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I walked back to my rooms at a relaxed pace. The initial meeting with Natalie had gone well; I thought, and my colleagues agreed, that her behaviour had indicated her training would be quite straightforward. She had demonstrated the predictable responses of anger, disbelief and fear; though submissive and obedient at the end of the meeting, it would no doubt take further sessions of punishment before she fully accepted her destiny as a slave girl.
I had seen Natalie first in the photo her uncle had supplied, posing prettily in a brief bikini for a family snapshot. This had clearly been a girl worthy of further study! My brief meeting with her at her family home had confirmed my opinion that this was a girl who, once properly trained, would be eminently suited for sale as a slave. In the year or two since the photo had been taken, her young figure had filled out excitingly; the moment I had laid eyes on her I had wanted to have her. Accordingly, I had asked Julius that I be assigned to her individual tuition, a request to which he had amiably acceded.
I had worked at Von Hoffman’s for a little over a decade, and felt justified in considering myself as something of an expert in the training of girls for slavery. It was Natalie’s age group that the school specialised in, for several reasons. Firstly, our public face as an exclusive finishing school for young ladies was the ideal cover by which our targets could be brought into our power. Secondly, girls of that age were easier to control. Though childhood was behind them, and having gained some awareness of their desirability to men, they were still young enough to be reliant on the support of family and authority. Even the most rebellious and independent lass, finding herself alone and defenceless, must look to the only available authority figures for reassurance – her teachers. Many will fight and protest their rights, if only for the sake of their pride, but punishment of the kind we deal in breaks the spirit of any girl in the end. So it would be with Natalie.
The thought of beginning Natalie’s training in earnest had me in such a good mood that I was not even angry when I saw Rachel had fallen asleep in my absence. Knowing that I would be in the mood for a girl after seeing Natalie stripped and beaten, I had left Rachel on my bed, naked, wrists cuffed to the bedpost rails. A pleasantly plump eighteen year old, Rachel benefitted from a sweetly rounded face with full, soft lips.
She certainly looked lovely in calm repose, her breasts rising and falling gently with her breathing. Quietly, not wishing to wake her just yet, I undressed and lay alongside her. Resting on one elbow, I looked her up and down. Had we not abducted her, there was a real likelihood that by the end of her twenties, Rachel would have become an overweight burden on scarce state resources, probably with a child or two. Now, with her food and exercise under our strict control, she could more accurately be described as juicy, with nice full breasts, and softly rounded belly and thighs.
I reached down and gently touched her hairless pussy. Like most Von Hoffman’s masters, I prefer a girl shaved; not only does it allow an unimpeded view of her cunt, but the greater exposure makes the girl feel even more vulnerable. I watched Rachel’s face as I began to gently masturbate her. I saw different expressions flicker across her features as the sensations I was expertly inducing intruded into her dream. Her head turned from side to side as she sighed, the soft wave of blonde hair becoming untidy with the movement; her thighs stirred. Then she woke, saw my face above hers, and realised what was happening. “Master!” she gasped.
“Kiss me,” I ordered. Obediently, the slave lifted her head and pressed her lips to mine. My tongue thrust into her mouth, enjoying the taste of my young plaything. Then I broke off the kiss, and crouched over her.
“Spread your legs,” I ordered. Rachel immediately opened herself to me. I saw her glance down to my erect penis as I moved between her legs and kneeling there, began to caress her thighs and hips. She moaned a little as her breathing quickened; her hands tightened on the short chain of her handcuffs.
“Like that, do you, baby?” I grinned. “Yes, master,” Rachel gasped. In truth, I cared little if she was enjoying it or not. Our slaves are trained to please men, not the other way around, and part of that means appearing to welcome their master’s touch, however rough. Rachel’s responses seemed genuine, though. I teased her between the legs with my fingers, and her hips tensed as she lifted herself to me. I was painfully erect now, and had no inclination to wait longer.
“Legs up,” I ordered. Rachel lifted her feet from the bed; I positioned her calves on my shoulders and, my hands on her hips to keep her steady, entered her. I rode the girl forcefully, but slowed on occasion to prolong my enjoyment. Turning my head, I kissed Rachel’s inner thighs, and felt the muscles in her soft, smooth legs tense. I slipped my hands up her legs and body, fondling her breasts. Rachel sighed and stirred under my touch, her lips parted, her body clenching eagerly on my manhood. I grunted with pleasure, thrusting to her repeatedly, her luscious body shuddering beneath the blows, until at last I snarled with triumph as my seed shot into the girl’s body. Rachel cried out as she felt me ejaculate deep into her – it was some time since I had had her so roughly.
As my passion subsided, I sagged against her. Rachel’s legs, still about my shoulders, cushioned me comfortably, my weight pushing them against her torso. I looked into the girl’s face; she had the same anxious expression she always had after sex. I had beaten her several times because I felt she had not tried hard enough to please me, and once simply because I felt like it. Unable to understand what she had done wrong, the girl had protested, but was unable to sway me. Her plaintive cries had only reinforced my sadistic determination to see Rachel writhing in torment.
Tonight, though, I was not in the mood for such effort. I withdrew from her, and rose. Reaching for a towel, I began to wipe the sweat from my body.
Rachel turned on her side to watch me, still a little nervous. She made a pleasant sight, cuffed there for my pleasure. “Not much longer for you here, Rachel,” I smiled. “You’ll soon be delivered to your new masters.”
Instantly, the girl tensed. She sat up at the bedrail, pulling her legs up. “Please, master, can’t you tell me anything about them?”
I shook a finger at her. “Now, Rachel, I’ve told you all you need to know. You’ve been sold, and will soon pass to your new owners.”
I saw the teenager’s wide eyes fill with tears, and she looked away. Amused by her misery, I crossed to her and, taking her by the chin, forced her head round to face me. “You’ll find out soon enough who they are, and what they want you for, slave,” I said. Rachel’s lower lip trembled, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.
Rachel’s situation was unusual in the school. Most of our slaves were acquired speculatively for auction. On occasion, however, a regular client asks us to find something particular. A producer of adult films had wanted a plumper teenager, having a number of roles for which he could use such a girl. The order placed, we had sought out a number of possible candidates. They had been followed and photographed secretly, their details then presented to the client. He had selected Rachel, I thought wisely. Young, succulent, pretty, she was ideal for his purposes. We had therefore arranged for an apparent accident to occur; Rachel had been abducted, drugged and transported from her home country, awakening a prisoner at Von Hoffman’s.
Rachel had been shown the newspaper reports of her assumed death, and assured that no one was looking for her. Interestingly, once she had accepted that we were quite serious about keeping her as a sex slave, she soon began to strive to please me. It was almost as though she were one of those girls who, starved of affection while growing up, become devoted to anyone who shows an interest in them.
Naturally, I had told Rachel nothing of her fate. The less she knew the better. She was afraid now, knowing that we had sought her out, that an order had been placed for a slave of her type. How much more afraid would she be if she knew she was to be obliged to perform in sex films of the most hardcore nature? Her first role, I had been assured, was to be that of a virginal schoolgirl kidnapped by a gang of exploitative older lesbians. She would be made to fuck on film in all manner of ways. In all probability, her eventual fate would be similar to that of other girls this client had purchased from us; used repeatedly until her youthful appeal faded, she would be sold on either to a private collector who had taken a fancy to her, or to a brothel.
Such thoughts ran through my mind as I looked at the deliciously curved girl, huddled on the bed. She looked at me and shuddered, perhaps reading something of her fate in my eyes. I chuckled as I pulled on my robe and left the room, leaving Rachel tied to the bed.
I had been tempted to have her again, but I wanted to stop in and see Natalie. It was our usual practice with new girls to drug them for their first night, to ensure they slept properly. After her beating earlier, Natalie would have been given the chance to shower, and Joanna would have taken her to the refectory for some food. After the basic meal, Natalie would be given a hot drink containing a powerful sleeping draught. It would then be up to Joanna to get Natalie to her dormitory before she fell into a deep sleep.
Reaching Natalie’s dormitory, I unlocked the door with my master key. It opened soundlessly, and I slipped in. The room held twelve beds, laid out in rows of six. By each was a small table, on which stood a bedside lamp. The lamps had no switches; they could not be turned off by the girls, but were dimmed centrally when the time came for the slaves to be confined for the night. In this way, a visiting master can find his preferred girl without having to blunder around awkwardly in the dark.
At the foot of each bed was a small chest of drawers, where the girl’s uniform could be folded neatly and placed each night. Forbidden nightclothes, each student slept naked.
Currently the dormitory housed nine girls, but three of the usual inhabitants were absent, having been summoned to serve masters for the night. I stood over Natalie, looking down on the girl as she lay in a peaceful, drugged sleep. How different her lovely face seemed now compared to earlier, her face stained by tears, eyes wide and frantic, mouth wide with hysterical screams as she took the cane repeatedly on her bare bottom. She was sleeping on her left side, her left hand by her head. I walked about her and flipped back the covers. The girl’s shapely arse was covered by a wealth of raised red weals, crossing and overlaying each other, some across her upper thighs. With a road map of pain marked out on her like this, it was no wonder that the girl had chosen not to sleep on her back.
I sat on the bed and ran one hand up Natalie’s slim leg. I traced some of the marks on her buttocks. Natalie moaned a little in her sleep, and a brief grimace flittered across her face. I smiled, and turned her gently onto her back. She stirred and stretched a little, but did not wake, lying naked, spread out before me. I caressed the sleeping teenager’s breasts, cupping them in my hands. Her eyelids fluttered and a sigh slipped from between her lips. The soft flesh of her tits pressed into my palms as she breathed in and out. My own breathing grew quicker as my excitement grew; I sat back loosened my robe, feeling the air on my stiffening prick.
I pushed my hands between Natalie’s thighs, spreading her legs sufficiently for the tender mound of her sex to come into view. With one finger, I stroked and teased her there. After a few moments, the girl began to feel my caress even through the heavy folds of her sleep, and her head moved from side to side. She lifted her left knee, the muscles in her leg moving as she curled her toes, moaning some words I could not make out.
She was beautiful. I considered raping her there and then. There would be no difficulty in it; she would be unlikely to wake. She would simply regain consciousness the following morning, perhaps aware of a lingering soreness between her legs, a few dried trickles of her blood and my seed on her inner thigh. I smiled, feeling a sadistic thrill as I imagined her horror and shame on realising what had been done to her in the night. But I decided against it. I wanted Natalie fully awake when I took her virginity, knowing it was to be the first time of many, aware that she was powerless to escape my predations. But I was too aroused by the prospect of the lovely creature before me to simply leave her.
I threw off my gown and knelt across Natalie’s legs. I leaned forward, studying the sleeping girl’s face, my erect cock pressing into her belly as I did so. I took the thick, stiff weapon in my hand and began to caress it. Thinking of all the things I would soon do to Natalie – the pain I would inflict, the pleasure I would receive – excited me all the more, and I soon felt my juices surge in me. My hot seed gushed onto her, splashing onto her neck and chest.
Gasping, I stayed on my knees over Natalie as my breathing slowed, watching my semen trickle down the curve of her breast. I wiped my cock on her stomach, then rose and retrieved my robe. I considered putting the covers back over the girl, but decided not to bother. I did, however, fold them neatly and place them at the foot of the bed. It would then be abundantly clear to Natalie that they had not simply fallen off by accident, but that someone had intruded on her as she slept.
Quietly, I took my leave from the dormitory, leaving the girls sleeping. Time enough tomorrow for Natalie’s full training to begin. For now, I had a comfortable bed of my own waiting – and Rachel, of course, still tied there for my pleasure!
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