Plantation X Ch. 01

Chapter 1: Breaking Him In

This is the first installment of many - one in which you can take part. Mail me, or visitmy group, tell me about yourself - or your alta ego. Each person a character in the scenario we build, woven together by story and however else we create it. Colour and creed are unimportant - come as you are and be what you have always felt, express your deepest desires. This is a place where slaves and submissives are taken and treated without mercy, and sexual pleasure is the driving force.

It is run by Mistress, a powerful dominant woman who will treat each applicant for membership as if they were a slave at market, or a potential peer. Become part of the story.... and enjoy!

The dry dust caked beneath his knees as he knelt there, leaning, gasping deep heaving sobs into the hollow air, his chest pressed against the thick wooden pole, to which his wrists were tied, together and high. His long body stretched, whip lashed back angry in the blazing sun.

The sweat dripped, mixed with the salt of his tears as he hung his head in the exhaustion of flogged submission. He keened in his profound silence, his sprit begging for release, his mind screaming that he would fight, yet yelling that he could fight no more. Above him, vultures flew in hope, sensing his growing destruction.

Footsteps, behind him, to his left. From the direction of the big wooden house that lay at one end of the courtyard in which he was centred. He strained to hear through the deafening silence of the blood that pumped in his ears to the beat of his heart.

The tall woman, ample in her stature, confident in her manner walked slowly to the kneeling form. He had been there long enough, she had decided; but he was almost there now. Almost broken. His defiance stimulated her, his sense of self and his sprit. That she could see her possession of him growing bought her a rush of liquid pleasure. This, her first slave, was proving to her that she had been right in her decision. And this place was perfect for it.

Almost at his side now, she inspected the wheals in his flesh. Ran her fingertips along one, seeing him shudder, hearing his breath heave in his chest, and the gasp of his anguish. Mmmm...she had flogged him well. Looking down she enjoyed the contrasting shades of their skin, as she pressed her semi naked thigh to his flanks, and for the briefest of moments she felt him press against her, seeking some kind of comfort, even in his final throes of resistance. Reaching her hand to his head, she grasped his thick hair through her fingertips, the fist she formed there holding him tight, the sensation like fire through his body.

She yanked his head up and back, exposing his face to the sun and her mouth. Pulling his body up to her height, leaving him almost hanging by the hair from her hand she penetrated his mouth with hers, and feasted. Hungry for him now.

At that moment he felt as if his entire soul had been wrenched from him, as if she had consumed it, spat it out and formed him as something new. His cock raised to her, the slave in him burst into her possession and he was hers.

Cutting the ropes at his wrists she let him fall hard to the ground. Kicking him, she ordered him to his hands and knees. Flicking the leather crop she had detached from her belt at his raw arse flesh she quietly told him to crawl. And he did, passively beside her, dog like, broken to her, devoted to her. This tall strong man enslaved, he followed her into the plantation house, knelt between her knees as she lounged back on the big sofa in the entrance hall. His cock straining, aching now, he paid homage to his Mistress, lapping at her sex, tasting her approval for the first time. Burying his tongue deep between her hairless folds and into her sex he knew. He had come home at last.

As she felt him surge in his serving of her she smiled. This man, now no more than intelligent livestock to add to her cattle, horses and other animals that would keep this place self sufficient, had been well chosen. His previous life as a blacksmith and leather crafter would ensure her wider more practical needs were met. His physique, strength and fitness would ensure that her more personal needs were satisfied. Holding his head sight into her crotch she started to ride against his face, humping at him as her orgasm flooded through her and into his mouth and over his face. Marking him.

Lust satisfied for a few moments, she lay back against the body hugging fabric of the huge chair as he lapped gently at her lips like a devoted pet. She smiled, her cunt still twitching small pulses of pleasure through her body. Ah yes, truly the right decision. Buying this house, its buildings, its grounds, filling it with slaves for her satisfaction, to work the plantation, to serve her needs was the best thing she could have done.

She pressed her shin against his turgid cock, enjoying his gasped response against her clitoris. Pushing him back and to the flagstoned floor she stood, quietly telling him to go to the forge, prepare the irons he had been making and light the brazier.

Ah yes, with her first slave tamed and ready for shackling and branding- her first piece of stock broken in, she was ready to move on.

To populate her plantation...