MasterCaneman
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Joined: 3/21/2013
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Kept, Part Three
Caneman 2013
All characters, names, and situations depicted are fictional. Any similarity to persons, names, and institutions are coincidental and unintended.
Since you asked, chelsim...This thing was supposed to only run for three acts, but with all the editing and backtracking I have to do with this, the story is starting to develop mission creep. There is more, but it needs more work...
The writer had decided to take the interview on the road. Several people had come in, and Mary had gotten skittish about speaking. He'd have like to take her to his hotel room, not for sex, but for the privacy it afforded, but he didn't want to spook her. Although based on what she'd told him already, that probably wouldn't have done much to scare her off. He knew of a little place along the lake that would be quieter now that the summer season had ended. She agreed, and they got into his car.
"Are you alright?" he asked, seeing her holding her hands over her eyes. She laughed softly.
"Yeah. It's just I get carsick now is all. I haven't ridden in a car without a blindfold in a couple of years. It's gonna take me some time to get used to it again." Thinking quickly, he reached onto the back seat for a bandana he'd had back there. She took it and fashioned a crude blindfold. For a moment, he wondered what passing motorists would think, but it was starting to get dark. And it wasn't as if he was holding her prisoner now, was it? "Thanks. I suppose I should get those pills, huh?"
"Yeah, maybe you should. We'll be there in a little bit. Let me know if I gotta pull over, okay?" She smiled and nodded, still holding her head as he drove on, a look of concern mixing with incredulity. Thankfully, the little place only had a couple of regulars at the bar who ignored them as they went to booth in back. "Feeling a little better now?" She nodded and a faint smile played on her lips. After he'd gotten them both drinks, the interview began again.
The bus ride took a long time. At first, the stops seemed to happen every ten or fifteen minutes, then longer and longer between stops. Each time, she heard the cage door at the front of the bus open, footsteps and hushed commands, the jingle of chains, and the door closing and locking again. She started to feel her bladder getting full, and when it stopped again, she asked the footsteps if she could go to the bathroom. "Yeah, yeah. Gimme a minute," the young woman's voice said before the footsteps, jingling, and door sounds again. After a short time, the door opened again. "Who else needs to go? Speak up, or you'll have to clean it up. It's still gonna be a long ride." There were a couple of responses, but Mary was first.
The girl removed Mary's seatbelt and undid something behind her head. "I wish you'd worn a skirt, it'd make this a helluva lot easier," she grumbled as she helped her to her feet and walked her back. The hood stayed in place, and she heard the sound of a door opening. "If ya gotta shit, please try to spread a little bit. I'm tired of wiping asses tonight," she said tiredly. Mary fumbled blindly with her jeans and the woman helped her pull them down. The girl kept the door open, and when she was done, helped her get them back on.
"Thank you," Mary whispered after she was back in her seat and buckled in. The girl said nothing as she went to one of the other captives who'd responded. After some time, everyone was done and they resumed the journey. At first, it seemed as if they were in the city, with a number of stops, starts, and turns. Then the runs became longer between stops and drop-offs until finally it seemed they'd gotten on a freeway. She became a little more scared then, but it was a little too late.
Finally, the bus made an exit and then resumed what she assumed to be suburban stop-offs. She'd been sleeping fitfully off and on with nothing but time on her hands. The bus slowed, turned, and accelerated again slowly for a bit before coming to a stop. Mary was about to ask for another bathroom break as the girl came through the door and removed her hood. "Come on. Quietly. The others are asleep," she said. Looking around, she saw that more than half of the prisoners had been taken off already. She got up and shuffled forward without urging.
The sky was overcast and cold, and she shivered as the girl helped her descend the steps. The were parked in front of a large modern house made of brick and masonry. A short dark-haired woman about ten years her senior stood there waiting. The girl had a clipboard with a paper on it she signed as the other keeper opened up the storage compartment and retrieved Mary's bag and dropped it by her feet. "How was the ride down?" the dark-haired woman asked. The girl sighed back, "As always. Long and boring. She was well-behaved if you want to know. We gotta go," she said, climbing back aboard with her colleague and closing the door. Mary watched as the bus pulled away.
"Let's get you inside. Master is staying overnight in the city to take care of business. He'll want to examine you properly when he gets here. Come on," the woman said in a calm, almost bored tone. She was pretty enough, a little on the plump side, but still attractive. She was dressed in a long-sleeved white blouse and black trousers with knee-high black leather boots tucked in. Around her throat was a thin steel collar with a single ring, and she had a small holster on her right hip with what looked like a taser. Mary was too tired and resigned to make any effort at resistance as the short woman snapped a lead to her waist chain.
"Master prefers to place collars on himself when possible. Anna said you'd been good, so just keep doing that. You're going to have a hard enough time as it is without needing extra training." It was warm inside, and their boots clacked on the tile floors. "You're lucky. He probably won't be back until after dinner, so you'll have some time to get used to it here. You've already learned pretty much all of the basic rules, so I won't bother going over them with you. Just use some common sense and you should do all right. If not, then it'll be back to the auction. Simple as that."
"I understand. Can I have a cigarette? I'm dying for one right now," Mary asked cautiously. In the dungeon they'd let her, probably more as a reward for good behavior than decency. The short woman sighed.
"When I get you to your cell. Master permits his slaves to smoke there and outside. Never in the house, remember that. There's rugs here that are worth more than you and I combined, and you don't want to make a burn hole, understand?" She led her to an open doorway, down a flight of stairs, and unlocked a steel security door with a small window. The hallway inside was plainly decorated, with white walls and eight doors identical to the one they'd come through, four on each side. Each had a number painted on it and she opened up door number three. "Welcome to your new home."
Compared to the cages and pens she'd been kept in the last month, it was a four-star hotel. On one side there was a wide platform with a double-sized mattress on it, on the other was a combination stainless-steel toilet and sink. The opposite wall was bare except for nine steel rings bolted at floor, midsection, and near the low ceiling. At the far end was a tiny window with thick steel bars and under that was a steel chair bolted to the floor, with rings welded onto it at strategic points.
"I'll give the basics of living here until Master comes home and gives you his rules. The lights come on at seven, lights out at eleven. You can only have five smokes per day, so use them wisely. Breakfast is at eight, lunch twelve, and dinner at six. Your shower time is at two o'clock, unless Master wishes to use you for the night, then it's before he schedules you in. The doors have both a manual and automatic lock, and there's an intercom right next to it," she said wearily as she pointed out the features.
"Once you've been broken in, you'll be be given a work assignment. Don't ask me what it is, he doesn't tell me much. Depending on how well you perform, you can get books and magazines to read. That's about it. No TV, radio, or internet. Sorry, but he controls what we see and hear," she added, while she unlocked Mary's restraints. "Undress now. Master chooses what, when, or if you can wear clothes again." She put her things into the bag and fished out Mary's last pack. Counting out five, she set them on a small steel shelf next to the toilet that had a small box with a wire running into the ceiling and a rectangular box mounted beside it. "See this thing? Stick the end in and press the button and it lights it. Don't toss your butts in the can, you'll lose privileges fast that way. Any questions you have, Master will answer them for you," she said, before going out and locking the door behind her.
Mary walked around the cell to size it up. It was warm in there, even in the nude, and it was clean. The walls were painted bright white, and there was a faint smell of disinfectant. She lit a cigarette and inhaled greedily. The last one she'd had was earned by sucking off one of the keepers. After all that time, this was like heaven for her.
After finishing, she laid down on the nylon-covered mattress and tried to relax. She'd almost managed to fall asleep when the door was unlocked and the woman came back inside. "Come on, time for your shower," she said. The shower was at the end of the hallway, little more than an open tile stall with a single head. There was a dispenser on the wall, and she ran the hot water over her and soaped herself up as the short woman watched. By now, Mary was used to doing pretty much everything while being looked at, and it didn't bother her.
"You're pretty for a slut, you know that?" the woman said, watching her intently. Mary shot her a look. "Still a little feisty. Master likes that. So do I," she said, with the beginngs of a leer. "Do you like girls?"
"Do I have a choice?" Mary replied, turning off the shower and taking the towel offered. "I'm a fucking slave. And I guess you are too, unless that's just a kinky piece of jewelry. I'm also guessing that he won't be too pleased to know that you're thinking of fucking his new property before he does. I wonder what happens then?"
It was a risky thing to say, but she'd been learning how this game worked. But there was no need to make an enemy on the first day. She might be here a long, long time, and obviously this one had some kind of higher status here. "After that, I don't see why not," she feigned a smile. Before this, she'd done some girl-girl shit in the clubs. It had largely been for show, humping another chick, sometimes with a toy, sometimes with just their mouths and hands, whatever the john wanted to pay for. The short woman's face darkened momentarily, then she relaxed.
"You're a smart one. Yeah, he'd be pissed to hell if that happened. And as you say, after that..." she smiled thinly as she produced a pair of handcuffs with a lead permanently attached. "Ready for something to eat?" Mary was starving as well. The keepers only fed them once a day, supplementing their diet with frequent doses of cum. With her hands chained, the woman led her out and back upstairs again and into the kitchen. Two other young women were there, one washing dishes while the other was setting a pot on the counter. Both were completely nude except for collars identical to the dark-haired woman and leather aprons. They averted their eyes when she came in.
"Slave Five, Slave Seven, this is the new Slave Three. Get her something to eat and then go and help Four and Six upstairs. When she's finished, put her in the living room cage before you go. And no talking, any of you, understand?" she said, fingering her taser. The other girls nodded slowly, their eyes still to the floor. She left and the one with the pot got a bowl out of the cupboard, ladled in some stew and handed it to her.
"Fucking bitch," she muttered under her breath, as she got a spoon from a drawer. "One of these days, Master'll sell her fat ass off too, and I'd like to see her then!" Mary ignored her as she dug in, her body screaming for food. The girl got a mug and filled it from the tap. "Please don't ever tell her I said that," she added, in a fearful whisper. The other girl had returned to her tasks, trying to ignore the exchange.
Done, she looked up, and the girl gave her some more and motioned for her to hurry. When she was done, both girls finished their tasks and one took the lead. "Come on, let's get this over with," she said quietly. They took her to a huge panelled room, witha fireplace,rich brown leather furniture and bookshelves. In one corner was a large steel cage, contrasting wildly with the rest of the room. She put her inside and padlocked the door. "If you gotta potty, use that bucket, and for your own sake, don't spill it!" she whispered again, before padding off after the other girl. Mary looked around at her new surroundings.
The man had money, that was for sure. While she was no expert at appraisal, it didn't take a genius to figure out he was richer than shit. On the walls were the heads of exotic animals, paintings, and other big-ticket items. The carpet was deep, rich, and expensive-looking, and the walls were of solid-wood panelling. The cage itself was roomy enough to lay down in, and there was a thick pile rug on the floor, instead of bars. There was a picture window that looked out over a vast expanse of trees with the mountains in the background. It was a dream house. That is, if you weren't a naked captive. As she was absorbing all of this, a young man entered with a basket full of wood for the fireplace.
"Hello! Looks like Uncle Frank got a replacement already," he chuckled, as he set down the basket and came over. Mary shrunk back and he laughed again. "Oh, don't worry, you're perfectly safe with me. I don't exactly swing that way, you know," he laughed, almost a giggle. He was thin and pale, dressed almost the same as the short woman, except his boots were broader in the heel. "I don't know why One does this, there's no need for you to cool your heels up here. I'll tell her to take you back to your cell in a bit," he added, in an effeminate tone as he left her standing there.
In the lakefront bar, the writer sat back and let out a low whistle. "Man, that must have been weird as hell. Who was he?" Mary had finished her first drink and was starting on her second. She sipped it slowly, as if to savor ever drop.
"At first I thought it was another one of his slaves, but no, it really was his nephew. He was gay, of course, and into a lot of the same things as his uncle was. Just...not the exact same interests. He lived in the guest house with a couple of his own...playmates. Master...I mean, "Uncle Frank", kept him around to make sure Slave One kept in line and didn't try anything really stupid. He seemed like a nice guy, but if you fucked up, he had no mercy whatsoever. Believe me," she said, setting down her drink. The writer scratched his chin before asking her,
"Now you said you became 'the new number three'. How did that work?" She lit another cigarette and looked out over the water. She was more relaxed now that the regulars had cleared out and the barman was in back doing something.
"Nothing special really. It was our cell number, nothing more. It was just the fact that she'd been there the longest that Number One became the top girl there. It could have as easily been any of the eight slaves he could keep. There were only six there when he bought me. One had finished her contract and left, the other was sold off to one of his friends. The others told me that he sometimes had as few as three at times. He liked to keep fresh meat in his locker, I suppose...
The young man kept his word. Number Five, the girl who'd been washing dishes, was the one who took her back to the cellblock. She was a petite girl, perhaps nineteen or twenty, with short dark hair and a smattering of tattoos and piercings. Above her pussy was a tattooed bar code above the words "SEX SLAVE". Her skin bore the marks of a recent beating as well. "You got lucky, Three. That cunt would have left you there all night until Master got home. She'd have gotten it, but I think the bitch likes it. Probably why Master made her his toadie, if you ask me. I have to leave these one, I'm not allowed to have keys. Sorry," she said, as she closed and locked the door behind her.
Mary laid back down on her bunk and stared at the ceiling. In some ways, this place was weirder than where she'd been kept before. She debated having another smoke, but there were only a couple left, and with nothing but time on her hands, she got to thinking about her situation. Supposedly, if she didn't want to keep doing this, all she'd have to do would be to say 'stop', and he'd have to let her go. The problem was, it seemed that if that were the case, then the other girls would've bailed a long time ago. "It's a little late to have second thoughts, huh?" she said to herself. The light coming from the tiny window faded and she'd managed to get some more sleep when the door opened.
In walked the man who'd bought her. "Hello, little one. I'm your Master. Come on, get up, let's get a good look at you," he said. He'd changed out of his business attire, and was wearing black silk pajamas. Behind him stood Number One. Instead of the white shirt and black pants, she was now wearing a tight leather corset, thigh-high boots, and long black leather gloves. Her breasts and pussy was exposed, and Mary could see she too had a tattoo identical to Number Five. Like the others, her nipples were pieced with thick steel rings, and there were a number of old marks criss-crossing her exposed flesh. She stood silently and obediently, holding a set of irons.
"Number Three, I would like to welcome you to my house. I'm sure you'll find this something of an improvement to your last quarters, no?" he said, with just a hint of a foreign accent. She stood up and looked at the floor. They'd taught her that much at the auction house. "Very good, very good, but obedience can be feigned, I'm sure you're well aware of. I like to be absolutely sure my property know who owns them. One, take her to the dungeon and prepare her. I will be down shortly to begin her training. Go!" he said in a firm tone.
Silently, the woman removed the cuffs and replaced them with the old fashioned irons. For all Mary knew, they could have been antiques. They were heavy and awkward to walk in, and One was not gentle in how she pushed and prodded her on through the door by the stairs. Mary looked around the windowless chamber. The slaver's lair she'd been housed in was a filthy mess compared to this. The walls were white like the cells, the restraint equipment was of modern design, and it smelled as if it had been cleaned frequently.
Number Six was strapped to one of those pieces of equipment. Mary didn't know what it was called, but it looked like a mix between a weight bench and a gynecologists table. Her arms were spread painfully wide as were her legs, completely exposing her. Her collar was fastened to a rear upright, forcing her to splay out painfully. She had a large rubber ball gag in her mouth, and little electrical pads on her nipples and pussy. Every few seconds she convulsed and shrieked behind it. "That's you, if you don't learn how to behave properly!" One hissed into her ear.
There were five or six other pieces of equipment, giving the chamber the look and feel of a demented gym of some sort. Hanging from hardpoints in the ceiling were two long chains with thick leather cuffs on the end. She offered no resistance while secured her and then cranked an adjustment wheel on the wall to pull her arms outwards. She was no stranger to this, her back still bore the marks of several whippings.
"Supposedly, those were for 'reinforcing' my status as a 'slave'. Or, they tell me it was to ready me for a difficult master, whatever made them feel better," she told the writer, as the sun set over the lake. The barman had come over and refreshed their drinks. "The first couple times sucked ass. Then, one of the other chicks down there told me what to do. It was easy, and actually, once I got into it, I actually started to enjoy the damn thing. She told me some shit about endorphins, but I didn't care. It'd hurt like hell at the very first, but once I sorta fell back into myself, it was like...well, like heroin, I guess. For the first time I understood what the bondage guys I tricked for were looking for. It was so....heavy."
She was very relaxed now. A few more people had wandered in, but they all sat at the bar watching the TV. One of the women had put some money in the jukebox and a medley of southern-rock, country, and pop tunes lent the conversation an strange air. "The little bitch didn't do anything to me after she strung me up. She fastened my ankles to the walls and diddled me a little bit, but that was it. Then she went to work on the girl called Six. That was something to see..."
There was clearly some bad blood between the two women, from the way One spoke to the bound blonde. "Stupid fucking cunt! You fucking know he's got cameras and mikes everywhere? See my ass? Notice how fucking red it is? I'm not gonna be able to sit for a couple days, bitch, thanks to you. How do you like...this?" she said, turning the dial. Number Six bucked wildly. "Enough!" came another female voice from across the chamber.
For obvious reasons, Mary hadn't seen the other girl before. She was locked in a large steel cage that looked like it would hold a gorilla, naked like the others. But instead of the smooth shiny collars the other girls wore, hers was rougher, more industrial. It was padlocked around her throat with a heavy steel chain that was in turn padlocked to the hasp of the cage. She was taller and older than the other three women, with messy auburn hair and numerous red marks, bruises, and welts.
"Don't be fucking stupid. You can't kill her, but you can fuck her up badly, you ignorant twat," the woman said in a faint British accent. Number One glared at her, but said nothing. "I'm bloody surprised Master chose you to his main girl, really. But that's beside the point. You damage her and we get to go out of here together. You bloody well know that."
"Oh, so all of a sudden you're trying to help me now?" One said mockingly, turning the stimulator off as Six panted and sobbed behind her gag. She sauntered over and picked up a cattle prod. Mary knew what that felt like already. The other woman shrank against the rear of her cage, but still kept a level stare at her. "Well thank you, very much, Miss I Want To Make Master Mine. Thanks to you, we're all getting rode like hell! If he didn't want me to touch you, I swear I'd..."
"Stop," came a firm male voice. "Put it down and step back from the cage," the older man who'd bought Mary said from the open door of the chamber. One fell to the floor instantly, her forehead down. "Seven, take her to her cell and remove the uniform. Secure her standing and return here," he said, calmly striding forward. "And she is quite right. You are of not further use to me, especially with that attitude of yours. Remove all her property and have one of Master Jason's boys assist you. Before you do, go to wardrobe and put on outfit number three. Dismissed."
No screaming, profanity, or threats. Mary didn't know at the time that he possessed what those in the military called "command presence". Instead of the tailored suit she'd seen him in before, he was wearing fitted leather trousers with knee-high riding boots, a crisp black button-down shirt with a black leather vest. He walked past Mary and turned off the electrical device by Six's restraint stand and released her, even assisting her to her feet. "Easy, girl. Take a moment. When you're able, go to your cell. You have twenty-four hours off. You're still in trouble, though."
"Number Three, we finally get to properly meet," he said, as he walked around her appraisingly. "Unfortunate that you had to experience that, but you arrived here at the end of an attempted rebellion amongst my slaves. As my former top girl Number One said, you can blame that one for all this nonsense," he said, hooking a thumb at the caged woman. "I blame myself, actually. I was too lenient with all of my women, and I have her to thank for reminding me I've become a bit complacent about attending to my properties."
"Master! Please! I'm sorry! I was only trying to please you! You misunderstood my intentions, Sir!" the woman pleaded, going to her knees with her hands clenched. He simply chuckled and turned back to Mary, inspecting the piercings in her nipples and vagina. The woman made a disgusted sound and turned away.
"That woman is the previous Number Three, now she is merely a contract slave again. I'm getting a little fed up with the more recent offerings from the slave market, with her being a prime example. Just a bit too good at acting submissive, I see now. That's the problem with contract slaves," he sighed. "Once they're signed on with a man such as myself, they tend to forget their place. Now, you won't be doing that, will you my dear?" he asked, stroking her cheek. Mary swallowed nervously and responded with care.
"No, Master. I will not." It seemed like a safe answer. The weeks in confinement had taught her to quickly pick up what phrases and action seemed to work. He ignored her as he ran his fingers through her hair.
"Of course you won't. All of my slaves say that when they first get here. That one was particularly convincing. After all, she's been contracting herself since she was a teen, isn't that right, darling? Go ahead and sulk if you want, but you've made your bed, now lie in it. And if you're getting bored down here, never fear. Your new owner is picking you up tomorrow night," he said casually as he released Mary from her bonds.
"Wait, wait, wait, hold on," the writer said, scribbling furiously. Damn the woman for demanding no tape recorders, he thought. "They go through all that shit just for this master-guy to let you go? This is sounding dangerously close to bullshit to me now," he said. She just gave him a nomcommital shrug.
"It's like that sometimes in that world. You get this great big buildup and then...nothing. The fact is, he wasn't into the big pain and discipline thing some of the others got off on. Yeah, he had it because it was necessary-imagine having to deal with six to eight women, not counting paid staff? I'd shown up right when he was shuffling his harem around. He didn't have the time to do those kinds of things, and only had the shit when he was in the mood for it. The way it "usually" was that the chicks he kept were more like live-in girlfriends than "real" slaves. That chick who was the former number three? She'd gone and screwed it by trying to get him to marry her. A lot of the girls who do this shit are after that kind of guy: stupid rich, kinky, and with tons of time and money to blow on a hot piece of ass." She took another drink and watched his reaction before going on.
"I'd gotten into it to escape from a bad scene. Some of them actually were into it. Others were just like the ones I told you about. Still others used to pay off debts, start a bankroll, whatever. For that English chick it was a fucking career, and she was just looking to the future. Once you start getting old and wrinkly, there ain't much demand for that action. In fact, once they started pushing thirty and up, the market pretty much disappeared. Those dudes like their toys shiny and new."
The writer absorbed that, and added a few things to his notes. "Okay, sorry. I have to wade through a shit-ton of bullshit as part of my job, and my radar went off there. Actually, it kind of makes sense, looking at it from those guy's perspective," he said. It was getting late, and the barman was starting to close down the place. "Look, I don't want to finish this here. I'm not trying to get you in the sack, but would you mind coming back to my place so we can get to the end of this?" he asked.
Mary looked a bit hesitant, but replied, "I guess so. You're not a hustler, and anyway, I have a friend who knows we're together tonight, so there's that." They got up and tipped the man and returned to his car. She wasn't much for conversation during rides, he noticed, preferring instead to watch the scenery go by, even at night. He lived in an upscale complex, which seemed to please her. Once inside, she took off her boots and curled up on the couch as he sat on the chair beside it and the story resumed.
_____________________________
Age and treachery will always overcome youth and ambition.
The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting. ~ Sun Tzu
Goddess Wrangler
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Kept, Part Three - 
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