21st Century Subterranean Slavery : Part III

You can of course also encourage a client to discipline you near that time of the month by being a naughty girl and then beg for more. Most of you already know that only works with some clients. Other clients will of course beat you harder while you scream and beg him or her to stop. It’s up to you to make those judgments and once again encouraging the client to hurt you…is your responsibility to maximize the syndicate’s profits.

“Twenty-three, give me one method of encouraging the client to beat you harder or longer?”

“Sometimes by not crying out with the first few lashes the client will become frustrated and beat you more or harder until you cry out or scream with pain.”

“That is correct but again every client is different and you must use good judgment.

“So why do we offer your bodies to clients for sexual pleasure? One-eight-six, address the class;” she was shocked to be single out on her first day.

“The syndicate offers our bodies as sex slaves to…to clients to…to make a profit, master?”

“That is correct and what is your responsibility?”

“To…to have sex with the client, any kind and truly love him so he will come back and tell his friends so the syndicate can make even more money.”

“That is correct, Nine-seven can you expand on her statement?”

“I think so master. In my mindset the client is the prince or princess of my dreams.”

“That’s good Nine-seven can anybody add anything to that? Yes One-two-five go ahead.”

“Well master no but I have question. You say we should try to encourage more acts or positions. What if he doesn’t like being told?”

“Good question One-two-five. That is a delicate matter; many men are set in their ways. As a sex slave it’s your duty to submit to any position demanded, that goes without saying. You should however try to sense the client’s needs. As you both move around in the bed or the room, try to encourage groping and kissing by responding breathlessly to his moves even though they might seem strange. Remember some of your male clients have been married for many years and some have only experienced the missionary position. It’s your responsibility to encourage experimentation, different positions and sex acts, especially fellatio to a man like that can be a fantastic turn on. A fantastic turn on, can lead to repeat business and what does that mean, Eight-nine?’

“Profits for people we’ve never seen.”

“Eight-nine is getting slightly cynical this morning but that’s fine. It is actually a good question but not exactly true; no one outside of the front office knows their identities. Not even our warden and madam. I’m sure however that many of you have sexually satisfied some of your owners. Yes Seven-two?”

“Really master that is exciting I’d love to know when I’m serving someone who actually owns me. I don’t know why but that turns me on. I know the clients theoretically own us for the night but the syndicate owns us permanently. We truly are the property of these people. ”

“Well you never will know but after four years as a sex slave, Seven-two, I’m sure you have probably satisfied one or maybe several of your owners, who knows? It’s a large syndicate and I’m sure they dip into the till. Yes One-six-three?”

“How much do we cost a client, master?”

“Again only the front office knows that. But I can guess that, because of the secret, illegal nature of this operation and the fact that you are actual slaves abducted and brought here unlawfully from around the world, only the very rich can afford any of you. Probable five or ten times the most expensive call-girls.”

“Why would anybody pay that much if they can get a call-girl for less?”

“Think about it. A call girl is a free citizen who can leave anytime, refuse certain acts and haggle for payment. You are all permanently in chains and cannot refuse any sexual act with any client, who actually owns you for the night. The client is in total charge of you, body and soul; there is absolutely nothing you can do to refuse him, short of a severe beating and in such a case definitely the pit. That is a fantastic turn on to many clients even though they don’t know about the pit. They know however that you are true slaves, Yes Seven-eight?”

“I love being owned master and I love to hear you talk about it; it makes me all tingly inside; especially the idea that an actual owner has fucked me.”

“Does anybody else feel like Seven-eight? Let’s see a show of hands; nearly half that is a nice surprise to me; mostly long timers over three years. Six-two, why do you feel that way?”

“Same as Seven-two I think. After two years it’s my life now, I was always a submissive nature. I acted, no rather was, the sub in a sex club; maybe one of the syndicates slavers found me there. I don’t care about being free, I love submission even the pain of being lashed by a client, the madam or slapped around by the warden, though I don’t think I’m a real masochist. I just love my life here and as long as I’m young enough to be desirable, I wouldn’t leave if I could.”

One-eight-six found it hard to believe what she heard from Six-two and Seven-eight; she couldn’t imagine ever feeling that way no matter how long she was here.

“Six-six, what did Seven-two just say?”

“I…I’m sorry master. I’m so tired from last night. No sleep at all master.” The instructor filled out a form on the podium. “Guard, take this slave to the madam’s office for corrective action.” She was led out with tears flowing down her cheeks.

One-eight-six, noticed that not only the girls ass but also her thighs and back were welted with stripes of all colors. She wasn’t much over eighteen; a short buxom blonde with a sculptured body and Scandinavian skin. She wondered if the madam would let her off with a few lashes; since she had earned a large bonus for the syndicate last nights.

She was led to the next class in another large room where about fifty female were on or getting on what appeared to be massage tables. She was brought in to a small office where a guard ordered her to get on similar table and then left her alone after leaving her clipboard in a slot. A mistress and an assistant then entered, the assistant picking up the clipboard handing it to the mistress who studied it and then handed it back.

“One-eight six, I am the mistress in charge of VSM, which stands for vaginal sphincter manipulation training. Spread your thighs.” She sounded very officious, like a city hall bureaucrat. She spread her thighs and the mistress placed one hand on her stomach and penetrated her vagina with a finger asking her to squeeze it. She tried with little success. “Reaction barely ten percent,” she was speaking to her assistant who made a note. For the next five minutes she was probed and ordered to flex her pelvic and other muscles in her lower body and thighs while listening to a lot of medical jargon she did not understand.

“You pelvic floor is weak for a nine-teen year old. You will train here seven days a week in order to bring your contraction pressure and frequency to an acceptable performance level. This is vital due to the client category you are being aimed at. Motivation is essential and by your chart I see you have already had a second tour in the pit. For the first few weeks we require an incremental weekly improvement of eight percent in both pressure and frequency. Six percent will result in a visit to the madam’s office; four percent, snakes and rats for an indeterminate period. My assistant will get you started immediately.” She left the room and the assistant put her hand on her stomach and inserted and held a long soft dildo in her vagina.

“Relax dear and begin to contract at a rate you are comfortable with. That’s it; I can feel it in my hand. Over the next hour the assistant inserted several different devices including one where she had to stand. “There you have nothing to worry about dear I’m sure you will pass with flying colors in seven days.”

“How long does this training last?”

“For as long as you’re a sex slave, as you get older and loose that youthful glow; it becomes even more important. Some client chose sex slaves exclusively by the VSM rating, noted in the dossier with your photo-layout.”

After the class she was led out in the hall way and told to sit, most of the rock tunnels seemed to have benches along on or both walls. There were sex slaves sitting for a far as she could see in the dim light. Tall carts were then rolled along with shelves of food trays. Every slave was handed a tray with her number on it. She looked around and noticed everyone else setting it on their laps and then eating with cutlery. So it was only in the warden’s office where you ate like an animal.

“Surprised honey?” A buxom black female sitting next to her chuckled as she spoke; “you’re new, right out of the Warden’s cave of horrors aren’t you? I’m two-seven.”

“I’m One-eight-six and yes my first day out. You look to young to have been here a lot of years with that number?”

“Barely one, “I’m twenty; they give retired numbers as they become available. I’m British by the way, abducted in Jamaica while on vacation; I probably drowned or was eaten by a shark while scuba diving.” One-eight-six replied with her own allowable information. They ate in silence and then stood up sliding their empty trays into the slots as the cart rolled by.

“Well,” the British female said; “it’s sleepy time.”

She was led to a cell block with two rows of beds; she guessed fifty in the middle of the room. One steel post at the head of each bed held a sign with the slave’s numbers and at the foot end a post held a receptacle for the ball. There was no bedding only a thin mattress. She was led to her number and ordered to place the ball and lie down. The guard then told everyone to rest and think about nothing as the lights were turned down low with elevator music played softly. She fell to sleep and woke to the sound of a soft bell.

They were then ordered to file out in the rock tunnel and led to a large dimly lit room with a thickly carpeted floor. It turned out to a combination of show and tell plus some acting. They were arranged in circles of ten sitting on the floor with their iron balls centered in a neat circle. The guards did not take part at first but circulated listening.

For a while they took turns describing every sexual detail of the previous night; how they had satisfied the client, how many times and if they thought the client had been completely satisfied. Some would get up and show the bruises they had received from the client or the madam from a complaint. Others would then make comments stating what they would have done different or praise for doing something out of the ordinary. One-eight-six was left out since she hadn’t served a client yet.

Next they would playact; each female would pretend that a female across from her was a client and say how much she loved her. One-eight-six thought at first that this was very silly but she soon discovered that constructive criticism from others was very educational. She learned that the volume, tone of voice, facial expression during the statement and especially after, could be infinitely varied; eyes and lips open or close, head cocked or turned slightly, eyelids fluttering. There was no end to it and then every face was of course different and what worked for one did not work for another but mainly a submissive sweet expression was the key.

When her turn came as the last one she actually came off fairly well, with two slaves giving her advice.

Everyone then stood up and posed one at the time way they would do in the evening lineup. She was surprise that there was no bump and grind movement but apparently the object was to display the body to prospective clients front, side and back; hands behind the head most of the time then folded behind the back, down to rub the thighs a bit and back up flipping the breasts lightly in passing; lifting the long hair if that applied, swinging it a bit and then behind the head again. The facial expression had to be distant, not icy cold like a runway model but sweet and fearful. Equally important was breathing, heaving the chest displaying your breasts to the best advantage. She learned later the reason for them posing in a regimented manner was that the syndicate wanted every sex slave displaying their body features and not distracting the client with a dance competition.

At this point two guards came inside the circle, one with a clipboard and the other began to fondle one of the slaves very slowly in a loving sensitive manner, while the other guard watched the expression on her face. The next female was treated roughly; the guard clawed her tits, slapped her ass and then rammed her hand into her crotch. The slave responded by shaking, breathing rapidly with a fearful expression. The third slave was made to flex her biceps while the guard felt them and then forced her mouth open checking her teeth, her ears and then made her bend over showing her crotch while she poked a finger into her vagina.

One-eight-six now understood that they were practicing to deal with different client personalities while the guard rated their response. Sometimes she would start over, telling the slave this or that was wrong. When she got to her the guard crossed her arms and just stared at her scanning her body with a superior expression. Not knowing what to do she turned her head closing her eyes acting like she was really scared and tried to tremble. The guard slapped her face and pointed at her own eyes. She made eye contact again and the guard nodded and moved to the next slave. She drew a deep breath in relief; maybe she would be good at this?