Day 1

I reported to the enslavement centre today, and signed up for a year wearing the collar. I'm allowed to keep this diary but my contract says it's private, so that way no one else ever gets to see it, not even my future owner. My implant computer lets me write it how I like -- subvocally or on a virtual keyboard, and then it gets stored in encrypted memory.

I've been living up in the mountains for a couple of years after coming of age and leaving my grouphome. I fell in with a few other free-males to start with, but they were the extremist types, and my reason for living up high was just to be alone with my thoughts for a while. Theirs was to make plots and fantasise about ruling the world -- idiots, every one of them, and liable for permanent enslavement when the authorities find out. I spent two years in a cabin with only one visitor a month -- the state-appointed welfare inspector. She wasn't exactly talkative. I've said more words since getting back to the city yesterday than have passed my lips in months.

Why does a free-male become a slave for a year? I plan to live a long life, and there's time in it to experiment. I need to know if this is the right planet for me before I decide to stay or go.

Actually, you know, this is my diary. Why lie? I adore strong women. Serving one sounds fun, so that's what I'm doing for the next twelve months. It's all in the contract, how I want things to go -- I can't be bought by a company, I can't be made into a pet, a pony, a maid, or have my mind or body permanently altered. Sex slavery with only a few limits, really just the common ones.

As I write this, my smooth cock is trying to get hard, but it can't. Once I signed the contract, they binned my clothes, collared me, depilated my body, caged my cock, and tattooed me up with all the necessary markings, then shackled me in a room with the other new slaves and made me wait in silence for a transport to the auction house. I was surprised at that -- I thought they'd train me, break me a little, put me through some kind of bootcamp for submissives, but no. Apparently, they sell some of us greenhorns to women who want to do it all themselves. I'm to be someone's project -- unmodified and entirely untested.

Day 2

Sleeping on a warm bed in a warm room without the wind howling at the windows reminded me why I came back to civilisation, even if I did sleep naked and chained to the wall by an ankle. I dreamed of serving naked at an elegant dance, where my lean frame was the talk of the party. Two years on top of a mountain got me fit and healthy, but not stocky. Without enough energy to burn, the body slims down, it gets hard but wiry, and I like it that way.

I'd always wondered what it would feel like to be sold -- it's something almost all men here go through, and perhaps a third of the women too. I was appraised, measured, judged, and found worthy of a fair price, which didn't do my pride any harm. When the auctioneer whipped me on stage, it hit me all at once -- a rush of powerlessness that freed me to live in the moment. I impressed the room with my agony -- the woman selling me called it 'most authentic'. When you don't have human contact, you forget how to edit yourself. The fierce lashes of her whip showed me up for the submissive that I am -- I'm sure the tears increased my price.

A charming female couple bought me to come and live with them and their slavegirl in the middle of the city, where I'm to serve them and their guests as an 'all-purpose' attendant. A little bit of everything is what they promised me while we rode in the air-taxi to the roof of their apartment building, but they didn't let me ask what that might mean. Mistress Christina said I'd find out in the fullness of time, and Mistress Savitri just smiled slyly and winked, then went back to looking at my body. She seemed to like what she saw.

My new owners are in early middle-age; Mistress Christina, the brunette, is the curvier of the two, while Mistress Savitri is taller and slimmer, with jet black hair that falls halfway down her back. The first thing they did when we got inside the stylish, minimalist apartment, was to tell me to unpack -- their little joke to a naked, possessionless slaveboy. The second thing they did was to have their little blonde slavegirl Bobbi come out of her cell and cook us a meal. They keep her naked, just like they'll keep me, and from what I gathered her age has been fixed at the nineteen years of age they all were when they met, while my owners have only just fixed theirs some twenty-five years later.

The third thing they did was discuss what to call me. That startled me, but I realised no one had used my name since I'd signed the contract the day before -- slaves can't contract to keep theirs, it's against the law. I sat naked at the dining table while the trio of women looked me over and tried to find something that fit. They listed all the names of their previous male slaves, but rejected reusing those, then finally opted for Heath, in keeping with my high-altitude origins.

The fourth thing they did, which took most of the rest of the day, was to fuck me senseless. They ordered me down off the dining chair, to crawl behind them and through into the big bedroom. It was filled with light from the south wall, which was all glass and looked out over the bustling city streets thirty-one floors below. The furniture was clean, square, and shined like new, and a huge, dark hardwood toybox rested against one wall, holding all the implements of pleasure and pain that Mistresses Christina and Savitri owned.

The bed is enormous -- two-and-a-half metres long and three metres wide -- and it fits my owners, their slavegirl and me in with room to spare. In seconds, my arms were shackled to the bedposts and Bobbi was tied down too. I tried to take everything in -- Bobbi's breasts heaving as she breathed faster and faster, Mistress Savitri letting her clothes fall to the floor to reveal a sculpted body and a mass of black hair between her elegant legs, Mistress Christina licking her lips as she surveyed her human property. The sound of the bed creaking under our combined weight. The heat of a woman's body, something I'd almost forgotten. The scent of arousal, and the ache in my caged cock as it strained to get hard.

Mistress Savitri lay down on top of me and kissed me deeply, while she ground herself against my chastity cage to get herself more in the mood. When she was ready, she got up and turned away from me, then planted herself down on my face and bent forward so my tongue could reach her clit. I didn't need any orders. Goddess, I've missed the taste of a woman.

My owners came on each of their slave's faces like that, then they donned their strapons and took turns making love to us. I've been taken in the arse by a woman before, of course, but never made love to like this, with a slow-burning passion that let me feel the fire in my owners' hearts. I don't remember when they took off my cock cage, but I remember shooting out my cum into Mistress Savitri's hands as she fucked me, then again onto Mistress Christina's tits as she took her turn penetrating me and filling me up with her cock.

When I'd caught my breath and gratefully accepted a little water, my new owners manipulated my nanites to make my cock get painfully hard and stay that way, then they each rode me to their satisfaction while I panted and moaned beneath them. When they were sated, they let Bobbi out of her shackles and made her ride me while they took turns flogging her breasts. I was surprised when they made my nanites unblock my orgasm and I came with great torrents inside their slavegirl; more surprised still when she sat down on my face to have me clean out her smooth pussy.

In the evening, Bobbi cooked us another excellent meal and we crowded together on the big sofa to watch the entertainments my owners favoured. Bobbi took me into the bathroom to shower with her, and taught me how she liked to be washed down, while my cock raged in its prison. We all slept together in the big bed, I with my arms wrapped around Mistress Christina and Bobbi held tight by Mistress Savitri.

Day 3

This morning, Bobbi woke me with a gentle hand on my shoulder, then took me through into the kitchen to learn how to make everyone's breakfasts. There were a million tasks to coordinate, and I burned the toast in my confusion -- the smell hung over the whole apartment until the filtration system cleared it. Bobbi shook her finger at me and pressed my hands down flat onto the counter, then she spanked my bare bottom until it burned crimson. I know I was going to get punished sooner or later -- most slaves do -- but I never expected the little blonde girl to be the one to do it, or to hit so hard. Still, I'm going to listen to what she says from now on.

After morning orgasms, my mistresses went to work and confined us slaves to the apartment. On the mountain, I could be a prisoner in my cabin when the storms hit, but this is different. Safer, in more ways than one, for I feel protected by my contract, and by the slavegirl who is giving me all kinds of helpful tips about my new life. The air on my skin is still a novelty, and so is having company and a purpose beyond myself.

Bobbi and I are to clean the apartment together every day our owners go out to work -- in practice this means four or five times a week. What this really means, if today is anything to go by, is that I'll be cleaning while Bobbi supervises me with the riding crop and cane. She has an insatiable sex drive -- four orgasms from my tongue in one day while our mistresses were out. I have to address her as 'Miss' - sometimes it even makes her lick her lips in delight, and then all I can think about is worshipping her.

We greeted our owners at the door on our hands and knees, kissed their feet, and I bathed Mistress Savitri before she strapped me to a fucking bench and made me tell her I was her little slave bitch while she took me hard with the strapon. She was all kinds of sweaty after that, so then I took her into the spacious, warm bathroom and bathed her again. Mistress Christina got what she needed from Bobbi in the main bedroom, but she wanted to spend a little time with brand-new me, so she put me over her knee and gave me a long, slow maintenance spanking with her bare hand.

She did it on the apartment's little balcony -- a nice public show for all to see -- and she let me feel every swat as it resounded through me. If that's how she spanks me when I've done all she asked, I'd better watch out if I ever displease her. As she most graciously pointed out, I got hard when she started punishing me and I stayed hard until she stopped. She made me thank her for giving her new little slut the spanking I needed. Mistress Savitri and Bobbi watched the whole thing while encouraging my owner to hit me harder, and they heard me humbly thank Mistress Christina for her discipline. I'm in for quite a year.

Day 4

Bobbi and I were allowed out of the apartment today. The slavegirl handed me running shoes and told me to stretch, then we joined a mass of jogging slaves on the street, which made its way to the local park. Trainers with whips put us through our paces while free women ambled past -- I saw a few taking pictures of us. I'm in shape, but the workout pushed me harder than I wanted to go, and when I got back to the apartment, I was a trembling mess.

Bobbi is a talented masseuse. She put me in the bathtub and filled it with hot water, then she worked out all my knots with her fingers. All the running and jumping left me feeling more exposed than I ever have in my life, even when they put me up for auction. I'm certain some of the giggles I heard were caused by my chastity cage bobbing up and down as I moved, and I so wanted to cover myself up as we exercised. In the bath, I told Bobbi, and she told me I'd been right not to -- only bad boys try not to display themselves.

Day 5

The whole apartment is wired with cameras and microphones, even the bathroom -- they turn off only when my owners enter the room. That meant my owners heard me telling Bobbi I wanted to cover myself up, and that led them to take me on a little excursion. I spent the day chained up in a thronged public square with my hands and legs shackled, stretched out in a star shape. I must have been photographed or fondled by a thousand tourist women and not a few of their slaves, and I stayed there from sunrise to sunset, a long twelve hours to think about how bad a slave I'd been.

When Mistress Christina came to get me, she made me describe how exposed I'd felt all day long before she would release me. The first hour was the hardest, but it wasn't the exposure that made me suffer -- it was the noise. I spent two years on a mountain for a reason -- I'm not cut out for big cities. A thousand voices and a thousand pairs of eyes all came crashing down on me as I stood in the shackles, and I shook until the nanites cut in and calmed me, just enough to take the edge off. Truth told, I got a lot of compliments today, but I was too distracted to really take them in. I walked back to the apartment with Mistress Christina, with my arms clasped behind my back to show I'd learned my lesson -- her little smile when she noticed gave me hope I won't be doing this again soon.

Day 6

Bobbi took me out shopping to buy food and wine. She treats me like her servant and I follow her orders without even thinking about it. Walking behind her to the market, my eyes came to rest on her swaying bottom, and I started to salivate at the thought of it on my face. I hoped we'd have time when we got home with the bulging bags of provisions, but Bobbi got us straight down to cooking.

My mistresses were having guests for dinner -- another female couple and their slave-husband. Bobbi did all the complex cooking, leaving me to chop, stir, clean and generally help out, all while motivated by the crop she left lying on the nearby counter. We got talking while we prepared -- I'm the fifteenth male slave her mistresses have owned, always on a short contract. They don't want any male thinking he could challenge Bobbi for their affections, so they don't keep any around for long enough to try. I see the three of them together, and I know I'm a servant to them, not part of the family. That's fine -- they still give me all their passion in everything we do together.

Bobbi put on a little maid's outfit, but I was dressed in just a bowtie over my collar, and we worked together with our guests' slave-husband to serve the meal. The guests couldn't get enough of me, and as the drink flowed, they took further liberties with my body. My favourite moment of the meal was when one of them had me stand near her so she could rest her hand on my bottom and squeeze it while she chatted with my owners. I missed that kind of basic contact on the mountain.

For serving the meal impeccably, our mistresses offered Bobbi and I a joint reward, to be 'negotiated' between us there and then and had straight away. I was just about to start discussing it with Bobbi when I remembered my place in the pecking order, so instead I crawled to her and kissed her feet, then asked her to name our prize. She opted for fucking me with the strapon on the balcony, and she animalised me out there in the cool air while I yelled and grunted across the city until we both came in an ecstasy of submission.

Day 7

The weekend rolled around and our mistresses opted for a spa day. We spent it naked, all together in a tight group, touring the saunas, steam rooms, plunge pools and massage tables of one of the city's premier relaxation facilities. Quite the change from living in a cabin that was almost above the treeline -- I hadn't felt so thoroughly warm in years.

Mistress Savitri decided I should be mute for the day, so she set my collar to completely disable my vocal cords. She explained how I could demonstrate my obedience with just my body and my actions -- she finds male chatter a little annoying, so in the case of her property, she sometimes prefers to simply prevent it. I had no need to frame any words, so it gave me time to think about my new life.

One week in and I've learned a lot about how to serve and serve well. Am I happy? It seems so -- as happy as a valued servant can be. These women aren't going to become my new family, so I have to appreciate things for what they are, not what they can't ever be. That means submitting to the reason they bought me. It means acknowledging I'm their property, and letting them break me to their will. I think it means keeping something back too -- I can commit to being a slave without having to commit to any particular owner. I can't quite describe how that makes me feel.

Day 8

A riot of sex and submission in my mistress's apartments, with a few guests to join in the orgy. I've been taken by the strapons of six women today, and my arse aches like never before while the nanites heal me up. No sooner had one mistress finished with me than another scooped me up to have her fill. They were gracious enough to let me cum a few times, mostly while they filled me up with their dildos.

Mistress Christina particularly enjoyed spanking me in front of all her friends, and she made me count a hundred strokes, each with a 'Thank you, mistress' following on. Then she had me make a show of kissing her feet while the other mistresses and their slaves watched me debase myself, before she had my kisses move up to her clit and the group went back to having all kinds of other fun.

I'm writing this at night in the slave cell that has two narrow beds and a tiny ensuite bathroom, where they chained me up after my day's 'work' was all done. Mistress Savitri came in to kiss me goodnight, and explained that my confinement wasn't a punishment -- she just thought I needed some real rest without interruption. In a couple of minutes, she's going to set my nanites to knock me out for a good ten hours -- I really don't control anything about my body anymore.

Day 9

My owners went to work, Bobbi and I cleaned up from the previous days' escapades, and that's about it. More orgasms for Bobbi, more for Mistress Savitri when she got home, and today Mistress Christina decided to flog me for a change of pace. Mistress Savitri pulled a face when she started, and she took Bobbi into the other room so they could get away from the spectacle. The sight of her back as she walked away and left us there hit me harder than the flogger ever could.

Day 10

More cleaning, more worship. Bobbi can sense when I'm bored and she never fails to find something more interesting for me to do. I wonder how she amuses herself in those times between her owners selling their previous male and buying a new one.

Day 11

... More exercise, more service, more worship. It's comfortable, and I'm happy enough. I'll write more when something changes.

Day 27

Mistress Savitri is taking me on a business trip -- a week away from the apartment, and from Bobbi and Mistress Christina. The latter has been whipping and spanking me harder and more viciously with every passing day; I think my other owner must want to give her some space. I'm not privy to the reasons why there might be tension between them -- when they want to have a private conversation, I'm confined to the soundproof cell to wait it out. Despite our incredible physical intimacy, what do I really know about these women?

We took an air-taxi to the airport, then she flew us both business class to our destination. There was only one slave sitting in business class: me. The rest of the naked, collared boys and girls here were serving. Mistress Savitri leaned in close to me and squeezed my arm, and whispered something about there being more treats to come.

The trip itself is to an island retreat where some big conference is happening. As we flew over, I spotted only a scattering of buildings and a lot of wide-open spaces -- I think I'm going to like it much more than the crowded city we live in.
In the hotel room -- which may be even grander and better appointed than the apartment we live in -- Mistress Savitri unlocked my cock and took me over to the bed, where she lay down on her back and had me get started kissing and licking every inch of her divine body. She chained my collar to one of the tethers embedded in the wall, but the four-metre chain meant I could move all up and down her body at my own pace. With my hands free too, I was able to explore her in ways we'd never managed before.

We made love like that all through the afternoon -- her beneath me and me on top. Orders were given rarely, and usually just "more of that" or "don't stop now, slave" - the kinds of thing that a slaveboy like me longs to hear on the lips of his owner. She let me cum inside her every time, and when we were finally finished, I dropped to my knees and kissed her feet and calves in gratitude.

Once I'd bathed us both in the giant bath -- fed by one of the island's hot springs -- Mistress Savitri took us to the conference's opening dinner, and told me to make a mental note of which other business-women there took a shine to me. It wasn't hard to work out -- they were the ones who couldn't resist touching me, couldn't keep themselves from inquiring how long I'd been a slave, how much I'd cost, who hinted about buying me until my Mistress made clear I was not for sale.

Day 28

While my owner attends meetings and discusses whatever high-powered thing it is she does -- she's never seen fit to tell me -- I was ordered to pay a visit to one of the women we met the night before. When I entered her palatial room, I was confronted with the sight of her coterie of slavegirls indulging in an orgy of incredible proportions. Her senior slavegirl, dressed up in black leather, ordered me onto one of the beds and shackled me spread-eagled there, lying on my back and waiting to find out what my role was.

"Meet Deonara," said the senior slavegirl, introducing a naked slavegirl with luscious dark eyes and hair to match, "She needs to lose the last of her virginities, and you're the boy to help."

Deonara made me get her started by sitting on my face while she played hesitantly with my unlocked, rock-hard cock. She was nervous of me to start with, and it took her a while to even put her weight down on my face, but once she had, her instincts kicked in and she soon ground out an impressive orgasm on my tongue. I was a little amused when she looked at me for permission to get started on the next part -- slaveboys do not give consent -- but the senior slavegirl corrected her.

Her face was exquisite as she let her tight, hairless slave pussy sink down onto my slave cock. The senior slavegirl filmed the whole thing, and I hope she caught the moment that Deonara finished her descent, when her eyes opened wide and she bit her lower lip in that special way some girls do. She worked herself up and down my cock, with careful breaths to savour every moment, until she found her pace and took her second orgasm from me.

She cuddled me for a while, until the senior slavegirl returned with a strapon for Deonara to wear, and they unchained my legs so I could take the cock of this superior female. Even a slavegirl is my better in this society -- truth told, I like knowing my place. I'd expected Deonara to be gentle, but she thrust that strapon inside me as hard as any woman ever has, then she pounded my defenceless arse until she was dripping with sweat. She made me beg her to let me cum, and I wondered if that was her own idea. Beg I did, and I orgasmed in her slender hand then watched her lick her fingers clean.

Deonara showered us both down in the huge bathroom, and she took a quickie from my tongue while the water cascaded down her body and over my head. She led me back into the main room, and handed me over to the senior slavegirl, who put me to work fucking, licking, sucking and occasionally cumming with all the other slavegirls in the room, well into the late afternoon.

The moment I got back to my Mistress's hotel room, I passed out exhausted on the bed. Mistress Savitri's cool hand on my shoulder roused me later that evening, and she took a quick orgasm from my tongue before we soaked together in the tub and I told her every salacious detail of my day's work. She was pleased with the good impression I'd made on the slavegirls' owner, and she had me out on the deck to cum on her tits as a reward. That night, after another grand dinner, I held her tight as we fell asleep together.

Day 29

I did my best slave-butler act for Mistress Savitri today as she hosted a series of important meetings, and I made them flow as smoothly as I could with just the right mixture of refreshments, massages and general hospitality. We woke earlier than usual, and Mistress Savitri taught me some signals she would use throughout the day -- to tell me which women to focus my attention on, which ones to distract, which to insult a little with minor disobedience.

Together we played the room from dawn until dusk. She signalled, I acted; when she was distracted, I watched for the telltale signs of coming disagreement from the other attendees, and I used every asset I had to try and head it off. I lost count of how many times powerful women groped or fondled me today, and my cock is aching from trying to get hard in its cage for ten long hours. I've been promised to several of my mistress's business partners over the coming days.

Day 30

I went 'visiting' today -- I was sent on a tour of the business-women my mistress most needed to bring onboard to land some big deal she's working on, and I made absolutely sure each of them got complete satisfaction from me. When did I become this much of a slut? My blood is up and I'm twitchy with desire just to get to the next woman, then the next, then the one after. Mistress's Savitri's smile at the end of the day made it all worth it -- between her praise and my sex-drive, I've never been so motivated.

Day 31

I was given over to the slave-wives of one of Mistress Savitri's most important business contacts. They're a trio of pale, freckled redheads who must have been altered to look almost like sisters, and they led me all around the resort island catering to their many whims. They didn't let me cum, not even once, even though they were granted temporary access to my chastity cage, but they demanded a dozen orgasms from my exhausted tongue and a dozen more from my aching fingers. I worshipped them while they ate, while they sunbathed, in the little forest where we went hiking, in the steam room of a spa, and back in their owner's rooms at the hotel.

I've noticed that some slavegirls have a dominant streak, and these three showed me theirs with a non-stop strapon fucking that must have lasted an hour while they each took turns to pound me. They returned me to my owner well after sunset, with a thank you note and an apology for wearing me out so badly. My heart soared again when I saw how pleased Mistress Savitri was.

Day 32

My owner gave me the day off. I spent most of it in bed, recovering from the three 'sisters' I'd played with the day before, but when my nanites had finished healing me, I went for a walk around the island and sat down on a secluded beach to watch the ocean and think. There's a calm purpose that's entered my life since I came down off the mountain, back to civilisation, which I've read about in lots of guides to slavery. It's when the buried slave-self rises to the fore and washes away the false freedom you felt before. To have it this strong, well, that's a sign I made the right decision. Still, I prefer it here on the island to back in the city. There's nothing here to overwhelm my senses except whatever my mistress orders.

Day 33

Mistress Savitri's business deals are concluded and she wears the smile of a woman who has triumphed over everything. We swam together in the sea and she played with me beneath the waves, until she could wait no more and practically dragged me onto the beach to fuck beneath midday sun. She got on top of me, took me inside her, and pinned my arms to the sand, then she made skilled use of her strong hips to bring us both off, while all around us the beach heaved with owners and slaves playing in the warm, salty air.

Day 34

The moment I got back to the apartment, Mistress Christina asked to know how many maintenance spankings I'd received, and Mistress Savitri admitted it had been very few indeed. With a scowl marring her beautiful face, Mistress Christina ordered me over her knee, and she paddled my bottom black and blue until I thought the pain would make me faint. She sent me to my cell without an evening meal, and before the soundproof door shut, I heard my owners start to argue about my discipline regimen.

Day 35

A new rule: I'm to ask Mistress Christina or Mistress Savitri, without fail, for a maintenance spanking every day, and I'm to beg them to hit me harder if either of them goes easy on me. There's only one of my owners who ever would, so I know what that order really means. Mistress Savitri was cold and business like when I asked her for my discipline this evening, and I had to ask three times for her to use more force, until I was certain the pain was enough to satisfy everyone watching. She made me fuck Bobbi afterwards, who had watched my punishment and was sopping wet from seeing the display of submission I'd put on.

Day 36-100

So much for keeping a diary every day. I can't say that much of note really happened -- I just did my best to serve. Mistress Christina keeps me busy with whatever task she can come up with, and she uses my name so rarely I wondered for a while if she just kept forgetting it. Meanwhile Mistress Savitri has spent a lot of time out of the apartment, working hard on the business deal she landed on our little holiday, while their slavegirl Bobbi wanders around the apartment trying to please everyone and keep her family happy. They're happiest when I split my time evenly between them -- I wonder if they realise that's their dynamic, each needing equal attention, equal value?

Day 101

Today was Matriachy Day, one of the annual festivals where we celebrate the superiority of women and their absolute right of dominion. We went to the temple early in the morning, where I was made to crawl on hands and knees through the thronged crowds until we could queue up to receive our blessing from the Priestess. My owners took me to a public square and chained me up to a whipping post, then they showered my body with pain until I begged them to stop. Something passed between Mistress Savitri and Mistress Christina, something that meant neither of them held back in punishing me to my absolute limit, and they spent the rest of the day roaming the city with Bobbi and I, taking multiple orgasms from our tongues or by fucking us senseless with strapons.

I could barely cope with the melange of flesh, voices and domination that greeted us in every square, street, park or building we entered, and by the end of the day I dripped with sweat and longed to be locked in the soundproof cell back at the apartment. As hard as I tried to submit to it all, today was just too much for me. I wonder if my owners even noticed.

Day 102

I passed out with exhaustion as I cleaned the apartment with Bobbi, and I woke to find myself in the big bed, with a doctor explaining to my owners that they needed to take better care of their slaves on Matriarchy Day. Wearing one out like this, she made clear, was something only bad owners did, and she threatened a black mark on the owners register if they did it again. Mercifully, they skipped my maintenance spanking today and let me rest.

Day 103

They, my owners, reduced my duties and let me recover some energy. A few days after I passed out, one of them finally remembered to ask me if I knew why, so I explained to them about my fear of large crowds and how overwhelming the city could be for me. My heart leapt when they promised me I wouldn't have to cope with that again, but I asked them if I could still exercise outside with Bobbi and the other slaves. When we're moving together, I don't feel so outnumbered, like I'm part of the pack. That will be fine.

Day 104-123

Three weeks of domestic harmony. On Bobbi's birthday, she got sole use of me for the day, and I waited on her hand and foot. We went shopping, and I stood offering opinions about the clothes that made her look the sluttiest and the clothes that made her look the prettiest, most of which she bought, to wear on those days when her wife-owners don't just keep her naked. Everything else was just slavery as usual, though I did enjoy it.

Day 124

We got quite a shock when a policewoman showed up at the door and asked to see me. My time up on the mountain brought me into contact with the craziest bunch of patriarchal mountain men you can imagine, and it turns out they've not gone unnoticed by the authorities. Fools should never have spouted all that rubbish about male superiority -- it got them arrested and set up for trial. Mistress Savitri sat there shaking until the policewoman remembered to explain that I was beyond suspicion, because I had volunteered for a year's slavery. She offered me to the policewoman, but she turned my owner down -- not while she was on duty, she explained. Still, she seemed to enjoy me kissing her boots before she left.

After she left, Mistress Savitri made me profess my absolute inferiority to women, out on the balcony for the whole city to hear if it cared to. She sat on my face out there, then she tied me to the fucking bench and stretched me out with her biggest, longest strapon until I was moaning and panting like the slut slaveboy I am, while my cock dripped in its cage. Just to reinforce our relative statuses, she left me out there all evening, on show and unable to escape. I lay over the bench contemplating her divinity, filled with the warm glow of someone who has found his place.

Day 125

The old-fashioned, dark wood panelled courtroom was packed out with observers whose eyes seemed to feast on me as I made my way to the stand and swore and oath to the Goddess to tell the truth. Just to make sure, the chair I sat interfaced with my nanites and monitored my brainwaves -- there was no way I could ever lie there, not that I wanted to. All orders from my mistresses were suspended the moment I entered the courtroom, and I had to answer questions confirming they'd not tried to influence my testimony in any way. I'm glad they didn't -- five years in prison is a long time.

The mountain men I'd known in my former life -- just acquaintances really, and unliked ones at that -- had finally done something stupid enough to get noticed by the matriarchy. Three of them stood in a cage to one side of the court, chained up and naked, to witness their trial -- a foregone conclusion. They winced as I incriminated them even further, then they heckled me until their nanites cut out their voices and their collars shocked them into silence, but their grunts of pain still echoed off the walls, drawing a smile from the judge. I'll remember that smile for a long time to come.

The cross-examination was weak -- hadn't these men just been harmless fantasists, asked their defence attorney. Fantasists, certainly, but far from harmless. They wanted to upset the whole order of things, to remake this world into one where men could rule, and they had been clear that they wanted to use violence to do it. Fools. They could have just left for a frontier world, but they chose to stay here and cause trouble. I'm sure they'll be sentenced to lifelong slavery, after a rigorous deprogramming that will leave them with an unyielding certainty in the superiority of women. It was a good thing I came down off the mountain when I did -- volunteering for slavery was cast-iron proof that I was nothing like them.

Day 126

Mistress Christina spanked me to tears, for no other reason than because she wanted to, and I dropped off her lap and kissed her feet in thanks, until Mistress Savitri ordered me to stop and Mistress Christina ordered me to continue, so that I was paralysed with indecision while they argued.

One of my owners doesn't see why I would need such harshness when I've done nothing wrong, while the other can't even conceive of why torturing me might be a problem. I am her slave, after all. They fought over it all day long, and far more tears flowed from their eyes than ever have from mine during a punishment, until they ran out of energy and slunk off to bed, exhausted and shaking with anger.

I hate coming between them like this, but I have nothing to give them except obedience and ... love? I think if I loved them, really loved them, I'd know it. That's not what I can give them, but I can care for them as only a slave can, serve them as only a committed inferior can. The rest is up to them to work out, and they don't need me trying to help and making everything worse. Goddess, though, those two can really tear strips off each other when they want to.

Day 127

I don't think my current set of owners will last much longer. It's just a feeling, but the way Mistress Christina has been looking at me today, well, it's how someone looks when they're appraising something they want to buy or sell. As if her eyes were putting a credit value on all my assets and she was totting up the total in her head. She smiled wickedly when I went down on her before bed, while Mistress Savitri and Bobbi stayed in the living room, and the way she moved her arms might have been her using her wrist computer to activate the room's cameras.

I knew this was the deal -- a slave like me is just a slave, not a member of the household -- not unless they're a permanent slave-husband or slave-wife, like Bobbi. Still, I'd miss Mistress Savitri terribly if they did get rid of me. No, when they get rid of me. They told me, made it abundantly clear, that they only keep a male for a year at most. I have to get it through my head that every second with them is to be savoured, enjoyed, lived as intensely as possible -- sooner or later, this relationship has to end.

Day 128

Mistress Christina has found a new calm, and I think Bobbi has realised what that means -- I can see in her eyes that she's already saying goodbye to me. Only Mistress Savitri remains ignorant that her wife wants me gone, and it's not my place to bring it up. Doing that would only hasten my exit from her life, and I want to enjoy her as much as I can before then. I serve Mistress Christina faithfully, of course, but only Mistress Savitri matters to me in my heart.

She took me with her, Mistress Savitri I mean, on a trip to the spa today. We luxuriated in the steam rooms, jumped together into the plunge pools and held each other, naked and excited, under the water until we had to surface for air. We must have done that three dozen times today, punctuated with massages, a little sex, some facesitting and more massages. I never knew a slave could be so well looked after as this. I've never been so relaxed as when we left the spa, and never so sorry as when I realised how soon this had to end. My favourite owner is still clueless, and I'll leave her in blissful ignorance as long as I can.

Day 129

I took a risk and talked to Bobbi about being sold while we were on one of our slave-runs, amid a mass of naked owned bodies in the bustling city streets. I know my mistresses might, in theory, be able to listen in, but I doubt they do -- what's the point of listening to someone jogging? Bobbi told me about all the male slaves they've owned before, how some of them she can't even remember their names while others she still thinks of often, with fondness in her heart. I'm one of those, she says -- she knows she'll always remember me.

Day 130
Mistress Christina took the day off, ostensibly to have a rest, but really to talk to me without her wife being around to hear it. While Bobbi rested in the soundproof cell, Mistress Christina explained that now she'd decided I was to be sold soon, she'd found a new affection for me, and she invited me to spend the day with her to really show her what I could do. I weighed my options -- resist or go with it, while she fingered a remote control that can activate all my pain nanites.

I dropped to my knees and crawled to her right there in the sitting room, and kissed her feet passionately until she got the message -- I was hers to use however she wanted. She stood tall and bade me look up at her, towering over me, superior and in control. Then she dropped her skirt and opened her legs, and I dove in with a smile on my face. When Mistress Savitri got home, she found me passed out on the big bed, in the arms of an equally exhausted Mistress Christina -- we never stopped going at it all the day long.

Day 134

After a few days of domestic harmony, it finally came out that Mistress Christina wants to sell me. She and Mistress Savitri had a heated discussion in the sitting room while Bobbi and I knelt before them in display posture, and watched the debate unfold. I wanted so desperately to explain to them that I didn't mind being sold, that it was OK, I never wanted to come between them, but they had muted my nanites. As the discussion went on, I realised why -- they had to come to this themselves, and I was already coming between them. Any more 'input' from me would just confuse things.

Mistress Savitri cried when she admitted I would have to be sold, but she looked at her free-wife and her slave-wife, and something came into her eyes -- a steely resolve that emerged as she wiped away the tears. She looked me over, some new passion taking hold of her, and caught the eye of the two permanent members of her family.

"I guess it's time for a going away ceremony, then," she said.

Day 140

6 days in the planning. 6 long, strange days when I had been locked in chastity without hope of being let out, spanked, whipped, smothered, made to bathe all my female superiors in long, lingering baths and regularly fucked out on the balcony, for all the city to see. When they weren't using me on rotation, I gathered my owners and their slave-wife were making sure my going away ceremony would be a day, and a night, and a day, to remember. With my aching cock always trying to break free, the hour of commencement finally came along, as I sat caged in the grand hotel suite my owners had rented.

Mistress Savitri opened the door to the suite and walked in, wearing a corset, long leather boots, and nothing else. Mistress Christina came in similarly dressed, and Bobbi followed, completely naked and on a leash. Behind her came a trio of the youngest, prettiest rental slavegirls I'd ever seen, one black, one white, and one who could have been of Chinese descent from Ancient Earth. Mistress Savitri unlocked my cage and had me crawl out, then she made me kneel in a display position in the middle of the room. All six women crowded round me.

"Slave Heath, you have served us well these past few months. Our parting gift to you is an orgy of submission -- for you, that is. Each woman in this room will spank you, fuck you, facesit you, whip you, and just make use of you in any way you seem most to enjoy. Whenever one of us gets tired, another will take her place. Questions?" said Mistress Savitri.

"May I start and end by licking your pussy?" I asked her -- she was the only one of them that truly mattered to me, even if what we had wasn't really true love of any sort.

"You may, slaveboy. I want you to remember forever how I taste."

I think I will.

Day 142

After a two-day orgy, I have been sold. Mistress Savitri and Bobbi cried a little, but Mistress Christina was their rock while it happened. I know now why they never keep a slaveboy longer than a year -- I mean really know it, down deep where it matters. They have a careful dynamic, a relationship that needs three spokes to keep it turning and can't have another one grafted in. I cried a little too, until the relief washed over me in great waves. The tension is over now, and the inevitable has happened. I care about those women too much to be the thing that ruins their happiness, so I have to accept being sold. Any longer and I'd have gotten too attached as well.

They stayed at the auction -- to buy themselves another male servant -- then left me there, chained up and caged, like the piece of property I am, until a bratty eighteen year old bought me to have some fun with until she left home to go to university. She made herself very clear -- she's bought me for two months and then she's going to sell me again. My new Mistress is very short, slim to the point of skinny, with mousy brown hair, creamy skin and green eyes that almost glow, and she carries herself with a haughty air that makes me obey without thinking.

In the air-taxi to her mother's country mansion, she asked me about my previous owners, and she got to the sexual parts of our relationship so fast I could tell they were all she was really interested in. Kneeling before my new owner, I told her everything I was comfortable revealing, and she grew twitchier and more turned on with every anecdote, until we landed and she practically dragged me into the mansion's pleasure room to worship her pussy and arse.

She doesn't like Heath as a name, so she's going to call me Fucktoy instead. I watched her type it into my ownership record, so now it's my official name, and the one she'll use to introduce me to anyone who visits. It's going to be an intense summer.

Day 143

The mansion is served by two other slaves, who run things day-to-day -- a butler and a maid, both female and both very much my superiors in the pecking order. My owner's name, I now know, is Mistress Angelica, and she has made it clear that while her Fucktoy is to follow the other servants' orders, they are not to wear me out. They look like they feel sorry for me, which makes me very nervous indeed.

Mistress Angelica spent the day raping me. There's really no other way I can describe it. With the strapon or using my cock, she exults in her power over me and doesn't even consider that a slave might have needs or desires of his own. When she'd finished fucking me senseless, she sent me off to wash myself clean, then she took me into the garden, chained me up between two stout trees, and whipped me until I cried. I think she forgot me for a few hours, and when she eventually came back, it was just to let me down and have me crawl into the cage in her soft, pink bedroom where I'll sleep.

Day 144

In the middle of her bedroom wall is a chart where Mistress Angelica is going to track how many orgasms I've given her, with a gold star for any that were especially good. Normal orgasms count for one point, and starred ones count for two. When I reach thirty points, I may be allowed to cum, but only if I beg humbly in front of her and anyone else she cares to have witness my subjection. I've seen no sight of her mother or any of the rest of her family -- they must have given her the run of the house to have her fun. Some kind of coming of age present, I think.

I got five points today -- three normal ones, and a gold star for the orgasm she had while she fucked me with the strapon in the garden. It felt so right to beg her to fuck me harder and harder, and every time she rammed the long, thick dildo inside me it loosened my ties to Bobbi, Christina and Savitri. "I love it when you beg like a little slut, Fucktoy," she said, "I'm so glad I bought you."

Days 145-147

My new owner is insatiable. She never tires, not even after she's fucked me, whipped me, exercised with me, fucked me again, fucked the servants, spanked the servants, fucked me some more, then supervised the three of us to clean the mansion from top to bottom. I sleep the deep sleep of an exhausted slaveboy. Is this some kind of psychological gambit, to make me forget my old owners and accept my new one? Is the brat thing just an act? Or is it real and it just so happens to be extremely effective? It's a lot of fun being a Fucktoy, but my body aches in ways I never knew it could.

Day 148

I earned enough points for an orgasm by mid-afternoon. The more I debase myself before her, the more I beg, the more I make myself her slutty slave-whore who just can't get enough of Mistress's big strapon cock, the more powerful her orgasms get, and the more gold stars I receive. My desperation for the orgasm has grown day by day, hour by hour, as I worship every inch of her perfect body and start to forget I ever had a name other than Fucktoy.

She was gracious enough to remember when I'd earned it, and even more gracious to grant it straight away. She dressed herself up in a sleek, red, formal dress, with a matching necklace and high heels, then she leashed me and had me crawl behind her to the sitting room. There, she called the butler and the maid to watch, and released my cock from its cage. Relief filled me as I finally got hard, but I waited for her order to touch myself. 'Myself' is such a strange word for a slave to say, isn't it? She owns my body.

Mistress Angelica stood in her smart dress, fully clothed as only a free-woman can be, then she held my leash and had me kneel in front of her. She rested her right shoe on my thigh, and dug the heel in just enough for me to feel some pain as I waited for her commands.

"Ask permission, Fucktoy," she said.

"Yes, Mistress. Please may I have permission to cum, mistress?"

"You may, Fucktoy. But where will you be cumming?"

"Erm, er ... On your foot, Mistress?"

"Yes, so ask for permission."

"Mistress, please may I have permission to cum on your foot?"

"Yes, Fucktoy. Begin."

My hand leapt to my cock and soon I was masturbating in a frenzy. I kept looking down at my owner's shapely foot on my thigh, then back up, up, up at her imperious smile as she gazed down at me. Her smart red dress turned me on. It reminded me I was a naked slaveboy and she the mistress of her own world and mine, my absolute superior and the only person in the world I really needed to pay attention to.

She held my leash with one hand and rested the other on her hip, and I could see in her eyes that she knew her power over me was completed in the moment I came all over her red shoe, then begged her for the privilege of licking it clean, which passed my lips so quickly that it surprised even me. With permission granted, I made a great show of cleaning every last drop from her foot, then from the tiled floor where it had dripped, until there was no trace of my cum left for any to find.

"Good boy, Fucktoy. Oh, and your next orgasm will require thirty-five points. Now, slave, take off my knickers so I can sit on your face."

Day 149

Today my owner showed me her darker side. The pleasure room of her family's mansion comes equipped with a range of torture devices, and I got to know them intimately. With my nanites set to keep my cock flaccid, Mistress Angelica, dressed in a black leather mini-dress, swapped out my normal cock cage for one with internal spikes, then she lubed up a buttplug and slipped it inside me. The plug expanded until it filled to me bursting, and she activated its vibrating function. With the erection block cancelled, I was already grunting in pain as she led me into the room, with my cock pulsing in its cage of spikes.

My nanites will heal almost any minor wound, so Mistress Angelica didn't need to hold back. I stood in chains and she cut my flesh with a vicious flogger, then she chained me down to a torture table and queened me while she used the flogger on my balls. I licked her between my moans of agony, and she came so hard it took me two minutes to swallow all of her juices.

She decided to fuck me with a stim-strapon, turned to shock mode, while she flogged my back and etched red lines of pain with every stroke. I broke halfway through the fucking, weeping and begging her to stop as the sensations all came together and overwhelmed me. It just pushed her harder, and she told me she was setting my nanites to keep me conscious.

Next came the candles. With me chained down to the table, Mistress covered me with burning hot wax that left spots of pain for long, hard seconds as it cooled from molten through to solid. She made my nanites get my cock hard but blocked my orgasms, then she straddled me and took me inside her while she dripped wax onto my nipples and took another orgasm from me.

Mistress Angelica changed the pace, and took me over her knee to paddle me with six different implements until my buttocks were black and blue and my nanites were working overtime to heal up the damage. She giggled to herself as I pleaded with her to stop, but my words just drove her harder and harder still. When she let me off her knee, I was a quivering mess, and I lay in a heap at her feet and sucked in deep breaths to calm myself and get ready for whatever she had in store for me next.

Back up on my feet, she tortured my nipples with clamps, which were set to tighten over the course of an hour. She sat in a red leather chair and masturbated with a vibrator while she watched my agony build, and she came three times while she watched me writhe and buck. I tried to flick my chest to loosen the clamps, but they had some kind of nano-filament that held them fast, which meant my attempts at escape only hurt me more. I could swear the moment I realised that was the moment Mistress Angelica had her most powerful orgasm.

I'm typing this on a virtual keyboard in my cage at night, with my fingers barely able to hit the keys, after the most painful and agonising twelve hours I've ever spent. If I ever doubted Mistress Angelica's absolute power before, I will never do so again. I begged her on hands and knees to never torture me like this again, but she just giggled and ordered me away. This won't be the last time.

Days 150-153

Mistress and I fucked like bunnies, and I reached thirty-five points just before I passed out from exhaustion in her bed. To my surprise, I woke up there the next morning, but she took away my orgasm for the impertinence and insisted I give her a whole extra day's worth of orgasms to earn mine. She still hasn't given me it -- apparently some friends are visiting tomorrow, and it can wait until then.

Day 154

My mistress's friends certainly know each other well. To say theirs is an intimate friendship would be an incredible understatement. One of them brought her male sex-slave, a temporary chattel like me, who I think is about the same age as my owner and the girls she knows, unless his age was just fixed to look that young. There are seven girls in total. With my mistress and the other slave-owner sitting to one side, the other five drew straws in tense, excited silence. One drew the long straw, jumped up in triumph, and left the other four kneeling clutching short straws.

Mistress Angelica quickly placed a camera in front of them, and called up a virtual enslavement centre. The kneeling girls all took temporary oaths of slavery, like mine but only for three days and with a much longer list of restrictions, including never leaving the mansion and there never being any record made of their activities. Just like that, they became the temporary property of my mistress and her two friends, who took them through into the bathroom, still clothed, and chained them in a row, their hands held high above their heads.

Their clothes were all expensive, high-quality, very stylish, but the mistresses still cut them off with shears and let the scraps fall in a heap around the temporary slavegirls, while I and the other male -- a nameless possession referred to by his owner simply as 'slaveboy' - watched. Despite their trembling and the stuttering way that the slavegirls said 'mistress', a word normally used to refer to themselves, not another, I could tell the girls were all getting into it. Perhaps they'd done this together many times.

When the slavegirls were all naked, Mistress Angelica handed the slaveboy and I shaving kits and told us to get the slavegirls' pussies bare. I lathered up a ginger girl's thick, luscious bush, and I used the special safety razor to strip every last bit of it away, until her smooth pussy glistened with the special aftercare oil I applied. The next slavegirl had a much darker complexion, with a mass of curly black hair on her pussy that I removed in just the same way, while she shook and sighed with every stroke of the razor.

Chained up and shaved bare, the slavegirls were collared, then Mistress Angelica inked a number onto the side of each of their thighs -- 1 through 4 -- which became the slavegirls' only names for the next three days. The three mistresses unchained them and led us all through into the pleasure room, which someone had reconfigured with an array of beds, sofas and chairs for us all to use.

My mistress took slavegirl 3, a curvy girl of Asian origin, and tied her to a bed to make love to her with a strapon. The mistress who had drawn the long straw, a tall, pale redhead, took slavegirl 4, a voluptuous brunette, and did the same. That left the other male's owner holding the leashes of slavegirls 1 and 2, who I had shaved. She took the second for herself, and gave the ginger slavegirl -- number 1 -- to myself and the other slaveboy, with orders to spitroast her right there on the floor until we all came.

I half expected her to bolt, but instead she dropped onto all-fours and opened her legs and mouth, a hungry look taking hold of her face. With our cock cages off, the two slaveboys instantly got hard, and we discussed what we should do while the slavegirl waited. I'd never had my cock in any girl's mouth, so the other male let me take that end while he penetrated the slavegirl's pussy with his long, thick cock.

What was on my mind as she took me in her mouth was how much of a Fucktoy I really was. There was nothing dominant in my mind as I spitroasted a slavegirl, just the certainty that I was there to serve as a living sextoy for the septet of women who'd come together to play a game of trust and pleasure. I wasn't playing any games, I realised. For me, slavery was a serious endeavour, a way of acknowledging the absolute superiority of the female sex, which I'd been foolish to deny myself the opportunity to do for so long. And a way of being me -- I almost feel like the person I'm supposed to be now.

I filled that slavegirl's mouth with great jets of cum, and she swallowed them down hungrily and kept sucking my cock until a mistress ordered her to stop. She moaned delightfully as the other slaveboy held her by the hips and fucked her hard and fast, and somehow he timed it so they came together, in one big burst of ecstasy. When they were finished, she sprang to her feet and kissed me, then we knelt side by side while the mistresses completed ravishing their slavegirls.

All the slavegirls wanted to know what it was like to have a male fuck their mouth, so the slaveboy and I had our nanites set to get our cocks hard again, and off we went. I took slavegirl 3 by the hair and gave her what she needed, never letting her pull away to get space in her mouth. A lot of slavery is like that -- not being able to stop, not being able to say no -- and I wanted her to get the right taste of it in the little holiday she was having in my life.

We left the slaveboy and slavegirl 4 face-fucking, and we were led downstairs to the wide, cool stone lobby for some obedience training. The mistresses put us through our paces with star jumps, sit-ups, push ups and all the exercises they could think of; the first to displease them was slavegirl 2, who addressed her temporary owners without adding 'Mistress' first. They chained her to the wall and flogged her breasts until she cried freely, and then they had me get her off with my tongue to calm her down. I couldn't tell if they were playing mindgames with her or if they just thought they'd gone too far with their friend. With a proper slave like me, they'd never have thought twice about whipping me to tears for such obvious disrespect.
Slaveboy and slavegirl 4 came down the stairs to find us all star jumping again, and they joined in so we were six slaves all together, while every part of us that could bounce did so, to our mistresses' great amusement.

The next game they played was to make the slavegirls fuck each other with double-ended dildos while they sat with the legs spread on the hardwood floor. The mistresses made liberal use of their crops and floggers to encourage any slavegirl they thought was flagging, and they made it so each girl came with all of the other slaves at least once, their cries of passion echoing all through the lobby.

The slaveboy and I had been chained to the wall to watch, with our collars set to mute our voices. They unchained us in time to fix lunch for the whole crew -- the household slaves had been sent away for the whole three days, so they didn't see women they'd have to address as 'mistress' playing at being slavegirls. They are playing, really. When I beg my owner for something, really beg, it's because I know she'll be controlling my world for long enough that I need, truly need, to beg. While an end is in sight, it's a lot further off than three days away.

Lunch was followed by more strapon fucking, this time in the luscious sitting room, draped over the furniture and making quite the mess. There was an odd slavegirl out again, so they made the other slaveboy fuck her while I stayed shackled and kneeling, with my hands locked behind my back. It's the feeling, the knowledge, that you can't escape and have completely surrendered that really makes a good slave, and I sat there reflecting on how normal it felt to me to have my whole body inescapably bound.

Next came a round of spankings that left all the slavegirls thanking their mistresses for two-hundred swats each on their lovely red bottoms. I thought slavegirl 4 got into it the best, for she asked her mistress to hit her harder and harder, until you could tell that she really felt every stroke. When, unbidden, she dropped to her knees, spread her legs, and kissed that mistress's feet when the spanking was over, I knew she was real slave material. The rest, not so much.

We went back up to the pleasure room and I passed most of the afternoon bringing mistresses and slavegirls off with my tongue, until our energy was completely gone and we all piled into a big hot-tub in the mansion's largest bathroom, which is done out in old-fashioned black and white tiles that clink and reverberate when anything solid taps against them. The slavegirls worked together to wash down the mistresses, and for the most part, the other slaveboy and I just watched. It wasn't our party.

Night-time swung around, and I was locked into a cage with slavegirl 4 in the room where all the participants slept together. She was the real natural of the group, who nestled in beside me and gratefully accepted the embrace I held her in. She tried to whisper questions to me about my life, but the sensors in her temporary collar picked it up and muted her voice. She trembled when it happened, and I held her tighter until the fear had passed, then I felt her twitch and shuffle as the arousal took her over. Her nimble fingers brought her off while her warm back pressed against me, my caged cock tucked in between her fine buttocks.

Day 155

When I woke, the slavegirls were already awake, and all clearly struggling with the fact their collars had muted their voices. Without unmuting any of us, we were ordered to go downstairs and make breakfast for everyone, then to serve it in the dining room. The slaveboy and I had to take over. It takes a lot of skill to communicate just through gesture and eye contact, especially to coordinate a meal for nine people, and these amateur slavegirls just didn't have it. They did at least get punished for their clumsiness with a quick paddling when one of the mistresses came to check on us.

The orgy continued much like the day before, but this time everyone had relaxed into their roles just a little more, especially slavegirl 4, who wanted everything a little harder or a little more real than the rest, and who started to copy the way I moved, spoke and acted as the day went on. I've never been a role model before, but I was pleased with how my little protégé behaved herself.

With two slavegirls to each slaveboy, it wasn't long until we'd split into threes, and I was chained down to a bed while one rode my face and the other my cock. All the mistresses masturbated while they watched the display, and they only let the slavegirls cum after they had, then they made the slavegirls chain me on all-fours and spitroast me with stim-strapons turned to shock mode.

The slaveboy, slavegirl 4 and I served an evening meal while three slavegirls knelt under the table, bringing off the mistresses to orgasm after orgasm all through the three courses and the final coffee. I showed slavegirl 4 how to serve while exposing herself to maximum effect, and the way the mistresses pinched and fondled her every time she bent down to see to their meal delighted her. After the meal was done, she hugged me in silent thanks, and I kissed her on the lips as my caged cock rubbed against her tight, hairless pussy.

Day 156

The mistresses took great pleasure in fucking their slavegirls in the arse today, which it seemed like the slavegirls really weren't expecting at all, judging from the way they thrashed and squirmed in their bonds. Perhaps the game will teach them something about being a slave after all. For their rude disobedience, the mistresses chained the slavegirls up in the pleasure room for an hour with vicious clamps tightened onto their erect nipples. While the tearful girls watched, the slaveboy and I showed them the right way to take it in the arse from a superior, and we were rewarded with intense, breathtaking orgasms for being good slaves.

It seemed like the mistresses were a little short on ideas after that, but they had the slavegirls lick them to multiple orgasms in all kinds of bondage, and gave them as many spankings as their little bottoms could take, until each of the slavegirls begged for mercy. I was delighted when the spankings continued anyway -- it gave them a real taste of my world.

Day 157

We bade goodbye to the girls -- no longer slaves and now fully clothed, in dresses even smarter and richer than those that had been cut from them just a few days before. There were a few hard feelings about how intense day 3 had got, from everyone except slavegirl 4, but the girls went into a room together and talked it all out, until they left with hugs and kisses and all seemed right again.

Mistress Angelica got me to clean up all the rooms we'd used before the household slaves returned, then she treated us both to an afternoon's rest, which we spent reading in the garden and watching entertainments on the big screen in the sitting room. In the big bed at night, I stroked her smooth flank as she drifted off to sleep, and I kissed the nape of her neck before I drifted off. The sleeping cage stayed empty.

Day 158-175

We did the same things we always did, but every time I earned enough points for an orgasm, Mistress Angelica added five more to the total I needed to get my next one. It was her way of motivating me to perform, and oh, how I've performed for her. I've already passed one of the two months she promised me with her, and I'm happy for her that she gets to move forward with her life soon -- university will be a great adventure for a woman like her. It leaves me wondering what will happen to me, but all I know is that she'll sell me again. Beyond that, who can say?

Day 176

Mistress Angelica's mother returned today. She doesn't have a slave of her own right now, and her daughter was gracious enough to offer her use of me whenever she wants, which her mother accepted with a smile. She wanted to show Mistress Angelica her new dresses, but since they take someone to help her get into, I was tasked with helping her while my mistress waited downstairs. Her mother -- Mistress Leah -- was out of her day clothes almost as soon as I'd shut her bedroom door, and she stripped right down in front of me without a thought.

Our world has no real nudity taboo, but some women still don't strip off readily in front of others. By 'others', I mean of course other free women, not others like me. She stalked around that room naked and confident, not caring at all that a slave should see her like this. We slaves see and hear all sorts of things, but it doesn't matter to anyone who counts, because to them, we don't count. We're part of the furniture. It's not an attitude I like in free-women, but Mistress Leah exudes it with everything she says to me or does in my presence.

She looked incredible in those dresses though -- they were real things of beauty, and she wore them perfectly, moving like a predator with them on. When the fashion show was finished, she borrowed me for a long session of facesitting, and I was amused to find she tasted just like her daughter, who looks so different from the curvy, greying woman who raised her. Mistress Angelica needed to assert ownership afterwards, so she chained me to a fucking bench and had me with her largest strapon until she was sweaty and sated.

Day 177

The household slaves are pleased to have their real mistress back, and they do most of the work keeping her happy, while I tend to the needs and wants of her daughter. We took a trip into the city, for my mistress to shop for her upcoming big move, halfway around the planet, which apparently will require an entirely new wardrobe. I don't think I've ever carried so many clothes or offered so many flattering -- and true -- opinions in my life. She really is beautiful.

Day 178

While Mistress Angelica reads up on her new courses, I work the tension out of her shoulders and help her relax during the many, many study breaks she takes. She has a one-track mind, really, so now I get why she won't be taking a slave with her -- too much of a distraction. Really she should wait a year or two and learn how to focus, but I'm in no position to tell her. If she asks my opinion -- though why would she -- I'll have to lie.

Day 179

One of Mistress Angelica's friends from the slavery escapades has come to stay for a few days. She made a beeline for me. In minutes, she had me on the leash, licking her arse while she stood in the middle of the torture room, this time fully-clothed in a red leather dress that really meant business. When her exquisite arse had had enough attention, she took out the largest strapon that can legally be used on me according to my contract, and she raped me brutally with it. Then she chained me up to the ceiling, pinched weighted clamps onto my nipples, and left me hanging there for hours, with my vocal cords muted so I wouldn't disturb the house. She never said why.

Day 184

She finally left, but I don't want to record any more about what she did with me. Suffice it to say I think she felt she had a score to settle, or a point to make, or she just wanted to make absolutely sure I'll always remember her as a dominant woman and not some naked slavegirl whose mouth I got to fuck. I listened hard and managed to piece together that she already has a slave to take with her when she goes to university. Thank the Goddess it won't be me.

Days 185-199

Mistress Angelica fucked me like her life depended on it, every which way she could, every place she could, for as many hours or days at a stretch as she could. An insatiable brat, a lustful goddess, and actually I think probably just clinging to something she knows before she leaves on the next step of her life. I struggle to empathise, because fears about independence aren't something I know -- I'm happy to be a slave, happy to go with life's flow when I'm out of contract and so not a slave. I didn't like her friends, but she has something in her -- she'll go far. But without me.

Day 200

165 days of my contract to go, and I've been sold again, this time to a private buyer who snapped me up after reading my previous owners' reviews and seeing something she liked. I'm being shipped slave-class, to an archipelago near the equator, where my new owner lives halfway up an extinct volcano.

Slave-class means a courier arrived at the mansion and packed me into a transparent crate, which had a full life-support and waste disposal system. I knelt down into it and the lid closed over me, the final seal on my time with Mistress Angelica. I've been passed along a chain of custody through half a dozen airports, freight terminals, and loading docks, sometimes alongside dozens of other slaves. The last few legs of the journey I took alone, and even in the crate I could feel the air getting warmer and smell the wonderful scent of the ocean.

The courier left me, crated and on display, on a little pier that nestled in the bay of the volcanic island, and I waited there contemplating what my third owner might be like and how I could serve her. It never occurred to me to struggle -- the crate was built to contain even the strongest of enhanced slaves easily, and my body only has normal strength. I just waited, calmly, like a good slave should, until a brunette with fine features on a well-toned frame sauntered into view and unsealed me.

She had me stretch out in front of her, while a few passersby looked on, and she grinned when she noticed my cock trying to get hard. I was surprised when she made my cock cage retract and fall off my body, and even more surprised when she had me fall to my knees right there on the dock, beneath the setting sun, to cum on her sensible suede boots. She accepted my thanks with the same salacious grin, then handed me a pair of shoes and led me on the long walk up to her cabin.

You could call it a cabin, but it bears little resemblance to the glorified shack I used to live in. Two bedrooms, a separate kitchen, generous bathroom and a wide, airy living room are all contained within its wooden walls, which are insulated with some high-tech substance that keeps the whole home at just the right temperature. My brand-new owner sprawled on her sofa, comfortable in her jeans and vest top, and she motioned me to sit in the armchair opposite. I kept my legs apart so she could see what she'd bought.

"Your papers say your name is Fucktoy, slave. Is that right?"

"Yes, mistress. My former owner thought it was appropriate."

"Well I can see where she was coming from, slave, but it's a preposterous name for a human being. What were you called before that?"

"Heath, mistress."

"Better, but not perfect. Before that?"

I told her my birth name and she rejected that too, then she questioned me about who I was, what I liked, how I chose to live, until we were talking about living high up and alone and the night sky grew darker and darker. She asked me what I thought my name should be, but the question floored me and I stammered into silence, so she took over and worked it out for me.

"Kyanite -- that'll be your name. It can be as blue as those pretty eyes of yours. Like it?" she said.

I did.

"Thank me for it, then," she said.

Her clothes came off quickly to my eager fingers, and I thanked her relentlessly until we collapsed in the big bed.

Day 201

I woke to breakfast in bed, which Mistress Kerry and I fed each other from our plates with laughs and kisses, until she was kissing me, then fucking me, my hands shackled to her bedposts and my cock behaving like it wanted nothing more than to be hers, hers, hers. We bathed in the hot spring that bubbles up behind the cabin, and I rubbed her shoulders while my owner told me all about her life, and I told her what little there was to tell about mine. I hope it's the first of many conversations. Even though I usually have little to say, I've missed having someone to really listen to.

She's some kind of writer -- not one I'd ever heard of but apparently pretty successful -- and she likes to live in seclusion where the words will flow more easily. She's been without a slave for a long while, after her last male disappointed her -- he was a woodsman rather than the mountain-boy she really wanted. My history on the mountainside triggered her alert, and she bought me out the moment I was put up for sale. I'm to keep the cabin in good order, to make her meals and stoke her fire, to relax her when the words won't flow and to stay out of the way when they will. It seems she can't abide chastity cages, so I'll usually be wearing stout boots and my collar, which she tells me makes me look like I belong here on the rich, dark skin of the volcano's side with her.

Day 202

I may not be called 'Fucktoy' anymore, but I still am one. Mistress Kerry had me worship her inside the cabin and out, then she took us on a long walk around the whole volcano, and we stopped frequently to make love, play with each other, or just to admire the view. She held my hand as we ambled along our way, and she squeezed it extra tight after every orgasm I gave her. Back at the cabin, I cooked as she wrote, then she watched me exercise in the little yard where she's set up a pull-up bar and some weights. I'm to build my muscles for her the natural way.

I could see her getting friskier and more agitated with every rep I did, and then she had to have me right there, pulling me down off the bar and sitting on my face until she screamed out an orgasm into the warm air and let me up. Then she wanted me inside her, so I took her on all-fours, with my hands clenched tight on her hips, and we fucked like animals until I was spent. Something about it must have inspired her, because while I bathed again, she rushed inside to write, and she was still going strong two hours later when I brought her lunch. She wrote well into the night, ceaseless and unselfconsciously nude, until I lulled her to sleep with my tongue on her arse.

Day 203

We strolled down to the village to buy food, then we ate a lazy lunch in a little cafe on the seafront, while tanned slavegirls waited on us and giggled whenever my mistress reached over to fondle me. It's a small island, and everyone seems to know how long she's been slaveless and horny. I must look a little odd, strolling around in collar and boots, with a free cock that seems to be hard half the time I'm with Mistress Kerry, but I don't mind the giggles. It's not like the city here -- there are no hidden agendas, no games being played, just honest and happy people living their lives.

In the city I got stressed when I could sense hundreds of eyes on me, thousands of thronged bodies all pressed in together. I think there might be a few thousand people all told on this island -- including slaves -- and probably a few tens of thousands through the archipelago. It feels fluid, easy to be a slave here, like I'm part of a well-functioning machine. Mistress Kerry seems to know I have needs, and I feel like she's always working out what they are, which marks her out from all my previous owners. Should I want for her to put my needs ahead of hers, or is that not what a good slave does? Either way, it's her choice.

Day 204

We fucked hard outside the cabin, while warm rain fell in sheets across our bodies and drenched Mistress Kerry's brown hair two shades darker, so that it fell over her breasts and dribbled water down them, which I swallowed up as I sucked her pert nipples. She straddled me and I held her light little body up against the wooden wall, and I made love to her like that, standing up and kissing while she squeezed her thighs tighter and tighter around my waist. After we came together, we held each other's gaze and laughed as the weather washed us clean.

Day 205

I don't know what threw me off more, breaking one of Mistress Kerry's plates on the kitchen tiles in a moment of carelessness, or how she laughed it off and didn't even punish me for the infraction. I shook as I stood there, and she drew me in close to her body and ran her fingers through my hair until I was still, then she hopped up onto the kitchen counter and opened her legs, to give us both something else to think about.
We talked about the incident once she'd calmed me down. I explained how I'd expected to feel the lash of her whip or the sting of the paddle, and she stood with a stony expression when I told her how many punishments and tortures my other owners had given me. She looked more and more downcast as I related all the things I'd been expecting from her. I realised as I talked that my words were hurting her -- she must have thought I thought she was just like all the other mistresses. I went for the direct approach

"But you're not like them, are you?" I asked, dropping her honorific to make the point.

"You weren't sure?"

"I'm sorry. Really, I am. I'm sure now, more sure than I've ever been."

"All right then."

In bed that evening, she had me worship every part of her body from her toes right up to the top of her head. I started with languorous kisses to her feet, which made her shiver all over, then I licked her toned carves and her powerful thighs. She called me a tease as I kissed all around her pussy, which she keeps covered in a full bush that smells to me like power and sex and divinity, and then she called me a slut as I licked her perfect arse until her breathing quickened.

With her hand on her clit, she had me kiss up her back, bit by bit, then I turned her over and she pleasured herself while I planted kisses on her flat stomach, all the way up to her erect nipples, then past them and on to her neck, which drew little moans of pleasure from her throat that I felt on my tongue. I stopped a while when I reached her lips, and she came while I kissed her deeply. I knew my orders, so I made sure to finish with kisses to her scalp while she rode out the last of her orgasm, which earned me a reward of an orgasm by her warm, strong hand that she gave me lying alongside me, once she'd chained me to the bed.

Day 206

Mistress Kerry decided to spank me today. She dressed in the same jeans and top that she wore the first day I met her, and had me over her knee while she sat on a chair in the cabin's big living room. It was a maintenance spanking, just an owner's way of reminding her slave what he is, rather than a punishment, but that didn't stop her putting plenty of force into it. My bottom burned red after just a few minutes, but my mistress was relentless in her discipline and I must have stayed bent over her knee, with my arse up in the air, for a long half hour while she hit me again and again.

She ordered me into the living room corner and had me kneel, facing the wall, there to think about my slavery while she got busy writing. My knees started to ache after a while, and I realised Mistress had quite forgotten I was there, awaiting her order to move. I had no choice but to remain there, with my legs apart and my hands on my head, like the good and obedient slaveboy I wanted to be for her. The pain in my legs grew from an ache to a white-hot agony, and I bit back my cries and whimpers until one slipped out and Mistress turned to me.

The look on her face showed me she thought -- knew -- she'd done something wrong, but a good owner can't apologise to their property, so she stood a while wondering what to do, then ordered me into the bedroom to lie face down on the bed. There she chained me in a spread-out star, then without a word she lubed up a strapon and climbed on top of me. Her fingers threaded through my collar and she penetrated me from behind, then laid her bare chest down on my back and covered my head with her long, fragrant hair.

She slid one hand under me, to hug me tight, while the other kept hold of my collar, and she fucked me slowly. I gasped when she set the strapon to emit stim pulses, and I groaned my way towards a helpless slave orgasm as my owner penetrated me again and again, every thrust like a gift from the Goddess herself. My orgasm wasn't enough to make her stop, and she held me even tighter until I'd had a second, which washed away all the pain and worry of the spanking and the corner-time. Her fingers caressed my hair, and her cock stayed inside me, making me feel helpless and owned and complete. She even found an excuse to cook me dinner -- I don't think a woman's ever cooked for me before.

Day 209

We settled into a pattern, Mistress Kerry and I -- she writing and I silently busying myself seeing to her needs, which don't tax me to take care of. I'm going to like it here. It's so hot here that my nanites barely ever kick in to warm me, and it's so quiet, that I can finally be alone with my thoughts. It took me by surprise when Mistress Kerry asked me how I'd like to spend my time, and she laughed her clear, beautiful laugh when I told her I wanted to walk the landscape and get to know it. Apparently that's fine, so three days a week, I'll set out on walks and see what there is to see. The only trade off is that I have to write her a description of what I find. She wants to see the island through my eyes, she says.

Day 220

We took a rowboat across the crystal water and made our way, just the two of us, to a secluded beach on a tiny islet, which let us face out to the ocean, hidden away from the main island where we live by a sandy hill covered in seagrass. I massaged Mistress Kerry's naked body while she asked me questions about being a slave. What it was like, what it felt like, how it was to have someone change your name -- did it change your identity to?

I couldn't quite answer that one. Everything an owner does to me refines me or twists me. With my first two owners, I was always in a spin, never quite fitting into the dynamic that their household depended on. They brought out the slave in me, but they didn't truly need or cherish me. They used me, just like my previous mistress had when she'd made me her Fucktoy. At least she was honest about it. But with Mistress Kerry? I feel naturally hers. She went very quiet when I told her that, then she drew me down to the ground and we made love, over and again, until I barely had the energy to row us home.

Day 221

We met some of Mistress Kerry's friends, who came up the volcano's side in a gaggle of mostly naked flesh, clearly at home in the warm air and hot sun. There were three free-women, a slavegirl and a slaveboy in the group, and I set out table and chairs outside the cottage, with a full spread of food and drinks. I made it so the table was in sight of the hot spring that sits near the cottage, and we spent the day moving between the two.

The slaveboy and slavegirl came to join me in the hot spring while the free-women took a walk around the volcano side. The slaveboy was young, almost fresh from the grouphome where he'd lived until turning eighteen, and he was doing the classic year-in-slavery that a lot of men like him use to kill time and earn a little money before they made any real life decisions. He looked healthy, relaxed, but a little awkward and uncertain.

The slavegirl turned out to be one of Mistress Kerry's oldest friends. They'd been free-women together at university some fifteen years before, when Sweetness -- that was her slave-name -- had been diagnosed with slavery denial disorder and enslaved for two years. She'd never looked back, and was now the lifelong slave-wife of one of the women they were visiting with, an older mistress with a beautiful curvy body called Sanna. She told me all about what Mistress Kerry had been like at university -- Sweetness had still finished her degree, just as a slave -- and we laughed at their bizarre youthful exploits.

When our mistresses returned, the slaveboy's two owners offered him to Mistress Kerry, but she declined. They seemed surprised, until she beckoned me over to where she sat and started to kiss me. Then they just smiled, real warmth and love there on their faces, and got their slaveboy to come entertain them while Sanna and Sweetness just lay in the hot spring and watched.

Mistress Kerry never offered my body or my 'services' to her friends, and they offered her their slaves a few more times each. She turned the slaveboy down flat, but there was something that it seemed Sweetness really needed from her. Kerry looked at me, raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly. I was shocked to realise she was asking me permission, then overjoyed. Our connection was real and she respected it. That was enough for me. I nodded, just a little.

Mistress Kerry turned her attention to Sweetness. She had the slavegirl kneel on the ground before her, then she ordered Sweetness to masturbate while the slavegirl explained, over and over, how she was inferior to the other free-women there, and how happy that made her. Once Sweetness had panted out a cute little orgasm on the ground, Mistress Kerry took her old friend over her knee and gave her a sound spanking until the slavegirl cried grateful tears.

We all returned to the hot springs after that, and it was well past midnight when our guests left to return down the volcano, where an air-taxi waited to take them to their hotel. Mistress Kerry and I cleaned up together, then we flopped down into her bed and let the exhaustion take us. Her skin was beautiful, rich and warm against mine.

Day 240

We've had no more guests for a while, but today was the global Festival of Matriarchy, and so Sweetness and Mistress Sanna came to join us for the festivities. As the festival requires, Sweetness and I were completely naked, and decked out in chains and shackles that made our status overpoweringly obvious. Kerry lubed up a buttplug and slipped it inside me, then she activated it, making it grow so large that it felt like my insides might burst. She picked up the long chain connected to my collar, and led me carefully down the volcano until we found ourselves in the thronged town square, squeezed in tight with all the other naked slaves and their clothed owners.

We watched the festivities unfold together, her hand always tight on my leash or resting on my backside to let everyone know she was my owner. Sanna and Sweetness were the same, inseparable, at peace together. There were shows of slave dancing, of whipping and fucking, and a ceremony where three new priests of the Matriarchy received their ceremonial collars and then were raped by a High Priestess with her ceremonial strapon and cutting whip.

Mistress Kerry took us all on a tour of the island on a ponyboy-pulled cart, and I admired the grace that the two stallions showed under her lash. I sat next to Kerry on the front seat while Sanna and Sweetness played together in the back. It was enough for me to just be with Kerry, to let her guide my day and my life, and to let her dictate the order of the day.

We ate lunch as part of a massive picnic, then we took part in the Great Facesit, where millions of mistresses across the world facesat their slaves at the same time. Mistress Kerry's hairy pussy on my tongue tastes better than even the finest, sweetest picnic, and I kept licking her long after she came just to savour her being there.

After that, we watched some punishments in the town square, but they weren't doing much for any of us, so we queued up for the fucking benches, and Mistress Kerry took out my buttplug and then strapped me down, before violating me with a ceremonial strapon. Its stim pulses were set to drive me wild but not let me cum, and I was a panting, horny mess by the time she was done with me.

The festival went on in that fashion until we found ourselves on the beach, with a thousand other mistresses and slaves, all watching the sunset together and waiting for the festival to formally end. I'd told my owner about my fear of crowds and she held my hand to connect me to her; it was enough to make all the difference. As the sun got lower, Mistress Kerry cuddled up close to me, her hot flank warming me even more than the sand, so that everything felt right and good, and I knew I needed nothing more from life than this. She whispered into my ear.

"Kyanite, how about you extend your contract with me by one more full year, my darling?"

"How about two, mistress?" I whispered back.

She nodded and I kissed her sweet lips, savouring the taste and burning the memory into my mind.