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With another glance at the clock, she hurried to the closet and retrieved her sneakers. She’d packed a sunhat, but it was so early in the morning that she decided not to take it. Instead, she grabbed a hair elastic from her makeup bag and pulled her hair into a ponytail. With three minutes to spare, she left her room and headed toward the kitchen.
Chef Henry was there, dressed in fresh white scrubs, Crocs on his feet. He was making what looked like bread dough, kneading and slapping it, his hands covered in flour. Maya and Shani stood nearby, big glasses with some kind of fruit smoothie in their hands. Shani, like Maya, wore a sports bra and workout shorts. Ben and Janie, the other two slaves-in-training, were there too, as naked as Skylar, sipping their own smoothies.
Skylar, who was used to slurping bad coffee and scarfing down a barely defrosted Danish on the way to work, looked around for the coffee pot. She spied it, but it appeared to be empty. “Uh, is there coffee?” she asked.
“We’ll have coffee with breakfast later this morning. Have a fruit smoothie before we go out. It’ll give you energy.” Shani nodded toward a tray that contained several glasses of the fruit concoction.
Skylar took a glass and sipped. “Oh, wow,” she enthused. “That’s absolutely delicious.” She turned to Henry. “My compliments to the chef.”
He beamed at her. “The Georgia peaches are especially good this year,” he said. “Peach, raspberries, fresh orange juice, a little honey, some crushed ice. Simple.”
Skylar drained her glass in a few gulps. She eyed the tray of remaining smoothies. Her mouth wanted more, but her stomach wouldn’t appreciate it—not if they were going to exercise.
A moment later Abbie, another of the staff slaves Skylar had met the night before, came into the kitchen. She, too, wore a sports bra and shorts, though her feet were bare. Abbie was of medium height, with long, fiery red hair pulled back in a shiny ponytail. She had blue eyes, her fair skin dusted with freckles.
“Morning, all,” she said, breezing into the room. She grabbed a smoothie and took a long drink. She replaced the glass, half-empty, onto the tray. Reaching into her back pocket, she produced a floppy straw hat and positioned it on her head. “Ready, guys? Let’s go.”
“Thanks, Henry,” Maya called as the small group made its way to a door at the back of the kitchen that apparently led to the outside.
The sun was higher in the sky now, the ocean a lovely backdrop to the shore. Abbie led them to a large, open-air cabana set directly on the sand. Half a dozen oversized yoga mats were piled on a nearby wooden pallet.
They started out with basic calisthenics—stretching, jogging in place and jumping jacks. Skylar’s breasts bounced up and down as they exercised. Ben’s shaven cock and balls were bouncing too, but Janie’s overly round, gravity-defying breasts barely moved.
Skylar, not used to regular exercise, was soon panting, sweat breaking on her brow. No one else seemed the slightest winded, even the older Janie. Chagrined, Skylar made a silent promise to herself to get into better shape.
“Now that we’re all warmed up,” Abbie finally said, “let’s review our basic slave positions.” She turned to Skylar. “Since this is your first time, I’ll provide you with some one-on-one instruction. Don’t worry if you don’t catch on right away. You’ll be given an opportunity every day you’re here to practice until you get it right.”
“It won’t take long,” Janie added with an encouraging smile. “They’re basic positions that are a part of any slave regime. You’ve probably done them all before.”
“Not necessarily,” Shani interjected. “It might take a day or two to get the hang of it. This is Skylar’s first formal training opportunity, isn’t that right, Skylar?”
“Yes,” Skylar said, flashing Shani a grateful smile. “But I’m ready to learn.”
“Before we get down to the nitty-gritty,” Abbie continued, “let’s talk about the point of slave positions. They serve a basic function of allowing the Master or Mistress a quick, easy way to indicate what he or she wants. They are also good tools for establishing expected, controlled behaviors, and providing easy access for sex, training and punishment.”
Skylar listened intently, glad for the chance to catch her breath.
“For us submissives,” Abbie continued, “they are a wonderful way to show our Doms our submission and devotion. Also, it’s a great way to get into an instant submissive headspace. It helps reinforce our status as possessions to be used as it pleases our owners.”
Her words resonated deep in Skylar’s core. Imagine living this lifestyle, day in, day out. She glanced around at the others, all of whom had a dreamy, yearning expression on their faces that told her Abbie’s words were resonating with them, too. These were her people—her kindred spirits.
