Wednesday, May 25, 2016

Sold Into Slavery: Household Duties

Unpacked from her transport box, Stephanie cried out in pain when her limbs were allowed to move at last. Transport was always a nightmare, painful, claustrophobic, difficult.

She recognized the Jackson compound, and felt relief. It was surprising, but this place had become her home. It was the only place she knew as home, in spite of the fact she was a slave, tortured and punished here.

With her wrists tied behind her, she was guided into the main house by an older female slave. Stephanie went peacefully. Her days of fighting, struggling against the inevitability of her slavery, were over. This was her life now. To please her male masters, and their female surrogates. Her days as a corporate saleswoman were past, sliding out of her memory.

Mr. Jackson greeted her personally as she was brought into the house.

"Welcome back, Stephanie. You are looking well."

She stood quietly, knowing better than to answer. She lowered her head and looked at the ground.

"We've decided to give you a try at housekeeping again. Do your best, and I think you will find it is not that bad of a life."

He turned and left.

It turned out that housekeeping in any Malsi home was a basic chore assigned to the lowest of slaves. There were places around the house where she was kept, locked away, waiting for some bit of housework to do.

There was a woman that introduced herself as the head maid. She guided Stephanie to her first task and outlined what would happen.

"This is a set of rooms, a suite. Your duty is to keep it spotless. Dust it, polish the floors, polish the woodwork, clean the windows."

Stephanie was chained restrictively, which would make such work difficult, but she knew better than to complain.

"When you are not actively cleaning or straightening, you are to come here."

The woman showed Stephanie a sort of box like cupboard, barely big enough for her to fit into.

"Climb in."

Stephanie climbed in. It was cramped, rough, and dark. Rats had been inside at one time. A door closed on her and a pin slid into place, locking the door so she could not leave. The tiny cupboard was almost as bad as transport, though not quite. She could roll over, and lay in different positions. A tiny trough at one end of the space was designed to catch her body waste and channel it away.

Just when Stephanie thought she was to be left there permanently, the door was unlocked and opened and Stephanie tumbled out. The woman handed her some cleaning supplies.

"You may begin cleaning. If any male member of the household enters, you are to discretely leave and return to your cupboard."

Stephanie began cleaning.

It was soooo much better than being an art object. She could move about, decide more or less where to go. The work was hard and she was chained, but she had a job and worked hard at it.

When the suite of rooms was spotless, she returned to her cupboard and curled up in it. She heard men outside, using the rooms. Night came, and she slept.

The next morning she was out and cleaning once again, using a wood polish to finish the expensive wood furniture, when a young man entered the room. He was tall, handsome, and wore a business suit. As directed, Stephanie began to move discretely out of the room to hide in her cupboard, but the man stopped her.

He sat in a chair and beckoned her over.

"Come, stand by me. You are new here, are you not?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what is your name, beautiful girl?"

"Stephanie, sir."

The man reached up and gently stroked Stephanie's breast. His hand then moved down her body to her crotch.

"Spread your legs," he commanded.

Stephanie complied, spreading her legs by moving her feet wide apart. The young man felt her cunt, playing with the soft folds of flesh.

"Turn around, and bend over."

Stephanie complied, bending over at the waist. Her legs were still spread and gave ready access to her sex organs.

"Move over there, to the table. Lean over the table."

Stephanie lay on the table, her breasts pressing down on the surface, ass sticking out, legs spread wide. It was obvious what the young man was going to do, and she now knew that this was a normal part of what was expected of her. Fighting it was simply a waste of time.

The young man unzipped and she felt his cock press against her cunt. She didn't move, and he pressed harder, pushing to get inside. He was large but his cock was very hard and he pushed tenaciously, slowly getting  inside her. Finally he penetrated deep with a sudden movement, and she gasped.

The young man then fucked her, hard. His cock slid in and out of her cunt, stretching her opening wide. It had been a long time since Stephanie had been fucked, and she was actually enjoying it, pushing her ass back against the young man as he rammed home, over and over again.

He came, spewing cum inside her. When his convulsions and grunts diminished to nothing, he withdrew and turned Stephanie around.

"Kneel, and clean me."

Stephanie took his cock in her mouth, sucking it clean of his cum and her juices. When it was clean, the man put it in his pants, zipped up and left, leaving Stephanie standing in the room by herself, the stranger's cum oozing out of her cunt.

Stephanie went back to work with the wood polish.

The man's cum slid down her leg, and she had to go back over the floor, cleaning up the body fluids that had dripped.

Over the next week, Stephanie learned her duties in that suite of rooms very well. She learned how to polish, clean the floors, keep windows spotless. She kept out of the way of the occupants of the home as much as possible. She was doing an admirable job of adapting to being a completely subjugated slave. It had taken weeks to break her, punishment and pain, agony and suffering, lessons repeated over and over, but she was finally broken.

Stephanie was stationed in that suite of rooms for several weeks. She spent much of her time in her tiny slave closet, hiding away. Whenever the rooms were unoccupied she came out and cleaned, polished, straightened and groomed the area. She was proud of the work she did.

The rooms included a set of restrooms, which Stephanie learned to clean thoroughly. Her training of hard discipline, pain and punishment for disobedience had finally made her focus on her service and tasks, and she worked harder than she had ever worked in her life, making porcelain shine, removing dust from the most hidden places.

She was naked all this time, and her nudity had become common for her now. She no longer felt embarrassed or humiliated by mere nudity.

Once more during her time in those rooms the same young man came to her. It seemed he knew she was there and desired her, catching her when she was out of her cupboard.

Without ceremony or request, he roughly bent her over a table, dropped his pants, and fucked her, hard. She obeyed without question, letting him fuck her hard as she grunted and moaned until he was satisfied and came inside her.

When he was done using her, the young man left her to return to her work. She simply continued cleaning and straightening as was her job. Being fucked at any time of the day or night by any man that desired her had become a part of her life.

One day while Stephanie was locked in her closet, the head maid  came to her again and took her out of the closet.  "We are moving you. You are to begin working in the kitchen assisting in cleaning and in cooking. You will be under the command of the head cook there, and will obey her every instruction."

"Yes, ma'am," Stephanie said. She was learning there was a pecking order to women in Malsi culture, and she was at the bottom.

That evening a strong looking man came and unchained her.  Instead, she was placed inside a small container of plastic. It was very small, and she had to bunch up her legs tightly to her chest in order to fit. She obeyed, even though the tiny space of the container made her panic a bit.

The man who had come for her lifted the container and carried it out; placing it on a cart. She could barely see, but Stephanie caught a glimpse of three other containers already stacked on the cart. Each contained another naked girl like her.

The cart was wheeled down the hall, into an elevator and up to the third floor. There they picked up a fifth girl locked away inside another plastic container barely big enough to hold a completely folded body. The stack of girls was then taken downstairs to a basement. There each of the plastic containers was scanned with a bar code scanner and the girl containers were lifted and put on carts for delivery to other locations. Stephanie's container was placed on a tiny cart and rolled upstairs. Stephanie had just been processed as a package, a piece of inter-office mail.

Her arms and legs were cramping quickly from the tiny space, and it was hard to breathe, so it was a tremendous relief when the lid was removed and she was told to get out.

The man that had transported her to the new location grabbed her collar. She was in a kitchen, a well equipped kitchen that she knew probably serviced the main dining room of the Jackson household.

Dragging Stephanie along, the man showed her the kitchen.

"This is your new work area. This counter is where bread is prepared. The sinks are made of stainless steel and must be scrubbed daily. We regrout once a month, and you will be taught how. The cupboards here are where we store the main pots and pans..." the man continued to point Stephanie to various elements of the kitchen.

"In the morning you will be released by the head cook. Obey her orders exactly, and you will do well. Fail, and you will be punished. I hear she's a bit of a bitch, so watch yourself."

He took her to a small closet, opened the door and pushed her in.

"This is where you will reside now. Return here whenever your duties are completed, ready to be called upon again."

The man shut the door and locked Stephanie in for the night.

While the cupboard was tall and did not allow Stephanie to lay down with her legs straight out, she was able to sit or lay down with her knees curled up. It was deep and had some advantages from her old box. There was a small hole for her to urinate and defecate in, and she could actually move around a bit.

In general, this was a step up from where she had been.

She heard someone moving on the other side of the wall; another girl was locked inside a cupboard next to hers. She knew better than to try and talk.

The next morning she was removed from the closet by a stern looking woman who wore clothes. As a low level slave Stephanie did not wear clothes, and she knew the amount and type of clothes a woman wore reflected her status in Malsi culture. This woman wore a cooks outfit, complete with shoes. This made her a supervisor, someone to be obeyed.

The cook supervisor put her to work cleaning floors. For this, she had two scrub brushed attached to her hands. They were wired in place; because the bottom of her hands rested on the back of the brushes she couldn't use her fingers to remove the brushes. The attachment would remain until someone removed them.

Stephanie set to work scrubbing on all fours, her ass high in the air, her hands on the floors. She moved up and down, back and forth. Sometimes she wet her brushes (and hands) dipping them in a soapy bucket of water, and then continued.

This continued the entire day until the floor of the kitchen and pantry next door had been scrubbed. The brushes were left wired to her hands when she was placed in her cupboard for the night.

Because her hands were not usable as anything but cleaning tools, she had to eat direct from her dog dish. She leaned over and buried her face in the food ration, and ate it. She then drank from the water dish, moving back and forth.

Food remained smeared on her face, and she did the best to clean it off but succeeded only in smearing it all over her arms.

This humiliating assignment continued for a week at least. Each day Stephanie would be released from her cupboard, use her scrub brush hands to scrub the floor starting from one side and moving slowly to the other side, then the pantry. She ate from the dog dish and water dish. She peed and defecated in the hole in her cupboard.

It all started again the next day. Stephanie never got up off her hands and knees. There was never any reason to.

Even though she spent her entire day with her exposed ass and cunt in the air, no one came to the kitchen to fuck her.

After two weeks of this monotony, Stephanie was told by the head cook she would clean dishes. At last! Stephanie almost broke down crying with gratitude; she would be able to stand and do some other form of work.

When she was released she went to the sink area and began scrubbing. It was hard work, harder than scrubbing the floor because food was baked on, very difficult to get off.

Stephanie did her very best, she tried, she really did. But some of the pots were not sparkling clean when she was done, and the next day the cook reported Stephanie. She was in trouble.

A man came.

"Follow me, slave. Your unnacceptable work in the kitchen requires some discipline and punishment."

Stephanie quaked in fear. Punishment in the Jackson household, in fact anywhere in Malsi, was tantamount to torture and could be agonizing. She had been punished before, she had no desire to be tortured again.

The man took Stephanie to a room down the hall; it was a dining room, used for larger dinners. The man tied Stephanie's arms behind her back and then gave her a scrub brush and bucket.

"Clean the floor. Spotless. Now."

With her arms tied behind her back there was only one way to do it. Tears streaming down her face she took the brush in her mouth, dipped it in the water and began scrubbing.

She worked hard, but the man watched her and was never satisfied.

"You missed a spot!"

He whipped her ass with a long leather whip. She cried out and went back to do the spot.

"You aren't going fast enough!"

The whip sliced across her back. Stephanie screamed from the pain, dropping the brush. This brought another stroke of the whip, and then another.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Stephanie made her way across the room, cleaning with the brush in her mouth. She sobbed, tears mingling with the soapy water. She did her best, but it wasn't enough. She was whipped mercilessly as she worked.

Finally the day was over. The room had been scrubbed.

"Return to the kitchen. Eat your dinner." The man instructed.

Stephanie walked to the kitchen, grateful for the break. Her dinner was still served in a dog dish, and bending over to eat it from the floor hurt, as her bruised and striped skin stretched.

She didn't know how she could do better. She had tried her best and it wasn't enough.

Life in Malsi was labor, submission, and suffering. Her ass stung, her back ached, and she was filthy from eating from a dog dish. She returned to her cupboard and cried, not caring that the other kitchen maids in the next cupboards would hear her.

Stephanie no longer remembered her life as a marketing and sale associate. To her, life was her cupboard, the work, the punishment, randomly being used as a fuck toy. This was what she was now.

When Stephanie returned to the kitchen she was put back on dish washing duty, this time with another slave girl named Elsa. This was the first time Stephanie had ever worked with another female slave, and it was delightful.

The two naked women worked together most of the day. Another poor girl, perhaps a young teenager, had brought in to do Stephanie's daily floor scrubbing, and Stephanie looked down on the girl with pity. She remembered the painful wires that attached the scrub brushes to the hands, and the monotony of the job.

At the same time, she knew not to ever speak to the slave girl on the floor.

Elsa showed Stephanie some tricks for getting the pots clean and sparkling. They talked together, but only when the cook was not present. Stephanie learned more of the rules of Malsi slavery, including some of the casts, or levels to which female slaves could aspire.

Elsa shared that she had been sterilized some time before; she was not considered a "breeder". Stephanie wondered about her own sterilization. Mr. Jackson had originally said she would be sterilized, but it had never happened. Was she to breed? What if she became pregnant? She had been used for vaginal intercourse twice in the last month or so, and it was a possibility but not likely. Still, she wondered.

Stephanie also noticed that Elsa was beautiful. She had kept her shape because she was never impregnated. Twice now, Elsa had been used by a passing male for sexual service. She didn't like it because it slowed her kitchen work down and got her in trouble, but there was no choice. She could say nothing about it.

Stephanie worked hard, concentrating on being a good slave and getting work done properly and on time. She had no desire for the agony of punishment and was doing all she could to avoid it.

The young man that had used her several weeks before found her one day, and disrupted her work for sex. She complied, of course, laying with her back flat on the kitchen counter, legs high in the air. She found him attractive and the experience was pleasant. She was wet when his cock pushed against her pussy and he slipped inside her quickly, and fucked her hard.

When it was over, she made to silently return to work, but the man spoke to her.

"What is your name?"

"Stephanie, sir."

"You are not from Malsi."

"No sir. I came here on business and was sold at the slave market."

"Mr. Jackson made a good buy," the man said and then left.

Stephanie's cheeks burned, blushing with pride. She had impressed a male, and received a compliment. She wanted him to return and fuck her again.