Operative of Obsidian Chapter 3

Here is the third installment of my Operative of Obsidian Story. Enjoy...

Chapter 3

Sweet dreams were not something that someone in her position had often and when they came it was hard to let them go. Autumn stirred, opening an unwilling eye. It was daytime, sunlight streaming through gaps in the heavy window coverings. Her Master was no where to be seen, no doubt having risen early in the morning to attend to his busy day. Autumn's hands were freed from the manacles, unlocked by her Master before he left. The collar, however, was still locked lovingly around her neck.

She sat up in bed, looking lazily about. She was in no hurry to start her day. Sleeping in was a rare treat and Autumn didn't want to take it for granted. She lay back down, luxuriating in the silken bedding and warm blankets. Even against the sweetly soft sheets, she could feel the ache in her cheeks from the paddling the night before. She smiled, grinding her butt into the bed, savoring the sensation.

Autumn gave a heavy sigh, figuring that she had probably wasted enough time. She stretched this way and that and finally climbed from the bed. Her bare feet touched the cool hard wood floor and she smiled, heading for the bathroom. As long as she was being pampered so this morning, she was going to have a nice long, hot shower.

Her Master's bathroom was one of the most ornate and beautiful she had ever seen. Polished marble, gold trimmings, elaborate fixtures, and antique silvered mirrors. There was a large whirlpool bathtub, almost like a small hot tub, a throne of a toilet complete with bidet, and a massive shower designed to look like the base of a waterfall. Half a dozen shower heads, hidden within the smooth rocky surface sprayed from different angles, each programmable to a dozen different settings. It was the most incredible sensation and one she was rarely allowed to enjoy, at least under her own recognizance. Autumn parted the glass door and stepped inside.

The hot steam surrounded her, water cascading from her curves as she leaned against the rock wall. Every muscle in her body soaked in the warmth and she breathed deep the vaporous cloud. Her mind wandered, not so much thinking as just simply experiencing. It was easy to become lost in the world of luxuriating sensations.

Some time later, she finally climbed from the shower, toweled herself dry and gazed upon her reflection in the mirror. She examined the bruising on her ass, smiling at the sight. Master's gifts... Breaking herself from thoughts that spiraled around her mind, she hung the towel up and left the bathroom.

The bed was a mess, blankets tossed every which way, pillows draped off the side or bunched up in the middle of the headboard. It was the house's rule that if a slave were allowed such a lazy morning, as she had, then that slave was responsible to tidy up the room. Usually, that task would be left to the maid slaves assigned to the room, but of course they wouldn't have had that chance with Autumn buried in the center of the bed. She set to making up the bed and ensuring that the room was put back just as her Master wanted it. She tossed back the thick curtains, tying them with the bit of rope at the sides of the window frame. It was still morning, the light from the windows shone in at an angle reaching the foot of the bed.

Her Master didn't believe in clocks and so there were none in his room. He relied instead upon his uncanny internal sense of time. Autumn was not as fortunate, and had to rely upon hints from the sun to help tell the general time of the day. If the light from the windows reached the foot of the bed, it must have been about ten in the morning.

That done, she retrieved the black gown she had left folded the night before. Pulling it up over her long, silken legs, bruised ass, and supple breasts, Autumn left her Master's room.

The life of an operative was one of momentary glamor and excitement coupled with long hours of constant training. Martial arts, advanced driving, espionage, pattern recognition, etiquette, and much, much more. The majority of her day was spent in some kind of training or exercise to keep her skills sharp and her hands occupied. Who knows what naughty little things a slave would get into if they weren't kept constantly busy? Society logic.

The first thing she wanted to do was to get something in her stomach. She headed down the long hallway and took a left at the corridor. As a structure, House Obsidian was quite massive, containing many passages, rooms, and more. The building extended several stories underground, though retained the appearance of a antiquated, sprawling villa from the surface. Below is where the training pens were located, as well as the firing range, weapons and gear storage, the self contained server rooms, the gym (complete with Olympic sized swimming pool) and even some rooms that Autumn had never been allowed to see.

The kitchen, which held her interest far more than the sub-levels at the moment, were open access to all, member and slave alike. Though, of course the meals were restricted depending upon which group one belonged to. The kitchen was staffed by slaves but managed by one of the House's famed culinary members, Master Augustine. Italian by birth and trained in some of the most prestigious culinary academies and famed kitchens throughout Europe, his culinary expertise and renown could have landed him in any House he wished. He chose House Obsidian. No one really knew why he did it, but it was said that after just one meeting with the Head of House Obsidian, Autumn's Master, Augustine had decided.

Membership in any of the Houses differed as much as the Houses themselves. In most Houses, there were members who retained their public lives; politicians, military generals, actors, business men, etc. Most of these types enjoyed the privileges and the status, but had little to do with maintaining the House itself. Then there were the members who lived in the house, who were in charge of certain areas, such as Augustine and his kitchen, and who acted as the governing body of the House and all its members. These members were usually rather removed from the outside world, living a life that would seem very alien and even barbaric by modern standards. Autumn enjoyed the hypocrisy at times.

The dining hall looked like it belonged in some medieval castle. Long low, Greek styled, mahogany tables trimmed in gold and bordered by plush cushions stretched in long rows. These were the tables for the House's slaves. And above, on a raised platform sat a grand table, ornately carved and polished to a gleaming shine. Finery fit for royalty, was meticulously placed for each of the House's thirteen members.

There were very few seats taken, not surprising given the time Autumn supposed. She walked quietly to one of the low sitting tables and knelt down on the vibrant red cushion. It was actually rather comfortable, kneeling this way to eat, a bonus given that slave's weren't allowed to be on the furniture. Not even her.

One of the kitchen slaves came to her side, hands folded behind her back.

“Good morning,” she said in a mousy tone.

“Good morning,” Autumn said, returning the greeting.

“What may I offer you today, sister?”

Autumn had been pondering that since she left her Master's chamber. She put another moment of thought into it before answering.

“Today I would like to have french toast, two pieces with butter and syrup, and some mixed fruit on the side. Cantaloupe, honeydew, watermelon, and passion fruit. A Chai tea to drink, please.”

The girl made a mental list and nodded.

“Very good, sister,” she said, turning to walk away.

Autumn smiled, waiting for a moment in silence.

“Autumn, I knew it was you! You always order the same thing when you come back from your... your tasks, eh?”

“Master Augustine, a pleasure to see you,” she said, standing to greet him and kissing him once on each cheek.

“It is a pleasure to see you,” he said with a coy smile, looking her up and down. He laughed, his deep infectious laugh and she smiled.

“So, you had a... a successful trip, eh?”

“Yes sir, it went well. And now I'm back were I belong.”

“Eating your french toast? Every time you return you say, 'french toast'. When are you going to ask for something more exciting, where is that sense of adventure?”

“Oh, now sir. A girl's got to have her traditions, besides how could I pass up the perfection of your recipe? You are a victim of your own resounding success.”

A wide smile spread across his reddening face.

“You make me blush, such flattery! Okay, okay, french toast it is! But I warn you, little miss silver tongue, one of these days I will plead my case to your Master and then we will see who will be the victim of my successes.”

He turned and walked back to the kitchens, slipping through the doors shouting in Italian.

Autumn smiled, she couldn't help it. Being an Operative of the House placed her in an entirely different category. Any slave of the House who was not attached to a specific member was subject to every member of the House and even those slaves who were attached, to a point. Any slave could be ordered to perform tasks and be used for any whim by a member. Attached slaves, slaves who were owned by an individual member, were subject to any member for use in tasks but nothing else. Operatives, like Autumn, were subject only to their individual Master and as such walked with a degree of impunity, almost like members themselves. This made for some very interesting interactions among the members, much like her usual banter with Master Augustine. She knelt back down at the table to await her breakfast.

Before too long, the young girl returned with a tall mug of Chai tea, complete with a thick layer of foam sprinkled with nutmeg. She bent down and placed it on the table before Autumn.

“It will just be another moment for your meal,” she said with a bow. As she turned back to the kitchen, Autumn noticed three fresh, red stripes across her curvacious ass. Someone had gotten into trouble, she thought with a smirk. She picked up her mug, bringing it up to her lips, inhaling the steam as it rose to tickle her nose. Her eyes closed. Sweet heaven, she thought, taking a long sip. The warm, sweet tea washed over her tongue like liquid pumpkin pie. She had to force herself to stop, setting the mug back down on the table before she drank it all in one shot.

The young girl returned, this time with a plate and a place setting. She placed the plate gently before Autumn and laid the fork, spoon, and knife almost delicately on either side. It looked delicious, two thick pieces of battered and fried toast, a dollop of real whipped cream and a sprinkling of cinnamon with a side of mixed fruits. A congratulatory meal if she had ever seen one.

“I hope it is to your liking, ma'am,” the girl said with a slight bow.

“Oh yes! Please pass my gratitude to Master Augustine.”

“Yes ma'am,” she said, turning to scurry off to the kitchen once more.

Autumn picked up the folded napkin and unfolded it, placing it in her lap. She then took her fork and knife and, almost remorsefully, cut a piece off the corner. Slowly, she brought it up to her lips, letting it first touch the tip of her tongue before passing her teeth. She chewed, again closing her eyes as her taste buds were sent on a magical ride.

Savoring her breakfast, Autumn took the better part of an hour to finish, downing two cups of Chai before pushing back her plate and resting on her heels. Stuffed and content, she rose to her feet and left the dining hall, leaving her plate and mug to be attended to by the young girl.

She decided to take a nice leisurely stroll around the grounds to help digest her food and complete the last part of her coming home ritual. It was a lovely day, warm and sunny. A broken blanket of scattered sliver clouds covered the sapphire sky. A slight breeze played through her hair as she exited the house through the back patio. It was not too late in the season and the grass still looked vibrant and thick. Autumn, stepped off the pave stone patio, feeling her bare feet sink into the cool grass. Grounded, she thought. She wiggled her toes, enjoying the feeling of blades of grass between them.

The grounds of House Obsidian stretched on for quite a ways, covering hundreds of square acres. Some was used for farm land, providing the House with fresh grown food. Some was used for training, especially animal slaves, such as pony girls or doggy boys. Then some was used for sport. The land belonging to the House was varied, a delightful mix of flat grassland, a large grove of trees, and some rolling, rocky hills. Autumn's mind wandered back to the number of times she had been taken for a walk, led on her Master's leash while bound across the property. Simple pleasures, she thought with a smile.

A whinny caught her attention and she turned to see one of the ponies leading an ornate rickshaw across the field The driver saw her standing and turned his girl to head in Autumn's direction. She recognized Master Phillip, the House's slave trainer, as the girl came trotting up to her. A shiver ran down Autumn's spine. She had spent three years in the training pens under the merciless hands of Master Phillip. Every slave did. It was his job to break the slaves, utterly destroying them so that they may be built back up in whatever way the House desired. Like a perverted baptism, whoever she had been had died in those pens and she was reborn Autumn of House Obsidian.

She held no grudge against Master Phillip, no anger or hurt feelings. She understood the necessity of her years of suffering, but it was not something that one ever forgot. Just the sight of him still had an effect on her. It didn't hurt anything that he was also the House disciplinarian and he was very, very good at it.

“Autumn, I had heard you were back,” Master Phillip said, pulling on the reigns to halt his pony.

“Yes sir, last night. How are you today, Master Phillip?”

He smiled, reaching a hand out to pat his pony on her flank. “Good, good. I'm just taking Tabby here out for her daily exercise.”

Tabby, a young blonde girl with muscular legs and ass, shook in her leather rigging. The metal chains binding her to the cart rattled.

“She looks good, sir. May I touch her?”

Master Phillip smiled. “Sure, go right ahead.”

Autumn reached out, placing her hand on the girl's flank. Tabby shuddered, again rattling her chains. She was beautiful, blonde hair braided tightly into a long tail that hung halfway down her back. A matching braid extruded from a plug placed deep in her ass, guided upward by a metal brace so it curved up and out to hang free down to the backs of her knees. Autumn knew that the tail braid would have been Tabby's own hair as well, cut from her head during her initial training and given back as something of a graduation gift once she reached her pony status.

Her tan skin was coated in a thin veil of sweat from her exertions, giving her a glistening sheen in the midday sun. The thick, polished leather harness hugged her every curve, enhancing her luscious form. Autumn brought her hand to the side of Tabby's face and the pony girl turned into the caress. For a brief moment, their eyes met. Tabby's eyes were bright blue and vacant, filled only with the bliss that accompanied being reduced to a simple animal.

She chomped on the metal, hinged bit between her teeth and huffed. Stamping the ground with her hoofed boot, telegraphing her impatience to move on. Master Philip gave a gentle tug on the reigns.

“Calm yourself, girl. Patience, we'll get moving here in a moment.”

Tabby whinnied and shook her head.

“Ponies, eh?” he stated. “So, what are you up to this fine day?”

“Just enjoying the last bit of my post mission free time, sir.”

“Well, I'm sure you deserve it,” he said with a crooked grin. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you, sir,” Autumn said, taking a step back from Tabby and the cart. “I hope you continue to have a fun day.”

“Why, thank you, Autumn. The same to you.”

Master Philip snapped the reigns and Tabby eagerly started trotting off back toward the direction of the stables. He delighted in cracking the buggy whip at the backs of Tabby's thighs as she went.

Autumn watched the two of them for a moment more before continuing on. She wandered aimlessly for a little while until she came to the ponds. Tranquil pool of crystal clear water, dotted by lush waterlilies and framed by tall green grasses and cattails. It was a favored spot for meditation used by member and slave alike. It was Autumn's favorite spot in the whole of the estate. Smiling, she walked to the water's edge and gently sat in the grass. Dipping her toes in the cool water, she closed her eyes and breathed. The sun ducked behind a group of clouds, casting the world in a silver glow. A warm breeze flowed over her flesh. The songs of passing birds reached her ears, and for one lingering moment the world was perfect.

It was so easy to get lost in those rare moments, to let the whole day pass one by. However, her day was not her own, nothing was. She took another deep breath, one last savory moment before rising to her feet and returning to the House.

As an Operative, Autumn was given her own room. A spacious, richly furnished cross between personal quarters and an office. She was allowed a single sized bed to sleep in when her Master did not wish her presence in his bed. The bedding was no where near as plush as her Master's, but she was grateful regardless. It certainly beat sleeping on a concrete floor with only a thin blanket to fend off the chilly night.

There was a smaller armoire, like her Master's, where she was allowed to keep a small selection of clothes. She only had a few items, a couple of dresses including the black dress she was wearing, her work suit, and a couple of risque pieces that her Master really liked her in.

In the center of the room sat a large, antique desk. Carved with similar reliefs to that of the Head Master's chamber door and headboard, it almost looked more like a medieval sarcophagus. Sprawling and extravagant, it dominated the room. A remarkable example of a time when such things were made to be works of art, a time before Ikea.

Though the desk was a remarkable relic, the equipment it held was state of the art. A sophisticated computer system with a fiber-optic based processor and custom operating system, contained within a housing the size of a paper back novel. Completely wireless, all of the interface components communicated within an encrypted signal network. The system was tied into the House's private server network.

Much like Autumn's desk, the House may have appeared to be a throw back to an ancient time, but it had hidden within it some of the most advanced equipment in the world. Whole Governments didn't have the technical capabilities of many of the premier Houses, and the Society was keen on keeping it that way.

Autumn, returned to her room, removed her dress, and placed it back into her armoire. Then, she went into her small bathroom to freshen up a little after her lax morning. She returned, fluffing her breeze blown hair a little. Sitting at her desk in her leather arm chair, she pressed her thumb onto the black box activating the print scanner. Her identity confirmed, the computer keyed on taking a brief moment to boot completely. She accessed the internal comm network and checked for her daily itinerary. As an Operative, her days were planned out ahead of time by her Master and her trainers.

Today's itinerary listed the morning's free time, followed by a sparring session in the courtyard with Ashton, a fellow Operative and personal slave to Mistress Sloan, the House's martial expert. Autumn smiled, she always enjoyed trading blows with the sexy blonde slave. It always felt like foreplay. The rest of her day was typical, broken up between a language class, finishing up the section on Arabic, some time in the shooting range, and finally an official debrief of her latest mission.

Official debriefings were both exciting and scary. Sat before at least three of the House's members and strapped into a metal framed chair while they reviewed the mission's details. Since she had been wearing the faux House Scion ring imbedded with the tiny camera, the video captured would be reviewed as well. Something to look forward too, she smirked thinking back to Kyle Porter's last night.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, she checked the time. Eleven thirty, giving her about half an hour before her scheduled sparring match. Autumn's Master, being a meticulous person, was unforgiving of tardiness and she had learned quickly to be timely as a result. Still, half an hour gave her enough time for a few stretches, a chance to loosen up a little.

She keyed her computer, setting it to sleep and began stretching her legs and back. Sliding into the splits, then rolling it around to the other side. Her nice relaxing morning coupled with a nice relaxing hot shower left her limber and loose. Over all, she felt great!

Autumn went to her armoire and withdrew her Gi. Simple white and humble, it was the standard Martial Arts uniform found just about anywhere. Despite its years of service, it still looked bright and fresh. The laundry service in the House was nothing short of amazing, she thought considering all of the grass and various blood stains that had graced its heavy fabric.

She slipped it over her naked flesh and tied it closed around her. It felt familiar, like a second skin. Running her hands over her body, she began to grow excited. A warm tingle deep within that brought a growing smile to her face. Closing her armoire, Autumn went to her bathroom, bound her hair back into a pony tail, grabbed a towel, and left her room.

Like so much of the Estate, the Courtyard was a little piece of paradise. A long outdoor table, large enough for every member of the House plus a small group of guests, sat amid clusters of groomed, sculpted decorative bushes. A canopy of tree branches gave cover to the arrangement, casting it in a perpetual cool shade. From this vantage, the members could watch as the slaves tended to a number of activities, including the sparring ring.

Autumn found Aston already working through forms in the ring. She was a beautiful sight to behold. Her golden hair bound tightly back in a braid, her Gi clinging to sweat dampened curves as she moved, a sheen over her tanned flesh, glistening in the midday sun. Long, slender legs, belying their deceptive power. Curvacious body, ample bust, an angelic face, and eyes like sapphires; she was every bit a living work of art.

“Good day, Autumn,” Ashton said, finishing her form.

“Good day to you, sister.” Autumn stepped into the ring, pausing to bow in respect.

“How was your last mission?”

“It went well,” Autumn said with a smile, “thank you for asking. And how have you been?”

“Well, sister, very well. To tell the truth, I'm a little anxious for my next assignment, I feel as if I'm in danger of falling prey to cabin fever.”

“That's no good. It's sad to think that such a thing is even possible in place as lovely as this.”

“It is,” Ashton chuckled. “but a person can only take so much training without putting it to use. At least, I feel that way.”

“I can understand,” Autumn said knowingly. “Well... Shall we?”

“We shall, sister.”

The two women squared off against each other and bowed, falling automatically into ready stances.

“I have to admit,” Ashton said, circling Autumn, “I was looking forward to this when I saw that we were scheduled to spar today.”

Autumn smirked, “Oh, yes? And why is that?”

“Because...” Ashton said, launching into a flurry of short hand attacks. Autumn sidestepped or blocked most, throwing a number of counters as she did.

“That's not much of a reason,” Autumn teased. She pressed back, working a number of combinations and grapples. Ashton expertly moved in and out, avoiding the traps and countering effectively. They stepped back, squaring off again.

“It's reason enough,” she quipped. “We're quite the pair, don't you think? An excellent match of skill, and beauty.”

Ashton was always very blunt, speaking her mind freely. It was a trait that her owner, Mistress Sloan, held in high regard.

“Such praise, I didn't hit you in the head too hard, did I, sister?”

“Brat!” Ashton laughed.

The two women traded blows for a while longer, each pressing their advantage while the other avoided and countered. Their breathing grew heavy while sweat flowed, dripping down their backs and soaking into their uniforms. Strikes gave way to grapples and soon they were entangled together, rolling about on the ground fighting for control. Occasionally a hand would slip into an open top, grabbing and groping.

Foreplay, Autumn thought once more, wrapping her legs tightly around Ashton's waist and rolling her to her side. Ashton, ground her elbow into the middle of Autumn's thigh, forcing her scissor lock fall open. Ashton tried to slide over, mounting Autumns chest and pinning her to the ground. However, Autumn recovered, catching Ashton's arm and pulling it across, dropping her to her side as she wrapped her other leg around one of Ashton's.

“If I didn't know any better, I'd think you girls were trying to do something expressly naughty!”

Startled, they both untangled from each other and rolled onto their feet. Mistress Sloan stood, smiling as she watched. Her graying hair left loose and flowing, framing a youthful face. She was dressed in her own Gi, one far more extravagant than that of either Autumn's or Ashton's. Metallic blue and black with a fire breathing dragon pattern stretched from shoulder to opposing leg. She looked at once gorgeous and intimidating.

Both girls bowed.

“Good day, Mistress Sloan,” they chimed together.

“Good day, girls. Been working hard, have we?”

“Always,” Ashton said, looking over at Autumn.

“Some more than others,” Autumn responded, unable to suppress a crooked smile.

“Well, I've been watching the two of you for a while now, and I have to admit I am impressed. You both have taken to your lessons well. However, I couldn't help but notice the occasional wayward hand,” she said with a knowing smile.

Both Ashton and Autumn blushed a little.

“Just make sure that those errant grapples don't turn into grappling of another type. You both know the rules.”

“Yes Mistress Sloan,” they chimed.

“Good. Now, Autumn, I believe that your hour session is up and that you have other duties to attend to.”

“Yes Ma'am,” Autumn said with a nod.

“Well... be off with you. Ashton and I have some work to do.”

“Yes Ma'am,” Autumn turned to Ashton and bowed out before rushing to retrieve her towel and heading back inside. Ashton smiled before turning to her Owner and beginning her lesson.

Mistress Sloan had been right, things were getting pretty heated. Autumn felt her excitement churning deep inside. Had she not have interrupted, the two of them may have crossed a line. The House, and indeed the Society at large, had strict rules about slaves and sex. Basically that the slave, not owning any thing, had no right to their own pleasure or components. That the House or specific Owner controlled a slave's sex completely, using it, or not, as they saw fit. It was a big issue and a lot of slaves have the hardest time learning to control their desire and channeling it. The punishment for breaking this rule was rather severe, a subject that Autumn was unwilling to dwell upon.

She returned to her room, eager for a shower and to get on with the rest of her day. Having the debriefing hanging over her head was making her anxious.

Operative of Obsidian Chapter 2

Hello everyone, I am happy to be able to post Chapter 2 of the Operative of Obsidian story that I have been working on. Again this is an original work of fiction and it is only the first draft. Please feel free comment, let me know what you think. I'm hoping to have the finished story sent about for publishing.

Also, thanks to all of our readers and great followers for keeping us in your thoughts. It is always a pleasure to know that we are truly a part of this great community. Please enjoy...

Chapter 2

It was good to be home. The tall, oppressive black gates parted for her like a great beast eager to swallow her whole. The driver pulled the car forward slowly, following the winding drive to the House. She watched as the gates closed behind them, sealing her in. She took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly feeling more at peace, feeling confined.

The car made its way down the drive, finally pulling to a stop in front of House Obsidian. A footman opened the door, kneeling to offer her a helping hand. She waved him off, climbing out of the car with ease. He instead attended to the luggage, pulling the two bags from the opened trunk.

“That one goes straight to the armory,” she said pointing to the heavier of the two.

“Yes ma'am,” the footman said, “and the other?”

“To the laundry,” she said walking away.

“Yes ma'am.”

The door attendant greeted her with a simple smile and a nod, opening the door for her. She nodded her thanks and slipped inside.

The foyer was cavernous and lush with vibrant plants. Ornate fountains teeming with glimmering fish flowed freely through the display, its own little ecosystem. A world within a world.

“Ah, Autumn, welcome home!” a glad voice called out. Humphrey, the head butler came to greet her, his hands outstretched. She smiled and offered her hands in return. He took them with a warm squeeze.

“So good to have you back, my dear.”

“Thank you, Humphrey. Its lovely to see you too.”

She always had a soft spot for him, he reminded her of her father. Though such attachments were usually removed during the training process, they sometimes remained. His bright smile and familiar British accent were always welcoming.

“So,” he said, turning to lead her toward the main stairs. “How did your latest assignment turn out?”

“Satisfyingly successful. How have things been here while I was away?”

“The usual, too frequent Council visits, mystery, intrigue, mayhem.”

“So, its been an easy weekend then?”

They shared a quiet laugh together.

“Are you hungry, my dear? I could have something sent up from the kitchens.”

“No, thank you. I'm just glad to be back.”

“I'm sure,” he said with a knowing smile. “Well, if you change your mind, do let me know.”

“I will.”

“Well then, he's waiting for you in his suite.”

She reached over and gave him a peck on his cheek. “Thank you, Humphrey.”

He nodded and turned to go about his duties. She took a deep breath and continued up the stairs.

Even after all these years, returning to him still gave her goosebumps. A rush of excitement ran down her spine as she turned down the hall, the great doors to his suite just at the end. Her pulse picked up and she felt her breath quicken. She felt a slight draft flow over her, tingling the tiny hairs on her arms. Her whole being felt alive, like awakening from a dark dream to find one's self wrapped in warm blankets.

Reaching the end of the hall, she halted. Before her stood imposing twin doors carved with an ornate relief depicting the ancient history of House Obsidian. The work was immaculate, meticulous in its detail, and beautiful to behold. Such a history, a history she was honored to be a part of. She reached a tentative hand out to knock on the frame of the door and froze like so many times before. She was almost scared to break the silence that surrounded her, calling his attention sharply to her. Even if his attention is exactly what she wanted. Summoning the will within her, she rapt three times, awaiting his word to enter.

“Come,” his muffled voice called through the thick, ornate wooden doors. She took a deep breath and pushed the doors open. There he stood, examining several papers spread neatly upon his desk. He stood with perfect posture, his baring proud but not prideful. His appearance was elegant, yet simple compared to the extravagant opulence of other Heads of House. Graying hair kept short and in

check, his face was clean shaven, his finger nails trimmed short with not a speck of dirt beneath them. A simple elegance marked by meticulous attention to detail, the very definition of him. She thrilled at the sight of him.

Entering without a word, she closed the doors behind her. She reached up and released the hair clip, letting her wavy auburn hair tumble around her shoulders. Then, with a practiced ease, she pulled the long, black dress she had been wearing down her body. Stepping out of it and quickly and neatly folding the dress, she layed it on the floor. She then dropped to her knees folding her legs beneath her, back straight, head up, eyes down, and arms crossed behind her back. The position of a slave in waiting.

He said nothing, looking over what was on his desk. Autumn remained still and silent, waiting to be acknowledged before speaking. Several long minutes later, he tapped the table with his pointed finger and walked over to an ornate armoire. From its shelves he retrieved something she had been longing for for days. He paced slowly over to her, standing agonizingly close yet far away. He reached a hand out in front of her face and she eagerly placed her chin in his grasp. His warm touch melted her heart, a heart kept cold by the necessity of her tasks. But under his touch, she was putty. She kissed his hand eagerly and he smiled.

He held the sleek polished metal collar before her face and she eagerly kissed it. Finally she thought lifting her chin to offer her throat. It slipped around her neck like the long awaited touch of an absent lover, caressing her in its inescapable grip. The metal click of the unbreakable lock resounded in her ears. A sound that meant she was kept, that she was his property once more. Nothing but an object, thoughtless and meaningless. Dedicated to serving him, subject to his every whim. Sealed into her place as his.

“Welcome home... my slave,” he said warmly. Autumn fell to the floor, kissing his feet in gratitude and adoration, over come by the rush of emotion that always accompanied a homecoming. She loathed each assignment, the objectives that would take her away from him, removing her from her coveted collar.

“Thank you, Master!” she said again and again.

“Up, girl,” he instructed, motioning with his hand as one would with a dog. She sat up, resting on her heels, her arms crossing behind her back once more. Autumn gazed up at him with bright, sea green eyes, full of longing and desire. Her heart fluttered just being at his feet again. The dominance he exuded simply standing over her sent chills down her spine. She had missed him, his power over her. She couldn't help but smile.

“That's my girl.” He stepped closer, placing his hand on the back of her head and pulling her against his leg in a tender embrace. She nuzzled his thigh with the side of her face, grateful for his touch, the warmth of his body.

His fingers wrapped around a handful of her hair and he pulled her forward. “Come girl,” he said with a gentle tug. She fell onto all fours and lithely crawled to follow, her pace quick yet graceful. Her round, ample breasts swayed with each movement as he led her through his suite to the Master bedroom.

A great four poster bed dominated the center of the large room. As ornate and carefully carved as the doors, its massive headboard depicted a wild orgy of old. Dozens of slaves being used in ways she was intimately familiar with. Its thick posts, to which she had spent many upon many hours chained, were carved into four identical, voluptuous women. Their arms stretched over head as if, like Atlas, they had been instructed to hold up the world. The canopy of deep red sheers draped over the sides, tied back to the posts with satin straps.

He brought her to the foot of the bed and released her hair, leaving her to remain still. Autumn resumed a kneeling posture, her composed exterior belied the excitement that gripped her. Her eyes remained downcast as she had been trained despite her powerful desire to watch every move he made. Cabinets opened and chains rattled as her Master retrieved the implements he intended to use on her. Sounds she knew only too well. Metal cuffs, thick and secure, hungry for her wrists. The clack of the wooden paddle against the cabinet door as he pulled it from its hook. A simple evening in it would seem.

He returned to her then, tossing his chosen items on the bed. Slipping a hand under her chin, he lifted her face to look at him.

“You've been a good girl, Autumn.”

Her heart swelled. “Thank you, Master!” she beamed.

He smiled back at her with a warmth in his heart that showed in his eyes. His fingers traced a line around her face, stopping to push a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. She turned her face into the caress, hungry for his touch. His hand then moved to her collar. Slipping a finger through the ring, he pulled her around to the side of the bed. A slight gesture conveyed his desire for her to undress him, a command she eagerly obeyed.

Autumn reached up, her hands gently caressing his thighs. Nimble fingers dancing over the smooth fabric of his pants, lingering for a long moment over the growing bulge. She loosened the belt, inwardly relishing the sound of the supple leather sliding through the metal buckle. Then she opened his pants, delighting in the sight of his cock rising up to meet her. A hint of his musk tickled her nose and her mouth watered in anticipation. His pants slid easily down his legs to pile at his feet.

She looked up at him with longing. “Master, may I pleasure you?”

His smile broadened. “You may, slave.”

She was gripped by an eager desire to gobble his cock down the back of her throat but the years of intense training easily took over. Teasingly, she breathed a hot breath over his head, her eyes locking with his. Her hands slid up his legs, gently caressing as she kissed the tip. He looked down at her, watching her every subtle movement.

She licked up and down each side of his shaft, tonguing his testis softly. The smell of his musk drove her desire, quickening her breathing and heart. Her teasing touch became more primal as she brought his cock into her mouth. Sucking lips locked around him, sliding up and down while her tongue swirled around his tip.

The effect it was having on him became apparent as his hips began pumping and his eyes rolled back behind closed eyelids. His stoic exterior began melting, revealing the sexual hunger buried beneath. His hand moved behind her head, his fingers wrapping within her hair and pulling her down on him. Autumn happily gave over to his direction, crossing her arms behind her.

Her Master gladly had his way with her, at times slamming his cock into the back of her throat forcing gagging noises and a few tears. She threw herself into her service, eager to take anything he forced upon her. Her arms tucked submissively behind her back, unmoving even when he choked her with is cock.

Autumn felt his body begin to tense and she hungrily readied herself for him to explode into her throat. Suddenly, he hauled her onto her feet by her hair, his free hand gripping her throat. He squeezed, stealing her breath, pulling her up onto her toes. She gasped, her hands thrown out to the sides as her eyes rolled up toward the ceiling. Head buzzing, she felt herself starting to slip into that black abyss when her Master threw her face down on the bed. She sucked in air, unable to keep a smile from her gasping mouth.

He was on her in an heartbeat, straddling her legs with a strong arm pressing on the center of her back keeping her face buried in the covers while he wrested her arms with the other. In moments, the thick metal shackles were locked around her wrists. He moved up her body to sit squarely upon her back, further pinning her and forcing the breath out of her chest. Autumn groaned beneath him, relishing the heat of his flesh. Her hips ground into the mattress.

Pulling her arms out in front of her, he chained her to the bed posts. Thus secured, he rolled off of her back and onto the floor beside the bed. She tugged at her restraints, comforted by their unrelenting grip and metallic rattle. Even the cold bite of the metal edge against her wrist was strangely soothing.

The sound of the wooden paddle slapping against her Master's palm grabbed her attention and she turned to look up at him over her shoulder. He gazed down at her with a cruel smile, the paddle clutched in his hand. He said nothing, just reached back and brought it down on her ass with a resounding clap. She tensed, moaning as the sharp sting burned deeper into her flesh. She let out a long breath a moment before sucking in more air as the second strike hit.

He continued to paddle her, giving her just enough time between strikes for her to cry out. Tears welled up in her eyes as blood rushed to her quivering, burning cheeks.

“Thank you, Master!” she cried out.

Apparently satisfied with the color of her ass and the tears soaking into the bed, he tossed the paddle to the side and climbed back into the bed. She felt him move up between her legs, his hands slapping each side of her ass, eliciting a squeal from her. Then he gripped her hips, pulling her butt up off the bed and forcing her onto her knees.

“You want this, slave?”

“Oh yes, Master! Please fuck your girl!”

“Greedy little cunt?”

“Yes Master,” she said, a sly smile spreading across her face.

He slapped her ass again and she squealed.

“Beg, slave.”

Autumn eagerly began pleading.

“Please Master! Your greedy cunt begs to be fucked and used Master. Please let this bitch pleasure you!”

She couldn't turn to look at him, but she could clearly see the look on his face in her mind. A cross between lust and amusement. She could feel the head of his cock poised against her lips, rimmed with white moisture. He let her debase herself for a while longer before granting her heartfelt pleas. With one smooth motion, he entered her all the way to the hilt. She groaned, grinding her hips against him. Oh how she missed this, being completely and simply his. His grip tightened on her waist and she knew he had missed her as well.

Autumn craved this, these quiet times behind locked doors. They could truly be them selves, not the Head of House or an operative. Just a man and his slave, all the pretense and politics of the Society's world locked out. In these private moments her Master lowered his guard, that carefully cultivated quiet composure that made him such an effective leader, allowing the lustful, sadistic hedonist to show through.

He dragged his fingernails down her back, scratching long red trails over her flesh. She purred, feeling goosebumps spread over her skin. An exquisite pain; a sign of his desire and caring. He began to work within her then, slow and steady at first. She moaned, reveling in the sensation of being filled by him, of being used to please him.

It was obvious by his pace that he was in no hurry to see the night end and she was grateful. Her own desire began to well up inside, a hot pressure in her loins. He must have sensed her growing need because his hands clamped down on her hips, his nails digging into her. She groaned, suddenly thrust almost beyond the edge. However, she wasn't allowed to fall off into that inviting sea of bliss without his permission and she was not going to disappoint him.

“Oh god! Please Master, I beg you! Let me cum, please!” she screamed into the mattress, her voice thick with desperation.

“Really?” he asked with an aggravating calmness.

“Please Master!” she cried, her body shuddering with the effort to hold back.

“Why would you want to do that?”

“To please you, Master!” she blurted. “Only to please you!”

He said nothing for a long moment, dragging out her agony of teetering on the edge of exploding into a shuddering, screaming mass. Autumn whined like a dog, begging wordlessly because she was beyond words. Exactly where she wanted to be.

Finally, either taking pity on the poor girl or just interested in watching her erupt, he gave her permission. Erupt she did, lost in a tidal wave of blinding pleasure. He drove her hard, leaving her gasping and struggling against the chains. Finally she collapsed in a sweaty pile, sucking air.

“Thank you, Master!” she gasped.

“You're welcome, girl.”

He took her again and again, screaming into the wee hours of the night. She didn't have a clue how many times she came, shuddering on the end of his cock. In the end, they collapsed together in a puddle of sweat and sweet secretions gasping and laughing. He rolled onto his side and stared at her, hair matted to her face hiding the blissful smile playing on her lips beneath.

“Such a beautiful girl,” he said softly.

“Thank you, beautiful Master,” she responded with a chuckle.

He raised his eyebrow. “Really? Well, just don't tell anyone.”

Autumn laughed. She rolled onto her side as best she could, still bound to the bed as she was.

“I am so grateful Master...”

“For?” he asked, his tone sincere.

“Everything,” she said with a tear in the corner of her eye. “I am grateful for everything, Master.”

He smiled softly, reaching a hand out to brush a wet strand of hair from her face.

“My darling girl.”

She felt the tears welling up, a rush of emotion she often buried deep down because of her position. Stoicism, the curse of propriety she thought. It was only in these moments, naked in every way, that she was truly free. Freedom found in the chains of her owner, a concept only those who have experienced it could truly understand.

Her Master reached out and pulled her close, holding her against his body. Heaven, she thought. She snuggled up to him as best she could, nuzzling her head in his chest. The sound of his heart beating soothed her, as did the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. Together, they fell into a peaceful slumber.

Operative of Obsidian

Hello everyone, I wanted to share with you all a bit of my fiction. The following is the first chapter of a piece I'm currently working on. I'd love some feed back. Thanks everyone.

Chapter 1

The stage was set. A Council sponsored party at an extravagant European mansion. Elegant trappings of art and culture adorned the yellow warm walls. Expensive champagne and the finest wines flowed freely down the wine glass pyramids at the buffet table. Scantly clad servants rushed about demurely, ensuring that every last detail was attended to as the guests began to arrive. Footmen greeted the guests, exquisitely dressed Diva's and dashing gentlemen from every corner of the planet, offering their hands from bended knee.

She watched them through a window, eager to join in the festivities. Tonight's guest list represented some of the most wealthy and influential individuals in not only the Society, but the world. So much power and wealth in one place, it was like something out of fantasy. Yet here they all were, availing themselves to the carnal pleasures the Society provided. Gorgeous slaves of both genders attending to every need, every whim. It was enough to get a girl's heart beating.

However, she wasn't here for fun and games. She had a job to do. Taking another slow sip of her wine, she continued to watch for her target. So many people, so many rich people. It was incredible to think that Society had managed to remain hidden from the outside world. She supposed that was part of why she was here.

Outside, another vehicle pulled to a stop, one she had seen before in surveillance photos. A lavish sporty number, slick wheels, custom paint. He was here. She watched as the car door opened. He was handsome, hair graying around the ears, clean shaven, strong jaw. Glossy shoes, pressed suit, a gaudy watch so large she could see it from where she stood. He was showing off.

As he walked to the doors, she made her way down a grand set of stairs to the main room. The festivity's favors were in place, female slaves locked into frames, exposing their charms to frequent use. This was a game like a virtual pony race, whoever can bring their filly to a screaming climax first wins. A popular favorite, she remembered with a smile. There were other games of course, many others. Such a gala event, the Council pulled out all the stops.

She caught sight of her prey making his way through the welcoming committee. No badges or name tags here, only those that belong marked by a single signet ring, a House ring. A House ring or a House collar. She fingered the ring on her own hand. The bursting star on its face marked her as a member of House Scion. She resisted the urge to twist the unfamiliar hunk of metal. There was only one piece of jewelry she was allowed to wear and she longed to feel it locked about her neck again.

He was on the move, passed the entry way and straight to the pyramids of champagne. In a celebratory mood? Draining what was left of her own wine, she made her way through the growing crowd toward the table. Like a predator stalking its prey through a forest of people, hidden yet in plain sight. He plucked a glass from the stack and downed half of it right off.

Good, she thought, he's looking to enjoy himself. That will make her job easier. She stepped up near him and pulled at a glass, knocking two off the pyramid. They tumbled down the side, spilling their contents into the other glasses before crashing to the floor. The structure shook, but remained intact.

“Oh my gosh!” she squealed, a hand over her mouth. He turned to see what had happened and for an instant when his eyes fell on her, he froze. A simple pause that to the untrained eye would have barely registered. She, however, knew she had him. Quickly she bent down to reach for the broken glass.

“Hey, careful,” he said, smoothly setting his own glass down and snatching her hands gently in his. “We can't have hands as lovely as yours being cut up by broken glass.” He smiled broadly as he stood up.

“Oh, but...” she said, looking back at the mess.

“We have people for that.” He snapped his fingers and in an instant a servant arrived to sweep up the debris.

“Of course,” she said, rolling her eyes and smiling at herself. “I'm...”

“New?” he interjected. His interest was piqued.

“That obvious?”

“Not at all. I'm Kyle Porter of House Phoenix.” Of course you are.

“Melanie. Oh of House Scion.”

Kyle took her hand in a gentle grip. “A pleasure. Here, let me get you another one.” He reached over and expertly plucked a glass from the pyramid and handed it to her.

“Thank you,” she said with a bright smile.

He retrieved his own from the table and held it out for a toast. “To new friends.”

She tapped his glass with hers and took a drink. He took a small drought. Savoring it now, eh?

“So, how long have you been with House Scion?”

“Oh not long, I just finished my initiation this week. Actually, the Head of House insisted that I attend this party as the last part of my initiation. So really I'll be a full member at the end of tonight.”

“Well, congratulations and welcome to the Society!”

“Thank you.” She took another drink. “So how long have you been with House Phoenix?”

“Oh about five years now, I'm well on my way to being named a House leader,” he said with an ever so slight broadening of his chest.

Fucking liar, you've only been a member for two years and you're no where near to a House leadership role. Far from it.

“That's really impressive, congratulations to you.”

“Thank you, I don't like to brag.” Right... “So, this is your first function?”

“Yes. I mean I've heard about these from my mentor before. They always sounded so glamorous and wild but I'd never dreamed it was like this! Some of the things they have in the parlor are crazy!”

“Well, since this is your first time then I shall escort you.”

“Oh, you don't...”

“No, no, I insist.” He held his elbow out to her.

She smiled, “Well, if you insist.” Gotcha.

He showed her around, being careful to steer clear of some of the more intense areas she noticed. No need to scare the newbies off. The Society held to the ideologies of slavery from the ancient times, a slave was chattel and required no more consideration than a member of the Society was willing to give. The human rights of the outside world held no sway here. By the end of the night it was highly likely that at least a dozen slaves would die. Such was the way of the Society.

She noticed that he lead her passed the races twice, placing wagers on which of the ponies would cum in first. A game fraught with puns. She enjoyed watching though, knowing what the girls were going through.

Locked in a plastic shell molded to look suspiciously like quarter horses found outside of grocery stores, ass and cunt splayed aching for and from use, mouths clamped open for easy breathing, moaning, and the final cleanup. The taste of their own juices mixed with donations of semen from the riders, dripping long strings of saliva to the floor. Their faces hidden, just an anonymous piece of meat to fuck. No thoughts, just the raw purity of being. A creature to be used, breathing, moaning, cumming.

“Alright!” Kyle shouted as his pick came in, startling her from her thoughts. She was getting distracted. That was dangerous.

“Excellent choice, Kyle!” she exclaimed.

“I can always tell which one is the one.” So can I.

“Well, that has put me in a great mood. What do you say we go and celebrate?”

“I don't know...”

“Oh, come on. Live a little.”

“Okay.”

“Okay!” he took her by the hand and lead her to the expansive bar. It was time to get liquored up.

They shared a few rounds, getting progressively stronger with each. She knew how to drink without loosing control, so she played along. She was fully aware that he had stopped drinking long before he insisted upon going upstairs to the private rooms, his charming smile absent from his now serious face. It was time.

He led her by the arm upstairs, his grip getting tighter as they approached an empty room. She played the part, drunk little new girl slowly growing worried too late to save herself.

“Hey, you're hurting... hurting me!” she protested as he threw her into the room. He closed the door behind him, locking it securely.

“Well, well, well. Look what I have here,” he said, walking slowly, menacingly toward her.

“Kyle,” she said with a nervous laugh.

“A little, lost whore. A sheep in wolf's clothing.” He snatched her arm again, twisting it.

“Ow! You're hurting my arm! Kyle stop!” she cried.

“Oh, demanding now, are we, bitch?” He twisted her arm behind her, spinning her around.

“Ow! Please!” she screamed. Come on, fucker! Is that the best you have?

“That's right, beg. Beg like a little slut. That's all you bitches are.” He reached down with his free hand and tugged the Scion ring from her finger, holding it up before them both. “They may let you walk on your hind legs, pretend to belong on top with the men. But in reality, you're all just cunts to fuck.”

Dropping the ring, he spun her around and back handed her across the face, flinging her face first down onto the bed. That's right, you like to rough them up. Makes you feel superior. Too bad you didn't just stick with beating slaves. Too bad for you.

He was on her then sitting on her legs, pinning her to the bed as he tore at her dress. She squealed and cried, putting up a token resistance as he worked. She waited for him to turn her over. He liked to rape them while they were looking up at him, so he could see their tears, their degradation. So he could see that moment when they broke inside, the line between Mistress of a House to common bitch vanishing. That is what he was after.

Before he flopped her onto her back though he wailed on her ass, laying several harsh swats to redden her cheeks. A spanking meant to further humiliate and blur the lines. She was actually a little personally offended. Her ass reddening, he finally flipped her over.

“Please!” she sobbed.

“That's right, beg for it bitch.” He began tearing at his clothes, freeing his bulging prick. “You know you want it.”

Her cries turned then from fearful sobbing to uproarious laughter. The sudden shift shocked him and he straightened up in confusion.

“What the fuck? What the fuck are you laughing at, bitch?” he shouted, enraged and humiliated.

She continued to laugh, unable to keep her true feelings of just how pathetic she thought he was back any longer.

“Shut the fuck up!” he screamed, hauling back with a big fist.

Swiftly, she snapped her heel out, stabbing her five inch stiletto into his solar plexus. Air erupted out of him in one big grunt and he fell to his knees, gasping. She slid gracefully to the edge of the bed, each movement like that of a tiger readying for the pounce. Kyle reached a shaky hand out for her but she deftly snatched and twisted it around, planting him face first on the floorboards in an instant. His face made a satisfying thud against the hard wood planks.

She buried one heel into his back, pinning him to the floor.

“Now then, Kyle,” she said, her words smooth and calm, “you've been a very naughty boy!”

“Who the fuck are you?” he shouted, his words muddled.

She clamped down on his twisted wrist, eliciting squeals of pain from her would be rapist.

“Don't interrupt, Kyle. Its rude.”

“Okay, okay!” he grunted.

“Say you're sorry.”

“Fuck you, bitch!” he screamed.

She clamped down again, “Say you're sorry!”

“Alright, alright! I'm sorry!”

“Good boy! Now as I was saying. You've been very naughty, Kyle. You've broken the rules and openly attacked members of other Houses. That was very bad.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Really? Denial? Shall I refresh your memory?” she asked, grinding her heel into his back. “You raped three women, Kyle! Members of other Houses. You left one of them, Tanya Peters of House Garnet in a coma! Ring any bells?”

“They were just bitches, you're all just bitches. No better than the slaves downstairs. Pampered little bitches, strutting around playing dress up. Fuck you! Fuck them!” he shouted, spitting on the floor.

“Yes, I heard your spiel. But your House does not see it the same way, Kyle.” She pulled the Phoenix ring from his finger, and examined it. “House Phoenix has some very strict rules about how its members may interact with other Houses. They're very disappointed in you. They want you out, Kyle.”

“What are you talking about? Membership is for life!”

She leaned over closer, putting pressure on both his wrist and his back. “Exactly,” she said, dropping the Phoenix ring to the floor with a heavy thud. A moment of silence followed, a moment she used to slip the locking cuff chained to the bed frame around his wrist. The click of the lock broke Kyle from his silence.

“You bitch!” he yelled, impudently.

She stood on his back, enjoying the crack of a rib breaking under her heel before walking across the room. He groaned, pulling himself off the floor, tugging at the cuff around his wrist and cursing over his ribs.

“They have no proof! They'd never take the word of you bitches over me!”

“Proof?” she asked, bending down to retrieve the Scion ring from the floor where he dropped it. “But you gave them all the proof they need.” She examined the ring thoughtfully before looking back at him with a cruel smile. The tiny camera imbedded in its polished face stared back at her. Kyle's smug expression fell.

Utterly satisfied, she slipped the ring back onto her finger and tore the tattered remains of her dress free, letting them fall to the floor. Naked, she went to the armoire to retrieve something to wear. Kyle sat quietly as she got dressed, no doubt in shock over the death sentence that hung over his head. She would have been happy to carry out that sentence herself, but the Houses liked to handle their own wayward members. A matter of honor. Besides, leaving him here to await his executioners seemed more fitting.

“Who are you?” were his last words to her as she turned to leave.

“I'm just a bitch.” With that she left the room, shutting the door on his quiet sobs.