See chapter 1 for comments.
Requiem For A Slave—Chapter 3 of 4
Elder...
I know, I can call you ‘sister’. I am honored to be able to call you sister, I am honored to be equal to you in Master’s service.
I will never be equal to you.
I have looked up to you all my life. You are what I always wanted to be, and I am blessed beyond imagining that you have allowed me to become close to you, and that you have called me equal. I could spend a lifetime in service and still not be your equal.
My earliest memories of happiness are with you. I didn’t know what you were then. You were just one of the mothers in that weird family down the street.
But you didn’t yell at me, you didn’t ignore me, and you were happy to see me. Every time I came over.
Your home was my refuge, my safety, my happy place.
A place to escape the yelling and the shouting in my house. Or, even worse, the glaring and silence.
Home was... Where mommy and daddy fought. Mommy usually won, eventually. I’m still not sure why dad stayed as long as he did. If I was lucky they ignored me in the fight, as just a bystander, like the rest of the furniture.
If I was unlucky, they were fighting because of me. There were times I felt like I was getting tossed back and forth between them, or that I was about to get pulled apart.
School, even at the start, wasn’t much better: I didn’t know how to deal with people, not at the start. I got into fights, got into trouble.
Which only made mommy and daddy fight more.
It was you, your house, your family, that showed me that there was another way to interact with people. That people could be nice to each other, and be nice to me.
There were no fights in your house, ever.
I knew you were ‘odd’. You were the weird family, the one everyone whispered about.
But you were nice to me, before anyone else was.
As I grew up, I gradually learned more about how weird you were. About what you were.
You never said it out loud. You never needed to. And you never called him ‘Master’ in my presence, never said you were his slave. He never gave you an order in public, not really. He asked, and you said yes.
Always.
It showed in everything you did, everything you said, the very way you held yourself, the way you interacted, with me, with your Master, with the others in your house.
I remember afternoons just sitting there in your kitchen, soaking up the atmosphere, the warmth. You’d make supper, or dessert, or just cookies to have around, and I could have some. You’d let me help, but if I just wanted to watch and eat cookie dough, that was fine too.
Then I’d go home and get glared at by my mother.
She didn’t mind where I went, as long as I didn’t bother her. That was her underlying theme: She didn’t care what my grades were, as long as she didn’t get called in to school. She didn’t care what I did, as long as it didn’t mean someone coming to her door complaining I was a delinquent.
You... You praised me when I did well. You checked what happened if I wasn’t there when expected, and you were the one who I wanted to see watching me.
I once asked Master about this. If he’d ordered this, or just allowed it. He said you came and asked him if it was ok. That you’d been the one who wanted to show me another path in life, besides carrying my pain. That he was proud of how I turned out, but that you were the one who really was responsible for it.
I can never thank you enough. You gave me... humanity.
You never tried to teach me that a woman should serve. You made it clear that you liked what you were, but that you respected others who were different, and that everyone should try to make themselves and the people around them happy.
So, of course, I wondered. I wondered what would make me happy, and I looked around and wondered what made others happy.
Very few people were as happy as you.
By the time I had my first period, I came to you first, before my mother. You would take the time to take care of me, as if I mattered. My mother... She just was annoyed that I still existed.
Dad had left. Not divorced, just left.
I discovered boys, and sex, or at least the desire. I didn’t even bother talking to my mom about it.
You sat me down, and explained the mechanics, as well as what it could mean. I really should have been embarrassed, but...
You treated it just like any other topic. Just another part of life.
The embarrassing part was when you asked if I wanted any toys to experiment with.
And I... I found myself imagining I was you. I found myself thinking wistfully about finding someone who could order me around, someone I could trust with that.
And not all the dreams had guys doing the ordering.
I suppose with my reputation as a troublemaker, people expected me to start early and often. That I’d be expected to be one of the ‘unsavory ones’, who slept around with all the boys.
I’ll admit I had no objections. Mom had boyfriends, and wasn’t shy about it. And you didn’t seem to expect much more restraint: it was just a part of life to you.
But... You also taught me to respect myself, that I should be valued by my partner. And I knew what I wanted: to find someone to serve. Someone who would treat me right, but to whom I’d be subordinate to.
I read stories on the web. I knew how it worked. And I could see how it worked: I’d realized that was what you had, and that was what you were.
But when I looked around my school... There was no one worthy. All the guys were macho jerks, and all the girls fawned over the guys.
Oh, there were a few nice ones. A few. Guys who’d treat a girl with velvet gloves, even a couple of girls who would rather a partner of the same, who treated each other as best friends and more.
Nothing even close to what you had.
There were nights I cried myself to sleep, thinking I’d never find what you had.
And then there was the night when I realized that you shared.
I didn’t rush over. I went on with life as normal. I just took every opportunity to watch how you interacted with your ‘sisters’ and with Harold. I tried to envision myself in the place of one of those sisters, and I found it remarkably easy.
I watched your master, and tried to think if I could accept a man old enough to be my father as my master.
Of course I could.
When I realized my regular nightly fantasy was serving by your side, and that I recognized the faces of every person in that dream, I decided I needed to tell you.
It took me another week to get my courage up.
I remember that day vividly. I talked around the subject for a long time before I finally managed to say what I wanted. We were in the kitchen, making supper by that time. You stopped, turned off the stove, and gestured for me to follow you.
You brought me into Master’s office, where he was working at his desk. “Master?” You had said, “Marissa wants to be your slave.”
You’d never before called him ‘Master’ to his face in front of me, though we had gotten to the point where you occasionally would refer to him that way.
He set down what he was doing, and looked at me, then answered you: “No.” Just the one word.
I’d never felt so dejected in my life.
Before I could slink away, he’d turned back to me and elaborated: “You are only sixteen, Marissa. I can’t touch you for two years, until you are eighteen. Please, think long and hard on this, be sure it is what you want. If you still feel the same way in two years, I’ll be glad to have you.”
“I have thought long and hard about it.” The words came out without thought.
“I’m sure you have. You wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t. But... Your life is a long time, and that’s the length of the decision you are making. The law, and I, want to make sure you make the right choice, and that you understand your choices.” He came over, and gave me a chaste hug. “You are a wonderful girl Marissa, and anyone would be proud to have you with them. I can’t take you up on your offer today. Go, spend two more years learning who you are, what your dreams are. If this is still your number one desire in two years, come back. I will be proud to have you, when you are old enough.”
“You really mean that?”
“Yes. Though, it may take two years for me to get used to the idea!” He laughed, then turned to you again. “Tell her anything she wants to know. She is not mine, but she’s no longer an outsider, in any degree. Make sure she understands exactly what she is asking.”
The very last sentence was still to you, but his eyes in mine also said it was to me. That he wanted me to be sure.
You just bowed and said “Yes, Master,” then led me out.
It wasn’t until we were back in the kitchen that you spoke again. “Are you ok? I know that took a lot of bravery to ask, and Master had to turn you down.”
“He didn’t turn me down. He said ‘not yet.’” Was my answer.
And I remember the look on your face. It wasn’t one I’d seen before: you were happy for me, of course, because I was happy, and you were relived that things hadn’t turned out such that I got angry or anything...
But mostly that you finally let yourself show that devotion in your heart. You weren’t just glad I was happy. You were glad that I’d made Master happy. And I wanted that.
Things changed between us then, for a while. I decided to take advantage of the offer to find out more about Master, more about what he wanted from his slaves, about how much you enjoyed it.
The more I learned the more sure I was, and the less nervous I was.
I tried, a couple of times, to get myself adopted as sort of an ‘unofficial slave’. I actually got pretty far the first time, but then Master noticed what I was doing and told everyone to treat me as a free person, no matter what.
The next try I didn’t get as far.
Still, I learned some of the techniques he’d used to make sure he had a good hold on you. Mantras, repetition, that sort of thing. Whatever I could, I used on myself, trying to make myself into a slave faster.
Being stuck outside and watching you was the worst thing I’ve ever had to experence.
You threw a party for my eighteenth birthday. I’d told my mother I was moving out at the end of high school a couple of months before; she was pleased to be rid of me, finally.
I can’t remember much of the ceremony: I just remember kneeling at Master’s feet, nude, as he placed a collar around my knack. Something to mark me as property. I was so happy. You were so proud.
As my first command, he made me the center of an all-female orgy, as all of my new sisters brought me to climax while I proclaimed my service to him.
I remember your kiss as I came, for the first time with someone besides my own fingers.
You were put in charge of me, and I spent most of the next few months in your presence, as you trained me. I knew all the actions, all the words, but I didn’t feel them yet, and you taught me that. Taught me to do more than just love service, to crave it, to feel it in the very bones of my body as a part of who I was.
You taught me sex, in all it’s varieties.
And when Master brought me before him, to see how my training had gone, he praised you for a job well done.
Every bit of happiness in my entire life is because of you, because you first showed me I was worth something, and then because you showed me someone who would value me.
I can’t believe you are gone, that you aren’t going to be in my life anymore.
I will miss you.