They would come and be adored. One of the Master’s would be smitten with them and they would have their place of royalty and prestige in the BDSM community.
Or so…… they fantasized…… But being a slave was not about royalty. It was not some cool thing to do. It wasn’t a fashion statement to wear a collar and it most certainly was not a way to try and get in with the upper echelon of the BDSM community.
Barbie was nothing more than another spoiled little princess, who used her looks and manipulation tactics to be the Alpha female wherever she ventured.
Here at The Mansion that was not—nor would it ever be the case.
The Mansion had seen more than its fair share of women such as this—women who just did NOT get it. They had no understanding of the ‘heart’ of a slave. Being a slave was not something that you did, it was literally who you were. It was a part of your being. It was the very core of your being; the essence of who you were. And to disrespect the calling of slavery by attempts of topping from the bottom was simply unacceptable.
It was not only unacceptable—it was downright disrespectful. It was disrespectful to the Masters and disrespectful to the very essence of The Mansion and all that it stood for.
Generations of Masters and Mistresses, had walked these hallways and corridors. They had been faithful to keep the secret code of the ‘The Mansion’. There was strict and regimented protocol within these walls.
There was history here. The blood, sweat, and tears, of the hierarchy were within the corridors of this sacred place. You either got it or you didn’t; it was just……. that……….. simple……
Barbie had taken the time and precious resources of the Masters and Mistresses and she had wasted it; as if it were nothing. That time and those resources—that wisdom and that knowledge—could have been spent on a worthy slave, one whom was serious about the calling therein.
This was just one of the many reasons that applicants were screened so rigidly.
The Masters had seen it all before and as common as it was for slaves such as Barbie to leave, there would still be grief and heavy hearts about how misunderstood The Mansion could be by outsiders.
There was a love in the heart of the Masters and Mistresses for this royal palace.
Yes…….these walls definitely held much more than mortar and clay. They held the souls of the faithful who had gone before. Generations of faithful Masters and Mistresses, who had answered the high calling of The Mansion and all that it stood for…
Master Richard Baron
Master Richard Baron sat eyeing his slave Selena. She stood with her elbows bent and her arms folded and crossed behind her; looking straight ahead. “Permission to speak, Master.”
“Yes Selena, by all means, fill me in.”
Selena was one of the slaves that took her calling very seriously. Her application had been excepted by the Masters here and she had been shipped from a war torn country in Central America.
She had literally been saved from imminent death and she had no intentions of ever leaving The Mansion. She would die here in service to Master Richard Baron. Silly things like whom he fucked, loved, or owned, were none of her concern, she was here for one purpose and that was to please her Master. slave Selena, took TPE to a whole new level.
Master Richard Baron eyed his slave, “You may relax and look at me as you are speaking, Selena.”
“Yes Master, whatever pleases my Master, Sir. Your guest has stated that she will be leaving tonight.”
“Oh, she has—has she?”
“Yes Master, she stated that her article would be completed today and that she would be returning to her dwelling.”
“Thank you Selena. You have done very well. You are a worthy slave and any man would be blessed to have you. But you are my slave.”
Master Richard looked up to view a tear in slave Selena’s eye; she lived to hear words like that. Master Richard loved his slave and took very good care of her. She would be his property until the day that she died.
He loved her, he was not ‘in love’ with her, but then again, ‘love,’ was not what the Master/slave dynamic was about, and only those that were privy to the lifestyle could understand the depth of that dynamic…
Chapter Thirteen
Master Richard Baron
“You are staring Richard.” I stated, after five minutes of him being seated in the chair staring at me had passed.
I looked over to view him with his fingers behind his neck and his long legs outstretched in front of him as he toyed with a toothpick in his mouth.
This would be so much easier, if he did not look so damn good.
“So you were just going to leave, with no good bye, nothing.”
“You are being melodramatic about this, don’t you think?”
“No, I am using the insight that I have on you. You are scared and now you are running away.”
I sat my laptop to the side and glared at him. “Richard, I would say that I have done quite well, considering the life altering things that I have been privy to the last week. I mean really Richard, what was that whole thing of you fucking me in front of Master William and one of your slaves last night?
“She isn’t a slave and I don’t want her, I want you.”
“Sorry Richard, I have no intentions of being anyone’s slave.”
Richard matter of fact eyed me and stated, “That’s because you aren’t a slave either.”
“Well then, why do you want me?”
“Who says that I can only have slaves?”
“Richard, you are rich playboy.”
“No, I am a Master—who has slaves that I own.”
“What do you want with me then?”
***
I rose, making my way towards my little Ophelia, and straddled her on the bed; pinning her arms down with my knees. “I love the way that you write wearing tee-shirts and underwear.”
I raised the tee-shirt to view her hardened nipples and leaned down taking one into my mouth. I licked, sucked, and flicked my tongue over it, as I took her smell in. I rose up, placing one hand around her throat and cutting into her with my eyes, “Quit…..Calling…..Me…..Richard…..Bed-chamber slave……
I want to eat you alive. I think that I’ll start down here.”
I tore at her panties, ripping them down and off of her. I pinned her legs back, assaulting her with my tongue.
“Mas, Mast, aaahhh.”
Oh yes, the begging and pleading had started. “Stay and have dinner with me Ophelia, tell me that you will spend one more night with me. You better not cum, you are not allowed to—until I get what I want. Tell me Ophelia.”
I blew breath across her opened legs and watched as a shiver ran through her sweet little body.
“Ah, yes,” she screamed out.
I straddled her once again and began pushing into her, only to pull out. I continued, as I listened to her screams, begging me to make love to her.
“No Ophelia, you have to earn that, you keep your appointment for dinner and a night with your Master, and then I’ll fuck you—until you can’t walk.”
I leaned down growling into her ear, “You’re mine and sooner—or later—you are going to get that.”
I leaned into her ear and growled: “Now be a good little girl and have your ass ready by 6pm and we will look at giving you some of that juicy cock that you are begging for.
I laughed, as I listened to her screams and a hairbrush whizzed by my head and hit the door, as I exited MY bed chamber.
Yes………..it was true that she wasn’t a slave. But that did not change the fact that she was mine!
Ophelia
I sat in the bathtub away from prying eyes and thought about what had just happened. I thought about what Richard had said: “Who says, that I can only have slaves?”
I guess that I had compartmentalized so much that I had put BDSM into a nice, neat little box and tied it up—with a ribbon of rules.
BDSM was like any other relationship�
��as far as each couple was unique in their own right.
That still did not change the fact that Richard would basically be able to screw whoever he wanted and I would be expected to be set apart for only him.
If I were to be honest with myself, I knew that there would be no desire to sleep with other men—hell, after Richard—all other men would pale in comparison. No……. I just needed away from all of this, to get my thinking straight, or so I thought…
I talked to slave Selena as I applied make-up.
“Excuse me,” I stated, as I looked down to view my ringing phone. “Ig-fucking-nor;” I growled, as I pushed the ‘ignore button,’ when I saw that it was Bob.
I used slave Selena as a sounding board. “You know Selena—it just amazes me how conservatives want to be so judgmental on the BDSM community, when they are all about control too.
I mean really Selena—what is the damn difference? They manipulate and coerce to get their way all the time. At least in the BDSM community, you know where people stand.
Ophelia rambled on as slave Selena stood looking straight ahead—as if she were not intently listening. Ophelia was doing what most do when they become accustomed to a slave being in their presence; she was beginning to let her guard down, and slave Selena would do as her Master had instructed—she would fill him in on every detail of his employee. She would most certainly be filling him in on the fact that vanilla Bob had not given up on Ophelia, as a love interest.
I rose to dress for dinner and viewed Richard entering the room donning drawstring pants, a muscle tee, and only men’s sandals on his feet.
I eyed him, unconsciously licking my lips. The man was absolutely gorgeous, like some Greek god that had walked out of a romance novel. Between that and the things that he did to me in bed; it was very hard to resist him.
All that I kept telling myself was that he would tire of me. When I told myself that he was a playboy, I knew that I was doing the right thing; the right thing was to protect myself.
What I did not understand, was how deeply that a Master’s dedication went concerning their slaves. They loved them, but not in the same manner that a vanilla man loves a woman. Things went much deeper. Dedication went to a whole different level; when it came to these men. Not only did they answer to their conscience, but they also answered to the hierarchy of the BDSM community.
This was not some game, this was serious business and the ties that bind, (so to speak) in the BDSM community; ran very deeply and were taken with the utmost of seriousness and respect.
A collar was not just a collar. A collar was as symbolic—if not more symbolic, than a wedding ring. And a slave was not just a slave; they were property! A slave was to be taken care of and provided for.
There were many times that slaves were literally glued to their Masters. So much so—that they could be found curled at their feet; as their Master worked. Many times they were knelt at the feet of their Master during meals and they ate what their Master fed them by hand. You cannot be attached that physically to someone—and not be bonded.
To not follow the protocol of caring for your slave, or slaves; that you took into your life, spoke of one’s lack of character.
There were too many men that called themselves Masters—that were unworthy of the title. These were the men that used BDSM as a way to abuse women. They were men that preyed on un-educated women and used their lack of knowledge against them; they used it as an excuse and a means to abuse women.
These men were the men who were quickly identified and ostracized from the true BDSM community. The slaves who were fortunate enough to grace the doors of the mansion were actually very lucky. They would be taken care of and not harmed psychologically.
Their bad habits that they had formed over the years would be broken—but their spirit would not be. If they were truly called to serve—they would enter the cocoon of the mansion and emerge a different being.
The result was always the same—where a mere girl graced the entrance—a slave of elite perfection exited. For those who were already slaves in service upon their entrance; a slave with honed and perfected skills exited. One thing was for sure: you always left The Mansion more critiqued, and perfected, than when you came.
I made my way over to the bed and chuckled at the sight of Richard dressed so leisurely. “You look like you are going the beach instead of dinner, Richard.”
“Maybe I am—maybe I’m going to swoop you up into my helicopter and take you to the beach.”
That my got my attention. I didn’t put anything past Richard. He held a bottle of Cristal in one hand and two champagne glasses by the stems in the other.
He made his way over and stood by the bed handing me the glass and pouring champagne into it.
I just about guzzled the whole thing down. He set the glass and bottle on the night stand, opening my robe.
“There…….. that is a much better view—you wearing my lingerie.”
He sat in the chair kicking the sandals off and propping his feet on the bed and eyed me. “In fact, take the robe off.”
“I like the robe” I said, hugging it to me. The truth was that closing it up and hugging to me made me feel safe. It kept me from feeling as if he could see right through me.
He clamped his fingers behind his neck and glared at me as he snarled his lip. The look on his face told me that I should probably listen.
“Alright already,” I moaned.
There was a tap on the door and I rushed to grab it again.
“Leave it off!”
“Come in,” his gruff voice cut through the air.
I can’t read him, what else is new?
Selena made her way in with a push cart and the food that it held wafted odors in my direction. My stomach growled in anticipation.
A sadistic grin crossed his face, “You may go Selena.”
What the fuck is he up to?
Master Richard Baron
I eyed my little Ophelia as I leaned forward resting my lower arms on the chair. “You’re so big on research, tonight—you eat as my slave. You wouldn’t deprive me of this your last night at The Mansion, I know.”
I breathed out……..hard. The man was exasperating.
“Get up Ophelia and take that robe off, please.” He facetiously added.
Well, the Tsunami has arrived. Hell, what can it hurt my last night?
I rose and his eyes cut through me, “Take off everything but your thigh highs and shoes, Ophelia.”
He threw a pillow on the floor in between his legs and his feet and I knew to kneel on it. I lowered my head and spread my knees open with my palms faced upward.
***
I eyed my little Ophelia knelt at my feet, and my loins stiffened.
I grabbed one of the platters of food and dipped a piece of shrimp into the melted butter. I lifted her chin with one finger and held it over her opened mouth. I watched intently as she bit into it and purposely slid her lips over it, as if trying to seduce me.
I grabbed a handful of her hair and got in her face, “Oh, do you want to play, little slave girl.”
She whined, begging me with those puppy dog pools of innocence.
What was happening to us? We wanted each other like we were some kind of drug or something.
I grabbed a piece of shrimp taunting her with it as I stared into those innocent eyes that looked up at me; as if I held all of the answers.
I could see the apprehension in her face. I stood ripping my clothes off and sitting back down. I picked her up and stood her over my legs; “Sit down.”
***
I stood over him with my legs spread—and slowly began to impale myself on his large member. My whole body shook as I listened to his voice.
“Oh, that is a good little girl.” I pulled her hips down forcing her to take more and more, as I stared into her contorted face. Her mouth was open and a pained look of ecstasy covered her face.
“Come on baby, that’s it, sit.” She slowly lowered more and mo
re, as I began to manipulating her clit with just one finger. “That is it, get down on that cock and I will let you cum.” She slowly, painstakingly, made her way to the end of it and I begin to grind around into her. Her moans became screams and she began to ride with more assurance—impaling herself—as over, and over I brought her to orgasm. I grabbed her hips forcing her to take me as I unloaded into her.
***
I laid my head against his chest and sobbed as he held me, I don’t even know why. I don’t…… Even….. Know….. Why……
The last night was spent in bouts of love making, Cristal, and intermittent sleep. The morning sun would come soon enough…..and it would be time to go…..
Chapter Fourteen
Ophelia
I barely remember my ride home as we both sat silent in the backseat. I just remember pecking him on the cheek and running into my home before I broke down into a heap in the floor; sobbing.
The next days were spent in utter agony. I literally—physically hurt. I felt as if someone had reached into my chest and ripped my heart out with their bare hands.
My time was spent avoiding people and staying holed away in my home. Bob called every day—along with Debbie—message after message of things like: “Are you ok, why won’t you talk to anybody?”
I literally loathed Bob’s voice now. It was as if it grated on my nerves. Why couldn’t these people understand? I……Just….Wanted……To….be……Left……Alone!!!
Master Richard Baron
Master Richard spent the next few days going through the motions. He did everything that he always did, but now it just seemed as if it were—robotic. Days turned into a week and then a week and a half, with no word from His little Ophelia. Day after day he tossed around in his head what to do.
Why was it that with any other slave he was in control and knew what to do, but with Ophelia he tossed things around in his head; in indecision?
The training of Ophelia (Masters of the Mansion Series) Page 6
