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. |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+