Aujla: The calm before the storm
I soon found myself transitioning into a new life with Mr Aujla under the contract's provisions, demanding my presence around the clock, and was relocated at my new home the very next day after gathering my belongings.
It was a contemporary villa, a peaceful haven tucked away in a private forest, only a mere half-hour drive from the city's heart. Mr Aujla took it upon himself to acquaint me and graciously guided me through the grandeur of the two-story structure, a beacon of modern sophistication. The interior was generously spacious, with walls tastefully adorned with pieces of modern art. He introduced me around my quarters and his office, emphasising that his workplace was strictly off-limits unless explicitly invited. Our tour concluded in the dining hall, a space brought to life by the culinary expertise of Mr Aujla’s personal chef.
The days that followed were a blend of settling into my new surroundings and grasping the fundamentals of my duties, as I navigated the intricacies of my role as a personal secretary. Despite everything that had happened, Mr Aujla remained silent and tight-lipped on the subject of our D/S relationship. The contract, on the other hand, was clear: as his sex slave, I was expected to comply with his directives at his discretion.
As weeks turned into a blur, not even a single BDSM session came up, and I began to suspect that it was nothing more than a fear-inducing tactic. But the day finally arrived as I aimlessly wandered through the corridors out of boredom, and was jolted by a startling noise. It was emanating none other than Mr Aujla's office, the door of which was unexpectedly ajar. Overcame by curiosity, I couldn't resist but peek.
There, I witnessed him ruthlessly whipping his servant, who lay sprawled across the desk, with his bare bottom marred by the cruel whip, bruised and swollen. The sight sent a chill down my spine, as I quickly retreated to the sanctuary of my room, hoping that my presence went unnoticed.
Not long after, Mr Aujla called and beckoned me into his office. With a sense of dread and slightly trembling, I hesitantly entered the room, where the sight of the servant, now relegated to a corner of the room kneeling, sent a fresh wave of fear coursing through me. As I approached, Mr Aujla gestured for me to come closer.
“You may enter, Averell,” he ordered.
My heart pounded like a drum in my chest, but I had no choice. I took a slow step inside and shut the door behind me.
“Kneel.” As a mixture of guilt and anxiety gnawed at me, I obeyed.
“What do you think of the scene you witnessed?”
“I…I’m not sure what you mean,” I feigned ignorance.
“The scene you witnessed. Did you find it enjoyable?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t unders…” He seized my hair, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“Did you forget my instructions about loitering near my office?”
“No, sir.”
“Then why were you there?”
“I was just exploring the house, sir.”
His hand connected with my face in a fiery slap. I saw the fury in his eyes and tried averting my gaze by lowering my head, but he ran his fingers under my jaw and pulled my head up, forcing me to meet his stare once more.
“When in my presence, you will address me as Master.”
“Yes, master. Sorry, master.”
A smile played on his lips as his demeanour shifted. He released his grip on my hair and gently carassed my cheek.
“That's a good girl.”
He then leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his upper body angled towards his desk.