Sex Slave – 5: Ceci
This is a copyrighted work of fiction. All rights reserved.
All characters engaged in sex in this story are at least eighteen years of age.
Many thanks to Lin Hall and nomoretears00, for their encouragement and for catching all those mistakes that I didn't.
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Rees's sanity hung by a thread. After seven months of enslavement and torture, mostly mental but also physical, he was staring down the edge of that deep abyss of madness.
In their last session, Master Rim had pushed him too far.
He couldn't focus on anything. Fortunately his work didn't require much mental acuity. But sometimes he had trouble realizing that he was being spoken to, and that was a problem. He was engulfed in a world of darkness and terror, and he couldn't seem to find his way out.
Keven was worried about his friend. Rees had been returned to the slave pens with no outward sign of abuse, but his anguish was apparent. Keven tried to help him, to draw him out and get him to describe what had happened, but Rees refused to talk about it.
Rees convinced himself that he didn't want anyone else to have to bear those memories, even second-hand. And he sure as hell didn't want to put himself through the torture of describing what had been done to him. But the true reason he couldn't talk about it, was that he was deeply ashamed.
All he would say when Keven pressed him was, "It was bad, Kev. Bad." And sometimes he would fight back tears.
Once Keven laid a hand on his arm to comfort him, but Rees jerked back as if he'd been burned. Keven did not try to touch him again.
The day after he returned to the slave pens, he was pulled out into a small room and measured—arms, legs, neck, chest and feet.
This is ominous,
Rees thought. He tried not to imagine what kind of torture required measurements.
When he was returned to the pens, at Keven's urging, he described the measuring process, along with his great trepidation about what it meant.
Keven started to laugh but stopped abruptly when he saw the expression on his friend's face.
"I'm sorry, Rees. Haven't you ever been measured by a tailor before?" Keven managed to hide his mirth. Rees had every reason to be afraid—not of a tailor perhaps—but clearly he had been badly abused and threatened with more.
"A tailor? No. I haven't," and because he was embarrassed, he added rather snidely, "My family's not rich like yours."
In the early evening of the third day after his return, the summons Rees had been dreading came.
He was brought to a salon of sorts where he was pampered and primped beyond anything he could possibly have imagined. It was a good thing there were attendants to help, because he would have had no idea what to do with most of the products and equipment, and even the clothing was far more complicated than anything he had ever worn. He was uncomfortable but not truly frightened at the salon. He realized he was just being prepared for what was to come.
Many years later, when he was cajoled into telling tales of the time he spent as a slave, he enjoyed making the salon visit the height of his torture. The real tortures he endured as a slave remained known only to a few.
Rees understood that he was being primed to be a birthday present for a friend of his master. He was to do whatever his master's friend wanted and pretend he enjoyed it. Convincingly.
Rees's brief encounter with gay male sex had been almost the worst experience of his life. Watching AnnaLynn be tortured had been even more horrible. Both events had been worse than the savage whipping he had received from Master Rim at their first meeting.
Rees shuddered with the memory of how painful and disgusting his rape had been. He was guilt-ridden and ashamed of his participation, even though he clearly had not had a choice.
Rees knew now that he would do anything to please his master. He was Master Rim's slave. He had no pride. He had been reduced to a groveling, gibbering tool to be used for his master's pleasure, whatever that happened to be.
If he didn't please the birthday man, Master Rim had promised him a fate worse than death—had described that fate in detail for Rees. Rees twitched. His mind teetered on the edge.
"Slave! Slave!" One of the attendants waved a hand in his face. Rees startled and looked up, his heart lurching painfully.
"You're finished. It's time to go."
Rees stood up slowly. His mind searched desperately for a way out ... for something he could do to avoid this upcoming ordeal. The hooded choke-chain was dropped over his head, and his spirit shriveled. It was hopeless.
He was dressed in several layers of extremely fine, but uncomfortable clothing. His burgundy silk doublet had sleeves which puffed ridiculously at his shoulders. It was heavily padded in the shoulders as well, although Rees did not need anything to make his huge shoulders look bigger. It was also very constrictive around the waist. The sleeves split down the arms to show the white embroidered linen shirt beneath it.
A pair of hose in dark blue laced to the inside of the doublet but did not completely hide the short, tight, linen breeches underneath. The top layer was a knee-length gown in dark blue velvet. It belted at the waist with an intricately tooled leather belt. The bell sleeves were voluminous, an extra cape-like layer of fabric hung from each shoulder, and all of the edges were trimmed in white ermine.
As he was escorted deep within the estate, the tight, pointed-toed shoes pinched his feet. He was used to going barefoot.
As he walked his fear increased, although he would not have believed that possible. By the time the slave handlers halted him and removed his hooded choke-chain, he was so terrified, he was non-functional. He stood very still and stared straight ahead, barely realizing that a massive, intricately-carved, mahogany door was before him.
The handlers, who were not ones Rees recognized, seemed nervous about letting him loose. One of the attendants from the salon had accompanied them. The attendant placed a ridiculous, floppy, burgundy velvet hat on his head and spent some time adjusting it and fussing over Rees's short blonde curls. Pressing a magnificent bouquet of fragrant purple flowers into Rees's hands, he said, "a birthday present," in halting Endoran.
Rees nodded, barely conscious of the attendant's presence. His hands were trembling so much the flowers shook like a tree branch in a wind storm. A few petals dislodged and drifted to the floor.
The attendant rapped sharply on the door, and fell back a short distance, along with the slave handlers. Rees was aware that the handler with choke-chain held it at the ready.
The door was opened by a middle-aged slave woman. She gasped and took a step back, her startled gaze travelling up Rees's massive chest to finally take in his face. She seemed flustered for a second but quickly recovered.
"Come in, Sir. We've been expecting you." She stepped back and Rees followed her into the room as if in a trance.
His first impression of the room was that it was very purple. It appeared to be a large sitting room. One wall was almost completely hidden by long, deep-purple, velvet curtains that presumably covered large windows. The gray and violet-veined marble floor was cloaked in many rich, violet and lavender rugs. The high ceiling was painted with a scene of buxom ladies in a garden being attended by cherubs. Ornate architectural details on the ceiling and around the doorways were in gilt. Two doors led out of the room on the wall opposite the curtains.
A great marble fireplace dominated the room. Clustered around it were several small couches and a couple of large chairs, all in shades of purple. There was a heavy, mahogany dining table with six chairs. Other matching furniture pieces were scattered functionally around the room. Gold, crystal and more purple accessories completed the décor.
Rees did not notice all of these details at once. His main impression, other than the ubiquitous purple, was of impressive wealth. He desperately sought the man he would be with and prayed that he would at least not be hideous. He did not see a man, however. The only person in the room, other than the slave, was a lovely, diminutive woman.
She had been sitting on one of the couches, and now she rose and moved forward to greet him. She was striking. Her blonde hair was piled high on her head in an intricate array of braids and jewels. Her eyes were violet. Her skin was pale and flawless. The tiny wrinkles around her eyes, and the hint of fullness under her chin told him that she was older than he by at least fifteen years, in her mid- to late-thirties, he guessed. Her mouth was full and pouty.
It was impossible to tell what her figure was like underneath the volumes of lavender fabric that cloaked her from neck to toe, but she was certainly not skinny. She moved with an easy grace. Her face held an expression of pleased wonder as she took him in, her eyes travelling up and down his massive frame for several seconds before finally settling on his face.
Something in the back of Rees's mind told him that he should bow and greet this woman, but this voice did not seem to be connected to the rest of him. He remained frozen, his eyes flicking around the room apprehensively, looking for the man he was expecting to be with.
"Good evening, I am Mistress Cecilia. You may call me Cici," she said in heavily accented Endoran, affecting a graceful curtsy.
Rees's head barely nodded in acknowledgement.
"You must be Rees," she encouraged, smiling at him.
Rees finally managed to break out of his stupor. "Yes," his voice croaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes, Mistress Cici." He bowed awkwardly.
"Are those for me?" she asked, nodding at the flowers which still shook in Rees's hand.
No, they're for the man whose birthday it is.
Rees was confused. He finally stammered, "Is... is it your birthday?"
"Why, yes it is." She beamed at him.
Rees felt as if a great weight had been lifted off his chest.
"You're... you're Master Rim's friend that I'm supposed to... uh...?" He trailed off and felt his face flush with heat.
She let out a throaty laugh. "Yes, I believe so." Her voice was heavy with amusement.
Rees knew he was red to the roots of his hair. He bowed again and held the flowers out to her, speechless.
She took the flowers from him and buried her nose in them for second, breathing in their mixed bouquet.
Addressing the slave-woman, she said, "Maddy, take care of these flowers, and Rees's hat. Then you may go. I shall not need you again before dinner."
