Mature Content

The Schism

Part 10

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I knelt on the glossy floor of the immaculate playroom. Everything gleamed, even our host's famula, a white haired siren clad in a black and red latex ensemble. I was unsure of the protocol regarding other Demonia's famula. Ruth hardly counted as she was famula to my owner's mother. But I was hoping I would get to play with her, she looked like she would be fun in bed. This may sound foolish or odd, but after decades enslaved in Eastern Europe, a famula who spoke English with an American accent seemed extremely exotic.

We were staying at Narlinea's demesne, an amazing modern mansion, situated near the outskirts of a small town, on the east coast of the United States of America. My love had flown us all over by private jet. Landing at a small airfield where the customs officers were under the sway of a local dominatrix. They had turned a metaphorical blind eye to the slaves after a thick plain brown envelope had been handed over. Though they had a hard job keeping their actual eyes off the gaggle of naked slave girls, as they disembarked from the plane and piled into the minibus provided.

The children had been flown ahead and were waiting with Willa. Willa was bumbling around wide-eyed in amazement at all that had changed since she was collared; I think Pan Am had just started up with Boeing 707 planes, and the Berlin wall had yet to be built when she was collared. My own culture shock gave me an inkling of what Willa was going through. But the slave was constantly stunned at all that had changed.

This was part of the reason we were staying with Narlinea. I had to learn to run a demesne in America. I may be fluent in English, but most of the slaves were not. Plus, as I hailed from Britain, there were many things I had to learn too. Hence the stay with an American famula.

The Americans were all very friendly, and the kennel was as modern and shiny as the playroom I now knelt in. No bare stone walls, or dark gloomy cells. Here bright colours dominated and the slaves were each kept in a gleaming cage with a memory foam mattress. The furnishings throughout the property were, as I was told, ultra-modern. There was even a computer listening all the time, who you could ask to turn on the lights or tell you the time. It did other things too, but not for me. It also insisted on calling me Slave Sydney, and not just Sydney, no matter how I asked.

My love and Mistress Narlinea were playing with, or should that be feeding from, a thrall. An Italian gentleman, with a kink for fur, judging by the outfit Mistress Narlinea wore. He was suspended in a complicated metal frame that seemed able to pose him however was needed. The huge red ball gag jammed in his mouth kept his involuntary squeals of distress muted, as the whips beat out a rhythm on his flesh.

Mistress Narlinea turned to Claudia and me, "Girls, we are going to be some time with this morsel. Just send Nita in, in a fur coat, on your way out. Claudia, why don't you show Sydney the twins?"

So it was that half an hour later I found myself sitting across from Claudia while identical twins worshipped our privates with their tounges. My girl, I think her name was Izzy, was very skilled. I found myself reflecting that two decades naked in chains seemed a fair price to pay considering how things were now turning out.

"Would you mind if I asked you some questions, Sydney?" Claudia's question caught me off guard, and very preoccupied with Izzy's glorious tongue. I simply nodded.

"Do you miss your family?"

That brought me back to the here and now. I gently pushed Izzy away and thought about it some, then replied, "You were caught and turned almost straight away weren't you? It was very different for me. Mistress Vanda kept me naked in chains, locked away in her dungeon for my first twenty years. I did have pangs of homesickness. Cried myself to sleep on more than one occasion. But that all seems so long ago now."

"Oh, I see."

"Now, well... If anyone who knew me saw me now they would not believe I was who I claimed. I was collared in nineteen eighty; I've not aged in over forty years."

"I still have trouble with that. It's one thing being told... I met another famula. Her collar had been made by Faberge. Can you believe that? There are people walking this earth old enough to remember historical figures. Or that two hundred years from now someone may ask me what Trump was really like."

"Don't get me started on politics. I'm still mad about Margaret Thatcher!" We both laughed and it was at that moment I decided Claudia and I were going to be really good friends. "Besides," I continued, "Mistress Narlinea seems to be doing things differently here. Now the schism in the males is resolved secrecy may no longer be their chief concern." Claudia nodded and smiled at that, and then looked down at the slave at my feet.

"Is Izzy not pleasing you?"

"The opposite. She is so good I could not concentrate on your questions."

"Enjoy the slave then, and I'll be quiet," Claudia smiled. "Afterwards we can go see if our owners want any help tormenting the young man in their thrall."

Final Chapter