Message-ID: <28752asstr$981263404@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: SuZie X-Original-Message-ID: <95i318$qq7$1@nnrp1.deja.com> X-Article-Creation-Date: Sat Feb 03 23:08:27 2001 GMT Subject: {ASSM} Slave Girl, Part 1 Date: Sun, 4 Feb 2001 00:10:04 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: newsman, gill-bates Dear Readers, The usual disclaimers apply. This is a fantasy of an adult nature. It contains scenes of nonconsensual sex and kinkiness. Do not read if this is distasteful to you, illegal where you live, or if you are under age 18. It is copyrighted by the author, under the provisions of the Berne Convention, and permission is expressly denied for reproduction on sites that charge money to read it. @ 2001 SuZie Please send any constructive feedback to scribesuzie5985@deja.com ------------------------------------------------------------ The slave girl Rina spilled the wine. Normally she would not do such a thing -- she had been well trained -- but she feared her master's guests tonight, and her fear made her clumsy. Instantly she drew back with an apology -- "Forgive a clumsy slave girl, master" -- and rose from her serving crouch to fetch a cloth to wipe up the spill. Her back seemed to sting already from the touch of the birch. Her master, though not the worst, tended to impatience and a quick hand with the rod. She was forestalled, however, when the guest whose tunic she had splattered leaned forward and caught her wrist. "Not so fast, pretty," he said, with a smile. He sounded good-humored, but her heart jerked into her throat. They were frightening, these guests of her master's -- soldiers, from their uniforms and polished boots and weapons that all matched each other's; but clearly soldiers of high rank and an elite unit. They looked like professional killers with fine tailoring and civilized table manners. There were seven or eight of them, sitting crosslegged on cushions at the low table, feasting on her master's largess and the good local wine. This one looked to be in his mid-thirties, dark-haired and blue-eyed, with a weather-darkened face. He looked too cheerful to be threatening her, but his grip was hard. "Ay, so what's made you so clumsy, girl? Not afraid of us, are you?" His grin widened. She was. Although she knew a smiling compliance to his wishes was called for, she hung back at the full length of her arm. Her master leaned back to catch her eye from where he sat, a few places down. "Idiot slut. I'll be taking that out of your back tomorrow." To the man who held her, "Sorry about that, Captain. She's only good for one thing -- when she's not on her back, she's clumsy as a she-camel in water. I'll have her scrub down your tunic by morning." "Na, no matter," said the man addressed as Captain. "Perhaps our pretty slave will lick it clean, eh?" He gave her arm a jolly tug that nearly pitched her into his lap. The other soldiers had stopped eating and were all looking at her, some with wine cups or hunks of bread paused halfway to their mouths. Conversation had stilled. The torches crackled and popped in their sconces overhead. "Kneel down, girl. No need to stoop." Trembling, she did so. She hadn't much choice, for his grip on her wrist forced her down by him. "Position," he said. She threw one misery-filled look to her master, who returned it with a scowl and a forceful nod. "Position" mean kneeling with knees apart, arms crossed behind her back, head up, back straight, and eyes straight ahead. She assumed the posture quickly, pulse banging in her temples. The man released his grip on her wrist, and regarded her. "Nice, very nice." He reached over and brushed her hair back from where it had fallen over her chest, concealing the breasts beneath her thin tunic. "Nice," he said again. He reached and with his fingertips brushed one nipple lightly where it dimpled the cloth from underneath. She shuddered. He smiled at her again, lazily this time. He took the front hem of her tunic and lifted it, baring her to the torchlight and the men's eyes. She almost twisted away and bolted, but years of slave discipline, enforced with the whip, kept her in position. Almost gently, like a nanny tucking in a bib, he tucked the hem down the front of her neckline and wound it up and over again a few times, leaving her tunic rucked up under chin. She was effectively nude before them. She could feel the heat of the torches playing on her body, and the men's burning gazes. "Stay still," he said softly. He began to trace a pattern with his fingertips over the bare skin of her torso. She couldn't really see what he was doing, with her eyes face forward like any soldier's on parade, but every nerve- ending screamed it. Around and around each breast, circling in toward the nipple and lightly over it, then circling away again, down in loops over her belly, grazingly up her sides, but not so close to her armpits as to tickle her. Sweat burst from her hairline and ran down her face. He grasped one of her buttocks and turned her more fully to face him. "So, a good slave girl, really, so obedient and sweet to touch," he murmured. "Is she good in all ways?" This last louder, and seemingly addressed back over his shoulder, though he did not turn his head. "Ay, for a clumsy slut, she's tasty in bed," answered her master. Wriggles and jumps like a tadpole, but hotter than any tadpole, that's sure." "Hot, indeed? So all this charming bashfulness is only for show?" "Well, maybe she likes being scared, for many's the time I've threatened her with a whipping, and then found her cunt creamier than fresh butter when I came to take her." From the sound of it, her master was grinning. Shamed and burning red to her hairline, from the feel of it, Rina squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth. "Creamy, so. That sounds delicious. Are you creamy, slave girl? Let us see." The captain traced farther down her outer thighs, and inward towards the tender inner thigh of her right leg. He brushed over her pubic fur, and put both hands between her thighs, palm out, to pull her legs a bit wider. Rina sunk her upper teeth into her lower lip. Unseen by the men, behind her back, she clenched her fists. The captain grasped her hair close to the back of her head and pulled her head back, forcing her upper body to curve backwards like a bow. With that firm hold, he slid his other hand between her thighs again. He brushed the soft flesh at the very top of the creases where leg met body, and then cupped his hand between his legs with his fingertips between her buttocks, the heel of his hand over her pubic bone. He gave a playful squeeze. She winced. He began to caress her pussy lips -- not seeking entrance, but only lightly tracing the outer folds and ruffling the fur. Still, as he parted the lips the barest amount with a finger, she could feel to her shame that she was already wet. A tingling flush had spread across her breasts and buttocks, and the skin of her whole body felt moist, as the warm air around her eddied beneath the torches. The captain laughed lightly at his discovery. "She's hot, to be sure," he said. "She's juicing like a slut already, and I've barely touched her. "Let us see what she does if we go ... deeper." Rina moaned lightly aloud in protest. She dared not break position or do more to evade his caresses. Shame seemed to clothe her whole body, from scalp to toes, but she knew that to move meant a caning, or worse. The captain's caresses, however shaming, were better than the slave whip's. True to his words, the captain hiked himself a bit closer to her, so he need not stretch, then spread her nether lips wider with the fingers of one hand and reached between her legs with the other. He slid the middle finger of this second hand between her taut rear cheeks and lightly nuzzled and then probed the flinching bud of her anus. When she pulled away involuntarily, he hooked the finger into the opening and used it to pull her back towards him. His stiffened digit penetrated her rosebud by perhaps a half an inch, and she gasped. Her chin lifted, and she swallowed. The captain used his thumb to feel for the place where her pussy lips came together at the top. He found it easily, for her clitoris had swollen to pea size and erected itself. He laughed again and moved his hand to lightly grasp her clit, in its protective folds, between his fingers and gently move it about. Despite herself, Rina moaned and shuddered. He had a skilled and softly ruthless touch, lightly squeezing and moving her clit around in little, slow circles, always leaving enough of her wet pussy folds between it and his fingers that he did not hurt her. Except her dignity, all trace of which had been banished. Rina bit her lip and arched her back, spreading her legs a little wider to grant him better access. She could not help herself. She had not forgotten the audience to this little passion play -- indeed, she was still blushing furiously even as he stirred her, and her juices glistened on his fingertips -- but her responses had passed beyond her control. Her nipples had risen to points and jutted from her naked breasts. The other guests uttered hoarse laughs and sharp exclamations as they watched the slave girl heat before them. Several had reached beneath the table to open their trousers and were unselfconsciously masturbating. "Aye, Gunther, warm her for us," one of them said, admiringly. "Oh, fear not," the captain said. "This oven needs little stoking." He raised one hand and stroked her flushed stomach. She felt her juices wet upon it. "She has slave fires in her belly." Without warning, he slid two fingers deep into her pussy. She was so wet that he reached fully into it without effort. He fingered the neck of her womb, making her gasp. Again she tried to pull away, and again he held her firm. Pulling her to him, using her pelvic bone as a handle, he seized her hair and used it to yank her head to one side, baring her neck to him. He seized the exposed side of her throat between his teeth. She moaned in terror. He did not bite down, but rather merely held her fixedly for a moment, letting her feel that he could, if he wished, tear her throat out like any animal. She felt his saliva warm on her throat as she hung in his grasp, nearly fainting. Her limbs had gone all to water and she could not have resisted if she had tried. The he swirled his tongue with exaggerated lasciviousness around her throat, as though it had all been a joke, and released her. As she collapsed, and gravity tugged his fingers out of her pussy, a wet, sucking noise was heard by all, and got a general laugh. Smiling, the captain rose to his feet and spurned the unmoving slave girl with his boot. "Hurry, lazy girl, bring us more wine. The feast is young." ------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------- -- To be continued. -- Sent via Deja.com http://www.deja.com/ -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+