The Kingdom

by Southrook

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© Copyright 2018 - Southrook - Used by permission

Storycodes: Solo-F; MF+/f+; diner; waitress; captives; slaves; bond; discovery; public; display; M/f; torment; tease; chairtie; demonstration; fucking-machine; vibe; dildo; insert; denial; cons/nc; X

story continued from chapter five

Chapter 6: The Old Man's Widow

Barbeque sauce ran down my chin as I devoured my second beef barbeque sandwich. I sat alone at a table on the patio at Vern’s Brisket and Vine. The sign hanging over the eatery, however, had been replaced with a new sign that read Sally’s BBQ. Beneath the lettering was a profile of a hogtied naked woman wearing a ball-gag. Opposite her was the profile of a roasted pig with an apple in its mouth. For the life of me, I couldn’t imagine why this was considered sexy. It almost gave me a ‘Sweeney Todd’ cannibalism vibe. Nonetheless, it didn’t have any affect on my appetite. Once my second sandwich was gone, I washed it down with the rest of the beer from my frosted mug.

Biding time until my waitress decided to show up with my check, I began skimming the weekly park entertainment guide that was printed on my barbecue-stained paper placemat. Each day, there looked to be dozens of bands, singers, dancers, and demonstrators performing throughout the park. Damn, they had far more park entertainment than we ever had at Notts’ Faire.

At the bottom of the placemat, a disclaimer read:

All performers/demonstrators are contracted by ‘The Kingdom’.
Unsanctioned public performances/demonstrations are
punishable by fine and/or Kennel accommodation

“Can I get you anything else, Miss?” a voice asked from behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see my waitress, holding an empty tray by her side. She looked to be in her mid-20’s and was attractive enough to have been a supermodel. Like all of the servers, she was dressed in a sexy Oktoberfest-style outfit. And similar to the female concierges from check-in as well as the maid in my suite this morning, she too wore a burgundy choker around her neck. The nameplate in the middle read ‘Tina’. I had come to guess that all female employees of The Kingdom must have been required to wear one of these.

“Uh, I think I’m all finished,” I replied.

“Alright, then. You’re free to hang out for as long as you’d like. There’s a bluegrass band playing here in about 15 minutes if you wanna stick around,” she added, leaning over my shoulder to point to today’s date on the entertainment guide on my placemat.

“Uh, I think I’m good, actually,” I replied. “I’ll probably just head out.”

“Sure thing! Thank you for visiting Sally’s BBQ. Have a great day at the Kingdom!” she said smiling.

“Wait, uh-” I replied, “Do I get a check or…”

“Oh, no ma’am,” she answered. “All counter service meals are free of charge. Or rather, they’re included in the meal package you’ve already got.”

“Oh,” I replied, “Well, I don’t have cash. How do I pay tip?” I lifted up my key car that was dangling from the lanyard around my neck.

The server smiled and shook her head. “That’s very sweet of you, but we’re not permitted to accept tips.”

“Really?” I asked. “Sorry, that kinda sucks.”

“Oh, it’s quite alright,” she leaned in and whispered, “We get paid more than enough without it. Discretion has its perks.”

“Oh,” I replied. “That’s good.” The woman giggled and began to walk away.

“Have a great day,” she replied.

“Thanks. You too,” I responded.

I wiped the remaining bbq sauce from my hands and face and folded my entertainment guide/placemat to take with me. I winced as I stood up. The soles of my feet still ached horribly from my ordeal in the woods.

What I needed a pedicure! A pedicure! Why hadn’t I thought of that earlier?!I wondered what were the odds were that The Cedarhouse Spa was still up and running. Unlikely, but worth checking out, nonetheless. During the regular season, The Cedarhouse was my go-to place for pedicures, manicures, and massages. And as you may have guessed, the entire parlor smelt of cedar wood.

Exiting the restaurant patio, I made my way through the crowded street. Nearly every woman I passed was either naked or practically naked. All of them wore various types of restraints and gags and were led by their male “owners” by a leash. I did my best not to stare, but most of these women were drop-dead gorgeous. As a bisexual somewhat-kinky, sexually active woman, it was quite the challenge to ignore the view.

And despite my eagerness to blend in, nearly every woman I passed seemed to lock eyes with me and stare jealously at my lack of restraints. The unwanted attention I was garnering almost made me want to get a fake collar so I could avoid everyone’s scrutiny.

After meandering my way through the busy streets, I finally arrived at Cedar Square. But to my disappointment, The Cedarhouse was no longer. A new sign now hung over the store-front window that read, “Murphy’s Hall”. Dammit.

In the courtyard in the center of the square, a large group of people were gathering. During the regular season at Notts’, this is where the Cedarhouse massage chairs sat. Now, a large banner hung between the lampposts that read “Murphy’s Hall”. Beneath the banner, an older bald man in jeans and a white t-shirt was encouraging the crowd to draw closer for a demonstration of sorts. He looked to be in his 70’s but had a surprisingly athletic build for his age. Beside him stood what looked like a futuristic piece of fitness equipment that resembled a giant spider. Jointed metal arms extended forward from both sides of a pod-shaped body. The entire contraption stood several feet taller than the old man and was nearly half as wide. But a sea of heads were preventing me from gaining a clear view of the device.

I reached into my pocket and retrieved my folded placemat. I scanned the guide to see who was demonstrating, but couldn’t find any performances listed at the Cedar Square courtyard during this time slot. Similarly, I couldn’t locate anything that referenced the name ‘Murphy’. Out of curiosity, I stowed the placemat back in my pocket and pressed forward, eager to get a better look.

As I made my way closer toward the front, my jaw suddenly dropped. Through the crowd, I gasped as I saw a naked, ring-gagged woman locked in a seated position at the device’s front. The woman was none other than Tasha from the hunt! Tasha’s afro had been shaved off. Her eyes were cold. Her face: emotionless. I quickly side-shuffled to my right, hoping to shield myself from Tasha’s view. The awkwardness of seeing Tasha face-to-face was not something I was ready for. But as I hid behind the guy in front of me, everything suddenly dawned on me. The old man standing next to her must be the racist fucking machine guy that the gamesmen had laughed about during the hunt! And Tasha was his slave!

I peeked out to get a closer look at Tasha’s predicament. The seat that she sat on looked to be made of steel piping and sections of padded leather cushioning, similar to that of a workout bench. Her feet rested together on the ground and her head came roughly to the old man’s waist. Her weight appeared to be supported by the metal arms that extended from the sides of large pod behind her. Wide metal cuffs encompassed her ankles, thighs, wrists, elbows, and neck. A larger metal cuff encompassed her entire torso, resting above her breasts and wrapping around her back from beneath the armpits. Each individual cuff was connected to at least one of the jointed metal arms. This kept Tasha completely immobile in an upright and seated position. Her knee and ankle cuffs were pressed together as were the cuffs on her wrists and elbows behind her back.

It was then that I noticed the black dildo rising up and down from a dome-shaped contraption beneath her seat. An attached piston kept the dildo slowly plunging into Tasha’s pussy about once every second. How long Tasha had been subject to this, I knew not. But judging by her stoic expression, the dildo didn’t appear to be arousing her very much.

“Alright, come on in, folks,” the old man urged the crowd. “Come as close as you can get. We’re all friends here. Don’t be afraid to rub up against your neighbor. Especially this one. Damn, what a bombshell! Well done, sir!” He nodded toward a naked blonde woman wearing an armbinder. The man holding her leash raised his tankard of beer toward him in appreciation. “You can rub up against me any day, miss! I mean it. Keep coming in, folks! The demonstration is about to begin! I promise, you do not want to miss this!”

The crowd began to get more congested and I took a deep breath as I began to feel claustrophobic. But as I stared at Tasha, bound and gagged as she was with a dildo impaling her over and over, I couldn’t help but feel like my claustrophobia was a perfect example of what people had come call “white privilege”. Deal with it, Ali, I thought.

“Alright! Welcome! Thanks for joining us today! Some of you know me, some of you may not. My name’s Tom Murphy, but most folks just call me Murphy. This is my third year as a vendor at The Kingdom and I specialize in the engineering of fucking machines.” Chuckles and snickers filled the audience. “Yes, you heard me right. Fucking machines. Why would I specialize in such things, you ask? Well, the answer is simple. Because all of us are getting older. And many of us don’t have quite the… shall I say, stamina that we used to. We pay a lot of money to come here each year and enslave our women, only to remember that our natural equipment… isn’t quite what it used to be. We’re able to put our women to use maybe once every hour or so. If we’re lucky. And in the meantime, we’re left to suffer through the looks of boredom on their faces while we regain our energy for the next round.”

The crowd had now grown well past the confines of the courtyard and onlookers spread onto the sidewalks in front of the surrounding shops to see Murphy speak.

“Well, with the help of my machines, you won’t have to witness those looks of boredom any longer. Because fucking machines promise to keep the party going,” Murphy explained. “Need to step out for a new pair of clamps or a new gag? No problem. Hook your lady up to a fucking machine while you’re out. Need a bite to eat? No problem. Strap your lady in and let the fucking machine exercise her body until you return. I’ve found that there’s nothing quite as satisfying as watching your slave come to terms with the reality that her master has the ability to keep her going all day and all night if he so chooses. Isn’t that right, pet?” Murphy looked down at Tasha with a grin on his face.

“This helpless creature’s name is Lehana,” He placed his hand on Tasha’s head. Did he say Lehana? Tasha remained still, but I could see fire ignite from behind her eyes. “Lehana comes all the way from Western Sahara. I actually looked it up- as ironic as it may seem, in African, the name Lehana actually means ‘one who refuses’.”

Laughter erupted in the crowd. Holy shit, the gamesmen were right. Old-man Murphy really was a racist bastard…

“As you can see,” Murphy continued, “-Lehana is no longer in a position to refuse much of anything. Whatever she’s given is exactly what she receives. Isn’t that right, Lehana?” He lifted her chin with his hand, prompting her to turn her face away from him. “Truth hurts sometimes, doesn’t it?” he asked, chuckling. Tasha exhaled deeply, seemingly in an effort to settle her boiling rage.

“So, I figured,” Murphy continued, “-that it was only appropriate to find Lehana a new and more suitable name. But we also want to be respectful of her African heritage, right? I thought, perhaps we could find a name that still honors her roots?” The audience laughed in agreement. “So I’ve done some research and I’ve narrowed it down to three beeeauuuutiful traditional African names. The first is… Deka, which means, ‘one who pleases’. Rest assured, folks- she would definitely be living up to that name. The second name is Thulani. Lovely, right? Thulani means, ‘be still, be quiet’. Always great tips for slave-life.” More laughter filled the courtyard. “And the third choice, which happens to be my personal favorite, is Sanura. Just rolls off your tongue, doesn’t it. Sanuuuura. It means, ‘kitten-like’. She looks like a kitten, doesn’t she? Definitely less black panther, more calico.” Murphy petted Tasha’s head, causing her nostrils to flare.

If it hadn’t been for Tasha’s dark complexion, I’m certain that her face would be blood red with anger. It’s one thing to use BDSM to humiliate. It’s another thing entirely to use it as an opportunity to further a racist agenda. This was yet another first for me... Tasha may have been a royal bitch to me earlier, but I still hated to see her have to put up with shit like this. As a woman, I couldn’t help but want to see Tasha get revenge on this fucker.

“So, I’d like your input,” Murphy said. “Before you leave today, please fill out a form with your name of choice and place it in the box by the entry of my shop.” He motioned toward the building that read ‘Murphy’s Hall’ on his left. “The name that wins the most votes will become Lehana’s new name from here on out. And on top of that, one lucky person will be chosen to win this beauty for the entirety of their stay.” Excited murmurs filled the crowd and many began moving toward the box that Murphy referenced. “Not the slave, of course,” Murphy chuckled. “Lehana’s mine. No, I’m referring to the advanced piece of machinery that she’s currently restrained to. So let’s stop messing around and see all that this puppy can do. Once again, for those who are just joining us, I’m Murphy and this is a live demonstration of my newest fucking machine. I call it the Widow.”

Murphy paced back and forth confidently as he spoke. “The Widow was designed to solve a host of problems for slave owners. Since coming here, I’ve seen a lot of my customers land themselves in a bit trouble for not properly monitoring their slave’s heart rate. As you know, according to the bi-laws we all agree to, a slave’s heart rate cannot be kept higher than 150 beats per minute for longer than 30 minutes out of each hour. When you miscalculate, the collar detects it.” Murphy tapped on Tasha’s collar. “And it’s not long before the authorities come knocking at your door. I know- the red tape will drive you nuts. I’ve had to watch helplessly as too many of my customers have been forced to spend an evening in the kennel for this minor infraction. So, I sought out to fix it. And today, I’m proud to say that I’ve officially solved the problem.”

Murmurs and applause filled the courtyard. I couldn’t help but subconsciously compare this old guy to a perverted, jacked Steve Jobs. He certainly had a way of keeping one’s attention. Even I, who had Zero interest whatsoever in purchasing this stupid machine, found myself being drawn in.

“Starting now,” Murphy continued, “-each of my machines, regardless of model, is equipped with the capability of communicating directly with your slave’s collar. They analyzes your slave’s heart rate, blood pressure, oxygen levels, and they automatically adjust the settings accordingly. You no longer have to stand by with a stopwatch to monitor your slave’s heart rate. You no longer have to fear a visit to the kennel. The equipment simply does all of the work for you.”

More Cheers and whistles echoed through the courtyard. Tasha remained stone-faced and stoic.

“One of the main requests that I’ve received over the years is to simplify the rigging. No matter how technologically inclined you may be, it can still be tricky to hook up your slave up to certain machines. Well, if this has ever been a struggle for you in the past, I would encourage you to look no further than the Widow,” He motioned to the contraption that Tasha was seated on. “This is by far the most user-friendly sex machine we’ve ever sold. And it also happens to be incredibly customizability. Allow me to demonstrate.”

Murphy walked behind Tasha to the large metal pod. He raised his hand toward a touchscreen located on the side.

“Without removing any of her restraints, the Widow can seamlessly transfer Lehana into a hogtie position, frog-tie position, spreadeagle position, doggie-style position, you name it. The possibilities are really endless. But first, let’s keep Lehana as she is. This is what we call the home position,” Murphy continued. “As you can see, Lehana’s enjoying the pleasure of a large-sized dildo fucking her pussy. You’re welcome, pet.” The audience laughed supportively.

“Now, from this screen, or from the app on your smartphone, you can change the dildo’s intensity,” Murphy said as he tapped on the touchscreen. The dildo suddenly sped up impale Tasha at a rapid pace. Her eyes shot open wide and she shrieked though her ring-gag. “Somebody’s awake!” Murphy said mockingly.

More laughter filled the courtyard as Tasha leaned her head backward and her eyes closed.

“You can also add some anal probing into the mix if you so choose,” Murphy added, tapping the screen again.

Suddenly, a red light appeared on the domed base beneath her and a second dildo began to ascend from a piston right behind the first.

“That red light you see is actually a laser mapping sensor which guides each phallus to its designation to the millimeter.”

After a few seconds, the dildo appeared to make contact. This was made obvious by yet another shriek and the flexing of Tasha’s abdominal muscles. She groaned as the dildo forced its way inside her anus. Once fully submerged, the dildo began pumping in and out to the off-beat of the original. With her eyes closed, Tasha shook her head ferociously from side to side. I could see her knuckles behind her turning pale from clenching them so hard.

“We’ll leave those puppies as they are for now,” Murphy said, stepping away from the touchscreen. “Should help Lehana keep boredom at bay.”

Tasha’s eyes opened to scowl at Murphy.

“And the other nice thing about the home position, is that your slave is in perfect placement to service her master as well.” Murphy stepped over the metal arms holding her legs together to straddle her thighs. His crotch rested inches away from her ring-gagged mouth. “I won’t demonstrate that right now for you though. Perhaps later, eh pet?”

I heard a growl escape Tasha’s mouth as she appeared to tug on her restraints. Ignoring her display of resistance, Murphy lifted his legs back over the metal arms and stepped aside.

“Now, I need a volunteer,” He called out. “Anyone care to help me out? Alright, how about this young man, right here?” He pointed to a muscular guy in a tank top who looked to be in his low 30’s. “Step foreword, son.” The muscular guy jumped forward with a big smile on his face. “Now, you look like you’re a strong fella. Do me a favor and pull Lehana’s knees apart.” The man hesitated for a second. Murphy explained, “I wanna get a better look at that pussy. Just go ahead and separate those legs for us.”

The man stepped forward and grabbed ahold of the cuffs on Tasha’s knees. I saw his arm muscles flex as he attempted to pull them apart. After a few seconds of trying, he straightened up. “I can’t. They’re stuck,” he said.

“Stuck?” Murphy asked, confused. “Hold on, let me try.” He motioned the man to step aside and bent over to try. With merely his index fingers, Murphy pushed her legs wide apart, exposing a view of the dildo hammering away at her sex. The audience laughed as the young guy looked genuinely confused.

“I’m sure you loosened them up for me,” Murphy said. The audience roared with laughter. “Now that they’re nice and limber, go ahead and put her legs back together for me.”

The muscular guy stepped in front of Tasha and tried to force her knees together. They wouldn’t budge from their spread position. Murphy once more stepped in and pressed them together with his index fingers, which prompted more laughter. Murphy then raised his hand to squeeze the guy’s bicep. The guy flexed, enjoying the attention of the crowd.

Murphy shrugged, “Huh… I guess steroids can’t solve everything, huh?” This prompted more laughter.

I could see that the fucking machine was beginning to take its toll on Tasha. Her chest now heaved with each breath and I could tell that an orgasm was approaching.

“You know what? I feel bad. I haven’t been forthcoming,” Murphy put his arm around the muscular guy. “There’s actually very technical reason that you aren’t able to move this slave’s legs. And you’ll be relieved to hear that it has nothing to do with your gigantic muscles.” The man chuckled sportingly. “The reason you can’t move Lehana is because you aren’t wearing these very special wrist bands that I’ve got on.”

Murphy raised his free wrist to show a black and silver wrist band.

“I’ve got one on each wrist. These bad boys communicate with the device to tell it that the master is making an alteration. Once their proximity is less than a few inches from the restraint, the mechanisms in these arms unlock and allow me to rearrange.”

“No way,” the man mused in awe.

“Yes way,” Murphy answered. “I can do this-” Murphy spread her legs again and pushed her ankles beneath her into a frogtie position. “I can do this-” He stepped behind her and raised her wrists upward into a painful looking strappado. “I can do this-” He pressed the front of Tasha’s collar upward, forcing her head to crane back to face into the sky.

“And if I like what I’ve done, I can easily set the position to a preset so I can quickly return to it at a later time.” He raised his bracelet up to his mouth and said, “Save position.” A green light began blinking on both his bracelet at the center of the black pod of the Widow. “It’s as simple as that.”

The audience ooo’d and awww’d. Tasha’s breathing had increased rapidly and I could hear her wheezing through her ring-gag. Her fingers were no longer clenched, but flexing outwards. She looked to be on the verge of having an explosive orgasm.

“And riiiiight when it looks like Lehana’s about to achieve the climax that she’s so desperately longed for, I can do this,” Murphy raised his hands in the air and clapped three times. Suddenly, the dildos ceased pumping up and down and retracted downward into dome beneath her.

Still staring up at the sky, Lehana, I mean Tasha, let out a shriek that echoed through the entire park. Her toes and fingers clenched once more and I could see her bucking her hips up and down in an obvious attempt to bring her orgasm to completion. She had to have been close. Poor girl. She continued to wail miserably, which only prompted louder laughter and cheers from the crowd.

“Now, now, Lehana. You’re on the clock, remember? Behave,” Murphy said patronizingly. “Maybe once the demonstration ends, okay?”

Tasha screamed into her ring-gag again and shook her head from side to side as best as her craned head would allow.

“She agrees,” Murphy added, sending the audience laughing.

Bastard.” I said to myself. But for some reason, my words came out louder than I had intended them to. Much louder… Murphy had heard me and raised his eyebrows in surprise. Many people in the crowd also turned to face me. I felt a pit form in my stomach. Why did I say that so loudly?!

“Sorry, what was that?” Murphy laughed.

I hesitated for a moment. My eyes flicked up at Tasha who’s head was still craned skyward from her Murphy repositioning collar. From that angle, she couldn’t see my face. After a deep breath, and for no real reason other than spite, I decided to embrace my inner bitch and double down.

“I said you’re a bastard.” Several people in the crowd ‘ooo’d’ at my insult. Nodding towards Tasha, I continued, “She’s obviously not enjoying this, so how about you rap this up and let her out.” The crowd fell silent. A malicious smile began to spread across Murphy’s face.

“Stickin’ up for a sista,” Murphy mused. “I can respect that. I’ll tell you what- seeing as you’re so concerned for her, what do you say we swap you two out so she can have a rest?”

“I’ll pass,” I replied coldly, interrupting the audience’s laughter.

“Pity!” he replied. “I’m sure you’d look stunning on the Widow. What do you think, folks? Who wants to see the ginger take Lehana’s place?” The audience cheered and laughed. “Where is your master, young lady?”

“Don’t have one,” I replied coyly.

“You don’t have one?” he challenged, confused. “Then, where’s your husband?” I stared back silently. “No husband either?” He studied me for a moment before raising his eyebrows in apparent realization.

“Ahhhh,” he mused. “I see now. No master, no husband, and no collar or employee choker... This can only mean one thing,” he continued. “Slaves and gentlemen, it looks like we’ve got a celebrity in our midst! If I’m not mistaken, we are looking at the Kingdom’s very first Champion of the Hunt!”

There were murmurs throughout the crowd, but most remained silent, unsure of what to make of this unexpected twist in the demonstration. Every eye in the audience was now looking at me. Whether I liked it or not, there were now over a hundred people who knew my face. Not that it mattered, but it did make me feel a bit apprehensive to be out of the closet, so to speak. ‘So much for blending in’, I thought to myself. I remained silent and stone-faced, determined to show that I was undaunted by Murphy’s provocations. Murphy laughed to himself, proud of his power of deduction.

“So, tell us-” Murphy chided. “How does it feel to be a free woman? Or rather- no, no, no- How about you tell the audience what you miss most about your natural role of servitude?” The crowd laughed.

Unwilling to tolerate his chauvinism, I turned abruptly to leave. There was nothing I could say that would resonate with this crowd. They seemed to delight in watching this asshole talk down to people like me. I could feel proud of the fact that stood up for Tasha. Now, it was time to leave.

“Aw come now-” Murphy called after me mockingly. “Don’t leave angry. I’m just teasing! Look, I may be a bastard, but I’m told I can be a sweetheart once you get to know me.” I ignored him and kept meandering through the crowd. “Just ask Lehana!” The audience laughed harder.

I was almost to the sidewalk when I suddenly came to a startling realization. Turning back toward the courtyard, I could see that most eyes were still on me. Good…

“Hey dickhead-” I called to him. “Have you happened to read this week’s entertainment guide?” The volume of the crowd had died down, helping my voice resonate across the entire square. Even without a microphone, I could be heard by everyone.

“I can’t say I have,” Murphy replied smugly. “Why do you ask?”

Pulling out the folded placemat from my pocket, I continued, “I only ask, because it happens to list all of the performers and demonstrators for the week. And the funny thing is- I can’t seem to find your name listed anywhere on here as a public performer or demonstrator… Why do you suppose that might that be?”

Murphy chuckled, seemingly caught off-guard by my question, “Uh- most likely because I’m not an official demonstrator, sweetie. I’m just a vendor.”

“So you weren’t contracted by ‘The Kingdom’ to demonstrate these machines?” I challenged.

Visibly perplexed by my line of questioning, Murphy gave a forced laugh and replied, “I think I’d remember if I was.”

“Excellent,” I replied with a grin. I could feel my heart rate quicken. “Allow me to read you the disclaimer at the bottom of this week’s entertainment guide- ‘All performers and demonstrators are contracted by ‘The Kingdom’. Unsanctioned public performances and demonstrations are punishable by fine and/or Kennel accommodation…”

Silence filled the square as the crowd looked nervously back and forth from Murphy to me.

“So folks,” I continued, addressing the crowd now, “-what do you think? Should I alert the Kennel that Dickhead here, a non-contracted demonstrator, is conducting unsanctioned demonstrations in the Cedar Square Courtyard?”

Unexpectedly, a chorus of patronizing ooooooo’s filled the audience, all of which were directed at Murphy. Almost every captive woman in the crowd wore a smile on their face as they beamed at me. Seeing a Man like Murphy be put in his place had to be a morale booster for them. Murphy’s face, however, was no longer smiling and his smug expression had long vanished. Instead, he stood silently, seething, clearly at a loss for words.

“Like I said,” I called out, “-pack up your little shit show and go home.” And with that, I turned and walked away. “You’ve got 2 minutes before I have a chat with security!” I called over my shoulder. “I’d suggest you be gone by then!”

Behind me, I heard few people clapping, some laughing, most booing. Basically, the reactions seemed to be mixed. But I couldn’t care less. I had just owned that racist old bastard in front of all of his prospective clients. And it felt pretty awesome.

Once I reached Center Street again, and turned back around to see that the crowd had already dispersed from the square. A pissed off Murphy was now standing atop a stepladder, untying the “Murphy’s Hall” banner that hung between the lampposts. The demonstration had ended. I beamed inwardly; proud of the role I played in Murphy’s public humiliation. That bastard deserved it!

“Making friends already, I see?” I heard a voice say from behind me.

I spun around to see none other than Eric casually leaning against a street lamp. I chocked back laughter as I looked up and down his leather-clad body. He wore black leather boots, tight black leather pants, and a black leather vest that exposed his bare chest. On top of his head, he wore a black leather cowboy hat.

“Holy fuck, what are you wearing?” I asked, between laughs.

“The latest in Kingdom fashion,” he replied smiling. “Hey- don’t mock it till you’ve tried it. I feel great!”

“You look ridiculous,” I said playfully. “Where’s June?”

“She’s at daycare,” he replied. “Look, Jodie- I think we should talk.”

“Oh really?” I asked. “About what?”

“About the little show you just put on,” he answered. “Before you go picking fights with everyone, I think you need to know a few things about this place.” He straightened up and stepped toward me. “Let me get you some coffee. I know a place.”

“Actually- let’s do it another time,” I replied. “I’ve gotta study.”

“Study?” he asked, his face looking confused.

“Yeah,” I answered brushing past him. “Long story. We’ll catch up another time.”

“Try to stay out of trouble!” Eric called after me. I turned back to him and flashed him the middle finger with a playful smile. He chuckled and stuck both of his middle fingers up back at me. Dork. But as I mentioned earlier, I happened like dorks.

And with that, I turned away headed back to the castle. All in all, it had been quite the interesting first morning. But I was more than ready to be anti-social again. Anti-socialism happened to be my natural habitat.

Minutes later, I was back in my suite. The cool air from the air-conditioning felt glorious. It wasn’t necessarily hot outside, but I had always preferred cooler climates.

Walking over to the entry hall table, I picked up the gift box that I’d forgotten to open earlier. It was heavier than I expected it to be. I ripped off the wrapping paper and opened the lid to reveal a handwritten letter, several pamphlets and brochures, three books, a ring-gag, ball-gag, multiple coils of white rope, and half a dozen small padlocks with keys. The letter read:

“Welcome to The Kingdom! Please except this starters’ gift package. Inside is everything you’ll need in order to begin your stay. Please note that before a slave can be admitted into your custody, you are required to pass the ‘Slave Owner Proficiency Exam’. Please see the included literature to learn what steps are necessary. You will be tested on material from the book entitled “A Comprehensive Guide to Slave Ownership”. If you have any questions, please dial 0 or use our app to reach an operator. Thank you and welcome to The Kingdom!”

Ignoring everything else in the box, I grabbed the book that was mentioned in the letter and flipped through the pages. Damn, the book was long. 461 pages long, to be exact! Given that I wasn’t the fastest reader, I realized that I didn’t have much time to waste if I wanted to be prepared for this stupid exam by tomorrow.

I hated the prospect of even taking this test. I really had no interest in owning Brandy. But the thought of Brandy being left to the whims of that sadistic vampire for the next three months sounded unbearable. Saving Brandy from that fate was really the least I could do. What came after that, well… I’d figure that out later.

I carried the book into the suite’s living quarters and plopped myself onto the couch. I opened the book to chapter one, page one. I let out a long sigh. It was going to be a loooong afternoon for me. But I had to bite the bullet. One test and then I could burn the damn book. ‘You can do this, Ali’ I thought. And with steadfast determination, I began to read…


Story continued in Chapter Seven

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