Slave Owner Costume Novels & Stories

"I tried to run away too when I was a slave-to-be. Courage. It's going to be okay." She lead Britney into the shower room. "You go take a shower and then I'll explain the makeup, okay?" "Okay," responded Britney. "Try talking with a higher pitch and more softly. You'll see it will come. And have you thought of a female name yet?" "Britney... Why are you naked?" "In fact, slaves are naked. But feminized people are dressed as women." "So Alex..." "No, not Alex. She's a slave supervisor. That's why she is allowed to wear clothes."

he narrates and I was quite thrilled by that. Everyone dressed has their attire that signify what rank they belong to. It was clear now, why that princess ordered me to serve the king. Mave whimpers at me, she was annoyed that I was engaging in a talk and not attending to her needs. I just wanted to make enquiry if perhaps any slave was brought in recently. That's because I had a feeling evander was close by. Judging from the way this man talks, I could tell he knows everything around this place.

Her tongue darts out to lick along her lips, her sharp canine teeth poking out from her exposed lips. Material sliding across my body from behind causes me to tear my gaze away from the hungry look that was quickly appearing on her face. My gaze meets Mr. Jones’ as I turn to my right, his lips are thinned in disapproval and the undertones of fear can be seen on his usually relaxed face. I have no idea who that woman is, but I can tell by both of their body languages that whoever she is isn’t good. “She is nothing, my love.” Cassius’ harsh words bring my attention back to where he stands in the doorway with the gorgeous redhead draped over him like a scarf. “She is just a slave that we have r

' I almost screamed. I did an outfit check again. I didn't have anything too flashy or expensive to wear, considering my condition as a slave. I was in a short, sleeveless, tight black dress that only reached mid-thigh. I wasn't a fan of makeup, so I had only a light red lipstick on. My curly ginger hair was down and bouncy; I decided not to put it in a ponytail or bon tonight. I knew I looked stunning. “Miss Jasmine, "I heard a familiar deep masculine voice.

“Or a slave. If you don’t want me to use those terms, I get it but you don’t have to deny what you are.” “But I’m not a slave or servant. He insisted. “I’m just a worker here. There are no slaves or servants in this kingdom.” “Okay… whatever helps you sleep at night,” I muttered under my breath, trying not to argue with him. It was obvious he was a servant. His clothes gave it away. Khaki shorts and a matching shirt? Who still dressed like that unless they were working under someone’s authority? That's basically even how slaves dress. My stomach growled loudly as I stood up and stretched my legs. I laughed awkwardly, trying to play it off.

a young lady yelled at them the moment they stride into the hall and hurriedly rushed to meet her. Elora frowned as she quietly moved along with the rest of the slaves, and together, they got the hall ready for the event that soon started buzzing just when they were done. The slaves were given a different uniform to wear for the occasion, a thicker blue short gown with cream-colored ribbon decorated on it.

"I don't know if I should be wearing something like this," "Please don't worry, miss. The master has arranged everything. He wants you to look your best for dinner tonight," one of the maids reassured me. I nodded, still feeling uneasy. As the maids continued to bring out dresses, I tried my best to make a choice. It was a tough decision, but I eventually settled on a deep red gown with intricate embroidery. As I put on the dress, the maids did my hair and makeup. They chatted with me, asking about where I came from and what my life was like before I became a slave. I found myself opening up to them, telling them things I had never shared with anyone before.

I’m trying and failing at every turn. Walking into my study I find Clara and Nora working on documents. It’s getting late, it’s almost supper time. Clara is in a simple slave dress. It’s off white, sleeveless, and has a simple corset back. It’s floor length. I made sure it wasn’t short like how some slaves had to dress with George. I knew Clara would want to be somewhat covered. Nora is in a brown dress with simple gold detailing. Nora is confident in her none slave clothes, but then again I rembere Nora never had to wear slave clothes. Only when she was in the royal court. Even when she came to give us food she was dressed nicely. Clara treated her like a sister. Nora is fiercely protective

Superstition clung to the walls like dust. Elena stood in front of her dressing-room mirror, alone. The costume was little more than gold body paint and chains that draped across her breasts and hips, leaving back, sides, and most of her ass bare. Her skin shimmered under the lights, every muscle carved sharp from weeks of starvation and obsession. She looked like a blade dipped in honey. Valeria knocked once and entered without waiting. She wore the Slave costume again: black straps, collar, nothing else. The leather had been adjusted since the gala; now it framed her completely naked cunt, lips already slightly swollen, as if her body knew what was coming.

“You look amazing, Cazz.” I let my smile climb on one side and opened my arms, turning a circle for her perusal. I’d dressed in my favorite–black–but made certain it was heavily embroidered in silver and sage threads to match her dress. And the buff-colored trousers that hugged my legs set off the green beautifully. As I displayed myself for her, I ignored the tittering from the servants who were trying to keep their eyes on their work, but not ignoring the exchange. “Do you approve, then, mate?”