Her Master's ServantbyKnottLynnHardey©
The first memory Bethany had was of this room, the common space of the Inn she had lived in since her father sold her to the Innkeeper Jorel when she was a toddler. This was the room she slept in, ate in, and worked very hard in. Bethany knew she had some life before here, but this room was the first thing she could remember.
Jorel and his wife Shelby were kind enough. She was rarely beaten, and well fed. The work was very hard, but she worked no harder than Jorel and Shelby did themselves. Being an Innkeeper on the King's Road was difficult. Trade was brisk and the people demanding.
Bethany worked for her keep, there was no slavery in this Kingdom, but she had no money of her own, every lick of work went to pay for her food, clothes and lodging.
That is until she became a woman. After she had begun to bleed Shelby had suggested to her that she begin to take men to her bed to earn coin of her own. The agreement was that Bethany could keep half what she earned on her back, and the other half went to Jorel to pay for the shame of having an Inn with a whore in it.
Terrified the first time Bethany had given herself to a travelling blacksmith. A huge man with hard hands and a huge muscular body. He had been gentle enough with her, she supposed, he had paid extra for her virginity and knew to be slow with her. It had hurt, but not terribly. It had actually felt nice by the end, when suddenly he finished by squirting inside her.
And with that exchange of coin she had started to earn the money needed to go out on her own.
The trouble was she didn't know where she wanted to go.
Years went by and still Bethany stayed in the Inn working hard day after day, sleeping in her own room now under the main stair to the patron's rooms, hiding her coins from anyone who might seek to take them.
Judging from the compliments she had garnered over the years, and the glimpses she had of both herself and noble ladies she had bathed here in the Inn, Bethany deemed herself attractive. Worn looking, but pretty. She had a mop of very curly blond hair that she'd been told glinted gold in the firelight. Her pale skin was soft in most places, save her hands and feet. Her body was both hard with use; scrubbing, carrying, chopping and all the many difficult tasks set her day after day, and soft where her breasts pushed against the too small shift she wore.
Bethany bathed whenever she got a chance, in the river nearby or in warm water from the kitchen fire. She hated smelling men when she lay with them, and thought they wouldn't want to smell her either. Also a hedge witch had once told her the best way to avoid the rots that plagued whores was to bath after lying with a man, and thus far that had worked. She didn't know how, but never once had she been infected with any disease.
And so her youth faded into adulthood and Bethany became a celebrated landmark along the King's Road. The gentle voiced, sweet harlot with the beautiful body.
The day the swordsman entered the Inn Bethany felt her world shift. Looking at this lean, hard looking man made her feel weak in her legs. He was handsome to be sure, but she had lain with good looking men before. He also looked dangerous, but so too had she been with dangerous men, some soldiers, some just farmers. This man's danger came not just from his strong lean frame, but from his intelligence. As he looked around the room he seemed able to read each person there and assess their worth.
When his eyes fell on Bethany standing looking back at him, a tankard of ale in each hand waiting to be served, the swordsman smiled a hungry predatory smile that unnerved her, not in a frightening-for-her-life kind of way, but in a fear-that-her-heart-would-soon-be-broken type of way. The danger in this man was the threat to her very essence as a woman.
The room resumed their various conversations as the man made his lazy way to a table in a corner. Bethany delivered her ales and tried to ignore the man, but Jorel told her to go see what he wanted.
As she approached the swordsman once more looked at her in that appraising manner and she felt moisture gather in her sex, her breath short and skin warm.
"You look like a sight for sore eyes, lass." His voice was soft and pleasing, like everything else about him. "I've spend days on this road and never once seen beauty like yours."
Blushing in spite of knowing he lied, she asked, "What's your pleasure sir." Immediately she regretted her usual opening line. His wolfish grin told her what his pleasure would be, and it made her tremble to picture it.
"What say we start with an ale and some of that stew over the fire, then later we can discuss the real pleasure I desire." His smile grew less predatory, and she grinned nervously in spite of all her best efforts.
As she worked the night away, rushing from table to table never once did the stranger's presence leave her focus. His eyes were everywhere, and yet always on her. His stillness drew her gaze amid the bustle of the inn common room, and Bethany felt dizzy whenever she needed to approach him.
The man booked a room for the night and Bethany felt near drunk when he ordered a bath. The image of his firm, muscular body glistening in the water had her shudder with lust.
Finally the man stood ready for his steaming bath. He placed a coin in her hand as he passed and in a low quiet voice said, "Attend me lass."
Scarcely able to walk Bethany followed in his wake, the coin held lightly on her outstretched palm, a mute entreaty to Jorel to dismiss her from her duties the rest of the night. No protest followed her up the stairs so she dimly accepted that as assent and followed in the wake of the swordsman.
In his small room the bath tub steamed and the man began to remove his clothes. As each of his parts were bared Bethany grew more fevered. His chest was lightly hairy and crossed with scars, but none deep. The muscles of his stomach were iron, and rippled with his movements. His back was broad, defined and also scarred, but not bulky. Everything about him radiated strength and speed. He legs as they were revealed showed long and strong musculature. And his buttocks were smooth and delectable. When he turned to her grinning his member stood out proud, soft yet large and promising to be the biggest she had seen.
"I want you to disrobe as well. My baths tend to be... messy."
Her mouth grew dry and she forced herself to tear her gaze from his bobbling prick. As the man sat in the scalding water Bethany began to remove her own clothes in a dream like manner.
The handsome stranger watched her every move as he soaked in the water, smiling his delight as her body was revealed.
Bethany usually felt pride as men watched her undress, knowing that they enjoyed her body, but tonight she feared this man was too experienced to appreciate a scullion's wiry body. But his smile, genuine and broad seemed to enjoy how muscular and lean she was. Her breasts were still full and buoyant, the nipples achingly prominent as she exposed herself.
"Very nice." He murmured, making her thrill inside. "Bath me lass. " He demanded, and his tone of command made her sigh out loud. Bethany had always enjoyed pleasing people. Her place as an indentured servant gave her a purpose that grounded her. When men used harsh language with her, and were demanding of her sexually she felt the greatest of desire. Making a man happy was the road to freedom, even if she didn't know what freedom she desired.
Moving to him she took a sponge and some soap and began to lather him up. Running her hands along the muscles of his body made her tremble with delight, she used the sponge minimally to maximize the caresses she could use on his amazing body.
The stranger sighed and leaned back allowing her full access to his front. She scrubbed him thoroughly, yet slowly, no rigorous abrading for him. Lovingly scouring him she massaged him and kneaded his body relishing the feel of him. When she reached his crotch she felt his semi-erect manhood brush her hand, like a hidden danger under the water.
Moving past it she continued washing him, and he did not stop her. Instead he lifted his legs out of the tub and she moved to his feet and cleaned them, and worked her way up his legs.
When once more she closed in on his crotch the man stood up suddenly, splashing her with the water. His cock stood tall and erect, and larger than any she had yet to encounter in her young life. The shaft was hard and rigid with few prominent veins, the head large and bulbous, and a faint purple . His balls were heavy and dangling, the skin puckered and mobile as she stared at it.
"Clean me with your mouth." He ordered, his tone unrelenting. Taking him with one small hand Bethany began to lick along his shaft ostensibly cleaning him, but really savoring the taste of him. The water was warm on his skin, and the moisture filled her mouth with fluid, her own saliva gushing from under her tongue.
Providing a duel service to him made her weak with happiness. Cleaning him and pleasuring him seemed like the ultimate use for her mouth. No prick had seemed as lovely, or worthy of her worship. And worship it she did. Bowing down before him in abject obedience she felt a fulfillment that she had never known. Her mouth full of him she felt home at last after a life of wandering.
Glazing him in her spittle she lapped every crevasse and cranny of his sex, then when he lifted a leg onto the rim of the tub she went under his heavy balls and began to lick his ass as well, needing no instruction, knowing that he was pleased with her fawning attention.
Then with the quickness he seemed to decide things with he stepped out of the tub and she began to dry him, her veneration of his body clear in the caresses she used to do so.
When he was dry he stepped back and said, "Now you. I want you clean for me."
Delighted that she could do what he wanted she stepped into the tub, her movements more awkward than his, the tub being high and her limbs much shorter than his.
The swordsman sat on the pallet as she cleaned herself, standing in the tub so that he could see all of her, and observe how she purified herself for him. Starting with her face she washed the sweat of her labours from her features, then she moved lower and ran the sponge over her bosom, the nipples of her breasts aching under his imperturbable gaze.
She cleaned her armpits, her arms, her tight flat belly, her legs, her ass and finally she used her fingers to purge her sex of any filth. Digging deeply inside her slot she showed him, with one leg on the rim of the tub, how scoured she was.
"Come." He said simply, and she stepped out of the bath and moved to him dripping all over the floor. Lifting the towel from his lap he stoked it along her body, the soft cloth making her shiver with lust. When all but her still damp hair was dry the stranger leaned back and ordered her to mount him where he sat.
Eager to satisfy his every desire she spread her legs over his and sat down on his cock, the broad tip opening her wide and filling her opening. Sliding down him, stretched open wider than ever before, she moaned her delight and reached for his broad powerful shoulders to brace herself.
Lower and lower she slid, her abundant juices making her slippery, but her tight juncture only able to accommodate him slowly.
Finally she had all of him in her grip, her cunt so full she trembled with the effort of holding him within.
"Go on." He urged, his voice husky and quiet so close to her face.
Lifting herself up off of him she began to rise and fall along the great shaft of him, her body quaking with suppressed passion. Usually men used her, flat on her back. This was the first time she had been the one dictating the pace, and it felt awkward and wrong, yet she was obeying orders which felt much more right.
Moving her dripping opening up and down his girth she sighed each time she was filled by him. Her hands on his shoulders quivered and sweated , her brow crinkled with the effort needed not to climax at even this slow steady pace.
The man reached for and captured her tits in his hands and as he griped her breasts hard in his callused hands she trembled, her orgasm near and difficult to keep at bay.
"Do not cum." He said firmly. "Not until I tell you."
Bethany nodded, understanding his domination of her. It was his gift to give, or withhold her pleasure, and it was right that he withhold it from her. She didn't deserve to reach bliss before him.
Up and down she gyrated on his member, her body straining to hold off the pleasure that hovered just beyond reach. Sweat beaded her skin, and his hands stroked and massaged every part of her. Pinching her nipples and pulling on them he tormented her, her lip caught between her teeth as she whimpered her desire into his face.
He groped her body, his hands everywhere, prying open her buttocks, stroking her legs, clawing her back as his body grew more intensely aroused. He began to kiss her at long last and Bethany mewed her extremity into his mouth. The feeling of his mouth on hers was overwhelming. As his tongue pierced the seal of her clenched lips she shuddered, her climax a yowling beast fighting her fragile grip.
Pulling away from her the man lay back on the bed leaving her exposed to his gaze her body tense and tight with cresting passion. Ogling her nudity the man moved one hand between her thighs and found the button of delight hidden there. With his thumb he massaged the tender bud, and Bethany cried out her need. "Oh please Master, please let me cum!" she begged, her words a gush of need. Saying Master made her thrill all over. She didn't know his name, but he was utterly her Master.
"Yes. Beg me. More."
"Please, oh please Master. It is so hard to stop. You are so big! I cannot hold it back any longer. "
"What will you do for me?"
"Anything master. I am yours. I will do anything you want. "
"I will let you take me in the common room. Show everyone how yours I am. I will suckle your cock in front of anyone."
"Whip me! Beat me for my weakness! Please!"
"I will follow you anywhere." Bethany could no longer move on top of his prong, but her whole body shuddered with her need."Oh please, oh please oh please! Take me with you. Use me. Demean me. Whip me and punish me!"
The swordsmen slapped her breast and made her scream as her cunt clenched down on him with a convulsive grip. "Yes!" she cried.
One hand rubbed her little bud and one hand repeatedly slapped her tender mounds while Bethany begged incoherently for her release. Over and over his hand smacked her skin and her body quaked delightedly with each blow.
"Cum. Now!" He demanded and she exploded immediately in euphoric discharge. A gush of fluid spilled out of her cranny while her body spasmed with bliss. Eyes clenched tightly she existed only in a world of rushing sound and blinding light. Dimly aware that her body was still full of him she felt like she was falling into an abyss of flame and ice, her body confused by the extremes went numb.
Gasping for air she fell forever into the darkening void of her pleasure, and as she approached the bottom she began to feel her body once more.
Finally she knew where she was once again and she grew languid with the knowledge that still she sat atop the stranger's huge pole, her body still whole to be used by him further.
Just as she opened her eyes to the small squalid room, the man met her gaze and smiled a tight mean looking smile.
"Well done." He praised her, making her overjoyed to have pleased him. Then without disengaging from her grip he lifted himself up and flipped her over onto her back. His strength made her gasp and as his weight fell over her his spear drove further still into her depth, making her tremble once more with the beginning of climax.
Now the swordsman pummeled her body with his cock, driving into her relentlessly, seeking his own release. Lifting his hands onto her breasts he mauled her, and held her down with his weight, the anchor of his raging use of her the small meat of her bosom.
Gasping with the difficulty she had in breathing, Bethany cherished his ruthless assault. His degradation of her body released her from her own mental torment. At last she no longer felt abandoned, she felt complete.
His arousing strength gave her the fuel to endure his onslaught, her body battered inside and out as he thrust into her sopping slit. Bruising her pliant breasts he held her in his rigid fingers as he pressed her down remorselessly into the pallet.
Once more her climax threatened to engulf her, but she waited for his permission. He lifted a hand and tangled it in her curly hair and pulled hard making her scream. As her passion crested once more, her body shivering with delight while her head bloomed a fiery agony that enflamed her further.
"I am your slave Master. Abuse me! I love it!"
Pulling harder he hurt her more. "Do not tell me what to do you slut!" He gritted and took his hand from her hair and slapped her across the face. His abuse pleased her even more. She could sense it was all part of a game for him, he had no anger toward her. In contrast to his actions he seemed very pleased with her. His own orgasm seemed imminent.
"Please master, cum for me. I want it. I want to please you."
"I don't care what you want you harlot." He grated as he slammed into her yielding body.
She was a whore and she loved it for the first time.
"Yes. Tell me how low I am, please Master. Heap your distain upon me."
"You are worthless! The way you like this abuse disgusts me! You are less than scum. You are a slave, and a squalid slut. " Bethany cherished each syllable of his abuse, her body quivering with each truth he hurled down at her, his smile making her feel precious.
"I'm going to show you how disgusting you are. Get on your knees."
Not sure what to expect she got on her knees beside the bed as he painfully disengaged from her and stood up. Standing over her he pulled on his member quickly, aiming the tip at her mouth. She had seen men tugging on themselves in excitement when she was stripping for them, but never once they had entered her.
"Open your filthy mouth." He gritted, his jaw closed tight.
Doing so she expected him to place his prick in her mouth, but he continued to pummel himself and she felt bereft of the ability to please him.
Then he began to grunt and shudder and his pole exploded, his seed spilling out over her face and landing on her skin making her thrill with her own ecstasy. Never before had she seen a man do this, and it seemed like the most erotic thing she could imagine. Her body pulsed and quavered with fulfillment as he spattered her flesh in his slime.
Glorying in this degenerate humiliation Bethany felt herself lose the last of her fear. She now knew that no matter what she had a purpose in the world. This degradation was her gift to this man, and any man who could claim this vulgar use of her.
As her bliss went on and on she fell to the floor and writhed at her Master's feet, his hot sperm drizzled over her skin, and dribbling down her face. Licking his spill from wherever she could reach it with her tongue she convulsed with delight at even the merest taste of him.
When at last she could control her twitching muscles she looked at him.
He sat on the pallet head slumped between his beautiful shoulders, his hair plastered to his skin wherever it touched him.
"Master?" She queried.
"Oh, hey. You alright?"
"I have never felt so good in all my life."
He grinned a boy's grin. "Good. That was wonderful. You performed spectacularly. Thank you."
Her body responded with one little quiver of pleasure at his praise.