The camp was almost pitch dark except for a few guard fires. There was a clanging of metal on metal and some shouts coming from the crucifixes; a fresh crop and the last holdouts from the previous were not being permitted to sleep. I made my way in the dark to the edge of the camp towards the river.
The river had risen; there must have been some rainfall upstream. It babbled and raced along, carrying loose twigs and leaving white noise. Some night insects chirped in the bushes; I saw the gleam of armored shells as centipedes half as long as my leg, battled to the death. I crept over to them and drew my sword. One started thrashing about, bitten almost in half. I brought my blade down on the other's head. I grabbed the back of its tail, lifted the body up, and smashed it against the ground. Then, I rolled it up and stuffed it into a pouch.
Ahead of me was the banyan tree.
There were still a few girls hanging from it, heads down over their chests as they slept. The river had risen up over the bank, and up to waist height against the tree trunk. Haley swung gently under her branch, her hands just a few inches above the water. She did not stir as I approached; she was fast asleep.
I slashed with my sword.
The rope cut and she tumbled down into the icy water. There was a large splash, and the other slaves jerked awake. Haley cried out, struggling, and disoriented.
I reached into the water and grabbed my female by the back of her collar.
"Master!" she tried to stand.
I kicked her in the back of her knees and forced her to kneel in the mud. I yanked her head back and out of the water.
She gasped loudly for air, her hands reaching back and clawing at my wrist and fingers. I gripped her throat with both hands. She struggled and twisted, but I kept her in a vice.
"Who is your Master, Slave?"
"You!" She spluttered.
I dunked her head into the water. She kept struggling, trying to pull my hands away. Her resistance became more frantic at the eight second mark.
I held her down for 10. Then I yanked her head back up.
"Who is your Master? Tell me, or I will drown you here, you worthless creature!"
"You, Master!" She gasped, her heaving chest rising out the water.
I dunked her head back down. Again at eight seconds, she began to panic, thrashing back and forth. She clawed my hand and drew blood.
I kept her down for 15 seconds.
She coughed and spluttered, trying to breathe and also expel water. I gave her 10 seconds to recover. In that time, she did not.
"Who is your Master, Slave?"
"You are my Master! Please, do not drown me! You are the Master! You are-"
I forced her head back down. She did not begin to panic this time till the 13-second mark; I kept her underwater for 20.
I pulled her out, and she gasped and choked, desperate for air. I let go of her throat and held her by her hair, pulling tight. She spat up more water, but then breathed easier.
I picked her up, waded to the shore, and threw her down in the mud. She sprawled, her long legs still tied at the ankles. She turned onto her side and tried to raise herself up on one elbow, staring at me.
I grabbed her by her ankles and started dragging her behind me.
"Master!" She cried out, "Master, please!"
"Be silent," I said without turning back. "Or I will chain you to a post and whip you."
She became quiet.
The guards at the palisade laughed as I passed them.
"A slave well handled!" Said one. The other blew Haley a kiss.
I took her to the ancient well at the center of camp. It's old, broken stones stank of lichen. Already the creepers that had been cleared away were reclaiming it. The faded carvings in the stone seemed less like worn marks, and more like the tracks left by some sort of creature. Buckets were lined up alongside it, secured by ropes. Before the buckets was a large, wooden trough that was filled with water. The slaves would be given it to drink, the next morning.
I picked her up and laid her down in the trough. I pushed her head down as well; a baptism of sorts.
I let her sit up in the trough, holding its sides, her knees bent and rising out of the water. There was a rag on the ground; I picked it up and threw it at her.
"Rinse away the mud and dirt," I put my hands on my hips. "You have 10 seconds."
I do not think she knew what a second was, but it did not matter. She put her head back down into the water and shook it back and forth, running her hands through it. She quickly cupped water and rinsed her shoulders and scrubbed her back, I enjoyed the sight of her hands snaking up and down her long legs.
"Time's up."
I reached into the trough, grabbed her by her waist, and threw her over my shoulder.
"Ah!"
The water was freezing cold. It dripped into my clothes and soaked me. Her body was cold, she shivered, her teeth chattering. She tried to clutch at me for warmth.
I reached my tent.
Inside it was warm and dry. Piled in a corner, beside the tent pole, were my sleeping furs. Iron rings had been fitted along the pole; near the top, halfway down, and near the bottom. A short chain and a fetter were fitted to the bottom ring.
I threw my long-legged blonde onto the furs. She cried out before she struck them, sinking into the thick pelts.
I got down beside her, drew a knife, and slit the rope around her ankles. I gripped one while I picked up the iron fetter off the floor. I pressed the metal against her cool ankle and closed the fetter shut. It made a click as it locked.
I stood and regarded my woman. She spread her legs and looked up at me, as she rose up on her hands and elbows. Her eyes were wide, lips parted.
"Existentialism, indeed," I tore off my clothes.
I got down on the furs. She gasped and tried to crawl away, but the chain held her ankle firm.
I laughed and grabbed her by her feet.
"Master!" She cried out as I yanked her back towards me.
I pulled her legs apart, and I got down over her; her skin was still cold with the exposure. Her shoulder blades pressed against my chest. She grunted as I locked my arm around her throat. My erect penis lay against her buttocks.
My other hand slipped under her, and I gripped a large, well-developed breast.
"I obey, Master!" She squealed.
I kneaded it, enjoying its feel against my palm. I squeezed the nipple till she cried, out and jerked in pain.
With my knees, I pushed her thighs apart. The tip of my penis brush against her anus and labia.
"You're warm and wet!" I nibbled her ear, "Bitch, you're in heat!"
She turned her head back and reached for my mouth with hers. I kissed her: her lips were full, soft, fiery. Her tongue pressed in and rubbed against mine. I kept kissing her and moved my hand from her breast to cup her face.
"Strong Master!" She moaned loudly as I slipped my penis into her. I felt her vaginal muscles close around my shaft. I broke the kiss and lifted my head away.
"Master!" She called out, her head reaching up trying to reach mine.
I pulled back and thrust, hard.
It rocked her whole body, and she threw her head back, eyes wide, mouth open. I thrust again, and she moaned. She put her head down against the furs as I started to pound her. I enjoyed the softness of her body and the firmness of her muscles. Her skin became warm and flushed. Her white hands clenched into the furs, and she started moving her body in sync with mine.
I worked her slowly and carefully. I pressed her head against the furs and bit her neck. She groaned in pain.
"Harder, Master! Harder!"
I fucked her harder. She started crying, her sounds become a short, sharp, high-pitched squeals. She was coming close to orgasm.
A few more thrusts and it was done: her whole body clenched under me and she melted into the furs, her muscles going limp.
She looked up at me dreamily, her eyes sparkling. I lowered my head and kissed her beautiful mouth. It was a long, slow, gentle kiss.
"Slave," I said.
I gripped her wrists, one in each hand, and pressed them down on the furs. Then, I pulled out of her vagina and entered her anus.
She stared in surprise, mouth agape. I do not think she had ever had that happen before.
I started pounding her again. Her expression became stricken, she put her head down and bit the fur.
I came, it was a good, long, load I filled her with. I pulled out and looked down; semen was dripping out. I scooped some up with my finger and held it in front of her face.
She closed her lips around my finger and sucked it clean, without hesitation. She regarded me with large, blue eyes and the expression of any well-trained slave: one seeking approval.
"Good Slave," I said.
"Thank you, Master," she smiled. It was a wide, rich, toothy smile.
I rolled off Haley and regarded her.
"Kneel, Slave. At present yourself."
She rose and sat back on her heels, her knees wide apart in the furs. She straightened her back and crossed her wrists behind her head. With a vixen's smile, she bared her breasts at me.
I reached into the pouch that I had inserted the crushed centipede in. I pulled out the dead creature, it's head missing. Haley did not shirk away or turn up her nose. She stared at it with interest; perhaps she thought I would feed it to her.
I squeezed the dead centipede like a tube, and its goopy innards splashed into my open hand. I mixed it over my fingers and planted it in a handprint on Haley's firm, flat belly. She looked down at what I was doing, surprised.
"Now you are marked," I said. I held my hand up to her face. "Clean it, Slave."
"Yes, Master," she leaned her head forward and carefully licked and sucked my hands clean. She did it slowly and carefully, her tongue getting every last bit.
"Good Slave. I will find things for you to lick off my hands quite often." I stroked her cheek. She turned her head to the side and kissed my open palm.
On her belly, the handprint had dried. It was a bright yellow; I hoped the mark would remain for some time.
I lifted up a fur.
"Get under it, Slave."
"Yes, master," she crawled under the fur on her hands and knees. I crawled under it with her. I pressed her against me, enjoying her softness. Between our bodies and the furs, we were quite warm. She lay her head against my chest. I gripped her by her throat and stroked her buttocks. They were large, well shaped-and had cushioned me well.
"Sleep, Slave," I said.
"Yes, Master."
It was the best sleep I'd had in years.
In Fogrim's Tent
Fogrim sighed as he ejaculated, yanking Layla to him by her buttocks. The slave was on her knees, chest, and chin; her wrists cuffed and chained behind her back, yanked up towards her neck as far as they would go. 10 inches of chain fastened them to her collar.
Fogrim pulled out, semen gleaming as it dripped out of her vagina. Fogrim lay back in the furs, while Layla, between his legs, turned around and began to lick her master's penis clean. She lay down when she was done, her cheek against his belly, his penis by her throat.
"Master?" she asked softly. "What about the other girls?"
"What other girls, Slave?"
"I heard some of the men say that other girls were missing from the pits. Were they also stolen and gifted to our great God, Yog?"
Fogrim got up on one elbow.
"You heard wrong. No other slaves were taken. Now be silent, or I will make you stand with a stick between your teeth, until morning."
She obeyed her master and had pleasant dreams of escaping, being recaptured, and being fucked till she learned her lesson.