5 comments/ 136630 views/ 9 favorites A New Job For Carrie By: marjorie s Chapter 1 – The Interview The wind was strong as Carrie tripped down the road, her high heels falling between stones as she cursed softly, hoping no-one watching her would think she was mad, talking to herself. Her flowing blonde hair was whipping up and her hands tried desperately to calm it down, but the gusts were too strong, and within minutes, she figured she was better off trying to sort it out when she arrived. Carrie was careless. That had always been her nickname. Careless Carrie from Camden. Her friends had laughed at her often, because however hard she tried, she was always dropping things, falling over, late for appointments, making mistakes in her work and generally being, as her mother called her, sloppy. At 26, she felt it was time to get serious, to be a responsible adult, though she doubted she was capable. But here she was, this windswept day, heading towards an interview with good prospects. She had worked in a department store until last week. The boss finally gave her the sack after she managed to smash the ninth bottle of perfume in two months. She'd hated the job anyway, and was glad to be moving on. She just hoped this place would take her. She'd always wanted to work in fashion, and although this was a bottom of the rung position, she felt she'd be able to move up quickly, she was, at least, very ambitious. She arrived at the address looking decidedly dishevelled. Typical, she thought, turning up to an interview in a fashion house, looking a wreck. She shrugged her shoulders, convinced they'd understand, since the weather was so goddamn awful, and she climbed the steps. The confidence that Carrie had felt on the way to the interview suddenly evaporated as she pushed open the large glass door and stepped inside. Everything looked perfect, right down to the manicure on the nails of the receptionist. The walls were painted bright white, the pictures were classy and hung in beautiful silver frames, everything sparkled. Carrie's heart sank. There was no way she'd get this job. She contemplated backing out there and then, but decided, since she'd come all this way, she may as well go for it. After all, with no other job in the pipeline, what did she have to lose? Stepping up to the reception desk, Carrie cleared her throat. The receptionist looked up lazily. "Yes?" "I have an interview at 11am with Mr Thompson. My name is Carrie Rustin." The receptionist's face didn't change. She just reached for the phone and pressed a couple of numbers, lifting the receiver to her ear and waiting for what seemed to Carrie, an eternity. "His 11am is here." The receptionist's voice dropped and she murmured into the phone, ending the call with a giggle. Certain that the girl had been talking about her, Carrie's faced flushed crimson. She could feel the burn start at her neck and work its way up and she managed a slight scowl at the receptionist before she took the offered seat. Carrie crossed her legs while she waited. She had good legs, and she was proud of them, which was probably the reason she was always showing them off. Today she was wearing a skirt that was a little longer than usual, but still managed to flash a fair amount of flesh as it rode up her thigh. She often worked out at the gym, and it showed. Her waist was trim, her ass was tight, with soft curves, but she wasn't a petite girl, just shapely. Carrie rested her elbow on her raised knee, her cleavage deepened as she leaned forward and she felt like kicking herself for not wearing a better bra. A door to her left opened, and Carrie watched as a short, dumpy girl strode towards her. The girl looked her up and down and then spoke with one of the warmest voices Carrie had ever heard. Somehow, the voice didn't match the face. "Mr Johnson will see you now. Don't worry Carrie, everything will be fine. Please, come with me." Carrie stood up and brushed down her skirt, petting down her hair and attempting a smile. "Sorry, it's so windy outside, I look terrible." The girl smiled broadly back. "It won't matter. Come." The girl turned on her heels and led Carrie to the door she'd entered the reception area from. Carrie hadn't registered the girl's words at first, but as she followed, she realised they had seemed strange. Pushing that thought to the back of her mind, she stepped in front of the girl and through the doorway, into a long corridor, which again, was perfectly decorated. At the end of the corridor there was a large oak door and the girl stood before it, Carrie at her side, and she knocked gently. There was a sound of rustling papers and a deep voice bellowed. "Enter." The girl opened the door and indicated that Carrie should go in. Carrie stepped gingerly inside and the large door closed behind her. Suddenly Carrie felt alone. She had felt far more comfortable with the small girl than she did right now. She gazed around the room. There was oak panelling on all the walls and a large oak desk in front of her. The wooden floors were dark and uninviting and there were heavy, old fashioned curtains on the windows. Carrie felt like running. The chair behind the desk swivelled round and Mr Johnson's lips curled to a smile. There was something about that smile that was unnerving. Though the mouth smiled, the eyes didn't. There was no warmth in them. "Sit." Carrie shivered. She had been told many times that in an interview, eye contact was very important, but right now, there was no way she could look at this man. It wasn't that he looked odd. Quite the contrary. His greying hair was slightly wavy, his blue eyes were handsome, his face chiselled. He was good looking, there was no doubt about it, and in that pin striped suit he looked very smart, but there was just something Carrie didn't trust. Still, she sat in the chair opposite his, her legs pressed tightly together, and she rested her hands on her lap. To all intents and purposes, she looked impressive, and gave an impression of being organised and very together. Mr Johnson stood up and walked around the desk. Perching on it in front of Carrie, his eyes moved slowly over her body. Carrie shuffled uncomfortably in the chair and Mr Johnson seemed to take that as a cue to walk again, this time walking behind her. Carrie couldn't move. Her heart was thumping, he seemed to be inspecting her. Finally, after what seemed like a very long time, he returned to his seat, leaning back into it and stretching his legs under the desk. He paused before speaking. "The job is a difficult one. It might not have seemed it on paper but you will find it very stressful. How are you with stress Carrie?" Straight into the interview then, she thought. No time to warm up or gather thoughts. Well, that's okay, the sooner it's over, the better. "I'm good with stress Mr Johnson. I'm a very organised person," she lied, "and cope well under pressure." Mr Johnson managed a half smile that almost showed in his eyes. "Good. The job is yours. Follow me." Mr Johnson rose and stretched his arm out, curling his finger at Carrie, beckoning her to follow. Her brow furrowed in slight confusion as he headed towards the wall. There he reached out for part of the panelling and it opened, revealing a secret room that Carrie hadn't even suspected was there. "In there," he barked. Carrie's face gave away the fear she suddenly felt, but stifling it, she moved inside the wall of the office. The door closed behind her and she stood, wide eyed as she looked around this new room. It was made of stone. It was cold and stark. There were tables and chains and hooks in the ceiling. Carrie had never seen anything like it. It looked like a dungeon. She opened her mouth to speak but found no words. Mr Johnson turned to her and grabbed her wrist. It was then she realised how tall he was. He towered over her and looked down with an evil glint in his eye. "Clever, don't you think Carrie? So many young girls like you want to be in the fashion industry. So easy to lure you here with the promise of money and excitement, glitz and glamour. And an ideal way to find, how shall I put it, hmm? Yes, that's it. An ideal way to find sex slaves." Carrie felt panic course through her body. She tried to shake her wrist free from his grasp but he was far too strong for her, and somewhere in the distance, she heard him laughing. She felt faint, her free hand grasped his fingers, trying to prise them off her, but even they were too strong, and as she fought to free herself, he grabbed her other hand and dragged her to a table, lifting her easily onto it before slapping her hard around the face. Carrie was stunned, the tears welling in her eyes as she wriggled in his grasp. He grabbed her wrist once more, dragging it to a cuff that was fixed to the table and locking it into place. Carrie knew if she tugged to hard, she'd pull her arm out of it's socket. Her body was racked with sobs as she tried to scratch and bite her captor. He was having none of it. Swiftly he grabbed her other wrist and deftly cuffed it to the table. Carrie was kicking for all she was worth but Mr Johnson had expected that. He'd had it from all the girls, and Carrie was no different to the others. A little more feisty perhaps, and he'd seen through the smart appearance straight way, knowing this one to be one of life's messes. He grabbed her legs and cuffed those too, before standing back, folding his arms and smiling. Carrie had been screaming for help for a good ten minutes, and Mr Johnson had just stood there watching. When she calmed a little, and her screams turned to gentle sobs, he spoke. "Carrie, you can't fight this. You won't win. You will learn, over the next few weeks, what is required of you. In the meantime, this will be your home. The walls are soundproofed. No-one can hear you, so save your energy for the task in hand. You have a lot of learning to do." Carrie lifted her head from the table, and managed to spit as far as she could in Mr Johnson's direction. It didn't go very far, but it helped her feel better. It was all she had now, her defiance, and she wasn't going to give in easily. Mr Johnson turned away and went to a cupboard by the wall. Slowly opening a draw, he took out a large knife and moved back to where Carrie was stretched out on the table. The fear in her eyes almost made him laugh but he managed to show her only a smile, and it seemed, for a brief moment, it was a smile of warmth. Carrie shook with fear as the knife came towards her skirt, and Mr Johnson began to cut through the thick woollen cloth. It fell away from her hips easily as the knife moved to her blouse, popping her buttons open, the blouse falling to the side, revealing her favourite white lace bra. Favourite because it was so comfortable, not because of the shape it gave her. She began screaming again as she squirmed on the table. Mr Johnson walked back to the cupboard. This time he returned with a gag which he rammed into Carrie's mouth and strapped behind her struggling head. She screamed behind the gag, but there was very little sound. "That's much better, I do so hate to work with a lot of noise." Mr Johnson continued with the knife, trailing it over Carrie's belly before slipping it under her bra, and with one, swift movement, he cut the bra between her breasts, and it fell on top of her blouse. Carrie shut her eyes tight and whimpered behind the gag, her drool was beginning to build and she tried to keep swallowing, but her throat was dry. She was squealing now, soft, almost pathetic sounds, as the knife began to move between her thighs. She wanted to move, to slam her legs together, but she couldn't move a muscle for fear of the knife, so she kept her legs spread wide as it trailed gently along her inner thigh and to her white lace panties. "Let's see what you have here, shall we Carrie?" Mr Johnson slid the tip of the knife between hip and panties, blade side up and with one sweeping move, cut the first side before slipping the knife over to the second, and slicing the panties open. He put the knife down on the table, keeping it near enough to Carrie to worry her, and with his fingers, peeled back the top of her panties, the tips of his fingers brushing gently over her smooth mound. "Well, well, little girl. You shave. Who would have thought? You are a slut in the making. How wonderful." Mr Johnson clapped his hands in delight and Carrie whimpered. She had tried shaving as an experiment the other day, and now cursed her curiosity. She hadn't liked herself smooth and was looking forward to it growing back. Darn it! Carrie shook her body in anger, her situation seemed to worsen with every passing second and as she looked at this vile man in front of her, she bit down on the gag hard, making her teeth hurt. "Look, that's quite enough. I've been lenient until now, but it's got to stop Carrie. You walked in here of your own free will. Nobody forced you through that door, now take what's coming before I have to punish you." Carrie stared at him in disbelief. How could he say that?! She had no idea what was going on, in fact, she still had no idea! Before she had time to think more, a doorbell rang and Mr Johnson walked to a door, set in the stone wall. Carrie tried to turn to look, but her position was such that it made it impossible. She listened hard, trying to hear the conversation. There was a man's voice, one she hadn't heard before, or was there two? Definitely more than one, perhaps three? Footsteps were approaching, but only one set and before she knew it, everything went dark. Her eyes had been covered with a blindfold. "Well? What do you think? Not bad this time eh?" Mr Johnson's voice seemed positively happy. There was silence, except for slow footsteps that seemed to be walking around the table. How many footsteps Carrie couldn't work out, but they were heavy, booted feet. "It's okay. You can touch the merchandise." Mr Johnson quipped. Before she knew it, Carrie felt a hand on her thigh and she struggled in her restraints. The hand slid along her thigh towards her pussy. It wasn't gentle. Fingers grabbed at her pussy lips and spread them open, a finger dipping into her hole. She heard laughter and a man spoke. "She's fucking wet! What a whore!" The finger slid inside her again, this time joined by another, and Carrie's cheeks were burning with shame. The fingers twisted as she felt a hand on each breast, feeling her nipples, tugging them hard as she winced beneath the blindfold and yelped behind the gag. She felt faint again, and tried to work out how many different sets of hands were touching her. The fingers withdrew, and that seemed to be the sign for the men to let go of her. "A fine one Mr Johnson. Well done. I'll take her. Have her ready in 4 weeks, I'll be back to collect. I will leave you with my slaves here, to help you train her. They will know exactly what is required. I believe you already know them. Craig and Ryan, this is Mr Johnson. You will call him Sir. I don't want to hear anything bad about your behaviour while I'm gone. If I do, you will both be punished, regardless of who is responsible. Understood?" Two voices chirped in unison. "Yes Master." "Good. I shall see you in 4 weeks. Good luck Mr Johnson. If she's as feisty as you say, you have your work cut out." Chapter 2 – The Training Begins Carrie woke with a headache. She had no idea how long she'd been asleep but it felt like no time at all. Her head was fuzzy and her body ached. She tried to move, tugging gently on the cuffs before realising where she was, and what had happened the day before. All she could remember after the man left, was that Mr Johnson had got the slaves to wash her down. She remembered feeling her clothes taken from under her, damp soapy sponges passing over her naked skin, washing her carefully, the slaves working in silence. Right now, there were no sounds. That is, not until the door opened, and footsteps again approached the table. Carrie opened her eyes. Now the blindfold was off again, she could see Mr Johnson approach the table. The slaves were with him. "Uncuff your new friend and set her on the floor. The training begins." The two boys immediately set to. Uncuffing her from the table, each took a hand and helped her down carefully, knowing how stiff she would be from staying in that position all night. They led her to the waiting Mr Johnson who pointed to the floor. The boys put hands on Carrie's shoulders, and pushed her to her knees, and she fell on them hard, scraping them on the stone floor. She cried out and Mr Johnson slapped her across her face, burning her cheek as she knelt naked before him. Carrie dared to glimpse at the boys. She was fascinated by their nakedness, seemingly unaware of it as they carried out their duties without a word. Craig had a shock of dark curly hair and a young, sweet boyish face, that seemed to glow with pride when he moved. Carrie noticed both had pierced nipples and straps around their cocks and it was hard not to take her eyes from them. The other, Ryan, was fair, his hair straight, but also almost to his shoulders, and he too, looked young. Carrie figured they were probably nineteen or so, and decided to ask them when she got the chance. "Lower your head slave," Mr Johnson boomed. Carrie looked up at the two boys, and they nodded at her. She looked back at Mr Johnson who was towering over her and frowning. "I said lower your head, do you have a hearing problem slave?" Carrie swallowed hard. It suddenly dawned on her that he was talking to her and not the boys, and immediately she lowered her head. She sensed the boys beside her and watched out the corner of her eye as they knelt, one each side of her. "Good. Right. This is the last time you will hear your name Carrie. From now on, you will be referred to as slave, slut, whore or any other words a man or woman desires to call you. You will speak only when told. You will have no control over your life whatsoever. You will have no responsibilities, no ideals, no ambitions bar one, that of pleasing your Master. That is your job. To please your Master. And for this, you will be treated well. You will be given a home, a bed, and you will be fed. If you misbehave, you will be punished. If you disobey an order, you will be punished. If you speak when told not to, you will be punished. But that is only part of this deal. I told you yesterday that you will become a sex slave. You have been bought Carrie, by a good man, one that you will refer to as Master. You are always to call him Master because that is what he is to you. He owns you. He owns your life. He decides what happens to your body. In that, you will have no say. If he says cum, you will cum. If you are denied, you will not cum and if you do, you will be punished. Are you listening Carrie?" Mr Johnson stopped talking for a moment and Carrie nodded slowly, not daring to look up. He couldn't help thinking that this might be easier than he'd imagined. If he managed to train her quickly, he might be able to get some use out of her before he sold her on. "You will call me Sir. Always. Understand?" "Yes Sir." "Good. Now stand slave, turn around, and bend over." Carrie's first thought was to disobey. She allowed her mind to drift for a moment, wondering what had got her into this, and she gave a soft chuckle, thinking of the 'job' she had gone for. Oh yes, she thought, I got the job alright. Typical, the one job I get is for some weirdo in a suit with naked men at his beck and call. She looked around her, wondering how easy it would be to escape. She thought of the girls at reception, wondering how much they knew of what went on here. One day, she'd find out. Right now, she was in a 'situation', and needed to think clearly. A New Job For Carrie Slowly, Carrie turned around, looking back to Mr Johnson as she did, a questioning frown furrowing her brows. He nodded. "Open your legs slave." Slowly she turned back and took a deep breath, opening her legs wide, she slid her hands down her thighs and over her knees, watching her roughly painted manicured nails travelling over her calves until her fingers wrapped around her ankles. Mr Johnson smiled. She was better than he'd imagined. When she'd first come into the office, she seemed dishevelled. Naked, she was perfect. Her tight puckered hole was a perfect 'o', her pussy lips were small, and her clit, so very neat and tidy. And yes, she was shaved. He reached forward and ran his finger along her crack, slipping over her moist clit and pressing it into her cunt. At the same time, his thumb pressed against her tight star, and she squealed. "No, please, no Mr Johnson, I've never been touched there!" Mr Johnson thrust his thumb into her ass and pushed it deep. Carrie screamed, her breathing quickened, and she tried desperately to control her breath. "What did I tell you to call me, girl?" "Sir, oh god, please Sir, not my ass!" "I'm afraid it's too late for all that. You accepted the job, now you do things on my terms. Your ass is for the use of your Master, and when it's ready for him, he's going to want to try it out. Do you think he's going to want to pay me for a job shoddily done? Of course not. He wants a slave that's been trained, not one who has a virgin ass, stupid bitch." For the first time, Carrie noticed the frustration in his voice, and she clamped her lips together, shutting her eyes tight as her ass twitched around the invading thumb. Her asshole felt as if it would rip open, and she whimpered quietly, tears welling in her eyes. Slowly the thumb slipped from her ass and the finger from her cunt hole. "Very nice, slut. Now, you are to get down on all fours in front of me, and lower your head." Carrie felt she was losing the fight. Her will to win was waning. Slowly she lowered onto her knees and bent her back forward, her palms pressing against the floor. She listened as Mr Johnson gave the boys their instructions. Craig moved behind her, and Ryan stood in front of her. Craig's fingers were slowly sliding over her soft ass flesh, stroking gently as Ryan softly ran his fingers through her hair. She felt calmed and warmed by them, and as long as she didn't hear Mr Johnson's voice, she felt she was in safe hands. Suddenly, he started counting. "One." He spoke softly, and as he did, Ryan gently slid his fingers over her mouth, her lips parting as she accepted them without thought, drawing them in between her lips as she softly began to suckle. At the same time, Craig's finger was sliding slowly around her tight hole, now and again dipping into her cunt to wet the wrinkled flesh. "Two." Ryan's cock replaced his fingers as he slid it over her lips. It shocked Carrie at first, and she pulled back slightly, but Ryan caught her hair and gripped it tightly, until she winced from the burning pain on her scalp. Craig's cock was mirroring Ryan's and sliding slowly over her asshole, circling and teasing until her hips began to roll with it, trying to lift so that his cockhead would be nearer her cunt. "Three." Ryan slammed his cock between her teeth, ramming it over her tongue and towards her throat. She gagged and groaned as the hard shaft began to fuck her mouth slowly. And in her ass, Craig's cock had plunged inside her, forcing it's way past the tight ring as the muscles throbbed and quivered and Craig fucked her from behind, stretching her hole around his thick shaft. She was helpless, held between the two bookends as they fucked her holes, and her fingers gripped the floor, the fire in her ass burning as Craig's cock stretched her wide, and made her feel like she would tear apart. With her eyes shut tight, she had no warning of the vibe that slipped easily into her cunt, Craig's cock pressing against it as all her filled holes were fucked hard. "Take it all slut, this is your life now, to be filled by men for their pleasure. Like your new job?" She heard the sardonic tones in Mr Johnson's voice and shuddered. "It's a shame for you I'm not fucking your cunt with my cock. All in good time slave. Fuck her hard slutboys, I want her totally used today. She can rest tonight for a while." Carrie's heart sank. Oh god, she thought, there's going to be more after this? She didn't think she could take much more, as the vibe plunged deep inside her and Mr Johnson turned it on. Carrie's cunt tightened, and Mr Johnson reached for a nipple, tugging it hard and twisting it, smiling when he realised how taut it had become. Saliva was dripping down her chin as Ryan ravaged her mouth and Craig's fucking became more urgent. She could feel the slave boys ready to cum and lifted her eyes to Ryan, willing him to dump his load in her mouth. The look did not escape Mr Johnson, and he grinned wickedly. "Slave boys, cum when you're ready." Carrie's heart sank, she was so close, her body felt the pain of need as her mouth, ass and cunt were filled. Her back arched towards the fingers that pinched her nipples and her body shook with need. "Oh! Slave girl, you want to cum too?" Mr Johnson's voice was filled with sarcasm as Carrie squealed around the cock. "When the boys have cum, you may. See? I'm not so cruel." Mr Johnson grinned and fucked her cunt harder, the hand on her nipple moving to her clit as he began to rub in circles over it. Carrie thought she would explode. Ryan grunted, his hips pressing against her face as his body went rigid, and his cum shot down her throat as she choked and gagged, swallowing as much as she could of the gooey mess. Craig, seeing Ryan cum in Carrie's mouth, could wait no longer, and with an almighty groan, his cock pulsated in her tight ass, and he emptied his balls into her anus. The boys slowed their fucking motions and gradually pulled out of her mouth and ass, while Mr Johnson continued to tease her cunt and clit. "Oh Carrie. Did I not mention the 'no swallowing' rule? Damn. You see, if you swallow before I get to inspect your filled mouth, by rights, I should not let you cum. It's against the rules you see." Carrie whimpered, and almost blurted out words, wanting desperately to beg for release, but remembering the rule about not speaking, she clamped her mouth shut, and just groaned softly, her eyes speaking the words that were not allowed to be uttered. "Okay, just this once. Cum for me slave, cum now!" She needed no further encouragement. Carrie felt her body burning, the fire in her cunt almost blinding as she cried out, growling like an animal as the orgasm took hold, her body shaking, as Mr Johnson rubbed her clit harder, holding the vibe deep in her cunt. Gasping for breath, she tried to stay in position, but he wasn't letting up. He was still fucking her and she wished he'd stop. He was rubbing her clit harder and faster, and she finally realised he wasn't going to be happy with one orgasm, he wanted more. She groaned, she'd never been a 'more than one' person. She'd had to fake so many just to keep her men satisfied, and confident. "Slutboy, grab her tits and squeeze." Ryan stepped forward, and reached below her, grabbing her round breasts and squeezing tightly. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to share the spunk that still nestled on her taste buds, and she lifted her face, gasping as the vibe seemed to delve even deeper, pressing hard against her womb as she moaned. She couldn't believe it. Another orgasm was building, she could feel it, and without warning, her clit throbbed and burned and she came with an almighty growl. Mr Johnson ripped the vibe from her cunt and Ryan released her tits. The room fell silent, but for Carrie trying to catch her breath. Somewhere, seemingly in the distance, she heard footsteps. Before she knew it, Mr Johnson's hand was striking her ass cheeks and she yelped from the stinging pain. Over and over his hand slapped against her. She'd been adventurous in the past, but spanking had never been her thing. She felt like laughing out loud, thinking of all the times she'd said no and here she was, on all fours, fucked from all angles and being spanked by a man she was supposed to call sir. Carrie cried out with each blow and when they finally came to an end, she dropped to her elbows, panting and gasping for breath. "That, slave girl, was for cumming without permission. I was gentle that time. Don't make me have to get tougher with you. Kneel, spread your thighs apart and place your hands behind your back. That is the position you will get into at all times, just as you have seen the slaveboys do. And don't forget to lower your head." Carrie did as she was told, forcing herself from the floor as she rested her sore ass on her heels, her fingers clasped behind her back, she spread her thighs wide, feeling the cum as it dribbled from her ass hole and onto her feet and the floor. She lowered her head, watching with fascination as her breasts seemed to bob up and down with her heavy breathing. Mr Johnson stood back with a satisfied smile. The girl had done well, he was very pleased. She was fairly obedient, and the rest would come with time. She also was open to new ideas, although she probably didn't like to admit it. He was going to have fun with this one. He turned to the slave boys. "St Andrews Cross," was all he uttered, and within seconds, they had Carrie by her elbows, leading her to a huge cross with straps on each of the struts. For a brief moment, Carrie wriggled, trying to loosen their grasp, but realising it was futile, she allowed herself to be strapped to the cross, her legs and arms stretched and spread-eagled. "Time to go, slaves, crawl to the slave quarters, you may rest there tonight." Carrie stared in disbelief. Surely he wasn't going to leave her like this for the night? He couldn't, could he? And anyway, she was starving, thirsty, and if she was honest, she needed to pee, though she wasn't going to tell him that, it was far too much of an embarrassment. The two boys lowered to their knees, and with palms flat against the floor, they crawled to a door Carrie hadn't noticed, and shut it behind them. Her eyes turned back to Mr Johnson. He was watching her, his arms folded, a slight grin on his face. "Okay slave, that's it for today. Sleep well." And with that, he slipped through the door in the wall that led back to his office. "Come back!!! For fuck's sake! You can't leave me here like this! Come back! Oh shit! Please! Come back!" Carrie began to panic and she struggled against the restraints. The leather pressed against her wrists and ankles as she wriggled against the cross, her breasts jiggling, as she tried to take deep breaths. She suddenly felt cold and hungry, and her bladder wasn't letting her forget her need to pee. Quietly at first, and gradually growing louder, Carrie began to scream, the tears streaming down her face. The stone floor was sending chills through her feet and her limbs were beginning to ache. Carrie's sobbing seemed not to be letting up, but nobody could here her. Not even the boys in the slave quarters, since the stone walls were sound proofed. After what seemed like hours, Carrie began to weaken, her sobs were soft, and her screams merely whimpers. She tired, and her head started to droop. Her hunger had vanished, and only her desperation to empty her bladder was keeping her awake. She tried not to think about it. She tried to concentrate on other things, not allowing water into any of her thoughts, but she couldn't help it, it was taking her over. Carrie began slowly to realise that Mr Johnson would expect her to need to pee eventually. She assured herself that it was okay to do it there and then, since he had left her no alternative. Carrie tried to relax. She took some deep breaths, and began to try and push the pee from her bladder. It didn't want to come. She swore under her breath. "Fuck. Why is it I can be so desperate, and then it won't come?" She pushed a little harder, while trying to loosen the muscles, it made her ass press against the cross and she murmured and nibbled on her lip. Finally she felt the first hot trickles of piss and breathed a sigh of relief. With that, the flow began to quicken, and before she knew it, a flood of gushing golden liquid poured to the floor. She felt the heat of her pee as it flowed over her thighs and trickled down her legs, and smelt the acrid stench as it filled the air. When the pee was finished, Carrie leaned back against the cross. She felt spent. She couldn't believe the day she'd been having. That night Carrie dozed against the cross. Her sleep was restless as she dangled, her arms aching, her knees bending now and then so as not to lock. Every so often, she woke from a dream, seeing in it, the day that was gone, and waking to find she was still against the cross, and the dream was really a nightmare. Carrie sighed, her eyes heavy with tiredness, her body racked with pain, and her mind filled with the dread of what was to come. Chapter 3 – The Training Continues Carrie's fitful night hadn't got any better, and as the door opened, she could barely lift her head. Mr Johnson appeared, carrying a suitcase which he set down beside the table Carrie been raped on the day before. Without speaking, he walked to the wall and pressed a button. Before long, the door to the slave quarters opened, and the two boys crawled out slowly. Carrie watched as they settled to a kneel beside Mr Johnson but she didn't lift her eyes to his, instead focussing on a stone on the floor. "Good. Well, here we all are again," said Mr Johnson light heartedly. "You did well yesterday, slave girl. Today you will learn..." His voice trailed off and Carrie was sure the boys heads lowered a little further. "What's this?" Mr Johnson spoke in soft tones, but there was something beneath them that made Carrie shiver. "Do I detect..." He paused, knowing it would make Carrie tremble, "...piss on the floor?" Carrie's heart sank. She'd almost forgotten her desperation from the night before, and now she was reminded, she felt sick with fear. Mr Johnson continued. "Disgusting slut. Filthy piss whore. You wanted to test me, didn't you? A big mistake fuck bitch. Soon you will know the punishment for pissing on the floor. In the meantime, your training continues, Ryan, bring me the flogger from the case. Oh, and a ball gag. This little bitch needs to be silenced, she made far too much noise yesterday." Without a word, Ryan crawled to the case and took the flogger and the gag from inside. The flogger he placed in his mouth, the gag hung around his neck as he crawled back to Mr Johnson and knelt like an obedient puppy beside him. Mr Johnson petted Ryan's head softly. "Good boy, how wonderfully obedient and well trained you are." Mr Johnson laughed. "I remember when you first came to me, little pup. You were so defiant, now look at you, a perfect slave. I'm very proud of you." Ryan pushed his shoulders back a little further, a smile growing on his lips as he beamed with pride. Carrie stared in horror. How could he have lost the fight so badly? Why was he so damn subservient. Couldn't he just say no? Run away? What was it that held the boys like that? Carrie had to ask them when she had the chance, maybe in the servants quarters if she ever would be allowed to sleep there, meanwhile, she had problems of her own to contend with. Mr Johnson slipped the gag from Ryan's neck and pushed it into Carrie's mouth, strapping it behind her head as he took the flogger from Ryan's mouth and brushed it slowly over Carrie's breasts. She gasped softly, the light touches of leather against her skin making her body tingle, and goose bumps rise. She was angry with herself. That simple touch had hardened her nipples, and there was no way that was going to get past Mr Johnson. As if he read her thoughts, Mr Johnson spoke. "Well well, little slut. It seems you like the soft touch of leather. Let's see how you like it a little harder shall we?" And with that, Mr Johnson began relentlessly to bring the flogger down across Carrie's breasts. The first kiss on her flesh was like a fire, burning into her as she winced from the pain. But he didn't let up, and the flogger came down with rhythmic regularity, as her skin changed from pale to red, and welts began to rise. When Mr Johnson felt she had screamed enough behind the gag, he moved the flogger downwards, slapping her tummy and thighs with the leather, watching as she writhed from the burning pain against the cross. "Take it whore, take the pain I give you, this is the first of many floggings you'll receive, so learn to enjoy it! Believe me slut, one day you'll be begging for a flogging." Carrie could think of nothing but the blinding pain that ran through her body. Her eyes were closed, though she felt the eyes of the boys on her. When Mr Johnson stepped back, Carrie opened her eyes and caught the gaze of the two boys who knelt beside him. She was amazed to see that their eyes were almost glazed, as if in ecstasy, and she had no doubt that they craved the beating she had just taken. She didn't understand it, though she had to admit amid the pain, the soft ache of need in her cunt was obvious. Mr Johnson began to slowly rub his hands over the deep redness of Carrie's flesh. She felt soothed by his touches and rested her head against her arm as she caught her breath. Drool was pouring around the gag in her mouth, and dribbling over her burning breasts and Mr Johnson rubbed it gently into her skin. He ordered Craig to fetch Carrie a glass of water, and told him to help her drink. The slave dutifully stood and stepped silently away, returning momentarily with a glass of iced water in his hand. He brought it to Carrie's lips, dipping his fingers into the glass and painting her lips with the cool water as they gripped tightly around the gag. Mr Johnson took the rest of the glass from the boy and pointed to the floor. At once, the boy knelt beside him. Mr Johnson approached Carrie and stood directly in front of her, until she could feel the warmth of his breath against her face. He reached down and slid his finger along the crack of her cunt, rubbing her hardened nub gently, as a smile rose to his lips. The scent of need filled the air and with a click of his fingers, Ryan moved to the suitcase, and took out a vibe, bringing it back immediately and handing it to Mr Johnson before settling on the floor once more. Mr Johnson wiped the vibe over Carrie's cheek. She took a deep breath as he turned it on, buzzing the tip against her nipple. She writhed a little, her cunt clenching as he teased her nipple gently. The pain of the flogging still engulfing her, the sensual feelings in her nipples as the vibe passed over and around them, the pain and the pleasure, sending her to heights she'd never imagined finding, as her head lolled forward and she groaned in pleasure and wanton need. Mr Johnson moved the vibe slowly over her tummy, watching it twitch as the sensitive flesh jumped. He slide it along her thigh, teasingly missing her cunt as he edged it closer. From nowhere, the sharp pain of the flogger slapped against her cunt and she cried out from behind the gag, tears of frustration and pain beginning to flow down her cheeks. Mr Johnson smiled and slide the vibe over her clit, circling it slowly. Carrie's knees buckled and her hips thrust forward. She squealed as he teased her, begging him with her eyes to thrust the cock deep inside her. But Mr Johnson was in no hurry. He wanted to take his time. To see how she would cope with the anguish. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. A New Job For Carrie "Don't forget, slave. No cumming without permission." Carrie squirmed, and tried to breath through her growing desire to explode. She relaxed her cunt, hoping the desperation for an orgasm would ease, but her hips continued to thrust forwards, trying to find the tip of the vibe, to sink it deeply inside her. For a moment, Mr Johnson considered walking away, knowing the pain of denial she would feel, but he decided to leave that for another day, there was enough to keep her busy with for now, and too much too soon could break her. He certainly didn't want her broken, he wanted her needy, begging, and desperate to serve. With one hard thrust, he pushed the vibe deep inside Carrie's cunt, holding it there while her body rocked and her cunt gripped it tightly. Again her knees buckled, and as they did, he began to fuck her slowly, biting on her nipple as he did. She cried out, muffled cries blocked by the gag as his teeth sunk into her hardened nipple, the vibe sliding in and out of her slick cunt, coating in juices as it buzzed against her velvet walls. "Needy slut aren't you slave. Such a good cock whore." Carrie shuddered, her eyes lifting to his as they begged for release. He nodded slowly. "Now bitch, give it all to me." Carrie growled as her orgasm took hold. She came with wild abandon, her body shaking and trembling against the cross. The leather dug into her wrists but she didn't care, her mind and body were filled with ecstatic pleasure, her juices running from her filled hole as Mr Johnson continued to pump the vibe into her throbbing cunt. Carrie could take no more. She squirmed against the cross as aftershocks ran through her and she squealed from behind the gag. The vibe finally began to slow, and Mr Johnson turned it off and slid it from Carrie's cunt. He held it out to Ryan, who lapped at it willingly, moaning softly as the pungent juices slid down his throat. Ryan sucked it into his mouth and slowly began to fuck the vibe, gathering the juices on his tongue. His head pulled back and he held out his tongue. "Good slutboy, you may clean her." Ryan crawled forward and began to lick at Carrie's clit, running his tongue through her folds as it parted her cunt lips, while Carrie lost herself in the pleasure of his cleansing mouth and moaned softly. Ryan's tongue slowly slipped into Carrie's weeping hole, tasting the sweet honey as it ran into his mouth. Mr Johnson noticed Ryan's cock, growing harder with each lick, and with a click and another point of his finger, Craig crawled towards Ryan and took his cock in his mouth. Slowly Craig's tongue lapped around the cock, and slipped his lips over the cock head, sliding them downwards as the cock pressed towards his throat. "Ryan, you may cum." Mr Johnson stood back and watched as the boys had their pleasure. He knew Craig to be a cock whore, and Ryan loved pussy. He knew, because he'd trained them. Craig had served Mr Johnson's cock well then, and now it jumped in his pants. Mr Johnson ignored his own need as he directed the slaves, watching as Craig quickened his pace on Ryan's cock until it throbbed in his mouth, filling it with hot, salty cum. Slowly Craig drew his head back, holding his mouth open for Mr Johnson, who acknowledged the load in Craig's mouth and gave him permission to swallow. Ryan, too, knelt back on his heels, his job done. Carrie was catching her breath. She had never felt an orgasm like it, and though her skin burned and throbbed still, she knew the pain of it had enhanced the pleasure she had just felt. She was exhausted, but already, she couldn't wait for the next time she would be allowed to feel such intense joy. The boy slaves returned to their positions beside Mr Johnson, knowing he wasn't finished yet. He walked towards the cross and stood face to face with Carrie. Before she knew it, she felt a sting across her cheek as he slapped her hard. Her cunt flinched. "You pissed without permission bitch. Now you're going to pay for it." And with that, Mr Johnson undid the restraints, removed the gag and pointed to the floor. Carrie nervously lowered to her knees as he clicked his fingers, still pointing. Hoping she was reading the instruction right, Carrie pressed her palms to the floor and stayed on all fours in front of him. Again he clicked his fingers and pointed. Carrie's brow furrowed, she wasn't quite sure what he wanted but realising he wanted her even lower, she bent her elbows and rested her cheek against the floor. "Not bad slave. But straighten your arms in front of you." He watched as Carrie obeyed his command, not revealing his pleasure as his eyes roamed over her body. Her back was arching as her cheek was pressed to the floor, her ass was held high, she was a natural beauty, and to him, seemed born for slavery. "Last night, during the night, you pissed without permission. The punishment for that, is to lick up your piss until my floor is clean again. Begin now slave, and don't stop until there is no trace left." Carrie looked at the floor. The piss had dried and it was hard to see where it had been. Nevertheless, Carrie was fast learning that to argue was futile, and anyway, she hadn't been given permission to speak. She lifted her face, and began to lick the floor. Tasting the dried piss on her tongue as she retched, dust and grit were settling on her tongue and her mouth began to dry. She moved around the floor beneath the cross, sliding her tongue over ever bit of stone that seemed to have been covered with her piss, and when she was done, she crawled back to Mr Johnson, lowering once more in front of him, her arms outstretched as her face pressed against the floor. He moved away from where she was, and inspected the floor. He seemed pleased with her as he stepped back towards her. "Well done slave. And now, to show your gratitude, you may worship my shoes." Carrie lifted her face from the floor once more, her lips kissing the soft leather of his obviously expensive shoes, working her mouth around them as she licked them tenderly, feeling the steady flow of cum seeping from her cunt as she kissed and licked his shoes until they were glistening. Mr Johnson smiled and lifted his left foot, resting it on it's heel. "Don't forget the underside whore." Carrie winced, her nose screwing up slightly as she began to lick the sole of Mr Johnson's shoe, trying to hold her breath so as not to smell the dirt that had settled on it. When she was done with the left foot, he eased up the right, and she repeated the process, lowering her face to the floor and pressing it hard against it, so that she could get to every part of his sole. Without warning, Mr Johnson lowered his right foot, and slammed the sole against Carrie's hair which trailed across the floor. "Remember slave, you live only to worship and serve, in whatever way is required of you. Don't go getting thoughts of superiority. You are nothing more than a whore and will be treated as such, until the time your new owner decides he no longer requires your services. Understand? You may speak whore. Do you understand?" Carrie's heart sank. She knew she had no fight in her, he'd taken it from her the moment her orgasm had gushed today. She craved more. She needed this badly. Softly she whispered. "Yes sir, I understand." "Good. Tonight you will sleep in the slave quarters. Over the next few weeks you will learn more of your slavery, and what is expected of you. You have done well thus far, don't let me down." Carrie watched his feet move from near her face and listened as they walked back through the door. She felt as if she didn't want them to leave. She wanted to learn more. She needed him to teach her, and he had gone for the day. Carrie whimpered as she pushed herself up to a kneel, looking at Craig and Ryan and smiling shyly. They all rose and the boys took her hands, leading her to the slave quarters. Once inside the sparse room, the walls painted white, just as the reception had been, and mattresses on the floor, she headed for a mattress that didn't seem used, and laid down to rest, the events of the day running around her head, and the feelings that had been awoken inside her making her squirm as she lay against the mattress. The boys smiled. They knew what she was feeling, they'd been there themselves and although none of them uttered a word, there was an unspoken bond building between the three of them that would last for a long time. Chapter 4 – The Journey Begins The days passed quickly for Carrie as she learned her new trade. Her body was used and abused by the slaves and Mr Johnson as they continued her training. Finally, the day that Carrie was to meet her owner came. Mr Johnson ordered the three slaves to prepare themselves. The boys washed Carrie down and shaved her completely, leaving only the hair on her head. They covered her in oils and creams which soothed the sores that racked her body. Then Carrie helped to prepare the boys in the same way, each one having their turn. Later that afternoon, Mr Johnson came to the room and ordered them all to kneel. There was a knock on the door. Carrie's heart felt as if it would leap from her chest and she wished she could look at Craig and Ryan for reassurance. She heard the voice of her owner as he stood with Mr Johnson in the doorway and watched as his well polished boots came closer. He stroked her hair softly and slipped his finger under her chin, lifting her head and staring tenderly into her eyes. "Welcome slave. Mr Johnson says you have done very well. I'm pleased. It seems you will fit nicely into our home." He reached down and grasped a nipple, squeezing it tightly between his thumb and forefinger. His fingers were cold and Carrie shivered, holding back the squeal that was trying desperately to pass her lips. "Good girl. Wait here slaves, while I settle up with Mr Johnson. Then we'll go home." The three slaves stayed kneeling, all perfectly presented, while the Owner and Mr Johnson went through the paperwork and payment was made. "Come." It was the only word he uttered as the three slaves crawled to the door and out into the fresh air. Carrie breathed deeply, smelling the scents of flowers, even though none could be seen. She smiled happily as she clambered into the car that awaited them, settling in the seat between the two boys. It was the first time in weeks she had sat, and it felt strange, and even more so, since the three of them were naked. That had seemed so natural to her, that she barely gave it a thought. Carrie settled into the seat with a smile. It had taken a long time to find her place in life, and now, she finally felt she had found the right job for her. Chuckling to herself, she watched the world go by as the car sped along to her new home and a new life, one that she was born for. Epilogue Mr Johnson closed the door behind them with a smile. He walked back to his office and sat down, taking a deep, satisfied breath as he leaned back in his chair. Reaching his hand towards the intercom, he waited for a response. When his secretary replied he leaned forward. "Run the ad again Molly, we need to find a new employee."