The girl was nearly nude. She was not totally
nude, as she wore a combination leather gag and hood that covered her head and
eyes, and wrapped tightly enough under her chin to prevent her opening her
mouth by so much as an inch. There was a hole in the back of the hood through
which her blonde ponytail had been drawn. She also wore a single glove on both arms.
Other than this, however, she was utterly exposed.
She was also quite helpless. The single glove
confining her arms stretched all the way from her fingertips to her shoulders.
The glove was laced tightly enough to force her elbows together, then pulled up
behind her back above head height by a rope, obliging her to bend sharply forward
at the waist by the pressure on her shoulders. It must have been a very painful
position.
The blonde twisted her head from side to side
anxiously, as if trying to see what or who was behind her, although the hood
allowed her to see nothing. She was bewildered and terrified. Rupert Caine, the
girl's new owner, watched her futile struggles silently, admiring the way his
new slave's nipples stiffened in the cool air of his dungeon.
The body she displayed was very attractive.
Her short, stocky form featured plump, full breasts with wide brown areoles
surrounding thick nipples, wide hips, well-fleshed thighs, firm bottom globes
and a pubic delta with an ample covering of curling golden hairs. It was the
body of a pretty, young country girl, not that of a movie star or high-priced
courtesan perhaps, but still both sexy and desirable.
Caine had acquired the girl almost by
accident. He had been returning to his estate from a trip to the local village,
when he saw a sign advertising a Sheriff's sale to be held that very afternoon
at a house only three miles away. Caine was the wealthiest man in the entire
state, one of the wealthiest in the entire Western Provinces in fact, so he could
afford to buy anything he wanted at full retail price, but he still loved a
bargain.
He whipped his ponies, a lovely matched pair
of young female slaves named Karin and Natalie, into a trot and drove his cart
to the farmhouse where the auction was being held. He picked up a copy of the
information sheet from a table by the front door and read through it quickly.
It was a familiar story. The farm had been purchased with a bank loan by a
young man and his new wife. As the couple had no other collateral to put up,
they had pledged their own bodies as security, signing contracts of indenture.
There followed a drought and a crop failure, and less than a year after they
had taken the mortgage, they were in default.
Now, their pitiful belongings, cheap
furniture, livestock and their own persons were being auctioned off by the
Sheriff at the bank's behest. Caine had arrived at the right moment: the
husband, a sturdy brown-haired lad of twenty was being offered just as he entered
the main room of the farmhouse where the auction was taking place. He was sold
to a local farmer who was more fortunate than he and needed a strong field hand.
The boy was led away in chains.
The next item was the wife. She was a lass of
nineteen named Lorna, the daughter of a local storekeeper. Caine remembered
seeing Lorna around the village while she was growing up. She had been a
pretty, lively little girl, and she had grown into a pretty, vivacious young
woman. Her father was present, evidently hoping to buy her and rescue her from
slavery. When the Sheriff stripped Lorna to display her for the buyers, her
father opened the bidding with the minimum bid of 250 crowns.
Caine impulsively decided to purchase the
girl. It really didn't make any sense. Lorna was a cute little package, but she
did not compare with the beautiful slaves he already owned, like the pair of
ponies outside who pulled his cart. He also knew that his junior partner,
Quentin Scales, would soon be returning from his annual buying trip with new girls
for him to break to service, girls who would almost certainly be more beautiful
and sensitive than this simple country lass. Still, he found himself raising
his hand and offering a bid of 500 crowns almost before he thought about why.
Lorna's father paled. He whispered something
to the gray-haired woman standing beside him who Caine supposed was his wife.
She whispered back, pointing at Caine and gesturing urgently. Her husband shook
his head in response.
The Sheriff made a last call on the lot.
"We have a bid of 500 crowns from Squire Caine, 500. Do I hear 510?"
He directed this question to Lorna’s father, the storekeeper. His naked
daughter stared at him in a mute appeal.
The storekeeper looked back at the girl, then
at the Sheriff. He shook his head, and dropped his eyes to the floor in defeat.
Evidently, he did not have enough money to raise the bid. Even if he had, of
course, it would have been hopeless to try to compete with Caine’s fortune.
"500 once, 500 twice, sold to Squire
Caine for 500 crowns!" The Sheriff announced, banging his gavel down on
the little lectern. The storekeeper and his wife, ashen-faced, turned and left
the farmhouse. Lorna cried out "Daddy, please don't leave me!" but
the couple, unable to face their daughter, did not even look back.
Caine was absurdly pleased with his purchase.
He estimated that Lorna would have brought at least 5000 crowns at a big city
auction house, and he had no doubt that he could easily extract far more than
500 crowns worth of pleasure from her.
He arranged for the Sheriff to deliver the
girl to his estate, then returned to his cart. "I bought a new toy, a
local girl," he told his two ponies. "But don't worry, she's not in
your class," he said, stroking Nat and Karin on their firm buttocks.
"She's just a little hors d'oeuvre
to hold me until Quentin returns with the main course."
Lorna was delivered to Caine’s estate that
evening, as promised, and was brought to his receiving parlor escorted by a
pair of his house servants. These
servants were both pretty young women, dressed in form-fitting green uniforms
of some skin-tight stretchy material, with cut-outs that exposed their breasts,
pubic triangles and buttocks. The fronts
of the blouses had built-in supports for the breasts, forcing them up and out,
and their vaginas were clean shaven. All of the exposed flesh of these servants;
pubic deltas, breasts, buttocks and thighs, was marked by networks of thin
white lines, the residue of numerous flagellations.
Lorna was dressed in the simple armless cloak
with a drawstring neck that was the traditional garb for slave auctions. As
Caine had ordered, her hands were tied behind her back. She was no longer crying,
having expended all her available tears, but her cheeks were marked with the
dried trails the tears had left behind.
Caine stood and pulled the drawstring to open
the neck of her cloak, and the garment slithered down off Lorna's shoulders to
end in a pile at her feet. She wore nothing underneath. The girl shivered,
blushed, closed her eyes and turned her head to the side as Caine mercilessly examined
her nude form.
He slapped her hard enough to leave a red
handprint on her pink cheek. Lorna staggered back, and cried out in pain and
surprise.
"Don't look away from me, bitch,"
Caine said.
"Oh, oh, please don't hurt me sir,"
Lorna begged. "I'm sorry if I did something wrong."
He slapped her again twice more, hard. She
would have fallen to the ground if the two servant girls had not quickly caught
her under the arms to hold her up.
"My slaves do not speak without
permission, cunt," Caine said. "Do you understand?"
There was a dribble of blood coming from a
corner of Lorna's mouth, one cheek was beginning to swell and her eyes were
glassy and unfocussed. When she nodded her head to indicate that she understood,
it set off a sharp pain in her skull.
Caine slapped her again. "When I ask you
a question, you will answer it, slut. Now, do you understand me?"
"Ah, ah…yes, yes…sir, I
under…stand," Lorna mumbled. "Please don't hit me any more, sir. I'll
be good." She pleaded.
"Get down on your knees," he
ordered abruptly.
Lorna obediently sank to the ground at his
feet.
Caine unbuttoned his fly and released his erect
cock, which sprang out suddenly right under the girl's nose. Startled, she automatically
jerked her head back. Caine grabbed a handful of her fine golden hair, and pulled
her sharply back, until the head of his cock quivered a fraction of an inch
away from her lips.
"You will take my cock in your
mouth," he commanded. "I want you to swallow the whole thing, and if
I feel one tooth, I'll have all of them pulled out."
Lorna stared at the bobbing ten-inch stalk of
meat as if it was a cobra.
"Please sir, I've never done…done anything
like that," she said. She looked up at him, her pale blue eyes wide.
"I don't know how …" she trailed off. "Please don't make me do
this."
Caine made an abrupt gesture, and the servant
girls moved in on either side, seizing Lorna under the arms, and pulling her
roughly to her feet. Caine beckoned to one of the servants.
"Take her to Room One," he said. He
gave the servant his instructions in a few sentences, after which the two
liveried servants hauled Lorna to the basement room where she was now so
painfully confined. Almost before she knew what was happening, the two women
had drawn a hood over her head, rendering her blind and mute, laced on the
single glove and raised her arms up, leaving her in her current painful and
defenseless condition. Since then, all she could do was wait for whatever her
new owner planned for her.
"So, it seems that you prefer defiance
to obedience," Caine said, his voice coming from very nearby. Lorna
started in surprise, as she had not heard him approach.
She shook her head, attempting to tell him
that she had not meant to be defiant, that she would be happy to obey him. She
tried to put this into words, but all that the tight chin gag would allow her
to say was "Nnnnn!"
"I have ways of dealing with disobedient
bitches like you," Caine continued. He held a heavy leather paddle in his
hand. The paddle was an inch thick, a foot long and perforated with one-inch
holes. He brought the paddle back, then swept it down to strike the pale bottom
globes the unsuspecting girl unwilling presented. It landed with a meaty thwack!, printing a broad red oblong
with a pattern of white circles across both pink cheeks.
Lorna jumped and screamed as loudly as she
could, making a stifled, agonized "Errrr!"
sound. Her bare feet drummed frantically on the concrete floor, while her
buttocks shifted rapidly up and down, side to side, in a way that made Caine
smile.
"No
more, please!" she screamed, “I’ll
be good!”, but all that came out was "Urrrrrr, ahh uhhh…!" and the like. She twisted her head back in the direction
where she guessed he was standing, trying to communicate her willingness, her sincere
desire, to obey, if only he would stop hurting her.
Caine admired Lorna’s wild dance for a few
seconds. Then he took her ponytail in a firm grip with his free hand, and began
to beat the ass of the helpless farm girl in an unhurried, regular rhythm,
lecturing her as he did so.
"In my house (whack!) … the slaves follow my orders (whack!) …They don't
decide which ones to follow (whack!)
…they do what I tell them to do (whack!) ..." and so forth. This
continued for ten strokes of the heavy paddle, by which time both of Lorna's
chubby bottom globes were covered with overlapping red oblongs and pale
polka-dots, and the innocent young wife was twisting like a maddened beast in
her bonds, trying in vain to escape the merciless blows.
Caine paused. "Are you now more inclined
to obedience, slut?" he asked.
Lorna nodded rapidly. "Ehhhhh!" she said.
"We shall see," he said. "Open
up your legs for me," he instructed. When she moved her ankles apart, he
reached down to spread her lower lips open, then worked his fingers into her
pouch.
"Is this how you used to spread your
legs for all the farm boys, whore?" he asked as he toyed with her
intimately.
Lorna shook her head and moaned "Nnnnn!". She had been a virtuous
girl, who had never allowed any man but her future husband to so much as touch
her breasts. Being forced to display her naked body for strangers at the
auction had been the most humiliating experience in her entire life, but this, this was much worse. She didn't
want to let a strange man fondle her sex, but he had hurt her so. He had hurt her worse than anyone had ever done
before, and she could not stand the pain any longer. Anyway, she reasoned, she was
his slave, and she had to do his bidding.
Caine was an expert at arousing unwilling
females, and it was not very long before his manipulations of Lorna's little
love button had produced slippery juice in her slot. Caine pinched and twirled the
stiff knob of her clitoris in his fingertips, and soon her hips began to sway in
response.