On your knees!
Robert Holt, a twenty-five-year-old man, had EVERYTHING in this life. Boundless power, an indecently enormous pile of money, any women he wanted. At the same time, he was handsome and intelligent. By his age, he had earned a reputation as a powerful tyrant who grinds his enemies into dust. The only son and heir of Joseph Holt, who built the Holt empire. Robert had a younger sister, Eliza, who had no rights to their father's inheritance under the laws of this country.
The country they lived in had no name because there were no other countries left on Earth. The city they lived in also had no name because it was merely the city where the powerful lived and the village where, for the most part, slaves and the destitute lived. People were divided into slaves and slave owners. The world was ruled by pure patriarchy. Women who had freedom numbered no more than 10%, and even those who had it could lose it at any moment because they had to pay an annual tax for their freedom. Very recently, a law was passed lowering the age at which a woman must start paying the tax. If previously she paid her first tax at 18, then from 2100, it was from 18 years old. Many women from the village part, on their eighteenth birthday, transitioned into the category of slave and became the property of the nearest free male relative, on whom the obligation to pay the tax for her fell. For village residents, it was 50%, for city residents 25%, for owners of Pleasure Houses 15%, while the government and those close to it did not have to pay the tax. Well, they weren't going to pay themselves, were they? That would be stupid.
Women worked in workshops, factories, and plants; their supervisors there were usually not-too-rich men who had to earn their living by labor. The Holts owned several alcohol production plants, a factory for producing medicines and drugs, a workshop for sewing clothes and shoes, several furniture manufacturing plants, and they also owned the only weapons production plant and the largest and most popular male pleasure house. In each of the occupied segments, they were either leaders, or held a large share of the market, or were outright monopolists. 50% of the city's residents worked for him, 70% of the money passed through his hands. The Holts practically owned the city. However, the owners of the city were the Mortiness family, who embodied the power of the city and the country as a whole. It was Mortiness who once built this city from ruins; he was respected and loved by the country's residents, and only he could somehow influence the Holts.
The girl who was currently on all fours in front of Robert had been bought from her father for a bottle of vodka. Just two days ago, she had turned sixteen, and Robert was simply impatient to try out the new slave. Beautiful, big-eyed, with expressive lips and a completely untouched body—Mila—became Holt's new entertainment and, at the same time, his pupil. His pleasure house was not the most popular in this city, where the most popular business was precisely prostitution, for nothing. The Holts had the most skillful lovers, whether they were wild lionesses who needed to be shown power, or nuns who were shy even to take off their clothes. The Holts had the most beautiful girls for absolutely any taste. However, there were also drawbacks: they had the highest price, and their Pleasure House was considered elite; only club members had access.
Many men wanted to get in there. Mila became the first slave to come to Holt at such a young age. Her father was a simple drunkard who could have gotten a decent amount of money for his daughter, but in a moment of acute hangover, he signed the documents for just one bottle. Mila, with such looks, would have recouped the money invested in her within the first year. Moreover, Robert always loved to train his slaves himself.
The man smiled, appreciating the speed and quality of the assumed pose. The desire to deprive this flower of its freshness increased, which was a good sign; perhaps today the whipping would not be so painful. However, he shouldn't get his hopes up; the whipping would happen. Ever since his pharmaceutical company had made a cream to hide bruises from whipping within three hours, though the pain remained unchanged—this was a mandatory condition, because otherwise the whipping would be pointless.
"What is your name?" the man asked. He wasn't particularly interested in her name, but the second rule in the code stated that a slave bears the name given to her by her master. Her former name she must erase from her memory and dare not respond to it, just as she was obliged to respond to her new name.
"My name is M..." the girl hesitated, her back reminded her of itself, and that very rule surfaced in her memory.
"... umm, whatever you name me..." the girl managed, and Robert mentally noted that the girl was quick-witted, which meant she would become one of his most expensive girls.
"Mmmm..." Robert repeated after her, mimicking her, and pretended to be thinking.
"... you must earn your name... EARN it... do you understand me? I don't know you at all... and of course, I don't know... what to call you..." Robert invented a game.
"Of course, thank you for such mercy, my master," the girl answered, demonstrating that she had also mastered the third rule perfectly. A slave always agrees with the master, always thanks him for everything he does to her, and addresses him only as "my master."
"Come here..." Robert settled into a comfortable armchair and beckoned the girl with his finger. The girl crawled to him, remaining on all fours, and at that moment Robert crossed his legs, and his boot ended up right in front of the pretty little head.
"I think..."
"... you ungrateful slave, first you need to do something... because yesterday you misbehaved badly!" his voice became firm. The firmer his voice became, the more fear appeared in Mila's eyes.
"Yes... my Master, forgive me for yesterday... I didn't remember all the rules... and didn't know how to stand correctly... Forgive me, my master, it won't happen again..." the slave began to babble, forgetting that the master doesn't like tears, but likes a pleading voice.
"You are still ungrateful..." Robert said slowly. Mila figured it out quite quickly.
"Thank you, Master, for reminding me of the rules yesterday... for your whip and every blow you delivered... you spent so much effort and time on a worthless slave..." the girl began kissing Robert's boots.
"Alright, alright... enough whining..." Robert said in a bored tone and continued the entertainment.
"How shall we get acquainted?" Holt asked. He again expected the girl to figure it out herself and ask permission to unzip his fly and begin the acquaintance of her mouth and his instrument of education. However, this wasn't in the rules, and she had never done it before. So she looked at him with downcast eyes. In her gaze, one could clearly read: "Just not the whip, I beg you, just not the whip..." In his answering gaze, one could read: "You will love it and get used to it..."
"I will fulfill any of your wishes, my Master. You only need to command your slave..." the girl said after a pause. Robert lifted her chin with the tip of his boot, which she had just been kissing; her teeth clicked together, and now he could see all of her still naive face.
"Good... listen to me carefully... If you do everything correctly... in the end you will receive a reward... I will give you a new name... plus I will show mercy and let you serve me... and to reinforce the entire lesson... I will spend more of my time... and effort to whip you again..." he said all this with relish, watching her frightened face. Now her eyes lit up, and then again the expected fear of the pain of the merciless whip. Now her lips are trembling... because Robert paused and was clearly going to continue.
"If you are a stupid and disobedient slave... then punishment awaits you... because that's fair, right? Reward for success... punishment for failure... Perhaps for starters, the punishment will be a three-day fast and a week-long daily whipping, though not by me, but by one of the workers... well, and slaves without names don't have beds and sleep in the toilets at night, which they must first clean to a shine. So, three gifts from the master for success and three punishments for failure... the punishment is a bit weak, though... but for the first time, I think that's enough..." Robert finally finished and smiled. After hearing the punishment, the girl swallowed hard twice... after the words "week-long daily whipping" and at the very end.
"What, aren't you grateful to me?" Robert looked at her questioningly with clear reproach in his tone.
"I don't think I asked for your consent..." the man said, not letting her recover, and stared at her intently. "Be smarter, girl... or your training will be very cruel... and it could have been just cruel..."
"Forgive me, master, I am so grateful to you for training a worthless slave..." Mila babbled fearfully, and Robert, snorting, began scratching his chin, thinking about her first task.
"To start, I would like a drink... perhaps champagne, a light dinner... fried meat and maybe with potatoes... for dessert, which you must serve on yourself, it will consist of strawberries with whipped cream... and also I want fruit with honey... Don't forget to get plenty of ice... During dinner, I want a private dance performed by you, something arousing but in moderation... pick pleasant music... and prepare to answer two questions completely sincerely... what you love... and what you don't love... You have half an hour for everything... while I make my rounds... when I return to the room, everything must be ready... do you understand?" Robert asked at the end. The little girl's face calmed down a bit; the task didn't seem so difficult to her. However, she didn't know all the pitfalls.