Slave Teats and the Secret of Hardman Hall
Thank you for reading my story: I hope you enjoy it. It is a stand-alone tale and is not connected to any of my previous offerings, but some of the same assumptions apply to most of my writings. It assumes the availability to the characters of medical and other procedures that do not exist in the real world, so their sexual stamina and endurance of bondage is far beyond what is possible for us. I think it is obvious that the story is not meant to be "believable" or "realistic" but there have been criticisms in comments on past stories, so I feel bound to repeat the standard "Don't try this at home" warning, even if it sounds patronizing.
This is not the beginning of a series, but if it is well received I'll probably write other stories featuring the same principal characters. Thank you in advance for your ratings and comments.
Chapter One - A New Arrival
"You are a pair of tits," said Painmatron Eva to the slave, who for the time being was nameless in Hardman Hall. "Is that absolutely clear to you?"
The girl opened her mouth, hesitated for a moment, and finally replied in the affirmative, but the painmatron was clearly not satisfied. She sighed deeply, took a deep breath, and embarked on an explanation, in the tone of a teacher having to give a class of low-achievers their first lesson in quantum mechanics.
"You are a whole human being, but the only thing that matters about you is your tits. Your torso is a mounting for your tits. Your legs are for carrying your tits from one place to another. Your cunt and asshole are comfortable places for masters to park their cocks while they play with your tits. Your arms and hands don't really have a function: they need to be kept out of the way and must never be in front of your tits. Your mouth can serve the same function as your other holes, but it also takes in the food and drink that you need to keep your tits in the best possible condition."
She hesitated a moment, as if wondering whether her audience was worth the effort she was putting in, but she finally did continue. "You may be wondering why you have a brain. I presume you do have one. It's there so you can think about the best ways of displaying your tits to those around you. Who is most likely to be interested? Have you offered them first to your owner? Of the others present, who is the most likely, and the most entitled, to grasp and grope them?
"Of course, your eyes are there to help you to know how to present your tits. Don't use them for anything else. If they distract you, you'll find yourself wearing opaque contact lenses. As a general guide: your gaze should always be aimed at a point somewhere between your nipples and the eyes of the person most likely to be your next user."
The slavegirl was looking more and more apprehensive, as if being set standards that she could not possibly hope to meet. As the painmatron was the only other person present, she tried to keep her eyes on the centre of her chest, which bulged enticingly under the thin latex uniform. Painmatron Eva was not convinced that the message was getting through.
"How can I make it simpler?" she lamented. "Keep thinking; tits, tits, tits. Am I holding my shoulders back to keep my tits high and pointing forward? Am I breathing hard enough to make them heave? Am I moving them just enough to make them sway gently, but not flapping them like wings? If there's a television on nearby, don't listen to the news or watch the cricket, or whatever else is on. Your mind doesn't have enough bandwidth. Just keep thinking about your tits."
"Yes, painmatron. I'll do my very best."
"Good. For the time being, your name is 'Teats'."
Teats was now ready for action. She was naked, as she always was, and her wrists were locked behind her back. She was a very buxom girl, twenty-two years old, and she had been enslaved only a few months earlier, having become impossibly indebted to a syndicate of loan sharks. She was about five-five tall, well-fleshed but not overweight, her mousy hair framing a very pretty face with lovely lips around a smallish mouth. Many small improvements had been made since her enslavement. A slightly saggy bottom had been tightened up, her waist had been narrowed slightly and her big blue eyes widened. Her skin was perfect and she was hairless below her extended eyelashes. Her breasts were now very large indeed; bulky enough to fill her chest and be visible from behind, and they were never short of admirers wherever she went.
The painmatron summoned a kitchen slut to lead Teats to the lounge, the woman obviously finding it difficult to keep her eyes off the swinging boobs as they walked side by side. She wore a white housecoat and was not restrained. There was no conversation. Teats was thinking about what she'd been told, for this household was obviously very different to the last one in which she had served.
Chapter Two - Lord Stephen
Teats was owned by a syndicate of a dozen investors, but she had not been acquired for use by the members, who already had enough pleasure slaves at their disposal. She might in time replace one of them, but for the next two or three years she was available for rent, by the day, the weekend, the week or the month. Because the improvements to her body had taken up so much time she had only had two assignments, one for a week and one for a month, and in both households she had been treated as a companion as well as a sex-slave. In the second she had been almost a member of the family. With the lady of the house being in the last month of her pregnancy she had been deputizing as her husband's bedmate.
It was something of a culture shock, therefore, to be told that she was to be nothing more than a pair of tits. The painmatron had also treated her as if she was not quite all there, although she was actually an intelligent, witty and well-informed girl. Previous housekeepers had been jovial, kindly, even motherly women. Those had been small, family-oriented households with no more than three or four slaves in residence. Hardman Hall was almost a stately home: a Regency pile with many outbuildings and a large permanent staff of both free and enslaved servants.
Teats had been hired to add to the stock of pleasure slaves during an "at home" weekend, with dozens of friends and associates of the owners milling about the house and grounds and in many cases eating there and staying overnight. It was a feature of the household that the slaves had quite narrowly circumscribed functions, which was why she had been defined by the painmatron as nothing more than a pair of tits. It seemed to her that the kitchen slut who walked with her had a lovely mouth and could easily be pressed into service as an oral slave, but she probably would not be. The title of "painmatron" suggested a strict and narrow approach to leadership, with more emphasis on the stick than the carrot.
They were lucky enough not to meet anyone on the way to the ballroom, and the kitchen slut just showed Teats the doors, wished her well and turned back. She took a deep breath and entered the room, trying to look inconspicuous to gain a few moments to look around and prepare herself. The place was buzzing; the sound of conversation almost drowning out the string quartet that was playing Haydn at the far end. Teats was obviously a latecomer, the only "loose" pleasure slave in the room. Most of the guests had already acquired one, and were holding them on leads.
All the slaves were naked, and the males were erect. It was impossible to distinguish between the residents and the rentals. Teats moved towards one side of the room, hoping to make her way further up towards the stage, and she found that it was lined with tables bearing finger-food and drinks, interspersed with deep alcoves where one or two guests were standing, facing the wall.
It took Teats a moment to understand what she was looking at. In the shadow of the first alcove there were two live female faces, apparently built into the wall with their bodies trapped behind it. She suspected that it was probably easier than it looked to release them, but they were positioned at about waist level, so male guests could use them for a quick blowjob.
In the next alcove two pairs of feet were sticking out holes in the plasterwork. One was in use by a female guest who was rubbing herself against them, under her skirt. The other pair was unused but twitching, and it was easy to imagine that, on the other side, an unseen person was using another part of the body. She never reached the third and last alcove. She was contemplating one of the tables of delicious-looking
vol au vents
and sausage rolls, thinking that it was probably not
de rigueur
to bend down and graze like an animal, when a woman who she took to be a member of the family grabbed her arm.