Castle of Slaves

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A new world awaits inside the castle walls.
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nkniemi
nkniemi
2 Followers

There was something that struck me as odd from the moment I met him. Yet, it was nothing that I could immediately place, nothing striking or obvious. Nonetheless, I seemed perplexed by that of which he spoke: a perfect place, far from the pressures and conformities which worked in symbiosis within modern everyday society.

He spoke in a sophistication which overtook me and with a manner that intrigued me. As his speech droned on it mattered not that I had ceased to follow his sense; rather, it mattered only that he continue so to let my dream of what he offered take full shape in my mind, and in that convince me completely of the world in which he spoke.

Later I would dote upon this first impression and remember the little round man of such proper manner and such proper speech, and I would again wonder why he struck me as so instantaneously odd, as so slightly a skew from the ordinary. I would rack my brain for every detail of that meeting; I would remember his appearance as he came forth from the crowd: like royalty he seemed to ascend to the platform before us, smiling, waving and clasping hand with those nearest to him.

Remembering his figure I would recall his roundness: not a small man, though he could not have been more than three or four inches past five foot, and yet he had girth for a man far in excess of six. In my mind I would place on him a red cap and a white beard and I would chuckle, as he had a build one would suspect of Saint Nick.

That evening however, he had not worn the costume of Father Christmas; rather, he wore one more like that of a penguin, wearing most formal attire, which included a small bow-tie and a large top hat, which he would remove and tip whenever a jeer would escape the crowd.

It took many a session of remembrance to discover why a man of such sophisticated manner, wit and dress had come across so strikingly odd. It was on such an occasion just after the winter of my stay with him that I finally realized what it was: when one looked upon him it appeared that he had no neck. His, round body, pillowed out immediately after his rather robust chin, in fact, his chin seemed to be resting within his fatty chest. A smile had crept across my face as this thought had come to light.

It was laughably true, not only did he appear to have no neck on his short spherical body, but I had yet to realise that this was the sole reason for any disillusionment I had felt during the speech I had attended all those months before. As the realization of the waste of worry during the months that had followed escaped, my laughter grew until it must have chorused through the halls, echoing no doubt to the quarters of he who was its source.

*****

There is nothing in the world as pure, as innocent and as vulnerable as human nudity. When confronted with another, who is in such a position, one's initial impression is always one of immense power and control and is often followed by violent, oft impure thoughts of the uses such a commodity as the naked human form, in view of their unrestrained power, could have.

However, it is not this situation that makes the nudist so weak and powerless; rather, it is that in the mind of the nudist that this reality exists, regardless of the will or want of whomever realises this inevitability, in their position of nudity the nudists are without means of taking these thoughts from the mind of he who is having them; feeding his mind, thus feeding his power.

This perception leaves the nudist in a paradox of vulnerability, without means of practical escape. Yet, it leaves the other in a position of ultimate power and authority, and in the knowledge of such power, in the position to control the every thought and action of the nudist who may stand, kneel or lay before them.

Imagine my first glimpse of the slave rows at the Castle: near a hundred girls, kneeling heads down, hair draping below them, in silent replica of one another. A line that stretched on for what seemed like an eternity in the greatest of the great halls of the Castle, and each girl seemed more beautifully powerless than the last.

The Round Man in his tuxedo straightened the sides of his blazer and allowed me the silence to intake the entire scene that stretched out before me. The symmetry, the perfection and the exactness was unparalleled to my eyes: a giant window reached for the high ceiling of the hall behind every fifth girl, the rows would gap until began another such window, whereupon another five women would kneel, lined up each as the double of the one in which she followed. The rows stretched five deep toward the five giant windows of the great hall, leaving an estimation of the numbers all but too much work for me. Regardless, the grandeur of the scene would remain with me always throughout my journey at the Castle.

That much nude skin has a powerful smell. A smell, their smell, that is one that since I will never forget, and moreover always remember when in that the greatest of the great halls where that scene first met my virgin eyes. Even the boom and echo of the Round Man as he cracked the air of silence with his voice could not cut through the dense smell of female flesh and nudity.

While, his voice may have raised the first sounds since I had entered the vast array of girls, but it did little to distract my attention from the perfection in forms before me. In knowing that sound alone was not enough to grasp my attention, the round man began to walk parallel to the rows of silent, motionless girls that held my senses captive. Never pausing, or even glancing in my direction the Round Man articulated and punctuated the role of the rows of girls, slaves, that lay in waiting before my stunned senses:

"These girls are but slaves to us men, though hundreds of years may have brought change to the world 'out there' these changes are not welcomed 'in here.' In here there is no suffrage, there are no universal rights; there is only law, our law, our law that has remained unchanged since the time of my forefathers, and that will remain unchanged until we are but forefathers of our further generations. Reformation, rights and freedom are not welcome here, our society runs on what we, our forefathers and their gods believed was the order and nature of things, that these women, who are but products of us men, are here but to serve our needs.

"Each of these girls belongs to us, to the Castle and to our system and our beliefs. They are products, not of chance recruitment like you, but of careful breeding over hundreds of years. Each one of meticulous seed and perfect grooming they await their duty as slaves of ours with willing and needing hearts.

Here the Round Man paused briefly from his casual stroll through this garden of nudity and lifted the head of a young blonde girl, roughly he raised it till her eyes met with his, he gazed proudly at her nudity, as if he himself had carved her perfect form, then threw her head, almost disgusted, back to its subservient and hidden position, as if her reaction had not satisfied his god like stature.

"One of these girls will be yours; will be your slave, your fulfiller of desires. It will become her destiny to keep you free of unquenchable lusts. Her fate will be melded and sealed to your will, your ways and your desires. She will serve you for all your days in this Castle, and she will expect nothing but an iron fist in return. In this room (here again the Round Man stopped, waving his hands round the great hall to emphasize the vast array of choices available before me) is your destiny, chose carefully, chose wisely."

Reeling from momentary shock the corners of my imagination where infiltrated by the heaviest of my desires; checked momentarily by former morality, then reality-- this reality, set forth rearranging the systems and processes that had constructed my once structured mind. Societal influences of 'right and wrong' and of 'do and do not' could be replaced by my own limits, set by my desire and imagination. And as a sinister smile began to crack across my face I waded forth into the sea of naked humanity, of strong smelling flesh that waited to meet these desires.

I stopped first at a blonde (the girls remained knelt with their heads to the floor and without raising their heads from this position you could have no idea of what facial beauty they hid). I lifted her face: her eyes, while focussed in my direction looked through me, through my skull to the empty room around me.

Disappointed I let her head fall to the floor. I brushed aside the girl and walked to the next one, stopping as if inspecting the troops. This brunette, hair waving and flowing before her body seemed more pleased to meet me, as our eyes met I brushed the hair from her face, clearing it to see more clearly the blue eyes that stared back at me.

Flaring my desires with her greeting eyes, I took her hand and raised her to her feet before me. I glanced back at the Round Man, who merely nodded his approval at this action of inspection. Granted the approval I sought I pushed the Brunette's head to the side, acknowledging that my focus had shifted to her body.

Sweeping the last of her brunette waves to her back I pressed my hands to her chest, running them across her cold skin, the Brunette stood in lifeless silence as I led my hands across her curves, stopping on her breasts, and lingering between her legs, daring to lash up into her sex. Pushing at her thighs I was able to get her to spread her stance and give my hands a better chance to explore her exposed organ. She made no moves as my hands groped and exploited her most private parts.

Silently and without pleasure she seemed only to be waiting for this inspection to end. When it did, I let our eyes meet again, they greeted me once more, but I saw through them this time: there was no pleasure or desire in her eyes; they were merely a reflection of her society, her role and her acceptance.

Disillusioned again I turned her round and bent her over, leaving her bosom hanging exposed before me. Determined to fulfill a humiliating desire I thrust my hand into her anal hole. Ripping her anus apart I thrust in a finger from my opposing hand, I pulled them in contradicting directions forcing open the pink virgin hole, satisfied and disgusted at her lifeless reactions I spit into the opening and then walked away from the defiled and used slave.

The reaction of the Brunette was far from isolated; on the contrary, it seemed consensus to be cold, silent and lifeless as I prodded through an inspection of their most private organs and limbs.

After countless unmemorable stops at lifeless naked bodies I welcome the thought of fire and stopped before a redheaded girl, whose blemish free pale white complexion added to the image of heat, despite a cold hand, her eyes were more lively, if not electric by previous precedents. I brushed a hand through her short almost boyish hair and, now excited, pressed on to her busty and short body. As I brought my hand to her body I felt her eyes follow my hand, her eyes seemed to help guide a path to a fiery patch of hair down below, she seemed anxious to have me fulfill her desires.

Noting this I stopped, removed my hands from her body and waited before her, it came as she lashed a hand out and tried to replace my retired hand on her sex. Disgusted by her lack of control, but intrigued by her raging aggressive desires I snapped by hand away and violently pushed her away, toward the floor, where soon she fell back to her knees and dipped her head, her fire and aggression again hidden by her silent and conforming position in this mosaic.

Once more disillusioned and disgusted I let my search for the perfect form fall on other lifeless and undesirable girls. Each time I used their bodies as examples of my frustration, clawing at their rectums, biting and stretching their breasts and ripping open hole after hole to no consequence, these girls took my rage and frustration at speed and seemed all too ambiguous when I ripped into their naked bodies and left a disgusted mark on their most personal of regions.

In my hastened frustrations I began exposing faces by pulling violently on the girls hair and ripping their heads backwards, nearly toppling them, but showing a full view of there face and exposed upper body. As I swung more quickly through the rows, I lost sight of my victims. Bloodthirsty I would often rip through girls, first pulling back their hair then raising them still clinging to their hair, defiling their bare sex bodies and simply moving on.

This pattern became a part of me to the point where I barely noticed the lifelessness of my cold and silent victims. As I pillaged the room of virgin girls I became jaded by the wealth of tight sexual beings that surrounded me, there was nothing here to stop me, I could be a God of their sexual worlds; here consequences did not exist for me.

It was as these thoughts settled into my mind that I tore into the hair of a most young looking black haired girl. In my aggression I had brought the bulge of my pants right up to her shoulder length hair, and as I pulled her head so that her face was dead in front of my pulsing cock.

Seeming scared, she turned her face from me, when she saw that she was faced only to my bulging pants she jerked her head, trying to flee and hide from it. Shocked, I backed off, gently guiding her face up in the direction of my own. Unlike all the other girls I had seen, I had felt, and had defiled this dark haired creature was not cold, was not lifeless, but her face expressed the most human of all emotions: fear.

Her face was a picture of fear, her small grey eyes seemed poised on the edge of tears, they seemed to beg me to drop her face and carry on, but I couldn't. There was life in those eyes, there was humanity, there was soul, and I need not thrust my hand into her privates to find it. It was there in the fear of her small grey eyes.

As I looked into them I changed, moments before I was a God in my own mind, and in an instant lost in her eyes I was a tyrant, a criminal, and a rapist. Her eyes seemed a check on my powers and abilities, but as I broke her stare and brushed glances down at her naked body, her vulnerability quickly returned. Realising her powerlessness she tried her best to cover her exposed breasts and to close her legs without breaking rank.

Even as the reality of the situation returned to me I remained humbled by her display of humanity and I took my eyes from her body; returning them to her eyes as they pleaded with me to move on to another victim of my raping massacres. But I knew I could not, I knew that those small grey eyes would forever be etched in my conscience and that this frightened dark haired girl would forever keep me from a truly free willed festival of my sexual deviations and crimes, despite her ongoing pleads to the opposite.

Gently I took her hand, and I tried to guide her reluctant body to its feet without revealing too much of her obvious nudity to the court of the great hall. I looked back at the Round Man, who had sensed my desire and decision and had already begun to order the guards to file the rest of the girls from the great hall, I watched clutching the hand of my destiny, as the girls filed in perfect order and unison around us, out of the hall and out of my future.

After the procession was over the Round Man motioned for me to follow him and he led me to a familiar path to my quarters; still silent he waved good-bye and left me to guide my destiny to my chamber. We were silent as I did so.

Entering the room I closed the door, locked it and swung the drapes across the window on the far side of the room. Through all of this my destiny stood quivering at my side, covering herself with her free hand.

As I sat down on my bed and pulled her to a seat beside me she began to weep, quietly at first, but soon she wept uncontrollable and she buried her embarrassment and her shame in my shoulder. Covering her crying face I wrapped my arms around her hugging this young creature, comforting her, the one whom was to meet all my desires.

I brought a hand to her head, caressing her weeping head by her hair, as she lifted her face I brought a gentle hand across it, wiping away the largest of the falling streams. As her weeping subsided I left her to pull the covers back from the bed, saying nothing. She was thankful just to cover her naked body from my eyes. I watched her once her eyes had closed, scared to disturb her quiet rest. Unaware of time or of the world outside I fell asleep, beside her, on top the covers.

nkniemi
nkniemi
2 Followers
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AnonymousAnonymousabout 4 years ago
It’s definitely an unusual story

Does he feel sickened by al those broken women? From what you’ve written and reading between the lines I’m still at a bit of a loss, he seemed savage in how he examined and used the women not being careful with their bodies or minds. To the point that he was interested in the one who showed fear. Yet at the end he was gentle with her, rescuer or unrestrained sadist?

Tess (UK)

ellyneiellyneiabout 15 years ago
This, however,

was excellent. Great job.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 15 years ago
Please don't leave it there...

i loved this story...please don't finish it there, please keep going!

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