My wrists were securely bound to my ankles, left to left and right to right. I mewled behind a rubber ball gag that was tightly strapped in place round my head as the Master gripped the underpart of my thighs and lifted my petite body into position over the large head of his thick cock, placing the tight little entrance to my bottom against the tip of his plum. The other slave he had selected for his pleasure that evening, twenty-six, watched intently as my bottom was slowly lowered onto the crown of his rigid manhood, my own weight being used to complete the fitting of his cockstem into my anal passage, bringing sexy little grunts from behind the rubber ball in my mouth as the little ring of muscle stretched deliciously tight round the unusually thick base of the cock that was now fully inserted inside me. Twenty-six now skillfully used a broad strap on my upturned ass and the joins of my buttocks and thighs, the sweet cracks of the leather on my skin echoing round the room, making my bottom muscles tighten round the thick cock within me, the Master panting a little as my ass involuntarily milked his cockshaft. With the skin of my ass leathered to a deep cherry red, the little platinum ball imprisoning my nubbin well retracted under the little hood of flesh surmounting my sex, twenty-six then positioned herself between my open thighs, the tip of her pink rubber strap on nuzzling my swollen sex lips as she switched on the little vibrator that was attached to the upper side of its shaft.
I felt the hard rubber head slide inside me, the shaft now rubbing against the living cock in my bottom as twenty-six thrust slow and deep, ensuring that the vibrator tip pressed against the little Triskele button for a long moment on each inthrust, making me squeal behind the gag, my pussy and bottom clamping tightly on strap on and living cock, before letting the rubber shaft slide slowly back out again. The Master transferred his grip from my thighs to under my arms, the pressure on my already tightly stretched anal ring increasing until my eyes rolled back in my head from the pleasure of it, as my nubbin transmitted the incredible vibrations from my button deep inside my belly to swell the ecstatic release building there to an explosive climax, my teeth breaking the smooth surface of the rubber gag ball as twenty-six's belly and thighs were sprayed with my hot juices, my vagina and bottom squeezing and relaxing in uncontrollable spasms, that brought the Master on in strong throbbing spurts, his gasps of delight so sweet to the ears of the slave whose body had brought him such pleasure.
Master Zhang's 'Red House' was, of all things, a very expensive Chinese restaurant, although it would be better described as a small, very exclusive club. A ground floor restaurant and kitchens stood over a large basement bar. The upper floors contained luxuriously decorated bedrooms, some conventional, others more exotically equipped. A hidden staircase connected the bedroom levels with a specially constructed sub-basement, where the house complement of twenty pleasure slaves trained with their handlers and prepared for their duties at the start of each day. Master Zhang's office occupied the top floor, although he rarely used it, or even visited the Red House. Masters visited the house regularly, although rarely in the early morning, as they were as interested in the slave girls being kept in shape as we slave girls ourselves, but from mid-morning until early evening, it was unusual for less than five or six of the bedrooms to be in use at any given time, the delicious sounds of pleasure slaves hard at work serving Masters making the other girls both aroused and jealous as they busied themselves with the routine domestic tasks of the house.
As late afternoon became evening, our handlers supervised our preparations for the night ahead, ensuring we brushed our pony tails to a glossy sheen, that our nails were properly varnished, that our bodies were completely free of even the tiniest bristle of hair (unnecessary in my case, obviously), that our lips were glossed to a deep red sheen. They unharnessed us moments before we all stepped into our tight and revealing red dresses, their low cut backs making our slave tattoos clearly visible, and buckled on our toe crushing red high heeled patent shoes. While most of us descended to the basement bar, to sip mineral water from expensive crystal cut glasses while bottles of expensive champagne sat in ice buckets for the Masters who would soon arrive, girls who had been specifically requested would alight from the elevator in the restaurant instead, to nibble on salads while they flirted with the Master who had requested their company for that evening.
To date, no Master had requested the pleasure of slave sixty-eight's company for dinner; apparently she was considered to be a little too unemotional for pleasant conversation by the Masters who visited the red house, although she was very much in demand after dinner! I often found myself in one of the abundantly well-equipped pleasure rooms serving three or four Masters at once, my Triskele button a constant source of fascination and amusement to most of them. Masters would occasionally bring female guests of their own to the Red House; some of these were personal slaves of the individual Master, but wives and even girlfriends who could be trusted to be discrete also visited and were entertained by the House girls, although never unaccompanied by a Master. I had even been informed by thirty-four, a stunning redhead (so her service in Red House had obviously been a done deal!) that I had replaced sixty-three, a girl who had recently been bought from Master Zhang for an eye-watering sum, although neither Master nor slave girl had been seen in the Red House since.
That evening, as I sat sipping my mineral water, watching beads of moisture roll down the champagne bottle in the ice bucket nearest to me, a tall, muscular, handsome, ebony skinned Master sat down in the chair directly across from me.
"Sixty-eight." he said with a definite American accent "Reminds me of a joke I heard once."
I smiled a little. It was strange to have a Master trying to put me at ease, all things considered.
"I think I've heard it, too, Master." was my reply.
He picked up a glass from the table and held it out to me for filling. I poured him a glass of the vintage champagne as I'd been trained to do during my orientation for service in the Red House. Once I'd replaced the bottle, he handed me the filled glass, then filled another for himself.
"Oh, I'm fine, Master." I said "This isn't necessary."
"I think the Master gets to make the decisions, isn't that correct?" he said, grinning. "And I require that you share this bottle of excellent champagne with me."
"Yes Master." I giggled and sipped, slowly.
Slaves weren't forbidden to drink with the Master who'd selected them, but actually getting drunk with one attracted severe and painful punishment, since it would inevitably impair the girl's ability to please the Master. So, I sipped at the glass, very slowly, occasionally tipping a little out when he was distracted as we'd been taught to do in these situations. When the first bottle was drained he asked the waiter for a second to be sent upstairs ahead of us, then he held out his hand, like a gentleman, and took mine to lead me to the small dance floor.
"I can't dance, Master, sorry." I apologised.
"Of course you can," he replied "you're a human being, aren't you?"
We then spent a very pleasant half hour, at least, on the dance floor as he taught me some basic steps. I laughed, he smiled and held me close. Eventually he had me take his arm as we walked together to the elevator, as if I were a date rather than a slave girl duty bound to please him in any way he desired. Once in my room, I shed my dress and, unbuckling the straps of my heels, stepped out of them and assumed the basic uncuffed pose. He looked down at me for a long moment before he spoke:
"Take that...whatever it's called from your hair, please." he requested, startling me a little. "And does that collar come off?"
I undid the clasp that held my ponytail in place, letting my long chestnut hair fall over my shoulders.
