Chapter 1

My name is Kathleen, or more appropriately, Slave #39. You see, I belong to The Syndicate. The Syndicate is a collection of Masters and Mistresses who enlist submissives such as myself for their services. I do not know how big The Syndicate is, or even who runs it. I found out about it four years ago, when I told a close girlfriend about my deep desire for being dominated. She immediately referred me to The Syndicate, and I have been a slave in it ever since.

My duties in The Syndicate are very clear cut. Each and every day, I must wait until 10:00 a.m. to see if there is a message for me. If one doesn't come, then I am allowed to spend the day whatever way I choose to. But if a message does arrive, then I must follow its instructions to a tee.

On the days when my services are needed, I usually do not arrive back here at my apartment until at least 9:00 p.m. My day is spent with a Master or Mistress, or both, pleasing them in whatever way they desire. The basis is my job is sex, of course, but I also have to do chores and cooking on occasion. I'm kind of a maid... but I'm a maid who fucks.

The tradeoff for me in this is quite positive. I receive $1,000 per week, from an unknown specific source, plus full medical insurance. Even if a week goes by and I do not receive a message, I still get the $1,000 paycheck. Being a slave is my job, thus I am not permitted to work anywhere else, such as a second job. The Syndicate runs my life... but I would not have it any other way. My contract runs out at the end of the year, but I am already making plans to renew it for an additional 18 months. I am very happy. I am also very well off in life, especially financially.

Here is a little information on me, if you're interested. As stated earlier, my name is Kathleen / Slave #39. I am at the age of 26 and have been in The Syndicate for the past four years. My height is 5'8" and I weigh 125 pounds, and my hair is long and blonde, and I have brown eyes. The contract states that I must stay in excellant physical shape or risk being terminated. So I do stay in good shape, with at least two visits per week to the health club. I have to stay under a certain weight (128) and pass random tests.

To join The Syndicate, I had to move from California here to Nevada, where it is based and operated. My family is in California and I miss them, but my life is here now. I've never told my family about The Syndicate and never will. They wouldn't know what to think if I did tell them.

My last assignment with The Syndicate was two days ago. It was a Monday and if no message came, I had plans of going to the state park with a friend for a picnic. But when the ominous knock on my front door came at around 9:45 a.m., I knew that it was time to postpone all the plans I had made.

I signed for the envelope from the messenger and when he left, I ripped it open. Sure enough, it was the thick peach colored stationary, with these words typed on it:

TO: Slave #39
FROM: The Syndicate

Your services are required today. A
limosuine will arrive for you at noon
and will take you to your destination.
You are to wear:

A thin white blouse
A black micro-miniskirt
Black spiked high-heels
Nothing else... no bra, no panties

Make sure you look your best, or risk
punishment.

The Syndicate

That was it! That is all it usually ever says, except my required attire is always different. But really, it gives absolutely no details on what I should expect, or what I am getting myself into. I never really know what will happen to me until something actually does happen.

And each time I receive a message, I hope and pray that I procure either a kind and loving Master or Mistress, or both, instead of a cruel and harsh individual(s) who is into giving pain and punishment. I spent a day last week as a 'torture slave', and it was not a pleasant experience. I can take it, though, otherwise I would not still be a submissive in The Syndicate. I just prefer softer D&S.

The last thing I want in life is to receive punishment courtesy of The Syndicate. If I am disobedient in my duties or do not live up to their standards, I will come home from my day of submission only to find The Punisher. The Punisher has a key to my apartment and can let herself in at any time. She is a sadist who brutally whips and punishes me, whenever I deserve discipline!

Fortunately, I have not seen The Punisher in eight months... I consider myself an obedient slave, who always lives and abides by The Syndicate's lofty standards. I never complain during my submissive duties. I know full well that the pain and despair The Punisher will give me if I do complain is ten times greater than what I receive during a normal S&M session. So I grin, and bear it.

After receiving the message two days ago, I had to call my friend and postpone our park plans for another day. It was off to the bathroom for me, where I coated my face with The Syndicate's special mascara and perfumes... I am only allowed to use their kit on the days my services are needed. By the time I got dressed and was ready to go, it was still 30 minutes before the limosuine was scheduled to arrive.

So I had a light snack, not knowing whether or not I would be permitted a meal wherever it was I would be going.

At noon, another knock came to my front door. It was one of the limo drivers, all of whom are stoic men who don't say much, or show any emotion. All I know is that I have to treat them with the utmost respect, and call them 'sir.'

The driver escorted me to the limosuine and I got into the backseat. There were no windows where I was seated, so I had absolutely no idea where we were headed, let alone our direction. I am not allowed to know where my rendezvous is.

After about 30 minutes, during which time I listened to the radio and had a glass of champagne, the limosuine came to a stop. We then started backing up and I heard a garage door open behind me. The limosuine continued moving in reverse and finally came to a stop, then I heard the garage door close. After about a minute, the passenger door swung open. It was time for me to start my duty.

"Please don't let it be a sadist," I prayed to myself, getting out of the limosuine. The driver pointed toward a closed door and told me to go inside and wait. Tentatively, I walked toward the door, opened it, and went inside. I was in a kitchen, and had been told by the driver to wait here.

I stayed in one place but looked around, taking in all the surrondings. It appeared to be a normal kitchen in a normal house. But I still wondered... would my keeper on this day be a man or woman? Would they be kind or cruel? What would they expect / demand from me?

"On your knees."

In an instant, I was on my knees, having obeyed the order of a gentle male voice. I've been told that phrase so many times during the past four years, that it is instinctive for me to do it, without even thinking first. I was on my knees even before the phrase fully registered in my mind.

I looked behind me and noticed a man who appeared to be about 45, wearing a smoking jacket with a pipe in hand, at the entrance. He gave me a soft smile before stepping forward, taking a puff of the pipe.

"Syndicate did good this time," he said, in sort of a cough. "I wanted me a blonde honey, and that's what I got."

I could do nothing but smile in return at the man. I was trying to gauge whether or not he seemed like a sadist. So far, at least, he didn't. In fact, he seemed rather calm.

"What's your name?" the man asked.

I cleared my throat. "Slave #39, sir."

"No..." He waved at me. "Your real name?"

I don't get asked that question often. "Uhh, Kathleen. Kathleen, sir." No one really seems to care enough to know.

"Well Kathleen..." His smile grew wider. "I suppose you know how to cook?"

"Yes sir."

"Good! Then you can fix me up some breakfast. Something simple, like eggs and bacon. You'll find everything you need here in the kitchen, in the usual places. Get to work."

I have cooked many times in the past for my keepers, but usually am asked to perform some type of sex or D&S / S&M act beforehand. I was surprised that he wanted me to cook for him first. And I didn't know the exact time, but I knew it was the afternoon. He wanted breakfast? Now?

I did as he said; I whipped up eggs and bacon, scrambled, he soon specified, as he sat at the kitchen table and read the daily newspaper. It only took a few minutes before I had a hot plate before him.

As he took his first bite, I prayed he would like my cooking. If not, then that could mean a visit tonight from The Punisher. I didn't need that!

But the 40-something man nodded his head, indicating he liked the meal. He told me to sit down at the table across from him. I did, and then we sat mostly in silence while he finished off the food.

"Off with your clothes, girlie," he suddenly demanded.

I had been in a quiet daydream, and was somewhst startled by the quick bringback to reality. But I stood quickly, and dutifully unbuttoned my blouse. My breasts, a nice pair of 36d's, spilled out into view for him. Then I slid the tight micro-miniskirt down my hips and thighs, and stepped out of it. Finally, I slipped my spiked high-heels off... and was now completely nude before a smiling, obviously happy man.

He sat and stared at me for at least a minute, and I'm sure my body was trembling in both fear and anticipation by the time he finally broke the eerie silence. I certainly had those feelings swirling around inside of me.

"My, you definitely are a fine philly," he said through a gigantic smile. "Why don't you come over here?"

"Yes sir," I replied, my feet already moving. I stepped over to him and he slipped one arm around my waist, and then pulled me down into his lap. His other hand darted between my thighs and he immediately started playing with my clit.

"I don't like being called 'sir'. I want you to call me 'Master' from this point on. Understand?"

"Yes, Master." One of the rules of The Syndicate is that I must refer to a male Dom as 'sir', and a female Dom as 'ma'am', until told otherwise. Another rule is that the Dom is not permitted to give his or her real name.

The man's finger was already making me hot. I had been in a quiet, steady blaze inside ever since receiving the message earlier in the morning, in anticipation of what I hoped to be a wonderful and erotic day. But now, as I sat in the man's lap, his finger working on my clit, my insides were already starting to rage and burn with desire.

And I still didn't know if he was a sadist or not.

After a minute of his finger teasing, I had to put an arm around his shoulder and use it for support, while letting out my first erotic moan of the day.

Then he stopped.

"Do you like that, Kathleen? Want me to continue?"

"Yes, Master," I gasped. "Please... if you will."

His finger suddenly changed from the earlier caressess to full and powerful thrusts right into my pussy. By the time another minute had passed, I had experienced an orgasm. It is twice as erotic and hot as normal, because I am letting a stranger do this to me. I didn't even know what city I was in, let alone the man's name, or anything else about him.

"Oh, Master," I moaned, both arms around his neck, my head resting upon his shoulder. "Oh, Master..."

He slowly placed his hands on my shoulders and then pushed me away from him, until I was in a standing position just before him. I felt a bit dizzy, but looked down at him in anticipation of my next order. He still appeared calm.