Chapter 7

About five minutes after she entered, my teacher, Miss Coleman, exited with her new tattoo. She rubbed her fingers over the marking as she looked at me and smiled. She then dropped her hand to her side.

Greta Coleman had a narrow waist with what I would call an average body. Her hips and tits were neither exceptionally big or small. But there was something about her overall that always left me with the feeling that something about her was not normal.

Watching her, standing on the balcony, it occurred to me: She was so still. Most people, when they are standing in one place, they involuntarily fidget, shifting their weight from one foot to the other, clasping and unclasping their hands. But not her. My History teacher stood like a statue, with her hands by her side, and feet slightly apart. She hardly seemed to even blink her eyes. It was like she was conserving all her energy, to use in times need.

“There’s something not right about her,” I said to Connie.

My lieutenant smiled, “I could tell you, but I think it is her story to tell.”

I almost tried to pry it out of her, but I decided that if she wanted Greta to tell her secret, I would respect that.

Down by the front door, an auburn-haired girl, that I seemed to remember was part of Connie’s old clique, was manning the entrance. She was turning about half of them away. The other half she directed to the changing rooms before being sent up to the three rooms that were being used for tattooing and hair removal.

They went into the two changing rooms and came out without a stitch of clothes on. They would notice me and, either blushed and ran up the stairs, or reached down and touched themselves. One of the other girls would then nudge her, and they’d proceed up to the second floor.

Up on the balcony, there was a line of five girls outside the waxing room. There was no waiting yet outside the two tattoo rooms, though some were getting directed to the third room, from the second. It seemed to take five minutes to mark each girl. It was fortunately a simple design, that required no real artistic flair or changing of ink color in the middle of the procedure, in most cases.

As Connie and I watched them, the red-headed door manager ran up to Connie. “I just got a text from Mary Park. She’s not going to be able to make it.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“Her parents don’t want her going out to a party on a Saturday night. They say she should be home, doing her homework and going to bed early, so she would be ready for church in the morning.

“She told them that she had finished her studies that afternoon, but still, no dice.”

“Does she still want to come?” asked my blonde.

“Most definitely, but her room is on the second floor. She just can’t just sneak out the window.”

Connie considered her options. “Get Karen and Heather to respond with a ladder.”

The girl, who I learned later was named Laurel, nodded, then started a new text, as she walked back to her post.

“You seem to have an inner circle,” I said, trying hard not to seem accusatory.

She nodded, “I have a small group of girls, all slaves to you, who are there to help me when things like this crop up. Many of them were close friends I have known for years. Others were members of my family’s sex club. Still others have proved their loyalty and devotion to you in various ways.

“You can tell who they are, by their tattoo. At the three points where the M and W meet, there is a small ball there.”

I looked down at Connie’s tattoo, and saw there were indeed additional small markings, just like she described. It wasn’t obvious until you looked closely.

I was a bit uncomfortable with this setup, but did not know quite why. I guess it made sense for Connie to need her own assistants.

She seemed to detect my discomfort. “If you feel that any of my choices are inappropriate, or you want to add someone else to the squad, let me know, Master.”

“I’ll do that.”

Finally, it came time to get the party started. Laurel stood by the door, watching all the girls come in. My mother and sister were among them.

Connie opened the doors to the dining area. Inside was a buffet of foods that could be eaten with your hands, without needing a plate.

I watched the proceedings from the balcony, in front of the grand master suite.

It seemed like everybody had been out there, waiting. Nobody seemed to be latecomers, except of course Mary and her two rescuers.

Everyone took off each other’s clothes and put them into the closets. They then loitered in the great room, greeting, hugging, and groping each other.

“Don’t get too physical yet, ladies!” Connie called out. “When we all get there, Master Mike will get the festivities started.”

Showing some restraint, my harem headed into the dining room, sampling the various tasty morsels.

I had already darted in there earlier and got first choice on the food in the buffet.

The way they acted when naked, was telling. Some were uncomfortable being nude and tried to cover themselves, for a while; then they realized that everyone else was naked and they could not keep this up forever. Others jumped and frisked around, doing cartwheels in the massive room, it was like losing their clothes freed them. Still others walked around like being undressed was no big deal.

Seeing all these naked girls together was a bit surreal. Some of them were afraid to touch each other, while others hugged, pressing their bodies together. Some laughed and teased their friends about their bodies, pinching and poking sensitive body parts.

After about ten minutes, Mary and her escorts showed up.

At that point, Laurel locked the front door, keeping everyone inside-- in, and everybody outside-- out.

I looked down at Connie. “Get everyone out of the tattoo rooms. We start in five minutes.”

Without her having to say a word, the girls that were waiting by the doors, had heard what I said, and went down the stairs. The ones that were the next to enter, opened the doors and passed the word to Bridget, Corrine, and Donna. One said, “She’ll be done in one minute.” The other two said, “She’ll be done in two minutes.”

Soon the last customers left the room, followed by the three artists. Only Donna, the hair remover, was still dressed. She was the only other one that stayed on the balcony. Corrine and Bridget went downstairs to join their fellow slaves.

I looked out at the group of naked and nubile girls, all standing and staring at me. My cock instantly became erect, pointing out at the throng.

My harem all moaned with desire. Some started to touch themselves.

“Spread out as much as you can.”

Connie told me later, that there were 108 women out there. The room was well suited for that number. They were not pressed together too tightly. They had some room to maneuver around each other.

After they had followed my instructions, I said, “Kneel.”

All of them dropped to the floor. The assumed the position they had been trained to execute. Their knees were spread, with the soles of their feet crossed. Their pussies were open and gaping at me. Most were wet, swollen, and drooling.

That made my dick rise up to a forty-five degree angle. Pre-cum formed at the tip.

“The first thing we are going to do tonight is select my first set of lovers.”

A cheer, combined with a moan of desire, filled the room.

“What you are all going to do is show your love to me, by masturbating ... When I say go, you will proceed to jill off. The three, whose performance catches my fancy, will be my first bedmates.”

I paused to let them prepare themselves. “Ready, set, GO!”

Groans and shrieks filled the room as all 108 started to touch themselves. A couple touched their neighbor instead. I guess you could give them points for creativity. I certainly did.

Almost all of them had their eyes locked on me. They were all moaning, crying out phrases like, “Fuck me, Master!” “Choose me, Master Mike!” and “I belong to you, body and soul, Master!” It is times like this when your position could really go to your head.

I had decided to select the girl with the most enthusiasm, the best show, and the longest endurance.

One girl I noticed immediately was a girl who had to be a freshman. She had long blonde hair, narrow hips, and small tits. She was diddling herself frantically, giggling and laughing at the same time. She came quickly, with a squeal of delight, and a squirt that splashed the girl in front of her. Once she caught her breath, she started up again, with the same exuberance.

Several of them tried to put on a show for me. Ella, the brunette swimmer, put on a demonstration of her flexibility, licking her own pussy. I would have chosen her, but I had already popped her cherry. I needed to pick someone new.

Laurel, Connie’s friend used her long legs, and straddled one of the stair railings. She rode the narrow acrylic rail and moved up several steps before she came, and almost fell down the stairs.

The longest lasting girl was easily Miss Coleman. She knelt toward the back, near my mom and sister, masturbating in a steady circular motion. She obviously was lost in the sensations. I think she could have lasted longer, but she noticed that everyone had finished, so she came too.

As all of this was going on, Donna watched from the side balcony, mesmerized, like she was watching a train wreck in slow motion. Finally, she retreated, returning to her room.

“Times up!” I called out, over the din of girls going for their second or third orgasm.

I pointed out my winners, the young blonde, Laurel, and Greta Coleman.

Many moaned in disappointment. Slaves near the winners, congratulated them. I am sure some asked if they would put in a word for them.

As the three climbed the stairs, I told the others, “The rest of the night is yours. If you haven’t been inked yet, get that done.”

Bridget and Corrine headed back up the stairs, to resume their duties.

“Everyone else, you can get some snacks. Use any of the spare bedrooms, or have fun here in the Great Room.”

Just then, the hidden doors on the right side opened, and about forty white and square ottomans wheeled out, under their own power.

“Let them through,” called Connie. “Once they stop you can use them.”

The little chairs skittered around, coming to rest in seemingly random positions. Some stopped-- sitting themselves; while some stopped in groups of twos and threes, making improvised benches. Toward the center of the room, seven of them nested together, making a small bed.

My three selections were approaching from my left, so I opened the sliding doors that led to the master suite partway. I walked through first, so they followed me in one at a time.

The way they carried themselves told me a lot about their personalities. Laurel led the way, almost strutting, like she was getting her just reward. The freshman was hopping and skipping and cheering for herself, like she was about to go on a roller coaster. Finally, Ms. Coleman took up the rear, walking at a measured pace with her hands behind her back. I’m not sure she realized that that made her medium breasts, and erect nipples stick out more than usual.

When were inside, I told my teacher, “Close the door.” She did so without comment.

Once we were alone, my first two girls changed their attitudes drastically. I think the reality of the situation finally hit them.

Laurel stopped dead in her tracks and fell to her knees. “I’m really here,” she whispered. “Finally, Master Mike is going to fuck me! Make me his property. How do you want to do me? I’ll do anything you want!”

The young blonde suddenly became petrified. Her red tattoo marked her as a virgin. “It’s going to happen. My Master is going to stick his thing in me. But it’s so big! I don’t think I can take it.” She started to hyperventilate.

I ignored Laurel and went over the scared freshman. “What is your name?”

“C-Cookie,” she gasped.

“Really?”

Blushing, she nodded her head.

I tried to think of the right thing to say, when Greta stepped up behind her. “Don’t worry, Mike. I’ll calm her down.”

“Thanks,” I said.

As I walked over to the California King bed, my teacher took Cookie over to one of the couches.

I looked at Laurel. She was still on knees, staring at me with awe.

I decided that, though she had a gorgeous body, I didn’t like her very much. She was a spoiled brat, without the intelligence and self-awareness that Connie had. But she was my slave. I had an obligation to fuck her at least once, making the bond permanent.

“Get on the bed,” I ordered.

She scrambled onto the brass four-post bed eagerly. “How do you want me?” she asked eagerly.

“Doggie-style.”

Dutifully she got on all fours. “Like this?”

“Perfect.”

I got behind her, and without any warning I rammed my cock as far as I could, deep into her twat.

The red-head cried out; whether from pain or pleasure, I didn’t care.

With deliberate force, I started to fuck her with hard deep thrusts. She cried out in time to my piston-like pounding.

In short order, Laurel came, clamping down on my dick. That set me off. I filled her womb with my sperm and pulled out.

She collapsed on the bed, breathless. “Thank you,” she gasped.

I nodded. “You can go now.”

She stumbled to her feet, and headed to the door.

I called out her name, and Laurel turned just as she was about to exit.

“Next time you think you are better than someone else, remember, you are just a slave. You are nothing special in my eyes.”

She paused for a moment, pondering what I said. Tearing up, she nodded. “I understand, Master.” She bolted out of the room, closing the door behind her.

As I was wondering if I was too hard on her, Greta walked up to me, with Cookie in tow.

“This young lady has something to say to you.”

The blonde looked down at the floor. Not wanting to meet my eyes. She started talking in a voice just above a whisper. “My locker is just down the hall from yours. I’ve been...”

“Look at me,” I told her, trying to be not too scary.

With effort, she complied. I was surprised to see tears were streaming down her face. “I’ve been in love with you all school year. You are so cute and handsome. I dreamed of being your girlfriend, going on dates, taking boat rides, and seeing movies. I dreamed about us kissing, and you asking me to go steady.”

That had me shocked. I never thought anyone thought of me that way, especially in my old pre-puberty state.