Monday, 21 January 2008

Slave Story, part 5


At last, the fifth instalment of the the Slave Story. If you have forgotten what this was about you may go back and read it here. Part of this text has been published on this blog earlier under the title Two Slaves. I hope you don't mind me reusing the text. This gives the bigger picture.


I woke up with my heart pounding. I knew that my nightmare may soon come true.


The guards came after a long while to get me. They were almost cheerful and tried to comfort me. That was unusual. It filled me with fear more than anything.


I was led into a room lit by candles and lamps hanging from the walls. It was a nice room with carpets on the floor and some cushions at one end around a low table. A slave girl was standing to one side carrying a tray with glasses and a tea pot. She was magnificent. She was clad only in a breech cloth that consisted of glimmering golden chain around her hips, way below her navel. From this chain hung a long thin red silken cloth at the front. It was fairly narrow and covered only her sex although I saw that it continued between her legs and hung down behind her as well. She had a golden arm ring and a thin necklace. Her hair was arranged with pearls and gold. She was blond and tall and extremely beautiful. She had round and proud breasts that were not heavy but far larger than mine. Her rosy nipples were erect and she stood as a statue.


I was placed on my knees in the middle of the room and although I spread my legs wide the guard was not satisfied until he had gently kicked them further apart. I was completely opened up as I sat and I envied the other slave her clothes.


I lowered my gaze as the guards left the room and when I was alone with the girl I dared look at her again. She ignored me but I could not stop admiring her. She was fantastic. I knew she was a slave but she looked so proud, so beautiful. Her body was perfect in every sense. Her proud breasts looked perfect on her slim and tall body.


At last two men came in. One was the old man that had received me the first day and the other was a fairly fat man that was far younger. He was 40, maybe 50, years old and had eaten too much good food. He wasn't enormous but still you could call him fat. He was dressed in a red and golden robe and had a kind of elaborate turban on his head. He looked like a merchant or a landlord of a wealthy tavern.


He placed his body on the cushions and the old man sat down cross legged by his side. The old man signalled for the slave girl to serve the tea. She obliged with very sensuous and graceful movements. She was the perfect girl in every sense and I couldn't understand what I was doing there. I was nothing compared to her, although, I knew I was the one they had come to discuss.


I lowered my gaze as I knew was expected of a slave girl. I knew very little about how slaves were to conduct themselves but I wanted to appear obedient knowing that I would most probably be punished if I was not. I didn't want to be punished. I had seen slave girls taste the whip.


The two men proceeded to talk in a friendly way as I sat there. They completely ignored me as they had their tea. They talked about politics and commerce and exchanged news. I heard and understood what they were talking about but the information seemed to mean nothing to me. Four weeks ago I would have been eager to listen and learn but now I belonged to another world. The things the men talked about was for free persons not for slaves.


Suddenly the old man addressed me. He called me 'slave' but something in his voice told me he meant me rather than the beautiful girl standing in the corner. I felt that if he had called for her he would have said something far more delicate and soft. I was an untrained girl and needed to be addressed in a stern voice.


I looked up and saw the old man wave me forward. I rose to my feet and hurried forward. He stopped me with his hand and I stood still. I wondered if I should kneel but he seemed pleased with having there me standing.

'So this is the slave?' the fat man said.

'Yes, she is the one,' the old man answered.

'She is very young.'

'She is seventeen years of age.'

'She looks younger.'

'I can assure you,' the old man said.

'No need, I believe you.'

'She is very small,' the fat man continued.

'Small but delicate,' the old man said and I blushed.

'She blushes, I like that.'

The old man looked pleased.

'She is not trained,' the fat man said.

'She is not trained.'

'What am I to say? You bring me a skinny young girl with no training. What am I to do with her?'

'She is a gift but if you do not like her we will try to sell her and you will get the money.'

I blushed at those words. I was enslaved and got nothing in return and if they sold me someone else would take the profit.

'No, no, I will take her.' The fat man waved his hand. 'She wouldn't bring much. I will have to train her myself.'

'Master Firul will be very happy that you accept his gift.'

'She is a virgin?'

'I can assure you,' the old man said.

I blushed again.


The old man pointed to the floor and I knelt trying to spread my legs as wide as the guard had shown me before. I felt embarrassed by this and thought I saw the fat man glancing at my sex.


I felt anger well up in me at this man looking so brazenly at me and not hiding his gaze. He took the liberty of looking at my body. I was not used to men looking at me like this. The men from the village would never do that.


I felt a pang of loss at the thought of the village and then I realised how futile my anger was. If I was given to the fat man he could look at my body and at my sex as much as he wanted because I was his property now and he could do what he wanted with me. I shivered at the thought of the fat man not only wanting to look at my sex but to touch it and do other things with it.


The men finished their tea and the fat man called forward a servant that bound my hands on my back and put a leash on my throat. I was led away, the property of the fat man.


I was led to his carriage and the servant helped me climb into the back of it. The fat man sat up beside the driver and we drove off. I sat in the dark of the back of the carriage among bundles of cloth and sealed pots filled with something I couldn't even guess what it was. I was placed there among the fat man's other possessions.


I heard the men talking in the front and the fat man chuckled as he told the driver about his gift.

'I really like the young ones with their perky breasts,' he said and burst out laughing. I was a bit bewildered by this since he had seemed to be so displeased with me earlier.


I leaned back and pondered on this and to my own shame I felt a tingling of pride that this fat man, my new owner, found me attractive.


The canvas around the carriage was tied shut so I couldn't peep through and see were I was going and being bound made it a bit scary to move around too much. I sat down among the fat man's possessions and tried to think about my destiny. I couldn't see the future as anything but blank. The days in the pens were awful, except for Miro, but I hadn't really dared to think about what would happen to me. When I realised that I was a slave it filled me with horror and dread so my mind tended to move away from that.


It was different now. I was on my way to a new place and a new life and I had no idea what it was. I didn't even know the name of the fat man or his profession. He seemed wealthy though. I didn't doubt that he would make me work for my keep and work hard but what kind of work?


He seemed to find me, at least, a little attractive and my heart beat faster as I thought about what he might do to me. I wept as I realised that he would most likely want to use me for his pleasures at some point or let someone else do it. I had seen how the guards used the girls in the pen and I didn't think I would be spared for too long.


Still the purpose of acquiring me might be to put me to work. He had been given me as a gift but he most probably had some business that needed labourers and I assumed he had slaves for that. Now I was one of his slaves.


He looked as if he might own a wealthy tavern or be a merchant or maybe he was the head of a circus or a travelling theatre. There was an air of flamboyance around him that seemed to go together with a profession in the public eye but that was only my strange speculations. He might be anyone and do anything.


I was happy getting out of the pens though. I would get to see the light of day and I would get to move around and not be confined to one spot all the time. I knew I wasn't free but a slave in work may move more freely than a slave in the pens.


And maybe I would get clothes. The though made me cheer up a bit. I had been naked for nearly a month and had never got used to it. Girls like Miro seemed to revel in being naked or didn't seem to care too much but I was constantly aware of the fact that I was nude and that anyone could see me. I was more used to it now but it was still an ordeal. It was far worse here out in real life than down in the pens but I still had the hope of getting clothes.


Slaves most often wore clothes although more revealing than free women. It is true that a slave girl may be stripped naked any time and quite often were even in public places but most often she got to wear clothes.


Our journey didn't last long so I assumed we were still in town. As I peeped out of the carriage I saw a courtyard and some buildings around it. A young man helped me out of the carriage lifting me in his strong arms and putting me on the ground. I stood shivering trying to take in as much as I could of the surroundings.


The wall around the courtyard was high but it was crowned with ivy or something similar. A big tree gave shade and flowerpots hung from chains at the wall of the big building. This was a far more welcoming courtyard than that of the pens. Still I was a slave and still I was naked and bound.


I was led into a building that looked like a stable or something similar. There were crude beds along one wall and straw mattresses along the other. Some plates were neatly piled in one corner. The small windows had bars.


There were no one there besides me and the young man who had led me there closed the door and locked me in without taking off the ropes around my arms. I was left alone in the quarters awaiting my new destiny.




4 comments:

Paul said...

Janice, interesting, hopefully!!!
Modern slaves may be on a spiritual journey, I wonder what the non consensual ones went through?
Warm hugs,
Paul.

Wystan E said...

"She blushes... I like that."
I, too.
I am glad for that part of you that is drawn, as by gravity, to the slave pens, the humiliation of the girl who can only watch her fate take form ... watch and hope for, if not the best, then something more bearable than the worst.
I, who am so very fond of you, dear J, would (I am not ashamed to say) not hesitate, in the slave's world, to treat her ... not as she deserves, but as she expects.

Mina said...

Dear Janice, I had been wondering when we would see the next installment, have been looking forward to it. I enjoy her continued journey.

Interesting how she begins to take pride in that she is admired, it is part of that wanting to be looked at and seen, that we are beautiful like the others though in our own way. We are worthy too.

Sitting down among the man's possessions, nicely put.

Hugs
Mina

Janice said...

Dear Paul, A spiritual journey, well put. I think that could be true. I don't think the real slaves in ye olden days really appreciated their situation that much, but what do we know? That is why fantasies are so brilliant we can have consensual non-consensual slavery and it all works out in the end.

Dear Wystan, This is an interesting thought. I expect but she, the slave girl, does not. She is as innocent as any poor heroine. But I do think it is about accepting your fate and enjoying your life...smiles.

Dear Mina, Maybe that is why we enjoy the slave fantasies, because they give room for so much. It is a lot about finding our own value and that we are, indeed, worthy. However twisted it may seem.

I will continue this story. I have ideas, have you?

Hugs

Janice