Foreign parts

 

With the slight variation for Saturdays their breakfast routine never changed, shut off the ringing alarm, pack away mattress, shower, and make mushroom omelette with salad for him, porridge and protein shake for her, wake him and eat. Usually her complete focus was on eating as fast as she could because she didn’t want to be left hungry until lunch. This morning was different. This morning all her mind was racing with anticipation of what it was her Master was planning for today. When her Master said, “When you’re finished with breakfast go into the living room and wait for me”, she knew this was going to be a very special day since he had never ever let her take her time with any of his orders before.

 

“Master, do you want me to clean up first or do you want me to go there straight away,” she replied”.

 

“Whenever you’re ready”, he said as he left the table.

 

She wasn’t sure she liked this new Master.

 

Her, “Yes, Master” was hesitant and not as loud and proud as usual.

 

“It will pass” she told her self, and she hoped he would revert to normal as soon as possible. She liked a strict schedule, discipline and order. No, she needed a strict schedule, discipline and order. She didn’t like this new freedom at all.

 

By the time she came to the living room her Master was already fully dressed and waiting for her. He had a number of items of women’s clothes laid out on the sofa, a number of tops and miniskirts.

 

“I didn’t know what things you would look good in so I bought a large selection of things to try out”.

 

He pointed at various things and told her to try them on and settled for a short white top with a very generous cleavage that left her muscular and well defined stomach bare and a low-cut white miniskirt that finished on level with her pussy. Not a whole lot of fabric in any of the pieces. He even had her wear panties. White see-through G-strings, but panties all the same. She hated them. She had been naked every day for two years now and she wasn’t comfortable at all like this. She had a strong urge to rip it all off and throw herself at his feat begging him to whip and beat her senseless, but she restrained herself. She was his slave to do with as he pleased. At least she still was wearing the dog collar. He had already packed his suitcase and they packed hers together with more of the same items of clothing he had chosen for her.

 

Once they were finished packing they paused a while in front of the mirror in the hallway, while her Master checked he’d brought everything. She thought she looked ridiculous like this. The top and bra emphasized her already large D-cup breasts giving them the impression of being two massive balloons. She stood waiting for him in the hallway frantically fidgeting, adjusting her bra, fixing her blonde hair and touching up her pink lipstick even though there was no improvement to be made. Once they were out the door she went, as always, over to the trunk waiting for him to open it so she could get in. This was how they always had travelled together.

 

“You’re riding in the front with me this time and put the bags in the trunk”, he said.

 

She didn’t really know how to react to this. She liked routine and this was all becoming a little too much for her, and she felt she needed to protest, but once again she resisted the temptation and swallowed her words before they came out her mouth and got obediently in the front seat. A little knot was forming in her stomach. She hadn’t sat down on any couch or chair for two years now, since slaves weren’t allowed on the furniture, (unless they were being fucked by a Master). This was turning out to be a long day of firsts, and yet to feature any pleasant firsts.

 

She couldn’t beat off the massive feeling of lingering dread. She loved her life with her Master and was so used to their life together by now that any change was a potential threat to it. She didn’t want their rules to change. She wanted to be his slave and loved all their rituals and practices that affirmed her position in their relationship. She did trust her Master and things did tend to turn out for the best so she shouldn’t have reason to doubt him. She felt ashamed over these feelings bubbling up and she couldn’t expel them no matter how hard she tried. This wasn’t her only concern. Not only was she happy living with her Master, but happy that while she did, she didn’t have to confront other people as an equal. She had never felt comfortable about social interactions. She was much too submissive for her own tastes and people tended to either abuse it or treat her as if she was an idiot. A thousand thoughts raced in her mind. What if her Master had changed his mind about her? What if he no longer wanted a slave but an equal? The thought terrified her. She felt that if he demanded that of her, she would die. Her soul would be torn apart and she would dissolve into nothingness.  

 

Before the car took off she forced a little smile to cover up the fact that she was miserable. She closed her eyes pretending to sleep. She didn’t want her foul mood ruin the day for him.

 

There was a massive battle raging inside her head and she was fighting to keep it under control. She was losing. All her life had been turned upside down. She didn’t know what to do or how to behave. She liked structure. Not until she heard the engine turned off did she open her eyes again. They were parked at the airport. Like a huge wave building up threatening to crash down over the shore the panic was worse than ever now. She had trouble breathing and had to focus to force her lungs to do their work. All her diminished mental presence allowed her to do was to follow her Master around like a dog, carrying their luggage, never taking her eyes off him.

 

She didn’t calm down until they were sitting in their seats in the aircraft.

 

Her Master looked at her with a reassuring smile and mild eyes, “How’re you feeling”? he asked and he could tell things weren’t well, and he had probably sensed it all day.

 

She didn’t answer him. She started feeling as if she was going vomit, cry or both, and leaned forward covering her face in her hands. She felt her Master’s hand stroking the back of her head and her mind disappeared into a black hole. When she opened her eyes she didn’t know how long time she’d been sitting like that, but her Master’s hand wasn’t on her neck any longer. He was in the isle seat reading and she was next to him in the middle seat. She caught the glimpse of a young boy, sitting to her right by the window, fifteen or sixteen years old. He was staring wide eyed at her breasts and she returned his stare. It took a few seconds for him to register but once he saw that she was looking straight at him he quickly diverted his eyes out the window and seemed to take great interest of the white nothingness outside. She didn’t take her eyes off him and his cheeks flushed red. It was a scrawny kid. He had a blue shirt, much too big for him, making him look even scrawnier. She felt sorry for him. Sorry for being so small and helpless. 

 

With the panic under control now she thought she could afford to sit back a while. Her Master had a mild look about him and smiled at her reassuringly again. She was so grateful he was as patient with her antics and she felt like such a stupid sop for panicking earlier.

 

Struggling with holding tears back she leaned towards his ear and did her best to say as calmly as possible, “I’m much better now. Thanks”.

 

He didn’t answer, only kept his warm, mild eyes straight on her and they melted away most of the anxieties she had carried with her all the way from home. She hadn’t realised that she had been holding her shoulders up all day and her back and shoulders were aching. She now finally managed to let them sink down. Her Master kept his mild gaze on her and after a brief pause; he leaned past her huge tits and started chatting to the boy next to her. Her Master found out that his parents were on this flight but they hadn’t been able to get seats together and were on their way for a family holiday in France.

 

Her Master took out a notepad and wrote. “Do you like my wife’s tits”? and drew a little stick figure with huge breasts, and leaving the note on the folding-table in front of her so she could read it. After the boy had craned his neck toward it he was in an obvious state of shock. “Poor boy”, she thought. After checking whether or not her Master was angry with him for his earlier ogling, the boy nodded.

 

Next note Master wrote read, “Do you want to touch them”?

 

Predictably the boy nodded to this as well. Two years of slavery had taught her well and she knew exactly what he was getting at. Her Master opened up a newspaper blocking all vision from the isle, and she pulled down her top popping out her two huge breasts. Her Master pretended like he was focusing on reading the newspaper. Trembling, the boy laid his hand on a breast and once he felt safe started caressing both of them softly. This wasn’t what she had in mind so she guided his hand to her nipples and cradled his hand in hers and showed him how to squeeze her nipples mercilessly. Once she released her grip so did the boy. She did a few more vain attempts to entice him to manhandle and torture her nipples and breasts but she wasn’t very successful. Now her Master was getting visibly irritated from behind his newspaper.

 

Her Master leaned toward the boy, “Don’t worry about hurting her. She’s a slut. She likes it”. Her Master went back to pretending to read the newspaper.

 

She tried to look at the kid as encouragingly as she could, nodding eagerly and smiling. This was probably a bit too much for a young virgin boy to comprehend. To convince him she was serious she struggled off her panties, leaned the seat back and parted her legs as much she could; now sitting with both her tits and pussy exposed. She guided his hand in between her legs and he finally set to work fingering her, rubbing her clit and licking and sucking her tits. She did her best to make him think she was enjoying it, breathing heavily and gyrating. Sexually the whole exercise was pretty pointless to her, but she liked being Master’s obedient sex-toy, which was something she definitely enjoyed and was good at.

 

After fifteen boring minutes of that she removed his hand, closed her legs, tucked in her tits and wrote on the notepad, “Do you want to fuck me”?

 

Before the boy had a chance to nod her Master had already made way for them. She beckoned him to follow and he wasn’t slow to react. They entered the same toilet together. Airplane toilets are not big and it was as if her tits took up all available space in that toilet. She somehow managed to take her top, bra and skirt off. Wearing only a dog collar and high-heeled shoes she finally felt comfortable again.

 

“So what do you want to do to me”? she asked him.

 

Judging from his reaction, being submissive was apparently not the way to go with virgin teenagers.

 

“Let’s pretend that you’re the emperor of China and I’m your obedient slave for you to do what you will with. What would you want to do to me”?

 

This resulted in requests for a blow job and tit-fucking and during this very short period they boy still managed to cum four times. She was impressed over his ability to come back in the game after cuming but not at his endurance. In his one very sad attempt to fuck her he couldn’t maintain an erection for long enough and finally had to pull out the sad excuse for a floppy penis he had managed to push in her with his fingers.

 

“Is it my turn now to make a request now”? she asked him earnestly.

 

She managed to talk him into spitting in her face. He didn’t need to go to the toilet so drinking piss was out of the question. Licking his feet wasn’t practically possible to pull off in the cramped toilet. Getting him to slap her face was easier but he didn’t dare put any power behind his blows which hardly managed to excite her. Having him twist her nipples and slap her clitoris was a bit more enjoyable but even though she had enjoyed herself immensely showing this kid the ropes, as far as sexual experiences would go, this was worthless.

 

They returned to their seats and the whole rest of the trip the boy kept asking if he could do various things to her all of which she adamantly refused, and she guessed that all his frequent trips to the toilet had to do with him needing to wank every fifteen minutes or explode from frustration. Her Master and she spent the rest of the trip having a long and slow conversation on the notepad where she in detail explained exactly what they’d done in the toilet. Her Master had been drinking beer on flight and every time he had to go to the toilet he filled up his old beer can with piss that he gave to her. Since one of her great fetishes was drinking piss and he hadn’t exactly spoiled her with letting her drink his she was very happy with the rest of the trip. She happily downed can after can letting his golden drops wash through her mouth for every sip. It didn’t take long for her to figure out the plane was heading for Paris. She’d never been to France or even abroad ever before in her life. She was getting excited again and wasn’t half as apprehensive as she’d been that morning.  

 

Being ogled by every man they passed at Paris’s Charles De Gaulle airport brought the anxiety back and made her feel more exposed and vulnerable than she’d ever felt being the constant naked target for the degrading exercises of her Master’s friends. Even though she loved being humiliated, this was the kind of humiliation she didn’t like. Getting her pussy pinched by the greasy haired man or riding the Pig Faced mans cock was many times preferable to this.

 

Her Master told her to wait with their luggage by a row of seats while he went and got directions. When she thought it couldn’t get worse it did. Having to stand like some kind of pornographic statue catching the stares of every possible creature passing was getting under her skin again. A well dressed and handsome man came up to her and started talking French to her which she didn’t understand a word of. She gave him an uneasy smile, shook her head and looked away.

 

“First time in Paree”? the man said with an outrageous French accent.

 

She nodded. “You look very sexy in that outfit”, he continued looking straight at her eyes with an intense look. She didn’t know how to react to this. She tried to look away, but he was a man and she was trained to obey and pleasure men.

 

His next line was “I’d love to caress those big beautiful sexy breasts. They are truly amazing”.

 

Now she was in a state of panic again so to conceal this she tried a smile, which she quickly realised, was the wrong tactic. He told her to follow him into a toilet near them where they could get to know each other better and now her panic was complete. She had been ordered by her Master to stay with the bags but she didn’t want to let her Master down by not obeying a man’s commands. Maybe this was a test her Master had arranged to see how obedient she was? Her first instinct was always to obey and they had trained so hard for two years in making her perfectly obedient in every way and she wasn’t going to let her Master down now. She followed the man. Before she entered the toilet her Master returned but didn’t even seem to register anything was amiss and headed straight for the exit probably assuming she would follow. The truth dawned on her and she pulled back from the man, darted for the bags and ran with them to her Master’s side without looking back.

 

Once they’d reached their hotel she tore her clothes off, threw herself at his feet and begged him to cane her. He hadn’t packed a cane but improvised with his belt. He put the TV and shower on at max to drown out the sound, while she lay begging him impatiently waiting on the bed with her back arched and ass out as much as she could manage. For every stroke she kept egging him on continuously. “please sir, harder! Harder! Faster!” Not until his arm was numb from the exertion did he stop. She was now lying panting and extremely calm, so ashamed over being so needy and demanding. “This wasn’t her”, she thought to herself. Now she was confused. She was becoming something she didn’t want to be. She wanted to be there for him, and now he was attending to her requests.

 

It didn’t take long before she fell into a deep sleep, while continuously mumbling to be forgiven for talking out of place. She woke up in the middle of the night finding herself lying next to her sleeping Master in bed. The shock caused her to reel back in horror. All that went through her mind was that she was slave and sleeping next to her Master like this was not appropriate. Operating on pure instinct she got up, and improvised a bed on the floor out of towels and went back to sleep.

 

Next morning no matter how much she fought it, she had to refused to eat breakfast with him in the restaurant but insisted to eat porridge naked from a bowl at his feet. No matter how much she wanted to submit to his will, she just couldn’t force herself to do it. She was ashamed, and felt like such a useless slave for him now. Her Master didn’t punish her. He let her get away with her unfitting behaviour but she guessed that he understood her predicament. It wasn’t hard to arrange a satisfactory breakfast for her. She still hadn’t asked him what their plans were for the day, if they even had any. She was quite adamant about it not being the slave’s position to ask questions of that nature. Her Master had quite a fetish for bruises and her ass was completely purple-blue this morning, from all the whipping yesterday. He stood admiring her ass while wanking and once she’d swallowed his cum, they got ready for the streets of Paris.

 

They spent most of that day just walking the streets of Paris. In her very revealing clothes she didn’t feel comfortable in crowds and begged him to avoid them. Once again he submitted to her will and they avoided them by mostly taking back streets far away from any popular site or tourist traps. They discovered a side of Paris most tourists probably never would see. Just sitting in chairs was tough on her, not to mention eating at the same table as Master, and she was sure she’d ever get used to it, or even wanted to. Even though she did enjoy seeing something different for a change she still couldn’t wait for them to return home again and for them to fall back in their old routines again. He had used his contacts to book a table for them that night at one of Paris’s most exclusive restaurants that was a strictly a members only restaurant. She knew that it meant a lot to him, and he had bought a special cocktail dress just for the occasion, so she bit her lip and didn’t make any objections. It was on a rooftop terrace overlooking the river Seine. She felt like, as if they were a regular couple on a romantic dinner looking into each others’ eyes passionately, feeding each other food and holding each other while watching the spectacular view below. She even drank wine which was something she hadn’t done in many, many years. Her drunkard for a father had given her plenty of reasons not to drink. During her time as a slave she wasn’t permitted any form of drugs, alcohol or even painkillers which was something she only thought was the proper treatment of a slave.

 

Just before they were about to leave he looked her earnestly in the eyes and said, “I took you to the best restaurant in Paris because you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I love you, and I want to be with you for the rest of my life”, he said. She couldn’t bring herself to answer, not at that moment, only look at him through watery eyes.

 

After dinner, they took a pleasant night stroll through the streets together and befriended an elderly couple who they shared some of the way home with. She was given plenty of advice on how to look after her man in order to keep him for as long as the elderly lady had kept her husband, which she promised she’d keep in mind. That night they had for the first time ordinary plain sex just as regular boring people do, but passionate all the same. Just before falling to sleep, she carefully lifted her Master’s heavy arm, got up, arranged her little bed from towels on the floor and fell blissfully asleep.

 

That morning when he woke up he found her naked on all fours obediently waiting for him by the foot of the bed. She had been standing there for over an hour, without moving a muscle, eyes firmly fixed on the floor. He seemed to get the hint, and doing his best to accommodate her wishes he called room service for a bowl of porridge that he placed at his feet. She crawled up to it placing her face immediately above it but refused to touch the bowl before he gave her verbal permission. It took a while before he caught on, but luckily he did before the porridge had become too cold.

 

Before she’d had time to empty it he told her, “Breakfast is over. Go and clean yourself off you filthy pig”.

 

Much better she thought. Now things were finally getting back to normal and, answered obediently, “Yes, Master” as loudly and proudly as she had done before this trip began.

 

She hoped that he now would understand that this was the life she had chosen and this was the life she wanted to live.  

 

They checked out of the hotel and were picked by a uniformed driver in a Rolls Royce car. All her focus today was on being an obedient slave and didn’t even for a second reflect over where they were going or why. That was simply none of her business. Their trip ended far into the countryside outside a large house. Their driver opened the door for her Master but not for her. Her only reaction was of relief, since they were now obviously among friends again. She followed her Master up to the front door holding their luggage. A petite brunette greeted them at the door just as slaves would have done at home, on all fours naked, by the door. The woman stood up, with downcast eyes and pointed at some lockers by the side of the door, and spoke something in French. Even though they didn’t know French they both very well understood what the lockers were for and she needed no further guidance. It didn’t take long before she was back in the state she was the most comfortable with, naked except for her beloved white dog collar and white high-heeled shoes.

 

By the time she was done taking all her clothes off a very tall, well groomed and slim man in a dark grey suit greeted them. Her Master and he obviously knew each other well and shook hands heartily while, (as expected) ignoring her completely. Just by listening to their conversation she learned that even though they’d met many times before at various parties, her Master had never been to this house before, which seemed to be some sort of headquarters of their loosely affiliated brotherhood, she had grown to know from back home.  For a Frenchman he spoke very fluent English and was seldom at a loss for words. He explained that there were a few couples visiting at the moment and a couple who had permanent residence. He also explained the house rules. Women were to be naked at all times, save for the dog collar and high-heeled shoes. They are never to speak unless replying a man or by being given explicit permission to. All women are to obey any and all men at all times. Approaching another man’s slave sexually requires the explicit permission of the slave’s Master. No woman is allowed to look a man in the eyes and must have them at all times downcast. No woman is allowed to have her knees together or legs crossed. Her Master is expected to discipline his slave for any infringement made by her and there is a whipping rack in the centre hall appropriate for caning. If a Master breaks any rules the couple is expected to pack their bags and leave the house at once.

 

He guided them around the large house showing them and explaining about the dining hall, orgy room, Internet access room, Jacuzzi room, whipping rack and finally to their room, a small and spartanic room but definitely sufficient for the both of them. He also informed them of that there was a slave-toilet and slave shower located in the garden, and Masters usually required their slaves to only use those, which off-course her Master thought was a good idea too. Her Master asked him if they had any protein powder or whole meal porridge available and also if he could arrange for him to have a slim mattress for his slave to sleep on. The mattress was no problem but the protein powder her Master had to arrange on his own. He ended his guided tour with a smile and the words, “…and please let any of the house slaves know if you need anything” and he took off.  

 

Her Master did very much want her to be happy; he let her explore the premises by herself while he went out on the countryside looking for protein powder. There weren’t as many people as she was used to seeing at the Pig Faced man’s parties. There were people actually living here, not just having bonding ritual parties or sex orgies. It didn’t take her long to figure out that this was in fact a hotel. There was apparently more people out there who craved for this life and who wanted to find others who shared it than she’d expected. She went to find the toilet and showers since that might be a good thing to know before disaster struck. It was a very beautiful and lush rose garden in the middle of the forum-like compound. Right in the centre of the garden in full view of anybody in or around the garden was on a pedestal a single lone toilet. There were two women in queue, both standing with legs apart and downcast eyes, and a woman sitting on it. Using that in winter must be pure torture. Not far off were the showers. It looked like a tall lamppost with one single showerhead and one knob to turn. Her only thoughts on this were what a wonderfully humiliating arrangement it was.

 

She went and got her towel and toilet bag and returned to the shower. The water was unsurprisingly enough freezing and she forced herself to stand in the cold water for as long as she could. By the time she was done her teeth were chattering and she was shivering all over. After drying herself she did her best to rub some warmth back into her arms while she went looking for her Master. Either he wasn’t back yet or she just couldn’t find her, so she decided to amuse herself on-line assuming that he would come and find her if he needed her.   

 

In the Internet access room there were two computers, one for Masters and one for slaves. The Master computer had a comfy cushioned chair while the slave chair was a plain wood one. The Master computer also seemed to be a top of the line affair with a big screen and all conceivable accessories, while the slave computer had an old dirty 14” screen. Since she wasn’t allowed to sit on chairs, she moved the wooden chair and made a pile of cushions on the floor until she was the right height for her knees and set to work chatting with all her on-line friends.

 

Her Master either didn’t return until much later or he simply didn’t find her in the computer room until it was dark out. “Come here, whore” he blurted and she obediently followed him. They reached the dining room which was a relief for her since she was famished. In the dining room there was a separate table for slaves with the same simple wooden slave-chairs while the Masters had comfortable ones. The slave menus were also extremely simple and cheap foods while the Master-menu was a lot more interesting and exclusive. None of this applied to her since she was only to eat porridge and protein powder. He had found and bought dog bowls, protein powder, vitamin supplements and all the other health food she regularly ate. He also found her some work out gear she could use. She had to prepare her meals in their room with the only tools to work with being water, a shaker and her hands. No salt or anything to heat it in. Once her food was ready she had to walk with it all the way to the garden and place the bowls at her Master feet and she then would wait for his orders before beginning. He always let her wait at his feet for quite some time and when he finally gave the order she had to scoff away as quickly as she could or she would fail to empty her bowls. He had long before timed her so he knew exactly how fast she could be. So if she focused and wasn’t slow on the start she would have no trouble finishing in time. Once a Master asked if he could fuck her ass while she was standing on all fours waiting totally famished. She, off-course had to obediently wait until he was done and to top it off he chose to cum in her porridge. She never knew who the Master who fucked her was since her eyes had during the whole fuck been focused in the dog bowl. For his meals, the ritual was that she had to stand and wait on him just as she was used to from their parties at home. She also had to perform her very strict work-out routine in the garden.

 

Her Master befriended another Master during their stay, a British couple, where the slave was tattooed pretty much everywhere and with plenty of piercings. She counted twenty four pieces of jewellery in her pussy, all massive. Very large and thinner through her outer labials and smaller very thick ones in her inner and a whole row of barbells all along her clitoris-hood with, the by far largest ring sitting below the barbells hanging down in front of her clitoris, making it physically impossible for her to sit on any chair without being in severe pain. The massive weight of her jewellery stretched out her labials severely causing them to hang down quite a bit, and her inner labials were hanging almost down to her knees from the six plump rings. She counted three pieces in each of her nipples and plenty of small ones in her ears and face crowned by a huge bullring hanging down in front of her mouth. They found out that she was chained by this to her bed when she slept. She had far too many tattoos to count and most of them were small or blending in with others around them. She had a colourful tattoo as if bursting up from her clit was flames on her venus-mound with her Master’s initials in its centre. Her whole crotch area was dark with red, black and green ink, featuring various obscene symbols and text. She had the text “Forever slave” in large letters on one ass cheek and the text “Eternal slut” on the other. She also had quite a few tattoos hinting on her earlier interests in life featuring various punk band logos and punk slogans. The fact that she was sporting a huge bright red mohican might also have given it away. Physically she was nothing impressive though, skinny, pasty white skin, large flat drooping breasts and a bit of a beer belly.

 

Since both girls loved piss and were genuine piss-whores they were given plenty of golden showers from both their Masters and they seemed to never get enough. Each time they relished every drop, always wanting more. Both Masters had a lot of fun with this and took a lot of pleasure having their slaves stand on their knees and kissing each other while they would shower them with piss, or even just have the two slaves piss on each other before them, but Mohican girl had so much junk in her pussy she had a hard time aiming which was a shame because she loved to drink it. She wanted to get to know Mohican girl better but neither of them ever did get the permission from their Masters to speak to each other, though they did definitely bond and got quite close to each other. Since there was most often quite a queue to the toilet most women would chose to piss in the showers instead. Whenever any of the two girls got any free time, they would go to the garden, and whenever they saw a girl that they thought looked like she was going to take a piss they would with rudimentary sign-language ask them to piss on them instead of the grate, which the slaves always agreed to. Most often while lying under the woman’s legs kiss each others salty lips passionately under the yellow rain, beating down on their faces. They started drinking massive amounts of water just so they could have a pissing 69 just rolling around and around drinking each others liquids indefinitely.   

 

She was having the time of their life here in the Brotherhood house. Besides all the fucking her Master ordered her to do she had quite a lot of free time. She didn’t see so much of her Master during the days. She guessed her Master was spending a lot of time outside the building with Mohican girls Master.

 

Their were many interesting people staying there, but by far the most interesting person was the single woman, a prostitute who had as a specialty that she allowed men to come into her studio and savagely beat her. Most assuredly the most extreme masochist and pain-slut she’d ever met. Officially the owner, (the tall slim man they met when they came) was her Master but it was only because the rules state that all slaves must have an owner, since every slave must have a designated person to give her punishments for rule infringements. Not that she ever saw her get disciplined during their stay. The two might have had a relationship once, but if they did it most certainly was over long ago. She must have had lived there for quite some time since she had rebuilt her room and added a whole new section that she took care of customers in, since they were never allowed into the main building. She often saw her in the garden or eating at the slave table. She was always alone walking around, just as naked as the rest of them, with downcast eyes and her badly bruised body. She saw her several times pleasuring herself on a wooden sofa in the garden while pressing and beating on her bruises while savaging her clitoris and nipples with her nails. Even she found this prostitute woman’s life to be a bit too extreme for comfort. She had always prided herself in an open mind, but this even she had trouble reconciling.

 

After a week of fun it was time for them to return home. She had grown to love the house and was very sad to have to leave. Leaving the girl with the mohican was the hardest since they’d grown so close and she never got a chance to say “good bye” because her Master as usual never gave her any information of that nature. Her last memory of Mohican girl was lying on the ground while Mohican girl was squatting over her face pissing in her mouth. Mohican girl rose to her feet, straddling her head, looked down with a radiant loving smile, while seeing the massive collection of piercings hanging down toward her, and her floppy tits as she looked up, gargling her piss hoping for more golden drops. But just then Mohican girls Master called out to her and she instantly and obediently took off without so much as a single glance behind her. Mohican girl was just as her a dedicated slave.

 

This time her Master asked her about how he could make her cope better than last time. Rule number one was that he was at no times to leave her alone. Carrying bags a few extra metres was a small price to pay if it meant her keeping her sanity. She needed a lot more games on board. So the trip home featured a butt-plug endurance test where she lasted thirty five minutes with the large black one. A nipple torture endurance test with clamps, which later were applied on both her inner and outer labials and finally clitoris, but she didn’t even last her way out of the toilet, (she applied all these). They also experimented with things like Tabasco sauce and toothpaste on her clitoris to see what was the most painful. Unsurprisingly Tabasco was the clear winner. And this time she not only had to drink all his beer cans of piss she also had to recycle it and drink her own. The woman sitting next to them did her best to ignore them but she looked like she was in a state of panic most of the journey and finally asked the crew to be moved. Since they doubted the rest of the passengers would appreciate what they were talking about all conversation was on paper.

 

The first thing she did when getting home was to get naked and make him dinner and finally make her own protein shake and porridge, but with one adjustment. To remind her of the trip and the wonderful time she had had, she would from now on only to mix it with plain cold water. While she stood naked on all fours, next to his feet, waiting for permission to eat, all she could think of was how much she knew her Master loved her. Him organising that expensive trip for her and treating her the way he did only to make her happy, meant so much to her. Just the fact that he did it in spite of knowing that she never ever would make any demands on him or their relationship she thought was the greatest validation of his love she could ever get. Life was good.