Mastering a Nymph

My second submission. Critique, ratings, encouragement, ideas all welcome.

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The slave block was chock full of bodies. Races of all sorts were represented among bidders, sellers, and product, a melange of languages spoken both out loud and within minds, cascading into unbearable noise within Ariel's mind. Everyone from exotic winged humans to sharp-eared elves, serpent-scaled naga, and the fox-tailed forest folk were represented, and even stranger people besides.

The labor slaves were quick to go, their prices practically predetermined by strength, age, and durability. The next lot, however, garnered an unusually dense crowd... a pirate ship laden with goods had come to port just a few days prior, and it was said their crew had raided an emperor's palace after riots had sacked the place, using the political treachery for personal gain... and they didn't leave before a fruitful visit to the concubines. This particular emperor was said to have an insatiable appetite for both taxes and women. The former may have been his undoing, but the latter was doubtless his treasure.

Ariel was shoved by rough hands onto the block. She stumbled slightly in the sudden light, looking out at the gaze of the crowd and wishing herself away. Her wish went unanswered.

She was met by soft, almost reverent gasps. Protruding from the top of her head were two delicately curved horns, slender and pearlescent in color. Black hair curled down her shoulders. She was slim and petite, a fact emphasized by her drawn shoulders and downcast stormy gaze.

She was almost nude. Thin, fine silver chains draped from a choker down over her torso, creating a sheer see-through mesh that barely covered her to upper thighs and left her back totally bare. Her feet bore two slender anklets of the same metal. From the front row of bidders, any interested eyes turned up would gain a tantalizing view of her legs almost to where they met.

"A Calypso of the southern isles," the gravely auctioneer intoned. "A rare breed indeed. The only one seen on this block... ever. Just matured, our specialist tells us, and a virgin besides. The emperor across the sea was gifted her by his southern neighbors the very day of the raid. His visitation with her never occurred, so she stands before ye today pure as the isle mists themselves. Fitted with a control necklace and anklets, which can be controlled with these three rings."

Before he even finishes speaking, the bidding erupts.

The auctioneer encourages it on. "A paltry sum! Her horns are worth that alone!"

When she is finally sold, her leash and rings handed off, she almost doesn't bother to look at her new owner. A man, bearded, short. He taps his wrist once, twice, and she collapses down into a waiting coach.

-

When I woke up, I couldn't move anything but my eyes. I felt warm sheets beneath me, a breeze chilling my shoulders, the chains sitting over my skin. Someone's throat cleared. A man. "She's awake."

I sit up, yet I am not in control. I'm beginning to panic a little, but anything from wiggling my fingers to standing up simply does not work. Even my heart rate remains a steady pace despite my frantic thoughts. To one side of me, someone stands. I cannot even turn my head to look.

"Ariel, I believe? I am here to inform you that you are now the property of the Duke. You will not speak to him unless he demands it, and you will address him then as 'My Lord'. Everything else you do, you need not worry about... any actions you take will be controlled. You may say 'Yes, Master.'"

The compulsion to speak suddenly fills her. The muscles of her mouth, her throat, are suddenly under her control. She fights it for long seconds before abruptly giving in and screaming. "I WILL NEVER-" she's cut off. His voice is amused, soft. "Then you will not open your mouth to speak." She's paralyzed again.

A man appears in the doorway she is facing. Broad-shouldered, tall, messy dark hair and an unabashed swagger. He steps in, eyes widening appreciatively. "Ryas, how in the world... no, don't tell me. You got me the best of the lot, didn't you. Mmmm."

"My lord." A perfunctory bow out of the corner of her eye. "Of course. She's... resistant. But she will be broken soon."

"Oh, what's the fun of that? Let me at her now, would you?" With a lazy smile, he's reaching for her and she can't stop it. He strokes her arms, her sides, her chest like so much property, like she's a soft pet. She smells wine on his breath. "Is it true she's never been fucked?" His vulgar voice growls in her ear as he reaches up and tweaks - tweaks! - a horn. She wants to stab him. She wants to flay him alive. She wants to cover him in soft clay until he's frozen, immobile, and then she wants to shatter him. She is completely still. He slides two fingers between her legs and smirks.

"It's true. I've tested the control rings. Their readings are accurate. She's in excellent health. Just full matured. If you want her now, she's still too dangerous - I can't release her from the rings so she won't be responding, I have to warn you."

"It doesn't matter... I think I rather like it like this, actually. I can see the disgust in her eyes but in my arms she'll be nothing but pliable, eh? Do whatever I think to want? Just toss me the rings."

Apologetically, "I cannot yet. They require a technician to reset ownership. A precaution. I've asked one in for tomorrow, but it's a feast day, so overmorrow's the soonest."

"That's fucking absurd, Ryas. You'll just have to stay then. I can't wait. I've heard that once they've had a taste they become insatiable little sluts. Just need to fuck them once and they're addicted, something in our cum. Can you imagine? Look at this!"

He's shoved her legs apart. She's paler there, bare, her outer labia a soft plum purple, paler and creamier in the center. He spreads her with his fingers as if admiring a work of art, revealing a hint of silky pink. The master, Ryas, shrugs his shoulders and sits down near the wall, behind her. "If you wish."

The lord grins at her, pushing her over. She's never felt so exposed, so helpless. With one hand he fondles her chest, painfully twisting her small nipples. He's tugging himself out of his pants, manhood heavy in his hands, purplish and veined and suddenly he's on top of her, putting it up to her entrance. She thinks it won't fit. Surely it won't fit. He's pushing and for a moment she feels victorious, muscles resisting all on their own... and then her body, betraying her, lets him force himself in. One sudden painful inch, then two. Her eyes won't let her cry; they burn, instead. The best she can do is try to not see, try to not feel. He keeps thrusting, pushing, until she's full of him completely and they're joined together. He begins to pull away and she wonders dazedly if it's over before he slams back into her and she realizes, resigned, that it is not and perhaps it never will be.

There are a few traitorous sensations of pleasure, of wanting more, but thankfully almost as soon as they register he's over, spurting inside of her. "Oh, fuck! What a tight little cunt. Yes! Damn," he laughs, stroking a rough finger through her dark tresses, getting to his feet and pulling his pants back on. "Break her in. I want her eager to please by the time she's fully mine," he slurs to Ryas, walking away, urges satisfied.

The master finally comes into view, shutting the door. He turns around and Ariel can do nothing but look at him from the bed. He's blond with short, scruffy hair, a trimmed beard. He doesn't bother to speak to her, simply cocks a finger and forces her to stand, to walk over to a wash basin she hadn't known was there and sponge away what was leaking from between her legs, then return to lie down on the bed. He's visibly hard behind his pants, and she feels the disgust simmering under fear slowly rising. He puts a hand on her but, unexpectedly, does not remove his pants. Instead he has her turn on her front and touches her. Probing, strangely gentle fingers brushing ointment over bruises the lord has left, palming her shoulders, running knuckles down her spine, rubbing a soft unguent into her hips. He has her turn over again and now he's stroking her sore nipples and areola, her abdomen, gliding fingertips over her upper thighs and between her legs until despite herself her mind sinks into a meditative state. She's so tired, limp and used. She's gone days without real sleep, and the people of her Calypso lineage burn swift. He's rubbing in tiny circles around her entrance, and with no conscious desire to, she finds herself growing wet.

Slowly, questingly, he rubs over her clit and now she's leaking. He looks down at her and with no expression on his face, pushes his index finger inside her, and then partially releases her from her paralyses... only one part of her body is now under her control. She clenches down and then tries to stop and fails. She can help it no more than when he was in total control; her body needs it. Even just this tiny amount of pleasure is enough to make her crave more. He seems to know exactly what she's thinking, loosening his drawstring to reveal his long, thick member. He rests it in her hand and, using the ring, forces her to begin stroking it. Her mouth opens despite her fighting against it, all the while clenching down on his finger within her. He pulls the finger out, crouches on the bed, and slowly begins to fuck her mouth. His hand strokes her horns, fingers rubbing their bases and tracing the tips, making her whimper around his cock.

He has her licking the tip with her tongue, her tiny mouth just barely big enough to fit the first few inches of his stiff cock before he forces her throat to relax and starts to shove his way further in. She's terrified, she feels as if she's drowning. Just as she thinks she can't take it any more, he pulls away and comes over her chest with a low groan. He doesn't stop there, but lowers his now-flushed cock to her opening, guiding it in to her velvety pussy. She squeezes him tightly, a perfect fit; he feels a moment of sheer bliss there as she clenches around him again and again, desperate to find her release.

The fight simmers somewhere at the back of her mind. But she's overwhelmed with need, now, and the way she's squeezing him is unmistakeable. He begins to thrust inside her, soft and deep strokes that make her juices soak the sheets below. Her face seems to tingle, and suddenly an orgasm hits her meltingly. When she stops seeing stars, he's still fucking her rhythmically, bringing her to a second crest before he cums again, pumping seed deep inside her. He doesn't let her wash herself this time. Instead, he pulls her to a chair, allows her to sit before a table and chew her way through a loaf of bread and some cheese, a tankard of metallic water to quench her thirst: she still can't control words, though she tries. As she eats and drinks, she feels the wetness pooling below, uncomfortably sticky against her inner thighs. She looks down and wishes she hadn't, the wet, pearly glisten of cum revolting her even as she feels her breath quicken and a warm pulse between her legs. She feels sudden hopelessness washing over her with the knowledge that she'll never truly be free: That whatever happens, she'll always want and need this. Over and over.