Allison's Descent Into Slavery

This story arc takes place in an alternative reality where legal slavery exists in the United States as depicted in the stories by Joe Doe, Carl Bradford, Gentlemanmariner and a number of others. All persons enslaved, involved in slavery operations, or described in explicit sex scenes are aged 18 years or older. I want to thank Carl Bradford for kindly editing my work greatly improving the final product. Feedback in the form of comments are greatly appreciated.

The lights flashed on, startling me awake to shouts from girls to get up and get moving. I was in my happy place, snuggled close to Lindsey, lying on my right side with my back to her, her arms holding me with her face nuzzling my neck and our legs entangled. The chain attached to my collar released. I rolled over and gave her a quick hug, kissed her on the cheek, whispering, "Together forever," as we briefly held each other during the lull before the storm.

"Quick, I need to go pee bad," Lindsey advised urgently, jumping to her feet and pulling me to mine.

We rushed to the bathroom to wait in line for a toilet, quickly peeing and wiping each other, which was both awkward and slowed the process. After washing each other's hands, we grabbed scrunchies, putting our hair into ponytails as we rushed into the dance studio next door. We located our training bras hanging on the wall and our numbers on the floor.

While donning my bra I saw the girls were in the slave kneel position on their numbers; knees wide apart, back straight pushing out their tits with their hands resting, palms up, on their thighs looking forward. Lindsey and I quickly assumed the correct position.

Mistress Kara was in front of the class again, dressed like a BDSM dominatrix from hell wielding a riding crop. She definitely had her look down. The lights blinked indicating it was 6:10 am. Three girls who were not in position froze.

"You three get up here in front of the class," as the girls rushed to comply. "Face the class in the Present position," ordered Mistress Kara. I recognized Twenty-five as one of the late slaves. Once the girls were in position Mistress Kara efficiently administered five welt-making swats to each of their behinds. "You will be here on time every single morning. There is no excuse for being late," berated Mistress Kara as she administered the lashes.

"Turn around," she directed. The three slaves turned around facing Mistress Kara displaying their reddened behinds to us. "I do not want to see you late for slave yoga again, am I clear?" demanded Mistress Kara.

"Mistress Kara, thank you for educating us on the error of our ways," replied the three red faced girls as they stood facing the dominatrix. They hurried to their numbers in the studio, quickly taking the slave kneel position.

Mistress Kara's morning and afternoon classes were not only exercise, but also made her trainees more graceful, agile, centered, and compliant while igniting their slave heat. Pleasure sluts performing slave yoga are often touching themselves to climax as they practice their moves. She took this practice one-step further, mandating that each of her trainees' climax at least once and no more than three times during each of her slave yoga sessions. This practice further sexualized the slaves with the goal of keeping them in a constant state of arousal.

"All of you sluts crave orgasms diddling your cunts as you dream of serving a master. You imagine the taste of his cock in your mouth and feel the ridges of his hard prick penetrating your hot cunts as you live your slavery. If I didn't limit your climaxes some of you would just lie there in a puddle all day, creaming on your fingers as you fantasized fucking a master," taunted Mistress Kara as she looked me in the eye as I panicked.

Why was she looking at me? Was I that obvious? Listening to Mistress Kara I felt my pussy tingle and nipples harden. I started daydreaming about serving Master Calum as my hand moved to my cunt getting my fingers all wet with my juices. I daydreamed about the smell of his body, the sensation of his lips on my neck, the flavor of his cock in my mouth, being pinned to the ground as he penetrated me, his cock ...

"Twenty-seven and Twenty-eight, you are authorized to pleasure yourselves during slave yoga. Failure to meet this standard will result in discipline and possible remedial training," Mistress Kara announced with a "Thwack," slapping her hand with the crop and snapping me out of my reverie.

Three had told me that Mistress Kara often took under-sexualized trainees to her quarters at night for "remedial training" with the girls returning the next morning with a smile on their faces, hyper-horny and significantly more motivated. I found myself starting to fantasize about remedial training with Mistress Kara. Although I clearly did not need the training, I wondered if there was a way to get extra credit for spending a night with Mistress Kara. What am I thinking?

"Good morning slaves," said Mistress Kara.

"Good morning Mistress Kara," we replied.

"What are you?" Demanded Mistress Kara in a loud voice, sounding like a female drill sergeant.

"I am a slave girl, a consort companion," we answered back.

"What is a consort good for?" boomed Mistress Kara.

"Her master's pleasure," we come back with.

"Why do you wear a collar?" thundered Mistress Kara.

"So everyone may know I am a slave," we replied.

"What do you want more than anything?" demanded Mistress Kara.

"To please my master," we chanted.

"Why do you exist?" barked Mistress Kara.

"Slavery is my destiny," we responded.

"Why will you wear a Broadstone brand?" demanded Mistress Kara.

"To show that I am worthy," we answered.

"What is your dream," bellowed Mistress Kara.

"To be a consort serving my master," we chanted.

"Squat," roared Mistress Kara.

All of the girls quickly moved into the squat position, rubbing their cunts while chanting,

"My cunt is wet for you, Mistress," remaining in that position until directed to the next slave yoga position. Mistress Kara moved us repeatedly through various positions. During the exercises, she walked amongst us, making spot corrections with her crop.

Lindsey had two corrections and mine was a swat with the crop on my lower back during slave fours.

"Arch your back more. Stick your ass up higher so I can see more of your wet cunt," Mistress Kara directed.

Mistress Kara ran the riding crop up my wet pussy lips to my asshole while rubbing my juices into my rosebud triggering a climax. Followed by a playful swat on my right buttock, as she walked down the line chuckling to herself. I am such a horny slut now.

Part way through the session, Mistress Kara inserted some traditional body weight exercises such as burpees, squats, jumping jacks and planks before returning to traditional slave yoga positions. By the time she put us back in the slave kneel position I was sweating, out of breath and had creamed three times. I was on the verge of my fourth eruption, trying hard not to cum again. She ran us through the original mantras once more before dismissing us at 7:00 am sharp.

Turning to Lindsey I begged, "I need to cum again, rub me off now." I grabbed her hand bringing it towards my dripping cunt as the girls around us giggled and laughed at me.

"Stop right there," bellowed Mistress Kara striding towards us. "Twenty-eight, do you need to cum really badly right now?" she taunted, mimicking the needy tone in my voice.

"No, Mistress," answered Lindsey, giggling while looking away from me.

"You are dismissed; go get a bowl of slave chow for each of you. Twenty-seven will be along shortly," directed Mistress Kara.

As Lindsey and the other girls ran off Mistress Kara grabbed me by my hair pulling me to my feet. "So your greedy slave cunt needs to cum again. Let me help you," she sneered as she pulled my head back and kissed me, driving her tongue into my mouth, pulling my body into her while she vigorously massaged my clit as the earth began to shake, my body stiffened back arched as I moaned into her mouth in orgasmic bliss.

Pulling her mouth away she whispered in my ear, "You are so slave hot, you are making your mistress so proud of you right now." Hearing those words while she continued massaging my skittle drove me into another eruption of pleasure as I tasted the rainbow. I wondered what was happening to me that just the thought of making her proud sent me over the edge once again.

She released me, stepped to the side and swatted me hard on my right buttock with her hand saying, "Get moving or you will be late. You do want to keep making me proud," as she turned, smiling, and walked away licking her fingers.

Blushing deeply, I happily scampered off, elated that I had pleased her.

"Your slave grader was right, you do taste good too," were the last words I heard her say as I ran out of the room. Has everyone here seen my video?

I rushed into the common room where I found Lindsey with two bowls of slave chow on the ground. Dropping to my knees I dove right in, not wanting to make eye contact with her after my encounter with Mistress Kara. Somehow, the slave chow did not taste as bad this morning, possibly because I had worked up an appetite from slave yoga, or maybe it was the endorphin high from those last two climaxes. After we licked each other clean, we scrubbed our bowls and rushed into the bathroom to get washed up.

I decided that Lindsey needed to catch up with me in the shower. After washing her hair, I got to work on her body making sure her nipples were extra clean, and then I moved to her nether region.

"Lindsey, your nipples are calling for more attention," I whispered in her ear before moving my mouth down to her left breast where I sucked on her nipple while sticking two fingers into her moist cunt, fucking her from behind with my right hand while massaging her clit with my left.

"What are you doing," she yelped in surprise. "No, not here, you dirty girl. Oh shit, that feels good, fuck!" as she quickly groaned out a squontch the moment I touched her sensitive clit riding the wave into a second explosion right after the first as I continued to diddle her happy button. I held her in my arms kissing her on the neck as she came down to the sound of giggles and laughter in the background.

"You are still two climaxes behind me I believe. I aim to get you caught up," I whispered in her ear as I giggled, pulling out a razor to do her legs and pussy.

"If we had more time it would be your turn right now, and I can tell you are ready," responded Lindsey as she went to work getting me clean as my pussy tingled in disappointment.

With ten minutes to spare, we were ready for inspection. Mistress Kara gave both of us a pass.

"The two of you grab your iPads and water bottles, pack them in your carrying cases and wait for me by my desk," she directed.

While waiting for Mistress Kara we checked our iPads. We had identical schedules and a message from Dr. Allen with a medical survey that she needed us to fill out. Both of us started answering the medical questionnaire.

"Stand," directed Mistress Kara. "In this position I expect your hands behind your back with the back of your left hand in the palm of your right, back straight, tits out, head up and your eyes on me," she advised as we got into the right pose with our carrying cases draped over our shoulders.

"As your Dorm Mother I am responsible for the two of you, ensuring that you arrive at all of your classes on time, prepared to learn each and every day. Each morning I will push you through your slave yoga, and ensure that you are properly groomed and fed. I have high standards for each of you and will hold you accountable when you falter. Do you understand?" asked Mistress Kara.

"Yes, Mistress," we replied.

"My hope is that each of you strives to make me proud of you each and every day you live in my dorm, each day you are a student at Broadstone, each day when you are a consort for your master, a wife for your husband, and a mother for your children. This school develops women of character, helping you find your inner strength so that you can be successful," she paused, looking intently at us.

"Yes, Mistress," we answered.

"Many of the staff here are former slaves and graduates of this very program holding a strong conviction about the importance of it in their lives. Each of you will make lasting friendships with the slaves and staff here at Broadstone. Many of them will share very personal information with you about their lives and experiences. You will treat each of them with respect, do you understand?" she indicated in a serious tone.

"Yes, Mistress," we responded.

"If either of you has a problem, is confused about something, or just needs someone to talk to, I am here for you. If you are hurt or cannot sleep due to nightmares please come find me, and I will find a way to help you. If you need time to cram for a college test let me know and I will work with you so that you can be successful," she advised in an uncharacteristically gentle voice as she reached out, cupping our cheeks in her hands.

For some reason I leaned my head into her hand as she gently caressed my face. I felt safe and saw compassion as I looked into her eyes. Becoming emotional, I felt my eyes moistening in happiness as I said, "Thank you, Mistress." The woman that scared, intimidated and sexually aroused me so much also had a loving and empathetic side, caring deeply about me at the same time.

"Twenty-seven, you are a natural submissive and will never find happiness until you learn to live in harmony with your submissive nature. I also see some submissive tendencies in you Twenty-eight but do not believe that you are a true submissive like Twenty-seven. I sent Dr. Allen a note alerting her so that the two of you can explore this area with her or with the slave psychiatrist on retainer with the school," she advised with a perceptive smile.

Just yesterday, Amelia had told me, "I see a submissive hidden within you that needs to break free," as she peered into my soul. I now looked forward to my meeting with Dr. Allen this morning.

"Ok, let's get the two of you to the Headmistress's office on time. Follow me," she said, the gruffness returning to her voice as she transitioned back into the dominatrix dorm mother with which we were familiar.

We followed her to the Headmistress's office where she knocked on the door.

"Come in," replied a strong feminine voice.

Mistress Kara opened the door and we followed her inside the office. Headmistress Caroline Spalding, a petite dark-haired woman, sat behind her desk. She stood and walked around to the front of her desk as we entered. She was barefoot, dressed in a long flowing white robe with leather slave cuffs around her wrists and ankles.

"Good morning ladies, I address all our students as ladies as that is what you will become when you graduate. Please go and stand on those two slave mats," pointing at a space in the sunlight in front of a large window. There were three mats, positioned two side by side facing the third.

"Thank you, Mistress Kara, I would like to meet with these two alone," advised the Headmistress. She picked up a slave collar from her desk, donning it as Mistress Kara exited and closed the door behind her. She then dropped her robe displaying her body.

Both Lindsey and I gasped. She was naked save for her slave collar and slave cuffs around her wrists and ankles. Her nipples pierced, with gold nipple shields and delicate gold chains, one hanging between her nipples and others connecting each nipple to a belly button hoop. There was a matching gold chain that went down from her belly hoop to a piercing on her right outer labia. Hanging from the outer labia piercing was a gold dangle with writing on it. There was also additional matching gold jewelry in piercings on her clitoral hood.

Headmistress Spalding chuckled at our reaction. "I was decked out like this when I submitted for my graduation branding," she advised, turning to show us her ass with a brand on each buttock. On the right cheek was a tasteful "B", another brand that I did not recognize on the left cheek, and what looked like a smaller brand on the inside of her left buttock.

"The Broadstone brand is the "B" on my right cheek and my husband's family brand is on my left. My future mother-in-law personally burned her family brand into me after I voluntarily lay onto the branding bench," she indicated, turning back to face us with a kind smile on her face.

"What is the brand on the inside of your left cheek, Headmistress?" asked Lindsey.

"That is the family brand of the woman that sponsored me here at Broadstone," she answered.

"Please kneel on your mats," she directed as she gracefully kneeled facing us with her knees lightly touching ours.

"I want to talk to you about Broadstone so you have a better understanding of why you are here," as she patted us gently on our shoulders.

"The Broadstone Etiquette Academy is tax-exempt as a social welfare organization described in Internal Revenue Code (IRC) section 501(c) (4), as an organization not organized for profit that is operated exclusively to promote social welfare. Women with the purpose of providing consorts for eligible masters run the organization. What are your thoughts about Broadstone now?" she asked.

"When I arrived here yesterday I assumed that Broadstone churned out pleasure sluts just like the Venus or the Pearson Pussy Ranch and others. I expected to be trained as a mindless sex toy for a master to be used however he wants. After listening to Mistress Johnson last night I am not sure what to expect," answered Lindsey.

"Those schools are anywhere from one to four months long. Expect to be with us for about a year. We turn out complete women as mates for a master and future husband," she replied with an amused twinkle in her eye.

Turning serious she advised, "Do not be mistaken, you are slaves and we will train you in submission and all of the same sexual arts as the Venus Pleasure Academy, which is the premiere slave sex school in the nation. You will submit to your master, sexually pleasuring him with the knowledge learned here."

"How can women do this to us, turn us into sex slaves, Headmistress" I whined.

"The fate of the majority of the other slaves sold at your auction on Broadway is just plain horrific compared to being here. Most are trained as courtesans in the sexual arts at places like Pearson and Venus and spend years as sex toy sperm receptacles or worse. Once you lose your beauty and youthfulness to that lifestyle, they sell you to a lower-class brothel that makes money by the number of customers you service each day. What do you think you would be like after five years of that treatment?" she asked.

Tearing up I answered, "I do not know, I cannot imagine that right now."

Driving home the point Headmistress Spalding pointed out, "The man in the audience with the large hound at your auction uses girls for his 'Fox Hunts,' where naked slave girls with foxtails jammed up their asses are set loose on his estate and chased down by men on horseback using hounds. The hounds often get a "bite" when they catch the slave fox. Occasionally, the hounds maul these girls, putting the women in a Vet ER. The girls that survive capture are ravished by the men and then left as bitches for the hounds' to play with as the men watch in amusement."

"He was bidding on both of you. Twenty-seven, I believe due to your red hair that resembled a fox and you, Twenty-eight, because as an athlete you could give the hounds a good run for their money," she advised.

She paused for emphasis as I listened, trembling in fear as a tear escaped my eye. The last twenty-four hours had been an emotional roller coaster with this weird combination of fear and arousal. Imagining running through the woods with a foxtail wedged in my ass with a pack of baying hounds chasing me like an animal was terrifying. Oddly, the idea of being ravished by a group of strong men afterwards was making my pussy tingle.What is wrong with me?