Chapter 4

This time it was slave Linda’s retinal scan that opened the secured passage. She stepped into the dungeon cell block area first, and assumed command. “Your master is present. On your knees, slaves.”

I stopped. My eyes took in the immense room we had just entered. Linda hadn’t exaggerated a bit. It was all on me that I didn’t realize the scope of my engagement in Jacqueline’s organization, even yet.

Eleven new pairs of eyes watched me as I stood, rooted to the spot just inside the huge room. The naked slaves alone were enough to capture my total attention. Instead, I looked down to my side where Libby was kneeling alongside Mabel. “What the fuck have I gotten myself into here, Libby?”

I could see that she had heard my question, but to her credit, she appeared to be carefully considering her answer. I noticed that slave Linda had turned around and had undoubtedly heard my query, choosing to kneel and submit herself rather than interrupt my thoughts.

I was focused upon my new domain, the facilities and arrangement, not just the eye-candy in the room.

On the left there appeared to be a medical examination area. Although unfamiliar to me, I had accompanied my wife to her doctor’s office one time. What I saw here seemed to be a fully adjustable gynecological examination chair with foot pedals to control each axis of movement. It occupied a conspicuous space at one end of the room. As if it needed any more emphasis, a high intensity overhead lamp was anchored to the cast concrete ceiling inside a totally glass enclosed room. The white painted ceiling and walls were in stark contrast to the unfinished concrete elsewhere within the cell block and remainder of this room.

The lamp had a primary fixture that could illuminate the immediate area. Its adjustable arm had a supplemental fixture that appeared to allow further illumination in any imaginable position. Along the walls were several glass-fronted medical supply cases and equipment shelving. An autoclave of some sort was mounted beside a double-tub laboratory sink along the back wall.

Moving my view to the cell block area, I was amazed at the size of it too. That portion of this room was equally as large as the former training room had been. A dozen narrow cells occupied the entire wall opposite the doorway entrance. A showerhead, toilet and basin was fastened to the rear wall inside each cell. Beds were all mounted on the left wall of each cell. Now each was folded up against the cell bars. An upper-level folded frame and bare mattress was available in each cell should dual occupancy ever become necessary. A narrow metal bench was the only other furniture in any of the cells.

At the far side of the room, a small table was fastened to the floor in what appeared to be a fully functional kitchenette. Several loose cushioned metal dining chairs surrounded the table. Several stainless steel appliances were present. Andrew recognized a large upright freezer unit, beside a matching refrigerator. An ice maker with a water dispenser was door-mounted on it. A stove/double-oven food preparation area was in the middle of the kitchenette with under counter utensil storage shelving and a dishwasher. Next came what appeared to be drawers for silverware and utensils. Last were three large stainless steel, open shelving units that served as the pantry. A microwave oven was mounted next to the huge range hood over what must have been a six (or more)-burner gas stove. A stack of dual-compartmented deep trays rested on the counter.

Andrew turned his focus back to the cell area. He noted all but three cells were occupied. In stark contrast to the slaves he had encountered in the tunnel area, these slaves were younger, better nourished, and all beautiful. They must be the show stock Jacqueline reserved for her most favored customers, whereas Libby’s peers, although no slouches themselves, were the laborers.

“Master Andrew, this is not some weekend operation. Jacqueline micro-managed every facet of its operations. You are the first man I have ever seen down here, besides her ‘boy-toy’. Whenever one of us was needed, Molly took us to the holding area at the tunnel entrance next to her house, cuffed and shackled. You may have noticed the plethora of ring bolts anchored into the walls there.”

“Yes Master. Her ‘toy’ was punished and tortured next door several times, but no man has ever been in here either, master. Except perhaps the contractor’s personnel who built it several years before I was entrusted with its operation. Still, I am unaware of her external operations or personnel. Yes, I have met several pilots, besides myself and recognize her chauffeur / mechanic. I know that she had an auction site, somewhere nearby. He might know where.”

“Yes, Master Andrew. Visitors are very rare. Seeing you at the custodial site was without precedent. No one is ever brought down here. We are always brought up to her living area. Slaves brought to her home are used there and returned when their services have been performed. I have witnessed her chauffeur drive many slaves away. I assume they were sold, as they were never returned.”

Slave Linda spoke. “I don’t understand why my former mistress broke protocol, but visitors are never allowed down here. She kept the tunnel network a secret. Even her pilots don’t know what’s beyond the hanger doorway and barred exits. I can assure you that she believed that you would never leave here alive, or she would have never let you in. The retinal scanners are programmed to incapacitate anyone they do not recognize. I have seen them temporarily blind runaway captives. She would have had to enter your scan and authorizations to the database. Why she would do that...”

“My thoughts exactly, master. Slave Sharon says you walked in and later captured Jacqueline. When you freed and cared for her, she willingly became your property. She also said she helped overpower the mistress who had attacked you. I am sure Jacqueline never meant to allow you to get this far into her inner sanctum. You are either very skillful or have been incredibly lucky.”

“It looks like the latter, my slaves. When things settle down a bit, I need to get with you both and come up with a strategy to wrest full control of this network from her. I’m confident she’s not been as forthcoming as she could have been and she’s not likely to give everything up without a continued fight. Now, slave Linda, would you introduce me to your slaves?” Andrew requested.

“Yes, master. Slave Iris, who is wearing the apron, is our cook and nursing assistant.” Linda announced. “The remainder of the women here are slaves being trained. Besides Master Leo’s duo, three have come to us from a master on the west coast who’s name no one here knows. They have only been here for a few days. They came to us pierced and decorated and it was made clear he wants them to keep their furry mons but otherwise no body hair.”

“I assume your former mistress owns the rest?” I asked.

“Yes, master. They live here between assignments. Before you ask, there are four more currently on assignment. Assignments vary in length from a weekend to several months for those on ocean cruises. I am only made aware of the shorter-term assignments, of which there are none now.” She responded.

“So you’re saying that the other four who you know are on assignment, are on cruises but you don’t know when they’ll return. I’ll keep that in mind. For now, let’s examine these slaves, Linda. Bring them out of their cells and have them present themselves.”

“I am unaware of a specific presentation position master, but will endeavor to have then posed in any manner that you might suggest.” Slave Linda replied.

When all ten were lined-up, slave Mabel took her place at the end.

“No, slave Mabel. I want you to help us get the rest of the slaves properly presented. Slave’s Libby and Linda will also help, as will your sister slave who is the best trained of the rest. Yes?”

“Slave Beca is owned by the same master as I am. We came here together. I assume you mean her, master?” Mabel replied.

“Yes, slave Mabel. Rebecca may assist us.” Slave Linda spoke out.

With five trainers supervising the remaining slaves, the formation was arranged quickly. Each slave stood straight, legs spread shoulder width apart, hands behind their head and fingers interlaced. Shoulders were pulled back to thrust their breasts forward and bellies were held taut. Three were supporting small nipple weights from their newly pierced eyelets.

“See mine, master Andrew.” Slave Libby reflected casually. “Even years later my eyelets still function as implanted. I could wear up to three pounds on each breast all day if I had to. Even these few ounce weights feel much worse than that on their novice tits, but they will develop an ability to handle greater loads, with training and endurance trials. I am unfamiliar with this jewelry though,” She replied, pointing to a nipple on one of the new slaves.

Slave Linda responded. “Their master provided the jewelry, or rather the appliance to lengthen or stretch, their nipples. As long as it isn’t taken to an extreme, elongation is easily tolerated and I assume it presents a more fertile, or gravid appearance. Of course, this slave believes that floppy nipples will detract from a slave’s appeal, if carried to the extreme that some masters might prefer. To each his own.”

“Ahh one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, Slave Linda.”

“I meant rather, that beauty is in the eyes of their beholder.” She replied. “Distended nipples have universally denoted superior fecundity. Personally, I believe that abundant mammaries are a more obvious sign of actual fecundity, whereas nipple length is mostly a sign of obvious arousal.”

“One of the signs, sweetheart.” I added.

“I stand corrected, master.” Linda smiled.

“Other than the slaves here temporarily from out West, I notice all the slaves I’ve seen so far are shaven,” I commented.

“Depilated, is the term generally used here, master. As I said, the three here temporarily from California were not to be altered. Other than that, as part of regular in-processing, Jacqueline dictated that all her slaves’ body hair below the armpits be removed.”

“I see. So a woman will find herself here, freshly shaven as her first indication that her will is no longer her own. That would be quite the wakeup call,” I postulated.

“Not all of Jacqueline’s slaves started their lives as slaves after abduction, master. Some of the sluts that have passed through these tunnels chose to be slaves, although at the time of choosing, they probably had no idea what awaited them. If they found themselves lucky enough to be selected as a pleasure slave rather than face a future in the mines, they wouldn’t have appreciated their luck right away anyway. I do not know how Jaqueline made the determination. Some say it’s chance, while others insist it’s some slave’s natural ability to sexually please a master or mistress that landed them here. I do know of at least one willing slave who was traded and subsequently found herself in the mine.”

I thought of the blowjob I’d had earlier. I could easily believe the natural ability hypothesis. “And once a slave is depilated, they stay that way? It must cost a fortune in razors,” I joked.

“If repeated waxes are insufficient, then electrolysis is conducted.” Slave Linda explained. “We do both as your slaves progress through their advanced training.”

“Hmmm, very interesting. Jacqueline has quite a thatch growing between her legs.” I mumbled to myself, apparently not as quietly as I had assumed.

“As it will be my privilege to help remove, master.” Slave Libby reminded me of her offer to help in-process Jacqueline and my wife.

“Is it too late for this slave to offer her services to accomplish that task for Jaqueline, master?” Slave Linda interjected.

“Are both of you going to fight over depilating her?” I questioned. It seemed both were looking forward to the opportunity to get a measure of revenge on Jacqueline if only by providing the minimal discomfort caused in the process of waxing her.

“No master.” After making eye contact with slave Libby, she continued. “This slave recognizes her sister’s prior claim for in-processing your two newest slaves. She shall patiently wait for whatever benefits that her master allows her,” Slave Linda replied.

“Very well slaves. Continue to play nicely with one another and maybe you’ll be allowed to share the task.” Turning to the remaining slaves-in-training, I spoke louder, “Your trainers seem very thorough and knowledgeable in slave etiquette. However, they seem remiss in slave positions for display or presentation. As such, I propose you all practice. We’ll start with standing positions for presentation, then proceed to other poses. I think attention, kneeling rest, kneeling presentation, and submit, sometimes referred as submission, will be included. I shall have slave Libby demonstrate as I walk her through each of the positions.” I directed the woman and made slight corrections as warranted to the gathered slaves.

For the next half hour, all the slaves performed the posture activities I directed. When finished with the first round, they each observed and corrected their peers. I noted their genuine interest and appreciation for the process. And its results; well, let’s just say they kept me hard.

“Slave Linda, you may resume your duties. I shall need slave Libby to borrow your piercing tools, and several eyelets, rings, a few barbels. Oh, she’ll need antiseptic solutions, too. She will also need access to your waxing compounds and any cloth strips that you use. Thank you for your patience with my inspection today.”

“Anything my master wants, becomes my desire also, Master Andrew.” Linda announced.

Leaving the cell block area with the supplies we needed; I helped myself to a few toys, clips, and a few accessories from the training room supplies. Then we exited by way of the dungeon and placed our gathered supplies and materials in the in-processing area.

We drove the cart back to the storage container where our two bound slaves were still secured in their cage. In moments, both were released from the bars but remained cuffed. Longer leashes were clipped to their collars, which slave Libby then tied to the back rail of the golf cart. She asked if I wished to replace their ball gags with whiffle ball gags. I shrugged my shoulders, not knowing what she meant.

Slave Libby went to a cabinet and returned with two items saying, “These will allow for easier breathing as your slaves run behind the cart, master. I nodded and Libby replaced the gags, not before each woman started to argue with her, as their turn came.

I sat quietly in the cart’s passenger seat and motioned for Libby to drive. She stepped into her seat and drove off, towing the two, now jogging slaves. Their long run to the in-processing area at the far end of the tunnel complex would put a strain on their out-of-shape bodies. While Libby drove, I took the opportunity to appreciate the spectacular response of both women’s breasts to their energetic movements.

“You really are a pervert, master.” Slave Libby announced, smiling just the same.

“Guilty as charged, sweetheart. Given the opportunity, I’ll always look, and enjoy whatever I am allowed to see. I only wish I had a camera ... Whoa! Stop for a minute!” Libby stopped as I pulled out my cell phone and opened the camera app. Once Libby drove off again, I spent the remainder of the trip zooming in on the two slaves and making a movie of their naked jog.

While we arrived at the hangar area relatively refreshed, our two slaves-in-training were exhausted and winded. I opened the vestibule and in-processing room doors, leading them in. Jacqueline recognized the hitching post and held herself back, resisting somewhat in futility, but Deborah was clueless. A better penis gag effectively silenced slave Jacqueline and we in-processed a rather vocal slave Deborah first. The bikini wax was a pretty quick process with my former-wife, since she had only a short-trimmed landing strip. ‘Had’ is the correct term, as she was soon completely depilated.

While still tied over the hitching rail in a reverse-spread eagle, I wiped Deborah’s nipples down with antiseptic, then grabbed her areola and lower nipple with the piercing forceps. A quick punch and the awl was forced through her breast tissue with little blood being spilt. Inserting the eyelets was a little tricky for a novice master, especially with a loudly protesting slave, but slave Libby guided me through the entire process. Soon I was looking at my once, and still, trophy wife, but in a new light. My involuntary cuckold days were over and in their place was a future lifetime of slave ownership. Deborah would either earn her place at my side, or be auctioned off like her bestie standing beside her.

I held Deborah as she was released from the hitching rail and turned her over. Once tied again, belly down, I turned my attention to slave Jacqueline.

She allowed me to approach before attempting to kick me. She must have had some self-defense training in her background, because her kick was aimed at my head. It might have succeeded if she hadn’t telegraphed the move so poorly. She knew the drill and was not going to give up without a fight.

I never expected that she would facilitate her own in-processing. I could have used some anesthetic to desensitize her, or even a tranquilizer to put her under, but instead I took immense pleasure in physically man-handling her, slapping her ass as hard and as frequently as was necessary while binding her securely, with some welcome help from slave Libby. Seeing the once dominant brunette, now in a reverse-spread eagle over the hitching post rail, was an epiphany for us both.

Jacqueline undoubtedly began to realize that her in-processing was imminent. There was nothing she could do to prevent it. Just watching Libby prepare to depilate her mons must have been traumatic for the recently-supreme being.

For myself, Jacqueline’s spread-open vulnerability gave me a sense of ownership. Both being in charge, and demonstrating my ownership of what soon would become my slave. I wasn’t just an observer, although I did pay close attention to everything Libby was doing. Rather, I touched and handled Jacqueline’s body at every opportunity. I caressed her mons, running my fingers through the lush growth before Libby set to work with her clippers. I stroked her flanks, running my hands over her flesh and I cupped her breasts as I reached them. I grabbed handfuls of her plentiful locks, twisting her head until I was looking deep into her anxious soul. I sensed she now felt like the countless others she had taken and abused. Scared, powerless, a pawn to what others wanted of her. I reveled in her impotent fury. While I was forcing her into slavery, she could scream, writhe back and forth in a futile attempt to avoid my hands, but ultimately, my constant touch was driving her to distraction.

I had read somewhere that a master’s touch denoted ownership as much as it did control. My touch reinforced her loss of control, of even being left alone. My touch was all about doing as I pleased. Never again would she control her destiny. I wanted her to realize that I would do whatever I wanted with her. She was my toy now. I would decide her future.

Jacqueline’s tresses were a dark natural brown, and her mons was a forest of brunette curls. Libby had found some barber’s shears in a cabinet. With them, she reduced the mistress’s abundance to a manageable stubble. Then taking narrow passes with the heated wax, Libby depilated Jacqueline’s cunt and labia completely. My part was mostly stroking the depilated areas and telling Libby to repeat or expand the area being depilated. Despite being red and inflamed, the antiseptic and repeated narrow applications of heated wax caused Jacqueline to howl now that her penis gag had been removed. My constant stroking had to have additionally infuriated the once dominant mistress. I wanted her to experience all the frustration and anger that her helpless screaming would entail. If the noise she made had really bothered me, I bet I could have found some earplugs.

She wiggled, jerked and did her utmost to avoid being pierced, but the forceps worked just as efficiently on her as they had upon my wife. There was a fair amount of blood, but that was her fault, as she fought to prevent being pierced. She twisted her chest violently to avoid and escape the forceps and awl needle. Neither worked, although it was messier than my wife’s experience. Besides the eyelets, I inserted a set of barbels in her nipples. I patiently explained their purpose was to allow me to tie her to any frame or loop that I desired. Since she would be stretching her own nipples in trying to escape, she would be responsible for any elongation or damage that accompanied her efforts. As I explained this to her I was astonished at the invective she directed towards me. In the end, she joined her once best friend and sister in slavery, face-down, bent over the hitching rail for the remainder of the night. Now the penis gag she once again wore silenced her voice, so that her two trainers could rest peacefully.

“Get some sleep if you can, my lovelies.” I declared. “The enemas and anal training begins tomorrow, or later this morning as my watch tells me.”

Soon enough, both women quit moving. Their suffering sobs a quiet reminder of their continued torment.

Libby had opened a Murphy bed built into a cabinet along the back wall of the room and made it up using sheets and a blanket found in one of the side drawers. I crawled onto the queen-sized mattress beside slave Libby. Asleep in minutes, my dreamless and comfortable night’s slumber probably differed from the tormented rest that my slaves endured. This was the first of many such nights of discomfort in their future. I awoke spooning up against a warm red-headed body with a raging hard-on between my legs and two hands-full of pliable breasts.

Getting up, I tried not to disturb the former slave. Not that I had any chance of success. She offered to relieve my condition, but I shook my head, instead lubing my cock with some K-Y jelly before fucking my wife, dumping my first load of the day in her now fertile twat.

Although unlikely, I knew for a fact that she had not taken her pill yesterday and doubted that she ever would again. Not being totally ruthless, I left her somewhat satisfied, but without being released from the hitching rail. I decided that she would become pregnant. I wanted a son, of course, but whatever gender the child was, it would be loved. By the time it became old enough to realize that it had many mothers, I’d have to come up with a rational explanation. Till then, I would sew my wild oats, perhaps fathering several children. But I would start with her.

I left slave Libby to continue the enema treatments by herself, promising to return with some breakfast for us and a couple of bowls for the new slaves to experience the first of their future meals from the floor.

One of my first changes to the in-processing room would be the addition of a microwave oven and a dorm fridge to make our few meals more available. I know that I could have visited the cell block area, but even that would interrupt the procedures and training schedules of those being instructed. Perhaps I would just order food delivered as I needed some. There were plenty of service slaves available for such assignments.

When I returned, both slaves were kneeling beneath the rail. Their hands were cuffed to their collar, behind their heads. Their hair was braided and knotted with a rubber band and scrunchie holding it in place. I made a big deal of opening a can of dog food, pouring a stew-like mass in each of two bowls. Pressing their bodies forward until they rested on their elbows, I placed a bowl of water beside the food bowl.

“You ate yesterday morning, Deborah. I doubt either of you have eaten since. It’s either this food or nothing. Tonight, it will still be there for you to eat. Tomorrow will be a repeat of the meal, only punishments will be added for any refusal to eat. Eventually you will eat. I can promise you will not enjoy the consequences of not eating what I have provided.”

While we ate the fresh cinnamon rolls that Sharon had made for all the slaves, I know the fragrance of them drifted over to the slaves. We washed down our pastries with hot coffee and cold orange juice. I watched the troubled duo making their decision about eating. I could tell that Deborah was indignant, but her hunger won over pride. A few nibbles, then increasingly energetic bites soon reduced to her licking the bowl clean, I tore a cinnamon roll into pieces and put them in her bowl, rewarding her efforts while saying nothing to her companion slave. Jacqueline got the message; there would be no rewards for her.

While Libby was occupied with another round of the slaves’ ablutions, I thought out some plans to make it look like Jacqueline and Deborah had run away together. I had their ID’s and passports. Some plane tickets to San Antonio would be easy to purchase. ‘Nah’, I remembered. The finger-print scan that TSA was now using would not allow for that to succeed. Maybe we could use the private aircraft at the cavern entrance to fly there instead. Then a rental car for a one-way drive to Laredo would put them at the border. A cash purchase of a sedan at a used car lot down there would allow the disguised women to return here under the radar, so to speak. It would appear that the duo had left the country under assumed identities. All it would take is a couple of wigs and some appropriate clothing to allow Sharon and Libby to impersonate Deborah and Jacqueline.

If it all worked out, I’d have time to establish my credentials as a slaver and perhaps incriminate Uncle Henry, eliminating his possible interference with my plans. Jacqueline being absent would negate any counter blackmail Uncle Henry might attempt. The farmhouse would need a significant security upgrade, but it was not like I couldn’t afford to hire some on-site security personnel. I knew several Seals from my Navy days. They might possibly be interested in a new occupation, especially one that offered the fringe benefits I could provide.

Maybe slave Iris could take over Molly’s old duties for a short period and slave Beca could become a cook until she was claimed by her owner. I’d need to interview several of my slaves to determine who might possess skills and traits that could assist me in this occupation. Yeah, perhaps turning over my business to one of my workers made a lot more sense if money problems disappeared as a business consideration. I’d still be the owner of record and could always claim that I was trying to divest myself in order to locate my runaway wife, who had abandoned her marriage.

There’s something that I was overlooking about Jacqueline. It was not just due to her uncle being the sheriff, either. She had gotten away with murder for too long. ‘Murder?’ I thought. ‘Where were the bodies? Where was this ‘pit’ located? Jacqueline had referred to it in her texts with Deborah? ‘Just how many ‘terms’ ended up there?’

“Change of plans Libby. I need you to take Deborah inside to the cell block area now. Release her from the rail and follow me.”

I walked to the training room door and had my retinal scan read for access. Hot on my heels, Deborah was shoved in front of Libby and we all walked across the room. I pressed the detent that opened the false wall and led us all up the sloping corridor tunnel to the cell block area.

The command ‘kneel slaves’ was shouted even before I walked into the room. I found slave Linda, still naked and on her knees. “Is there a new dress code for you, Linda?” I asked.

“Yes master. This slave’s corset was a display of her own vanity. All slaves should be naked.” She explained.

“I liked it. Perhaps you will wear it for me from now on.”

“Yes, master.”

“Not as tightly tied though, just comfortably fit, as befits your current status. Your figure certainly doesn’t need it.” I explained.

I quickly changed topics and explained that I wanted to borrow slave Iris and her doctor’s kit for a few hours. All the slaves were to be restricted in the cell block area until I returned with slave Iris. “No questions, no exceptions. Understood?” I commanded.

“Yes master.” Slave Linda replied, even as I followed slave Iris out of the cell block area.

It took several minutes to get back to the in-processing area again. I walked up to slave Jacqueline and took out her gag. I asked her point blank. “Where is the ‘pit’?”

“What ‘pit’?”

“The ‘pit’ you referred to in your texts with Deborah, slave. The pit you told her that I should be dumped in.”

“There is no ‘pit’ master.” She replied immediately.

“Lies are not going to work with me, slave. I know better. Your slang for slave is ‘term’, the shortened form of ‘terminal’. You used it several times in your texts with Deborah yesterday, before I trapped you in the woods. You even responded that I would suffer the same fate as those ‘terms’, but Deborah talked you into dumping my body in the river for others to find, post-mortem. Now, I’ll give you one more chance, where is the pit?”