Chapter 1

 

I was ecstatic. A complete slave at last. No longer the apprentice and having to live two lives, the one ostensibly a free citizen but in truth a slave-in-training. I had passed through a series of rigorous tests of my commitment to slavery and had suffered constantly at the hands of my whipmaster - whom I had come to love. Now my Master, whom I had known only as Sir Guy but had just discovered was none other than Lord Grey whose estate, Winchelthorpe, I had visited as a slave apprentice, had taken me in down there as a permanent slavegirl.

I had expected that he would quickly exercise his droit du seigneur and take my cherry, which I had carefully preserved all these years but after revealing himself to me as my Master, he had gently told me that that honour he would pass to one of his friends. I had been sad that it was not going to be the man I now knew I loved: my whipmaster, James McCrae or that failing him, my owner himself, and that he could so easily relegate what to me was one of the most important events in my life to a mere friend.

But then James had walked in. I had been flabbergasted that my Master was going to be so insensitive as to have the man he knew I loved escort me to this friend, whoever he was - and then Lord Grey had said he wanted me to meet his friend...

And so James came forward (now dressed in more normal clothing than the usual spiked leather codpiece I had until now seen him in) and took my hand, nodding at his friend, my Master and then grinning at my astonishment. I didn't say anything of course. I was still the slavegirl and he apparently, far from being the servant of the man I thought of as Sir Guy, was in fact a friend of his alter ego, Lord Grey.

"Surprised, eh, my little slavegirl?" he said as he took me up to his guest suite in the big house.

"Astounded, more like," I replied as we bounded up the great staircase to the guest wing. "I always imagined you were Sir Guy's servant, a sort of extension of his Mastership over me?"

"Well, I was, too, sort-of. Certainly as your whipmaster, even if I wasn't Sir Guy's servant. You see, Katrina, I have been as much a Master all my life as you have been a slave. Like you, I dreamed of slavery; except that in my case the dreams were of owning girls and using them as slaves, whereas you just wanted to be one.

"I happen to be a very successful businessman and I met William, Lord Grey to you, as mutual directors of a company we both have interests in. We knew straight away we had like thoughts and we were soon exchanging confidences about slavery. He invited me down here one weekend and my study of slave discipline soon came out. I am not his exclusive whipmaster for I don't always have the time to devote to a girl but the moment I saw you I was so glad I had made myself available to train you to be a slave ..."

I stared at him in awe and in love as we reached his suite. He was naked in a trice and led me over to his bed - yes, white satin sheets, the covers already turned down and in fact stripped right off, as my bed had always been back at Sir Guy's apartment.

Once more I stared at the beauty of his slim but athletic body while his eyes devoured mine with as much ardour. I am also slender but I know (for Sir Guy had always made me stand in front of the mirror in the inspection room at the apartment and describe it to him in great detail, omitting nothing and not trying to hide my lights under a bushel) that I have a good figure and soft, flawless skin.

James now took me in his arms and for the first time we were able to freely touch and fondle each other. That moment only lasted a short time for we were both anxious for the real thing. I should say here that once before he had lain with me naked but then, we had known my virginity was the property of my Master and we had both forced ourselves not to succumb.

Now there were no such constraints and as I revelled in the sensations of his satin-smooth skin and fine muscles against my own flesh, he slipped his iron-hard member into my eager portal. I clung to his hard body and he gave an almighty thrust - and it was done. It hurt - a trifling hurt really after all I had been through over the last year, and then he made long and wonderful love to me. It seemed like hours and perhaps it was. I do know those hours were the most wonderful I had ever experienced in my whole life.

I can't describe the details of the act. It seems almost sacrilegious to do so, for while I can describe sexual acts I had to perform with others as part of my slavery, those between James and me were, even then, as if between a man and his wife and do not permit description. But more to the point, I can't actually remember the details. They disappeared in a swirling mist of ecstasy and delight that overwhelmed me totally.

Later, as we lay side by side on the huge bed, our fingers idly tracing little patterns over each other's flesh, we talked about my slavery.

"You know girl, if you want to, we can go away from here right now and become one ..." He raised himself up on one elbow and looked down at me and then smiled. "But I don't think it would be wise ... not just yet, eh?"

I smiled back up at him, reached up and kissed him again. "No, James. I think not. Mind you, that thought has been crossing and re-crossing my mind over and over again over the last few minutes. I love you as I never thought such love was possible. I have never in my life felt this way about anyone and I know you are my man - forever and ever, but I still have this weird urge to be a slave - to be Sir Guy's slave ... Isn't it funny, I still think of him as Sir Guy although I suppose that will fade away..."

"I understand, Katrina. Believe me, nothing would please me more than to sweep you up, right now, carry you down to my car and take you home but I don't want to be your Master. I want you to be my wife and mother of my children and, until you have worked the slavery thing out of your system, that will not be possible.

"Therefore, I am going to leave now. Leave you here as Lord Grey's slavegirl. You may stay in that capacity as long as you need. I will be waiting but I think it might be better for me not to come here again until you are ready to leave your slavery once and for all. Do you understand my reasons for this?"

"Yes James I do. I will mourn your absence but I accept it as the wisest course."

He gave me a last peck - and then a deep kiss that went on and on and resulted in him making love to me again and then he was up, dressed in a flash and, with a last smile and wave, was gone from me.

I lay there for a few minutes while I collected my thoughts and then rose, smoothed down the bed (with the blood stain in its middle) and slipped downstairs to the drawing room, where I could hear sounds of people.

"Ah, Katrina, come in, come in," said my Master. It was the drinks hour before dinner and the peer, his family and their guests were standing or sitting around the room sipping their drinks before being summoned to the dining room. If you have read the first part of my account, you will know I knew that room intimately for I had been the centrepiece of the table there on one occasion. I wondered now if that would be the case this time as well.

It wasn't. In fact, I was now to be my Master's faithful puppy. He placed a leather collar around my neck, attached a leash to it and ordered me down on to all fours and as his puppy I now followed him around the drawing room as he mingled with his guests. I felt Penny's eyes on me a lot of the time and wondered at her implications to me a long time ago that she had known what was going on. Had she just been a silent observer of her father's enslavement of girls (and boys) or had she too, at one time, been a slavegirl herself?

You may find it hard to understand that I could so easily move from being James' lover to a naked slavegirl to a puppy dog? It is all in the psyche of a slave. This is why I had to serve an apprenticeship; to learn the ways of a slave. To become all and anything my Master desired of me. This is why it was so necessary that Sir Guy test me in so many ways. If I had been found wanting, he would have rejected me out of hand, for to be a slave requires a very special kind of mentality. I had it - but he had to be sure I did or it could have damaged me psychologically and our Masters and Mistresses are very, very careful to ensure we get as much from our slavery as they do from owning us.

Anyway, that evening, after we had all trooped into the dining room, me capering on all fours like a real puppy-dog, I squatted down beside my Master's place at the table, feet on the floor, knees spread wide and hands down on the floor between my feet, in as close an approximation of a dog's sitting position as possible and accepted morsels from his hand from time to time. Otherwise, he ignored me - as was right and proper.

After dinner, Rory took me back to the stables and I ate a belated dinner, a proper meal that had been pureed into a mush, out of a dog bowl at the front of my stall, and then settled into the straw for the night, well pleased with my first day as a permanent slave and even more pleased to find that my lover was not Sir Guy's servant and that in time, when I had worked out the slavery bent in my mind, that we would be married. In the meantime, I could now look forward to an as yet undetermined period as a real slavegirl, permanently naked now, and available for use in whatever capacity Lord Grey, as I now had to think of Sir Guy as, decided for me.

 

The next day it was more pony duty. This was a part of being a slave that our Masters and Mistresses really delighted in. So did I for that matter. It seemed to underline, as almost no other part of my slavery did, that I was a nothing but a beast of burden; that I could so easily be harnessed by real grooms, exactly as an equine pony might be, and then made to run around the trails through the woods on the estate and carry Lord This or Lady That in the gig behind me while they steered me using the reins attached to the bit in my mouth or whipped my naked back and hindquarters to a faster gait.

As my groom washed me down as he would have a real pony and then harnessed me to the gig, I thrilled as I thought of the day ahead. I was stark naked, as were the other boys and girls in the human part of the larger stables building, and each of us had a handsome or beautiful body. Hell, they wouldn't have selected us as slaves if we hadn't, would they? I didn't mind the effort required. They didn't work us harder than we could take although they did make us run until we were gasping and panting so they could pull us to a stop, get down and come up to feel and fondle our sweaty flesh as we drew in great lungfuls of air.

I loved it when they felt me down; yes, the women just as much as the men. It was the shame, you see. That is the all-pervading part of modern-day slavery that makes us want to be slaves. To be kept stark naked all the time - and by naked I mean far more than just without our clothes, for very early in my apprenticeship, I had been ordered to go to a clinic to have all my body hair removed - permanently - and I mean all of it. Even my pubic hair had all been depilated by means of the ruby laser (and, on Sir Guy's instructions and my consequent request to the clinic manageress, in front of an assembled crew of trainee technicians) so that my mons and vulva were totally smooth.

And so, stark naked and properly harnessed to my gig, I now ran up and down the paths, tasted the whip to my back and then, every now and again, had to pull up so my Master or Mistress of the moment could get down, come forward and feel and fondle my body.

At these time I stood up straight, as my groom had ordered me, thrust out my breasts (they are not all that big but they are nicely rounded and firm so that while they judder as I run, they don't flop up and down as do those of women with looser breasts) and stand there while another person felt me down as if I was an animal.

Every Master or Mistress who used me that day examined me thoroughly. They paid particular attention to what had once been my private parts, my breasts, my vulva and vagina, and even my anus.

Once, when on a former visit to Winchelthorpe and had been playing at being a dog, I had had a dildo with an imitation dog's tail on the end of it shoved up there and I had hated it; my groom had intimated to me that at some time in the future I might well have a real horse's tail inserted up there but that wasn't yet. For now, I was simply naked, although harnessed by the belt around my waist and the bridle over my head to the gig. Some of them talked to me, sitting on a log nearby and speaking quite conversationally, asked me about my background and why I wanted to be a slave and whether I enjoyed it as much as I had expected. Others treated me as a real pony, speaking to me as if I was indeed an equine pony and expecting no reply at all. I adapted to both forms, or if they were silent, stayed that way myself.

There was a lot to learn in being and performing as a good slave, just, I imagine, as there is in being a top class servant. You had to sublimate your own desires entirely. Put them right out of your mind and concentrate on the Master of the moment and what he desired. You had to observe slave etiquette at all times, properly lower your eyes and never look a Master in the face unless invited to do so. There were a thousand things to learn and remember and breaches always brought punishment.

Not from my whipmaster any more. James was now gone from my life for the moment. Probably just as well for I would have found it impossible to keep switching back and forth from being his lover (and fiancée) and then, the next moment, back to being a slave girl. No, now our discipline was handled by the grooms, or if we were in the house, by one of the footmen designated by the butler to administer the punishment - or by my Master himself for he told me very early that he would delight in punishing me when I deserved it.

Our next two days were spent in similar vein, each morning being harnessed and led up to the front door to await those guests who might like to take us for a spin, but then they all departed and we were alone once more with just the family in residence.

Lord Grey now came down to the stables. "You have all done very well," he said to us. "But now, since it is high summer, I have decided that you may spend some time at pasture. You will all be released into the great park where you will forage for food and enjoy yourselves until you are called to return to my service. This may be just a few days or it may be weeks. In the meantime, you will have no access to the outside world so if there is any among you who needs urgently to contact family, say so now."

There were none of us in that category and so he nodded and turned away. I gathered the family was going to London for a while and it was deemed appropriate for us to wander as naked slaves in the great park.

They led us down to the gate, opened it and stood aside for us to enter then closed and locked it behind us. We were now free to roam in a hundred acres plus of rolling downs, trees, streams, caves and some open areas. In one area there was a small orchard, now, it being summer, laden with fruit. There were also areas of blackberries and the like and in the streams, plenty of fish. Of course I would have to learn to catch them with my bare hands but I would learn.

It was an incredible time.

There we were, five of us, absolutely stark naked, locked into a hundred acre park of rolling downs and wooded areas, left to fend for ourselves entirely as free range animals. I felt a weird sense of exhilaration as I looked at the others and then across the downs to the trees over yonder. We glanced back at the locked gate behind us and then walked off, down the grassy hill towards the orchard where we foraged for a while, me a little shy of these other four more experienced slaves and they sizing me up as well.

The two girls were very pretty, particularly Lee, the girl from Thailand whose small, slender body was absolutely exquisite. Then other girl was Milly. Of the two boys, Robert and Sven, I favoured the blond, blue-eyed Swedish boy although Robert (who came from Kent) was really handsome as well. He was darker, with fine brown hair that was always flopping over his eyes, brown eyes and a nice olive skin, whereas Sven was much fairer. Both boys were very handsome, however, and the four of them were all fine examples of healthy youthfulness.

We exchanged thumbnail sketches of our lives and it turned out that each of them was as much a born slave as I was. It seems there are some of us who crave to be dominated and Sven, who had made something of a study of the subject, informed me that what we five were doing was the best way to deal with it.

"We live the life, you see, Katrina. To all intents and purposes, we are as real in our slavery, as, say, a Roman galley slave was two thousand years ago - except that we can if we want, opt out. Not right now, of course. We are stuck here until our Master returns but that too is good for in this helpless state, for an unknown (on purpose) period, we cannot call off.