My first view of the new little pleasure slave sent tingles through my magic. She was a little slip of a thing and strikingly beautiful. Someone had put her into my preferred inspection pose — feet a little wider than shoulder width, perfect posture, eyes straight ahead, fingers laced at the back of her head. She still held it beautifully, and her arms didn’t appear to be shaking.
Some slaves hold their position when I enter, but most prostrate themselves. Neither choice earns reprimand or punishment at this stage, but I was intrigued she’d chosen to follow orders over protocol.
Whether she’d been naked when she arrived or had been stripped to nothing by my guards, I didn’t know. I wasn’t certain of her most recent owner’s slave protocols for travel, but the Master he purchased her from wouldn’t have permitted clothing at any time, nor would her original owner, where she was raised and trained.
I walked in a circle around her, observing. She didn’t break posture. Didn’t move a millimeter, other than to breathe. Her nails were swirled purple and green, her red hair had streaks of gold, and her eyes practically glowed green. I circled her a few more times and noted her toenails matched her fingernails. I’d need to double-check to be sure the familial searches had been done.
My new slave had enough muscle I knew she’d be able to handle what I doled out, but was soft enough she’d still be fun to play with. I couldn’t wait to see her flawless white ass with streaks of red from a strap, and then dotted with smaller streaks from a flogger. However, she was too thin for my tastes, and I made a mental note to check later to see if this was her natural size, or whether her food intake had been severely restricted.
“What’s your name?”
A deeper breath, so she’d have enough air to speak, but she answered quickly, her eyes still straight ahead without looking at me. “My original owner called me seven-sixty-three, Ma’am. The Master I just came from called me little one.”
Before I slapped the shit out of the girl for her impertinence, I asked, “Do you know who I am?”
“No, Ma’am?”
Her voice wavered and her arms finally shook a little. The poor thing was scared shitless, and I was about to terrify her even more, whether I wanted to or not. I softened my voice and said, “You address me as my Queen or Your Majesty, Little One.”
Her face showed complete and total panic, and she fell to her knees and prostrated herself at my feet, apologizing profusely while using as many honorifics as she could throw in between her apologies.
So, the little slave hadn’t chosen to follow instructions over protocol earlier, after all. She didn’t know who I was.
I let her continue a moment before I said, “You didn’t know. Don’t let it happen again.”
I was dressed in the tight dark pants and shirt I prefer when torturing prisoners, and I wasn’t wearing a crown. The girl didn’t mean any harm, and with only another slave to witness it, I could let it slide. If she’d meant to slight me, she’d have been on the floor, bleeding and screaming.
She thanked me for my mercifulness in at least a dozen different ways before I ordered her to shut up and stand at attention. The little thing quickly obeyed — her hands tucked into the small of her back, her head forward with eyes lowered, and legs spread so she could balance and stand this way for hours, if necessary.
“What kind of slave has Kalonymos gifted me? What have you been trained to do, Little One?”
She was still terrified, but she answered without faltering. “My first owner called me a sex slave, my Queen. My second master called me a pleasure slave. I’ll be whatever you wish me to be, Your Majesty.”
“Do you prefer men or women?
“A slave’s preferences do not matter, my Queen.”
I sighed and turned to the stenographer slave. “Look through her file to be sure all familial searches were done when she was brought to the Summerlands. If everything’s in order, tell the Captain of the Guard to send someone deserving of a reward to Blue Hole Falls, and then you can join us there. I’m going to explain a few things to the new acquisition, so your services won’t be needed for a short time. Don’t dally.”
I grasped the new slave’s arm and teleported us to the falls. I have a permanent throne here — not a hard metal one, but a comfortable chair I can sit in all day if I have a mind to.
Plus, the ground is softer and wouldn’t hurt the slave’s knees while she knelt before me. Sometimes, I couldn’t care less about a slave’s comfort, other times it’s more practical to keep the pain to a minimum while I put them in their place.
I sat, got comfortable, and smiled inwardly when my new slave fell to her knees before me. Her eyes were focused on my groin, which was fine for now. She’d been trained to look at her Master’s dick, which was so much better than making them look at your feet. I’d let her fall back on her earlier training until we could schedule her into an orientation. For now, I could learn much about her by observing her reactions.
However, slaves are never allowed to shy away from answering my questions, so this needed to be dealt with before we moved forward.
“When one has only a few sex slaves, one can’t afford to allow them a preference, Little One. However, with as many slaves as I own, it becomes sensible to play them to their strengths. When I ask a question, I expect an answer. If you’d like to couch your response in politically correct speech, feel free,” I leaned forward and gave a stern look, “but don’t use pat answers in an attempt to keep from answering.” I held the look a few seconds to be sure the words had enough impact before I straightened and tried not to look scary. “You’ll be given a little leeway since you’re new and appear to be trying, but it’s advisable to stay on my good side.”
She wanted to shrink into the ground, but to her credit, she held her position and didn’t slouch, and instead of apologizing, gave me the answer I wanted. This little slave had promise.
“I’m attracted to dominant personalities more than gender, my Queen. I prefer most men to women, but a dominant woman turns me on, while submissive men… don’t, Your Majesty.” Her eyes flicked up a brief second before landing near my pussy again. “I’m sexually aroused by strong women, my Queen.”
A test. “Were you attracted to Kalonymos? Are you going to miss him?”
“My first owner had me trained to prefer pain over pleasure, but this frustrated my most recent owner and master, Your Majesty.”
The little slave passed my test with flying colors. She answered my question truthfully, but without saying anything ill of her former owner.
I laughed, because I knew Kalonymos well enough to know he shouldn’t have bought the slave he spent a few days in a pleasure parlor with, and became enamored with. She’d pleased him without pain a few days, but hadn’t been able to keep it up long term. “I imagine he had no idea his punishments were what you craved.”
“He did not, my Queen.”
“Did he give you to me because he didn’t know what to do with you and thought you’d fit well into my sadistic leanings, or because he thought you a naughty slave beyond his capability to tame, since you kept acting up and forcing him to punish you?”
Another test. Slaves don’t talk bad about their masters – current or former. However, I’d also told her I expected her to answer my questions.