Horae Diurnae – The Training and Daily Life of a Modern Slave Girl

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Part I - Vigilia (Night Watch or Eve of Wakefulness) – The Slave relives her training
The name comes from the night watches of the military. It is in the early morning before the formal day begins. It is not one of the seven "hours" of the day but one of the night. The observants awake well before dawn and engage in the profoundly meditative discipline.

Chapter One - The Novice
In the case of a novice’s initiation, the Vigilia is the eve of her surrendering her freedom. It is her time to meditate on her choice and to accept the finality of the decision. Her time to recall the past and then bury it as she starts her new life. Many seasoned slaves describe their entire life before cMs as their Vigilia.

4. Jessie
Jessie tossed and turned on the thin bedding in the small, strange room. While it was already the wee hours of the morning, she had not seemed to have slept for more than a few minutes. In this Northern British town, the unheated cell was cool, almost cold. Yet, even with only a thin covering, her body glistened with sweat.
It was not the hardness of the pallet under the thin mattress that kept her awake – if anything, Jes preferred a solid, firm bed. For as long as she could remember, she’d been repelled by soft, feathery comfort. Nor was it the unfamiliar surroundings that kept her mind alert and racing. What would not allow her rest and repose was the knowledge of what the morrow would bring. For this very morning, after many years of dreams that stretched back, in one form or another, to her early childhood, she would have her chance to live out those dreams. After, what had seemed like an eternity of waiting and delay, and begging for a formal application, and then begging for acceptance, and then the vetting, testing, and challenging, followed by education and planning, Jessie would finally become a slave.

The reader at this point might well believe that they now understand the girl’s excitement and anticipation. However, please keep in mind that she is consumed simultaneously by hope and fear!

Jessie heard the distant clock tower bell proclaim that another hour of the seemingly endless night had slipped away. Three AM. Darkness was total. After the chimes of the bell drifted off into the breeze, there was absolute silence. However, there was the pounding of her heart, sounding very loud and very quick in Jessie's ears. The girl, at last, gave up on sleep and slid her legs off the bed and her knees onto the hard, stone floor. She assumed the classic prayer position without conscious thought with elbows on the bed, and head bowed between, her shortish wavy hair veiling her pretty face. She reached over and grabbed the tiny amethyst pendant and held it tightly in her hands. Jes did not exactly pray, but she silently poured out her soul as she pondered her life up to this moment and what that life was about to become.

​

 

[Fossy]

Part I - Vigilia (Night Watch or Eve of Wakefulness) – The Slave relives her training
The name comes from the night watches of the military. It is in the early morning before the formal day begins. It is not one of the seven "hours" of the day but one of the night. The observants awake well before dawn and engage in the profoundly meditative discipline.

Chapter One - The Novice
In the case of a novice’s initiation, the Vigilia is the eve of her surrendering her freedom. It is her time to meditate on her choice and to accept the finality of the decision. Her time to recall the past and then bury it as she starts her new life. Many seasoned slaves describe their entire life before cMs as their Vigilia.

4. Jessie
Jessie tossed and turned on the thin bedding in the small, strange room. While it was already the wee hours of the morning, she had not seemed to have slept for more than a few minutes. In this Northern British town, the unheated cell was cool, almost cold. Yet, even with only a thin covering, her body glistened with sweat.
It was not the hardness of the pallet under the thin mattress that kept her awake – if anything, Jes preferred a solid, firm bed. For as long as she could remember, she’d been repelled by soft, feathery comfort. Nor was it the unfamiliar surroundings that kept her mind alert and racing. What would not allow her rest and repose was the knowledge of what the morrow would bring. For this very morning, after many years of dreams that stretched back, in one form or another, to her early childhood, she would have her chance to live out those dreams. After, what had seemed like an eternity of waiting and delay, and begging for a formal application, and then begging for acceptance, and then the vetting, testing, and challenging, followed by education and planning, Jessie would finally become a slave.

The reader at this point might well believe that they now understand the girl’s excitement and anticipation. However, please keep in mind that she is consumed simultaneously by hope and fear!

Jessie heard the distant clock tower bell proclaim that another hour of the seemingly endless night had slipped away. Three AM. Darkness was total. After the chimes of the bell drifted off into the breeze, there was absolute silence. However, there was the pounding of her heart, sounding very loud and very quick in Jessie's ears. The girl, at last, gave up on sleep and slid her legs off the bed and her knees onto the hard, stone floor. She assumed the classic prayer position without conscious thought with elbows on the bed, and head bowed between, her shortish wavy hair veiling her pretty face. She reached over and grabbed the tiny amethyst pendant and held it tightly in her hands. Jes did not exactly pray, but she silently poured out her soul as she pondered her life up to this moment and what that life was about to become.

View attachment 1082130​

This s superbly atmospheric piece. Enough explicit description to create the scene with sufficient implied in order to allow the reader to imagine exactly how Jessie looked at this significant time in her young life. Was the 'thin covering' referred to the sheet on the bed or her meagre clothing? Was she naked? Had she already been adorned with chains of any kind?

I am looking forward to reading more. Here is how I imagined Jessie to be kneeling at the end of her cot, amethyst pendant within reach.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

5. How did she come here?
Jessie suspected that her attraction for being bound and controlled could, for all she knew, stretch back to the very womb. In her earliest memories, she vividly remembered a fascination with the silken slave harems of the exotic sheikhs. The girls being owned and controlled was exciting to Jes. How she desired to submit to a strong man as she had never seen her mother do. Through her childhood, Jessie had retreated in her mind to a place of submission and emptiness amid the chaos of her dysfunctional home. She embraced the title, “slavegirl,” as not only a statement of servitude but of pride.
As she progressed towards womanhood, her submission fantasies coalesced with her sexuality. Alone at night in her bed, her mind would go to a vision of being bound, used sexually, whipped, and even tortured. As her mind went there, her hands would grasp her sensitive young breasts and squeeze to give herself pleasure. As her nipples hardened, her fingers pinched cruelly to get the shooting arousal that flowed from those exquisitely responsive nubs into her body. And then, inevitably, her hand would drift down her concave belly to the thatch between her legs.

But these pleasurable excitements, powerful though they were, constituted only a part of a broader sense of her destiny. Much of the time, her body was experiencing and responding to the sensations of scanty, silky, girly attire, and slave-body ornaments. She experimented with harsh self-bondage. In the gym or the swimming pool, she imagined herself naked or minimally clad, being driven to, and even beyond, her limits of endurance. Pain itself had a strange fascination. She wore a cilice on her thigh,

tried whipping, lightly burning, and torturing with needles, and clamping her own, tender, quivering flesh.
And more than that, she simply found pleasure in expressing her secret self - she loved to dance, the sensation of moving her body, in beautiful ways dressed in some light, revealing costume, for the pleasure of others thrilled her - and the music seemed to take control of her, master her, drive her on. She loved to serve others, preparing and offering food and drink to her (supposed) betters. And she felt at home with ritual and ceremony, bowing and kneeling, feeling herself a very small, very humble – and yet valued - participant in an ordered, hierarchical world of the kind she loved to read about in stories from the past and exotic civilizations.
All of this served to feed her desires and longings, but she never seemed able to fully realize her dreams.

Jessie desired a life that would fulfill these erotic, submissive fantasies. She imagined herself as the slave of a strong and righteous master. Jes wanted someone she could serve without limitation, who would guide her and direct her life to her ultimate pleasure. Not just sexually or masochistically, but in a life of service.

It had been over a year ago when she had screwed up the courage to go public with her inclination and to apply for acceptance into the government-approved cMs program run by a local community. The process proved far harder than she had imagined. Even getting an application took several months of bureaucratic delay. Once she had been able to apply, she had found herself in a seemingly never-ending maze of complex regulations, forms, and endless interviews and evaluations. She came to appreciate the authorities' care to ensure that half-hearted applicants would be weeded out before being bound and locked into forfeiture of their fundamental right to self-determination. Others might have been discouraged by the long process, but Jessie persevered. For, deep inside her very being, she knew that she needed to be a slave.

A month ago, Jessie had reached a critical milestone on her journey. She completed enough forms, undergone enough psychological evaluations, and studied enough warning brochures and procedure manuals that she was at last permitted to be auctioned.

 

[Barbaria1]

The process proved far harder than she had imagined. Even getting an application took several months of bureaucratic delay. Once she had been able to apply, she had found herself in a seemingly never-ending maze of complex regulations, forms, and endless interviews and evaluations.

Sounds Kafkaesque. Why should it be that difficult. You’d think she’d have been welcomed with open arms?

Ah well, good that she finally made it. Carry on. What’s next?

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Sounds Kafkaesque. Why should it be that difficult. You’d think she’d have been welcomed with open arms?

Ah well, good that she finally made it. Carry on. What’s next?

The delays and difficulty of applying and the subsequent convoluted approval process have been part of the cMs communities since their founding. It was all part of the testing of the sincerity and commitment of the postulant who was seeking a complete change and surrender of her life. They wanted to weed out those who applied on a whim.
In this, they mimicked the rules and practices of the Benedictines. Here is one expert's description of that for female postulants.

St Benedict's way of 'testing the spirits' is simpler and tougher. The novice applies (knocks at the door), and is ignored for some days unless she persists. Then she's admitted and given an introduction to the Rule, with clear warnings of the hardships of being a nun. She stays in a cell, joining the community in the Divine Office and meals, otherwise just meditating. After a fortnight, if she wants to continue, she begins to experience the life, being introduced to all aspects, especially the tough and demanding parts. At intervals, she's reminded of the Rule and asked if she wishes to continue. After a year, she takes her preliminary vows, but only after at least another year does she make her final submission.

The modern cMs do not extend this long, but the purpose of the delays to protect the uncommitted applicant is the same.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Carry on. What’s next?

A month ago, Jessie had reached a critical milestone on her journey. She completed enough forms, undergone enough psychological evaluations, and studied enough warning brochures and procedure manuals that she was at last permitted to be auctioned.

It would help if you would wear your glasses and read all the way to the end, dear @Barbaria1.

A slave auction is next.

 

[Fossy]

5. How did she come here?
Jessie suspected that her attraction for being bound and controlled could, for all she knew, stretch back to the very womb. In her earliest memories, she vividly remembered a fascination with the silken slave harems of the exotic sheikhs. The girls being owned and controlled was exciting to Jes. How she desired to submit to a strong man as she had never seen her mother do. Through her childhood, Jessie had retreated in her mind to a place of submission and emptiness amid the chaos of her dysfunctional home. She embraced the title, “slavegirl,” as not only a statement of servitude but of pride.
As she progressed towards womanhood, her submission fantasies coalesced with her sexuality. Alone at night in her bed, her mind would go to a vision of being bound, used sexually, whipped, and even tortured. As her mind went there, her hands would grasp her sensitive young breasts and squeeze to give herself pleasure. As her nipples hardened, her fingers pinched cruelly to get the shooting arousal that flowed from those exquisitely responsive nubs into her body. And then, inevitably, her hand would drift down her concave belly to the thatch between her legs.

But these pleasurable excitements, powerful though they were, constituted only a part of a broader sense of her destiny. Much of the time, her body was experiencing and responding to the sensations of scanty, silky, girly attire, and slave-body ornaments. She experimented with harsh self-bondage. In the gym or the swimming pool, she imagined herself naked or minimally clad, being driven to, and even beyond, her limits of endurance. Pain itself had a strange fascination. She wore a cilice on her thigh,
View attachment 1082846
tried whipping, lightly burning, and torturing with needles, and clamping her own, tender, quivering flesh.
And more than that, she simply found pleasure in expressing her secret self - she loved to dance, the sensation of moving her body, in beautiful ways dressed in some light, revealing costume, for the pleasure of others thrilled her - and the music seemed to take control of her, master her, drive her on. She loved to serve others, preparing and offering food and drink to her (supposed) betters. And she felt at home with ritual and ceremony, bowing and kneeling, feeling herself a very small, very humble – and yet valued - participant in an ordered, hierarchical world of the kind she loved to read about in stories from the past and exotic civilizations.
All of this served to feed her desires and longings, but she never seemed able to fully realize her dreams.

Jessie desired a life that would fulfill these erotic, submissive fantasies. She imagined herself as the slave of a strong and righteous master. Jes wanted someone she could serve without limitation, who would guide her and direct her life to her ultimate pleasure. Not just sexually or masochistically, but in a life of service.

It had been over a year ago when she had screwed up the courage to go public with her inclination and to apply for acceptance into the government-approved cMs program run by a local community. The process proved far harder than she had imagined. Even getting an application took several months of bureaucratic delay. Once she had been able to apply, she had found herself in a seemingly never-ending maze of complex regulations, forms, and endless interviews and evaluations. She came to appreciate the authorities' care to ensure that half-hearted applicants would be weeded out before being bound and locked into forfeiture of their fundamental right to self-determination. Others might have been discouraged by the long process, but Jessie persevered. For, deep inside her very being, she knew that she needed to be a slave.

A month ago, Jessie had reached a critical milestone on her journey. She completed enough forms, undergone enough psychological evaluations, and studied enough warning brochures and procedure manuals that she was at last permitted to be auctioned.

I find myself wondering how, having found the courage to go public, she 'came out' to her friends and family ... maybe we will find out

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

I find myself wondering how, having found the courage to go public, she 'came out' to her friends and family ... maybe we will find out

Intriguing question. Remember that cMs is much more accepted in Jessie's world than our's. Though it would continue to be rare.

 

[Eulalia]

I find myself wondering how, having found the courage to go public, she 'came out' to her friends and family ... maybe we will find out

Note also

How she desired to submit to a strong man as she had never seen her mother do. Through her childhood, Jessie had retreated in her mind to a place of submission and emptiness amid the chaos of her dysfunctional home.

that suggests her relations and ability to communicate with her parents are at best strained - compare perhaps the offspring of an anarchic, broken family who signs up for military service, it provides structure and stability - and while she might 'inform' her parents, she's not going to be dissuaded by any negative reaction. Friends too - I imagine she'd gravitate to others who, one way or another, are on a similar wavelength, and - in the social context PrPr describes - they'd be aware of the cMs possibility, maybe even drawn to it themselves., at least I don't think her closest friends would be too shocked.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

6. Prepared to be Sold
A seminal and definitive part of every girl's enslavement is to be sold off. A week before the actual auction, Jes was supplied with a list of a dozen potential masters and mistresses. Accompanying each was an extensive bio, a detailing of preferences and kinks, and a personal intro letter from each greeting her and outlining the master’s plans for his new slave. No photos were supplied – looks could not be a basis for her decision.
Jessie was instructed to narrow the list to four.

Then, at four PM on the appointed afternoon, she reported as directed to the auction house, a new but nondescript building in the next town from her own. She was greeted by two women who took her to a rear dressing room. There they washed, shampooed, and set her hair into dainty ringlets falling to her shoulders. They then applied makeup, not a lot, but enough to highlight her ruby lips, high cheekbones, enchanting eyes, and fair skin. Then she was dressed. First, she was given a tiny sequined ball mask. It didn't hide her identity so much as add an air of mystery and hidden promise to her sweet face while emphasizing the deep beauty of her brown eyes.
A snug, pink silk choker-slave collar showed off her long thin neck.
A semi-sheer back-laced bustier that stopped just below her nipples and above her navel was used to exhibit her flat, narrow waist and her small but pert breasts. A sheer g-string thong showed off more than hid her lightly furred pussy, and the strings around her hips and up her rear crack were only there for emphasis.
All her clothes were pink, even the knot-tie high-heeled wedge sandals on her delicate feet. Pink fur cuffs bound her hands behind.
Tied around her neck was a diaphanous lace cape wrapping around her body and coming down to her knees. This was virginal white to contrast with the pink of her outfit.

When it was time for the auction, two thin, statuesque women appeared. They were dressed in elegant black dresses and took charge of Jessie. They ushered the girl out onto a small stage. The presence of these fully clothed women, towering over her, made Jes even more aware of her near-nudity. She felt dampness forming between her legs.

The stage floor was a dark, almost ebony wood, and it was surrounded by the black rear and side curtains. Several bright lights played on the stage, illuminating the pale-skinned girl in the dark surroundings. Facing the blinding lights, Jessie could see nothing of the audience, though appreciative murmurs confirmed that her prospective masters were there and approved of her appearance. She had been told that the four approved bidders were each allowed to bring a "companion" and a "servant," if desired. Therefore, there may have been as many as a dozen in the audience. She imagined twelve unseen observers, relishing her near-nude presented body. The thoughts of that and her impending slave sale, filled Jes with eager anticipation.

 

[Fossy]

6. Prepared to be Sold
A seminal and definitive part of every girl's enslavement is to be sold off. A week before the actual auction, Jes was supplied with a list of a dozen potential masters and mistresses. Accompanying each was an extensive bio, a detailing of preferences and kinks, and a personal intro letter from each greeting her and outlining the master’s plans for his new slave. No photos were supplied – looks could not be a basis for her decision.
Jessie was instructed to narrow the list to four.

Then, at four PM on the appointed afternoon, she reported as directed to the auction house, a new but nondescript building in the next town from her own. She was greeted by two women who took her to a rear dressing room. There they washed, shampooed, and set her hair into dainty ringlets falling to her shoulders. They then applied makeup, not a lot, but enough to highlight her ruby lips, high cheekbones, enchanting eyes, and fair skin. Then she was dressed. First, she was given a tiny sequined ball mask. It didn't hide her identity so much as add an air of mystery and hidden promise to her sweet face while emphasizing the deep beauty of her brown eyes.
A snug, pink silk choker-slave collar showed off her long thin neck.
A semi-sheer back-laced bustier that stopped just below her nipples and above her navel was used to exhibit her flat, narrow waist and her small but pert breasts. A sheer g-string thong showed off more than hid her lightly furred pussy, and the strings around her hips and up her rear crack were only there for emphasis.
All her clothes were pink, even the knot-tie high-heeled wedge sandals on her delicate feet. Pink fur cuffs bound her hands behind.
Tied around her neck was a diaphanous lace cape wrapping around her body and coming down to her knees. This was virginal white to contrast with the pink of her outfit.

When it was time for the auction, two thin, statuesque women appeared. They were dressed in elegant black dresses and took charge of Jessie. They ushered the girl out onto a small stage. The presence of these fully clothed women, towering over her, made Jes even more aware of her near-nudity. She felt dampness forming between her legs.

The stage floor was a dark, almost ebony wood, and it was surrounded by the black rear and side curtains. Several bright lights played on the stage, illuminating the pale-skinned girl in the dark surroundings. Facing the blinding lights, Jessie could see nothing of the audience, though appreciative murmurs confirmed that her prospective masters were there and approved of her appearance. She had been told that the four approved bidders were each allowed to bring a "companion" and a "servant," if desired. Therefore, there may have been as many as a dozen in the audience. She imagined twelve unseen observers, relishing her near-nude presented body. The thoughts of that and her impending slave sale, filled Jes with eager anticipation.

I assume that the auction house makes its money from the slave sales, and ergo the more the girls are sold for the more money they make.

Sooooo, it would makes sense for the sales process to begin in a fairly conservative manner, then maybe gradually have her stripped but then to really roll the bids on have her perform on stage ..

I wait to see with eager anticipation to see how Jess's sale goes ...

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

7. The Value of a Slave

Standing exposed on the stage, Jessie was torn by the usual conflicting emotions of a new slave girl at this time.
On the one hand, she would be the center of attention for the last time in her life, carefully groomed and presented as a beautiful and desirable young woman. She was a princess placed on a pedestal, an object of desire. It was a heady experience that caused almost every girl in that position to blush with pride and modesty.
On the other hand, her natural submissive and self-effacing nature resisted such glorification. She felt she should be kneeling, unheralded at some corner of the stage, awaiting her new master’s orders.

A man walked out on the stage beside Jessie. He was tall and heavy-set and dressed in evening wear, holding a wireless mike.
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the slave auction of Jessie XXX," he said in a sonorous voice. "You can see what a lovely girl she is. Look at that face, sweet, almost innocent. Those eyes, deep and soulful. Her physical attractiveness speaks for itself. How much more fetching would those eyes be if with tears - tears you had forced out!"
"Observe her obedient body - fresh, unmarked, inviting abuse. I shall not insult your powers of observation by describing her in detail. You can all see the erotic possibilities that this girl's body offers." Murmurs of agreement could be heard.

"Of course, to appreciate the true value and worth of a novice slavegirl, you must look closer, beneath the beautiful surface. Observe, please, the demeanor, the lowered eyes, the blush. Jessie cannot help but reveal the instinctive struggle between natural modesty and the urge to self-display. I can assure you of the findings of her interviews, her psychological testing, and her past actions. She's already learned and practiced hard how to be a slave. Jessie is a natural slavegirl, submissive, masochistic…" He left the sentence dangling to entice the bidders to imagine the girl's aptitude for service.
If you have read her offering sheet, you have seen that Jessie is well accomplished for her young age. She is not just a girl eager to be beaten and fucked. She is well prepared to take on the role of a servant, entertainer, or companion. Jes has talent and practice in singing, dancing, preparing and serving food, storytelling and poetic recitation, knowledge of herbs, and even linguistic skills."
“Image the pride and pleasure you can take in bending her to your will, making her your servant and slave in body and mind!"

"The auction will proceed as always. You may use the switch on your table to bid to the next level. The Message Board over there," he gestured to a mini-scoreboard beside the stage, "will display the current high bid and the bidder's letter code."
The man undid the tie around Jessie's neck and swept the cape away with a dramatic gesture. "The bidding is open!"
The Scoreboard lit up at once and repeatedly flashed with frequent bids. The level started at £2,000 and rapidly rose to £11,000. Jes's head spun as she saw real money being bid at that level for her! She never dreamed that she would be worth so much!
After the enthusiastic early pace, the bids eventually began to slow a bit. When this was obvious, the auctioneer stepped forward and halted the bidding.

"My friends, while you can see the sexual beauty of Jessie, perhaps another attraction would be her role as a submissive vessel for the infliction of pain. Let us present her in a more targeted manner." He waved to the two elegant, dress-clad women, who stepped forward. They snaped a white iron collar around Jes's neck. Similar heavy, white cuffs were attached to her wrists and ankles. A thin white leather belt was wrapped around her bare waist at the level of her navel and cinched extremely tight, drawing in her already narrow waist.
Thick, white iron chains were attached multiple times to every cuff and collar. These served to drape her body in bondage, fully restrained in iron. The constriction and weight of the bondage caused Jes to stagger slightly. She stood back upright and balanced in her chains.
“Doesn’t she wear chains beautifully?” asked the auctioneer. He was answered with polite applause from the darkness.

The bidding was reopened and moved up again rapidly. At last, it slowed, passing £14,000 and finally stopped entirely at £19,500. Jessie thought to herself. So, now I know my worth. How many girls genuinely know that?
"Congratulations, Master G. Once Jessie completes the remaining vetting, signs all the releases, and undergoes the initiation submission, she will be your bondslave to, as the statute so powerfully states, "do with as you wish!" Applause rang out, and the two women ushered the girl from the stage, her chains swaying and rattling.

 

[Fossy]

7. The Value of a Slave

Standing exposed on the stage, Jessie was torn by the usual conflicting emotions of a new slave girl at this time.
On the one hand, she would be the center of attention for the last time in her life, carefully groomed and presented as a beautiful and desirable young woman. She was a princess placed on a pedestal, an object of desire. It was a heady experience that caused almost every girl in that position to blush with pride and modesty.
On the other hand, her natural submissive and self-effacing nature resisted such glorification. She felt she should be kneeling, unheralded at some corner of the stage, awaiting her new master’s orders.

A man walked out on the stage beside Jessie. He was tall and heavy-set and dressed in evening wear, holding a wireless mike.
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the slave auction of Jessie XXX," he said in a sonorous voice. "You can see what a lovely girl she is. Look at that face, sweet, almost innocent. Those eyes, deep and soulful. Her physical attractiveness speaks for itself. How much more fetching would those eyes be if with tears - tears you had forced out!"
"Observe her obedient body - fresh, unmarked, inviting abuse. I shall not insult your powers of observation by describing her in detail. You can all see the erotic possibilities that this girl's body offers." Murmurs of agreement could be heard.

"Of course, to appreciate the true value and worth of a novice slavegirl, you must look closer, beneath the beautiful surface. Observe, please, the demeanor, the lowered eyes, the blush. Jessie cannot help but reveal the instinctive struggle between natural modesty and the urge to self-display. I can assure you of the findings of her interviews, her psychological testing, and her past actions. She's already learned and practiced hard how to be a slave. Jessie is a natural slavegirl, submissive, masochistic…" He left the sentence dangling to entice the bidders to imagine the girl's aptitude for service.
If you have read her offering sheet, you have seen that Jessie is well accomplished for her young age. She is not just a girl eager to be beaten and fucked. She is well prepared to take on the role of a servant, entertainer, or companion. Jes has talent and practice in singing, dancing, preparing and serving food, storytelling and poetic recitation, knowledge of herbs, and even linguistic skills."
“Image the pride and pleasure you can take in bending her to your will, making her your servant and slave in body and mind!"

"The auction will proceed as always. You may use the switch on your table to bid to the next level. The Message Board over there," he gestured to a mini-scoreboard beside the stage, "will display the current high bid and the bidder's letter code."
The man undid the tie around Jessie's neck and swept the cape away with a dramatic gesture. "The bidding is open!"
The Scoreboard lit up at once and repeatedly flashed with frequent bids. The level started at £2,000 and rapidly rose to £11,000. Jes's head spun as she saw real money being bid at that level for her! She never dreamed that she would be worth so much!
After the enthusiastic early pace, the bids eventually began to slow a bit. When this was obvious, the auctioneer stepped forward and halted the bidding.

"My friends, while you can see the sexual beauty of Jessie, perhaps another attraction would be her role as a submissive vessel for the infliction of pain. Let us present her in a more targeted manner." He waved to the two elegant, dress-clad women, who stepped forward. They snaped a white iron collar around Jes's neck. Similar heavy, white cuffs were attached to her wrists and ankles. A thin white leather belt was wrapped around her bare waist at the level of her navel and cinched extremely tight, drawing in her already narrow waist.
Thick, white iron chains were attached multiple times to every cuff and collar. These served to drape her body in bondage, fully restrained in iron. The constriction and weight of the bondage caused Jes to stagger slightly. She stood back upright and balanced in her chains.
“Doesn’t she wear chains beautifully?” asked the auctioneer. He was answered with polite applause from the darkness.

The bidding was reopened and moved up again rapidly. At last, it slowed, passing £14,000 and finally stopped entirely at £19,500. Jessie thought to herself. So, now I know my worth. How many girls genuinely know that?
"Congratulations, Master G. Once Jessie completes the remaining vetting, signs all the releases, and undergoes the initiation submission, she will be your bondslave to, as the statute so powerfully states, "do with as you wish!" Applause rang out, and the two women ushered the girl from the stage, her chains swaying and rattling.

A wonderful narrative. The dilemma of the 'true' slave being conflicted when placed centre stage, believing herself unworthy is an excellent aspect of this scene. The fact that Jessie is also educated, erudite and eloquent enough to offer linguistic skills to her new Master also adds great value to the overall eroticism! Excellent chapter PrPr.

"The Bidding is Open"

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

8. Reporting for Service
A week ago today, Jessie had been informed of her official approval to become a bondslave. She was directed to arrange her affairs before reporting to the regional Slave Induction Center. To simplify the preparation, the government established a trust account for her. All her assets would be placed in it and converted to cash by a fiduciary. Eighty percent of the purchase price by her new master would also be placed in the account (the remained went to cover the governmental expenses). These funds would be invested in bonds for five years. After that time, the funds would transfer to the beneficiary that Jessie had named. Or the community might use them to cover the shortfall of a new sale (see below).

It was now time for Jessie to explain her departure and say goodbye to the people in her former life. Jessie had never been good at making friends. The light-hearted give-and-take of social interaction had always seemed artificial and foreign to her, and she had no facility at it. Though always anxious to help others, Jes could never let any other in close to her private self. With great reluctance, she sat down with her one, almost-close friend, Paige. After she confessed to her desires and plans in a breathless monologue, Paige stared at her for a brief while with a strange, almost smirk on her face. Then she told Jessie that she had always suspected something like that of her. She confessed in turn that thoughts of bondage and slavery had excited her also, though not to a level that she would consider cMs.
As the two discussed their feelings with an honesty that Jessie had never known in her life, Paige observed that she always felt a bit of sadness in Jes. Now she sincerely hoped that this choice would bring her the happiness and fulfillment she needed. As her friend said this, Jes burst into tears and held on tightly to the girl for the longest time. Suddenly she felt regret at leaving this wise woman. Nevertheless, she had made up her mind.

Her father was harder and easier to tell. To break forever with the one scrap of a family that remained to her was heart-rending. But the two had drifted far apart when she reached adulthood. Years before, they achieved a modus vivendi of communicating by phone a couple of times a year on special days and only discussing trivial, non-personal things.
When she called him one evening with the news, she suspected that he was, as usual, half-drunk. He listened to her story and grunted acknowledgment as she tried to explain how nothing was his fault but that she just needed this. In the end, she could hear him sobbing on the other end. He said he loved her and he was sorry several times and then went silent. After a half minute, he hung up.

Jessie was instructed to report to the center with nothing more than one set of simple clothes. She was also allowed one small personal item. This item would be surrendered as part of the initiation ceremony and left for safekeeping with her new master.
The amethyst pendant had been Jessie’s mother’s. It was the only thing she had left of her since the woman had deserted Jes and her father when the girl was only eight. Jessie had no illusions about the woman who had given birth to her and then left her child broken-hearted. But, somehow, the tiny purple stone had always been precious to the girl and seemed to make up slightly for the missing mother.
A very friendly set of welcomers (two women and one man) greeted her and showed her to her room. There she was given a light but tasty dinner and a short sleeping gown into which to change. Then she was left alone with her thoughts.

And what thoughts they were!
Jessie’s mind jumped back and forth between joyful anticipation and paralyzing fear. To be a slave, to have all her decisions taken away, to live for the orders of a master, to be subjected to his punishments. These ideas stimulated her deep-set desires and made her long for the morning to come.

 

[Fossy]

A week ago today, Jessie had been informed of her official approval to become a bondslave. She was directed to arrange her affairs before reporting to the regional Slave Induction Center. To simplify the preparation, the government established a trust account for her. All her assets would be placed in it and converted to cash by a fiduciary. Eighty percent of the purchase price by her new master would also be placed in the account (the remained went to cover the governmental expenses). These funds would be invested in bonds for five years. After that time, the funds would transfer to the beneficiary that Jessie had named. Or the community might use them to cover the shortfall of a new sale (see below).

A very reasonable arrangement ...

Jessie’s mind jumped back and forth between joyful anticipation and paralyzing fear. To be a slave, to have all her decisions taken away, to live for the orders of a master, to be subjected to his punishments. These ideas stimulated her deep-set desires and made her long for the morning to come.

But is she truly prepared for the years that will follow ...

he was left alone with her thoughts.

 

[Loinclothslave]

Oh how I could wish to be a part of that alternative reality. This speaks so much to my slavish heart. The inner desire to be enslaved since childhood- yes indeed my experience as well. The evolution into sexuality with the onset of puberty. The trepidation and fear at entering into a genuine slavery- even the half baked consensual slavery I enter into, is indeed real. I want it, crave it, and yet even with a trusted long term partner, committing to it, even as a part time thing comingled with vanilla life, is an act of trust and palpable fear. Even knowing I can walk away at anytime.

Yet inside me is a true slave, I identify strongly with Jessie. I’d fill in the forms and undergo the testing, and I’m sure, like her, face the auction block for real.

Thank you @Praefectus Praetorio and @Eulalia , this is riveting stuff. I wonder if she is just as masochistic as me, hoping her new owner will mark her with the kindness of his whip and branding iron? I do know it is possible to be (apparently) brutally whipped with genuine love, and the pain is, for someone like me, as the gentle caress of a lover’s kiss. Yet in this modern world I’ve not experienced the branding I crave and fear. It’s a complex thing trying to be a slave while also maintaining a vanilla veneer. I envy Jess her luck in living in a world where she may become a proper bond slave. I would definitely try to do likewise.

Thank you again

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Oh how I could wish to be a part of that alternative reality. This speaks so much to my slavish heart. The inner desire to be enslaved since childhood- yes indeed my experience as well. The evolution into sexuality with the onset of puberty. The trepidation and fear at entering into a genuine slavery- even the half baked consensual slavery I enter into, is indeed real. I want it, crave it, and yet even with a trusted long term partner, committing to it, even as a part time thing comingled with vanilla life, is an act of trust and palpable fear. Even knowing I can walk away at anytime.

Yet inside me is a true slave, I identify strongly with Jessie. I’d fill in the forms and undergo the testing, and I’m sure, like her, face the auction block for real.

Thank you @Praefectus Praetorio and @Eulalia , this is riveting stuff. I wonder if she is just as masochistic as me, hoping her new owner will mark her with the kindness of his whip and branding iron? I do know it is possible to be (apparently) brutally whipped with genuine love, and the pain is, for someone like me, as the gentle caress of a lover’s kiss. Yet in this modern world I’ve not experienced the branding I crave and fear. It’s a complex thing trying to be a slave while also maintaining a vanilla veneer. I envy Jess her luck in living in a world where she may become a proper bond slave. I would definitely try to do likewise.

Thank you again

I am gratified and my heart warmed by the knowledge that our humble effort has touched you deeply. More than a desire to entertain readers, we wished to create a work that would speak honestly to the Master/slave personalities here and present a believable and authentic alternative world. We hope to be part erotic, part engaging narrative, part BDSM, and part therapeutic.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

9. The End of the Vigil
But Jessie had never experienced such slavery, nor had she been at the unrestrained mercy or lack of mercy of a master. How cruel would he be? The law provided a slave some protection, but not very much. As was the case with historical chattel slavery, the master-owner was free to punish his slave as much as he judged fit. There were no required “safewords,” The protection offered by the law was akin to animal cruelty laws. Intentional murder of a slave was forbidden, though penalties for accidental death were not heavy. It was required that slaves be inspected once a month by the local “Superior” aided by a medical doctor. These would report signs of “excessive abuse.” Of course, the definition of this might vary from place to place.

In the end, the master was constrained in his cruelty by two factors. First, the value sunk into the slave as property. And, second, more powerfully, the opinion of the community of masters and mistresses. It was considered a "bad form" to abuse a slave too much. Since masters were expected to share their slave's favors with their fellow masters regularly, others would quickly become aware of the signs of excess. Social ostracism and even being banned from future purchases were the most effective constraints on behavior.
It was allowed that the master-slave relationship might become toxic. If so, the slave could appeal to the Superior. She would be put through a long period of solitary confinement under supervision. If she persisted with her request, she would be sold to another owner, and her former owner compensated with whatever he paid for her with the funds from the second sale and any shortfall made up from her trust fund. But she would never cease to be a slavegirl.

Jessie noticed the barest hint of light coming through the one tiny window, high on a wall. First Daylight. She gave a little shiver. Her vigil was coming to an end.

End - Chapter One

 

[Loinclothslave]

Perhaps their is a society like the RSPCA except it’s the RSPECS - Royal Society for the Prevention of Excessive Cruelty to Slaves?

Are slaves permitted to dream of a path to crucifixion? Perhaps when we are too old and our cost risks being a burden to Master we might be permitted crucifixion as a final homage to our enslavement? Perhaps we sign a document and undergo truth testing (under torture - for this is the best way to extract truth from slaves) to prove we understand the finality and our desire to complete our devotion to Master in our final sacrifice?

Oh this story truly fires my imagination and kink, thank you- again!

 

[Barbaria1]

The protection offered by the law was akin to animal cruelty laws.

That line certainly puts things in proper perspective