The Seventh Slave

The house was big and imposing, in fact she wouldn’t even call it a house, it was more like a mansion. The dark brick walls rose high up in the air, the shiny windows mirroring the swirling winter clouds, a drop of rain fell onto her cheek. She brushed it off and walked up the marble ramp, next to the stairs.

A fluttering butterfly in her tummy as she stood in front of the big wooden doors. She rang the doorbell and a moment later both the heavy doors swung open and exposed a shiny marble hallway. It stretched out in front of her, there were doors and pillars and all the way in the back there were glass panels that looked out over the back garden.

Behind her the wooden doors fell shut with a loud bang. As if she was in some sort of haunted house. She was a tiny bit nervous, but not scared. Paul was like a celebrity, everyone knew him, ever sub wanted to be dominated by him, she enjoyed the privilege of playing with him once at a party, and she was elated that now she was invited to his house for a more elaborate scene.

Quite some time she waited in the big hallway, not really sure what to do. She walked around and tilted her head in her neck so she could look at the chandelier, and then a mechanical whizzing sounded, startled she took a step backwards. Paul was descending in a glass elevator. Stately he sat there in his wheelchair, looking down on her as the elevator slowly came to her level. The doors opened and he drove his wheelchair into the hallway. A few feet in front of her he stopped. His hair somewhat messy, he had the playful blue eyes and a three day stubble on his cheeks. He didn’t say a thing, he just looked at her intently.

She didn’t know what to do, should she kneel, did the play start already?

‘Hi,’ she said. ‘I’m Laura, we met at –

‘Don’t speak until you’re spoken too.’ He said strictly. ‘I know who you are. I know why you came. Henceforth you will be known as slave number seven, or just Seven for short, understood?’

‘Yes Sir.’ Laura said.

‘Well Seven, are you ready to serve me?’

‘Until 11 pm I’m all yours.’ Laura said.

He tilted his head and squinted his eyes. ‘No.’ He said.

It felt as if she did something wrong, as if she wasn’t good enough for him. She tried to make up for it with a smile. ‘Tomorrow I have to work, I don’t want to be home too late.’ She said.

‘Silence. I told you not to speak until you’re asked a question.’ He said.

Technically he did ask her a question, he asked her if she wanted to serve him. Yet Laura got a happy tingle in her tummy from his strictness. So she pressed her lips together and kept silent.

‘You filled out the negotiation checklist, didn’t you?’ He continued. ‘You gave me a copy of your schedule. So either you trust me and you stay, but then I expect you to obey and play along, or alternatively you could leave now.’

Leave? Laura was a bit startled by this suggestion. Why would he tell her to leave, she wanted to stay, she wanted to play. She craved a dominant, she craved her own submission. There was something in his voice that scared her though, a hunger or a greed. Or was it something within herself that terrified her, the way her body reacted to his hunger and greed, her willingness to be taken.

‘What’s it going to be, Seven?’

‘I’d like to stay please, Sir.’ She said.

‘I’m glad to hear that.’ He said with a kind nod. ‘Now kneel.’

Laura fell onto her knees, she sat straight up, her arms behind her back, her eyes on the floor in front of her.

‘Pretty.’ He said with an approving clack of is tongue. ‘Although I like my slaves to wear a collar. You have permission to approach me.’

She wanted to stand up but he told her to stay down, did he expect her to crawl? For a moment she hesitated and then she approached his chair, she didn’t dare to look him in the eyes, so instead she looked at the stickers he’d put on the side of his chair, there was one sticker of Big Fish, it was in fact that movie and Helena Bonham Carter that first started them talking at that play party. She loved that movie.

‘You have permission to look up.’ He said.

Now she lifted her head. In his hand dangled a collar. It wasn’t just a leather strap though, there was a box attached to the collar. There was a playful mischievous smile on his face. ‘Come on.’ He said. ‘Come and get it.’

She reach out her hand and took the collar from him.

‘Tell me Seven, how eager are you to wear that collar?’

‘Very eager Sir.’

‘Why?’ He asked.

‘Because…’ She stumbled over her own words. ‘Because I want to serve you, and I want to submit to you and I want you to own me and train me.’

‘Good.’ He said. ‘Well just so you know, I don’t allow my slaves to wear any clothes, so you have to pick one or the other. Either keep wearing your clothes, or wear my collar, you can’t wear both.’

Wasn’t he moving a bit too quickly? Was it normal to take off your clothes barely five minutes after entering the guy’s house? What would happen if she chose to keep wearing her clothes, would he tell her to leave again?

‘I want to wear the collar.’ She said.

‘Go ahead.’ He nodded. ‘Strip for me.’ He pressed a few buttons on the tray of his wheelchair and a soft music started playing maybe all throughout his mansion or maybe just in the hallway.

Laura started moving seductively as she unbuttoned her blouse, still kneeling she moved her torso from side to side, pressing her chest forward, giving him a sultry look as she exposed her bra. She’d bought this bra especially for this afternoon, the black lace with the white flowers, when she saw it in the store it felt like a very submissive bra to her, but now, it seemed inappropriate to be wearing a bra in the first place. First she removed her skirt and her pantyhose, she was writhing over the ground to strip the nylon off her legs.