Training Notes: Emily's Story

Even I knew that you did not discuss a girl's brand before it had been applied to her derriere. The other girls told me on the first night of orientation that it was never, ever discussed in advance. We were not even to think about it, not our own and not those of the other girls in house. Afterwards we could all look and ooh and aah to our hearts content – but never before. Not so much as a mention.

Bethany broke the taboo. She was the girl who had given me oral training earlier that day. She had then fucked me while I sucked off our Master. We ended the session, after Master was done with my mouth, with me eating her pussy. Then she finger fucked me slowly till I came. But before our cool down she had offered advice to our Master – a very tricky proposition for any girl, even one like Bethany already under the brand. And the advice had implied strongly that I was about to be branded for his house. Bad idea!

To the other sluts the key was not to jinx the girl in question. They were a surprisingly superstitious lot although many of them were quite intelligent and sophisticated in other ways. But I soon discovered that the master's view was different. They implanted in us the belief that the discussion was bad luck mainly in order not to have the girls get big heads. Their view was that an overconfident or cocky slut was an unmotivated slut. They wanted their girls – the new girls especially – to be hungry for it.

About the 'Masters.' I told you that in our house our Master was never referred to as Master to his face. We simply answered 'yessir' – and that was about 95% - or 'nossir' – in the 5% when he was asking a factual question to which that was the appropriate, respectful answer. But of course we girls spend the majority of our time without Master present – and we have to refer to him then in some way. So we used 'Master' in our thoughts and conversations with one another. And of course there were often visitors to whom the only acceptable address was 'Master.' The girls in my house for the most part felt like we were privileged in not needing to use it every day to our Master. It made us so much more his willing slaves.

And about those brands. Even now the idea of the brand is widely misunderstood and reviled in the straight world. Most people still picture a bound, terrified girl being seared with a red hot poker for the sadistic pleasure of the Masters. But far from it. Quality houses like mine treated the branding ceremony with clinical care and precision. Girls were anesthetized, either locally or with a saddle block or, in certain rare cases, with full anesthesia. Masters attended but only to mark the moment of final and complete ownership of the girl. Also to sooth, comfort and love her. The brands were administered by clinicians under the Master's direction. And woe be unto them if they messed up a girl's body with a botched job. We were property, but highly valuable and valued property.

The branding was done as a ceremony, and after it was applied the Master would typically present a gift to the girl – some nice ring or collar or a decorative stone added to her tit or clit. Bethany's mistake was to imply my brand by suggesting that my tits could be pierced during the same ceremony. Bad idea! The newly marked girl would kneel to accept the gift, and then have it fitted on her by the Master. She would then kiss the Master's hand or dick. Then she would be robed and hustled out by the other girls to a slave-only celebration dinner in her honor. She was then fully owned.

Brands had been given a bad reputation based on some of the horrors that appeared on girls in the first year after full legalization of slave houses. Awful, aggressive, unflattering, poorly applied and poorly worn, they scandalized society to the point where there were cries for outlawing the brand altogether. The houses fought that off – and then realized they were devaluing their sluts by marking them so rudely. Nowadays the key concepts in a brand are discreet, feminine and pretty. They emphasize subjugation and submission, but they don't need to be ugly. They are as discreet and feminine and pretty as a brand marking your slavehood can be.

Some houses use the underside of a girl's tit to hide the brand in public, some use the side. Some houses brand the hip or the inner thigh. My house used the underside of the girl's ass. It was very beautiful on girls with the kind of high, rounded asses my Master sought out. On the right girl's ass – and I was convinced mine would be one of them despite the taboo of thinking about it – the brand was basically invisible unless and until the girl was bent over for use.

Every house had a unique brand of course. Ours was a heart shape with double vertical bars inside. The message was voluntary submission and slavehood: the cage is in the heart rather than the heart in the cage. The Masters often added the girl's initials or the date of final subjugation, but I liked the simpler house seal only the best. As I said we girls mostly cared about its being pretty on our bottoms. We liked that it was somewhat hidden.

Girls bragged about going home to their parents for vacation and being able to wear a boy shorts type bikini to the beach with them. Not that any girls parents would not know what her life was – just that there was no sense in rubbing it in on them or scandalizing the neighbors while at home. And of course some girls and families had no desire to hide it anyway. Nowadays one could be proud of the brand – especially those that came from the good houses.

There were now about 20 to 25 registered houses in the Bay area. Most of them were small, specialty boutiques like Rogonfeldt with no more than 6 to 10 girls in residence at any time, and no more than 3 or 4 sales in a year. But there were two super-houses with up to 30 girls and a small number of small houses specializing in male slaves. The male and female slave segregation of the legalization bill had been very controversial at first, but the owners had made it work. The total number of sluts sold in a year was about 120 females and 20 males. This covered most of the market on the west coast, although there were a small number of houses down in Nevada too. The east and midwest had their own houses of course.

The modern era of slavery therefore, which is roughly the last 20 years, has seen no more than about 2,000 girls sent into the life. This meant there might be about 1,000 active female sex slaves for the entire western region, since a slut's useful life is said to be about 10 years. All of them were branded (by law.) And all of them had been trained in a registered house (by law.) Rogonfeldt was acknowledged to be one of the best in quality, and the prices they demanded reflected this. The area average was that girls with about 2 years of house training could be expected to bring somewhere between 1 and 1.5 million dollars at auction. Rogonfeldt sluts were consistently at the high end of that range and had been known to sell for over $2 million in a few instances.

Where Bethany fit in now that she had broken a significant taboo was anybody's guess. She looked so sad that night as we sat at the dinner table. As I said, by rights I could have brought her to bed to eat my pussy, but I took a pass. Tomorrow would be a big day for me – final exams in blowjob training. It was also likely to be a big day for her since Master's decisions and punishments tended to be promptly delivered. I took my self to bed alone (for once) and early (for once) and wrote down my recollections on The Power of the Brand. It's the story of a girl in the house, Emily, who I really liked. And it explains better than I can the reverence with which we girls think of the brand. Here is her story:

The Power of the Brand

On my second evening in the house a girl named Emily told us about being at the beach on vacation with her parents the previous summer. She wore a bikini with a skimpy bottom. Girls were much less self-conscious about being exposed in public now that sexual servitude was established in the law and in the culture. They tended to be proud of their brands, especially the brand of a good house like Rogonfeldt. No one had noticed Emily's brand all afternoon, not until she lay on her tummy sunning near the end of the day.

A mother in her early 30's walked by with two young daughters. Emily told us she guessed the girls were around 12 and 14.

"Mom! Look! She has one!"

"Oh my....she does."

"Oooooh. It's a pretty one too!"

Emily craned her neck back to look up at the girls. It seemed to have been the younger one speaking. She looked up at the mom and smiled. Emily was by nature the open, friendly sort, and she had of course been very well trained to please.

"Hi. They can look. It's ok."

The mom started tugging at the one girl's hand, "Oh, no. We didn't mean to bother you."

But now the older of the two girls walked towards Emily to say "Can we? You don't mind? We talk about it at home. A lot."

The mother stopped her retreat dead. Then the younger girl pulled free of her mom and plopped down on the sand right by Emily's bum. Giving her a close-up of the brand. The girls had their own little bikinis on, but not much to show by way of development. The mom had a bikini herself and showed off some very nice tits. But a sarong on the bottom half hid the view that Emily was most interested in.

Emily asked the girls "Have you seen one before?"

The older daughter said "Not really. Our cousin is branded on her tit." Both girls giggled at the naughty word and their mom frowned but didn't interrupt. "We went to the beach with her last summer. But her bathing suit covered it up so you couldn't really see much. I wanted to ask to see it but Abby said it would be rude because our uncle was there."

"What house is she in?"

As the girl started to answer "I don't know the ......" two things happened. First the younger girl, Abby her sister had called her, reached over and ran her index finger along the crease of Emily's ass and over the brand. Second, the mother, ignoring that, answered the question.

"She's a Fydrich girl, been there 2 years since she turned 18."

"Oh, I hear that's a good house for girls. We've been to a couple of events where we paired up with them........It's ok honey. You can touch it too."

The older girl now sat with her sister and ran her own fingers over the brand. A big smile broke out on her face. A man walking by took his time to enjoy the unusual view, but hurried along when the mom shot a nasty look his way. It was late afternoon and the beach had been emptying out for about an hour. Now it was nearly deserted here so there wasn't too much of a spectacle about it.

The mother came and sat beside Emily so they could see one another's faces without Emily needing to strain her neck. She tucked the sarong modestly around her knees. The older girl looked away from Emily's brand after the touch and began to make little sand piles near Emily's bum. The younger one again took up the delicate tracing of the brand. She looked down at it very seriously, as if memorizing the shape and texture of the thing.

The mom said "That's enough now Abby. Leave the poor woman alone." The finger disappeared from her flesh and the girl began to make sand castles with her sister.

"I hope we didn't bother you. I know you girls don't get a lot of time to yourselves."

"No problem at all. I love children and it's so natural for them to wonder."

"Oh my God do they ever. Ever since the vacation last year with Fiona – that's my niece at Fydrich – the whole thing comes up like every other day. Their father gets mad at them but I understand. I mean women do, right? It's just curiosity. It doesn't mean...."

"Well you are right. It doesn't mean they will want to choose this life – or that you would allow it, not to mention your husband's allowing it. You all have plenty of time to figure things out."

"I didn't mean to be insulting. I mean if they chose it – either of them – I would support it. But Hank is definitely another story."

"Tell me about it. You should have seen my Dad's reaction."

"I bet."

"That's him out there with my mom." Emily turned and pointed to a jetski with two riders a couple of hundred yards off shore. "He's cool with it now though. Especially since my younger sister made the choice last year to become a wife. We kid him that now he has one of each he can relax. And for the most part he does. It's why I don't mind showing off my brand in front of him. Well I don't exactly mean 'showing off' but just it's not a big deal now in our family if it's not covered up."

"Well that's very nice of him.....It is such a pretty brand. Be a shame not to be able to show it."

"The Fydrich is nice too."

"Yes! The intertwined F and Y came out nice on Fiona's boob."

"I wonder if I met her. At the event I mean. We didn't exactly get to exchange cards with their girls." Here Emily laughed and the mother looked down at the girls to make sure they weren't listening. "But I certainly got a nice close-up of their brand."

"Oh! I did too when Fiona was changing out of her suit.......Oh! I see what an idiot I am." Now the mom was laughing and the girls must have looked up because she bent in and whispered to Emily "I guess you did get a better close-up than I did."

Mom said "You girls go down to the water and play now. Let Mommy talk to our new friend."

The younger one made a face, but both girls jumped up and ran down to the water's edge. Emily registered: they were certainly obedient. She guessed that the mother and father had done a very good job with the girls. Still, you never knew. At least they had the obedience to have the option.

Emily smiled up at her. "What does Fiona look like? Maybe we did....you know..." and broke off laughing again.

"Oh Fi is a beautiful girl. Full Irish like her name. Milk white. Red hair. Spray of freckles across her nose and chest. Just a sweetheart. And her tits are gorgeous, oh my but they are gorgeous. And now the brand sets them off so nice. The look of the black print on the white skin. And the brand always shows better on a big firm tit like Fi has."

"Yeah, Fydrich does the side of the tit and it's very cute. Fiona sounds beautiful."

"She is. And my sister is so proud of her. Her dad too but you know guys. He has to pretend like he doesn't approve. But he does. You should have seen him when my sister told us all that Fi was the best natural cocksucker of the three girls in her incoming class. The Master told her so in person. Her dad turned all red and didn't say anything but you could tell he was proud of her too. Later on my sister told me he asked what the qualifier 'natural' meant. Was Fi falling behind in training? Was she the best cocksucker or just the best 'natural'? He's a good dad to her."

Emily figured that the Fydrich Master might say that sort of thing to all the parents to get them on board. But she would never be rude enough to say that and mentally blamed herself for even thinking it. Her Master would not appreciate her thinking ill of her guest and her story.

"I don't think she was there though. At my event I mean. I'm sure I'd remember a girl who looked like that. The Fydrich girls who were there that night were more the slender blonde type. Like Scandinavian. More like me in fact because I think that's what was ordered from the two houses." Here she paused and assumed the deeper masculine voice of a master: "You know: 'bring in some fair sluts; their tits are not a priority.'"

Emily laughed at the thought of her own small boobs. She wondered if the mom was trying to get a peek at them, so she rolled from her tummy to her side. Her tits were covered by the bikini top of course but it would give the mom the idea of their shape and size. And Emily would have been pleased to remove the top for her but thought that the girls were too close. She blushed at the recollection of her Master's appreciation of her tits: he had complimented their shape. But she knew she had been recruited more for her ass and mouth. Emily would never be in Fiona's league when it came to boobs!

Then the mom was all over Emily with questions. How old was she? (21) Where did she grow up? (Seattle) How old when she knew she wanted it? (Maybe 17 when I knew for sure, but I was pretty seriously thinking it by 15.) Did her dad really accept her brand? (He did, at least now.) Did her mom like the brand? (Very much.) Were they proud of her? (She thought so – thought they were proud of both their daughters.) What was her house name? (Rogonfeldt.) How long had she been under a brand? (Two and a half years.) Was it a hard life? (Yes, but it depended on how a girl took it.) How often and how hard do the Masters work the girls? (It varied so much there was no one answer, but every girl got worked by some Master at least twice per week.) Was it hard to learn to be with a girl? (Not for Emily it wasn't.) Or was it a pleasure after getting the rougher sex from men? (Yes but I enjoy servicing whoever Master commands me to service.) What was her favorite thing? (Her Master said she gave the best cunnilingus in the house, and often used her especially for Mistresses.) Had her parents seen her in house? (Yes. They had visited 6 months earlier.) Had they seen her in service? (Yes. Master had her and another girl serve tea when they visited.) But really seen her service? (Her Dad no, he declined and went outside for a smoke. But her mom had stayed to watch her suck off her Master and was beaming with pride when her Master complimented Emily's pretty swallow.) So her mom was really cool with it? (Well that part yes. But then Master brought in 3 black boys to fuck me after the blowjob and she was kind of shocked at that.) But she stayed? (Yep! Mom is a trooper and wanted to support me. It meant a lot but I never held it against my Dad. It's harder for men.)

Emily answered each question directly and honestly, knowing that our Master would require this of his slut. Master's rule was that, so long as people were respectful and asked out of a genuine desire to know, his sluts should not hide anything from the outside world. As they spoke the mom sometimes shouted out to the girls an instruction. "Not so deep!" or "Let her go Jen!" but for the most part they were able to converse freely together. The beach was even more deserted now and Emily's parents were still busy doing water donuts off in the distance.

Sarah particularly wanted to know how many dicks Emily had sucked (She estimated 50 or so.) How it felt to have a stranger cum in your mouth (She told her it depended on a lot of things – but mostly just on what her Master wanted.) Did they really train on blowjob and fucking machines? (Not at Rogonfeldt; not at the other quality houses where the girls use rubber cocks and dildos when there was no man available for live training.) How many women had had her? (She thought it was about 30.) She wanted to know how difficult it was to be trained in the ass (Emily told her it was her own biggest challenge.) Did she love her Master (To which: it's hard to say 'love' here, it's more about respect, submission and obedience.) When was her first blowjob? (At 16. But at 16 you blow your boyfriend after the prom and walk away feeling like a hero. This life is not like that.)

Finally the questions stopped and they watched the girls at play. It was close to sunset and Emily had long since rolled back on her tummy.

Sarah said "Well we really do need to go now. Thanks for entertaining the girls and for the chat. Very interesting!"

The mother hesitated as Emily replied "Thank you too – a pleasure to meet you. I'm Emily by the way. We'll be here for the week if you or the girls want to chat more." Her Master would expect her to be accommodating. Beyond that she did enjoy the conversation and was flattered by the attention.