tagBDSMSex Slave Ch. 01

Sex Slave Ch. 01


Copyright 2010 allusive1

Author's note: This is my first submission. Please, please give me feedback. Thanks for reading.


Rees's eyes moved from Jula's smiling face to her delightful breasts. Unencumbered, they were full mounds, bouncing gently under her thin nightgown. He picked her up by her waist and set her down, still standing, on a nearby chair. He was still taller than she but barely.

With a seductive smile Jula reached up and pulled the ribbon at her throat, causing the bow to unravel and her nightgown to fall open to mid-chest. Her generous breasts spilled out to the edge of their areolas.

Rees caught his breath. His cock, already swelling from the kisses they had just shared, stiffened. He slid her nightgown off one shoulder exposing a beautiful breast.

He touched his tongue lightly to her nipple a few times, teasing her. She gasped with pleasure. Unable to go slowly, he began to suckle her nipple urgently, bringing it out to a hard nub. He felt her body tense with desire. Her breath quickened and she wound her fingers into his hair.

Her response inflamed him. He wanted her badly!

He undid the laces at his crotch. As his hard cock poked free of the fabric, her hands were suddenly there, stroking him, pulling on him. Her touch brought waves of sensation that threatened to overwhelm him. He stepped back and looked at her, breathing heavily.

Jula eyed him seductively. Sliding the gown off her other shoulder, she let it fall to a heap at her feet. She was voluptuously naked.

Seeing her nude body, he lost all pretense of control.

"Oh Jula! You are gorgeous!" He scooped her up easily and whisked her to the wide bed, tossing her gently onto it.

He paused to pull off his boots and pants and pull a French letter from his wallet. She lay on the bed, lips slightly parted. Her half-closed eyes were on his massive cock. She spread her legs for him.

Although the light was dim he could see the pink of her labia, swollen and glistening beneath the darkness of her bush. His fingers sought her clitoris. She moaned softly as he rubbed her swollen bud. Her spicy female scent smothered him with lust.

She was everywhere: her nipple in his mouth, her nipple between his fingers, her warm body pressing against his, her lips on his, her hands on his scrotum, massaging, her hands stroking his cock, firm and urgent.

He slipped a finger into her steaming pussy. She let out a long low moan and wetness soaked his finger.

"Oh, please! Please, now!" she begged. She squirmed beneath him, still sliding her hand up and down his shaft.

"Oh Jula, you're so... so damn hot!" His fingers fumbled with the French letter. She helped, stretching it taut over his eager cock. Her fingernails dug into his butt as she pulled him onto her.

A bell clanged loudly. Rees awoke, disoriented.

His wonderful dream dissolved into nightmare. Everything was chaos and cursing as the men around him scrambled to their feet. With an audible groan, Rees curled up. Orgasm thwarted, his cock whimpered and begged to be completed. His scrotum was a tight ball of pain.

Much as he desired to climb back into his dream, he could not deny reality. If he didn't get up immediately and stand in line for food he wouldn't get any. As horny as he was, he was also starving. Lingering in bed, jacking himself off, simply wasn't on the agenda for a slave.

With a heavy sigh, he climbed to his feet.


The iron door swung shut with a definitive clang, another harsh reminder that he was no longer free. The clank of chains scraping against stone almost drowned out the soft shuffle of bare feet as the chain gang clattered to a halt. Rees knew the routine. He lowered himself to his knees, careful not to pull on the chain and unsettle his neighbors.

He fought against the melancholy that sought to overwhelm him. He missed his family terribly. And Jula! Sweet, sweet Jula! She had seduced him and used him and dumped him. But she had done it all so thoughtfully that he still adored her. He had known from the beginning that their trysts would never turn into a real relationship. He was too young and inexperienced for the lustful widow, but their time together had been precious. He would never forget her kindness and sexiness and the invaluable lessons she had taught him.

This morning's vivid dream had been on his mind all day, causing his cock to remain semi-flaccid. He wondered if he'd be able to slide back into it when he fell asleep. Sleep tonight would not come soon enough.

He was not looking forward to another long evening with nothing to do but shift uncomfortably on the stone floor and watch others do the same. Leaning over, he spoke quietly to his friend Keven who was chained next to him, "So far, boredom seems to be the worst part of being a slave. We've only been here a month. I can't imagine how bad it might become if we end up here for years!"

Keven nodded in silent agreement, his green eyes following the movements of the slave handlers who were unshackling men at the beginning of the line. Handlers did not allow slaves to speak in their presence.

Because of his imposing size, Rees drew the attention of the handlers. Even kneeling he could almost see eye to eye with most of them. They did not hesitate to demonstrate the control they had over him. He was careful to show respect, to remain passive, and to do nothing to arouse their wrath. He decided his conversation with Keven could wait.

His first days as a slave had been a nightmare of pain and hunger on an endless march south. He had been glad to finally arrive at the estate where he worked, even if it meant no more chances to escape. He, alongside several hundred other slaves, spent his days in the rock quarry, cutting and hauling rocks to expand the master's already vast winter villa.

The sprawling estate comprised a series of magnificent structures. Following no apparent plan, they rambled in grand disarray across the hillside overlooking the harbor, their countless, unexpected turrets and spires visible from miles away. Even from a distance, which is how Rees normally observed it, the compound appeared bizarre and audacious—unbalanced. It was the perfect home for a preposterously wealthy madman.

Rees had never seen the master of the estate. Rumors of the atrocities he committed were both outrageous and prevalent. If he were responsible for even a tenth of the barbarities attributed to him, he was indeed a butcher. The huge estate was home to thousands of slaves, however, and Rees doubted he would ever meet his notorious master.

He shifted his broad shoulders and stretched his arms. His muscles rippled. Even after spending every day for a month hauling rocks, his arms were stiff by the end of each day. He studied a crack in the stone floor and waited patiently, listening to the handlers move closer.

Eventually they reached Keven, who smiled at the man who unshackled him. The grim-faced handler ignored him. Rees kept his eyes carefully downcast and held very still while he was being unfettered.

The stone room that was Rees's home was vast, easily accommodating two hundred slaves. Despite its size, the room reeked of stale sweat and mildew. The warm, tropical air hung like a wet blanket around them.

Dark stone walls soared to the ceiling fifty feet overhead. Narrow bared windows, very high on the walls, let in a small amount of light and air. Suspended about twenty feet overhead, an iron walkway ran completely around the perimeter of the room and crisscrossed the center. From the vantage of the walkway, slave handlers could inspect and give orders and even dole out lashes with their long whips.

In one corner of the room, a pump dispensed cold water into a stone pit. Nearby there was a long sloping toilet trough with a pump at the high end and a large drain at the low end.

Once released, Rees and Keven strolled together toward the bathing pit and stood in line to wait their turn for water. Their attention was drawn to the front of the line. One of the slaves decided that the man before him was taking too much time. He jumped into the pit and a short scuffle ensued. The one who had been using the pump got the worst of it. He soon scrambled out of the pit and shuffled away, rubbing his cheek.

"No wonder there are so many fights," Rees commented to Keven. "Anything to break the monotony."

"Monotony and filth," Keven agreed. "That's the worst of it so far."

"What do you mean, filth?" Rees said. "It's not so bad. We have all the cold water we could want. This is probably the luxury suite as far as slave lodgings go."

"I could be happy with hot water, soap and a towel," Keven responded.

"You noblemen are spoiled," Rees teased. He was a farm boy, used to being dirty. "We get clean breechclouts, opportunity for a shave and a haircut, and a clean blanket once a week. Surely a slave could not hope for more."

Keven smiled at him wryly. "Perhaps the company of a beautiful woman... "

This comment sent a new pang of longing through Rees. Ah, Jula!

They reached the front of the line and Keven manned the pump while Rees ducked under the cold water. After drinking his fill, he washed his upper body, face, and head, crouching and twisting in the pit to maneuver his massive chest under the stream. Running wet fingers through his short blonde hair, he climbed out of the pit and took over at the pump.

Keven jumped under the cold water, shivering, and completed a similar routine. When he finished, they made their way to their accustomed place along the wall.

"Damn it! Someone's taken my blanket again!" Keven's irritation was apparent in his voice as he glanced around for his blanket. His wooden bowl and spoon sat on bare stone.

Rees tried to judge Keven's level of frustration. He was usually unflappable. "You need to figure out who did it and beat the crap out of him," he advised.

"I probably should, but I don't have much heart in it," Keven responded. "Usually if I do figure out who has it, I decide they need it more than I do. I'll just wait for the next dole."

"If you never beat anyone up for taking your blanket, it'll just keep getting stolen." Rees said. He had already been in three fights and had made a good showing for himself, coming out almost unscathed. Keven had so far managed to avoid fighting.

Keven shrugged. "It's still plenty warm. I don't need a blanket." His attention was drawn toward the far end of the room. "There's the foreman!" he said in a hushed tone.

Rees followed Keven's gaze. The evening foreman was on the iron walkway accompanied by a stout middle-aged gentleman. The older man seemed quite out of place, impeccably dressed in a purple doublet and hose with a matching plumed hat that was on the verge of preposterous, its large feather bouncing along behind it. They moved slowly along the platform, looking back and forth as if searching for someone.

"Who's the geezer I wonder?" Rees asked.

"Don't know," Keven said, not taking his eyes off them. His handsome face was tense with apprehension.

Rees watched the two men on the platform survey the room full of slaves. The slaves milled about or sat listlessly on their blankets. Some of them had been slaves their entire life and seemed to have lost the desire to do anything but sit. Some, such as Keven and himself, were recent captures.

The foreman caught Rees's eye and said something to the gentleman, lifting his arm to point. Rees quickly looked away, turning casually so that his back was to them, but he could feel eyes on him still.

"Shit! They're looking at me aren't they?" It was never good for a slave to be singled out.

"Yes, they are!" Keven said slowly, his agitation apparent as he turned to face Rees, no longer watching the men on the platform.

"Hey Blondie! Blondie!" Rees heard the foreman call out in thickly accented Endoran.

His heart went to his throat. He was one of the few blonde slaves. Not only that, but the foreman had spoken his language, Endoran. Most of the slaves spoke Kreoley. It wouldn't do any good to ignore the foreman; it would just make him mad. Rees turned and looked up at the men on the walkway.

"Me, sir?" he cried, accenting his yell with a gesture.

The foreman and the wealthy man conversed briefly. The foreman nodded and motioned Rees over to the exit.

"Oh shit!" Rees' insides knotted. "Well, it's been good knowing you. I hope I see you again someday," he whispered to Keven.

Keven touched him on the arm and met his eye. "You'll be back. It's probably just a few more loads of rocks or something," he said encouragingly.

Rees wasn't so optimistic. He noticed several of the slaves cast pitying glances at him as he made his way quickly toward the exit. His apprehension grew as he stood by the door waiting. He did not want to think about the things he had heard they did to slaves. He noticed the vicinity of the door was suddenly clear. All of the other slaves had moved well away, leaving him standing alone, trying not to tremble.

Presently the door opened and a handler motioned him through impatiently. He ducked slightly to avoid hitting his head on the lintel as he crossed the threshold. As soon as he was on the other side, a hood dropped over his head and he felt a chain tighten around his neck.

The hood was suffocating. Smelling of dust and sweat, it completely blocked out all light. He started to reach up to touch the strange contraption, but his hands were grabbed roughly from behind. Someone barked orders that he didn't understand. The handler pulled his hands together behind his back and secured his wrists tightly with a leather thong. At the same time, the chain around his neck tightened. He gasped for air and gagged as the chain pulled painfully against his throat.

He had seen other slaves being led around, hooded and chained, and had observed the device. It was a sturdy eight-foot pole with a loop of chain on one end that went around the slave's neck. The chain fed back to the handler through iron rings that were screwed into the pole. The handler had complete control over the slave. He could push and pull the slave with the pole and even force him to his knees. Pulling on the chain would tighten the loop around the slave's neck to devastating effect. The hood provided additional protection, blinding a possibly dangerous slave.

The setup was most effective at keeping a slave docile and obedient. Rees wondered why they even bothered to bind his hands behind him. He was totally at the mercy of the handlers, blind and bound. His fear flared brightly.

A handler shouted orders at Rees in Kreoley. He couldn't understand the instructions, so he stood as still as possible. Shortly he felt a tug on the chain around his throat, and a harsh voice in front of him yelled, "Move!" He had learned a few words of Kreoley during his time in captivity, and this was one he recognized.

He stepped forward gingerly, trying to feel what was before him with his feet. Apparently he was too slow. The chain tightened around his throat and he was yanked forward, choking. He moved faster then, trying to trust that they would not lead him into a stone wall or piece of furniture.

They passed through several rooms and perhaps down a hallway, taking a few turns on the way. He heard voices conversing in Kreoley as they entered another room. A door clanged shut behind him and he was halted. He stood motionless, trying to control his terror. The knot in his stomach became ice cold.

He recognized the foreman's voice but couldn't understand the words. He thought at first that the second voice, high pitched and sweet, belonged to a child—a boy of ten or eleven. However, as the voice spoke and moved around, he realized that it held authority and that it was coming from someone who was taller than a child would be.

He guessed it belonged to the gentleman in the plumed hat. It was strange that an adult would have such a voice. The man barked out questions in his childish tone while he paced around Rees. The foreman answered, sounding uneasy.

Rees flinched as he felt a hand on his arm, fingers running over his muscles. The chain around his neck tightened warningly and he held himself perfectly still. An order came from the voice and he felt someone untying his breechclout. It fell about his ankles. Not good! Not good! his mind screamed at him. He could do nothing but stand still and sweat fear.

The voice continued to walk around him, making comments. It barked another order and Rees steeled himself for the unknown. He felt the hood being unclipped from the chain and lifted off his head. He stood blinking for a moment, adjusting his eyes to the relative brightness.

They stood in a bare stone room, the only furniture being a small desk and chair in the corner. There were four others in the room besides himself: two handlers, the foreman and the gentleman.

His attention went to the gentleman. He was neither tall nor short, but his presence filled the room as if he towered over everyone there. Rees noted the fineness of his velvet doublet and silk hose, the perfection of their fit on his portly frame, the overabundance of real gold trim. The purple hat sat at an angle on his head, its huge ostrich plume still flouncing behind it.

Rees's eyes widened slightly when he saw the audacity of the man's bronze codpiece. It was in the shape of a huge erect penis, complete with overlarge balls and intricate detailing. He tore his eyes away from this shocking article and looked at the man's face.

The gentleman was clean-shaven and his graying hair was pulled back neatly into a short ponytail. His broad face was expressionless. Rees guessed his age at fifty. He must have been handsome in his youth, but now his jowls sagged and the skin under his eyes bunched into folds, bisected by a network of fine lines. His deep-set eyes were an intense blue and they bore into Rees with a fierceness that caused him to catch his breath. There was a flatness about his eyes, a lack of depth, a sense of something missing. A tremor ran up Rees's spine. He was sure this man was incapable of pity.

The man circled him again, still talking in his boyish lilt. When he stood once more in front of Rees, he gave him an order in Kreoley.

"I'm sorry sir," Rees said immediately, surprised that his voice sounded steady. "I don't understand Kreoley."

"Open your mouth!" The man spoke Endoran with only a slight accent.

Rees complied and the man surveyed his teeth and the inside of his mouth.

"Fine," he said still speaking Endoran. "You are a handsome slave. Very big. Nice coloring... blonde hair, blue eyes." He turned to the foreman and gave a series of instructions in Kreoley, and without a backward glance, he left the room carrying his stout frame with arrogant assurance.

Rees turned his attention to the foreman, trying to read his expression. The foreman relaxed visibly as the gentleman departed, but his face gave Rees no indication of what might come next.

Once more the hood dropped over Rees's head, shrouding him in stench and darkness. The tug on the chain let him know they were moving again. He wanted his breechclout but said nothing. He had already discovered that a handler's reaction to a question from a slave was usually a hard punch in the gut. He was led naked and vulnerable down a long series of halls.

The stone felt cool under his feet. Grass between the stones and a breath of breeze told him when they crossed courtyards. He heard tinkling fountains and people passing by as they went, and sometimes squeaks and rattles and other sounds that he couldn't place. One of the handlers led him along by the chain and pole while the other followed behind. They carried on a conversation with each other that Rees did not understand.

They walked for perhaps ten minutes. Rees grew used to the pace and quit worrying about running into something. Too late, he realized the voice in front of him was coming from below, and the angle of the chain around his neck had changed.

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byallusive1© 10 comments/ 106340 views/ 28 favorites

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