Another thrill ran through my lithe body. It felt so good to be complimented. I smiled even more brightly, like a good girl.
“Thank you, Master. If I may, it makes me very happy to hear that.”
“Good. Now,” He clapped his hands. “I have news for you. The auction is coming up.”
My heart started racing. That's what all this was about! He was going to present me as his best prize. I would be the special auction that he reserved for last. That’s what I deserved! That’s what I had earned!
I might even have an owner who would get me pregnant...the thought was better than almost any other. A slave was not allowed many dreams, but one that I held on to was getting filled to the brim by my Master and presenting him with the fruit of our labors.
“But, you will not be there. In matter of fact, you are to be shipped out tomorrow, little Leandra.”
All my hopes suddenly came crashing down.
“I’m sorry, Sir?”
“You have been sold. The buyer is in waiting.”
“I...but...the auction, Sir?”
“The auction is canceled.” He sniffed. “For you, anyway. The other girls will still go, but you needn’t worry about them.”
I tried very hard not to let my disappointment show.
“I see, Sir.”
“Your owner is to be a man named Philip Tower.”
That sunk in for a moment. Surely, he didn’t mean...
“From the town of Prute, Sir?”
“That’s right. You know him?”
“I...”
I didn’t want to answer, but I couldn’t suddenly become disobedient. Not after so long. Not when I was about to be sold. I coughed, trying to allow myself time to recover.
“Yes, Sir. He is...was...is my stepfather, Sir. He sold me into the Service Trade.”
Of course, Trainer Cochran already knew this. He had wished only to see my reaction. “He must have used his proceeds to invest in something quite lucrative. It takes a lot of capital to buy a slave before she even goes to auction.”
“So...” I was still trying to process what was happening. “Am I to be freed, then, Sir?”
I cannot deny that the prospect somewhat terrified me. Who was to say what a good little fuckslave like myself would do if she suddenly had a taste of freedom? Though it had its drawbacks, I had become quite accustomed to being a slave. I enjoyed it, even. It was a relief to obey, to feel that perfect pleasure that only exists when you know you are carrying out the will of someone better than you.
That was the process at work, of course. There probably was some part of me screaming for freedom, and jumping for joy at the chance of being independent. But the indoctrination process soothed over these thoughts, filling them with better thoughts—thoughts of sucking cock, of being ridden and bred, of taking in as many dicks as my little hot body could. The process had showed me how I could have any thoughts I liked, and I simply had grown to like those particularly dirty and filthy thoughts, thoughts of obedience and cock-filled service, much better than any others.
“No,” said Trainer Cochran. “That would be a different kind of contract. He bought you for Service. It’s all very clear.” He tapped the papers at the table.
Relief, and a strange confusion, swept over me. The process made me glad to continue to be a slave, but I was so confused—why would the man who raised me want me as a slave?
“You seem upset, slave.”
“It’s nothing, Sir. Nothing I cannot banish.”
“Good.” He took me by the cheeks, holding there firmly. “If you have any objections, you would be best to swallow them and forget about them.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Trainer Cochran continued. “Because you will obey him. You will obey everything he tells you. I don’t care who he is. You are a slave, and you will not ruin my good name be becoming disobedient. Do you understand me?”
Of course I did. No matter what, no matter my reluctance, I would be the best slave I could be.
A slave for the man I called Daddy.
* * * * *
Late the next day, a young Yoron slave drove me to my new owner’s house. He was a quiet sort, the Yoron, owned by some other Mistress on the other side of the city. This was the normal method of transfer; slaves of one owner were not permitted to transport that same owner’s slaves to a new owner or trainer.
Yorons in my experience were rather quiet overall, usually to hide how dull their minds were. In Talnesha, and especially in my small town of Prute, we had little experience with the outside world, but I feel as though getting plenty of reports from the news and magazines filled us in fairly well.
Some might say—about a thickly built Yoron fellow like the one who transported me—that he was quiet to prevent anyone from thinking he was stupid. But if he was that worried about it, didn’t that mean he was stupid to begin with?
Perhaps that thought was unworthy of me. I was upset as I traveled through town after town in that car, alone for the first time in I couldn't remember how long, a bit terrified at the prospect of seeing the man who had raised me once more. All this after feeling as though I had left that man's life forever. As a result, I took out my terror on the poor Yoron as I sat in the leather-lined seats of the small automobile that carried me to the new home, though I expressed my frustration in thought only. I was far too well trained to actually lash out at anyone, let alone another slave.
At any rate, it wasn’t long before I arrived at the house of my new Owner, at the house where I had been raised.
To the house of the man I had called Daddy.
The day was bright, sunny. For some reason, I wanted at least one cloud. Most preferably a dark cloud, one that loomed ominously above the house I was to stay at, threatening thunderstorms with every slight movement of the wind. But there was nothing but clear blue sky—there was not even the courtesy of strips of weakly sliding cumulus clouds, which might somehow congeal over time to create the clean-washing storm I so desperately wanted.
Blue skies, bright sun. A clean slate, perhaps.
The house, as I said, was the same one I had grown up in. It had a small cobblestone walkway up the lawn, which was square and faced the street. The house itself had two stories and a basement; the upstairs was tiny, sporting two small bedrooms and bathroom, though it had lots of closet space for storage. The kitchen, living room, and laundry were down in the basement, while the master bedroom, dining room, and study were on the first floor.
When I last left him, my father (I have known him my whole life, since nearly I was born, and calling him my stepfather seems wrong to me somehow) was dead broke.
I knew him, overall, to be a kind and generous man. Despite what Trainer Cochran had told me, I thought that by buying me back, he hoped to give me my freedom. Maybe there was less paperwork in the way he had gone about it, or maybe there was less of a cost somehow. I would easily be able to forgive him that.
Truth be told, at that point, I still wasn’t sure very much that I wanted freedom. I enjoyed my service; I enjoyed my lack of freedom. I know very well that is the process talking, the same process that all slaves are subjected to, the same process that makes all slaves love to obey and become hot and bothered from the thought of carrying out their Master’s will.
But even with as little certainty as I had when it came to being free, I had even less certainty about being the sexual property of my Daddy. That gave me a cold, righteous chill. It was so incredibly wrong!
The car stopped and I exited, never saying a word to the Yoron who I had judged for so long. I felt I owed him an apology, but then I felt again that would only confuse him. The door shut, and he drove off, leaving me alone on the lawn of my father's house.
I wore the traditional garb of a new slave—a thin white gown and a metal collar the color of gunmetal gray. As I stepped up onto the lawn, the front door of the house opened and my stepfather stepped out.
It surprised me that he would meet me at the door. It
surprised me even more that a gorgeous young blond woman was at his side, hanging lustily on his arm. I thought for a moment that he had gotten married—good for him, I thought! He deserved a loyal, happy woman doting on him. My own mother had died when I was quite young, and so it was him who had done almost the entirety of raising me up.
But then I noticed the gold collar around her neck, matching the fair color of her hair, and I understood. She wore a tiny pink sheer nightgown, even though it was the middle of the day, and tall black heels that elongated the lovely shape of her legs. He had come into more money than I had realized, apparently. One slave was, at one point, something like a fortune for a man of his stature. Two slaves were beyond belief.
My father was rich, and yet somehow, I was not.
The thought crossed my mind, briefly, that somehow had we managed to hold out on his debts, if somehow there had been a way to dig in and ensure that we had remained together and that the Guild of Service had not snatched me up...if all that had happened, then maybe I would be rich. With a slave of my own, even.
But worldly possessions were beyond me now. Part of the process was the building of a resistance to any ideas of property or ownership of almost any kind. All the property I would ever have possession of was what my Master allotted for me, and even then, it wasn’t ever truly mine, simply allowed for my use. All I possessed in truth was my obedience and my service, and I guarded these most jealousy. It is easier to guard more savagely when you have less.
I approached the pair and curtsied before him, as I would have any Master.
“This one is named Leandra, Master, and I am yours to do with as you will.”
“Yes,” he said, a depraved grin on his face. “I’m quite aware of that. You needn’t explain. Why, Diane here only arrived a month ago, and she taught me everything there is to know about owning a slave. Didn’t you, Diane?”
The blond slave nodded, somehow seeming both haughty and eager. “Yes, Master. It was my pleasure to show you all the ways I could obey. Do you think she’ll be as good as me?”
“Time will tell.” He ran his hand down Diane’s body, squeezing her ass hard.
Then, he held out a hand, entreating me to grab it. I did so, of course, and was surprised at how tightly he took my arm. His pull into the house was not rough, but it was not gentle either. He placed me in the middle of the entry.
The house was different than I had left it. Everything had received an upgrade. Gone was the stained carpet, now replaced with hardwood floors. Gone were the ducts hanging from the ceiling, now replaced with a new ceiling perhaps a few inches lower than the last. Gone was the old green paint on the walls coming off in strips from the heat of the summers, replaced now with a pleasant cream.
My new Master circled me, eyeing me up and down.
“You’ve grown into quite the woman, Leandra.”
His hand slipped over my ass, much as he had done to Diane only moments before. Thick fingers slipped under my bare lace panties and slid across the toned, tight cheeks into the warm crack resting between. Slowly, his fingers ran across the surface of my asshole and then up and under my cunt, gripping me there harshly.
My mind cried out in alarm, even as I physically trembled with desire. When we had been living under the same roof, before, he had never been untoward before me. Of course, there had been glances from time to time, but nothing so extreme as to suddenly justify this enormous shift in his actions.
Unless, of course, he had been hiding his lust that whole time.
“Oh-hhh-ohhh!” My knees buckled. “T-thank you, Master.”
“’Thank you, Daddy,’” he corrected. “Say it.”
Already, this was becoming rather kinky. It became certain to me that he had bought me with full knowledge of what he wanted me to be. And he knew I could not disobey, no matter how filthy or extreme his requests. Why, he could order me to fuck a whole room full of strangers, and I would do it; if he ordered me to think only of his cock the entire time that I pleasured others, I would do that too. I was fully processed, and I wished no shame to be brought on the house of my Trainer, who still held a special place in my heart.
“T-thank y-you, D-Daddy,” I said, clearly troubled.
“That will do,” he conceded. “For now.”
With his hand still gripping the underside of my pussy, his other thick paw came around to one plump, tender young breast. His thumb and index finger gripped my nipple. Slowly, the small eraser shape grew erect, fully hard under his touch. I couldn’t help but be excited by what he was doing.
I knew it was wrong—deeply wrong—but all my training and all my desire had built me for this exact moment of meeting my new owner. It was all I could do to keep from cumming from my Daddy’s touch.
“You have some hesitation, I see,” he said. “Did they not train you well enough?”
“They trained me perfectly, Daddy,” said Diane. Her haughty attitude made my pussy warm with arousal. The delight she took in her place under him...I could only aspire to such devotion at that moment. “I wanted your cock right away.”
“Shush, Diane. No one is asking if you are a good slave or not.”
She nodded intently, but quietly. Even if she did have an attitude, it was clear that it was just for his benefit—and so her silence would be as well.
Daddy turned to me, then, twisting my nipples hard, almost to the point of pain. My pussy began to leak softly, and I could feel juices of hot lust running down my thigh.
“I will allow you to get somewhat accustomed. I am not without my sympathies, my dear girl. My baby, baby, perfect little baby girl. But you will serve me as Diane serves me. And you will enjoy yourself as you do. Is that clear?”
I nodded. “Y-yes, Daddy. That’s all I want!”
There was no mistake; he did not believe me. But I believed what I said. I knew that I would have to prove myself to him, to prove my devotion. Otherwise, there would never be any happiness in our little house again.
* * * * *
He had given Diane my old room. I wondered if that meant that he never meant to bring me back at all, or if he didn’t want me to think about the house as something of my own anymore. Without him telling me, I would not ever know. It was imprudent and impolite for a slave to ask questions about her Master’s preferences, unless it was to clarify the best way she might be able to act for him.
When a slave is sold, the Trainer often gives her a bag full of supplies to take to the new Master. A sort of dowry, though every gift is really for the girl, in some ways. Kana favored me, and had ensured that my bag was full of steamy story books depicting slaves adoring their Masters (ostensibly, I could read them aloud to Daddy while I stroked his cock), sexy clothing and lingerie to wear, and small sweet treats to feed him so that I may earn his favor.
As I unpacked these items, I recalled a conversation I had with my father, shortly before I began my indoctrination into the Service Trade. He had just sold me a day or two before, overwhelmed with guilt at the time, and we were in the market looking for fresh fruit and vegetables with which to make our final meals together. The market was a collection of stalls not far from the City Council Hall, each stall supplied with some different version of good or service. My father and I were examining apples. He always liked the pink ones best.
A few stalls down from where we stood, we saw a beefy Talneshan with a lovely redheaded Yoron girl. She had a leash around her neck, following her Master around with a loving, obedient look in her eyes.
My father pointed at the pair. “Can a slave like that ever be truly obedient?”
“I don’t know.” I stepped away from the rows of apples to get a better look. “They seem to think so.”
“I just don’t understand it. How could they possibly think to eliminate all traces of independence? All the elements of the human spirit? It seems...unnatural.”
“You’ve seen them. They look perfectly natural to me.”
He frowned, then. “I would have expected you
to take my side. It’s not as if...you understand, don’t you? What they’ll do to you?”
“I think I do. They keep the process a secret. But I...I don’t see the point in fighting. They have all the power, don’t they? You did what you could. And now they’re going to do what they can. There’s no surprises here, Father.”
That calmed him. He always liked it when I called him Father. Daddy. He did not like to think that our relationship was not strictly natural.
Making up my room, setting down my suitcase with all my things, I thought hard about how he had changed in just the short time since I had last seen him. What had altered his opinion so thoroughly that he would not only be in support of slavery, but own two of his own?
The look in his eyes when he had grabbed me...was his lust for me that great? Had it always been so? Was my Daddy just some natural pervert, wanting to enact his dirty desires on his daughter, and even more so now that she was a slave?
With no further orders after arranging the room designated to me, I knelt down in front of my small mattress. It was a neutral pose, easy on my knees and back, and allowed me to breath in deep and meditate on my situation. I repeated the same chant that I always did when waiting for new instructions to arrive:
“Service is pleasure. Pleasure is Obedience. Obedience is Life. Life is Service. Service is pleasure. Pleasure is Obedience. Obedience is Life. Life is Service. Service...”
All the while, my fingers softly attended my clit. I remained aroused, but not to the point of cumming. In this new life, I would have to receive permission to cum at will, and I had not earned that yet.
So, that was how I spent my day. Never once did I wonder why my Daddy did not fuck me immediately, or push me down and forcefully push his cock through lush mouth and down my tiny, tight little throat. His will was his alone, and I had no right to question it. I did not even think about how, perhaps, he had some doubt in his new possession, and Diane was in his ear all the while, stroking him and telling him how wonderfully right it was to own his own daughter, how perfect it would be once I recognized him as my DaddyMaster and Diane as my SlaveSister, and how, together, we would be able to help him break in all the slaves he wanted.
The Sold For Service Bundle Page 6
