Leonora 3
Life as a slave begins
Leonora awoke early in the morning with a faint hope it had all been a dream and she was at last to start the vacation she badly needed. She looked across the room at the dawn's tentative rays pushing out the shadows to see this was no hotel room. There were bars across the window.
The shadow bars pinned her to the bed more forcibly than chains. Calmly she thought through what had happened and knew there would be no escape. Colleagues were hardly likely to miss her and after awhile would forget all about her. It hadn't been a request for a vacation, she thought was sent, but a resignation letter.
She had drifted out of contact with friends in her home town so there would be little thought about where she had disappeared to. As an only child there were no close relatives either.
Her secretary Eileen was a good friend and would be the only one to miss her. Unfortunately for both of them Eileen had been visiting the same hypnotherapist and was on the same road as she had travelled. It was more like a sewer than a road. Eileen had probably already been ordered to forget her.
The therapist Eileen put her in contact with was the same one she had used six months ago to help lose weight. Ordered to forget he existed she had visited him again thinking he would help set her free from the ordeal. She felt so stupid to have fallen into their trap.
Ironically the dieting at least had been successful. Her figure was ideal. Unfortunately it had been achieved to please men not her. She remembered performing exercises at home to strengthen inner muscles and cringed. Her breasts were large and natural over a slender waist. Her legs were slim and shapely; not too muscular as they had arranged just the right exercises.
So there was no-one she could rely on for rescue. This was her life now and it would have to be endured. What was so cruel was that bastard Jonathan had opened up the memories of all those terrible acts of debauchery she had performed over the last six months.
The memory of what they were doing to her had been safely tucked away while she was working. It was a diabolical arrangement. She supported herself with a job while being available to them whenever they called.
It didn't seem quite as terrible as it should and wondered if that was a part of the conditioning, or training as he called it. Some of the games she had played were just naughty and even now thinking about them it began to arouse her.
She cut off the lewd memories not wanting to endure it. Perhaps performing for her master she might recall them to help her please him. "No!" she moaned out load. How could she think like that?
It would be necessary though. To prevent him selling her on to someone who might abuse her badly, it would be necessary to please her new master. "Well, I've learnt a few tricks. I've been trained to please a man so that shouldn't be a problem," she said quietly with a tinge of anger in her voice.
Deciding to treat it like a management problem she moved on to thinking about escaping. The first thing to do was explore how tightly the damned hypnosis had her trapped. There must be loopholes in the command structure!
A knock at the door interrupted the thoughtful planning and she pulled up the sheet to cover her naked body.
The old servant put his head around the door and told her, "Get dress, master wants you."
He spoke English after all, though haltingly and with a thick Arabic accent. She pulled on the caftan and found him waiting outside. She took a deep breath and followed.
The fabric of the house was richly carved wood with intricate eastern patterns. In alcoves stood ancient artefacts, mostly vases with the occasional animal figurine in bronze or clay.
From her room she walked along a balcony with finely pierced shutters overlooking a courtyard. With no time to stop she heard a tinkling fountain the only clue as to what might be glimpsed from her prison.
A gentle knock at the seven foot double doors brought forth one word. "Enter," her master commanded.
Timidly she walked on bare feet over richly patterned Persian carpets. In the large room it took what seemed an agonising age to reach him where she prostrated herself. The caftan split over her back revealing her bare bottom. She knew this from the feel of a cool breeze off the courtyard.
There was no hum of air conditioning to disturb the silence except an ancient fan high in the ceiling that occasionally groaned a protest. "Stand up," he commanded. "Drop that," he said, pointing to the caftan.
He sat in the same large wicker chair padded with cushions but now she was calmer she managed to catch sight of him from the corner of her eye.
He was thin but not ancient like the servant. She guessed he was in his late thirties, with a pale skin and somewhat handsome. He was looking her over as though he too had been too excited to asses her properly last night. She stole glances in his direction, whereas he was blatantly staring at her naked body.
The cooling breeze was refreshing but his examination was heating her up. He knew she was stealing a look at him but ignored the slave's breach of protocol. He crooked a finger drawing her forward. With a hand on her head he guided her to his lap while pulling his robes apart to reveal a hardening penis.
