"Thank you for saving me, Master."
My long-legged brunette lay on a waist-high slab of black granite. I had secured the meat on her back; the sheen of sweat made her body gleam. She was in a 'crab tie;' her legs were drawn up with the elbows tied to the knees, and the wrists tied to the ankles. It bared her well. I stroked a long, slender calf, fingers running up and down the shin. They drifted to the thigh - the skin was warm, evenly tanned by the desert sun. I clenched it feeling the fit muscle. The slave girl smiled.
Fire flickered in a bronze brazier that time had stained green. Glowing red inside the flames was an iron piton I'd found.
"It is good to be yours, Master," her brown eyes shined. Long, silky hair had pooled under her head. "When I sleep, I dream of licking your cock!"
My pack lay on the slab beside the slave. With one hand gently stroking her crotch, the other reached into the pack and pulled out a short, rigid rod.
"Do you know that this is?" I held it up for her to see.
"No, Master," the brown eyes tracked it, suddenly suspicious.
"It is a shock prod," my hand closed around the grip. "I saw it used for controlling slaves," I pressed its tip to her chest. I drew it down slowly, between the large, well-rounded breasts. I noted the nipples were hard, erect. I took a breast in my free hand: it filled my open fingers. The skin was smooth and deliciously soft: I gave it a squeeze and fondled the dark nipple with my thumb.
"Master!" she giggled.
I leaned over her, hovering to feel her warmth and tension filling my senses. Then, I took the nipple between my teeth. She made a soft moan as I tasted salt. I kissed the nipple and bit it gently.
I bit harder.
"Oh! Oh!"
I ran the prod her body, circling her belly button, and tracing the soft, gleaming lines of her vagina. She raised her head to see it, nervous.
"What does it to do, Master?" her neck craned.
"You'll find out."
I spat on my fingers and slipped two inside her. She groaned and clenched her vaginal muscles around them. I began thrusting, spelling out my name inside her using my fingertips.
Onska started to tug at her ropes. She tilted her head back and moaned, eyes shut tight. She tried to shift from side to side, but I gripped her by her collar and held her in place. Her moans became louder. She opened her mouth and began to scream - such a loud slut!
I let go of her collar and slapped her across her breast, hard.
She cried out and jerked, eyes wide. I kept on masturbating her, thrusting hard. A few moments later, I slapped her breasts again. She moaned in shock, and her face reddened. Contrasting sensations: each heightened the other. If you are bringing a slave to orgasm, have a cane ready. It will help.
The shock prod had a slider alongside a strip of five, red marks. I moved the slider to the centermost mark, pulled my fingers free, and pressed the prod to her belly.
She screamed and arched her back, eyes shut tight and teeth gritted. I shocked her again and she howled, tugging at her bonds.
"No! No! No, Master! Please!"
I slipped my fingers back inside her. The middle setting was quite strong - but what was the lower setting, up the slider or down? I moved it down one and regarded the moaning, squirming girl.
I gave her another shock. She howled and shook, but not quite so violently. She eyed the prod with fear and tried to wriggle away. I let her get halfway across the table before pulling her back by her legs.
"Please, Master!" she whimpered, "Not that!"
I continued stimulating her. Her vagina produced more liquid; they gleamed on my hand and dripped on to the slab. I set the prod to the lowermost setting.
"Master, no!" she whined.
I shocked her between the breasts, my hand still inside her. She screamed and wailed, jumping at the touch - it was as if I had struck her hard with a training whip. My wet fingers tingled, but that was all! Excellent; I could shock while I was inside her.
Seconds later, she shut her eyes, and her lips parted. Her whole body softened and then trembled, once, twice, thrice, four times. She opened her eyes and smiled with adoration.
I kept stimulating her - I wasn't done.
A girl comes to climax more easily, after having already just done so. The Hataduri said to take a slave beyond her limit. Why only pain? I licked my girl's calf. Pain she could become numb to - but not absolute, body-wracking, ecstasy! This was my experiment. Could I do more with ecstasy than I could with pain?
I shocked her on the nipples. She orgasmed again, hair across her face, saliva dripping down her cheek. I held off for a bit, so she'd think I was done. Then, I forced her jaw open and put the prod in her mouth. A short while later, a third set of orgasms followed. Her eyes rolled back into her head before the fourth - a sign she was about to pass out. I allowed her to recover (somewhat), then started again, thrusting inside her as I was shocking her collar and the soles of her feet.
I looked down at the sweating, panting woman. She squirmed in her bonds and whined, her body all but glowing with heat. How many tremors had passed through her? I'd lost count. It was strange - I had never let a girl enjoy more than one or two orgasms before. Orgasms were to be tightly rationed, treats to be earned, and capriciously awarded.
My experiment was done. Now, what had it got me?
I began untying her.
"I love you, Master!" she squealed. Her freed hand clutched at me as a drowning sailor clutches at a rope. "Azathoth be praised, you are a god!"
She rose on her knees and threw her arms around me, nails digging into my back. Her breasts squeezed against my chest, and she kissed and licked my neck, whining like a beast. I felt a stabbing pain as she bit my throat. I pushed her head away and slapped her. She yelped and immediately buried her head to my chest, licking it hard.
I took hold of her by her hair. She held me as she moved her head down, kissing and licking. She passed my belly and reached my groin. Her hands fumbled with the buckle, and she snarled, tugging at the belt with both arms.
I laughed and did not help her. She looked at me for a moment, her expression wounded, then starting fumbling with the belt again. She got it off and pulled it clear, hurling it across the room. She strained at her hair as she opened her mouth and lunged for my penis.
"Easy there," I gripped her by her throat.
She looked at me with tears in her eyes.
"Let me please you, Master! Please, let me serve you!"
With a firm and careful grip on the animal, I let her lower her head. It was an excess of caution - she took my penis into her mouth like it was an art treasure, her soft hands stroked my balls, and she began.
After a few thrusts, she pulled her head free, thick saliva and semen hung from her lips. She cupped her hands and spat it into them. Then, she gripped my cock with both hands and began stroking. It was a gentle feeling, her warm hands barely touching the shaft. She looked up at me and smiled, then back at her task.
Her head descended, lips against the side of the shaft. She ran them up and down, sticking her tongue out. She paused to reach between her legs. Her hand reappeared, gleaming with vaginal juices. She slathered them around my cock, then began licking again.
I squeezed her throat and bent over her; she cried out as I bit the back of her neck. She went limp, a submissive animal. My fingers gripped her collar, knuckles digging into her skin. I raised my head a few inches. My slave went back to pleasing me.
She put her mouth over the tip. Her tongue rolled the foreskin back, and she licked around it, pushing into the grooves. Her eyes closed, and she rubbed my penis back and forth across her face. She kissed each testicle, took my scrotum in her fingertips, and rubbed her face with it.
I seized her jaw and forced her mouth open.
She took in my cock, pushing her head down as far as she could. I felt the tip touching the back of her throat. Her long hair stroked my thighs as she gently pumped.
I could feel it coming. I crouched over her and held her head in place while I ejaculated. She remained still, even after I let up. I felt her swallow; her tongue scraping around my cock several times. She swallowed again. Only then, did she slowly begin to pull her head away, lips pressed to the shaft, tongue cleaning me. She finally pulled clear, licked her lips, and looked up at with eyes filled with love.
"Thank you, Master," she put her head down, crouching with her breasts and belly against the slab. "Should you slay me now, know I will die happy, for the taste of your seed is upon my lips."
"Truly?"
"Yes, Master," she turned her head to look up at me. I had never seen such resolution behind a slave's eyes. "Command death and see it welcomed."
I picked my scabbard up off the floor and drew my sword.
She smiled at the sight, closed her eyes, and waited for the end.
So this was my experiment's results!
I lowered the sword and stroked her hair, my fingers sinking deep into soft, brown, silk. She turned her to lick my hand.
Exceptional servility! The regression to an animal-like state was not unique. However, nor was it common. Even Fogrim's girls would not submit so casually to a culling. Girls gave their lives readily to gods, but not to whims.
It was only later that I realized how thoroughly I had broken and remolded the girl. Thereafter, she could not take her eyes off me. She randomly became tongue-tied when speaking to me. My lightest touch would thrill her, making her blush. She had fallen completely and utterly in love.
This delighted me.
I have always felt a little bit guilty after taking a new slave. There is the pleasure of sex, of course, but that is fleeting. More enduring is the rush of seeing the look in the eyes of a beautiful, naked, chained girl who realizes she is completely in your power and must suffer whatever you desire. But, afterwards, when she is lying warm beneath you, or at down at your feet licking semen off the stone floor - there is that little, nagging guilt from doing something wrong.
I felt no guilt this time. Instead, I felt accomplished! I had done something right. I'd taken a submissive chain meat, and forced every atom of her to surrender. In doing so, she'd become happier. Much happier.
"Onska," I brushed the hair from her face, "do you what it means when a man says he will 'free' a slave?"
"Yes," she nodded, staring smitten at my eyes. "He is going to kill her."
"But he might also actually free her - giving her clothes and a fist full of bronze coins so she may pass among free women as one of them. Yes?"
She seemed to think about this a moment.
"Yes, Master. But it does not happen."
"When all this over and I take you with me to Dura, I will give you a choice. You can lie at my feet, and I will chain you with a chain this short," I held up two handspans, " to floor ring before my fireplace. Or I will give you some clothes and a fist full of bronze. You can go free; live your life however you choose and go wherever you like."
She stared at me, eyes both disturbed and uncertain.
"Which of these will you choose? This is not a trick. You can speak truly."
She looked down and said nothing.
I cupped her jaw and tilted her head up.
"Well? Would you like to be free?"
"In the kennels," she almost whispered, "we talk of escape, Master. Where we would go. What we would do. It is just idle words! Just dreaming, Master. Only girls fresh to the collar ask questions of guards and patrols. The rest of us, we know we will always wear the collar," her hand went to the band of iron around her throat. "But - to be freed. Master, you are playing a game with me?"
"Not at all," I lied.
"You would truly give me bronze and clothes?"
"Yes. If that's what you want. You want that, yes?"
"How much bronze?"
"Er, enough. You're missing the point."
She looked away.
"Well?"
"No!" she clutched my leg. "I do not want to be freed!"
"Why not?"
"I want to be a slave!" she cried. "Please don't free me," she hugged my leg, chin on my foot. I felt the warm splash of tears. "I want to be yours, Master."
So there it was. Much happier indeed! She rejected even the thought experiment of freedom.
"So this is it then," I said, stroking her hair. "what men should do to their slaves."
"Master?" she looked up me and sniffed.
"This is a very, very cruel world, and you slave girls get the worst of it." I stroked her cheek. "What you have right now is the only happiness a man will ever let you have."
"I am happy, Master!"
"I know! And that's a good thing."
If I could teach such poor, wonderful creatures to be happy - wasn't it my duty to?
"I'm going to make other girls like you, happy."
I would never feel guilty again.