Reflections Pt. 04

Our 'yoga' class continued, in mostly ignorant bliss, for about a week. I'm not sure how long, exactly - days, dates, time - none of it is really important here, other than the rising and setting of the sun.

It had started out as a usual day - shower, breakfast, exercise, so when we arrived in the yoga tent, the removal of the rugs and what they'd been replaced with caused quite a stir, albeit a silent one.

Futons, covered in silk throws and pillows, were spaced out around the tent. Once we were unleashed, some of the girls flopped down on them happily, none the wiser as to the purpose they were going to serve. As I waited for my turn to wash, Duchess took her place silently behind me, and we exchanged a cynical look - the first eye contact we'd made since arriving here.

It was immediately clear that there weren't any single seats and we would have to sit in pairs. Based on our order, that put me with Ume.

As I rinsed myself, I chanced a look at Hands. He'd ignored me since the night he'd summoned me, and I was equal parts relieved and disappointed - I couldn't stand him, and yet he was the only chance I had of relieving the frustration I was experiencing almost constantly. His expression remained unreadable and he didn't look my way.

When the Mistress arrived to teach our class, several unfamiliar handlers joined us, standing silently with Hands. Chancing a look around, I could see more looks of apprehension than before - the other shoe beginning to drop. Ume sat silently beside me, but a tiny brush of her fingers against mine reassured me a little for what I knew was coming next.

Little vials of oil were shared out among us. Then the Mistress demonstrated how we were to practise massaging one another. Ume obediently took her place on the futon, lying on her front and tipping her hair to one side so I could start with her neck and shoulders.

In this position, I had to straddle her back, trying to keep some of my weight on my knees as not to hurt her. I'm not large myself, and only a couple of inches taller, but she seemed so small and delicate I was nervous I'd break her.

Her smooth neck and shoulders felt divine under my fingertips, but the massage was only the start. To be able to do what was going to be asked of us, I'd have to find a way to block out our surroundings. Whether it was some kind of weird trauma bond or limited other options, at least I knew Ume was attracted to me. It was going to be different for some of the other girls, especially for the ones who hadn't suspected, or had never been with a woman before.

I moved a little lower, trying to focus on Ume and nothing else. Her little shiver of pleasure as my nipples brushed against her back was helpful, but I still hadn't completely switched off. I heard Mistress giving some kind of instruction to another girl, and then a barked command from Hands as she resisted.

Focusing on Ume was the only thing that could remove me from that moment. This was comfortable for me, thankfully. What was a little audience if I didn't have to think about, or feel for those who didn't want this?

I dipped my lips to her soft neck, revelling in her sweetness, as I kissed and licked my way to her earlobe. Lips against her ear, I shushed her as she gasped something in Japanese - i didn't want her being punished because of me.

I moved down her back slowly, massaging gently with my fingers, then my tongue, enjoying her shivers of delight as my hair tickled her skin. As I began to massage her thighs, she squealed as I ran my tongue slowly over the curve of her ass, and then groaned when I didn't go any lower.

Instead, I slid back up her body, resting my my weight on one arm and letting my body mould itself to hers My mouth found her neck again as she relaxed into me, her moans all the encouragement I needed to slip my other hand between her thighs.

She was already so wet when I began to stroke her clit lightly with one finger, not enough pressure to get her close, but more than enough to tease. She pressed herself in my hand with every brush of my finger tip, and I lacked the willpower to deny her for very long, so increased the pressure against her clit as I slipped two fingers inside her.

Her skin was burning against mine as she ground herself against my fingers, and it was an unexpected, yet pleasant surprise when she turned onto her back, grabbed my hair with both hands, and pushed my head down.

The distraction meant I momentarily tuned into other sounds around me. Gasps of pleasure were mixed with cries of fear & pain, the rough voices of the handlers, and the occasional crack of a whip.

I buried myself in Ume again, running my tongue over her perfect, pink nipple as I licked my way down her body. As I pressed my tongue against her clit for the first time, I reached up with one hand so she could bite and suck my fingers, and thus prevent her from shouting out.

She was sweeter and wetter than I could have ever imagined, and I could think of nothing but her as she pressed herself into my mouth again and again. Her hips would buck and jerk when I'd pause to brush my lips against her clit so I could kiss it gently.

When her movements became more jerky and desperate, I slipped two fingers back inside her to give her something to bear down on, and increased the pressure and speed of my tongue. As her muscles pressed tighter around my fingers, I felt myself growing hotter and wetter from her pure delight.

To me, nothing is more arousing than bringing someone to the brink, then watching all that desire crashing down in waves around you as you tip them over the edge. I tensed my fingers and tongue for just a little more friction, and that was enough. Her hands had my hair in a vice grip, pressing herself into my mouth desperately as I teased the rest of her orgasm out with my tongue. I kept kissing and licking until her shivers had subsided, then crawled up to finally kiss her properly. Her mouth was as sweet and delicate as the rest of her, and I lost myself in her kisses for as long as I could, trying to drown out our reality.

Eventually, a gentle pat on the head and a instruction from our Mistress brought me back. There were only seven of us remaining - one half of a pair had obviously been less willing than the other. Hands was the only handler to remain - I looked anywhere but at him, not needing to see the smug expression on his face to know it was there.

"She says switch, slut."

Wait, what? I could only look at Ume as the Mistress pulled me to my feet and gently nudged me towards Duchess. Strong arms were around my waist, pressing me down against softness and silk, and then a whisper against my ear, as supple fingers began to rub at the tension in my neck and shoulders.

"Baby relax, you know we must obey."

Where my touch had been soft, sensual, almost worshipping Ume, this couldn't have been more different. Duchess's hands were as graceful and powerful as I'd imagined them to be, almost painful at times at they worked at the tension in my neck and shoulders. Her athletic frame and long limbs meant she towered over me, and could easily overpower me, and I suddenly couldn't wait to see how far she'd push me.

As she quickened the pace of her fingers, my muscles relaxed and I could feel a different kind of tension building. I was unbearably hot, and desperate to be touched.

Sensing my need, both of our breathing ragged, she dragged my hips up roughly until I was resting on my knees, ass out and face buried in a pillow. My legs shook as she soaked her entire palm, and every one of her fingers, between my thighs.

I had to bite my lip as she used her other hand to pinch my nipples and grazed her teeth against my ear. Then her thumb was stroking my clit, firm and fast, but not rough. I was already overwhelmed by sensation and trying to grind against her hand when she dipped her little finger inside me, teasing and curling it as she added a second finger. When her third finger began to press into me, I resisted the building tension, feeling myself stretching, and aching for more. With four fingers, my entire body was shaking and dripping with sweat.

I was so desperate, every bit of tension, fear, anger, lust, building and building until it exploded through me and I screamed my release into the pillow, delicious waves of heat rippling through me.

That first afternoon was a long one. After switching again, and then again, there was no energy for shame as we dragged our exhausted bodies first to the shower, then to dinner. Sleep came easily that night, and although I'd half expected it to be disturbed by Hands, he never asked for me.

When I woke, I was surprisingly refreshed and almost happy, whilst ignoring the fact that while all of our group was reassembled, many were sporting fresh bruises and lash marks, whilst the others had a noticeable glow. Ume kept peeking at me with adoring eyes over breakfast, whilst I was torn between thoughts of her sweet hands and mouth all over me, and Duchess overpowering me and filling me up completely again. Or maybe both of them at the same time

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After a week of working with one another, we began having other handlers join us at times, and were expected to pleasure them too. I am a particular favourite, apparently due to my 'willing slave mouth' according to Hands. He never partakes though, he likes to pretend he's above us, although I know differently.

The handlers are to be pleasured, but only by our mouths or hands - I guess anything else devalues us. The rare occasion, today for example, a handler has tried to go too far, Hands and his whip have protected us. I wish I wasn't grateful but I can't help it - I think it's Stockholm Syndrome.

Today was particularly hot and tiring, so I'm happy to fall into my cage and pass out, listening to cricket's chirps echoing through the empty desert.

It's not been nearly enough hours of blissful sleep before a handler is pulling me from my cage again. He doesn't bother with a leash - Hands must be feeling impatient and told him there was no need.

I follow the Master through the maze of tents, ignoring the groping hands as I pass through the handlers quarters, and soon I am alone with Hands for the third time.

"Slavery suits you, little one."

I dip my head quickly in thanks, and busy myself with clearing plates and fixing his drink. He hasn't given permission for me to look, or speak, so I keep my eyes fixed to the floor as I go about my tasks. When I reach to turn the bath taps on, he motions me to stop.

"Not yet. I'd like to show you something first."

He gestures to something silvery on the back of a chair.

"Put that on, I can, and will protect you, but it's easier if there's less temptation to begin with."

It's a dress. A dress! Well, hardly more than a flimsy, gauzy bit of silver material, but it covers me from my tits to just above my knees, so that's what counts. And even a pair of leather sandals.

"For the scorpions."

He laughs at my wide eyes as I shove them quickly onto my feet. He knows I must be bursting with questions, so of course he won't let me ask them. When he clips a knife to his belt he must sense my trepidation as he cups my chin, with his other hand to my cheek.

"Just for show. Don't worry little one, I will keep you safe. Now eyes up - they might recognise you as a camp slave but better if they don't. No questions but you may speak if necessary. There will be time to ask later."

We set off through the handlers quarters, then through another set of canvas tunnels until we're outside in the cool, desert night. Torches light the way sporadically to another set of marquees a few hundred metres away. As promised, scorpions scuttle across the path, and I jump every time one comes near me.

Hands finds my discomfort funny for the first few metres, until a larger shape looms out of the darkness. I don't know if you've ever seen a camel spider, but they look like they've crawled up from the depths of hell. I'm already trying to bolt back to the marquee whilst Hands lazily scares it off with a firecracker.

"Stop, slave. If you run, then who will protect you from the bigger ones that are waiting in the dark?"

He laughs at my frightened eyes, but after a moment, takes pity on me by bending down and motioning for me to climb on his back. Lifting me easily, he snorts in amusement,

"Is that better, little Princess?"

"Yes Master, thank you."

For the rest of the walk we remain silent, and he sets me down in the light of the marquee.

"Stay close. And if someone touches you, remember that right now, you are not a slave. Speak up."

When we step into the entrance, we are hit by an overpowering smell. I smelt it a little on my first day and didn't recognise it at the time, and it faded eventually. But it is suffocating here - the smell of fear. Fear, mixed with unwashed bodies, and human waste.

I try to inch a little closer to Hands. For the first time since I was punished, I'm afraid. As we get closer to what I assume is the slave quarters, the smell gets stronger, and we can hear cries of pain, mixed with grunts of male pleasure.

Once we enter the main tent, I'm truly frightened. Structurally, the tent and the torches are the same, but that is where the similarities end. There are no cages. Instead, just rows and rows of local girls, hands and feet chained to posts, lying in what looks to be their own waste.

There are more handlers too, some are lounging against posts, or surveying the girls, but many are using the girls. Some in the way you'd expect, but some are doing things that make me want to close my eyes, except I'm too afraid to do that either.

I try to stay close to Hands as he strides through the rows of girls. I keep my eyes up - I can't block out the noise, but I don't want to look. An iron grip on my arm yanks me back, and a fat, leering handler slips his other hand down my dress. Fear takes over and my response is an echo of the girl I was before.

"Fuck off!"

Spitting at him earns me a backhand to the face. Then a flash of steel, and a gurgling noise, and the grip on my arm is released. The handler lays dying on the floor, blood spilling from his throat, as Hands wipes a knife clean on the dying man's tunic.

Some of the other handlers begin to gather, but Hands isn't fazed, barking a command at them. They set about cleaning up after Hands as we retreat from the tent.

He stops me as we proceed through the maze of tunnels so similar to ours.

"A spark of your defiance still remains, little slut. I'll have to see to that too."

He laughs and pats me on the head, but then takes my hand and holds me close to him for the rest of the walk.

We end up in a tent very similar to Hands' own quarters, albeit much busier. At least a dozen girls, exceptionally beautiful and draped in brightly coloured silk, are spread throughout - some in the Masters bed, some in his bath. One under the table, with his cock in her mouth.

This Master has the same dark good looks as Hands, but his smile doesn't reach his eyes as he rises and greets Hands like an old friend. As they speak, I feel his eyes appraising me, and once Hands has turned to watch me too I realise I've become the topic of their conversation.

I don't know what I'm here for, but I understand I have a role to play, so I bat my eyelashes, smile when it seems appropriate, and play with my hair. After a few minutes of chat, Hands leads me off again, through the dark canvas tunnels and back out into the fresh night air. It's such a relief to be away from the tent, I'm almost willing to chance the camel spiders and scorpions. Almost. Hands rolls his eyes at my hesitance, but quickly hoists me up on his back - I sense he wants to get back quickly.

Once we're back in his quarters, I strip quickly, ridding myself of my costume of a free woman, then busy myself with drawing his bath. When it comes to undressing him he's lost in thought, and although I'm bursting with questions I stay silent. When he rises from his chair, he suddenly scoops me up in his arms and carries me over to the tub. Once settled in the warm, sweet-smelling water, he seats me on his lap so I'm facing away him, and rests his face against my back.

"Ask, but make it quick."

Although I have about a hundred questions and a pass to ask anything I like, they begin to slip from my mind as I'm now distracted by the large cock pressed between my thighs. Which is exactly what he knew would happen, the sneaky fucker.

"Why tents?"

"It's more dehumanising, especially for girls that are used to modern conveniences."

His hands snake around my waist and his fingers begin to stroke my nipples.

"Why me?"

"I knew you'd obey, but I enjoy your defiant eyes."

"And now?"

He chuckles as he begins to press kisses against my back, in another attempt to distract me.

"Am I not allowed to say it's just because I like you?"

"Bullshit.... Master."

He snorts with laughter as his mouth moves up my back to my neck. One of his hands is at my waist, then between my thighs, teasing my clit with his thumb and fingers. Not to be outdone, I tense my thighs around his hardening cock, and stroke the tip with my fingers, enjoying the little moan of pleasure I feel against my neck.

"You want to know why I brought you with me tonight?"

I do, but his mouth and hands feel so good I can't muster up much more than 'mmmmmmmm' as I rest my head against his shoulder so his mouth can reach more of my neck.

"Two reasons. I wanted you to see those women, as I knew you'd want to help. Imagine if your little Japanese flower had ended up in their hands."

I must have stiffened up as soon as he mentioned Ume, as his fingers begin to stroke harder, forcing my mind away to other things. He laughs against my neck between kisses.

"Relax little slut, she is safe over here. I would trust all my men with my life, let alone hers. Now, can you guess the other reason?"

"Bait?"

"Good girl. Yes, you were bait. Tempting, and trustworthy bait. He wants to borrow you the night after next, and I know you'll serve him beautifully. Any other questions?"

"No, Master."

He shifts so his cock is pressed right up against me, and I don't hesitate this time, relaxing myself onto it and taking him in. Holding me tighter, fingers still stroking me gently, he begins to lift me up and down, moaning encouragement against my neck as I match his rhythm. I reach backwards and wrap my arms round his neck, arching my back slightly so I can take him in more.

I'm gasping as he fills me completely, and the pace we both want is impossible in this position so I moan my delight as he shifts me forward onto my knees and kneels up behind me.

He feels enormous like this, and his first thrusts are gentle, testing me, before digging his hands into my hips and setting a faster pace. When I arch my back he grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back, thrusting inside me hard and fast.

I'm helpless, melting at the feeling of him filling me so completely, and wishing I could take him in more. He's quiet now, his breathing ragged as he focuses everything on me and nothing else. I finally give into my lust in the way only a slave can for her Master, and what comes out of my mouth are words that are completely alien to me. I forget about my own pleasure, and beg him to fuck me harder, use me completely and plead with him to finish inside me.

As I feel him hardening even more, and his rhythm becomes a series of desperate thrusts, I give into my own desire, gasping out encouragement to him, knowing that's all he needs for his release. He collapses onto my back, holding me tight and moaning into my neck that I'm a good girl, as I tense up around him again and again, loving the feeling of him so deep inside me.