Rose Blossoms 01

by The Technicians

Rose didn't think that she could take any more of this torture.  She had displeased Master and he

was punishing her.  It was the worst form of punishment possible.  He wasn't spanking her or

flogging her or jolting her with electricity.  Those she could endure.  Those she had endured.

Those she would now relish.  No, Master was torturing her in a much worse way.  He was

ignoring her.

Master had not touched her in over three weeks.  Not only had he not used her sexually, he had

not physically touched her in any way.  Neither had he spoken to her.  He listened, or more

accurately, he ignored her in total silence as she yelled, cried, begged forgiveness or just

dissolved totally into wordless, choking sobs.  He didn't even tell her to be quiet or to not speak

unless spoken to.  He said nothing.

Rose knew that she deserved to be punished.  She had, after all, lost, and because she had lost,

Master had lost face among his friends.  But it wasn't the first time that she had lost a match.

She had fought other slaves before and although she almost always won, she had lost before.  

When she had lost, Master had punished her for losing as was proper.... but not like this.  Once

she lost because she was careless and not paying attention to the match, and he had publicly

whipped her.  Once he gave her to the crowd.  Once, to humiliate her, he strapped her to a

fucking machine and left her in the center of the ring moaning out her forced pleasure for the rest

of the night after the matches themselves were over.  Master had done that and much more to her

as punishment, but he had never cut her off so completely.

It wasn't fair!  No, she shouldn't say that.  Rose knew that Master did not have to be fair.  Master

was... Master.  Whatever Master did was what should be done and Rose should accept that.

But how could she make it up to Master if he would not speak to her.  How could she do what

had to be done if he did not tell her what to do?  How could she beg forgiveness if he would not

listen to her?  How could she come back into his pleasure if he would not punish her?

It all started the night of the matches.  Several of the Masters and Mistresses would meet every

other month for competition between their slaves.  This was not matches between battle slaves

that could and often did end in injury or even death if the slaves were fighting with weapons. 

This was more like professional wrestling.  It was mostly for show, except the script didn't say

who was supposed to win and who was supposed to lose.  The outcome of the matches was

absolutely not preplanned.  Money and many other things were wagered on these matches.

Masters and Mistresses gained or lost prestige.  Slaves suffered the consequences of losing, but

for the most part, the slaves - male or female - were not seriously injured.  Although these

matches were theatre and show, they were not fixed.

Each match of the night had some sort of theme.  The first matches of the evening were always

"Southern Belle" fights.   For a Southern Belle fight, two female slaves were dressed as

plantation belles at a coming out party.   The costumes were exact down to the frilly pantaloons

held in place with drawstrings at the waist. 

At the beginning of the match, the two opponents would be lifted into the ring sitting on wooden

swings suspended with long ropes.   They would emerge out of the darkness to hang just above

the mat which was the floor of the fighting ring.  Usually they would swing back and forth

serenely for a few moments as the Ringmaster announced the fight.  Then, he would turn to the

two Southern Belles in their swings and cry out loudly, "Ladies, are you ready to fight!?"

No one could ever hear what either of the slaves said over the roar of the crowd, but immediately

both slaves would jump from their swings and rush to meet each other in the center of the ring,

tearing at each other's clothing.  Hats and powdered wigs were usually the first things to go,

followed swiftly by dress, petticoats, and whatever else the Belle was wearing.   The purpose of

the match was not to pin your opponent to the mat, but rather to strip her.  The first one to strip

her opponent totally naked was the winner.  Sometimes it wasn't until the "Belle" had been

stripped that was it obvious that "she" was actually a sissy slave.  Since many of the sissy slaves

have either implants or hormone induced breasts, that revelation often did not occur until the

pantaloons had been stripped from their legs exposing their crotch.

Like most other slaves who fought in the matches, the first time that Rose competed, she was a

"Southern Belle."   She lost miserably.  Her big mistake was that she didn't realize that the long,

frilly underpants had to be tied at the waist.  The costumes were, after all, "authentic," and they

didn't have elastic back in the 1800's.  As soon as Rose began to wrestle with her opponent, her

pantaloons fell to her ankles, tripping her and landing her in a heap at her opponents feet. 

With the crowd whooping and yelling, her opponent quickly pounced on her, pulled the frilly

leggings the rest of the way off her legs and used them to bind her hands behind her back.  From

that point on, it was just a matter of sliding Rose's clothing off her kicking legs or tearing off the

blouse and other parts that couldn't slide past her tied wrists.  So thorough was Rose's defeat that

her opponent was still totally dressed when the referee declared the match.  She even still had her

hat and powdered wig sitting firmly on her head.

As the loser, Rose was "thrown to the slaves."   Several black men and one or two whites, all of

whom looked like they were local college football players, had been recruited to play the part of

plantation slaves.  Naked and oiled, they climbed into the ring and made use of her mouth, cunt

and ass to the cheers and catcalls of the crowd.   After they had publicly used Rose's cunt and

mouth and ass to the pleasure of the crowd, they carried her with them to the "plantation slave's

quarters" where she would further entertain them for the rest of the evening.  For some reason the

club never really had trouble recruiting college men to play the part of the plantation slaves.  If

there was only one Southern Belle fights that evening, it could be a very long night for the loser.

If there were several matches, athletes from several surrounding colleges would have a very good

night.

The winning Belle was exempt from further competition for the night but was expected to spend

the remainder of the night behind the bar serving drinks.  Of course, before she went behind the

bar, her Master would order her to remove any remaining clothing so that nothing would be

soiled if she accidently spilled any of the drinks on herself. 

In reality, her greatest danger was not that she would spill drinks, but rather that she would not do

an adequate enough job of serving those drinks to the Masters and Mistresses.  If she did not

perform her duties properly, she would end up sprayed with beer or have wine or other drinks

poured over her head.  Again, if there were only one Southern Belle match, it might be a very

long night even for the winner.

As the powerful "slaves" impaled Rose's cunt, mouth and ass, she was thinking that losing

wasn't all that bad.  Later, however, when Master got her home, he told her angrily, "If you lose

twice to the same opponent, the winner also gets to publicly flog the loser as she hangs by her

wrists above the ring.  Even if they don't, I might.  You'd would be very wise not to lose next

time."

Rose did not lose the next time.  Not only were the pantaloons firmly tied in place, she had

sprayed her legs with an adhesive that swimsuit models use to keep their suits in place on their

ass cheeks as they strut their stuff down the runways in tiny bikinis.  The match was against the

same opponent, who immediately attacked Rose's frilly underpants with the idea of once again

binding her with those leggings.   With the cloth stuck to Rose's legs, however, there was no way

her opponent was going to removed them.   In fact, she lost so much time trying to get Rose's

pantaloons off her legs that Rose was able to easily defeat her and leave the ring still wearing

much of her costume. 

Unfortunately, when Master told her to strip so she could go behind the bar, she, herself, couldn't

remove the pantaloons, and Master had to pull them off her by tearing them into strips and

peeling them from her body.  They were stuck tightly to her like the long cloth strips used in

waxing and just like those strips, they pulled out all body hair beneath them.  Many of those in

attendance must have heard her muffled screams as Master pulled the strips from her body

because several commented on her exceptionally smooth cunt, ass and legs as she served them

drinks at the bar.

Her exceptionally smooth ass ended up exceptionally red before Master took her home that night.

He was on the council of Masters and had to report the incident to them. The Masters ruled that

the body adhesive did not specifically violate the rules, but Rose would have to be punished by

them and in their presence for using such a scheme without the permission of her Master.  At the

end of the evening, she was brought into the council room and ordered across a whipping horse

that had been set up in the middle of the room.

Master told her that he had assured the council she would not need to be secured, but if she raised

up or even let go of the supports of the padded "horse" over which she was bent, he would take

her back into the ring and suspend her by her wrists and flog her until blood ran onto the mat.

Rose screamed and yelled as each Master or Mistress on the council delivered ten swats to her

ass with a leather paddle, but never once did she raise up from the horse.

The council also ruled that clothing adhesive could not be used in future Southern Belle fights, so

next time she fought Rose had to rely only on the tie string to keep her pantaloons in place.  Even

without the advantage of the adhesive, however, Rose continued to win almost all of her

Southern Belle matches.   More than once, she stood in the center of the ring and flogged her

screaming twice-defeated opponent as she hung by her wrists in the bright spotlights.

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END CHAPTER ONE OF FIVE

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Rose Blossoms 02

by The Technicians

Rose soon became the reigning Southern Belle at the club.   Southern Belle matches, however,

were primarily for rookie fighters, so Master moved her to the catfight division.  Catfights were

basically the same as the Belle matches except that the fighters started with fewer clothes and the

winner not only had to strip their opponent, they also had to pin them to the mat just as in a

normal wrestling match.  

Since there was so little clothing, it was usually gone soon after the girls entered the ring.  From

that point on, the two naked slaves wrestled each other until one of them was pinned or gave up.

Again some of the fighters were sissy slaves rather than women, but fighting totally naked in the

catfights they had the definite disadvantage of something hanging between their legs.  Anything

that your opponent could grab hold of could be used as a handle to drag you to the mat.  Most

female slaves preferred to catfight sissy slaves rather than another female slave.  They had a

much higher likelihood of winning against a sissy.

Whether the loser of the catfights was male or female, they would be forced to crawl, still naked,

out of the ring to service the Masters and Mistresses in the crowd for the rest of the night.  The

winner would return to stand beside their master or mistress.  Rose never lost a catfight, but

always returned to stand next to Master for the rest of the evening or until he commanded her to

do otherwise.

The third category of matches in which female slaves would fight were called "Greased

Gladiators."  Male slaves, female slaves and sissy slaves all fought in this category.  Sometimes

it was male vs male.  Sometimes male vs female.  Sometimes female vs female.  Normally, a

female slave was not matched against a male unless the female was being punished by her Master

or Mistress or the male's slave Master or Mistress wanted them publicly humiliated by losing

against one of the more powerful female gladiators.  For Greased Gladiator matches, sissy slaves

were usually listed as female in the match cards and treated as such.

For this kind of match, both slaves started out naked and greased, thus the name, "Greased

Gladiators."  Actually it wasn't grease, but a special, extra slippery kind of thick baby oil. The

rules of the match were simple.  The winner of the match was the first one to fuck the loser in the

ass.  The "victory fuck" determined the winner.  Nothing else mattered.  For male slaves, that

meant literally what it said.  For female slaves, it involved forcing a butt-plug shaped dildo,

called a "victory stick,"  into your opponents ass. 

Sometimes, a female Greased Gladiator wore a heavy strap-on harnesses to hold her dildo, but

unless they were fighting a sissy slave, that was actually a disadvantage because it tended to give

their opponents something easy to grab hold of.  Slaves wearing strap-ons usually lost, so most of

the female Greased Gladiators just carried their victory stick into the ring with them and risked

having it knocked out of their hands during the fight.

Beyond being publicly impaled in the ring by your opponent, there were no public punishments

for the losers.  There were also no official rewards for the winner.  What happened as the result

of side bets between the slaves, or what happened in private afterwards was totally up to the

Master or Mistress.

Rose lost several of her first matches as a Greased Gladiator.  It was a special kind of fighting

and time after time she ended up face down on the mat with a victory stick firmly imbedded in

her ass.  Once her opponent even managed to "victory fuck" her while she was standing face to

face grappling with her opponent.  Obviously there was more than strength and wrestling skill

needed to win.

As Rose continued to lose, Master's punishments became more intense, but at the same time so

did her training.  Master hired a coach to teach Rose how to see or to sense a person's weakness

and to use that weakness to defeat them.  Rose soon came to realize that it was strategy as much

as strength or skill that determined the winner.  You could be fastest or strongest or whatever, but

if you opponent knew how to maneuver you so that they could get to your ass, you ended up a

victory-fucked loser with the handle of a victory stick protruding from between your ass cheeks.

Rose's first win as a Greased Gladiator was against a very busty blond who was more than past

her prime.  Rose paused for only a moment to evaluate the situation and them dropped her

victory stick to the mat and immediately lunged for the blond's huge sagging udders.  With one

floppy tit gripped tightly in each hand, Rose quickly pulled her opponent to the ground.  The

blonde hit hard and the impact with the floor momentarily knocked the wind out of her.  Before

she could recover, Rose dropped across her back, grabbed her victory stick from the mat where

she had left it, and with one powerful thrust drove it home.

The crowd was chanting, "Rose, Rose, Rose" as she climbed out of the ring and stood next to

Master.  Master leaned over to her and said quietly in her ear, "Good job, Rose, but pride does

not befit a slave."   The smile left Rose's face and she stood quietly beside Master for the rest of

the evening.

Her second winning match had been against a sissy slave.  "This is just too easy," thought Rose

as she bounced easily away from the clumsy young man.   Then as he lunged forward trying to

grab her hair, she ducked beneath his arms, grabbed his dangling penis with her free hand and

pulled him toward her while rolling out from under him. 

Since he was already leaning forward, he was pulled way off balance and landed solidly on his

chest.  As soon as he hit the mat, and before he could roll or recover, Rose pounced upon him

and laying flat upon his back so that he could not escape, drove home the victory stick.  Again

the crowd erupted in cheers of "Rose, Rose, Rose," but this time as Rose climbed out of the ring,

she knew to keep her head down like the humble slave she was.  She went meekly to stand naked

and glistening at the side of her Master.  Any pride in the moment belonged to him, not her.

Rose's third match after she began winning was against a petite oriental girl who had the body -

and the moves - of a dancer.  She was lithe and fast and spun away from Rose's every attempt to

catch or hold her.  It was pretty obvious that the oriental girl's strategy was to tire Rose out and

then move in for the kill.  Rose's intense training, however, kicked in and she noticed that

whenever the girl would spin away from her grasp, her long, straight, black hair would fly in an

arc as she spun.   More than that, Rose saw that the girl always spun so that she was moving

away from Rose's closest hand.

                        

Rose tested her observations with a couple of grabs at the girl's waist, then moving in close, she

faked grabbing for the girl's waist while keeping her other hand high and ready.   It meant

dropping the victory stick, which was very dangerous with this skilled an opponent, but that

didn't matter.  What did matter was that as Rose lunged forward with her left hand, the girl began

to spin away exactly as predicted, and, exactly as planned, she was suddenly pulled off balance

and to the mat as Rose's right hand closed tightly around her flying hair.

Rose immediately leapt upon the fallen girl and held her tightly to the ground while at the same

time trying to retrieve the dildo she had dropped to the mat in order to catch the girl's hair.  The

Asian girl squirmed beneath her and managed to turn over so that she was on her back.  But to do

so she had to press against the mat with both hands.  While she was doing that, her own victory

stick went rolling across the mat out of her reach.

Rose, sensing that the girl beneath her was now basically helpless, spun around so that she was in

what was almost a tight 69 position front to front with the girl while still holding her pinned to

the mat.  Rose ignored the cheers from the crowd and the cries of "Eat her pussy before you fuck

her ass!"  Instead, Rose concentrated on holding the girl beneath her while stretched out her arms

to reach her own victory stick.

Rose had to slide further down the Asian's body in order to reach her butt-plug dildo and just as

she grabbed it, the Asian girl was able to raise between Rose's legs and slam her face into Rose's

cunt.  The Asian girl probably hoped that the pain would cause Rose to slide off her, but it had

the opposite effect and as the girl continued to ram her face into Rose's cunt, Rose began to grunt

and moan with passion, not pain.  Sensing this, the Asian stopped slamming her head against

Rose and started lapping vigorously.  She knew that Rose was extremely sexually excited from

the fight and she was evidently hoping to drive Rose high enough to distract her with pleasure so

that she could slide free. 

Her plan seemed to be working as Rose ground back against the Asian's mouth.  Rose seemed to

be losing herself in lust and pleasure.  The Asian girl's plan seemed to be working so she

redoubled her efforts.  Then, just as Rose's bucking and moaning seemed to reach a peak, the

pinned girl suddenly twisted herself in a quick move designed to turn over and slide out from

under her opponent. 

Unfortunately for her, that was exactly what Rose was waiting for.  As the Asian dancer began to

turn over on the mat, she exposed her ass for just a moment.   Rose drove the victory plug

downward in a coup-de-grace that entered in one swift stroke.  The Asian girl had never lost a

match before and judging from the pitch and intensity of her scream as the victory stick entered

her, nothing else had ever entered that opening before either.

The dancer's ear splitting scream drowned out Rose's more guttural, moaning scream as she

collapsed back on top of the girl and shuddered in what was obviously a tremendous orgasm.

Once again the crowd went wild with shouts and applause while Rose shakily climbed from the

ring and attempted to stand quietly next to Master.  Though she knew it was wrong, she could not

help smiling broadly to herself as she stood there glistening with baby oil grease, sweat, and her

own pussy juices that were flowing down her thighs.

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END CHAPTER TWO OF FIVE

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Rose Blossoms 03

by The Technicians

Rose had won her last three Greased Gladiator contests.  Things were going very well and Master

was very happy with her.  Then came the match three weeks ago.  Rose climbed into the ring

confident that she could find the weakness of her opponent and take advantage of it like she had

done so easily three times before.  The crowd was unusually quiet as Rose waited for her

opponent to enter the ring.  Rose sensed that something not normal was going on when the

ringmaster entered the ring before her opponent and the microphone lowered to meet him.

"Masters and Mistresses," he began.  "Tonight we have something very special.  Last time this

slave - pointing to Rose - defeated for the very first time, Kim June Sung, the long-standing

champion slave owned by Mistress Joan.  Mistress Joan has taken that as a personal defeat and to

clear the blemish from her name has claimed the right of "grudge match" against this slave.

The crowd gasped and the buzzing of conversation filled the room.  The ringmaster waited for

the crowd to quiet slightly and continued, " Mistress Joan recognizes that if she loses this match,

she, herself, will be enslaved.  Normally such a grudge match is between two Mistresses or

Masters who have an extreme grudge to settle between themselves.  The winner normally

enslaves the loser."

"This is the first time at this club that a Mistress has ever deigned to fight a mere slave, so the

council of Masters has had to make a ruling.  The ruling is this:  This slave, if she loses, will

remain the property of her current Master, but will be rematched against the slave Kim June Sung

at our next meeting and the win will be counted as Kim June's."

The ringmaster cleared his throat as if what he had to say next was difficult.  He again pointed at

Rose.  "Since this slave cannot own another slave, if by some strange happenstance, Mistress

Joan loses, she will be sold at the end of the match to the highest bidder and the money will be

deposited in the Club's special fund."

Again the crowd gasped and buzzed as it sank in that a Mistress might be auctioned as a slave at

the end of this match.  The ringmaster waited patiently until the room once again became almost

quiet and then he announced loudly, "Let the match begin."

As the microphone rose once again into the darkness above the ring and the ringmaster climbed

over the ropes, Rose's opponent entered the ring.   She was wrapped in a white cape with gold

lettering that proclaimed "Mistress Joan" in large golden script.  This may have been the first

time that Mistress Joan had matched herself against a slave, but it was obvious that it was not her

first time in the ring.  She twirled in the center of the ring causing her cape to fly outward and

reveal her glistening, naked body.  Then, in one graceful move she completed her spin, tore the

cape from her body, and hurled it over the ropes into the hands of a familiar looking Asian girl in

the crowd.  Mistress Joan then turned to face Rose, smiled broadly, and stepped close to Rose so

that she could say, just loudly enough for her to hear, "I know your weakness, and you are going

to lose everything tonight."

Something deep in Rose's stomach - or perhaps it was her cunt - quivered as she heard those

words, but the match was set.  The fight had begun and Rose automatically began sidestepping in

a circle around the ring.  As she kept her distance and moved slowly around the ring, she studied

Mistress Joan looking for a weakness.   The blond's weakness had been her sagging tits.  The

sissy boy's weakness was his clumsiness and his dandling penis.  Kim June's weakness had been

her long hair.   Mistress Joan's weakness was... Mistress Joan's weakness was... nothing.

Mistress Joan was a woman - no dangling penis.  She had relatively small breasts - nothing to

grab hold of.  Her body was lithe and muscular as had been Kim June's..., but she had no hair. 

Not only was Mistress Joan's cunt totally bare and smooth, there was absolutely no hair

anywhere on her body or on her head.  Even her eyebrows were gone.  Her head was as greased

and glistening as the rest of her muscular body.   For some reason the word "Alopecia" came to

Rose's mind. 

Why Rose knew that Alopecia causes the loss of all body hair, she didn't know.  What Rose did

know was that there was no weakness that she could see in the woman that stood before her.  She

would have to rely on speed and strength to somehow take the Mistress off her feet and pin her to

the ground as she had done to Kim June.

Or at least that was her plan.  When Rose made her first lunge at Mistress Joan, however,

Mistress Joan reacted with incredible speed and grabbed her arm and pulled her violently

forward.  Rose found herself falling heavily to the mat just has Kim June had done in the

previous match.   Unlike Kim June, though, Rose recognized what was happening and rolled

onto her back as she hit the mat so that she was already lying face up as Mistress Joan slammed

down on top of her.

Just like Rose and Kim June had been in their match, they were now lying in an almost 69

position.  But unlike that time with Kim June, it was Mistress Joan on top and it was her cunt

that was already pressed tightly against Rose's glistening face. 

"This is your weakness, bitch," grunted Mistress Joan.  "Secretly, you want to be dominated by a

woman.    Secretly, you want me to force you to eat my cunt.  Secretly, you want me to force you

to cum with my tongue.  Secretly, you want me to fuck you in the ass!"

With that Mistress Joan began attacking Rose's cunt lips with her tongue.  She licked and slurped

and nibbled at her clit and Rose found herself responding to the sudden stimulation.  Wrestling

naked in front of all these people was, in itself, very sexually stimulating, but the shame and

humiliation of being mouth raped before them was too much for Rose.  She tried to bring the

victory stick up to force it into Mistress Joan's ass that was right before her face, but instead she

found herself responding to Mistress Joan's mouth by greedily licking and slurping at the cunt

that was pressed against her own face. 

Knowing that it was wrong... knowing that she would be punished for it... she found herself

allowing her body to crest higher and higher and higher until suddenly a tremendous orgasm tore

through her and she screamed and shuddered and quivered beneath the now sweat-drenched

naked body of Mistress Joan.

Then everything went black.  Either the cunt pressed against her mouth had cut off her air supply,

or the orgasm that tore through her was so intense that she blacked out, but in any case she

temporarily lost consciousness.  When she regained her senses, she was face down in the middle

of the ring with Mistress Joan's victory stick protruding from her ass, and Mistress Joan was

dancing around the ring in a very erotic victory dance.

Rose slowly crawled to the edge of the ring and with very shaky legs she climbed over the ropes

and down onto the floor to stand beside her Master.  It was not until she was standing, head down

and shame-faced, next to Master that she realized that she still had Mistress Joan's butt-plug

dildo sticking out of her ass.  As she reached around with her hands to remove it, Master said

curtly, "Leave it!" So, shamefaced and crying with her head bowed almost down to her chest, she

stood for the rest of the evening with the victory stick protruding from between her ass cheeks.

Those were the last words that Master had spoken to her.  Just before it was time to leave,

Mistress Joan came up to her and Master pointed to the victory stick and then to Mistress Joan.

Rose knew that he meant for her to remove it and return it to her, so she pulled it from her ass

and started to place it in Mistress Joan's hand.

"Clean it," ordered Mistress Joan and Master gave her a very small nod indicating that she should

follow her order.  Rose stuck the butt-plug into her mouth.  It was warm from being insider her

for so long and it was slick with slime from her ass and with the grease from the fight and with

her own sex juices which had drenched it during her intense orgasm.  She cleaned it thoroughly

with her mouth and tongue and placed it in the outstretched hand of Mistress Joan.

Master then turned and began to walk away.  Rose instinctively fell in step just behind him and

followed him towards the door.  She had expected him to stop and let her pick up her clothing,

but he continued toward the exit and she continued to follow him.  She had, after all, lost and

deserved to remain naked.  They left the club and walked across the street to where Master had

parked the car.  Normally, she would have entered the small office with Master as he gave the

ticket stub to the valet to retrieve his car, but tonight Master pointed to the sidewalk just outside

the office door and that is where Rose stood until the valet arrived with the car.

It was a cool evening.  Her nipples puckered in the cold night air.   Twice, young men in passing

cars rolled down their windows and shouted something at her.  It may have been the same young

men or two different cars.  It made no difference.  Rose paid no attention to what they said.  All

she could think of was that Master was displeased... very displeased.

When the car finally arrived, Master got in and then opened the trunk using the button on the

dashboard.  Rose knew what to do even though Master had never done this to her before.  She

climbed into the trunk and pulled the lid down over her.  It shut with a very solid "thunk" and

everything went dark.

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END CHAPTER THREE OF FIVE

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Rose Blossoms 04

by The Technicians

Master made several stops on the way home, or perhaps he went home and then went several

places.  It was very hard to tell anything from inside the dark trunk.  When the car finally stopped

for a very long time, Rose was unsure what to do.  Was she supposed to get out by herself?

There was a plastic escape pull tab glowing slightly above her head.  If she just pulled that, the

trunk lid would open and she could get out.  But what if that wasn't what the Master wanted her

to do?  What if they weren't home yet?  What did Master want?

Rose was still desperately trying to figure out just what she should do when suddenly three very

loud noises caused her to stiffen and jump and hit her head against the lid the of the trunk.

Someone was pounding on the trunk lid! 

After three more thumps followed rapidly by three more, Rose reached up and pulled the

emergency trunk release.  The lid popped open and light flooded the trunk.  She could see that

they were inside Master's garage and that Master stood above her looking down into the trunk.

Rose looked up at Master, still unsure what she was supposed to do, but he said nothing.  He

merely turned and walked into the house.  She followed him silently and stood quietly while he

got himself a beer from the refrigerator and then sat for a short while at his computer doing

something that was none of her concern.  A little while later he got up from the computer and

walked upstairs to the bedroom.  Rose followed.

Once in the bedroom, Master stopped and pointed to the small rug at the foot of the bed.  Rose

had spent the night curled up on the rug before, but only when Master was very, very upset with

her.  She began crying softly to herself and went to her assigned place.  She curled up as Master

expected, and only because she was very, very tired from all that had occurred that night, she

eventually cried herself to sleep.

Rose awoke suddenly to sunlight streaming through the windows of the bedroom.  She leapt to

her feet and turned toward the bed only to find it empty.  Master was not in the bedroom.  She

checked the bathroom and because her bladder felt like it was bursting, made use of it before

going downstairs to the kitchen.   Master sat at the table in the kitchen eating a simple breakfast

that he had fixed for himself.

"What do you want?" Rose asked.  Master did not reply.  "What do you want me to do?" she

repeated.  Master remained silent.  "I know that I deserve to be punished.  I am willing to take

any punishment you decree.  Just tell me what you want me to do?"

It was as if she wasn't even there.  Master did not reply to her.  Master did not order her to do

anything.  He did not even acknowledge her existence.  It was as if she was dead.

And so it continued for three weeks.  Rose remained naked in Master's house.  The first time that

he started into the garage to leave, Rose had tried to follow him, but he merely pointed to the

floor next to the door.  When he returned, Rose was curled up on the rug next to the door like a

puppy waiting for its master's return.

Each day, Master would leave, and each day Rose would curl up on the rug and spend the day

weeping.  Each evening, Master would return and Rose would follow him throughout the house.

He would point at the kitchen and she would fix him supper, and after he had eaten, she would

feed herself from the scraps.  He would point to the floor next to his chair and she would curl up

at his feet while he worked at his computer or watched TV or whatever.  Each night, Master

would point to the rug at the foot of his bed and Rose would once again cry herself to sleep.

Having recovered from that night, she now always awoke long before Master, cleaned herself up

for the day and had a proper breakfast waiting for him when he came down to the kitchen.

Finally, this evening, Master came home and went directly upstairs and into Rose's room.  She

followed.  He pulled a white dress from a package in his hands and placed it on the bed.  He

pulled a matching pair of sandals from the package, set them on the bed next to the dress, and

then, reaching into his pocket placed something next to the sandals.  It was Rose's collar.

Master had not had Rose wear her collar for many, many months.  She did not need the collar to

know that she was Master's slave.  She belonged totally and absolutely to him.  As she buckled

the collar around her neck, she remembered the day when she first knelt before him and he

buckled the dark leather around her neck.  She remembered the smell of the new leather.   Even

without looking at it, she could clearly see in her mind the bright golden tag on the front of the

collar that read simply, "Rose - Property of Master."

He turned and left the room.  Rose quickly pulled the dress down over her head and slipped her

feet into the sandals.  She didn't bother with underwear.  If Master had wanted her to wear

underwear, he would have set it out for her.  Tears flowed down her face as she quickly raced

down the stairs to stand at her proper place beside her Master.

Master walked to the garage and Rose followed.  He pointed to the passenger side of the car and

she got in and sat down.  Rose knew not to ask where they were going.  Even if Master had been

speaking to her, it was not her place to ask such a question.  As they drove in silence, however,

Rose slowly recognized where they were going.  They were going back to the club.

This was not a match night, but the club was not only for matches.  There were many events

which occurred at the club.  The club even had a restaurant and lounge that was used regularly by

the members.  Naked slaves often sat at their Master's or Mistress's feet while they dined or

otherwise enjoyed the evening at the club.

Rose followed Master into the club.  A table was already waiting for them.  This did not surprise

Rose, Master was, after all, one of the more influential members of the club.  He pointed to one

of the two chairs at the table and Rose sat down.  Master sat in the other chair and almost

immediately a waiter appeared with wine and salad for both of them. 

Rose ate quietly trying to figure out what Master had in mind.  She knew she needed to be

punished for losing, but dinner out with Master was not punishment.  Normally dinner out with

Master was reward for especially pleasing Master, but Rose knew that Master was not pleased.

That first night, Master had seemed very angry.  In the days that followed he seemed agitated.

Tonight he seemed... he seemed sad. 

Rose slowly ate her salad though she could not even taste the food in her mouth.  A steak

followed - filet, her favorite.   And then, chocolate mousse for dessert.  If Master was not sitting

silently across from her as though she wasn't there through the entire meal, this would almost

seem like a celebration.  Instead it was... it was... Rose didn't know what it was.

Finally, after the meal was finished and Master had sat for a long time sipping a glass of liqueur,

he suddenly looked up at her and said simply, "Strip."          

The words were spoken softly, but they were like a thunderclap for Rose.  She involuntarily

jumped to her feet in surprise at the sound.  Then, like the dutiful slave that she was, she slipped

the dress up over her head and folded it neatly on the chair beside her.

"Shoes" said Master, and Rose placed the sandals on the chair alongside her dress.

"Position Nine"

Rose's eyes filled with tears.  Position nine was the position of absolute subjugation.  Master

only demanded position nine when he was very upset with her.  She dropped to her knees and

lowered herself down so that her breasts where pressing against her knees and her forehead was

firm against the floor.  Then, raising her ass slightly into the air, she stretched her arms back

along her legs so that her hands were palm up on the floor alongside her feet.  She wiggled and

adjusted her position slightly as she made sure that her ass was high in the air and her knees were

slightly apart.  Position nine was an extremely humiliating position that raised and opened her ass

and her sex to whatever punishment - or pleasure - her Master may desire.

Footsteps walked past her to the table.  It was most likely the waiter bringing something to

Master.  With her forehead against the floor, Rose could not see what Master was doing.  Had the

waiter brought him a paddle..., or perhaps a flogger..., or perhaps even because of the seriousness

of her offense a cattle prod or other electrical torture device. 

Rose waited fearfully and hopefully for Master to act.   She was fearful at what terrible public

punishment Master had decided to use to purge her for her failure.  But she was hopeful that

whatever it was, it would restore her to her Master.  She yearned for his touch, for his voice, for

him within her, and she would do anything... endure anything to get that back.

She heard Master's chair move at the table.  He stepped over along side of her.  Rose tensed,

waiting for something to strike, but instead, Master reached over her and picked up her dress and

her sandals.  He handed them to someone who was standing next to him.  Then, to Rose's shock

and horror, he reached down and unbuckled the collar that surrounded Rose's neck.  He lifted it

off of her, and evidently retrieving the dress and sandals from the other person, walked away.

Master had uncollared her!  Master had left her naked and alone!  Master had abandoned her!

Tears wet the floor beneath her face and sobs racked her body.  What was she to do?   Where

would she go?  How would she live?

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END CHAPTER FOUR OF FIVE

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Rose Blossoms 05

by The Technicians

As Rose sobbed and wailed out her despair, a soft hand touched her and then began to stroke her

back, much like you would quiet a frightened pet.  A soft voice said, "Shhh.  Shhh my little one.

It will be alright." 

It was a woman's voice.

The soft hands reached around her neck and Rose felt something being buckled into place.  It was

another collar.  This collar was smaller... lighter.  It smelled new, but not of new leather.  It

smelled more of new metal and it was cold against her skin.  A click and slight tug told her that a

leash had been attached to the collar.

The soft voice said, "Stand," and Rose stood.  Standing before her was Mistress Joan.  Behind

her stood Kim June.  Mistress Joan was dressed as befit a Mistress in an expensively tailored,

ivory colored evening gown.  A thin turban covered her hairless head.  Kim June wore a simple

black dress with matching black sandals.

"Raise your arms," instructed Mistress Joan.  Rose did, and Kim June stepped forward and

lowered a black dress over Rose's head.  It was identical to the dress which Kim June wore and

except for being black, was the identical to the white dress that Master had carried away.  Kim

June set a pair of sandals on the floor at Rose's feet.  They, too, matched Kim June's, and they,

too, were a black version of the sandals which Rose had worn into the club.

With the dress and sandals properly in place, Kim June stepped back away.  Mistress Joan looked

intently into Rose's eyes and said softly, "Your Master must have loved you very deeply."

Rose noticed that there was a strange catch in Mistress' voice.  "He sold me to you.  How could

he love me?... Or did you win me from him in the match?"

Mistress Joan laughed softly and replied, "You don't understand, do you?  Your Master hasn't

told you happened in the ring that night, has he?

"I lost," answered Rose flatly, "That's all I really need to know."

"No, Rose, you didn't lose.  You submitted.  There's a difference."

Rose's face crinkled with an unasked question.

"When I pinned you to the mat, I made a very serious mistake.  It was a rookie fighter's mistake

that I should not have made, but I had never fought as a Greased Gladiator before.  My grudge

matches with other Mistresses had always been just all out mayhem until the other submitted...

like Kim June did a few years ago."

Rose's eyes widened.

"You didn't know Kim June was once a Mistress, did you?  Perhaps that is why other slaves

could never defeat her.  They treated her as a Mistress and were helpless against her.  You treated

her as a slave, and you won."

"You took advantage of her weakness - her hair, and you won.   Once you knew how to spot a

person's weakness, you always won.  I should have remembered that, but instead, I ignored it.  I

had you pinned and I was taunting you about knowing YOUR weakness, but I, in MY weakness,

was lying face down on top of you."

"So," replied Rose.

Mistress Joan again laughed.  "I hadn't knocked your victory stick from your hands like you did

to Kim June.  It was my ass that was exposed.  All you had to do was impale me with the stick in

your hand and I would have been sold as a slave that night." 

"My weakness was literally right in front of your face, but I was right about you.  Your weakness

was that you secretly desired to be ruled by a woman.  You were fighting against your inner

desires.  You had your victory stick pressed against my asshole.  All you had to do was push

slightly and you won.  But your inner desires were winning and instead of impaling me, you gave

yourself to me.  And in giving yourself to me you unleashed your true inner slave in one of the

most intense orgasm anyone has ever witnessed.   When your Master saw that, he knew that he

could never truly be your Master again.  For you to be truly happy, you needed to be slave to a

Mistress."

"And so he gave me to you?" asked Rose.

"No.  You still don't understand." continued Mistress Joan quietly, casting her eyes down toward

the ground almost as though in shame.  "Your Master came to me and told me that he knew that I

loved Kim June.   I denied it, but he asked why I would risk everything for her if I did not love

her.  I still tried to deny it, but he was right.  He knew my true weakness.  He knew that it was

love for my slave that had driven me into that ring."

Mistress Joan sighed deeply.  "Kim June is my slave, but I love her and her defeat took

something very precious out of her.  I was hoping to win it back for her.  I risked becoming a

slave so that my slave could remain happy.  I guess that is love."

"Is that why he gave me to you?"

"You still don't understand.  Your Master didn't give you to me.  He gave me to you!  As you

orgasmed, you drove your victory stick fully into my ass.  You won.  But noone knew it because

I, a fraction of a second later drove my victory stick fully into you."

Rose frowned, still not understanding.

"The difference was that I was not overwhelmed by an intense orgasm.  I leapt to my feet.  You

remained writhing on the mat.   With all the cheering and confusion, noone saw me quickly slide

your stick out of my ass.  Everyone assumed that I had been holding it my hand.  Everyone

assumed that only you had been victory fucked.  Everyone assumed that I had won.... everyone,

that is, except your Master.  He saw...  He knew...  But he kept silent."

"Your Master is on the council of Masters.  All he had to do was to tell the council what actually

happened and I would have been auctioned to the highest bidder.  But your Master loves you as I

love Kim June and he knew what you wanted... what you needed... what would make your happy.

So that night, instead of telling the council, your Master gathered up all of the official videos of

the fight and came to visit me.  He said that you were waiting in the car.  Evidently that was

funny to him for some reason.  The videos clearly show that you won.  I lost, not you."

Rose shook her head as she tried to comprehend was Mistress Joan was telling her.

"Master offered me a proposition that he said would be best for everyone and still maintain the

integrity of the club.   He made a contribution to the club fund that was greater than anyone

would have bid for me, in effect, buying me without a public auction.  He owns me.  Your

Master is now also my Master." 

Joan raised her hand to her throat and fingered the large golden heart that hung from a flat,

golden necklace covered with small diamonds.  On the heart was the same ornate script that had

been on her robe the night of the match.  It said simply "Mistress Joan."

The necklace connected to the heart in two places so that it could not turn over, but Mistress Joan

twisted it so that Rose could read what was written on the back side of the heart.  In bold block

letters it read, "Property of Master."

"This is a collar, the same as Kim June's." 

Joan pointed to the glittering collar that surrounded Kim June's throat.  It, too, was golden in

color with many very small diamonds covering most of it.  In the front were three areas of bare

metal.  In the middle was a small ring into which was clipped a leash identical to the one which

hung from Rose's collar.  On either side of that were two metal areas with ornate script.  On one

it said, "Slave Kim June."  On the other it said, "Property of Mistress Joan."

"That isn't totally true anymore.  Kim June is technically Master's property because I am

Master's property, just as you are still technically Master's property.  We all belong to Master."

Rose began to weep and sob, but this time it was tears of joy.  Master had not abandoned her.

She still did not understand exactly what was happening, but Master had not left her helpless and

alone.  She still belonged to Master.

Joan continued, "Master has ordered me to continue as a Mistress to everyone except him.  I am

sure that I will occasionally be required to satisfy him in all the ways that a slave must satisfy her

Master, but that is between him and me, and I will honor my submission to him."

A wry smile crossed her face crossed her face and then she continued.  "What is important to you

is that he has ordered me to be your Mistress and to treat you as my slave... to give you what you

have always secretly yearned for in your inner being... to be dominated by, and submit to, a

woman."

"As long as I treat you as well as I have treated Kim June, I remain free.  If I do not live up to

Master's expectations, he will make public the video of the match and the slave papers which he

demanded I sign and I will end up in some slave brothel in South America."

Rose stood silently before Mistress Joan.

"Have no doubt that I will treat you as a slave.  I will force you to submit to me.  You will do

everything that I demand of you, or I will punish you as severely as any Mistress ever punished

any slave.  But as my slave you will also experience heights of ecstasy that only a woman can

give another woman.  As my slave you will receive pleasure that only a slave who has fully

submitted herself to another woman can ever fully embrace."

Once again, Rose began crying.  These were definitely tears of relief and joy.  Now she

understood.  Master loved her.  Mistress loved her.  What more could a slave ask for?

"One final thing before we go," continued Mistress Joan.  "To make the public transition

complete, tradition says that I, as your new owner must rename you."

Touching the heart that hung at her throat, Joan said softly, "I no longer have the authority to

name you, but these are the words of our Master."  Joan pulled a small slip of paper from

somewhere, held it up and read, "Rose, you have finally blossomed into what your true, inner self

has always been.  You are no longer  Rose.'  From this day forward, you are  Passion Flower.'  I

expect you to live up to that name."

"I will, Master!  "I will, Mistress!  I will!  I will!"

With that, Mistress Joan gathered Kim June's and Passion Flower's leashes together in her hand,

and together they walked out of the club and into their new life together.

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END OF STORY

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