Going on Display

       It is the same as I have been telling you the last few times – I am your master and you my slave.  Although you are just one young girl of my large harem (for I have made my career out of raising you slaves as whores for amusement as well as livelihood) you have a special position – you are my favorite, and I keep you for myself exclusively.  You share my bed nightly and I only allow you to couple with other men on very special occasions – for visiting kings and the like – and always I accompany them.

       This is a day out of the ordinary, as you can tell from the moment you awaken and find I am no longer in the bed with you.  I normally at least wake you to say goodbye, but now you find the door locked and no explanation for my absence.  Unknown to you, a slave master from a nearby country is visiting and I was commanded to show him the great talents of our country's women as a goodwill gesture, of sorts.  You go to the window, thinking of climbing down from the veranda into the mansion's gardens, but cannot move, as you are leashed to the bed's headboard.  You did not feel it among the many beautiful necklaces your position allows you to wear, but you are locked in a black leather collar and only have enough give to stand two feet away from the window.  There is nothing going on that you can see from this angle.

       You return to the bed as you can do nothing else and watch the sun rise into view.  You shield your face but before long the sun rays begin to warm your naked body.  You know how you will be punished but nonetheless allow one of your hands to stroke your soft body as the other one reaches downwards between your thighs.  The night beforehand you sucked me to climax and like usual you had to go to sleep without any of your own satisfaction, and since you so rarely get this privacy (or indeed relief) it's barely a choice: you begin to masturbate.

       Your “free” hand gravitates, as usual, to your breast, and pinches your nipple.  As you stroke you realize you may come sooner than ever before and it occurs to you how many weeks it's been since your master has seen fit to let you have a cock inside you.  You decide to beg me tonight for the fucking a slut like you deserves, but for now your fingers will have to do.  Your eyes roll back and the first spasm occurs as the door bursts open.  The slave mistress bursts through, looking furious.  You jump, and as the bed re-settles you realize how much it creaks.  It was quite obvious to anyone waiting outside what you were doing.

       You look up at the slave mistress, short sarong tied around her waist, her jewelry looking downright plain in comparison to yours.  Knowing her, she knew how close to orgasm you were and chose that moment to come in out of some sadistic inclination.  She's always been a little jealous of you – since you entered the picture I've paid far less attention to her, after all.  You don't know where I am, but you wish you did because you know she's the only slave allowed to order you around.  Suddenly you feel very afraid, and curl up in bed.  You hold your legs with both arms in a fetal position on your side.

       Before you can tell, she's put a handcuff around your closer wrist and ankle and pushed you on your front.  Your ass is in the air and she's grabbed your paddle from under the bed.  Voice choking with hatred, she tells you, “You think you're special just because you get a paddle with your name on it, don't you, girl?  You think the rules don't apply to you?  This paddle is not a treat – you have it for a reason, and obviously you've forgotten it!”

       You're quivering, your bottom wriggles a little bit as you bite back a cry.  The last time you were paddled like this it was horrible and only got worse in your memory, and the time your slave mistress is taking to get started makes it still worse.  You realize she is holding your metal paddle under the sun, to warm it up before your punishment begins.  Soon enough however she gets started, and you feel a hot, stinging smack on your ass and feel like that ought to be enough.  No more, I'll be good, please stop, I swear that was enough.

       “I knew you would start to touch yourself, and your master knew it too!  You're just a bad girl on the inside, not a good and obedient slave like we all wish you were,” she tells you.  You whimper that yes, you are just a naughty little girl.  You'd scream it from the rooftops if she would leave you alone, so terrified you are of her.  You wonder why she does not give you another swat when you realize she is wrapping your leash further around the bed post, so you can move even less.

       She pulls a strap from under the bed and places it over your calves, and your hands with them.  Then she takes another one over your shoulders as she removes your cuffs.  The leash remains, more a symbol than anything.  You whisper to her, “Please just spank me, I'll be good!”

       She stops and stares at you.  There's a coldness in her eyes, like you've seen in mine when you get overexcited or naughty.  “Do not talk to me like you have any right to negotiate.  You are just another slave, and I am infallible as far as you're concerned.  Just because the master gives you rewards does not mean you will not get punished when you do wrong, and because you insulted me like that you're going to get a lot more.”

       Finally you feel your second swat, but it comes at an odd angle.  She is reaching under the bed, preparing some more for you.  You get the distinct impression she has been waiting to have you at her mercy for some time.  Your eyes are shut tight and your lips held tight together, but they part for a rubber teat she pushes into your mouth.  It is new, and large, pushing your tongue back from where it is comfortable.  She's shoved a pacifier in your mouth, and ties it around your head with plastic straps.  This is punctuated by a third spank.

       “I don't want to risk you getting into any more trouble, so that pacifier is going to stay in to keep you from pretending you're a big girl all day long.  Don't you dare criticize me ever again.”

       She spanks you a fourth time and you suck on the pacifier, hoping it will offer some relief, or at least comfort, which it does.  Then she walks back to the door and summons two other slaves, both wearing veils over their bodies, thin enough to see through.  The sight of their pussies, neatly-trimmed and womanly, remind you of your special rules and you feel even naughtier, as you haven't shaved in a few days – not that you've had the chance.

       The two girls crouch on either side of the bed and whisper in your ears reinforcements of what a bad girl you are, but it is clear that soon enough they will have more to do.  A fifth swat comes down, harder than any before and the mistress finally tells you that you will have to endure thirty-five of these before she will stop.  She and the girls all marvel at how red your sore ass is already.  The hot sun, which you begin to feel as though the room was built to accept in the mornings for just this purpose, makes you even hotter.  You notice that it is bearing down on your pussy too, and realize that at this angle it is on display to the room almost as much as your red ass.  The mistress must be able to see that you're beginning to grow hairs again and you know what she's going to do when your spanking is over.

       Every spank you receive is harder then the last.  By ten your moaning is audible from beneath your pacifier.  By fifteen your eyes begin to tear up, and by twenty your bottom is shaking even more than it was from your fear.

       Before the spanking is over, one of the girls hands the mistress a small pot and she reaches inside with two fingers, pulling out on them a thick, white cream.  You hope it is the soothing cream your master uses sometimes when you have to recover quickly from your punishments for some special purpose, and she slowly begins to rub it into your ass.  You sigh with relief when it begins to soak into your skin.  Then the realization hits you: this is a different cream, it's extremely itchy and you thrash against your restraints.

       The mistress laughs cruelly and tells you it's a new cream that I, your master, had shipped in just for extra-special punishments.  It will irritate your skin and make you want to scratch it until you've gotten a rash, which is why you have to be tied down.  Apart from the itchiness once it's soaked in it begins to make you extremely sensitive and horny, which she tells you while moving her fingers down the middle of your bottom.  She goes into the pot for another dab of it, and moves it along your anus and downwards to your pussy.  It goes on your lips and she pulls your legs slightly apart to cover your whole pubic mound.

       You're screaming into the pacifier, but they hear it as soft as a whisper.  At the same pitch, the mistress leans into your head and tells you, “The other thing I like about it is that it curtails that hair of yours.  We're going to roll you over and shave you and when we're done it will be years before it comes back to any noticeable extent.”

       But that is for later.  For now the spanking must finish, and you have fifteen left to suffer through.  The girls return to telling you what a naughty girl you are, laughing at how foolish it was to need this much punishment.  Swat after spank after smack the mistress has her way with your ass and the cream is all the way in your skin.  You tear at the strap on your ankles, the one on your shoulders.  The itchiness, the pain is unbearable, it feels worse than if your entire ass were a blister, and the worst part is that the horniness she warned you about begins before the last five.  Your mind returns to the illicit rubbing that got you into this mess, and the girls next to you telling you off begin to titillate you.  As ashamed as you are to admit it, you do rather love this treatment, don't you?

       Finally, the spanking is over and the paddle goes back under the bed.  You for one do not mourn it, marked though it is with your name.  The two girls hold your restraints as the mistress takes out your plug.  You know what's coming – the usual – but you think its sudden thrust inside of your naughty asshole is a little unnecessary, especially considering the corkscrew engraving on it.  The mistress then turns you over, so you are flat on the bed on your back.  Your hands are under the restraints, which the girls tighten, at the sides of your waists.  The strap just beneath your shoulders, above those titties of yours, digs into your skin almost to accentuate what lies next to it.

       You know everything next, because it has happened dozens of times before, although you've never been quite so horny.  You try to move your hand to your pussy but the strap is just too tight.  Just as well, you'd hate to see what else your tormentor would do.  As it is she stands over you with a razor and another pot of cream.  You don't even care what this one does.  The itchiness is fading, although still there, beneath your excitement, and you remember that the only reason they gave you your special smoothness rule was because they knew how much it turned you on to be shaved.  You cannot wait, although you wish it could be your master, as I never wait to push my cock inside of you after I'm satisfied.

       The slave mistress begins to shave you and gets one girl to get a pitcher of water, while the remaining one sucks one of your nipples like you suck the rubber teat in your mouth.  You begin to suck it harder, like it is the head of a cock, from your arousal.  You wish the mistress would finish, strange though it sounds, because she is doing this very meticulously, as though she were removing every hair individually.  As she goes about her business she tells you how silly you look, pretending to be sexual when you're clearly too immature to exist in that sense.  Your breasts (suckled though they are) show that you're nothing more than a child who needs to be watched.  Your long, black hair, which you know is the envy of everyone else in the harem, is just the hair of a little girl, pretending to be a princess in a world of slaves.  The girl at your breast giggles hearing this and between her teeth your nipple is twisted a little bit.

       She finishes your pubic mound and roughly grabs your buttock, lifting you up so she can shave your backside.  She removes your plug (making you wish for it back in, you realize with shame).  She knows you won't be so foolish as to move even as she tickles you with every hair pulled off (for the last time in a while, you remember with a sigh) before spreading you further and even shaving that little anus of yours.  Finally she is done and you feel like you did years ago, before you even came to my harem – young and innocent.  And yet at the same time, so hot and bothered.  You start rubbing your legs against each other, in a desperate attempt for sex, when the girl sent for water returns and gently pours the warm liquid all over your pussy, cleaning it all off, before dipping in a hand and beginning to manually clean you.

       You see your paddle gleam again.  Why has the slave mistress brought it out again?  Then you realize, with hope, that both the plug and the paddle in her hands might be used to relieve you.  The girl who was manually stimulating you begins to lick your clitoris, grinning the whole time, when the mistress stops her with a smack at her own ass (much lighter than yours, you note with annoyance).

       “You got into all of this because you need a good fuck, is that right?” The mistress asks you.  You nod, eagerly.  You realize you would do whatever this horrible woman wanted if it would let you finally get the climax you've been wanting.  Then you realize you might have to.

       Both girls begin sucking your tits even more, their hands playing with you, stroking your skin all over, but especially that part of your waist on either side of your tummy, the one that makes you shiver.  The mistress decides you've waited long enough and plunges the plug and the handle of your paddle inside of you simultaneously.  The paddle with your name on it, the ultimate symbol of your status as a little girl, at the mercy of your caretakers, is inside of you and giving you pleasure and you love it – because deep down you know it gives you the same pleasure when you're victim to it outside of you.

       One of the girls removes your pacifier, making eye contact with the mistress to be sure she'll allow it.  She crouches on top of you and lowers her pussy into your mouth.  With the pacifier in so long the sucking is a reflex and you immediately begin to play with her clit, which you feel is hard.  The other girl helps the mistress by pushing the paddle into and out of you while the mistress plays with herself with one hand.  The woman is actually pleasuring herself to see you humiliated like this!  As the plug flies through your hole you begin to experience sensory overload and your eyes cross.  You thrash more than you did at the worst of the cream, bucking your hips madly and screaming into the girl's pussy.  You reach a climax that makes everything worth it as far as you're concerned and you silently thank your master, the other slaves, and God for allowing such wonderful feelings.  Eventually you calm down and stop moving and the world goes slowly as the mistress signals for the girls to go, and they disappear as quickly as they – and you – came.

       She puts your paddle back under the bed, and your plug back in your ass.  You wiggle your little bum, a big grin on your face, eyes half-closed.  You love your plug, you like how it feels inside of you.  The mistress frowns and takes it out.  She decides now that you've been punished it's time to break the news to you.

       “Now that I can trust you to be a good little girl for a few hours,” she tells you, and you silently corrected her that you'll be satisfied for weeks after that explosion, “I can tell you why we need you on your best behavior.  The master is meeting with a visiting slave trainer right now and he told me you're going to be his star act.  They've been trading techniques all morning in the ballroom.  I'm to bring you in when you're ready so he can show off what he calls his masterpiece.  Now I think you have an hour or so before they'll be finished with the others, so you can nap for a few minutes.”

       You lie there languid as she busies herself around the room.  Everything is great, you have a great master, you have a great body, you're young and healthy and everyone you meet wants to be you.  Of course, your community only extends as far as the harem walls, but even when you were little you were kept in the house as your parents tried to keep you pure and perfect, so you don't know much of what you're missing.

       The sun has risen beyond the window and the room is slightly darker than before.  You of course can only look at the ceiling from your bindings, but even those feel fine at the moment.  Why would you want to move?  Everything is great.  You drift off into a sleepy state, interrupted when she removes your plug.  “I forgot about this.  Don't want you stretching out at all, do we, master's pet?”  The shock makes you sad and a little uncomfortable.  You feel empty but soon enough you re-acclimate and fall asleep.

       In your dreams you're being spanked again but this time you're also being fucked from behind, by the handle of your paddle, which is bent so that it can drive itself home and smack you at the same time.  It's physically impossible and hardly worth thinking about doing in real life but the fantasy hammers home what you've been realizing increasingly recently, that you really do love your life as a naughty, powerless slave.

       The slave mistress shakes you awake once again and you groan.  She has your gear for the day all ready and laid out on the floor, not that you can see what lies in store for you.

       You flex your lower muscles, which are still sore between the spanking and the orgasm, and realize your anus is back to its normal state.  Good.  You look around calmly and then make eye contact with the mistress, who has the smile you saw before your ordeal.  It reminds you that she hates you bitterly and you realize that you are probably not out of the bushes yet.  How long were you asleep?  How long has she got yet with you at her mercy?

       She tries to smile even more sweetly, perhaps sensing your mounting worry.  It does not relax you in the least.  She says with a sing-song voice, “Okay sweetie, now it's finally time to go see the master.  I'm going to get you all dressed and pretty now!”

       She gently reaches for either side of your neck and begins to remove your beautiful necklaces and jewelry – is she going to give you some special costume?  You expected to be brought naked before your master and the others.  Even your belly button ring comes out.  “You're as naked as the day you were born, you beautiful little girl!” the mistress grins, and you wish she would just get on with it.  Then you realize what's coming, and groan again.  Coarsely she pushes your legs high in the air and puts your plug back in, this time turning on a light vibration function you didn't even know it had until now.  Your bottom goes flat onto the bed again and you twitch slightly.

       She lifts your bottom, your upper body still strapped down, and slides a thick length of cloth under it.  She rubs some more cream on your whole area down there, unable to talk to you with big safety pins between her teeth, and you know it's more of that new cream.  You kind of hope they keep using it at this rate – maybe they'll run out of it quickly.  As it begins to make your skin itch and turn red just like it was following your spanking earlier, your juices already begin flowing again, which you suppose was the point.  The mistress then pulls the thick cloth diaper around it and your waist and pins it on both sides, slowly.  You've only received this punishment a few times but you feel ridiculous.  Your legs are pushed apart by the mass between them.  Worse, the plug is held even tighter inside of your sore bottom.  With slightly more annoyance you realize the diaper she's chosen this time has a blue teddy bear print on it.  You know, because diapers aren't juvenile enough.

       She asks you what pair of plastic panties you want.  You had forgotten, whenever this happens you need the panties to keep everything in.  You blush because you know which ones you want, you want to wear the pretty ones, pink with ruffles in the back.  The ruffles almost make it okay that you walk so awkwardly, as they shimmer as you wiggle your bottom.  You whisper as much, and though she hears she pretends not to.  “Which ones?” she asks, leaning toward you.

       “I want to wear the pretty ones,” you say at a decent conversational tone.  She still plays dumb, asking what you're talking about.  You sigh and wonder if it's worth it.  She'll make you say it anyway, so tell her, slowly, “I want to wear the pink baby panties.”  The slave mistress, only slightly higher ranked than you but milking it for all it's worth, pulls them out of the box under the bed, and pushes them up both of your ankles.  You lift your now-heavy bottom and she tucks everything under the plastic sheath.

       “Now remember, the last thing a good little girl ever does is reach inside of her panties and touch herself,” she grins in the hateful way you have come to associate with her, “like you were doing when I found you this morning.”

       You realized there was no way she was going to let you live that down.  She was definitely going to tell your master, and in all likelihood conveniently forget to mention that she already took care of your punishment.  You'd have to pray for the chance to smooth things over with me before I looked at you with that disappointed look that makes you want to shrivel.  It was going to be bad enough walking to see me with that diaper on – at least usually when you're being punished like that it's when I'm away.  They're the slave mistress's specialty.

       You get halfway through asking her why she's so mean before she places the pacifier back in your mouth.  She cleaned and dried it, you note immediately before realizing there's a different taste to it – has it been drugged somehow?

       “I hate using this, you know,” she tells you as she fastens it around your head, “because it's so much fun the natural way, but that nipple you'll be suckling for the day is going to make you so much more obedient.  The powder on it should start acting before you've gotten into the master's presence, and it will make you a very good girl.  The master didn't tell me to use it but I don't want to be held responsible if you decide to turn into a petulant slave girl just to cause trouble – like you seem so fond of doing.”

       You're not sure what you feel about that.  You'll have to ask how you should feel about it soon.  If she ever tells you that you may speak...

       The mistress finally undoes the straps that have held you to the bed for the better part of an hour and you sit up, rubbing your thigh muscles as you've wanted to since your orgasm.  The mistress looks at you sharply and you stop, lest she accuse you of trying to masturbate again somehow.  Still, between how desperately you want to rub your private parts and the plug, still reminding you of its presence with its vibrations, you wonder if it would not be worth being punished again.

       Her hand grasps your collar, pulling it, making sure it's tight.  Your leash is removed from the bedpost and you are allowed to stand up – in fact you are required to, as she yanks you from the bed.  You stand up.  It takes a second to acclimate to standing with the weight between your legs.  You have to bend your knees quite a bit to keep your feet together, and after a second you stop bothering.  She pulls out a tunic, too short to go more than an inch or two below your waist, and pulls it down over your naked body.  Without the jewelry you feel extremely plain and ugly, so you're practically joyful when you see the mistress lifting your necklaces from the floor, but she just wraps them around her arm and looks at you critically.  You take a tentative step toward the door, already almost tripping due to your handicap.

       The mistress shakes her head.  “You think I'm going to let you walk in, looking as childish as you do, and embarrass us with your pretense at adulthood?  Babies crawl.”  She places her hand square on your back and pushes you to the ground.  Any other day you would yell, or slap at her hand, but you just suck the pacifier more ferociously and obey.  After all, how bad could it be?  You know it's partly the powder talking but at the same time even knowing you're being controlled you can't bring up the drive to fight back.

       What is this woman's problem?  You ask yourself as much as you are led slowly down the hall, your ass high in the air and on display to all.  After the third girl you pass, who giggles, you suspect they were all commanded to pass and humiliate you further.  Isn't it bad enough that you're the only one she subjects to this treatment?  Everyone else can get off with a spanking, or at worst a fucking, but she has it out for you.  Even I, at my most angry, only tie you in bed and please you without release when you need to be brought low.

       It is then that you realize I have never seen you in the ridiculous dress you have on now.  You will not be able to handle seeing my response to this – it was only ever implied that I knew when you were being punished with your plug and diapers.  What if she told me you asked to be treated like this, and I believed it and never wanted to treat you like a sexy, fuck-worthy woman again?  The idea was unbearable and if you were not drugged you would have stopped moving, gnawed on your leash, pulled off those stupid panties, anything.

       And then, before you realize it, you are there, standing (well, kneeling) at the door to the ballroom.  Only once before you had been allowed in there, when the king was visiting to see how his favorite industry was progressing.  All of the girls had been dressed in the finest silk bras, with small veils tied around their waists and covering just the barest amount, and made to stand calmly while he chose which five would live in the palace for the following year.  Slowly he made his picks, an hour between each choice, as he fondled each one's breasts and checked the speed with which their nipples became erect.

       The slave mistress, for her utility to the harem, was exempt from the selection, and told the king of her favorites, how obedient they were and how they least liked to be punished when they made mistakes.  Your master stood to the side, only speaking to laugh when the king made some lewd comment or other.  You were wearing only one strap of black velvet around your bosom and nothing over your pussy, which had been shaved smooth for the first time that morning, when the other slaves (and your master) teased you for becoming so aroused by the razor.  You were very self-conscious as the king approached because the black velvet made your status clear – you were being groomed for use only for sex.  The king practically began to drool looking at your tight pussy and although you were too intimidated and worried by him to notice, your master visibly stiffened – in two ways.  The king stroked the side of your head with the back of his massive, calloused hand and you remember wondering what he did that made his hand so rough and unyielding.

       The king told you to turn around and you did, your young, smooth, round ass facing him and you could not see it but you heard rustling in his robes and knew you had given him an erection.  He playfully swatted your rear and you jumped, turning to glare at him, and in doing so you saw his penis, which was sticking out of the robe as he stroked it.  Your master looked furiously at you for your audacity in glaring, although some part of you hoped it was at the king.

       Your master began to speak of you, but the slave mistress beat him to it.  “This one is one of our naughtier girls.  I don't think you'd enjoy having to put up with her episodes and I frankly don't think you'll be able to keep her interested in your cock at any time – she seems perfectly satisfied with her fingers.  Don't you, girl?”

       You nodded, feeling your breasts jiggle. As if cued, your master reached behind you and untied your velvet strap, letting it fall to the floor and revealing your nipples for the whole room to see.  You could have hung paintings on them.  “Her body really isn't much to speak of anyway.  She's still young and inexperienced,” I said to the king.

       “Still,” he murmured, distracted by his hardness, “she would be a fine lay however inexperienced.”

       “Surely you would be more interested in one of our virgins, your majesty?  We keep them busy with working, and exercise for their bodies, so they have a firmer, more pronounced ass than this little one.  With this ine I think the only time her bottom is pronounced is when she needs it in the air for a spanking,” the slave mistress said.  Your cheeks turned red as you blushed – both sets.  This excited him further and you realized he was fully masturbating at the prospect of fucking you as his Royal Concubine, your elaborate hair getting rumpled on Oriental cushions as he held your ankles up above his shoulders.

       He removed his entire robe and you saw his huge cock, hard and hopeful.  He told you to show him your talent with your hands.  I, your master, looked away as you kneeled before him and began to grasp his erection, which stiffened further at your touch.  You began to gently pump him, and his eyes rolled up in his head.

       One of your hands gently caressed his balls and the other went up and down the shaft.  Each pump made your breasts bounce, and he began to sway back and forth with your motions (counter to them, actually).  You suddenly became acutely aware of all of the other slaves watching you.  You were holding up the line.  Why were you always singled out for this nonsense over everyone else?

       “She's a very sexual creature,” the mistress told him while you worked.  One of her hands held the back of your head and forced it toward the cock.  “I don't think she can even sleep unless she's had three orgasms in one day.  Usually we have to handcuff her behind her back so she can't do anything naughty in her sleep, although recently she's been able to work around even that...”

       Your mouth, pushed ever forward, wrapped around the king's cock.  It was the third cock I'd ever fed to you, including my own, and this one seemed hardest out of any of them.  You felt his pulse, perfectly in time with the thrusts you were both making.  Eventually you began to feel his climax approaching and he moaned.  You pulled him out of your mouth and pumped furiously as he reached completion.  Your heaving bosom moved up and the second they touched his cock he ejaculated all over them.  It dripped down your chest, beading on both of your rock-solid nipples.

       “I'll take her,” the king told me.  Looking back on it you realized I seemed distraught at the prospect of losing you.

       After a moment's hesitation I told him, “But as you can see, she still has much more to learn.  I request that you take another one.  In a year, we will have her ready for your use, and she will make you much happier then.”

       The king's lips pursed and he considered this.  The mistress chimed in, “And I told you she still has a trouble touching her naughty pussy – that's why we had to shave her before this visit, so she knows she's being a bad little girl, and a good slave-woman is obedient and only does what her master tells her to.”

       You dimly remembered a rumor you heard that the king's schedule allowed him five new slaves every year, with whom he did as he wished and then, come the next cycle, had his old group beheaded.  You realized your master and mistress were trying to save you and were overcome with love for us both, trying to convince the king to go against his desire for you!  “In a year's time we'll have her at her peak, Majesty,” I said, as sincerely as possible in spite of the raging erection your display moments beforehand had given me.  I was trying to ignore the sheen your chest took on, covered as it was by his output.

       He frowned and considered the offer.  He looked at you again and lowered a finger to the mouth of your pussy, feeling around there while he hemmed and hawed.  You wanted to scream from the tension but did not want to seem overly active down below.  “I suppose I can wait, but remember to mark her.  She's mine.”

       And with that he went down the line.  In all, the scene took fifteen minutes and you had to stand there for three hours more, but when it was over you were ready to fuck your master with more delight than ever before.  You would make him happy he kept you and saved your life, you were sure of it!

       And now in all likelihood he is going to be very disappointed with your present state.  Crawling, on a leash, wearing an inches-thick diaper with ruffles that bounces every inch you move.  The distance your legs are forced apart is like that time they put you in a spreader bar when you tried refusing cock, but on entirely different ends of your long, smooth legs.

       The door opens and you are once again looking into the ballroom where your master bought you another year to live.  The slave mistress gently tugs on your leash and smirks as you follow her.  Inside of the ballroom there is an elegant couch set up for the visiting slave master, and he watches as your master demonstrates one of his newer punishments.  A girl is chained to a table with her feet suspended in the air by shackles hanging down from the ceiling.  Your master is holding a stick with not a paddle but a long feather and he gently tickles her.  She squirms and laughs and moans with distress as the tips of the feather dance along the inside of her thighs, her belly, her feet, and even her pussy.  What few words she can maintain the presence of mind to speak during this torture are begging for mercy.

       Your master turns to his guest and explains that he instead of simply forcing his slaves to do as he pleased physically, he preferred to entice them by making the alternative something they would suck any number of cocks to avoid.  He mentions something you'd only heard rumors about – that sometimes his slaves get so conditioned by his punishment philosophy that they feel in agony when they're not being sexually attended – or sexually attending someone else.  It seemed like the sort of rumor that could have no basis in reality but there was that door he only unlocked to let gentleman patrons through before locking immediately.  Was that where your master kept the girls who needed to suck cock constantly?

       You feel a wetness between your legs at the idea of being one such woman, at the idea of what could lie behind those doors.  You sometimes worry you are already turning into one – it's been taking longer and longer for you to adapt to that emptiness after you've been fucked.  Even now, your plug in makes you feel much more secure than when it is out.  You realize you have been sucking the teat in your mouth furiously for a while now and stop, but the worry remains, in fact deepens without the attention you paid, unbid, to the oral intruder.

       I, your master, am commenting on the girl I am torturing, as she wriggles and giggles.  The man I rented to her the day before complained that she gagged as she sucked him off, and that was unforgivable as a good slave does what is bid of her without hesitation – conscious or not.  I say she has to be able to focus on her task and ask the visiting master to help me teach her. 

       The visiting fellow steps slowly off of his couch and his toned, muscled body is shown off to you in its entirety, along with his strong erection, as he throws off his robe.  He comes up to the table and grasps another set of manacles hanging from the ceiling to hold up his body as he lowers his cock in her mouth.    He begins fucking her mouth – not allowing her to suck him, actively thrusting in and out and it occurs to you exactly how many of the masters of the world probably get such satisfaction from a sadistic streak in them – he must have gotten that hard-on watching her be tortured.

       I tell the girl that if she doesn't hold steady and bring off the visitor quickly she'll have half an hour more tied down and tickled and then one week with the mistress.  And, I note, I'll make sure to check in that she's being kept in properly tortured conditions myself regularly.  The girl becomes more frantic and her twitching becomes laboriously denied as she tries to bring the visitor off.  You can't bear to watch, remembering your experience with the king again, but you hope she can make it in time.  While you think of time you realize that you did not have the chance to go to the bathroom since last night, and it is beginning to bother you.

       Ultimately she does not finish before the masters get bored, despite the threat hanging over her head, and her half-hour of tickling seems like it is going to continue with the visitor continuing to fuck her mouth, but after a little while he stops early.  Your master claps his hands for another slave to come to his aid, and gives her the feather to tickle the girl.  You tense up, feeling as though your time is to come yet.  Instead, this scene continues.

       Your master tells her that if she can't handle the idea of a man coming in her mouth she's a liability, so they will have to introduce her to the idea.  Your master tenderly kisses the visitor on the cheek and bids him to stand close next to the slave.  Your master then takes his cock in both hands – even for a man's hands the cock is quite long and thick when hard – and begins to pump, pointing it like a cannon at the failed slave's mouth.  Then, I tell her she'll have to catch and swallow every last drop or her sentence in the mistress's chambers will be extended to a fortnight, while not stopping masturbating the visitor.

       The visitor is loving every minute of this, and his not-inconsiderable cock seems to be getting harder with everything that happens.  From your position you can only see his firm buttocks, flexing with every pump, and your master's own erection as he kisses the visitor's neck and ears.  It's the ears that do it, and after a few laps at it the visitor comes and the slave opens her mouth and gets a lot of it in – you worry for a second when she is jolted out of position by the tickling but her bonds actually save her in this respect and every ounce of his seed goes down her throat reluctantly.

       She looks so proud of having done something right at her master's request but your master is less impressed.  I kneel and look at the visitor's member.  “I told you every drop, right?” I ask her.  She nods, now worried.  “There's still a drip squeezing out of his cock.”  The visiting master steps forward so she can lick that off to and she intends to, really, but the tickling then makes her jump and she moves her head to the side.  This hesitation does not go over well with the masters.

       I put on my coldest expression and tell the girl tickling her and a few others who were closest to the scene of the group present to unbind her and take her to the mistress's wing, without ceasing to tickle her.  She begs for mercy.  “Mercy?!” I demand, indignant, “Mercy is for those who have proven themselves worthy of it!  You do not deserve my mercy, you are nothing but a bad slave who cannot even bring a man pleasure!  You need discipline and practice.”

       I motion for the mistress to come over.  She smiles down at you and you want to shrink away or even run but you've begun to get even more desperate to go to the bathroom.  As the mistress leads you over I command her, “Put the slave in full-body bindings with only her mouth accessible.  Then blindfold her and subject her to a week sucking the dick of every man who comes to visit, as a free gift for their continued patronage.  Her entire world is going to be sucking cock – I even want you to feed her yourself – since she'll be bound anyway.  Give her cock-shaped food, bananas and sausages, all heated to body temp.  She'll be very stiff when she gets out but hopefully she'll have learned her lesson.”

       “But master,” the mistress says quietly, “I was hoping you'd let me have some more creative fun with her.”

       I immediately sit on the bed, now vacant of the tickled girl, and pull the slave mistress over my lap.  Pushing her sarong up – nothing underneath – I give her ten hard swats square on the ass before untying the skirt altogether.  “Don't you dare question me.  I was going to let you have her in the nighttimes but now you're going to be tied down for the next fortnight's worth of sleeps, so the point is moot.”  You never thought you would hear her squealing in fright, like a schoolgirl.

       She brings herself to her feet, trying to maintain composure she struggles to maintain in front of what she (audaciously, you think) considers her own slaves to punish.  “Yes master,” she whispers.  Then, looking at her feet, she looks down at you and remembers your presence.  She decides to cut her losses and change the subject.  “Master, I brought your star performer like you asked,” she says as she picks up the leash she dropped when she was spanked.  She pushes you forward and pulls you to your feet.  You wish your dress were long enough to cover your diaper.

       The master looks at you surprised as the mistress easily holds you an inch above the ground, her hands under your arms.  You had hoped he already noticed you and simply did not care but his look of shock shows otherwise.  He's looking at you with your beloved, beautiful necklaces gone, in a plain long shirt, basically, and the most childish diaper imaginable, like flashing pink to the whole world signifying that you had been so bad they had to invent a whole new type of punishment just for you.  You cannot look him in the eyes, or this visiting master who, you must admit, you found quite attractive.  Your growing need to pee is exacerbated by the vibrating bullet in your bottom, you note for the umpteenth time.  You try to cross your legs but fail to in any helpful way.

       The mistress puts you on the ground and you stand – for a second, before you fall on your padded ass.  The fall might not have hurt that itchy bottom of yours, but your pride was crippled.  Your master had seen you in worse states, you supposed, but this foreign man, with his exotic features, was no doubt very amused by the sight you made.  And then it hit you, your master's shock.  He was banking on using you for a show, and you came like this.  How could he keep his face in saying you were obedient when you were clearly being punished very severely?  Your master's erection was strong as he stared at your thickly diapered ass but knowing he found it so hot would not give you forgiveness for showing him wrong.

       Your pussy began to moisten, as much from reflex in his presence as from the knowledge of the punishment you would receive behind closed doors after the visit.  The mistress passed your collar to your master as he remained unsure of what to say.  You longed to help him out but were kept mute by your gag, which you realized for the fourth time that you had started sucking on anxiously again.  Your bottom was still itchy and very bothered between the cream and the plug and in spite of everything going on it was hard to focus on anything but how badly you longed to reach down and scratch yourself.  And it was starting to move on to the sensitive and horny phase, which was bad enough with the mouth-watering cocks in front of you.

       Ultimately your mistress broke the silence with a lie.  “I'm sorry, she's been having a bad day in terms of control.  You just can't hold it in, can you?” she nudged you as you stood before them (and all the other slaves, who were doing a good job at being quiet).  You tried to shake your head – they can only punish you for so long and you have to live with these other girls the rest of your life – but just dazedly nodded.  The drug!  It hit you that at least whatever he wanted to do to you you would at least not be punished for hesitation or anything.

       The master closed his eyes for a moment, looking annoyed with you for being naughty enough earlier.  You wanted to tell him it was all his lieutenant's fault, that she was overreacting, but deep down you knew you had been a very bad girl.  Touching yourself was only allowed when you were demanded to do it, and you were not even permitted to request permission to.  He spoke, turning to the visitor.  “Yes, this is our most obedient slave.  She's had so many cocks in her, unfortunately her bladder muscles sometimes seize up for long periods.”

       The visiting slaver looked disappointed as he eyed up the bulges your breasts made in the tunic you wore.  The mistress told him, “Usually it's about an hour between wettings though, so we'll have long enough to show how good she can be whatever her master tells her to do if she's gone recently.”

       Your master's left eyebrow slowly raised.  Why was she complicating things?  You wondered as much when you noticed a clicker she held in her left hand, which she was slowly adjusting.  After a moment you realized that she was making your plug vibrate more rapidly.  You almost jumped but had to maintain composure, eyes respectfully directed at your master's cock like a good slave with your hands held behind your back in case anyone wanted to lift that shirt and play with your breasts.  “Why don't you check her?” she asked the master.

       Your master looked at her in a way that gratified you – she may have been getting her jollies at your expense but she would get hers – and bent forward.  His erection, even stronger you noted with pride, pressed against his belly as his hand probed between your legs, lifting the elastic and moving past the inches of cloth.  The backs of three of his fingers rested at the mouth of your pussy and between the itching, the increasing torture of the plug, and your own secret arousal (secret, you thought, although your nipples through the cotton tunic made it clear to everyone how you felt) you wanted to scream for him to tear it all off and fuck you there on the floor with everyone watching.  If nothing else you wanted his hands to grasp your ass tighter than they ever really did and scratch it hard.  “She's still dry.”

       He neglected to mention the inch-or-so circle of soaked-in juices from everything you've been privy to.  The mistress smiled. “Well, I'm sure she'll have to do it soon.  It's been a while and you can't hold it too long, can you?”  Against your better judgment you nod again.  She turns up the vibrator even more and you jump, it feels as though the vibrator is being shaken around by some outside hand.  A small spurt of pee escapes and you cross your legs.  “See?  I knew it was only a matter of time,” she says of your obvious torment as it goes up even higher and you finally lose all control, flooding the diaper and feeling the warmth all over your crotch.  It washes away the most of the itchiness and seeing you have failed the mistress turns off the plug altogether.  Relief washes over you and you feel like you need a hug.

       But that is not your lot.  A wave of giggles emanates from the other girls and you realize you will never ever live this down.  The master looks at the group sharply and says, “Now, we can get on with it.  Lie down on the table, girl, so I can get you all clean.”  You silently thank God for it being me and not your tormentor doing that part of the ritual as you oblige.  You look up and see me dismissing the mistress and finally you are free of her.

       I attach your leash to the bottom of the table and strap your stomach down, not tightly but enough that you could not possibly slide out even with effort.  “Don't worry,” I tell you, leaving no doubt in your mind that I loved the situation you were in, “it's okay, sometimes little girls have accidents and that's why you were wearing this.”  You squirm and fuss, wanting the dirty garment removed, and so I tear the tunic off of you, leaving your young girl's breasts and flat stomach on view for all.  “You're such a beautiful girl,” I say while my two hands very gently knead your belly and warm it up.  Move your hands lower, you long to scream at me, forget the diaper, I want to come! 

       I pull the ruffled plastic pants off of you more slowly than you'd like, getting a girl to come and carry away the debris to be washed by the work-slaves I long ago dismissed back to work.  While I clean you up I make small talk with the visitor, telling him that having to put up with this once in a while was worth it, because generally you are a fantastic lay.  I unfasten the safety pins, four in all, keeping you in your dirty little girl's prison, and the damp cloth just lays over your pussy, which you're beginning to think will never get the cleaning, the scratching, or the fucking it needs.  I turn to the visitor and ask him if he knows why we have gotten in practice giving you the pacifier.  It's exactly what you worried – to accustom girls to having cock in their mouth, and to soothe them when they don't have the cock they've started craving.  I tell him that you've basically needed it nonstop recently and expect you to latch onto my stiff manhood the moment I remove it, without a word.  You're really a massive slut, deep down.

       I return to removing your wet diaper, pulling it from under you, and then apply the scraps of your tunic to drying the remnants of your accident.  It is a patting motion, and when you are dry I start to apply some other exotic cream from below the table.  Then the smell hits you and you realize it's rash cream.  With three fingers I daub it along your diaper area and it soaks in as quickly and lightly as it goes on.  I lift your legs in the air to apply to your bottom and pause.  I turn to the other slave master and tell him that the plug is employed to the same end as the pacifier – and it has the added effect of making you sized more properly to accept intrusion in your perfect, round ass.  I pull it out anyway, and slowly wipe the cream along the mouth of your hole.  It feels like a tongue is licking you back there and you realize that a diaper change can feel quite pampering.

       Finally it is done, you are clean and naked and feeling loved thanks to your attentive master.  I slowly start to unstrap the pacifier from your face and kiss you passionately.  It is the first time you've been kissed since the last time you made love – last night, but it feels like so long ago.  I let one hand brush your face and in one moment of truth you understand how I feel, why I'm so unhappy, and most of all why I love you: because you are extremely beautiful and special, more than any other girl who has ever passed into my house of slavery.

       And as quickly as it happens it ends.  Your master is rubbing his hands together and telling the visitor that now, finally, we can get to the climax of the show!  “This girl,” you hear your master say, the cold tone seeming to belong to a totally different man than the one who kissed you, “will do absolutely anything we say immediately and very skillfully.  Once I had her bound at her stomach and forced to hold a man's cock in each hand and another between her feet.  She managed to get off all three and somehow could get them all at the same moment, and it all splashed on her tits.  I made her lick what her neck could reach, and she got every drop!  Flexible, talented, and obedient – she has the goods.”

       The visitor looks dubious.  “I had a slave who could do what you described, with both her hands, her two feet, her mouth, her pussy and her ass all at once!”  You had no idea the man would turn out to be a braggart.  Your mind goes to figuring out the mechanics of what he described, positioning and the like, when he makes a challenge.  “This one is still but a little girl, you said so yourself.  Maybe she could learn as much as that beauty did, in a few years, but I think you are lying to hide your favoritism.”

       Your master stands up.  “This girl is better than your most talented royal-groomed concubine!  She loves cock – and she understands it.”  You can't shake the feeling that he is having a bit of a laugh at everyone's expense.  “She loves cock and she understands it” is absolutely ridiculous.

       “Alright then, I shall test that which she can never simply learn, her body itself!” The visitor, who you realize has been nude this whole time, is already erect and he moves his tall figure toward you.  Your master stops him.

       “We're arguing about how much she can do.  Let us go together.”

       He snaps for another slave girl, and whispers to her a few commands.  She takes your jewelry from where your mistress left it and clips it around your neck, beneath the leather choke collar.  She starts to do your hair as the gentlemen prepare.  The audience draws closer as do your masters.  The visitor climbs onto the table himself, facing up as do you.  His cock brushes against your inner thigh and your pulse starts racing.  Your bottom is lifted in the air, buttocks grasped and parted.  You feel it sliding up between either cheek and then you feel it at the mouth of your hole.  He pauses there.

       Your master takes your feet and puts them up in the manacles the girl earlier was trapped in.  They click shut and you shake to check them, to check your chest-strap, and – let's be honest here – try to push that cock inside of your ass.  I know what you are trying, however, and pull a nearby pulley, raising your feet much higher, so you are practically hanging from your feet, before spanking you five times very hard.  Your master then rises above you and, knowing it turns you on so much, gives you one last smack on your left ass cheek and tells you there will be more to come if you don't perform up to standard.  Lowering you back down with his free hands, your master kneels on the table, legs on either side of both you and the foreigner, and puts his own cock at the now-gaping hole of your pussy.

       You are now almost-penetrated on both sides and want to be able to move so you can take either one inside.  I grin, seeing your anguish, and leave you again.  The foreigner shakes you as he laughs at what a desperate slut you are.  I return from under the table with a tub full of jelly.  Lifting your spanked ass I enter you for the first time with a grease-covered finger, which I then move in a circle around your anus, stretching it.  You feel my fingertip bend toward the opposite side of your g-spot and stroke it before finally pulling out.  Both my hands grasp your hips then and force you down onto the visitor's cock.  He shudders in delight and you tense up.  In your moment of surprise my cock enters your pussy as well, as one of my hands massages your right breast and the other lowers itself to your vulva and its thumb strokes your clit in time with my thrusts.

       Finally you come, and we continue fucking you as you buck your hips in ecstasy.  It continues, my firm hands stroking and squeezing even harder.  On your breast my thumb and forefinger grasp your nipple and twist it, getting it harder and pinching it.  Your ass and pussy are filled continually for fifteen minutes as we fuck you and fuck you, sensitive though you are post-coitally.  I see you beginning to come a second time and signal my friend.  We both let loose and our seed fills you as you reach your second orgasm.

       We slow down and leave you to lie there, exhausted as we go about other business.  That night as you are leashed once again to my bed, wearing only your jewelry, I come to you and kiss you on the ear, thanking you for being such an obedient and sexy slave.  We fall asleep holding each other tight and the last thing you hear is me whispering, “you are a naughty, slutty, cock-loving little girl, and I love you very much.”