And waits. And waits. And waits some more.

Araceli waited, but her new owners seemed in no hurry to do anything with their newest acquisitions. Indeed, what crew she could see were absorbed with preparations for departure. Before too long, though, the galley moved out to sea. From where she knelt, she could just see some of the oars moving in and out of the water. The thought of the slaves who pulled those oars, and the knowledge that she had condemned herself to join them, made her squirm in place with excitement.

As the island vanished behind the galley, taking with it the last of her freedom, Araceli saw the guests escorted away, presumably to enjoy a light lunch in air conditioned comfort. Not so for Araceli and her fellow slaves, of course. They baked in the sun, glistening in pools of sweat and, in Araceli's case, other more intimate fluids.

Finally the Whipmaster returned with a pair of crewmen. He looked over the four captives dispassionately, then pointed at the two bound captives. "Take them to be processed." The hogtied women resumed their futile struggles, but there was no escape. They were picked up by the burly crewmen and slung over their shoulders and carried below.

"Now," Trent said, "for you two. Volunteers aren't as uncommon as you'd think, but to have two on the same voyage? That is a rarity." Araceli glanced at the tall, busty blonde kneeling next to her and realized that unlike the bound captives, this woman hadn't been trying to warn her away when she'd come to join them, she had been encouraging her! Their eyes met, and Araceli saw the same lust in the other woman's blue eyes that she knew her own brown eyes now showed.

Their master went on, "This is too good an opportunity to waste. With luck, your eager servitude will encourage some of our female guests to join you as volunteers. That would increase our profits with no effort on our part, and that's the best kind of profit." He smiled down at them. "Don't worry, you'll both end up on the oars eventually. Just not yet. I know that's what you signed up for, after all, but let this be your first lesson in slavery. What a **** wants doesn't matter. All that matters is is what your master wants. "

Araceli shared another glance with the blonde, then looked up at him and nodded.

Trent's smile grew as both slaves acknowledged their understanding. "Excellent. For now, since you'll be working together as a set, you," he indicated the blonde, "will be Salt. And you," he nodded at Araceli, "will be Pepper." He looked them over as they absorbed their new names, then barked an order. "Salt, lick my foot!" The blonde **** started, then toppled herself over onto her belly, squirming awkwardly until she could get her head over the whipmaster's boot. With her gag, she could only barely get the tip of her tongue onto the leather, but she managed it.

"Pepper, lick the other one!" Araceli...no, she was Pepper now....obeyed, mimicking Salt's flop, squirm, and lick. As she tried to clean his boot one strained lick at a time, he went on. "Good. So now, some rules. First of all, obedience. You are not people, not even pets. You are slaves. The only thought in your tiny **** minds is to obey. You will only do what you are told and nothing else. Fail to obey an order or act without one, and you will be punished. It's as simple as that."

He went on, "This is the Gagged Wench, and as such, you wenches will never have your mouths empty. Save for when you are being fed or are sucking a cock, you will spend the rest of your lives gagged. No one cares about anything you have to say. If you try to speak, you will be beaten. If you keep trying, your vocal cords will be cut. That, however, will reduce your value, as men enjoy hearing your moans, squeals, and screams. Reduce your value too much and we will give up on you and chop you up for bait. You don't want that. You want to be willing, obedient flesh. If you can manage that, you might live for another ten or twenty years before your looks give out and it stops making sense to feed you."

Pepper knew she should be terrified at his words, but all they did was make her hornier. She wanted this!

Trent concluded, "Finally, understand that this is permanent. You are slaves until the day you die, whether that's tomorrow or two decades from now. **** certificates are already being filed in your names. You both drowned while on vacation, isn't that tragic? Your belongings will be sold, your families will grieve, your friends and coworkers will forget you. Sally Jenkins and Araceli Jones are dead and gone. All that's left are the slaves Salt and Pepper."

He squatted down and grabbed Salt by the hair and **** her to look up at him. "Do you understand, ****?" Salt nodded desperately until he let her go, then he grabbed Pepper the same way and looked into her eyes. "Do you understand, ****?" Pepper nodded her agreement.

He stood, "So now, which of you should I process first?"