Continues from Slave Tales: The Hunt (XIV)
Image – “Devout” by Mebob / Fleshwerk Photography via Deviant Art
We lay in each other’s arms; her sleepy head nestled upon my breasts. The slow steady rhythm of her breathing soothed me and I relished the pleasure of her warm flesh pressed against mine. Stretching out my legs as best I could in a cage that was obviously designed for one slave only, I wrapped my arms more keenly around her and laid the softest peck of a kiss on her forehead.
At that moment the delicate precious beauty of her naked body struck me as utterly perfect. She seemed almost heaven sent. After a day that had had been a maelstrom of excess and which had tested me to my limits, the gods had finally smiled on me, and I could relish this moment of peace.
Once again I couldn’t help wondering why my Mistress had entered me for the slave hunt. She had offered no explanation at all and I still had no idea. My only instruction had been to meet the Master at the seminary where I had received my training as pleasure slave. I was pretty sure she had not intended to punish me but I wondered if there was some lesson she had desired for me. Something I had to learn in order to more fully please and serve her.
Whatever it was I accepted the challenge. And in so doing I felt calm. And free. Yes I know how strange that sounds. There I was, a captured runaway slave awaiting punishment by men and women who would think nothing of tormenting me in order to gratify their darkest sexual fantasies and yet I felt utterly at peace. The paradox was not lost on me. To be a mere object, passive, without will or choice – for some reason this gave me certainty. And yes, pleasure. I wanted them to use me. I actually relished it.
I smiled. I was a true and devout seminary slave. The confessors had trained me well. Whipped for pleasure. The splendor of it made me beautiful and the exhilaration of it brought me to life.
And arousal. My sex, joyfully animated by the direction my thoughts had taken, was moistening and tingling in anticipation. I leaned down to kiss the girl’s forehead and pushed my pussy against her leg. Her beauty was irresistible and once more I succumbed. Very slowly I started to rub myself against her thigh. She did not stir and so I kissed her cheek. Her skin there was milky soft and smooth. She was in the full bloom of her youth and in sleep her beauty was even more striking. Her full lips were slightly parted as if in sensual anticipation and the freckles lightly dotted around her nose fascinated and delighted me. I wanted to count and kiss every single one of them.
My hand slipped tentatively between her legs and sought out her sex. Her pussy had been closely shaved and the skin there was silky and warm. I found her bud and couldn’t resist toying with it, stroking it, teasing it. I looked at her face for any sign of a reaction. Nothing. I smiled. I wanted her now more than ever. I was going to wake her. And wake her in the most sensual way I could think of. My finger entered her. Slowly and gently it pressed against her bud. Carefully now, slowly does it, just enough pressure, pinch her, tickle her, lead her. In her dreams she is waiting for you.
I smiled and closely watched the outward signs of her return to wakefulness. At my ministrations her unconscious naked body started to jerk and twitch and she uttered the most delightful little moans of pleasure. She was mine now. In sleep it was I who controlled her body. And I found that I very much enjoyed the sensation of power I had over her. What could I do with her? I wondered about her secret fantasies. Was she even aware of them? Would I be the one to reveal them to her? Her teacher and Mistress, I would lead her naked to the mirror and have her realize her true self, as my Mistress had done with me.
At my command she was waking now. Surfacing slowly within the pools and eddies of pleasure that I was conjuring for her. Her breathing became faster and more erratic and her hands reached to clutch at her breasts. Her gasps and moans became more frequent as her conscious mind slowly awoke and became aware of the unbearable pleasure into which she had been summoned. She stretched her legs and then suddenly, seemingly unconsciously, almost like an animal, she thrust her moist pussy more forcefully onto my excited fingers. She groaned and shifted on top of me putting cuffed hands over my head and grabbing at me, pulling my body hungrily into hers.
Finally, true awakening. Such joy to behold. At my insistent hand’s behest her face flushed, her features contorted, and her entire body shook and trembled in agonizing ecstasy. I could barely hold her down.
Then she let out a series of the longest sweetest cries. She was singing. For me. And oh how she sang. The notes rang soft and silvery. Just like the moonlight which graced us from above.
Image – unknown
Her head dove into my shoulder. I thought she was going to bite my neck but then, just as suddenly, her body relaxed and appeared to become totally inert. She seemed to enter a kind of slow free-fall. Floating down onto me. Like a light summer rain that was soft and warm to the skin. Melting over me.
I held her for a few moments and then lifted my hand and placed my fingers to my mouth. The sweetest nectar – that of her joyous budding sex.
She opened her eyes and gifted me with her smile. She laughed and the lively gleam in her eyes dazzled me once more and I realized how wonderful it would be to have her greet me like that every day.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
I kissed her. She looked up at me and said, “You’re so calm. Aren’t you scared? They’re going to whip you and do whatever they want with you.”
I took a deep breath. “Yes… but…”
“I don’t want them to hurt you.” She placed a gentle kiss on my cheek and hugged me. “But maybe it doesn’t matter now anyway…”
“What do you mean?”
“They are going to do whatever they want with all of us.” She nodded at the next cage. “One of the other slave girls says they’re pirates and they are taking us to Nikarios to sell in the slave market there.”
I turned my head and stared at her in astonishment. “But they can’t do that! That would be stealing. We are slaves. Property. The slave hunt is just sport.”
“She says it happens every year and slaves disappear all the time. The authorities just keep it quiet and our owners are paid off or get insurance.”
Suddenly it felt like a hole had opened in the pit of my stomach. Gods, could it be true?
I looked around me. It must be getting close to midnight but I couldn’t see anyone making any preparations to pack up and return to the town. If anything, it looked like the camp had been set up for the night. The horses were tied and feeding and from the other side of the tents I could hear shouts and laughing from around the campfire.
There was also the unmistakable sound of someone being flogged. It sounded like a boy. He was crying out and begging them to stop but the lashes just rained down on him relentlessly. Far too quickly for it to be just one flogger. I guessed there were two, maybe three. The lashes had a kind of rhythm. It sounded like they were playing him. I imagined him hanging up, his arms and legs stretched out fully to expose the chest and belly and to make his skin as flat and as taut as possible. Like some kind of tribal drum, they’d beat him and dance and fuck to the rhythm of the lashes upon his writhing body.
Then it struck me how deep in the forest we were. The camp had been well hidden. And no one would hear us. I suddenly realized that what she had said was all too possible. After all, the hunt was not policed. It was a free-for-all. Anything could happen.
And of course they would keep quiet about any losses or irregularities.
So, I had to face it. There was a strong possibility I’d been captured by pirates. Gods, if it were true, not only would I never make it to the seminary to surrender to the Master but I might never get home again at all.
My spirits sank. I had failed. Utterly. I deserved to be whipped. Not just a pleasure whipping but a long hard punishment flogging to make me beg and plead for forgiveness.
I listened to the boy’s cries. They were beating a tempo that now seemed inhuman.
That would be me soon.
Still, I could hardly believe it. Surely someone would come looking for me. My Mistress loved me. I was her pet slave and she would want to know what had happened to me.
But then how would she know where to look? And what if someone told her I’d run away?
I looked out of the cage at the trees beyond. Escape. But how? Our hands were cuffed and the bars of these cages were so strong.
I was trapped.
Continues Slave Tales: The Hunt (XVI)