The woman continued her presentation speech, but Terry had trouble concentrating to her words. At the same time she tried to read the papers she was holding. Soon though she realized her hands were shaking and she had to put the papers down on the see-through plexiglass conference table.
Through the table she could see her greyish skirt and shoes, both of which had seen better days. Even though she wore the clothes she used at work every day, in this environment she was underdressed. Terry felt like an ugly duckling thrown in the pond of swans, even though she knew the analogy didn't work that way. The ugly duckling finally grew up to be a swan.
Terry looked up and tried to concentrate on the presentation speech the woman was giving and at least pretend to look like she knew what she was doing. But the surreal feeling remained, she just felt too much out of place.
She didn't know what she had been expecting, but Terry knew she hadn't been expecting this. Not a hyper modern office building, gleaming white conference room, see-through furniture and corporate looking people in smart suits. They all looked so... "professional", for the lack of a batter word.
The woman speaking to her behind had jet black pulled into a tight bum behind her head, fire truck red lipstick and a blazer to match. The equally presentable looking man was sitting next to her and smiling at Terry, but allowed the woman do the talking.
The people behind the table hadn't seemed to notice Terry's homely look or uneasiness, and had been extremely nice the whole time she had been here. Naturally Terry knew why. She was the customer here, and they were expected to be nice to her.
Neither of them hadn't introduced themselves. Despite the architecture, they seemed to be big on secrecy here. The woman had addressed her simply as Teresa, and she had quickly corrected her. She had always hated her name, and nowadays no one called her Teresa except her mother.
Still, everything around her, the absurdity of the situation, her own uneasiness and the feeling she didn't belong here made it very hard for her to understand this was really happening. What she was about to do.
That she was about to buy a human being.
The thing that had made it possible for her to be at this table and in this surreal situation was the death of his father. That information made everything even more bizarre, somehow.
It had been a terrible blow to her, even though she did know his father health had been declining. However, his father hadn't let it show to anyone but his wife how ill he actually was, until his heart finally just gave out.
Terry hadn't always been in very good relations with her parents, to put it mildly, but she soon realized missing that infuriating man terribly. If she still kept thinking about him, people referred to him and he clearly was present in people's lives, why couldn't she a least... call him to the afterlife, and tell how everything was going here? Who had come up with idiotic death system?
After she had come to terms with the fact he was gone she had had another news to deal with. Her parents lived in a small run down house in the suburbs. They never travelled anywhere, never bought anything expensive, and they had used every discount sale they could.
Sometimes they helped Terry and her brother financially, even though they also took that as a permission to let Terry know periodically that she should have more to show at, in her age. But still, to Terry, her parents were an elderly pensioner couple, with financial situation to match.
Therefore it was a huge shock to find out that her parents had actually been well off, more well off than she could have ever imagined. In fact the man doing the legal papers afterwards had said that it had been a long time he had seen so much money on someone's bank account.
Terry had thought this a lot afterwards. When Terry's parents got married they had both left their childhood home with not much more than a shirt on them. They had practically started from nowhere, and worked hard to achieve that little piece of financial security she and her brother grew up in.
The fact they had never made any long trips when she and her brother has been children, or that they never had new clothes to wear, made more sense now. Her parents had saved every single penny they could, even though they had forgotten at some point you were allowed to spend it as well, even a little, not just collect it.
Still, she had inherited a quarter of it. Half had gone to the mother, and another quarter to his brother who Terry hadn't seen for a decade before the funeral, and who clearly didn't play with full deck anymore. Suddenly Terry was rich. She had more money she could ever hope to spend, in her entire life.
When the money had come through it hadn't take more than a week for the bank to contact her, and invite her to a meeting where they could discuss how Terry would like to invest her money. Just letting it lie on a bank account meant it value would drop over time. But if she invested even a half of it, it could mean doubling its worth. Terry walked out of the meeting with her head spinning.
When she had spoken on the phone with her mother a little later, she had said, using that irritating tone that signalled she still though her daughter was 15 and couldn't do anything herself, that Terry could buy perhaps new glasses, or a vacuum cleaner of which she had been talking about in the spring. "Remember Teresa, something sensible!" her mother had added.
Terry struggled not to snap at her mother. "Yes, mother! I can buy anything I want with it. It's my money!" Clearly her mother didn't have a clue she didn't have any say on what Terry would do with it now. That Terry wasn't 15 anymore. That she could travel, or do all the things she had accepted a long time ago she would never do.
She had been a bit relaxed with money lately, bought some new clothes on-line and made an out of the blue trip, even slept in an actual five star hotel during it. She called it her "squandering exercise". But still, it wasn't easy, after living very modestly for a lifetime, to understand you could afford to buy almost anything.
She had heard about this place from Crystal. She was a friend of Terry's, had been since high school. Well, perhaps a friend was a bit of an overstatement. Crystal had always had this, well, entourage, usually made out of less popular girls than herself. And in the high school you couldn't find anyone less popular than Terry.
Nowadays Crystal had a high paying job in a legal firm, but still kept a few of her old circle around, even though most of them would have had nothing in common with herself anymore. Most likely Crystal did this because it made her feel even more successful than she already did.
"Yes, I know it sounds really weird", Crystal had said when a few of them had met once for after work drinks, at a trendy place that was way too expensive for Terry. Or would have been, a few months ago. "But there is this... listen girls, well, this place I heard of where they... well, they actually sell slaves! I mean yes, sex slaves!"
It had taken Terry some time, but finally she had managed to find out Crystal was telling the truth. Well, she wasn't information specialist for nothing, even though it had always meant merely a glorified librarian to her parents. The place was usually referred only as "The Clinic", and even though it was a multi million dollar business no one seemed to know much of it.
And yes, it did sell slaves, but only to a very "selected range of customers", mostly because their products cost astronomical amounts of money. Good thing Terry did have just that, to used in only something sensible. And even though Terry had trouble understand it herself, all that had led her here, to this room and at this table.
Terry listened the woman's lecture, how all their "specimens" were modified as perfect slaves, and conditioned through various techniques. How their physique was also adjusted so that among other things they were much more durable, in many sense.
Finally Terry couldn't help but feeling disbelief. Despite all she had found out, what she heard started to sound too thick to be true.
"How do you find all of these... specimens, then?" she cut in, more sharply than she had intended. "I mean, well. This all sounds rather fantastic."
"Of course you are correct", the woman chuckled. "It does. But it is all true, I assure you. Naturally we cannot reveal that information. We... acquire them by different means, through our institutions. But it is all perfectly legal, I assure you. Also, for security reasons, much of their memories has been wiped before any specimen is considered ready to be sold."
Terry nodded. "I understand", she lied. It still sounded too much to be true, and she half expected to see candid camera crew jumping from somewhere, and her ending up as public laughing stock. She cleared throat. "When will I get to see this... specimen?"
The woman behind the table looked surprised. "Why, he's right here!"
Terry looked at the good looking man behind the table, wearing his smart grey suit and smiling at him pleasantly. She was speechless. She had expected to be taken some basement level slave compound. Where the... well, specimens were kept like in a kennel. Who knows, maybe they were before handed over to buyers.
"Get up and disrobe", the woman said. Without saying a word the man got up and started to remove his clothes. Terry had trouble believing her eyes, but true enough, in a matter of less than a minute, the man was standing before them completely naked.
The fact he was now standing nude in front of two women. he acted like there wasn't anything unusual in the situation, and he kept his hand behind her back so they could observe him without any obstruction.
"Could you..." Terry said and made a gesture towards the naked man. "I have hard concentrating while looking at... that thing."
"Oh, I quite understand", the woman said and then, directing her words to him. "Down."
The man dropped to his knees, and placed himself on all fours on the floor before them. He kept his head up and looked straight forward into thin air, almost like a well trained dog.
Taking advantage of the situation the woman lifted her feet so her shiny red pumps were resting on the man's back, and reclined on her chair a bit.
"As you can see, all our specimens are extremely well behaved and obedient. In fact it is impossible for them not to follow any command given to them, no matter what it is."
The lecture about the slave's features continued, but Terry found it hard to concentrate to it.
"Do you have any questions?" the woman said finally.
Questions? Terry fought not to let out a hysterical chuckle. She had million questions, but none she could put into words. But the one on the top of her mind was all she could think of. Was she insane? She looked at the row of zeros on the contract before him, then glanced at the naked man on the floor. Terry felt light-headed and a bit nauseous.
She shook her head, and with her hand shaking she took the shiny pen into her fingers, and started to write her name on the paper. The woman smiled broadly.
"I am sure you will be very pleased by your purchase."
* * *
Terry wasn't ready for it, and besides, she didn't want to start thinking her... well, purchase as a person. She knew it would be a huge mistake. No, it would be better to think him as it. A thing. If she actually got to know him, she could never think of him as her possession.
Also, what kind of small talk they could have had? When did you decided you want to become a property? Do you like getting naked before women you don't know and let them look at you? Besides, the woman at the clinic had said much of the slave's memories had been wiped.
When they arrived to Terry's small apartment she wondered for a while what to do. Then she went to her desk which dominated the small living room and sat down, facing the slave. She looked at it for a moment, and then, clearing her throat, and her heart racing, told the slave to disrobe.
The same thing she had already witnesses at the clinic was repeated. Without any kind of hesitation it started to undress, folding his clothes neatly on the chair beside him, already full of Terry's clothes. Soon he was standing in Terry's small living room facing her, hands behind his back.
Terry looked at it, and felt all the regret of putting that kind of money into her purchase starting to fade. It was a good looking one. Tall but not too tall, slender but not thin, moderately muscular, but not too much. It was perfect. It was, in fact, exactly what she had ordered.
She ordered the slave to turn around, and put its hands behind its back, which slave did, of course. Terry admired the sight, basically devoured it with her eyes. The slave had a nice, smooth, tight butt, equally smooth and long legs without too much extra fat, and a nice back, kind of one you would like to sketch.
Terry felt something starting to happen between her legs, but she ignored it. It wasn't time for it, not just yet. Then she looked around. The apartment was a mess. Terry had never been much of a housekeeper, something her mother didn't get tired of complaining about.
Also, when she had left this morning she hadn't believed she would be returning home with a living, breathing human being, her own slave, one that would be her property and who would do anything she wanted. In fact, that gave Terry an idea.
She took the slave to her small kitchen. There was a huge amount of dirty dishes in the kitchen sink, and floating in greasy water. Terry hated doing them.
"I want you to do the dishes", Terry said. "And then do a meal, and bring it to me. After you have that done, start tidying this place up. It should keep you busy for tonight. I want to see whether you're actually worth anything."
"Yes, Mistress", the slave said. and started to do the dishes. Terry stayed in the kitchen for a while and looked at it. She had to admit there was something extremely erotic in naked male doing housework. Who knows, maybe she wouldn't have to do is herself ever again. The thought made Terry smile.
Terry went to her equally small bedroom and lay on her unmade bed. She took out her book, but it soon tuned out she had trouble concentrating to it. The sounds coming from kitchen reminded there was another person in the apartment, which felt odd to her. Well, not a person as such, but still.
When the naked slave appeared in the doorway holding a tray he was almost relieved, as well as starving. After the slave had left she closed the door, and soon after she heard the sound of a vacuum cleaner. As she started to eat she had to raise her eyebrows.
"Damn, this is good", she muttered. It was better than anything she had managed to put together in the kitchen.
After she had finished the meal and read her book for a while she got up and walked to the living room, immediately noticing the significant change. She sat down, and started checking her messages on her computer absent-mindedly.
A moment later the slave appeared in the doorway.
"Don't just stand there", she snapped at it. "The dirty dishes are in the bedroom Take care of them, and then continue your work there. There's a lot of unwashed clothes laying everywhere. You better get to it, I want them cleaned by tomorrow."
Terry turned around so she was facing her computer again. A moment later she noticed from teh corner of her eye the naked man carrying a pile of clothes in the bathroom.
It was hard to concentrate checking her messages with the sounds of the washing machine coming from the bathroom, and finally she had to put on headphones to open Youtube. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling there was something unnatural in the situation.
After a while she dug the papers as well a thick manual she had been given, out of her handbag. "The Slave Owner's Manual", it said. She glanced it a bit, but it was way too comprehensive for her to read everything. Several passages made her rise her eyebrows. She had to admit the clinic was very thorough.
After the a while of mindless browsing Terry started to feel tired and turned her computer off. She got up and walked to her tiny bedroom. Terry didn't remember when it had been that tidy. She lay on her bed and started reading her book again, fortunately with much better success than earlier.
At some point she noticed the slave walking in and kneeling beside her bed. Normally that would have freaked her out, but she knew now it was the slave's, automatic mode, as the manual had put it. When the slave had completed all the chores it had been given it was to return its Mistress.
"I'm going to bed now", Terry said finally, putting her book away. She didn't know who she said if for, but the slave's next words stopped her at her tracks.
"I will make the bed ready for you", the slave said. "Where do you want me to sleep, Mistress?"
Jesus, Terry thought. She hadn't thought about it at all! Her apartment was small and she didn't have even a sofa. She wasn't going to let it sleep with her, that was for sure. A floor, then but where? In the kitchen? Terry looked around in her tiny bedroom. Or perhaps somewhere here?
Then her eyes met the balcony door. Her apartment did have a balcony, even though a very small one. She looked outside. It was pitch black outside already, and she could see trees in the yard moving in the brisk autumn wind.
The woman at the clinic had said the slaves were much more resilient than normal people. A wicked smile appeared on Terry's lips.
"You will sleep at the balcony tonight."
* * *
Wiping her eyes she got up, put a bathrobe on and walked to the balcony door. Sure enough, there it was, curled into a tight ball.
Still in a sort of automatic mode Terry walked to her now spotless tiny kitchen and started to put coffee on. Then she walked to the fridge and took out a milk carton with the idea of taking a sip from it. Being as dizzy as she was, however, she managed to drop it on the floor.
"Oh fuck it!" she said, and grabbed the carton before all if it contents were on the floor. Nothing wasn't worse than a coffee without milk. She was just about to get a paper towel when it hit her. What the fuck she was doing? She had a slave sleeping on the balcony! She was so bad at this, Terry thought.
She walked determinately through her apartment and to the balcony door, opened it grabbing the slave by the hair, dragged it behind her on all fours until they were in the kitchen again. She pointed at the puddle on the floor. "Lick!" she snapped, and smiled as the slave started to dutifully do as it was told.
"When you're done make me breakfast and bring it to me in the living room", she said and marched out. She couldn't help but smiling.
A while later, as Terry was checking her messages again, the slave appeared to the living room carrying a tray.
"Stay there", she said as she sipped her coffee. "And kneel. I have things to say to you, in a while."
Turning her chair away from the slave Terry begun her breakfast, while at the same time continuing her browsing. She knew she was being mean, but damn it, she would have to learn how to behave like an owner.
After she had finished most of her breakfast she turned around and looked at the slave, obediently kneeling before her. She took a sip put of her coffee.
"I know your wake-up call was a bit sudden", she said. "But I thought be good thing for you to understand your place."
"I understand, Mistress", the slave said standing in attention. "Thank you, Mistress."
"There are few things we need to go through now", Terry said. "First, we will think a better place for you to sleep. Even though I would love to make you to sleep there all through the winter, it would be impractical due to the neighbours."
The slave nodded, and Terry could have sworn she could have seen a hint of fear on his face. She quite liked the feeling, and it seemed her nether regions did as well.
"However, if you misbehave, you will find yourself there. I don't care how freezing it is outside at that point."
The slave nodded again. "Whatever you think is best, Mistress."
"Secondly, while I'm away your job is to keep this place spotless. And when I return I want there to be a meal on the table. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Mistress", the slave said and nodded. Terry knew she actually didn't have a dinner table, but she liked the way it sounded.
"Thirdly, I kinda like looking at you", she said. "So you won't be using any clothes. We'll have to do something with the ones you had one when I... bought you." Still, the idea she actually owned a human being was a bit hard to take in. "Not even an apron. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Mistress", the slave said and nodded.
Then the sleeping arrangements. Terry thought the matter for a moment and then got up, leaving her empty mug by the computer. "Follow me."
They walked to the tiny hallway and Terry opened the door to a small utility closet. It was where she kept the vacuum cleaner and other cleaning supplies. It would be cramped here, but it would be enough.
"You will sleep here", Terry said. "At least until further notice. Understood?"
"Yes, Mistress", the slave said and nodded. "Thank you Mistress."
"Also, if the doorbell rings, for whatever the reason I want you to go there, kneel on the floor without making any kind of sound, is that clear?" Terry looked at the slave and it nodded.
"After all, if I have company, I don't leave my vacuum cleaner laying on the floor, do I? You're just like it, a thing I own. You're a kind of cleaning apparatus, only with more functions than a regular kind, aren't you?"
The slave nodded. "Yes, I am. Thank you, Mistress."
Terry knew the chances for anyone coming over ever were slim, she never had visitors, but it was good to play it safe. Terry was not at all sure the law applied to slaves, and she had no desire to get in the trouble because of it.
They made a tour in the apartment, with Terry telling where everything was, even though it had became familiar with many things the night before. Finally they were back in the living room. Terry sat down to her computer chair and looked at her slave, standing in attention before her. It was hard not to stare at its genitals.
"Does that thing get erect normally?" she said. Terry knew the manual would have told her that as well, but she didn't want to go through it now. "If you masturbate, for example?"
"Yes, Mistress", the slave said not even flinching by the question.
"Make yourself hard, then", Terry said. Without hesitating a moment the slave took hold of his sizeable penis and started to masturbate. After less than a minute the cock was hard, and the slave placed its hand to its side.
Terry had trouble getting her eyes off it. She had never been that big fan of penises, but seeing one now, red, engorged and bobbing slowly up and down before her eyes did have an effect and she realized she was getting wet.
It was Saturday, Terry thought, and she had nowhere to go. Fuck it, Terry thought. It would in be in front of her sooner or later, so she might as well take care of it now. Terry got up and grabbing the erect penis, she started to walk towards the bedroom.
* * *
The slave was extremely skilful, no matter if it was the good old fashioned intercourse, its several variations or slave using its tongue and fingers. The slave was, as it was, fully functional and programmed in multiple techniques.
It was also extremely durable, as the euphemism goes, and it took Terry until Sunday until she found out slave actually needs a permission before it can ejaculate. It was programmed deep into every slave's brains, it seemed.
Terry didn't use any kind of contraceptive, after all there hadn't been use for one in ages, and didn't want to go outside to buy condoms. Neither she didn't want to go through the manual to find out whether the slaves had been made infertile.
Therefore, the best choice, she figured, would be not to let the slave cum. She didn't want to become a mother, least of which a mother to a slave baby.
Even though Terry was tempted to let the slave sleep with her she realized it would be a bad example for it. Therefore, it slept the night in the closet. She dug out her old alarm clock she didn't use anymore and set to ring at nine in the morning.
"I want a breakfast in bed from now on", Terry said handing the clock to the slave. "After this goes off I want you to go to the kitchen and make me a breakfast."
"I understand", the slave said nodding.
Even though Terry had her doubts, true enough, she was woken up by her slave standing in the doorway with a tray. After the breakfast they naturally started to fuck again.
By the Sunday, afternoon, however, Terry was so sore she was afraid she couldn't sit at the work the next day, and she decided it was a time to give her physique a bit of rest.
She curled on her bed and opened the Netflix on her laptop. After the slave had made what was left of her bed, she ordered it to join her so they could spoon together. She wasn't still wearing anything but her bathrobe, and the slave was naked, of course.
She played with the slave's hair absent-mindedly, like she would pet a pet. Occasionally though she reached over, grabbed the slave's equally red and sore cock, and masturbated it slowly to full mast, while concentrating on the show they were watching.
Then she would stopped, and just hold it, moving her hand only very rarely, enough for the slave's penis to stay erect. As she was doing this she heard the slave's rapid breathing, and the fast paced beating of his heart. This brought a smile to Terry's lips.
Now and then she even played with the head a bit, and checked whether there was any precum for her, which she then seared like an ointment around the peehole. Occasionally she also fed the precum to the slave with simple "Open" commands.
That Sunday afternoon was magical, in a way. Terry felt she could have lay there for eternity, playing with her new toy, and enjoying its very evident discomfort. She had no idea when the slave had been allowed to cum last, perhaps during its training and conditioning. However, she felt letting the slave cum now would simply spoil everything.
* * *
The same routine was repeated when she returned, but in reverse order. The slave was expected to greet its Mistress by waiting her kneeling on the door, and before helping shoes off her, it was expected also to lick them clean. Just like she had said the dinner was supposed to be ready and waiting by this point, and the apartment was expected to be spotless.
Terry knew exactly well there was no need whatsoever for her to work, let alone staying in the menial low paid job she had. But if she quit, she would lose the last thong that resemble having a social life, or at least a life. What would she do then? Hang around 24/7 with her new pet? She would lose her mind.
One thing that had puzzled Terry was the fact how often the slave itself needed to be fed. She had noticed during their first weekend it didn't seem to need any kind of nourishment to keep going. According the manual the slave could go without eating over a week, and that it was extremely omnivorous when it came to digesting living matter and using it as nourishment.
It took Terry quite a while to find out what that finally meant. During the first week she gave the slave all the scraps that were left over from the meals. Very quickly, however, she understood that basically any organic matter was suitable to its nourishment. This not only meant the amount of bio waste went almost to zero, but also the slave's upkeep didn't cost anything. The clinic knew what it was doing, thought Terry.
She still kept the slave nude. However, Terry's apartment wasn't the best heated one there was, and the closer they got to winter the chillier it got. This hadn't never bothered Terry, the rent was cheap and she liked to use the winters in big shapeless cardigans.
At first the question whether the apartment would become too chilly for the slave during the winter, if she kept it naked. Then, however, she understood how absurd the whole question was. The slave had, after all, spent an entire night at the balcony. And if it was a bit chilly all through the winter, who cared?
The slave was allowed to use the shower. Terry herself wasn't so much into hygiene, not the way most people nowadays were, but she didn't want her slave who was, after all nude all the time, starting to stink. Therefore it was ordered to shower at least once a day. If Terry found anything in its odor, she told to the slave, it would be punished.
"You will not, however, be allowed to use a clean towel", she told me. "If there's a one I have used before you, you may use it, I don't care if it's wet. Understood?"
As she said these words she knew no towel would be very dry after she had used it, from now on. The slave nodded.
"If there isn't a used towel available, you may use a piece of clothing of mine from the hamper. Dry yourself to my dirty panties, if you want."
Again, the slave nodded. Then something occurred to Terry.
"However, I consider towel to be a piece of clothing", she said. "So I don't want to see you stepping out of here wearing one, no matter how wet it is. I don't care how cold it gets during the winter. No clothing. It only makes sense, doesn't it?"
"Yes, Mistress", the slave said. "It does."
During the next few weeks Terry took great pleasure watching her slave gingerly walking out of the bathroom, still covered in tiny drops of water, while herself was wrapped in the thick bathrobe. It was clear this caused great discomfort to the slave, but Terry loved it.
The more time passed, though the chillier her place got. Soon there already was snow in the ground.
"When you shower while I'm away", Terry said one day. "You don't use towel when you come out of the bathroom, and then dry it before I come home, I take?"
The slave looked at her, looking surprised, almost alarmed, just like the thought hadn't even crossed its mind. "Of course I don't, Mistress", it said. "You have told me not to."
"Good boy. I do have to ask, though. Do you think it's getting too chilly here for you do that? In my apartment that is?"
The slave shook its head. "Oh, no, Mistress, by no means."
"Oh?" Terry said. "In that case I want you to open a few windows every time you go to the shower, from now on. Agreed?"
"Of course, Mistress."
One of the subjects the manual had a lot of material was discipline and punishments. At first this surprised Terry, wasn't the programming and conditioning supposed to be 100% sure? It seemed, however, that regular punishments were a good way to remind the slave who was in control.
Therefore, even though it took Terry some doing to get used to it, she took it as a habit to punish slave regularly for something she thought slave hadn't done good enough. This happened especially if there had been an especially tiring day at work, or she had some other reason to let off some steam.
Over time she found herself actually enjoying punishing it. It was true, what manual had also said, being able to punish and cause pain to a human being you had a total control over, as much pain as you wanted, was an extremely liberating and empowering experience.
She also found it quite enjoyable to think of handicaps for the slave that made spotting out tiny defects in its work easier. One such was forbidding for it to use the washing machine and making it to wash her clothes by hand. Afterwards she inspected its work and if she found anything to complain, and even if she didn't, it was punishment time for the slave.
Terry also found great joy making a mess where ever she went in her apartment. She started leaving plates and glasses she had used as well as pieces of her clothing all over the apartment because she knew the slave would clean them up. And if the slave didn't find them soon enough, it only provided an excellent reason to punish it.
After some time Terry even started to use pieces of toilet paper for the same purpose. She would occasionally leave them on the toilet floor, and punish the slave if they weren't gone quickly enough. The slave soon became displeasingly fast at finding them, though.
After a while Terry realized it wouldn't have to stop there, and made a new rule. All used pieces of toilet paper found on the floor had to be digested by the slave. This was something the slave clearly had difficulties with, especially if they were pieces of toilet paper Terry had used after taking a number two.
The first time they did this was extremely exciting experience for Terry They were in the toilet and Terry was leaning forward to see the slave's facial expressions better, after it had digested the shit soiled white pieces of paper for the first time.
"Well now?" Terry said smiling. "What do we say?"
The slave looked up and swallowed. "T-thank you, Mistress."
Terry smiled and ruffled its hair. "Good boy."
For the first couple of times Terry wanted to see it first hand, but soon that too started to lose its fascination. She did make a rule that every time slave did this it had to happen in her presence, so she could be sure the slave did eat every piece.
Many times this practice too served as a foreplay. Watching the slave digest the shit soiled pieces of toilet paper despite clearly being repulsed by it was a real turn-on for Terry, and a sight which made her pussy immediately wet. Usually the slave got a command to go rinse its mouth, and then come to the bedroom, where it could put its mouth to even better work.
One of the reasons Terry had decided to try this, and get the slave a taste of her shit was naturally the teachings of the manual. According to it, one of the most valuable tools of showing the slave its place was to use it as a toilet, and something every owner should at least try.
When she had read the manual for the first time, the mere thought made Terry's stomach turn, but longer she thought about it the more she saw the logic behind the manual's suggestion, and realized she wanted to try it.
The manual advised to do this step by step. None of the slaves, especially those with so called basic settings, didn't enjoy this, and they had an aversion to it just like any normal human being. This was something Terry had witnessed with her own eyes.
The first step was to replace the toilet paper with the slave's tongue. Every time Terry had to take a dump she took the slave with her in the toilet and ordered it to lay on the floor waiting while she did her business. Then she would step up, walk to the slave and kneel on it so she could lick her asshole clean.
Terry had wondered whether this would be an interesting sensation, but nothing could have prepared her for the experience. When she first felt the slave's tongue exploring her asshole, and its hands spreading her ass cheeks apart she had to fight to moan out loud. It felt so incredibly good.
She wanted to feel the slave's tongue in her ass very soon. And she knew she wanted to be able to take the dump in its mouth, sooner rather than later.
Wanting be merciful, thought, Terry decided it would be a good idea wait a bit. She managed to postpone it for almost two weeks, until she couldn't take it anymore. One day she took the slave with her in the toilet and informed that this time they would skip the toilet seat part.
Clearly understanding what was about to happen the lave nodded and lay on the floor. At that moment Terry would have like to kiss, but realized it would send a wrong signal.
At first Terry used her slave as a toilet only occasionally, but it didn't take long until it ate all her shit. She even tried to avoid using the toilet at work, at least for number two, so she would have a good load waiting in her rectum by the time she got home.
Making the slave drink her pee was much easier, compared to it eating her shit. When she was at home it naturally drank her all her urine straight from the source. However, Terry made sure there was always a jar full of her urine in the fridge, in case it got thirsty during the day. Naturally it was forbidden for him to use the water tap to quench its thirst, anymore.
All this naturally solved the rest of the problem when it came to feeding the slave. According the manual, a regular consumption of the owner's excreta provided more than enough of nourishment for the slave.
According the manual that thanks to more efficient metabolism the slave itself produced no excreta at all, which meant its anus could be used purely for "recreational purposes", as the book put it.
Among other things the manual suggested making the slave wearing a plug whenever its anus wasn't needed. This not only had a huge humiliation value, but making the slave wear larger and larger plugs its anus could be stretched, for various purposes.
The peeing functions had been left intact, since it seemed many owners had found a slave's full bladder not only a god way to punish it with, but also an extremely amusing toy. There was a whole chapter on bladder torture, Terry noticed, and realized it was something she would have to try at some point.
* * *
Quiet nights at home were in fact what their life was mostly about. Terry had had very little social life even before she got the slave, and now there was even less need for it. Because let's face it, the main reason for her at least trying to have one in the past had been the hope a miracle would happen and she would find someone.
In a way having a slave was like having a pet. At some point, when Terry had mentioned how lonely she was, someone had suggested she got a pet, maybe a kitten or a puppy. Now she had something that was even better. Slave was much less independent and bossy than a cat, but much less clingy and annoying than a dog, plus there was no need to walk it daily either.
The biggest difference to a pet, was naturally the fact was that the slave was also a household appliance, a waste disposal machine, a toilet and a sexual servant.
Because yes, there was sex. Lots and lots of it. One could say that even though she didn't have to take the slave out for a walk every single day, it did offer her a lots and lots of exercise. Usually she had the slave to lick her on orgasm three of four times a day, but if she felt particularly energetic, she also liked to ride its face, sometimes even ride its sizable cock.
She still hadn't made the slave cum, and the longer time passed, and their mutual life had found its new comfortable course, the more she started to think she never would. What point would it serve? She hadn't never liked sperm that much, and the thought of having it inside her was a bit repulsive to her, truth to tell. Besides, sex toys weren't supposed to cum.
She still worked, because she felt it was her lifeline to the real world, no matter how tiring it was. On the other hand she didn't feel a need to change her style, either, even though she could have afforded it now. What point there would be to put insane amounts of money into expensive new clothes just to please people she didn't care for much, if at home she felt as and was treated like a queen, no matter what she was wearing?
Many times her work pressures, their household games and sex life worked beautifully together. On some occasions, when she had had an exceptionally demanding day at work she could pour a glass of orange juice on the floor and then call for the slave.
"What is that?" she would bark after ordering the slave to go on all fours so she could press its face to the juice soiled floor with her foot.
"I-It's orange juice, Mistress" the slave would answer, in a muffled voice.
"What does it do on the floor?" she would bark again, pushing her foot harder on the slave's head.
"I-I don't know, Mistress", the slave grunted.
"You don't know? Is it supposed to be on the floor?"
"N-No, Mistress! I'm sorry, Mistress!"
"You should be! Is there anything you could do to make this up?"
"I should be p-punished, Mistress."
"Really? It won't clean the juice from the floor."
"I know, Mistress. But I need to be punished, Mistress!"
"Okay then. Go to the bedroom and get my crop."
At this point Terry was so in touch with her dominant side usually the mere barking at the slave for things it hadn't done was enough to make Terry wet. But if that didn't work making the slave's ass shine most certainly did.
Many times, after Terry's arm was too tired, she would let the crop drop to the floor, fall on the bed and order the slave to remove her pants and lick her to an orgasm. The fact she could just lay there, legs spread and being licked by a slave she knew was in intolerable pain often served as an aphrodisiac, and provided her a mind-shattering orgasm, after which she felt incredibly relaxed.
Sometimes, when she was still in endorphin high, she grabbed the slave and held it tightly like a stuffed animal, keeping her eyes shut tight and breathing heavily.
"I'm... sorry", she would say, even though she knew it would be according the manual extremely counter-productive. "It wasn't... your fault. I just... needed that... so bad."
"I understand, Mistress", the slave would say, making Terry to hug her slave even harder.
"Go now", she had a habit of replying with a sleepy voice. "Go and... lick all the juice... from the floor. I need to... sleep now."
Over time Terry realized she preferred the slave's tongue more and more, and stopped using the slave's penis for sex altogether. She did start to use its penis and testicles more and more for punishing the slave though. It was amazing how many times a male could be inflected pain by using his genitals. Again the manual proved to be an invaluable guide.
One of her favourite things was to make the slave to put a humbler on before Terry left for work, and take the keys with her, just in case. The humbler wasn't removed until she had returned home, of course. On those days Terry also gave the slave a lot of things to do around the house, and if any of them was done poorly, there was no other option but to punish the slave severely.
If this wasn't the perfect use for male genitals, she didn't know what was.
Terry was perfectly aware her distaste to male genitalia was a sign of her bisexual side getting stronger again. She had always been aware of it, of course. However, Terry's sex life had been pathetic, bluntly speaking, and she was even worse approaching women than she was to attract the attention of men.
One part of the process of acquiring the slave was to fill out an extensive question form, detailing what she would like her slave to be, down to the most tiniest, intimate detail. And the slave had been exactly what she had wanted.
Among other things she had clicked "no" on the question of body hair, and sure enough, her slave was completely smooth. It didn't even have no beard growth. The woman at clinic said the hair growth is usually left untouched because many owners have specific plans when it comes to the slave's hair.
Terry didn't hadn't had no specific plans at the time, but when she watched the hair of her slave now, she realized rather liked it a bit longer. Many times when playing with its hair she wondered what it would feel even longer. Terry was well aware this too was a sign she wanted the slave to look more feminine.
Gradually her distaste to the slave's penis grew stronger. The mere fact the slave had one was a constant insult to her. Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized, when she was inflicting excruciating pain to the slave using its genitals, that she wanted it too to wish she didn't have them.
Sometimes when she was riding the slave's face the sight of the slave's cock disturbed her so she had to close her eyes, and imagine she was eaten out by a girl in order to cum. Soon she started to do the same when the slave was performing cunnilingus on her, as well. After a while she realized there was more than just her imagination she could use.
First she started browsing porn with her phone while the slave was using its skilled tongue, then her laptop. It didn't take long for her to make the slave eat her out while she was at her computer. For a while she did it using earphones, but soon realized there was no point to it, and started to watch lesbian porn on full volume with the slave's head between her legs.
Terry found this wonderfully liberating. Sitting completely nude in her computer chair, one leg over the armrest, petting the slave's hair idly and blissfully watching the most beautiful thing in the world taking place on the computer screen. And imagining the tongue pleasuring her pussy belonged to a girl instead.
Occasionally Terry had the habit of playing with the slave's genitals, trying to figure out why exactly she didn't like them. As she was turning the penis between her fingers she realized she had fallen into the hetero-normative trap when filling out the order for her slave. His penis was too big, way too big. In fact she would have liked it to be only a tiny nub between its legs.
She also realized she hated the erections. It didn't took much inspection, before it started to harden, until it stood up, hard as a rock, purple and veiny, bobbing its head up and down, desperate for attention. Sure, it was handy if the idea was to start punishing the erect cock, and what usually resulted, was just that.
But still, getting hard without being given permission seemed irritatingly impudent to Terry. It wouldn't be as bad if the slave was impotent. But unfortunately that was not the case. Her slave has a perfectly working male penis. A penis she couldn't stand.
Many times, when they were in the middle of a torture session, Terry made the slave not only to endure pain, but to also apologize for having them. Apologize for having a penis. Apologize for being male, and not a girl.
Soon Terry found fantasizing about castrating the slave. There was times when these fantasies were the only thing that allowed her to orgasm. They became more and more intense until Terry finally feared one day doing something irreparable to her slave. Considering it's price, it would have been extremely thoughtless.
As a compromise she got her slave a chastity cage. And since she wanted to make the slave's penis as unnoticeable as possible, she bought the smallest, tiniest cage on the market. Even though it took quite a lot of work from the slave's part to squeeze the penis into it, and then getting the lock shut, to Terry it was worth it.
Naturally Terry knew the long term use would be extremely painful for the slave, but she didn't care. It was the slave's fault for having a penis in the first place. Naturally it would be even worse when the penis would try to get erect in the morning, or when they were having sex. The last part made Terry feel good in fact. Her slave's penis had no business of getting hard merely because its owner was getting off.
For a while this worked. Terry enjoyed watching the tiny cage as she was riding the slave's face. It was locked, caged, completely under her control, unable to insult her by getting hard. The slave's crotch looked so much better now. The way it was supposed to, Terry thought.
In fact, even though Terry now used the key to the cage as a necklace, she doubted whether she will ever want to see the cage unlocked.
Over time the cage too lost its fascination, and it became a constant reminder for Terry, not of his control over a male, but that she wasn't in fact being pleasured by a girl. First she tried to remedy the situation by making the slave to wear one of her skirts whenever they were having sex. It hid the cage, and Terry was able to get off.
This also made Terry to realize how good her slave looked in a skirt. After all, the slave had a slender physique, long arms and legs and no sight of body hair everywhere. Also, by this time its hair had gotten long enough for it to look a bit like a girl.
One day when she was extremely bored Terry told the slave to sit down in her computer chair. This was, in fact, the first time the slave had been allowed to do so. Sitting legs spread on her slave's lap she started to put make-up on it. She had also chosen a few of her more provocative clothes to dress it up in.
The result wasn't a pretty, because Terry was lousy doing make-up, even on herself. But the point wasn't what the slave looked like, but to what it made her feel. Terry realized it gave her the same kind of joy than having a doll, something she hadn't felt since she had been a little girl. It was like she had a realistic size human doll she could put make up to and dress.
What followed was a surprise for Terry, though. The moment she had the make-up and the few pieces of female clothing on, the moment the slave looked enough woman to be considered as one, Terry realized wanting her.
At the moment it struck her Terry was again in the slave's lap, putting finishing touches to the slave's make-up. Suddenly the thought of her sitting in the lap of a girl hit her, making it hard for her to think anything else. Before she knew what was happening she had pinned her between herself and the chair, and was kissing her passionately.
There was several warnings on the manual, of not to engage in sexual activities involving too much affection. Terry had followed those suggestions and had never even kissed her slave, making this their first kiss. At the moment though none of the manual's teaching's could have been farther from her mind.
Terry's hands were all over her body, exploring it, like she had found it for the first time, and wanted to learn every curve of it. She pulled her wonderful long hair while her tongue probed deep inside her mouth. This wasn't a gentle way to kiss, it was how an owner kisses her possession.
Terry was suddenly so, so horny, hornier than she would have never believed possible. The thought that she was now kissing her very own slavegirl, a slave girl, was just too hot, and made her immediately wet.
The orgasm she experienced, after they finally managed to get on her bed, was better than anything she had experienced, so far, in her entire life.
Naturally Terry wanted to experience it again, and she started buying clothes on-line for her to dress her slave in. The thing was, most of her own clothes were way too conservative for it. Naturally she chose the most inexpensive rags she could. There was no point wasting money, after all.
The slave still spent majority of the time naked. The clothes weren't for it, after all, they were for Terry, for her to be able to get off. That was all that matter, wasn't it, Terry thought. For her to get off, nothing else. And she was unable to get off if she had to think her slave as male.
However, the fact it looked so good in a pink, extra short, slutty miniskirt she had bought it made her wish she could make the slave to wear it all the time. Partly, because it hid the cage perfectly, but also because she looked so cute in it, and made Terry to want her more.
At first this created a problem for Terry though. The whole idea had been that the slave wouldn't be allowed to wear clothes, ever again. Was she now ruining it all by allowing it? Finally she realized wasn't a human being wearing clothes. It was about owning a doll she could dress up. It had on whatever Terry wanted, looked exactly the way she wanted.
Also, it wasn't like she could go out looking like that. Because whatever Terry did, her slave still looked like a cheap transvestite prostitute. That though made Terry feel good. Her own transvestite prostitute. Her own whore. This thought encouraged Terry to dress up the slave looking as much a whore as possible. She wanted it to look as cheap as possible.
But the problem remained. She owned a cheap transvestite prostitute, a hot one sure, but still, not a woman. No matter what Terry did, no matter how much fun Terry had with her doll, no matter how many incredible orgasms she had, she knew her slave was still too male.
At some point Terry had bought a feeldoe form an on-line store, and had started fucking her slave with it. This too was another suggestion from the manual. According to it this too was a good way to show the slave its place. Just like when it came to eating the shit and urine of their owners, at default setting male slave didn't enjoy being penetrated either.
Doing it now, Terry realized she quite liked how her slave girl looked when they were preparing. On all fours on the bed, wearing a slutty top and a miniskirt, presenting her ass, ready to be penetrated.
The clothes helped a lot, but whenever they were having sex naked, the problems returned. As Terry was fucking her slave from behind, enjoying the movements of the feeldoe inside her, and keeping a tight hold of her slave's hips as she moved in and out of her, she found herself to be constantly irritated by the fact her slave still felt too male.
Why weren't her hips wider? Why wasn't she able to caress her slave's tummy, move her hands upwards and find a pair of beautiful breasts she could cup? It would have felt so good to whisper sweet things into her ear while she was fucking her. But now, however, she merely found hating it. Hating him.
Naturally this made Terry to want to punish her slave more, which she naturally did. To punish it, not for what it had done, but what it was. Just like previously she made the slave to apologize for not being female, which it did quite convincingly.
This made Terry feel good, because she now knew the slave understood why she was so mad at it, how it continually insulted her merely by existing, and what it did wrong. Also, the more the slave pleaded for mercy, the more Terry wanted to hurt it.
Terry started to browse more and more sites like Tumblr, filled with young lesbian and bi women proudly being what they were. Some of the writing she found there was rather eloquent. There was one animated gif, of two young women laying in the bed and kissing. The other had glasses and looked wonderfully nerdy. Below there was a long description, reflecting her own thoughts perfectly.
"Isn’t this the most beautiful sight in the world? Two women, on top of each other, holding each other, feeling each other. Hearing each other’s breathing, feeling it on their skin. Eagerly exploring each other’s mouths, tongues touching, playing around with each other like two frisky pups or kittens. Two women enjoying each other, without hurry, without interruptions, without any kind of guilt or shame. Because this is the way it’s supposed to be. It feels so right, so good.
No men, no need to allow yourself to be touched by their rough hands, be kissed by them and feel the disgusting stubble on their skin. No pressure to give yourself to one, and to do whatever it is he wants you to do. Not having to worry whether you will get wet quickly enough to be penetrated by him. Not even whether you manage to cum at all this time. Because you know you will, with her soft lips, skillful tongue and delicate fingers on your pussy. The mere thought makes you so wet. This will feel so much better, be so much better.
You want her so badly, on you, inside you, and knowing she wants you as badly turns you on so much. You want to be taken by her, and you want to take her. You want it so desperately. You want to have the perfect orgasm with her, experience it relaxed and blissful, more openly you could never do it with a man. With a man you have always felt you are performing to someone, trying to beat someone. With a woman there will be none of that. There will be none of that ever again."
Below it there was another one, this time a still photo, of two freckled faced girls, that were clearly about to kiss.
"You just know that in mere moments they will be kissing. Their soft lips will touch and they will start exploring each other’s mouths. They’re so close, close enough for their noses to touch, close enough to feel the other’s person’s breathing, But so far there’s only the anticipation, and hesitation. Should we? Should I? But it’s supposed to be wrong. But if it’s so wrong why do I want to feel her lips on mine so bad? To feel our eager mouths to become one. To feel her long hair between my fingers.
To feel her body pressing next to mine, feel her breasts pressing to mine, being to able to caress her, her back, her ass, to pull her tightly against myself, so that our crotches press each other, to hear her moans and hard breathing as I do that. I want to touch her so bad. I want her so bad. I want to feel her arms around me, caressing me, exploring me. To make me so incredibly wet. Why hasn’t it felt like this with a man? This feels so much better, the way it’s supposed to feel. I want it to feel like this. Always."
Reading posts like these Terry usually had to close her laptop, throw it aside and cry herself to sleep.
Finally Terry realized she had to do something. She contacted the clinic, and ended up having a long phone call with someone there, apparently the woman one with fire truck red lipstick and raven black hair. During the phone call Terry cried several times, but the woman seemed surprisingly compassionate.
"I think we have just the answer for you", the woman said finally. "Just let us take care of everything."
Two days later the men from the clinic arrived. They were wearing white overalls and they brought with them a big metal case which in turn was inside a big wooden box. Together they filled most of Terry's small living room, and the men had considerable difficulties getting it in.
The men placed the naked slave into the metal case, which was then in turn placed into the wooden box. Before the lid of the metal case was shut, Terry could see on her slave's face a hint of emotion, panic even. Naturally she hadn't said anything to it. You didn't tell your old car what you were going to do to it, did you?
The next month was the longest in Terry's life. She had been so used the slave waking her up with breakfast ready every morning. The slave wishing her a good day by kissing her shoes, and welcoming her home by licking them clean as the day was over.
She missed the slave picking up everything after her. She missed punishing the slave from a slightest reason, and making it apologize for things it hadn't done. She hated having to use vibrator to make herself cum. With the right kind of mental images, she orgasmed every time, but it just wasn't the same.
Even more she hated using the toilet. She had become some accustomed feeling the slave's hands on her ass, and pulling the cheeks apart, as she started to push the first turd out. It had felt so great to do it, knowing her slave would eat every drop of it. Making the slave eat her shit and drink her pee had been an incredibly rewarding and intimate experience.
Now, there was none of that. Only the cold, lifeless porcelain seat she sat on. Somehow it was so clinical and devoid of all emotion. She wanted her slave back. Every time she was sitting on the toilet seat and doing her business she could not help but feeling bad for all her lovely shit and pee going to waste.
Naturally she didn't wash a single dish during the whole time. After every clean dish had been used and were again, as huge pile on the kitchen sink, she started to order out, and let the pizza boxes to pile on the kitchen table. When even going into the kitchen started to depress her too much she started eating out.
She didn't touch the vacuum cleaner or the washing machine either. The dirty clothes piled up, until she had to start buying new ones. Soon her place was almost too much of a mess to live in, even by her old standards, and she half considered moving to a hotel soon. She didn't want her place to be touched though. Deep inside she had trouble believing what the clinic had promised her.
Finally one morning the call from the clinic came. The men arrived with the big plywood box and everything happened in reverse order. After Terry had signed the papers and they had left, she watched the slave kneeling in the middle of her living room floor for quite a while.
Her hair was now longer, her arms and fingers thinner. She had a flawless, pale skin. On her chest there was a pair of b-cup breasts with perky nipples. They had discussed the matter of her breast size quite a bit, and finally settled to ones whose size could be adjusted, after Terry's wishes.
The slave had now girl's hips, and between her legs Terry could see the tiny nub of what the penis was now reduced to. It wouldn't get any bigger ever again, either. Terry had wanted her slave to be made permanently impotent.
Finally Terry looked at her in the face, and in the big, round eyes. There was an alarmed, even a bit terrified look in them, almost if no time had passed to her during the past month. He lips were now fuller and her chin and nose more delicate, but all in all, it was her slave. Terry had trouble believing her own eyes.
And those eyes, Terry thought. Fuck. That deer-in-the-headlights look alone was able to make her wet, and Terry had to fight herself in order not to straddle the girl's face immediately, and take her by force, right here and right now. She needed to feel her tongue inside her so bad.
But no, not yet. It's time would come later. She realized what kind of treasure she owned. Everything would be so different now. Terry wasn't sure how much different, though. She was sure she didn't want her to wear clothes, not quite yet anyway. As for the rest, they would have to see.
Terry leaned in and pressed a kiss to the surprised girl's soft lips.
"Welcome home, precious."
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