JENNY: A Novel of Sexual Enslavement

by C. A. Tessler

  "So it was your master," said Mark, ignoring Jenny's suggestion. "Judging by the amount of time he was here, you must be treating him pretty well."

  "Mark, he's my master. I have to treat him well," said Jenny, exasperated.

  "You have to or you want to?" asked Mark.

  Explaining to Mark why she wanted to be nice to her master would be impossible, and it was none of Mark's business.

  "Mark, there are some things I'm not allowed to talk about. He's my master, I'm his slave. Let's just leave it at that."

  "Some things you're not allowed to talk about. How convenient. But you can talk about sex. I know you talk about that. For example, you've asked a guy to tie you up, haven't you?"

  Now Jenny knew that her former classmates were comparing notes.

  "Well, haven't you?" persisted Mark.

  Once or twice, when Jenny was with her master, she had wanted to flee to sex to avoid embarrassing discussions. She was now almost desperate to the same with Mark.

  "Mark," she said in her sweetest voice, "why don't you take off your clothes?"

  "Not yet," said Mark. "Tell me. Haven't you asked a guy to tie your hands behind your back?"

  "Yes," said Jenny quietly.

  "Why?"

  Answering Mark's latest question would make matters even worse. His interrogation was painful and, Jenny thought, purposely embarrassing. He was apparently completely oblivious to the fact that she was now a slave, even though he had invoked her condition in an effort to force her to answer his questions.

  "C'mon, Jenny, tell me. Why did you ask Eric to tie you up?"

  Jenny again didn't answer.

  "OK, don't answer. I know why anyway. I know why you're here." Mark raised his voice. "It's because you want to be here. You're using slavery as an excuse, an excuse to do exactly what you want. You just spent an hour with your master because you like having sex with him."

  Jenny couldn't deny there was some truth to Mark's statement, but she knew Mark would never understand why.

  "You asked Eric to tie you up," Mark continued, "because you like that kind of stuff. I know, because when he came back you asked him to tie you up again."

  Mark leaned forward in his chair. "How many guys did you screw when we were dating?" he asked in a menacing voice.

  Mark had by now completely humiliated Jenny. For a moment, she thought to do the same to herself by answering him. She kept silent because she knew she was about to cry.

  When she said nothing, Mark answered for her. "I'll bet there were several. That's when you found out, wasn't it?"

  "Found out what?" asked Jenny, on the verge of tears.

  "That's when you found out you were a slut."

  The fact that Jenny had reached a similar conclusion about herself only the day before gave Mark's accusation some validity.

  "I already know you like it here, so don't bother to say you don't. Hell, it was obvious you liked it when I came to see you last week. The way you licked my balls and got my dick down your throat – you never did that to me before. But as soon as you got here, you didn't need to pretend anymore because you could use slavery as an excuse."

  Mark sat back in the chair and crossed his arms triumphantly. "So come on, slut, ask me to tie you up just the way you asked Eric to tie you up."

  Jenny remembered how she had leaned her head against Eric's thigh and asked him to help her. She couldn't do the same with Mark. Her chin was quivering, and it was all she could do to keep from bursting into tears.

  "If you want to tie me up," she said in a wavering voice, "just tell me. I'll get you a fastener."

  "No, that's not what I want," said Mark angrily. "I want you to ask me, just like you asked Eric."

  Jenny composed herself a little. "No, Mark, I won't ask you to tie me up. If that's what you want, all you have to do is say so."

  Mark stood up. "You're a slave now, you slut. Are you refusing to do what I ask?"

  "No," said Jenny, again on the verge of tears after being called a slut for the third time, "I'm not refusing. Just tell me what to do and I'll do it."

  "I already have told you what to do. Now say it, just like you said it to Eric."

  Jenny said nothing.

  "Damn you," said Mark in a low voice. He turned and walked out.

  When Mark left, Jenny burst into tears. In her entire life, she had never felt so low. She hated Mark for calling her a slut, she hated Eric for talking to Alicia, and she hated Alicia for talking to everyone.

  About two minutes after Mark left, an escort appeared in Jenny's room. She was still lying on the floor, sobbing.

  "Sit up, slave," said the escort in a loud voice. Jenny managed to obey.

  "Did you just refuse to do what a customer asked you to do?"

  "No, sir," said Jenny, still crying.

  "He says you wouldn't do what he told you to." Mark had not specified the nature of Jenny's offense. "Are you telling me he's lying?"

  "No sir, not exactly."

  "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He paused for a moment. "Shit, I'm gonna let your master figure this out." He left.

  Jenny was stunned. She couldn't understand how Mark could be so cruel. She knew she might be punished, and she thought Mark knew as much, too. Distraught at what her master might do, humiliated by Mark, she began crying again.

  Maurice, after visiting his slave, had gone to the employee lounge. He spent most of his daylight hours there. The lounge was a comfortable place to relax when he wasn't at home. He could read, listen to music, watch a movie, or just doze. When he received a phone call from an escort, he was reading a romance novel.

  He pulled his slender phone out of his shirt pocket when he felt it vibrate. He didn't really need the phone, since nearly every call he got was a wrong number, but he liked to carry it around.

  "Hello," he said. He listened for a few moments.

  "Really," he said, his voice registering mild surprise. "Well, OK, I'll be there in a while."

  There happened to be another master sitting in an easy chair a few feet from Maurice. He had been at DiMarcos long enough to know that a master almost never got a phone call. He looked quizzically at Maurice.

  "My slave," said Maurice, in response to his fellow master's unasked question. "Apparently she's acting up a bit."

  Maurice leaned back in his chair and continued with his book. It took him twenty minutes to finish the chapter he was reading. The heroine was trying to decide which of two men she was in love with. By the end of the chapter, she still hadn't decided. Maurice closed the book, set it on the chair, and directed his steps to Jenny's room.

  On the way, he stopped at the escort's office. On the phone, the escort had said only that Jenny had refused to do what a customer asked her to do. Since that didn't sound like his slave, Maurice wanted to hear the details. The escort couldn't supply any.

  "That's all he said?" asked Maurice. "That my slave wouldn't do what he asked?"

  "Yes, sir," replied the escort, "that's all."

  "Did you ask him what she refused to do?"

  "No sir," answered the escort, somewhat defensively, "he was kind of mad. He just said she wouldn't do what he asked and then he left."

  That's no help, said Maurice to himself.

  When he entered Jenny's room, she was already sitting up for him. Her face was flushed. He sat down in the chair.

  "Did you have a problem with a customer just now?" he asked calmly.

  "Yes, master," said Jenny. She wasn't sure what to expect from her master. She didn't think she had committed a serious offense, but she knew she was in a most vulnerable position. The fact that it had taken her master half an hour to appear after the escort had left gave her some comfort.

  "Can you tell me what happened?" Maurice asked.

  Jenny carefully described Mark's visit, trying to be as unemotional as possible. She didn't try to gloss over her refusal to ask Mark to bind her, nor did she exaggerate Mark's verbal abuse. Maurice listened without i
nterruption.

  "Let me make sure I understand this," said Maurice when Jenny had finished. "Your customer asked you to ask him to tie you up, and you answered that if he told you to get him a fastener that you would. Is that correct?"

  "Yes, master," said Jenny.

  Maurice thought the distinction between what Mark asked and what Jenny offered was trivial.

  "Do you remember the other day that I said you shouldn't speak informally with a customer unless he asked you to, and that you should always be ready to revert to formal conversation?"

  "Yes, master."

  "Did you try to do that?"

  "Three times I offered to have sex with him, master. I tried to avoid the conversation completely, master."

  "Did you stop calling him by name and address him as sir?" Maurice asked this question in the same calm tone that he normally used when he spoke to Jenny.

  "No, master."

  "I think you could have tried harder to make the conversation more formal." Maurice did not fully appreciate just how difficult Jenny's position had been.

  "Also, you could have solved the problem by simply agreeing to do what your customer asked."

  Jenny looked down and almost inaudibly mumbled the necessary response.

  At first, Maurice did not understand why his slave was so quiet. Then it dawned on him. Mark had humiliated Jenny by calling her a slut, but it would have been a much greater humiliation for Jenny to do what Mark asked. Maurice held it as a fundamental tenet that pride and slavery were incompatible. It was a slave's duty to obey. A slave that was too proud to obey was not a slave at all.

  Maurice sat back in his chair and pondered. Jenny's visit from Mark had raised three issues. The first was Mark's contention that Jenny had purposely become a slave. Maurice could not dismiss this out of hand. Jenny had, after all, submitted more quickly than any of his other slaves, and her behavior on Saturday was exactly what he would expect from a slut. Maurice certainly did not object if Jenny wanted to use slavery as an excuse to indulge her sexual appetite. That would make his job easier. However, he wasn't able to reconcile Mark's contention and Jenny's refusal to do as Mark asked. If Jenny was using slavery as an excuse to act out her sexual desires, she certainly hadn't done that with Mark. Maurice decided that Mark was wrong.

  The second issue, and the most important, was Jenny's pride. Maurice would address that issue shortly, when discussing it with his slave would have the greatest impact.

  The third issue was Jenny's punishment. Maurice knew that punishment – the right of a master to prescribe it and the necessity that a slave suffer it – was the foundation of all master-slave relationships. However, he rarely punished a slave to improve her behavior. As long as she did not willfully disobey, he was content to use gentler forms of persuasion. Since his slave had disobeyed, he knew he must punish her.

  For Maurice, the prerequisite of effective punishment was his slave's admission that she had disobeyed. He was confident he could extract Jenny's confession.

  "You are a slave. Is that correct?"

  "Yes, master," answered Jenny. Her heart sank, and a small knot formed in her stomach.

  "Tell me again. What are you?" asked Maurice.

  "I'm a slave, master," replied Jenny softly.

  "What is a slave's duty?"

  "To obey, master."

  "Must you obey your master and your customers?" asked Maurice.

  The knot in Jenny's stomach tightened. "Yes, master."

  "Did you disobey a customer today?"

  Jenny took a short, deep breath. "Yes, master."

  "Why did you disobey?" asked Maurice.

  Jenny was not expecting this question, and she did not want to answer it. She said nothing.

  "Tell me again. What are you?" asked Maurice in an even voice.

  "I'm a slave, master."

  "Yes," said Maurice. "And you must answer my questions, even if you hadn't promised last week to be truthful. Now, why did you disobey?"

  The embarrassment Jenny felt was equaled only by her fear of the canes resting in the corner of her room. She hesitated.

  "Tell me what you did to disobey and tell me why you did it," persisted Maurice.

  "I ... I refused to ask Ma ... I mean, I refused to ask my customer to tie me up, master. I refused because," and here she paused.

  "Yes? You refused because?"

  "Because if I did what he asked, it would be like admitting," she exhaled, "that I am a slut."

  "So it was pride that kept you from doing what your customer asked. Is that correct?"

  "Yes, master."

  "Actually, you would have admitted nothing. An admission that is compelled is not an admission. However, pride is a luxury that a slave may not indulge. Pride has caused all your trouble. Do you understand that?"

  "Yes, master," said Jenny very dejectedly.

  "Do you recall that I told you I only punish a slave for disobedience or disrespect?"

  "Yes, master." The knot in Jenny's stomach tightened still more.

  "And you agree that you have disobeyed. Is that correct?"

  "Yes, master."

  "Then you shall be punished. I'll be back in a few minutes."

  Maurice left Jenny to ponder her fate and went to the escort's office. It was still an hour before lunch.

  "Don't send any customers to room six until after lunch," he told the escort in the office. "Have you seen Richard today?" Richard was Janet's master.

  "He was here about an hour ago," said the escort. "When he left, he said something about water skiing."

  Maurice thought it unlikely that Richard would be back until tomorrow.

  "OK," said Maurice. "After dinner, leave the blond slave in room six with my slave. They can stay together tonight."

  "Yes, sir," said the escort. The escort had planned to visit a slave after lunch, but upon hearing that the two most attractive BB's would be together after dinner, he reconsidered. I can wait until after dinner to get laid, he told himself.

  After leaving the escort's office, Maurice made his way to the head trainer's office. Maurice was required to make an entry in his slave's file whenever he punished her. As a courtesy, he usually made the entry and explained the situation to the head trainer in advance of punishing his slave. Attending to the paperwork beforehand also made the slave suffer in anticipation.

  The head trainer's job consisted almost entirely of sleeping at his desk. Knowing this, Maurice knocked gently at his superior's door, waited, then knocked again.

  "Come in," said a sleepy voice inside the office. Maurice slowly opened the door.

  "Ah, Maurice," said the head trainer. "Haven't seen you in a week. How's that little girl you're training?"

  "She's doing very well. She hasn't given me any reason to cane her until today."

  "Oh?" said the head trainer. "What's she done?"

  "Nothing serious. Can I have her file, please?" The head trainer shuffled through the files on his desk. "What's her room number?" asked the head trainer.

  "Six, room six," answered Maurice.

  "Yes, here it is, on the bottom," said the head trainer after sorting through the files. "So, what's the problem? Not working hard enough?"

  "No, no it's not that," said Maurice, as he wrote down Jenny's punishment. He handed the file back to his boss, who read Maurice's entry.

  "Fifteen strokes with the cane," said the head trainer. "She must not have done much," he said looking enquiringly at Maurice.

  "She didn't, but I can't let it pass," said Maurice.

  The head trainer saw that Maurice was not going to specify the nature of Jenny's offense.

  "OK," he said as he closed the file and put his feet up on his desk. "Drop by some time when you're not busy."

  "Sure," said Maurice as he walked out.

  Maurice went back to Jenny's room. When he walked in, she slowly got into her sitting position. Maurice could tell she had been crying. He had never felt any pity for a slave before he punished her,
nor remorse afterward. No effective trainer ever did. He couldn't help but notice, though, that Jenny's expression was the most forlorn he had ever seen on a slave.

  "Stand up against the wall here," said Maurice.

  Jenny began crying softly. "Yes, master," she said between sobs.

  "Stand on your toes and put your arms over your head," ordered Maurice. He took hold of Jenny's left wrist, checked to see that she was in fact standing on her toes, and put the ring on her bracelet over the hook nearest her hand. She was facing to the left as he did this.

  "Face the other way," ordered Maurice. After Jenny turned her head, Maurice hooked the ring on her right wrist over a hook. He walked over to the corner, selected a cane, then positioned himself about two feet to Jenny's left. Jenny, facing right, could not see him. She was still crying softly.

  "There is some salve in the bathroom," said Maurice. "Be sure you use it."

  This instruction made Jenny cry a little louder. She could barely answer her master.

  Maurice put his left shoulder near the wall, raised the cane until it was waist high to Jenny, and pointing at the wall opposite her, then swiftly brought the cane down on her rear. She cried out, but not too loudly. Maurice waited two seconds, then struck her again. The second stroke was stronger than the first. It stung Jenny enough that she let out a high-pitched scream. The third, fourth, and fifth strokes elicited the same scream. Between strokes she was sobbing, but not uncontrollably. The sixth stroke, however, caught her slightly unaware and she started bawling. Maurice had never heard a slave whose cries so resembled a child's. Jenny bawled throughout the remainder of her punishment, the bawling interrupted only by screams that became louder and longer. Her lungs ached, but she screamed nonetheless. Though the cane had a ferocious sting, she could barley move when she was struck. If she raised one of her feet from the floor, the support for her weight shifted to her wrists, causing her bracelets to pull at her wrists and her shoulders to stretch at the sockets. She alternately stood on her toes and hung by her wrists, but none of her movements reduced the sting of the cane.

  When Maurice finished, he carefully unhooked Jenny and held her up by her wrists to keep her from collapsing on the floor. He let her down slowly. When he let go of her, she curled up on the floor, bawling as though she were still being punished. Maurice was unmoved. Many times he had seen slaves suffer much more. He put the cane back in its holder and left.