The Sold For Service Bundle Read online

  The Sold For Service Bundle

  Nadia Nightside

  Published by Midnight Publishing, 2015.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  THE SOLD FOR SERVICE BUNDLE

  First edition. April 23, 2015.

  Copyright © 2015 Nadia Nightside.

  Written by Nadia Nightside.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  The Sold For Service Bundle

  Author's Note: All Characters Depicted Herein Are 18 Years Of Age Or Older.

  Your opinion influences other readers and matters quite a bit to me! If you enjoyed this sexy story, please leave a review on Amazon and let others know what you thought. I want to write what you love!

  Further Reading: Giggles & Lust: Bimbo Gym

  About the Author

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  * * * * *

  Author's Note: All Characters Depicted Herein Are 18 Years Of Age Or Older.

  * * * * *

  Sold! Trained By A Gang

  I woke up early at the foot of Master’s bed. My small alarm buzzed quietly, so as not to wake anyone. Right away, I stepped into the adjacent bathroom to shower quietly, and then quickly dried and arranged my make-up and combed out my long, dark brown hair, to ensure that I looked presentable.

  A good slave must always look her best for Master, after all. And I did love being a good slave.

  Around the bed were ten other men other than my Master. They were Masters too, of course, validated by the Guild of Service, but all of their own houses. Not of this one. The night before, they had all taken me, again and again and again. No one had passion like a Master, no one can fuck like a Master. And no one but me can take so many at once, please so many for so long all by myself. Each and every last one of their cocks was utterly drained by spilling into me or onto me. I had fucked, sucked, and jerked every last huge dick they possessed...and my Master was pleased, knowing I would send them back to their own houses with regret that they had not spent enough to purchase me at the auction the day before.

  Quietly, I slipped into a new pair of lacy gold lingerie that had been laid out for me by one of the other slaves. As my Master’s favorite slave, I was allowed all sorts of liberty in what I wore. Smooth, sexy gold stockings adorned my legs, attached to a lacy garter belt. Tall five-inch black leather fuck-me heels were on my feet, clicking softly as I strutted to the bed where my Master and the other men dozed. My impressive 36D bust, contained just barely in my tiny golden bra, hung down from my slender body as I crawled up underneath his comforter and began to silently kiss his knees and thighs. And then I moved upward to the massive pole between his legs.

  Diligently, I attended his long, half-hard cock with my painted lips and wet tongue, cleaning the meat thoroughly until he began to stir. I did not bring him to orgasm—Master enjoyed facing the day with just a bit of arousal in his belly.

  After I had cleaned him off, I slipped out of the bed again and walked downstairs to the kitchen, ensuring that the other, lowlier slaves had already begun their work for the day. Master had eight slaves working in his household, and I was at the top; the one who ensured all the others did their jobs.

  The front door was open. Outside, I could see the car of one of the other Masters who had arrived the night before—the driver-side door was open, and the keys were in the ignition. It would be a simple thing indeed to slide into the car and drive off, forever.

  At that moment, I knew for certain that it was entirely possible for me to leave this sexual servitude behind.

  * * * * *

  Several months before, I had been living in a dark, dank cell. I was alone in there; no one interacted with me. It was easy to think that I was dead, forgotten. Tiny meals came in to keep me alive, but that was all my contact with anything outside of the four walls, floor, and ceiling that made up the cell.

  The stones around me that made up the walls and floor were wet with some strange, warm clear substance. It had a certain smell to it, like liquid lust, and when I tried to slide some into my hands, I found it quickly absorbed into my skin.

  It worked on my mind, but my mind was already pliable. Already eager to be taught.

  Over time, just a few days in fact, I found it impossible to have my skin on the stones and to not touch myself. The need to slide my slender, eager fingers into my hot, moist clit was impossible to ignore, and my thoughts as I waited in the dark cell for anyone to interact with me were frequently hot and full of furious lovemaking and desire. For the first few days, in fear of someone watching through a hidden panel in the wall or secret camcorders or video cameras, I resisted. Eventually, though, my lust became too great, and I stopped caring. They would see whatever they would see. I might as well feel good as I was there.

  This was all part of the process. This was all part of the indoctrination. I was supposed to be turned on, to be eager. But even though I had been sold into service, there was a part of me that had wanted it anyway—that wanted to submit.

  I was in the cell for weeks, I think. I was unsure of how long. More than a few days. Less than a month. That was my best estimation. This was all part of it—all part of the indoctrination. I was an inductee, somewhere in the house of my Trainer. I assumed I was in the basement, but as I said, it was hard to tell. Everything is hard to tell when you live inside of a stone room and eat only twice a day. The meals were all hard bread and flat water, served on a small plastic tray. I think I lost ten or twelve pounds in the time that I was there.

  A Trainer is a Master in the Service Trade, which is found everywhere in the continent of Aurona. Trainers took men and women who were new to the Service Trade and, appropriately, trained them to become the obedient slaves that Masters and Mistresses expected, or any other buyers who might have trafficked with the Service Trade. All Masters and Mistresses had to work as Trainers to stay in good standing with the Guild of Service. There is a great deal of money to be had in the Service Trade, and as I sat in that cell, waiting desperately for anything to happen, I was part of that economy, whether I wanted it or not.

  When I was taken away from my home, the servants who took me had smiles on their faces. A large, muscular man and a beautiful young woman led me into a car. The man was a tall Yoron, I believe (he had that build and that slightly-arrogant look they all seem to have), though the impeccably lovely woman was Nator. They had different Owners, I found, as was custom.

  Nators always had such incredible hourglass frames; the whole race and country were known for the long-lasting buoyancy of t
heir women’s fertile breasts. I learned later on that Nator women are competed for fiercely in the Service Trade because of their looks, but their upbringing in Nator results in them being largely sullen and resistant to indoctrination methods. Even if that were true, the one who picked me up was chatty and cheerful, happy to calm my horribly frightened mind. She chatted happily about the children her Master had promised she would be given soon.

  She and the Yoron were not sent from my new Trainer’s house. Due to the intricate nature of the Service Trade, old bylaws dictated that only another Owner’s servants were allowed to retrieve those who had to be processed into service—like myself. There were too many complications when a servant tried to retrieve his or her own Master’s new servant for processing—they might dislike the new servant, or grow jealous, or somehow allow the servant to escape before processing. It was a simpler matter if the servants sent to retrieve inductees had no stake in the matter.

  The civilized world, in its efforts to be civilized, had all these words for it—Service Trade, Owners, Guild of Service, inductees, indoctrination, processing. Here is the truth of the matter: they took me from my home and were going to make me a slave to a complete stranger, through no fault of mine.

  That’s all it was. That’s all it will be.

  The Yoron and the Nator tried to impress upon me the opportunity that I was getting with this new stage in my life. Service, endless service, glorious service to someone who would take care of me for as long as I was useful. I would have food, heat, shelter, even companionship with other slaves. The Yoron explained that his Mistress was kind and regularly allowed him to go about town; he even earned wages by working at the docks. The Nator intimated that often Masters had some of the largest cocks around, and while she wasn’t allowed to give any details, she had heard that my new Master was one of the most accomplished lovers in all of Talresha.

  My heart began to rise, somewhat. Perhaps it wouldn’t all be so bad?

  They smiled and chatted with me all the way until they dropped me off at the back end of my new Master’s house, where his servants slipped a bag over my head and dumped me into a cell.

  The pleasantness ended abruptly. I struggled and tried to protest, but it was all for nothing. Whoever held me did quite a good job of it.

  Then came the calm, rich baritone of a man’s voice. My Trainer.

  “First, you must learn what happens to those who disobey.”

  I protested, of course. I hadn’t disobeyed at all!

  “Yes,” said my Trainer. “You must also learn that life is not in your control, anymore, no matter what you do.”

  After that, I was in the darkness, in the dank and terrible cell, for weeks before I finally saw someone. And all the time, I kept feeling the slow, strange, warming sensation of the substance that covered the stones.

  As I said already, I think there was something in that substance, though I can’t be sure. In addition to its aphrodisiac qualities, it kept me calm, kept me from going insane. It kept me from running headfirst into the wall until I split my skull open and bled out. Sometimes, I felt like doing just that in my frustration, in my horror that they had forgotten me or would keep me there forever, but always, as I pushed down on the stones, those thoughts would dissipate. I would become ever more placid and serene, waiting silently.

  And then one day, the door finally opened. It pushed inward slowly, light creeping along with it. It was blinding, as my eyes were quite used to the absolute lack of light I had been given up until that point.

  Two women walked in. I could tell they were women by their silhouettes against the light, but also by their smell and the sound of their breathing.

  “You must come with us,” said one.

  “Yes. Coming with us is of absolute importance.”

  Their voices were identical sing-songs, soft and full of a strange vibrancy that I couldn’t place. I had no choice, of course, and so when they bent down and put their warm, soft bodies against mine, I did not try to fight in the least. My legs were weak from so much sitting and waiting, and I was unused to walking. They had to help me stay on my feet. I could not make out much of their faces other than that they seemed symmetrical and beautiful even from my brief, shadowed glances.

  “You may want to close your eyes.”

  “Yes. Closing your eyes is highly suggested.”

  I thought that perhaps I would refuse them, but once they led me out into the hallway, I found it impossible to keep my eyes open even if I wanted. I literally could not handle the amount of light that flooded into my body. It was a myriad of sensation all at once. The smell was overwhelmingly like lemon, the sounds of other heels clicked down other parts of the hall. So much sound and smell compared to what I had experienced in the tiny cell.

  I opened my eyes very briefly and immediately had to close them again, only able to make out the sparsest of details. The two beautiful young women walked me down the crisp, clean hallways. Before I could even really see their faces or anything beyond the shiny buckles on their tall, tall high heels, we were in a large stone room with a pool of steaming water in the middle. Their young, firm breasts pushed against my arms and they led me to the pool.

  It was dim enough in this new room that I could begin to make out more and more details of their faces.

  They were identical twins, I realized. Both had long, elegant noses and high cheekbones, their lips luscious and full. Each had deep, dark eyes and thick blond hair. They wore tiny red v-necked uniforms with plush lacy frills around their ample breasts and shiny, tight thighs. Fishnets decorated their legs. The only difference from one to the other was that the one on my right had one dark lock of hair feathered off to the side. No doubt the lock of dark hair was present was so that the Master of the house, and other servants, could tell them apart.

  “I am Celene.”

  “Yes. And I am Melinda.”

  Melinda was the one with the dark lock.

  “We are your trainers. We are very excited to meet you, Kara.”

  “Yes, Kara,” Melinda nodded. “So very excited to train you.”

  “I...thank you.”

  My voice was hoarse, unused to use. I knew that patience, diligence, and courtesy was the course for me. If I were to act out against these two, there was no telling all the ways they might know of to make my life a living hell. They were in charge of me for the time being, after all.

  “Now, you must bathe,” said Celene.

  “Yes. Bathing is good for the soul.”

  Both of them began to disrobe, taking off their frilly, sexy outfits. As they did, I finally remembered that I could speak freely as well.

  “Will you put me back in the cell when we're done? How long must I be trained for? Will you give me a light...perhaps something to read?”

  They guided me further down into the water. I was too weak to resist.

  As I got a better look at them, it was clear to me they were both Talreshans like myself.

  Talresha is a river country on the border of the Talresh Mountains, which stretch north and south down the great continent of Aurona.

  We Talreshans are known, by and large, for being a practical people whose natural race has been mixed over the years from several waves of immigrants from places like Yoro, The Brickhills, and Imperial Hundret. Our skins are tanned dark brown from our ancestors toiling in the sun, our eyes coming in every color you can imagine. My own are a bright, almost lime, green. For hundreds of years, the Talresh Mountains guarded one border and the Tal River the other, though since the industrial and modern age began, we have made most of our money through the incorporation of textiles and manufacturing small devices like cell phones. There is work for all, though it is not all well paid.

  Most of the women of my country—as I am and like Celene and Melinda—are tall, and the men taller. To be a short Talreshan is almost an affront to nature, and very quickly such unfortunates are usually driven out of the country entirely in their shame. Long ago, the few shorte
r people we created were often burned at the stake for being unnatural; the same sorts of horrible superstitions afflict every nation, though of course in different ways. I would like to think we are more civilized now, but I have seen too many fights start because one man called another short. No man under six foot has much hope of accomplishing anything in Talresha.

  Though, there are exceptions. In my home town of Prute, sitting on the edge of the River Tal, the mayor is no more than five foot five, and rules with an iron fist. He uses his shortness to his advantage, letting the unwary think he is weak.

  I felt like I would be something like that mayor in this place—accede and appease, and let them think what they want. Only I knew the strength that existed in my heart.

  Only I knew that submission was not so very bad, even if I was a virgin and had never been touched by the loving hand of a man. The heart knows what it wants.

  Melinda and Celene could sense my hesitation in sliding down into the water with them. I was virginal, as I said, and bathing with two women was somewhat beyond the pale for me.

  “You needn’t worry so much,” said Celene.

  “Yes. Do not worry so much. It’s bad for the complexion.”

  Slowly, they guided me into the warm, soft water. It felt nice to be wet, to have their attention on me. I had so missed the touch of another human while I was locked away.

  “You mustn’t harm your complexion.”

  “Yes. You must not. Master will not like that.”

  With soapy sponges in their hands, they began to bathe me, slowly. Each part of my body was attended to in perfect symmetry, with perfect devotion. They spent two long minutes sliding the sponges around my feet, and another four on my calves, and so on. The air in the room stayed warm, just below the point of discomfort, and the constancy of their hands on my body was incredibly arousing.

  I was proud of my body. In my town of Prute, and indeed Talresha as a whole, women are mostly known for their bodies or their cooking. Before I was sold away, I was known for both.