Clarissa's eyes snapped open. Her heart pounded, her nightgown clung to her sweaty body as she suddenly woke up in the middle of the night. Sitting up in the beautiful bed Roger had tucked her into just hours ago, Clarissa tried to forget the nightmare. She couldn't. She knew she probably would never forget, although she was determined to try. Growing more comfortable in the darkness, Clarissa gently pressed on one of her bruises, this one right above her left nipple. It hurt, yet made her feel a pulsing between her legs. This was why she couldn't hate her former master. As horrific her time serving him had been, she was still able to find pleasure in the pain he had left her with.
Hours passed, and Clarissa's eyes remained open. Refusing to touch herself, even though Roger, who refused to be her new master, had given her permission to, she found herself wondering if she could ever be free. She had always known she was submissive, and when she reached twenty and still lacked a dominant to take her off of her family's hands, she volunteered to be enslaved, rather than hassle with being involuntarily taken into the Ministry of Slaves. Had she waited the extra year, her family would not have been compensated nearly as much, nor would she have been able to serve her first master.
Slaves who were brought in by the Ministry were subjected to tests before an audience of perspective buyers before going on the auction block. Clarissa, having voluntarily submitted herself to serving the dominants of her country, was able to have her testing done in private, so that she would only be sold to a dominant who would use her in the ways that she would enjoy. Unfortunately, her first owner tired of her and did not care much to screen her second owner.
Clarissa loved the fear, the uncertainty that came with enslavement. She loved the thrill of surrendering her fate to someone who had the strength she lacked. Even when surrendering to a cruel man, she had not ever wished to have to fend for herself.
As the morning light slowly began to shine through the bedroom window, Clarissa slipped out of her bed and made it. Seeing the early hour on the clock that sat on the nightstand, she decided there was time to spare to take advantage of the bathtub Roger had bathed her in last night. Pinning up her hair, she began to run the water, adding just a little of the bubble bath. As the tub filled, Clarissa peeled the nightgown off her body. Looking in the full length mirror, she could see why Roger would be afraid to touch her - not one of her limbs was bruise-free, and bruises and whip marks both decorated her breasts, belly, ass, even her bald cunt. With the tub full, Clarissa tried to forget the sight of herself, letting her body soak in luxury.
Roger came down the stairs dressed in his suit for work, the image of Clarissa's bruised and whipped body in the tub last night still in his mind as he smelled breakfast. Wearing one of the more modest dresses Maggie had picked out for her - low cut and high-hemmed - and a tall pair of matching blue heels, Clarissa was plating pancakes, eggs, and bacon.
"What's this?" He tried to ask softly, but in the quiet morning his voice seemed to boom nonetheless. He noticed a slight shudder in the girl as she looked up at him, almost as if she had been caught doing something wrong.
"I... I thought you would like breakfast, Sir," she stammered, nervously bringing the plate to him at the table.
"Thank you, Clarissa," Roger said softly, gently taking her hand in his. "Get yourself a plate and sit with me, please?"
"Yes, Sir," Clarissa seemed uncertain, first bringing Roger his coffee, but obeying, sitting at the table with a plate with far less generous portions than she had put on his.
"I normally just have coffee in the morning, but this is delicious, Clarissa."
"Thank you, Sir."
"Since you're already up, I suppose it'd be easiest if you came into the office with me today. This afternoon you have a doctor's appointment, and then a meeting at the Ministry."
Clarissa nodded, slowly eating her food.
"I meant what I said last night," Roger suggested cautiously, "about helping you if you wanted to be free."
Clarissa looked down at her food, feeling the blood rushing to her cheeks.
"You want to remain enslaved even after being beaten and thrown away?" Roger's voice was a bit harsh, he knew, but he had to make sure.
"Yessir," Clarissa whispered, struggling to look up at him.
"Tell me why," Roger commanded, eating his breakfast as he watched her answer.
"Even when I was beaten, Sir, I could not think about having to be responsible for myself. I prefer bruises to begging for food or shelter, Sir. I cannot provide those things on my own, I know I cannot..." Clarissa fought the tears in her eyes as she confessed how weak she was.
Roger stood and put his hands on her shoulders, looking down at her.
"You needn't be ashamed of what you are, Clarissa. Just as our world needs dominants, it also needs slaves as submissive as you," he consoled her best he could. "Finish your breakfast, I'll help you clean up so we won't be late."
Gently, he massaged her shoulders for just a moment before clearing his things from the table. As Clarissa finished her meal, she couldn't help but watch the man who had bathed and consoled her rinsing dishes and loading them into the dishwasher. When she had finished and taken her own dishes into the kitchen, he simply took them from her and took care of them for her.
"Now, then," he smiled at her warmly, "are you ready to go?"
Roger let Clarissa hold his hand as he led her to his office. He couldn't help but notice her hesitance to look up as they passed office workers and office slaves, some of whom glanced up to notice he had brought a scantily clad girl into work, some not noticing at all.
His own office slave smiled at them both warmly, wearing one of Roger's favorite outfits today, a see-through white blouse barely buttoned and a short black skirt.
"Good morning, Mr. Davis," she greeted Roger, taking his coat as he dropped Clarissa's hand.
"Good morning, Roxanne," Roger quickly took Clarissa's hand back, sensing her uneasiness. "This is what Mr. Craft called about yesterday. Her name's Clarissa, and on her account you'll have to reschedule any meetings this afternoon."
"Yes, Sir," Roxanne opened the door to his office as she hung his coat and then went back to her desk.
Roger showed Clarissa into his office, and helped her onto his desk as he sat down in his chair.
"I have a meeting in a few minutes, and then some paperwork, and then we'll get out of here," he explained.
"Yes, Sir," the girl answered automatically.
"While I'm in my meeting, I'll have Roxanne come in and stay with you," Roger continued as he searched his desk for some papers and then looked them over. "Feel free to play with her, ask her any questions..."
Clarissa watched as he stood up, and gently kissed her forehead.
"Just stay in the office for now - some of the workers here don't easily distinguish company-owned slaves from personal slaves, understand?"
