The Madam's Ledger
They continued ignoring my presence, chatting among themselves. “Slaves are still slaves, but at least they no longer risk death at their master’s hands. As long as they serve well, they’re granted considerable freedom. The slaves themselves seem satisfied and stable now.”
“The leader’s foresight truly shines. Hahaha.” They chuckled together. The leader who had somehow preserved the slave system while averting its collapse enjoyed strong support among the Blackmen. As I kept listening, I realized Daviwana’s slavery was somewhat unique. In Tarykin’s former slave system and Kenserth’s monarchical era, slavery had been primarily about exploiting labor. But in Daviwana, only women were slaves, and men performed most of the labor, making it closer to sexual slavery. Even the sturdy women of the Western Continent seemed overwhelmed simply by satisfying the Blackmen’s overflowing lust, especially with the already skewed gender ratio. Poor Blackmen reportedly shared a single slave, taking turns to relieve their desires. Imagining how thoroughly those women must have been used filled me with pity.
Just then, the door burst open and a Blackman stepped out. Shorter than the nearly two-meter-tall guards, he stood about my height. The moment he emerged, he muttered that he was busy and hurried away. The guards followed, leaving the area in front of the room suddenly silent.
Only then did I raise my head and let out a sigh. “Venus? I’m coming in.”
I knocked on the open door and entered. The still-lavish room reeked of the night-flower scent unique to semen and the thick smell of arousal fluids. Good heavens. How much had they released? I turned my gaze in search of Venus and was met with an extraordinary sight. On the canopy bed, large enough for a double king, Venus lay unconscious, her entire body coated in semen. Thick fluid mixed with saliva dripped from her parted lips, while more overflowed from her vagina and anus in heavy pulses. They had certainly been thorough.
“Venus, wake up.” I grasped her less-soiled arm and shook her, but she showed no sign of regaining consciousness. With a sigh, I gave in. “Hup.”
I lifted the unconscious Venus and carried her to the bathroom. My strength, acknowledged even by Master, made washing one woman no great burden. I filled a basin with magically warmed water, soaked her body, then lathered her with herbal powder that served as body wash, scrubbing every corner. True to her preference for this body over her real one, her well-maintained figure remained firm and supple despite her age. Her vagina and anus were slightly stretched, but that was inevitable when dealing with Blackmen.
“Mmm….”
“Ah, you’re awake?”
“Huh? Elisha? What’s going on….”
She came to while I was carefully wiping away the semen clinging to her neatly trimmed pubic hair. For a moment she looked disoriented, glancing around before sighing. “Haa, I passed out again. Were you washing me? Thank you.”
“It’s nothing, really.”
“Nng, be gentler. I’m still sensitive.”
“Yes.”
After carefully spreading her flushed labia to rinse out the remaining semen, I moved to her anus. Now conscious, she clenched reflexively as I inserted a finger to stretch her and draw out the fluid. Her sphincter tightened around my finger, but I held firm and continued the task. Watching her anus, which still refused to close completely despite repeated clenching, I asked out of curiosity, “Does anal sex feel good?”
“Interested?”
“A little. The experience posts all say everyone enjoys it, so I was wondering.”
The angel bulletin board had far more posts about anal intercourse than I’d expected. Though somewhat taboo, many angels had tried it because male clients frequently requested it. While the posts reflected the clients’ satisfaction more than the angels’ own feelings, the consensus was that everyone enjoyed it and was pleased. Would Theo enjoy anal sex too?
“Most men do enjoy anal. Still, the fact that you’re trying to develop your anus on your own means you’ve become completely that person’s slave, haven’t you? But if you want to take Havid’s cock, you’ll need proper preparation.”
“Mmm, yes.”
I hadn’t been thinking of Master when I spoke, but I let it pass. After thoroughly cleaning her body, we returned to the bedroom to find the bed already made. “The bed’s already been cleaned?”
“Ah, the bed has a cleaning magic circle. It activates automatically when someone leaves.”
“Oh, how convenient.”
Even the bed was enchanted, befitting its luxury. I laid her down on the fresh sheets, and she patted the spot beside her. As I perched on the edge, she continued, “You have to be careful when developing your anus. If done wrong, you risk various injuries or infection. First, clean the anus thoroughly, then apply this lubricant and gradually stretch it with anal plugs.”
She produced several lubricants and plugs of varying sizes, arranging them as she explained. The plugs differed in the thickness of the shaft between the rounded head and the flared base. “Start with something the size of your index finger. Once you’re used to it, move up gradually. Most men’s cocks aren’t large enough to require much stretching, but to accommodate those gentlemen, you’ll need to get used to this thickness.”
“Wow, that’s huge.”
The largest plug she showed had a shaft as thick as five fingers combined. To take those oversized cocks, one would indeed need to be accustomed to something that size. As I examined the plug she handed me, she spoke again. “Go wash your anus clean. I’ll teach you how to insert them.”
“Yes.”
Following her instructions, I cleaned myself thoroughly and returned. She pointed to the bed and told me to lie down. With my hips raised, she applied lubricant to my anus. “It’s best to use plenty of lubricant.”
“Nng, it’s cold.”
“Now, relax your anus. I’m going to insert it.”
I loosened my muscles as much as possible. The rounded head stretched me wide, sending a sharp pain through my never-before-opened passage. I endured until the widest part passed, and the plug slid in with a sudden pop. “Now clench. That’s it.”
“Nngh, it feels strange.”
“That’s because the plug keeps your anus from closing completely. Now do me.”
“Myself?”
“You need to learn the sensation of inserting it. Just do what I did—apply lubricant and push in the largest one.”
Suppressing the unfamiliar sensation in my own anus, I applied lubricant to hers. Squeezing the tube made her hole gape. After clenching and relaxing several times, she told me to insert the plug and spread herself wide again. Even stretched, the large rounded head forced her open further, sliding in with effort. Worried by how widely she was spread, I asked, “Isn’t it opening too much? Isn’t that dangerous?”
“It’s fine once you’ve trained. You’ll need at least this much to handle those gentlemen. Push harder.”
“Yes.”
I pressed with more force. The thickest part passed, and the plug sank in all at once. Her anus clenched tightly around the base as if swallowing it, an astonishing sight. Even though the shaft was so thick, her hole remained visibly stretched around it. The oval base disappeared between her cheeks as she sat up. I sat as well, feeling the strange sensation inside me, and flinched when it shifted deeper.
“The lubricant coats the walls of your anus and colon, preventing infection and injury. So you must always use it. Understood?”
“Yes. But if it stays open that much, won’t it affect bowel function?”
“Normal-sized cocks weren’t a problem, but to match those gentlemen’s size, it no longer closes completely. I have to wear a plug at all times.”
“That sounds inconvenient.”
Having to remove the plug every time she relieved herself, then clean and reinsert it, must have been quite troublesome. “It is a little inconvenient, but if you want to have anal sex with them, you have to accept it. I don’t need the smaller plugs anymore, so I’ll give them to you. Train gradually and you’ll be fine.”
“Thank you.”
Theo’s cock was no small matter either, so I would have to work hard at this. Still adjusting to the unfamiliar sensation by clenching and relaxing, I listened as she explained that anal sex was something most men enjoyed, and that proper development could bring the woman great pleasure as well. She stressed that because Blackmen’s cocks were so large, enemas to empty the bowels beforehand were essential. After continuing her explanations for a while, she suddenly asked, “Did you come here just for anal training?”
“Ah, no. Havid told me to assist you with your work.”
Relief and fatigue crossed her face at my answer. She rubbed her cheek. “I was worried I might collapse from overwork with everything piling up. This is perfect.”
“What should I do?”
“Hmm… Manage the prostitutes’ schedules. Just make sure a certain number of them are on standby at the brothel each day.”
She explained the tasks while handing me documents containing the prostitutes’ profiles and schedules. As I listened to her know-how and reviewed the profiles, I noticed a stark difference: ordinary prostitutes had only names, ages, and addresses, while those who had become Queens had detailed records including family relations, occupations, physical information, and whose slave they were. The schedule documents listed each woman’s available days according to personal circumstances, along with a network of substitutes for when real-life obligations prevented attendance. Managing dozens of prostitutes single-handedly… She had also been assisting Juba with his plans. No wonder she was so busy.
“If more clients than expected show up, adjust the schedule to fill the gaps. Some of those gentlemen dislike other men touching their slaves depending on their preferences, so be careful. Havid is the same, isn’t he? You’re not allowed to be held by other Blackmen either. Oh, and fill in your own profile information.”
“I will.”
“There’s still about a week left in this month’s schedule, so you should have some breathing room. For next month, refer to the previous schedule when making new ones.”
“Yes, thank you.”
Her eyes heavy with fatigue, she logged out after saying she needed to rest. If even an experienced prostitute like Venus was this exhausted, it seemed ordinary women truly struggled to handle a Blackman’s stamina. That aside, the list showed far more prostitutes than I’d expected—324 in total, of whom 256 had become Queens. Even accounting for it being a game, turning this many women into Queens already was impressive. Blackmen truly were something else. On average, around forty Blackmen visited the brothel daily, requiring roughly eighty prostitutes on hand. Queens only came on days their masters visited. Updating individual schedules while accounting for those forbidden by their masters from sleeping with other Blackmen made the task complex. Ah, Trinky’s real name was Tiffany Taylor. A twenty-six-year-old single news anchor from Kenserth, owned by Kwabna. She had become an anchor right after turning adult and had over nine years of experience—a promising talent. According to the additional notes Venus had entered, she was one of the brothel’s founding members and had worked as a prostitute for four years, described as a woman who enjoyed sex. So this brothel had already been operating for four years. The other Queens came from equally varied and high social positions. From a love doll who was a nun in Ryuzan to noble daughters and wives from Tarykin aristocratic families—quite a few. They had even formed their own gatherings, creating alibis for one another while working as prostitutes. There were even cases of mother and daughter working together, revealing just how immense their lust was.
First, I sent a group message announcing that I would now be handling schedule management and asked them to contact me about any changes or days off. Replies arrived one after another, all addressing me as “Madam.” Since Venus had also been called either Guild Leader or Madam, they seemed to be extending the same title to me. Hmm, administrative work really wasn’t my strong suit… Maybe I should ask Master for a little help… Since I had a week to spare, I decided to learn gradually. After logging out, I focused on combining the child.
After finishing work and eating a late-night snack, I moved Master’s sleeping body, dressed it in heeled boots and a corset beneath a tracksuit, and headed to the park. Having trained intensely in mare form while wearing heels had altered the structure of my feet; ordinary shoes now felt uncomfortable. Other mares who had lived as such for a long time probably had completely deformed feet as well, making standing without heels difficult. The heels I had worn as a mare were 8 cm high. I had bought boots with heels of that height and wore them constantly.
Running through the empty streets in mare form, the nanorobots activated and released pleasure substances. Ah, so they worked even without my arms being bound. It seemed they responded to the heels, corset, and posture. Panting from the pleasure, I reached the park and had to rest for a moment. Haa, my underwear was already soaked through, the sticky sensation unpleasant. It seemed better to run normally on the way there and return in mare form. Since I hadn’t exercised for quite some time, no spectators appeared, leaving the park quiet as I trained diligently. My lower body, honed by mare training, was sufficient, but my upper body had grown relatively weak, so I focused on that. Still, I needed to visit Lyana, yet the opportunity never came. She was never at the lab, and she didn’t answer calls either. Isabel seemed to know something but only gave vague answers, so I couldn’t figure anything out. Isabel herself was busy developing new drugs to maintain her cover as chief researcher and couldn’t pay us much attention.