Few things can lead to as much delight as a naked slave girl on your lap.
The clearing was a few yards away from where we had camped; sex in view of others was one Hyperborean custom I was not keen on. The mid-morning sunlight streamed down through the opening in the trees.
A tall, tanned, blonde girl with the body of an underwear model knelt over my lap. I had cuffed her wrists together behind her head, and chained the cuffs to the back of her collar. This forced her to bare her breasts at me. I pressed my head forward and licked between them; they were warm, salty, and gleamed from the oiling I had given her.
“Oh!”
She cried out as I bit one breast gently, I rubbed my tongue over her nipple, pressing it like a soft button. My hands slipped down on her oiled hips. They went between her thighs and pushed past her smooth, hairless pussy. I took hold of my penis and maneuvered it into her.
Haley squealed, shifted, her posture and began bouncing up and down. The slapping sound of flesh on flesh began and she started to moan out loud.
"Louder!" I slapped her. "Louder, Slave!"
She obeyed, grunting for the whole forest to hear. Haley was a good moaner: I am a big believer in making slave girls scream during sex. It encourages them to enjoy themselves and also induces them to behave more animalistic.
I gripped her by her collar as I ejaculated. She became still as I filled her. I did seven or eight good squirts and then I pulled her off. She lay down on the mat beside me, her body warm and flushed. She had not orgasmed: I gave those out sparingly so they would be seen as treats.
"Thank you, Master," said Haley. She had a blissful grin from ear to ear. "Not just for using me, but for owning me."
I reached behind her head and removed her cuffs. She threw one hand over my chest and propped her head up with the other, like Cleopatra reclining on a couch.
"Yes, you do like being owned, don't you?"
"Of course," she threw a long, smooth, leg over mine. "It is much better to be a slave."
"As opposed to what?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Master does not know what it was like for me before." A darkness fell across her. "I am always happy that I am not in Ice Lands anymore,” she used her people’s term for Siberia. “Every morning I wake and remember, and I am grateful for this."
"How bad was it there?" I turned to face her.
"The hunting was poor and on many days I would not eat." She sat up, her eyes focusing on a world far away. "I would have to fight the other women in the tribe, for food. Any man could take me. But here, I am like a wife; I serve only one man and his guests or friends as he allows."
I thought of the nights she had spent with Fogrim. A darkness fell upon my mood as well. Hyperboreans think nothing of sharing their women; it is considered polite. I could hardly avail myself of Fogrims females and not return the favor. Still, it was not something I enjoyed.
"There was much suffering in Ice Lands," she drew up her knees and put her arms around them, hugging them against her breasts. "Disease. Frostbite. The children were always dying. And we were always in danger there."
"What were you in danger of, Slave?"
"Wild animals, they would hunt us. When we followed the mammoth herds, every few nights the tigers would take someone. And there were other tribes and other peoples." She trailed off.
"They warred with your people?"
Two winters ago, my tribe was a thousand strong. When the Landing Beast came from me, there was but a third of that number left. I had a friend, her name was Gruta. I did not see her in the camp, but I hope the Landing Beast took her as well." She ran her hand through her long, dirty-blonde hair and shook it back; my heart raced at the sight. "Here, I am given to eat every day. Even in the slave camp, there was food for me. I only serve you," she put her hand on my chest. "And when you give me to your friends they do not hurt me, because I am yours. Master Fogrim handled me much more gently than he does his own women. When he beats me, my skin is red. When he beats Layla, she bruises."
"So you are grateful because you have food, and because free Siberian women were treated worse than slave girls in Hyperborea?"
"It is so much more!" She held out her hands, taking in the forest. "Master, everywhere there is food and light! We do not need to break through ice, for water to drink." She looked down at her breasts and ran her fingers over them, and down her flat belly. "It is good to feel the air on my skin, instead of dirty furs. Hyperborea is beautiful, master, and it is full of wonders. Every day I see a new creature or plant, sometimes a flower! I am blessed to live where I can see flowers every day, whatever the time of year. Hyperborea is paradise."
"You are not safe from animals here." I said.
But I have a strong master,” She smiled at me, “and he keeps me safe from both beasts and men. Thank you for saving me from the river, and teaching me my place." She bent over, lowered her head to my feet, and kiss them.
I gripped her by her collar and pulled her face down to the mat. She quickly changed position to be on her hands, elbows, and knees. Her buttocks were up in the air, I enjoyed the sight of them.
"But you are a slave, Haley. If you displease me, I may beat or even kill you." I stroked her thigh, my fingers running over the raised scar tissue of her brand. "This mark I burned into you makes you not less than cattle, not more than cattle. And, you are not likely to live beyond another 10 to 15 years. How can you say that this is preferable to where you came from?"
"Because it is, Master. And, I enjoy being owned."
"And what do you enjoy about it, Slave?"
"This," she reached her long fingers up to her iron collar. "In this, I feel safe. I am at ease; all of us who wear the collar, are."
"Now I really don't understand!"
"Everything I do is decided for me. Which way I must go, how I must live. All of this is taken from me."
"You don't want control over your own life?"
Her eyes became wide and she shook her head.
"No! Master may find this strange, but how many does he know who always know what to do, and just how to do it? How many such people do so without pause or fear of what may happen - or not happen? Being owned, being told what to do: it takes all of this away. I am at peace in your collar, Master. Ask this of any owned girl, and she will tell you the same."
I spread my legs apart and pulled her between them. She giggled and leaned forward to kiss the tip of my erect penis. She ran her tongue up and down it, studying me with her blue eyes.
"And of course, there is something else, Master," she took hold of my penis and began stroking it.
"Oh?" I gripped her by her hair and twisted her head back to look at my face.
"I enjoy how you fuck me! How you push my face down in the dirt, or force me to eat insects. I love it when you whip me, and tell me that I am just a common, dirty, slave slut! I cannot explain it, Master!"
"You do not need to," I forced her head down to my penis. She opened her mouth and it slipped between her lips. I felt the walls of her mouth. I forced her head down lower, my penis going into her throat. "You are just a common, dirty, slave slut."
I moved her to the side by 90° to give me easy reach over all her body. She quickly brushed her hair aside and started pumping her head, up and down. She looked up at me as she did so; fear and excitement in her eyes.
I gripped her tight by her hair and slapped her buttocks with the other hand. She jerked and moaned, her mouth over my penis. I struck her large, tanned buttocks again, my hand leaving a red mark. Again she jerked at the sudden pain, but I held her head in place. After a few more smacks, I picked up a small flogger on the ground beside me, and got to work on her buttocks, thighs, and the backs of her legs.
When I was done whipping her, I pulled her head up and back to look at me. She gasped for air, saliva hanging from her lips and dripping down her chin. Her skin was flushed, there was a wild look in her eyes.
I pushed her face-down onto the mat, her breasts pressed to the ground. I got on top of her and locked her throat in a choke hold. My knees shoved her thighs apart.
"Oh!" Her eyes became wide as I entered her anus. She started to cry out as I began pounding.
"Louder, Slave! Louder!"
I came, shortly. As my semen filled her, I choked her till her face turned red. Only when I was done ejaculating did I let her breathe again. She began gasping and wheezing for air. She turned her head aside and looked up at me. I kissed her, biting her lip.
I pulled out and stood.
"Clean it, Slave."
"Yes, Master!" She quickly got to her knees and carefully licked the semen off my penis.
One she was done I began dressing.
"Master must go?" She looked up at me, pouting.
"I must see to Naya, the bandit girl." I put on my belt. "I have her strung up by her ankles, under a tree that way," I indicated and picked up the flogger. "I want her morning to start with a whipping."
Haley looked in that direction, and her eyes becoming slits. She shook her head and her elegant hands became whitened fists.
"She does not understand her place!" She spat, her eyes filled with sudden fire. "Everything about her is an insult to you, Master!"
I was surprised by this.
"Please, may I whip her?"
This especially surprised me.
"What! Why?"
"She needs to learn her place!" Haley folded her arms.
"Don't worry, that hot little piece of meat will learn that well enough. From her master."
"She must be beaten, kept from sleep, and always be hungry," said Haley completely ignoring my argument. "Given just enough to drink that she does not die. Please, Master, let me help!"
"I have never heard of such a thing as a slave girl trying to break another slave girl."
"I will not, Master. You of course will teach her how lucky she is. But I can help. Naya is an arrogant girl who must have beaten slaves. How will she feel when it is she who is being beaten by a slave?"
While it was surprising to hear a slave so thoroughly understand the power of degradation, I should not have been. Who else would know better what makes a proud, stubborn, strong-minded female into an obedient, demure, lust-hungry slave pet, than Haley?
I looked down at the flogger.
"Here," I handed it to her. "Do not break her skin, leave any bruises, or strike her face. Do you understand, Slave?"
Elated, Haley jumped to her feet and took the flogger. She nodded her head vigorously.
"Yes, Master! Thank you! I will go to teach this Hyperborea slut to beg that she may have your boot upon her back!"
She ran off into the trees.
I realized I was watching the dynamics of slave girl behavior unfold before my eyes. Where before there had been only two, now there were several. As the slave harem formed, Haley had stepped up to become the slave mistress; the girl whose task was to keep the other slave girls in line. This was Patriarchy in its purest form: a female playing into her subjugation that she may have higher status and rewards, within it.
With girls like Haley, there was no limit to how many females a man could keep chained and kneeling in his kennels.
We would see how things worked out. I turned and went to attend a wholly different task.