Interview With A Slavegirl

Interview with a Slavegirl

Introduction

Sally McElwee was a podcaster and general content-creator for a range of private, subscriber-only websites, and particularly for those that specialize in BDSM and sex-slavery. She was considered trustworthy, even though she also worked for mainstream media. She was asked to interview the slavegirl known as Innominata by her owner, James Hanshaw. It was filmed and given a very limited airing on a restricted channel, and much of this is taken from the transcript.

The interview took place with both women sitting on a sofa. Sally wore a simple and short blue dress, but Innominata was naked, with her wrists locked behind her back. Irons on her ankles were joined by a foot-long hobble chain, and she wore a stainless-steel collar, about two inches deep. Both women were comfortably supported by cushions as they sat partly facing one another, and Sally had to hand supplies of fruit juice and water, which she could use herself or hold up for the slavegirl to drink. There was no camera operator and no visible microphone, but both the video and sound are of the highest quality.

Chapter One - Setting the Scene

"Innominata," began Sally, savouring the syllables as she said it, "could you tell us how you came by that name?"

"It isn't a name, mistress," replied the slavegirl. "It means that I don't have a name. Persons who want to call me something often use 'Mina,' mistress."

"How old are you, Mina? How did you become a slave?"

"I'm just twenty, mistress. My father went bankrupt and killed himself. My mother was already dead. My sister and I were taken and sold to pay off some of the debts, mistress."

"That's a common story, but were you bought by your current owner?"

Mina seemed to reflect for a moment before answering. "No, mistress. I was sold to a trader who put me up for auction. I think that the woman who bought me intended to use me as her lesbian sex-slave, and she did start training me. I thought I was doing very well, mistress, but after about six months she found that my current owner, with whom she was very friendly, had a girl that she liked better. They did a straight swap, and Master James has told me since that I was much more suited to his purpose."

"We'll get to his purpose soon. Before that, tell me whether you're naturally straight, lesbian, bisexual or polyamorous."

The girl was much more at ease with that question. "I started out thinking I was bisexual, mistress. Before I was enslaved I never knew what 'polyamorous' meant. I'm not sure that I'd have been happy as a purely lesbian sex-slave, mistress. Now I'm pumped so full of libido-enhancers that I'm definitely polyamorous, polysexual and poly-everything, mistress. I worship my master's man-pole, but if you want my face in your quim, mistress, you only have to say the word."

"That's something else we can save for later. Are your breasts natural?"

"I'm silicon-free, mistress, and I don't have any implants anywhere. My breasts are growing, however, because they've been injected with something to make the cells reproduce naturally. I'm told they'll grow about fifty percent larger. I've just begun to produce small amounts of milk, mistress. You have to suck quite hard, but my master told me to offer you a taste."

Mina seemed about to shuffle along the sofa to bring her nipples closer, but Sally held up a hand. "Add that to the 'later' pile, Mina," she said kindly but firmly. I can see faint lines on your breasts, which seem quite large already to me. Have they been caned or whipped?"

"Three days ago, mistress." Mina twisted her body to show Sally her back, on which, between her bound arms, could be seen a much larger and clearer pattern of marks. "A dozen on my back, mistress, half a dozen on my breasts, and another six on my bottom with a cane, mistress."

"Tell me what it felt like. Obviously, I've never been whipped, and like most of our watchers, I can't imagine it."

A slight flicker of expression suggested that Mina thought that most people could imagine being whipped. "It hurts like hell, mistress," she began. It's like your back's on fire and someone's thumping it hard, enough to throw you forward between the posts. You can't imagine how you're going to take it, mistress, after the first three or four lashes. The breast-whipping also makes you feel more vulnerable, and it stings like crazy if the tail hits a nipple, mistress. The cane is very much like the whip, mistress, but I fancy that the impact is harder, and the fire is less excruciating."

"It sounds terrible. What did you do to deserve it?"

"I don't think I did anything, mistress. It was not a punishment."

"You mean you like being whipped? I don't think I've ever met a genuine masochist; a natural painslut."

"Then you still haven't, mistress. I'm not saying that being whipped is enjoyable. It's agony, as I've told you. But if a slave is totally submitted to an owner, that person must have the power to wield the whip. It's very exciting for a slave to feel wholly owned, body and soul. I never knew that before I was enslaved, mistress, but now the very thought makes me wet. Perhaps mistress might like to feel, mistress."

Mina had been sitting with her legs separated, giving Sally a view of her slit which, like the rest of her body below her eyelashes, was completely hairless. Now she crossed her ankles, widening her knees, and it opened slightly, offering a glimpse of the moisture inside. "Yet another one for later," answered the interviewer. "Most owners would claim the right to whip their slaves, but most do it rarely or not at all. How often are you whipped, Mina?"

"At random intervals, mistress, but probably averaging about once a month. The point I was intending to make, if mistress will forgive me, is that it's quite exciting to know that one can be whipped. But to maintain that feeling indefinitely, it has to happen every so often. The fact that it isn't very pleasant when it does happen is not really relevant, mistress."

"Well, that's putting a new slant on the subject. Here's me with my simple mind, thinking that slaves who are bad get whipped, slaves who are good don't get whipped. I don't remember coming down with the last shower."

"I think that mistress is expressing a widely-held view," replied the slavegirl, continuing in her strange mixture of second and third persons. "If mistress would forgive me for suggesting it, I think it would be as well for me to explain some of my master's thinking. That might take a few minutes, so if mistress was intending to take a break, this might be a good time. If you'd like me to eat you out, mistress, I'd be happy to do that. If you'd like to cane my feet, mistress, there's a light switch hanging behind the sofa. Bastinadoing is agonizing, mistress, if you want to observe my reaction to extreme pain."

The eating-out idea was tempting, but the sole-beating didn't sound like something to add to the burgeoning "later" list. Sally contented herself with a few sips of orange juice, offered some to Mina, and gestured for her to continue.

Chapter Two - Rethinking Control

"Master James has thought deeply about slavery, what it means, and what it should mean," went on Mina. "Slaves are owned by their masters or mistresses, and are controlled by them. They have given up their right of consent, and their right to make their own decisions. Orthodox wisdom suggests that they do what they're told. If they do so, they avoid punishment. If they stray from that path, they are punished. My master was surprised that so obviously flawed a philosophy could survive for so long, mistress."

"Obviously, I lack your master's intellect. Explain it to me. Use short words."

"That doesn't always help, mistress. I'm told that universities have to provide special tuition for young men who don't understand the word 'no', but I'm sure they all know what 'supercalifragilisticexpialidocious' means. I've heard real dimwits explain what 'antidisestablishmentarianism' means, and some even think they know what 'deoxyribonu...'"

"That's enough of that," interrupted Sally. Is this going to take all afternoon? Suppose I hang you by your wrists in strappado, would you express yourself more concisely?"

Mina tried, not very successfully, to look chastened. "Point taken, mistress. I'll be finished before you can say 'Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch.' My master, in a flash of insight that must rival Isaac Newton's discovery of gravity, realized that the "punishment" model leaves the slave with far too much control over his or her life. The so-called slaves are not really slaves at all. If, to keep it simple, a slave is whipped for misbehaving, and not whipped for behaving, he or she has a choice of being whipped, or not. You can see, mistress, that the argument can go on to encompass many aspects of servitude."

"I can see that", replied Sally. "If slaves make too much noise and their owner threatens to gag them, they can then choose whether or not they want to be gagged. But without the threat of punishment, how can obedience be enforced? If Master James never punishes you, and never rewards you, why do you take any notice of him?"

Mina did her best to look hurt. "I love and honour my master, mistress, and I know my place. Why would I not obey him? But if we're talking about slaves in general, mistress: lack of discipline does not mean lack of control. If, mistress, you have a car that won't stop quickly when you press the brake pedal, you don't punish it. You fit new brake pads, or new tires, or both."

"Or you send it to the scrapyard."

"The analogy is a loose one, mistress. I meant to convey that the reaction would be corrective, rather than punitive. At times the difference might not be as obvious. A slave who talks too much might be gagged, or deprived of his or her voice. Slaves who make irritating or unauthorized movements might be kept in more restrictive bondage, mistress. Under this way of thinking, owners bear their share of responsibility for their slaves' behaviour, just as a dog owner can be sued or prosecuted for damage done by an animal that bites. If a slave runs away, it is considered the owner's fault for misjudging the level of trust applied, and/or the use of poor security protocols, mistress."

"So if, for instance, I give you an order to use short words, and you ignore it, I should not whip you, but Master James instead?"

Mina could not help smiling. "An interesting take on it, mistress, but I think it might be more complicated than that. You gave me an order, mistress, but I interpreted it as ironic. Perhaps Master James left me with the impression that an ironic response to irony would not be unwelcome, but I think he would want to ask you how I was given the impression that you were being ironic. He might want you to consider, mistress, what might be a non-punitive approach to helping me to understand your sense of humour."

"You could try just obeying me. Do slaves usually consider whether orders are meant seriously or not? If I say, 'Kneel on the floor,' how long will you need to think about what I really mean?"

"A few seconds, certainly, mistress. Where would I kneel, precisely? I could come very close in front of you, bending low so I could push my head under your skirt to reach your snatch, mistress, and push my tongue deep into your slit, or find your little bud and drive you wild with ecstasy. Alternatively, mistress, you might want me to kneel upright, perhaps just a little further away, so you can reach both my breasts and test them for firmness. Then you could also take my nipples between your fingers and thumbs, and twist and squeeze them until I cry out, mistress.

"Of course, you might want me to kneel much further away, so you can inspect my poise and see my whole body. Obviously I'd kneel with my knees wide open, as they are now, so you could watch the moisture bubbling out and dripping onto the floor. I'd keep my head up, so you could, if you wanted, get off the sofa and squat over my face and let me lick you to an orgasm, or the other way around, for analingus, mistress.

"The last possibility that I'm aware of, mistress, is that you might want me to kneel with my back to you. I think I'd need some clear hint or instruction to decide to do that, as it might seem disrespectful. You couldn't really whip or cane my back, mistress, but you could tell me to bend right over with my forehead on the floor, and switch my bottom, mistress."

"I've heard worse ideas. You could kneel facing me and lean back, so I could cane your breasts. I don't think that would keep you quiet, so you'd better stay where you are. Put your feet on the sofa and stretch your legs out towards me."

Sally took Mina's feet in her hands and began to massage them, and the slavegirl seemed to enjoy that, occasionally signing and narrowing her eyes. It didn't make her any less talkative. After breaking off to give her some water and to drink some fruit juice herself, Sally changed the subject slightly, expecting to find a topic that would lead to more factual answers and fewer mini-lectures. That was always likely to be a forlorn hope.

Chapter Three - Owners and Riders

"Tell me, Mina," Sally began, "Does Master James own any other slaves?"

"No, mistress, but he usually has one or two more about the house. He kennels slaves whose owners have gone abroad, especially those of his friends and fellow researchers. At the moment he has a little Asian kitchen slut who cooks and cleans for us, but he also uses her for sex, and he's put me with her a few times. She's a bit timid, but anxious to please. As of yesterday we're also keeping a big black male. He has the biggest cock I've ever seen, mistress. I thought he was going to split me open last night, but I got used to him in the end. I still don't know what will happen when he buggers me, mistress."

"We don't have to think about that. Does the master apply his theories to visiting slaves?"

"That isn't always practical, master, especially if he doesn't have them for long. He tries to ensure that they are kept away from any temptation to incur punishment, and adapted to playing positive roles in the household. Juba- the black male that I mentioned- is kept in a tiny cell, and when he's let out he's so loaded with irons and chains that he can use nothing but his penis.

"Shaba- the kitchen slut- is chained specially for every task that she performs. It's a lot of work for master, and only practicable because he makes most of his living researching slave behaviour, mistress. She's been pierced by her owner in some creative ways, so that makes her easier to handle, mistress. You'll see her soon, when she brings your afternoon tea."

"I didn't know I was getting that. And if he loans you to someone else, how is your keeper to know how to treat you?"

"Master James has explained the theoretical and practical aspects of his methods in a forty-three page booklet, mistress. Every master or mistress who takes me is supposed to read, mark and inwardly digest its contents. Some show more interest than others, mistress, but as I do my best to please them, problems rarely arise. I'm surprised that you didn't get a copy, mistress."

"I did, but I didn't recognize its importance. I preferred to come to you with a fresh, unbiased mind."

"If you are going to meet him, mistress, it would be well worth having a quick look through it. He's told me in the past that he has no patience with people who don't do their homework, mistress."

"If you were my slave, Mina, you wouldn't talk to me like that."

"Forgive me, mistress. I thought that a quotation from my master would be helpful to you."

Mina's attitude did not suggest that she felt in need of forgiveness, but before Sally could think it through the door opened, and with a tinkling, chiming and ringing of bells, in came Shaba.

Chapter Four - The Kitchen Slut

The kitchen slut was pushing a small trolley laden with enough teacups for all three of us. She was no taller than about five-three, compact but busty and with black hair and mid-brown skin. Although she was free, within limits, to walk and use her hands, she was a mass of cuffs, rings and light chains, from most of which hung bells of various sizes. Most of the time, as she moved, they produced a chaotic jangle of noise. Occasionally a brief chime would be heard; an arpeggio or a phrase from a well-known piece of music. It was purely random.

As she knelt to pour the tea and serve the scones, Sally was able to examine her closely. Her septum was pierced, and a thick ring, at least three inches in diameter, passed between her nostrils to encircle the lower part of her face. Anyone wanting to kiss her would have to either push it under her chin, or swivel it up against her brow. Sally guessed, without being told, that it was not removable.

The slut also had a ring above her tongue. That was not unusual. Mina was an exception for having no piercings at all, even in her ears. What Sally had never seen before was the chain that passed through the ring and looped through the handle of the teapot, drooping low and touching the floor as she knelt with her head bowed. There was a very small padlock to hold it closed, and although it and the chain were made of alloy, she must have felt the weight, especially with the two small bells that had been added to it.

Shaba also had thick rings in her nipples, although only about an inch and half in diameter. From them hung more chains, also with bells, and at least one of the lengths was looped through other rings in her labia. She was pierced several times in each, with padlocks showing, so Sally thought that, although she could see only a jumble of metal, she was protected against unauthorized penetration. When she got up and started moving around, Sally could see that she was also wearing a locking butt plug.

With her mouth chain in place, Shaba could not speak, so Sally had to address questions about her to Mina, who tried to answer them while being hand-fed with tea and scones that were laden with strawberry jam and clotted cream. Shaba did not fit the popular image of a kitchen slut. They were often pretty enough to serve sexually, but very little attention was paid to their appearance. Sally thought that Shaba was quite lovely, if one looked beyond the metal accoutrements.

"She didn't start out as a kitchen slut," Mina explained. "She was designed as a decoration for a brothel; a kind of mobile to hang in the centre of the main lounge where the clients chose their whores. Her present owner was visiting when the building caught fire. Everyone got out, but as it was going to take them ages to get going again, he was able to buy her from the management for a reasonable price. He uses her for just about everything, as does Master James when he has charge of her.

"She's used as a sex-slave?"

"Of course. With both Master James and Juba, she's swallowing more cum than I do. She'll be left bound as she is to make our dinner. She isn't a

cordon bleu

chef, but we mostly subsist on ready-meals and deliveries from the local take-aways. Then her wrists will be locked behind her back, and she'll be left like that till morning. We'll both visit Juba in his cell, and probably both spend the night in master's bed. Shaba eats very good pussy, and she seems to like the way I do it to her."

Sally gave Shaba a more physical examination, grasping and kneading her breasts, tugging on the nipple rings, and kissing her lips around the tongue-chain. The girl was breathing more deeply as her mouth was invaded, but Sally had no means of bringing her to a climax, and had to remember that she was there to interview Mina.