The Free Territory of Febos. 2476.

Chapter 1. Cass.

Cass groaned angrily and smacked the steering console with the palms of her hands. She was stuck behind a car going 10 miles under the speed limit for the road they were going on.

"Hurry up!" She yelled, pointlessly, at the car in front of her. She was nearly an hour past when the market was supposed to open, and Cass worried that all the good stock would be taken before she got there. Eventually the car in front of her turned down into another residential area.

"Ugh, finally!"

Inside of temporary fencing were rows upon rows of tents, and a few food trucks. A large colorful banner announced the event; Slave Market Today! 7am to 3pm. A sign underneath reminded people to have their license ready, while two cardboard signs had instructions in black marker directing drivers where to park.

She had to drive around the market's 'parking lot' (a gravel field) 2 or 3 times before she found an empty stall, which she quickly sniped. Locking her car behind her, Cass made her way to the entrance, where a femme individual, with metallic eyes and robotic arms was sitting at a folding chair. They wore a nametag that said 'Volunteer, she/her'. Beside her were two very muscular figures, wearing black helmets that covered their faces completely, and red shirts that read 'SECURITY' in white text.

 

"License, please", the woman asked.

 

Cass dug through her purse and handed the woman the little card that identified her as someone who could be trusted to own another human being. The woman's eyes projected multiple thin beams of light over the card, scanning it.

"Okay, you're good to enter. Hope you find something you like," she said, handing it back.

Cass' first stop wasn't any of the market stalls; it was to get iced tea from the food truck right beside the entrance. It was likely to be a warm day, and while she had dressed in light colored and loose fitting clothing, a cool drink would help if she needed to spend a significant amount of time here. The truck was being operated by a human dressed entirely in latex and wearing a face-covering helmet that displayed cute cartoonish images on an LED array. When Cass approached, it flashed a pink heart, and a robotic voice asked, "How may this unit be of service?"

"Sweet iced tea, please."

 

The display gave a green thumbs up, and displayed the cost underneath. Cass handed over her payment card, the drone's helmet gave her a blue LED smile, a robotic voice replied, "Enjoy!" and it quickly handed Cass her drink in a clear bio-plastic cup, and immediately turned to the next customer with, "How may this unit be of service?"

Cass started her stroll around the market. There were dozens of tents in all kinds of colors keeping the sellers and their wares protected from the sun. Signs, some handwritten with colorful markers, others printed out, all promising the same sorts of things: "Slaves!" "Drones!" "Pets: Puppies, Kitties, and More!" "Love Toys!" "Buy 1, get 15% off your second!" "Rejuvenation Implant! Will never look older than 20!"

 

The crowd was more diverse: there were people walking, with leashed human pets crawling behind them; visibly-post-human people with robot limbs or eyes that let them see in spectra beyond normal limitations; people with aesthetic mods, like hair that changed color, or moving tattoos; triads where all three held hands as they walked together... Cass even saw someone dressed up like a fairytale princess on a collar and leash, following behind (Cass presumed) their owner at a somewhat delayed pace, as every bright sign or erotic display caught their attention; they would giggle and stare until the slack on the leash was used up and the tension reminded them to follow, then gracefully catch up to their owner before immediately getting distracted again. Another wore a tailored suit that drew the eyes to their cleavage along with shiny heels and a stern look, reminding Cass of the haughty business types that would sometimes come from neighbouring capitalist territories; while Cass had opinions about the politics that she tended to associate with the fashion, it made for a striking presentation, making Cass wonder about adopting something like it for her own work attire—though she could do without the two masculine individuals flanking her on either side wearing nothing but harnesses and codpieces. That just didn't appeal to her more sapphic sensibilities.

In front of one of the larger tents, a small crowd was watching two tanned femme slaves in bikinis, one with dark hair, the other having replaced her hair with something that looked like fibre optic cables which shimmered in rainbow patterns. The pair were making out, putting on a show. Cass watched. Even though that wasn't really what she was looking for in a servant today, she could still appreciate two beautiful slaves' appearance and enthusiasm, but her interest soon faded. After twenty seconds she could tell that it was just a routine that came pre-loaded in Lovechips for pairing. She could watch them loop predictably: every time, the dark-haired slave gave their partner a teasing bite on the lower lip; every time, the shimmering one replied with a grasp of their partner's ass; every heavy breath and moan was the same, every time. And no matter the slave, it would be the same, even if the performers changed.

 

She finished her iced tea and threw the cup into a compost bin as she moved on down the rows of tents. In the very back corner was a small umbrella, two occupied folding chairs, and a table with a sign on it. The simple printed-out sign on their table read, High quality traditionally crafted slave. Free to a good home. No lovechip or other compliance treatments. The proprietor looked up from a book of crosswords as Cass and a few others came near.

 

Blue eyes, the most incredibly blue eyes Cass had ever seen, drew her attention. She immediately assumed that they were implants or perhaps even contact lens screens, but after a moment realized those electric orbs were just an astonishing pair of unmodded human eyes, in the face of an old masc-presenting person. The oldness, too, was a surprise: few allowed themselves to grow visibly aged, to the point of naturally silver hair, cut short and thinning enough that Cass could see most of their scalp. The hair matched the silver beard, trimmed just as tightly.

 

Cass had never met anyone who looked this old, had never seen anyone who looked this old outside a history text.

 

Sitting in the chair beside them was another figure, slumped over slightly, with a vacant but contented expression written in their hazel eyes and soft face. Cass presumed that this was the slave. Tan lines on their shoulders and small pockmarks (acne scars?) on their face made them stand out in a field full of slaves that had had every blemish wiped clean, every bit of natural melanin change smoothed over with rejuvenation treatments. They were in extremely old-fashioned, almost quaint garb: a floral-printed dress, ribbons in the bobbed hairdo with a matching pattern, white stockings and black shoes with little pink ornamental bows on them.

 

The others passed by their tent, shaking their heads and moving on. One individual with bright lights moving up and down under the skin on their arms, even laughed at the servant's unusual appearance, earning an eyeroll from the person running the tent. Far from being put off, however, Cass was intrigued. Waiting for the rest of the crowd to move along, she walked up to the booth.

 

"Hello!" Cass greeted the salesperson.

They marked their place with their pen and set the book down on the table, giving Cass a gentle smile. "Well, hello! M'names Richard, he, him. This is Sammy, she, her. You interested in her?" Richard's voice was as shaky with age. Definitely an unusual person.

 

Cass shrugged. "Cass. She, her. I'm just curious: why is she free? Is there something wrong with her?"

Richard shook his head. "Not at all, she is an absolute delight! I'm just downsizing for my retirement, no need for someone to help me keep up the house anymore."

 

"Oh, a domestic helper is just what I am looking for!" Cass exclaimed.

"Well, she'll do just fine for you there, Sammy's been helpin' me around my place for a good 5 years now."

"So... the other thing, traditionally crafted... you mean no lovechip?" Cass asked.

Richard pursed his lips. "No ma'am, I don't care for all that newfangled nonsense. Back in my day, making a good slave was an art and I trained for years to learn how to make em. Lovechips might make em faster, but they can't replicate real devotion." He sighed. "It's just not like the old days, you know? All the dronin' and the brainwashing chips... Back when, all we had was personalized, high-intensity mind control. High-quality stuff, right? Not just some mass produced plastic visor and the same generic text that hypnotized every slave in your neighborhood. But I suppose that's the industry for you."

"You're actually a slavecrafter?" Cass was surprised. She'd read about them, of course, they were mentioned in every slavetech company's the history of section of their webpage.

"Yup, probably damn near the last one in Febos, ever since the chips started sayin' they could do our jobs in a day, and the youth juice kept them lookin' young forever. I was hopin' to train an apprentice, but ain't nobody interested in doing things the old-fashioned way anymore." It made a disappointing amount of sense to Cass. It was more than 40 years since the first lovechips came on the civilian market, finally getting approval in Febos once they had proven they couldn't be hacked to work in a non-consenting mind. It was an obvious choice: years of training and conditioning with a human being subject to randomnesses of biology and psychology, or a single, simple, standardized, non-invasive hour-long installation procedure.

Cass looked Sammy up and down. She was cute, with rounded cheeks and natural looking breasts; nothing about her seemed to have been modified at all. There was something alluring about that.

"But she's still obedient?"

"Oh yes, and not that 'only does what you say' obedience neither. Nope, she'll actively try to make you happy. There's still some brain left up in there to learn, and she actually wants to do a good job, made sure of that." He reached over to the girl and started petting the back of her head. Her eyes were still unfocused, but her lips curled into a lazy smile.

"Oh, that's cute," Cass said.

 

Richard beamed with pride as he turned his attention back to Cass. "Yeah, Sammy's a good girl." He fixed her with a friendly but business-like look. "So here's the deal. A genuine crafted slave would normally cost you ten times what you'd pay for any of that mass-market crap. But you sign a contract with me promisin' you won't put any of that damn slavetech in her, or sell her to anyone who will, and she's yours. You interested?"

Cass hesitated. "I...actually might be."

"You wanna talk to her, see if you might want her around?" Without waiting for Cass' reply, Richard snapped his fingers. "Wake up, pretty girl."

 

Sammy's eyes blinked, and she stretched out like she had just woken up from a nap. "Oh! Hello!" She sounded a bit surprised that anyone other than Richard was present. Her eyes were filled with concern, and she turned to Richard for reassurance. "Master, is this... the person you're giving me to?"

 

Cass watched, intrigued, as Richard resumed petting the top of his slave's brown hair, and Sammy absolutely melted into his hand. "Maybe," the old man said. "What do you think?"

 

Sammy turned her head back to Cass, her wide brown eyes looked so innocent. She seemed to be assessing the other woman in some way that Cass couldn't read. Finally after a moment, Sammy turned back to Richard and said, "She's cute..."

Richard smiled and rolled his eyes, but it was endearment, not mockery. "Okay, but, maybe you want to ask her a few questions?"

 

It was an odd sight, to see a slave pause for thought; yet one more thing Cass wasn't used to seeing. "I'm just scared she won't be nice to me," Sammy finally said.

 

Richard's voice turned smooth, soft and comforting. "Now Sammy, you know I'd never ever let something bad happen to you, right?"

 

"Yes, Master," she nodded. An immediate response.

"So you can trust that if I did give you to this nice lady, it's cause I know she'd never hurt you, right?"

"Yes Master," Sammy smiled and seemed genuinely comforted.

Cass felt her heart melting. "That's so... wholesome," she said with genuine admiration. "You're so good to her."

 

Richard nodded but didn't take his eyes off Sammy, still stroking her hair. "Yeah, most folks treat their slaves like objects, but that just doesn't get you the best results. They gotta want to make you happy, and you only get that if you treat 'em good."

"I agree with you completely," Cass said. "Hey, Sammy?"

Sammy seemed startled, but quickly turned her attentions to Cass. "Um... Yes?" she asked, sounding uncertain.

 

"I'm looking for a helper. I'm very busy with my job, so I need a good, obedient servant to pick up the slack while I'm working. Does that sound like a thing you'd like?"

Sammy nodded and gave a wide smile, "Oh yes, I love cleaning up, and I love obeying! It just feels so, so, so good to obey!"

 

Richard smiled, but it was a thinner grin, with something devious behind it. "That's right, Sammy. Obedience is pleasure, right?"

 

Sammy's eyes went unfocused for a second, and Cass could see her repeat "obedience is pleasure" under her breath before she came back to the conversation. Watching Sammy shift from bright, cheery, and eager to completely vacant in just a few words was more than a little exciting, which reminded Cass to ask about an important feature.

"I'm also interested in someone for the bedroom," she asked, trying to maintain her matter-of-fact tone and not give away how turned on she was. "Does that interest you?"

The slave looked at Cass, her eyes taking her in again, up and down, as if considering the question. She bit her lower lip. "Very much so."

"That's enough of a demonstration," Richard chuckled and snapped his fingers again. "Drop," he said, and Sammy went instantly back into the dazed state she had been in when Cass had approached. "Well," the slavecrafter said to Cass, "Sammy likes you, that's all I need."

 

Cass nodded, still trying to hide her excitement at the prospect. "I think I'd really like her around too."

 

Richard beamed, and reached under his chair into a bag for a digital tablet. "Alrighty then. You sign this, and then she'll be yours."

 

Cass scanned the contract. It was very short, in very plain language, with nothing in it except what Richard had said, other than a clause that if she did attempt to violate the terms of the contract, she would forfeit any right to Sammy, who would immediately return to Richard's possession. Cass signed without hesitation, putting in her license number so that Sammy's registration would automatically transfer to her, then handed the tablet back to Richard.

"Everything you'll need is in the file," he said, "but you don't need to worry too much about memorizing it all. She'll adapt once you build up a rapport." Richard snapped his fingers again. Sammy came back up, a bit slower this time. "Alright, good girl." He pet her hair gently as she came out of her stupor. "Cass here's your owner now."

 

Richard stood and opened his arms, offering Sammy a hug, which she accepted. They held each other for a long time. Cass didn't want to break up the pair, and let them have as long as they needed.

"I'll miss you, Master," Sammy said as they broke the embrace. "I promise I'll be a good girl and make you proud."

"I'll miss you too, darlin', but there was never any doubt in my mind about that. You go on now, Sammy," Richard said, his hands on her shoulders for a moment, before finally letting her go.

 

Sammy looked at Cass, unsure what to do next. Cass took Sammy's hand, and led her away. It was hard to separate them, but it would have to happen sooner or later; best to tear the bandage off now, Cass thought. Sammy turned her head to look back a few times but didn't slow as she followed Cass back to her car. They walked back past all the colourful tents, past the security guards and the woman checking IDs, back through the gravel parking lot.

"You can get in the passenger seat, Sammy," Cass instructed.

Sammy moved to obey. "Yes, um.... What would you like me call you?"

Cass paused for a moment, thinking. "You can call me Mistress, Miss Cass, or Ma'am. Whichever feels most right to you."

"Yes, Ma'am," Sammy replied immediately. They both climbed in, and Cass set the car to autopilot, directing it home. She thought it best to start getting to know about her new property, so she rotated her seat to face Sammy, who was watching everything that passed by outside of the car.

"So!" Cass began. Sammy jumped a little bit, surprised at being talked to, and turned to her new Owner. "How old are you?"

"I believe I am 32, though my memory starts getting fuzzy around 21, when I agreed to be crafted. Ma—Er, Richard," Sammy corrected herself, but Cass held up a hand to stop her before she could continue.

"He was your Master," Cass explained. "You can still call him that. I'm not so insecure about my ownership of you that I feel a need to take that from you."

Sammy gasped and then beamed. "Th-Thank you very much, Ma'am! Anyways, Master always gave me a treat on what he said were my birthdays, and I have no reason to believe he was lying about that, Ma'am."

 

Cass made a mental note to check Sammy's slave-file to see if it said when her birthday was, that was a nice tradition to keep going. "Do you remember why you let yourself be crafted?"

 

Sammy's eyes flitted around, as if she were reading something very quickly, or trying to keep track of an annoying fly. "I wanted to be useful and cared for. I believe I was unsatisfied with the other possibilities that I saw available to me, that I only saw surviving in the future and being crafted seemed like a way to be..." She paused, thinking of the right word. "Happy."

"And was it?"

 

Sammy didn't hesitate at all this time. "Yes, Ma'am," she said with a soft smile.

"So, why didn't you get a lovechip or something? Why go for the old-fashioned process?"

 

Sammy looked like she was focusing intently, before answering, "I do not remember. Apologies, Ma'am."

"Oh that's quite alright, I was just curious." Cass was a bit disappointed in the answer, but carried on. Maybe there was something about that in her file. "Do you have any implants?"

 

"I am a birth-standard human, Ma'am."

 

That was surprising, but maybe Sammy just was taking the typical things for granted. Best to check the file, Cass thought. "Not even birth control?"

"No Ma'am."

 

That might have been the most shocking thing she'd encountered about her new property so far. Every person with a uterus that she'd known back in school got their conscious birth control implants as soon as they started menstruation. She figured Richard for just an artist who appreciated the way things used to be, not some kind of... neo-luddite. "Do... you want any?"

"I will comply with any modification that you see fit to give me," Sammy replied with practiced ease.

"That wasn't the question."

 

Sammy's eyes widened as if she was nervous that she was about to be caught in some trap. She seemed to be choosing her words carefully. "I... would enjoy no longer having periods, Ma'am."

Cass smiled. "Okay, we'll get you into a walk-in on my next day off, sound good?"

 

Sammy nodded and relaxed visibly.

 

The car turned into Cass' driveway, perfectly aligning itself with its solar charging pad. "Oh look, we're here," Cass said, and the pair exited the car. The house wasn't large: two bedrooms, one bath, but owning a private home was a sign of how hard Cass worked. Most people were satisfied with community housing, their basic needs taken care of, working paying jobs only for any luxuries they might want. Owning a house meant years of dedicated work, both to acquire and to maintain.

"You own this?!" Sammy asked, incredulous. Another odd moment; most slaves would have simply accepted their new dwelling without question. Cass' heart swelled with pride; yes, she owned this. And you, she thought, just as pleased with herself.

Cass led Sammy into the small house and gave her a quick tour, pointing out rooms as they went. "Bathroom, my bedroom, kitchen is down that hall. This will be your room. Feel free to tell me if there's anything I can do to make it feel more comfortable." It was the smaller of the two, and was the only room without carboard boxes loosely stacked in every corner; in the three months since she'd bought the house, Cass still hadn't found the time to unpack anything except the essentials. The room—Cass was already thinking of it as the slave quarters—was mostly barren, largely unused. She'd put a small bed in, and a secondhand dresser that still had a few stickers of cartoon characters decorating it. The eggshell-coloured paint on the walls and the brown laminate flooring had been there when she'd moved in.

 

Sammy moved carefully past Cass and turned around, getting a look at the whole of her space. Cass beamed at the sight. "What do you think?"

"You are most generous, Ma'am," Sammy replied sincerely.

"I expect you to serve me well, and I believe that you will be best able to do that if your physical needs are more than merely met." Cass smiled at her slave. "Speaking of which, I'm hungry. How about you?"

 

"Yes, Ma'am."

Cass took Sammy to the dining room and printed out steak and salad for the both of them. Using stacks of cardboard boxes as chairs in front of the small table, they sat down for dinner. Cass devoured her food quickly—walking through the market in the heat had taken a lot out of her—but Sammy took her time, savouring each bite.

 

"I imagine you'd like to know about the woman that bought you?" Cass asked.

Sammy swallowed a bit of steak. "If it pleases you, Ma'am."

 

Cass laughed. She had to admit, she just wanted an excuse to brag about herself. It was rare she got the chance to outright boast. But her slave didn't need to know that. "My name is Cassandra Lewis, she, her. I am 40 years old but have had rejuvenation treatments that should keep me looking and feeling 28 for the next five years, at least. I have a few minor implants: ocular net connection, though I usually turn that off; conscious birth control; cancer and other illness monitoring; and an implant to help me sober up in a hurry if I need to. My work is... difficult to explain, but the short version would be that I help in negotiations with nation-states who, for example, don't allow slavery, or who have banned extensive posthuman modifications."

"You must be very intelligent, Ma'am," Sammy replied, as if by rote.

"I don't know about that. I'm... patient with them, which can be hard sometimes." Cass frowned. "Some people can have a rather... strict idea about what is right and wrong sometimes." Cass rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Having to explain that a slave wants to be a slave over and over is... exhausting."

"Maybe I should come with you to explain for you, Ma'am?" Sammy's tone was genuine and earnest.

Cass chuckled. "That's sweet of you, but no, we don't bring slaves to the meetings: sometimes they try to 'free' them."

 

Sammy gasped. "That's awful!"

"They think it's right." Cass shrugged. "Like I said, it can be hard sometimes, the cultural differences."

 

Sammy nodded, and seemingly having nothing to add, turned back to her meal.

When they had finished, Cass didn't have time to say a word before Sammy was clearing their plates, washing them, drying them, and putting them right back where she had seen Cass take them from. It was nice, Cass thought, to not have to worry about that sort of thing, to just sit back and have it taken care of. "Thank you, Sammy," she said once the job was complete.

Sammy turned to face her owner, folded her hands in front of her, bowed slightly. "My pleasure, Ma'am."

 

After lunch, Cass set Sammy to some basic tasks, mainly unpacking boxes. It was a bit uncomfortable at first. Cass didn't want to overload Sammy, or make her feel any resentment, but Sammy gave a little squeak of delight with each order. She did seem to just genuinely enjoy doing things for her owner. While Sammy puttered about, organizing as best she could, cleaning up after the two of them, Cass sat on the couch and tried to absorb everything in Sammy's file. It was mostly biographical information: her birthday, a list of triggers, food likes and dislikes—she seemed to have the tastes of a child, which was endearing, especially with the extra note saying, "make sure to order her to eat her greens, or she won't." There was a lot of detail into the kind of person she was, including personality tests, which most slavemakers wouldn't have even bothered to put down since personality was so programmable. She tried to write out an actual list of things she wanted Sammy to do for her while she was away at work. More unpacking for sure... General tidying... Mowing the lawn, should check if she's ever used a pushmower before...

When it came time for dinner, Cass let Sammy pick their meal, and the slave chose to print out chicken nuggets in the shape of dinosaurs. She was making them 'walk' in the air, having them panic as she got close and closer to her mouth and biting their heads off first. Adorable, Cass thought, and, You wouldn't see that from someone with a lovechip. After dinner, Cass left Sammy to her own devices, telling her property that she could get comfortable in her room until Cass needed her. It had been a long day for them both, and Cass wanted to give the slave time to adjust and to fill her own evening. No doubt she had things to work through. Perhaps it was the lingering thrill of owning her first slave, but Cass had lost track of time and the sun was setting. It was time to settle; tomorrow was her first full day of being a Mistress, and she wanted to be well rested.

 

Before bed, though, Cass thought to herself, I should wish Sammy a good night.

 

And then she realized that she'd nearly forgotten something.

 

She bolted from her couch and ran to the bedroom, digging into her sidetable. Hidden far in the back were a black leather strap and a tiny heart-shaped lock. She'd bought them the day she'd decided to get a license, a reminder—a promise—to herself that she would be the best Mistress she could to anyone who had her collar on their neck. She took a breath to calm herself before casually strolling across the floor to Sammy's room. The door was closed. She raised a hand to knock, when a strange sound from within made her stop.

 

Sammy was crying.

 

She probably misses Richard, Cass thought to herself. Or maybe I did something to upset her...?

She turned on her ocular implant, searching for any advice on what she could do to comfort her property. The Net was absolutely no help at all: search engines kept telling her that the solution was to just reprogram her slave, as though that were the only possible answer. That wasn't happening; Cass wanted Sammy just as she was, and anyway her contract with Richard precluded that possibility. Cass brushed away all the browser windows with a thought, leaving her staring at the blank off-white of Sammy's door.

"I guess we're winging this," Cass said to herself. She steeled herself and knocked on the door

 

She heard Sammy quickly sniffling up her tears and trying to compose herself. "Y-Yes Ma'am?" If Cass hadn't heard her crying the moment before, she'd almost have believed the slave's response was more surprise than sadness.

"May I come in?" Cass asked politely through the door.

"You... can, Ma'am?" Sammy sounded confused at her Owner's question. It was an absurd question; both the room and Sammy were Cass' property.

 

Cass opened the door, and saw Sammy was on her knees, hands folded in her lap, head bowed, completely naked. Cass admired the other woman. She had stretchmarks on her breasts and hips, tan lines, a series of straight scars across her thighs. She was imperfect, unique, human. And glorious.

"I have something for you, pretty girl," Cass said, keeling down in front of Sammy. She lifted her property's chin up with two fingers. "I want you to look at me when I speak to you."

"Yes, Ma'am." Sammy was perfectly composed now. Richard's training was excellent. Whatever the slave's internal emotional state, Sammy was all business now.

 

Cass pulled the collar and lock out from behind her back. "What do you think?"

Sammy's eyes focused on the collar, enthralled. "They're beautiful, Ma'am!"

"Let's see how it fits." Cass reached up and around Sammy's neck. Transfixed, Sammy moved just enough to help, knowing what Cass would need apparently by instinct alone. The leather strap fit perfectly, and the heart-shaped lock fastened it in place with a soft click. It was done. Sammy was collared. Cass admired the natural elegance of her property, and flushed with pride in seeing her collar around Sammy's neck.

 

Sammy ran a finger idly along it for a moment. It didn't seem to have lifted her spirits though, the smile on her face hadn't stayed in her eyes. Cass tried to think of something to comfort Sammy, the slave she already cherished so much.

"Would you... like to come sleep in my bed tonight?" Cass asked.

 

Sammy kept her head up, looking at Cass as she had been instructed, but there was something else, something... curious behind them that Cass wasn't sure what to make of. "If it would please you, Ma'am," the slave replied.

Cass put a hand on Sammy's arm, trying to reassure her new property of the truth in her next words. "That's not what I asked you. I'm giving you a choice here."

 

Sammy's eyes focused, looking right into Cass' deep brown eyes, with a pleading, pained expression. "I... I don't want to choose Ma'am... I want to obey."

Cass smiled. That, at least, took a lot of the pressure off. Giving orders? That was easy. "Well of course that's what you want. Obedience is pleasure, right?" Cass watched, thrilled, aroused, as Sammy's eyes unfocused.

"Obedience is pleasure." Sammy repeated the mantra, softly, almost to herself.

"What a good girl you are." Cass hadn't planned to make use of her slave in this way so immediately, but that glazed expression was just too hot to resist. "Come with me. I want you in my bed."

"Yes Ma'am." Sammy's voice had a certainty in it that it had been lacking a moment ago.

 

They stood together, and Cass led her property by the hand into her bed. It was a mess, a nest of blankets and piled-up sheets that she hadn't bothered to make in the morning—any morning, since she was a child. When they crawled in together, Sammy did her very best to quickly make the assorted covers actually cover them, then snuggled up to her Mistress as directed. For a while, Cass just enjoyed the warmth of another body laying her bed, something she hadn't felt in a while. Sammy smelled like honey and lavender. She let her hands run up and down her property, running over Sammy's shoulders, down her breasts—just barely too much for Cass' hands (the right one was a little bit bigger, she noticed)—and continuing up and down feeling the scars on Sammy's thighs, the soft, trimmed hair between her legs... Cass grinned, and started teasing Sammy's clit with her fingers. The slave made such cute little whimpers and moans, and her legs seemed to spread themselves...

Cass paused, a single finger resting on that tender nub. "I am curious, are you at all experienced with pleasuring people with vulvas, Sammy?" she asked.

"Yes Ma'am," Sammy answered, sounding very proud of herself. "Master made certain I could be of use to all his guests."

Cass admitted she had expected even a slight blush, some sign that Sammy was willing but shy, but the slave showed far more confidence in discussing sexual matters than she had in even admitting a single personal preference. "Show me," Cass ordered.

Without hesitation, Sammy rolled over in the bed and started kissing Cass' face, her cheek, under her ear, the side of her neck, down to the clavicle. Cass stopped her there with a touch. "Undress me," she commanded. Sammy's focus shifted immediately and, using the lightest possible touch, undid and removed Cass' blouse, slacks, socks... every now and again, when Sammy needed Cass to shift in order to remove an article of clothing, she used a gentle, suggestive pressure, never insisting, always taking her time. Soon Cass' bra and underwear joined the rest of her clothes on the floor, and Cass gave her slave a new order.

 

"Worship me."

Sammy was instantly between her legs, using her left hand to penetrate Cass, licking, sucking, swirling her tongue around Cass' clit. It was practiced, but all the more impressive in that Cass barely had to instruct her slave at all. It was as if Sammy were keyed into Cass' moans and gasps, and when they shifted, changed, lowered, Sammy would immediately adjust and Cass' volume would rise again. "Just like that," and, "More," were the only things Cass found herself needing to say, indeed the only things she could manage to say. It wasn't long before she was coasting towards an orgasm, when suddenly Sammy, as if reading her mind, did something, and the powerful crest of the wave broke. Cass had never cum so hard.

 

Seemingly unsatisfied, or perhaps spurred on by Cass' exuberant shouts, Sammy just... kept... going, until finally Cass gasped in pain.

 

"Stop-stop-stop-stop, too sensitive," Cass choked out, still breathing heavily.

"Apologies, Ma'am." The words were spoken plainly, as if the slave had not just been engaged in giving Cass the best sex of her life. Sammy moved to sit on her heels, watching her Owner with bright eyes. She was flushed and breathing heavily herself. Cass took a moment to lie back, let her breathing slow, feel her own sweat cool across her body. She was exhausted, and it took a few minutes for her to gather her thoughts together enough to say what she wanted next.

 

It could have taken hours. Sammy would have waited.

"Come here," Cass half-whispered finally. "I want to cuddle you."

 

Sammy made a delighted squeak, and quickly crawled back up the bed, and curled into her owner, resting her head on Cass' bare chest. Cass looked down and sighed, happily. She closed her eyes, feeling sleep start to come.

"Mine," she whispered.

"Yours," she heard Sammy whisper back.