Continues from Slave Tales: The Hunt (VII)
Image – shibari.ro
I’d never been in a forest on my own before. I was astonished by how much life there was. Plants, trees, birds, animals, insects – the air was full of it – buzzing, rustling, fluttering – everywhere I looked.
There were so many trees that I could barely see the sky. It was just about hidden up there behind a tangled network of branches, all reaching and grasping at the sun. The light shone through a dense sheet of leaves and imbued it with a bright green luminosity. Everything seemed so very alive.
Life was so powerful here. There seemed to be no space that could not be filled by it. It was as if the gods had deliberately designed our world to be a vessel filled with life. That is our purpose I suppose. Life begets life which creates more life. We are here to grow.
And I was a part of it. A slave girl from the country. No more important than the birds or the bees. No less important either, I hoped.
At the river, when I’d heard the horses approaching, I’d run into the woods and just kept on running until the trees and plants became so dense I’d had to slow down. But I was lost now. I had no idea where I was. I knew that as long as I stayed in the forest I was sheltered and safe from the slave hunters but I’d also lost sight of the river and was now just going by instinct. The trees all looked the same. For all I knew I’d spent the last half hour going round in circles.
And my feet were killing me.
I was naked and had no shoes. I had tried to keep to the grass and soft ground but my feet were covered in cuts and grazes which were starting to make it uncomfortable to walk.
Still, I thought, at least it was cool and shaded here.
But I had to be careful. The ground was still damp after the spring showers and there would be bogs and swamps. And not all the life here was benevolent. What strange creatures lurked in the forest? I had no idea. I knew we were too far north for alligators but there were definitely snakes and probably wild cats too. I realized how unprepared I was for this. I hoped my Mistress wasn’t waging too much on my success. My failure seemed far much more probable and I felt sadness at the likelihood of letting her down. Would she sell me if I did not succeed? The prospect frightened me. I could not imagine a life without my Mistress, or my slave sisters Soraia and Risa. They were my family.
Suddenly I felt very alone.
But I had to keep going. I walked on keeping an ear out for any strange noises or shouts.
I wondered what had happened to the river man. He’d run back downstream directly towards the hunters. That seemed strange. Maybe he’d wanted to be caught. Or had he wanted to distract them from me?
What would the slave hunters be doing to that gorgeous body now? The memory of him was still fresh in my mind. And in my sex. My mind lingered pleasantly on the details. The way he’d held me down and taken me. We had not spoken a single word to each other and yet he had taken my submission for granted. As if I were someone already known to him. I started to doubt that he had been a slave at all. Who had he been then?
Image – Andrei Artemyeff
Just then something snatched at my foot and tossed me into the air. It happened in a flash and for a few moments I felt dazed and everything seemed to be swirling around me. Then I realized I was being held upside down. I was suspended by a rope hanging from a tree branch and my ankle was caught in a noose.
I’d been caught by a trap. Damn! How stupid of me. It had never occurred to me that the slave hunters would lay traps here.
I raised myself up to loosen it but I couldn’t quite reach it and struggling just seemed to make the noose tighter.
Even if I stretched my arms fully I couldn’t touch the ground so there was no way I could take the weight off my foot. I hung there for a minute wondering what to do. My free leg was hanging loose and I tried bending it but it felt heavy and uncomfortable. I didn’t know where to put it so I just hooked around the trapped ankle and waited.
Damn! Damn! Damn!
But I had no idea by whom.
I waited but no one came. I felt an increasing sense of panic. I was starting to lose the feeling in my foot and my ankle was hurting a lot. It was taking all my weight and I could feel it swelling. What if no one came at all? How long could I stay like this? What if some creature found me? I’d stand no chance against a bear or a wild cat. I was trapped game. Free lunch for the first carnivore to find me.
At last a rider approached. It was a boy on a pony. A squire? No, it was a girl with short hair – it was so hard to tell with everything upside down. I called out and begged for release. She rode slowly toward me. She was grinning. Without dismounting she looked me up and down for a few moments and then suddenly rode off.
I called out again but she must have been a scout and had probably gone to get a Master. I hoped it wasn’t old razor teeth…
About five minutes later, just as the pain in my ankle was really starting to get to me, two riders appeared through a small clearing in the trees. One was the girl squire. The other was a master clad in black leather. He was very thin and had a pale face. His gaunt features were exaggerated by a long pointed grey beard.
He dismounted and came over to inspect me. He looked me over like a piece of meat in a butcher’s shop. His hands inspected my flesh and he pinched me all over while making comments to the girl, “Good… Very good indeed, hardly any fat… Very good skin. No blemishes…. Good muscle tone. Strong thighs…”
He had a refined, educated voice but his accent was just a little too precise. As if ours was a language he’d had to learn as an adult. A foreigner maybe, from one of the countries from beyond the Eastern Sea.
He slapped my ass and peered into my sex. “A little red there. Signs of recent use.”
He looked over at the girl and laughed. But it was a laugh stripped of any humor. There was an eerie coldness about him. I sensed no desire in him for me and at no time did he address me. It was like I’d died and he was doing an autopsy.
He stood back and walked around me. Once again he addressed the girl and not me. “What a delicious fruit eh? Just ripe for picking.”
And he let out another icy laugh. This time it sounded quite sinister.
Finally, he addressed me. He leaned down and pulled me up roughly towards him by my hair. He looked directly into my eyes but still seemed to be talking to the girl, “But I’m not going to pick her,” he leered, “I’m going to embellish her.”
I begged him, “May it please the Master to be merciful with me. My name is Bella. I am a slave girl in the house of Mistress Theia. I surrender myself willingly to the Master’s grace and mercy.”
He let out a snort and then called to his girl. “Quirianne, get the ropes from the bags. She’s exactly what we need.” Then he looked at me again and said sharply, “Yes, yes, the hunt. I know. I’m not interested in whoever your owner is. Just shut up and keep still.”
He looked over to the girl. “Let’s cut her down and get to work. I want to finish this one and then look for a male. With luck we’ll be finished by sundown.”
She took down some bags from the horses and arranged them on the ground. They were full of ropes.
So that was it. He was a rope artist. And he was going to use me as his model.
That was why I had sensed no desire in him. At the moment I was just raw meat to him. A canvas to work on. Flesh and bone to be sculpted. He was going to create me as a piece of living art. Only then would he feel anything for me. And only as an object of his own creation.
The girl cut me down and put some ointment on my ankle to soothe the swelling. Then the Master made me stand and kneel in various positions until he decided what exactly to do with me. They were looking at some papers – designs and sketches I supposed – and he talked to the girl about the background, the light, the shape of the tree and how I had to blend in with my surroundings.
She referred to him as Master Xirón. I think she was his apprentice squire. He didn’t talk to her like a slave. Maybe she was an artist – the sketches seemed to be all hers. During this time they completely ignored me and I wondered what would happen when they had finished with me. Would they sketch me and then let me go? Or would they leave me hanging all day?
Finally he had me kneel before him and he started to prepare me. He worked slowly and methodically and the ropes enveloped me as if in a network. The cords crossed over my waist and breasts and around my thighs and, if I tried to make any movement, I felt the sharpness of them cutting into me.
He was creating a beautiful spider’s web around my flesh. All movement was denied me and I was a prisoner of his art. And once untied the patterns of the ropes would remain on my flesh for a time – a temporary mark of his dominion over me.
A large metal ring was hung from the branch and I was raised and suspended from it. My head was also tied back – I could not move at all – and no one part of me bore more weight than any other. It was expertly done. Only my fingers, toes and face were capable of any kind of movement. Despite this I felt utterly calm – it was a beautiful way to express my submission to a Master. I had been caught by chance but his choice of me as a canvas was an honor.
The girl checked the ropes. Her fingers brushed gently against my bare skin. Her desire for me was patent and betrayed itself in lingering looks and the soft sensuous movements of her fingertips.
Then they both stood for some moments contemplating me. Finally, the girl set up an easel to sketch me and the Master addressed me in a much calmer, more patient manner. I was far more interesting and desirable to him now.
“Just a few finishing touches. You are my gift and the gods will decide who is to receive you. Your fate is entirely in their hands. It is imperative that you are found by chance. Therefore you must be gagged so that you cannot call out for help.”
He then took a small bottle from his jacket and poured some of its contents into a cup. “Before I gag you I want you to drink this potion. It will sensitize you and make your body more… receptive”.
He held my head up by my hair and I opened my mouth and swallowed the liquid. It was bitter tasting and I coughed.
He took a short rope from his bag and also attached it to the ring, “This rope will pass between the top of your legs and rest tightly against your cunt. The rope has been soaked in a balm of my own concoction and you will feel a burning sensation at first, then it will start to itch and tickle… quite pleasantly if you are lucky.”
For the briefest moment there was a complicit smile.
“Then there will be ignited in your cunt the flames of a desire which you will be unable to assuage. If you struggle the ropes will tighten and become more painful which, depending on your tastes of course, may just fan the flames even higher. After a while the combination of the balm in the rope and the potion will convert you into something like,” he paused for the right words, and then laughed, “a ravenous bitch on heat.”
He leered at me and continued. “You will literally ache for satisfaction. Your soul will be consumed by the need to achieve orgasm and you will feel as if your life, your survival, your very existence depend on it. However, due to your constrained position, you will remain permanently on the edge. Unable to do anything to gain relief, you will scream vainly for an orgasmic release which will simply never come. Hot waves of pleasure will wash through you but you will be trapped in the clutches of a never-ending series of near climaxes.”
“Pain and pleasure will become indistinguishable and you will experience the true violence of unassuaged desire – the constant torment of unattainable ecstasy. After a while you will crave a saviour and beg the gods for mercy and release.”
“And only the gods will decide if you shall have it.”
“The Master or Mistress who discovers you will find you absolutely insatiable. And I doubt very much whether he or she – or any one person – will be able to satisfy you.”
He smiled broadly now. “You will be a true work of art. A feast for the eyes. And for the senses.”
There was a pause and he added, “My girl will stay and sketch you for a few minutes and to make sure the potion takes effect.”
“And as you have been quite well-behaved I will grant you a small mercy. The gift of sight. I will not blindfold you.”
“But Master, if no one finds me?”
His mood immediately darkened and he spoke impatiently again. “Listen to me, slave. I have already explained it once. You are my gift. The gods will decide. And if they decide no Master is to have you. So be it. You will be my offering to them. And it will honor me greatly if the gods take you for themselves. And thanks to me, you – a mere slave – will achieve transcendence.”
“Now open your mouth.” He took out the gag rope from his pocket and attached it, tying it around the back of my neck. Now I was silenced. Unable to ask questions, beg for mercy or even call for help.
Then he turned his back on me and walked away. “Your Mistress will be reimbursed for any damage or loss.”
He gave some instructions to the girl and mounted his horse. Then, after giving me one final look of appraisal, he rode off back through the clearing in the trees.
And so I was left swinging gently in the summer heat. I could not move my head and was only able to see what was directly in front of me. The girl started to sketch me and I felt the damp rope scratch against my pussy. The burning sensation grew there and I slowly became aware of powerful forces rising within me and over which I would have little control. Those forces were bound too. And captivity only infuriated them and made them wilder.
The girl continued drawing. She was fair skinned and attractive. She had a boyish face that was accentuated by her short dark hair. Her bodice showed off her firm shoulders and breasts. Her arms were bare and quite muscular for a woman and their slow movements fascinated me. I loved the way she looked at me, studied me, took in every detail of my body, my nakedness and my torment, and then, with intense concentration, tried to capture it all so that others could take pleasure in it.
I wanted her to have me. She could use me. Do whatever she wanted with me. I would gladly suffer the cruelest whipping in exchange for just one caress from her. I stared at her, willing her to desire me, to come over and touch me. She looked up at me for a moment and our eyes met. She was reading my thoughts. I knew it. She wanted me too. How could she not? What was stopping her? Come to me. Now…
But she continued working and my desire turned into frustration and I pulled at the ropes and felt my anger – and my lust – start to rise. I wanted her badly. I wanted to smell her and sense her hands on my flesh again, her fingernails scratching at my belly and breasts. Come to me. Use me. Whip me…
My eyes devoured her. The way she pressed her lips together when she was concentrating. I wanted those lips. How would she taste? I would bear anything for a taste of her flesh…
Finally, she stopped. She put the brushes down and came over to me. She showed me the sketches. They were beautiful, so sensual, so alive and so erotic. I saw myself as she saw me – naked, tempting, suffering for her – and it amplified my arousal so much I thought I was going to explode.
Page after page. There I was. Captured by her. A bound beauty. My submission – noble and absolute. My pain – exquisite and sensuous. The fruit of my body – succulent and delicious. Yes. Yes. Taste me and you will want no other. Oh bite into me, feed on me now…
I looked at her. Our eyes met again. She knew. I was desperate, pleading…
She touched my cheek and whispered, “You are beautiful. As beautiful as the gifts of nature that surround us.”
She smiled and bent close to me and kissed my cheek. I could smell her hair. I breathed in her fragrance and inhaled it deeply. I wanted to keep her inside me. I wanted her tongue to penetrate me. I wanted to bloom for her.
Then, as if reading my thoughts, she started to caress my breasts. I closed my eyes and surrendered utterly to the bliss of her fingertips at my nipples. I wanted to cry out l but the gag made it impossible and I just moaned deep and hard and abandoned myself to her touch. She teased me until my cunt ignited in righteous blissfire and I raged and cried out for deliverance. I tried to wriggle and press my clitoris against the wet rope and rub my pussy against it but I… could… not…. move…
“Fruit of this tree. You would be so delicious. I would love to taste you.” She knew what I wanted and very gently pulled at the rope between my legs to tease me and I gasped as the hot pleasure waves shot through me. “To squeeze you and see your juices run. To unpeel you and release your sex and savor it as my own.”
Without taking her eyes off mine, she unbelted herself and put her hand between her legs. She stroked herself for a few moments and I wallowed in the aroma of her desire. Let me taste you please…
Then she closed her eyes and was lost to me. When she opened them again, I saw her rapture and hungered to share it with her. Her lips parted and her face bloomed red, her head jerked and then she closed her eyes again – her face contorted in absolute bliss.
There was a pause and finally she removed her hand. She opened her eyes, smiled and raised her fingers for me to smell.
“Would you like a taste?”
Then, as if she had just remembered it, she said with a tone of mock innocence, “Oh, but my Master has forbidden it.”
I looked into her eyes. At that moment my submission to her was absolute and I would have obeyed her smallest whim or suffered any torture in return for the release I now craved with all my body, sex and soul.
She stood back suddenly and said. “You’re ready now.”
And she turned quickly away and left me.
My desire was furious and shrieked for release. I shook and twisted and begged as never before. Only the gag prevented me from screaming. Please don’t leave me! Help me! Save me! God, please help me!
I was utterly trapped within the perfect web they had spun for me.
In a torment of frustration I watched her ride away. Please don’t go. Please!
I closed my eyes and howled like a she-wolf howls for her lost mate.
Now I was a true slave. I was enslaved by my own monstrous all-devouring sex.
And I was made beautiful. I was brought to life.
And I was made a gift. I was the gift of life.
My precious pearl lay shining on the ocean sands. I felt a wave wash over it. Then another. And another. Waves without number. Drowning in a sea of a million desires.
Who would claim me? Someone? Please! Oh please come now. I screamed to the universe. I beseeched the gods. I cried out my torment. I am begging you. Take me now. Please. Come. I beg you. I beg for mercy. Oh please… I beg you all… come… touch me… use me… fuck me… Oh Gods… please… someone…anyone… come for me now… come… now… pleeeeeeease….
Continues The Hunt (IX)