Chapter 3

Surprisingly, there were no cells as I had mistakenly imagined. Instead, each slave had a cot along the cavern wall and was tethered to a steel track anchored in the ceiling overhead. This gave each slave several hundred feet of allowed movement. She could visit the showers and toilet at one end of the traverse or use the exercise area at the other end of the track. The room was wide enough that none of the slaves could reach the wall area where Molly was seated at the table cutting up potatoes.

“What are you doing riding in the cart, cunt? Get out of there and on your knees, like you should always be.” Molly screamed, standing and approaching the cart with the knife held in a threatening manner.

My pistol trumped her knife and I pointed it at her, saying. There’s been a changing of the guard around here, Molly?” She nodded her head. “Drop the knife and get on your knees, when in the presence of your betters.”

“Yes, master.” She replied with a definite sarcasm in the inflection of her words.

Walking up to the kneeling woman, I kicked the knife away and cuffed her wrists behind her back. “You are now a slave, just like the rest of these women, Molly.”

I motioned Sharon to come to me and placed the taser in her hands. Whispering, I told her how to operate the device and instructed her to shock Molly however she wanted. I’d only ever witnessed the former matron via the cameras, being cruel to her charges so I had no compunction about allowing Sharon free reign with the device.

Hesitatingly, she approached the larger, kneeling, cuffed woman and reached around her chest pressing the taser into an ample breast then discharged the device. The woman screamed and writhed on her knees before falling over and resting on her side. Molly pushed the woman on her back and straddled her chest before pressing the taser into her other breast and discharging it there.

Again, an agonized wail erupted from the former jailor. Wasting no time, Sharon reached between the big woman’s thighs and pressed the device into her vagina. This time she held the discharge button down and watched as the large woman jerked and twisted on the floor. That is until the jailor twisted onto Sharon’s ankle and some of the voltage discharged through her leg momentarily.

Sharon jumped back and the taser crackled as current continued to pass between the contacts. When she released the discharge button, the quiet of the room was only marred by Molly’s continued groaning and tears. Sharon had a satisfied look on her face.

I tossed the keys I’d gotten from Jacqueline, to Sharon. “Go find a collar and an unused cable to lock our newest slave onto.”

When Sharon returned with the requested items, I had to send her back for a narrower collar. The first one rested on her chest and I wanted it to remain around her neck instead. One size does not fit all, at least with collars and cuffs. The second collar might have been a little tight and certainly was too polished, but its wearer would find it quite functional. Together, we dragged the former matron to the other side of the dividing bar and bench area that served as a dining area for the slaves then padlocked the cable to her collar.

“Do you trust any of your former peers to be your assistant?” I asked.

Sharon momentarily looked confused then quickly nodded.

“Who?” I asked again.

Instead of answering, Sharon practically scampered over to a buxom redhead and wrapped her arms around the older woman. In tears, Sharon blubbered, “I owe my life to Libby. She was there for me at my lowest points, she gave me her food when I was denied meals. She stepped up to take my punishments when I had given up trying. She nursed my wounds and whip welts when I returned to the holding area. I owe her everything.”

“Yes, but can I trust her to behave like you?” I asked.

Instead of Sharon, Libby personally answered, “Yes Master. If Sharon trusts you, then I give you my word I will be loyal and obedient to all your demands. Isn’t that right sweetheart?” She faced Sharon waiting for a response.

“He isn’t like the others, Libby. He has never been cruel to me. He has never lied to me. He allowed me to punish our ex-mistress and Molly too, as you saw. I trust him with my life, like I do with you. We will still be his slaves but we’ll actually belong to a master who respects us as humans.” Sharon finished in a whisper.

“Kneel, slaves.” I spoke aloud to the pair before me. Instantly, every woman in the range of my voice knelt. I hadn’t intended such, but felt an immense satisfaction, I guess you would call it, at the group’s response.

Taking the key to the padlock, I released Libby’s collar and cable. Arise slaves Libby and Sharon. Find a bracelet or cuff that you wish to wear as a symbol of your servitude to me and I will mark you as my trustee and her assistant.”

The women immediately both moved to a cabinet and rummaged through the contents as I took the opportunity to examine the slaves still kneeling around me. They were all scrawny, malnourished, beaten, welted and in some cases, disfigured.

Most could hardly be considered a prize in any owner’s eyes. I walked through the midst of them, exploring a breast, holding their chins up in a few cases to look into their faces, evaluating their health and apparent demeanor. I noticed no resistance or unwillingness to be touched. Many of them would once have been called beautiful but life here in the tunnels had prematurely aged a few of them.

I’d expected fear and resistance to being fondled but I found quite the opposite to be true. One woman’s nipples popped out when I approached her and another sighed in response to my touching of hers. Several smiled at me, whether in fear or relief, I had no idea. The last woman I approached even shuffled her knees apart as if inviting my hand to explore lower on her body. Her pubic hair glistened with a couple of drops of moisture that could have been sweat, near her plump, parted lips.

My duo of trustees returned holding flimsy looking, polished-chain bracelets. I took the one Libby handed me and immediately revised my opinion. It was heavy and had a locking mechanism built into the polished metal face-plate. It was already engraved with ‘Slave’ leaving a space for further lettering afterward on the plate. Pressing it over her wrist, I noticed it would be a snug fit and wondered if on Sharon’s smaller wrists, would it be too loose. Taking Sharon’s bracelet, I tried it on her, noting a similar fit.

Sharon spoke up. “They are available in a variety of sizes, Master. We chose the ones that appeared to fit the best. Once snapped on, it would take a bolt cutter to remove. The specs call it a twisted, type 304L, stainless steel chain and bracelet set, with a working load limit of 280 pounds in tensile strength.”

“You both picked wisely, my pets. The brushed steel goes well with your complexion.”

“Kneel slaves.” I commanded. Turning to the other shackled slaves I spoke aloud. “By their own hands have slaves Sharon and Libby proclaimed their obedience to their master. By locking these identification bracelets on their wrists, each willingly becomes my property. It is a symbol of their loyalty and service to me as their master and to my rule in their lives from now on.” Two clicks could be heard as both were engaged.

“Arise slaves, and display your badges of servitude to your fellow slaves.” I spoke to conclude the ‘ceremony’ of sorts. With grins, they did as ordered. Most of the other slaves smiled too.

“What else is there in this slave area?” I asked Sharon.

Libby answered, “Pardon me master,” she began, looking a little embarrassed for interrupting her friend. “Sharon is a relative newcomer and has never been to the training room that our former mistress used. I know the way and will guide you there if you want?”

“Okay, thanks, Libby.” Turning to Sharon I asked, “Will you be okay caring for your sisters in our absence?”

“Yes, master.” She replied.

I walked to our electric cart and motioned for Libby to be seated.

“No, master! As Molly said when you two arrived, it is not our place to ride with you. A slave should always run behind her Lord.” Libby replied.

“I thought a slave never refused an order? You clearly said no to me,” I looked at Libby with a raised eyebrow while she processed my words. She blushed cutely, realizing what she’d done. I was only teasing, though. I let her off the hook by asking a followup question.

“How far is it?” I asked.

“Quite a way, master.” She replied.

“Then get in. I am impatient to get there.” I spoke gruffly.

“As you command, master.” She got in and I started moving in the direction she pointed.

“You may call me Andrew. This master stuff is getting old pretty quickly.”

“Yes, Master Andrew.”

“No, just Andrew!” I spoke with more emphasis.

“You must excuse this slave, sir. But all males are our betters. They are due the respect of the slaves that serve them. Any slave speaking to her master by his given name alone, is being disrespectful. We have all been trained thusly, as you will soon discover.

After a ten-minute drive, we entered a huge open cavern with a twin-engine fixed-wing aircraft parked near a barred metal barrier. Beyond it was a tall hanger door in sections on a track that allowed the aircraft to be enclosed within the cave. The barred metal barrier was constructed like a prison wall with concertina razor wire above the posts and railings. Wheels at the base of the large doors allowed it to be opened as required for ingress and egress.

Libby spoke, “We need to stop here and walk the rest of the way, Master Andrew,” Libby said, clearly hoping I wouldn’t get angry at her insistence on including the word, master. I just shook my head in resignation. She was only trying to be a good slave, after all.

We walked up to a regular-sized doorway and Libby hesitated before saying, “Only the Mistress could enter after pressing her face up to that device.” She pointed to the retinal scanner.

I bent at the waist and looked inside the device before hearing a ‘click’ that announced the entrance had opened. As before, a steel door was locked at the opposite side of the vestibule. In this room were an arms locker, several metal boxes that appeared to be marked as ammunition, as well as a cabinet with chains, cuffs and collars similar to those worn by prisoners being transported.

The interior metal door was key operated and opened into a similar, but larger room. The assortment of gags and butt plugs in a cabinet above a sink and a four-inch stainless steel pipe fastened within the sloping concrete floor, alluded to a more sinister purpose of the room.

“This is the in-processing room, master. Most slaves are brought here for indoctrination and training. A new slave is first secured over this binding rail, like this.” Libby walked up to the rail and bent over it. Then stretched out her arms and feet toward anchor recesses like those interior tie-downs found in cargo airplanes. “Six of us arrived that first day and we spent a couple of days here being whipped, tortured and cleaned out. The enemas were the worst, repeatedly flushing out our colons, before plugging them with increasingly larger diameter plugs. I still have the eyelets below my nipples that Mistress inserted while I was here, too. Will you allow me to do likewise with her, Master Andrew?”

“Could she even be made into a good slave, Libby?”

“Any woman will become one if her master dominates her sufficiently. Her’s is not to question her lord, but to obey and provide for his pleasure. Slaves must be taught. Ours is a learned behavior much like swimming or riding a bicycle. When you train one, she will only respond properly, if she knows the consequences of her misbehavior and chooses to do as you direct. Slave Jacqueline will be no different than any other woman. Maybe a little more stubborn, due to her former privileged status; but she will become whatever you desire her to be, as long as you don’t slack off on your expectations. Some women are more resistant to slavery, others may readily accept their status; but eventually we all become what our master, or mistress, train us to be.”

Libby continued, saying, “Besides, you have surely heard the expression, ‘the taller you are the farther you fall’. Mistress Jacqueline’s exaggerated sense of entitlement has earned her many enemies, all of whom have ample reason to hate her. She would fetch a high price in certain circles, just for the opportunity to dominate her. Owning one such as her would be a life-time dream for many Masters. You should attend to her training personally, as soon as possible.”

Considering her status, Libby revised her comments. “Your slave is being presumptuous. What she meant was, once all other pressing matters have been attended to.”

“I cannot do it alone. I have a regular job that needs my attention too.” I tried to explain.

“Hogwash master. Excuses are a sign of weakness.”

Her disagreement startled me. If she hadn’t been talking about the way a slave should be handled, I would have thought she was a religious zealot, dismissing my reasoning as false. Under normal circumstances, I could have imagined her taking the stance that treating a woman the way she was advocating was wrong but instead, she was insisting that I focus on breaking Jaqueline and at the same time, risking my displeasure by personally challenging my priorities as if she were my equal.

I immediately garnered a deeper appreciation for her depth of feeling on the subject of training Jacqueline and slavery in general. She didn’t want to convince me to ‘do the right thing’ and free her along with the other captives, but rather, to fully subjugate her ex-mistress as she herself had been. Libby didn’t want to be anything other than what she had become and she was doing her best to convince me of my new responsibilities as master.

“What would you have me do?” I smirked a little instead of berating her for being presumptuous again. I knew she would never convince me to abandon my existing responsibilities and I was enjoying her candid behavior. I’d had the idea that all slaves always simply bowed and scraped. Not Libby!

“Do you run a business or work for someone, master?” Her seeming change of subject was probably not intended to catch me unprepared yet it did. I answered before I thought about it.

“I own one. Why?”

“I thought so. Your first priority is to your slaves, myself included. Nothing else matters. Find someone to take over your other duties. Hire a subordinate to run your business if you have one. You don’t work for others, they work for you. Pay them accordingly and allow them to perform as you direct. Reward them for superior performance.”

I chuckled a little at that. “I could do that, but that would take time and time seems to be what you’re advocating for me to free up,” I reminded her.

“I could name several slaves who ran successful businesses before running afoul of Mistress Jacqueline. They could take your place locally without anyone knowing their actual backgrounds. They have nothing left to return to, Jacqueline has assured that, primarily to protect herself. These slaves only need an opportunity to show you their loyalty, much as this slave has been granted, Master Andrew.”

Her eyes were blazing with sincerity. “While you consider that, please let me show you the dungeon and training rooms, master.”

Without waiting, she strode towards a wall and pressed a hidden latch. As in Jacqueline’s farmhouse basement, the wall opened revealing a sloping walkway upward, in the direction we’d come.

At the top of the slope was another large cavern opening, much like a sinkhole interior with an exposed limestone ceiling, but without the dripping walls. Instead, a concrete floor and walls surrounded the room with various torture implements being strategically placed.