The Path to Her

Chapter One

"You have been bought. Congratulations are in order." The overseer said boredly. He was marking my papers on a clipboard, just another day's work. I held my breath. I knew who had bought me, and it excited me.

The consensual auction was a tradition in our society, and when a person entered in, there were certain conditions and privileges that were allotted. For instance, my family would be given a lifetime income flow from my enslavement. Even though I would never see them again, it put my heart at ease that they would be cared for.

When I volunteered for enslavement, I was given a list of things I wanted in an owner, and shown a spread of possibles to look through. I wouldn't get to pick, but having a pool of hopefuls that would like the same things I did made me feel a little more secure.

There were stipulations. I had to undergo training. I had to understand that my body was no longer my own and would likely be molded to fit my owner's desires. I would wear what my owner said. Do as my owner said. Exist as they wished.

I knew I would be in good hands. The auction was very clear about housing slaves in caring homes only, and paired likes with likes as much as possible. I knew what I liked, at least a very basic list of likes. If there was real abuse, the auction guild held investigations and hauled owners to court for justice. There was a storied history of the auction caring for its slaves.

But once one entered into bondage, there was no leaving it. We would be willed to another if our owner died, pending auction approval, of course. Our lives were not worthless—rather, to have a slave was to show off vast wealth, because a slave was worth quite a pretty penny.

The overseer made a few more marks, then stamped my papers and slid them into a leather valise for my new owner. "This way," he gestured gracefully, and I followed along, silent.

I was led through the grand hall that houses the auction and through a maze of hallways to a bedroom. "In here," said the overseer.

I entered. It was lavish, rich in reds and golds. Tassels on everything. Lacquered rosewood and ebony furnishings. Behind me, the door closed shut and locked. I whirled around, but I was penned in. There was no getting out. I was bought, fair and square.

I looked curiously about. This would be my training ground. I would not leave here without the express permission of my new mistress. I might as well get accompanied with the place.

Aside from its luxurious furnishings, there were plenty of erotic toys in dresser drawers, leather and chain restraints on the bed, and a closet full of fantasies to be had. There was every manner of dress within, including intimate items that an owner might want to decorate their property with.

I walked the length of the closet and back, browsing all of the different clothing, wigs, shoes, socks, anything one could think of. This, the training ground, was a place for a slave to find what worked for them.

This was what I was told would be my next step in the path to her.

The door lock snicked, and I wandered out of the closet to see who had arrived.

An older woman had come in. She wore the collar that belonged to the auction—she lived and worked there. She was very beautiful, with a long scar down one side of her face that dipped below and down into her tunic. She looked like she meant business, and she was most definitely my senior.

I came before her, and she looked me critically up and down. "My name is Dahlia, and I will be training you," she told me. "You will eventually be training with your mistress, but you aren't qualified to even be in her presence."

"Yes ma—"

"You will speak only when spoken to. I do not permit interruptions, either. My training is kind, but firm. I mold the perfect pleasure slaves for mistresses and I have done it for years. You are just another notch on my belt. It is up to you to prove you are extraordinary enough to earn the collar of your mistress. How long this takes is your decision." Dahlia looked me up and down again. She was quiet for a while. Then, she said, "Remove your clothes."