The slave known as Whore knelt in the center of her cell. The concrete felt comfortable under her knees as they had rested on the surface for as long as she could remember. The callous on her limbs didn't even feel the cold any more.
She had no idea how long she had been a slave to the man who now possessed her, but slavery of some sort had been in her life long before she was bought by her Master. From her home, to a cruel husband, to a slave market, they were all distant memories from what was her present. There was no way for her to know that she had outlived her lifetime many times over, a supernatural force keeping her in service for over three hundred years.
A sound echoed through the silence that encompassed her home, by force if necessary. It was a sound that signaled that the man who brought them meals was leaving the elevator. Almost immediately following the ding was scraping as the wheels rubbed on the floor. He followed a routine path and it was only a moment before the cart stopped and someone entered her cell.
His name was Elliot, a man that had been bringing her meals for awhile but not the whole time, was at the opening in her cell. Balanced on his hand was a tray, covered with a cloche. As usual, he smiled as he looked over her naked, kneeling form.
"Hello Whore." his voice disturbed the silence ever more. "If you can guess what is for breakfast, I will choose another as my payment." he offered.
Whore gave a little sigh. There was no way she could accurately guess, the kitchen help would keep the platter away so she couldn't smell anything.
"Oatmeal." she guessed, knowing that she would be wrong. His chuckle confirmed it as he lifted the lid with a flourish revealing scrambled eggs and sausage with toast.
"I'll be back, my favourite Whore." he promised as he set the tray on the floor before her and returned to his work. Knowing that the rest of his trip would be quick, Whore leaned over and started to eat with her hands.
She had just finished the food when Elliot came back into her cell, his hands on his pants. Knowing what was expected, she crawled to him, waiting for him to present his cock. It had been some time that he had taken anyone else as payment for his service, seeming stuck on her for some time, she thought as she serviced him.
It wasn't long until his release arrived and she lapped at the liquid, smiling to herself. It had been discussed among the slaves, in quiet tones in the shower, that the only redeeming quality about the vile man was that he could literally be a minute man if the slaves applied themselves.
Required task complete Whore moved away as he snatched the tray and returned it to his cart, going back to collect the rest of them. That left her with her one constant companion, time.
A glance around her home showed nothing new, rows of metal bars cells, all with no doors and open areas her Master referred to as 'playrooms'. Off to one side was her Master's office that doubled as a bedroom when he stayed on this floor. Opposite the office was a staircase that led to a nightclub one floor up that she had been in numerous times, but rarely beyond. The third section was taken up with an elevator and a communal bathroom complete with showers and toilets, although the 'facilities' in her cell were the more commonly used.
"Whore, to the elevator." came the deep voice that Whore longed to hear. The voice of her Master. That instruction meant that her collar was disabled for her to leave her cell and move to where she was instructed.
Whore stood and moved on bare feet to the section containing the elevator kneeling before the closed doors. Her eyes were down, hands behind her back as she waited. The elevator meant that Master was taking her to the fifth floor for training. The slave wondered which of the machines her Master had designed she would be experiencing this day.
With no way to tell time, she had no idea how long she waited, but once she knelt, not a movement deterred from her remaining still. Her Master demanded it. Eventually she heard the footsteps that sent a chill up her spine, both fear and desire, as they closed.
Black polished dress shoes came into view to her left as her Master stepped close to her. His very presence affected her and she strove to get his praise and not his wrath. The musk she associated with him got stronger as he reached down to her, snapping a leash to the collar around her neck.
As soon as the snap ended, Whore got to her feet and looked straight ahead, waiting for the elevator to arrive. Out of the corner of her eye she caught the image of her Master. He was not looking at her, expecting her to obey or face his punishment. She had been with him long enough to know that refusal would be searing pain and humiliating service.
His dark hair matched hers in colour, but his skin more tan since she couldn't remember the last time she saw the sun. His chin was sharp with a few days worth of stubble. He was dressed in slacks and polo shirt, a watch was the only jewelry he wore.
The sound of the elevator opening snapped her attention back to watching her Master for the slightest motion that would be a command. He stepped forward onto the car and she hustled to stay close, to give slack to the leash. As soon as the doors closed Whore sank to her knees again, assuming the position she had outside of the box.
As the elevator rose it caused butterflies in Whore's stomach and she smiled at the sensation until the lift glided to a stop. When the doors opened she was on her feet again to follow the man into his workshop.
Her Master led her past the pleasure station and the punishment station to a table he called the fuck machine. He paused, looking at his options and when he was still for longer than thirty seconds she knelt again.
"I have more items I am testing, Whore. I expect you to tell me what happens." he led her to the fucking machine. He didn't have to tell her to get on it, she had been here many times before. If he had to give simple commands to his experienced slave, she would pay in skin.
