3 comments/ 28445 views/ 8 favorites Jem's Slave By: kaitlynB "Come here, girl," one of the sitting guards said, leaning back, smiling. I set my jar down and crossed the slaves' dormitory, kneeling in front of the powerful legs that his uniform handsomely contoured. I didn't look up at him, but I knew his eyes were laughing at my shaking. I didn't have to look at the other seated guard, either, to know he was watching with amused interest. "It's time to go back inside your cage." Panic overtook my reflexes at the thought of the cramped, suffocating cage I came in that day, unable to move, so hard to breath. Not knowing what else to do, I flung my chestnut hair onto the grey cement floor. "Please," I begged, "please don't make me go back in there, Master, it's so small..." I'd spent days in there, these guards the first to let me out to stretch...and serve them. I thought I might be given a bed, as the other slaves were already sleeping in. "Awww..." he laughed, "poor little thing." He spoke deliberately, smoothly, blue eyes flexing, "So scared...and such a pretty little thing to have to spend all that time alone. I'll tell you what: I'll let you stay out here, with me, for a while longer if you want to lick my boots clean." He smiled down at me as the other next to him chuckled. My wide eyes flew to his dusty boots as I woodenly responded, "Of course, Master... thank you Master," I exhaled, both relieved and upset, as I bent my head to go to work. He reached down and mildly grabbed my hair, guiding me, as he picked up his feet and crossed them on a chair across from him. "There you go, that's more comfortable for us both." He turned to his fellow guard casually, "What time's your shift over?" I tried to hide my utter disgust for the task since I was grateful for the time it bought me. My tongue glided over every inch of smooth black leather, breathing in the soft, sweet scent as the two men bantered mindlessly about their day, their plans for the next, things they'd like to do; I didn't want to bring attention to myself by doing a poor job. Any speck of dust I found I licked until it shone, sliding my tongue deferentially over the boots of this most kind man. He hadn't hurt me, had let me out of my cage shortly after I arrived, and threw me scraps from his dinner. He didn't have to do any of that; he could have ignored me like the rest of the slaves he was watching over during his shift. He could have left me in the cage until my new owner had called for me. I wanted to delay that meeting as long as possible, and wanted to keep the favor of this guard. I licked, fearfully, gratefully, savoring an opportunity to please him. I didn't want to give him reason to turn on me. A long while I cleaned, until every inch of his boots was shiny and polished. I desperately searched for new spots, not wanting my task to be over, not wanting to go back inside the cage. But he looked down and noticed the job was finished, turning his feet admiringly. "Not bad, girl, not bad at all." He set his feet on the ground and pulled me in between his knees, forcing me to feel the heat from his body, looking at me with curiosity. "What a good little slut you are. Wouldn't you like to lick the boots clean of any man who asked you?" I was afraid, unsure of what he was fishing for. "M..master, I would have to do anything I was commanded by a Master," I faltered. The corners of his mouth pulled his smile just a bit wider. "That's true," he said, pulling me up and onto his lap, "but I think my little slut that I have right here ENJOYS it." He forced me to straddle him, and the small slave's dress I wore rose up far on my hips. I'm never allowed undergarments, so all of my glistening intimacies were widely exposed to him. I couldn't look him in the eyes; I stared at his chest, muscular, tight. He ran both of his hands up the smoothness of my thighs. "And, I think you'd do anything a man asked if it worked to your advantage." His finger reached in between my thighs to tickle my clit. "Isn't that true?" I squirmed in his lap, my face burning with both intense shame and intense pleasure. "Master, I'd have to do anything a man asked of me, whether or not it worked to my advantage," I whispered, his face so close to mine I breathed in the masculine scent of his skin. "Ah..." he said, traveling a finger all over my wetness, exploring it as if it were a mystery. "But you know...good slut behavior his rewarded. Bad slut behavior is punished. So I will give you a choice," he kept playing with my clit, driving me further and further to madness, "you may perform for me well and sleep in my bed, or you can leave my fingers right now and go crawl into your cage. What will it be, slut? My bed or your cage?" "Master, may I sleep in your bed?" He chuckled, "You'd trade your pussy juice for a nice warm place to sleep?" "Yes, Master," I choked out. His sly smile cruelly widened. Smooth and quiet, "Beg me. Beg me to fuck you in exchange for sharing my bed." "Master," I nearly cried, my eyes filling with tears; how did my life come to this? "This little slave begs of you, please, fuck me and use me however you want, I beg you, and allow me please to share your bed? Please don't make me go back in the cage, I'll do whatever you want..." "Ah, good girl. Enjoy it, slut; savor every minute of it." One of his hands wrapped around my back while the other hand's fingers pushed deep inside of me, his arms squeezing in on me. "It'll likely be the last time you enjoy sex in a while." "Speaking of him," said the other guard, "is she a virgin? You know you can't have her if she is." I gasped sharply as he probed deeper. "Nope..." he cooed, "She's free for us to play with until Prince Jaimeth wants her." "Damn...this is why I love working for him," said the second sitting upright, now leaning his elbows on his knees. "Best assignment a soldier could ask for." The guard whose lap I sat upon kept tickling me inside, watching intently my reaction. "What about you, girl...are you happy you are going to be working for Prince Jaimeth? We make it worth you while, do we not?" My pulse thundered in my ears as my body moved towards ecstasy. I fought with myself to answer him: "Master...I hope...I....am found...pleasing..." "Awww, such a good little slave," he purred teasingly. "I hope you're found pleasing too." "Don't hog her all to yourself, let me have a turn." His mouth twisted reluctantly, but he withdrew his fingers. "Go on, girl. Go show him what I'm going to be enjoying all night." Nervously, I slid off his lap, hating to leave him, and woodenly walked to the second man. He could clearly see the juices making my thighs wet and sticky. "Well, she likes YOU sure enough! Alright, girl, let's see it. Take everything off; strip!" I blushed, tears falling from my eyes, as I pushed each strap from my shoulders and let the dress fall to the floor. "Mmm hmmm, very nice...turn and let me see the back...nice, plump and tight," he gripped my ass and molded my globes together roughly, and I strained to maintain my composure. It's not like I haven't been naked in front of men before. My trainers at the slave school often took our clothes as punishment. But I was still far too new to this to get used to changing hands so easily, having no privacy, no part of my body off limits to any man. When I was sold to Prince Jaimeth, I knew I would have to perform for him. It had never occurred to me that I would also be subject to any man who worked for him, knew him, or was related to him. "That's enough, you'll get your turn with her. Come here, slut, get on the floor and crawl back to me." I wanted to cover my body up, run and hide, find a safe place to be. But nowhere was I safe. Nowhere could I hide myself. I would be a physical object for lust, one to work sexual frustrations out on, to give myself wholly to anyone to demand it of me. I wasn't really myself anymore. I was whatever anyone else wanted of me. So my naked skin met with the cold floor, and abjectly I crawled over to my captor for the night, unable to stop shaking from shame. When I reached him, he pulled me back onto his lap, kissing all parts of my body. Although he looked extremely clean shaven, a faint roughness agitated my fair skin. I felt his breath puff against my ear just before he coarsely whispered, "Tell me your name, girl. I want to know who to call for later if you're any good..." I felt him smile, "...and if the Prince keeps you around." "Saryn, Master. My former Master called me Saryn." "Mmmm..." he murmured, kissing me, lifting me up to carry me off. "...Saryn. I like it." Once we got to his bed for the night (temporary lodging for this shift), he spread me on the crisp clean sheets. My body drank in the warm embrace of the soft surface before he descended upon me and took me in slow jerking thrusts. I tried to block out the pleasure, tried to remind myself I wasn't always a slave, tried not to enjoy it. But each time his hard heat assaulted my moist cove, I hated myself for thinking I might actually enjoy being a body slave. ****** My rude awakening came early in the morning, plunged from a deep sleep into shock via a slap onto the cold, hard floor. "Shift's up," my night's keeper explained, pushing me towards the exit with his foot, smiling, "time for you to get to work with the other slaves." He concentrated on dressing himself, and I urgently looked around the room for something to dress myself in. "Um, Master, what is it that I am supp..." I didn't get to finish before he whipped his belt once at me, still smiling: "Get out of here! Go! The other girls will tell you what you're supposed to do! Stay out of trouble until you're called for!" Embarrassed, I hesitantly made my way back to the slave's dormitory where most of the girls were dressed and already going about their activities. I found the dress I had stripped off the night before and carefully slipped it on; no one seemed to notice I was there. I suppose a naked girl creeping in wouldn't be anything new or strange to these women. I kept my eyes down for the most part, but I was searching for some indication as to what I was supposed to do. Luckily, I didn't have to guess long; the head slave, carrying a chart and a whip, came and found me. He looked down at his chart, then up at me, then back at his chart again. Looking at me questioningly, he asked, "Saryn?" "Um, yes...Sir?" He chuckled, looking at his chart. "No need for that deary. You'll have enough people to throw respect at. Think of me as your friend." He cocked an eyebrow, and looked serious for a moment, "But a friend who needs to keep both of our hides away from a whip. I carry one, and I'll use it, but only to save us both from a worse beating later. Understand?" I smiled coyly at him, happy to think I might have a friend. "Yes...I understand." "Good. Says here you're trained as a body slave." He didn't really need an answer, but he visually assessed me hard. "Good...good, he'll like you." He looked into my eyes and shrugged, "Just don't do anything stupid, like look at him or speak to him." "Oh come..." I ventured, loosening up to this fellow slave, "could he really be all that bad?" He jerked back as if I struck him, then stared at me with the same sentiment. "Do you want to live?" "...yes?" I replied, confused. "Then fear him like you fear no other." I stared mouth agape when he paused to let it sink in before he jerked his head, "Follow me." Hurrying after him, trying to keep my head down, I noticed the pensive looks as I crossed the dormitory, myself noticing some differences in some of the slaves. No one was dressed modestly by any account, and no one could be considered unattractive. Still, by small variations in dress and demeanor, I began to sort who must do what, from the cleaning girls in white and cooks in aprons, to what I only assumed were other body slaves wearing see-through dresses, or only simple jewelry. Some of the body slaves must have thought I didn't measure up; their noses high in the air, they seemed to detest my arrival. I revealed my observation to the head slave as I followed him through wide double doors. "Oh," he laughed, "don't worry. None of the body slaves like each other. There is pretty stiff competition for favor, and they've all done each other in to get ahead. You'll understand... soon." He waved his hand around the room so I would observe it. I didn't realize was this enormous room was at first, because I'd never seen a bathroom this large before. Slowly, however, I took in the large pool for a bath, smaller pools for soaking, ornate mirrors to observe every angle, shelves of creams, lotions, and cosmetics, all varieties of scrubbers, scrapers, and delicate razors, drawers of combs, brushes, and hairpieces, polishes and paints, perfumes and soaps. Beautiful, the entire room, and everything a girl could dream of to pamper herself. The head slave, however, did not appear overly indulgent as he described what everything was for. "Understand: you're only responsibility when you're not directly with Jem is to keep yourself at all times in a condition that would please him." "Jem? Who is..." The head slave cringed. "Shit...it's a very bad habit of mine. Everyone in the palace refers to Prince Jaimeth as Jem, and one hears it so often it becomes second nature. If you hear 'Jem' wants something, do it, because that is your Master. Take very good care of yourself;" he turned back to the room, "everything you can imagine is here for your disposal. Use it. All. Keep everything about yourself, inside and out, clean, fresh, beautiful, and smelling good." "This..." I ventured shyly, gesturing, "...is all I do all day?" The corners of his mouth pulled as he shrugged. "Kind of. There's also exercise, which I make sure all you girls stay in top physical shape. The equipment room is off the bathroom on the other side. Immediately after exercise, back in here. Any time of day, you might be called to bathe any master, serve food, dance for guests...anything your owner wants something beautiful to do for him. He entertains often, so you'll stay busy. Any questions?" "Just one," my voice whispered. "When am I going to...meet Prince Jaimeth?" "Tonight. He's asked for his new girls: you and one that came in last week he hasn't seen. You'll find he has..." he searched for a polite way to put it, "...varying tastes. Just remember: your skin belongs to him, and anything he wants is his right to have. Do whatever he wants, no complaints or hesitations. Anything else?" The lump in my throat grew. "I've heard rumors at the school of royalty's 'tastes.' Is...is he going to hurt me?" He solemnly licked his upper lip before answering. "Most likely...yes." I paled and my knees grew weak. As I began to falter a bit, the head slave caught and steadied me. "No need for that, there's nothing you can do about it except do your best." Cradling me until I caught my balance, he whispered, "And one little secret some girls figure out, some girls don't: he LIKES it when you're terrified of him. But that's a double edged sword: if he likes you, he's easier on you, but calls for you more often. Play that how you want to." I nodded, indicating I both understood and was okay to stand on my own. The head slave backed away from me and turned to leave. "Alright, I have other things to do this morning. I laid outfits for you and the other girl on beds I assigned you. Exercise, clean up, be ready by dinner this evening. You two are the Prince's entertainment for tonight." ****** The day went more quickly than I thought it would. No one seemed to want to talk to me, and being new, I didn't care to make waves by talking to anyone else. I busied myself figuring small things out: where things were, how to use them, and our loose schedule for exercise and eating. I bathed, exfoliated, rubbed cream into my skin, pinned up my long chestnut hair, and then sat in front of a large mirror to put on my cosmetics. There was something strange about staring at myself, preparing myself to be used by a man I've never met. I looked into my own eyes; who would have thought these eyes belonged to the same girl determined to become a politician to represent the low working class? So many times my eyes practiced staring at themselves, conjuring hard looks of resolve and determination, communicating fiercely that my voice would not be silenced. Tears now blurred my vision. That look in my eyes is what landed me here! When the soldiers of the palace had come to the village for a routine inspection, and I saw my opportunity to make an impression, make demands for the people. The owner of my family's land had wanted a quiet, event-free inspection, but in my youth I caused a stir, yelling at the soldiers of the injustices being done to us. They didn't seem to pay much attention, but once they left, the land's owner decided I must go. He sold me to a slave school, where apparently my strong indignation was a virtue. My trainers relished forcing me to do the most menial tasks, and serve at every promotion event. As fortune would have it, one such event was attended by a royal entourage, and as a gimmick to encourage the royalty to buy from the school, a chosen slave was offered to each member. Prince Jaimeth liked my legs; I was crated up for shipment to Princes' Hall the next day. Several days later, here I was, finishing the last touches of my eye makeup to 'please'...Jem. The occasional tear that had caused me to fix mistakes several times now vanished in amusement. Dare I think of him that way? The pet name seems so much less intimidating. He simply can't be as horrible as people say. My eyes looked back into the mirror, back at Jem's slave. "I need to make the best of this," I told myself. No, this isn't the life I wanted, but it's the life I must live. I have to get through this with as little pain as possible. A new look of determination flashed through my eyes as I lined them with in dark black; how many other girls had the opportunity to influence Prince Jaimeth, the heir to Pangain himself? Perhaps I was lucky, I thought as I dusted light shimmering powder under the arches of my brow. I thought of ways that I might please him, garner his favor, sway his thinking. Stroking the last lengthening creams on my eyelashes to make them look enormous, I was satisfied, and was sure the Prince would be as well. And not a moment too soon; the head slave instructed me and the other new girl that is was time. ****** We spent a long, contemplative time on our knees in his dark bedroom, waiting. The wait was probably the killer: too much time to think. We had to be ready; on our knees, heads to the floor, hands on either side of our faces, humbly ready to greet our Master, Prince Jaimeth. His enormous bed was behind us on a raised dais; it was a sight I couldn't help but fantasize about when the guards ushered us into our positions. In the dark, nervous, not knowing what to expect, we waited. I had only seen him from a distance before; I could barely remember what he looked like. I've heard rumors of his "preferences", but no one ever really know what to separate as fact and fiction. My mind betrayed my earlier determination as it cried out silently: "This isn't right! You shouldn't be here! Why did this have to happen to me?" I wondered if the girl beside me was thinking the same things. Was she in fear? Her breathing seemed to be in control, silent. We hadn't spoken a word to one another, and I didn't know whether her presence was a comfort or another irritation. At least we weren't tied, I thought. We could have been bound in some uncomfortable position for hours, but lucky for us, we've so far been allowed to move freely. The giant doors to the room creaked open rapidly, widely, throwing a flood of light onto our two kneeling figures. Blinking up through my eyelashes I could see a guard at each door, holding it open. "Good evening, Sir," I heard one of them greet the approaching figure. A dark shadow fell on us once again as a masculine figure interrupted the incoming flow of light. "Hmmm...," began a dark cognac-laced voice, evidencing a smile, "a good evening indeed. These are my new ones?" Jem's Slave "Yes, Sir." "Excellent." Two other small figures were seen entering the dark room; two other slave girls lit the room for him as he sauntered in, the guards pulling the doors shut. He made his way to stand directly in front of us; not that we dared to look up, but one of his sandals was planted firmly in front of each our faces. He just stood there, assumingly looking down at us. My breath quickened as I listened to the other two slaves bustle around the room, arranging things for him. When they finished, they knelt at his left side, closest to me, the same way we were kneeling. "You're dismissed," he instructed without looking at them. They both reached in to kiss his feet, then scrambled to leave. Their deference to him somehow made me more nervous. Again, not looking up but able to tell from his legs, he crouched down to sit on his haunches. "Well, my little beauties, kneel up, let's have a look, shall we?" Nervously, we complied, kneeling with our backs completely straight, knees apart, hands folded on our laps, chins up but eyes downcast that they looked nearly closed. He didn't touch us, but looked us over, and through our lowered lashes we got to do the same to him. I don't know how, but I could just tell he was handsome. He was extremely muscular, which surprised me for royalty (why work hard when someone else can do it for you?), and the hair on his legs suggested he had dark brown head hair and would have to shave often to stay smooth. He chuckled suddenly, fluid ripples like water over stone. "Have you two seen one another?" "Yes, Master," "Yes, Master," we each answered in turn. He reached out with his thumbs and stroked our faces. "Have you two touched each other?" "No, Master," "No, Master," almost in unison this time. "Hmm," he sighed, contemplatively. "Stay on your knees, and turn to face one another." We shuffled on the floor into the position he wanted. "Undress each other." We each reached out to slowly, carefully, slide our simple iridescent dresses off one another, pushing the shoulder straps off, than each helping the other squirm out of it from the bottom. He pointed at me. "Tell me, what does her hair smell like?" I leaned in closer to the girl across from me, breathing in her scent. "Master, her hair smells like berries," I answered softly just above a whisper. "Does her skin smell the same?" I squirmed uncomfortably; what did he want me to do? I leaned in closer to her neck. "No, Master, her skin smells like warm vanilla." "Does her skin taste like vanilla?" My chest heaved; was he out of his mind? "Master, I don't..." "Go ahead, taste it," he interrupted me. "Describe it to me." The girl across from me knelt rigidly still as I shuffled closer to her. I gently slid my warm tongue across her collarbone, then lowered my eyes again. "Master, her skin tastes salty and sweet." "Hmm...how lovely. What do her breasts taste like?" I nearly choked on a sob. I knew I was going to perform sexually for him, but never, EVER have I had to do this with a woman. I lowered my head to take a breast in my mouth. I licked over the surface, then enclosed the nipple in my lips, swirling around it with my tongue. It tasted more plain, slightly rubbery, but I couldn't tell him that; I knew it wasn't what he wanted to hear. "Master, it tastes just as sweet." A large smile spread across his face, "Good...now tell me what her breast feels like." I hesitated, and he cocked his head sideways a bit. "Oh come on! Feel it, rub it, grab it, tell me how much it weighs, how elastic it is, how much it would swing if I fucked her from behind!... ...I'm curious," he trailed with mischievous innocence. I cupped both of them and gave him answers to his questions, forbidding my voice to tremble as I described them the best I could. "Very nice," he offered, apparently satisfied. "I want you to describe the rest of her body that way. Go over every inch of her skin, and tell me what it smells like, tastes like, and feels like. Taste, touch is all. I want to know what I'm about to enjoy." He settled on his own knees to make himself more comfortable, then almost gently he ran his fingers through the other girl's hair. "Sit still, little beauty. Don't move; I'd hate to make you cry so soon." He didn't wait for her nod in response to turn back to me. I slid my hands over her breasts, then down her stomach, down her thighs, all the way to her feet. He watched intently, and his implicit plan was working marvelously: all three of us were extremely aroused. My own thighs were dripping, which he seemed to notice, as I tangled my body around hers to comply with the inspection. She could hardly sit still, squirming, moaning low in her throat in response to my caresses. I couldn't see his face (I'd never dare look at it), but I could tell he was enthralled. Satisfied I had pleased him, I sat back on my globes again, waiting further instruction. He cocked his head slightly to the side again. "That's it?" "Master," I tried, confused, "I believe I described everything to you?" "Oh come now, you forgot my favorite part. What does her cunt taste like? Go on, don't overlook such a sweet delight." I sucked in my breath, and lowered my head, trying to hide my disgust as I extended my tongue. I felt his hand caress my hair, "Good girl, get a good taste of that, tell me what I'm going to enjoy about this new cunt I own. What does it taste like?" "Master," I began, trying to sit up but he held my head there, "It tastes nice, very clean and healthy." I don't know why, but this made him laugh. "Clean and healthy is good. Does it have a nice scent as well?" "Yes Master." "Feel it, put your fingers in side of her. How tight is she?" The girl closed her eyes tightly and bit her bottom lip, fighting fiercely with herself to maintain her position as I probed her. "She feels tight, Master." He pointed at the other girl. "Same question. Feel her inside, and describe it to me." For the first time, the other girl moved, and getting close to me, she placed one hand on my shoulder while the other's fingers slipped into my wetness. "Master," she said, "she is very wet and smooth, and feels tight inside." "I like them very wet. Suck on your fingers; how does she taste?" After sucking, "Very good, Master; sweet even." "Do you think I'm going to enjoy fucking her?" She blushed deeply. "Y...yes Master, I think you would enjoy that," she said, head down. "Will I like fucking her more than fucking you?" What a question! "I...I hope my Master finds me pleasing as well," she told him. Without looking at him, I knew his eyes flashed. "That's not what I asked. Who am I going to like fucking more, you or her?" Her hands fidgeted a moment. "Me, Master." He tried to stifle laughter as he demanded, "and why is that?" She fidgeted more, but tried to appear bold, "Because I'm going to try harder to please you." A terribly wide smile overtook his face, and small chuckles escaped him, try as he may to appear serious about the matter. He turned back to me, "What do you think about what she just said?" I don't know what came over me, but I burned with hatred for the other girl, and glared at her hard. "Master, I don't see anything that makes her more pleasurable than I am." "Good," he laughed, "I'm glad you're thinking that way, because the two of you are going to play a little game. Come here, come here," he said standing, taking each of us by an arm to help us up. We both winced, having remained kneeling and stiff for such a long time. He guided us each by the arm up the stairs to his bed, made us stand facing it, than sat in between us facing us. He reached out with both hands to stroke our asses as he spoke. "The three of us are going to have a bit of fun. You're both going to do whatever I tell you, which is going to involve pleasuring me as well as each other. But you two are going to be in a little competition, and I'm going to be the judge. You each need to out-do the other one in terms of who is more pleasurable. The winner of this little contest, I'm going to allow to climax underneath me as I fuck you. The loser..." he pointed to a post with chains on it to the side of his bed, "...is going to get whipped severely by one of my guards for the duration of the winner's fucking. And to make our little game more interesting..." his strong, smooth hands wrapped around us and pulled us onto the bed so we each sat on either side of him, "...you're not going to use your hands. Just your bodies, and your tongues." I felt my wrists pushed together behind my back before I heard/felt the cold metal of manacles tightening on my wrists. I mildly pulled at them to gain a sense of my limits as he placed a set of manacles on her. He smiled as panic overtook our faces. We pulled at our bonds, and our eyes couldn't stop wandering to the whipping post. Why would he do this? We both were going to try our hardest to please him, why would he hurt one of us for that? Then the cocky son-of-a-bitch laced his hands behind his head and leaned back on the bed. For the first time, we were both sitting higher than him, so even looking down, we could make out small features of his head: short, choppy brown hair, an attractive face and jaw line, and was indeed clean-shaven. I couldn't see his eyes; from what I understand, I never want to. "What are you waiting for? Time's ticking away for you to impress me." Almost scrambling, we each had to fight the urge to hurt him or one another in our zeal to win. We started undressing him with our teeth, trying to be as seductive as possible. Soon, all three of us were naked and rolling over one another. We were each left to our own skills, but without saying much, he directed our actions. Grabbing a fist full of hair, he'd shove one of our mouths over his cock, and pulled the other one to straddle him, drooping her breasts in his face. He seemed to love sucking on nipples; every position he moved us to he seemed to have a nipple in his mouth. He also was thrilled watching the two of us suck on each other's breasts. He'd have us kneel on either side of his body and play with our asses as we sucked each other's chests, sliding our faces all over one another. He knelt over top of us, having a fist in each of our hair, and would alternately push one down on his cock and pull the other one up to suck on her, then push her down and pull the other up. He'd push us towards one another, forcing us to lick each other's cunts, lapping up our respective sweet juices, then forcing us to use those juices from our lips to wet his cock. The man was like a machine; whatever we did to his lovely, long cock, he seemed to withstand it, having stamina beyond anything I've ever seen. At one point he pulled her onto his face, forcing her to straddle his mouth, and using his tongue began sucking and eating her beautiful pussy. I burned with jealousy, wishing it was MY pussy his lips wrapped around. But I saw this as my opportunity to provide him pleasure while she could only sit there. I sat on his stomach, facing his feet, and deep-throated his cock, swallowing at it, sucking it down, then pulling it out, licking the length of it down to his testicles, my breasts heaving against his stomach. My face strained further down to take his testicles in my mouth, and used my wet, sweet tongue to tickle at him, suck on him, dance around, then plunge even further down towards his asshole. Facing his feet, I could see the whipping post all too clearly. The sight of it emboldened me, made me do things in desperation I would have never done before. I pressed my face into his ass, and sought out his hole with my tongue. I was amazed, he didn't even taste bad. There was some hair, and the salty taste of skin, but I licked in small little circles, hoping to drive him mad with desire. My plan backfired. He equated those wonderful sensations I was providing him with the eating of her cunt. He ripped his head away from her, threw back his head, and yelled, "That's fanTASTIC!" then threw her from him. I smiled, thinking I had just won, but was shocked when he turned her on her back, grabbed my face, and pushed me into her pussy. "Lick that" he shot breathlessly, putting a finger into my cunt, and a finger into hers. "She wins, and you're going to get her ready to climax for me." I was shocked! I wanted to jerk away and argue with him, but he seemed to anticipate this and pump my cunt harder with his fingers. "Don't you dare, you stay down and lick her." I began tearing up already. I felt the girl beneath me move and squirm, writhing in pleasure as my rough wet tongue lapped flatly over her. Upstrokes were all I could manage, over and over, licking up and up, the steady, consistent friction driving her over the edge. He laughed and asked her, "Hey there, precious, are you ready to come for me? Do you want your prize?" She threw her head back with no inhibition, "Yes Master! Pllleeeaaasssee!!!! I want it so bad!!! Let me have it, Please Master!" He smiled down at her kindly, roughly threw me to the floor, and laughed once again, "Heh, alright, I'll give it to you," he collapsed down on her with a kiss on the mouth. "Just wait one second, lovely. GUARD!" He called over his shoulder. A guard entered the room, "Yes, Sir?" I blushed, but the guard didn't seem to care; he must be used to seeing his Master in the throes of passion. "See that girl?" Prince Jaimeth pointed to me. "Tie her to my pole, and beat her well. I want to hear her screams as I enjoy the morsel underneath me." "Yes, Sir. Come here, you," he said quietly to me as he picked me up and carried me to the pole. I wanted to fight, but I was too paralyzed. I couldn't believe this was happening! The guard had already unlocked my hands from behind my back and was tying my hands above my head before I threw myself in desperation. "Please, Master, no! Please don't do this! Master, please, I tried so hard, please have mercy, Master! No! Don't do this, please!" Jem had already turned back to the winning girl and was kissing her passionately, crushing her body beneath his. He broke his head away from a kiss to throw me a smile, "Hush, little lovely, spare your voice. Go ahead, guard, give the little slut a beating." He turned back to the other girl, spread her thighs so that she wrapped her legs around his back, and be thrust sharply, rapidly into her. I heard the whip whistle through the air before it landed with a loud crack on my back, only silenced by my terrible scream. Even through my scream, I could hear Jem moan, in ecstasy, pumping away hard and fast into his victor. The second blow drew another terrible scream from me, and the third landed before I could even catch my breath. "PLEASE MASTER! NO!" Only moans and grunts from him rose above wet slaps of their enjoined bodies. Over and over the whip fell, and harder and harder Jaimeth raped the girl as if my screams were a serenade of sweet music. I remembered what the Prince had said: the beating would last until their love-making was over; "that sick bastard!" my mind cried out, "the screams are actually helping him!" And I remembered his stamina, and I fell into despair knowing the beating wouldn't soon be over. The whip kept falling and falling, and I kept screaming until my throat was raw, and I began losing my voice. When I could no longer stand or scream, I limply hung from the pole, the bindings cutting into my hands, my only response a jump and yelp when the whip landed. If I wasn't mistaken, the guard was now hitting me less frequently, as if he too wished it would just end. Finally, the end mercifully came. The winning girl moaned and cried her orgasm, and Jaimeth erupted inside of her with a yell of his own. The guard dropped his arm, not letting the whip fall on me again, as he stood back, waiting for instruction. Jem took his sweet time regaining his breath, and lay collapsed on his pillows, sweating heavily. He kicked at the girl in his bed, still unable to fully speak. "Go..." he heaved, coffee hair mashed to his forehead, "get out of here, I'm done with you." She scrambled off the bed, arms still cuffed behind her back, and clumsily made her way out the door. Jem seemed to forget I was there. "Sir?" the guard asked on my behalf, "What do you want done with this one? Want me to take her back as well?" He thought for a minute, the sound of his heavy breathing slowing. "No...no, I might want to try her out later. Chain her up outside in the hallway," he laughed, "I need a break." He turned over onto his stomach to make himself comfortable to sleep. My hair a mess, my makeup running down my face, and my skin all over bright red, I only hung from the pole as the guard began unchaining me. He was so gentle in the way he touched me, and so careful while lifting me to carry me out, I wondered if he actually felt sorry for me. Despite the fact that it was his arm that brought the whip down on me, I found myself nestling into his chest for comfort. There were rings outside to be chained to, which surprised me. Was the royalty ready to chain a slave absolutely anywhere? I was laid on the floor, again my hands over my head, and chained to the wall. The guard stood to leave, but turned back suddenly. "Try to sleep," he whispered looking down at me. "I doubt he'll call for you." At that, he turned once more and strode down the hallway, leaving me alone on the cold floor with the posted door guards as company. I squeezed tears of pain and shame from my eyes. I didn't expect this, not on my first time with him. Body slaves were supposed to serve his body. I tried to do that, why did he have to hurt me? My mind was exhausted, and despite myself, I quickly fell into a deep sleep, only disturbed by my own hiccup sobs. I thought I was dreaming when I heard a man approach me and stand next to me. I thought it was a nightmare, reliving the beating I just received. In my sleep I cringed, curled up, tried to get away from the pain. The whispered string of curses that followed alerted me that it wasn't only a dream, but there was really a man standing nearby. No! Don't hurt me! My mind silently shouted at him, my eyes snapping open, my tear-streaked face looking up at him in fear. I looked right at his face, a crime I was too terrified to avoid. I gasped at the iciest blue eyes I had ever seen, framed in beautiful ash blonde hair: gorgeous! Was my breath taken away by fear or awe? I opened my mouth to beg him not to hurt me, beg him for help, but he quickly reached down to cover my mouth. He didn't say anything, only burned a message into my eyes with his own sapphire coals: "stay quiet, don't wake the Prince." Holding a finger up to his lips and looking at me in warning, he opened Prince Jaimeth's door a crack and slipped inside. I was shocked, thinking it a bold move for anyone. He reemerged a moment later with a blanket in his hand, which after shutting the door, he shook out and covered me gently. My eyes only emitted fear, pain, and confusion. I wanted to thank him, but again he held up his hand and shook his head. Our entire transaction was silent, and I watched the blonde angel walk down the rest of the hallway into his own room. Snuggling against my new treasure, I fell asleep happy for the small comfort, the random kindness, and hoped I would see him again. ****** Morning found me forgotten. No one who came to Prince Jaimeth's room paid any attention to the ragged girl outside his door. Not the slaves who came first to help him dress, nor his advisors who reported the days events, nor the guards who changed shifts, nor his younger brother and sister who dropped in for a visit. Mid-morning my stomach rumbled; it had been forever ago since I had eaten, and I was stiff and sore. Just when I thought I would break down and call for help, Prince Jaimeth emerged with an entourage of several advisors and his young siblings. All seemed to be enjoying the morning, and only after exiting his door did he stop abruptly to look down at me. I kept my eyes down, but I could tell from his demeanor he had forgotten I was there. Remembering me for the first time, he laughed and turned to one of the door guards. "Who the hell gave her a blanket?" Jem's Slave A guard cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "On the way back to his room last night...um...Lord Rayth stopped and...um...covered your slave, Sir. Jem sighed, staring at the ceiling and blinking in disbelief. "Rayth. That fucking pussy." He chuckled and shook his head. "What is with him and his thing for slaves?" Everyone laughed, seemingly in on a private joke, and all moved in unison as Jem progressed forward. "Let her go," he called, "she needs to fucking clean herself up." ****** Hobbling back in shame to the dormitory for the second day in a row, I was grateful that most of the girls had already bathed and left the bathhouse. Taking some soaps and scents, I settled into a small pool, and laid in to soak. My muscles were so stiff from sleeping with my hands tied; the hot water felt lovely. Slowly, I washed the stickiness from my thighs, then leaned my head back and closed my eyes. "Enjoy your night, Saryn?" a giggling voice taunted from the doorway. My eyes shot open. Her. The "other girl." I didn't even know her name. I glared at her as she came into the room with several other girls...other body slaves, all smug. "Not able to keep our little Jem happy are you?" another girl taunted. "You're lucky if he doesn't sell you." I looked at the water, tears welling. "I'd be lucky if he DID sell me." Another girl slapped the water of the pool I was in. "How DARE you say that! So disrespectful to our Master. How about I go tell him what you just said and see what he does to you then?" The "winner" from last night stretched seductively. "How about I go tell him? I'm sure he'd be happy to see me again." The girls giggled as my body tensed. They were terrible! How dare they gloat at my misfortune? One girl jumped into the water with me and started caressing my breasts. "Doesn't Jem like yours? They usually always make him happy, you must be terrible." I pushed her away, and she pushed back. Another girl from the top slapped me. "Don't be angry at us just because we know how to please our Master!" "Yes, because none of you have ever fallen victim to his whip before, right?" A new voice sarcastically called from the doorway, seemingly defending me. The voice's owner strolled into the room carrying a large tray. All the girls stopped and backed away with me, looking at this detractor with more contempt than they did me. "Why Alenya," one spat, "so lovely of you to descend from on high to mingle with we lowly she-goats." "The pleasure is all yours, I assure you," Alenya countered kneeling beside the pool I was in, setting the tray down. Whatever was inside smelled wonderful. "You girls seem to forget how fast Jem's moods shift, and for all you know he likes this girl. For all you know, he'd be angry if he found her abused by someone other than him." "And I think you forget, Alenya, how much his whip loves the taste of YOUR flesh! Wouldn't he love to know you've come down here to stir up trouble with us?!" one of the girls gloated. Alenya's eyes narrowed on her. "Oh yes," she said sarcastically again, "you go right up to Jem, uninvited, and try speaking to him. See where it gets you, or should I say, what he does to you. In the mean time, I'll go tell MY Master you're threatening me again, and we'll see what HE does to you! Now let me think," she turned her head cockily, "which of our Masters cares more about us?" "Alenya!" Called the head slave into the bathhouse. "What have I told you about flaunting your influence over Lord Rayth?" "Forgive me!" she called in return, half-sincere. "I didn't mean to, but they provoke me!" "Girls! Out of there!" the head slave called. "Leave Saryn and Alenya alone!" The other girls reluctantly made their way out, casting glares of contempt at both of us. Alenya looked at me, half-smirked, and shrugged. "In case you couldn't tell, we haven't gotten along from the day I came here too." I looked up at her, eyes tear-filled with gratitude. "You seem to handle yourself better than I." She laughed, "I didn't at first, that takes time. You have to realize that they're all full of shit; none of the body slaves are better than another." I giggled, "You curse?" "Sure, when no one else is listening. Only in front of the Masters do we need to be," she assumed a dramatic pose of mock humility, "quiet, sweet, and humbly obedient." She went back to her normal self and winked at me. "We also call our Masters by their shortened names around each other. But never...EVER...slip up in front of a free person." I shook my head, "No...I never want to be in their bad graces again." Alenya looked down at me sympathetically. "I have so much to teach you," she shook her head, "but later. First, you must be famished." She opened the tray to reveal a mountain of breakfast foods. "My Master told me he found you in a rough way last night." I sat upright and looked at her wide eyed. "Your Master is..." I went blank for words to describe the angel that found me! She laughed and finished, "Possibly the most gorgeous human being who's ever graced the world? Yes, that's him. Lord Rayth." She stroked my hair, "Eat something, please." I didn't argue with her, and began shoveling the delicious food into my mouth. Between mouthfuls I asked, "Your Master is kind to you?" She sighed, and looked serious. "Yes, he is. Too kind." I asked excitedly, trying not to spit food, "Could you...could you ask him to buy me? Can I be his slave instead?" She somewhat laughed, "He wouldn't do it. I'm the only slave he's ever had of his own. That's why," she waved her hand towards the door, "the other slaves and I don't get along so well. They're terribly jealous. Rayth was everyone's favorite, but he has me do everything he requires now." "Why? She blushed. "He...he thinks he loves me." "Do you love him?" I asked, trying not to spit food, incredulous to consider how ownership and love go together. She looked pensive, almost sad. "He's my Master...I'm required to be the best for him, do whatever he asks of me, regardless of how I feel. Even if I were to admit that I love him, it doesn't change anything; he owns me." Understanding there was enormous complexity between Alenya and her Master, Lord Rayth, I decided to move on. "Does Jem love any of his slaves?" A snorting laugh broke her from her state. "HA! No...no, Jem doesn't love anyone not born of royal, noble, or militant blood." "You don't like my Master very much, do you?" I got an "are you kidding me?" side glare. "Um...no. He has nothing but contempt for all slaves, but Jem and I seem to have special disdain for one another." I looked down and almost whispered, "Is that because he enjoys causing pain?" "Well, there's that, but mostly it involves my Master and Jem being very close since they were young." She smiled, picked up a brush and worked it through my hair, "This is all too much for you to absorb your second day here. You'll get used to it, see how things go, and see how the story evolved. You'll get used to the regular visitors, the family, who to stay away from, and who to go to if you need help." She looked sad again, still brushing my hair. "I'm sorry to say, but life isn't always fun for body slaves. When you're not serving, life is easy. But Jem's just so...unpredictable...the only thing you can trust about him is you can't trust him." She stopped to give me a hug. "I'm sorry for what happened to you last night, but just know it's not your fault, you can't always escape pain, even when you're a good slave...and it will happen again." I shook a bit and held onto her. "Thank you for everything. I can consider you a friend?" "Oh my," she jokingly said, pulling me back a bit, "one of Jem's slaves friends with me? How scandalous." She kissed my forehead, "I'm with Rayth most of my days, but if you need help and I can do it for you, I will." "And I'll stand up for you down here to these other girls," I offered in return. She sort of laughed again, "Hush now, they'll hate you for it, and life is going to be hard enough as it is. We'll just have a special understanding at a distance, that if we need something from the other, we can ask." "Thank you, Alenya." She stood up gracefully to leave. "It's nothing. I'm sure I'll see you around." My friend turned and left. ****** The head slave had gathered about seven of us up to prepare for a special guest coming that evening. We wouldn't have to cook, clean, decorate, or anything of that nature, but Prince Jaimeth was highly on edge, and the head slave thought it best to keep him calm as early as possible. However no one was yet in the lounge; Jem and his friends were fencing to blow off some steam. Only after a long while passed did we hear people approaching; many of them, storming our way. The guards (ever present with royalty) were the first to burst through the door, laughing, sweating, smelling terribly shirtless, as all of the men did. Next followed a Prince Jaimeth, walking side by side with a Lord Rayth, and following them was a man slightly older than my Master carrying Jem's brother. All slaves fell to the floor, hair flung forward, heads on the ground. The entourage didn't know we existed, but were too busy laughing and talking boisterously, settling their sweaty, dirty backs into painfully clean chairs and couches. The other girls with me knew what to do (I was the only new girl in the bunch). We got basins of warm water and soft clean towels, and began wiping the sweat off of them, none of them really paying us any attention. They were too engrossed in conversation. I was, however, excited to see Alenya come into the room, and Lord Rayth's face momentarily etched in delight when she entered. "How's my boy, Nav?" Jem called. The older man picked up the boy slightly on his lap and looked over him. "He's not bleeding, Sir, he'll be fine." "Way to go, Benny, I'm proud of you for sticking it out like that," Rayth laughed, then grabbed a towel from Alenya and threw it at Jem. "Your brother's a jerk, though, huh?" Prince Benito giggled a bit, "Nah, he was just playing like he always does. Besides, he's no match for Captain Navin who was on my side, so I was safe anyway." Everyone laughed as Benny snuggled into Navin and Jem leaned his head back, exhausted. I stayed on my knees in front of one of the guards, wiping grass, dirt, and sweat from his legs. Surprised, the guard reached down and put his hand under my chin, thrusting my face towards his. I kept my eyes down, but I could sense his blue eyes smiling. "Hello, love," he whispered, "you missed me, didn't you?" I was shocked; it was the guard who shared his bed with me the first night I was here! Somehow, I WAS happy to see him! I went to say something to him, but a silent command in his eyes told me to keep quiet: slaves were not to speak in this company uninvited. "Sir!" he called across the room, and pushed me towards him into the middle of the room, "Did you try this one out yet? She's a lovely little thing. A good girl, try to be nice to her." "She bewitched you with her cunt now did she?" Jem laughed at his guard. Prince Benito's face twisted, "What on earth does that mean?" "Uh-oh," came the refrain from the room. Jem laughed and shook his head, pointing at me, "I'll show you tonight after dinner, Benny, using her. I guess it's time my little brother learn the birds and the bees." He looked more closely at me, then recalled who I was. "That reminds me..." he balled up the towel Rayth had thrown at him, and threw it back at him, "...what's with you, dick head, and playing 'good shepard' to the slaves all the time?" "The question for you is why do you have to be an asshole to your slaves all the time?" I was stunned; I haven't yet heard anyone speak so to Prince Jaimeth! "I'm just trying to strike a balance," Jem retorted. "If it were left to you, they'd all be spoiled. Speaking of which, I haven't seen Alenya around in a while...hey Alenya! I've missed you!" Rayth's face turned dark, his voice cold as he snapped, "Alenya! Go to the kitchen and get me a drink." She hurried out of the room without question as the guards laughed, and Jem feigned hurt. "Awww! You're never any fun anymore!" "Fuck you, how about I mess with Princess Isabella tonight when she gets here?" The guards stifled snickers as Jem's face sobered fast. Navin rolled his eyes, "Aw, Rayth, he was finally in a good mood, did you have to bring that up?" Still on the floor in front of Jaimeth, I could sense his tension. What was it that Rayth just said? Princess Isabella? Who on earth was that, and why did she make Jem so tense?" "Fuck," Jem whispered under his breath rolling his neck on the back of the couch. Then he sat up and looked down at me once more. "Girl, I'm getting...thirsty. I need a drink, go fetch one." Remembering the previous night, I was scared to do anything for him, but hiding my trembling, I managed a "Yes Master, right away," before scurrying out of the room. Now, unbeknownst to me, the euphemism "I'm thirsty" meant he wanted a stiff alcoholic drink to relax him. To me, he was dirty, sweaty, and had just been outside fencing, so water was the optimal choice. I ran into the kitchen to fetch the water jug when I ran into Alenya. "Hi!" I said to her happily. She smiled, somewhat subdued, "Hi, Saryn...will you take a drink to Rayth? I know he doesn't want me back out there yet." "Sure," I said, pouring a tall glass of water for Jem, she not paying attention to what I was doing. "Who is this Princess Isabella? Jem seems all worked up over her coming here." Alenya's face lit up. "She's coming here? Oh thank heavens...it'll be a good night then. Jem's always on his best behavior around her. He won't admit it to anyone, but he's entirely in love with her! That's why he gets so tense; she's the only person who's ever made him try to be a better person. Everyone else he barks orders at and demands they comply. He can't do that with her, and he barely knows how to take it!" She laughed, clapping her hands. I wanted to be happy, but I remembered what he'd said to Prince Benito: he was going to show "Benny" the birds and the bees with me after dinner. I didn't care who was coming, I knew what my fate for the evening was. I smiled, though, for Alenya's sake. I wanted her to be happy and relaxed. "I'd better take these drinks out to our Masters," and turned to go. As the door closed, I saw Alenya's face, she seemed to realize something and try to tell me, but I had to hurry. I gave the drink Alenya made to another slave and whispered, "that belongs to Master Lord Rayth." I on the other hand had to serve Prince Jaimeth himself; he had asked for the drink from me. I remembered my drink serves from slave school, and was determined to impress him somehow, perhaps so he would be easier on me in the future. I knelt humbly in front of him, kissed the middle of the glass, then raised the glass to him, putting my head down through my arms. He didn't lean forward to take it, so I extended it further. He still didn't take it right away, which frightened me. Oh heavens, what was wrong? Finally he did take it slowly, but instead of drinking, he turned it, inspecting it, then smelled it. The silence was killing me. Looking up through his eye lashes, I saw his head turn, face etched with incredulous confusion, looking at Rayth and his guards for a silent explanation. My chest heaved: what the devil could be wrong? He looked down at me, face twisted. "What the hell is this?" His words fell on me as a whip might have. My skin still stung from the previous night, and my eyes welled with tears. Please don't let him hurt me again, I begged some unnamed entity. "Mas...master, I...you said you were thirsty...I brought you some water..." I feebly explained. Jem's expression must have been routine for these gentlemen, because the guard who I had spent my first night with stood up, whip drawn, ready to do it if Prince Jaimeth wanted it. No! I cried silently, not another beating, and not from him! Why him? Why is this happening again? But Jem took a sip and laughed. "It's water!" Jem lightly kicked me then waved the standing guard away. My head was swimming. "I did say I was thirsty didn't I, girl? Thank you, heh, for the drink, slave. It's...um...refreshing." He chuckled as did a few people around him before rapidly chugging the rest of the glass. Then after wiping his mouth on his arm, he leaned down very low, putting his head close enough that my nose was buried in short-tussled coffee hair, feeling the sweet heat of his skin as he quietly explained into my ear, "I wanted some alcohol. Strong and straight. Go back to the kitchen and bring me some." My feeble voice shook, "do you have a preference, Master?" I felt his lips smile against my ear, "Cognac." I don't know what came over me, but I was filled with highly emotional gratitude that he explained that to me. While his head was still grazing mine, I grabbed his hand, pressed a kiss onto it, then pressed my tear-stained cheek hard onto it, hugging his hand. I was so grateful to him, and kept turning my head to lay another kiss on him, crying and trembling. "Thank you Master" I murmured crying, "Thank you so much." He ripped his hand away and laughed, "Oh, just go." I stood up and scrambled to the kitchen, looking at the shocked faces of the other slaves. They couldn't believe I didn't get a beating for that. Unpredictable. Jem was simply unpredictable. Just like Alenya said. ****** The rest of the night was very funny to me. We girls were allowed more modest attire as to not offend Jem's precious Princess, although I had the impression she didn't care one way or the other. The way she looked at us throughout dinner and while they were all in the lounge...she just had this look as if to say, "I understand, it's alright." Some women are very jealous of the slaves; she wasn't. If anything, jealousy took a distant third to sympathy, which came in second to appreciation. But it wasn't the Princess that made the night funny. It was Jem. The hard, controlled, self-centered, arrogant hedonist I had spent the previous night with was replaced with a hard on the surface, obviously fragile underneath, stuttering, blushing, self-conscious amateur every time he said anything to her! He's never had to do this with a woman, I realized, smiling, enjoying watching him suffer. Other women he simply told, "crawl into my bed, spread your legs," and they did it. With her, he couldn't MAKE her like him! She could at any moment walk out and leave, say he bored her. She could tell him he wasn't attractive enough, smart enough, whatever she wanted. She could stomp on the pulse of his pride. Perhaps it was wrong of me, as my Master's slave, to dream up these scenarios, but it was too much fun. We all thought so. Usually slaves try to do the least amount of work they have to. Tonight, we were practically fighting over who "got" to serve coffee, just so we could see more of the action. But part of it stung, too. Watching him with her...he adored her. There was much to adore: she was pretty but simple, spoke well but easy to understand, funny but not boisterous, very intelligent but widely reserved. I saw in her all the things I could be...but couldn't. Was she so different from me, other than she was sitting on the couch next to Jem, and I was crawling on the floor praying he wouldn't hit me? Why? Does having royal blood really make that much of a difference? I could have been her...but here I am instead. The night was winding down. The cleaning slaves were already at work, and we body slaves helping where we could. Jem still had his arm around Princess Isabella, who was still laughingly talking to Lord Rayth. He flexed his arm a bit to get her attention. "Are you staying here tonight?" trying to speak low enough that few could hear him, but our ears were all perked up.