Memoirs of a Slave Girl
Part 3: A New Master
(1950 - 29 Years of Age)
As promised, my ownership was transferred to Little Master on his thirteenth
birthday. He was so excited, and proud...he was the first boy in his
neighborhood to have his very own slave girl! In the beginning he took every
opportunity to show me off, inviting his friends over to watch while he paraded
me back and forth on a leash, ordering me to perform stupid trick, like playing
fetch the stick or rolling over.
The change of ownership meant that he was no longer "Little Master," but
"Master," while his parents were now simply "Sir" and "Ma'am." It also meant
that I was at his complete disposal and subject to his every whim. He
immediately took advantage of this fact, and the only time I was allowed to
leave his room for those first three days was to fetch him some water or food,
or to use the bathroom myself. He wasn't sexually experienced, and had a
beautiful, perfectly formed (if somewhat average sized) penis. And, being
young, his recovery time was phenomenal. Sometimes he could cum as many as six
or seven times a day, often twice within the same hour.
Master went through a number of phases in how he treated me and the manner in
which I was used. For the first several weeks, he spent every spare moment
exploring my body and sampling my sexual abilities. He used me in every way
imaginable, and some that I still wonder about. I know he had nothing to grade
me against, but I believe he was pleased with my efforts. He certainly pleased
me! He didn't forbid from having my own pleasure, so I tried to cum at least
once every time he used me - and usually succeeded.
Then he went through a phase when he treated me like a bitch dog. I remained on
all fours, and was permitted to only whine or bark, not speak. He had me wear a
butt plug with a furry dog tail, much to the amusement of his friends. And, of
course I ate dog food - sometimes canned, but usually the dry kind - from a
bowl on the kitchen floor. He also designated a place in the backyard for me to
do my business, as he called it, warning that if I peed or crapped anywhere
else, he'd rub my nose in it, like a bad puppy. If he was feeling particularly
abusive, he'd make me drink water constantly throughout the day, not allowing me
relief, until I finally did pee on the floor. After having my face rubbed in
it, he'd make me lick it up. That wasn't so bad on the tile floors, but have
you ever tried to suck urine out of a carpet?
After that came what I call his ass phase. That's the only place he'd use me.
I'd be given enemas, then have my ass plugged, sometimes for hours, before he
allowed me to release. Sometimes he'd take me out that way. Once, he took me
up to a dirt trail in the woods and made me run, naked and barefoot, for two
miles. The enema sloshed around in my intestines caused belly to cramp up
horribly, but all he did when I finally got sick to my stomach was make me roll
around in my own vomit. I was so horny from the abuse and humiliation, but he
just let me shit on the side of the trail, then took me home without so much as
a quick poke. Another time, he made me give 20 men orgasms before removing the
plug. He took me to a hobo camp down by the train tracks to find the men. It
was probably that session that took him to his next phase, which was offering me
to his friends.
I doubt anyone ever had as many friends as Master did during that phase. I'm
sure some of them didn't even know he existed before they found out he was
loaning out his slave girl, and making all of her holes available to them.
Sometimes I was servicing three, four, five boys at once...one in my mouth, one
in my ass, one in my cunt, and one in each hand. There were a couple of times
some of the boys talked about both putting their dicks in my pussy at the same
time, but one said that sounded "homo," so it was several more years before I
experienced that particular form of sex.
These mini-orgies spawned his next phase, which was using me to earn money.
Master started whoring me out to anyone with a few dollars spend, though his
friends - his real friends - could use me for free whenever I wasn't occupied
with a paying customer. I would often be taken to a street corner, to ply my
wares on anyone who wanted to dally with me. Other times I would just be sent
out, and told to be back by a certain time with a certain amount of money. If I
didn't meet the goal he'd established, I'd be punished. The problem was that I
wasn't allowed to set a price and had to tell my clients that they should pay me
what they I was worth, so it wasn't very often that I was able to average more
than five dollars a customer. There were also a couple of times he had me prowl
bars or hotel lobbies, looking for business.
It was during the period when I was being whored out that he started
experimenting with body modifications. Bartering a weekend of my use for the
price, he had my nipples and clitoris pierced with gold-colored rings. At least
I think they were only colored, no real gold. He had an ornate tattoo of the
word "slut" placed above my bare mound, and had my nipples dyed bright red. The
small holes in my labia he had filled with little faux pearl post earrings. He
had my septum pierced and a ring inserted, and would often lead me around my
nose ring, or just chain it to the headboard. He or his friends often bound me
by just my nose and clit ring when they fucked me, fucking me doggy-style,
knowing that I'd remain motionless for fear of ripping them out. One of his
favorite things to do about that time was to actually chain my clit and nose
rings together with a short piece of chain, and either leave me that way or fuck
me silly.
Finally, things started to settle down. The novelty of owning a slave girl wore
off after a year or two, and returned to being just an object, a thing to be
used when needed, and forgotten about at all other times. So it was back to
cleaning and other chores for me, with an occasional porking by either Master, a
friend or a customer. Mostly, though, I was just property, to be used when the
desire was there, and to be left kneeling at the foot of his bed when it wasn't.
So I was relegated to cleaning his room, washing his clothes, and taking care of
his other needs. I ran his bath every evening, and washed his body for him. I
always woke him up gently, with my head nuzzling his groin and my mouth over his
morning hard-on. He liked not having to get up for his morning pee, though I
can't say I ever acquired a taste for urine.
He still liked playing with me, finding things to do to excite me sexually, and
then either using me or leaving to literally stew in my own juices. Sometimes
he'd have me carry my butt plug like a pacifier, on a string around my neck,
alternately putting it in my ass and then my mouth. Other times I'd carry a
vibrator up my ass, or fishing weights from my rings while I did my chores. His
parents didn't interfere at all, though Ma'am often sneaked me
treats...especially chocolate...and she and Sir still used me on occasion.
In his junior year, the very exclusive, private school Master attended began
allowing slaves on campus. The original thought was that we'd be an unnecessary
distraction, but the board finally relented and began allowing the upper
classmen to bring their slaves. It was really an incentive program, because
anyone with a GPA of less than 3.7 had to leave their slaves at home, and if you
lost that privilege, you had to wait until the end of the following semester to
get it back. Master's cumulative GPA was 3.87, so he started taking me along to
carry his books and take care of whatever needs he might have...which usually
included him putting his dick in me at least once a day.
The school was still concerned about unnecessary distractions, so they
instituted a few rules to reduce that risk. We weren't, for instance, actually
allowed into any of the buildings, except the locker rooms. We weren't allowed
to be naked, either, so the school issued a uniform to each of us. Our attire
consisted of a knee-length thin cotton shift and a pair of plastic panties. The
panties were designed to prevent what Master called "snail tracks" or "slave
slime" from being left wherever one of us sat. I didn't mind the clothing, have
to admit that not having the sensation of air blowing directly over my bare sex
was a bit disconcerting at first.
The reason we were allowed in the locker rooms was to help our Masters dress out
for gym, and then shower and get dressed afterwards. It was also the one place
we were required to be naked, and although many of the Masters forced their
slaves to keep their eyes focused on the ground, my Master didn't restrict me.
I was permitted to look around at all the naked young men and their slaves, and
this always made me horny. I was proud to belong to Master, because he was one
of the most handsome, virile young men I saw. I was less pleased when comparing
myself to the other slaves, because I was ancient by comparison. Most of them
were less than half my age, and next to them, I must have looked used and worn
out. It didn't seem to bother Master, though, who often had to make use of my
mouth before he put his pants back on.
While Master was in class, I, like the rest of the slaves, spent my time chained
to the wall outside the classroom. During this time, the other slaves and I -
assuming their own Masters hadn't prohibited it - would quietly chat in order to
pass the time. We'd compare notes, talk about our lives and how we served our
Owners. Most of us were female, but there were always a few male slaves as
well. Most of them were sissified, though, and not at all sexually arousing to
me.
I suppose I should explain about sissy slaves. Male slaves, particularly those
who were sold into slavery as the result of debts - often as the result of
failed business deals - were often beaten down and made docile by treating them
as females. They wore frilly lace panties, garter belts, stockings and high
heels; had their bodies shaved; wore makeup and had their nails painted (usually
a cute pink); and wore their hair in a variety of female styles. Those with
short or no hair wore wigs. Some were castrated, most were not. Those who
still had functional dicks were placed in chastity cages, which caused extreme
pain every time they got hard. Some of the slave girls liked to tease them,
just to see if they could cause the sissies to get it up. Sissies were required
to speak in soft, high-pitched voices, and in general, act like little girls.
They were used as females, too. Their mouths and assholes were used as
fuckholes, their dicks ignored except as places to inflict torture. The only
time a sissy was allowed to cum was when two of them were coupled together,
first to fuck each other in the ass, and then to finish themselves off in a 69,
their shit-covered dicks in each others mouth. A sissy who had an orgasm any
other way could expect anything from torture to castration as her punishment.
This movement still exists today in some places, though technology and medicine
have taken it a step further, with hormone therapy. sexual reassignment surgery
and vocal cord manipulation making it almost impossible to tell a sissy from a
true female slave. I've seen several sissy slaves who, even naked, were among
the most beautiful women I've known. Many Owners now, in order to more
thoroughly humiliate the sissies, leave some of their body hair intact, usually
on the face and chest. Big tits, cunt lips, and a five o'clock shadow...a
clear-cut sissy.
Anyway, we slaves would chat quietly while our Masters and Mistresses absorbed
whatever it was they were learning. I learned that I was being treated better
than most of the other females, and much better than any of the sissies.
Several of the girls related how they slept outdoors, year round, with only the
roof of a doghouse protecting them from the elements, and how many of them
received a single meager meal each day. These girls were easy to spot, looking
like malnourished scarecrows as they did. Some talked of nightly gang rapes,
and while this was something I enjoyed I doubt I would have felt the same if
they had been inflicted on me nightly. They talked of repeated beatings for the
most minor of things, and of having their orgasms withheld for months at a time.
I knew better than to tell them how my life was, because I knew I was among the
fortunate few.
One young girl who looked especially mistreated turned out to be owned by her
very own sixteen year old brother. She'd belonged to him since she was eight,
four years earlier. One day she pulled her dress up to show us how she'd been
abused. Her entire body was a mass of scars, welts and bruises. He beat and
raped her every day. Her little breasts were already marked with dots where
he'd poked needles in them, and her cunt lips hung obscenely low, from the
weighted clamps she wore on them. Her nether lips hadn't yet been pierced, but
her Master had used a hot poker to burn her clitoris off, denying her the
pleasure he took for himself several times each day. I didn't feel sorry for
her, really, just thankful that my Master wasn't like hers.
I was 32 years old, and my life, when compared to some other slave girls, was
wonderful.
