacks."

As they separated to find their trays and head back to the kitchen, he felt a hand on his arm, and turned to face the woman he had recognized before. When she spoke, he felt his face go hot, even more embarrassed than he had been as he was displayed and used. "David, how interesting to see you here, like this. You do remember me I think, from that bank investment reception at the club? I'm Sarah, George Culp's wife, we live in the neighborhood here." She was smiling but with a calculating look. There was nothing he could think of to say, to have any kind of normal conversation as he stood here with a serving tray, bare chested in the tartan kilt, wearing women's low-heeled shoes.

Sarah watched him closely as he tried to react, and his eyes went down her body, noticing the slight cleavage in her silky print wrap dress, the curve of her breasts and hips, then back to her blue-gray eyes and short dark hair. "David, this can be our secret now, I'm sure the people at the bank think you left for some important meeting this afternoon, and your secretary is taking messages and handling the email. You can tell me sometime about this training you did, the how and why, but let's be clear about this: now I own a share of "Slave #4", whenever that might amuse me, and you have nothing to say about it." She leaned closer, to show him her I Phone screen, with well-lit photos of the demonstration and his outfit, nicely framed to show his face clearly. "Email can be such a practical thing, so easy to send photos and notes to just about anyone. I have your card, from the meeting where you were doing the selling, so think of this as just a different level of client relations. I will contact you and you will come running, right?" All he could do was to nod, it seemed out of place to have any conversation now. She patted his rear, smoothing the pleated wool kilt, and then turned away.

11.

It was just getting dark as the party broke up, and he and the two women servers were dressed and bundled together in the car, to be dropped off in the city. None of them spoke, or caught each other's eyes. There was no happy camaraderie in having been humiliated and used together, and no romance in the contact they had had.

His daily life seemed to fade in his mind, as his awareness of his new role increased. He was conscious, all the time now, of the chain he wore, and the tag dangling between his legs. He kept his body shaved now, which was less uncomfortable than the itchy stubble. His nights were full of darker imaginings, as he recalled the mention of piercings and rings, and the promise of more use. When the call from Ivy came on his special phone, he did not recognize her voice at first.

"So, David, I should say #4, are you on the road to that intensity now? Sonnet tells me you did well enough in the training, and she has already used you for one of her assignments. What are you feeling?"

"I think I have learned something about myself in this; I do need to give up other feelings, and I do respond to having to deal with situations that take me out of my old life."

"We will see how much more you still have to learn, I think. Come to me this weekend, go to the same place you met Sonnet's driver; Diane will pick you up. Show me the best of what you have learned."

Friday afternoon, he left work early, too distracted to focus, and by dark was waiting in the station parking lot. The car this time was very ordinary, a small gray Japanese sedan in need of washing. Diane, the round-faced woman he had met the first time, waited while he got in and drove off without speaking. He had tried to dress in casual style, and had tossed a small bag into the back seat. She didn't speak or touch him, and clearly did not want a conversation with him. They drove for half an hour, with only the classical music from the car radio.

The house this time was down a country road, a sort of English-looking farmhouse set back amid a grove of trees, with a warm glowing light in the windows. It was dark, with light snow on the ground, and very cold. Diane ignored him and led the way to the door, so that he had to rush to find his bag and catch up. She had already unlocked the door as he came up the step. They walked a few steps into the hall, when Ivy appeared. Like the first time, she wore a leopard print down vest, this time over a black shirt dark skirt and high boots of rippling soft leather. It was a fashion look, not fetish wear, and he was struck by her casual attractiveness for an older woman.

"#4, we meet again. That is your only name now, correct?" She caught his eyes, and he fumbled for words. "Diane, help inspire some feeling in # 4. Take your top off, now."

The smaller, younger woman flashed her eyes, then caught herself and without comment slipped off her coat, then her sweater, blouse, and bra as the watched. In a moment, she was standing topless, her breasts still marked by her bra, her nipples crinkling in the cold air in the hall. She looked straight ahead.

His involuntary reaction was to become aroused, seeing the contrast of her half naked and the others dressed for a cold evening, in the warm glow of the hall. He watched her face, but his eyes went down to her bare breasts, and he saw her annoyed look.

"#4, your turn now. It is very rude for a slave to be dressed like an actual person, get everything off now.'

He looked back at her and quickly shed his coat and fumbled with his clothing, not certain if he shoud focus on quickness or neatness. In a moment he was standing naked in the hall, bare feet on the cold stone tiles, holding his folded clothing, and wearing only his waist chain and tag. Diane moved closer, taking the bundle of clothing and shoes from him. He had just straightened up when he felt a hard slap, as Ivy took a step to him and slapped him hard, on the face, spinning his head part way.

"Pay attention #4. This is not a punishment, it is just because I enjoy your pain. Kneel here, beg for my attention without using any words, and do not look at me either. You are late, and probably worthless, but I may find a use for you. Certainly, I want you to be properly marked this weekend." 

He went to his knees, forehead to the floor, his belly folded awkwardly under him and his ass high. He saw only the toes of her boots, as he focused on using his body to express a feeling, of giving and wanting.. He shifted his knees apart, so the tag dangling between his legs was visible, swinging on its short chain. He held the pose, until her foot came under his chin and lifted his face. "Diane, take this one to the work room, get him ready. We don't have a 'play room' here # 4, you need to work for what you get out of this."

He stood slowly, joints creaking, and glanced at Diane's swaying breasts before she pushed him ahead of her, down the hall to the back of the house. They went down one step, and into a side room with a bare, dusty wooden floor and only one high window. The bondage frames he saw were rough and simple, with thick wood and heavy iron hardware, like primitive gymnastics equipment. She led him to a crossbar between two posts and spread his arms wide along it. Heavy leather cuffs placed on his wrists were cuffed to rings, so he was standing naked with arms wide, exposed front and back. She left him there, waiting, until Ivy walked in. The first touch he felt was soft leather strips, sliding slowly down his back. She circled him and he saw a flogger in her hand, with leather strips and a braided purple handle. 

"This one is gentle, #4, at least compared to the others and the cane, and the belt. I like to see you jump and beg, but we will start easily. Did I mention I enjoy seeing your pain? Diane's too, actually, it is just how I am. Kiss it, first."

She held it to his lips, and he pursed them and kissed the raw leather, and when she reversed the handle and held it to his lips he sucked it automatically. She started with his upper arms, striking them as they lay against the beam, and then worked her way over his back, and his ass, and the back of his thighs. He felt the stinging but was careful to say nothing, and when she came around to his front, she began with his chest, then his cock and balls as he hardened. When she was done, his skin was stinging and flushed and he found himself more aroused than before.

"Now that I have your attention, 4, I should tell you that in addition to her other skills Diane is a trained piercing technician, with a certificate and everything. She is one of those women doing pierced ears for small girls at the mall, and I have her do other things here. I have thought about you, and while the chain and tag are a nice start, they are still too rough and temporary"

His mind snapped back into focus, as he realized he was immobilized and unable to object. His eyes went wider as he saw Diane walk into his vision, still topless in her skirt but carrying a tray of medical tools. "Diane, I want the usual for this one; nipple rings, a bar in the cock head, and lacing rings."