Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Roselia bolted awake with a start as the blaring sound of her alarm filled the room. For a moment, she had no idea where she was as she sat up straight, heart pounding. Gradually, she remembered everything that had happened last night—the ceremony, the presentation of the slaves, the transfer of her ownership to her new Master, the drive to his estate, his rules, and the collar now circling her neck.

She could make out the room well enough from the light of the moon and stars coming in from the window, but it was still dark outside. She reached up to adjust the collar. It was heavy and annoying. It represented her place in this world as ranking at the same level as a pet dog.

The collar would be a constant reminder that she was a prisoner in her Master's home. She had no rights. No freedom. She would be punished in ways that made her shudder if she misbehaved or made a mistake.

Her Master had given her so many instructions last night that she was concerned she might not remember them all. She did know she had fifteen minutes to get up, dress in her uniform, and put her hair in pigtails. That last request was weird. He liked her to look innocent and young, she supposed.

Youthful looks seemed to have been the theme among the slaves Master J trained. She thought all the other women had also been close to her age, in their early twenties. She suspected they'd all been chosen not just for their virginity but also for their small bodies.

Though Roselia had never dared utter more than a few passing words to the other women, she was very familiar with their bodies. All six of them had been similar—petite with small breasts and nipples, long hair, and flawless skin. She had no idea what any of their names were. They would never have risked sharing those details with each other, but she knew their breasts and nipple sizes because Master J liked to make them hold their arms up in an inspection pose so he could measure them. Who measured nipples?

He also permitted them to eat just enough to maintain a low body weight while not keeping them from being able to build strong muscles so they could hold ridiculous poses for hours at a time.

Roselia hurried to get out of bed. She found the light switch on the wall and flipped it on, illuminating the room with the bare bulb that hung high above her head. After quickly resetting the alarm for five the next morning, she made the bed, rushed into the bathroom, peed by herself for the second time in months, brushed her teeth, and combed out her hair.

It took her a bit longer than expected to part it and put it up in pigtails. She hadn't worn it like that since she'd been a toddler. By the time she was done and returned to the bedroom, she only had five minutes to spare, and she still needed to get dressed.

Roselia opened the closet and froze. She blinked several times, hoping her eyes were playing tricks on her. She'd expected some sort of maid uniform, but she hadn't expected it to look like the sort of maid costume a stripper would wear.

There were five of them lined up on hangers. Nothing else was in the closet. Just five identical "uniforms" that would be far more humiliating to wear than remaining naked.

Time was ticking. If she was late the first morning, her Master would not be pleased. She snagged one of the hangers, unfastened the lace from the two clips holding it up, and stared at it. "Shit," she murmured.

It was black and white. Mostly see-through lace. She realized it was a corset, and when she held it up to her body, she groaned. Luckily it fastened up the front, so she wrapped it around herself, latched all the eye hooks, and stood there shaking.

She couldn't do this. No way. It hugged her torso so tightly she would have trouble bending. The top was nothing more than a shelf bra. White lace lifted her small breasts but left her nipples completely exposed. The corset extended down to just above her bare mound, the stays in the center creating a point that seemed like an arrow leading directly to her sex. Sheer black lace hung like a skirt on both sides of the corset at her hips, but it didn't cover her exposed sex or her bottom.

Roselia's mouth grew dry. She'd had no idea what to expect from her new Master, but this hadn't occurred to her. He wanted her to cook and clean all day in this uncomfortable corset made of wires and lace…? It was so demeaning, especially with the huge collar and the pigtails. The white and black lace was sewn into a pattern that made it look like a maid's outfit with an apron. It even had a white bow at the small of her back, right above her butt crack.

Tears slid out of her eyes, and she held her breath, willing them to stop. So much had happened to her in the past few months. She often wished her abductor had killed her instead of turning her over to Master J. Would her life be worse now that she was with her new Master?

It was difficult to hold on to hope, and her despair at the moment was at an all-time low. Plus, it was sixteen minutes after six.

She wanted to tear the stupid degrading corset off, climb back under the covers, and wait for her Master to come to punish her. At this point, what difference would it make? She was already late.

Drawing in a deep breath, she resolved herself to face her fate, turned, and fled the room. She was barefoot. He hadn't left her any shoes. She supposed she should be grateful. It would be worse if he expected her to spend all day in this demeaning outfit while also wearing spike heels.

After running down the two flights of stairs, she stepped into the kitchen, winded and nervous. She immediately came to a stop when she found her Master sitting at the breakfast nook. He was leaning back casually in his chair with his laptop open in front of him.

He stared at her far too calmly and tapped his lips. "Let me count your infractions so far this morning."

She sucked in a breath, parted her legs, and clasped her hands behind her back. Maybe her wait position would at least cause him to be lenient.

"First, you wasted too many minutes sitting in your bed before getting up. If that's going to be a problem, you'll need to set your alarm for four fifty. Second, it took you too long to do your hair. I expect you to practice it over and over tonight until you can get it right in far less time. Third, you spent way too much time staring into the closet. I'll give you a pass on that one since you might not have been familiar with corsets before. I gathered from watching you put it on that you weren't sure how they fit. Don't let that happen again. Fourth, you will not speak out of turn even when you are alone, and you most certainly will not cuss for any reason. Fifth, you will not run in the house. Make sure you are always on time so you do not need to. Sixth, you're late."

She silently admonished herself for not controlling her outburst and the word that slid out of her mouth when she'd opened the closet. She should have known better. She should have known he would have been watching and listening to her every move this morning.

Roselia cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, Sir. It won't happen again."

"Did I ask you to speak, girl?"

She flinched. Shit . "No, Sir."

"I do not require an apology. When you disobey me, you will be appropriately punished. No apology is necessary. I will not accept excuses. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Sir," she murmured.

He stared at her, making her realize she was looking at him, too. She lowered her gaze.

"Come here, girl. Let me look at you." His voice was calmer, though he had an eerily calm voice most of the time. It grated on her nerves already.

She shuffled closer, keeping her feet wide, her hands behind her back, and her shoulders pulled back.

"Lower your arms and turn around in a slow circle."

She did as she was told.

"Good. The uniform fits perfectly. The stays will help you maintain good posture. I don't allow slouching. They will also help you bend to lower and rise with a straight back. Use your leg muscles to lift things, not your back."

She didn't respond. She needed to be careful to only respond to questions.

"Step closer, girl."

She sucked in a breath as she took another step toward him. He could reach out and touch her. Less than a foot separated them.

"Inspection," he demanded.

She lifted her arms and clasped her fingers behind her head. Her heart was racing. Her humiliation was thorough.

He stared at her breasts for a long time, his fingers curling into fists in his lap. Finally, he leaned to one side, lifted a hip, and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a white tube of something and held it out to her. "Put a line of this on your fingers and rub it into your nipples."

Trembling at the odd request, she lowered her arms, took the tube, and squeezed a line of the clear gel onto her fingers.

"That should be enough." He took the tube from her. "Transfer some to your other pointer and use just your pointers and thumbs to rub it into your nipples."

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry .

Roselia did as she was told, fear making her throat tight.

"Rub it in, girl. Be quick. Pinch and twist them to make sure it soaks in."

She gritted her teeth as she obeyed him. She hadn't touched her nipples in a long time. This was so foreign to her.

"That's enough."

She dropped her arms.

"Clasp your hands behind your back."

She trembled violently as she did so, but he didn't comment on her shaking.

He leaned back and stared at her again.

She tried not to shift her weight. It was hard to remain still. In about thirty seconds, the gel began to heat, making her nipples tingle and throb uncomfortably.

"That's better," he declared. "Most of the time, your tits will stay hard on their own in this house. I want to see hard points. I will ask you to apply the stimulant throughout the day because it pleases me to watch you rub your tits and then see the result. You will not touch them in between for any reason. I know they feel warm and tingly. The stimulation probably transfers to your pussy. Are you wet, Lily?"

She swallowed hard. "Yes, Sir," she whispered.

"Louder, girl. Is your cunt wet?"

She hated him more than Master J at that moment—more than anything else that had happened to her so far.

He leaned forward so his face was inches from hers. "Is my little slave's cunt wet from playing with her nipples?"

"Yes, Sir." She hated herself, too. She hated how he could manipulate her body and force it to do things against her will. She hated how many men had done so in the past months. She wished she had more self-control, but she apparently did not. Maybe she was a slut. They all certainly told her so often enough.

Her Master pointed toward the corner of the room. "See that cane? Get it for me."

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry .

Roselia hurried across the room. She could hardly convince her hand to pick up the cane, knowing he was probably going to use it on her. Master J had not struck her ever. Things were going to change now.

When she returned, she handed him the cane.

"Pull out a chair, lean over it, plant your hands on the seat. I want your bottom high, feet wide, heels planted. I'm only going to give you one stripe with the cane this morning. I will not go easy on you. It will be hard, painful, and leave a red welt across your bottom. It will hurt all day, reminding you to do better tomorrow. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Sir." She braced herself. He'd said he would only strike her once. Surely, she could endure one strike.

"When I discipline you, you will participate in your punishment so that I'm clear you understand why I'm punishing you. Why have you required me to cane your bottom this morning, Lily?"

She shuddered at his choice of words and rushed to answer him. "Because I was late, I took too long getting ready, I ran through the house, and I cussed."

"Good. Ask me to cane your naughty bottom."

A sob escaped, and her entire body shook.

"I'm waiting, Lily. Would you rather I strike you twice? I can have you turn around and land the second strike across your tits."

She gasped. "Please cane my naughty bottom, Sir."

"Good. Feet flat. Don't move."

A second later, she heard the whistle of the cane a moment before it struck her. Excruciating pain radiated through her butt cheeks, down her legs, and up her back. She'd never felt anything so painful in her life.

She thought she might pass out from the pain. Was she bleeding? Surely, he'd broken the skin.

"Take a moment to pull yourself together, girl. I'll be in my study. I expect breakfast in the dining room in thirty minutes."

She sniffled as quietly as possible as he left the room. It took her several more seconds before she was able to push herself to stand, and she did so, wincing. She didn't dare turn around to look at her bottom. It throbbed, but she decided it wasn't bleeding. It didn't feel wet.

Trying to catch her breath, she shuffled toward the binder on the counter. She had thirty minutes to fix breakfast. She certainly knew how to cook, but she had no idea where anything was in this kitchen yet, and she was going to be distracted the entire time by her swollen, tingly nipples and the welt pulsing on her ass cheeks.

As if reminding her she was not human, the collar weighed heavily against her neck, making her aware of her pulse point after the adrenaline rush.

She'd thought she'd lived in hell with Master J. This new Master might prove to be even more ruthless and demanding. He obviously intended to add physical punishment to her torment.

The only thing baffling her was that he still hadn't touched her. He hadn't even put that ointment on her himself. He'd made her do it. Was he fucking with her psychologically? Or did he not intend to touch her?

She wouldn't allow herself to hope that would be the case. When she least expected it, he would undoubtedly spring it on her, demanding that she open his pants and suck his cock before fucking her virgin hole in some demeaning position that would destroy her.

Don't think about his penis. Focus on breakfast .