Chapter 2

A handsome man with salt and pepper hair greeted Devon at the entrance. His posture and strong handshake gave the impression he was very important.

"Devon! How are you? It is great to see you again." The man said in a loud booming voice.

"Sir Gregory! You look wonderful."

The men embraced, patting each other on the back then released the hug and fell comfortably into a handshake.

"Devon, you don't have to call me Sir anymore, remember?" Sir Gregory laughed.

"Old habits die hard I guess."

Caitlin stood patiently behind Devon; her eyes focused on the ground in front of her. She found it difficult not to look at the other slaves. There was a strange mix of feelings that ran though her. She felt comfort knowing she wasn't alone and an uneasy competitiveness knowing she wanted to present well to make Devon proud.

"My, my, what do you have here?" Gregory asked with a sly grin on his face.

He walked around Caitlin very slowly using his hands as if he were blind. She could feel her skin rise with Goosebumps as he fondled her and explored her body. His eyes were like a x-ray machine looking right through her and she convinced herself she could feel the radiation penetrating her as she stood there obediently.

"I must say Devon this one is something else. When did you sign the contract?"

Devon smiled. Sir Gregory's opinion meant a lot to him. Much of what Devon knew today, Gregory taught him years ago.

"I took possession about six weeks ago and I've been very pleased."

Caitlin showed no emotion. Although inside, her heart raced and she felt like she would explode. Hearing those words from Devon's lips changed something in her. She knew she could get through the night now. The confidence she had somehow lost with her last trainer was brought back by just a few simple words.

Caitlin's first experience was short lived but not one she would soon forget. Her first trainer was not a member of the club; she met him through a personal ad. It turned out he was no more than a power hungry man with a need to over power weaker people. Caitlin feared for her safety and ran away from him. It was shortly after that she heard of the club from a friend.

Devon left his friend Gregory and mingled through the crowd of Masters and Slaves. Caitlin followed behind watching every move her Master's feet made. She didn't dare look up and risk meeting the eyes of another patron. A handsome young slave dressed in a black bow tie and cumber bun held out a tray filled with Champaign. Devon slowly reached towards him past the tray and lifted his chin to look at his face. His high cheekbones and full lips gave him a boyish appearance, which matched his hairless chest. Caitlin guessed his age to be around nineteen. Devon motioned for him to turn around. His buttocks were slightly pink (evidence he was not a willing servant in tonight's affair) but firm and nicely shaped. Devon smiled and reached around him from behind to take his glass of Champaign knowing it would startle the young man causing him to be uncomfortable. Devon's favorite part of being a Master, like most masters was the power play, he loved to play mind games and push his submissive subjects to their limits. The naked slave held his tray steady and didn't flinch when Devon reached over him. He was well trained despite his obvious resistance.

The large ballroom had three stages in it. The main one where the Master of Ceremonies stood was framed in deep red velvet curtains with spotlights shining down on it. Two smaller stages stood at opposite sides of the rooms in the corners. They were equipped with spotlights and had black backgrounds painted on the walls. In one corner a crowd gathered; patrons clapped and cheered while guests stood compliantly by their sides. On stage, a young girl stood tied to a post, her hands above her head and feet spread shoulder width apart. The crowed encouraged the young Master in Training as he teased her verbally and physically. Devon walked closer to the show watching carefully as the young girl blushed and held back her tears. Humility is the hardest part of being a slave. To stand alone or in front of a crowed having someone degrade you is a talent that must be practiced. To show restraint in defending yourself is harder than taking the punishment, which would follow. That is what motivates a good slave. The power struggle between a Master and slave is a tricky one. Who really has the power? Pulling out a riding crop he lightly snapped it across the young girl's loins leaving a trail of pink flesh behind it. Applause filled the room. With the patrons busy watching the show the slaves communicated through glances and signs. Their dress told the tale of what their Masters desired. Some wore black leather others were in school uniforms, lace, silk, angora and some in nothing. The patrons all wore suits, tuxedos or formal eveningwear. The club was very exclusive; the annual membership cost of ten thousand dollars was not for those who dabbled in the life style. All of the members were full time Masters and most of their time was devoted to the cause. Many of their jobs were specifically to train new slaves for other wealthier Masters. Others owned restaurants, nightclubs, gyms, clothing stores and sexual aid stores used as settings for training and socializing. The slaves were put through a battery of psychological testing to be sure they could handle the intensity and that they were signing their lives over to a Master so they could run away from problems existing in their outside lives. Both Masters and slaves were required to have physical exams; STD tests and refrain from sexual activity for six months to be sure there were no diseases in the community. This was a commitment to a life style much like a commitment to a marriage.