The Seven Masters I Served

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.

"The Seven Masters I Served" is a rewrite of an old work, now tripled in length, with new scenes and chapters.

I started out like all young slaves fresh from training: I thought I was hot shit. I had my pack of necessities, my cutest haircut, and, in my own humble opinion, a rockin' hot body. I was nineteen, five-seven, and one hundred-twenty-five pounds of determined sex appeal. I had just smashed a year of schooling at a pleasure slave training academy, and I was ready to take on the world.

I wish I could go back and talk some reality to that woman. Temper your expectations, girl. And lose the butt-cut.

Master #1, The Brat

I was forced to assume my new master was the clean-cut man in the minivan. He'd rolled up to the dealership with a tucked-in polo, a cheesy mustache, and a to-go bag of Thai food for me. He was so excited to see me, practically bouncing up and down, smiling, asking my name. He even opened the door for me. I was permitted to sit in the passenger seat and eat my meal on the drive. I chewed quietly while he spoke.

"My boy Ralphy is the greatest. He's got wisdom beyond his years. His teachers always tell me how gifted he is. In fact, I think you'll be impressed to hear..."

The way he talked I thought little Ralphy was eight or ten years old, so you can imagine my surprise when an adult man met us at the house.

The acne-riddled young man wore baggy shorts designed with an excess of pockets, a dark T-shirt with a band name, and a grumpy scowl. He stood on the driveway outside an upper-middle class home, frustrated with a desk chair that he couldn't seem to fit into the rear of his hatchback foreign. The car was half-loaded with furniture and bags for travel.

"Ralphy, son, this is Winnifred! Ain't she a gem?" The father displayed me proudly, gesturing with both hands as I climbed out of the minivan. I subserviently bowed my head, accepting Ralphy's judgment quietly.

"She's a slave?" The boy asked. I noted that I was a surprise gift, which was pretty shocking. A trained pleasure slave is an expensive surprise, even a low-class one such as I.

Ralphy walked around me, glancing up and down, frowning the whole time.

"She's kind of frumpy." He said.

"She's the prettiest one they had, Ralphy. I'm sure she'll be good to have around." His father explained hurriedly. His dad was nervous, tired, almost worried - like the only thing he had ever wanted was his son's approval. It kind of had me up in knots, because if Ralphy didn't like me, I thought I might be punished by the dad. I wanted badly to make a good impression on my first master.

Ralphy eventually relented. He shrugged.

"She's kind of pretty, I guess." Ralphy said. His father let out a sigh of relief.

"I told you so. She's well trained too! She'll cook, clean... keep you warm." The middle-aged dad winked and nudged his son's shoulder. Ralphy just rolled his eyes.

"Gross, dad. Just get her to load my stuff."

-

I did as I was told, loading the little minivan with Ralphy's suitcases and knick-knacks. I picked up snippets of conversation as I worked, and deduced the situation. Ralphy had recently graduated high school, and I was his college send-off gift.

Apparently, Ralphy was god's gift to university. I was forced to listen as dad raved on and on about Ralpy:

'Oh I'm sure the professors will love you.'

'Tell us about all the friend's you'll make.'

'Don't let the women up there distract you from your studies, you know how women are crazy about you.'

'Dean's list for sure!!'

I was young and nervous, too nervous to have an opinion - it was all brand new. But hindsight gives me clarity. If I were to hear that same kind of stuff today, especially knowing what I know, my eyes would be rolling out of my head. Dad just didn't know a thing about his little Ralphy.

-

Once I had the car loaded, we received a tearful send-off. Ralphy's dad whispered his way through a shaky goodbye, promising great things. Ralphy had no patience, hugging his dad as briefly as he could. Before long we were loaded in the car and traveling. The trip was excruciatingly long and intensely awkward. He'd put on his music and sing along, he'd listen to podcasts with some ...colorful opinions. At one point he glanced over at me, and I guess I'd drawn his attention in at least one way.

"How big are your tits?" Ralphy was not gifted with words.

"34D, sire." I replied.

"34... that's big, right? Nice." I glanced sidelong at him, not sure if he was serious. He had a smug, self-assured smile. I didn't bother to explain bra sizing to him. This did not bode well.

When we stopped for gas, Ralphy stepped into the convenience store, saying nothing to me.

I had to pee. I knew it was punishable to act without your master's orders, but I was waiting in the car while he did god-knows-what inside. I was so desperate to make a good impression, I almost didn't go in and pee. In the end, I took my terrified ass inside and found the ladies' room.

While relieving myself, I vividly imagined him coming back to the car to find it vacant. He'd search for me, Finding me in the bathroom, shouting and threatening yelling at me for embarrassing him. Some masters were like that, I knew, and I had no idea what Ralphy would do. But I had to go.

...Anyway, I was back in the car before him.

It was almost dark when we pulled up at the university dorms. Ralphy had me unload all of his stuff, up a flight of stairs, alone, while he walked around the campus. He wasn't around when I finished, so I found his comforter and sheets and I made his bed. I placed his soaps and shampoos in the shower, and hung his clothes in the closet. I did everything I could to make his little dorm seem like home.

When I was done, I changed into my underwear. I lay on one side across my master's bed, doing my best to look seductive, propping myself up with one arm and laying the other across my hip. I faced the door and waited for Ralphy to return.

-

I love sex. I always have. My year of training in South End School for Slaves was mostly spent daydreaming about fucking my future masters, and perhaps not as much on classwork. I was plenty excited to sexually submit to an imagined, handsome, wealthy young man (or woman, but that was less likely). I had a vivid imagination, too. I'd picture him gripping my hips from behind, both hands restraining my waist while his cock pressed against me...

I was fresh out of training when I met Ralphy, and so eager to please, including sexually. I loved the idea of pleasuring my master, of being seductive and sought after. One of many fantasies thrown away with time and experience.

-

Ralphy returned to the dorm late at night, tired and cranky. He impatiently waved me off his bed, grumbling. I hastily scrambled out of the bed and to my feet, bowing politely as I moved aside. Ralphy crawled into bed, pulled the comforter over his body, and was soon snoring gently. I stood for a while in disappointed shock, before slowly curling up on the couch. The creaky, dusty old loveseat was my bed for the remainder of my time with Ralphy.

I was the first to wake in the morning. My eyes fluttered open and pain speared through my neck, a byproduct of sleeping on a loveseat. I sat up and squinted at the nearby bed, trying to decide if the big lump beneath the covers contained my master. I thought about making breakfast, but the little dorm room kitchen wasn't stocked yet (this would become a common trend). With no other orders to fulfill, I sat silently, staring at the rug, which wasn't really much worse than Ralphy's podcasts from the road trip.

Ralphy woke up almost two hours after me. He rolled over, eyes closed, and started jerking off. I could clearly see the comforter bumping up and down, but I said nothing. As a slave, I wasn't to move or speak until ordered. He took about five minutes to remember I existed. One eye popped open, and he looked over at me.

"So you have to do whatever I want, right?" He asked, voice cracking with groggy morning weariness. I nodded dumbly, still eager to please.

"Yes sire."

"Even like, sexual stuff?"

"I would be happy to pleasure you, sire." My heart fluttered. My daydreams raced through my mind.

"Come suck on this." He pulled his penis out and showed it to me.

I was so nervous, so anxious and excited. I approached the bed and knelt next to him, and he turned on his side and poked his dick out, hanging off the side of the bed. I knelt next to him, leaning my face towards his crotch. My lips touched the tip of his penis, and I took it in my mouth and sucked it enthusiastically. He tasted bad, kind of stale and salty, but I didn't care. I thought I was a hotshot pleasure slave, and I was gonna rock his world.

I started by running my lips over the head, then licking the bottom, then taking the whole thing in my mouth. He thrust out at me, humping my mouth. I pushed my head down hard, forcing my lips on the shaft further, fighting the need to gag. I worked my mouth and tongue over the length of him with energy, focused on pleasing my master.

Ralphy's hand snaked out from beneath the comforter, groping blindly for the front of my bra. I unclasped it quickly, still sucking his cock, and let my breasts fall free. He took an eager handful, squeezing my left tit. Slowly, my master's moans increased in volume as I sucked him off. His body stiffened and with a final, spasming thrust, he spurted cum in my mouth. His cock twitched as he pushed smaller and smaller drops of sperm onto my tongue. I took his load obediently, holding it in my mouth. I was so excited to finally taste cum, I focused on the flavor, pretending I enjoyed it. Once finished, my master withdrew his cock and rolled over, falling back asleep.

I knelt by the bed with a load of warm cum in my mouth. I'd been taught that some masters would prefer it if I swallowed, and some would prefer I didn't swallow. So I had expected one or the other. My master was asleep, so I sat frozen. I held Ralphy's cum in my mouth for an embarrassingly long amount of time, debating internally about what to do. I eventually settled on swallowing, and I choked down the young man's semen.

-

Ralphy was very bad at fucking. Or he might've been. To be considered a slow runner, one must first run. Ralphy never made any attempt at fucking. He loved blowjobs, because he didn't have to work for them. Vaginal penetration meant I was on top, usually facing him so he could pinch and pull on my tits. We were done when he came.

Only once did Ralphy manage to entice a woman back to his dorm, the poor girl.

-

"Wow, it's so clean here." She said. They came stumbling through the door, reeking of alcohol, loud music playing over the speaker of a cell phone. I snapped to attention, greeting him politely and offering my services with a silent bow. The blonde, waifish young lady with Ralphy looked quite young.

Really young.

Maybe too young, is what I'm saying. There's no way to be sure.

"Yeah, I got a slave to do that." He pointed to me. I stood to the side attentively, my head down. It was proper slave form, but Ralphy wouldn't have cared if I'd been upside down with a bag on my head. That was the closest he ever came to saying anything positive about me. The girl thought he was

so

cool.

"Whoa, your own slave? That's rad. How much was she?" The young lady looked me up and down, her eyes wide with wonder. I almost vibrated with pleasure, I was so excited to be noticed.

"Two Hundred and forty thousand." He lied.

The two quickly became acquainted, kicking back on the loveseat (my bed) and cuddling close.

"Get us something to eat, slave," Ralphy ordered. I rushed to the attached kitchen, nervously scouring the cupboards for something suitable my master could serve to a lady friend. I was lucky to find popcorn, which I served in a tupperware container.

While they ate, they watched a movie, and I was obliged to sit on the floor beside the couch. They didn't make it very far past the title screen before they were heavily making out, pawing at each other's clothes. I distracted myself, doing my thing, counting fibers in the rug. The girl stopped, looked at me, and asked:

"Is she just gonna watch us or what?" Ralphy laughed, and barked out an order.

"Go wait in the bathroom." I scurried into the bathroom, gently closing the door behind me. I sat on the toilet and waited. Soon, I heard the crowing moans of awkward college sex.

Ralphy didn't tell me how long to wait in the bathroom, meaning I had no reason to leave. After several hours, I climbed into the bathtub, curled into a ball, and fell asleep.

As always, everyone on the planet was awake before Ralphy. I startled from sleep to the sound of the bathroom door creaking open, and my eyes met those of the young lady from the night previous. At first she was thoroughly startled, her head jerking back in surprise. I wasn't thrilled either, but at least I had an excuse to get out of the bathtub.

I climbed ungracefully out of the porcelain pit, bowing to her and whispering a brief apology as I slipped past her. Back in the main room of the dorm, I found some of her things - cellphone, shoes, bra, socks - and collected them into a pile on the couch.

Once she had finished her business, she grabbed her things and bolted for the door, Ralphy still asleep in bed.

-

That was the only time I saw Ralphy score with someone other than me, and she left at six in the morning. I don't think she called him back.

These awkward, self-serving disappointments would set a precedent for the majority of my own sexual encounters with Ralphy. In fact, 'Awkward, self-serving disappointment' could be the title of a biography on Ralphy. In hindsight, I was fortunate that he spent so much time out of his dorm at parties. It was nice not to have to put up with him.

I don't think I saw him study even once. The fridge was empty most of the time. My meals were usually his leftovers, because feeding me was a chore he didn't care to do, which was how he handled most obligations. He was in his own dorm increasingly less as summer turned to autumn. He'd leave for a day or two, come back to sleep. Maybe he'd fuck me, or make me blow him, and then he'd head out again - a pile of dirty clothes and a bad taste we're the only things he left behind.

Though I never considered myself a gamer, I became well acquainted with the gaming console he kept in his dorm. My biggest regret about my service to Ralphy is failing to collect all nine platinum trophies in the racing game 'Wheels of Thunder' before I was sold.

Needless to say, Ralphy left a bad taste metaphorically as well as physically. I was not disappointed when the time came for us to be parted.

Master #2, The Family From Heaven

A couple weeks before winter break, Ralphy got a phone call from his dad. I couldn't hear much, but it was pretty bad. A lot of yelling, something about academic suspension, and a hundred grand 'In a pig's ass' whatever that means. The call ended, Ralphy sat down on his bed... and started to cry. Genuine, body wracking sobs, blubbering and tears and everything.

It was so pathetic that I actually felt bad for him. Not bad for him per se, but more for the flawed parenting that no doubt led to him being such a, uh, difficult young man. I sat beside him on the couch, frozen with uncertainty as he sobbed. I didn't know if I should try to comfort him or not.

I mean I know I should have, but I didn't really want to.

He eventually cried himself to sleep. The next day, Ralphy's dad showed up at the door. I was ordered to load all of Ralphy's stuff back into the father's minivan, and I was placed in the passenger seat. That was it. I never saw Ralphy again, and no explanation was ever offered to me.

I rode with Ralphy's father for several hours that day, and the whole ride was spent ranting and complaining about what a shitbag his son was. About how he'd poured his life into Ralphy, given the boy everything, and what a disappointment it was. I said nothing.

We pulled into a supermarket parking lot just before evening. Ralphy's dad placed the car in park, huffing discontentedly. We sat in silence, idling in the car. Not long after, another car pulled up next to us, a nice luxury SUV. I watched a man exit the new vehicle. He was tall, a little older, and clean cut, and wore a business suit. Ralphy's dad gave an abrupt order.

-

"Get out." He said. I complied.

As I stood in the empty parking lot, The well dressed newcomer circled me, looking me over in the same way Ralphy had when I first met him.

"Can you cook?" The man asked me, eyes roaming up and down my body.

"Yes sir." I replied.

"Are you good with children?"

"Yes sir, I have many younger siblings." The man smiled, nodding at Ralphy's dad.

"I think she'll do nicely!" He exclaimed.

The two men mutually fussed over a stack of paperwork on the hood of the car. Ralphy's dad pulled open the door of his van, and I started to follow him. He stopped me, waving back at the tall man.

"I just sold you," He said. I turned back to the tall man, surprised. No one had bothered to tell me what was going on.

Ralphy's dad promptly climbed in his car and left, his car tires squealing as he raced away. I stood in shock. My life had changed completely in the span of five minutes.

The well dressed man offered me his hand.

"I'm Michael Taylor," He said. "My wife, who you'll meet once we're home, is Annie. We'll be your new masters. Of course, the kids will be the real masters!" He laughed out loud at his own joke.

"I'm Winnifred, sire, or Winnie if you prefer," I bowed deeply.

I left with Michael. I remained submissively quiet in his passenger seat as he explained my new role.

"We've got two kids, Rebecca and Mike Jr. They're great kids, really bright, but me and the misses just don't have the time to run'em around everywhere and stay on top of their homework and chores. We're both working full time now, so it's rough to stay ahead of things. We talked for a while before we decided to buy you," He laughed, "Well, not you personally, but, well, you know."

"Yes sire," I replied.

I smiled broadly, fighting the urge to fist pump. My new service sounded absolutely perfect. I'd been taking care of a man-child for five months, why not some actual children? The job sounded sweet, even if I was going to miss being a pleasure slave.

That's what I was thinking as Michael started to sweat, and shake, and his voice started catching in his throat.

"Now, now, Winnie, I want to make absolutely clear the standards my wife and I will hold you to. We're God-fearing people in this family, Winnie. I know your past - what you were trained for. I- we'll have absolutely none of that pleasure-slave harlotry, do you understand me?" He asked, stuttering nervously.

"Yes Mr. Taylor, I understand completely," I enthusiastically agreed. It was odd, for sure, but I definitely didn't want to ruin my awesome new job by antagonizing the boss.

"Good... Good." He wiped sweat from his brow.

Michael focused quietly on driving until nightfall.

We stopped at a no-name motel surrounded by corn fields. I could tell we were at least near the exact middle of nowhere, as ours was the only car in a parking lot lit by the neon-red glow of a busted 'Vacancy' sign. At the front desk, Michael was asked what type of room he'd need.