Published:
February 24, 2023
Slave 317 - The Training
The second part of this story was the request of my readers who also provided some ideas for it. A special thanks goes to Lisa M., who delivered an entire story that I should incorporate. It became significantly harder than I had actually intended in my initial planning. Nevertheless, it was warmly received and even today some still demand a continuation.
There are already several plans and a third story is already planned. Unfortunately, my time doesn't allow me to focus on it so much right now. Before that, several other books are planned and also far more advanced. The story about slave 317 is actually completed, but there's another protagonist who found her way into Jennifer's hands in this part. She will thus shift a bit, but Nicole and Mistress Jennifer will also make appearances again.
Chapter 1
Tender sunrays broke through the weak clouds on my first morning in my new commanded homeland. Jennifer had instructed me to fetch the godmother of my training from her cell and endure a new workday with her. My first duty this morning, I had already completed in my mistress's apartment in the bathroom. Unfortunately, I had to vomit up the caviar she gave me after just a few minutes. I just couldn't keep it in my stomach longer yet. I had already received breakfast according to my diet plan and was supposed to have my blue streak recolored while Karin got her breakfast. Together with the branded number above my pussy, that was my insurance that no one would just grab me without the corresponding permission from my half-sister. To ensure that I could really only be used, Jennifer gave me a code word every morning. Otherwise, I should refuse and inform my mistress who tried it anyway. There were no exceptions whatsoever.
Karin, my training godmother, was still sleeping in her cell. As soon as I opened the grid, she opened her eyes. A slight smile appeared on her features, and she greeted me with, “Good morning, Lioness Nicole.”
“Shut up, Karin. If you tell anyone, I'll kill you,” I scolded.
Her response was only, “I don't need to tell it. The whole castle already knows since yesterday afternoon. We weren't the only slaves at the funeral.”
Of all things, today's code word from my mistress was also ‘Lionheart.’ Through my screaming in front of the chapel to my father, everyone had surely heard it. Such things spread through the whole castle like wildfire. Guaranteed, every slave already knew my first name, and the number didn't need to be mentioned at all anymore. I had dared to stand up against one of the owners of this estate, which of course didn't remain hidden from anyone. I couldn't change it now anyway. Overnight, I had probably become known to all slaves. Already on our way to the showers, which I took with my godmother, I was looked at admiringly. Karin turned into the shower, while I made my way to the room Jennifer had named. After her breakfast, we were to meet directly in front of the room that indicated our workplace.
The door to which Jennifer sent me was a simple wooden door with a head on it. As I had learned, I knocked and waited. Instead of the invitation to enter, the door opened, and I stared at a very small slave with the number 088, with rings through her small tits, on which a whole bag hung. In it was stored the tools of a hairdresser, which pulled her bust very far down. I didn't need to introduce myself. She said immediately, “Hello Nicole, come in. They call me only 88 because I haven't received a name.”
It was just a small square room with a chair in it. On the dark tiled floor lay small tufts of hair, and 088 offered me the chair. I asked, “Why didn't you get a name?”
She laughed at me, “I was born here and therefore didn't get a name. From my birth, it was certain that I would become a slave, and they dispensed with a name. There aren't even papers about me, and I have never left this facility in my life. Lean back, and I'll get everything ready as your Mistress demanded.”
88 had been made into a hairdresser and must have had this profession beaten into her from a young age. However, it turned out completely different than I expected. Jennifer had told me my blue streak should only be recolored, but 88 took care of my entire hair and not just a streak. My entire head hair was dyed bright blue. My mistress probably made sure that I could be recognized from a distance. So I could be seen across the entire courtyard. But what should I complain about? My half-sister wanted it that way, and I had to agree without contradiction. At least I was allowed to keep my hair. There were also many other slaves, as 88 explained to me, who were regularly shaved bald. Accordingly, my appointment took much longer, and since I didn't come to our meeting point, my godmother was already looking for me.
Karin laughed when she saw me on the chair with my completely blue hair, “That explains why it's taking so long. You look like a buoy; just missing the blinking.”
My hairdresser explained, “Your Mistress wanted it that way, and I don't wish to die. If I do it wrong, she'll kill me and skin me.”
“The other way around,” laughed Karin. “The way I know her, she'll skin you first before she kills you.”
“The result is the same,” 88 dismissed. “Absolutely no one here messes with the Queen. No one is that crazy.”
Somehow the slaves' hairdresser knew much more than all others. Through her profession, she got all kinds of rumors and could piece together the truth. Jennifer had apparently long risen to the boss, which brought me to the question why she and not my stepmother Mistress Annie was the boss. My hairdresser almost burst into laughter before she explained, “Mistress Annie was only fucked by the boss, thus Mistress Jennifer unites the DNA of two dominants and was therefore promoted to Queen. Rumors say that you, Nicole, are the chosen one of your mistress after her sweetheart unfortunately passed away, and after your action at the burial when you put your own father in his place, there is probably no doubt that you want to be her number one.”
Of course I wanted that, but I didn't have to rub it in the whole place's nose. My half-sister loved me; there was no doubt about that. She had already told me clearly, but I didn't know exactly what I felt. Was that love, or was I just unable to think clearly due to all the new impressions? I wriggled out of the questioning like a snake until I finally stood with my godmother in the main hall again. At least she refrained from further questions for now and brought me to our workplace this morning. She simply called it ‘Water Service,’ under which I couldn't imagine anything.
Upon my inquiry, she explained, “Our Mistress is going full throttle with you right away. Water service is one of the worst things to do. We have to go to the bathing area. Many mistresses and masters want to relax a bit before the day really starts. We get to take care of that relaxation.”
At first, I only understood train station and stealing suitcases, but not what this task should mean. However, it became clear to me faster than I liked. In the bathing area, at the high temperatures, we both were responsible for massages. However, Karin called the whole thing Water Service, and massages are usually done dry. In this our homeland, however, it meant something completely different. Into the rings of our tits, a long hook with a thick ball at the end was attached, which was rammed roughly into our asses. It was no longer possible for us to stand upright without exposing ourselves to considerable pain. On the hook were some tiny spikes that pressed against our pleasure center whenever we straightened up too much. Our hands, on the other hand, were hooked to our collar with an immovable glove.
Tied up like that, we both were thrown into a water basin. Not particularly deep, but due to our bent posture exactly high enough that to breathe we had to press the spikes into our pleasure pearls. As expected, my mistress stood in front of me after just a few minutes, sat in the basin, and let me pamper her with my tongue. Of course, her pleasure center was below the water surface, which forced me to bend even further down, hold my breath, and at the same time use my oral skills on her labia. Accordingly, I was occupied with Jennifer for a long time. Due to the constant interruptions to not suffocate, I simply couldn't manage to bring her to orgasm.
My godmother fared similarly. She also had a mistress sitting in front of her and was also unable to lick her to climax. That was intentional, of course, because the relaxation was provided by the wonderful feelings of our efforts. My mistress sat in front of me, let me lick her, and enjoyed a glass of ice-cold champagne. At some point, she had relaxed enough, pulled me up by the chin until the spikes between my labia fulfilled their cruel purpose, and gave me a tender kiss. She held me in this position and smiled, “I've allowed myself to have you both sluts work here every morning the whole week. Have lots of fun with it, slave.”
I should have known what she meant by fun. The whole thing was fun only for the masters and mistresses in front of us, but not for me and Karin. But while I still thought it would stay with the mistresses, of course some masters visited us too, who naturally also sought relaxation. With them, it was much easier to bring them to orgasm, which they gladly took advantage of. Before I was under the rule of my half-sister, I would never have dreamed of having a male member in my mouth, but Jennifer wasn't interested in my sensitivities. I was her slave and had to do what she wanted, when she wanted it, and how. Karin no longer had this problem. For her, it was unusual at first to suck on pussies, but meanwhile she didn't care who she had to deal with.
I wished I could say the same about myself. Of course, it was my top goal to become the perfect slave for my half-sister and mistress. However, only for her and not for everyone who could stand upright here. Until shortly before lunch break, Karin and I were continuously in use. I felt like I had drunk half the basin and accordingly felt almost no hunger anymore. Also, all the protein from the cocktails of the masters I had to blow ended my hunger feeling. But Jennifer had decided for me and my godmother that we had to do this job every morning the whole week.
Tired and completely exhausted, we dragged ourselves from the bathing area to the garden, where my sports hour took place before lunch. The trainer targeted me immediately, stood in front of me, and said, “Your mistress let me know that you need special training to get rid of all the fat she doesn't want to see on you anymore. You can get up right away and start running. Mistress Jen expects at least 35 laps from you today; each less brings you a night shift. Move it, 317.”
Of course, I knew that Jennifer wasn't satisfied with my weight and I had inherited the same predispositions from my biological mother. She herself was slim and slender, could eat what she wanted without gaining weight, and I got love handles just from looking at a pizza. But 35 laps around the whole park were quite a challenge for me. Especially after the morning activity without enough air in my lungs. Nevertheless, I started like the fire department. I was ready to torment myself for my mistress and go to my limits. If necessary, beyond them. I couldn't do more for her love, so I made an extra effort. While my colleagues did their normal training, I ran lap after lap around the park and admonished myself not to slow down. Rather, I tried to add a shovel to really achieve the goal demanded by my mistress.
At the end of the sports hour, my own count amounted to a whopping 39 laps. The trainer had even counted one more, which she passed on to my mistress. My godmother was impressed by what I could achieve in the time, but also admonished me not to overexert myself. The day was still long enough, and Jennifer would surely not make it easier for us. I should save some strength for the afternoon. The more I completed to her satisfaction in the morning, the more strength I lacked in the afternoon to avoid her harsh punishments. In that sense, Karin was right, but I wanted to prove it not only to myself but also to Jennifer.
Our lunch was a disappointment. My diet plan imposed by my half-sister brought only very little food to my plate, and thus I couldn't muster much energy for the afternoon. However, after the meal, a big surprise awaited me. My godmother had to serve, which should actually be my lot too, but right in front of the dining hall, an unknown mistress intercepted me and sent me directly to my half-sister's apartment. Karin should go about her work, and I should report to Jennifer's apartment. I could almost walk the way in my sleep, and thousands of gazes followed my bright blue hair through the hall. In the whole castle, probably even the last mouse already knew who I really was.
As demanded by my mistress, I opened the door to her apartment with my thumbprint and suddenly stood opposite my father. The slap I received from him sent me to the ground immediately, but I didn't want to grant him this success. On my knees, I crawled to my half-sister and reported to my mistress. Jennifer smiled at my father and joked, “My slave doesn't even take you seriously. Maybe the supposed boss should think about that. I distribute the punishment for her disobedience, and you see to it that you disappear. Never show up in my apartment again, otherwise I'll ensure a storm on your abode. Out now.”
Wordlessly, with a bright red angry head, my father slammed the door, and a thunder broke over the four walls. Jennifer pulled me to my feet, gently stroked my cheek, and smiled at me. I got a loving kiss from my half-sister before she said, “Unfortunately, I have to punish you for your action at the funeral, but you knew anyway that something more was coming.”
I just nodded briefly. Of course I knew that something more was coming, but the slap was by no means the only thing awaiting me. My mistress didn't quite like that, but I had myself to blame. Jennifer brought me almost lovingly through the main house, into one of the playrooms that she had rented. As she explained, my father would of course watch the video recording and not let me out of his sight for at least two days. I had to sit on a bench and wait for what my punishment would be.
Chapter 2
Jennifer took her time and gathered all sorts of things while I made myself comfortable on the bench. When she picked up a catheter, which I had already been given once in my nursery, I already suspected something bad. However, how bad it would ultimately become was not even remotely clear to me at that point. After she had prepared everything outside my field of vision, it was my turn. My mistress explained, “I would have gladly spared you this, my love, but unfortunately, I am forced to do it. For a total of three whole days, I am forced to completely seal you up. That means I sew your pussy shut, stuff your ass full, and also have to put a chastity belt on you. In addition, you may not sleep in my apartment during this time, and you will also receive at least twenty lashes with the bullwhip every day. That is the least punishment I could negotiate.”
My facial features almost completely derailed when my mistress gave me this information. Actually, I should have been able to imagine what awaited me, but after I stood in front of my mistress and promised her to become the perfect slave for her, I had to assume that this action would get me into serious trouble. I would have to experience the end result in just a few minutes. Jennifer stroked my cheek tenderly once more and advised me, “If you want to show your father once again what you are willing to endure for me, endure this without screaming.”
I couldn't promise her that. I remembered with horror the small needles that had ended up in my nipples and what pain they caused. Nevertheless, I wanted to at least try for her sake. My mistress strapped me down on the bench, and she fastened my legs in two attached bowls. Like at the gynecologist, I lay on the bench, and my mistress began to disinfect my labia. Fortunately, she refrained from giving me any nice feelings. With a plaintive look, she told me that she was starting and that I should be strong.
My mistress took the catheter out of the sterile packaging, and this time I even got some gel on the tube that would end up in my urethra. She spread my slit with her fingers, searched for the entrance to my urethra, and placed the flexible tube there. The gel felt cool before the first waves of pain coursed through my lower abdomen. But that was just the prelude to the worst experience of my still young life. After she had pushed the tube all the way into my bladder, she was kind enough to at least let everything drain out. She then closed the valve again so that I was sealed, disinfected me once more, and then picked up a curved needle.
My half-sister pulled the catheter tube from my urethra down through my slit, pressed my labia together over it, and placed the needle. With a brief look into my eyes, the first stab of the sharp metal hit me at the sensitive spot, and I thought it would tear me apart. Like in a frenzy, I bit my lips to not scream. Instead, only a shrill gasp left my mouth. Jennifer gave me a short moment to recover before she tightened the thread and then proceeded to the next stitch. How many stitches I had to endure, I no longer knew, because after the third, I was no longer with myself.
My pains were suddenly gone, and I had the feeling of being able to watch my half-sister do what she was doing to my body. I saw the seam on my labia until my slit was really completely closed. Even if I wanted to try to reach my pearl, it wouldn't work. At that moment, however, it was completely indifferent to me. My mistress bestowed this attention on me, and I had ensured myself that I was punished like this. It served me right, even if Jennifer didn't quite like it, but I had clashed with my father, and formally, my mistress was also subordinate to him.
Next, I got a pretty thick teardrop-shaped plug pushed into my rear entrance by Jennifer. However, my half-sister handled me unusually gently. One could clearly see that she didn't like having to carry out this punishment on her property at all. Lovingly, she loosened my restraints and pulled me back to my feet. She had to support me a bit before I simply fell over. Only when I was halfway back to myself did I have to step into a panties completely made of silver sheet metal, which she then tightened and secured with small padlocks. As a reward, I got a small kiss from her, and she whispered in my ear, “I am terribly proud of you, Nicole.”
Prepared like this, she brought me to the small partitioned room behind the bar, put the belt and my tablet around me, before I also got my very high shoes and the large glove put on. Jennifer wished me lots of fun with the service that I was supposed to spend with my godmother and another slave. Karin looked at me with wide eyes when she discovered the steel chastity belt around my hips. She asked quietly, “What the hell is that?”
“The first half of the punishment for my action after the funeral.”
“And how long do you have to wear that thing?” Karin asked.
I tried to joke and said, “Not long, only three days. But the cold steel cooled the seams so nicely. Meanwhile, however, it is already too warm, and my pussy hurts unbelievably.”
The other slave overheard what we were talking about and also recognized my glowing blue hair. My number was no longer visible through the steel packaging. Of course, she already knew my name before I even got a chance to say a word to her. Her tip was, “Go behind the bar and let the slave pour some water with ice cubes into it. That helps, Nicole. My mistress has also sewn up my entire slit for almost a week.”
The slave behind the bar probably already knew this, because he immediately placed a large glass of water in front of him and added some ice cubes. Then he signaled to me that I should come as close as possible to him. With my tablet in front of my hips, that wasn't so easy. The slave took the glass of water in his hand and slowly and carefully poured it down my stomach into my steel prison. The unknown slave was right, and the cooling actually helped with the pains that hindered me when walking. Her name was Zoe, as I learned during the afternoon, and she had been living in this castle for several years at her own wish with her mistress. During her training, she had to endure this torture quite often because she made some mistakes.
With my high shoes, I still couldn't walk properly and accordingly had to slow down my steps a bit. After all, I still had at least twenty lashes from Jennifer ahead of me, and for every punishment I incurred here during work, at least one more. After almost two hours, however, I started pondering. Was it really so bad if I had to take even more blows from my half-sister? After the first few, the pains were gone anyway, and I was outside my body again. That meant more work for the slave and those who had to clean up my accidents, but it didn't bother me. After all, I wanted to become perfect for Jennifer, and if that was supposed to be my task, I had to master it perfectly.
I asked the slave behind the bar if he would be angry with me if he had to repeat several orders. He just shook his head, and Karin and Zoe asked, “What are you planning, Nicole?”
“To become perfect for Jennifer, of course,” I answered and immediately demanded the next order. The slave placed two bottles of champagne and four glasses on the tablet, which hung from the rings through my tits, and showed me the room number with his hand. As best I could, I tottered off and naturally lost two glasses on the way because I stumbled. That meant two more lashes from my mistress for me, of course, but it no longer bothered me. I delivered the order, immediately got a slap from the master to whom I delivered the order, but I immediately made my way back to deliver the missing two glasses.
Karin and Zoe couldn't stop being amazed. I was unstoppable and got better with every order. Sure, a lot broke, slipped off the tablet, and fell to the floor, which brought me punishments, but that no longer interested me. Every second trip I had to walk double to deliver something, but it was worth it to me. For Jennifer, I had to be perfect, and I now considered all the tasks as practice for myself to do her justice. Toward evening and shortly before our quitting time, I was just on my way back to the bar to pick up another order when, while walking, I twisted my foot and remained lying helplessly screaming on the hallway.
Karin and Zoe came to me to check what had happened, but of course, they couldn't lift me up. A master took care of that; he grabbed me, the fat cow, under the arms and put me back on my feet. The problem was only that my leg immediately buckled again, and I fell to the floor once more. As soon as I stood, I simply fell over again. The master pulled me into the small changing room, took off my shoes, and let me stand up myself. I could no longer stand on my legs and had pains like an animal. He freed me from my work clothes and also my godmother. He and Karin rolled me onto a stretcher and dragged me down the stairs. Together, they brought me to Petra in the doctor's room and had her examine me.
Petra had my accident described to her, palpated my leg and ankle, and just nodded. She x-rayed my leg and showed me the result. I just looked at her questioningly, “I recognize absolutely nothing on this picture.”
The doctor laughed, “That's exactly the problem, Nicole. Did you happen to hear something snap?”
“Yes,” I answered. “My tablet crashed to the floor and clattered, and my ass also hit hard. A lot snapped there.”
“Your bones are okay, but the ankle is severely swollen, and there is a large bruise. That means your lateral ligament is torn, and I have to discuss that with your mistress.”
She picked up her phone and called Jennifer in her apartment. My mistress couldn't be reached there, as she told me disappointedly. Petra wanted to have her paged instead, but that was unnecessary. Just as the connection was established, Jennifer burst in through the door. The master had already informed her, and she was already on her way to me. She gave me a questioning look and directed her first question to Petra.
“What's wrong with her?”
“Her lateral ligament is torn. She twisted inward with the high shoes, and then it was gone. There are two ways to treat it. Either we have her operated on, or she gets a brace. In both cases, she may not overly strain the leg in the next days. Elevate and cool for two to three days, then she can slowly walk again. However, sports are not possible yet. She can walk with the brace, but sports are only possible again when you get the okay from me. The brace stays on continuously for six weeks.”
Jennifer shook her head. She was not at all satisfied with that, but nothing could be changed now. “So an operation brings no advantages?” she asked.
“No. She will still be on the go with the brace for at least six weeks, and in the first few days, she may not strain it.”
“Okay. Put the brace on and bring her to my apartment. I'll take care of ice and her sickbed,” Jennifer explained and disappeared through the door again.
I could see that she was annoyed, but she couldn't do anything against an injury. Of course, I could have avoided it if I had slowed down, but I wanted to become perfect for her as quickly as possible. Petra rummaged a strange brace out of a cabinet and strapped the thing on me. She looked me in the eyes and said, “This stays on for six weeks, day and night. You don't even take it off for showering. Elevate the leg and cool for three days, then I'll look at it again.”
I nodded and asked my doctor, “Can I at least crawl?”
Unfortunately, I wasn't allowed to; I should walk normally, but in the first few days, avoid it as much as possible. Everything else was possible as normal, only movement-wise I was severely restricted. She put me in a wheelchair and pushed me out into the hallway. Karin was waiting there for me. She had been instructed by Jennifer to wait for me and then get me to her apartment. She pushed me to the stairs and naturally let herself be informed about what I had and how long it would take. First of all, I was out for at least three days completely, and then I would probably have to resume my work with the brace. Jennifer wouldn't simply spare me that just because I had a brace on my leg.
In my wheelchair, she pulled me backward up the stairs and had to exert herself quite a bit. I weighed significantly more than Karin, and the wheelchair also hindered our progress. She got help from two other slaves who were actually responsible for cleaning work to get me, the fat slave, upstairs. There, she brought me to the door of Jennifer's apartment, which I could open with my thumbprint. Jennifer was sitting at her desk and gave Karin the instruction to roll me next to a chair and hoist me onto it. Then she should continue with the normal evening program.
When I finally sat, Karin left our mistress's apartment and went to dinner. I, on the other hand, apologized profusely to my half-sister for this injury, which I had caused myself. Jennifer just looked at me wordlessly for a few seconds before she got up and came toward me.