Eternal Slave Ch. 02 - Gift Slave

"You're sorry?" I said. "You're the one who did all this stuff to me."

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I did. And I am sorry. Mostly sorry. I've never met one of your kind who's so new and innocent as you. In fact, I only ever met four of you guys, and they were all veterans of the game." The twinkle was back in her eyes. "I guess I've gotten used to being able to do anything to you people, and just have you beg for more."

"I'm not sure how I feel," I said. "About you, about this, about anything. I've been... I come from another world. I think. This is not Earth, is it?"

"Yes, it's Earth," she said.

"Huh?" I said. "I had no idea they spoke my language in India or Burma or wherever we are."

"What's a Burma?"

"Where are we?"

"On Slave Fountain Island, one of the Myriad surrounding the Inferno," she said, sounding like a Dungeon Master in a role playing game, making stuff up as she went along.

"Slave Fountain?"

"Because so many gift slaves seem to pop up here, brought to this place by the Lady Desire to bless womankind ," she said. "Are you going to take my hand or not?"

"I am," I said, and as if to show here I really meant that, I let her pull me to my feet. "You're strong."

"Not really. I just have a lot of experience keeping men down. Somehow you big, strong apes seem to find it refreshingly humiliating."

I looked down on her. Her eyes were so deep and brown, her dark, full body was so succulent, her long, wavy hair was so glossy, her lovely smile was so... I don't know, things were confusing. "Maybe," I said. "Maybe."

"But not just yet?"

"Yes and no. You did make me beg just now. And I don't regret it. Where do we go?" I added the last part because it felt really awkward standing this close to her. All my frustration seemed to melt away when I could feel her warmth.

"This way," she said and picked up her spear. Bent down, just in front of me, butt in the air, and picked it up. "You'll soon be begging for it again, without my prompting."

"Really? Beg to be milked in front of lots of women?"

She arched an eyebrow at me as we walked through the tropical forest. The dying light made the place seem almost unreal, like a trek through the Amazon looking for a lost city or something. "Among other things. Trust me."

"But..." I struggled both with the fear that she might be telling the truth and the unreality of the whole situation. "What kind of society is this? Are all women dominant and all men slaves?"

"Not at all!" she said. "You see, this... Wow, I seriously have to go back to the boring, old holy books to explain about sex? I never though about that when I was groaning my way through school."

We closed in on the little mountain and the fabulous waterfall which looked even more beautiful at sunset.

"Anyway, this is how it goes. Back when the world was young and humans were being created by the Gods and all that, the Mother and the Father made Woman and Man. But Woman and Man were not created equal. Woman had the gift of bearing children, men of the strength of their bodies. This made them, like, different. Made them behave differently, I mean. Men chased women, imposed their brute strength on women, became boorish and aggressive, and women got used to being courted by men, denied and blackmailed men, became passive and lazy. This was not a good thing, or so the Lady Desire thought. She felt that women should learn how to be assertive and take matters of the heart into their own hands, and that men should learn to respect women for their minds and opinions as well as their bodies."

Crowded around the base of the mountain, covering a little, stony hill, stood about two hundred bamboo huts of the kind you often saw on TV shows about 'primitive societies' in 'countries in hot places far away.' There was a sense of style and ease about the huts, which where about the size of small bungalows, that made me sure that these people were not primitive in any way.

"Yes, yes, I know how silly that sounds when it all comes down to sex in the end, but hear me out. The Lady could not change the heart of neither Women nor Men, but she could bring gift slaves into the world. Where she gets them, I don't know. There has to be a lot of other worlds around, perhaps? A gift slave is a man who needs females to control and rule over him. But he is also given the ability to grant women powers through his seed. I say seed because it's poetic, but you know what I mean. Powers like... Beauty, strength, healing of wounds, heightened senses, magical skills, and so on. So, the Lady's idea is... Just like men chase women to sire children, so women should chase these gift slaves to have these powers. And so they can set an example for women everywhere, teach them that it's good and normal to take the initiative, to active, in charge, the head of the household, and so on."

Glow led me around the village, which I appreciated, seeing as I was still naked and there were still people out, talking, chatting, working. They were all adult women. The kids were probably put to bed, the men... Stolen?

In the middle of the village was a very large hut. It even had a second floor. Probably where the chief lived. The chiefess?

"Does it work?" I asked.

She blinked at me. "You mean if things are different here compared to your world? I don't know, I have never been to your world. Some of us love the idea of chasing men. Others, like Wave, refuse to have anything to do with it and serve their husbands instead. But what I do know is that many women are willing to do a lot to make love to gift slaves who gives them desirable powers. Of course, one would think those powers are mind expanding, health-providing powers, but, you know..."

On the far side of the village, close to the waterfall, was a hut that was a little larger and more impressive than most of the others. Glow steered me towards it, and I could see that it had a sort of strange see-through membrane for windows and colorful ribbons as curtains. Lush flowers grew all around it. It was a woman's house, all right.

"There's a gift slave on another island close by who gives the power of a fit and young body for a few months. You would not believe how many women make up an excuse to go there, to accidentally drop by the little temple where he's kept, and somehow, well, be convinced to just 'try it' for fun's sake, which means straddling the part of him that's visible between the walls that his head, hands and feet are locked inside. They don't see him, he doesn't know who they are."

A pair of neighbors put their heads together, pointed, and whispered as we approached. I blushed, but Glow took charge and just marched me up to the door and pushed it open.

"You mean he has no say in who he's mated with? You mean he's not allowed out?" I was shocked. Well, shocked and a little excited, but shocked nonetheless.

"Of course he is," she said and laughed. "He needs to eat, drink, sleep, and go to the toilet just like everyone else. I talked to his wife, and he loves being treated like a commodity. Maybe fifty orgasms a day, and together they make crazy money on it. As long as a gift slave falls into the hands of a good woman, he's the luckiest man alive."

The inside of the hut was just like I imagined a rustic, private beach front villa on the Maldives or something. A big kitchen with a fireplace, a big sitting area with cushions around a low table filled with tropical flowers in pots, with ribbons, and unlit candles. There was a huge window facing the waterfall. Four doors led to four small rooms. What had been said earlier? That she had three husbands and a gift slave? There were bead curtains for doors, which I found normal in this setting. There were also four length of bright red ribbons fastened to the frame of each doorway. One in each corner. I could guess what they were used for, but I didn't dare ask.

"And if he falls into the hands of a bad woman?" I asked.

"Wave is probably going to tell you all about that tomorrow," she said. "And you don't need any nightmares tonight. I'll just make us a little something for supper, and then we go to sleep?"

She led me over to one of the cushions and pushed me down on it with a single finger. Remained standing over me.

"Sure," I said. Seemed reasonable. The right thing to do.

"Can I ask you a little favor, though?"

"Sure," I repeated.

"I am a little stiff after fishing all day." She twisted her body a little as if to emphasize. Her curves rolled like a landslide of sexy, burying my mind. "Could you rub my shoulders for me after we eat?"

"Sure."

"And perhaps brush my hair? My right arm smarts, so I don't want to lift it." She twirled a lock around her finger.

"You want me to rub your back and brush your long hair?"

"If it's not too much to ask?" Once more her face was all angel and her voice had that trembling innocence that tickled my nerves.

"Sure," I said. "Of course."

***

Among the many feminine idiosyncrasies and associated objects that fascinate me, you'll find the prosaic hairbrush high up on the list. To you, perhaps, it's kind of every-dayish, but to me it is yet another of the many holy objects of the Church of Woman.

Woman's hairbrushes are big, they are flat, and they serve a most divine purpose in the rituals of the master race: Turning what might be tangled, messy, knotty snarls of flax into rivers of burnished, shining, glorious molten metal. My own head gets to at most an inch of hair myself before Mr Cutter, the mechanical head harvester, comes to shear it off, so I had no idea how this miracle comes about. Once or twice I had watched women brush their hair on the bus, just before they started the equally fascinating ritual of putting on makeup, and the sight had made my stomach tie knots on itself.

Glow's brush looked like it was made of gleaming brass. It was oval and big, the bristles long and placed very close together. The first thing that ran through my mind as she handed it to me was an image of her straddling me again, lifting this brush so that it caught the sunlight, then spanked my balls with it. I would complain that it hurt, but I sure as hell wouldn't want her to stop. What was happening to me?

Next to the cushion Glow had placed me on there was a small table now full of lit, scented candles, as well as the remains of the fried fish which she had cooked for us and two glasses and a bottle of wine that was spicy, strong, and delicious.

"Thank you," Glow said as I accepted the brush. She sat down in front of me, between my legs. She had changed from her wet, yellow dress into a blood red one which screamed passion as it fell on top of the cushion a inch in front of my cock.

He was gritting his teeth and fervently hoping that he would be left alone until morning, at least.

"The ocean wind and the salty air trashes up my poor hair," Glow said. "Don't you agree?"

"No!" I said, because at that moment she tossed said hair over her shoulder and down over my poor, exhausted soldier. It was a little wild, but it sure knew how to tickle. Tickle like crazy. "It's lovely!"

"Why, thank you!" she said and sipped her wine. "My husbands and slave all hate when it's like this, and they sometimes fight about who gets to brush it for me."

"How come you have three husbands?" I asked as I placed the brush gently on the top of her hair. I wanted the first stroke to be magical.

"Well," she said and laughed. "First I had one, then the two others saw how lucky he was and begged to be allowed to share me."

"Lucky? You mean because you're so beautiful?" It wasn't magical at all. The brush got stuck before I reached down to the back of her neck.

"Why thank you, Mr Charming! No, word got out that I enjoyed putting a leash on him and make him lick my feet clean. They were very insistent that they be allowed to do the same. Use force, Sam! You have to be firm with my hair in the beginning. It's very naughty until you've tamed it."

"What did your first husband say when you wanted to bring in two more?" I tugged and tugged at the snags.

"He was utterly humiliated. So, naturally, he wouldn't stop badgering me until I accepted them. Of course, I enjoyed it, too. Lots of fun games to play. First Come First Serve, for example. Or Duck, Duck, Loose."

"You have sex with them all at once?" For the first time I managed to pull the brush all the way through without it getting stuck. That seemed to make some changes in the texture of the hair. Interesting changes.

"Yeah, I love that. Love bossing them around, love feeding on their needs, love disappointing at least one of them. Keeps them on the edge." She refilled her glass, then looked at mine. I hadn't touched it for some time. I was too busy with important matters. "I love getting my hair brushed. It's so relaxing. I can easily have you do it for hours."

"Yes, please," I thought. "But you also said you had a slave?" I said. "A gift slave?" The hair was turning smoother, the waves starting to become regular, more pronounced.

"Hurricane? Yeah, he's a sneaky one. His power is command over the wind, and he used to travel around the Myriad, blessing every female sailor around, free as a bird, never sleeping in the same house twice."

"But isn't he a slave?" The brush ran through her hair like water now, leaving beauty in its wake.

My cock screamed at me not to pay attention to it, nor to the dress rubbing against my thighs as she moved, nor her warmth, nor her bosom heaving to the rhythm of her breath. He could scream all he wanted. He had already lost.

"Sure he is, but he's still a free spirit, like the wind. Only an evil, mean woman can lock him up. Me, I took it as a challenge. Don't stop, honey. This is so good. Too bad we're not allowed to make love..."

"What kind of challenge?" My hands moved up and down as I passed the brush through the hair again and again, enraptured. Each time I let go, it fell on top of my lap, and the constant slapping was waking the sleeping, wounded bear.

"To make him as addicted to me as I could. To entice him to stay with me as long as possible." She giggled and turned around to stare at me. "I love getting inside men's heads."

"Please don't that to me?" I asked as the bear woke up and started to stretch his sore muscles.

"Why, Sam? Are you begging me?"

"Maybe," I said, since my self-confidence had taken too many blows lately. Right now I would rather be begging to be allowed to brush her for all eternity.

"Maybe?" she said and laughed. "Why, maybe you'll beg me to let you stay with me in a few days time?"

"Maybe," I said. I patted her hair now. It was pure silk. So similar, yet so different, from Lady Desire's reddish golden sunshine.

"I'm good either way," she said. "I hate the idea of being tied down to a life I don't want to lead, and so I want the same for the men who serve me. As soon as they want out, they may leave. With my love. Not that I've ever been in love."

"Never? Not even with your gift slave?"

"No way! Gift slaves don't love you back. They serve all women equally. They have no choice. With all other men you can scratch out their eyes if they stray, but not gift slaves. They are not responsible for their own desires. They are completely at the mercy of women. I pity the woman who falls in love with a gift slave." She sighed and stared at nothing.

I figured that she was struggling with some internal emotions, so I did not learn forward to kiss her hair like I had wanted to. Instead I just patted it in a sympathizing way.

"Thank you for brushing my hair," she said. "You're very gentle and thorough. Maybe I could put you in a chest and let you out whenever I need my hundred daily strokes?" she said. "That is, once Sprite has cleared you for use."

"You would do that?" I said. "A chest?"

"Occasionally, when one of my boys badgers me about it. But I prefer my men close and ready to serve. Could you tie up my hair with this?" She reached over to the table to fetch one of the many ribbons who lay there. It was red, broad, and silky.

"Tie it?"

"You promised to rub my shoulders. You need to get the hair away. It's getting too long. I should cut it."

"No!" I yelled, a sudden anguish in my voice.

She giggled. "You get just as desperate as the others when I say that. I'm only teasing."

I gathered her hair up in my hands and passed the wide ribbon under it. Then I made a large bow, tightened it, and let the ends hang down to where her bra straps would go. If she had worn a bra, that is.

She reached back with a hand to inspect my handiwork. "Nice," she said and let the ponytail slip through her fingers, then fall down and slap my by now rock hard cock.

This was it. This was what I had been promised when I sat behind Lady Desire on the bus in the gray world I might just have left for good. As Glow asked me to rub her shoulders, as I touched her soft skin with my fingertips, as she rolled her head around and showed me a face caught up in bliss, as her ponytail swung and swung against my member, I knew just what I had to do.

I had to convince her to have sex with me.

***

"What are you doing, sweetie?" Glow sipped her wine.

"Sorry," I said.

"Don't be sorry for kissing my neck," she said. "I love it."

"Thank you," I said. So, my plan was working. All I had to do was to go on kissing her throat and shoulders, and she would eventually soften enough to give my pocket rocket the treatment he was aching for. Literally aching. I had just had two beyond heavenly orgasms in like five hours, and he still wanted more. It was not hard to see why gift slaves were so vulnerable.

"You're not going to get anything, though," she said and chuckled. "Sprite was very firm that I had to wait until she had analyzed your specimen. I have no idea why, but she is a witch and she freaks me out, so I tend to listen to her. It's probably related to how a man's powers influences him as well. My poor Hurricane, for example, was able to fly on the winds after he came. Not that I let him fly off to anywhere, my special pink dress made sure he stayed, but he got to soar above the clouds on good days." She smiled. "I miss him."

There is a time and place for talking about other men, and they're called Never and Nowhere, so I did not follow up on her comment with anything but an "I'm sorry." My cock was in control, and my cock didn't know how to empathize very well. Instead I went on kissing her, losing myself in her soft skin and slow movements, her tickling hair and eyes half hidden under deep lashes furtively checking me out.

"You're very tender," she said.

"Thank you," I replied.

"But you're jumpy."

"Jumpy?"

"Every time I do this," she moved her head, "you start. Just like that!"

"No, no," I lied. She was right. Her hair spanked my cock as she turned, and I was unable to hide the shock of pleasure. "Can I put my arms around you?"

"Of course," she said. "Be nice and gentle, and you have free access. Just remember we're not doing anything tonight."

"Do it!" my cock protested. "Ask her! Ask!"

"How..." I said in desperation. "How about a handjob?"

"Yes!" my cock danced. "You nailed it, big boy!"

Unlike me, Glow didn't start. She just went straight into the arms of a raucous laughter. "Why, Sam, you've got super-awesome seduction skills! But, no Sam. No handjob. Be good to me without expecting anything in return, please. You owe me." She leaned forward to drain her glass. When she was done, she pulled the ribbon out of her hair and rolled over on her belly. "Rub my back until I fall asleep, would you?"

"I'm so horny."

"I'm too tired to let that amuse me as much as it should. Why aren't you rubbing my back? Or kissing my neck? I punish my men if I have to ask twice, you know."

"Yes, Glow," I said.

"And don't give me that accusatory tone. From now on and until the day you die from heart failure, mid-orgasm, your top priority will always be to convince women to sate your Need, the Need that will never go away."