Pet knelt and watched Mistress Lois eat. She had stopped being jealous of the food Mistress ate months ago. She and Mouse ate the tinned slop called slave food. Mistress ate what she liked. Tonight what Mistress liked was filet mignon with a peppercorn cream sauce, french fries and green vegetables. Which was a pity as Mistress never left any scraps from such a meal. Pet and Mouse had become connoisseurs of the rinds of a pork loin or chop, Jacket Potato skins, lumps of gristle and other unpalatable (to Mistress anyway) scraps of food. For as grim as they were, they were still much better than the disgusting gag-inducing shit that fell out of a tin labelled slave food.
Mistress was only halfway through her meal but Pet watched intently in case she was summoned. Pet considered Mistress Lois to be a sweet gig. Her previous owners had all been cruel, monstrous creatures. Mistress treated Mouse and herself as animals. They were slaves and Mistress made sure they knew it. Discipline was harsh but never handed out undeserved. The rules were strict and Mistress enforced them without pity or favour. Pet was a sex toy. Pet was a servant. Pet was a confidant. Pet was a slave. What Mistress Lois did not think Pet was, was a punching bag, a football or a set of fuckable holes.
Even being Mistress Lois' sex toy was not so bad. Obviously, as a slave, there was never any consent sought. Mistress did have a sadistic streak, but she did not let it out when she was angry. Being whipped meant you were likely to be fucked to climax by an improbably large strap-on when Mistress was in the mood to play rough. Mostly though she was happy to receive the ministrations of Mouse or Pets tongues. She'd had both of their tongues pierced as soon as she bought them so they could service her to her satisfaction.
Most sexual escapades started with Mistress commanding the two slaves to dress each other in latex and corsets and fuck while she watched. Often she would just rub one off while the two slaves writhed together in front of her. Sometimes she would join in.
But whatever Mistress did it nearly always entailed or incorporated latex rubber. Mistress loved rubber. Mistress loved dressing in rubber. Mistress loved dressing her slaves in rubber. Unlike her past owner's Mistress never shed her outdoor clothes after returning from work. She slept in latex. Worked in it and lived in it too. Necessity may have required her to wear it to live. But her infatuation with the material ran deep.
It was not an infatuation Pet shared. But sex in latex was far far better than being beaten with a bat before being choked unconscious on her owner's cock. All things considered, Mistress Lois was a kind and considerate owner. Pet new how she felt about her owner. Pet knew though that she needed Mistress to love her slave. Else, when her looks began to fade Pet could find herself on the auction block once more. So Pet tried hard to please. Pet was eager. Pet was keen. Pet strived to love latex too.
It hadn't always been like this. Her past self would probably be disgusted with what she had become. But hard choices and bad luck had forced her down a road she had tried to avoid. Pet had once been called Carol. The youngest child of three sisters. Born in 2002 she had been eighteen when COVID-19 hit. Back home from university with her parents, she had been dismayed when the lockdown meant she had to stay home with them.
Mum and dad had been so proud of her getting to Uni. The first in the family to do so. Dad was a mechanic, mum a waitress. They were proud of their council house. Mum kept it immaculate, and dad loved his garden. Dad loved his stout and mum loved with food. Carol was the only member of the household who watched her figure. There had been no stigma to being large in the Jones's house. But Purity, or COVID-20, had not cared.
Dad died first. Mum passed two days after. All the family savings went on their funerals. Purity had come out of nowhere. Gloves and masks had been insufficient. Social distancing had not worked. June's husband had phoned a week after mums funeral to say she was in intensive care. Jenny came home, dodging curfew, arriving with a temperature of 39.4ºC. The ambulance took her way three days later. The hospital rang four days after that with the worst news.
The council wanted the house back. Needed it for a family. A family home was not to be squandered on a single unemployed female. Carol tried to get in touch with June or her husband. Getting no answer she had made her way there. The house was empty. Desperate she broke in. She squatted there for a week before the police came and threw her out.
It was summer and she slept rough under a bridge until she was attacked and nearly raped. She tried going back to her parent's house to find another family there. Once friendly neighbours turned the filthy unclean young girl away.
She lived rough for another six months. Eventually, starving, cold and at the end of her rope, she had walked into the high street office of a bondsman. Four months ago the government had stopped paying the dole. Welfare for students and others who had never worked ended at the same time.
If you could not support yourself you offered yourself to the bondsman. They would pay your debts, settle any fines and place a sum in escrow which you would receive when your contract expired. But until that day you were theirs. They had to house you and feed you. They had to seek medical support if you fell ill. But if you died while indentured your owner kept your bond. Old slaves were worked hard and fed poorly.
The bondsman had looked at Carol with contempt.
"When did you last eat, girl?"
"I think a week ago."
"I can believe it. And the meal before that was probably a fortnight in the past. Hmm... Forty years and no limits."
"What! I'm debt-free, clean record, and immune to Purity, how the Hell do you figure?"
"I doubt the last, I don't care about the first two. Forty years or stop stinking up my office."
"Why?"
"You'll need feeding and clothing. Probably a doctor. There's quarantine, plus training to consider too. If you had come here well fed once you lost your home or job I would have negotiated. May have considered twenty years if you were young and pretty."
"I am young. I am pretty."
"Before me is a malnourished pathetic and haggard woman. You look like you smell. You actually make me glad of this gasmask. Forty years or get out of my office. Try your luck with someone else if you like but I don't think you'll do any better elsewhere. Hell, they would probably kick you out for time-wasting."
Carol had considered her options. There were none. If she left this office she knew she would starve. Desperately she tried at least to haggle on behalf of her future self.
"How much in escrow?"
"Fifty."
"No way! I'm going to need to be able to live on the bond. Two fifty."
"In your dreams. It's fifty or get out. Girl you don't get to come and haggle when you have nothing. Now, are you going to sign or leave?"
"I'll sign," sighed a defeated Carol.
"Okay hand over any plastic you have."
"I don't. Sold them about a month ago."
"That was a mistake. If they've been used fraudulently you are liable. Name and last official address?"
Carol gave the information. He typed it in and peered at his monitor.
"You think you are debt-free? You had two sisters, June and Jenny? A brother in law too?"
"Yes."
"All dead, you are liable for their funeral expenses. Plus your cards were used to run up some small debts. You are wanted for illegally selling them. In light of all this, it's going to be fifty years, Carol."
"Whatever." Carol was crushed. The conformation her family was dead. That the state wanted her as a criminal. That she was alone. Why fight it anymore?
A long sheet of paper was printed out. The man offered her the opportunity to read it. She declined and asked for a pen. Carol Jones sold herself into fifty years of slavery for the promise of fifty thousand pounds in fifty years. She would be sixty-nine years old by then. She doubted she would live to see it. They took her name first. She became Slave 3168, or in the training classrooms Number sixty-eight.
She had been ushered into a windowless room. A woman in white latex and a mask had ordered her to strip. Her clothes were removed and clippers were produced. Carol had her head, armpits, and bush shaved. She was then led to a shower block and given a bar of caustic smelling soap.
Stepping, clean for the first time in months, from the shower she was lent a towel. Once dry they took blood samples from her. Then, still nude, she was led to a cell into which she was locked. A tray of food, stew and some bread, was slid under the door after about an hour.
She stayed in the cell for three weeks. No exercise was allowed. The food never changed. They were waiting to see if she fell ill. The blood test showed she had not had Purity. But if she had it or something else? The company did not trust the tests. It mutates. Three weeks in isolation was a sure way to ensure your stock was disease-free.
The training was harsh. The instructors liked using their crops and cattle prods. How to speak. How to cook. How to clean. How to fuck.
The auction block was a bare stage, bright lights and an audience of a hundred or so. Naked with her hands cuffed behind her she was led out locked in a collar and led by a leash. She stared out at the crowd all dressed in latex and wearing gas masks. The bidding started at sixty thousand. It stopped at sixty-five.
She was bought by a family. Resented by the wife, who beat her for fun, the husband skull fucked her nightly. The kids were hellions who thought throwing darts at her while she cleaned was entertaining. The wife made the husband sell her after two weeks.
Her next Master was a single man who hated his job. He worked from home. He had lost all those he loved and who loved him. He had bought her as sexual relief but took out his frustrations and anger on her too. Twice he put her in hospital. The company came and collected her after he was arrested for starting a fight at a superstore. He was selling her to pay his legal costs.
Mistress Lois bought her and took her home via a piercing clinic. Sore and terrified that she may again be owned by yet another sexual monster, she had shivered in fear as Mistress shaved her smooth, bar her eyebrows.
Long rubber gloves and stockings were gently polished to a lustrous shine. A heavy and tight steel collar was closed around her throat with an ominous click. Then she was introduced to another slave dressed the same as she was. She was called Mouse and she was shyly smiling. Mistress told Carol she was now called Pet. A tender kiss. Gentle lovemaking. Pet cried with happiness when Mistress made her cum.
Pet watched Mistress finish her meal. Mistress smiled at Pet as she collected the plate.
"Tell Mouse that was lovely, Pet."
"Yes, Mistress."
"Once the kitchen is clean I want the pair of you to join me in the bedroom. Suits and hoods on too."
"Yes, Mistress," purred Pet in delight.
Later, slick with sweat under latex, Pet snuggled into her owner's shoulder. A tether snaked from her collar to the headboard of the bed. On the other side of her supine owner, her sister slave mirrored her position.
"Mistress?"
"Yes, Pet?"
"Mistress, I love you."
"You do? Really?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"Oh, but you are a slave. I'm your owner. Don't you resent that?"
"No, Mistress."
"Mouse, how do you feel about me?"
"I too love you, Mistress. I love Pet as well. I am happy in your collar. I did not feel it needed to be said though."
"Wow! I'd not expected that. Is this like a dog, loving its owner, do you think, Pet?"
"Perhaps, I don't know, Mistress. I don't love you because you own me. I have not loved my previous owners. I love you, Mistress, because you care for me and Mouse."
"I see. I'll have to think about that. I'm glad you are happy, girls. If this is sweet talk hoping for freedom you're going to be disappointed. I'm not that wealthy. You two cost me an arm and a leg. The collars are staying on."
"No, Mistress. Like Mouse, I am happy to be in your collar. I'm happy to be your slave."
"I see, well that's lovely. Now quiet the pair of you. I need to sleep and if you can't be hush I'll have to send you to your cages."
"Yes, Mistress, goodnight, Mistress," uttered the two slaves in unison.
Lois squeezed the two latex clad slaves in response. She was loved again? By her girls, her slaves. That was nice. They were smooth and shiny. They looked so hot and sexy gimped up in rubber. Happy in their collars? What a way to say it. She supposed she loved them too. They were definitely obedient and submissive and both had wicked tongues. A good thing they were happy collared. She had no intention of ever letting them go.