The Life as a Slave part 2(Fiction)
Written August 2018
This is the second part of my story based on fantasy, fiction and fact influenced by personal experiences. Part one ended with me entering my Sir's bedroom one Sunday morning only to find him being entertained by one of his other slaves.
She was between his legs and he was enjoying her a little too much I thought.
They both ignored me, so I left quietly and waited.
After what seemed an eternity, she came down for breakfast making so many comments about how she had pleased him, just loud enough so I could hear.
I could contain it no longer, I ran to my room crying, grabbed my purse and ran back into the kitchen, she was still going on and on about how she would be his 'special '.
I looked at her and nodded.
Yes, she would take my place and I had no option left but to leave.
I knew I had nowhere to go but I didn't care; I would ring for a taxi and disappear.
"May I make a phone call Jack, Sir?"
Jack was a 52-year-old gay butler who was self-elected custodian of life in the servant's quarters. He was fussing around the kitchen waiting for Sir to call for him. He cared very little about who was in Sir's bed, just so long as he got out of it so he could get him dressed and off to His office.
Jack could then slip off for a few hours of his own pleasure.
He was used to us coming and going on a Sunday and nodded wearily.
She smirked as if to say, who cares he's mine now.
"I would not think you will be missed slave."
That was the final straw; I opened my purse, "I know the taxi number is in here somewhere."
I did not have much in my purse apart from a memento from the gangster company I kept in France.
I smiled sweetly at her, "yes here it is" and I pulled out my.22 pistol and shot her right between those slutty big tits.
She registered horror for several seconds before she fell, staring up, I smiled again and whispered sweetly "bon voyage."
Everyone in the room was in shock! Jack's face was bright red; he kept taking deep breaths while muttering unrecognisable words and fanning himself with his hand as if he had just swallowed a hot potato.
The cook screamed then dropped to her knees and began racing through her rosary beads as if it was her responsibly to open heaven's door for a newcomer.
The gun shot has roused the Master and the next moment he was standing in the doorway of the kitchen looking at the body of the slut that had just been in his bed.
I still had the gun in my hand; Sir turned to and looked with a strange but loving manner.
"I told you that jealousy would get you into bother one day."
He walked toward me and took the gun from my hand, "Let`s get rid of this then shall we Jack?"
Cook was still crying but came round when Sir suggested she make us all a 'good cup of tea.'
"No need to make a big do of this" he said, "Jack you will have to do a little digging job for me this morning. I'm afraid your friend will miss your company today," he said with a glint in his eye.
I told you, Sir knew everything and took everything in his stride.
**********
The door opened abruptly, and I was snapped back to reality, 'slave no 8' was written on my tits in black marker by one of the male slaves, the man in charge said nothing, not even looking up from his notebook.
I stood obediently and grimaced as he attached a chain to my clit ring.
I had no protest left in my spirit it had finally fully surrendered.
Standing alone on the block I knew my new life as a possible worthless slave was soon about to begin.
A steady stream of prodders, pokers, jugglers and fingerers examined me, one even had his hand in my mouth after fingering others before me.
I tried to smile and was as obedient as I could be.
I had to bend over, legs apart or present my pussy by opening my lips with my hands and lift each tit underneath to have my nipples pinched.
I saw seven more girls being sold today, one was even pregnant, and a host of bidders, when it was my turn the bidding ended up between two people, an older, fattish man and a man whom I remember giving me an extra finger when examined and I may have shuddered a little.
"Sold to Mr. S, seven, take her down."
I was taken to a holding pen and given what can only be described as a sackcloth dress. It went over my head with two holes for my arms. I still had no idea who had won, with my luck it would be the older man.
The main door opened, the older man was first in the queue to collect his goods.
He walked straight towards me # but then went to the pen next door to slave 9.
He had her strip and whipped her with the crop he carried, then she was knelt to suck, he pulled and squirted all over her face and hair.
She was pulled to her feet and whipped again for spillage, he untied her clit lead from the rail and took her out.
As brutal as he was, I had a little cum and held onto the rails to steady myself.
"Eight is over here Mr. J. Sir" said a slave, I stood straight, back arched slightly to push my sack covered tits forward.
It was the older man.
My hands shot to my head in respect.
