Chapter 24

I had thoughts of telling Mr. Reiser about my teacher, but I didn't. I hid the ring Mr. Davis had given me away in my vanity, in the wide drawer where there were a number of similar boxes as I did have a lot of jewelry by that time. I was terribly spoiled. I pushed the engagement ring out of sight, towards the back of the drawer, and I hoped I could forget it, that Mr. Davis would come to his senses and remember what I'd told him. I was somewhat embarrassed by his affections, to tell the truth, and I was sure my Master wouldn't find the man's proposal very amusing.

Mr. Reiser might even decide to turn my teacher in, which was what I should have done just to protect myself. I didn't want to see Mr. Davis get in trouble though, and so I kept the secret and told myself it would be alright. I had just one year of high school left and it would be over, I'd never see Mr. Davis again. A white man could love a black girl, I thought, but only if she was his slave. Anything else was wrong and immoral and I wanted nothing to do with it. Even liking the man the way I did was too much; it prejudiced my better judgement.

"Are you getting ready?" Wren's voice interrupted me and I blinked away my guilt and frowned at her.

She had a Georgia accent, all of Wren's words coming out soft and breathless sorta, since that's where Miss Corinne had found her. Soon after meeting Mr. Reiser, and so meeting me, the woman had decided she wanted a sissy negra all her own and Cory had hired an agent to track one down, a professional Bounty Hunter, as they were called. Such people usually chased runaways, but I guess they could just as easily find any other sort of slave as well. After a few weeks, the Bounty Hunter had found Wren and the timing couldn't have been better so far as Miss Corinne was concerned and she liked to call it Fate.

Wren was mature for her age, believe me, she acted more like she was fifteen than twelve, but I guess growing up in an orphanage does that to a person. She'd been born a slave and raised in Atlanta without knowing who her parents were or anything. Wren had told me the Mistress running the orphanage put all the boys in dresses and taught them the finer points of being a negra, with the help of a certain male clientele who enjoy pretty little boys. Child brothels are legal in some states, like Georgia, and it makes sense since an orphanage does have to pay for itself somehow. They're illegal in Tennessee, so that just means the orphanage doesn't charge the customers anything, but accepts donations instead. Once a slave turns twelve he or she has to go on the auction block and the orphanage gets that money too. It's a good business and Miss Corinne was thinking about bidding on the contract for the orphanage in Memphis when it came up for renewal, but I don't really know how that stuff works.

"Yeah," I nodded. "You're wearing that?"

"What's wrong with this?" She looked down at herself and the dress she was wearing. It was short and pink, with ruffles of white lace around the waist.

"Nothing," I shrugged. "You have to really get your nipples hard though."

Like I explained, Wren was a boy, but such a pretty one that I figured God had just made a mistake giving her a penis and balls. Or maybe He'd done it on purpose; who could say what God might be up to? She was twelve years old and tall for her age, just an inch or two under five feet, with fair brown skin, sort of a warm toffee color. Wren's eyes were dark, like rich coffee and bright despite that, reflecting the soft glow of the lamps in the bedroom she and I shared, but never slept in. She didn't have much of a body yet. Wren's chest was flat but for her puffy nipples from taking hormones, and her hips were soft with a little babyfat maybe, but she didn't have much of a waist or anything. A nice butt though, really nice, and skinny legs like all twelve year olds have. Kinky black hair to her shoulders and that pretty face, a pert little nose and a soft mouth with pouting lips. She would be very beautiful when she got older and the girl knew it.

That's why we didn't really get along that well, because I knew I was beautiful already. It could be that having two bedroom negras in the one house wasn't a good idea either. I mean, Wren did belong to Miss Corinne and I was Mr. Reiser's negra, of course, but neither of us were much for sharing our owners' attentions and it was fun to try and get that attention. I enjoyed it a lot when Miss Corinne would compliment and touch me, kiss me occasionally and even bring me to her bed. She was very much like a man in that way, preferring to use a strap-on dildo and take me from behind, and she always fucked me so nicely.

Wren could hardly disagree with that aloud and most often her Mistress would have the girl watch, as sort of a punishment, I thought. Wren didn't like that at all and afterwards she'd go out of her way to seduce Mr. Reiser and find a way into my Master's bed, urging him to make me watch them fuck, naturally. I couldn't complain about it any more than Wren did, but only do as my owner told me. It was a game, I suppose, and one neither of us would ever finish nor win, but it kept us apart emotionally and most often we avoided each other when we could. I think our owners were aware of it and most likely they found it amusing and not a little useful, as it did keep Wren and I very busy trying to look and act our best.

"What's wrong with my nipples?" Wren frowned and brushed her fingers over her chest. The dress was very thin and tight around her body and should have revealed the girl's nipples, but Wren's were always small and soft, despite being puffy.

"Nothing. Except it's like you don't have any," I teased her and I was just wearing my underwear as I put on my makeup. My Master was taking me out tonight, to the Owner's Club for dinner and fun.

"I can't help it, they don't stay hard," Wren shrugged at me. "I pinched them and stuff, you know, but then they just get soft again."

"Heh!" I grinned at her reflection. "Sucks to be you, I guess."

"Oh, shut-up!" She stuck out her tongue at me. "I'm gonna get tits pretty soon anyway, my Mistress said so. Big ones too, bigger than yours."

"You are not," I laughed, putting on a little eyeliner. "They won't do it until you're sixteen."

"How do you know?" she asked.

"How do I know?" I put my pencil down. "Duh! Why do you think I had to wait?"

"Cause you weren't even a slave. Duh!" Wren mimicked me. "Mistress can do whatever she wants with me."

"She can't do that," I said. "They have to wait til you grow some more."

"Why?"

"Cause otherwise you're tits will look funny." I stood up and went to my closet. "Nobody likes funny looking tits."

"You think I look bad?" Wren asked me a moment later and she was worried about her boobs now, just like I wanted her to be.

"The top does," I nodded. I'd taken off my bra and was putting on a lavender blouse, thin and loose like a sleeveless halter made of silk. My proud nipples were sticking out sweetly from my ripe, perfect tits and I made a point of making sure Wren saw them.

"You think it's the pills?" Wren wondered and she frowned at my tits.

"Does your dick get hard?"

"All the time," she nodded and I laughed.

"It ain't the pills then," I told her, pushing my panties down and my own little girl cock was semi-hard, just because it loved getting dressed up.

"What should I do then?" Wren sat down on my bed, watching me as I stepped into a black leather mini-skirt. My Master wanted me to dress slutty tonight.

"I dunno," I shrugged, looking down as I buttoned my skirt and zipped it up. "Get them pierced, that might help."

"What? My nipples?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Get like posts or whatever, or I don't know, not rings though. Something that will make them look bigger."

"I'd have to ask Mistress."

"Don't ask!" I giggled, looking for some lavender shoes cause I knew I had some. "Just do it! Surprise her."

"What if she doesn't like it though?" Wren worried.

"So, take them out then. It isn't like you have to keep them in forever or anything," I frowned and turned my head. "Did you take my shoes?"

"No!" Wren looked at me like I was crazy. "Why would I take..."

"Found them," I cut her off and Wren had pretty small feet, but I didn't trust her either.

"See?" Wren wrinkled her nose. "You're always blaming me all the time."

"Yeah," I agreed, because it was true and I didn't care. I sat down and started putting on my shoes.

"Are you ready to go, Wren?" our Master's voice sounded from the open doorway and I had to think about that for a second before it registered.

"Yes sir," Wren giggled for him, putting on her best bedroom negra act as she stretched briefly, giving the man a pose.

"Master?" I looked at him, still bent over as I buckled one of the thin straps around my left ankle.

"Didn't Wren tell you?" Mr. Reiser looked at me and then at Wren.

"Sorry, Master. I guess I forgot," Wren said sweetly and she was giving me a look so I'd know she hadn't forgotten at all.

"What?" I asked her, but it was Mr. Reiser who answered.

"Cory wanted to switch tonight, so you're going with her to the Sable Society," my Master told me, somewhat apologetically, but not really.

"Oh." I swallowed hard and nodded, dropping my eyes and pretending like I was busy with my shoe.

"I'm taking Wren with me," he added unnecessarily. "Let's go, girl."

"Yes sir!" Wren agreed happily and she wiggled her fingers at me. "Have fun, Dani. Watch your balls!"

Of course I knew my Master would fuck her and Miss Corinne would probably fuck me too, so neither of us were really getting any kind of advantage, but Wren had enjoyed watching me find out at the last minute. She was such a little bitch! I wondered if my outfit would be okay for Miss Corinne now and I figured she'd probably want me to change. I'd been to the Sable Society a few times before and it was much like the Owner's Club, except most of the women brought boys with them, the bedroom bucks who kept their Mistresses satisfied. There were a few lesbians however and they had their place, their own rules and pleasures, and Miss Corinne was a part of their small circle simply because she liked her boys to look like girls.

"Mistress?" I knocked on her bedroom door, even though it was open.

She was dressing and very nearly finished, wearing cream colored riding breeches and a red blouse tucked into the narrow waist. Miss Corinne had her auburn hair pinned up and wore very little makeup, and she'd taped her breasts down, I realized, using a soft elastic wrap to pull her smallish tits flat against her chest. She'd be wearing a strap-on, I knew, a life-like phallus that was stiff enough to fuck me with and wonderfully flexible as well. It wasn't so large as some of her toys, for our Mistress had a great many, but it was easily her favorite and she wore it often. She very much enjoyed being a man.

"Danielle." She smiled at me and I returned it with genuine affection.

"Am I dressed alright, Mistress?" I asked her, turning slightly on my hips so she could get a good look at me.

"Are you wearing panties?" she wondered, pulling on a pair gleaming black riding boots, the leather coming very nearly up to her knees.

"No ma'am," I shook my head.

"Put on a thong," she told me, "We'll leave soon."

"Yes Mistress," I nodded and I knew what she liked.

I pulled on a black thong that was very small and even if I'd been a real girl it would have covered very little of my sex. As it was the triangular bit of silk was just enough to hold my girl cock as I pushed it down, forming a thin pouch of sorts. The bottom and back was very narrow and I adjusted my testicles so that it split my balls, my testes spilling out to the left and right in my hairless scrotum. I pulled the thong tight across my anus and between my firm brown cheeks, then waist high and arching over my hips. I was putting my skirt back on when Miss Corinne found me and she was smiling, telling me to bend over so she could see how those tiny panties were riding.

"Hmmm ... Perfect," the woman sighed happily, playing with my balls for a moment, giving each of them a gentle tug so they would hang down as far as possible.

"Ummm ... Mistress!" I gasped and wriggled my ass just for her.

"Pull your skirt back down before I have fuck you," Miss Corinne laughed. "We'll never get out of here and we're already late."

"Yes ma'am." I straightened myself up, smoothing my skirt into place and my little penis throbbed in its trap.

We rode together in the back of her Porsch Silver Cloud with Jericho playing the chauffer for us. It was a wonderful car, made in England and a wedding gift from Miss Corinne's grandfather who did a lot of business with the Reich. His shipyards had built submarine's for the German navy during the war in Europe or something like that. I'd read a little bit about that stuff in my classes at school and sometimes it could be overwhelming to think that my Mistress was part of a family that had helped revitalize the South and turn our country into one of the most prosperous nations in the world. It made me more than a little proud, as you can imagine.

Unlike the Owner's Club, which was set on a plantation near the river, the Sable Society occupied the top floors of a fifty story high rise in downtown Memphis, a modern metropolis known for its impressive skyline of glass and steel. The tallest building in North America, the Sears Tower, was there, rising a hundred and ten stories above the city around it. And so the quarters for the Sable Society must have been a rather valuable investment. The ground floor held exclusive boutiques and shops selling jewelry and designer clothing from Rome and Tokyo and even occupied Paris. Above that there were offices, a publishing company among other things, and perhaps a few apartments higher up, and finally the Sable Society holding the top three floors and the roof, of course.

Jericho would wait with the car and our entry was through a private elevator that had only two stops, the ground floor and the Sable Society. There were no buttons inside, although there was a smoky panel with a touch screen much as you might expect to find in a normal elevator. There was only an old fashioned lever and an attractive slave, an older black man costumed in red livery to operate it. He greeted Miss Corinne politely by name and ignored me completely, except to scan my arm so that my information was displayed on the panel and I was officially registered as a guest.

"Are you going to have her castrated?" an older woman named Miss Rebecca was asking my Mistress. "You really should, it would make her so much prettier."

We were in a comfortable lounge, part an area called The Sapphos Retreat, which was composed of a number of rooms and resplendent with Grecian architecture and furnishings. The place seemed to be constructed with a lot of white marble, statues of mythical nymphs, and flowing silk curtains in bright colors. The women sat on large pillows or low divans arranged around Persian carpets embroidered with romantic themes of female lust. Handsome black servants moved silently, much as they did at the Owner's Club, dressed in white togas and carrying clay jugs of wine. They were beautiful men and boys and all of them had been castrated which amused some of the Mistresses greatly. There weren't a great many dedicated lesbians, from what I'd gathered, but there were a significant number of bisexual members, and so the Society had appointed a large portion of its second floor to that particular taste. Unlike male homosexuality, the women here enjoyed much more tolerance from their female peers when it came to loving each other.

"Oh, not this one," Miss Corinne smiled and she was drinking whiskey while I knelt on the marble tiles and mouthed her strap-on dildo.

"I castrate all my niggers," another woman informed us. Her name was Miss Amanda and she was young and extremely beautiful, and hardly any older than I was.

I'd been surprised at how many of the owners here were younger. The Owner's Club had a lot of men in their forties and fifties, and even older than that, since it did take some measure of wealth to join. I guessed a lot of those men had trophy wives, like Miss Amanda plainly was, and she made no secret of the fact that she'd married her husband only for his money, a fact most of the women found amusing, at least the ones in this room.