Continues from The Hunt (XII)
The hunters led me down to the river to bathe and watched closely as I washed their cum from my breasts and belly. It was a muggy night and the cool water refreshed and revitalized me. The craving in my sex burnt stronger than ever and when I splashed the water over my shoulders and breasts I could feel my nipples hardening again. They were still sensitive after being bitten and clawed at but the pain now merged into pleasure and I just about restrained myself from pinching and playing with them.
As I washed I looked down at my body with pleasure. I knew my breasts were shapely and pleasing and I imagined myself as their vision of beauty. No ordinary pleasure slave, I would be their masthead tied to the bow of their ship with the waves crashing over me. I would lead them into battle and suffer the cruelest of torments just to bring forth the fire in their loins. Or I would be their slave goddess, a sexual deity who would offer sanctuary to their wayward desires and to whom they would implore with their oh so firm and lusty cocks.
The hunger in my sex was now irresistible and feeling increasingly sure of myself I closed my eyes and relished the water’s invigorating embrace. I looked down to see the current rushing between my legs. It seemed so alive. So potent. So virile. I bent my knees and lowered my wet pussy to greet it. The waters lapped against it proffering cool playful kisses and with pleasure I gasped out loud as the river penetrated me clamoring to know my secrets.
Emboldened by my own desire, I looked up at the night sky and, as if seeking approval, I stretched my arms up to the heavens. I pleaded my life to a jury of glistening stars, offering them my nakedness and my submission.
Time seemed to stop. The air thickened and the trees hushed. Even the horses stood motionless like statues, their riders seemingly also turned to stone. For a moment I was caught, mere captured game, in the jaws of a ravenous monster that would surely devour me before night’s end. Yet between my legs my sex surged and roared and called out to the heavens. Please… Life… Please… More..
The answer to my entreaty came as a well aimed lash from a long bullwhip which tore at my exposed naked breasts. I lowered my arms to protect myself. There were shouts and curses and I was ordered out of the water.
I returned to the river bank and my captors. I knelt for them and still dripping was cuffed and leashed again. Then one of the men grabbed me and started whipping me with his riding crop. I fell over and then he tried to straddle me grabbing at my breasts.
“Stop that. Leave her!”
There was the sound of a whip-crack and strips of leather curled around the man’s muscular naked torso and left traces of its fire on my arms and shoulders. Involuntarily I turned my face away.
“But she’s begging for it captain.”
“Then she should be made to wait, shouldn’t she? I said leave her. Touch her again and I’ll feed your bollocks to the pigs. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.” He slowly stood up and released me.
The air seemed charged with the static of barely restrained male lust. I was sure that without the captain they would have already torn me to pieces.
They mounted their horses quickly and we set off for their camp. The captain led the way and the giant, in whose superhuman grip I had been held up for whipping, rode at his side. I guessed he was his second-in-command. There were about ten of them in all and I followed at the back leashed by my collar to a horse. Two riders kept up the rear. One of them was the man who’d just tried to fuck me. From time to time he would flick me with a bullwhip but for the most part he left me alone.
It was dark when we arrived. The camp was in a clearing surrounded by tall pine trees. It was lit by torches and I could see a dozen tents set in a circle around a large fire. It seemed to be quite a large camp, mostly full of men, all stocky rugged northern Torians by the look of them. There were a few women too. Torian women could be just as ruthless, and as cruel, as their men. In battle a legion of Torian women were as fearless as any male legion and many of the most famous female gladiators had been Torians. They were sitting or lying around outside their tents eating, drinking or being pleasured by slaves both male and female.
The hunters dismounted and the captain turned to the two riders who’d rode behind me and said, “You know where to put her. On no account use her for yourselves. She’s for later. Understood?” And with that he and the giant walked off toward the largest of the tents.
They led me behind the tents to some wooden cages which were full of naked slave girls. The cages were quite small and each one had just enough room for two slaves. All of the girls had been cuffed and collared like me and they kept their eyes down as we walked past. We stopped at one and they unlocked the door. Another girl was sitting in the cage with her knees up under her chin. She’d looked really frightened. Her eyes were tightly shut and she and held her cuffed arms over her head as if to ward off the blows which were now surely coming.
There was a hard slap on my ass with a whip. “Wait in there runaway. We’ll be back for you soon.” The hunter leered at me, “You’re tonight’s entertainment. And captain or no captain I will take a piece of what’s mine.” And with that he grabbed my pussy, squeezed it hard and shoved me backwards.
I fell on top of the girl. She whimpered and cried out and the men laughed. “I’ll have some of that fresh cunt while your busy with this one,” the other hunter said as he fastened the padlock on the door.
We kept our eyes down and said nothing. They watched us for a few moments as if they were waiting for us to disobey them or do something to provoke a punishment, but confronted by only our meek submission they soon left us in peace.
I pulled myself up and tried to calm the girl. She was still whimpering. I touched her arm but she flinched and wrapped herself up further into a ball, her head firmly buried under her bare arms and between her upraised knees.
I took a look around. I thought I could see about fifteen or twenty captured slaves in the cages, mostly girls. There were also three naked boys who were kneeling on the ground around a post, their hands tied behind their backs. I noticed they had been chained to each other by their cocks. Each boy was wearing a metal cock cage with a harness tightly wrapped around the ball sack. Each cock cage was connected to a chain which was kept taut and stretched through a hole about half way up the post. So if any one of them tried to move, it would not only pull at his own cock but also yank painfully on the cocks of the other two. I had no idea whether it was a punishment or if they’d just run out of cages but it seemed a cruel way to keep them prisoner. Then I noticed that one of the boys, a dark-skinned lad with a mop of curly hair, had a beautiful long cock with a good thick shaft. It was firmly hoisted and very hard so maybe the ordeal wasn’t so unpleasant after all.
Behind them another boy had been tied face down and stretched over a large round log with his ass raised and exposed. His arms had been tied in front of him and his legs were pulled apart with his ankles attached to stakes in the ground. Judging by the redness of his ass he looked like he’d been recently whipped. Behind him was a skinny dark haired girl who’d been suspended by her arms and legs between two trees. She did not bear the marks of a whipping so I wondered if she’d just been hung like that for ornamental purposes. No one seemed to be paying any attention to any of them so maybe they’d just been left there as a warning.
The captain had said they had special punishments for runaways and I shuddered as I thought of what they might have planned for me. “Tonight’s entertainment,” the guard had said.
A flogging would be best. In the right hands it is an art and I had been taught to sing and dance for the whip at the seminary. I had been praised for my beauty under the whip and it was at a whipping contest that my Mistress had seen me. She’d wanted to buy me on the spot. She’d said watching me flogged was the most graceful, sensual and beautiful thing she had ever seen.
Yes. A flogging. I would please them under the whip. They would hear my whipsong and listen to me entranced by the beauty of my suffering. And if I pleased them under the whip they would go easy on me with anything else they might have planned. These hunters looked like the type who enjoyed spicing up their games with particularly cruel and inventive forms of punishment and I knew that as a runaway they had a license to do what ever they wanted with me.
A flogging. Yes. I desired it. I needed it. My passions were running amok and I needed the whip’s merciless discipline to master me and channel my desires. I loved to feel its fiery kiss on my skin. A good whipping is like an erotic dance between pain and pleasure. An expert Master with a whip can take me to the edge, hold me there and make me cry and sing. And the release… oh the release… When permission is given for me to come, it is indeed a blessed and holy thing. Any difference between pain and pleasure ceases to exist. The pain just seems to stimulate the pleasure and I cry and pull at the ropes and beg for deliverance with an abandon that is deep and delicious and total. My body is claimed, no longer mine, and I am stripped of all will, transported through flames of scorching savage hell fire to the very gates of heaven itself.
A whipping. Yes.
A whipping will save me.
I needed to be flogged.
I must be flogged.
Continues Slave Tales: The Hunt (XIV)