tagNonConsent/ReluctanceThe Slave Girl

The Slave Girl


*If any of you have read my other stories, then you know that this really isn't my thing. If you haven't read any of my other stories, then if you read this, you can figure out how a fag-hag writes straight porn. ^_^

I wrote this story because a friend of mine begged me to, and I hope he enjoys this, wherever he is.

All characters are 18+*


The slave girl was weeping and terrified, and that's what kept my attention. What brought my attention to her was her rare coloration, but what kept it was that she was old enough to be ripe and luscious, but she was still weeping.

Slave girls were the property of their owners and whatever servants were higher up. Even other slaves could take a slave girl to their bed, and only the very kindest of masters would punish the slaves if the girl had been unwilling. Unless she was very homely, slave girls were normally bedded dozens of times.

The girl was of Northern stock, and she had the pale skin and bright hair that some men found outlandish and strange, and some men lusted over. The hair was bright gold, and hung in a heavy golden fall of curls. The eyes were red and swollen from weeping, but glinted a bright blue, like chips of the sky.

She was naked so she could be more easily looked over, and her body had none of the telltale marks that she had been used. None of the hair on or between her legs had been removed, or under her arms. She had no bite or suck marks on her pale creamy skin. The most telling sign, was that she was crying, and trying to hide her shapely breasts and cover the puff of pale pubic hair with her arms.

Slave girls were on either side of her. Before the auction, they tied the slaves by the side of the road, so potential buyers could come up, pinch their arms for muscle, ask them what skills they had, see if they were sickly or damaged. The slave girl was surrounded by two other men. A guard was nearby, making sure they didn't damage or bruise her before the auction, but he wasn't stopping the men from teasing and petting her.

She was crying and crying like she was in pain. She wept with shame and misery when one forced his hand between her legs, felling soft fuzzy skin that was undoubtably desert-dry. The other weighed those ripe breasts in his hands, tweaking and pinching sore lotus-pink nipples.

The guard interfered slightly. "Oi! Careful between the legs, this one is a virgin and she is to be sold as such!"

The man fondling the slave girl's crotch smiled greedily, and it made him look like a pig. The scrawny one fondling her breasts scowled and spat. Being a virgin would make her very expensive. It explained why she was crying, but how on earth had such a beautiful girl remained a virgin? The brand on her shoulder was old and stretched and faded, made when she was a child, so she had been a slave for many years, how had she lasted?

I had been here looking for a hardworking slave to help me in my shop. Preferably a young girl that would be able to take care of my needs as well. This girl was expensive, but I had just cured the Shah's daughter of pneumonia, and his gift to me had been large, and I held the coins in a heavy pouch inside my coat. It depended on how hard the girl could work.

I went to her, and the pig-man scowled at me reluctantly, but he took his filthy hand from between her legs and the girl moaned softly. She looked up at me timidly. One arm was crossed over those firm tits, covering up the pink nipples. The other hand cupped her crotch, trying to hide herself from the eyes of men. Her eyes were sore and swollen.

"Let me see your hands girl."

I held my hand out. She obeyed immediately and I was pleased. Even humiliated and miserable, she obeyed instinctively. She cringed as my eyes darted to the pink nubs and furred slit. She laid her small white hands on my dark hand. Her skin was like the creamy white flesh of the inside of lotus flowers, and my hand was like cinnamon. Her hands trembled like frightened birds, and were small compared to my hands, I could have closed my hand and enfolded both inside.

I felt her palms with my fingertip, and was gladdened by the light stipple of calluses. "What were your duties with your last master?"

Tears filled those blue eyes and she looked down, her pale shoulders trembling. "I...I was a caretaker for my Master, who was old and infirm. I made his meals and laundered his bedclothes and cleaned his chambers. H-He was very k-kind."

Her voice was small with fear, but low and warm and a little husky. A good voice. A good girl, used to work, beautiful, not conceited.



The sun was beating down on the crowd. Buyers sat on stools of woven reeds in a semi-circle before a wooden platform. The blonde girl was lot seven. The first lot had been a very muscular young black man. The second and third had been brothers from the north, strong and deeply tanned by the sun. Fourth had been a trembling light-haired boy of about ten. The brand on his shoulder was fresh and oozing, and his skin was pale and burnt by the sun. Fifth had been a pair of matched girls from the east. They had slender bodies and coarse silky black hair and pale chestnut skin. They had slanted frightened eyes and slender bodies with small breasts and slight hips.

I waited for the girl, not even considering the sixth lot, a brown-haired girl that would have been perfectly fine, if not for the blonde.

The blonde girl was taken forward. Her slender wrists had been tied behind her back so she could no longer hide herself from the dozens of eager eyes. She trembled and her eyes were wide and scared. She reminded me of a white rabbit, shaking up there with her vulnerable legs and lightly burned shoulders and reddened eyes.

I barely heard the auctioneer, bragging about the quality of her fine creamy skin, and pretty eyes, and untouched purity. Before the man was done speaking the first bid was called out. I waited. The bids were still low but rising rapidly.

When the bidding had slowed slightly I called out a bid. Within three bids, it was just me and the piglike man voting for her. She looked at me with desperate eyes and I felt a throb of heat in my groin. She wanted me to have her!

I called out a bid, and the pig-man glared sullenly but did not match it. The auctioneer waited, and then called out that she belonged to me.


I had been expecting to bring a girl home, so I had brought along a loose robe of thick linen with a cord to tie it closed. I untied the rope on her wrists and slipped the robe on over her ripe young body. She tied the cord closed with shaking hands. Her face was wet with tears. I wiped her eyes and nose with a square of soft linen that I carried in my pocket. She looked at me with shy gratitude.

"My name is Ashram, you can call me Master Ashram. What is your name?"

"I was taken here when I was six years old. My mistress then named me Niobe. I do not remember my name before."

"Niobe." I tasted the name. It was a good name. "How old are you?"

"I counted the cold seasons, because I was born in the snows. I am nineteen winters old."

I marveled at that, nineteen, and still a virgin. After that we didn't speak much. I took her to a cobbler, who measured her small dusty feet and made a pair of reed sandals for her. He promised that he would make two pairs of leather shoes, sandals and closed shoes, but the reed shoes would do until they were made.

"Do you know how to make clothes?"

She shook her head, looking slightly panicked. I put my hand on her shoulder. "Calm yourself Niobe, it doesn't matter."

I took her to a stall in the market that sold clothing. I bought her three robes of sturdy undecorated fabric, a plain chador, and I had her pick out some underthings.

She looked hot and tired, but she didn't say anything. She was afraid to make me angry. I stopped at a stall that was selling cooled fruit juice. She stared thirstily at the vats of brightly-colored juice that were cooling in wooden containers of water in the shade. I asked her what she wanted, and she pointed to a pale pink juice of crushed cactus fruit and pomegranates.

The stall keeper gave her a cup of tightly woven reeds that was disposable and somewhat waterproof, and she drank the sweet sticky juice. She smiled at me with her lips stained red and sweet, and I felt a sudden strong urge to taste the juice on her lips, to pour the juice on her young sweet body and lap it up. My cock rose in my loose trousers. If we had been at my home, I would have torn her robe off then and there.

We were in a public place, and she had not caught my look of raw lust. She had been too busy petting a stray cat that had rubbed against her ankles. The stall keeper had seen it though, and he gave me a smile full of blackened teeth. As soon as she straitened I put my hand on her shoulder and led her through the crowd.


My shop was an apothecary. Herbs hung in bunches from the ceiling, powdered plants filled small bins. My work shelf had three different mortar and pestles, of different sizes to grind things small. I had a set of scales, several knives and hammers and scoops. I had a large fire right behind my shop, and in the shop I could boil small amounts over a pan of coals from the large fire. After I had saved the Shah's daughter, I had a lot more business, and now I could afford a girl to help me with the shop and my needs.

"I make medicine and lotions and oils to soothe aches and pains. Business has grown and now I need an assistant. I will do all of the skilled work, but you can tidy up and fetch water and wood. You will boil water, and cook my meals and launder the clothes and clean my home above the shop. You said that you took care of an old man, so you should have all of these skills already."

She nodded solemnly.

"You will also take care of me as a woman does to a man. Do not be afraid, I will not hurt you." I hesitated. She was my slave, I didn't have to explain myself to her. Most girls would be thrilled to have a life like this, only one man demanding their attention. But she looked so frightened, and I hated that scared look on her face. I touched her soft cheek and she flinched away. I kept my hand on her cheek.

"Look at me Niobe." She did. "This thing between men and women, it is not poison, it is pleasure. Some men do not care about women and they make it poison for them, but I am not one of those men. You may learn to love it."

I gave her a broom. "Now, we open the shop. I may send you out to the market later, can you shop alone?"

She nodded, and that pleased me. I had expected worse.


Niobe was attentive and thoughtful, and a better assistant around the shop then I had dared to hope for. She did make a few stumbles, but she always learned from her mistakes immediately and worked hard to please me and the customers.

I gave her five bronze coins and sent her to the market to shop for bread-makings and a cut of lamb and some greens. She was gone for an hour at most, but I found that I was worrying about her. It was strange that I had grown so fond of her already. I hadn't even bedded the girl once and I was panicking about her being at the market by herself in broad daylight.

She came back with the pale chador covering everything but her eyes and hands. It was good etiquette for a woman to be covered at the market, and everywhere except in their own shops and homes. She had a heavy basket in her hands. She handed me two bronze coins. I was surprised, because I considered myself thrifty, but I wouldn't have been able to get the contents of the basket without four coins, and maybe more.

I checked the cut of meat, and the other ingredients, and they were all of good quality. She had done her job very well, and she was beaming at me. I was struck by that smile. Her teeth were white and strong, unusual for Northerners. I chewed on the leaves of a certain plant in the morning and night, and that helped to clean my teeth and keep them white. I sold the plant in my shop, but very few bought it, even knowing it's properties. I wondered if she had chewed it to keep her teeth white.

The smile was very pretty, and she didn't look as scared. I was surprised at the throb of tenderness I felt for the pretty slave girl.


My belly was roaring for something to eat. Several of my customers had commented on the smell coming from the fire in the back of my store, and the smell was slowly driving me mad. She had timidly asked permission to use a few of my herbs as spices, fennel, rosemary, basil, garlic. I had said yes, and now those spices were rising in a thick steamy cloud that made me feel like I hadn't eaten in a year. Under the thick and tantalizing smell of the meat I could smell the good smell of baking bread.

I closed the shop, and waited impatiently for the last customer to finish up. Then I went outside.

Her head was bare, but the thick mane of golden hair was tied back with a loose band of linen. I recognized it as the square of cloth I had wiped her eyes with. She was stirring a lamb stew filled with chunks of vegetables and chickpeas and small sweet potatoes. Flat rounds of bread were baking in a bit of sizzling oil on a flat ceramic surface in the fire. Her face was a little sweaty from the heat, and when she saw me she gave me one of her dazzling little smiles. A few heads had poked out of the backs of their shops to sniff the delicious smelling air and give an envious look.

I had subsisted and survived on my own disastrous for several years. This girl had been an amazing find.

We ate up in my home. I had two small rooms above the shop, a main room with a low table and a dresser that held all of my accounts and records. The other room was a bedroom. The night was still young, and the sun had not set. She was used to eating after her master, eating whatever had not been consumed. I had her eat at the same time as me, and she was very shy.

"After this you will go to the bathhouse at the end of the street. Find a woman called Azizia, and tell her that you are Ashram's new girl. Give her this as your confirmation." I gave her my ring. "When you are done come to the shop, here is the key." She looked frightened. "You are afraid, and I do not blame you after what those pigs did to you at the slave market. I will not hurt you."

She smiled tentatively and bowed to me. "Thank you Master Ashram."


I was taking a huge chance, but I needed to know. I needed to know if I could trust the girl. She was pretty, and she was a virgin, and she was a good worker and an excellent cook. She was thrifty, and she was pleasant towards me. Now I needed to know if I could trust her with the key to my shop and a gold ring with a blue topaz set as the stone. I had hired a small boy to follow her, the boy had run errands for me before, and I trusted him.

In the meantime, I readied myself. I washed my body with warm water and rinsed out the dishes with water. I patted the sheets that had been freshly laundered, and I stripped naked and waited for her to come back. While I lay on my back, I chewed mint leaves to freshen my breath and gave my cock slow strokes. I wondered if she would like it, or just bear it.

I heard the soft creak as the door below opened, and the soft thud as it shut. I heard the muted metal clinks of the key in the lock. My cock twitched in my hand. I let it go, and felt the thick excitement. My girl was ready for me. She was smooth and plucked and pampered. I could hear her footsteps up the narrow staircase and it seemed to be in time with the pulse of blood in my engorged cock.

I heard the soft cloth sounds of her hanging up her chador, and the soft scrape of her kicking off her shoes. My hands were trembling fists, I was so excited I could barely breathe. She hesitated, and I could almost sense her apprehension.

The door opened, and I could see her silhouetted in the soft light from one of the windows. She was wearing nothing but a small shift she wore under her clothes. It was a clinging piece of thin soft cloth that had a low scooped neck. It went from her shoulders to barely below her hips. Her hair hung loose, and I could smell a hint of the jasmine soap that had been used on her hair and skin.

She crept to the bed, on it's low wooden frame. She slipped under the light coverlet of Egyptian cotton. I could feel her body trembling a few inches away, she was hoping that I had already fallen asleep.

I was not tired at all. It was black as pitch in the room, but I knew that if I could see down the front I would be able to see my cock making a stiff tent in the fabric.

I turned to the side slowly and reached out with my hand. I touched her warm side through the thin cloth of her shift. She didn't flinch, but I heard her small gasp.

"Hush Niobe, this will feel good." My voice was hoarse with need.

I pulled her into my body. I felt her young lean body against me, and my cock was pressed into her firm buttocks. She was stiff and trembling. I buried my face in her warm damp hair, and filled my senses with the smell of jasmine. I wrapped my arms around her slender waist, and just held her. I had to fight the urge not to slowly hump my hips against the tight young swell of her fine ass, but I didn't shy away from the warmth of her.

Slowly, so slowly, her body relaxed, but she was still panting. "Master Ashram? Wh-What are you doing?"

"I am waiting for you to be ready. Some men just try to get a woman's virginity out of the way. The first time a woman is bedded, there is blood and some pain. Many men are afraid that they don't have the skill to make a woman feel good, so they do not even try. Other men like virgins because of the pain. They like the power when they hurt a young and inexperienced girl."

I stroked her wrist gently with the tip of my finger. "I am not either of those men. I do not want to hurt you, and I know that I can make you feel good. You are frightened, and I am waiting for you to get used to me. You need to get used to my touch." I hugged her tighter and groaned softly at the tantalizing scrape of her shift against the head of my cock, which was so tight I felt like I would burst.

She gasped. "I... What is happening! I feel so strange! I'm all... I'm all..." She gasped a little. "I can... feel you, and it's making my shift wet."

Precome had leaked from the head of my cock and wet her shift. I groaned softly. "That is how much I want you. When men get aroused, liquid comes from the tip of their member. Not the seed that grows children, but a clear kind. Women make it too. Are you wet?"

She shuddered deliciously and I could feel her thighs opening and closing slightly. The feeling increased and decreased the pressure on my cock. I moaned.

"Y-Yes. I'm, very wet down there. It feels hot, like I have a fever, but not on my face."

I panted in her ear and inhaled the scent of her hair and allowed myself to bump my hips once, grinding my stone-hard length into her ass.

"Wh-Why do you keep moaning? Am I hurting you?"

Such a shy sweet question, such a naive question. I felt a strange blend of tenderness and a roaring lust.

"Hold still Niobe, hold still, I'm not going to hurt you, I'm just going to touch you."

I let my hand creep down her flat stomach until I could feel her pubis through the thin fabric of the shift. I growled softly, the cloth had a spot of dampness on it. I reached lower until the fabric of the shift ended and I was touching her bare thigh. The muscles were lean and tight and trembling, and her skin was smooth and soft and tender. I rubbed her thigh gently, and she whimpered.

She turned her head slightly and I saw her blue eyes, glassy with lust and fear and curiosity. While she was looking back she squeezed her thighs together with the head of my cock in the small cleft below her buttocks. The pressure on the head of my cock made me gasp and made all of my muscles clench.

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byCruel2BKind© 30 comments/ 168999 views/ 100 favorites

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