tagBDSMSlaves of the Copper Coast Ch. 03

Slaves of the Copper Coast Ch. 03

byProbus888©

* Every so often, the ruling junta of Kupro Marbordo, the Copper Coast, sends the cavalry to sweep the distant, lawless Pine Mountains free of brigands. A great opportunity for Ensign Fernando Bartro to make a name for himself -- and maybe capture a slave-girl. But there are dangers ahead for the young officer. Will he make it through?

This story is set just after my earlier stories, 'Slaves of the Copper Coast 1 & 2'. However, it is a stand-alone story and you do not need to have read the previous stories to enjoy it.

* WARNING! This book contains scenes of a sexual nature, graphic violence against men and women and strong language, It is not intended for the easily offended or persons under eighteen years. You have been warned, so if you read on, don't blame me.

* The names, characters, places and events in this book are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organisations is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

* License Notes: Thank you for downloading this e-book. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be scanned, reproduced, copied or distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

SLAVES OF THE COPPER COAST 3.

CHAPTER 1.

I don't suppose you know much of the history and geography of Kupro Marbordo, the Copper Coast, do you? No reason why you should as I don't suppose you're taught much about our little country in your schools up in the northern United Zones. The only thing most people know about Kupro Marbordo is that it's one of the few countries in the world where slavery, that peculiar institution, still thrives.

Despite its name, there's more to Kupro Marbordo than just its hot, tropical coast and copper mines. Our capital city, Haveno Ananaso or Port Pineapple as you might call it, is by the sea. Further south from Haveno Ananaso, the coast becomes a crocodile infested mangrove swamp. Good hunting if you don't mind snakes, leeches and mosquitoes.

Inland, near the coast, the land is fertile and there are plenty of small farms, market gardens and villages. However, the interior rises becoming drier and the farms give way to large cattle ranches. There are some very wealthy ranchers living in huge haciendas with their stock-men and vaqueros. And not forgetting their slaves of course.

Further inland again, the terrain becomes still higher and wilder until you reach the Montoj de Pino, the Pine Mountains. It's a dangerous place, the Montoj de Pino, and not just because of natural hazards. The mountains are infested with revolutionary rebel groups, cattle rustlers, brigands and bandits, wild mountain man who are a law unto themselves and runaway slaves. Some of these groups are abolitionists.

Would you credit that! Unbelievable! People who want to free our slaves! Everyone knows our society's economy needs slaves and, if they are freed, how will our slaves cope? Most of them are bone idle, lazy good-for-nothings and need someone standing by them to oversee every job.

However, I digress. Every so often the ruling junta based in Haveno Ananaso takes it into its head to send the army to sweep the Montoj de Pino in order to clear out the worst of these troublemakers.

And that's where I come in. Let me introduce myself. My name is Fernando Luis Bartro. My father is a very wealthy, well connected man; highly regarded in Haveno Ananaso society. He took me aside and recommended me to enlist in the army for a couple of terms. He said, and he knows what he's talking about, that having served would stand me in good stead if I later have political ambitions. But, as a young man, I also wanted a taste of some action and adventure before I settled down to make my own fortune in business or politics. So I was proud to join up.

After my training, I became Ensign of a cavalry section of twelve troopers. They were rough and ready men, but very tough. I wanted to prove myself to them instead of being known as a 'white handkerchief' as untested officers were called. Having ridden and hunted since childhood my horse riding and shooting skills were at least as good as theirs, but I'd never seen combat so they looked down on me.

So I was glad when the governing junta decided on one of their periodic sweeps through the Montoj de Pino. It was good to get away from wasting my life in barracks. The cavalry brigade my section belonged to was deployed to the southern Sierras and then dispersed in smaller units. The aim was to drive the brigands and abolitionists and the like northwards where they could be trapped and then either destroyed or captured. Some of those who are caught make good slaves eventually. After they've had their slave training at the Domo de Korekto, of course.

* * *

A few weeks later, my section detrained at a cattle town called Celanova at the foothills of the Montoj de Pino. We were to spend the night at the hacienda of a rancher who owned several thousand hectares. He had agreed to supply us and provide fodder for our horses.

As the men led our horses and pack burros down from the train, I looked around. Away from the humid, sticky coast the higher mountain air was much crisper and cleaner. Even despite Celanova's all pervading smell of cattle. The sun beat down from a cloudless sky. Vaqueros all wearing wide sombreros herded cattle onto wagons to be transported down to Haveno Ananaso's docks and then onto the United Zones with their never ending demand for beef.

I swung up into my saddle and then waved my wide brimmed bush hat in the air in a theatrical manner.

"Tally-ho!" I called like I was fox hunting.

We rode along the main street of Celanova in a well drilled group but I noticed my men looking longingly at the saloons and brothels which lined the thoroughfare. Outside the largest saloon, a group of slave-girls waved to us.

One of the girls was bent over the lap of a vaquero. The poor girl's bottom was bright red.

"Hey, horse-boys," the cow-poke called to us. He took his cheroot and stuck it right up her bum hole as if she was smoking it. The slave-girl squealed as the men laughed.

"Eyes front," I commanded. I didn't want the men getting carried away with the girls' charms. Soon we were out of the dusty town and riding along the trail to the hacienda. Tall grass waved over the savannah as we rode past.

We reached the hacienda by late afternoon. The rancher, Senhor Helder Balduini and some of his vaqueros rode out and escorted my troop in. Senhor Balduini was a tall, weather beaten man of about fifty-five. He had piercing blue eyes accustomed to gazing at the far horizon and a neatly trimmed greying beard and a hawk-like nose. He was dressed in denim work clothes, just like his herdsmen but you could tell by the way they deferred to him that he was their leader. He had the vaqueros' respect and I admit I wanted to be like him. He didn't say much until we reached his sprawling hacienda.

I was shocked. Stale smoke hung in the air and I saw the blackened ruins of a couple of outbuildings. Gaunt, black beams stood out against the blue sky. Closer, we passed a small grave yard and I noticed three freshly turned graves. Seeing my attention, Senhor Balduini dropped back and rode alongside me.

"We were attacked three days ago," he said. His voice was deep and rasping. "A large group of brigands led by Libereco. They must've known you were coming here. The scum killed two of my vaqueros and a male slave who was trying to put out the fires."

I'd heard of Libereco. The name means Freedom in our language. One of the most infamous brigand leaders in the Montoj de Pino. A noted abolitionist, too. Unusually, no-one had ever seen him so his true identity was unknown. There was a large reward of twelve thousand piastres on his head. Dead or alive. Sometimes I daydreamed about capturing him and claiming that reward - enough to buy a small villa in its own grounds or three or four well trained slave-girls.

We dismounted in the courtyard facing the hacienda. The vaqueros showed my men where the stables were and then took them over to their bunkhouse. Meanwhile, Senhor Balduini led me into his hacienda. It was a substantial, rambling building, extended several times over the decades. It was built with thick pine logs, stone and compacted rubble and then whitewashed. Small windows were inset to keep out the summer's heat and winter's cold. It had a red pantiled roof. To be honest, it looked like a small fortress built for defence, especially as a stockade fence surrounded it.

Inside, it seemed dimly lit after the bright day outside until my eyes adjusted to the gloom. We were greeted in the hallway by a group of people.

Senhor Balduini turned to one of his slave-girls.

"Mazi, show Ensign Bartro to his room. See to all his needs," he commanded. The summoned girl curtseyed low.

"Yes, master," she said in a quiet voice.

She took my backpack and I followed her down a corridor. At the end she opened the door for me. She curtseyed again as she did so. I watched the girl as she unpacked for me. Under her simple, sleeveless shift dress, I saw she was petite with small breasts and trim, toned arms and calves. She looked younger than her eighteen years because she had a spray of freckles across her cheeks and snub nose and wore her mousy hair in two bunches. I thought she was cute. She worked quickly and efficiently. When she finished, she bobbed into a curtsey again.

"Will that be all, master?" she enquired.

Yes, I know what you're thinking. But a glance at my pocket watch showed I didn't have time. I needed to check on the troop's horses and make sure my men were all right sharing the vaqueros' bunkhouse.

"Yes, just brush my uniform and then that's all, Mazi," I told her. She flashed me a look of gratitude.

I was having dinner with Senhor Balduini that evening so he could give me an update on the local situation. As well as Senhor Balduini there was a younger woman in her early thirties I took to be his second wife. Jumping ahead, this proved correct. Sadly, his first wife passed away years before and of his older family, one son was in agricultural college in Haveno Ananaso, another was in the army and his daughter had married another rancher many kilometres away.

However there was a pretty girl of about twelve who was the image of her mother, his second wife, and two boys of eight or nine. Senhor Balduini had invited his head vaquero and his close neighbours -- that meant any rancher under fifteen kilometres away.

We were waited on by their Cook and two slave-girls. Mazi and an oriental girl called Fila. I took her to be a Filipinho and wondered what had brought her all the way from those distant islands to this out of the way place.

The dinner was excellent. Roast beef (no surprises there), home grown vegetables and potatoes. The two small boys hung on my every word and sat there open eyed. I didn't overdo it; not with Senhor Balduini and his head vaquero listening and judging.

They told me more about the worsening brigand situation although they were sceptical we could do more than disrupt them unless we killed or captured Libereco himself.

Senhor Balduini noticed my side--arm and I showed him my pistol. He looked at the gun, puzzled.

"It's one of the new European

semi-automatics," I explained. "Its magazine holds sixteen bullets."

"You can load it on Sunday and shoot all week, si?" the head vaquero said.

"Something like that," I grinned as I took it back. "A bit of an improvement on the usual six-shooter revolvers."

This new style of gun had cost my father a lot of money but he thought it would give me an advantage if we came up against any brigands.

Ranchers work hard, and get up early. Long before customary back in Haveno Ananaso, our guests left and Senhor Balduini's family retired for the night.

"I noticed you looking at my slave-girls during dinner. There's not many women up in the mountains so I was wondering if you'd like company tonight," Senhor Balduini said.

"Thank you." I was grateful for his offer. "But they're both so pretty, it's hard to decide," I said.

Senhor Balduini smiled. "Nothing's too good for the officer in khaki. Why not take both?"

"Thank you," I said.

CHAPTER 2.

Senhor Balduini clapped his hands. The two slave-girls, Mazi and Fila curtseyed.

"Go with Ensign Bartro and obey him as you would me," he told them before turning to me.

"If you need to use them, you'll find a selection of implements in the dresser in your room."

We shook hands and then I followed the two slave-girls to my bedroom. I shut the door behind me and then lit two kerosene lamps. Under their white glare, the shadows retreated to the corners of my room. The room was decorated with wall hangings in earthy colours and a bearskin rug covered the floor.

I sat in the easy chair and extended my legs. I clapped my hands.

"C'mon, girls," I said. "Unless you need warming up first?"

They shook their heads. "No master, no master," they said. I was right about Fila as she had a Filipinho accent.

The two slave-girls drew their dresses over their heads and then unhooked their breast-bands. They stood naked before my gaze. Naked except for thin steel slave collars around their necks.

As I said, Mazi looked younger than her eighteen years. She was slim. Her hipbones stood out around the dark convexity of her navel. Her breasts were small and firm with pretty pink upturned nipples. She knew better than to cover herself and stood with her arms by her sides. But I knew she was ashamed because of the way she looked down at the floor.

Fila, meanwhile, was maybe a couple of years older. About my age. She was about the same height as Mazi. Like most Filipinhos, she had dark black hair, dark oval eyes and a small nose and chin. I thought her features were delicate and fragile. Looking down, she also had smallish boobs but with brown nipples and well defined areola. If she had a fault, and to me she didn't, it was that her legs were rather short. Her eyes met my gaze until she dropped them.

I was pleased to see that, in common with our slaves back in the capital, they were both clean shaved. Pubic hair is most unhygienic on slaves, don't you agree?

I wriggled my feet in my boots. I was going to enjoy myself tonight.

"Hurry up, girls," I said.

They took the hint. The two girls dropped to their knees and pulled off my riding boots and socks. Then they knelt before me and kissed my sweaty feet. Their mouths and tongues licked and kissed and sucked on my toes and feet. Neither dared to kiss higher than my ankles. Neither risked glancing up as they concentrated on their task. Making them give you a good foot kissing is a good way to demonstrate your superiority to a slave-girl. And they were good at it. I enjoyed the sensations travelling up from my feet to my brain.

Eventually, after a good few minutes, I told them to stand up. They did so. I didn't tell the two girls to do this but as they stood before me, their hands sought each other and they stood there on the bearskin holding hands. It was a cute gesture.

A thought came to me.

"You two are good friends aren't you?" I asked. They nodded. If these were the only two girls for kilometres around; if their only company was their master's family and the vaqueros then it couldn't be otherwise. They were probably confined to the hacienda and grounds so they must have been lonely for female company.

I was wrong about that, by the way, as a few of the vaqueros were married and lived in separate quarters near the bunkhouse. However, I was correct about Fila and Mazi being best friends.

I pointed to the bed. "Maybe you two would like to show me how much you like each other?" The two girls glanced at each other and Fila nodded. A little smile appeared on her face, brightening up her expression.

"Make love," I commanded. Fila led Mazi over to the bed.

"Come on," I heard Fila whisper. "It'll be like the little comfort cuddles we have in our room."

They lay down together and kissed, their lips finding each other's. The two women looked deep into each other's eyes. Fila hugged Mazi close, and a moment later Mazi's arms encircled her friend. They lay together side by side, kissing with more passion. Their small breasts pressed up against the other's body. They kissed and kissed until Fila moved her arm down Mazi's side and pushed it in between them. The girl's hand moved still lower, seeking and then finding Mazi's hot, sweet sex.

Mazi gasped as Fila's fingers went to work, caressing, stroking then probing and exploring her sweet slit. Meanwhile, Mazi carried on hugging and holding Fila. As if she was frightened of letting go, of losing her friend.

"C'mon, Mazi. You can do better than that. Eat out Fila's pussy," I commanded.

Mazi shot a terrified glance my way. The two girls broke apart and then Mazi scooted down the bed. Fila lay back and spread her legs wide. With one hand, she slid her fingers between her legs and opened her passion flaps, ready for Mazi's attention.

Fila made a kiss with her mouth.

Mazi glanced over her shoulder at me, but saw nothing in my face. Slowly, she buried her head between Fila's leg. I heard her tongue go to work and a minute later, heard little sucking and slurping sounds. I stood up and crossed over to the bed.

"Raise your bottom, Mazi," I demanded.

The young woman did so. I brought one of the kerosene lamps over to the bed and put it on a small table nearby. Mazi's behind and sex were illuminated, lit up for my inspection. She had rounded hips, more fleshy than Fila's rather flat bottom. However, her smooth, hairless sex looked neat and tight. I traced her vaginal lips with my fingertips. The girl shuddered, her bottom trembled with my gentle strokes. But she knew enough to keep her mouth firmly on Fila's cunt. I ran my fingers over her sex and then worked down. I spread her clit hood and gently, very gently touched her sensitive little button. Mazi gasped as I teased her clitoris with my index fingertip.

"Keep working on Fila's pussy. You haven't finished yet," I told her.

Further up the bed, I heard Fila make low moans.

Keeping my index finger on Mazi's clit, I used my middle finger to explore around the girl's vaginal opening. It wasn't as wet as I'd hoped so I carried on rubbing and stroking her tender little clit for a while longer.

"Swap round, girls. Sixty-nine each other," I told them.

Mazi seemed glad to get her cunt out of my reach. She lay on the back and opened her legs a fraction. Meanwhile, Fila got up on her hands and knees and crawled around the bed until she was on top this time. Fila lowered her sex onto Mazi's face and then ducked her head until it was between Mazi's thighs.

"Open your legs properly, Mazi. I shouldn't have to tell you that," I said. Mazi spread her legs a little wider, but not enough to satisfy me. I grabbed her ankles and dragged them further apart. The girl squealed in protest but left them where they were.

From the far end of the bed, I heard Mazi go to work on Fila's lowered cunt. Good.

From my vantage point at the end of the bed I watched as Fila licked and sucked and kissed Mazi's sex. Fila had short, black hair which didn't hide much of my view. She had the harder position, her head bent down at an uncomfortable angle for her tongue to reach into Mazi's sex. But she made good work. Her tongue darted in an out, licking swirling, caressing in between the folds of Mazi's young, tight sex. Fila pressed lower and kissed and kissed Mazi's cunt. I watched her oh so gently nibble on Mazi's clit.

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