Ren knew to not touch the buttocks until he’d done feet, calves and thighs. He forced himself not to rush.
The thighs were lovely, the skin thicker on the lean body, and he could dig deeper into them while taking care not to be too rough. The blue aura about the thighs and buttocks darkened and took on an amber back-glow.
Ren had learned that, though everyone was different, in general certain colors meant certain things. Blue for contentment, affection or love. Gold for arousal and desire. Often, colors combined. And some people’s colors were bright, others dim.
Audi spread his legs in invitation as Ren’s hands smoothed up the curves of his ass.
Ren doused him with more oils, the air growing fragrant with sandalwood scent.
He gave careful attention to the cheeks of Audi’s bottom, running his hands just beneath as well, to manipulate the hip joints. But mostly, this was a pleasure massage. He was careful to watch how the colors of the aura shaded dark to light to dark again, and followed the little patches of amber and pink to make trails across the skin that would feel euphoric.
Ren heard Audi sigh again and again. He dared not take a peek at the masters to see what their reactions were. Instead, he focused.
It was as if Ren could see beyond the skin to where the blood flowed and warmed the body, to where the nerves connected in spider webs of sensation. His hands held no color, no light, but where they touched, he could sense the body give way and open to him.
Then his fingers slid down the crack, gentle and slippery and warm.
Though Audi had been instructed not to move, he lifted his hips just a bit as if he couldn’t help it. Offering himself.
Ren used more oil and inserted a finger into him, massaging him slowly, and Audi moaned.
A few brushes against Audi’s prostate had him nearly writhing, but that was all Ren allowed, for he was only half done.
“You are so lovely,” Ren said low in his throat. “Now, if you please. Onto your back.”
Audi turned. His cock was fully erect and wet at the tip. His eyes were half rolled up. He lay back and Ren began the front massage at his forehead, then to the jaw, the sides of the neck, the shoulders and arms.
Slowly, he worked Audi’s upper body, aware that the erect cock was begging for attention with its flowering of nearly all pink light.
He lightly rubbed the pink nipples, eliciting more groans. Stomach, abdomen, hips. All were caressed and soothed while he ignored the straining cock leaking just below the belly button.
He then went to the foot of the couch and worked his way up the legs, shins, and the fronts of the thighs. Audi spread his legs again, unaware, arm thrown back above his head, mouth open, eyes closed so that the long lashes made golden shadows on his upper cheeks.
Seeing that the insides of the thighs were pink, which meant to Ren Audi was erotically sensitive there, Ren spent a lot of time rubbing them up and down. Sometimes he let the tips of his fingers touch the velvet balls that were drawn up tight against the center of Audi’s body.
Finally, he moved his hands up and around the base of Audi’s cock. The slave had shaved, so the skin was smooth. He pulled Audi’s cock until it stood straight up, the pink head completely exposed now in his increased arousal.
Ren took one hand away and gathered more oil, then he put his hands together around Audi’s cock and milked it slow, lovingly. He saw the pink aura at the tip go almost red and circled it with his thumb, causing Audi to cry out.
Audi’s balls tightened further, and he felt the cock start to throb. He gripped it tighter, and ran his hands up the length over and over, going faster until Audi cried out.
The cock erupted like a mini-fountain, white semen rising up. Ren pulled the cock forward and up so that it could empty on Audi’s stomach. It spurted seven times before the throb slowed and the liquid streamed slower over the head.
Ren rubbed it into the skin, gently soothing the underside of the cock as he did so, until Audi could breathe again. Until Audi was completely satisfied and his cock, though still hard, stopped its internal tremble.
When Ren took his hands away, he wasn’t done. He moved to Audi’s head, leaned over him and kissed his forehead right at where some people said lay the third eye, spiritually. It was lit up rosy there, like the cock had been. He just had to kiss it.
“Thank you for allowing me to touch your beautiful body,” Ren said.
Audi said, “Ah, thank you!” His tone was breathless and filled with a still-aroused rumble.
Only after that, after the kiss and the final words, did Ren turn to the master, place his clasped hands in front of his ignored erection, and bow his head.
Looking up through his half-closed eyes, Ren studied their expressions and their auras.
Master Holden was smiling with pride for his student.
Master Locke’s eyebrows were raised.
The others were looking from Ren to their tablets, tapping away on their notes.
“Audi, you may be excused,” Master Locke said.
“Yes, Master.” Audi grabbed a towel and got up. Ren heard the pad of his bare footsteps across the room, heard the big door open and close.
Ren stood still, waiting.
Master Locke said, “You did well. You have five more days of testing.”
“I am ready, Master.”
“I have no doubt.” Locke spoke with almost sarcasm. But Ren knew he was impressed.
His body heated all over at the job well done.
“With the permission of your master, Holden, you may relax for the rest of the day.”
“Permission granted to attend the exercise room, the indoor pool and your room,” Holden said.
“Thank you.”
Ren turned. Then he turned back to face all the masters.
“I want to thank you, all of you, for this opportunity.”
The masters all looked up, mostly expressionless, but Ren could read their auras spiking blue and green and gold. They loved him.
“You may go now,” Locke finally commanded.
Affirmed, Ren turned again and left the room.
Chapter Five
Sold to the Highest Bidder
For the next five days, Ren was tested not only on his sexual technique and skill, but in his manners. How he interacted with others from language to bodily expression was assessed. His own appearance depended not only on physical attractiveness, but through his demeanor. Of course, the care he took with his body through exercise, hygiene, hair and make up counted for a lot, too. Make up was not required for males or females, but they were taught the art of it in case their future masters requested it.
Ren had been taught to be versatile in sexual ability. He could top or bottom on command. He could receive or give blowjobs or hand jobs with equal abandon. He was able to handle two men at a time, one at each end.
And he truly enjoyed all of it.
For every test, the masters looked both proud and perplexed. He knew he excelled because of his ability to see through auras what others desired, where they wished to be touched, or where on their bodies to avoid. He had his random subjects, all strangers, moaning within minutes and begging for more of his perfect skills.
All of Ren’s tests were filmed and put into a file where prospective bidders could view them before making their bids. He’d even posed for still shots, like a model, from every angle, for a portfolio. He’d written an essay on pleasure, quoting his favorite romance movies and poets.
He’d written another essay about himself. That was hardest. He’d had to do it three times over because Master Holden told him he sounded too vague.
In truth, Ren could perform all sorts of sexual deeds for a camera with no qualms, feeling no shyness whatsoever, but revealing his deepest thoughts in writing, including past griefs, or his desires to always be a pleasure slave, or how he’d almost died to reach the Slave Palace itself, made him balk and quiver. He did not like to think about the outside world and all the shadows it held for
him. He did not like to talk about it.
Though Ren had had a complete psych evaluation from the Palace doctors and been given a clean bill of health, he still had problems expressing and understanding why he needed to be apart from the outside world. Why he had such a desire to be owned, to be taken away from the free world and have no responsibility for himself except obeying his master’s commands.
For his final third try on the essay, he ended with some bold statements that Master Holden said were still vague, using language that separated Ren from the immediacy of who he was, but moving nevertheless.
In my heart, I am a pleasure slave.
I have known this from an early age when I watched videos of slaves for not only titillation purposes, and not because I wanted to own one, but because I wanted to be one.
I craved the feeling of being owned. Fully owned.
I have never felt whole. Perhaps no one ever does. This feeling sets most of us on quests or searches to find, in our adult lives, that which perhaps can give us some meaning. Some want families and children. Some want to be artists. Some meditate. Others look to even more spiritual answers.
To be whole, to completely celebrate the person within, nothing, no kink or peculiar habit or personality quirk or physical flaw should be erased, criticized, or ignored. Everyone is beautiful and has beauty to offer, and wants to receive beauty in kind.
I believe denial of this is like amputating the vulnerable and sensitive tendrils of what makes up our souls. It can scar us if we are dishonest and cruel. First we do it to ourselves, then to others.
The world is a place of cruelty, but also great beauty.
I wish to be a contributor to the beauty of the world in a way that pleases others. It is what I was made for. I believe it to the depths of my most secret thoughts.
But I do not wish to do so from an outside, free perspective. I want to be owned in order to feel safe and secure. I want to have my actions commanded and appraised by others. This is not because I look only for outside approval, but because the feeling of knowing that what I offer can please another makes me feel whole.
When I lost my parents, I was bereft. Some may have the opinion that I am merely looking for replacement authority figures, but I felt this way even when my parents were alive. From a very early age, I dreamed of a kind of abandon where I had no space or thoughts in my mind but that of pleasure, of pleasing a person who commanded me in all ways.
With these words, Ren passed the test of essay-writing on the subject most of his bidders would be interested to hear about.
It was not until a pleasure slave could pass all six tests with adequate vid-feed, and their essays and profiles were complete, that they were put up for sale.
By the end of the week, Ren’s profile, called “extraordinary” by Master Locke himself, was made public.
All Ren needed to do now was wait.
*
Master Locke’s office was clean, even austere like the master himself. It was straight-lined, containing a desk of chrome holding a computer and tablets and a phone—all black. All the Palace masters wore black, but many accented their outfits with colorful ties, belts or jewelry. Locke was more severe in his tastes.
Except for his slave.
When Ren was called to Master Locke’s office, he expected to meet with him one on one. Alone.
But as the door opened and he delivered himself inside, he saw Locke sitting at his computer, fingers typing, as usual. But another man, naked and covered with paint, leaned against the white wall leaving smears of greens and golds, his glossy blond hair, slightly windblown, playing about his shoulders.
Locke looked up. “One moment, please, Ren.”
Ren let the door close behind him and stood, hands behind his back, head slightly lowered. He could still see the entire room.
The man who leaned against the wall turned a cool eye on Ren, then looked away.
Ren had never met Wulf, Locke’s personal slave. He had seen him about the Palace but always moving away, at a distance.
Up close, Wulf was stunning. His muscular body and golden skin drew the eye. Light played around him in hues of firelight.
This was the man rumored to be too dangerous to train. The man Locke had kept because, the gossips said, Wulf was a prisoner of war from an enemy country and if he could not cut it as a pleasure slave he would be taken back to prison and probably put to death.
Locke had saved Wulf’s life by keeping him. But now that Ren could see Wulf up close, he realized it was no doubt more than altruism that made Locke keep him. Wulf was a prize. Too beautiful for words. Whatever problems Wulf might have, Locke was an Eminent Master. The best. He could handle himself with wild foreigners and errant criminals.
But Wulf didn’t look that dangerous. And the beauty of his natural stature awed Ren.
These two men were meant to be together. Ren could tell by the colors of their projected auras which pulsed quite large and floated toward one another, mingling on the air in lavenders, golds and pinks. Ren associated these aura colors with sexual contentment and more—deep love. These two men were in love. And since the colors didn’t lie, Ren knew Locke and Wulf were completely suited for one another.
Wulf let out a fast breath, projecting a veneer of boredom. But the man’s aura said otherwise. It communicated to Ren that Wulf enjoyed being in Locke’s presence at this very moment. The naked slave’s impressive half-erect cock denoted impatience, perhaps, but not boredom.
The paint Wulf wore and which rubbed off on the white wall was the type used for the living statue gardens all about the Palace estate. In his days of training, that was one particular art-form Ren had not had time to participate in, but he had seen the statues often and admired them.
Finally, Locke looked up. “You are well, Ren?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Excellent.” Locke sat back in his chair, the light shifting over his dark, wavy hair.
Wulf watched Ren with his eyebrows narrowed.
“I would like you to please take a seat.” Locke indicated a plush, black chair that stood before his desk complete with a clean towel placed squarely in the center. “That is not a request but an order.”
Ren quickly complied, though the request seemed odd. Wulf’s gaze never left Ren’s form as if he was waiting for something. But what?
“I have news for you.”
“Yes, Master.”
“You have been sold.”
Ren’s heart rate quickened. “So quickly?”
Locke nodded once. “And for a very high sum.”
It was good news. But Locke was not smiling.
“I am honored. Thank you, Master.”
Locke took a breath, glanced away and then back at Ren. “This sale is red-marked. Do you know what that means?”
Ren shook his head. He had never heard that term “red-marked” before. He saw Wulf turn to Locke and tilt his head as well.
“The Palace as a corporate entity has many rules and regulations as you well know. Standards for slaves as well as buyers. A red-mark occurs when a buyer wins a bid but does not quite meet the standards himself.”
“You mean the buyer is not qualified?” Ren asked.
“In this case, he is. In all the ways that matter to the corporation such as good credit, no criminal record, etc.”
“Then he is qualified?”
“Yes. But he is shielded.”
“What does that mean?” Ren asked.
“He has not been seen in public for twenty years. Little is known about him other than that he is wealthy. He is known to keep a harem of pleasure slaves on his compound. They, too, never venture outside and little is known about them. We suspect many have been purchased from the underground, the black markets and various other trades. Why? We don’t know. Some masters who can afford it do collect pleasure slaves the way art lovers collect works of art.”
A harem! Ren remembered the painting of the harem he had admired. It had overlooked him during
his first time being penetrated by Master Holden. He’d not forgotten its beauty, and how enticing it was. Could this be a sign that this destination was the right one for him?
“So.” Ren paused and took a breath. “He keeps a harem. I would not be his only slave.”
“No. And I understand you were hoping for a master to purchase you and keep you one on one. Hoping for a relationship?”
Ren looked at his hands which were pressed to his naked thighs. “I—I confess I do have fantasies of being the center of my master’s focus. But my training has taught me that is a gift, and extra benefit that may or may not occur. And I have also had a desire for a family. A harem seems almost like that.”
“It could be. But you said it yourself. Your training has taught you not to expect the extras benefits of love and belonging. At least not at first.”
Ren nodded. But his stomach flipped at the idea that he might never know the full attention of another. That he might be left alone too often and grow bored. In a harem he would have many more chances to find more opportunities to feel wanted, and valued.
“The buyer is red-marked not because he keeps a harem, but because he keeps them locked away. It is not a crime, for a slave is owned and a master can do as he wishes with his slave short of outright harm. But he is also red-marked because he does not allow photos, videos or anything personal about himself to be known. If he has any social presence, it is under a false name. This secrecy flags the Slave Palace system. The red-mark is a warning that he is an unknown entity who is also a first-time buyer from the Palace corporation. Through his solicitor, we know only of his credit reports, his official record with the law, and his country of origin.”
Ren’s realized his body had become tense. He tried to imagine who this buyer could be. Why the secrecy? Why the locked down compound? “What does all this mean?”
“It means you have a choice.” Locke fiddled with his mouse and stroked a few letters on his keyboard.
The Slave Harem: A Kingdom of Slaves Book Page 4
