Slave Ch. 04

I am naked; forced to be on my knees in the total submissive position by a leash that is locked to a ring in the floor. My hands are cuffed behind my back and my head is kept so low by the chain at my neck that my slave tits hang off my chest. The heavy gold chain that connects my sensitive nipples by the thick rings that pierce them sways below me almost touching the floor. I keep my legs spread wide because I must so that Master can see my bald, pierced slave cunt when he wishes, showing the little silver bell hanging from my clit hood and the heavy gold rings in cunt lips that are tattooed a deep plum color to please him.

The wait for Master to come back into the room to give me my reward is endless. I can feel every piercing and chain on my body and imagine I can still feel the burning of the tattoos he has forced on me. The large black and gold 'S' on the left side of my face brands me as a slave forever while the gold lion head between my slave tits marks me as his.

I know that Master is proud of how I acted on that Caribbean island today, but my slave body quivers at the thought of being caned before he takes his pleasure of me like he did only two nights ago. I still see the angry red welts on my tits and know that they show, faintly, all over me.

"Does he always cane his slaves before using them?" my small voice whimpers.

The loud voice answers, "That's not for you to ask. He will do what he wants with you."

I don't care what my voices say to each other any more. I will obey Master and accept whatever he chooses to do with the body he owns as best I can. I am his property to do with as he wishes.

"Did I really just think that?"

Until I can escape this madness I know I must submit to being a total slave just to survive. That thought doesn't explain the wetness between my thighs though. It might not just be the potion that Tattoo put on my clit and nipples to make them always swollen in desperate need or the drugs and subliminal training. The craving to have his or any thick cock in every slave hole is overpowering. I don't know if it is the conditioning or my own lifelong dreams anymore. I just know that I have always needed to be a slave.

There is time for me to think about what has happened to me in the last weeks. About how I was sold at auction to the black Master who took my virginity and altered the body that he now owned to suit his every whim without a second thought. The plane I am now on that is taking me only Master knows where. The number of masters and mistresses that have taken their pleasure with the body that I might not ever be able to call mine again is too large for me to count.

Today will be burned into my memory forever though. The bright sun, human misery and horrible deaths I saw keep playing in my mind.

"Did I really save Master's plane from being blown up today?" I ask myself.

Now I wait for the promised reward for my loyalty, whatever it is.

"I'm not loyal; I am surviving," is the sad truth that I think.

The door to Master's suite opens with a soft hiss, letting someone in. Tattoo kneels beside me to unlock the leash from the eyebolt in the floor and waits beside me with it in her upraised hands. Freed from the total submissive position I sit up on my heels with my shoulders back to better show off my slave tits. My head is down with my eyes focused on the floor. As we wait in total silence I sneak a glance at the beautiful black slave beside me; she is covered from head to toe with brilliant tattoos.

My heart races when I hear Master walk into the room.

I listen to each heavy step as he approaches me. Somehow I know that he is barefoot and is wearing only his lion skin kilt; the one with slits to the waist on the sides and in front so a slave can touch his proud cock when he demands. I am not allowed to move in Master's presence until I can see him. Then I must only look at his cock until he tells me otherwise.

When the muscular black legs of Master stop in front of me I find myself compelled to slowly raise my head, adoring every inch of sleek flesh as I look up to gaze at what I need, no, crave. The kilt he often wears when he is in one of his homes is short enough that it doesn't even pretend to cover his beautiful cock and when I am kneeling I can look at all of him.

"He's made you think this way!" my small voice quails.

"Yes he did, but you always wanted to be this way, haven't you. You grew up wishing to be a slave and now you are a slave; owned body and soul by Master. "Your lifelong fantasy has come true, hasn't it," the loud voice reasons in my head.

"I have to escape! This is not how I dreamed my life as a slave would be like," I think even as my mouth waters and my slave cunt begins to drip its musky wetness down my thighs at the sight of Master.

'You can't escape, you fool," the loud voice calmly tells me.

Master's deep voice cuts through all my thoughts, "The leash."

Tattoo offers him the leather handle of the chain attached to the gold collar around my neck and then sits back on her heels; her job done for now.

"Come, slave."

I barely have time to stand as gracefully as I can before Master starts walking toward another shut door. I can't help myself as I follow the leash; I walk like the fancy slave I am now with my hips swaying and my slave tits rolling on my chest as I follow Master, making sure to keep the leash slack in his hand as I have been taught. The silver bell between my thighs tinkles brightly with each step I take, driving me crazy as it bounces on my clit.

As we approach the door it hisses open to reveal his office.

Not knowing what to expect I follow Master into the next room. Inside I see... Africa. The walls are covered with the mounted heads of animals, with spears and shields and dark masks hanging everywhere. On the wall behind a huge mahogany desk is a lions head with a full mane. Below that is another head that stops me in my tracks. It is the badly cured head of a man. It is hideous with skin so dark and dried that I can't even guess whether the man was black or white. One of its eyes is swollen shut and the other shriveled one hangs by a dried optical cord. Whoever the man was must have died seeing the world as a strange never ending kaleidoscope of hell as his eye swung out of its socket.

"Was the man was alive when his head was cut off?" my small voice quavers.

The leash at my throat straightens and goes taut, scaring me as Master continues to walk toward his desk. I have been taught to never let that happen. I can't help myself though; the sight of that head has made me realize just how dangerous Master's world can be.

"You will be punished for not following me properly," Master tells me in an almost soft voice as he too, looks at the head on the wall. "He was the man who captured me as a child and enslaved me." Master seems to be in another place as he continues, "As his property I watched and learned the trade from him for two long years until he tried to take me." He pauses for a moment and then goes on, "I was so young then; not even ten I think when he took me to his bed and tried to fuck my ass. We fought for what seemed like hours and when I finally killed him I cut off his head and escaped into the wilderness with it hanging by the long, thin hair he had. I ran until I met a village witch who helped me to preserve it and there he is; watching me as best he can, the bastard, as I prosper as a free man in the trade he taught me."

I can't believe that Master has been anything but a free man all his life, but to know that he, too, was a slave is something to think about.

At a strong tug on the leash at my neck I am brought back to Master's present. I go to crawl under the desk so I can suck on his cock like I have been trained but he leads me around it to kneel at his side as he sits in his leather chair.

Master tilts my head up so I must look into his dark eyes, "You have been of service to me today, slave and deserve a reward."

My whole body quivers with a sensual, submissive feeling of joy as I stare into the deepest, darkest eyes that I have ever seen wondering just what Master will give me. It won't be my freedom, I know that now.

"You have proven your loyalty to your Master today, slave. By warning me about the crazy plan that bastard Frenchman had you saved many lives."

My small voice whines, "You were just saving your own neck. They would have cut off your head to get the jeweled gold collar off you."

"Yes, and your hands and feet first for the gold cuffs there," my loud voice agrees.

These thoughts have me wondering how dangerous escaping will be. The gold and jewels welded onto my body are worth too much for me to go running out naked like I am out into a street somewhere, anywhere; I must plan properly.

"Your loyal warning deserves one from me as a reward," Master continues. "Life with me is dangerous and I suspect that one of my business partners is trying to use my sons to take what I have. It hurts me to say that my sons are sadistic fools being used by a rival but I think it true.

"They have been told to leave my fancies alone but they have taken one in the past and tortured her for their pleasure and made her speak in her pain. It saddened me to have my slave bite her tongue out. I have punished them time and again but boys will be boys and they are mine, but they have gone too far with this plot and they are getting braver.

With a shudder I remember seeing that tongue the first night of my slavery.

"While you must obey all free people and submit to their every wish I want you to try to avoid them for your safety. I will tell them again to leave my property alone though."

"Is that your reward?" my small voice asks, "Is that all?"

"What can a slave expect?" the loud voice answers. "He owns you. You shouldn't expect anything at all. You are nothing."

"What!" I think.

"Now suck my cock," Master tells me.

I feel my slave cunt get wet instantly as I lean forward to push the soft leather of Master's kilt up with my nose to lick at his cock. The scent of him drives me crazy as I run my tongue up the underside of him and lap at the thick head with my tongue. I wish that my hands are locked to the short chains that hang from my collar so I can stroke Master's cock and gently fondle his balls but they are locked securely behind me as I continue to lick the proud, thick dark head.

Opening my mouth I take Master's entire length into me in one slow swallow and feel him stretch my throat with his size. My nose rubs tenderly up against the gold lions head tattoo underneath his thick pubic hairs as I pleasure him. He holds my head tight to him as I swallow over and over again exciting my Master until he cums deep in my throat. The first shots of cum go straight into my stomach and then I pull back so I can taste him. God, how I love the taste of a man as he shoots his seed into me! My timing is all wrong, though. I thought he had pumped most of his seed into my stomach so I have pulled back too soon in my haste to taste him and his sperm fills my mouth to run down my chin onto my slave tits. I feel the heat of his cum as he keeps filling my mouth and gladly let it flow down my chin.

"You are such a cum slut," my small voice quails.

"Yes! Now smear it all over yourself!" my loud voice yells.

I can't do that. My hands are locked behind me. All I can do is lick Master's cock clean and lean back showing him what he has left on me.

He smiles down at me and then stands to walk around me as if I didn't exist as he leaves the room.

Not being told what to do I stay kneeing where Master left me until Tattoo collects me to chain me to the foot of his bed still covered with his cum. The last thing I hear before I go to sleep on the hard mat there is the soft noises of Master and Tattoo as he gently makes love to her. Tears run down a face that can't be touched by me ever again. Master has decided that I can't touch myself anywhere but my slave tits. I cry quietly so as to not annoy them and earn even more punishment.

"Slave."

What?

"Wake up Slave."

Me? What?

Shit! Where am I?

I sometimes forget what has happened to me. How can I? I don't know.

My hands are always chained together and I am always naked even though I am covered in chains; I can feel them everywhere on me.

A hand gently pulls at me, yanking at the chain between my tits.

"Get up slave."

"Do you have to pee?" another voice asks.

Yes, I do have to pee. The voices are the slaves Asia and Russia that look after me, my girls, as I call them.

"Please let me pee on the toilet," I think as I look up at them with pleading eyes; helpless and chained.

"Master did leave such a mess on her didn't he," Asia tsks.

"Well, lets get her into the shower so I don't have to clean her slave cunt twice. The cum slut can pee there," Russia answers.

"I'm not a slut!" I think as I wait for the girls to take me to the shower so I can piss down my legs where I stand as they wash cum off of me.

"Master made me this way!" my small voice yells.

"Yeah, right," the loud voice says quietly, "slave."

When the girls finally get me back to the slave quarters I don't even think twice and let the piss run down my legs in the shower.

"See she really needed to piss, poor thing," Asia says to Russia as they gently wash me. I am used to them talking about me as if I wasn't there even as they attend to my every need from feeding me to wiping my new, bigger slave ass. The only thing expected of me is the complete submission to any person Master lets use me; be they a slave or free.

After the shower my girls lavish attention on makeup, hair and the ribbons they must lace tediously through dozens of rings in the skin of my sides all the way from my chest to my knees. They chatter on about how we will be landing somewhere in Africa today so Master can trade ten captured blondes for some Nubian girls; very tall, elegant young women that sell so well in certain markets. It seems the Sheik and his son are close friends of Master's and we will spend the night there. I am surprised to learn that Master knows that I can belly dance too. How he knows that is beyond me but I hear that am I to dance tonight. I learned as a teenager and loved it, especially the slave dances. That might have been where I first knew I wanted to be a slave as I danced naked in my bedroom in front of the mirror on my dresser.

When my girls are done preparing me I strut about the tiny room for them so they can see if they have missed something. I feel like a queen in my high heels with the hair in my butt plug swishing around my legs. The list of things that Master has had done to his property is fast becoming endless. I have lost track of the number of gold rings that pierce my face and body, the chains that connect them and the tattoos! The gold tattoo between my slave tits I could cover up if I escaped but the large black and gold 'S' on my left cheek made me cry for days until I got used to seeing the top of it on my high cheek bone.

It really is amazing what you can get used to. I don't know whether it is the drug enhanced subliminal programming to accept my slavery or my inherent need to be one; the reason for my needs has become blurred, inconsequential. I love how I feel as I walk about the room feeling every chain, hearing the silver bell as it bounces on my clit making me want to have a cock in me, any cock anywhere, or maybe a pussy to lick with the pierced tongue that I have learned to use so well.

I suppose that I should quit calling Master's property mine; thinking 'my' body this, 'my' chains that is wrong. Everything I am now is Master's, absolutely everything I see is his, including me.

"God, did I just think that!" I sob to myself, "I have to get out here."

These moments of clarity are getting fewer and fewer in the last few days causing me to think that, what, am I giving in to him or is it my needs? I have to build a room in my mind for me, and yes the voices too, while I try to plan what to do.

The noise of the engines changing their pitch startles all three of us in the loud slave quarters cell.

"We had better get slave up to the front and in place now," Asia wails, "we're late!"

A leash is clipped to the ring in my clit hood and I am led down confusing halls as fast as I can walk in the ridiculous high heels I am forced to wear. Asia pulls at the leash in her haste seriously worrying me that she will rip the ring out of my tender flesh as I follow her, but she knows what she is doing and Russia has a hand on my arm to steady me in case I should start to fall.

In a breathless rush the three of us dash into the forward lounge to find it empty but for the Jaguars playing in the center of a large cushion licking each other as they always do. I realize that we are now far from the stifling mores of the west so Master can take his pets with him openly and realize that I am a pet too; a fancy. It doesn't matter; I am what he made me and expect there will be more 'improvements' in the future.

I have to be in my proper place for landing; in the center of the room as Master has ordered, on my knees with my hands locked behind me. When Master walks in I sneak a peek at him before locking my eyes on his crotch as I have been taught. He looks so powerful dressed in casual, lightweight tropical clothes. It is becoming so unsurprising how wet my slave cunt gets when I see him.

After landing there is a series of bumps and jolts as the plane is put into a hanger like the one we were in when we left wherever we were after Master bought me. The pretty, red haired slave I have named Stewardess opens the door so Master can lead his slaves off the plane and up the jet way. It must be quite the sight; Master leading his fancy by a leash attached to her cunt with Tattoo and the girls following us and the Jaguars prancing and frolicking all around us like the cats that they have been made into.

Master is met by a tall old man in flowing white robes of the desert and a younger man wearing jeans and a T shirt. I recognize the older man as the one who saved me from punishment the first day I sucked Master's cock under his desk with a butt plug up my ass.

Master passes my leash to Tattoo, "Chain this slave to the window. She might learn something."

I do learn something there. Below me is the plane with its huge cargo hatch open showing the men tending to the captured women and men in their tight cages. There is a conveyer belt moving screaming blond girls down to the floor of the hanger. It is obvious that whatever calming drug they were given has worn off. As each cage reaches the floor the young girl inside is pulled out, has her hands locked behind her and is led to a truck that has a large open cage waiting for them. When they are taken from the relative safety of their cages they try to get away; fighting the leering men that are handling them, pawing them. Their tits fly wildly on their chests as they fight against what is happening to them. It takes two men to move each struggling girl to her fate. One girl somehow escapes and runs, naked and barefoot out of the hanger onto the sun baked landing strip only to hop back into the shade with burned feet to kneel and plead with the men who go to get her. She shakes her head no with her blond hair flying around her and screams out as they make her stand and lead her to the cage on the truck. The last I see of the blond girls is all of them standing naked in the cage as they are driven away to whatever fate life has for them.

Off to the side are the Nubian girls that will be put into the empty cages standing with their hands locked behind them, resigned to their fate. They wait, patiently, as only girls from the timeless continent they come from can.