Sara

SARA

CHAPTER 7

THE SLAVE GOES HOME

by Charles E. Campbell

I slept fairly well. I mean, I slept fairly well if you took into consideration the whipping I had received and the cutting I had endured. My mound throbbed in a heavy pulse, but Alicia had given me some Tylenol with codeine before taking me to the guest bedroom, so it wasn't unbearable. Of course I didn't fall asleep very quickly, between my anticipation of seeing my owner again, and wondering if He would approve of my new scars, my mind was far too active to succumb to the fatigue that claimed my body. But once I did finally drift off, I slept right through until morning.

Alicia woke me with her gently caressing my hair, and cooing, “Time to get up, sara. Your Master is waiting for you to come home.”

My ascent from the depths of dreamland was both gradual and pleasant. As my consciousness became evident to Alicia, She whispered, “you need to get showered and have Becky change your dressings before breakfast, sara. You'll be leaving in a little over an hour.”

I sat up and hugged her with a spontaneous enthusiasm, and whimpered softly, “Thank You, Goddess, for all You have shown me. I will strive to be the slave that Sir Campbell requires”

“I know you will sara. You're much improved from what you were.”

I took a hot shower, and lay down on the bed as Alicia watched Becky remove the bandages on my pussy mound and inspected the deep cuts she had carved into my belly. “I see no signs of infection, Mom, but she needs to pay close attention to see that it doesn't start.”

Alicia took a close look at the cuts and said, “You'll need to change the dressings twice a day, and always after you shower, sara. Peel off whatever scabs form for the first two weeks, and it will be a bold emblem of your Master's ownership of you.”

Becky dressed the wounds and then taking my hand, she escorted me, naked, down to the kitchen, where we found the other two children waiting for us. A light breakfast of cantaloupe and honeydew slices, hot buttered croissants, jellies, juice and coffee waited for us. Most of the table conversation revolved around what it was like to live in New York City. I got the distinct impression that they never ventured very far from their pristine rural sanctuary.

An awkward lull in the conversation indicated to me that my time with them was about through. We all seemed to sense it, but it was Alicia who took the cue. She stood and said, I know that I speak for all of us when I say that we have all learned a great deal from your time here with us, sara. I hope that Sir Campbell will bring you back to visit with us again sometime.”

I thanked them all sincerely, and after heartfelt hugs and kisses were exchanged, Alicia said good bye, and walked out of the kitchen. Craig and Becky followed her lead and trailed out behind her, leaving only Meredith with me. My perplexed and quizzical expression prompted her to say, “you arrived here naked, sara, and naked is how you will leave. Just walk back down the driveway. You will be met at the road, and taken back to your home. She gave me a very brief and very tight squeeze, and sprinted from the room.

I walked slowly out of the kitchen and through the living room. When I reached the front door I half turned, expecting to see them once more, but I knew they weren't watching me. I opened the door and stepped out onto the porch and looked out on the dark foreboding sky, engulfed in thick black clouds whipped into a frenzy by the strong wind tearing through the trees.

I never looked back as I retraced my steps down the long winding drive, and I didn't become self conscious about my naked state until I was at the bottom of the driveway, almost at the road. Choosing the thickest pine tree I could find, I crouched down behind it and waited for my Master. Or at least that was what I thought.

Only two cars passed by me on this secluded stretch of two lane road as I cowered in the shadows listening to the wind in the pines. I was confident the cars hadn't noticed me in my hiding place. Finally, after about fifteen minutes, an old blue Dodge van, resplendent with graffiti

came bouncing down the road trailing a plume of oily blue exhaust. I crouched even lower behind my tree as the van slowed down and pulled head first into the end of the driveway about twenty feet.

Two seedy looking men emerged from the van stretching and yawning. The driver of the van was the taller of the two, about forty years old and very thin, a half burned cigarette dangled from his lips. His partner was a younger Hispanic man, early twenties. His wife beater shirt exposing multiple tattoos. A satiny black doo rag was tied tightly around his head. The driver casually flicked his cigarette out into the street, while the Hispanic man opened the rear doors of the van. From where I was hiding, I wasn't able to see inside the van. The older man scanned the woods for a few moments, then he called out, “Don't think I'm gonna wait all day for you, sara. Either you git over here now, or you'll be walkin' back to the city.”

Fear gripped me as I realized that my Owner had sent these two creatures for me, rather than to come Himself. Then, as quickly as that thought had come to me, it was replaced by the knowledge that He had a reason for sending them, and that it was for Him to decide what happened to me, not me. I stood up, and called out, “Here I am,” as I started towards the van.

The younger man's eyes grew wide as I approached. The driver acted as if seeing a naked and pierced woman in the middle of nowhere was an everyday occurrence. When I got to the van, the driver grabbed me by my arm and pulled me to the open doors at the back of the van, just as a rural mail truck passed by. He placed a pair of handcuffs on my wrists and locked them behind my back. He was considerate enough to take the time to check to see if they wee too tight. Then he strapped a large ball gag into my mouth, and buckled it behind my head. All the while the Hispanic man stared at my exposed body. The older man seemed to read his mind and said, “You'll have time with her, Manny, just not here, remember?”

Manny nodded by way of reply, but a bit of disappointment mixed with a sliver of a smile. They both helped get me into the back of the van, where a dog crate awaited me. It was hard getting into the crate, as it wasn't very large, and my cuffed hands were useless in helping. One 9of them threw a filthy paint splattered drop cloth over the crate, and we started the trip back to New York.

Some static ridden AM sports talk station held their interest for most of the trip as the decrepit van bounced along the roads. I did hear the driver remark that the trip home would take longer than the trip up, because he would have to keep his speed down, as he didn't want to get pulled over and have to explain what was in the crate.

I had no idea about time. The rapidly cramping condition of my arms and legs, punctuated by the jarring bounces as the ancient van exaggerated every imperfection in the road made the minutes seem eternal. Manny was beginning to lose his patience, and kept asking Ralph when he would pull over and let him have “some of me.”

Ralph kept reassuring Manny that he would have as much time with me as he wanted, and that he could do whatever he wished, as long as I wasn't permenantly marked.

“I kin hit ‘er,” he asked Ralph, a sinister enthusiasm in his voice?

“Yes Manny. I tol'ja. You can hit her. Use a fucking belt on her tits for all I care. Just no lasting marks.”

“I kin fuck her up the ass and make her lick the shit from my dick?”

“Look Manny,” Ralph replied, “I don't know what part of ‘anything' you don't understand. You can have her do anything you want. She has to do it. Anything that little spic mind of yours wants. Ya just can't leave marks on her that won't go away.”

The sarcasm in Ralph's voice was wasted on Manny. He kept up his endless flood of questions as the trip rambled on. The only respite from his line of questions was the occasional query as to how much longer until they reached their destination. Ralph kept counting down for him, as if the younger man couldn't tell time.

Finally, I felt the van slowing down as I heard Ralph say, “Remember Manny, we get her unloaded first. Then I'm getting s blow job and you get her after that.”

Manny's response was a load shrieking war hoop and a fast rhythmic staccato pounded out on the dash board. The van came to a stop, and I heard one of the doors open and slam shut. A few seconds passed, and the van rolled down a steep incline. I heard a garage door rumble to a close behind us as we stopped again. The rear doors were pulled open and the tarp was ripped from the crate, exposing my to the hungry eyes of my two “friends.”

As if on cue, Ralph and Manny reached into the van and grabbed the crate in unison, yanking it, and me, out of the van and onto the hard concrete floor. The ball gag totally suppressed my pain filled yelp as I bounced in the crate. Manny took out a set of keys and unlocked the crate, saying, “Git on outa there, bitch, and git onyer knees. I gotta big surprise for ya!”

They both laughed at his crude joke, but their eyes never left my nakedness as I worked my way out of the cage and knelt before them. Manny bent down and removed the ball gag, but he left my hands cuffed behind me. Ralph slowly inched closer to me, undoing his belt buckle as he neared. His dirty fingers fumbled with the snap on his well worn jeans. Finally, he got them open and slid the jeans down his bony hips, exposing a long thin penis dangling in my face.

“You know what ta do, cunt. You've sucked dick before. Get to it, or you know who is gonna get a long list of complaints about how good you were to me an' Manny.”

I knew he was talking about either Sir Campbell or Alicia, so I leaned forward and sucked his limp dick into my mouth, caressing it with my tongue as I sucked it deeply into the back of my throat. My tongue swirled all around the lifelessly soft invader on my mouth as I sensed the telltale stiffness beginning to make it grow.

“I wanna watch your face while you suck it, bitch. Open yer eyes an' look at me!”

I tilted my head back a bit and opened my eyes to see his face staring down at mine. A crooked grin spread across his thin lips, when suddenly, he snorted, and spit a pasty mass of phlegm into my eyes. “Filthy whore bitch,” he articulated as he spit a second time.

With the spit filling my eyes I had to strain to keep them opened. His cock was now semi-erect and I felt it begin to twitch as his orgasm started to build from his hairy ball sac. I braced myself for his load, but only a small amount came out. He groaned and grabbed the back of my head, trying to push himself as deeply into my mouth as possible, but he had already gone soft, and his cock just folded up against my cheeks.

He slapped me across the face as he pulled himself from my mouth, adding, “Don't say I never gave ya anything, slut.

“She's all yers, Manny,” he said, pulling up his jeans. “I'm gonna get a copupla beers. I'll be back in an hour. Have fun, but remember, no lasting marks!”

“Yeah, yeah, Ralph. Don't worry. Me an' this bitch are gonna have some fun.”

After Ralph had left the garage and closed the door behind him, Manny undid my cuffs and gently helped me to my feet. Tentatively, he inspected the bars that pierce my breasts, lifting them to feel their girth and weight. He tugged ever so lightly on the U bolt in my labia, watching as it pulled down on the lips, stretching them down. Elongating them. His free hand slowly glided across my buttocks and thighs, all the while never removing his eyes from mine.

When he was satisfied in his curiosity, he took a step back from me and stood stock still. His eyes locked to mine. Then, in a lightening flash, his balled fist flew forward, slamming into the center of my stomach, doubling me over, and driving me to the floor, coughing, retching, and gasping for my breath.

Manny looked down at me as I lay on the dirty floor, disgust in his eyes. “Yer gonna hafta take a helluva lot more than that, cunt. I'm gonna give ya a real good work out before I'm through with you!”

That said, he reached down and grabbed the U clamps in my breasts and jerked me to my feet. “Let's see how we can make this easier for me. I don't wanna hafta ta pickin' you up everytime I hitcha.” His eyes scanned the garage as I fought to catch my breath. The pain in my stomach was easing up some, but I knew there was a lot more to come. His head stopped moving when his eyes lit on something. “Stay here, bitch,” he ordered, walking over to a work bench on the far side of the room. I didn't watch him go, but when I heard the clanking of steel wheels over my head, I looked up and saw an engine hoist being pulled along an I beam by a chain the dropped down into Manny's hand.

He brought the hoist over until it was right over where I sat on the floor, and affixed the hook on the chain so that it went through the U clamps in my breast bars, Then he started pulling on the chain, and I could feel the slack being taken up from the hook. He kept pulling as I started to rise from the floor, and kept right on pulling until my feet left the floor and I was dangling free in the air from the bars in my chest. I was now crying softly as the tearing strain of hanging by the bars in my breasts grew. Manny pulled my hands back behind me and cuffed them together. Then he stood back and surveyed his work as I slowly turned in the air.

“I'm gonna practice some moves on you, bitch. See whatcha think!”

He started dancing around before me like a boxer sparring; his arms up, hands balled into fists, throwing jabs that stopped short of making contact with me, as he darted in and out. He did this for a few minutes, and then he started to land the jabs into my ribs, thighs and stomach. The force of the blows increased as he threw more punches at me. I was crying loudly now as he battered my defenseless body. Then, suddenly, he executed a textbook spin kick, catching me squarely in the stomach. I screamed as I threw up all over. My stomach awash in pain.

Manny pulled back a bit, but kept on dancing and throwing jabs. My thighs were cramping from the punches and my breasts were on fire from the pressure. A wicked spurt of punches landed in my stomach again, and I passed out.

When I came to, I was dripping wet, and I saw Manny standing in front of me, with an empty mop bucket, having just tossed it's grimy contents into my face to revive me. Choking and coughing, I returned, unhappily, to my world of pain, as he started punching me all over again, dancing and weaving as he shot his fists exactly where he wanted them to go.

I know I passed out again, because the next thing I remember, I was lying on the concrete floor, and had been released from my bonds. I ached terribly from my breasts to my belly, and was curled up in a fetal position, lying in the mix of mop water and my own vomit.

“You can't take punches fer shit, bitch,” Manny complained when he saw I was among the living. “I'm sure you've been whipped worse than that before, haven't ya? Which is easier to take? My fists, or a whip?”

I struggled to look into his face, and saw this wasn't intended as a rhetorical question, he was waiting for an answer. “I....I think the whip is easier, Sir,” I whimpered weakly.

“I thought you'd say that,” he chimed happily, leaning down and extending his hand to help me up.

I took hold of his hand and got up on my feet, still somewhat bent over. Manny grabbed my arm and shoved me over towards an oil splattered work bench. He took a big handful of my hair and forced my face down onto the bench. He was standing behind me, and I heard him undo his pants. He reached in front of me and I was able to see him pick up the grease gun the lay on the bench. I felt the cold metal tip of the gun probing for my rear opening and then felt the cold wet grease as he pumped it into my ass.

A few squirts o f grease filled me, and then the gun was quickly replaced by his rock hard cock, which slid in effortlessly. He fucked my ass for all he was worth, as my face slid back and forth across the top of the greasy bench. After what seemed an eternity, he let out a yell and started to jerk about under the throws of an intense orgasm. He held onto my hips, holding himself as deeply in me as he could, as his pulsing cock spewed it's load deep in my bowels. He wiped his grease covered cock on my ass as he pulled out of me. Then he took a step away and stood still. Slowly, I pushed myself up from the grimy bench, feeling the slimy ooze beginning to dribble from my ravaged hole. When I was standing up straight, I turned around to face him, and that was when I saw his fist fly forward into my face. It was the last thing I remember until I woke up, lying on my stomach in a salon chair with three women ministering to my bruises and cleaning up the greasy mess that I had become.

Through the foggy haze that engulfed my mind, I lifted my head and recognized Heather, the salon girl who had lead the electrolysis team a few months earlier. They had permanently removed all of my hair on my mound, legs, and in my butt crack. They had even gotten rid of the soft downy hair that was on my breasts. As I became more cognizant of where I was and what was happening, I felt an enema hose being slowly pushed into my ass. Heather saw the recognition in my face and explained, “we're trying to flush all that grease out of your ass. It isn't very healthy, and no man is going to be very pleased pulling his grease covered dick out after an ass fucking.”

The warm liquid felt soothing as it was pumped into me, and wasn't as uncomfortable as some enemas I have been forced to endure. “Now that you're awake, sara, I need you to hold it in. It's going to be a while until we can get all cleaned out. In fact, you may notice some grease in your stool for a few days, as it worked it's way pretty deeply into your bowels,” Heather explained. “After we get you cleaned up some more, we're going to remove the rest of that fine hair on your back and buttocks. Oh, and I'm sure you'll be pleased to know, Sir Campbell has finally acquiesced. He is going to allow me to do your arm pit hair as well. I was able to convince him that your humiliation in having that hair wasn't enough of a motivation for ruining your hairless appearance. I think Mistress Ilsa got to Him as well.”

One of the salon women continued with my enemas until they finally began to run clean, while Heather and another one were removing all of the unwanted hair. When they had finished up on my back and cheeks, I was untied and made to sit in the chair, my arms were then cuffed and pulled high over my head, leaving the fur. under my arms accessible to their ministrations. It only took the two of them about fifty minutes or so to completely remove the hair under mt arms. Heather then told me that Amy, a new girl at the salon would apply my make-up, as the shiner from Manny's fist was going to take some professional work to hide.

When everyone was satisfied with the way I looked, Heather helped me out of the chair and draped a red velvet cape over my shoulders. As she tied it around my neck, I was then made to step into a pair of matching red leather heels that were held on my soft red suede strips that they crisscrossed up my legs and tied just below my knees. I stood before full length mirror at my reflection, Heather pulled back the cape so the cuts on my belly weren't hidden. I lifted my arms to see the smooth hair free skin that Amy had powdered generously. Heather dropped the cape, and, producing a set of handcuffs, she cuffed my hands behind me, saying, “A cab is waiting for you at the curb. The driver will take you back to your Owner's home. When you get there, just ring the bell and someone will open the door for you. Good luck!” And with a peck on my cheek and a quick hug, she stepped back and let Amy escort me to the door which lead to the street. And, as she had said, a cab was pulled up at the curb, waiting for me.

Amy opened the door and watched with some fascination as I tried to maintain even a minimal degree of modesty as I got into the car, the open cape hiding only my back as I slid across the seat. Amy said good bye and closed the door. Without instructions from me, the driver pulled out, and headed back uptown to my master's townhouse on 92 nd .

We weren't more than half a block before the cab driver readjusted his mirror to allow him a good view of my exposed breasts. The cape had fallen off my shoulders and was bunched up behind me, leaving all of me open for viewing. A few pedestrians caught quick glimpses as we sped up 3 rd Ave. The driver pretty much divided his time between watching the streets and ogling me. Finally, he pulled up in front of a fire hydrant three doors down from my Master's building. He turned around in his seat and started for a few minutes, but kept his hands to himself. “The fare's taken care of, little lady,” he said. You can get out.”

I hesitated a few seconds trying to figure out how I could try and keep a modicum of dignity while I twisted and tried to open the door with my cuffed hands. After a few futile attempts, I just pushed myself against the door by pushing with my naked legs, and grappled with the handle. The driver never took his eyes off of me until I had successfully gotten out of the cab and had pushed the door shut with my butt. Thankfully, the cape had gotten back on my shoulders during the twisting and turning, and now gave me some cover as I stood out on the dismal looking street, the overcast day and pending nightfall had caused the street lights top come on earlier than usual.

The cape barely made it to my butt cheeks in back, and would flap in the wind as I walked, so I had to take small steps very slowly to not give myself away to the people on the sidewalk. I saw a gaggle of pre-teen school girls dressed in the uniform for some exclusive upper east side private school, approaching and my heart sank when I realized that I wouldn't make it to the stoop before passing them. Their excited banter gave me a false hope that I might pass unnoticed, but one of them must have caught a flash of exposed flesh, and she pointed it out to her friends before we passed. All ten of their young eyes were scanning up and down the length of my body watching to see what might be revealed to them as I walked to them. I heard them using terms like whore and prostitute as I started up the steps that lead to Sir Campbell's home.

Excitement made my heart pound as I stood at the huge oaken door. I had done what He wanted, endured what He desired, and was now home, to share my newfound submissiveness with Him, for Him. I had to turn around and feel for the door bell, and then after I managed to ring it, I dropped to my knees facing the door and waited for my Owner to appear. My heart ws pounding through my chest as I knelt on the welcome mat waiting for Him. I could hear the foyer door open, and then heard the deadbolt turn. I was crushed when the door opened and a naked slave stood in the doorway. I recognized her from the ceremony when I was collared as Sir Campbell's slave, and the piercings were placed in my breasts, labia, and septum. Her name was slut, and she was the collared slave of Mistress Ilsa, Sir Campbell's best friend and mentor.

“Come in, sara,” she bade me. “Let me take your cape,” and before I could stand up, she bent over and removed my cape, so I knelt naked on the stoop. I stood up as fast as I could with my cuffed hands, and walked through the door as she stood back to let me pass. Slut tossed my cape over a chair in the foyer and, unlocking my cuffs, asked, “you must be hungry, let's go into the kitchen and I'll fix you something to eat. Then I will explain to you about your Master.”

I trailed behind her as we made our way back to the kitchen. She made a hot bowl of soup and a sandwich for me with a steaming cup of tea. When I had settled into the meal, she took a sip from her teacup and said, “I'm sure you're wondering where your Master is. I'm also sure you're somewhat disappointed at His not being her to greet you himself.

“While I know that you are aware that His whereabouts are none of your business, he has instructed me to inform you that He was called away suddenly on emergency business in Europe. He flew out this morning. His full intention was to be here to greet you Himself when you got in, but, unfortunately, that was impossible. He believes that He should be back in ten days to two weeks, and at that time, He will host a small party in your honor. To mark your return as His slave.

“He doesn't want you to spend all that time alone in His house, so He asked My Owner if She would consent to letting me stay here with you until His return. We have free run of His house, and can do pretty much as we like; museums, Broadway shows, art galleries, movies, whatever you would like. His only restrictions are that no one is to be in the house with us, and that we are not to have any sexual contact between us. I am to tend to you, care for your cuttings, bathe and make you up, wash your hair, and any other things that you might need. We can even go out to restaurants if you would like. You are to sleep in the guest bedroom, in the bed. I will be sleeping on the floor in the basement, but you can reach me with the intercom if you should need anything.

“I don't think I've forgotten anything. Have you any questions?”

“No, thank you, .....er........slut.”

“That's alright sara. You may call me by the name My Mistress granted me. It is both what I am and who I am.”

“I understand,” I answered her, still not comfortable with the name.

“Is there anything you'd like to do tonight, sara? Or would you prefer a quiet evening with the television or reading?”

“Just the TV would be fine with me, slut. I'm really tired and don't think I'll be staying up very late.”

“As you wish, sara, we have lots of time.”