Continues from Slave Tales: The Hunt (XI)
Image – Christi by iksnek via Deviant Art.
Mine but not mine.
Breathless, gasping, unable to speak, I lay flat on the ground. I was wet all over covered in their spit and cum. My ass and pussy were burning and I ached everywhere.
No one spoke. The silence was absolute. It was eerie.
Without thinking I looked up.
There was a man on a horse looking down at me. He was short and stocky with a ruddy pock-marked face. I’d seen him before. He was the man who’d whipped me and humiliated some other slaves at inspection this morning. He’d called himself the “Butcher.”
One of the men said, “She was running away, Captain.”
He leaned forward on his horse to get a better look at me. His eyes were like icy blue slits.
“Running away, eh?” He grinned, “Well, well… We have special punishments for runaways, don’t we boys?”
They laughed and he continued to look down at me. Then he nodded at one of the men. “I want her clean. Make sure you take her down to the river and throw her in. She’s to be washed thoroughly. Then cuff her and leash her to a horse and we’ll head back to camp.”
He dismounted and came over to me tapping his horse whip against his palm. He was wearing a black sleeveless vest open at the chest and the short leather riding kilt typical of northern Torian men. He was well built with powerful muscular arms and legs. His body was hard and tanned and the way he held himself exuded authority and power. He looked like someone who was used to always being obeyed.
“Alright. Let’s see what we’ve got. Pick her up and turn her around. Slowly. I want to see everything. You! Get some buckets of water and throw them over her.”
He prodded me with the whip while he waited. “Spread your legs wide with your arms high.”
They threw the water over me. It was freezing and I flinched and lowered my arms. He whacked me hard across the ass with his whip and shouted right into my face, “I told you to raise your arms, slave cunt!”
He slapped my face.
“I’ll fucking make you learn not to disobey me!”
Suddenly he grasped my breasts with his large leathery hands. The cold water had hardened my nipples and he pulled hard on them yanking them up and down and stretching them from one side to the other. His fingers were long and his grip was vice-like and as he pinched and twisted, he looked at me waiting for me to flinch or cry out.
I did not.
Satisfied, he then bent down to examine my pussy. He poked his fingers inside and said, “Hmm. Warm and wet. You’re a hungry little bitch aren’t you?”
He walked around me. He inspected every part of me, occasionally tapping parts of me with the whip. I felt like a piece of meat to be devoured and I sensed him savoring and relishing each second of my nakedness and humiliation.
I kept my head down or looked straight ahead – I didn’t dare look at any of them – but I could sense their hungry eyes on me and the air seemed charged with barely restrained sadistic lust.
Captured as a runaway I had no defense or protection and they knew it. They were free to do whatever they wanted with me. They would punish me for sure. It would be long and intense and I would be pushed to my limits and beyond. And taken as far beyond as pleased them.
I would be made to cry and beg for their mercy.
And it would be entirely for their amusement.
I was lost. There was no way back now. I felt fear. But also a growing sense of exhilaration. I wanted to be their pleasure slave. There so many of them. They were all so strong and virile. I had already experienced their savagery at my capture and I had found that I loved it. I had felt aroused by their animal lust for me. They were like dogs and I was their bitch on heat. I had taken all of them and fucked and been fucked and I had come for them. I had come again and again yet here I was already wanting more. They had turned me into an animal and I was victim to an instinct so primal that it was like life itself. I was alive in the way an animal feels alive. I was hungry. I was ready. My sex was roused and humming. Theirs was a wild feral lust and I wanted to experience more of it. Their eyes were feasting on me, devouring me, and I wanted their ravenous hands clawing at me again, their hard muscular bodies pressed and pounding against mine and their cocks firing their hot scorching cum deep deep inside me.
And most of all I wanted him. He was the master. He was the indisputable leader and I sensed his will, like his desire, was absolute and incontestable. He was like iron. And he had a magnetism I could not resist. I wanted to experience his absolute power over me. To submit my flesh to his mastery and have him use me. Have him penetrate and fuck me. My sex heard a wild savage call and yearned to answer. It purred and quivered in anticipation. Fuck me Master. Fuck me I beg you…
It was a dangerous passion; its fires could consume me whole and its ashes might show no trace of me. But I wanted to know what it felt like to burn so intensely. And to be consumed so entirely.
And I’m sure he saw it in me. After gazing at my moistening pussy a few moments, he looked up at me and stared into my eyes.
And I met his look.
I shouldn’t have.
It was a challenge.
There was a pause. The silence was absolute and overwhelming.
His eyes bore into mine. “Bend over now. Present your ass for whipping.”
I obeyed immediately.
Another pause. Silence again. No one moved. But I felt their eyes all over me.
Then he struck me with the horsewhip. My body jerked forward and there was a sudden fire-flash of intense pain. I closed my eyes as it shot through me and tried not to cry out.
A pause. Making me wait. I tensed myself.
He struck again. It landed on exactly the same spot. My left ass cheek. Fire upon fire ripped through me now and this time I gasped out loud.
More lashes. He paused between each one as if he was testing the texture of my flesh, or judging how the whip marked my skin or just observing how I reacted or cried out. It was a slow, deliberate evenly paced whipping. He teased me, making me wait for each blow. It was not a punishment whipping. It was solely designed to test my resistance and my obedience.
The pain was steady and relentless. It came in waves but each blow magnified it. Finally, I couldn’t help it. I started moaning and whimpering and shaking. I was naked and defenseless but that was not enough for him. I had to bare absolutely all. He wouldn’t stop until I had revealed everything. With each searing blow of the horse whip he peeled away the layers, the pain stripping me of everything – my will, my resistance and finally, my own sense of self.
I wanted it to stop. No I didn’t want it to stop. I cried out at each blow and as my ass burnt I could feel my pussy vulnerable and naked and empty and dripping with pleasure. I wanted to suffer his strength, his anger and his fire. I wanted to experience it all fully and, exhilarated, my eyes closed, bathing in the intense pleasure-pain, I screamed and I could feel my pussy quivering. I thought of having him inside me.
I knew what would come now.
It was brutal. Two whips. The lashes rained down on my ass. One blow immediately followed by another – thwack – thwack – thwack – with barely a space between them. It was a relentless storm of whipfire.
Then he moved to the side of me and using both whips lashed at both my ass and my pussy. The blows at my pussy sent me into convulsions and I totally lost all control. My flesh was no longer my own and I jerked and quivered and shook in time to the beating lashing scorching whip and and my body was mine but not mine and I thought I could take it no more… no.. more… yes… more… yes… and I rose up and my arms stretched high reaching for the night, reaching for the stars, reaching for more, yes more, please, more… more…
Suddenly he stopped.
…and I fell.
He bent over and picked me up. I was shaking and gasping for air. He held me close and gently stroked my skin running his fingers lightly over my burning ass. I sensed his arousal. And his fascination with what he’d done. His fingers touched my cheeks and he looked into my eyes. I returned the look. It was as if he had removed a mask and in that brief moment I saw deep inside him. Not as he was. But as he could be. As he wanted to be.
He was stroking my hair now. He was so tender, almost loving, and it soothed me. I felt quite calm. Almost euphoric. There was pain. But also warmth. And peace.
But it only lasted a few moments.
He stood up and the mask was once more back in place.
I had looked inside him and in an unguarded moment I had seen something. That was too much for him. He was smiling again but now it was the coldest, cruelest and most malevolent smile I had ever seen. His rusty colored teeth glistened with malevolent intent.
I was both repelled and enthralled by him.
“On your knees.”
He lifted his leather kilt and revealed the long firm shaft of his fully risen cock.
“Kiss it. Kiss your new master.”
I leaned forward and opened my mouth to suck on it. Suddenly he drew back his hand and slapped me hard on the face. I cried out and almost fell sideways.
“I said to kiss it, slave. Not suck. You need to learn to obey commands!” He was shouting. “You have obviously had an easy life, slave. You’ve become lazy and willful and selfish. Gods, you even thought you could run away!”
He turned round to his men, “We have a slave in need of training, boys. What are we going to do with her?”
The answer was a deafening roar of cheers.
Continues The Hunt (XIII)