Eternal Slave Ch. 04 - The Escape

The waves pulled me back, the waves pushed me forward. I was convinced that my own efforts amounted to nothing, but with every beat of the ocean's heart I could see that I was a few yards closer each time.

Once I believed that I was close enough to the hidden reef to crawl onto it. I lunged forward to place my hands on the stone to keep me from getting my face smashed in, and ended up doing a somersault as the wave pulled me back.

Then it threw me forward again.

They say that every seventh, or was it eighth?, wave is mightier than the others, and this was one of them. I rode upwards, on top of a hill of water, saw the furious churning down in front, saw the furious witch down behind, and then the wave collapsed under me.

It was a close call. I might have cracked open my head or snapped my neck, but ended up tumbling along the reef, smacking every sensitive body part on both rocks and hard places. At last I fell off on the far side, only to be sucked against the reef, banging my head a little.

When the next wave pushed me forward, I found myself in open, if troubled, water, and resumed swimming. With a little piece of luck I would be able to survive getting onto the shore with nothing more than a black eye and a split lip.

***

One black eye, split lip, and piece of little luck later, and I lay gasping on a rock next to the sea. Above the rock there was the blue sky and the fiery sun, and between them the slender, delicate lighthouse. It was not quite so slender and delicate close up. As far as I could tell it was wide as an office block and tall as an office block that was also a skyscraper. The only difference was that they didn't build such graceful structures back on Earth anymore.

When I felt less tired and more anxious to find out whether Sprite was planning to come ashore, I sat up. The little boat was just disappearing behind the rock at the mouth of the harbor. 13 had been cut free of the mast. So, she was going to the city instead on trying to get ashore here. That was a good thing. And it did not seem that torturing people and tying them to masts was socially acceptable in Lamplight. Which was also a good thing.

On the other hand, I was convinced that she would come out here to catch me at once. That was a bad thing. And she would probably bring along enough pain-inflicting tools to persuade me that resistance was futile. That was even worse. I had to reach the city, and I had to be quick about it. Perhaps I could find someone to help me. Either just to hide me for a while, or perhaps even have Sprite arrested and put away in some mental institution. Unless, of course, there were some kind of kinky slavery laws in effect here that made me her property. I imagined a squad of city guardsmen dragging me, bound on hand and foot, up to Sprite's luxury hotel suite where she was heating water and polishing china cups with a smile on her face. It would be very nice if I was able to blend in and disappear among the locals instead of bumping into her as soon as I reached the outskirt of the city.

Of course, I failed utterly in my first attempt to do this. The bay that sheltered the harbor was large and almost circular, and from the lighthouse a lonely ridge ran along the peninsula and all around the bay before it hit town. There was a road paved with gravel on top of the ridge, and I made my way up to it. As soon as I put my tender feet on the broken stones, I changed my mind and walked on the smooth bedrock next to it instead. I had wrung as much water as I could from my clothes, but I would need more than the half hour or so it would take me to circle the bay to stop me from looking like the bedraggled runner-up in a wet t-shirt and pants contest.

After a few minutes walking, just as I began feeling comfortable striding along, feeling how my new, strong body was rested after the ordeal in the sea, I heard voices in the distance. No, this time it was not a group of hot women spearfishing, but rather a group of hot, young women out having a picnic on a plateau that overlooked both the city, castle, lighthouse, and sea. The hot women were about twenty to twenty-five, and they were accompanied by what others might term 'handsome men,' but which I like to think of as 'rivals.'

They were all sitting on pillows and blankets, surrounded by baskets of food and large bottles of wine, talking, laughing, singing, smiling. About half of the group would have looked right at home on Slave Fountain Island with dark skin, voluptuous bodies, and long, wavy hair. The rest had a mix of looks that defied most earthly comparison, expect that I got a feeling of taking a journey through the ports along the Mediterranean, continuing around parts the Arab world, with a detour to the Caribbean thrown in for good measure.

Some of the women wore the same kind of light, summer dresses as the women in the village where I had met Glow and Sprite had used, but most of them had chosen a combination of flared mini skirts and tight tops that I found very, very interesting. These women all wore sandals, cradling their sexy feet. All of them had long, glossy hair, fluttering in the wind, and most wore luxurious earrings, dangling and glittering as they moved. The men also wore clothes of some sort, but I didn't bother looking at them.

I gaped at the women as I passed them by, the road meandering past them just a few yards away.

At first some of them pointed at me. Then the giggling began. After that, their eyes followed me as they whispered about me. It was not the kind of, "Hey, who's the hunk?" discussion I would have preferred, rather the "Hey, who's the freak with the wet clothes, black eye, split lip and drooling mouth?" talk.

I was about to leave them behind and show them just how well my neck could burn with shame, when I heard one of the men say, "...a fucking gift slave!"

That sent a large wave of laughter after me, tossing me onto the reef of embarrassment.

I increased my pace.

A choir of female wolf whistling caught up with me. A sultry voice shouted, "Oh my, it's so hot. I think I need to take off my top."

The men and women all laughed as I slowed down, against my own will, and turned around despite my shame.

She was tall and slim and had two fantastic, firm breasts with stiff nipples that she now shook my way, her hands stretching up towards the sky, her head cocked to one side, dark blonde hair streaming in the wind, lips throwing kisses at me.

My mouth fell open, my feet stopped walking.

"Oh dear," another woman said, "I think I... dropped something." She bent over, wiggling her butt towards me, her blue satin skirt riding high up on her hips.

I had to take a minute just looking to see if she was wearing anything beneath or not.

"Look at him now!" a man shouted. "He's got a hard-on!"

"A massive one!" a woman shouted.

"It's pathetic!"

"It's ridiculous!"

"Kneel down, slave!"

"Kneel for us!"

"Come on, slave!"

"Do it!"

I began backing off, unable to take my eyes off the sexy women. More of them started posturing, touching their thighs and breasts, tossing their hair, shaking their butts. The teasing went to my head. I didn't want to respond to this, but I did. I had to. These women ruled me, owned me, could do anything they wanted to me. Even though they just took the piss.

"On your knees!" they began chanting. "On your knees!"

"I'll put on my top again if you don't kneel for us," the blonde said in a sultry voice.

"I'll sit down!" Miss blue satin skirt said.

"Obey us, slave!" a pair of pouting lips said.

"Do it!" several batting eye lashes said.

What could I do? I needed this, I needed to obey them. It was the sole purpose of my life.

Everyone applauded and cheered as my knees and my lips hit the bedrock. The bare breasted woman waved her top around in the air.

"Now fuck off, you freak!" one of the men shouted and threw a stone at me. It missed, but the second one hit my shoulder.

I jumped to my feet, my hard cock raw against the wet pants, and started to run. Stones flew all around and a few hit my back, making me stumble. The young, handsome men roared, the young, lovely women hooted, and great fun was had by all.

***

As I approached the bamboo houses that marked the start of the city proper, I realize that blending in was going to be a bit more difficult that I had thought. Not only was I apparently defenseless against any woman who wanted to tease, torment, or even capture me, but something about me, my fair skin and blue eyes?, clearly identified me as a gift slave.

I imagined Sprite putting on a winning smile, walking through the city, saying, "Hi! Have you seen my gift slave? I lost him and miss him so much. You wouldn't believe the things I am prepared to do for him to make sure he knows how much I love him."

In another time and place I would have loved walking through Lamplight for the first time. Would have loved seeing all the lovely, little bamboo huts with their flower and vegetable gardens. Chickens clucked, pigs oinked, ducks quacked, and geese goosed all around me. Would have loved passing by the taller, whitewashed stone buildings where rose vines crept up the walls and along the windows sills, spreading their scent through the city. The streets were cobbled and swiped clean, and the main thoroughfare which faced the harbor, was lined with trees bearing produce that back home probably might be found in the exotic fruit section of the local supermarket. Based on what I had read about Earth during the Middles Ages, this place ought to be plastered with filth and stinking to high heaven.

In the current time and place, I was so concerned with 'looking' that I did not really register any of it. The first case of looking was me doing it, taking in the piers in the harbor where I guessed the fishing boats usually lay at anchor. Now they were all out on the ocean, busy ignoring men being thrown overboard and killed by evil witches. Most of the remaining vessels were larger merchant vessels with big, bulky hulls and forests of masts, and slender military galleys with vicious spikes at the front. And a few smaller ones boats. Including one with two masts and a bad reputation.

The second case of looking was done by other people. They were checking me out. That unnerved me. Yes, I was barefoot. Yes, I was slightly wet. Yes, I was blonde and fair. No, my clothes did not differ from what most of the regular joes around me wore. No, I was not a freak. Why did they keep looking at me like that? I was leaving a trail of witnesses for Sprite to follow. Or was it just my imagination?

As I penetrated deeper into the city center, there were more people hanging around, sitting in cafes drinking wine and complaining about the state of the world, lounging in boats making up excuses for why they were not out fishing, loitering in places people in every world I knew would usually gather to loiter. The looks followed me. Where was Sprite? I had a feeling she was not out shopping, checking out the local arts and crafts, burdening 13 with heavier and heavier bags.

In the end I chickened out. I got a feeling there was some sort of commotion going on down by the central pier, and I did not want to confirm it to be Sprite announcing the bounty on her escaped slave, or something. A small side street led away from the harbor and up towards the castle. I took it, and soon the crowds eased up and the houses thinned out. After a few minutes I had left the city behind completely and began a steep climb upwards towards the looming buildings of the fortress. The castle had a strong wall, battlements, and colorful pennants flying from the central keep. There were probably scores of mighty knights or, given that this was a tropical paradise, pirate- and witchcraft-hating limey redcoats in funny wigs up there. If there was one place I could find protection from the fury of the woman I hath scorned, then it was up there.

The wall surrounding the castle was about ten feet tall, and the road I was on led through it by a large, wooden gate. There were two guards at the door, both wearing red capes and spears, but they looked more like Roman legionaries than English colonial troops to me. One was a tall, muscular fellow who on Earth might have made a career preventing guys like me from getting into fashionable night clubs, but on this world was making a career preventing me from getting into fashionable army camps. The other was a woman who was tall and athletic, and who on Earth might have made a career playing basketball or dancing the ballet. She had braided her long, brown hair, and as I approached I became more interested in wondering what it would look like loose than what I should say to them.

"Good afternoon," was what I ended up with, which was a nice and simple line, with the advantage of not instantly making a fool of me. I could work myself up to that.

"Hey," the man said.

"Yo," the woman said.

None of them looked very interested in me, which in the case of one of them was a good thing and in the case of the other a small blow to my ego.

"Can I... Can I come in?" I asked.

The man looked at the woman. The woman looked at the man.

"Are you an enlisted man or an officer serving at the Fort?" the man asked.

"Are you a civilian employee or a delivery man?" the woman asked.

"No," I had to admit.

There followed a period of silence. The man yawned. The woman checked out her nails, which were unpainted but long. I wondered if I should make up an elaborate lie, but then I happened to look around. Down on the road, just outside the city, a woman was hurrying up the slope. She was dressed in somber clothing, had a full, lush body, and long, wavy black hair. By coincidence, that's just what Sprite had looked like the last time I saw her.

"I am a gift slave from another world and I just escaped a horrible witch and I'm afraid that she's going to capture me again!" I said in my manliest of voices. "Please help me!" I added.

The man looked at the woman. The woman looked at the man.

"Your turn," he said.

"You do it," she said.

"But it's your turn," he said.

"If you do it, I'll do it the next two times," she said.

"The next three ones," he said.

"All right. Be nice, now," she said.

The man shrugged and opened the gate. In the restricted view that I got, I saw a lot of white stone walls, cobblestones, crates, and the occasional person wandering around. Then, he was gone. The gate closed again.

The woman stared at me.

I tried to meet her gaze.

She smiled.

I tried to break away, perhaps to see if the woman coming up the hill really was Sprite, and how close she was getting.

She kept my gaze, smiled some more. It was a knowing smile. She was familiar with gift slaves, and she knew the power she had over me. An arm got raised and a finger extended, then they collaborated to beckon me closer.

I came like the good dog that I was.

Two steps away, but she was not satisfied. The finger went on motioning to me. She was not happy until my nose was about two inches from the top of her head.

I breathed slowly, had no idea what was going on. Hoped for the best, which included what Glow had done to me earlier, but feared the worst, which was been kneed in the groin, then chased away as she threw stones at me.

She bent forward and breathed on my neck, just where I love being kissed. I took a deep breath and was about to lower my head to return the favor when a nail stabbed my chin from below, making sure I couldn't do anything but look straight ahead.

I gulped. She smiled.

She moved her head to the other side and breathed on my neck again, a warm and soft breeze. Her lips formed into a kiss, then she stood up on tip toes and delivered the kiss to the air about a quarter of a quarter inch from my mouth.

I tried to put my arm around her back, but she pushed it aside and shook her head.

Again and again she tormented me in this way, gentle and seductive, almost kissing, almost touching, almost caressing. I got rock hard and all ready to serve her or let her chain me up and bring me home. She never looked down, but she didn't have to. It was written in my eyes and my panting, and the way I tried and failed not to whimper.

After a few minutes the gate opened again. The female guard put her finger on my chest and pushed me away.

I am not sure if the male guard had realized what had happened, but I did not care. I knew I was in trouble as soon as I saw the woman he had brought with him, before he slid away and closed the door on us.

She was made of pure, stainless steel. Tough, unyielding, rigid, strong, perfect. Not very tall, rather slender and petite in fact, yet with a stance and a way of carrying herself that would make any would-be mugger, rapist, and mobster shy away and attack any old platoon of veteran special forces that happened to walk by instead. Her body looked like it had been dragged into the gym by her mind every single day and forced to endure several hours of intense exercise until it could handle a handful of triathlons in a row. Her uniform was immaculate, her boots shone, her short sword made its scabbard glow with pride over being allowed to carry such a well cared-for weapon, and her face was so flawless and haughty that she looked like she came straight from a ceremony where she had received a medal for outstanding bravery as the youngest person ever. I put her at just over thirty, but she was so fit she looked several years younger.

She was also the first woman I had seen with paler skin than myself, and the explanation was simple. Red hair. Oh my Goddess, but I just couldn't handle red hair right now. I needed my wits about me, but that possibility just went and blew its brains out as soon as I laid eyes on the burnished copper helmet she wore. It was shiny, it was straight, it was thick, and it was tied up in a braid that hang all the way down below her backside. Not a single strand had dared escape for fear of reprimand and severe punishments. Even my mind was afraid of referring to her posterior as a 'butt.' The jade green eyes didn't help, the way they shone with the light of a wrathful sun.

"It's this guy right here," the female guard said.

The redhead gave her a nod and a look, the kind of efficient acknowledgment that works very well in armies, but not in kindergartens. She then turned to face me. Her gaze refused to look me up and down, but went straight for the eyes.

"Good afternoon, sir," she said.

I gaped and swallowed a little before I 'good afternoon'ed' her back. Added a 'Miss,' then a 'Mrs,' and a 'Ms,' before I ended up with a 'Ma'am' that didn't taste so good after my experiences with Sprite.

"My name is Captain Smoldering Ember," she said, "leader of the Special Branch." Her tone was curt and precise, and it demanded discipline and attentiveness in the listener.

"My name is Sam," I said. "Yeah." I wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked and how vulnerable I felt in her presence and how much I just wanted for her to take me off somewhere, sit me down, and tell me that I was safe from all my troubles and danger. Captain Ember exuded the kind of strength and confidence that so many women look for in their men, and I found my little slave bitch nature responding to it.

"How do you do, Sam? I gather your have come to enlist as gift slave?"

As a matter of fact I had come to do no such thing. And I was not going to let myself be pulled into some sort of crazy new kinky adventure without first calling a time-out and asking what the hell was going on.

"Uh..." I said. "Maybe?"

"Maybe? What are your powers?"

I considered that for a moment. 'I kill women' didn't sound very nice. Besides, that had most certainly been a lie on Sprite's part, considering that she'd fucked me herself.