Slave Brothel Dispatch – Preparations

Literotic asexstories – Slave Brothel Dispatch – Preparations by HasturLeGuin,HasturLeGuin
BZZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZZZ

Tambara’s hand shot out from under a pillow to silence the alarm. It fumbled on the bedside table for a moment until it found its target. Her head remained buried under her pillow with the smallest amount of her blue sleep scarf sticking out.

Vanessa was standing at the vanity putting on makeup. Any rational person would sit down to do this but Vanessa was so anxious she could barely make herself stand still long enough to do her eyes. She looked over at the sleeping Nigerian beauty in the bed. Even missing her head, Tambara’s body was a sight to behold. The little bit of light that was coming in through the window illuminated her dark skin in ways that showed off the highs and lows of her muscular physique. Vanessa’s eyes traveled down her lover’s body. The covers that Tambara had stolen in the night were now halfway covering her tight, round rear leaving just the bottom crack and the hint of labia showing. She looked like a Jean-Léon Gérôme painting of a harem girl if he had had a sense of humor. Vanessa looked at her watch, which she was already wearing even though she was nude and sighed. Alarm number two would ring in three…two….

BZZZZZ BZZZZZZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZZZZZZ

The muscles on the beautiful black arm contorted as Tambara’s hand twisted into a raised middle finger directed right at the clock she had just punched.

“Whhhyyyy” came a muffled voice from beneath the pillow.

“I set the alarms two minutes apart.” said Vanessa frankly. Without the head making an appearance the middle finger turned to her. Vanessa didn’t look up from her makeup.

“Don’t think earning a punishment will get you out of this….young lady.” Vanessa smiled a little bit to herself. A pillow flew across the room and landed next to Vanessa. She stopped.

“I could hang you in the punishment room for a week if you mess up my makeup.”

“I’d have to teach you how to work the locks,” said Tambara groggily as she hauled herself out of bed. “And don’t call me ‘young lady.’

“Then stop being younger than me.” Came the matter-of -fact response as Vanessa applied her mascara, open mouthed staring into her mirror. “Now get ready! Today is a big day.”

“I know, I know,” Tambara said as she walked out the door into the hallway bathroom.” They were the only two slaves, aside from Marty and Norm, who were older and married, that had their own bathroom.

“Collar!” Vanessa called after her.

Tambara walked quickly back into the room and retrieved the small leather collar with an o-ring in the front from its velvet stand.

“Got it.” She said, hurrying away.

“Hey come here.” Said Vanessa. Tambara turned and came to her.

“What?”

“Kiss me!”

Tambara’s attitude changed slightly. She smiled “Okay-ow! OOW!”

Vanessa had slapped Tambara hard on the ass and then twisted one of her nipples.

“Don’t flip me off and don’t ignore the alarms I set for you.”

Tambara gave her a look.

“I swear to god if you roll your eyes at me, Tam I will figure out how those chains work.”

“……yes Miss.”

“Good girl. I love you.” Vanessa smiled.

“I love you too,” Tambara smiled “Old lady!” She kissed Vanessa on the cheek and ran out the door.

“You’ll pay for that, slave girl! And you have to put the collar ON!” Vanessa yelled after her.

If the other slaves saw what Vanessa allowed Tambara to get away with she would never live it down. The truth was, she and Tambara were actually very close in age. Vanessa was thirty-two and Tambara was twenty-seven. “Young lady, Old lady” was one of their jokes that had started back at the very beginning of their relationship. It’s too long of a story to tell here. Suffice it to say that Tambara’s brattiness had actually cooled over the years and early on she was even feistier than she was now.

As Vanessa finished her face, she looked at herself in the mirror to admire, and scrutinize her body. She was short, at least compared to Tambara. Her hair was jet black, reflective of her family’s Mayan ancestry. Currently it was down and hung over her shoulders towards her ample breasts. She was going to pull it up into her trademark high ponytail held in place with one of her prized metal ponytail holders. Her face was ovular anchored with a strong jawline but elongated slightly by her long, high eyebrows that could very easily furrow into a questioning look that shot out from her face like a whipcrack. Vanessa’s eyes were almond shaped, and made thicker by the eyeliner she had just applied. She had a wide mouth that Tambara fell absolutely head over heels for when it was pulled back into a smile. Rarely did other slaves in the house see that, however. It some ways it was Tambara’s special possession.

Vanessa ran her hands over her breasts and down her body. She had always been thankful for her full breasts and hips. Her thighs were full and thick and made a valley that sloped down to her partially covered vulva. Vanessa ran a gentle hand over it. Prickly. Dammit. In all her rushed preparations she had let her own grooming fall behind. Normally she would make Tambara shave her but Tam was running even further behind than she was. She would have to do it herself. Of course, she never saw clients so the likelihood that she would ever find herself in a situation where someone would closely inspect her there is slim. But part of Vanessa’s role was to be an example to the other slaves of the house. If Vanessa could get away with a less than perfect appearance, then so could they and then the entire mystique and elegance of Le Maison de Liaisons would come crashing down. She would shave it quickly and carefully in the shower before she went to supervise the rest of the slaves.

Now she beheld her collar on the stand. It was made of deep hued brown leather with art nouveau scrollwork pressed into it. From the front hung a polished silver “o” ring and on the inside were engraved the motto of Le Maison de Liaisons “Purus vitae. Purus servitium” Which in Latin meant “Pure life, pure service”.

Vanessa had three loves in this world; Tambara, bratty as she was, her Master, whom she respected deeply, and this brothel which contained all of her professional accomplishments. And now today she was going to begin the path of opening it to the world. In a few hours, Mr. Allan Merrick, a journalist, and photographer from National Geographic was going to arrive and spend an unknown amount of time living at their brothel while he studied every aspect of the notoriously closed culture of The Humanist Democracy of Nova Insula. What was once a high-class brothel had now become…an embassy.

The slave showers were a large open room on the second floor of the slave house. The far wall was lined with showerheads similar to a high school locker room. There were partitions every three shower heads. The other side of the room held several toilets with attached bidets that offered minimal privacy. In the life of a brothel slave, nothing was truly private. Often conversations were had while sitting on the toilets. The atmosphere in the showers was busier and more chaotic than normal today. This was for a number of reasons. First and foremost, today was Tuesday which was typically an off day for everyone. Secondly the servants, that is, the cooking and cleaning slaves, typically had the showers first then the sex slaves had their turn. This meant that the eleven servants of the house could shower, get dressed, and then get to work cooking breakfast and preparing rooms for clients while the ten sex slaves were showering and doing their thorough cleaning of their bodies. Norm, the bookkeeper, typically woke up later and showered after everyone had left.

Today however, it was 6:30 in the morning on the off day and 22 groggy, nude, and in some cases grumpy slaves were clamoring for water in the shower.

“Tam, are we doing enemas today or not?” shouted Jamar over the chatter of slaves and hiss of water. Water was rushing down his dark, muscular torso and dripping off his currently flaccid, yet still impressive cock.

“Yes, everyone is doing enemas.” Tambara replied, holding a clipboard, trying her best to mask her tiredness. “Just like a normal day. Now let’s move people! Wash thoroughly and quickly.”

“Do you want thorough, or do you want quick?” muttered Alexander loud enough for people to still hear him. His skin was pale and his frame was highlighted by lean muscle but he was still quite skinny.

“Don’t get snippy with me, Alex. Just get cleaned up. We don’t have time for this.” Tambara responded. Alex turned and let the water rush over his blonde, wavy hair.

“Look Tam love, I know you mean well but an enema just ain’t happening at my age.” Said Gerri McCormick, the short, Scottish, and very wide head chef, from under her showerhead.

“No Gerri, servants don’t need to do enemas, just sex slaves.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not standing around somebody holding in an enema.” shouted Leonard, a gruff-looking slave, who was just walking in. His face had the lines of early aging, and his hands had the scars of someone who had spent most of his life standing over a fire in a kitchen.

“Get over it Lenny.” Said Marty who was struggling to reach Thiago’s shoulders. “Bend down cariño, you are too tall.” Martín was only about 5’3 though he was cut like a Greek statue. Thiago was a massive man. He was 6’5 and a body builder. His dark skin was contrast by a bright white beard that was kept immaculately trimmed. Thiago put his hand out silently to stop him and began to clean himself.

Lenny threw his hands up and responded, “Hey I got nothin against motherfuckers getting fucked in the ass, it’s just, you know…I cook your fuckin food.”

“Oh no, oh no I’m gonna…I don’t think I can make it!” said Noelle jokingly clutching her ass and hobbling towards Lenny.” Everybody in the shower room laughed. Anh, a lithe, Vietnamese woman took the opportunity to slide under her showerhead unnoticed.

“Disgusting. You people are fucking disgusting. I’m going to go now and start making your breakfast, you ungrateful whores.” Lenny said as he stepped out and grabbed his towel.

“Bye Lenny!” “Goodbye sweetheart!” “Fuck off” and an exaggerated Brooklyn-adjacent “Get OUTTA HEEEAH!” came a chorus of replies. Noelle turned back around to see Ahn in her spot.

“Oh, come on!” said Noelle.

“Shouldn’t have stepped away.”

“Fine but you have to pay the tax. Wash my lowers while I get my hair” Noelle said. Anh stuck out her tongue but squatted down all the same and began to lather Noelle up starting with her ass. And remaining on her ass.

“I have legs, Anh.”

“Yeah, but it’s holding up all this lovely cake!” Ahn said, giving it a squeeze.

Tambara surveyed the room, anxious. She hadn’t quite woken up yet, but Vanessa had made it abundantly clear that if anyone, and she meant anyone, caused this day to derail there would be hell to pay. Tambara had spent a lot of time in the past teasing Vanessa for her punishment skills, but she knew deep down that if she was angry enough, she could make up for any deficit in skill with sheer ferocity. And though she was her lover she was also still her head slave. Tam would not be safe from her wrath.

“People, stop FUCKING AROUND!” She bellowed over the entire room. Her voice bounced impressively around the shower walls and the room fell into a hush. Anh took her hands from Noelle’s asscheeks and silently washed her legs. As she did, Dan walked in.

“Oh sweet, open shower.” he said, calmly walking to the shower Lenny had been occupying completely oblivious to the atmosphere of the room. The slaves all washed in silence until it was broken by Jaya, a tall, Indian, Amazon of a woman had finished her own washing and was lathering up Iqra, a younger Saudi woman with an arresting Arabian face and a stunning body.

“This one journalist surely can’t ass fuck us all in one day.” Jaya said coldly.

“We don’t know him, maybe he’s prolific,” responded Amber shivering. It was clear she was hoping that this journalist would begin sampling the local delicacies immediately upon arrival. She had just gotten out of two weeks of chastity and didn’t want to go back in. But if she could seduce the journalist….

“Hurry up Jana. I need to get in there. Here, we’ll wash each other.” Amber pushed her short, wide frame under the water and in doing so edged skinny Jana out of the water.

“Um…okay.” Jana mumbled as she fumbled for soap. Jana had barely woken up and was just trying her best to stay conscious.

“If he’s gay I think the only one who needs to be worried is Dan.” Alex said with faux concern. Jamar snickered. Dan, despite being primarily attracted to women, always seemed to be preferred by gay clients who wanted him to bottom.

“Give it a rest! That’s a tired joke.” Dan said.

“Tired like your asshole?”

“Do we need to give your butt a rest?” said Jamar and Alex one after the other. They howled with laughter.

“You all need to give it a rest!” said Tam sternly, “Who in here is clean? Jamar, you’re clean enough, get out.”

“But I haven’t…”

“Jaya’s right he’s not going to assfuck all of us. He’s probably not going to assfuck any of us. Just clean yourself and go. You too Alex, spare us, please.”

“Bet.” said Jamar as he and Alex walked out of the shower. Alex grabbed Dan’s shoulder. “Come on Danny boy, the pipes the pipes are calling, let’s go.”

“But I’m not-”

“Time to go!” said Alex as they left. Dan violently rinsed the shampoo from his hair and followed after them.

“Robin, Miyuki, we gotta go loves. Hurry it up!” cried Gerri as she stepped away from her water. Robin was very timidly washing Miyuki, trying his best not to violate her. Miyuki was having none of it. She grabbed his hand and forcibly moved it over her petite vulva. With her other she placed a hand around his exposed and, now hardening, cock.

“Seijinn, get over yourself. Wash.” she said. She often called Robin “Seijiin” which meant Saint in Japanese. Robin’s last name was St. Laurent. Robin always felt uneasy around Miyuki and part of that was that he was hopelessly attracted to her. Miyuki viewed Robin as something of a stubborn pet that needed to be scolded from time to time.

Miyuki washed his cock somewhat roughly. Robin grew flush as he was aware that he was growing in Miyuki’s hand. He normally washed himself. In fact, he wasn’t exactly sure how he had ended up sharing a shower with Miyuki in the first place. He usually avoided it for precisely this reason.

“I’m…sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. It makes it easier to wash you.”

“Oh…yeah I guess” Robin chuckled nervously. Miyuki looked up at him and stared with an expressionless face she used when she wanted to make people uncomfortable.

“Wash your hair, ‘your holiness’. We are wasting time.”

Robin, who had completely forgotten about the shower fumbled for the shampoo.

“Right…um…right.”

Tambara looked at her clipboard. So that was all the boys done, Gerri and Lenny, Noelle and Anh had finally finished and god dammit Amber had her hand halfway to Jana’s eye sockets.

“Hey…hey! AMBER. Knock it off. You don’t want to get the belt again. You need to let your pussy breathe girl! Vanessa and Master want everyone to greet the journalist with no punishment apparatus.”

“But I-” just then Vanessa’s voice cut through the background noise.

“She won’t be meeting the journalist today. Amber, get dried off, get your collar, and kneel in the punishment room.”

“But Vanessa I‐”

“Now! If you act like a horny little dog you will get locked up like a horny little dog. Hope you like sleeping in a cage!”

“God dammit!”

“I didn’t hear a ‘Yes Miss’. So we’ll add a gag.”

Amber shrieked and stomped.

“Full hood then. Don’t play with me.”

Amber glared at her. “Yes Miss” she said as she slinked out of the shower room. Tambara looked at Vanessa, who, in this moment, had ceased to be her lover. She was nothing except a very stressed-out manager who was not to be trifled with. And Tambara was turned on beyond belief.

“Tambara, who else needs to shower.”

“Um….Jaya, Iqra-”

“Nope we’re done.” Said Jaya as she ushered Iqra quickly out of the room.

“Right um….looks like Robin, Miyuki, Athena, Nora, Anika, Marcy, and Phoebe….Miss.” Tambara finished and then stayed stock still. Vanessa nodded.

“Robin and Miyuki are you-”

“Yes Miss” Robin blurted.

“Don’t interru-”

“Sorry Mis-shit!” Robin swore to himself. Miyuki slapped him on the arm.

“Robin you are on thin ice. Go” Robin left quickly and slipped on the supposedly non-slip shower floor. Miyuki helped him up and they scurried away.

“Jesus Christ,” Vanessa sighed, “Tam!”

“Yes Miss.” Tambara snapped to attention.

“Sort this out. I need to check in with the kitchen. I’ll get the maids started. Anika, Nora, with me. Let’s go ladies!” Anika and Nora shut their water off and dutifully followed. Tam looked at her clipboard. Marcy, Phoebe, and Athena were still unaccounted for. Where were they? As she stepped further into the showers Athena, her hair somehow still a mess even after a shower, walked out from behind a partition with her usual detached, almost otherworldly presence.

“Tam, Phoebe is…having…some feelings today.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t my business to ask. Anyway, I’m gonna go.”

“Fine…just…would it kill you to brush your hair?”

“I suppose just about anything could kill you,” Athena trailed off, and then blinked back into reality when she noticed Tam staring at her. For once, Athena read the room, “Oh yeah, I’ll give it a brush.”

“Thank you.” Tam said as she turned to find the other two. Athena turned and hovered back out of the shower room towards the dormitories to get her collar and get dressed.

Tambara walked around the corner from where Athena had just emerged and found Phoebe, leggy and nude laying crumpled like a pile of sticks up against Marcy who was cradling her. Marcy looked up at Tambara.

“Hey Tam. We’re just having a little bit of an anxiety attack over here.”

“Oh god,” Tam was a little unsure of what to do. Usually, as the main punisher Tam was the one who caused a lot of emotional distress for the slaves. She wasn’t particularly good at alleviating it.

“What’s wrong Phoebe?” Tam said, probably a little too loud. Phoebe muttered something incomprehensible into Marcy’s shoulder. Tam looked at Marcy. Marcy stroked Phoebe’s hair and kissed her head.

“Phoebe is feeling the pressure of the big day. She’s afraid she’s going to mess something up in front of the journalist.”

“Ah.”

Marcy widened her eyes at Tam and raised her eyebrows to say ‘Say something!’

“Um…”

With a voice that did not match her eyes, Marcy said “And we all know that Phoebe won’t do anything of the kind…right Tam?”

“Yeah right. You’ll be fine. He’s…probably not even going to assfuck anybody.” Tambara said trying to sound casual and comforting. Phoebe looked up at her, eyes red, with a quizzical look.

“Why would a journalist assfuck us?” she asked with a stuffy nose.

“Well I mean….you’re right. That would be a little odd. Would he consider that unprofessional, I wonder?” Tam trailed off

“Very unprofessional. That’s definitely not going to happen.” Marcy said in a reassuring tone.

“Of course, if he’s from the outside he probably wants to try everything, maybe Amber was right. Maybe he is prolific! Is anal a big thing in America? Maybe he wants to try it here?” Tears began to stream down Phoebe’s face again. Marcy shot a fierce look at Tam.

“Thank you for the cultural analysis Tambara. We’ll be along in a bit!” she said through gritted teeth and waved Tambara away. Tambara realized that she had made a bad situation worse and walked out of the showers to get dressed and meet Vanessa. As she was exiting, she ran into Norm, who was just walking in. He was a somewhat short, slightly overweight black man in his 60s. As usual he had a modest towel around his waist, shuffling in his shower flip flops with his tiny toiletries bag containing, among other things, his special shampoo and body wash that nobody else was allowed to use.

“Is somebody crying?” He asked in his usual disinterested tone. Norm removed the towel and waited for his water to turn just the right temperature.

“Yeah um…Phoebe is…having….um…emotions.” Tambara said, still unsure of what just happened.

“Ah.”

At this point Tam was uncertain if the conversation was over or not. She eventually decided it was. “I gotta go.”

“Bye Tam.”

“Bye Norm.”

“Tambara.” Norm said.

“What?”

“Clipboard.”

“Shit. Got it. Thank you.” Tambara said, retrieving it from the ledge and letting the water drip from one of the corners.

“This place would fall apart without me.” Norm said calmly as he washed his hair.

He was probably right. Tam certainly didn’t feel like she was doing the best job of holding it together today. She hurried out the door and up the stairs to her room.