Originally written well over a year ago. Submitted for your amusement. Contents may cause wigglies.
I’m bored. I wrote something. I don’t even know if it’s any good.
Adult erotica after the jump.
“Even a slave girl brings the hearth fires,” the old master lifted my eyes to look at his. “We do not mark, nor maim our property. We adorn them with our finery to show the world that they belong to us because they have chosen us.”
I tried to avoid his eyes as best as I could. The dark coals burned deep into my soul when he locked eyes with me. “We teach our females the dual gifts of fire. If she chooses to light the hearth place you have provided for her to do so, she is yours so long as she keeps relighting it. Matters not if she is your slave, your concubine, your servant, your companion or your bonded mate. The other fire, her internal one, is one you must keep stoked.”
I could smell the man scent on his fingers, the sweat and the scent of his girls were all over him. “This one has spirit,” he continued. “We enjoy that in our property. Giving the spirited animals they are a full gallop to foam is what a creature such as this one deserves.”
He pulled me to standing and with gentle pressure, guided my legs apart. The filmy cloth covering my body hid nothing from him. Rugged fingers opened my delicate lips as he forced my mouth open. Other fingers found my nub and flicked it, making me nearly jump out of my skin. A gasp betrayed me and I moaned as fingers delved deep inside me. My hands were tied together and useless against his barrage.
“Yes, this one will do,” he told no one in particular. His fingers below worked my sweet spots as the ones in my mouth kept me gagged and unable to cry out. He found the right rhythm and soon I was prancing in place. It wasn’t long before my body betrayed me and slick wetness covered his fingers, running down my legs.
“Froth. It is what they live for. It it was they give us. It is their internal heartfire alight.” I felt hands arch my back, and I moaned as a cock slid in me. “Good. Use her as she was meant to be used. Breed her.”
My mannie grunted when his cock head hit the entrance to my womb. I felt his hands grab my hips and buck me. He had to do this to me, even as my tears welled up. On Earth, dominant’s privilege meant that he could do what he wanted to me until I said the one would that would stop everything. Here, those rules no longer applied. If he didn’t do as the slave master demanded, he could be killed. I would be killed.
This was not going to be our home or our planet. This was another world we were being taken to. One where a woman’s place, no matter her station, was to cry out to a man’s touch. We had both listened to the slave trader. I was going to be my mannie’s bound concubine at best. For certain, I was his slave to use as he chose. If I behaved properly, my personal status might increase. If I bore children, my worth as a breeder would increase my status. If I had any other skills, that too would increase my status. The best I could hope for was bound concubine. A true woman, a companion or bonded mate – those were nearly unobtainable except by those born to that status. I’d have to save a master’s life at the risk of my own for even a chance.
I was literate. I was certain if I could prove that I could read and write, that would elevate me from the pitiful status of a lowly slave. I wasn’t a nurse or doctor, but I knew first aid and I knew what some herbs could do on our world. Maybe, just maybe, on this world I could learn what helped here. My mannie… no, he was no longer my bonnie mannie… he was my owner, my master… He had his own skills as a bard and warrior. The food here had increased his strength and my own responses.
I closed my eyes and began to scream. I could no longer hold back the floodgates of being pummeled by my master. His hand was on my naked breast, his other torturing my nubbing. I bucked against him even as the slave master laughed.
“Take her. Ride her well and good. And often. It is the only way to keep her fire with you.” My master spent himself in me, his fire hitting my womb, as the slave master continued on. “She will learn the pleasure and pain of your lashes and of your prods.”
I was pushed to the ground, while still my master worked my insides. Words were becoming a blur. My body betrayed me again as I reached for a new height and screamed his name.
Completely spent, he withdrew from me. “Now, (name), gather your girl up in your arms. As your slave, she is yours to command. Yours to breed if you choose. Yours to use as you see fit. Hold her. Cuddle her. For the moment, her fire is yours, is it not, girl?”
“Yes,” I spoke, the word was barely a hiss. I was curled up in his arms, even as my body still hummed. A cup of foul smelling liquid was pressed to my lips.
“Drink, girl. This will prevent breeding. For now, you are a pleasure slave. Not one of the lowest of the lowly, but meant only for pleasing any who would take you.”
The cup was pushed away from my lips. “Nay. I dinnae want mah lassie kenned by another’s sgian-dubh.” The arms holding me rolled me closer to him. “She’s mine, only mine till the day I die.”
The slave master stood and grunted. “She will be taught the postures to take in order to be pleasing to men. She’ll be taught how to dance…”
“She does dance.”
I shuddered in fear and pulled myself away from the slave master’s touch. I was dizzy from what was done to me. My mannie may have had permission to do as he would on Earth, but this world, the rules were different.
“She will learn how to dance on her chains and how to dance to entertain,” the slave master sneared. “Not just the dance on the end of your pole.”
“She is mine. She will obey me, that I guarantee.”
The slave master grunted and I heard the clinking of metal and felt the bonds holding my hands together sliced away. The slave master grabbed my hand and, with a gentle word from my mannie, I did not try to pull back. I felt a slim metal band circle my wrist and heard it click closed. “This is our way of marking our property. One for each wrist, easily used to mark a girl as a slave.”
“You dinnae collar here?”
“Collars are for the lowliest of slaves. Those below the worth of even wearing scraps of clothing. The ones who deal with the refuse, the sewers and the contaminated. They may loose their hands while doing work only they can do, but they rarely loose their heads.”
I felt the metal close around my other wrist and shook. Once again, my mannie was in my ear, shushing me. I have no clue how long we had been separated, but to feel his arms around me once again was a joyful betrayal when that slaver whipped me. I had spent my time with other scared and confused women of Earth, many who had soiled themselves because they could not understand that the hole in the middle of the room was for defecating in. They cried themselves to sleep in huddled masses. One young one had found me and spent the long, lonely sleep periods in my arms. She was mute from a slice to her throat.
“You will be moved with your girl to your cabin for transition to your new home.” I felt my mannie lift me up in his arms as he stood. Through the bars of the slave chambers, the girl who had come to trust me cried out and ran to the bars. She reached for me. “That one is mute. She will be turned into a pleasure slave – if she survives the trip.”
The slaver’s menacing cackle terrified me even as my mannie shifted me in his arms. I wrapped my hands around his neck and purred gently against him.
As he carried me, much to the slaver’s chagrin, I thought back to our last moments on Earth. We had been walking back from a special party, taking the long route back. I felt safe walking arm in arm with him, still floating in subspace. The electrical smell in the air was the last thing I remembered before a light enveloped both of us.
I woke up in a pile of bodies. Arms and legs everywhere as terrified women huddled together. They fed us like animals. Water flowed from a pipe into a small reservoir. I at when I could, and drank when I was thirsty. Most of the women were too terrified to do much more than huddle in the back of the cell they had thrown us all in.
I don’t know when it was, but a keeper had come and thrust a cup at me. I knew what it meant – to drink. I did and my world spun. I woke up later and my body hurt. My legs were long and leaner, the aches in my bones were gone, my vision had become acute. My ears had changed the most. My hearing was affected and my ears pointed. Other women had drunk the same drink and had changed. Three had taken on a blue skin tone, two had a green one. I was as pale as I had always been, but my hair had a heliotrope sheen.
I stayed curled up with my new friend, trying to comfort her, as other women took the cup. I was the first. Three didn’t make the transition, or at least they did not look human anymore.
When my mannie finally appeared, I knew he too had drunk from the cup. His eyes reflected the light back at me. He had fangs like I did, but they were his lateral incisors and mine were my canines. I had been pulled from the cage and given my first lesson by the slave master.
The lesson I was being carried away from.
I had stopped hearing and let the slave master’s words drone on. I was placed on the ground and knelt at my mannie’s feet. It didn’t take long for me to understand that the position I had taken was barely acceptable. I obeyed as I was told to lift my arms as the filmy cloth I had been wearing was torn away.
I was directed to a bath. I spent the time luxuriating in perfumed waters as my mannie joined me. He cupped my breast, letting hot water form rivulets over my chest. I knew better than to speak. I was curious, but his command in my ear to relax made me close my eyes as he continued to bath me.
“Keep her inner fire stoked,” was not just a suggestion by the slave master. My mannie played with my body to his delight. I felt him slide in me again after raising me up into his lap. He did not move, but held me to him, speared on his phallus.
“This is mine,” he growled in my ear, his nails racking my skin. I felt his lips against my shoulder and his hand holding my chin up. With a snarl, he bit down on my neck, his fingers darting into my mouth to stifle my scream. I gagged and fought, but he was too strong for me and I gave up.
I could feel him suckle against my neck. The acrid coppery smell of blood told me hit my nose as I gagged against his finger. He pulled away with a satiated sigh and groaned, his phallus jumping inside of me. “You are mine!”