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A Slave's Journey Begins Ch. 01

By: MidtownKitten



Tara woke with a start. The cart must have hit a bump in the road. She shifted uncomfortably on the thin blanket between her and the hard planks of wood carrying her through the countryside and pulled her shawl tighter about her shoulders. Around her, the furnishings that had filled her home rattled and creaked and she could only hope that everything had been tied down securely. Although not tied down herself, the steel collar around her neck clearly marked her as much a possession as the trunks of china and linens with which she shared the cart. But belonging to whom? Tara closed her eyes and tried not to think of her uncertain future ahead.

In her dream, Tara saw herself as a young girl, bathing with her mother in the cool lake not far from the Master's estate. She had traced the scars on her mother's body many times and knew the story of her escape by night, pregnant and alone, by heart. 

"It was a brave thing you did, mother," she had insisted many times. "The right thing!"

"No, Tara," her mother had replied time and again. "Running away is a shameful thing for a slave to do, no matter how cruel the Master may be."

Tara knew nothing of the cruelty her mother spoke of. When she conjured her childhood, she remembered only days spent in the sun, playing with the children of the villagers and running free. Her Master had been an old man for as long as she could remember, but he had a kind face and sometimes when he returned from trips to the city, he would bring her little gifts - a doll, a dress with a lace hem. She could recall trips to the market where she had seen slaves being auctioned off in the square. Sobbing and struggling, the naked bodies for sale to the highest bidder had held a strange fascination for Tara. Her mother, with collar carefully hidden from prying eyes beneath her shawl, had always hurried her away.

"Disgraceful," she had muttered. "We're just lucky it isn't us."

Tara had never seen any real connection between herself and the slaves at the market until her eighteenth birthday. A fine robe in a rich crimson arrived for her and joining some twenty other girls in their robes, Tara had spent the following weeks beginning her slave training. It was the first time Tara had ever been to the city and as she listened to the excited chatter of the other girls in the expansive home of the Village Slave Mistress, it was also the first time she realized how very little she knew of the world. Snippets of conversations came back to her in fragmented dreams - talk of lavish parties and castles across the sea. And then there were the lessons in the correct positions to assume, the correct words to say,

"Every Master's tastes are different," the Slave Mistress had said. "It's your job to discover them and mold yourself to be all that he desires. He may whip you mercilessly, punish you unfairly, use you until you are sore and give you to men you find vile. All of this you must accept gracefully. Learn to delight in the marks he leaves on your body. You must be open always, pleasing in sight, smell, sound, taste and touch to your Master, and ready to serve him in whatever way he requires. This is who you are and who you must be."

Tara was a dutiful student, although the Mistress had little time for the likes of her. With her gawky limbs, pert breasts, freckled skin and mop of blonde curls (cut short by her own hand much to her mother's dismay), Tara was not exactly the kind of slave on which fortunes were spent or wars were waged. She had none of the exotic beauty or natural charm possessed by other girls. In those first weeks, she had often wondered if she was truly meant to be a slave at all. Plus, there were constant whispers about her - that her mother was a runaway, that her Master was an eccentric with no other slaves other than the one he had stolen.

"Training that girl is a waste." Creeping past the Slave Mistress' room one night, Tara had heard her speaking to an unseen guest and instinctively known they were talking about her. 

"Sir Thomas is an old man now and I hear he is unwell. He rarely comes to the city anymore. His son manages Blackmore Estate, while he hides away in that miserable cottage. The girl and her mother might as well be common housemaids."

Tara had never forgotten those words and back home with her mother, scrubbing the floors, she heard them ringing in her mind with renewed truth. 

"We're barely slaves at all!" she had complained. "Why, we're... we're just common maids!"

Her complaints had earned her a stinging slap that had left a red imprint on her cheek. 

"How dare you say such things?" her mother had seethed at her. "You have no idea how lucky we are. What do you imagine would have become of us if Sir Thomas hadn't taken us in? You should be grateful for what you have. My poor girl - I can't bear to think what will happen to you when we are gone."

Tara had retreated to the garden to sulk, and creeping back in after sunset, had heard her Master's voice, uncharacteristically harsh. 

"I won't do it! How can you even ask me? She's like my own daughter, for god's sake."

"Please, my love, I'm begging you," her mother had replied. "You may see her as a child yet, but the world will see her as a woman and an unclaimed slave. What will happen to her? What will people say?" 

"Of course I will claim her," she heard her Master say. "Tara will always wear the collar of my house and be taken care of. I don't need to touch her for that. Isn't that enough?"

"What if it's discovered? What if it becomes known that your collared slave remains unopened? Everyone will think that my daughter is defective and displeasing. I fear when you are gone, the world will not be kind to her. You know as well as I do the price a virgin brings at auction. To think of her paraded in front of the crowds at the market..." There her mother's voice had trailed off into weeping. 

After a long silence, her Master had said, "Tonight, then."

Even in her dreams, Tara still felt the flutter in her belly and the goosebumps on her skin that she had felt that night. In her eighteen years, she had been inside the Master's chamber only a handful of times, but she loved the feel of the thick rug, soft beneath her feet, and the faint smell of tobacco mixed with sandalwood that hung in the air. That night, she had entered quietly, naked under her slave's robe, and knelt as she had been taught, knees slightly apart, hands clasped behind her neck, eyes downcast. Sitting at his large writing table, she heard her Master sigh and felt him approach her. 

"You can stop all that, Tara," he had said. "There's no need for that here."

She slowly dropped her hands and looked up at him. She remembered the warmth of his hand as he had cupped her chin. 

"You have such a sweet face," he had said.

Tara had felt her skin go hot and her eyes fill with tears of shame. She had heard stories of men going wild with desire for a slave, of paying huge sums to be the first to claim them, of nights filled with every kind of pleasure imaginable. But not for her. A sweet face stirred no one's passions and she felt herself woefully lacking. Misunderstanding her tears, her Master had been quick to wipe them away and murmur soothing words to calm her. Taking her hand, he had led her to his bed and gently pushed her down until she lay on her back. She felt his hand slip beneath her robe and come to rest on the inside of her thigh. 

"Open," he said, meeting her gaze directly. His voice was quiet, but no less commanding for being so. Tara remembered the Slave Mistress' words - always be open, be pleasing, be ready to serve. She took a deep breath and parted her legs. Her Master's fingers stroked lightly over her most private places and her breath quickened. Parting her folds, his thumb found a most sensitive spot and Tara gasped when he pressed it. In her training at the Slave Mistress' house, there had been times when she had felt the beginnings of excitement between her legs and as he continued to work his thumb in small circles, she felt a familiar wetness and a new heat. She closed her eyes and allowed the sensation to wash over her. Involuntarily, her body tensed as one of her Master's long fingers pushed for entry. Then he was inside her, applying a firm but gentle pressure. She felt something inside her give way and she cried out as his finger pierced her fully. He withdrew and slid back in, picking up speed as her body responded. His thumb began hitting its mark in time with the thrusts of his thick finger and Tara felt the first waves of electric pleasure rippling through her body. A second finger joined the first one and she whimpered as they entered her, stretching her untried opening almost to the point of pain. But the feeling radiating from her core was overpowering and she could sense it building, pushing her to the edge of an unknown climax that she desperately wanted to reach. And then suddenly, the fingers were gone. Tara opened her eyes and in the flickering light of the candles that lit the room, she saw her Master's hand, glistening with her wetness and with her blood. 

"You may rest here for some time if you like," he had said and had retreated to the papers strewn about his desk. Tara didn't know how long she had lain on his bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling empty and alone. When she finally stood, she had been uncertain of what to do. If she followed her training, she ought to kneel before her Master, thank him for using her and offer herself for further service, but all she wanted to do was run back to the safety of her own room. She waited hesitantly by the bed for some cue from him, but he seemed utterly disinterested. He neither looked at her nor spoke a word and she finally left, full of the sense that somehow, she had failed. 

In her bed that night, Tara had wept uncontrollable tears. Was she so hideous that her Master would not even use her as a Master should use his slave? In the morning, she had searched her own wide blue eyes in the mirror and come to a decision. If she was to be a slave - a true slave - then she would begin to act like it. She would ask her mother how best to please the Master and devote herself to fulfilling his needs and desires. As these thoughts ran through her head, her mind also strayed to the night before, to the fingers moving inside her, to the pulsing heat that had spread through her body. It wasn't long before her own hand found its way to the soft curls between her legs and began an exploration with a featherlight touch. A soft sigh of pleasure escaped her lips before the Slave Mistress' voice in her head wrenched her back to reality. 

"Your body is not your own. Your mouth, your sex, your backside, your breasts, your hands - these all belong to your Master and are to be used for his pleasure and with his permission only. A slave who takes her own pleasure disgraces herself and dishonours her Master."

Ashamed, Tara had quickly set about practicing her slave positions as she was supposed to do every day, and after washing and dressing, went to tell her mother of her new resolve. But she never got the chance.

A Slave's Journey Begins Ch. 02



It had taken only a few days for the fever that took hold of Tara's mother's body to take her life as well. Tara had seen her Master at the cremation and had so badly wanted to run to him, to feel his arms around her, but his face had remained like stone and he had looked right through her. He was not there when the collar bearing the Blackmore crest was fixed around her neck and over the next year, he visited his country home less and less. Tara kept the house as best she could and numbed herself to the outside world. When word came that her Master had died, she felt a fresh wave of sadness wash over her and feeling truly alone in the world, she had taken to her bed with no intention of getting up again. 

Tara's first thought when she awoke the next day had been that the house was being robbed. The sound of horses outside her window, a clattering from the kitchen below, and most alarmingly, the voices of strange men approaching her bedroom filled her with panic. Frantically, she had searched her sparsely furnished room for anything that could be used as a weapon and that's how the two Stewards of Blackmore Estate came to find her - a wisp of a girl in a white cotton nightdress, blonde hair hanging loose in a tangled mess of curls, wielding a wooden hairbrush. 

"Well, what have we here?" the dark haired Steward had said. "It looks to me like a little bird from the village thought she could make a pretty nest in a big empty house. Tell me, are you a friendly bird?" He reached his hand towards her and Tara swung wildly at him with the brush. He easily ducked her swing and grabbed her flailing arm, twisting her hand behind her back and turning her around so that her back was pressed against the wall of his body. With his free hand, he roamed the length of her through her nightgown.

"Not much in the way of tits on this one... Let's see what else you have to make up for that." 

Tara could feel a growing hardness through his tunic and although she fought him with all her strength, her writhing only served to excite him further. "Does the bird have a name?" he asked, as his hand went to lift her gown. In response, Tara turned her head and bit him.

"Ow!' the Steward cried out, more from surprise than from pain as Tara hadn't done him much damage at all. He gathered up her hair in his fist and pulled her head back sharply. "None of that, wild little bird," he growled. "Or I'll have to cut your wings."

"Lucas, stop." The other Steward who had been casually watching his friend play with the girl suddenly spoke. "She's collared."

Lucas let go of Tara's hair and spun her around roughly so that they faced each other. His eyes fell on the steel collar around her neck and he ran his thumb across the markings it bore. 

"It looks real," he said. 

"I thought the old man didn't believe in the keeping of slaves," the other steward replied, moving closer to get a better look at Tara himself. "Besides, look at her. Does she look like a slave to you?"

Tara had all but forgotten about the collar she wore and what it signified. Words from a different lifetime came rushing back to her. What had the Slave Mistress said...

"In your Master's absence, or if he is indisposed, he may grant permission for you to be used by others as he sees fit. This may include guests of his house, members of his family, or those stewards, guards, or groundsmen he employs. Remember that even the lowliest stable boy has the right to take his pleasure with you if it serves the pleasure of your Master and you must strive to serve everyone with equal obedience and humility."

Under the gaze of the two young men, Tara became very aware of how far from the mark of what she was supposed to be, she must actually seem and her face filled with colour.

"Well at least she has the good sense to blush!" Lucas had laughed. 

"What do you want to do with her?" his red-haired companion had asked. 

"Load her onto the cart and take her back to the Young Master with the rest of his father's things, I suppose," Lucas replied. To Tara he said, "Collect your things, slave, and present yourself within the hour at the front gates." Turning on his heel, he called, "Come on, Liam, let's finish clearing the other rooms. At this rate, it will be midnight by the time we're home."

Liam turned to give Tara a last glance and said, "What if she runs away?"

"I wouldn't worry about that," Lucas had said. "One look at her collar and anyone from any of these parts would know exactly where to return her. Where could she possibly go?"

Tara had listened to their voices fade down the hallway and then sat heavily on her narrow bed. She could easily slip through the garden door and hide in the woods, but what the Steward had said was right. If she ran now, she would have to live as her mother had done - in constant fear and hiding. And yet, if she went with these men, there was no telling what lay ahead. It could be they offered her a chance to join the world for which she had been trained. Or it could be they would slit her throat, throw her lifeless body in the river and no one would ever be the wiser. Tara made up her mind. It's a chance I must take, she thought. Besides, she couldn't deny that the Steward's rough hands on her body had filled her with fear, yes, but also a breathless rush of excitement. She began gathering her meager possessions - the hairbrush flung into a corner, the doll given to her once upon a time by her Master, and a few items of clothing. She got dressed, twisted her unruly hair into something resembling a braid and wrapping her mother's shawl around her shoulders, made her way into the early afternoon sunshine. 

Lucas and Liam were hoisting two remaining trunks onto the wooden cart. When they noticed her standing there, there was a brief discussion of where to put her and a hasty rearranging of things to make a space for her to sit. Standing in the cart, Lucas offered her a hand to help her up. She took it, but hesitated as she looked at the space they had made. The wood was splintered and caked with dirt. 

"Wait," Lucas had said. He jumped down and after rummaging around the front of the cart for a few minutes, had returned with a worn looking blanket which he spread out for her to sit on. The unexpected act of kindness caught Tara off guard and she felt tears spring to her eyes. 

"Thank you," she whispered. And then remembering herself, she said louder, "Thank you, Sir."

"Ah, she speaks," Tilting her chin up with his thumb, he gave her a long look. His eyes were dark, his skin tan, his mouth turned up at the corners. Tara felt her stomach flip-flop and she found she could not hold his gaze. Lucas cracked a wolfish grin and gave her bottom a sound smack as he hopped off the cart and mounted his horse. 

Tara had tried to keep her wits about her as their journey began, but as the hours passed, she found herself dozing off and had finally fallen asleep as the sun went down. When she woke again, it was pitch dark, her body felt bruised and sore from the constant bumping of the cart and the night around her felt full of strange and menacing sounds. She wondered how long she had been dreaming and tried to look around for any clues as to where they might be. In the distance, she thought she saw the flickering of light which could only mean that the city was not far off. Suddenly nervous about what was in store for her there, Tara sank down in the cart and rested her head on her knees, doing her best to shut out the world around her. For this moment at least, she was safe. She did not look up even when she felt the cart jolt to a stop and movement of things around her. It was only when she heard Lucas' voice and felt the glow of his lantern fall on her that she raised her head.

"Wake up, little slave," he said. Tara rose unsteadily, but her legs were stiff from being in the same position too long and she toppled forward. Strong arms were there to break her fall and then scoop her up entirely. Hoisting her over his shoulder, Lucas carried her into Blackmore Estate. It seemed to Tara she passed through a winding maze of dimly lit corridors before being deposited in the center of a large circular room. As Tara took in the thick carpets, plush chairs, and generous cushions that filled the room, Lucas stoked the fire that was burning until it roared with fresh warmth. She saw Liam appear in the doorway. 

"He's waiting for you," he said to Lucas.

Lucas turned to Tara and said, "Wait here. The Master of the house will be here shortly." Seeing the bewildered expression on her face, he seemed to want to say something more, but then thought better of it. 

"Do you think he'll keep her?" Liam asked as they turned to leave. 

"I hope so," Lucas replied, his eyes raking over her one more time. "I really hope so."

The young Thomas Blackmore surveyed the mess of things piling up in his courtyard. He knew he should take a closer look at it in the light of day, but the thought of going through the dusty relics of his father's life filled him with a deep sadness and he felt almost ready to take a match to the whole lot of it. He had tried to convince his father many times to sell off the ramshackle cottage in the country, but the old man had stubbornly refused, choosing a life with some stolen whore over a life with his family. Thomas had a mind for matters of money and from the day he had turned eighteen, had taken over all his father's business affairs and investments. Ten years later, the Blackmores were among the richest families in the city, and Thomas - the Young Master, as he was known - had built an estate full of the finest horses, wines, and slaves to be found. Standing well over six feet tall, with his chiseled features, distinctive white-blonde hair and icy grey eyes, he cut an imposing figure and there were few who would cross him. He heard Lucas come in behind him.

"Is this all of it?" he asked. When Lucas didn't answer, he turned to look at his Steward and long time friend. "Lucas, I'm tired. Is this all of it?"

"Not quite, Sir," Lucas replied. "You had better come see for yourself."

The fire had warmed the Round Room and was casting long shadows on the walls when Thomas entered. In the middle of the room was a rail thin girl in the clothes of a peasant. In different circumstances, Thomas might have thought she was a thief trying to steal some food to eat or something of value to sell and would have seen her punished. He might even have enjoyed punishing her himself. Could it really be that his father had kept this creature as a collared slave? That hypocrite, Thomas thought bitterly. After all the old man's ranting about how owning slaves was wrong, after all their drawn out arguments about keeping slaves' quarters at Blackmore Estate, after all his condemnations of the excellent profits Thomas had made buying and selling the most beautiful and skilled of slavegirls - after all that, to discover that his father had kept a slave himself, Thomas felt at once relieved and betrayed. He walked deliberately to the chair by the fire and sat down. The girl did nothing. With his boot, he nudged a cushion into place at the foot of the chair. Still, she did not move. Finally he turned to regard her fully. She looked terrified. 

"Come here, slave," he said, his tone cold and sharp. "Present yourself properly."

Present yourself. That was a command with a corresponding position that she used to know, but now, Tara's mind went blank. Was she supposed to stand or kneel? Hands behind her back or behind her neck? Should she try to explain herself or say nothing at all? Tara found herself paralyzed, standing awkwardly in front of this powerful stranger, her heart beating too fast, her face growing redder with every passing second. 

Thomas sighed impatiently. This was no slave. He stood abruptly, meaning to dismiss her at once, but towering over her, the glint of metal around her neck, hidden beneath her ragged shawl caught his eye. He tore the shawl from her shoulders and tossed it on the ground. The collar she wore was plain, silver steel, nothing like the elaborately adorned collars of other slaves of his house, but it was well made and the imprint of the Blackmore crest was clear. So it was true. Leave it to the old man to give the collar of our house to a slave with no training, he thought. He looked down at the girl, who seemed to be visibly quivering and felt his cock twitch. She needed a bath and some meat on her bones, but otherwise, she might make a decent addition. He had recently sold a slave with golden hair and although she had brought an excellent price, he had regretted losing her as soon as the deal was done. Thinking now of the expert caress of those soft lips, his cock swelled insistently and he decided the slave was worth trying out. 

As he circled her, Tara felt like she could barely breathe. She felt him undoing the buttons of her dress until it fell away, leaving her clad in nothing but her thin white petticoat. She could not bring herself to look up at his face, but she felt certain that those piercing eyes missed nothing about her, from the curve of her small breasts with their pink nipples, to her long legs meeting in an untouched bush of blonde curls. 

"On your knees," he said. She obeyed instantly. He undid the opening of his trousers and Tara got her first real look at a thick cock in the flesh. At the Slave Mistress' house, she had seen crudely drawn pictures, heard elaborate descriptions, and even come up with her own dark and secret imaginings of what it might be like, how it might feel in her hand and taste in her mouth, but none of that had prepared her for the musky, growing hardness that confronted her now. He pressed the tip to her lips and she opened them. She flicked a kitten tongue over the head and tasted salt before feeling his warm flesh fill her mouth completely. She explored the ridged, veiny terrain of his cock with her tongue and hoped that whatever he planned to do next, she would not be found unsatisfactory.

Thomas stood still and let the girl get used to the feel of his cock in her mouth. He withdrew and then pushed back in, a little deeper, pleased to find her obedient and responsive. He had broken in his fair share of slaves and knew from experience that a girl who lacked the skills of a slave was far easier to train than a girl who lacked the submission of a slave, although there were ways, some more vigorous than others, to attain both. He decided to push her further. 

"Look at me," he commanded. And when she did, he pushed his cock firmly to the back of her throat. Instinctively she tried to pull her head back, but he clamped his hand into her tangled hair and forced her to stay still. He pulled back slightly and then drove in again, forcing the full length of his shaft down her throat. Her big blue eyes widened and filled with tears as she choked on this new invasion. He began fucking her mouth in earnest then, with long rough strokes that left her sputtering and gasping for air. When he came, she only managed to swallow a bit of his sticky seed, choking and gagging on the rest, spilling it down her chin in thick white globs that spattered on her petticoat. Tears streaming down her freckled face, she knelt before him in misery and he considered his options. On one hand, there was something he liked about her, but on the other, he had a reputation to maintain and couldn't risk a slave from his house performing so disgracefully, especially in public. Just as he was closing his pants, she did something he did not expect. She grabbed his hand and pressed her moist lips to the back of his fingers. Then she clasped her hands neatly behind her back and waited, eyes down, knees apart. A small smile crossed Thomas' face. So she had had some training after all. 

"What's your name, slave?" he asked her. 

"Tara, Sir," she replied. 

Leaving her as she was, he strode to the door. "Take her to the slaves' quarters," he said to the paige waiting just outside. "Tell Leanna she has five days and the use of my Stewards to do what she can with this one. She'll have an opportunity to serve at Sunday's banquet and I'll decide whether she should be kept or sold after that."

The paige, a boy younger than she, led Tara down hallway after hallway and finally up a flight of stairs, through a guarded set of heavy doors and into a small receiving room. A curtain opened in the back of the room and a woman came to greet them. She stood at least a head and a half taller than Tara, not counting the thick, dark hair piled high in shiny coils on her head. She wore a long robe in deep red that shimmered slightly when she moved and through which her smooth, lustrous skin could just barely be glimpsed. Tied with a sash, the front of the robe dipped invitingly to reveal a wide gold collar studded with gleaming gem stones and below that, a good deal of her generous, creamy breasts. Tara thought she could just make out what looked like a gold ring piercing each nipple. "Who on earth is this?" she asked. 

The paige relayed the Young Master's instructions and disappeared. 

Leanna looked the girl over. She was young and perhaps too thin, but there was an innocence about her yet that that could make her a valuable slave, if she could learn to use it. She had a good many questions for this new addition to the quarters over which she presided in Blackmore Estate and taking in her dazed expression, uncertain posture, and the mess on her petticoat, Leanna suspected she would also have a good deal of work ahead to prepare her properly. But it was late and she was expecting one of the girls to be returned shortly. After a night with one of the Young Master's guests - a merchant who more often than not, drank too much and then angered by his failing cock, compensated too heavily with his riding crop - Leanna would have her hands full. What the girl needed now was sleep and everything else could wait till the morning. 

"Alright, come along," she said, gesturing for the girl to follow her behind the curtain. But the girl took a half step forward and then with a soft moan, crumpled into a heap on the floor.



A Slave's Journey Begins Ch. 03



When Tara's eyes fluttered open, her first thought was, I must be dreaming. She was lying naked in a pool of cool, clear water, carved in smooth stone right into the wall. There were other basins around her and slabs of stone over and around which water flowed freely. Wild flowers hung from vines and floated by, carried by a lazy current to an unseen source. Her bath was perfumed with an exotic scent and Tara touched her dripping fingers to her face and inhaled deeply. 

"I can only find the rose oil, will that do? I - oh, she's awake!" A bronze-skinned girl with long brown hair pulled into a messy braid that hung almost to her waist stood at the foot of the pool and stared at Tara. She wore a long green robe, tied lopsidedly, that didn't do much to stop her high, firm breasts from bouncing into view when she moved. In the doorway, the tall woman from the night before appeared and looking at her in the light of day, Tara thought she might be the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. 

"Yes, Siara, that will do," she said, taking the small bottle that the girl offered. "Now leave us. You can see if Katya needs more ointment and then start preparing the Training Room for Tara."

Siara pranced away with a theatrical sigh causing Leanna to roll her eyes as she undid her robe and let it slip to the floor. Tara marveled at her porcelain skin and at the metal catching the light as her breasts swayed. A ruby pendant hung from her navel and as she approached the stone pool, Tara saw the glint of a gold bar piercing the flesh between her legs as well. 

"Sit up, my dear," she said. When Tara did as she said, Leanna stepped into the pool behind Tara and settled herself so that Tara sat directly between her outstretched spread legs. She poured the rose oil onto her hands and began working the knots out of Tara's hair. "Tell me your story," she said. Tara didn't know where to start and began haltingly at first, unsure of what to say and tongue-tied by the feel of slippery breasts, soft and wet against her back. But once she began, the words poured out and she found herself telling Leanna things that she had never told anyone - how the Slave Mistress hadn't wanted to waste time on her training and how she didn't know if she was cut out to be a slave at all and how she had been opened by her Master and then left untouched and how lonely she had been and how frightened when the Stewards came to take her away. 

"I didn't know where they were taking me or why," she said. "But I knew I must go with them. And... And I don't know if my new Master will keep me, but I do so want to serve him. I may not be beautiful like you, but I think I could learn to be pleasing if you would only give me a chance."

Leanna lifted the girl's arms, washing her with quick strokes of a damp cloth foaming with soaproot. Tara. Daughter of a runaway slave who had captured Sir Thomas' heart and poisoned his mind against his other slaves and the keeping of any slaves at all. As Tara spoke about her Master, memories of the man she had known filled Leanna's head. Sir Thomas Blackmore had been the first to claim her and she had served him faithfully for many years. She had initiated his son into the pleasures of the flesh and was as proud of the Young Master as his own mother. When Sir Thomas began speaking to her of his "found" slave, Leanna had fought to keep the jealousy she felt in check. Even then she understood that jealousy was not an emotion that a slave had any right to feel. She heard the anguish in his voice when he told her of the pain this slave had suffered at the hands of a sadistic Master, of the marks she bore from years of being bloodied, burned, and beaten. Leanna knew there were men who enjoyed the suffering of their slaves a little too much, but there were few who would go so far as to cause permanent damage to their own property. Sir Thomas had had to hide his slave who wore the collar of another Master and Leanna had watched him pull further away from his home, his slaves and his son to be with her. When he did return to the city, it was often with a troubled mind. 

When he asked her one day how she could bear the taste of the whip, whether she longed for the freedom to give her body to whomever she chose, she had no answers. When he suggested that all slaves should be set free, she had been confused. And when he no longer wanted her to kneel before him, she had been deeply hurt. When his stolen slave died of fever, Leanna had hoped that he would return to her at last, but all her ministrations, all the efforts of a hundred supple slave girls prostrated at his feet had served only to increase his pain, not extinguish it. Sir Thomas had been a man lost to the world and when Leanna had finally stood on her balcony and watched the smoke billowing from his funeral pyre, she had only thought, Be at peace, Master. Be with the woman you love and be at peace at last. Tara's words jolted her back to the present. If you would only give me a chance. Leanna wrung the washcloth, letting cool water trickle down Tara's neck and heard the girl murmur with pleasure. She was a natural slave, Leanna could sense it in her bones. But she would have to work hard to keep the collar she wore.

Tara felt Mistress Leanna give her a little push forward and when she shifted her weight, the statuesque slave rose from the water. 

"It's not within my power to give you a chance," she said, retrieving a jar of scented powder from a carved wooden box and patting herself with it. "It's within your own power, if you truly want to learn."

"I do!" Tara said, sitting up on her knees. 

"It won't all be easy," Leanna said. "There may be things you find... difficult to accept. Every slave thinks she is ready to serve until she is tested. And then where does her obedience go? The Young Master expects perfection from his slaves and if you should fail, he will expect you to accept your punishments gratefully. Are you capable of that?"

"I think so," Tara said, but her voice held less conviction. Her experience with the Young Master had left her shaken and the thought of being truly punished by him sent a chill down her spine. 

"Very well," Leanna said. "We can start with all that hair. Come with me." She lead Tara to one of the low stone platforms in the bathing room. "Lie down," she said.

Tara climbed hesitantly onto the smooth surface. From the underside of the platform, Leanna unhooked two coils of thick, damp rope. 

"Siara!" she called. "Come in here and help me." When Siara appeared in the doorway, Leanna said to her, "Heat some wax for Tara." Siara's robe swished by Tara's head and she found herself looking up into bright green eyes that stared sympathetically back. 

"The first time is the worst," she said, brushing a stray curl back from Tara's face. And then she was out of view, but Tara could smell fire and then something slightly sweet. 

"Put your arms up, my dear," Leanna said. Tara obeyed and felt her arms stretched taught against the stone, her wrists clasped together, and then lashed to the platform. Her legs were next, spread wide and bent at the knee, each one tied down to her shoulders. The position left her stretched uncomfortably and feeling helpless and exposed. Leanna saw her distress.

"A slave must be most at home in her restraints," she said. "We'll have to work on your flexibility and endurance."

"The wax is ready," Siara said. Tara felt Leanna applying a hot, sticky substance to the tuft of hair under one arm. Then, without warning, the wax was ripped away, taking her hair with it. Tara screamed and strained against the ropes holding her down as tears filled her eyes. Then she felt the hot wax covering the hair under the other arm.

"Please don't!" she cried, turning her pleading eyes on Leanna's face, but Leanna remained unmoved.

"Your pain tolerance is terrible," she said. "I see we will have to work on that too." And again, she pulled the wax off in one swift motion, oblivious to Tara's high pitched screams of pain. Next, Leanna deftly untied one of Tara's legs and stretched it the length of the platform. Tara felt both relieved to have the strain on one leg removed and immediately terrified as she felt long strips of the hot wax applied from her ankle to her knee. 

"Look at me, Tara," Leanna said and Tara struggled to lift her head from the platform and focus her gaze through her tears. "You know what I'm about to do. You know there will be pain. But there is nothing you can do and nowhere you can go. Breathe. Yes, good. Submit to the pain, Tara. Don't fight it. Are you ready?" Tara nodded and with a firm grip on her foot to hold her leg in place, Leanna tore off the first strip. Tara whimpered but did not cry out. 

"Good," Leanna said. "Now for every strip I tear, I want you to thank me. Do you understand?"

Tara nodded vaguely, but she was already tensing for the next strip to come off. Leanna moved from Tara's feet to her head and bent down so that they were almost nose to nose. Her eyes were lined with kohl and Tara felt hypnotized by their violet depths. She was not the first person to feel bewitched by Leanna's beauty, and she would not be the last. 

"When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer me properly," Leanna said softly. "Do you think the Young Master repeats his questions? Now, for each strip of wax I tear off, you will thank me by saying thank you Mistress Leanna. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress Leanna," Tara breathed. 

Leanna returned her attention to Tara's wax covered leg and giving her barely a moment to prepare, ripped another strip away. Tara clenched her teeth and forced herself to breathe deeply.

"Thank you, Mistress Leanna," she said, but it came out as little more than a whisper. 

"What was that, slave?" Leanna demanded sharply. 

"Thank you, Mistress Leanna," Tara repeated. 

No sooner had the words left her lips than she felt another strip being torn away. She winced, but remembered Leanna's words. Submit to the pain. Don't fight it. Again and again Tara repeated the phrase, "Thank you, Mistress Leanna, as slowly both her long legs from ankle to knee, and then from knee to hip were stripped of all hair and then rubbed with a cool, softly scented oil that left her skin smooth and radiant. The pain faded from the unbearable, scorching misery she had first felt to a low, tingling burn that made her more aware of her entire body than she had ever felt before. With both legs done, Tara thought the ordeal had finally come to an end, but was surprised to feel her knees bent and tied down to her shoulders once more. And then Leanna's fingers combing through the curls between her legs. So even her most private and sensitive places were not to be spared. The thought of the hot wax touching her there filled Tara with fear. 

"Please, Mistress," Tara said, her voice breaking. "Not there."

Leanna considered her helpless subject for a moment.

"Siara!" she called. The girl appeared in the doorway. "How is Katya?"

Siara shrugged and said, "It looks worse than it is really. Her backside has the worst of it. In fact she'll be nicely marked for the banquet and she knows it for all she's been complaining and lying about all day while I do all the work."

Leanna sighed tolerantly and said, "I might have a job that you'll enjoy. Our little Tara has done very well. I think she deserves a reward."

Siara made her way down to the platform where Tara lay and looking up, Tara noticed that her collar too was a bright gold studded with green gems that complimented her eyes and sparkled prettily around her long neck. She thought of her own collar, plain and dull by comparison and felt ashamed that her Master had obviously thought so little of her. Filled with new resolve to be the kind of slave worthy of beautiful adornments, Tara found her voice. 

"I... I'm sure I don't deserve anything at all," she said. "The best reward I could hope for is just the chance to learn from you - from both of you. And hopefully to be pleasing to my new Master."

"I can see you're learning already," Leanna said, with a soft laugh. "But to be pleasing to the Young Master... well, you have a long way to go yet."

Siara made her way down to the platform where Tara lay and surveyed her body. Fair skin, light hair, blue eyes, thin lips, small breasts, and a nervous air about her, like a horse that might get spooked and bolt at any moment. She had barely stirred this morning when Siara scooped her out of bed and lowered her into the bath, but she was wide awake now. At twenty-two years of age, Siara was the oldest of Blackmore Estate's current slaves, not counting Mistress Leanna. Lovely Mia with her hair like spun gold and the softest skin Siara had ever felt had been a few years older, but Mistress Leanna had predicted from the moment she arrived that the Young Master would not be able to turn down the price a slave like her would fetch and she had only served a few months before she was sold. Unlike most of the other slaves, Siara had been born at Blackmore Estate, her mother a slave of the Old Master. She knew the castle's corridors and passageways as she knew her own face and although it had never been formally confirmed, it was generally understood that when Mistress Leanna's time was through, she would be called on to take over as the Slave Mistress of the Estate. She was a strong girl, well proportioned and good humoured, with a ripe, guileless sensuality and a nearly insatiable appetite for sexual pleasures that kept her in high demand. The Young Master himself rarely called for her, but she didn't mind. There was something about him that frightened her and she much preferred serving the guests and Stewards of the house anyway. Looking at Tara, Siara felt no jealousy towards the new slave, but as she knelt at the foot of the platform between Tara's spread legs, she did feel a rush of excitement at the thought of tasting her sweetness. 

Siara combed her fingers gently through the soft, damp curls covering Tara's sex and traced the shape of her vaginal lips to the slit where the pink folds opened. Replacing her fingers with her tongue, Siara licked at the opening with a series of deliberate strokes until she tasted the wetness she was waiting for. Siara moistened her full lips with Tara's juices and pressed them to the pulsing little nodule she discovered hidden under its hood of flesh. As she worked the spot over with her expert tongue, Siara could feel Tara's thighs straining at her bonds and a new flood of wetness confirmed that her efforts were having their desired effect. Without stopping her tongue, Siara brought two of her fingers to Tara's glistening opening and slowly pushed them in. Although her fingers met no firm resistance, Siara instantly noticed the tightness of Tara's passage, despite being slick with her fluids. She must not have been used for a very long time, Siara thought sympathetically. Curling her fingers, she applied slight pressure and heard Tara's mewling change to a high pitched cry. 

"Mistress, can she cum?" Siara asked.

Tara struggled to catch her breath and process the sensations coursing through her body, but each new sweet assault Siara mounted with her moist lips and insistent tongue was harder to resist than the last. And Tara didn't even know what she was resisting. She only knew that when some of the girls had practiced using their mouths on each other during her first training, she had felt strange and uncomfortable watching them. Their small, delicate hands were so different than her Master's, their shrieks and giggles so... undignified compared to his commanding voice. She had turned away from their silly games thinking 'this is surely not for me.' Yet, here she was, legs splayed wide, growing ever more excited by the ministrations of another slave girl and helpless to do anything about it. 

"It's too much," she tried to say. "Please, please stop, I can't take it." But her words came out as fragments of sound interspersed with incoherent gasps and moans. Then she felt Siara pushing something into her, forcing her open and touching her in places she had only been touched once before. Tara's cries became more frantic, drowning out what Siara and Mistress Leanna were saying and she was only dimly aware when Mistress Leanna covered the hair on one side of her mound with hot wax. 

"No, I don't want her to cum just yet. But keep her on the edge as long as you can. That should help reinforce a connection between pain and pleasure," Leanna said. She motioned to Siara to move back saying, "Keep your fingers where they are. They seem to be doing the job nicely. As for you, Tara - you'll be getting your first real lesson in pain and pleasure very soon so we might as well get started." And she ripped the wax away. 

Tara felt certain she was being skinned alive. The fresh torture of this new assault combined with Siara's fingers inside of her, probing and pressing, caused a strange twisting, tingling sensation in Tara's loins that overwhelmed her completely. By the time Leanna was through, Tara had screamed herself hoarse and her whole body was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Her muscles ached from straining against her bonds and her now naked sex felt stretched and sore. She should have been relieved when Siara withdrew her hand, but instead she found herself whimpering and bucking her narrow hips, unconsciously begging to be invaded again. Leanna smiled as she rubbed a cool, sweet-smelling salve into the smooth, pale skin between Tara's legs. She covered the mound and the lips, but carefully avoided the inflamed centre which was open and wet and fairly pulsing with need. The ropes that held Tara in place were loosened and Leanna gently helped her to a sitting position, rubbing her arms and legs to bring feeling back into them. 

Tara ran her fingers through her hair, which no longer resembled a tangled bird's nest of straw, but a rippling curtain of yellow waves that just covered her pert pink nipples, tickling them deliciously. She was very aware of the warm moisture still seeping out of her sex and wetting her thighs and she shifted slightly, trying to push the need she could not name from her jumbled thoughts.. It was then that her stomach growled and she realized she was famished. 

"Come and have a bite to eat," Leanna said. "I expect Sir Liam will be here shortly and you don't want to keep him waiting."



A Slave's Journey Begins Ch. 04



Tara allowed herself to be led to a long wooden table in an adjoining room and when Siara placed a plate of buttered bread and a bowl of steaming broth were in front of her, she ate as though she would never eat again. It was only once she had eaten her fill and had a long drink of cold water that she realized that she was still completely naked. And Siara was gone. Tara stood from the table, uncertain of what to do. She looked around for something to cover up with, but found only shelves of plates, cups, and bowls and the tools of a basic kitchen. She was about to venture back towards the bathing room when the sound of voices stopped her in her tracks. 

"Sir Liam, what a pleasure to welcome you to our humble quarters. The Training Room is ready for you," Leanna's voice was smooth as silk. Liam... Tara's mind raced. The lanky, red-haired Steward from the day before. The one who hadn't spoken to her at all and who had looked on expressionlessly as his friend fondled her. Why couldn't it be the other one... Why couldn't it be Lucas? The thought came unbidden and Tara had no sooner remembered the other Steward's name than she realized how foolish her thoughts were. Obviously a slave would have no say in who should use her and even if she did, Tara knew next to nothing about this man Lucas. Except that he frightens me, she thought. He frightens me... and excites me at the same time and I don't know why.

Liam hadn't been to Blackmore Estate's slaves' quarters in some time, but the room Leanna took him to was a familiar one. The post in the centre of the room with its metal hooks, the wooden A-frame in the back corner, the stocks, the low platform draped in velvet, the few sturdy wooden chairs, the hidden antechamber filled with shelves lined with phalluses in every shape and size conceivable, and the room's long windowless wall covered in an array of paddles, whips, floggers, canes and other such instruments.These were his favourite tools. Although not particularly strong, his skill with these implements was well known and his markings were often requested for slaves, either when they were to be sold or displayed, or when they were to be disciplined. Many owners lacked the taste for properly punishing their slaves when the need arose and Liam's unique skills were often called upon to do the job. Slaves would be delivered to him here, some strong, some weak, some demure and some defiant, and he would work them over, relishing their inevitable cries and pleas, and later, their wetness and their heat. Outside of this room, Liam knew himself to be of average appearance, lacking in the charm that others he knew so effortlessly used to talk pretty girls out of a dress and into a bed. But here, he was Master. And he had a job to do.

"Welcome, Sir Liam," a soft voice said. He turned and in the doorway saw Siara standing behind the little blonde slave he and Lucas had brought back to the Estate. She looked better than when he first saw her, but was still pale and trembling next to Siara's bronzed beauty and quiet confidence. The lion and the lamb, Liam thought with a small smile. He knew Siara well. Two years older than her, they had both grown up knowing that Blackmore Estate was their future and although they had been trained for very different purposes, their dedication to their service was equal. Liam had honed his marking skills on her flesh and knew her responses well. She could take more than just about any slave he had ever encountered and what's more, she could do it with a grace and dignity that few others could match. It was one of her greatest strengths as a slave and it was largely thanks to him. Each of them in their own way made the other better and stronger. But as Siara's seductive prowess had grown, Liam had found her raw, uninhibited sexual energy more and more intimidating. He could have taken her at will at any time - there had been many times in that room when they had both been drenched in sweat and he had felt her desire as palpably as if she had actually demanded he drop the paddle in his hand and fuck her on the spot. Yet he never had, never could, never able to shake the feeling that he wouldn't be able to satisfy her if he tried, that he was only capable of taming her animal lust when her skin bore the marks of his control over her. She was only a slave, her satisfaction should have been of no consequence to him whatsoever and yet, he knew her body so well, knew when her sighs and moans were pretense and when they were real, knew which spots were ticklish and which bruised easily. Many times he had ordered her to make herself cum while methodically flogging her breasts, her belly, her thighs and ass, and knew the tense muscles and guttural howl of her true climax from the high pitched screams and flailing theatrics she so often put on for show. All these things should have made their coupling more intense, more intimate than any others, but instead they made a coward of him in her presence leaving him feeling impotent and shamed. Despite all this, he had only truly broken her once. It had been a cool spring night months ago when he had somehow got caught up drinking and carousing with the Stable Hand and his boys. As the night wore on, the drinks flowed freely, and the talk grew more lewd.

"I'd split her in two, if ya know what I mean!"

"I'd make her suck my horse's cock while fucking her!"

"Oh, I'd make her scream alright, she won't be able to sit for a week when I'm through with her!"

The words had filled Liam with an aggression he didn't know he possessed and he had felt his frustrations coming to a boil he could no longer suppress. Stumbling outside, he charged the paige guarding the stables by night to fetch him the slave Siara. 

"Send her alone," he had said. 

When she had emerged, still rubbing sleep from her eyes, Liam had come at her from behind, pulling a burlap sack used for carrying feed for the horses over her head. Hoisting her onto his horse, Liam had ridden with her into the dark woods. At a small clearing, he had stopped and after jumping down himself, had practically thrown her to the ground. Ripping the cloak she had probably hastily thrown on after being roused from her bed with no warning from her naked body, Liam had grabbed a switch of birch from the ground and laid into her mercilessly. The switch was a cruel weapon, cutting into her skin deeply and making her scream in earnest, although there was no one to hear her. Finally shoving her face down in the dirt, he had dropped his trousers, kicked her legs open, and pulled apart her striped and bloodied ass cheeks. It was then that he heard her.

"Liam, please don't," she had said. He froze. She knew it was him. It was a choked whisper and even then he had known how difficult the words were for her to say, how they went against all her years of training and against the very fibre of her being. She was a slave, conditioned to never question, and certainly to never protest. She was made for pleasure, but there was no pleasure in this for either of them and she knew it. But he was beyond caring then, blind with drink and pent up anger at himself, fueled by a dark hunger that had to be satisfied. He drove into her with brutal force, literally tearing her open. After a few savage thrusts, he spilled his seed into her tight, dry back passage and staggering to his feet, had been repulsed at the mix of blood, semen, and excrement on his rapidly shriveling member. Staring at her shuddering back in the moonlight, Liam had taken in the cuts on her body in a detached kind of way. They were careless, uneven and ugly. There was no artistry behind them, only anger. No one will believe this is my work, he had thought. Leaving her the horse, he had stumbled back towards the Estate and after retching violently at the gate, had made his way to bed where he passed out in a pool of cold sweat. 

Siara had been confined to the slaves' quarters for two weeks, no visitors and no use permitted. Thomas of course, had seen her condition and despite having important guests to entertain had allowed Leanna's ruling to stand. Thomas' anger at having his property damaged and made unavailable had been severe and Liam had been certain that he would not get off lightly when Thomas found out it was his doing. And part of him was glad for it. He had resigned himself to accepting what was coming to him and was on his way to face the Young Master's wrath when he had heard Thomas raising his voice, something that rarely happened to begin with and stranger still, it was raised at Leanna. 

"She won't tell? What do you mean she won't tell? So help me god, Leanna, I'll beat it out of her myself if I have to!"

"It won't do any good, Thomas," Liam had heard Leanna reply. "She won't tell because she can't. She doesn't know who used her this way."

"Well, that's a fine story indeed," Thomas' voice had come back hard as nails. 

"She says she was blindfolded the whole time."

Over the following weeks, Siara's cuts and internal injuries had healed well and she was returned to service without delay. Liam avoided her as much as possible, which was not hard to do on the large estate, and when he did run into her, she seemed her usual self. He tried to reason with himself that what was done was done, the girl was fine, and all was well. But still, his nights were plagued with her screams. When his feet found their way to the slaves' quarters almost of their own accord and Mistress Leanna met him at the door, he had had no idea what he intended to do or say. 

"Sir Liam, what a pleasure to welcome you to our humble quarters," she had said. If she knew the truth about what he had done, she gave no sign whatsoever. "I wasn't expecting you, but I can prepare a girl and a room for you if you wish."

"Er.. no Leanna, thank you," Liam had replied hesitantly. Although he'd known her all his life, Leanna still unnerved him. "I was wondering if Siara... I mean, is she... I wanted to.." Words failed him and Liam had been just about to turn on his heel and flee, when Leanna had cut in.

"Siara is available this evening and will be most pleased to be of service to you. Would you like her in the Training Room?"

"No," Liam had replied. "Please send her to my room when she is ready."

Within the hour, she had been there, knocking discreetly at his bedroom door. He had been surprised. What had he thought would happen? That she would refuse to come? That she would tell Leanna the whole story and have her send someone else instead? No, that wasn't Siara. She entered and sank gracefully to her knees. Her hair was gathered with a band at the base of her neck and left to flow down her back. He knew she would be clean, oiled and ready. 

"Good evening, Sir," she had murmured. 

Liam had watched her kneeling before him for several minutes before he spoke. 

"Stand up," he said. "And turn around." She had obeyed instantly. 

"Remove your robe." Her robe had fallen to the ground, leaving her naked. 

Even from where he sat, the scars on her body had been clearly visible in the flickering light, although somewhat concealed by her long hair. He picked up a candlestick and approached her to see them up close anyway. Some would fade and disappear over time, but some, he knew, would leave her forever marred. It's a good thing she'll never be sold, he had thought as he surveyed at his own terrible work. She would fetch a much lower price now. He reached out to trail his fingers lightly along the raised skin of a scar and felt rather than saw Siara flinch at his touch. It was a subtle movement that anyone else might have missed as she corrected herself immediately, but in that tiny pulling away, Liam realized a truth he had known all along and could no longer deny. Slave or not, she had trusted him and he had truly hurt her. And it was making him sick.

Tipping the candlestick slightly, Liam had allowed a few drops of hot wax to fall on Siara's back. She made no sound in response, but the muscles in her shoulders tensed in anticipation. 

"The man who... marked you this way... You must hate him," Liam had said softly. "And yet... he had every right to use you as he wished, had he not?"

"Yes, Sir," Siara had whispered.

"Yes. Because this body doesn't belong to you, does it?"

"No, Sir."

"No. So you see, his hands are tied. He cannot undo the harm he has done... or the pain he has caused because he could not ask for the permission of a slave." Liam struggled to keep his voice from breaking when he said, "He can only ask now... for the forgiveness of a friend."

He turned her gently and saw that those expressive green eyes were bright with tears. 

"There is nothing to forgive," she had said. 

And then taking her head in his hands, he had kissed her for the first time - a long deep kiss that said all the things that he could not. Her open mouth was warm and responsive and his half hardening cock urged him to taste her further, but instead he let her go. If he hadn't known it before that kiss, he knew it now. He loved her. But to love a slave, especially a slave wearing the Blackmore crest on her collar, was madness and he had decided that he would not torture himself by making love to her now or ever. 

"Leave," he had said, turning away from her. 

"Sir?" He could hear the confusion and the hurt in her voice, but could not bring himself to look at her. 

"Leave," he had repeated. "Now." 

That was the last time they had seen each other until this moment.

*******************

Tara couldn't stop herself from shaking. After everything she had said earlier about wanting to be a good slave, wanting to learn, wanting to please the Master, and wanting to stay at Blackmore Estate, now that she was faced with the terrifying reality of this room, she was filled with a desire to turn and run. She might have tried if Siara wasn't standing behind her blocking the way out. Only a few minutes earlier, she had found Tara hovering at the kitchen door and fairly pushed her along to what she had called the Training Room. 

"But wait!" Tara had whispered frantically when she realized it was she who Liam was waiting for. "I'm... I'm naked!"

"Of course you are," Siara had replied matter of factly. But as soon as they were in the room, Siara's demeanor changed. Her posture became one of attentiveness and the voice she used to address the Steward Liam was respectful without being cold. Tara would have asked her how she managed it if she hadn't been transfixed by the wall in front of her. She was surely in a torture chamber! She felt the panic begin to rise, but she didn't know who to plead with or what to say. She stood mutely and it was Siara who spoke. 

"If you please, Sir," Siara said, "May I be of any service to you today?"

Liam willed Siara to look at him, but she kept her eyes downcast. The perfect slave, Liam thought. He sighed and gave his head a shake, as if to clear her from his mind.

"No," he said turning his back on the pair of them and rolling up his shirtsleeves. "You may leave us." Siara left and closed the door behind her. When Liam turned around, he saw Tara backed against the closed door, staring at him with wide frightened eyes and he nearly laughed out loud. Where do I even start?

"Slave!" He barked. "Come here!"

The girl didn't move. She seemed paralyzed and Liam could see her eyes darting fearfully to the wall behind him. He remembered how like a cornered animal she had been when they found her alone in the Old Master's dilapidated cottage. It must have been a very lonely existence, Liam thought. She wears a collar, but that doesn't make her a slave. I mustn't forget that.

"Tara," he said, softening his tone. "Come here. I'm not going to hurt you. Well, not yet anyway."

With her arms crossed protectively over her small breasts, Tara slowly moved forward. 

"Kneel," Liam said. She did and Liam could see it was taking her a great deal of effort to keep from bursting into tears. 

He regarded her for a minute or two and then said, "Tara, tell me honestly - not that it matters one way or the other - but do you want this life?"

When she didn't answer him, Liam took a deep breath and reminded himself to be patient. Finally he heard her squeak, "I think so, Sir."

"You think so," he repeated. Grabbing her collar, he forced her chin up so she was looking at him. "At the moment, you don't deserve this collar," he said. "You will have to work incredibly hard for the next five days if you wish to earn the right to keep it. It means you will have to learn quickly and most likely be punished often. Are you ready for that?"

Her lip still quivered as he looked down at her but she swallowed hard and replied, "Yes, Sir. I'm ready." He could see she was afraid, but also eager. Her hands had dropped from her chest, her legs parted slightly, and her whole body leaned towards him. Perhaps there was something he could work with here after all. 

He let go of her and said, "Very well. Then let's start at the beginning."

For the next several hours, Liam coached Tara through proper slave protocols and etiquette, as well as a series of basic slave positions, some that came back to her from her earlier training and some that she didn't know at all. He taught her the standard commands that anyone using her might issue and their expected responses - from present which brought her to a kneeling position, to obey which pressed her head to the ground at his feet in a gesture of utmost subservience, to up which brought her to her feet; down to make her lie on her back, prone to make her lie on her belly and open to part her legs. At first she spoke and moved awkwardly, hesitating often and becoming flustered when she failed to please, but slowly as the movements started to sink into her muscle memory and the words started to come by rote, she learned a kind of fluidity that was second nature to most slaves. As soon as Liam chose a light crop with soft leather tails from the wall, however, Tara felt her confidence fade. Liam for his part knew that this particular crop had the benefit of smarting soundly without leaving a mark, but he enjoyed watching her apprehension rise as he trailed the tails slowly over her back which was long and fully exposed in her current position with her forehead pressed to the ground. 

When he instructed her to move to the next position and she forgot that her knees should be wide apart, he struck the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. Tara yelped in pain and broke position, which only earned her more punishing blows. Other than a few slaps from her mother, Tara had never been hit before in her life, but as Liam covered her body with his crop, from the palms of her hands to the soles of her feet, Tara had no choice but to accept the beating and try to do better. Eventually, each strike melted into the next and through her haze, Leanna's words came back to her. Submit to the pain. And submit she did - to everything he put her through that day: when he made her crawl on hands and knees across the room to fetch a paddle and bring it back to him in her teeth, and then when he used that paddle to turn her ass bright red; when he put her through her positions blindfolded, striking her at random; when he made her hold a trying position until her muscles shook and gave way; when he quizzed her on protocol while binding her in painful and humiliating positions, an agony she discovered that was far worse than taking the crop. It was only when the afternoon had long since worn into evening and Liam and Tara were both exhausted that he decided he was satisfied with her progress for the day. She had done well and he decided to reward her efforts. 

Pulling a chair from where it leaned against a wall, Liam took a seat and motioned for Tara to approach. Taking her wrists in one of his hands, Liam pulled her down and over his lap so that her arms hung over one side of the chair, her legs dangled over the other, and her still pink bottom was raised perfectly. Over the course of her time in the Training Room with Liam, she had learned that more often than not, the sight of him holding some new instrument of torment was worse than when he actually used it - the imagined pain, she had discovered, was worse than the real thing. So now she shut her eyes tightly, not wanting to see what new toy was in store for her next. Her eyes flew open when she felt Liam's warm, calloused hand come to rest on her ass, effectively holding her in place as his other hand slipped between her legs and pressed against her damp pussy. He started the spanking slowly, not even really spanking her, but kneading the flesh of her ass in a way that was half painful, half pleasurable. Her ass was still tender from his earlier ministrations to that area and she had to fight to keep still and not cry out. Meanwhile the fingers of his other hand curled slightly to gently stroke the lips of her sex, not opening her, just teasing the sensitive flesh there. With an open palm above her, he began delivering a series of light slaps that were more playful than painful and brought new warmth to her skin. With his long fingers beneath her, he began lazy circles around her clit, teasing it out from under it's hood. Whether she knew it or not, Tara was making soft mewling sounds and pressing her hips into the leather of Liam's pants.




A Slave's Journey Begins Ch. 05



Tara sat gingerly on the edge of her bed in the slaves' shared sleeping rooms. Now that the adrenaline from her session with Liam had faded, she was left aching all over with an especially sore backside. She wished Siara was there, but her bed was unmade, her green robe thrown on the floor and she was nowhere in sight. And Katya, it seemed, had no interest whatsoever in talking to her. She had barely even glanced up when Tara arrived. 

Tara tried to take the girl in without staring obviously. She looked to be about Tara's own age with porcelain skin and jet black hair that fell around her like an ebony curtain. Her bedsheet covered her from the waist down, but Tara could make out a fine curve to her silhouette and could see that her bare breasts were perfect white globes with blushing pink nipples. With her slight build and delicate features, she reminded Tara of a doll she had seen once in a shopkeeper's window. There was something else vaguely familiar about her that Tara couldn't quite put her finger on, but what drew her curiosity the most was not how Katya looked, but what she was doing. Lying on her side with her head propped up in one hand, Katya was reading a book. 

It had never occurred to Tara that women were allowed to read or even capable of reading. It was a pass time for men, not for women and certainly not for slaves. It had never concerned her much, as she couldn't begin to imagine what might be of interest for her in any of the dusty old volumes she had seen in her old Master's chambers. An image popped into Tara's head of herself sitting behind his large desk, reading important documents, while a slave girl knelt at her feet. It was so ridiculous that Tara almost laughed out loud. She must have made some sound, as she realized that Katya's inky cat eyes were fixed on her, but still she did not speak and it made Tara increasingly more uncomfortable. 

"Can... Can you really read that?" she said finally, nodding at Katya's book. 

"Of course," Katya replied. "Can't you?" Her sarcastic tone would have been clear to anyone familiar with sarcasm, but Tara was not and took the question at face value.

"No!" she exclaimed. "Well, my mother never taught me anyway. I supposed because nobody taught her. Is it very difficult?"

Katya merely rolled her eyes and went back to her book, but now that the uncomfortable silence was broken, Tara was in no hurry to go back to it. 

"My um... my training today was with Sir Liam. He's the one with red - "

"I know who he is," Katya cut her off without looking up. 

"Well... I hope I pleased him," Tara said a little lamely. "He went pretty hard on me though. I don't know how I'm going to find a comfortable position to sleep in tonight, I'm so sore!"

"He barely touched you," Katya said flatly.

Tara's mind flashed to the afternoon she had spent with Liam - the paddles and the rope and the sting of the crop and the radiating pain of his hand spanking her while the other hand... Tara flushed with the memory and with indignation.

"He certainly did!" she said, trying to keep the pitch of her voice from rising. 

Katya fixed her with a withering stare and then turned over, sitting up slightly so that her sheet fell away, exposing her buttocks. Tara gasped as she took in the large red welts covering Katya's pale skin. She unconsciously touched a hand to her own lower back and realized suddenly that despite how long and how hard she thought Liam had worked her over, her skin wasn't broken and although tender to touch, was barely even bruised. She wanted to say something to Katya but when she opened her mouth, no words came out. She waited for Katya to speak or turn around, but she did neither. Finally, Tara turned away from the marked backside and lay on her side, facing the wall. I wonder what tomorrow holds, she thought as her eyes fluttered closed. 

Tara was shaken to her senses the next morning just as the sun was coming up. Her entire body ached and as she stood to stretch the stiffness from her limbs, she thought how good a nice long soak in the stone pool was going to feel. She followed Siara to the bathing room, but there was no bath drawn for her today. Instead Siara presented her with a bucket, a cloth and a chunk of soap root.

"You have ten minutes to get yourself cleaned up," Siara said. 

The water was cold and the cloth rough, but Tara did the best she could. When she was done, Siara used her robe to pat the shivering girl dry and pulled her hair back, securing it tightly with a small band. 

"Alright, let's go," she said, turning on her heel and heading towards the curtains that separated the inner chambers from the entrance.

"Wait!" Tara cried. "I'm.. I'm not ready. Shouldn't I get dressed at least?"

"Dressed in what?" Siara replied. "The rags you came in? I don't think so. And I'm afraid you have yet to earn yourself a robe so naked you are and naked you'll stay until Mistress Leanna says otherwise. Besides, you're serving in the kitchen today. It's going to get messy."

The kitchen at Blackmore Estate was bright and noisy and there seemed to be several things going on all at once, from the stable boys shouting out back, to the servers scurrying upstairs to the main rooms and downstairs to the cellars, to the cook arguing with a woman selling chickens. The wonderful smell of baking bread filled the room and Tara inhaled deeply, feeling her stomach rumble as she realized how hungry she was. 

"And what is this scrap of a thing?" Tara looked up to see a large woman wearing an apron with a shock of red hair pinned under a kerchief staring down at her. 

"Good morning, Ma'am," Siara said, bowing slightly. "This slave is in training and Mistress Leanna has asked if she may of service to the kitchen today, if it pleases you."

"Ah yes," the Kitchen Mistress replied. "Liam told me about this one. Well, come closer and present yourself to me properly little wench. Let me see my boy's handiwork."

Tara's mind barely registered the command before her body was moving to obey. Almost instantaneously, she found herself on her knees, legs spread,chest out, hands clasped behind her neck, eyes down. 

The Kitchen Mistress circled Tara, remarking, "My goodness, there's barely a mark on her!" Then turning her gaze on Siara, she said, "Saving his talents for someone else perhaps."

Tara's eyes darted up to see colour rising in Siara's cheeks, but when she spoke, her tone was even. "Please, Ma'am, I am called to attend the Young Master's guests on the hunt today. May I take your leave?"

"Yes, my dear," the Kitchen Mistress replied and with another little bow, Siara was gone. "As for you," she said, turning back to Tara, "Your post is there." She nodded towards a woven mat in the corner beside the door. "You will be quiet, obedient, and stay out of the way. You will present yourself and service anyone who wishes to make use of you to the best of your abilities. If there is no one about, you may rest on your heels, but don't get lazy. If you miss a chance to serve, you'll regret it later. Do you understand?"

Tara wasn't sure if she did understand, but she answered immediately, "Yes, Ma'am. Thank you, Ma'am."

She had barely taken up position on the mat when a young paige came down the stairs into the kitchen. He picked up an apple from a large basket of fruit sitting on the cook's table and was about to bite into it when he noticed her and his eyes lit up. 

"I know her!" he said. "I brought her up the slave quarters two nights ago. She's new, isn't she? Do you think I could give her a try?"

"She's there for the taking, boy," the Kitchen Mistress replied. "Do what you will with her."

The paige dropped the apple in his pocket and approached Tara. He touched her hair lightly and then ran his fingers over her pert breasts, causing her nipples to harden.

"You can look at me," he said. Tara looked up at him and he smiled almost shyly. 

"Would you fancy sucking me off?" he asked. 

"Yes, Sir," Tara replied, although it felt strange to address the boy that way, 

On her knees before him, Tara tried to keep her hands from shaking as she undid his pants. Her eyes widened as his cock sprung into view. It was so small! Without thinking, she reached out and wrapped her fingers around the base, feeling it swell and harden more. 

"Ahh," the boy sighed with pleasure. "That's nice. You can use your hands and your mouth together if you like."

Tara tentatively took the head of the boy's cock in her mouth and then slowly slid her lips down the shaft to meet her hand. She could feel the tip tickling the back of her throat, but it was nothing like when the Young Master had used her mouth, choking her and bringing her to tears. She began moving her hand and mouth in tandem, up and down in a steady rhythm. She could feel her skin tingling, her sex moistening, and she found herself wishing the boy would put his hands on her again. Without stopping the movement of her head and her hand, Tara raised her eyes to see the boy's face. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open. It was only a few minutes before Tara tasted salt on her tongue and felt the boy's muscles tense. With a short cry, he spurted into her mouth. It tasted different than the Young Master and there was less of it to swallow. She looked up at him again and he grinned down at her. 

"Not a bad way to start the morning, eh?" he said, pulling up his trousers. He turned to leave and began heading out the door when he paused and pulled the apple from his pocket. 

"Catch, slave!" he said, tossing the apple in Tara's direction. Tara caught it and smiled. Then she suddenly felt unsure and looked towards the Kitchen Mistress. 

"You may eat what's given to you, girl," she said, barely giving Tara a second glance. Tara gleefully bit into the apple, its sweet juice replacing the taste of the boy in her mouth. She had barely finished eating when she heard another man's voice. He was big and smelled of sweat and horses.

"Let's make this quick," he growled. "We don't all get to spend our days lounging around on fancy pillows and kissing the prince's prick. Some of us have real work to do."

What fancy pillows? Tara thought but the Stable Hand gave her no more time to think before he was pushing his large, soft cock past her lips. 

"Open up that whore mouth nice and wide," he said. "If I feel any teeth, I'll knock them out of that pretty little face of yours, understand me?"

Tara struggled to keep her mouth open wide around the Stable Hand's rapidly swelling cock, but as he pushed deeper into her throat, she began to gag and choke. Before she could stop herself, Tara found herself pushing against his thighs with her small hands and pulling her head away. Without a word, the Stable Hand pulled the length of rope he had been using to belt his breeches through their loops, yanked Tara's hands together behind her back, and bound them tightly together at the wrist. With one hand firmly behind her head and the other pinching her nose shut, he pushed her open mouth down on his hard shaft. With no other way to breathe, Tara's throat opened to gulp in air. The Stable Hand forced his cock in as well, and he began fucking her mouth with ruthless, pounding force. Before long, the constricting sensation of Tara gagging helplessly around him combined with the long rivulets of her saliva coating his cock, making it wet and slick, had him ready to cum. For Tara, the assault had seemed neverending and when he finally withdrew, leaving her crying and coughing, she thought the ordeal was over. She was mistaken. 

"Did I tell you to close your mouth, whore?" he asked her. 

Tara stared at him wide-eyed. He grabbed a fist full of her hair and pulled, causing her to cry out in pain. "I asked you a question. Did I tell you to close your mouth?"

"No, Sir," Tara sobbed. "Please, Sir. I'm.. I'm sorry."

"You're not sorry," he said to her, his voice little more than a hiss. "One taste of my whip and you would know what sorry is. Now open your fucking mouth."

Tara did as she was told and the Stable Hand let go of her hair, moving to stand squarely in front of her. A few rough jerks of his cock and a torrent of hot cum flew from its tip on to Tara's face. Some landed in her mouth, some on her cheek, some in her hair and some just below her eyebrow where it slowly dripped into her eye and began to sting almost at once. Walking around Tara as he tucked his spent cock back into his pants, The Stable Hand gave her a hard shove from behind and without her hands to break the fall, her cheek made painful contact with the kitchen floor. A dirty boot pressed against her face. 

"Do you have anything else to say to me, whore?" the Stable Hand asked. 

Through her pain and humiliation, Tara remembered the right words.

"Thank you for using me, Sir," she managed to say. "May I be of any other service to you?"

"Not today," came the reply and Tara felt his boot lift and her hands set free. She brought them to her face, curled up on the floor and sobbed. 

"Get up." The Kitchen Mistress' voice was not unkind but was firm and Tara knew she had no choice. She slowly pushed herself back up on to her knees and saw that a bowl of water and a clean rag had been placed in front of her. 

"Go on and get yourself cleaned up a bit, girl," the Kitchen Mistress said. 

Tara dipped the rag in the water and pressed it to her face. The water had the fresh scent of lemons and Tara inhaled deeply, trying to erase the smell of the Stable Hand. Wetting the rag again, she wiped the dirt and dried cum from her face.

"Thank you," she said, extending the bowl and rag back to the Kitchen Mistress. As the woman took them from her, Tara noticed the red marks on her wrists where the Stable Hand had bound them. One taste of my whip he had said. Tara shuddered.

"Would he really whip me?" she asked the Kitchen Mistress.

"Learn to please him better and you won't have to find out," she replied. 

As the day wore on, Tara found she had little time to rest as word spread quickly that there was a new slave in the kitchen and there was no shortage of opportunities to serve. There were young and old, big and small, long and short and eventually, Tara lost track of how many had used her.

When three of the stable boys came in together and surrounded her, she had felt overwhelmed, but although they weren't exactly gentle with her, they were not cruel either. They kept her mouth and both hands busy for almost an hour, stroking, sucking and licking their hard cocks. Warm hands tweaked her nipples and slapped her thighs and ass. When she felt fingers pushing into her wet pussy, she could only moan around the cock in her mouth. She learned that if she focused and breathed through her nose, she didn't gag as much and could take a man's cock deeper without that awful choking feeling. She began to pay attention to the tensing of their muscles and to the sounds they made before they came so that she could prepare herself and was ready to swallow the load after load of cum that was deposited in her mouth. When the stable boys were done with her, one came in her mouth, one in her hand and one on her tits. There was pleasure and satisfaction written all over their faces and for the first time, Tara felt the pride of a well used slave. 

"Nothing like a little afternoon fun to work up an appetite, eh boys?" one of them said, as they clamoured about the kitchen to get their lunch. Tara watched them gather small meat pies, bowls of warm broth, and scones covered in cream. One of the boys set a plate of food and a bowl of broth down in front of her. 

"Eat up, slave. I think you've earned it!" he said, giving Tara a wink before sauntering out the kitchen door with his friends. 

After eating her fill, Tara was given leave to use the toilet and wash up. No sooner was she back at her post than the cook was ready for a go. Tara was happy to oblige. 

It was late in the day when an old man pulled up a chair in front of Tara and sat down. But it was not him that caught Tara's attention. A figure stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the doorframe. It was Lucas. And he was watching her. Tara felt her breath quicken and a hot blush spread over her skin. She couldn't explain why, but something about him seeing her like this filled with with a strange and delicious sense of shame and desire at the same time. 

Is he waiting for me? Tara thought. If only I could finish this one off!

She fairly ripped open the old man's pants and dove into his crotch, taking his flaccid, shriveled flesh into her mouth and sucking as hard as she could. When that did nothing, Tara started using her hands as well, stroking and sucking with vigour, but no matter how she tried, he only came to half-mast and then softened again. Her jaw began to ache and tears of frustration sprang to her eyes. Why now? Tara thought. Why must I fail while he's watching?

Finally Tara felt the old man's hand on her shoulder. She stiffened, expecting to be rebuked. 

"That'll do, girl," he said. 

Tara looked up at the man's lined face and suddenly she was filled with the memory of her old Master. He had always been kind to her and she must have been a disappointment to him too. 

She bowed her head in real shame and said, "Please forgive me, Sir. I am... unworthy of use. May I be of any other service to you?"

The old man raised his eyebrows and replied, "Unworthy? No, I don't think so. In fact, that was quite the performance. But I don't believe it was for me, now was it?"

Tara bit her lip and felt her tears spill over. "No, Sir," she whispered. 

"Let's have no more tears over it," he said. "You'll have your chance with the young Blackmore bucks, don't you worry. Now, why don't we start over? Perhaps you can show me what other service you might be to me."

Tara took a deep breath and after a moment's consideration, she knelt at the old man's feet, removed his boots and rolled his pant legs up above his knees. Sitting in front of him, she began rubbing the soles of his feet and heard him murmur with pleasure. She brought her lips to his gnarled toes and carefully kissed each of them, sucking them a little as she went. She worked her way up and down each veiny leg, then trailed a path of kisses along his thighs until she reached his cock again. She found it half-hard and took it easily in her mouth, using her tongue to tease it. She began sucking with unhurried, even strokes and slowly, felt it swell. When he finally came, Tara swallowed every drop and felt that it might be the sweetest release she had tasted yet. It was only after he had disappeared down the stairs towards the cellar that Tara looked back towards the kitchen door. Lucas was nowhere to be seen. Tara sighed. I wonder if I'll see him again, she thought. She didn't have to wait long to find out.



A Slave's Journey Begins Ch. 06



It was Leanna who woke Tara the next morning, and after sending her for breakfast and a wash, she lead her to a chamber within the slaves' quarters that she had not yet seen. As she followed Leanna into the room, Tara drew in her breath. The floor was covered with thick rugs and strewn atop them were several cushions of all different shapes, sizes and colours. On either side of the room, there were long chaise lounges, upholstered in velvet and also covered with large, plush pillows. The centrepiece of the room, flanked by ornate side tables, was the biggest bed Tara had ever seen, its gauzy canopy drawn back and tied to its four golden posts. In the middle of the bed sat Siara with Katya sprawled out next to her. Both girls wore lovely robes of sheer, shimmery fabric and the jewels on their collars sparkled in the morning light. It made Tara acutely aware of how naked and plain she was next to them.

"Enough chit chat, girls," Leanna said briskly. "The Stewards will be here after lunch to put our little novice through her paces and I expect her to be ready. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Mistress," both girls replied and Leanna took her leave.

"Alright, let's start with positions," Siara said. 

Tara immediately dropped to her knees and began to move through the series of positions Liam had so thoroughly drilled into her memory, but laughter from both Siara and Katya made her stop. 

"Those are slave positions," Siara said. "I'm talking about pleasure positions."

Tara stared at her, feeling embarrassed and confused. 

She felt even worse when Katya rolled her eyes and said, "She really doesn't know anything."

"Well then, we'll have to teach her," Siara said, pouncing on the raven-haired beauty next to her.

Tara watched as the girls tumbled about the bed in a playful fight that ended with their robes on the floor and their naked bodies intimately entwined. Siara opened Katya's mouth with a deep kiss and then pressed her fingers to Katya's moist lips. Wet with spit, Siara's hand pushed between Katya's legs and began a rhythmic thrusting. Without stopping what she was doing, she reached over to the side table with the other hand and withdrew from the table's discrete compartment what looked to Tara like an erect cock made of a rubber attached to a leather belt. Sitting up on her knees, Siara put the contraption on and then rolled over so that she had Katya pinned beneath her. Katya wound her legs around Siara's body and Siara pushed forward with her hips, sliding the phallus deep into Katya's wet pussy. Siara looked Tara directly in the eye. "Position one," she said. 

Tara watched transfixed as Siara and Katya moved fluidly from one position to the next, covering some eight positions in all. It wasn't long after Siara had pulled Katya's body to hers in the last position and sunk her shaft in again that Tara heard Katya give a sharp little cry and saw her whole body tense and shudder. 

"Bad girl, Kat," Siara said as she disentangled herself from Katya's embrace. "You know better than to cum without permission."

The passion Tara had felt radiating from Katya just a moment before was gone, replaced again by a haughty indifference and a cool glare. 

"Maybe I was faking" she taunted, retrieving her robe from the floor.

Siara unfastened the belt around her waist and tossed the rubber phallus in Katya's direction. 

"Clean that off and then try and make yourself presentable. You look like a common whore," she said. With robe in one hand and toy in the other, Katya turned to leave. "And Katya," Siara called, stopping her in the doorway. "You weren't faking."

A small smile turned Katya's lips upwards and then tossing her dark hair over her shoulder, she was gone. 

"Well, let's see if you were paying attention," Siara said, turning her attention back to Tara and reclining on the bed. "Start from position one."

Tara rose uncertainly and made her way to the bed. She lay down on her back next to Siara and stared nervously at the ceiling. Siara laughed and shook her head. "Don't just lie there like a dead fish," she said, rolling on top of Tara and taking her head between her hands. "If you aren't blindfolded, invite me to fuck you with your eyes." Siara placed Tara's hands on her hips and continued, "If you aren't bound, entice me with your hands." Tara felt Siara's hands slip beneath her buttocks and lift slightly. "Seduce me with your hips," she whispered and Tara instinctively thrust her sex towards Siara's pulsing heat. 

"Yes, that's it," Siara said. "That's good. Now switch to position two."

Tara felt dazed as Siara's weight shifted off of her and she found she could not remember what position Katya had assumed next. Laying back on the coverlet, Siara guided Tara to sit astride her and coaxed her to lean back on her hands, pushing her breasts out and arching her back. 

Tara's first pass through each position was awkward and halting, but Siara was a patient teacher, offering gentle instruction and encouragement as they went. On her third pass through the series, Tara began to feel more comfortable and found that she could anticipate what position Siara wanted her in next without having to be told, even when they switched in no particular order. 

Well over an hour had passed before Siara finally lay down on her belly next to Tara, resting her head on her arms. 

"I think you're ready," she said, giving Tara a wide smile. 

Tara smiled back but her eyes fell on the scars on Siara's back and her smile faded.

"My mother had scars like these," she said quietly, brushing her fingers lightly over the slightly raised and discoloured skin. "Do they still hurt?" 

For a moment, Siara's eyes clouded over and she seemed lost in her own thoughts. But the moment passed and she rolled off the bed.

"No," she replied matter of factly. "Not anymore. Now, let's get ourselves ready. We have guests arriving soon and we don't want to keep them waiting."

********************

Lucas reclined comfortably amid the large cushions strewn over over the thick rug. He let the slave Katya remove his boots and pour him a cup of wine. 

"Sir Liam, may I offer you some wine?" she asked. 

Liam had pulled back the curtain that opened on to the chamber's small balcony and was leaning on the stone rail, staring into the distance. He held out his arm absently to accept the wine the girl offered, but otherwise paid her no mind. It was only when she turned around that he gave her a second look. 

"Wait," he called and Katya stopped in her tracks. With a hand on her back, he guided her to a chaise lounge and bent her over one of its ornately carved arms. Lifting her robe, he exposed her creamy thighs and buttocks and frowned at what he now could see clearly. The angry red welts had faded to uneven pink lines and Liam shook his head.

"Sloppy work," he muttered. "If they wanted to mark her, the cane would have been best. This is the work of a whip, probably in a drunk man's hand."

Lucas stood up and looking down at the girl, put an arm around his friend's shoulders. With his other hand, he caressed her white globes and then with thumb and forefinger, separated them to reveal the tiny, puckered opening. 

"How is it that you and I can look at the same thing and yet see something completely different?" he said. Liam sighed and turned back to the balcony.

"We're here to work, Lucas," he said. 

"Indeed," laughed Lucas. "And you should learn to take more pleasure in your work!"

Liam didn't answer him and he turned his full attention to what was before him. Spreading Katya's cheeks wide, he pressed his thumb to her asshole and found it already slippery with oil. 

"Ah, my little house cat," he said as he slowly pushed his thumb into her tight ring of flesh. "It has been too long since I made you purr."

Just then, the chamber door opened and Siara walked in with the Old Master's slave behind her. 

"Sir Lucas, Sir Liam," she acknowledged them both with a perfect bow. "May I present the slave Tara for your use today?" She gave Tara a slight nudge forward and the girl sank gracefully to her knees. 

"Duty calls," Lucas said, withdrawing his hand.He gave Katya's ass a last caress and said, "We'll finish this some other time."

"May I be of any service to you, Sir?" Siara asked. 

"Yes," replied Lucas as he approached the kneeling slave, unbuttoning his tunic as he went. 

"You and your kitten can entertain Sir Spoilsport over there so that I can work in peace."

Liam was standing in the arch between the chamber and the balcony and he flushed at Lucas' words. Across the room, his eyes met Siara's and he saw the question in them. He gave a small shake of his head and she dropped her gaze. He knew her dilemma at once. Obeying Lucas meant disregarding him and obeying him meant disobeying Lucas. He sat down on the lounge which Katya was still bent over and motioned for Siara to take Lucas' place behind her. 

"Perhaps you can entertain each other," he said through gritted teeth.

Siara moved behind Katya and slipped one hand between her legs and the other around her body to fondle her breasts. 

"Sir?" Siara asked. 

Liam could plainly see the fine curves of Siara's body through her robe and her very nearness was having an effect on him that he didn't care for at all. 

"That's fine," he said curtly and turned his attention back to the work at hand. 

Lucas was standing over Tara, looking down at her. Her hair had been brushed and braided prettily, her skin scrubbed and scented sweetly - a different creature entirely than the one he had carried into Blackmore Estate.

"Up," he commanded. 

She rose instantly without breaking the clasp of her hands, chest out, eyes down, back straight. Standing behind her, he drew her in towards his broad chest and began to explore her body with both hands. 

"So we meet again, little bird," he said. "You're not going to bite me again, are you?"

Mortified at the memory of her behavior, Tara blushed bright red.

"No, Sir," she replied. 

"That's a shame," chuckled Lucas. "I like a slave with a little spirit."

"Lucas, don't encourage disobedience," Tara heard Liam's voice say, but Lucas' hands on her body were making it hard to concentrate. 

"Tell me something, slave," Lucas said. "Do you enjoy sucking off old men? From what I saw of your service in the kitchen, you must enjoy it a great deal."

Tara felt the prick of tears and a lump formed in her throat. No, I didn't, she wanted to cry out. But then.. maybe I did. Maybe I enjoyed it because I knew you were watching me.

"Too slow to answer, slave," Liam's voice cut through her thoughts. "You can expect punishment for that later."

"Please, Sir," Tara managed to say as Liam's training came back to her. "My... pleasure is in the pleasure of he whom I serve, whatever his age may be."

"Is that so?" Lucas asked with a laugh. "Well then, you can start by serving my cock with your mouth."

Tara turned around and dropped to her knees. The bulge in the Steward's pants was clearly visible as she peeled back the tight fabric encasing his hard cock. It wasn't as long as the Young Master's, but was thicker with a fat head. Tara pressed her lips to the tip and then opened to take him in. She began sucking tentatively, expecting at any moment to feel him forcing himself into her throat. But he stood still, letting her decide how deep to take him. Remembering her service in the kitchen, Tara breathed deeply and relaxed her throat muscles so that slowly, more and more of Lucas' cock disappeared every time her head went down. 

On the lounge, Liam was painfully aware that right next to him, Katya had gone from making little sighs of pleasure to gasps and then moans, and now had her head buried in a pillow to muffle her screams as Siara expertly tortured her with pleasure. Try as he might, he couldn't stop the thoughts of Siara's sure hands, wet with Katya's juices, wrapped around his cock, jerking him off as he spanked her naked ass. 

I have to get out of here, he thought. Please Lucas, just fuck her and get it over with.

Liam shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore his straining erection and felt himself reaching a breaking point. 

"The positions, Lucas," he called out, his voice sounding hoarse and hollow in his own ears. "Do the positions."

Lucas took a step back from the slave kneeling before him. "On the bed," he commanded. "Down and open."

Tara stood shakily and lay down on the big bed. Standing up beside her, Lucas slapped her narrow thighs until they were spread wide apart.

"What did I say? Down AND open. I'm afraid Liam's going to give it to you for that slip later on too," he said with a grin. Climbing on to the bed, he knelt between her open legs and guided the tip of his hard cock to her slit. Stretching out on top of her, he watched her face as he pushed inside her. 

Lucas had been with more than his share of girls - slaves and free ones alike - and he had seen all manner of expressions on their pretty faces as he fucked them; lust, anger, boredom, joy, regret, release. As he entered Tara, he met no firm resistance, yet her passage was unbelievably tight and in her eyes, he saw only fear. Lucas pulled back and with a grunt, drove into her again with a little more force. She cried out in pain and Lucas pulled out, staring at her, puzzled. Everything about her reaction told him the girl was a virgin. But that can't be, he thought. She's a collared slave!

Looking up at him, Tara mistook the confusion on his face for disgust with her poor performance and unable to stop herself, she burst into tears. Lucas rolled off of her, Liam stood from his seat and Katya and Siara stopped what they were doing and looked over in alarm. Feeling everyone's eyes on her only caused Tara to cry harder. 

"Sir?" Siara asked. 

"Go," Liam said. 

Siara went to the bed and put her arms around the sobbing girl. 

"Hush now, what is it?" she asked, but Tara had no answers. Looking up at Lucas, she said, "We practiced all morning and she was fine. What on earth happened?"

Genuinely bewildered, Lucas replied, "I don't know."

Siara held Tara and tried to wipe away her tears, but fresh tears kept coming. For Tara, the crushing knowledge of her failure at such a crucial moment, combined with the humiliation of failing in front of all of them, and the terrifying realization that she would likely not only be punished for her failure, but perhaps even sold, was all too much to bear.

"Get out," Lucas finally said. "Everyone out."

Liam opened his mouth to protest, but he saw the look on Lucas' face and thought better of it. His evaluations could wait. Ushering Siara and Katya out in front of him, the three of them left the room, closing the door behind them. Lucas picked up his cup and refilled it with wine.

"Drink," he commanded, holding the cup to Tara's lips. Tara had never tasted wine before and it burned going down, but she drained the cup nevertheless. 

Lucas watched her as she drank and when she finally managed to get her tears under control, he asked her, "Why were you afraid?"

Tara took a breath and tried to find her voice. "Sir, it wasn't... it wasn't like it was with Siara," was the best explanation she could muster. 

"I should hope not!" Lucas replied with a laugh. "And I sure as high hell hope it wasn't like it was when your old master fucked you either!"

"He didn't," Tara whispered. "He never... used me that way. He only... opened me because my mother asked him to. He didn't want me like that."

"Opened you?" Lucas asked. 

So Tara told him the story of being opened by her Master. When she was done, she looked at Lucas miserably. "Please Sir, what will happen to me now?" 

Lucas considered his options. A virgin who was not a virgin. It was most curious. Had she been a true virgin, he would have had no choice but to give her over to Thomas, for he owned her after all and it would be his right to claim her. But she's already been claimed, thought Lucas.

"Does Leanna know about this?" he asked. Tara nodded. 

If Leanna knew, it stood to reason that she had either not told Thomas or that she had told him and he had given her over for training and use anyway. Lucas thought of his friend, the Young Master of Blackmore Estate. Most of his slaves feared him and with good reason - he could be demanding, impatient, quick to find fault and hard to please. And if one was unlucky enough to provoke punishment... well, Lucas knew most would gladly take an hour with Liam in the Training Room over half the time with the Young Master. 

"Alright," he said, stretching out next to Tara. "Show me how it was with Siara."

Tara looked at him, confused.

"Surely you remember some of what she taught you," he said. "Or should I report that she failed in her duties and -"

"No!" Tara cried. The last thing she meant to do was get Siara in trouble as well. "Please, Sir, she did teach me the.. pleasure positions. She's a good teacher!"

Lucas had to suppress a smirk. I'll bet she is, he thought. 

"So let's see what you've learned," he said.

Tara lay down nervously next to Lucas. What had Siara said? Seduce me... invite me... entice me...

Turning to face the Steward, who had turned to face her, Tara tentatively brought her hands to his broad chest. She ran her fingers through the dark curls there and then let her hands travel his well muscled arms until they rested lightly on his shoulders. She shifted her body so she was on her back almost underneath him. 

"If you were... on top, that would be the first position," Tara said, her voice little more than a whisper. 

"Like this?" Lucas asked, rolling on top of her. He was hard against her thigh, close enough to feel her ragged breath on his cheek.

"Yes, like that," Tara breathed.

Lucas brushed Tara's lips gently with his own and smiled when she parted them, eager for a deeper kiss. Not yet, little bird.

"Show me two," he said. 

Two... What was two? Tara's thoughts were jumbled as images of Siara and Katya coming together flashed through her mind. She couldn't think clearly, but her body knew what to do anyway. Her legs wrapped around the Steward's torso and she rolled with him so that he lay on his back beneath her, his cock still rigid and resting on his taut stomach. Pushing on his chest with her hands, Tara sat up, straddling his hips. She leaned back as Siara had shown her, thrusting her breasts out. Lucas needed no further invitation. Sitting up, his mouth closed on a sensitive pink nipple and he heard her gasp. He circled each nipple with his tongue, sucking at them in turn and nipping at them lightly. When he looked up, he saw her head thrown back, blonde curls escaping from their braids, her eyes closed, her skin flushed. She didn't need to be told what to do next. 

She swiveled easily on top of him so that she faced his feet and bent at the waist. Lucas was presented with her long back and perfectly positioned pussy and ass. With a low growl, he encircled her waist and pushed her forward into the next position. Then she was on all fours, head down, ass up, legs spread wide. Lucas got up on his knees behind her and rubbed the head of his cock against her pussy lips. Tara's hands clenched into tight little fists and she drew in her breath sharply and held it, waiting for him to enter her again. Instead, Tara felt him pulling her down so that she lay on her side, spooned against him. His fingers found their way between her legs to play with her clit, until she was writhing against him. His other hand closed softly around her neck so that he could feel her racing pulse, and he tipped her head back so that his eyes met hers. 

"Be still, slave," he said. 

Tara did her best to obey, but found she could no more stop her hips from grinding into his than she could the wetness slipping from her pussy lips. She began to wish he would put himself inside her again. Just do it, she thought. I don't care if it hurts.




A Slave's Journey Begins Ch. 06



"What did you say?" Lucas asked.

Tara froze. Had she said her thoughts aloud? 

She felt the Steward's grip tighten around her neck and caught a dangerous glint in his dark eyes. 

"Do you want it to hurt, little bird?" Lucas whispered into Tara's ear. "Because believe me, that can be arranged." He turned her roughly to face him and kissed her with brutal force. 

"Now show me the next position. I want to taste that cunt."

Tara felt shaken by Lucas' kiss but she also felt alive in a way she never had before. She turned herself around so that her face was level with his cock and hungrily took him in her mouth. In her earlier practice of this position, Siara had merely kissed her smooth mound and instructed her not to lose focus, no matter what was being done to her. At that time she hadn't really caught Siara's meaning, but now, as she felt Lucas spreading her pussy lips wide and his tongue making slow circles of the opening there before dipping into the pink hole, she understood all too well. She closed her lips around his cock and tried to keep up a steady rhythm, but eventually Lucas' merciless tongue-fucking pushed her right to the edge and she couldn't stand it anymore. Somehow or another, she remembered the right words. 

"Sir, please may I cum?" she cried. 

Then he was on his feet, pulling her with him. He pushed her, harder perhaps than he had intended, into the wall so that her cheek pressed against the cool stone. Coming up behind her, Lucas took a deep breath to regain control. He ran his knuckles down the length of her back and felt a slight tremor pass through her in response.

"No, slave," he said. "You may cum when I say you may cum," he said.

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir," Tara replied softly. 

"What position is this?" he asked.

"Seven, Sir," she answered. 

"Is this all you learned?"

"No, Sir. There's... there's one more."

"Show me."

Tara turned and keeping her eyes down, slowly raised her arms and locked them behind the Steward's neck. "If you.. lift me up, that's eight," she said.

Lucas lifted her easily and she wrapped her legs around him, letting his arms and the wall support her. Her skin was hot to touch and Lucas could feel something raw and ready in her.

"Look at me, Tara," he said. 

Her eyes met his and holding her tightly, he thrust deeply into her wet pussy. 

Tara's mouth opened but no sound came out. The sensation of being so suddenly and completely filled was like nothing she had felt before. The pain she had felt when he first tried to enter her was gone. There was only his cock moving inside her, sending intense waves of pleasure rippling through her entire body every time he slammed into her. Her body opened to him, letting him touch places inside her she hadn't known were there and as he hit the same spot again and again, Tara felt her muscles tightening and an insistent tingling that she feared she could not control. 

"Sir, please... please may I... Please, Sir...Please..." Tara half spoke the words and half gasped them out between moans she couldn't contain. 

"Yes, slave, you may cum," Lucas said. 

His words were like a key unlocking hidden floodgates in Tara. She arched her back against the wall and screamed as a powerful orgasm swept through her body. The contractions of her tight cunt as she came were all Lucas needed to reach his climax as well and with a final deep thrust, he filled her with hot seed. 

Resting his head between Tara's breasts, Lucas paused for a moment to catch his breath before releasing her from his grip. Her feet had barely touched the ground before she was on her knees.

"Thank you for using me, Sir," she said, a little breathless still. "May I be of any other service to you?"

Lucas stretched out his arms and made his way back to his original spot on the floor.

"Some wine," he said. 

Tara rose to obey, but was stopped by Lucas' voice. "Did I give you permission to stand?"

"No, Sir," came Tara's meek reply.

"Then get back on your knees and do as you're told. And be quick about it!"

Tara sank to the ground and on her hands and knees, managed to fetch the wineskin and empty cup which she filled and offered to the Steward. Lucas took the cup and drank deeply. 

"Drink?" he asked Tara, holding out the cup. 

She hadn't realized it until the wine was in front of her, but she was desperately thirsty. Without thinking, she reached for the cup with both hands. It was withdrawn immediately and Tara realized her mistake at once. 

"Please forgive me, Sir," she murmured, clasping her hands behind her back again.

"Oh, I forgive you," Lucas laughed. "But Liam won't."

Tara felt a wave of nervousness as she remembered Liam's words in the Training Room. Learn quickly and be punished often he had said. Tara shuddered to think how many mistakes she had already made and what would be done to her to pay for them. 

Lucas took another drink and then offered the cup again in Tara's direction. This time, Tara bent her head to take a sip and then another, all without breaking position.

"Thank you, Sir," she murmured, and Lucas motioned for her to lay down with her head in his lap. Tara licked her lips which were still wet with wine and lowered her mouth to the Steward's spent cock. Seeing her intention, Lucas tugged on her braids to pull her head back.

"I applaud your enthusiasm, little bird," he said, "but that's not what I want." At the look on Tara's face, Lucas burst out laughing.

"Don't look so disappointed! I fully intend to fuck you again, in every one of those positions actually. But right now, I seek only the service of your company."

Tara lay down hesitantly, resting her head on his thighs. 

"A slave can be more than just a body to fuck," Lucas said. "You may be a listener of grievances, a player of games, a massager of tired muscles after a long day's ride, a singer of songs, a keeper of secrets. There are many ways to serve, Tara."

Pinching a rosy nipple between thumb and finger, he continued, "Although I will admit, acts of carnal pleasure are my favourite kind of service."

"Permission to ask a question, Sir?" Tara asked.

"Granted."

"Which position is your favourite? I mean.. what act pleases you best?"

Lucas smiled. Now she's starting to fuck like a slave and think like one, he thought.

"That depends," he replied.

"On what?"

"On the girl, on the location, on my mood that day." 

Lucas' mind wandered to the feel of Katya's lovely ass in his hands, how it would feel with his cock inside it. Then he thought of how tight Tara's virgin ass would be, how he would enjoy stretching her slowly until she was begging him to fuck her there. But that was for tomorrow. There was still much to be done today. 

Tara couldn't help but notice the Steward's cock stirring to life. Her instinct was to take the half hard shaft in her mouth and suck until he was ready to plunge into her again, but she didn't want to make the same mistake twice. 

"What kind of mood are you in today, Sir?" Tara asked.

Lucas laughed. Whether her question was ignorance or impudence he didn't know and didn't care. He lay back amongst the pillows and pulled her down with him. 

"Let's find out," he said.



A Slave's Journey Begins Ch. 07



Tara woke in her bed the next morning, her sex damp and her body aching with need. Her dreams had been filled with the events of the past three days - of hands caressing her, of wet mouths and stiff cocks, of cool wine and hot flesh, of all that she had seen and heard and done and of this new being she was becoming. She sat up and winced, as the pleasurable ache she had felt lingering from her dream turned into a very real ache pulsing from her sore pussy and newly marked ass. Tara remembered her training and braced herself for the pain as she stood slowly and made her way to the bathing room. 

After she had washed, freshened her mouth, and brushed her hair, Tara followed the sound of voices and laughter to the small kitchen area. Leanna was leaning against the wall, sipping tea from a stone cup and Katya was sitting at the table with two other girls Tara had never seen before. The first thing she noticed about them was that they wore collars that looked more like hers, although the markings on them were different. 

Katya was the first to spot Tara hovering in the doorway. "Well, look who finally woke up," she said. Everyone turned to stare at Tara and she felt her skin heat up with embarrassment. "Tell us, Tara, we're all dying to know," Katya continued, her tone pointed, "Did you enjoy your... training yesterday?" 

Tara clenched her fists and stared at the ground. Why did Katya always make her feel this way?

What could she say? That she herself didn't know how she felt about everything that had happened to her but that "enjoy" didn't come close to encompassing it? Tara felt many different things, but as she thought about it, it became very clear to her that ashamed wasn't one of them.

"Yes," Tara replied, lifting her chin, "I believe I did."

Katya's eyes narrowed, but before she could say anything else, they were interrupted by a paige at the door to their quarters. The other slaves, owned by guests of the Young Master, had been called, along with Katya, and Leanna hurried them all out the door. When she returned to the kitchen, she offered Tara some bread and tea and motioned for the girl to join her at the table. 

"You've been marked," Leanna said. 

"Yes, Mistress," Tara replied. 

"Liam says you endured it quite well, all things considered..."

Tara's mind flashed back to the day before, to the afternoon spent fucking Lucas in every position over and over again, and then the evening that followed with Liam in the Training Room. He had recounted her infractions to her in detail and his corrections had come with stinging slaps and cruel pinches. When he had finally led her to a post on the far side of the room facing away from the wall where his implements hung, she had embraced the smooth, sturdy wood gratefully, expecting a spanking, yes - but also, just maybe, his fingers inside her again. She had been surprised when he held up the wooden cane for her to see. 

"I'm going to mark you, Tara," he had said calmly. "It's going to hurt. You'll receive four strikes and I want you to count each one aloud. I don't want to have to bind you to the post, so you must try very hard to hold your position. Are you ready?"

"Yes, Sir," Tara had whispered. 

But there was no way she could have been ready for the intense pain that exploded across her skin as the cane first made contact. It was unlike any punishment she had received so far and she didn't think she could bear it. As if reading her mind, she had felt Liam gently stroking her hair.

"Count, Tara," he reminded her softly. 

A part of her had wanted to let go of the post, sink to her knees, beg him to stop, plead for mercy or forgiveness or anything but this. But somehow, she had managed to remain upright.

"One," she had choked out.

Liam had administered the remaining lashes with a measured hand until four red stripes of fire evenly crossed Tara's buttocks. By the time she counted four, Tara was sobbing, her legs were visibly shaking and she had bit into her own lip hard enough to taste blood. But she had held position, her fingernails digging into the post, her bare feet rooted to the ground. She had felt the warmth of Liam's body behind her pulling her hands free from the post. 

"It's over now, Tara." he had said. "Shhh now, it's over, you're safe. And you've done so well, such a good little girl." And Tara had collapsed into his arms. She remembered him carrying her from the Training Room and placing her in her own bed, where he had sat next to her until she fell asleep.

"I didn't thank him properly," she said.

"What do you mean?" Leanna asked.

"Sir Liam," Tara replied. "I should have thanked him for.. marking me and I didn't."

Leanna regarded the girl thoughtfully. This new slave was full of surprises today. But her true tests were yet to come. 

"Come with me," she said. 

Leanna led Tara back to the bathing room and sat her down on the same platform where she had been bound and stripped of her hair not long ago. 

"When was the last time you bled?" Leanna asked.

Tara furrowed her brow. She hardly paid attention to her cycle. It was more a nuisance to her than anything else. 

"I'm not sure. Maybe... Two weeks before the Stewards arrived?"

Leanna nodded. She seemed to be counting in her head. Then she said, "It's important to keep track. There is only a short window each month where you may fall pregnant and once you know exactly when it is, your use will be restricted during that time."

Tara had only a vague understanding of how one became pregnant and she struggled to piece together what Mistress Leanna was telling her. 

"Restricted... how?" she asked. 

Leanna smiled and withdrew from the pocket of her robe what looked to Tara like a silver egg with a flared base and tapered handle.

"I think you're ready for the next phase of your training," she said.

----------------

Tara squirmed uncomfortably on her mat in the corner of the kitchen. The bit of steel in her ass wasn't cold anymore and didn't hurt exactly, but it still felt... wrong. When Mistress Leanna had first made Tara lie back and spread her own cheeks so she could press the nozzle of her little pump to Tara's tiny hole, filling it with warm water, Tara had only thought it a bit strange. Then when she replaced the nozzle with her long, slick finger, Tara had gasped and clenched her buttocks together. 

"Try to relax, Tara," Mistress Leanna had said, twisting her finger and pushing it in and out. Every movement felt to Tara like she was about to pass filth - which after all, was what that body part was meant to do - and the idea of doing that in front of Mistress Leanna, or worse, all over Mistress Leanna, was too awful to consider. Tara had been relieved when she felt the finger slide from her ass, but her relief was short lived, as the cold, slippery tip of the small, steel plug took its place. The plug had slipped into her ass fairly easily and the flared base made it impossible for her to expel it with her internal muscles alone. She had hoped Mistress Leanna would take the thing out quickly, but instead she was told she was to serve in the kitchen for the rest of the day - with the thing inside her! 

"Oh, Mistress, please," Tara had protested. "Do I have to?"

"You know you do," Mistress Leanna had replied. "And I'll thank you not to use that tone again. I might remind you that you are still on trial here, slave. Winning the favour of the Stewards will not keep you here and you'd do well to remember it."

"Forgive me, Mistress," Tara had murmured. "It won't happen again."

Yet now, resting on her heels, she could still feel the thing inside her and it was all she could do not to reach behind herself and pull it out with her own hand. Fortunately, her attention was quickly called elsewhere, as the cook presented his fat cock for her to suck and Tara was almost able to forget the stretching sensation in her backside as her second day in the kitchen began.

She had just swallowed a load of hot cum from a young paige when she heard familiar voices. She looked up to see Lucas and Liam helping themselves to roasted chicken and laughing with each other. 

"She didn't bite you, did she?" Lucas asked the paige, who was hurriedly pulling up his pants. 

"No, Sir," the boy replied seriously. 

"Oh, good," Lucas said. "It seems we've broken her of that charming little habit." 

Tara dropped her gaze, but a small smile played on her lips. "Liam, how much time do we have?" Lucas asked.

Liam took one look at the hungry way Lucas was staring at the naked slave and rolled his eyes.

"Enough," he said. "I'll be outside."

Lucas pulled up a chair in front of Tara and took a seat, unfastening his belt. 

"Up," he commanded, bringing her to her feet and leading her to the side of the chair. "Bend over and suck."

Bending at the waist, Tara took the Steward's hard cock in her mouth. The position felt awkward, but she knew the smell and feel of him now, knew the spots that were particularly sensitive to her swirling tongue, knew how to make him groan and swell, and she was eager to taste his cum again. 

Tara was so focused on what she was doing, she hardly noticed when Lucas hand came to rest on her buttocks. She did notice when she felt him grip the handle of the steel plug in her ass and begin to twist it slightly. Tara squealed and stood up straight, pulling her ass out of Lucas' reach. 

"Well, well," he said, looking up at her. "Sensitive aren't we? Now, I'll tell you one more time. Bend over and suck."

Tara did as she was told, but Lucas continued playing with her ass, pulling the plug halfway out and pushing it back in slowly, pausing where it was widest, causing her great distraction and discomfort. 

Pulling her head back by her hair, Lucas said, "Tell me, slave, do you like having your ass filled?" 

Tara was relieved to rest her aching jaw for a moment, but she wasn't sure how she ought to answer.

"I don't know, Sir. It feels... strange."

"But do you like it?"

"I don't think so, Sir."

"Is that so?" 

Tara gasped as Lucas pulled the plug from her ass and shoved it into her pussy. The plug wasn't very big, but after being so vigorously used the previous day, Tara's pussy was sensitive to any penetration and she whimpered as Lucas ground the hard steel against her clit. Her skin was flushing, her breath coming faster, and despite everything, her pussy was getting wetter by the second. Lucas rubbed the tip of the plug along Tara's slit, lubricating it nicely, and pushed it firmly back into her ass. Just then, they were interrupted by Liam's voice from the courtyard. 

"Lucas, the horses are ready, let's go!"

Lucas sighed as he reluctantly returned his erect penis to his pants and stood from his seat. 

"You see, slave," he said. "Your body knows what you are even if you don't." 

In two strides, he was out the door and gone. 

The sun was just starting to set when their party returned to Blackmore Estate. Lucas washed quickly and whistling to himself, made his way to the slaves' quarters. He knocked on the door and Leanna greeted him warmly. 

"Sir Lucas, what a pleasure," she said. "Shall I prepare a girl and a room for you? Our guests have left us two lovely specimens that I'm sure you would very much enjoy."

Lucas looked at the beautiful woman before him, full of confusion. 

"I thought I would be continuing the slave Tara's training this evening," he said. 

Leanna's eyebrows raised and she paused a moment before replying, "I'm afraid Tara isn't available. She is continuing her training with the Young Master tonight."



A Slave's Journey Begins Ch. 08



Tara tried to take deep breaths to calm the rising sense of panic she felt. She was in the Training Room, she knew that much, despite being blindfolded. Her other senses seemed heightened, making her acutely aware of the cold floor biting into her knees, the heady smells of sweat, oil, wood and leather around her, and then, the unmistakable sound of of the door opening. She heard footsteps coming towards her, and then, nothing. It must be Liam, Tara thought. She stayed perfectly still in position with her back straight and hands clasped behind her neck, waiting for any movements or commands he might make. 

Tara didn't know how long she knelt in silence, but eventually her arms started trembling and she realized that she would not be able to hold position very much longer. 

"Permission to speak, Sir?" she squeaked.

"Denied," came the cold response and Tara felt her heart skip a beat. It was the Young Master. Tara remembered the way his steely eyes had taken her in, the iron grip of his hand as he fucked her mouth that first night in Blackmore Estate. Realizing that she was alone with him again, and in this room especially, filled Tara with dread.

Several more minutes went by, neither of them saying a word. Tara's knees burned and her shoulders screamed at her to release them. Finally, she had to make a decision. She sat back on her heels, keeping her legs spread and her chest out, and rested her hands on her thighs, palms facing up. In this position, she still offered herself to him and she desperately hoped she had made the right choice. After a long pause, the Young Master spoke at last. 

"You're weak," he said. "And undisciplined."

Hot tears filled Tara's eyes behind her blindfold and slid down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Sir," she whispered miserably.

"Sorry for what?"

"Sorry for... being weak and undisciplined. And.. for breaking position, Sir."

"How do you think you should be punished for your failings?"

Tara paused, unsure of how to answer, and then said, "However you see fit, Sir."

Thomas considered. In truth, she had held position longer than he had expected. 

"Up and open, slave," he said. 

Tara stood and spread her legs. Thomas circled her once, as he had when she had first been presented to him. Then, without warning, he pushed three fingers into her dry cunt. Tara's thighs clamped together and she cried out in surprise and pain as the Young Master twisted his fingers inside her still sore pussy. He could see her fighting for control as she slowly parted her legs once more. 

"You will tell me what you have learned since arriving here," Thomas said. "You will do so honestly and thoroughly without exaggeration or omission. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Sir," Tara replied, her voice raising in pitch as his fingers probed roughly causing her to gasp and wince."Permission to gather my thoughts, Sir?"

Thomas watched Tara carefully. "Granted," he said. 

Tara licked her lips and bowed her head. After a few minutes, she turned her face in the direction of Thomas' voice and began to speak, recounting in detail her training with Liam, Siara and Lucas; how it had felt to cum for the first time, to be spanked, scolded, sucked and stretched, how she had been used in the kitchen and what she had learned about how to give pleasure, and finally about being marked and learning to submit and obey, even when it had been most difficult. 

Of course, Thomas already had a full report of Tara's training and progress, but the point of the exercise was to hear it from her own mouth. He noted that she wasn't rambling, nor was she trying to impress him or gain his sympathy. He also noted that as she spoke about the activities of the past four days, her pussy had become hot and moist, opening to his fingers and clenching hungrily around them. 

"You are a natural slut, but that does not make you a natural slave," Thomas said. He removed his hand abruptly from between Tara's legs and commanded, "Lie prone, slave."

Tara sank to her knees and stretched out on her belly with her hands at her sides. For several minutes, she could hear the Young Master doing something, but she couldn't make out what it was. Then she felt the rope go around her body. 

Thomas loved the feel of the rope in his hands. The knots were second nature to him now and it only took him a few minutes to efficiently hogtie the girl, bending her knees and securing her wrists to her ankles behind her back. Then he created a harness of sorts, winding the rope around her ribcage and each thigh, looping it through one of the many hooks in the ceiling and hoisting her into the air. She had remained silent while he tied her up, even though he knew the bondage would become painful quickly, but when she felt herself leave the ground, she was overcome with fear. 

"Please, Sir," she cried out, whipping her head, which was the only thing she could move at all, frantically back and forth. "Please put me down, I'm scared!"

Thomas surveyed her from a distance. Her long limbs looked lovely tied together, the rope framing her marked, plugged ass invitingly. 

"What are you scared of?" he asked. 

"That I'll fall!" she screamed. 

Thomas was next to her immediately and slapped her hard across the face with an open hand. It left a solid red imprint, but he knew, would not leave a bruise. It also left her spinning in a slow circle, the full weight of her body supported by the ropes alone. 

"That I'll fall, SIR," he corrected her. 

But Tara was past the point of listening. The sudden pain and movement combined made her more frightened than ever and forgetting herself completely, she began screaming.

"Sir Lucas! Sir Liam! Mistress Leanna! Please, someone help me!"

Thomas gave a dark laugh. The very act of binding the slave had made him half-hard, and now hearing her screams, seeing her fear, and feeling his absolute power over her, his cock swelled to its fullest size. He would very much enjoy teaching her this lesson in who her Master was. He adjusted the ropes so that his slave hung a little lower and coming up behind her, used one hand on her back to steady her and the other hand to pull the oiled plug from her ass. After being stretched all day, Tara's virgin asshole remained slightly open, as if begging to be filled again. Thomas wasted no time freeing his cock from his pants and gripping her narrow hips, forced himself into her anal passage. 

Tara was certain she was being torn apart and screamed in pain and protest, but Thomas paid no attention. With his balls pressed against her spread wide ass cheeks, he savoured her tightness, her inability to resist. Then he slowly withdrew and pushed into her again, this time grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling back sharply until her screams became strangled in her throat and she could only sob and gasp for air. When her screaming subsided, he released his grip and her head hung limply, tears dripping off her face. He began fucking her with long, hard strokes, each one punctuated by her weak cries. Tara's bones felt ready to snap, her belly cramped unbearably as the Young Master moved deeper and faster inside of her, and her ass burned with a kind of pain she had never felt before. 

"I want you to remember this, slave. As long as you wear the Blackmore collar around your neck, you belong to me and me alone. Not Leanna. Not Liam. Not Lucas," Thomas said, ramming into her with increasingly harder thrusts as he named each one. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Sir," Tara said through her tears, hoping only that her obedience would make the pain stop.

"A little test then. Tell me, slave - who owns this body?"

"You do, Sir."

"Who owns this ass?"

"You do, Sir."

"Who owns these tits? This mouth? This cunt?"

"You do, Sir. You do, oh please, you do."

As Tara repeated the words over and over again, their meaning began to truly sink in and she understood for the first time what it meant to be owned, to be a slave. 

"Please what, slave?" Thomas demanded. 

Please stop, Tara's mind cried. 

"Please use me, Sir," she heard her voice say. 

Thomas continued fucking the slave's ass, picking up speed, until he finally came deep inside her. He pulled out slowly, milking the last drops of cum into her gaping asshole. Then he set to work on the ropes, first lowering Tara to the ground and removing her blindfold, then untying her, knot by knot. As he freed each limb, he rotated it, moving it back and forth to get the blood circulating again and to ensure that none of her muscles or joints had sustained any serious damage. Tara allowed herself to be manipulated in his strong hands. Like a rag doll, she thought. 

"My old Master gave me a doll once," she said softly, her eyes glazed over, her mind far away. Then looking right at him, "Now he has given you one too."

Thomas held her gaze. Her behavior was inappropriate - speaking out of turn and making such bold eye contact - but he decided she had had enough for one day. He stood up and went to the Training Room door. He opened it to find Leanna waiting with her customary scented cloth and cool drink. He took them from her and motioned to the slave on the floor. 

"Put her in a warm bath and see that she has something to eat," he said. "Speak with her about her training today and have someone stay with her tonight if need be." Some slaves found it harder than others to recover from hard use and Thomas knew that novices especially could find themselves utterly destroyed if not properly taken care of. 

Leanna took in the rope marks crisscrossing the girl's body, her tear-stained face, and the cum tinged with blood seeping from her ass. 

Kneeling down next to her, she said, "Come, Tara. Try to stand up."

Tara tried to do as she was told, but her legs were like jelly beneath her. She tried to take a step forward and felt searing pain shoot through her legs and up from her backside. She started to sink back down to the floor, but Leanna's arms held her up and her firm voice propelled her forward. "You must walk, Tara."

Leaning heavily on the Slave Mistress, Tara willed herself to put one foot in front of the other and Leanna half dragged, half carried her out of the Training Room. 

**********************

It was late when Thomas heard a knock at his bedchamber door. Lost in his own thoughts, staring out into the night sky, he had let the candles burn down and the room was cold and dim. Dressed in only his pants and undershirt, he opened the door and for the second time that night, found Leanna waiting on the other side. He stepped back and she glided in, closing the door behind her. She carried herself with the most poise of any woman he had ever met. Even in her slippered feet, she was only a few inches shorter than him and despite being fifteen years his senior, was still an incredibly beautiful woman. 

Leanna went about the room, lighting the candles and closing the windows that were letting in the cool night air. She sent for hot water to be brought up to Thomas' private bathing room and for a plate of bread and fruit to be prepared for him. Thomas sat on the edge of the bed and watched her. She had been many things to him over the years - mother, lover, teacher, and friend. As she swished past him again, he took her hand. 

"Stop," he said. 

Leanna paused and looked down at her young master, then gracefully came to her knees in front of him. Taking his other hand in hers, she pressed her ruby lips to each of his palms. 

"You think I was too hard on her, don't you?" he said.

"I think you know best how to manage your own slaves," she murmured in reply. "Now, Sir Thomas," her voice teased him, "Permission to undress you?"

He stood up, pulling her with him. He didn't have to say a word, she already knew the answer was yes. 

Leanna knew how to undress a man. She removed his boots, his belt, his pants, his shirt, all with an ease that came from years of practice. She led her naked master to his large, porcelain tub, now filled with steaming water and lent her arm for support as he lowered himself in. She retrieved the plate of food that had been sent for him and placed it within his reach along with a cup of wine, then took her place on her knees behind the tub, massaging his neck and shoulders until she felt the tension he held there start to ebb. He placed his hand over hers. Enough, the gesture said, and she moved to the side of the tub, sitting back on her heels, legs slightly apart, hands clasped behind her back. There was no reason for her to assume this position, it was simply how she felt most comfortable. 

Sipping his wine, Thomas asked, "How was she when you left her?"

"She'll be fine," Leanna responded. "Sore, but fine."

"And how is Katya? I heard she was marked without permission."

Leanna waved her hand dismissively. "An error in judgement on the gentleman's part, hardly worth worrying about." With a sigh she said, "Katya is... Katya. Petulant as always. Submission does not come easily to her, she questions everything. She reminds me more of her father every day."

"Do I?" Leanna heard the question of a sad little boy in the voice of a powerful man. 

"In some ways, you remind me of him very much and in other ways, you couldn't be more different." Thomas looked at her and saw tears glistening in her violet eyes. He sometimes forgot that she had loved the old man too. "I think you have the very best of him in you, Thomas," she said. 

He extended a hand to her and when she took it, he pulled her close to him and kissed her as she had taught him to kiss - with authority. His hand slipped beneath her robe and tugged gently on the gold ring piercing her nipple, which hardened instantly and he heard her sigh with pleasure. Thomas knew that even old men could still enjoy the pleasures of the flesh, but he wasn't certain how it was for women. 

"Leanna, do you still... feel desire?" he asked her. 

"Slaves have no desire but to serve."

He pulled on the ring harder, hard enough to hurt. "Answer me."

"Yes."

Thomas smiled. Slaves were forbidden from touching themselves to achieve pleasure or release without permission, but they had played these games before. "Up and open, slave," he said. 

Leanna rose to her full height and parted her legs without question. 

"Disrobe," Thomas commanded, "I want to see your body."

She removed her shoes and let her robe fall to the floor, awaiting her master's orders. 

"Use your hands to open your pussy lips. Yes.. wider. I want to see your clit."

Leanna pulled her vaginal lips wide apart, forcing her clitoris out from under its hood. The gold bar piercing it made it particularly sensitive and although she was used to the sensation, she still had to fight back the orgasm that could have washed over her the moment her clit was exposed. 

"Use one hand to play with it," Thomas said. "And use the other hand to fuck yourself. Start with two fingers."

Leanna began to masturbate as she was instructed. She never felt right about doing this, but it had been a long time since she felt the rush of release and truth be told, she badly wanted to cum, if permission was granted. Until it was, she focused on her presentation, thrusting her breasts forward, tilting her head back and allowing a low, seductive moan to escape her lips. Three fingers, he ordered her. Four. Faster. Finally, Leanna had to ask.

"Permission to cum, Sir?"

"Denied," Thomas said, stepping out of the bath. 

In a swift motion, he picked up her discarded robe and pulled its sash free. Still dripping water, he gathered her wrists behind her back and used the silky material to bind them tightly together. Coming around to face her again, he backed her against the stone wall and stroked her cheek lightly with his knuckles.

"My turn," he said, before pushing all four fingers into her mouth. When his hand was thoroughly coated with saliva, he brought it down between her thighs and entered her wet cunt. He took his time finger-fucking her, before he curled his hand into a tight fist and slowly pushed it into her, deeper and deeper, until he made contact with the entrance to her womb. He pulled back, twisting his wrist inside her, and pushed in again, fisting her with one hand, rolling and pinching her nipples with the other. When his hand eventually moved from her breasts down her body to press against her red hot clit, it became too much to bear.

"Thomas..." she breathed, the slight tremor in her voice the only outward sign of the storm raging within, but in her eyes, her need was clear. 

"Do it," he whispered, and felt her whole body convulse as she let herself climax, shuddering around the fist lodged inside her. 

Afterwards, Thomas left her alone in the bathing room to collect herself and get cleaned up. When she emerged in her robe, Thomas frowned. 

"Stay," he said. 

Leanna turned down the heavy blanket on the bed and smoothed out the sheet.

"I should get back to my quarters," she replied. 

Thomas approached her, his face set in mock seriousness. "Would you disobey your master?" he asked, trailing his fingertips in a straight line over her lips, down her long neck, between her breasts, stopping where her robe was knotted closed. He deliberately pulled the end of the sash until the knot became loose and her robe fell open.

"Stay," he said again. "That's an order." They both knew it was a request. 

"As my master commands," she said with a smile, letting the robe slip from her shoulders.

Thomas lay down on his feather mattress in the spot she had made for him and then looked at Leanna, who had paused by the side of the bed. Her eyes went to the cold, creaking floor. A slave's place, of course, was at her Master's feet...

"Oh, for god's sake!" he muttered, reaching over and pulling her roughly into bed next to him. Within minutes he was snoring, his arm draped over her body, but Leanna remained awake. One more day until the banquet. One more day until Tara's life would be changed forever, for better or for worse.



A Slave's Journey Begins Ch. 09



Tara felt herself falling from a great height, the ropes that bound her giving way and tightening at the same time. She was suffocating, being torn limb from limb, all the while plummeting downwards, faster and faster towards certain death. 

"Tara, stop it!" Tara sat up in her bed, jolted from her nightmare by the sound of Siara's voice. "You were... talking in your sleep."

"Screaming in her sleep, you mean," she heard Katya mutter. 

"Anyway, it was just a bad dream. Go back to sleep now, you'll feel better in the morning."

"Did you?" asked Katya.

"I don't know what you mean," Siara replied. 

"You know exactly what I mean," Katya hissed. "There's a word for what Thomas did to her. And for what Liam did to you."

"I don't want to talk about this! Now please, everyone go back to sleep," but Tara could hear Siara's voice breaking and then her muffled tears. 

In a shaft of moonlight, Tara could just make out the shape of Katya's naked body slipping out of her own bed and into bed with Siara. She could hear them whispering under the sheets, but couldn't make out what they were saying. She knew Siara had stopped crying and could hear only their heavy breathing as she lay back down and closed her eyes. She heard a sigh, followed by a moan, then the sound of the bed springs creaking as the two slaves moved together in the darkness. 

Tara woke in the morning cold and alone, hurting on the inside and outside alike. She longed for her mother's shawl, but they had taken it from her, just like they had taken everything else. Even my body is not my own, Tara thought, if it ever was to begin with. Pulling her sheet from the bed, Tara wrapped herself in it and made her way to the small kitchen in the slaves' quarters. There, she was greeted by much the same scene as the previous morning, except Siara was also at the table, along with Katya and their two guest slaves. As she had before, Katya was once again the first to see Tara in the doorway, but this time, she said nothing. Tara shuffled to the long table and took a seat, breathing through the pain that blossomed anew from her abused ass. 

An awkward silence settled over the room until Leanna broke it with, "Siara, get the girl something to eat."

Siara jumped from her seat and within a few minutes, placed a cup of tea and plate of buttered scones in front of Tara. 

"I'm not hungry," Tara whispered. 

"It doesn't matter if you're hungry or not," Leanna said. "You must eat."

Tara felt something rising inside her that was neither shame, nor desire, nor fear. She was angry. 

"And if I won't?" she asked, looking up at the Slave Mistress. 

"If the Young Master makes it worth his time - and I hope for your sake that he does not - you will eat, one way or another." The unspoken threat in Mistress Leanna's words was clear and Tara slowly picked up a scone and began to eat. Taking a sip of her own tea, Leanna continued, "What is more likely, is that the Young Master will find you unworthy of the collar of this house and you will be sold. I know you may think that sounds just fine right now but believe me, there are far worse things, cruelties you cannot imagine, outside of these walls. The collar you wear protects you - "

"Protects me!" Tara exclaimed. "How can it protect me when it gives everyone from my Master, to his Stewards, to his Stable Boys permission to do with me as they please? To punish me, mark my body, even to kill me? It's not right, Mistress!"

"Be careful, Tara. Talk like that will get you a beating and a night in the stocks," Katya's words were directed at Tara, but it was Leanna she was glaring at. 

"Enough!" Leanna said, holding her arms up for silence. To their guests she said, "Your Master has lent you for service in our main kitchen today so both those pretty mouths will be in top form for the Banquet tomorrow. You won't be needing your robes down there, so you can take them off and go prepare yourselves."

The girls immediately shed their robes amid a chorus of "Yes Mistress" and were quick to disappear, glad to escape the tension in the room. 

"As for you," Leanna said, turning her attention to Katya and Siara. "Don't think I don't know what you've been up to. You reek of each other's sex! Her I might have expected this of, but you Siara, you should have known better." Katya folded her arms and looked away. Siara bowed her head in shame. "Katya, take Tara to the bathing room and help her prepare for today's training, then make sure a room is ready for when the Stewards arrive."

"Why do I have to - " Katya began, but the look she got from Leanna made her swallow her words. She stood in a huff and grabbing Tara's hand, yanked her up from the table and fairly dragged her out of the room. 

With everyone gone, Siara came to her knees at Mistress Leanna's feet. "I'm sorry, Mistress," she said. "I know what we did last night was wrong and it won't happen again. I have no excuse and I accept whatever punishment you choose."

Leanna stroked the girl's silky hair and replied, "It's not I who will choose your punishment, my dear. Sir Liam is waiting for you in the Training Room.

**********************

Siara paused outside the Training Room door and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. There's no reason to feel this way, she reasoned with herself. She knew Liam. She had watched him grow from an awkward boy to a skilled young man and she loved the cat-like grace with which he moved when the flogger guided his hand. His ability to inflict pain that felt like pleasure and pleasure that burned like pain never failed to amaze her, and although she enjoyed serving many of the Young Master's guests, her most powerful orgasms had always been at Liam's hands. His desire for her was clear, she could feel it every time he looked at her, spoke to her, graced her skin with his beautiful markings. And yet, he refused to fuck her, except for that one night in the woods... It was confusing and frustrating and Siara didn't know what she was doing wrong. 

Liam paced the Training Room with agitated steps. The Young Master wanted all his slaves marked for the Banquet, that was the only reason he was here. He would do it quickly and get out. He would concentrate only on his work and maybe, just maybe, he could escape this encounter with Siara without feeling the familiar weight of his guilt and his love all wrapped up together, crushing his heart until he could no longer look at her and breathe. 

He heard the expected knock at the door and barked, "Enter."

Siara entered the Training Room, naked other than the collar around her neck. Her long hair had been braided and pinned in tight coils on her head, leaving her body fully exposed to him. 

She knelt, the position second nature to her, and said," Sir Liam, I present myself for punishment."

Liam already had the cane in his hands, but paused at the slave's words. "Punishment for what?"

"For the offense of dishonouring my Master by... using my own body and the body of another for our own pleasure and release, Sir."

LIam closed his eyes and let the image of Katya and Siara's naked bodies entwining, soft and wet and open, fill his imagination. When he opened them, his cock was rock hard in his pants and his earlier resolve to mark her and be done with it was quickly fading. Now he wanted to take his time. 

Liam thought for a moment. Siara didn't make mistakes often and the opportunity to punish her was rare. But what would have the greatest effect? She was extremely flexible, melting into even the strictest bondage; her pain tolerance was high; her reactions constructed to provide her tormentor with the greatest satisfaction. There was only one way he knew to push her over the edge. Hooking his fingers through the ring on her collar, he led her on her knees to the A-frame and pulled her up so that she stood in front of him, almost as tall as he even in her bare feet. She kept her eyes respectfully downcast, but he knew her body well enough to know that her heart was beating faster as she tried to anticipate what was coming next. The rope was already attached to rings in the wood and raising her arms above her head, Liam tied her hands together and then secured them to the top of the frame. He desperately wanted to run his hands along her outstretched arms, down to the curve of her breasts, and then further down still, over the rise of her hips and between her thighs. Instead, he let his hands drop to his sides, although his face remained close to hers. "Open," he said. 

Siara spread her legs wide apart so that they lined up with the bottom of the frame and Liam secured her ankles in the same manner as her wrists. He took a step back and looked at her. From the front, the scars he had inflicted weren't visible. She was beyond beautiful. She was everything. 

He turned and walked to the wall, looking over the many different tools at his disposal. He chose a soft-tailed flogger and brought it back to where Siara was bound, holding it up for her to see. Liam wasn't surprised to see the corners of her mouth rise slightly and her eyes light up. He began working her over with easy flicks of the flogger, from her shoulders to her breasts, her ribcage and belly, all the way down her legs and back up again. Siara's tanned skin didn't show use as easily as some other slaves, but when he was done, Liam knew her body would be humming all over, awake and ready for the next round. 

Siara let the familiar and welcome sensation of the soft leather tails hitting her skin wash over her. This couldn't be the punishment, Liam knew her too well for that, but she enjoyed the chance to get warmed up for whatever was coming next.

"Thank you, Sir," she said, when she felt a break in his rhythm. Her emerald eyes met his clear blue ones and even as she willed herself to bow her head as she ought to, she found she could not look away. 

Liam put the flogger down on the ground next to the cane and approached the frame. He let his eyes do what his hands could not, taking in every inch of the slave's body, until he was on his knees in front of her, his head level with her smooth pussy. Liam inhaled deeply, the scent of her intoxicating, and then pushed his face into her folds. 

Siara exhaled and let her head fall back as Liam's warm breath filled her wet cunt. Out of all the things he could have done to her, she had not expected this. His tongue moved slowly at first, teasing her pussy lips, tasting her moisture, circling her clit without touching it in the most maddening way, and then moved faster, licking her slit from top to bottom, tracing the ring of her vaginal opening, and then finally massaging her clit with a warm, wet pressure. Just as Siara was about to ask permission to cum, she felt all movement between her legs stop and saw Liam stand with the cane in his hands. Pulling back from the brink of orgasm so suddenly left Siara a little breathless, but she recovered almost immediately, so that when Liam held the cane to her lips, she kissed it feeling composed and ready. 

He struck her just below her breasts. The pain brought tears to her eyes, but it was without flinching that in a clear voice she said, "One. Thank you, Sir." She didn't know how many blows she was to receive, but she knew this pain and felt certain this was a punishment she could easily withstand. Siara gritted her teeth and waited for the second strike, but instead of the bite of the cane, it was Liam's mouth closing around her clit that she felt next. Siara gasped as he sucked on the sensitive flesh, stopping only to dip into her with his tongue from time to time. She felt her orgasm building for the second time, this one more insistent than the first, but again, before she could form the question, he stopped what he was doing and presented her with the cane.

She looked down at it and then looked at Liam. The true nature of the punishment was starting to become clear to her. Still breathing hard and struggling to gain control of her body, Siara pressed her lips to the cane and then felt it cutting across her waist. She winced, fighting back her tears. "Two. Thank you, Sir," she said, but her voice was starting to shake. 

Liam gave her no time to process the pain before he buried his face between her thighs again. Over and over he traced the words I'm sorry, I love you, I'm sorry, I love you, on her swollen clit with his tongue, until her flood of wetness and clenching pussy told him he had her unwillingly on the edge again. When he withdrew, he heard her cry of frustration, as he brought the cane to her lips once more, taking in her glistening skin, her quivering mouth, and the pleading in her eyes. He held it there as she drew in her ragged breath and then kissed the wood, before laying down a red welt just above her navel. The muscles in her taut stomach contracted as he heard the words, "Three. Thank you, Sir."

Again and again, Liam repeated the pattern, forcing Siara's body to the point of climax, increasing her state of arousal every time, and then leaving her painfully unfulfilled as he marked her thighs, breasts, and belly. By the time she counted six strikes, she was straining at the ropes that held her in place and her tears were flowing freely. When Liam dropped to his knees again, he heard her say, "Please, Sir, this slave begs for mercy!"

His mouth was filled with the taste of her, his nose filled with the smell of her, and now she begged for mercy, not from the cane, he knew, but from the torment of desire with no release. Coming to his feet, Liam stepped closer to her still, encircling her wrists with his hands. It would be so easy to plunge into her right now, satisfying and damning them both. Instead, he leaned his forehead on hers and grazed her lips with his own so that she could taste herself on them. 

"Tell me, slave," he rasped, "Have you learned your lesson about cumming without permission?"

"Yes Sir," she whispered. She wanted him. She wanted him so badly. 

"Good," he said, stepping back and breaking the spell. He untied her hands and feet and returned the cane and flogger to the wall. When he turned back to her, she was in position on her knees, eyes down, hands clasped.

"May I be of any other service to you, Sir?" she asked, her voice even and demure. Although it was she who had been punished, it was he who felt shaken. 

"No," he said, his voice pained. "Go back to your room."

Siara bowed and was gone, leaving Liam alone in the Training Room, where he stayed, staring at the wall for a long time. 

*************************

Meanwhile, in the bathing room, Tara sat on the stone platform and watched Katya wash herself, then use the little pump Mistress Leanna had used on her to squirt water mixed with soaproot into her own ass, hold it there, then release it. She patted her creamy skin with sweet smelling powder, then applied a generous amount of oil to her fingers which she worked into her pussy and backside. Katya left the bathing room briefly, but when she returned she was dressed in a black robe that shimmered with gold threads and she had the pump in one hand and the dreaded silver plug in the other. "Alright, your turn," she said. 

Tara drew her knees into her body and wrapped her arms protectively around them. 

"They'll use you anyway, whether you're clean or not," Katya said impatiently. "Except if you're not, they'll punish you too."

Resigned, Tara lay back on the platform, lifted her legs, and spread her cheeks as Mistress Leanna had instructed. She held her breath as the nozzle slipped into her, and slowly let it out as the water went in, did its job, and escaped. She tried to keep breathing as Katya poured the oil over her pussy, let it trickle down to her asshole, and then pushed the plug in, but as soon as she felt it stretching the hole, burning where she had been torn by the Young Master's assault, she began to resist. 

"You'll get used to it," Katya said. "It was the same for all of us."

"No, please take it out," Tara begged. "I don't want it inside me."

Katya shrugged and pulled the plug from Tara's ass, which instantly puckered closed. "Suit yourself," she said, dropping the plug into the pocket of her robe. "Just don't blame me if you get in trouble for it."

Tara sat up and watched Katya leave the bathing room. She wished Siara was there. And she wished she knew what they planned to do to her next.

*****************************

It was later in the day when Siara led Tara into another room within the slaves' quarters. Strewn with plush pillows, ornately furnished, and anchored by the big canopy bed in its centre, the room was almost identical to the one she had been in before, except that the balcony of this room faced east rather than west, and this time, it was Lucas who stood on it, gazing at the gathering clouds in the distance. 

Lucas didn't know why it bothered him so much that Thomas had decided to use the girl himself. He owned her after all. So why bother giving her to us for training, the irritated voice in his head demanded. The Young Master was his friend and there were many things he respected and admired about him, but when it came to training slaves, their methods were very different. 

"Sir Lucas, may I offer you some wine?" Lucas turned to see Katya with a cup in her hands. She was a beauty, but she shouldn't have been a slave. 

"You may," he replied. 

When she brought the cup to him, he accepted it with one hand and encircled her delicate waist with the other, turning her so that her back was against the stone rail of the balcony. He took a long sip from the cup, then brought his mouth down on hers, parting her lips with the force of his kiss and letting the wine flow between them. He followed the wine with his tongue, exploring her mouth, while untying the sash of her robe so that it fell open, exposing her lustrous skin. 

Just then, he heard Siara's voice. "Sir Liam, Sir Lucas, may I present the slave Tara for your use today?"

Releasing Katya from his embrace, Lucas stepped back from the slave and casually traced her nipple until it hardened, even as her face remained expressionless. He enjoyed seeing her body respond while her mind protested.

"We always seem to get interrupted," he said. Then, leaning in to give her erect nipple a playful pinch, "Let's remedy that sooner rather than later."

Lucas strolled back into the chamber and took in Liam's stony face as he sat on the chaise lounge against the wall. These kinds of training sessions always seemed to put his friend on edge. 

"May I be of any service to you, Sir?" Siara asked. 

You may," Lucas replied, approaching Tara who was in position on her knees. "You may undress me." As Siara went to work removing his boots and clothes, Lucas studied Tara carefully. Her body showed signs of use, which was to be expected, but something in her face had changed as well. What had Thomas done to her, he wondered, although he could imagine well enough. 

"Close your eyes, slave," Lucas said to Tara, rubbing his half-hard cock across her cheek and then over her lips. "I want you to imagine this cock inside you, fucking you, making your pussy mine." As Tara closed her eyes, Lucas pushed the head of his cock into her mouth. "That's it, yes, take me deeper. Feels good, doesn't it, little bird?" As Tara's mind followed Lucas' voice, her mouth opened wider around his thick shaft and it wasn't long before she was sucking him with a steady rhythm, lost in the fantasy he was creating. "Now imagine Liam's hands on your ass. You like that, don't you? I heard you came all over his lap after a good spanking, is that true?" Tara moaned around his dick and he continued, "He's spanking you, harder now, and his fingers are inside your ass and you love it. You want both of us inside you at once."

Tara's eyes opened and she looked up at the Steward with wide eyes. Lucas drew back. "What do you wish to say, slave?" he asked. 




A Slave's Journey Begins Ch. 10



Liam stormed down the back stairs, through the kitchen, and out the door towards the stables. Running out on the session with Tara had been a mistake and with the Banquet tomorrow, he knew Lucas would continue the slave's training without him. The Young Master would hear about it, no doubt, and then there would be questions he didn't want to answer and answers he didn't want to face. Feeling angry and ashamed, Liam began saddling a horse, hoping a long ride and some distance from Blackmore Estate would help clear his head. 

"Sir Liam?" 

Liam froze as Siara's voice echoed through the stable. What is she doing here, he thought, shrinking back into the horse's stall. He waited, listening for her movements, but when he heard nothing, he poked his head out of the stall only to see nothing as well. Liam strode to the stable doors and looked towards the main house, and then in the other direction towards the woods, wondering where she could have gone so quickly. It was only when he turned to go back that he saw her. She was three feet away from him, sitting on the stable boy's stool, hands folded in her lap, eyes down. He wanted to go to her, put his arms around her, kiss her eyelids, her cheeks, her earlobes, her lips. 

Instead, he heard his voice demanding harshly, "Did you follow me here? Go back at once!"

Liam was surprised when she didn't immediately obey his command. 

"Permission to ask a question, Sir?" she asked. 

No, no questions, Liam's mind warned. "Ask," he replied. 

"Why don't you want me?"

When he didn't answer, Siara moved from the stool to kneel before him. "If it's because I... protested when you used me in the woods, I'm sorry."

Liam stared at her. "You're sorry?"

"Yes, Sir. I'm - "

"You're sorry. You're sorry for what I did to you. You're sorry." Liam started laughing a humourless, incredulous laugh, that eventually brought him to his knees in front of the slave. She was looking at him with a mix of confusion and concern. He shook his head at her. How could he explain? "Sorry won't erase your scars, Siara," he said. "Sorry won't change what I've done. You have no idea how much I wish I could go back and do things differently."

"So... do things differently now."

"It's not that easy! You're a slave and I... I feel things for you that I'm not allowed to feel, feelings that I don't know what to do with." 

"What does your heart tell you to do?" Siara asked him.

Liam stared at the ground and shrugged his shoulders. Listening to his heart could lead to nothing but trouble for them both. 

Taking Liam's hand in hers, Siara pressed his palm to her cleavage, warm and pulsing with life. 

"I am a slave and it's true my body belongs to my Master, but my heart tells me... my heart tells me it belongs to you." 

Liam watched the rise and fall of her breast beneath his hand, took in the outline of her nipples pressing against the thin fabric of her robe and decided then and there that he would have her again. But where could they go? The thought of taking her in the Training Room, any of the rooms in the slaves' quarters, even his own room, didn't seem right. As long as they remained on the Estate, they were still only a slave and a Steward, equally bound by the Blackmore crest, neither of them able to give themselves freely. 

"I want to take you somewhere for the night," Liam said. "Will you ride into town with me?"

"Do you have leave to take me?" Siara asked.

"No. In fact, if we're caught, I suspect we'll both be in a good deal of trouble."

Siara only paused a moment before replying, "Permission to collect my bag and shawl before we go, Liam?

It wasn't like her to address him informally, but they were in uncharted territory now. 

"Granted," Liam said, feeling thrilled and terrified alike at what they were about to do.

*****************

Siara rarely left Blackmore Estate, and when she did, it was usually as entertainment on the hunt or at a banquet at another Estate. Unlike Katya who was always trying to escape the walls around her through the books she read, Siara didn't mind her enclosed life. It was all she had ever known and for the most part, she was content to devote herself to the service for which she was intended. When Liam slowed the horse in front of the inn and helped her down, giving the animal to the stable boy, she had no idea what to expect. 

Taking her hand, he led her into the main floor tavern, which was quiet except for a few patrons scattered at different tables. After a few words with the innkeeper, he took a seat at an empty table and gestured to the chair across from him. Siara paused and then sat down. It felt strange to be sitting at the table with him, almost like his equal. She kept her hands folded in her lap and her eyes downcast, which was how she came to notice the slave on her hands and knees under the next table. Her naked body bore many bruises and her lip was split and swollen. Siara recognized the sad, scared look in her sunken eyes and longed to offer a comforting word or embrace. 

"Caught your eye, has she?" a booming voice startled Siara and she froze, averting her gaze, before she realized the question was not directed at her, but at Liam. "Present yourself properly to this good gentleman," the Merchant said, kicking the girl in the buttocks. She winced as she crawled out from under the table and knelt in front of the Steward. "She's a recent acquisition from the Market two towns back. Still needs a bit of reminding what the hole in her face is for, but she's got a nice, tight ass on her, and she'll take a good hard pounding without a lot of fuss. You're welcome to give her a go, no such thing as too much fucking when you're breaking them in."

"No thank you, Sir," Liam replied stiffly. "Please don't let us interrupt your supper."

"No indeed," the Merchant said, his eyes raking over Siara's body, taking in the glint of metal around her neck under her shawl and the outline of her shapely legs through the sheer fabric of her robe. "I see now that you've already purchased your pleasure for the evening."

Siara bristled inwardly, although outwardly, her face registered no emotion. She was no prostitute to be bought for the night and then discarded! She wished the man would leave them alone, but he continued, "That's a fine toy you have there, lad, but her place is on her knees, where her kind belongs."

"Her place is where I say it is. Now, I'll thank you to leave us be."

The Merchant laughed and said, "I meant no offense, boy. I only caution against leniency when it comes to handling slaves. I beat this one every day just to remind her what she is." Then nodding at Siara, "Let me guess, you've never laid a hand on her, outside of bed that is." He stood and removed his belt, folding it over in his hands. "Well, it will be my pleasure to give you a demonstration in how to properly train a slave."

Although never from Liam's hand, Siara knew the lash of the belt and felt sorry for the girl kneeling before them. Such a beating every day would take a toll on even the most experienced slave. 

"I can assure you, Sir, that I need no such demonstrations. Slave, show your markings," Liam commanded.

Siara was always more comfortable naked than clothed, but standing to remove her shawl and robe, she drew the gaze of curious patrons and began to feel uneasy. Surely it was unwise to call attention to themselves like this. 

The Merchant whistled through his teeth, stepping closer to Siara as he examined her.

"This is your work?" he asked, looking at the fresh welts on the front of her body from her earlier punishment. 

"It is."

"All of it?" 

Liam paused. He knew the Merchant was asking about the slave's scars. "Yes," he said, standing himself. "So perhaps it is I who can provide a demonstration for you."

"With pleasure, Sir!" the Merchant replied, holding out his belt to the Steward. 

Walking around the table, Liam picked up Siara's bag and robe with one hand and handed her her shawl with the other, which she hastily threw around herself.

"My companion and I have had a long ride and we are in need of rest," he said. "But you may bring her to me at the slaves' quarters of Blackmore Estate and I will be pleased to show you how you may punish and reward your new acquisition in ways that will increase her value tenfold. Only, if you'll indulge me, I'd like to see no more bruises on her body. I prefer a clean canvass." And with that, Liam took Siara's hand and led her up the stairs to the room that was waiting for them. 

Once they were behind closed doors, Liam sat heavily on the edge of the bed and dropped his head into his hands, his heart still racing from the encounter downstairs. On the surface, things had remained quite civil, but in truth, Liam had been ready to draw his dagger at any moment if the Merchant had touched Siara with so much as a single finger. It was bad enough he had revealed the Blackmore name, now he could only hope the Merchant would not take him up on his offer. 

Liam raised his head to see Siara kneeling in position on the floor. "You don't have to do that," he said. "Come sit with me."

Siara stayed where she was. "Permission to ask a question, Sir?" she asked. 

Liam gave a frustrated sigh. "Siara, stop it. You don't have to - "

"Did you mean what you said?" she cut him off. "About preferring a... clean canvass? Is that why you don't want me?"

"You can't still believe that's true! Why do you think I brought you here? I want you more than I've ever wanted anything!"

Siara slowly unwrapped the shawl from her shoulders and let it fall to the ground leaving her naked before him. "If you want me," she said, "then take me."

Liam pulled her to her feet and kissed her. She kissed him back with abandon, her tongue sweeping through his mouth, her lips parting and for the first time, demanding more, even as he drew back from her. He let her go and backed away. There was a wildness in her eyes and he could feel desire radiating off of her like heat from a fire. Fuck me, her body screamed at him. Fuck me now. All at once, as had happened to him so many times before, Liam felt the weight of insecurity bearing down on him. With only the tools of his own body at his disposal, he felt woefully inadequate, completely incapable of satisfying the goddess he saw in front of him. 

He felt his erection dying and turned away from her, full of shame and anger. What kind of man am I? What's the matter with me? 

Siara had seen his arousal when she dropped her shawl and had felt it pressed against her when their lips met, but now she saw it fading as she was left staring at Liam's back. She was an excellent pleasure slave, of that she felt quite sure and she was certain she could please him if he would just give her the chance. 

Coming up behind him, she rested her hands lightly on his shoulders. "Liam," she whispered, "Tell me what I'm doing wrong. Tell me how you want me and I'll make it so." 

"I don't know!" Liam said, his voice breaking, adding to his humiliation. "Damnit, when we're in the Training Room together, I know exactly what to do. I can punish you, I can mark you, I can make you cum," he paused, and then in a softer voice, "I can make you cry. But outside of that room... Everything is different. You become something I don't know how to touch. I don't know who I am with you, Siara, and I don't know what to do."

The weight of Siara's hands lifted from his shoulders and Liam's heart sank. He was no Master to her and he never should have thought he could be. Bringing her here had been a mistake. He was about to turn and tell her so when the blindfold covered his eyes. 

Siara listened to what the Steward's words and body were telling her and all at once she understood why he had used her as he had in the woods and why he wasn't able to use her as he wanted now. He didn't know what to do, but she did. She couldn't say what instinct had prompted her to choose the things she had to fill her bag, but she knew now how she would be using them, if he would permit her. Pleasure was what she knew best after all, and tonight he needed her to be Mistress in her own domain. 

She had retrieved the blindfold from her bag and felt Liam stiffen as she slipped it on. His hands came up to his face and she covered them with hers.

"Trust me, Liam," she said, bringing his arms gently to his sides. 

Deprived of sight, Liam felt nervous, helpless, and strangely aroused. He had blindfolded many slaves in the Training Room, but he himself had never been blindfolded. The understanding that Siara was in control now released him of the pressure he felt and he allowed himself to be guided by her sure hands. 

She undressed him slowly, stopping to kiss and caress as she revealed each part of his body, until he was naked and fully erect. Dropping to her knees in front of him, she took him easily in her mouth and began sucking his cock, her skilled tongue and throat working together to bring him closer and closer to climax. Just as he was on the verge of orgasm, Siara stopped and stood up, pressing her mouth to his in a passionate kiss. He could taste the salt of precum on her lips and as his hand brushed her pussy, he could feel the wetness there. 

Liam was so lost in the moment, he barely noticed that as Siara kissed him, she was backing him into the wall. When he had nowhere else to go, she said, "Don't move."

Liam felt her body retreat and then return, except that she had brought something with her. She placed the object in his hands and let him explore it, trying to figure out what he was holding. Liam's hands and memory knew the contents of the Training Room's antechamber well and as he felt the shape of the short, fat phallus attached at the base to the long, thick one, he knew at once that he held a double-ended penetrator. On rare occasions when he had been presented with two slaves at once for training or punishment for a joint crime, he had used this thing, inserting the short end into one slave's pussy and forcing her to fuck the other's ass with the long end. The short end curved perfectly to press against that special spot in the vaginal canal, sending intense jolts of pleasure surging through the body of its wearer the harder she thrust. It could be a cruel and powerful tool and Liam's stomach knotted as he realized what Siara intended. 

"No," he said, holding it out to her. It was one thing to be blindfolded, perhaps even to be bound, but he could not consent to this. He knew there were some men who preferred the company of their paiges to that of their slaves, but he wasn't that type and after all the time they had spent together, the suggestion itself seemed a violation. 

"Turn around, Liam," Siara's voice was like steel wrapped in silk, soft but unyielding. She took the offending object from his hands and then the faint but familiar scent of oil filled his nostrils. 

"I don't want you like this!" Liam cried, tearing the blindfold from his eyes. What he saw took his breath away. Siara had spilled the oil generously over her body, her bronze skin glistening in the warm lamplight. Taking the fat head of the shorter phallus in her mouth, she sucked it as she had sucked his cock, opening her lips wide around it and letting her spit run down. At the same time, she worked the other end of it with her hand, coating it from base to tip with oil. Then, parting her legs, Liam watched as she filled her own cunt.

The image was stunning - Siara's beautiful body, slick with oil, hot and wet with desire, with one cock inside her and another jutting out from the juncture of her thighs. Despite what he had said, what he thought he knew to be true, Liam found himself rock hard and entirely powerless under the slave's spell. 

She approached him, her green eyes luminous, and with her hands on his shoulders, turned his body so that he faced the wall. He could feel her breath, warm on his neck, her breasts slippery against his back, and then her long finger pushing for entry at his asshole while the other hand reached around to close around the base of his cock.

"You may not want me like this," she whispered into his ear, "but I want you like this."

Liam closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the wall. I want you, she said. How many times had he dreamed of hearing her say those words, knowing it was impossible. Slaves were not at liberty to want. But like this? He didn't know if he could do it. And he didn't know if he could walk away. He had never been fucked this way before, had never experienced for himself what he had put slaves through time and time again often without a second thought. He heard his own voice echoing in his head with the words that were a regular part of training a slave's ass. Relax, breathe, you can take it. 

Liam took a deep breath and focused on the sensation of having Siara inside him while he remained outside of her. Her finger slid in and out of his passage, letting his body open to her slowly, until she sensed he was ready for more. He tensed as he felt her finger slip out, replaced by the cool tip of the long rubber phallus. Oiled and open though he was, the stretching of his anal ring was still painful and Liam groaned into the wall as Siara inched her way deeper and deeper inside him. 

Siara felt his resistance, but pushed forward anyway, her hand wrapped firmly around his cock. Once all the way in, she pulled back and then gripping his shoulder for leverage, thrust into him again, changing the angle of her penetration as Mistress Leanna had taught her. She heard Liam's sharp cry as she found the hidden bundle of nerves she sought and answered with a moan as her movements stimulated her own centre of pleasure. She began stroking his cock in time with her thrusts, her heart racing as she fucked him. Their bodies moved as one, deeply connected, until they were both on the edge of orgasm.

Liam felt delirious. There was pain yes, but mixed with the most intense pleasure he had ever known, coupled with the warm body of the woman he loved pressed against him, the sounds of her arousal like music to his ears. Whatever magic she was using on him was beyond his ability to control and too soon, he covered the wall with thick cum, each spurt directly connected to the target deep inside him that exploded with sensation each time Siara hit her mark.

Afterwards, Liam stumbled to the bed and collapsed on it, his legs weak beneath him. He was barely aware of Siara's actions until she knelt on the floor beside him on a blanket pulled from her bag. 

"May I be of any other service to you, Sir?" she asked. 

"No," he replied. "You've served me better than I could have asked for. Better than I deserve." Then, after a moment's hesitation, "And did I... serve you as you wanted?" It was a strange question to pose to a slave and he already knew from her sounds, her smell, the tremors of her body, that she had cum just as hard as he had, but he wanted to hear her say it.

"Yes Sir," Siara said, a smile in her voice, "You did." She proceeded to extinguish the lamps and lie down on the floor. For a time there was only the sound of their breathing in the darkness. Then she said, ""Whatever happens at the Banquet tomorrow, know that you'll be the only one who has had me like this."

The Banquet. The Merchant. Liam had forgotten all about these things and he pushed them from his mind once more as sleep closed in on him, protecting him from all that the morning would bring.



A Slave's Journey Begins Ch. 11



Thomas walked the length of Blackmore Estate's banquet hall. The tables were set, the fires were lit, the banners were raised, and the ropes were ready. A smile crossed his angular face as he looked up at the rafters and remembered his first banquet, his first time seeing Leanna suspended and suffering beautifully for the crowd's delight. There would be no shortage of slaves on display tonight, Thomas knew. Lords and ladies from across the realm, and even some from across the sea, as well as merchants, captains, artists, and other men of influence would be arriving soon and he was ready to open the gates. His gates. Thomas' smile faded. He was used to acting as host for the twice yearly banquets, as his father had not attended them for the last few years before he died, but this would be his first time hosting as Master of the Estate, and not a stand-in for someone else. No more excuses for the old man's absence, no more pretense of doing business on his father's behalf. Tonight his decisions would be his own and they would be final. 

--------

Tara stared at her reflection in the looking glass as wave after wave of nervousness washed over her. She barely recognized the girl she saw looking back at her. No, not a girl, she thought. A slave. Her hair had been brushed till it shone, the curls pinned back from her face and then left to fall freely, giving her a look of playful innocence that contrasted sharply with the cold, steel chain that attached to her collar and then split in two to connect to the silver clamps biting into each of her tender pink nipples. Her blue eyes had been lined to make them look darker, her lips glossed over, her skin perfumed, and her ass firmly plugged. Leather cuffs with silver rings in them encircled her ankles and wrists, suggesting that she was to be bound. But how? And by whom? 

"Tara, you look lovely," Siara's voice interrupted her thoughts. Tara's gaze shifted to Siara's reflection in the mirror and she breathed an "ohhh" of wonder. Each section of her long brown hair had been braided and then the sections braided together again to create an intricate, silky rope down her back. Her already golden-hued skin had been brushed with a shimmering bronze powder that at first glance, gave her the look of a beautiful statue. Tara noticed that she too had cuffs around her wrists and ankles. Seeing the look of worry on the younger slave's face, Siara smiled reassuringly and placed her hands on Tara's shoulders. "You'll be fine," she said. "Just relax, don't resist, and remember your training."

"Do you think Sir Lucas will be there? Or Sir Liam?" Tara asked.

Siara paused at the mention of Liam's name, but before she could answer, Mistress Leanna was calling for them and they immediately presented themselves at the doors to the slaves' quarters. 

Leanna looked them over critically. She ran a hand through Tara's hair and pinched Siara's nipples so that they grew hard and stood out from her body, the perfect accents to her full, firm breasts. 

"Where's Katya?" Mistress Leanna demanded. 

"She's in bed, Mistress," Siara replied, her eyes downcast. "She's... ill." Even Tara could tell she was lying. 

With her mouth set in a firm line, Leanna threw back the curtain separating the entrance from the rest of the quarters and marched towards the slaves' bed chamber. Siara and Tara looked at each other as the sounds of a muffled argument came through the heavy curtain. They heard Katya cry out and then silence. A few minutes later, Leanna emerged with Katya in tow. One side of her face was bright red and her eyes were glassy with tears. Her hair had been coiled and pinned high on her head, the same cuffs worn by the other slaves fastened around her wrists and ankles. Tara watched as Mistress Leanna pulled what looked like a long string of glittering crystals from her robe pocket and fastening one end to the front of Katya's collar, ran it down her body, up between her pussy lips, into the crack of her ass and then all the way up her back to fasten the other end to the back of the bejeweled collar. 

Just then there was a knock at the door. A paige had come to fetch the slaves for service at the Banquet. 

"Now remember," Leanna said, "You represent your Master tonight. Serve everyone who would use you as you would serve Him."

And with those words, she sent the three slaves to the Banquet Hall, hoping that three slaves would return. 

----------

The evening was going well. The remnants of supper had long since been cleared away, the ladies had retreated to the guest quarters, and now the wine flowed freely, the music played loudly and the entire hall was alive with pleasures and perversions of every sort. Thomas surveyed the sea of slaves before him, some tied down to the tables, some pinned against the walls, some bent over chairs, some suspended in bondage from the rafters with long coils of rope. Out of the crowd, he picked out his own slaves and was pleased to see them performing well. Katya was on her knees in the middle of a circle of hard cocks, sucking them and jerking them off in turn. As she leaned forward to take one in her mouth and one in each hand, the man behind her gave the studded chain she wore a savage tug, cutting into her pussy, and the circle laughed heartily as the slave yelped in pain. 

Tara, meanwhile, was stuffed airtight, her legs spread wide and attached by their cuffs to either end of a metal bar while her hands had been cuffed together and stretched over her head. There was almost nothing to be seen of her, sandwiched as she was between the man beneath her buried in her cunt, and the man behind her pounding her ass. Even her mouth was being well used as one after another, Thomas' guests enjoyed tilting her head back and fucking her face, more than a few of them forcing their cocks deep into her throat so that she could barely breathe. Tears streamed down her face and Thomas could see her distress, but she didn't scream or struggle and when the men were through and had bathed her in hot cum, she thanked them for using her as she knew she should. Well done, Leanna, Thomas thought. 

Siara had attracted a small audience of her very own and was dancing seductively for them, stopping occasionally to offer her ass for a slap or her breasts for a squeeze. Her body was streaked with cum and when she bent over, her asshole gaped invitingly, showing that she had already been used and was ready for more. The eyes that watched her were wide with desire, the mouths practically salivating for a taste and Thomas knew that she would be in high demand, not just tonight, but likely for days to come.  

"She's a fine slave." Thomas turned to the Merchant who had come to stand beside him and was now also watching Siara bounce and sway. "I said as much to your boy at the inn last night."

Thomas took a moment to register what the man was saying. "You've seen her before?" he asked.

"Oh yes, with a red haired lad, her trainer I suppose. I'm surprised you'd let him mark her like that.. although I guess we all practiced on someone, eh?" Thomas didn't answer and the Merchant continued, "With your permission, Sir, I'd like to leave this one with him for a few days. Maybe he can teach her a thing or two. I can pay you for his time of course."

Thomas scanned the room for Liam, but already knew his Steward would not be there. He cast a glance at the girl kneeling at the Merchant's feet, a hollow-eyed scrap of a slave whose body showed signs of use by a master who was either careless or cruel or both. 

"Maybe he can teach you a thing or two," Thomas muttered. "Please excuse me, I have to attend to my guests," he said, standing abruptly and making his way through the crowd, stopping to shake hands and exchange pleasantries as he moved towards the doors. On his way, he caught the eye of the Maharaja, a rich and respected guest from the East who his father had entertained many times, but this was his first visit in several years and the first time he had brought his sons with him. He always arrived with valuable goods and information about the goings-on of the world and Thomas knew he would be wise to spend some time in conversation with the turbaned ruler. For the moment, the Maharaja's attention had been caught by a slave trying to take two cocks in her pussy at once and Thomas took the opportunity to slip out of the hall and up the stairs to the slaves' quarters. 

He didn't bother to knock on the door, he simply let himself in, pushed past the curtain and went straight to the Training Room. He heard Liam at work inside before he saw him. The Steward was shirtless, glistening with sweat, swinging a whip at a dummy used for archery practice tied to a post. So engrossed was he in his task, that he didn't notice Thomas enter and stand at the back of the room, contemplating. The young man he saw before him was skinny and awkward, but at the same time skilled and loyal, as his father had been loyal before him. His mother was Kitchen Mistress, his younger brother a paige. Liam was part of Blackmore Estate and as such, he was family. 

"You're missing the festivities," Thomas said. "Come downstairs."

Liam stopped what he was doing, but did not turn around. "I'd rather not, Sir." he replied. Thomas heard pain in his voice. 

"There's a Merchant at the Banquet who requests your services," Thomas said. "You met him at the inn last night, correct?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Were you alone?"

Liam paused. There was no point lying now. "No, Sir."

Thomas approached deliberately and stood next to Liam. Although they were roughly the same height, Thomas was the bigger man and the more commanding presence. He didn't need to look at his Steward to sense his anguish and his fear. 

"Do you love her?" Thomas asked in a quiet voice.

"Yes," Liam replied. 

Thomas took a moment, giving Liam's reply the weight it deserved. Then he said, "This is her home, Liam. She will be Slave Mistress one day." Liam said nothing and Thomas continued, "This is your home too. Your family will always be taken care of and if you take a wife, your children will have a place in the world. You are both valuable to me. What would you have me do?"

Liam shrugged, his eyes glued to the post in front of him. Finally Thomas said, "Be to each other what you will. But you will not interfere with her work and you will see to it that she does not interfere with yours, understood?"

Liam nodded. Be to each other what you will... were they free to be together then? His mind swirled with possibilities. "And you will not mark her without permission.. again. 

Colour filled Liam's face and he clenched the whip's handle ever tighter. His secret was a secret no more! He forced himself to look the Young Master in the eye. 

"I understand," he said. "And... I'm sorry. What I did to her... that never should have happened. 

Thomas nodded curtly. "And it won't happen again," he said, turning to leave Liam alone with his thoughts and for the first time in a long time, a growing eagerness rather than a looming dread to see Siara again. It seemed there might be hope for a strange love story like theirs after all. 

------------

Lucas groaned. He had already carried two heavy barrels of wine up from the cellar and although the crowd at the Banquet was beginning to thin, there still remained a handful of guests revelling into the night, leaving him with the task of carrying two more barrels up so that their cups would not run dry. 

"I'd offer you a hand, Lucas my boy, but I'm afraid these old bones wouldn't be much help." Lucas turned to Maester Price whose stores of potions, shelves upon shelves of books, and heaven only knew what other oddities, were also housed in the cellar, along with the old man's bedchamber and bathing room.

"I can manage these just fine, but perhaps you'd like to come with me anyway. I think there might be a pretty thing or two up there that your old bones might fancy," he said with a wink. 

Maester Price laughed. "Oh, to be young again," he replied and turned to return to his chamber. Lucas was just about to hoist one of the wine barrels on to his back when a clattering sound followed by the streak of a cat fleeing the room drew his attention. He looked towards the bedchamber. 

"Do you have company, Maester Price?" Lucas asked. 

"That mangy animal probably knocked over my wine jug. I'll see to it, you go on up."

Unconvinced, Lucas moved towards the chamber door which the cat had left ajar upon its hasty exit. "Allow me to check for you, Sir." 

"That's not necessary!" Maester Price called out, but Lucas was already swinging the door open. A fire in the grate filled the small room with warmth and long shadows. It was sparsely furnished - a desk, a chair, and a bed. And Katya wrapped in a blanket in the corner, the wine jug spilled in front of her. 

Lucas took in the scene as a grin slowly spread across his face. "You surprise me, old friend," he said. "I would have wagered it might be our new little toy, Tara, that you might have secreted away down here. From what I saw in the kitchen, she serves you quite... enthusiastically."

The Maester shuffled past Lucas without answering and righted the wine jug. 

"I'm sorry, Sir," Katya blurted out. "The cat startled me and I knocked it over by accident."

"No matter, my dear. Although I suspect Sir Lucas will now be obliged to return you to the Banquet."

Lucas cleared his throat. "Er, yes," he said. "Come along, slave."

Katya shrunk back into the corner and shook her head. "No, I can't, please don't make me go."

Lucas' eyes narrowed and his cock twitched. It had been a long night of work for him and for all the fucking taking place, he had not yet had a chance to indulge. If she didn't want to go, then she would stay... with him. Without taking his eyes off Katya, he said, "Maester Price, would you be so kind as to ask Sir Liam to fetch the wine? I suspect you will find him in the slaves' quarters. And I suggest that you take your time."

Lucas closed the door behind him as he left and then turned to face Katya again. "Alone at last," he said, undoing his pants and advancing on the petite slave. 

"Sir Lucas, wait - " she began, but the Steward cut her off with a rough kiss. 

"I have been waiting," he said, pulling the blanket apart where she held it closed. "I've been waiting for quite some time in fact, to have you to myself." He lifted Katya easily, pushing between her legs so that she was crushed between his body and the wall. "And I'm not a man who likes to wait for what I want." 

Lucas thrust deeply into Katya's pussy and was surprised to hear her scream in pain, what little colour she had draining from her face. He withdrew and saw that his cock was streaked with blood. He set her down gently, but kept her pinned to the wall, his hands trailing down her body until he knelt in front of her. He tapped on her thighs, but it was the warning look he gave her that prompted her to part them so he could examine her sex. There was a gash on the inner lip of her vagina and Lucas could see that a thick salve had recently been applied to the wound. Further exploration with his fingers confirmed that her vaginal walls also had a series of small tears, injuries that were not uncommon for a slave after hard use. His probing elicited a whimper and when he looked up at her, it was clear that she was trying very hard not to give him the satisfaction of her tears. 

"So this is why you'd rather suck the Maester's shrivelled dick than serve our friends upstairs," Lucas said, pressing his lips to her smooth mound. 

"They're not my friends," Katya retorted. "And that's not why I'm here."

"No?" replied Lucas, his tongue flicking over her clit, which most likely had remained untouched throughout her evening's service. "Enlighten me then, why are you here?"

Katya closed her eyes and clenched her fists as Lucas' ministrations brought her to life against her will. She wanted to fight him, she didn't want it to feel so good. But it did, oh it did! "I...Ahh! I read to him," she finally replied. The wetness filling her pussy stung and felt sweet at once. Katya hated her body for betraying her, but Lucas knew exactly what he was doing and she knew she would have to ask for permission to cum soon. Lucas had played with Katya enough times before to know her body well and when he sensed the question he was waiting for on her lips, he stopped and stood. Hooking his fingers through the ring on her collar, he led her past the spilled wine and her discarded chain of jewels and bent her over the Maester's desk. 

"Sir Lucas...," she began, trying to stand as she felt him pushing for entry at her asshole, but his strong hands held her in place. 

"Would you have me gag you, my beauty?" he growled.

"No, Sir. It's just... there's oil in there... if it pleases you."

Lucas followed her gaze to an innocuous wooden box on the desk, and reaching around her, flipped it open to retrieve the small glass bottle within. 

"A lucky guess perhaps," Lucas said, pouring the oil over Katya's ass cheeks and rubbing his cock between them. "It must be, seeing as you only come here to read, isn't that right?"

It was true, she did read to the old man, but she did other things too, things she hated to do. But he was kind to her, didn't hurt or humiliate her, gave her books, and sometimes opened his door to her when she needed a place to hide. And in the end, really, what choice did she have? Katya forced herself to breathe deeply and relax her muscles as she had been trained to do, as Lucas worked his way into her ass, the tiny hole stretching to accommodate his girth. She felt helpless and sore, but at the same time, safe, and yes, slowly more and more aroused. Katya turned her face, pressing her cheek to the worn wood of the desk and for the first time that night, finally let herself cry. 

Lucas didn't slow his pace, understanding instinctively that the release the slave sought was emotional as well as physical. Rather, he took one of her cuffed wrists and guided her hand between her legs, giving her all the permission she needed. "Sweet Katya," he said, fucking her with long, slow strokes. "I should know better than to tease you and you should know better than to take my words to heart. There's no shame in serving the old maester, or the fat merchant... or the idiot steward. There's no shame in being what you are." 

Katya heard the Steward's words, but remained trapped, as she so often was, between her mind which knew beyond doubt that the way they used her was wrong, and her body which begged to be used anyway. The battle she fought was interrupted when Lucas' hand cracked against her ass, turning the pearly white skin bright pink. 

Stop thinking, Katya," Lucas commanded. "Tell me what you need."

Katya's already wet fingers moved faster over her swollen clit, as Lucas' cock filled her completely and she found herself pushing back on him, meeting his body with hers at every thrust. "I need to cum," she whispered. 

"Say it again, louder," Lucas responded, spanking her again and fucking her hard. 

"Please Sir, I need to cum," Katya said, her words somewhere between a sigh and a sob. 

Lucas felt his own climax building, his shaft rock-hard and already leaking into her open ass. "Again, slave."

"Please Sir, I need to cum!" Katya said, the pitch of her voice rising, her orgasm almost beyond her control. 

"Again!"

"Please Sir, I need to cum!" Katya screamed. 

"Then, cum!"

Katya's body went rigid, her eyes closed, and her mouth opened in a silent moan. Lucas let her ride out the full flood with his cock still deep inside her, then when he felt her relax, pulled out and covered her pink and glistening ass with his thick, white cum. Turning the slave around to face him, Lucas looked into her dark eyes framed by their impossibly long black lashes, and saw something real and warm within their depths. He reached out a hand to caress her cheek, but she flinched at his touch and breaking their embrace, she sunk to her knees.




A Slave's Journey Begins Ch. 11



"Thank you for using me, Sir," she said, her eyes down, her voice flat. "May I be of any other service to you?" Just like that, whatever door had momentarily opened, slammed shut again. 

Lucas sighed. She was a mystery and one that he longed to solve. But she wasn't going anywhere, he reasoned. He had endless tomorrows to figure her out. "Go get cleaned up and then clean up this wine," he said. "And if you're going to hide out down here, for fuck's sake, be more quiet!"



A Slave's Journey Begins Ch. 12



Tara felt dazed, her body long since past the point of pain, now approaching the point of numbness. She had lost track of how many men had used her, she only knew that she had served them all as she should have served the Young Master and now she could only hope that he had seen her, and would reward her efforts. Tara had thought she was ready to take anything, but now she realized that her training with the slaves and Stewards of Blackmore Estate was only the beginning of her journey. The last man to fuck her had turned her over so that she was on her hands and knees, her ankles still cuffed to either end of the metal bar, keeping her legs spread, her hands left free to support herself. Her head drooped, her eyes heavy. Her body and mind were exhausted and she hoped she would be allowed to return to the slaves' quarters soon. 

She was startled when she felt the water jug press against her lips. The paiges on duty had allowed her sips of water all night, but it had been a while since anyone had noticed her and she was grateful to quench her thirst.

"Thank you, Sir," she murmured as the water was withdrawn, but it was then she noticed that the hand holding the jug was the colour of brushed mahogany. Amazed, Tara raised her eyes and looked into the strangest and most beautiful face she had ever seen, if a man's face could be described as beautiful. Warm brown pools flecked with gold set in dark skin atop finely carved cheekbones, a straight nose, and a full, sensual mouth, looked back at her. In her sheltered little life, Tara had never seen a person of colour before and for several moments, she and the Eastern Prince simply stared at each other, mutually transfixed. 

Finally remembering herself, Tara dropped her gaze, but the Prince lifted her chin and shook his head. "These...," he said, running his jeweled fingers over her eyelids, "I like."

Tara felt as if she could look at him forever, everything from the silk tunic he wore to his long black hair rippling over his shoulders, to the way he touched her with his soft hands, fascinated her. When another dark skinned man joined him, Tara wondered if she was imagining things, but as they spoke to each other in their foreign tongue, she realized that no, there were indeed two of them. A stolen glance at the second Prince told her that although their faces were similar, he sported shorter hair and a close cropped beard. When he removed the richly embroidered overcoat he wore, Tara's eyes widened as another difference between the two men became clear. 

The Prince laughed, Tara's reaction to his sculpted, heavily muscled body not an unfamiliar one to him. "I am...Warrior," he said, miming drawing a bow. "He is..." He paused, searching for the word.

"Artist," the other Prince filled in, his mouth curving into a smile. "And you," he said, pulling gently on the chain connecting her collar to her clamped pink nipples, making her gasp. "You are... roses blooming in snow." Tara felt herself blushing, not fully understanding the words he said, but understanding well the meaning behind them. 

The two men circled her, taking her in from every angle, until the Artist stopped in front of her again and the Warrior took up position behind her, between her spread legs. The water jug was passed from one man to the other over Tara's back and then she felt the contents being poured over her ass and pussy. She shivered at the sudden cold and then gave a small sigh as the felt the globs of congealed cum that had been left on her thighs and sex by those who had previously used her, wiped away. The simple act of being cleaned seemed to Tara a great kindness and she hoped they would not find her wanting. 

Once again, she had to fight back the panic that threatened to overtake her as her ass cheeks were pulled apart and she prepared herself to be fucked. Tara opened her mouth for one cock and tried to open her asshole for the other, although if the size of the rest of him was any indication of the size of his manhood, she already knew this was going to hurt. She was utterly unprepared when it was not the Warrior's cock she felt pushing into her, but his tongue. The unfamiliar, yet intensely pleasurable sensation of him rimming her ring of flesh, coaxing it open and then plunging in and out left Tara breathless. Losing focus, she choked and sputtered as the Artist forced her mouth open wider around his shaft. 

A joke was shared between the two men and they both laughed as the tongue probing her ass was replaced by what Tara recognized as a fat thumb, while a hard cock slid slowly into her waiting pussy. As she had expected, it was bigger than she was used to and despite being well used, Tara still struggled to take all of him in. He seemed to be taking his time, testing her for depth and tolerance, penetrating her deeply until he finally bottomed out, causing her to wince as he nudged against her cervix. Satisfied with his findings, the Warrior pulled back and then began fucking her with short, fast thrusts, moving in tandem with his brother who was at the other end, fucking Tara's mouth at the same speed. 

The three of them fell into a rhythm, moving together as a single unit. Although their dusky skin was a novel sight to Tara's eyes and their velvety voices a foreign sound to her ears, Tara felt oddly at home serving the Princes, and as her body became more accustomed to them, she began to genuinely enjoy their combined mastery over her. They carried themselves with the same natural air of power that the Young Master had, but with none of the menace she so palpably felt from him. Tara tasted salt on her tongue and a wave of disappointment came over her as she realized that once they graced her with their cum, she would likely never see them again. She looked up at the Artist's striking face, drinking him in, completely unaware of how pretty a picture she made with her wide blue eyes, blonde curls tumbling down, and lips stretched tightly around his dark rod. 

"My sons have found something they like," the Maharaja said, seating himself next to Thomas at the head of the Banquet Hall.

"I'm glad," replied Thomas. There were only a few particularly enthusiastic groups left, the Eastern Princes still playing with Tara among them. Another pair had Siara in challenging predicament bondage and despite her strength, Thomas could see the slave was reaching her limit and was considering bringing the night to an end. 

"What would you take for her?"

Thomas looked at the old man still watching his sons use the fair haired, fair skinned slave and shook his head. "She's only a novice," he replied. "She has some potential, yes, but she requires much training before she would be worthy of any price I could name for her." 

The Maharaja nodded thoughtfully and then said, "If not a sale, may I suggest a trade?" 

He clapped his hands twice and as if out of the shadows themselves, two dark skinned beauties appeared, naked except for the delicate golden collars and matching anklets they wore that chimed softly as they knelt before their Master. Thomas took in their soft curves and exotic features, and imagined both luscious mouths serving his cock at once. 

"You flatter me, Sir," Thomas said. "But my one novice is hardly a fair trade for two treasures such as these."

The Maharaja chuckled. "The world beyond our shores is still new to my sons and if they intend to pluck flowers from every garden we visit, then they must also be willing to leave some behind," he said. "These two have served my court well and now they will be pleased to serve you until we meet again. What say you?" 

Thomas hesitated only a moment before he answered, "I accept."

*********************************

Tara's dreams that night were filled with images of the Eastern Princes that were so vivid that when she awoke in her bed the next morning, she was surprised that she was not in fact impaled on one cock and licking cum off the other. The sound of voices drew her to the bathing room where she found Siara and Katya in the stone pool together helping each other wash off the mix of sweat, spit and semen covering them both from the night before. 

Seeing Tara staring longingly at the sweetly-scented bathwater, Siara laughed and climbed out of the pool. "Well, don't just stand there, get in," she said. "I'm not drawing another bath just for you!"

Tara gratefully sank into the water and sighed with pleasure as Siara's strong hands went to work washing her hair. The three slaves chatted amicably, comfortable in each other's company, as morning sunlight flooded the room. Even Katya seemed a brighter version of her usual stormy self and Tara smiled as she realized that for everything she thought she had lost to become a slave, she had gained a great deal as well. 

"What a lovely picture you three make." Tara turned her head to see Mistress Leanna watching them. Her words were kind, but her voice was tinged with sadness and Tara felt a flutter of worry in her belly. Something was wrong. 

"Mistress Leanna...," Tara began uncertainly, but the Slave Mistress clapped her hands and said, "Alright, that's enough, I think you've all had sufficient time to recover from your exertions. The Young Master wishes you to know that he was very pleased with your service last night." Then looking directly at Tara, "He was very pleased with all of you." Tara beamed with pride. So he had noticed her after all! Was it to be made official then? Was she to remain the property of Blackmore Estate? Before she could ask, Mistress Leanna was already giving instructions for the day. "Siara, my dear, it seems you made quite an impression on some of the Young Master's guests, as you always do, and they have paid handsomely for the pleasure of your continued service this afternoon. I trust you will be ready to accommodate them."

"Yes Mistress," Siara murmured in reply. 

"And you, Katya," Mistress Leanna continued, "Sir Lucas has reported that he has noticed some... troubling behavior on your part and he has been given leave to punish you as he sees fit. You will prepare yourself and a room for his use and I don't want to hear any more about this again, do you understand me?"

Katya's face coloured, but she bit back the sharp retort poised on her tongue and muttered instead, "Yes Mistress."

"And you, Tara..." Mistress Leanna paused and for a moment a look of concern knitted her smooth brow. Then just as quickly as it had come, it was gone, and she said, "You will also prepare your body as you have been taught and then present yourself at the Training Room. Sir Liam is waiting for you there... along with your new Masters."

************************

Tara's head spun. She barely noticed Siara braiding her hair, or gently cleaning and oiling her orifices, or pushing the cold, steel plug into place between her ass cheeks. She had pleased the Young Master, but not well enough. She was not to be a slave of Blackmore Estate. She was to be sold to strangers. And then what? Where would they take her? What would they do to her? What had Mistress Leanna said... there are cruelties you cannot imagine outside of these walls... Tara felt sick, too stunned even to cry, as she knocked mutely on the Training Room door. 

"Enter," Sir Liam called, and Tara obeyed, keeping her eyes down and her hands clasped neatly behind her neck as she sunk to her knees. "This position is what we call 'presenting.'" Liam said. "This is how she will present herself to you for service - unless you prefer something else?" 

Tara heard a voice she did not recognize speaking in a language she could not understand. After a pause, Liam continued, "Very good. She is trained in other positions as well, what we call 'slave positions.' Would you like to see?"

Again, the unfamiliar, youthful voice seemed to translate what Liam said and the more he spoke, Tara realized that although she did not understand the words, she had heard the language before. Without thinking, she snapped her head up and found herself looking straight at the dark skinned brothers from the Banquet - the last ones to use her and the ones she had not been able to stop thinking about since. 

The slap across the face that came next caused Tara more surprise than pain and she quickly bowed her head once more, murmuring, "I'm sorry, please forgive me, Sir."

"Please don't take offense," said Liam. "She is not usually so disrespectful, but then we have only had a short time to train her so you must expect she will make mistakes and be ready to provide correction and punishment as appropriate."

The young translator repeated Liam's words to the Princes and Tara listened as they spoke quietly to one another, the Artist's voice a lilting harmony to his brother's commanding baritone. "Please show these positions," the Warrior said. 

Liam began calling out the positions, just as he had when Tara first arrived at Blackmore Estate and began her training with him in this very room, and Tara's body answered gracefully, moving fluidly from one position to the next, as if she had known them all her life. On her second pass through the series, Liam began pointing out the various ways the slave could be used in each position, punctuating his demonstration by pinching, prodding and penetrating Tara throughout. Tara felt the larger Prince's gaze keenly and tried desperately to focus on the task at hand, but she was distracted by the Artist and his translator moving to the post behind her. When she finally managed to sneak a glimpse in their direction, she gasped at what she saw. The Artist had removed his clothes and was watching Liam's tutorial with his arms wrapped around the post, while the boy who had been translating - a naked, collared slave Tara saw now, perhaps even younger than she - knelt behind him with his face buried in the Prince's ass. 

It was too much to take in. Were these to be her new Masters? And was it possible they kept female AND male slaves? Did the male slaves serve their Masters in the same way females did? And if there were male slaves, did that mean there could be female Masters? Tara had so many questions and no one to ask. A particularly hard pinch to the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh brought Tara's attention back to where it should have been and she cringed inwardly, awaiting Sir Liam's rebuke, but instead, she heard a rumbling laugh. 

"The slave has..." the Warrior paused, searching for the word, and then said, "... Curiosity."

Liam flushed with embarrassment. "I apologize for her behavior," he said. "I'll see to it that she's punished in such a way that she will not make this mistake again."

The Prince cupped Tara's face in his massive hand. He was at least as tall as Sir Thomas and twice as broad with a raw kind of power surging through him that Tara found frightening and magnetic at once. 

"If the slave wants to see... Let her see," he said, taking Tara by her collar and leading her to the post. "Rope," he barked, and Liam brought him a coiled length of it from the corner where it was kept. He looped the rope around Tara's waist, binding her body to the smooth wood, but leaving her hands free. Tara stood nearly nose to nose with the Artist, the post the only thing between them, and began once again to lose herself in the depths of his eyes, the beauty of his face. 

A mop of black curls popped up behind him and Tara got her first good look at the boy-slave. He shot her a dimpled grin before spreading the Prince's ass wide apart and then shoving his cock into the waiting hole. Tara's eyes widened. It had never occurred to her that men might fuck each other like this. The force of his thrusts pushed the Prince closer still to Tara and seizing the opportunity, he captured her mouth with his. Moaning softly into Tara's mouth, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the pleasures both his slaves had to offer. He guided Tara's hand to his half-hard cock and not needing any further prompting, Tara began stroking it in time with the boy's thrusts while at the same time, tentatively returning the Prince's kiss, her lips sweet and soft under his. 

Tara barely noticed that behind her, Sir Liam had continued giving the Warrior his tour of the Training Room, showing off his wall of instruments and explaining their uses, and then showing the Prince the room's antechamber and the contents therein. Liam didn't know how much of what he said the Prince understood but his interest was clear in the way he listened intently and Liam was proud to share his expertise. 

Returning to the wall, the Warrior selected a heavy leather paddle studded with small spikes. Liam noted with some satisfaction how he ran his hands over it, admiring its craftsmanship. Approaching Tara, he dragged the studded side of the paddle across the slave's back sending shivers up and down her spine, over her buttocks and thighs, and back up again. Then without warning, he spanked her, the paddle making painful contact with her ass, the spikes digging into her flesh, some even drawing tiny pinpricks of blood. Tara screamed, pulling against the rope that held her in place as tears filled her eyes. She looked pleadingly at the Artist but he only said, "Don't stop," and she continued working his cock with a shaking hand. 

"You might want to start with the other side," Liam advised, turning the paddle in the Warrior's hand. "Her ability to take pain is limited. You'll have to build her tolerance over time if you wish to use her that way." The Prince studied the paddle carefully and then ran his hand over Tara's red ass, his touch surprisingly soft. 

"She is small," the Warrior said. "She will need...opening."

"Her backside has already been prepared for you, see?" Liam replied, spreading Tara's cheeks so that the handle of the small plug in her asshole was clearly visible. "You may use her now if you wish."

Tara's breath caught in her throat. No, he can't, she thought, her heart beating faster and faster. He'll tear me apart! But the Prince didn't need Tara to tell him what he already knew. Unbuttoning the crotch of the silk pants he wore, he casually pulled out his cock for Liam to see. Even flaccid, it was something to behold and it was all the Steward could do to keep his jaw from dropping.

All he said was, "Yes... she will need opening."

Casting a sidelong glance at the Warrior's cock before he returned it to his pants, Liam disappeared into the antechamber. While he was gone, the Artist came in Tara's hand, coating her fingers with the sticky seed she had swallowed the night before. He turned to lean against the post so that Tara inhaled the incense-sweet scent of his hair, while the boy-slave dropped to his knees and expertly licked the Prince's cock clean. The Prince patted the boy's head, as one might do to a faithful dog, and left him kneeling in place as he dressed himself and joined his brother. Tara noticed that although the boy's cock was still painfully erect, his face revealed none of the frustration he must have felt and when she caught his eye, the look that passed between them was one of understanding shared between slaves; two blades of grass at the mercy of powerful winds. 

Liam emerged a few minutes later with a leather harness and a small cloth bag in hand. 

"May I?" he asked the Princes before loosening the rope tying Tara to the post so that he could fit the harness to her body. The thin straps went snugly around her waist, parting in the front so that her pussy could still be used, and coming up the back through her ass crack, leaving a hole where a plug could be inserted and held in place. From the bag, Liam pulled a gleaming silver egg, similar to the one already in Tara's ass, but with a bigger head and a wider neck. The bag also contained a vial of oil, a little of which Liam poured on to the plug before threading it into the hole in the harness.