I, Slave

A door creaked open somewhere below me. I craned my neck and I saw The Master stride out into the grass. He wore a white robe and his bald head showed a faint rind of fuzz that wrapped around the back of his skull. He walked to the middle of the yard to where the small pouch of money sat in the dewy grass. He picked it up. Pulling a long loop of leather strap from the pouch he placed it around his neck so the bag hung against his chest. He opened his robe and let if fall to the ground. He was completely naked. He slapped the bag around his neck with the palm of his hand and shouted something in Spanish to the peasants arrayed in a circle around him. They looked at each other, each peasant waiting for the other to move first. I noticed for the first time that they all held thick wooden sticks about half a yard long: clubs.

The Black Lieutenant growled something in Spanish. His voice was impatient. The peasants advanced on the Master in a tightening circle. He turned to inspecting them each with hard, predatory eyes. A couple of them raised clubs and tensed themselves for an attack. The Master stood with his feet wide and arms ready in front of him. A few fat drops of rain started to fall.

Two men charged Master at once, one from front and one from back. The one attacking him head on swung his club low, trying to catch Master between his legs. Master charged him and caught him before the club had come up from the low point of its arc. Master hit the man in the chest with both fists and the man went down with a wailing gulp of air. Master then dropped and spun, catching the man behind him with a sweeping kick that brought him down too. He was on the prone man in a flash, driving his fist hard into his face. The peasant went limp as the other lay on his back rubbing his sternum in pain.

The rain began to fall heavier now. A sharp crack of thunder echoed around the buildings of the resort. The three remaining men charged at Master with a yelp. A flurry of flying fists and swinging clubs seemed to melt into the increasing haze of the growing storm. A flash of lighting lit Master as he chopped at someone's arm. A scream cried out over the clap of the thunder. Another flash showed a man connected with the side of Master's head with a club while another ran away, his arm hanging at an odd, sick angle. Then a gust of wind threw a bucket of warm rain horizontally into my face, blinding me with water. I abandoned my perch, pausing to pull the screen closed before I dropped back to the floor.

I returned to the bed and mopped my face with a corner of the sheet. I was breathing heavily. I thought of the site of Master being struck with that heavy looking club. I lay back in bed thinking of him fighting naked, like an ancient Celt, his manhood semi erect as he beat those armed peasants with his bare hands. I reached down and touched the rings in my lips and clit. I dipped my fingers into my folds and felt the wetness.

I was still sore, down there. The piercings in my clit and lips still hurt and my vagina was still a little tender. But, like a sore tooth or a painful zit, the ache pulled me to test and retest the soreness. I flicked the steel ring in my clit and flicked it again. The sparks of pain made my skin twitch even as the pleasure made my body grow warm. I began flicking the ring up and down like a toggle. I bit my lip and I sunk into pleasure as sensation filled me and finally washed the anxious worry from my mind.

But then, something caught me attention. A sound, not a sound so much as a feel of heavy foot-falls striding down the hall outside my door; coming closer with a quick, determined step. I put my hands at my side and watched the door with trepidation. When it burst open I jumped. The Master stood looking at me.

He was soaked with rain. His long mustaches drooped and dripped over his panting mouth. His body was bare and glistened with a sheen of moisture. On the right side of his face, next to his eyebrow, a lump was blooming into a bruised knot. A small gash on the contusion oozed a flow of blood which ran down his face, mixing with the rain on his skin and diluting from deep red to light pink as it trickled down his neck into his damp mat of chest hair. His eyes were wild and hungry as he looked at me. I cowered back on pure instinct. He was a barbarian infused with blood lust: a Mogul, a Hun, a Viking. I was his prey now. He took a step towards me and I felt my heart beat madly in wild fear and desire as his hands closed on my body.

Master pushed me into the mattress and pulled my legs wide. His tall, powerful body moved over me like a mountain taking to the air to blot out the sky. His cock was erect, huge and dangerous. I looked at it as he climbed between my thighs. I opened my legs wider for him. As he slipped the fat, purpled head down my slick crease he looked down on me and grinned. I was so very wet. His hand clamped around my throat as he pushed himself inside me. My back arched in a spastic eruption of sensation as my body accepted him.

He was rough and energetic. I was willing. He held me fast with his weight and his strength but I moved my body as best I was able to slip my pussy up and down along his wonderful manhood. He pierced me with his entire length on each thrust, pumping me from the tip of his penis the base of his shaft. My sore lips and clit send shocks of pain lancing through my sex but his girth filling me and dividing me wrapped the pain in pulses of delirious pleasure. I was panting along with him, crying out in pleasure as he bent his body down to take my neck in his teeth. His cock was so hard now as I felt him grow tenser and more urgent. We were moving with a shared rhythm, dancing with our genitals. I knew I was going to come but I wanted to do so as he did. I pumped back harder from beneath his mass. Finally with a low growl he shook and went still. As he unleashed his flood deep inside me I let myself go and came along with him.

He sagged onto me, letting his weight nearly crush me as he caught his breath. I panted in short, shallow breaths. I gasped, "Thank you, Master. Thank you."

Master smiled at me. It was an honest, surprised smile that transmitted his approval from his mouth, eyes and the tilt of the head.

"You're something special, my dear." he said to me. I felt my heart melt. He really liked me.

But our time was over for now. He withdrew and his delightful cock slid from my feminine depths, leaving me empty. When he stood I saw that the black lieutenant was standing in the doorway, watching.

"Get her cleaned up, Andre," said Master. "Inside and out. She goes up for auction in a couple of hours."

"Yes sir," said Andre. He looked me over. "May I, um..."

"Of course," said Master. "Nothing fancy though. I want her fresh for her client."

"Yes sir, of course," said Andre as Master bushed past him out of the room.

The Master gone, Andre shut the door and pulled his cock from his trousers. It was long, fat and dark as midnight as he approached me on the bed.

10. The Life of a Slave

A little later, as the resort guests ate their breakfasts at individual tables surrounding a small arena, I was groomed for my auction. Two other slaves, a cute Latina even shorter than me and a willowy black girl with a high forehead and oversized eyes, soaped and rinsed my skin with sponges, washed and braided my hair, saved my legs and pussy, douched me and gave me and enema while my prospective buyers looked on. I wanted to whisper a question to the girls but my mouth was gagged again. Fortunately the black slave must have read the terror in my eyes. She whispered, "they only sellin' you for th' day... they ain't sellin' you for good. OK?" into my ear as she ran a razor up along my armpit. The Latina shot her a cold look that said "Shut up!" as clearly as any words could do.

And so began my work-a-day life as a slave. The auction was over before I even realized it was in full swing. It was a silent auction, the men submitting written bids to Mistress Black as they watched me being prepared. When I was finished being groomed I was led to an elderly Japanese man who snapped a leash to my collar and pulled me back to his cabin. I don't remember much about him now. He liked tying me down and spanking me and fucking me doggie style: pretty basic stuff, really.

That's the weird thing, a lot of the guys who paid tons of money to attend our little resort - and believe me, it was expensive - really weren't all that creative with what they did with us girls. Mostly they'd tie you up for a bit and poke you with their peckers, maybe they'd spank you or beat you with a "whip" - not real bullwhips, those left scars and Master needed us to remain more or less unblemished from client to client - but mostly it was just a bunch of guys who only wanted a pretty girl who didn't talk back and could handle a little rough sex.

Guys who could afford it liked to get two, sometimes even three, girls and have a little party. Those were good gigs. Mostly you'd spend most of your time having sex with the other girl(s) as the client directed the action and stroked himself. There might be a little abuse involved, but the client would have to spread it around among the girls so the unpleasantness wasn't so focused. Often you'd actually get a little time to talk with some of the other slaves once your client got off and fell asleep. Not that any of us had any useful information to share. It was just nice to talk with someone. You spend so much time with gags in your mouth or sealed in a cell somewhere that conversation became as desirable as sex. I found out that, although we'd been gathered from all over the world, we were all pretty similar: young girls trying to earn money for school, a business venture, family obligations, medical expenses of loved ones, et cetera. We'd leased ourselves for a big payoff and we all regretted doing so. For us, commiseration was our common theme.

Of course, there were sickos who came through every once in a while: guys who liked to attach your clit ring to a battery and shock you over and over again; guys who'd leave you tied up in horribly painful stress positions for hours on end; guys who would choke you until you passed out or who'd stick a dildo dripping with hot sauce into your pussy and laugh as you writhed in pain. There were plenty of those. It was not uncommon to hear a horrific scream echoing through the night as some weirdo took his sick pleasure with a girl. At first I would feel a jolt of pity whenever I heard a girl cry out somewhere. After a short while my only response was relief it wasn't me.

Thing was, it frequently was me. Tiny little me, with my big, pale blue eyes and young freckly face seemed to attract them like sugar attracts ants. Every guy who booked a few days at the resort seemed to reserve some time with me. In fact, I was one of the more popular girls. Master told me as much one night when he'd reserved me for himself.

"Don't stop being frightened," he told me as he smiled at me through his eyes as he pulled me to him with the chain that hung between my nipples. "Our guests love that about you. Many have complemented me on your suitability."

I felt my heart leap at this scrap of praise. I made honest, energetic love to my Master that night and lay awake thinking of his massive and powerful body afterwards. I thought of him often, even when he wasn't around.

It wasn't until I had been at the resort for several weeks that I discovered that the roomy, light pink cells like the one in which I'd spent my first night were reserved for the girls who'd earned over a certain amount for Master that day. The other girls slept in the tiny cages down in the common room where I'd first met Mistress Black. Perhaps I would have never made this discovery if it wasn't for a Canadian actor who'd won me at auction and who like to hit. Actually, 'punch' would be more accurate. He beat me up and fucked me, leaving me bruised on my face and arms. He had to pay extra for damaging me, of course. But like all the sickos who came through, he seemed considered the penalty money well spent.

But I looked a mess afterwards and, like with ripe fruit, nobody wants bruised merchandise. For the first time since I'd arrived no one reserved me for the next day's pleasure.

That's how my confrontation with Mistress Black began.

11. The Machine Shop

I'd been out of commission for a few days. Maybe three, maybe four, I couldn't tell; it's hard to gauge time when you're basically a walking fuck toy. Anyway, my bruises were at the stage where they were fading to a sickly kind of yellowish green but were still too dark to cover convincingly with concealer. I'd been spending my down time doing secondary stuff around the resort: fetching, cleaning, grooming the other girls and just kind of loitering around trying to look like an agreeable ornament despite my livid contusions. The odd thing was that I was kind of bored. And horny. I was actually eager to get back into the mix of things.

At least part of that was because I'd spent my first night in one of the common room cages a couple of days before. They were uncomfortable and cramped with no hint of privacy. Plus you were in a room with a bunch of second and third tier slaves who spent the whole night sobbing and whining to themselves like pathetic pups. Mistress Black would come in every once in a while to bark at us to shut up but that just made things worse. Everyone would settle down but someone would start whining even worse once she'd left the room. I swear a few of those girls had completely lost their minds, which was understandable... but still annoying.

Finally, in the pitch back of one early morning, I lost my patience and hissed, "Shut up you babies!"

There was a brief silence that was quickly broken by a solitary chuckle. A girl's voice whispered, "She'll be coming for you the next time The Master and his Princess have one of their parties."

A ripple of snickering rolled around the dark room.

"What?" I said. No one responded. But the next night I found out.

She came for me in the dark, around midnight. I had been sleeping. I awoke to the sound of my cage door swinging open. As I blinked blindly at her dim silhouette, Mistress Black grabbed my collar and ordered me out of my kennel. She pushed me ahead of her through the room towards the door. I could see the eyes of my fellow slaves watching me with relief that it was me, not they, who were was being pushed forward with the tip of the Mistress' riding crop.

Once we were out in the hall Mistress Black struck me across the backs of my knees. I obediently dropped to the floor. She moved around in front of me and tipped my head back with her riding crop beneath my chin. She was wearing a tight black dress. It was see-through.

"Look, worm," she said. "We're gonna be doing a little moonlighting tonight. You'll do what the fuck you're told and you'll not breathe a word of it to anyone. If you do... God help you, dearie, I'll fucking kill you."

"Yes Mistress."

"Don't fucking 'Yes Mistress' me like I'm playing a fucking game. I mean it. I can engineer an accident that'll leave you dead as a door nail. You'd best keep your mouth shut or..." she drew her finger across her throat from ear to ear.

I said nothing. I must have looked suitably terrified because she smiled at me and yanked me to my feet.

"Come on Seventy-Seven, let's not keep my customers waiting."

She took me on a long, round-about path to the lagoon. We went through empty rooms, dark patios and service hallways. Finally we emerged near the water where a couple of small yachts rode at anchor (some clients didn't rent cabins; they just stayed on their boats). Black pushed me along until we got to a big, ugly corrugated steel building. She opened the door and pulled me inside.

The interior was thick with tobacco smoke. It stank of smoke, diesel, grease and sweat. Heavy metal-working equipment stood arrayed against the walls. Swarthy men stood around chatting in Spanish and looking impatient. There were a dozen or so; I was too freaked out to count. When they saw me they started to draw closer. I looked at Mistress Black with raw panic in my eyes. She laughed at me.

She spoke to the assembled men briefly in Spanish. I knew enough Spanish by then to know she was demanding payment and they were complaining she was asking too much. She had me turn around and bend over. There was a murmur of appreciation. I felt my skin start to bead up with nervous perspiration. She slapped my ass and restated her price. More argument before a final agreement. Money was handed over. A couple of deadbeats were ordered to leave. Mistress Black pulled me up and shoved me towards the men. Rough hands grabbed my bare flesh.

There was a sustained whoosh of fabric as callused hands pulled at grease and sweat stained clothes. I was pushed onto a thin mattress in the center of the floor. A swarm of erect cocks circled me as my arms and legs were pulled tight and fingers reached down to poke into my pussy and ass. One of the men knelt over my face and thrust his rank, musky cock into my mouth. I gagged, but my training took over and did my best to satisfy him without thinking. Soon I felt another cock push into my sex as fingers worked my anus open.

I was flipped over and lowered onto a man laying face up on the floor. I rode him as another cock found my mouth. Grease smeared my sphincter and soon another man invaded me. My hands were pulled up and firm penises found their way into my grasp. I began stroking them in time with the men moving in my pussy, my ass, my mouth. Strange fingers felt my smooth pale skin, stroked my straw blond hair, teased my nipples as a swarm of cock pierced and punished me.

I felt as though the world fell away. The totality of my existence was the storm of hard cock waiting for a damp and velvety pump into my body. I lived only to get them harder and hotter until the spewed their slimy filthy in or on me. Once again, as I had done so many times by this point, I swallowed the pain and the terror; I lost myself in the humiliation and degradation. I found the thread of pleasure in all that horror and followed it deep down into the core of my self. As I was passed from man to man, as jets of semen coated my skin and flowed from my orifices, I began to work out one climax after another.

I kept my orgasms quiet. I'd be damned if I let any of them know I was enjoying their abuse. I even let out whimper or two as the crowd began to dwindle. Finally I was left balled up on the spunk speckled floor, eyes unfocused and lungs heaving. Mistress Black nudged me with the tip of her shoe.

"Good job, pig. You've made me quite a bit of cash today. Now get the fuck up. We need to get you back to your cage."

I stood with difficulty. I ached like I hadn't ached since my first painful day at the resort. I was pushed along until we got to a little shed back behind the gardens. The Mistress pushed me to my knees.

"Clean yourself off, pig," she said as she turned a hose on me. Cold water shocked me out of my post multiple orgasm stupor. I scrubbed frantically, wiping the spunk off with my bare hands and water so cold it hurt.

Finally I was back in my cage. Aching inside and out and chilled to the bone from the cold water. I wasn't able to fall back to sleep again that night. The next day I got selected at auction but I fell asleep in my client's room and earned my first punishment: a full day in the stocks.

The stocks were uncomfortable but otherwise unremarkable. Each of the lieutenants showed up at various times of the day to fuck me. Some took me in the mouth or the ass or the pussy. Lieutenant Paolo did all three. That night in my cage I waited for Mistress Black to return and bring me back to the Machine shop but she didn't.