The training of Ophelia(19)

Or so…… they fantasized…… But being a slave was not about royalty. It was not some cool thing to do. It wasn’t a fashion statement to wear a collar and it most certainly was not a way to try and get in with the upper echelon of the BDSM community.

Barbie was nothing more than another spoiled little princess, who used her looks and manipulation tactics to be the Alpha female wherever she ventured.

Here at The Mansion that was not—nor would it ever be the case.

The Mansion had seen more than its fair share of women such as this—women who just did NOT get it. They had no understanding of the ‘heart’ of a slave. Being a slave was not something that you did, it was literally who you were. It was a part of your being. It was the very core of your being; the essence of who you were. And to disrespect the calling of slavery by attempts of topping from the bottom was simply unacceptable.

It was not only unacceptable—it was downright disrespectful. It was disrespectful to the Masters and disrespectful to the very essence of The Mansion and all that it stood for.

Generations of Masters and Mistresses, had walked these hallways and corridors. They had been faithful to keep the secret code of the ‘The Mansion’. There was strict and regimented protocol within these walls.

There was history here. The blood, sweat, and tears, of the hierarchy were within the corridors of this sacred place. You either got it or you didn’t; it was just……. that……….. simple……

Barbie had taken the time and precious resources of the Masters and Mistresses and she had wasted it; as if it were nothing. That time and those resources—that wisdom and that knowledge—could have been spent on a worthy slave, one whom was serious about the calling therein.

This was just one of the many reasons that applicants were screened so rigidly.

The Masters had seen it all before and as common as it was for slaves such as Barbie to leave, there would still be grief and heavy hearts about how misunderstood The Mansion could be by outsiders.

There was a love in the heart of the Masters and Mistresses for this royal palace.

Yes…….these walls definitely held much more than mortar and clay. They held the souls of the faithful who had gone before. Generations of faithful Masters and Mistresses, who had answered the high calling of The Mansion and all that it stood for…





Master Richard Baron

Master Richard Baron sat eyeing his slave Selena. She stood with her elbows bent and her arms folded and crossed behind her; looking straight ahead. “Permission to speak, Master.”

“Yes Selena, by all means, fill me in.”

Selena was one of the slaves that took her calling very seriously. Her application had been excepted by the Masters here and she had been shipped from a war torn country in Central America.

She had literally been saved from imminent death and she had no intentions of ever leaving The Mansion. She would die here in service to Master Richard Baron. Silly things like whom he fucked, loved, or owned, were none of her concern, she was here for one purpose and that was to please her Master. slave Selena, took TPE to a whole new level.

Master Richard Baron eyed his slave, “You may relax and look at me as you are speaking, Selena.”

“Yes Master, whatever pleases my Master, Sir. Your guest has stated that she will be leaving tonight.”

“Oh, she has—has she?”

“Yes Master, she stated that her article would be completed today and that she would be returning to her dwelling.”

“Thank you Selena. You have done very well. You are a worthy slave and any man would be blessed to have you. But you are my slave.”

Master Richard looked up to view a tear in slave Selena’s eye; she lived to hear words like that. Master Richard loved his slave and took very good care of her. She would be his property until the day that she died.

He loved her, he was not ‘in love’ with her, but then again, ‘love,’ was not what the Master/slave dynamic was about, and only those that were privy to the lifestyle could understand the depth of that dynamic…





Chapter Thirteen


Master Richard Baron

“You are staring Richard.” I stated, after five minutes of him being seated in the chair staring at me had passed.

I looked over to view him with his fingers behind his neck and his long legs outstretched in front of him as he toyed with a toothpick in his mouth.

This would be so much easier, if he did not look so damn good.

“So you were just going to leave, with no good bye, nothing.”

“You are being melodramatic about this, don’t you think?”

“No, I am using the insight that I have on you. You are scared and now you are running away.”