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Ebony Slave On The Market In Bagamoyo

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7.

Naked men and women stood chained to pillars, with people moving among them. A naked man was being tied, spread-eagled between two posts. A naked woman, her back and breasts a mass of bloody wheals, was being pushed toward a raised platform. Oh! God! This was the slave market! This was where I would be sold!

From somewhere close by there was an agonised scream, drawn out. At the same time there was the tantalising smell of roasting meat. My stomach rumbled again. I caught sight of Susan, walking beside her daughter Carrie. At the sight of the brand on her belly the realisation struck! The delicious smell was the smell of roasting human flesh! The smell of a red-hot iron brand being applied to the flesh of some poor, helpless slave! My stomach clenched as I realised that I would soon be smelling that smell at close range, as the hot iron seared into my own flesh!

Our column halted yet again. I watched as the whipped woman on the platform, oh god, that was the auction block, was turned this way and that, her labia spread wide to reveal the pink inside of her pussy, as the auctioneer worked up the price. Then it was over, the woman taken from the platform. She started to scream as she was led to where a man in a leather apron was standing in front of a brazier. Her knees buckled as he took a branding iron from the brazier, blew on it, shook his head in disapproval, and replaced it in the coals. Four burly men held her down on a table. A well-dressed man in white robes placed a finger on the outside of her left breast. She was pleading, begging hysterically as the man in the apron removed the iron from the coals, blew the ash away, nodded and applied the almost white hot iron to the spot indicated by her new owner!

She screamed shrilly as the smell of meat again invaded my nostrils. A bucket of water was poured over her breast and she was led away, to make way for another terrified slave!

Sharon caught my shocked look. She nodded, smiled wryly at me. I saw Candy staring at the brazier. Her face was pale. She too realised that this was not a game!

We were released from our neck chains and herded into an underground pit. There were already about twenty slaves in the low, confined space. There were almost fifty of us. Surely seventy people could not be crammed into such a small space? We would suffocate! My nostrils were assailed by the smell of hot bodies, fear, urine. The door was slammed behind us, and there was the rattle of a lock. The only light entered through a narrow slit at the roof, obviously at ground level. We were crammed in, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, breast to breast. Men and woman mixed. For the first time I noticed that most of the men had newly healing wounds; wounds where their balls had been. They had been castrated! My eyes shot to the white boy, the one who had been so aroused by the sight of his naked mother, whom she had wanted to take her anal cherry. Would he have his balls cut off like these others?

I found myself next to a white girl. Deeply tanned, but certainly of European extraction. She had dirty blonde hair. Her slender body was strong, well muscled. Her breasts were heavy, too heavy for her slender body. I noticed that her back bore a fine network of white scars, visible despite her dark tan. She sat with her knees drawn up to her breasts. Tears were streaming down her face. She had spots of cum on her thighs, and she exuded a strange, strong musky odour.

She noticed my gaze, and the way my nose wrinkled at the smell. “Goats! Fucking goats! I hate goats!”

She spoke English with a heavy, rather charming accent. She looked quite young, perhaps in her late teens. As she straightened up I noticed that each breast bore a brand. Different brands. Two owners?

“My name is Claudette,” she said, “although my last master just called me ‘nanny’, short for nanny goat.”

“Your last master? There has been more than one?” I stuttered.

“Three!” She pointed at the brands on her breasts and at a third just above her pussy. “Now I am too old. I will be sold to a brothel.” She wrinkled her nose. “Goats! I hate fucking goats!”

I looked at her. Too old? Surely she was still in her teens?

“How can you be too old?” I asked.

“I am almost twenty.”

My mind reeled. She had had three owners, been branded three times. Too old? What did that make me? Was I destined for a brothel?
 
I found myself next to a white girl. Deeply tanned, but certainly of European extraction. She had dirty blonde hair. Her slender body was strong, well muscled. Her breasts were heavy, too heavy for her slender body. I noticed that her back bore a fine network of white scars, visible despite her dark tan. She sat with her knees drawn up to her breasts. Tears were streaming down her face. She had spots of cum on her thighs, and she exuded a strange, strong musky odour.
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8.

My thoughts were interrupted by a rattle of locks. Guards brought in large bowls of an unappetising mess that seemed to be mainly beans. Claudette darted forward, like a vicious predator. Like all of us, her chains did not allow her to bring her hands to her face. Snarling like an animal, she plunged her face into the mess, bolting it down. Others were doing the same thing. I was starving, but the thought of eating like that repelled me. She looked up at me, eyes like those of a wild animal. “You must eat! You will need the strength tomorrow! Shoving another slave out of the way, snarling at her, she made way for me. The stuff tasted vile, but I was starved, and wolfed down as much as I could. Licking the last of the stuff from the bowl, I thought back to the other life I had had, just a few days ago. Candlelit tables, obsequious wine waiters, silver cutlery, French cuisine. I truly had become an animal, a snarling animal squabbling over the last scraps.

Leaning against my new friend, ignoring the rank smell of billygoat, I slept the sleep of exhaustion.

I woke, sweaty and disorientated, stiff and thirsty. The door rattled as slavers came in, selecting slaves and taking them outside. There were a dozen of us, including Candy.

We were taken to a well. A hose squirted the worst of the filth off us. We were taken to the market, each of us chained to an iron pillar. Even at this early hour there were many other slaves on display. Prospective buyers strolled around, feeling a breast, stretching open pussy lips to examine the interior. Fingers probed my anus, pried open my lips. I saw a fat, grey haired old man running his hands over Candy’s body, fingers probing deeply. Amy was also being pawed, penetrated, palpated. Time passed. The sun rose higher, heat beating down on us. Sweat poured from my body. I was desperately thirsty.

A heavily muscled man, huge paunch sagging obscenely, stripped off his shirt. He opened a bag extracting heavy, multi-lashed whips. He had huge arms and shoulders. I realised that soon those powerful arms would be swinging a whip that would cut into my flesh. The brazier was already a bed of red-hot coals. The man with the apron was consulting a list, possibly of prospective buyers, and inserting branding irons into the coals.

The first slave, a beautifully built young man, the scar of his castration still red raw, was led to the whipping posts. He screamed shrilly at the second stroke, pleading piteously as the whip flayed his back and chest.

He was put on the block, and soon buyers were bidding. The hammer fell, and he was taken to be branded.

Candy was next! Her golden body was stretched tight between the posts, toes barely touching the ground. The whip swung! I was fascinated by the way the man’s paunch swung, then wobbled with the follow through. Candy grunted! Her back suddenly had white lines across it, lines that soon turned a fiery red. The second blow followed. At the third blow tears were streaming down her face, but apart from the grunts as the whip knocked the air from her lungs, she had not yet made a sound. The fifth blow fell on her chest. She gave a little whimper, shook her head, then waited for the next blow. The sixth blow was across the font of her thighs. Again a little whimper, a shake of the head. I waited for the ogre to swing his whip again. Instead, almost tenderly, he untied her from the posts. Smiling a tight little smile she was led to the auction block.

The bidding was lively. Clearly many people wanted to own the girl. I just hoped that Theseus’ plan to rig the auction in his favour worked! I lost track of the bidding as I was hustled to the whipping posts. My gut knotted! This was it! I was stretched tight between the posts, legs spread wide, on the extreme tips of my toes. My body was like a bowstring! I was sure I looked good like this. My belly hollowed, buttocks tight, breasts thrust forward.

I was aware that the clamour of the bidding had stopped. I was now concentrating on my own plight. The gross ogre, with the fearsome whip casually over his shoulder, was running his hands down my body. Foetid breath assaulted my nostrils. He stank of old sweat. His fingers penetrated my pussy. To my surprise I realised I was wet, soaking, in fact. The ogre gave me a gap-toothed grin. I heard a shrill scream, drawn out, smelt the now familiar smell of roasting meat. Candy had been branded!

The ogre disappeared from my sight. I realised that I was now the centre of attention. Faces looking at me with evil anticipation. I heard shuffling behind me, a whispering whistle, then a brutal impact that knocked the breath out of my lungs with a grunt!

That wasn’t so bad! I said to myself. Then the abused nerve endings reacted! It felt as if a giant cat had raked red hot claws across my back! My whole back was a sea of fire! Lustful faces stared at me from the crowd. There were women there too, eyes glittering from behind their veils. I wanted to scream! To beg! I couldn’t take this! My mouth opened to let out the scream of agony!

Then I thought of Candy, her silence, the little shake of the head. I couldn’t let her be braver than I was. The scream turned into a strangled croak. There was the whistling again! Another fiery sheet of pain engulfed me, lower this time! Again, across my tight buttocks, and again! My back was on fire from my shoulders to my knees!

I had managed to stay silent, apart from the involuntary grunts, and little mewling sounds I could not control. Tears streamed down my face. I was trampling, writhing, anything to try and reduce the pain. I could see from the faces before me that they were enjoying the spectacle!

The ogre came into my field of view, thick fingers combing the strands of the whip, lovingly. I saw the fingers were coated with blood. Mine! Perhaps it was over! Please let it be over!

I was fascinated by the wobble of his belly as he braced his thick, muscular legs. It wasn’t over! No! It wasn’t over! His arm drew back, powerful shoulders flexed as he swung the whip.

My breasts! My vulnerable, outthrust breasts! The world dissolved in a red mist of pain. Again and again and again! Breasts, belly, pussy, thighs! My world was a world of pain! I managed not to scream, my moans louder. I was hanging by my wrists now, the strength vanished from my legs. Through a red mist I saw the ogre give a satisfied nod, a smile. I was being untied! It was over!

My legs would hardly support me as I was led to the auction block. I looked at the sea of faces. In just a few minutes, I would be the helpless chattel of one of these faces. The bidding started. Whenever it flagged, the auctioneer’s assistant would show off some part of me to spur the interest of the bidders. My pussy lips were spread wide open, I was bent over and my buttcheeks spread, thick fingers entering my anus, the voice no doubt extolling the pleasures that would be derived from sodomising me. I noticed that two of the bidders were women. What would it be like to be the slave of a woman? Good? Bad?

The hammer fell. I had no idea who had bought me! I was led toward the man with the apron, the brazier, the red-hot branding irons. I could feel the heat. More pain! Could I take more pain?

Four men grabbed me, held me face down on the table. I struggled, to no avail. I felt the heat of the iron approaching my left buttock. Pain! Searing, blinding pain! The smell of roasting flesh! My flesh! I screamed! Screamed long and loud, my throat raw!

NOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I was a branded slave.
 
9.

I felt faint as the full horror of the branding sank in. Branded on my flesh was the mark of my owner! I realised with horror that I had no idea who that owner might be.

A supervisor wrote something on a card, then pinned the card to my breast. There was not really much pain, but the casual way that he pushed the pin into my tender flesh was horrifying! I saw Candy, sobbing, with a similar card pinned to her. We were led to a small building, where a tiny micro-chip was inserted into the muscle of my neck. There was no pain, just a tiny prick as the little piece of binary coded wire was inserted. What hurt was the horror of knowing that I had now become a bar-coded object. One of the men ran a scanner over me. He looked satisfied at what came up on his computer screen.

Again we were herded into a holding pen. Candy was still crying. The combination of the pain of the whipping, and the searing pain of the brand had been too much for her. I longed to hug her, to comfort her, but with my hands chained the way they were, the best I could do was to offer her my shoulder to cry on. She buried her head between my breasts and sobbed bitterly, her shoulders shaking. She had been branded just above her pussy. The design looked like a bull’s head. Vaguely I remembered the legend of Theseus and the Minotaur, a fearsome monster, half bull, half man. This had to be Theseus’ brand. I still had no idea who had bought me. Whose brand was burnt into my butt?

The sun burnt down. I was raging with thirst. More and more slaves, sporting new brands, were pushed into the pen. I saw Amy. She made her way toward us through the press of bodies. Her slender body bore many, many whipmarks, many more than mine. She, too, carried the bull symbol just above her pussy.

She smiled at me, kissed the top of Candy’s head. The girl had stopped crying, but was still nestled against my breasts. I enjoyed the touch of her soft skin. Amy looked at me. “Where’s your brand?” She asked.

“Left butt,” I grunted.

She looked down, and gave me a broad smile. “Theseus! Theseus bought you. You are so lucky. He does such cruel, delicious things to his slaves.”
 
10.

Guards started selecting slaves from the holding pen. Candy, Amy and I were taken out and once again chained neck to neck. I noticed that there were several other slaves in the coffle. A whip cracked and we were once again walking through the narrow, dusty streets of Stone Town.

We were taken to a large, imposing house, almost a palace, on the water’s edge. The neck chains were removed, and we were left standing in a courtyard. Amy and Candy were taken away. The rest of us stood in the sun. I was uncomfortably aware of the smell of my own body. I still had patches of dried cum on my face, my back and breasts were scabbed over where the whip had drawn blood, and the brand on my butt hurt, a burning, itching pain.

One by one slaves were taken from the courtyard. Eventually a guard came over to me and, taking hold of a nipple ring, led me into the cool interior of the building. I was led into a room. It was dark and cool in here. My eyes, dilated from the sun, were blinded at first.

Slowly I became aware of an opulent room. It was dominated by a thronelike chair. Sitting in the chair was the man I had seen in the market in Bagamoyo. Kneeling beside the chair, naked, was Susan. She beamed a broad, welcoming smile at me. In the confined space I was even more aware of my smelly, filthy body.

The man, Theseus, my owner, studied me with fearsome brown eyes. His eyebrows were frightening. I could feel his eyes examining my naked, defenceless body as if with a physical touch. Slowly they examined every inch of me. My face; my breasts; my belly; my naked, ringed cunt. His eyes stroked down my thighs to my feet. “Turn around.” I obeyed instantly. I could feel his eyes on my back, my buttocks. It felt as if they were parting my cheeks to examine the tight rosebud between them.

“Turn around!” Again I faced him, trembling under his gaze.

“Take it away! Clean it and put a household collar on it. Then bring it back here, together with that other new slave, Abdul.”

I saw Susan smile as I was led away. “It!!!! It! I wasn’t a thing! I was human, female. She, not it!” Then the burn of the brand entered my consciousness. I was a slave, a chattel, a thing.

Yes.

It!
 
11.

I was taken to a bath. The chains were finally removed! Freed from their cruel weight, able to move my hands freely, I felt as if I was floating! The hot water stung my wounds, the whipmarks, the brand, the places where chains had chafed at the skin. A young black girl attended me. She washed me tenderly, intimately. She removed every trace of hair from my body, washed and combed my hair, then oiled me with a fragrant, soothing oil. After the experiences of the previous days I felt wanted and pampered. Clean, fragrant, my skin gleaming with oil, I was taken to another room.

A large, fat man looked me up and down carefully. He slid a finger across my breast, lifting it slightly. Satisfied, he nodded.

“You are to be fitted with a house collar,” he said. “That is highly unusual for a black slave straight from the market. These collars, once fitted, cannot be removed. If you abuse the privilege of wearing this collar, you will die, still wearing it.”

He produced a polished, stainless steel collar such as the ones that Susan and her daughters wore. He showed me the hidden catches that, once engaged, could not be opened again.

“Property of Theseus” was engraved on the collar. The steel was cool against my throat. There was a double click. The collar was snug, surprisingly comfortable. I was collared, collared for the rest of my life!

The girl led me away. In another room, she selected a pair of handcuffs. Gently, she cuffed my hands behind my back. My freedom of movement was gone yet again. Immediately I felt so much more vulnerable, so much more naked.

She took me back to Theseus’ chamber. Again I was led into the cool space. Amy and Candy had joined Susan beside the ‘throne’. Candy’s face lit up at the sight of me. She leapt up and hugged me! I looked fearfully at Theseus, expecting instant retribution. Instead he had an indulgent smile on his face. “Come here, Candy. Our new slave must show us what she can do.”

He ruffled her hair fondly as she knelt beside him. Theseus nodded at somebody and a naked slave entered. It was the beautiful young black man I had seen at the market in Bagamoyo. I noticed that he, too, wore the polished steel collar. My eyes dropped to his waist, fearful of what I might see. I smiled involuntarily as I saw his balls hanging below his cock. He was whole!

Theseus followed my gaze. He smiled at me. “Yes, he is entirely serviceable. Now show me that you deserve to wear that collar. Show me that you know how to use your mouth.”

The young man looked at me, then at Susan and the girls, shyly. Did Theseus expect me to fellate him? Here? Now? In front of his wife? In front of Candy?

I looked at Theseus, saw a brief flash of anger in those eyes. I dropped to my knees. The young man stood in front of me, his cock flaccid. I ran my tongue along the impressive length of it, feeling the instant reaction. He quivered nervously. I licked the tip. He was hard now! And huge! This was my first test. My eyes flicked to where Theseus was sitting. Sharon gave me an encouraging smile, licking her lips. I took the proud young cock into my mouth, relishing the girth of it, the way it grew even more as I slowly swallowed it.

This was to be my destiny. To serve, to give pleasure! His cock tasted of the same fragrant oil I wore. I worshipped it with my lips, my tongue, the muscles of my throat. I felt it swell even more, felt it spasm, than the hot gush of semen deep in my throat!

I licked the young man clean, glad that he had kept his balls. Theseus looked at me, nodded, and motioned me to kneel beside his chair.
 
Chapter 12.

Other slaves were brought in, examined, and sent off to various duties. Finally Theseus looked at Susan and said, “Take it away and find it something to wear. I want it in our bedroom tonight.”

Susan led me away. Something to wear! I was getting clothes! No longer would I be naked for all to see! I smiled widely at her, realising that she was also naked. She seemed so comfortable in her nudity, proud of her body.

She took me to a room off a plush bedroom. It had the hugest bed I had ever seen. Opening a closet, she took out a scarlet silk shift. It was short, very short, just barely covering my butt. The font was cut deep, down to below my navel. My breasts were shown off to best effect, as were my long legs. The colour highlighted my dark skin. While Sharon was adjusting the garment to best effect I noticed once again the circular scars on her wrists. I had seen similar scars on Candy’s wrists and feet.

I pointed at them. “What caused those?”

“The nails at my crucifixion,” she announced calmly.

“Nails? Crucifixion? You were nailed to a cross?” I was aghast. “Who did this to you?”

“Theseus,” she replied. “Although it was Amy’s idea. She, Candy and I were nailed, the other two girls were tied to their crosses.”

I stared at her, my mouth open. “Why?”

“The girls thought it would be fun. Originally we would all be tied, but then Candy’s father insisted that she be nailed. We couldn’t let her suffer that alone, so Amy and I volunteered.”

I was dumbstruck. What kind of man was this? How could he inflict such torture because it was fun? This was the man whose brand I wore, the man who owned me! I shuddered at what might lie ahead of me.

“You are very lucky,” She went on. “Theseus wants you tonight. I hope you please him.”

I was to be used by this monster, by the man who… owned me! I was meant to please him, on pain of what? Torture? He didn’t even consider me to be human. I was just a collection of hot holes for him to use. It!!!!

Sharon chose a long, diaphanous gown for herself. Her body shone through the fine fabric.

Taking my hand, she led me to her husband’s bed.
 
Chapter 13

Candy and Amy were in the bedroom, playing with two large dogs. Both were nude, and the sight of the girls with the dogs sent a strange thrill through me. Candy caught sight of me and leapt into my arms, hugging me tightly. My eyes sought the scars on her wrists and feet. I shuddered!

“What’s wrong?’ she asked.

“Nothing.” Just a thought.

“Are you looking forward to Theseus fucking you?” Her eyes shone. “I bet he’ll buttfuck you. You have such a delicious arse. I’ll lube you up for him.”

The girl produced a tube of lube and, lifting the brief skirt of my tunic, started applying it to my anus. I loved the feel of her fingers, the gentle probing as she lubed deep inside me.

“That should do.” She smiled brightly and gave me a gentle kiss on the still very tender brand. “Mine itches so badly, but I mustn’t scratch it. Otherwise it will be all ragged.”

I looked at the brand on her pubic mound. Gently, I touched my lips to it. The girl almost purred. “That feels so good!”

Theseus entered the room. He ruffled Amy’s hair as she sat on the floor, scratching one of the dogs’ ears. “The boys have missed you,” he chuckled.

“I’ve missed them too.” She gave a throaty chuckle, hugging the big dog. “I’m back now, so we can make up for lost time.”

The moment he entered I knelt in the approved submissive position. His eyes flicked over me. “Do you have a name, slave?”

“My name is Jackie….Master.” I struggled to utter the last word. I could still not come to terms with the fact that this man owned me.

“Stand!”

I got to my feet as gracefully as I could. His eyes roamed over me, examining every inch of my body, so lightly covered by the tunic.

“Strip it!” He told Susan.

I bridled at the ‘It!’ Susan unhooked the tunic from my shoulders and it floated to the floor, catching for a moment on my erect nipples. Why were they erect? Why was my body aroused by this degrading situation? Yet I could feel the dampness between my thighs. He flicked at my erect nipple with a finger. It grew even harder. Candy was watching intently, a little smile on her face. Surely he wasn’t going to use me, fuck me, sodomise me, in front of her and the others?

He led me to the bed by a nipple. I could see the tent in his loose trousers. His hands were like feathers on my skin, touching, teasing. My treacherous body was surrendering to this brute! I spread my thighs, wanting him there. Why? This man, this monster, had nailed all of the women in the room to crosses! Hammered iron nails through tender flesh! For his amusement! He had had me whipped, had burnt his mark into my flesh! Yet my body wanted him, desperately wanted to be used by him.

I was panting now, shameless in my need. I sought the waistband of his trousers, untied the cord. My mouth sought his cock as it sprang free. I caught sight of Susan’s face as I bent over his cock. She had a broad smile on her face. His fingers parted my lower lips, sliding easily in the moisture there. His cock filled my mouth. I wanted it, wanted it so badly!
 
Chapter 14.

I was split in two.

My brain was revolted by the whole scene! I was not a slave! I was a human being, a woman with rights! I had a right to freedom and dignity!

My body was a hot, panting slut! It wanted nothing more than to be impaled, invaded, used in any way this man wanted. I wanted to be used in front of these other people!

Perhaps he was right. Perhaps I was just a thing. IT!! Three holes to be used! A bitch in heat! I relished the smooth thickness in my throat, felt bereft as he removed it, turned me on my belly. I saw Candy smile at the same time as I felt the first blunt pressure against my anus. The burning pain as I was stretched, invaded. The pain turned into pleasure. I was so full! My brain switched off as my body surrendered to pleasure.

I slowly drifted back to consciousness. Amy was cleaning her master, slowly lapping at him with her tongue. I dozed, only half conscious. His hand was brushing my back, sending delicious thrills down my spine.

I had surrendered. I was his slave, to be used as he wished.
 
Chapter 15.

I slept the sleep of the innocent and comprehensively fucked.

I slowly surfaced from my sleep. I was dimly aware of my master making slow, gentle love to Susan on the bed next to me. I watched half asleep as they quietly came to orgasm, as he collapsed on top of her, kissing her hair, her neck. The soft tinkling of bells penetrated my consciousness. There was a soft kiss on my cheek. “Come on, sleepy head,” Candy smiled at me, “you can’t sleep all day! Time for our morning run. Here, these are for you.”

She thrust a thick metal buttplug with a long ponytail attached and a pair of belled nipple clamps into my hands. I realised the sound of bells was coming from similar bells on her nipples. As she turned away from me I saw a long blonde ponytail dangling below the level of her knees. It swayed attractively as she bounded around the bed to where Susan was still buried beneath Theseus’ bulk.

“Come on! Time to run! Here, get these in you! We leave in five minutes. Last one home gets whipped!”

Candy looked at me, still sitting bemused with the objects in my hand. “Come, bend over!” Obediently I bent over. I felt the cool of a blob of lube and then the burning stretch as the plug was slowly inserted. I gasped as the widest part pushed through, then there was relief as my muscles clamped around the narrow neck. The plug was heavy, but not uncomfortable once my body had accommodated to it. The clamps hurt! They had little teeth that bit into my nipples. The bells were heavy enough to pull at my nipples. Running like this was going to be a painful experience! I saw Theseus insert the plug in Susan’s butt. Her bells were not attached to clamps, but to pins that he slowly pushed into her nipples. I realised that Candy’s bells were attached the same way!

Following her outside I saw a small group of people gathered. All were naked, similarly belled and tailed. Amy was there, together with Carrie and Jenny. The latter two were still filthy from the slave pens and wore the ugly iron collars of common slaves. Also there was the blonde girl from the slave pit, still smelling strongly of goat! The young black slave whose cock I had sucked in front of Theseus was there, his lovely cock swinging between his legs. Another blonde, one I had not seen before, was talking to him. She had a lovely face and pert breasts with long nipples stretched by her clamps. Her tail hung to mid-calf. Her back was long and beautifully muscled. I could Imagine Theseus enjoying her tight butt! She wore the polished steel collar of a house slave. Susan joined us and we set off along the beach. Mia set the pace, her long legs flashing in the early morning sun. I was not a great runner and was struggling to keep up. The lovely blonde house slave dropped back to encourage me. I almost tripped as I looked down and saw, nestled between her lovely thighs, a very serviceable cock swinging with the rhythm of her run.

The sand was soft and I watched with despair as the rest pulled slowly away from me. I was very conscious of the heavy plug in my bowels, the clamps pulling at my nipples. I was even more aware of Candy’s casual comment “Last one in gets whipped!”

I never wanted to feel the whip again! We were approaching the end of the run, and I was at least ten yards behind the rest. I tried to accelerate, to no avail. I could already hear the whistle, the crack and feel the searing pain as the whip cut into my flesh. I pushed as hard as I could, my breath rasping. Ahead of me I saw the blonde girl…boy… stumble and trip. I automatically slowed down to help ‘her’, then thought of the whip and ran past her to the end. She came in just behind me, and gave me a lovely smile and a touch on the shoulder. “I’m sorry you tripped!” I gasped, trying to get my breath back.

“My clumsiness,” she smiled at me. “Anyway, it would be a pity if you were whipped on your first run.”

I realised she had done it on purpose, to save me from the whip!
 
Chapter 16.

Still belled and buttplugged we trooped to the square in front of the mansion. The ‘girl’, her name was Dags, was stretched below the overhanging branches of the big fig tree. Her toes just touched the ground, her body beautifully displayed. I was fascinated by the cock between her thighs. In all other aspects she was a girl!

Amy chose the whip, a multi-thonged cat-o-nine-tails. “Only a dozen” she said, “six front, six back.”

She swung the whip at that beautifully sculpted back! Dags gasped, and a network of red lines appeared on her skin. “One!” She gasped! Again and again, whistle, crack, grunt. After six strokes, Amy turned the girl around. Her cock was fully erect! Amy removed the clamps from her nipples, then swung a vicious blow that impacted both pert breasts. She covered the girl’s body from neck to knees. Dags screamed shrilly as the lashes snapped across her erect cock! The final blow landed! A gasped “twelve!”

I went forward to thank her for her sacrifice, kissing her on the mouth. Her tongue snaked into my mouth, squirming like a little animal. I dropped my hand to her cock, feeling it stiffen at my touch. I wondered what sex with her would be like? Breasts and a cock. I stroked it a few times, feeling it grow. She disengaged the kiss. “Later,” she breathed, before running into the sea for a swim.

Candy smiled up at me. Her golden body was covered in a sheen of sweat from the run. “Isn’t she cute! I wonder what being fucked by her would be like?” I looked down at her laughing face. The girl was so open, so sensual. Her curiosity was refreshing. My eyes slid further down her body to the brand burned into the soft flesh just above the cleft of her pussy. I wanted to kiss that brand! To be honest, I wanted to kiss much more than just the brand.

I dropped to my knees in font of her, bent down and touched the brand with my lips. She flinched slightly at my touch, the brand was still very tender. Then I felt the pressure on my lips increase as she thrust her hips forward. I traced the brand with the tip of my tongue, feeling the smooth burn tissue. My tongue strayed lower, slipping between her tight lower lips. Tasting the sweetness inside. Again her hips thrust forward.

Then she pulled away slightly. “Later,” she said, her voice husky. “Theseus wants you at once! If he has to wait we will both taste the whip.”

She took me by the hand, leading me to the house. The tail between her legs swayed invitingly as she walked, bells tinkling. I wanted every part of that young body!
 
Chapter 17.

Candy called me over her shoulder . “Theseus wants to see you. Now!” She said. I looked down at my sweaty body. Surely I would be allowed a shower before I met my master. “Now!” She emphasized.

I ran behind her, sweating even more.

Entering his reception room, I knelt at the door. He was seated in his thronelike chair, Amy kneeling beside him. Sitting opposite him was the whipmaster from the market. Theseus called me over. I crawled on hands and knees, very aware of the bells tinkling at my nipples and the tail protruding from my ass.

The man was gross, a true ogre! He was almost as broad as he was tall, a huge belly hanging in a fold over the waistband of his trousers. Like many of the men he wore a sleeveless shirt that showed of his massive arms and shoulders. The right arm was markedly more developed than the left, clearly from long days of applying a whip to the vulnerable backs of helpless victims.

Theseus looked at me as I reached his feet. “Mahmoud has expressed his admiration for your courage under the whip. He thinks you have potential to appreciate the ecstasy of the whip. He also thinks you might make a good whip mistress. I have agreed to lend you to him for a week for initial training. You will serve him as you would serve me!”

I shot a glance at him, aghast! How could he so casually lend me to this ogre, to be whipped and used as he wished. I shuddered at the thought of that gross body possessing me, having to submit to his desires. I truly was a chattel, to be lent to the neighbour like a wrench or a lawnmower.

The rattle of chains announced the arrival of the young black slave I had fellated previously. He carried a set of the hated chains I had worn in the market. My heart sank as the weight of the chains bore upon me. Mahmoud rose, bowed to Theseus and, connecting a length of rope to my collar, led me out of the room.

The heat in the narrow street was stifling. The bells dangling from my nipples tinkled, announcing my approach. I could feel the tail protruding from my ass brush against the back of my knees. I realised that everybody in the street, men, women, children would be able to see the tail coming from the plug in my ass! My face flamed with embarrassment.

We walked for a long time before we reached Mahmoud’s house. The gate gave way to a courtyard dominated by a sturdy post with chains attached to the top. A spreading tree shaded one part of the courtyard. Mahmoud beckoned over a blonde young man wearing only a short kilt. A slave brand decorated his left pectoral. “Take her away, clean her up and make her presentable!” he ordered.

He led me away. Walking behind him I admired the musculature of his back. He was built like an athlete, a swimmer or a skier. My slutty body betrayed me yet again, I could feel the dampness between my legs. Would I have a chance to spend time with this delicious young man? He took me into a comfortable room, dominated by a huge sunken bath. The smell of bath oils filled my nose. Gently he removed my chains. Rubbing the chafe marks on my wrists and ankles. Next he removed the clamps from my nipples. The returning circulation hurt! He softly kissed each supersensitive nipple. Moving behind me, he removed the plug from my anus, I felt empty and light, was he going to replace it with his own meat? I wanted him so badly!

I turned around and hugged his delicious body, kissing him deeply. His lips remained cool. I stepped back, disappointed. He looked at me, his eyes filled with sadness. “I wish it could be otherwise,” he said softly, undoing the waistband of his kilt.

My eyes dropped to his waist. I gasped! As the kilt fell away I saw the pink scar where his scrotum had been, His cock had been cropped short, leaving a little stump less than an inch long.

“I wish it were otherwise,” he said sadly as he led me to the bath.
 
Chapter 18.

He washed me gently, intimately, while telling me how he came to be here.

“We were on honeymoon at a beautiful little resort on the coast. A group of men broke into our cottage in the night. We were taken to a tumbledown town, where Sonya, my wife, was made to watch while they did this to me. The last I saw of her was in the market, being whipped by Mahmoud before being sold.”

He dried me and dressed me in a pair of diaphanous harem pants and a silk scarf draped decoratively over my breasts. These were the first real clothes I had worn since my own capture.

“Mahmoud, our master, will be waiting.”

Again I was led away, across the courtyard into a cool space. Mahmoud was there, sipping a drink. He motioned me to kneel at his feet, looking approvingly at my outfit.

“You took the whip at your sale very well,” he said, “almost as well as the little blonde. That whipping was all about pain, which is good. But the whip can also be an instrument of pleasure, both for the giver and the receiver.”

I looked at him, surprised. “How can being whipped be pleasant?’

“Ah!” He smiled a smile that sent cold shivers down my back. You will learn all about that. “For the next week you will learn to both give and receive pain and pleasure with the whip.”

Give pain? Me? Whip somebody? Never! “Absolutely not!” I shouted at him. “There is no way that I will whip another person! I would rather die!”

He smiled that chilling smile again. “I admire your intention, but you will soon change your mind. Come, let me show you my collection of whips.” We entered a large room, comfortably furnished, the walls decorated with whips of all shapes and sizes. There were pulley systems hanging from the roof, a sturdy post, a whipping post, dominated the centre of the room. My eyes found an object that looked like a sawhorse, but with a triangular top. Mahmoud followed my eyes. “The wooden pony. A rather entertaining mount for a slave, of either sex. Perhaps you would like to try it?”

I shook my head, doubtfully.

“Take off those pants and lets get you onto it.” The tone was soft, but there was no doubt that this was an order to be obeyed instantly.

I undid the drawstring at the waist of my harem pants and let them slide down my legs. Suddenly I felt naked, much more naked than I had in the previous days when I was completely naked. Somehow, with my breasts still covered by the scarf, I felt so much more exposed and vulnerable.

“I’ll give you five minutes, just as a taste,” he said conversationally.

Effortlessly he lifted me up and sat me astride the ridge of the horse. The edge split my lower lips, but at first it was just uncomfortable. I wriggled to try and find a better position. Soon it felt as is I was being cut in half with a blunt knife. I tried to grip the horse with my thighs, to reduce the pressure on my sensitive cunt. Surely five minutes had passed?

“Two minutes,” he said, “Usually we let the riders stay there for an hour or so.”


Two minutes! It felt as if I had been astride the edge for hours! I had another three eternities to go!

“An interesting variation, if the girl has big tits, is to tie her tits tight, then lead a rope over a pulley to her bound hands. This gives her the option of taking the weight off her cunt, but only at the expense of hanging by her tits. Usually her arms get tired, and then she falls back onto the ridge, hard! An interesting dilemma!”

He was so casual! My pussy felt as if it was on fire! How much longer?

An eternity later he reached over and lifted me off the pony. “I trust you enjoyed that?” He said, his face contorted in what I took to be a smile. “Come!”

“Oh, you can leave those off,” he said, as I bent to pick up my pants, you won’t need them just yet.” I followed him, walking slightly splay-legged. My labia felt as if the were swollen to many times their normal size.

He pointed out heavy floggers, of the type I had felt at the market, bullwhips and thin lashed whips. He stopped at a container full of thin, springy canes.

“The cane is such a flexible instrument, capable of inflicting extreme pain and blissful pleasure. Bend over and hold onto your ankles!” Unthinking, I obeyed, suddenly aware that in that position my swollen cuntlips were very visible. I felt a soft tap on my buttocks, another. There was a whistling swish, and I screamed as searing pain flamed across my buttocks! I reared up, my hands clutching the tortured globes!

He tapped me on the shoulder with the cane. “Down!” He said. “Normally if the person being punished did that, I would start from the beginning and double the punishment, but as this is just a demonstration, I will be generous.”

I grasped my ankles firmly, determined not to run the risk of having the unknown number of strokes of my ‘demonstration’ doubled! A second line of fire was etched across my tight stretched cheeks, higher this time. “Spacing and timing are all important when using the cane for pleasure. The victim must have time to appreciate the pain. The next stroke will be lower, at the point where your bum joins the top of your thighs. That lovely fold is wonderfully sensitive.”

This monster was treating this as a lesson! I waited apprehensively for the next stroke.

Swish! Whistle! Crack!.....Pain!!!!

This time I screamed, desperately clutching at my ankles so as not to increase the ‘lesson.’

I waited for the next stroke, the muscles in my butt and thighs jumping in anticipation. I felt his hands stroke my tender globes.

“You can stand up now. Turn around and put your hands behind your head.”

Gratefully I straightened up, glad the pain was over. All except the lingering fire flaming across my butt cheeks.

“Turn around to face me, please.” He was so polite, his English precise and slightly old fashioned. “The cane works very well when applied to the breasts, especially to the nipples.”

“Noooo!” I screamed. “You can’t! Please no!”

“Stand up straight. Shoulders back! Don’t let those hands move from behind your head.”

I stood, shoulders back, breasts thrust out. I closed my eyes, waiting for the pain.
 
But don't let the end come to soon - loving it! :devil:
 
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