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?”
“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?”
“I’ve heard rumors, Your Majesty.” Also, everyone knew the rabbits were aligned with The Summer Queen, so I wondered why one had broken off and was in bed with The Winter Queen.
She chuckled, and the happy sound made me love her all over again. “All likely true.”
The man stood beside the bed, and I stole a quick glance before looking back to the floor. No collar, so he was a free man. Also, his cock was scary big.
He stepped behind the Queen and pulled her to him with a familiarity that told me these two were close.
“Enjoy your new toy. I’ll see myself out.”
The Queen leaned into him as he kissed her neck from behind. He took a few moments to put his pants and shirt on, and I felt his gaze on me while he dressed.
“She looks terribly pixie for only being a quarter blooded.”
“Yes. Perhaps I’ll let you taste her soon, but not tonight.”
He chuckled and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Goodnight, Your Majesty. I look forward to the next time I see you.”
She waited until the doors closed behind him before returning her focus to me. “Tell me what you’ve learned today, Little One.”
“Your people love you, Your Majesty. I mean, your people in the palace. Everyone outside the palace is terrified of you.”
She chuckled. “Oh, there are plenty inside the palace who fear me, but you’ve been around those I deem trustworthy today. Are you still as afraid of me as you were this morning?”
“It’s a different kind of fear now, my Queen. This morning I was afraid of what you’d do to me, or that I wouldn’t understand the rules here and would mess up. Now, I’m afraid I won’t please you and I’ll be sent away.”
“You’ll find three whips on the chest near the large tapestry. Look them over and tell me which you prefer, and why.”
No one had ever given me a choice in what I’d prefer to be whipped with.
My most recent Master would’ve wanted me to ask permission to rise, but the little time I’d spent around Her Majesty told me permission was implied, since it was the only way for me to look over the whips. She was a no-nonsense Queen, and I respected her for it.
Her gaze felt like a physical caress as I walked across the room, and I fell back on my training so I could walk as gracefully as possible. I didn’t take too much time looking the three whips over before I lifted them, felt the leather and weight of each, and carefully thought my answer through. I hate making decisions, but I’d learned Her Majesty expects an answer when she asks a question.
The first whip was likely made of deerskin, and was so soft and supple it wouldn’t have done more than caress the skin. The second was braided leather, barely broken in, and it would give the most delicious pain. The last was alternately braided and knotted from an ultra-stiff, heavy leather, and the knots had some kind of animal claw sticking from them — the recipient would be a bloody mess after less than two dozen strikes.
I put the knotted whip down and lifted the braided one again. I wasn’t sure where to look, so I focused on her feet when I turned to face her. I balanced the whip on my two open palms without grasping it. “Since I believe you’ll be able to take your time today, I feel this is the best choice, Your Majesty. However, if you only have a few minutes to spare then the knotted whip will be best.”
“You’ll attend an orientation tomorrow, where you’ll learn the castle rules and expectations. Some of your rules will vary slightly. For instance, in private, you may look me in the eyes to answer a question. Around others, you should look at my chin or my breasts. When at rest, you may look at the floor unless there’s a reason to be alert, in which case you can lift your gaze as long as you don’t stare in an unseemly fashion.”
I met her gaze before dropping my focus to her chin, and her smile told me she was pleased.
“Walk to me and ask me to whip you, Little One.”
I looked at her chin while I walked to her, and dropped to my knees as gracefully as I could when I reached her. Again unsure of where to look, I focused on her feet and lifted the whip in both hands, as an offering. “Please, Your Majesty, I beg of you to find favor of me while you whip me.”
She removed the whip from my outstretched hands, and I placed them behind my back.
“I appreciate the respect and grace you’re demonstrating,” she said, “but if you’re looking at my feet, you won’t see where I point you to go.”
I met her gaze again, and she pointed to a rope hanging from the ceiling, in an open area so she’d be able to walk all around me. “It’s been spelled so you won’t be able to let go. Once you grasp it, only I can release you.”
She didn’t order me to grasp it, but I knew what she wanted. Some Masters and trainers expect you to know what they wish you to do without having to spell it out, others will punish you for taking any initiative, and only want you to follow direct orders. Learning the expectations of those you serve is an important part of learning to be a good slave.
I walked to the rope, reached up, and wrapped my hands a
round the large knot a few inches from the end. I had to stretch to reach, so I stood with my weight on my toes and my body elongated below the frayed rope.
The first strike snaked around my hips and sliced into tender skin. Fire ripped through my nervous system, and my shrill scream echoed around the room and returned to me.
Click to continue reading Slave.
About the Author
Candace Blevins has published more than fifty books. She lives with her husband of twenty-two years and their two daughters. When not working or driving teens all over the place, she can be found reading, writing, meditating, or swimming. The family’s beloved, goofy, retired racing greyhounds are usually at her side as she writes, quietly keeping her company. Or, sometimes not so quietly.
Candace writes urban fantasy, paranormal romance, contemporary BDSM romance, and two kick-ass motorcycle club series.
Her urban fantasy series, Only Human, gives us a world where weredragons, werewolves, werelions, three different species of vampires, and a variety of other mythological beings exist.
Candace's two paranormal romance series, The Chattanooga Supernaturals and The Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club, are both sister series to the Only Human series, and give some secondary characters their happily ever after.
Her Dark(ish) Faerie Tale series gives us a close-up and personal look at Queen Mab, and her Dark Underbelly series is, as you’d expect, dark and (if you’re a little twisted) oh-so-yummy.
Her contemporary Safeword series gives us characters who happen to have some extreme kinks. Relationships can be difficult enough without throwing power exchange into the mix, and her books show characters who care enough about each other to fight to make the relationship work. Each couple in the Safeword series gives the reader a different take on the lifestyle.
You can visit Candace on the web at candaceblevins.com and feel free to friend her on Facebook at facebook.com/candacesblevins and Goodreads at goodreads.com/CandaceBlevins. You can also join facebook.com/groups/CandacesKinksters to get sneak peeks into what she's writing now, images that inspire her, and the occasional juicy excerpt.
Dementor (Rolling Thunder MC Birmingham Book 1) Page 30
