It was all well that I had left the Siberian to ponder the day; there was plenty of work to do. The first "crop" had been taken down from the crucifixes, but they just because they begged to be slaves, didn't mean they were ready to be slaves (as Haley had proved). A slave girl must be trained to obey.
This training was happening in the tents that had been set up. As with the crosses, there was a large area set aside for them, and some had been set up by each pit.
I went to the tents by Blue Pit. These had been arranged in five rows of six each. They were not as wide as our personal tents, but they were as tall. Outside some of the tents were gourds of water. Others had small, Clay cup's filled with boiled, dark, meat. Outside every tent though, were strips of papyrus bound to a string. I watched a man climb out of a tent, tighten his belt, and take the papyrus that hung at the entrance. He studied it and then poked a hole alongside two other holes. He looked up and noticed me, nodded, and left.
I heard a whip crack from inside a tent; a girl cried out and begged in Shang. The whip struck a second time. From another tent, I heard a woman begin moaning and the slap of flesh-on-flesh.
I stopped at one tent. I heard no sounds coming from. I looked at the papyrus; marked in a row were several hieroglyphs. The one on top was for oral sex. The one below it, for vaginal sex. Below that was the hieroglyphic for whipping.
I lifted up the tent flap and peered in.
Lying on a mat was a small-made, thin, Anatolian girl with long, shining, black hair. She quickly got to her hands and knees. A heavy chain clinked, it ran from a collar around her throat, to the tent mast.
"May I drink, Master?" She asked in Common.
I regarded the holes made in the papyrus. There were two for whipping, and one for vaginal sex. I checked the water skin outside the tent; it was still completely full.
"May I drink, Master?" She asked again.
I closed the tent flap and left.
I knew what the tents were for; I had seen similar but not on this scale. The tents taught a slave that everything in her life happens at the whim of her master. If she wishes to eat, drink, piss, sleep, or have sex.
The way this is taught is that she is left in the tent (or box, or pit) with nothing that she actually needs. She cannot see out of it, even to know whether it is night or day. She can hear men passing outside, and she may call out to them. But they will respond to her at their whim, not hers. And if they should respond, what they do to her, is also at their whim.
"You want to eat, Slave?" I heard a rough voice coming from a tent.
"Yes, Master," came the answer.
"Please me with your mouth, and I will consider it, Slave."
One man went from tent to tent with a whip, telling slaves that he would beat them except if they licked his feet well, and he felt inclined to be kind. About one in two slaves he whipped, anyway. Another man just went into tents, ignoring whatever was asked and used each girl however he pleased. Each time, the slaves whimpered and screamed as he brought them to orgasm.
"Stay stay, Master!" Sometimes he did. Then, shortly, they would orgasm again.
"After they are sold, they will lust after their Masters," he told me as I inquired into his method. "They cannot help it; young, fertile, healthy females, kept chained by men who enjoy their bodies."
"But what is the lesson?" I asked.
"There is none. But it is good to awaken desire in them early; slave girls who look upon men who may buy them, as lustfully as they themselves are eyed, fetch higher prices."
I made a tanned brunette with green eyes jerked me off between her breasts, and then wipe and eat my cum off her fingers.
"Thank you, Master!" she licked her lips and beamed at me. I stroked her hair and lead her out, crawling on her hands and knees, on a chain leash. All she had wanted was some fresh air.
Next, I made a pale, red-haired girl masturbate, and then lick her fingers. I put the clay pot of boiled, ground, human flesh in front of her, and held her hair aside as the proto-Celtic beauty put her head down and ate.
"Thank you, Master," she looked up at me and gave me a smile bright as the sun.
"Do you know what you have eaten?"
She nodded. I got another clay cup and fed her that as well.
Even as we trained the slaves to be submissive and pleasing, they were training us to be kinder to them.
It was a good exchange; one that masters and slaves had maintained on Earth, for hundreds and thousands of years.
***
I stopped outside a tent. The papyrus indicated that the slave girl inside had been orally pleasing twice, and been whipped twice. Outside was an empty food bowl, but a gourd of water only half-drunk. I picked it up and stepped inside.
Lying on a mat inside was Amber, the Ohioan from Germantown. Her collar was chained to the tent mast. There were red whip marks that had not yet faded on her thighs and back. Her long, chestnut hair was down; she rose up on her hands and shook her hair back. A lock fell over her face.
"Master!" She said in Common and quickly knelt. "Greetings Master. May I have water?"
I got down on one knee in front of her.
"Present yourself, Slave."
She sat up straight and crossed her wrists behind her neck. She tilted her head back and jutted out her breasts. I cupped one; it was large, warm, and soft. I gently kneaded it and rubbed the dark pink nipple with my thumb. Her nipple was hard.
"Does Master like me?" She said. It was an unusual phrase for her to have been taught.
My answer was to pull her wrists behind her back and hold them there. My other hand gripped her throat. I pulled her forward and kissed her. She moaned and probed with her tongue. Her breasts rubbed against my chest.
"Good Slave," I said in Common after breaking from the kiss. "Do you know the breeding position?"
"Yes, Master," she whispered.
"Assume it now."
I released her, and she quickly turned around. She got on her hands and knees, then spaced her knees wide apart. Then, she raised her behind up, into the air. She arched her back and put both her hands and elbows down flat along the mat. She threw her hair to the side and looked back at me.
"Breed me, Master!"
I got between her legs, pulled out my penis, and gripped her.
"Master!" She gasped as I slipped my penis into her. Her vagina was warm, soft, tight. I pulled my penis out, spat into her vagina, then reinserted my penis.
I began thrusting. Her breasts swung forward with each stroke, and her hair brushed back and forth along the mat. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, savoring the feeling.
I slapped her buttocks and took hold of her hair. I pulled it back gently, making her throw her head back.
"More!" She gasped in English.
I gave her more. She started moaning and clutching at the mat, I leaned forward and locked my arm around her throat
"Slave!" I bit her cheek. She cried out.
"Master!" She gasped, "I serve you, Master!"
Her moans turned to short, sharp, squeals. She started panting and looking back at me, eyes wild. Her ankles pressed against my thighs, and she kept clenching her vagina.
Finally, she orgasmed: her whole body shook as the sensation coursed through her. She bit her lower lip and pressed her for head down to the mat.
Her body became warm and pliable as honey.
"Turn around," I gripped her chain and pulled. She quickly turned to face me, still on her hands and knees. I pressed the side of her face down against the mat. With my other hand, I jerked myself off, onto her face. She opened her mouth to catch it. Semen landed on her cheek, nose, and inside her mouth. The rest went on to the mat. She closed her mouth and swallowed, then wiped semen off her face with her fingers and stuck them into her mouth, giggling and looking up at me as she sucked them clean.
"Eat it," I pointed to the semen on the mat.
"Yes, Master," she quickly licked the rest of my seed off the mat. She showed me her mouth full, swallowed, and then showed me her empty mouth. It was a nice touch; she did it like an adult film star. She even looked like one.
I sat down on the mat and pulled her up against me. She curled up between my thighs, her head resting on my shoulder, her hands clutching my chest. I opened the stopper from the water skin and put it to her lips.
"Drink, slave," I let her have her fill.
Here she was, a girl of the 21st Century with submission fantasies, now an eager, obedient, sex slave. What had happened?
Hyperborea had happened.
"Thank you, Master," she looked up at me with her large, brown eyes.
"You are ready to be sold," I stroked her hair. "You will fetch a good price, and you and your master will be very happy." I'm not sure she understood the word ‘sold' in Common.
Not that it mattered.
"I wish you could understand me," she said softly in English. "There's something outside that comes at night, maybe a kind of dog? It's large but quiet. It prowls around the tents. I don't know what it is, but I don't think it's supposed to be here."
I regarded her. What was she talking about? And is this what Treygor had been trying to find? Surely not, that was something outside the camp. It could hardly have entered past all the guards and watches. She must have just imagined it.
I could simply speak to her in English, and all would've been clear.
Doing so would compromise her training. It was softness; I had seen what damage even momentary kindness had done with Haley's training. Other men would not look kindly on any backsliding from this one.
"I wish I had the words to tell you," she said.
"Do not speak that language again," I replied in Common.
"Yes, Master."
I kissed her and licked her face, put my clothes back on, and left the tent. Outside on the papyrus, I made the relevant mark.