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Erik continued, “For our purposes now, we don’t often force slavery on the unwilling, but rather make it a choice for women with the nature to understand it. However, unlike other choices women might make, this one is not one to be made as a flight of fancy, or some romantic whimsical notion. Sexual slavery is serious business. It requires dedication from both master and slave, and most importantly an understanding that once the decision has been made, the future is sealed. There is no turning back, no denial. Even what might look like righteous rebellion in a female must be squashed. There is no room for error or argument, only a place for the slave to find within themselves their submissive need and dwell solely there…
“Beyond such a finding, the rest is the master’s business, to train and nurture that place of humility and service within their chattel.
“Those who have just made the decision and have come into the hands of their master—I refer to as raw livestock. I find it better to take away even the basics of human mindfulness and individuality while slaves are trained, lest they foster some wrong-headedness and resistance—or are tempted to protest the choice they have freely made.
“Regardless, however, of any name we give an initiate, the raw livestock—or slave —can be expected to rebel at one time or another. Rebellion, being anticipated, can be efficiently crushed. It is, therefore, the purpose of the remaining chapters of this book to deal with the training and discipline of the slave, as well as the proper means of punishment and reprimand for those times when it is necessary. Only as a final epilogue will the sexual arts associated with master/slave relationships be discussed. Though submission and eroticism go hand in hand, it is most important to set the ritual and mindset of subservience before a complete discussion of the sexual methods can be undertaken.
“Do not, however, misread my remarks here. A sexual slave can and should be expected to serve her master sexually at all times—from the first day of her slave life until the last. Compliance is expected. And a good master will demand it, while at the same time knowing that time and training increase the sexual benefit for both master and slave. The slave’s decision is just the beginning.”
Erik looked up, about to turn the page.
“I’ve heard enough,” Laney declared. “At least for now,” she added when all five stared at her noting the distinctive sharpness in her voice.
“It is extreme, Laney,” Erik said to soothe her obvious fear.
“Yes, it is.”
“But don’t you find it fascinating?” Matthew asked. His hands were spread wide holding the back of one sofa, while he stared quite intently at Erik’s rattled wife sitting on the opposite one.
“Perhaps. But you’re sounding as though you wish you were attending one of Barth’s parties.”
“Oh, I’d be in heaven,” Elise exclaimed.
“You would?”
“I find the fear exciting.”
Laney looked at the languid Sandra draped against the statue, thighs slightly parted as though she might wish to fuck the marble. “I think that kind of submission would be bliss,” the lusty blonde purred unthinkingly.
“Am I the only sane one here?” she asked, rising from the couch. She moved toward the windows and peered out at the grey rain.
Erik was at her back some seconds later, pressing himself gently to her ass. She could feel his stiff cock in his pants. “This arouses you, doesn’t it?” Laney murmured.
“In a way.”
“Why?”
“Can’t you feel it, Laney? The whole room is so erotically charged, if I didn’t know better I’d think any second, we’ll be stripping off our clothes, leaping headlong into an orgy. Elise and Sandra are nearly orgasmic. You can’t tell me you don’t feel it.” He had his hand on her ass, massaging it gently. “You’re the one who always wants it rough. I slap your thighs and ass. I’ve even bound your hands… why are you revolting now?”
“I’m not revolting. I’m…” she sighed. “Just tired.”
“We’ll let it slide for now, darlin’. Just don’t let it upset you so much.”
She smiled, turned in his arms, “Maybe you’re right.”
“I’m always right,” he said with a snicker.
The rain stopped near sunset. In the dusky shadows, the three men hiked to the boat and appraised the damage. Jason suspected they’d need a part to get the engine running. But since the radio wasn’t working either, they’d have to rely on Archibald Devane to find them a means of rescue. Knowing there was nothing they could do in the waning light, they decided to wait until morning to proceed.
In the mansion, the women made dinner—chili, hot dogs, typical camping fare that seemed out of place in the sensuous elegance of Barth’s finely furnished rooms. Even in this state of decadent shabbiness there was an air of refinement and grace that seeped inside the bones of those who lived there—as much as the erotic conversation and talk of sexual slavery seemed to quicken their sexual bodies. Yet, their feelings of lust remained behind a blanket of excited fear and a bit of dread, which even the more willing Sandra and Elise found kept them from racing toward their desires. While their body language begged for some satisfaction, the possibilities were diverted with small talk and frivolous activity.
After dinner, the six surrounded the fireplace again, looking as though they’d had a rough day working. Devane’s book sat on the table beckoningly, but no one mentioned it.
They played cards, drank wine, and ended up going to bed much earlier than they were used to—driven by their lust. Once the candles were doused inside each room, the black night hit them squarely in their blinded eyes and their bodies replied to the deadly dark as they snuggled close. In all three rooms, desire seemed to unleash as flesh touched flesh. In remembrance of their earlier sex, Elise and Matthew, and Sandra and Jason, clashed anxiously until their swift fucks left them empty and ready to sleep. In the third room, at the top of the stairs, Laney and Erik Priestly began to make love fitfully, almost too scared to touch with so much electric energy passing between them.
“What’s happening to me, Erik?” Laney whispered, as her flesh jumped inside her prickly skin. She felt orgasmic the moment her husband’s fingers circled a nipple, and his breath expelled on her hardening bud. “I’m coming apart at the seams,” she thrashed worriedly
, while desire on desire spilled through her mind and into the passion rushing through her hands. She was on him, grappling as hotly as he was wrestling with her, seeking his cock with her hands so she could steer it to the entrance of her clenching cunt.
