Finally, we arrived. I took a very big breath at the first sight of the house. I’d waited for this all week, and I was excited. I had to admit, though, I was nervous.
elyse’s and I unloaded our owners’ bags, setting them beside the front door. Then we walked together around the large house, down the hill in the back, to the little concrete pad outside the slave door. We weren’t alone. Three other slaves were already on the pad, either taking off their outside world clothes or putting on the garment. As we approached, I noticed that one of them was zoe’s.
“Hi!”
“Um, hi.”
“Have a good week?”
“Yeah, it was just weird. I kept wondering if this place was all a dream.”
“Too good to be true, isn’t it?”
He was so talkative. I noticed that the slaves who had been here for awhile were like that. They were all friends, and they talked to each other when the owners weren’t around. Us new slaves were much more quiet. Maybe this all seemed too new, and bizarre, and embarrassing for us. It had not yet become normal life for us new guys.
zoe’s, naked, bent over the garment box as I began undressing. I noticed something odd, that I hadn’t noticed last week, something between his ass cheeks. On his left buttock, way down deep near his asshole, he had a tattoo. It looked like some sort of script writing, running upward from bottom to top, as low as someone could possibly get a tattoo gun down there. And the script was that same weird light shade of purple, the same as the gable siding on the house, the same as the adirondack chairs on the lawn. I decided not to ask him about it.
Naked, I threw my clothes into the box on the left. In the other box, I found a garment that fit me, already tied. I thought it was the same one I wore the previous week, but there was absolutey no way to know for sure. I winced a little, wondering if some other guy’s dick had spent a weekend pushing up against the fabric that mine was touching now. But I couldn’t worry about it too much. I had work to do.
I walked with elyse’s and zoe’s up through the house to the front door. Retrieving Lauren’s carry-on size suitcase, I carried it up to her room, and set it on the little stand at the end of her bed. Walking downstairs, I searched for her among the busy throng of arriving women and slaves. I never found her. My search was interrupted as a woman I didn’t recognize grabbed my arm.
“lauren’s! You can help. Go with emma’s and makenna’s to help set up outside.”
Facing her, I bowed deeply.
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”
I followed the two slaves out the side door, wondering what we were setting up. They walked quickly.
“Hey, I’m lauren’s.”
“makenna’s.”
“emma’s.”
“So what are we setting up?”
“The tables and chairs and everything for tomorrow.”
OK then, I thought. We rounded the little garden on the west side of the house, and entered a large open lawn with freshly cut grass. In its center, an enormous white canopy had been mostly erected, with a group of slaves finishing tying down the final cords holding it taut. We made our way to a group of slaves off to the side.
“You’ll carry each table, and put it right where Avery tells you.”
It was Jamie, the woman Lauren had spoken with when we first arrived last week, giving orders to the group of slaves I’d joined. We were standing near a large group of round tables. These weren’t the sort of foldable tables you’d normally find at an outdoor gathering. Rather, they were wood dining room tables, and they were heavy. makenna’s helped me carry one to a place under the canopy, where the other woman, Avery, was arranging them, telling each pair of slaves where to put each table.
“Right there, makenna’s and lauren’s. Right over there, emma’s and bethany’s…”
We carried another table, then another and another. Finally, with the tables in place, another group of slaves began placing a tablecloth on each table. White, with a thin gold filigree, they were edged in that peculiar light purple.
The group I was with made our way to a storage shed, where we retrieved white wooden chairs. They didn’t fold. We had to carry them one at a time to the tables, placing six chairs at each round table. The other group of slaves began placing cloth runners, that same purple shade, over the back of each chair. In the center of the scene, a few slaves were constructing a small platform with steps. I didn’t get a good look at it before my group was sent in to work on dinner.
In the kitchen, I fried rice. At the announcement, I carried a plate of chicken, rice, asparagus, and salad out to Lauren, kneeling before her and offering it to her. Later, I retrieved her plate. While others worked on desserts, I cleaned dinner plates. alexa’s instructed me on the process.
“Use this large metal bowl for the chicken, and this one for the rice. Scrape whatever’s left on their plates into the bowls.”
“We save what they didn’t eat? What they’ve already eaten from?”
“Where do you think our dinner comes from?”
“So we don’t make extra for us slaves?”
“Not allowed. We only eat what they leave on their plates.”
“Ummm…OK.”
So I scraped bits of mostly-eaten chicken breasts, and little bits of rice into the bowls. Later, after dessert, after clean-up, I knelt with the others holding a small paper plate with bits of chicken and some clumpy rice, trying to eat it all by hand, wondering whose used fork had touched it, reminding myself who I was, what I was, reminding myself to submit.
After dinner, in Lauren’s room, I knelt at the end of her bed. Lauren rested her bare feet on her suitcase, her legs hanging over the bed.
“You may massage my left foot, slave.”
“Thank you, Lauren!”
I took Lauren’s foot in my hands and began to massage, this time without any lotion. I took a very deep breath. This was heaven.
“Tomorrow’s a big day, slave. A big day for both of us. Are you excited?”
“Yes, Lauren.”
“Good. You’ve been such a good boy, slave. I want you to know that I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you, Lauren!”
“It’s close enough to slave bedtime. Time for you to go to the cell.”
“Yes, Lauren.”
Once again, the feeling of my naked flesh against the sticky mat accompanied me to sleep. I slept between zoe’s and lyla’s, dreaming of Lauren. At some point, strangely, I dreamt of Elyse. I was completely out, so exhausted that I didn’t wake until the buzzer shocked me back to awareness.
Once again, I endured the awkward formation of the line, waiting for the cold showers, as a couple women performed semen check. I slowly made my way down the length of the cell and up the stairs. The same woman stood at the top, directing slaves into the shower. When I reached her, however, I was in for a surprise.
“No shower yet, lauren’s. Stand off to the side, with the others. And don’t bow and answer. No speaking today.”
Two other slaves were standing in a little opening across the hall. Confused, I walked over to join them. Waiting with the other two slaves, I wondered what was happening. From the looks on their faces, they didn’t seem to know. Eventually, others joined us. elyse’s was ushered into the group, as were emma’s and makenna’s. Several others that I didn’t know joined as well. Eventually, twelve of us stood awkwardly, waiting for instructions.
Looking around at the others, it appeared we were the new slaves. We stood anxiously, trying to be still. Several minutes after the last showers were finished, we were approached by a very pretty woman who appeared to be in her thirties.
“Time for your showers. Take your time today. You all need to be squeaky clean and presentable.”
We filed into the shower room. Today, the showers weren’t exactly hot, but they weren’t freezing cold. They were sort of warm, at least for us. We were watched over by several women, but they didn’t rush us along. We took our time showering, brushing our teeth, and shaving. Each of us had a clean, dry towel to use. At the end of the room, the same woman was waiting for us.
“Follow me.”
We all obeyed, following in a tight naked bunch behind her, down corridors and around corners, until we were outside, all standing in front of a large brick wall beside the house. We faced a large grouping of wheel barrows, each filled with vines, twigs, or flowers. The woman turned and addressed us.
“Today is an important day for each of you. Today, you will not speak. You will listen closely to everything that you’re told, and you will obey.”
As soon as she finished speaking, the woman turned and walked away. None of us spoke, of course, but we looked at each other and wondered. Then we waited, and we waited some more.
After an hour or so, a group of slaves walked out to us, carrying paper bowls and cups. We were each given a bowl with some hashbrowns and fruit, remains of breakfast, and a cup of water.
“Don’t speak. Just eat.”
We did so, all of us, as the other slaves waited, then took our trash, again leaving us alone.
Time crept by, slowly. At least another hour went by. Finally, from around the corner, a group of the owners appeared. Lauren was among them. I sighed at the sight of her. Elyse was in the group too, as were several others. Lauren approached me. She smiled.
“Kneel, slave.”
I did so, knees in the grass, wondering what was going to happen. Rather than tell me, Lauren walked to one of the wheel barrows. Other owners were doing so as well. Each owner, and the other women present, searched through the vines, twigs, and flowers as if they were shopping for just the right ones.
“How about this?”
“That might work. Or wait – look over here!”
Talking and laughing, they joked with each other as they gathered their materials. These women were all beautiful, and hearing them carrying on adorably with each other led me to forget, just for a moment, how intimidating each of them could be as a slave owner.