Calista: Lead character
Master: Master and owner
Sir Jon: Master's longtime friend
Lady Martha: Master's first wife
Lucinda: a very ambitious slave who takes an interest in Calista
Jacinta: Paired off with Calista, she too is a house slave
Mildred: Mother hen to the slaves, she is the eldest house slave
Jasmine: Arab slave girl who took over for Calista as greeter
Clara: den-mother to the harem slaves
Petra and Paulina, Roxanne, Quan-Yi, Gretchen and Barbie: harem slaves
Darabi: Another slave trader
Master must have come into money. He didn't strike me as a person born to the blue. He certainly was graceful and eloquent, but there was a certain polish lacking when it came to protocol.
On very rare occasions Master's oldest friend would come by to visit. Sir Jon had known Master longer than anyone else, and was the person whom Master had complete trust in. Sir Jon, however, gave us a glimpse as to what Master was before he had acquired his wealth. Sir Jon was working class, grease and grime always under his fingernails, no hope of ever coming clean. On these rare occasions, when Sir Jon visited, Master always allowed him to take his pick of us for his entertainment.
The estate was remote, surrounded by forest and no other houses within view. Every visitor that arrived either came in by small plane, landing on the dirt runway, or had traveled for a very longtime by car. I have no idea how I arrived here, but my first task after indoctrination was as a greeter for visitors.
I was not allowed in the main house, as that was a privilege I would have to earn, rather I was placed in the outdoor kennels, my clothes replaced with collar and body harness. The harness did nothing to hide my exposed breasts or cunt. My job was to greet all visitors as they arrived, recite the welcome chant prostate at the door of the plane or car, "Welcome Sirs and Madams, this unworthy slave greets you most humbly to Duquette Estate. Please allow this wretch to escort you to the main house and to make arrangements for your luggage."
I am not proud to say that I would listen to their conversations as I went through my tasks, eager to glean any information outside my realm of knowledge. Any news of the real world, about the environment I was now in, anything at all. Before I knew better, I was able to gather that the Estate that I now served in was so far away from help, that there was no chance of escape if I was able to leave. I also found out that my Master was not a man to be trifled with, he had become very influential and powerful, so large a presence that my being couldn't help but shrink in the importance of his stature.
I soon learned that eavesdropping on guests conversations was something I should not concern myself with. It was in fact escorting Sir Jon and his guest up to the main house that Lucinda, one of the house slaves, discovered me listening intently to their conversation, and it was confirmed, as Sir Jon made a particular funny joke, of which I snickered, that changed Lucinda's welcoming smile to our guests, to one of harshness as she excused herself from Sir Jon and his guest, marched directly to me and instructed me to report to my kennel. She did this in a subtle way that didn't alert our guests that there was a problem.
My stomach churned, and I went clammy as I curtsied and turned heel, heading back to my kennel. Lucinda resumed her duties escorting Sir Jon and his guest in the main house, of which I had not been granted the privilege of entering, and now wondered if I ever would be allowed.
There is a pecking order here among the slaves. Kennel slaves are lowest, housed in the outside kennels, they are usually the newest slaves, purchased or by other arrangements such as blackmail, agreed contracts, or other means, both legal and illegal. They live housed in a cell block, with collar and leather body harness only. Kennel slaves are trained and either sold and moved to other owners, or if they are very lucky, they are kept by Master.
It is very rare for Master to keep a new slave and he never visits the kennel. At some point in time, Master stopped training kennel slaves and passed that assignment over to his house slaves. During my entire time spent as a kennel slave, I only saw my Master while greeting him as he arrived back to his estate.
Becoming a house slave is something all kennel slaves dream about, it is their entire ambition to earn the right to wear clothes, and be able to enter the Main house. Because of this right of passage, all house slaves strictly maintain discipline of kennel slaves. They become the trainers and punishers, policing the kennel slaves and issue training strictly within the lines of protocol Master has laid out. They take a particular kind of glee in issuing training and punishment, remembering their own trials and toils shivering in the kennels, being the lowest of all slaves and taking brutal hidden punishment from all others. Some vindictively torture the kennel slaves, forcing the new slaves to go through the same rite of fire that they themselves had to endure.
House slaves have the responsibility of recommending kennel slaves for promotion. They take that responsibility very seriously. Master at this point cannot be bothered with something as trivial as weeding out the new trainees. There are only a very small number of openings for house slaves, as house slaves can outlive their purpose, be promoted, or can be sold to a guest that takes a particular liking to them. The house slaves are very guarded as to whom they recommend for promotion. The kennel slave must be not only completely trained, but obedient, pleasant, liked by all others, and trustworthy. If a kennel slave is promoted and fails as a house slave, in whatever way Master sees fit, the house slave and the ones who recommend promotion are removed from the house. Most are sold off to live lives of unspeakable cruelty, some are killed, but one has been kept within the estate, to be served as a lesson to all slaves of the consequences of failure.
She is kept in a small cabin on the far end of the estate. Every new slave on their first day is brought to that cabin to be shown what happens with failure. Upon each promotion, they are again shown this miserable wretch, as a reinforced reminder of what failure can bring. She has no name. Some whisper that she was Master's second wife one time, long ago. She is more a receptacle now than a slave, her arms and legs atrophied from the steel cage box she is forced into. She is inflicted with electrical shocks on a minute by minute basis; the pain long ago forced her mind into mush. Estate hands, gardeners, workers, have full use of her orifices and her body within the cage as they beat, shit, piss and fuck her till they are spent. A sign at the door reads: "This is what happens with failure. Its failure was poor judgment. Enter with cruelty in mind. Take it out on the failure inside."
This... "thing's" ... punishment was to serve out its days as a reminder that with a modicum of power comes responsibility. This lesson remains firmly entrenched within each slave here on the Duquette Estate, making recommendations few and far between.
I didn't have to wait for Lucinda long. She came to my cage and opened the door, grabbing my hair; she dragged me out and down the corridor to the punishment room. Once inside, she strapped me to a whipping post, and once secured, grabbed me by the jaw, twisting my head around to stare directly into my tearing eyes. The olive skinned Mediterranean woman was exotic looking, big eyes, very curvy and tall. She looked glamorous, but hard. Her face was set, her body a steel spring. She exuded resolve. I was afraid.
"Slave," she said sternly, I had not earned the right of a name or number yet.
"Do you know why you are here?"
I nodded, and tried to cast my eyes downward. She reaffixed her grip on me, yanking my face upward to meet hers, as she towered over me.
"You are to never listen in on conversations. Unless someone is addressing you, talk is NOT to be heard."
"Yes, mistress," I chocked back some tears.
"It's very simple slave, you have one task, and you should be concentrating on doing that one simple task only."
"Yes, mistress," I replied.
"Do not concern yourself with things beyond your purview, you little bitch! You know the consequences of failure?"
I nodded and shuddered, remembering the cabin.
"Focus on your task at hand, and only that, and maybe, if you're lucky, you will survive."
She smiled, and I let my guard down for a moment, hoping that the lesson was concluded. Her face turned and she brought down across my face a blow from a crop, where she produced it from, I do not know, but the sting knocked me off balance, as I yelped in pain.
"Now, my pet, a little reinforcement is in order so that you learn your place. Take this lesson well, you now have been logged, if you fail again, you will live to regret the rest of your miserable life!"
.... There is more of this story ...