The following stories take place entirely in the realm of fantasy. The stories represent situations that are often non-consensual, degrading to women, and discuss the owning of human beings as property. These elements are meant purely to sexually excite, and offer no reflection of my actual political or moral leanings. All characters involved in sexual activity are aged 18 or older.
"Are you hungry?" I asked.
The red haired girl was physically withdrawn. Her knees were pressed together, her hands resting in her lap. She kept both eyes fixed downward, staring at the floor with empty silence. Her slumped shoulders and hanging head seemed to draw her form inward, giving her a tiny frame.
"Kate?" Winnie nudged her friend gently, prompting the timid woman, "Mr. Morgan asked you a question, kiddo." She spoke tenderly, like a mother prompting a child to address an adult. Kate did not respond. I waited pensively with my little group of slaves. Margaret stood nervously beside me, and for once I wasn't the only one who didn't know what to do with their hands. The beautiful blonde alternated arching her fingers and balling them in a fist, her mind working.
"Could she talk before?" Margaret asked, confused.
"Of course she could talk before!" Winnie snapped. Margaret recoiled in surprise. Winnie shifted back in an instant, softening for her friend.
"Kate?" Winnie's voice was more insistent, and she reached into Kate's lap, softly grabbing her hand.
"It's okay, Winnie. She's been through a lot," I said.
"Kate? You okay?" Ignoring me, Winnie grew more insistent. She touched Kate's shoulder, panic in her eyes. I stepped in again.
"She can ignore me. I'm really not mad-..." I tried to speak, but Winnie cut me off.
"It's not about you, Gerry!" She exclaimed sharply. Her eyebrows pressed together with worry, and she leaned in front of Kate, forcing eye contact.
"I need to know you're okay." Winnie demanded, her shaky voice cracking. Kate looked away, face devoid of expression. There was something terrifying about the vacancy in her eyes. Her body position was submissive and frightened, like a cowering animal. I sighed, equal parts nervous and concerned.
"Margaret, throw something together. We'll see if she wants to eat." I ordered. My slave wordlessly obeyed, setting to her task in the kitchen behind us. I leaned against the table, still watching the newest member of our weird little family. The only response Kate gave was an occasional blink.
"Maybe you should give her some space," I suggested to Winnie, "Let her breathe." Winnie watched her redheaded friend intensely, eyes locked on the poor girl's face.
Everyone was silent. Kate stared at the floor.
"Maybe it's you." Winnie suggested.
"Me?" I was incredulous. Winnie stood up abruptly, moving close and whispering into my ear.
"You might be scaring her.", She said, "Being the Master of the House. She's never had a kind owner." Winnie's whisper was stern, her eyebrows furrowed with conspiratorial severity.
I shrugged. Winnie's eyes flicked from me to Kate.
"Can you give us some space?" She begged.
"What, really?" I raised my hands innocently.
"Please?" Winnie begged.
"Uh, Yeah. I guess." Confused, I pushed off the dining room table, half expecting Winnie to change her mind. I paused at the stairs, hearing the pained whispers of Winnie, urgently trying to reach an unresponsive Kate. With a resigned sigh, I trudged to my bedroom and shut the door.
-
It was dark.
My skin was bathed, as was often the case, in the whitish LED glow of my monitor. One leg was kicked up on the desk. I rubbed my tired eyes, bored. On my screen, I clicked a tree. An avatar attacked the tree with an ax, and I got some logs in my inventory. I had plenty to think about, but it was easier not to. Gaming distracted me.
Just like old times, before I ever owned a slave, back when I had nothing to worry about.
I clicked the tree again.
I got some logs.
I clicked the tree again.
A gentle knock on the door startled me, and I lurched up, almost spilling out of my desk chair.
"Uh, who...-come in," I said. The door creaked open, and Winnie slipped swiftly into the room, her face twisting in a grimace as she saw the dirty clothes on the floor. I tore my headset off my head, swiveling to face her.
"Hey, what's up? How's Kate?" I asked. Winnie's eyes roved about my dark, isolated bedroom.
"You live like this?" For a moment, Kate was forgotten. Winnie grimaced at the mess I lived in.
"I guess so," I replied helplessly, kicking a pile of laundry with my foot. Winnie shook her head.
"I'm cleaning this up soon," She informed me.
"...Thanks," I never gave any thought to the junk heap. I had room on the bed to sleep in, and could navigate the short distance between bed and computer desk easily enough. For years, that had been enough.
Winnie shuffled through the ankle deep piles of dirty clothes, energy drink cans, and fast food bags to sit on my bed.
"Kate's okay, I think," Winnie began to explain, "She still hasn't talked, but she ate some."
Her face was downcast. The poor woman was weary and worried, carrying a heavy burden of concern.
"I don't know what's wrong with her," She said, "She won't even make a sound."
"Was she always pretty quiet?" I asked, "...When you lived with Henry."
"No more than a normal person. She had anxiety, but she was never catatonic." Winnie tried to explain.
"Yeah, I don't know," I shrugged helplessly. I had no doubt a normal person would have something really cool, inspirational, and helpful to say. Instead, I reached for my mouse to click the tree again. Winnie caught my hand.
"Gerry..." Her expression softened, a slight smile coming across her face, "It stinks in here."
