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Leatherchain

Executioner
Fantasy Camping Story - pt 3

When the other tents were up, and I had checked that we were completely invisible from the road, I called the owners together.

“I think we’re good. Completely secluded. Shall we set up the centerpiece?”

“Sounds great!” “That’s what I’ve been waiting for!” “Hell yes!” We were in agreement. I nodded to Jim. “Care to do the honors of calling them over?”

Jim smiled. Then, in his best Sergeant voice, he called out, “Slaves! All of you to the courtyard!” He pointed to area before us.

‘Courtyard’. I liked it. Wish I’d thought of it.

Soon, seven scantily clad woman and one obviously excited scantily clad man were kneeling before us. The four of us looked at them silently. Those who had not already done so dropped their eyes. A few opened their knees just a little wider.

I walked before my two girls. “Remove those rags.” They looked at me for a moment. Both had been completely nude in front of people several times at the various BDSM clubs that we had attended. But now, here in the open with the sun shining down on them, they hesitated briefly, not wanting to be the only ones in the group naked, even though the scant pieces of cloth they wore did not really conceal anything. It lasted only a moment, then they were both completely nude, holding the rags up to me, eyes downcast.

I took the cloth and spoke. “The others may decide about their own slaves. But you belong to me. Except for your slippers, you will both remain completely naked, unless directed otherwise. I will decide what to call you both later. Until then, you will answer to ‘slave’, ‘girl’, or ‘slut’. You may kiss my feet.”

“Yes, Master,” and they were both on their bellies in the rough grass, lips to my sandals. I enjoyed the feeling and the look of my girls’ naked asses wiggling before me, as the others followed suit. Before long, all but Bruce’s wife were naked, and all of them were groveling before their owners.

I took Jaci by the hair and guided her on hands and knees to a spot a few feet behind the three Free People. “Kneel facing the others. Do it right.” She did so and awaited further command.

I tapped the others on the shoulder. “Let me give a few instructions, then we can move to the centerpiece.” They moved to the side.

I stepped behind Jaci. She did not move. “Slaves! Look here for instruction!” They all rose to various kneeling positions. “You were all shown how to kneel when you arrived, but some of you obviously did not understand. I do not know where you received your training, nor do I care. In this camp, this is how you will display yourselves when brought before any free person if you are not otherwise occupied or instructed. Your knees will be on the ground, your ass on you heels, and your back straight. You will keep your knees spread wide...,” I stepped around and tapped Jaci’s knees a little further apart as she blushed and tried to spread them even further. “...your hands behind your back, and your eyes lowered. Keep them only high enough to see what you need to properly obey. Display yourselves as beautifully as possible. Remember, your obedience reflects on your owner. Failure to act and obey properly will be swiftly and harshly punished. Now, look at this girl. Study her posture, and mimic it perfectly.”

All of their eyes rose to look at Jaci, in all of her naked glory. She trembled, and her skin turned a bright crimson. I knew that beneath her gaze, she was probably biting her lip. I put my hands in her hair, and gently lifted her head to face the others. “This,” I gestured up and down her face and body, “is your goal. This is the perfection that you are trying to achieve.” I let silence fill the air for a few moments. I did not look at Jaci, and made sure that she noticed. “Eyes down.”

I walked over to Jason. Vanessa had disrobed him, and he knelt naked, his manhood standing straight up. “ Look up at me, boy.” He lifted his eyes, slight confusion on his face, unsure what he was feeling. His manhood started to dip.

“Do you know how to use post-hole diggers?”

A moment of confusion, followed by “Yes, sir.”

I stared at him a moment, then slapped him hard across the face. His head rocked, and I heard gasps from the girls. He looked up, fear, then anger, then fear again flashing in his eyes. “Vanessa, I know this boy belongs to you, but if he disrespects me by forgetting my title again, I will slit his throat.”

She was beside me in an instant. “If he does that again, I’ll cut his throat, myself...after cutting off his cock!” Her voice was harsh. We had planned this in advance. Jason needed a hard hand to guide him, and thrilled at punishment and humiliation.

“Apologize. NOW!” She yelled it a little too loudly. She was still learning the art of being a Domme.

“I’m sorry, Mistress!”

She slapped him, as hard as I had. “Not to me, you fool! To him!”

His face was bright red from her slap. There were tears in his eyes, but his cock was now rock hard. Choking on his words, he said “Please forgive me, Master!” His head hung low.

“Go into the truck and bring back the post-hole diggers. We have a job that requires muscles, not brains.”

Vanessa grabbed him by the hair. “Now, boy!” as she dragged him to the truck. “Remind me to whip you, later!”

“Yes, Mistress.”

I looked down the line of girls. Most were trying desperately to look steadfastly ahead. Two were watching him walk away, but saw me and quickly looked down. Kelly, Jason’s wife and Vanessa’s other slave, had been next to him, and was currently kneeling at my knee. She was was looking straight up at me. I looked down into her eyes for several moments. Her breathing was heavy. The look on her face was...awestruck? After a few moments, she remembered the rules, and dropped her gaze forcefully.

Moments later, Jason and Vanessa returned. She looked at Bruce and Jim. “Where?” They pointed to a spot on the ground, and she commanded, “Dig, slave.” Jason faced his mistress, his back to us, and started forcefully to dig.

I called to Jaci, “Come here, girl.” She crawled to me, and I placed her next to Kelly. “All of you slaves, stand up.” They all stood. Kelly brushed against me as she rose. I’m sure it was on purpose.

“Come with me,” and I walked to the truck and up the ramp. The seven women followed me without saying a word. Once inside, they stood in line as I removed a large beam that was lying on the floor, ratchet strapped to the wall. It was several pieces of 2x6 oak boards, all pegged and glued together, which formed a beam that was 6 inches to a side, and 9 feet long. At one end, four steel plates and rings were bolted through it, one plate and ring per side. This was repeated with four more rings about halfway down. I rolled it to the center of the floor.

I placed the women on either side, basically paired by height. Jaci and Kelly were the tallest, and I placed them at the end with the rings. “You slaves at that end...make sure it doesn’t slide. You two,” I indicated Jaci and Kelly, “help me lift this end. When it is up, support it on your shoulders. Now, LIFT!” I stood at the end and helped raise the beam, until they could stand with their shoulders beneath it. I wanted to slap both of their asses, but decided that would be a bad idea.

“You two, help support it in the middle.” I walked to the other end. “You three, get ready. LIFT!” And the four of us raised the other end. “Get your shoulders under it. That’s it. Hold it up. Do you all feel that you have it securely?”

There was a chorus of “Yes, Master.”

“Good. Now, slowly down the ramp.”

Seven bodies passed by me, laboring under the weight of the heavy wooden beam, their breathing heavy, legs and backs straining. Jim and Bruce were at the sides of the ramp, to help catch it in case of a misstep. I followed the procession out, watching naked buttocks swaying, and listening to the grunts and groans of the struggling girls. On my way out, I grabbed the heavy leather flogger and short signal whip that were hanging on the far wall of the truck’s cargo area.

Jim led the girls to the center of the ‘courtyard’, where a steep-sided hole had appeared. Vanessa, in her flowing sword-and-sandal-movie inspired dress, towered over the sweaty naked male slave who knelt there at her feet.

Jim guided the girls to put the end into the hole, and Vanessa made her male slave go to the far end to help lift. All eight slaves labored to get the beam upright, and it slid into place with a thump.

They all moved back to admire their work. I cracked the signal whip loudly, and they jumped. One by one, they fell to their knees, eyes down, hands behind their backs. Good. They were getting the hang of this game.

“Boy! Stand up. Hold the beam straight up and down. You slavegirls, fill in the hole.” Jason was standing, holding the beam, penis half erect, while six naked slavegirls, and one barely dressed, scrambled on their hands and knees to fill in the hole with loose dirt.
“Pack it in, nice and tight. We don’t want this to move, when in use.” The girls were crowded around the base of the beam, naked bodies smashing into each other, pounding the loose dirt solid with their fists.

When I was satisfied, I called out, “That’s enough. Kneel.” All of the slaves scrambled for a spot, and took the required position. Bruce pushed on the beam. It didn’t move. “It’s good.”

“All of you, look up.” The kneeling slaves looked up at the beam towering above them. It was heavy, smooth, and immovable. At roughly seven feet and three feet, heavy steel rings hung down from steel plates bolted into the wood.

I coiled the signal whip and knelt behind Jaci. Putting my left hand on the collar at her throat, I raised the singletail to her lips with my right. “Kiss the whip, slave.”

She whimpered, then slowly and deeply caressed the braided leather with her lips and tongue. After a second, the enormity of the situation, what she was looking at and what she was doing, struck her as hard as any whip.Her body convulsed, and she made choking, whimpering noises. She never broke position. She never stopped kissing the whip.

I pulled the coils away. Her body trembled and, even though the day was getting warm, goosebumps covered her skin. Knees spread, hands behind her back, breasts out, she stared at the post before her, and contemplated what it might mean.

I gave the signal whip to Jim, on my right, and the flogger to Vanessa on my left. They pressed them to the lips of their own slaves. I moved past Jim and waited for the whip again, so that I could press it the lips of my other slave. When I did so, the nameless girl, who in another world had been my lovely wife, kissed the whip passionately. She made sure to include my hand in her adulation. When I finally pulled away, I was sure that I heard her softly whisper, “My Master.”

When it was all done, and we had agreed that the slaves understood the significance of the act and their place in the camp, we decided to move on with the day. The slaves were dirty, no one had eaten, and we were eager to start our weekend’s entertainment.

“Slaves, go clean up in the wash basin. You will be given your duties afterward.”

Slowly, almost with reverence, the slaves all rose. Eyes low, they walked to the washbasin to clean themselves and start their fantasy lives.

“Not you, boy.” Vanessa was holding the flogger in her hands, and admiring the post set in the courtyard. “I owe you a whipping.”
 

Leatherchain

Executioner
I think I only have a few more stories left to go. The Travel story is the longest, by far, though. And then I have the drawing panels of that story that I started. There are a little over 20 of them, so far. Not sure if I'll ever complete as much of that as I want. I don't know if I can do another 40 panels to get through the first chapter. I'll work on them, but may start skipping around.
 

Leatherchain

Executioner
Brain weasels been attacking. decided to finish up one of several that I started several days ago. I really should finish up some RL commissions, then take a few days to do nothing, but maybe read some sci-fi and listen to some music. But, since I am apparently incapable of either focusing on real life, OR relaxing, you guys get to enjoy how I've been trying to occupy myself to keep from going insane. Now that I've finished something, perhaps I can actually get some sleep for the first time in a week.
Anyway, enjoy.


Harem scene.png
 

Leatherchain

Executioner
Travel story
Chapter One pt 1

I walked down the street towards the markets. I had sold my two horses and had a hefty jingle in my pocket. The horses wouldn’t have done me much good where I was going, and being relatively scarce in this part of the world, fetched a hefty sum. It should buy me plenty of supplies for my journey, with a good lot left over.
Travel story Ch1 Panel 01 Ponies.png
I turned down a wide lane that was the slave markets. Beautiful women called to me, begging to be bought. It was a standard tactic used by slave merchants to entice buyers. Many were very beautiful and promised great pleasure to both my eyes and body. Trained to pleasure their owner, they offered a thousand delights. That, however, was not the kind of slave that I sought. On a journey such as mine, I would have such women in taverns and inns along the way, but they were little use on a long arduous undertaking that required stamina and strength. I needed slaves that were strong and resilient. I required slaves with a bit more meat on their bones that were used to hard work and hard living. If I could find such girls that were also attractive and attentive, so much the better. But lovely or not, I needed girls strong enough to pull a small wagon and eventually carry a load over steep, cold mountains, where horses could not go.
Travel story Ch1 Panel 02 Meeting Slaver.png
I found what I thought might be a suitable establishment. Settled further down the street, away from the high end sellers, it was large enough to have a good selection of stock, but there were few true beauties calling from the entrance. I inquired about the stock and informed the man at the front that I needed two work slaves. He nodded and led the way further into his establishment, mostly open air pens between two walls with small openings into offices and empty rooms. There were several wooden cages filled with women of every size, shape and color. All were completely naked in the almost overcrowded pens, and they made very little noise. Off to the side, a girl was standing with her hands chained to a pole above her head and another pole between her ankles. She was covered in red and purple welts and seemed on the edge of consciousness. With such a fresh display of discipline, very few of the other girls would want to test the rules of their current master.

Travel story Ch1 Panel 03 Courtyard Whipping.png

“What kind of sluts do you need?” he asked with a heavy accent.

“I need two strong girls used to heavy work. They need to have good legs and strong backs. And they can’t be skittish.”

“Should they be fuckable?” he inquired.

“It would be nice, but is not a requirement. I’m taking a long trip, and require slaves to carry equipment and perform duties such as cooking. If they can entertain me occasionally and keep me warm at night if it gets cold, so much the better. But I’ll survive if I only have a plain girl who’s strong enough to do the job.”

“I see. Is there any particular flavor that you prefer?”

“No. Just as I described.”

He nodded as he stopped before a cage. There were about a dozen women of various descriptions inside, a good number on the hefty side, but only one was actually what I would call obese. He opened the lower half of the cage door and gave a short whistle. Motioning with a thin cane that he had grabbed from the side of the cage he called “Out! Let’s go. Get up onto the platform. This man wants to buy you.”

Travel story Ch1 Panel 04 Crawling from Cage.png

Quickly, women were crawling out on their hands and knees, and then scrambling up towards a low wooden platform. They could have walked out upright if the proprietor had chosen to open the upper part of the door as well, but having them crawl before me was a nice touch. He had been in the business for awhile.

Soon, the cage was empty and fourteen naked women knelt on the low platform for my inspection. They all wore nothing but a leather collar bearing the name of the slavehouse to whom they currently belonged. They sat in a vertical kneel facing forward, eyes down, knees spread, back straight, hands behind their heads.

Travel story Ch1 Panel 05 Hands on head.png

I looked over the selection. I’ve always enjoyed women, even when they are not the ‘classic beauties’. Having a beauty is very nice, but still a bit overrated, I think. These women were anything but that. They varied greatly in shape and size, but many were still very attractive. Three of them were generally smaller and slimmer than the others and would have particular appeal to most men.

The shopkeeper noticed my observations and must have taken it for interest. He smiled and pronounced, “You have a good eye for women. This three cost 60 each. A true bargain.”

Travel story Ch1 Panel 06 Skinny.png

“And how much for the others?”

“45 each.”

“Even for the fat one?”

“There are men who will pay for sluts like that. Are you interested in her?”

Travel story Ch1 Panel 07 even fat one.png

I looked at the rotund slut kneeling between her more moderate sisters in bondage. She had very large breasts that were starting to heave a little with heavier breathing. She didn’t break position, but her pelvis moved ever so slightly and I saw her lick her lips under her downward gaze. Hearing men talk about their possible interest in her obviously excited her. She would be very eager to serve a new master. But she didn’t truly interest me. I don’t mind a little flesh to grab, but her stomach folded too far onto her legs and over her pussy, and with her added weight, she would have difficulty with the physical requirements of a long walking journey.

“No, I don’t think so,” I replied. “I need girls with physical strength.” He nodded, as I looked over the remaining girls. The rotund slut whimpered softly once, but never moved. Someone with an interest in fleshy girls would eventually buy her and put her to very good use, but it wouldn’t be me. I put her out of my mind and continued my inspection. There were ten other girls to choose from (I had discounted the three small sluts due to size and probably strength and stamina). Most looked like they had the potential to finish the trip. A few looked more promising than others. Kneeling on the platform, their heads were just a little lower than mine standing on the ground. I looked at their legs and shoulders, feeling thigh muscles and upper arms.

“May I put them through some paces?” I asked.

Travel story Ch1 Panel 08 Paces.png

“Of course. Do as you like with them,” he offered with a permanent smile reserved exclusively for customers.

Travel story Ch1 Panel 09 Butts.png

I nodded in thanks and then turned my attention to the women on display in the courtyard. “Stand up,” I commanded. “Spread your legs shoulder width apart and place your hands together high over your heads.” All of the women did as they were told, even the fat slut and the 3 petite slaves whom I had already discounted. I walked up and down the line, reaching forward to test thighs, calves and buttocks. “Turn around.” I was presented with fourteen sets of buttocks at chest height. I felt ass muscles and ran my hands over bare backs to feel for muscle, defects, or scarring caused by severe beatings.

Travel Story Ch1 Panel 10 Cage View Butts.png
 
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Leatherchain

Executioner
Travel Story Ch1 Panel 11 Inspecting the Merchandise.png
I stepped up onto the platform to closer inspect the standing women. I looked down the line of their ribs to their stomachs and vaginas. I ran my hand along their sides, occasionally feeling hips or testing the weight of a bare breast. I looked at the faces, turning them side to side, and felt the inside of thighs and pubic lips. Some of the women showed some excitement at this handling. Many were also slowly losing the battle to keep their arms up.

Travel Story Ch1 Panel 12 Excitement dropping hands final.png
Travel Story Ch1 Panel 13 Hair Grab.png

I walked down the line of women and took the first one by the neck. “Kneel over there, facing away, head to the ground.”


Travel Story Ch1 Panel 14 Hands and Knees Variation Eyes Closed.png

I moved to the next girl in line, a short, brown haired woman with very large breasts and wide hips. She had white skin and pretty blue eyes. It was impossible to tell her age. I wasn’t sure about her. She had a little more weight than some others, but seemed in good physical health. I turned her head to get a better look at her face, then slipped my thumb into her mouth. She sucked slowly but confidently. I wiped my wet thumb on her breast and moved to the next woman, a tall, pale specimen from some northern climate. She had perky, medium sized breasts, and a very long body type with long legs. She closed her eyes when I briefly explored her pussy with my hand. I thought she might be comfortable in the cold.

Travel Story Ch1 Panel 15 Second in line.png

The next girl was a little blonde. I gave her a couple of squeezes of her breasts and ass and sent her to kneel with the first slut.

Travel Story Ch1 Panel 16 Numbers Four and Five.png

The next girl was tall and strong, the same height as me. She had very thick legs, medium breasts and a large muscular ass. I checked her pussy, and then looked her face side to side. She was somewhat plain, but certainly not ugly.

Travel Story Ch1 Panel 17 Number Five Sucking Thumb.png

When I slipped my thumb into her mouth, she sucked eagerly and gave a doe eyed look. I wiped my thumb on her breast and she gave a little gasp and a shudder.

Travel Story Ch1 Panel 18 Exploring Number Five.png

Curious, I pinched the nipple that I had just brushed. She bit her lip and her stomach quivered. I held it a little longer and her breathing got fast. I ran my hand back to her pussy. She was open and wet. I put my wet fingers back into her mouth to clean, and then for fun, wiped them dry on her other breast and nipple.

Travel Story Ch1 Panel 19 Next two.png

The next two girls had dropped their hands to their heads, followed by the fat girl, who had done the same. I grabbed the first by the neck and pulled forward. “You,” then the second, “you,” and the fat girl, “and you. Get over there, heads down.”


Travel Story
Chapter One pt 2
Travel Story Ch1 Panel 20 Big girl to knees.png
 
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Leatherchain

Executioner
Travel Story
Chapter One pt 3


Travel Story Ch1 Panel 21 Final Three.png
In the end, I kept three more girls in the line including a large girl with chocolate skin, a nicely rounded big breasted girl, and a short large breasted slut very similar to the first I chose, but who rubbed herself on my hand and breathed opened mouthed and heavily when I examined her.

“Lock your fingers behind your necks, and move closer together,” I commanded. I had quite a variety. One blonde, one dark hair, the others all brown or mousy blonde. Four tall, two short. Four large breasted, two average, one of those very sensitive. One very fit, the others with a little more weight. All were strong enough to do what I needed. All were at least attractive enough to be basically fuckable.

Travel Story Ch1 Panel 22 Down to Six.png

I turned them around again and checked backs and buttocks. I pulled on shoulders. With the four with big tits, I spooned them from behind, weighing their breasts while pushing my pelvis against their asses. They could all make the trip, so it would probably come down to sexual enjoyment as the deciding factor.

Travel Story Ch1 Panel 23 Fondle and Spoon .png


I knelt them down and walked down onto the floor of the courtyard, glancing at the other cages of women as I climbed down the steps. This man ran a larger operation than I first thought. I wondered why he was spending so much time with me, only choosing two relatively inexpensive slavegirls. I subconsciously squeezed my money pouch.

I again looked at the girls kneeling before me. It was down to six. I went to the first, and examined her more closely. I cupped a large breast, took a handful of long thick brown hair and pulled her head to the side so I could examine her face and neck. I sniffed the aroma of her skin. She almost moaned as my other hand searched out her clitoris and rubbed briefly. My fingers slid between the folds of her labia, getting just a little slick. She gasped as my thumb entered her pussy, then again as my middle finger slid back and pushed into her anus. She clenched her ass cheeks briefly, then forced herself to relax and pushed herself against my thumb. I let her go and moved to the pale northern girl.

The blonde northerner looked very promising, but showed no emotion when I examined her. There was nothing when I forced my thumb into her, and only a small grunt as my finger forced its way into her anus. She was as cold as the snowy land from which she came.

Number three was much more promising. She again bit her lip when I examined her nipples, a habit that I found strangely attractive. She closed her eyes when I grabbed her hair, and her pussy was slick even before I touched it. She almost guided herself onto my thumb, but gasped and pulled back slightly when my finger entered her anus. She hyperventilated slightly, but did not fight or break position. Her rectum throbbed around my finger as she fought to control her muscles. She was very tight. She was still breathing hard when I moved to the asian slut.

The darker skinned girl was pleasant enough to examine. She was larger than most women from the Chocolate Isles, but still not big. Nicely medium breasts and silky long hair that was a joy to grab. She breathed heavy, as well, and juiced up as nicely as the first. I like Chocolate Isle girls, in general. They are very docile and show no shame. She took the finger in her ass like most girls take a finger in their mouths…willingly, as if it was a casual occurrence.

Number five looked very promising. I fondled both huge breasts before grabbing her hair at the base of her neck. She made a small noise. She smelled nice, and her body looked very strong, as well as very soft. She was young and nicely rounded. Her stomach quivered when I reached down to her pubic area, and though not wet at first, she warmed quickly. The folds of her labia were full and warm, and though hesitant when my finger first slid back between her cheeks, she rested down on my hand and rocked slightly. Her breath was heavy but ragged. I enjoyed her lower charms and squeezed her ass with my other hand. It was full and smooth. I was going to pull her forward to examine her lips, but when I grabbed her hair again, she cried out and her hands grabbed my wrist. She looked at me, wide eyed and scared when she realized her mistake. She quickly put her hands back behind her neck and dropped her eyes. She almost sobbed. This one was way too skittish and abused. It was a real pity, as her body showed such promise. I moved on.

The last girl was as different as possible. She, too, had very large breasts, which she almost pushed into my hands. After the initial gasp when I grabbed her hair, she actually smiled, then offered her throat for my inspection. She was sopping wet, and eagerly rode my finger in her anus, remaining silent, but breathing heavily at her obvious pleasure. Though not as physically strong as the others, she would be fun to ride after a long day of walking. She was not as tight as the other girls, but made up for that with enthusiasm.

I sent numbers two and five away. I was left with four very good girls from which to choose. Though I usually quite enjoy darker skinned women, she was my least favorite, though I could not completely count her out. She and the tall girl with the nipples would make excellent time, both being tall and strong legged. But number one showed knowledge and willingness, coupled with restraint and intelligence, not to mention a very warm and inviting body. The tall girl with the nipples was the strongest, and showed willingness, but a lack of experience. But that meant that I could easily continue to train her to my own preferences. And she had two very nice sexual qualities: the overly sensitive nipples and the extremely tight and responsive ass. And her lip biting habit was adorable. And number six was certainly capable of making the trip, along with her obvious physical charms. She was experienced and excitable, had a soft body and very large breasts. She may have been trained as a pleasure slave before ending up here. I could not help but think that she and number one would make a very nice matched set. Except for the facial features, they could be sisters based on their bodies and hair. But having a tall strong girl could be a big advantage for the trip I was to make.

I could not quickly decide, and walked back to lightly touch each one while I thought about the best combination. I climbed the steps to walk behind the girls, hoping to see something to help me decide. This is what the slaver had been waiting for…sensing my indecision, he came up with a simple solution.

“They are all very nice. I could make you a good deal if you wanted three of them. Even better for all four,” he smiled. The bastard knew his job too well. He probably knew exactly how much money I had in my coin pouch. This is why he was spending his time with me…he was hoping to up his sale.

I thought about it in silence as I walked to the last girl. I rubbed my hands through her long hair, and she leaned back against me. “It’s a fair offer,” I said. I could not decide between the three, but three would be an odd number that would do me no good with the cart. I may as well buy all four. But that would require more supplies, and would probably slow our progress, not to mention lightening my wallet considerably. It would be almost twice as much on the girls, even if it were a good deal, and twice as much for their food, blankets, and other accessories. But four could pull the cart easily and make my journey much more comfortable. And I could sell any or all of them at the end of the journey, if they survived.

Something about the girl I was petting caught my attention. “Tell me, how long have you had this slut? What do you know of her?” I could almost feel her smile through her head. She knew she would be purchased today.

“Her? She is a fine piece. I know nothing of her background, but she is very pretty and hot to serve. She is very fresh. I just bought her with a group of others only yesterday morning. She was the best of the lot, so I separated her and put her with this lot this morning. I could see a man enjoying her with the slut on the other end of the platform. They would serve very well together.”

“I completely agree,” I said, “if only she didn’t have lice. Probably picked it up on a ship or a crowded slave pen.” I removed my hands and clapped them together to remove any nits that may have climbed onto my hands in the brief handling. “It’s a real pity. I’ll take the first two.”

The smile had disappeared from the slaver’s face, as he saw his profits plummet. He had thought he would sell four girls. Now, suddenly, it was only two. But he recovered quickly, put on a very fake smile and said,”Good choice, sir. I’m sure they will serve you well.” He did not mention the lice. It would be remedied soon enough, on this girl and the others that were bought with her.

I stepped down from the platform and faced the slaver. He commanded the first girls, the two I had chosen, “On the ground, slaves! Greet your new Master properly.” They quickly scrambled down the steps and to the ground before me and peppered my feet and legs with kisses, one at each foot. It was a very nice sight.

I looked up to see the chocolate girl trying to contain her emotions, unsure whether to be happy, sad or neither. She was fairly well composed. The other girl was not doing as well hiding her emotions. Though she had not broken position with her knees spread and her fingers still clasped behind her neck, she was weeping openly. Her large breasts heaved with her sobs, glistening with fresh tears. Her tiny world was shattered in moments. Only a minute ago, she was enjoying the caresses of a man who would pay good money to possess her. Now she was without a true Master, and a disappointment to the slaver who owned her. She feared his wrath for something that she had no control over. And she was unsure of the remedy to her malady. A high end girl would be meticulously cleaned and deloused. Each parasite would be removed by hand and comb, a long and arduous process, especially for a girl with hair as long and thick as hers. A low end girl would simply have her head shaved. This girl was not sure which end of the spectrum she was on.

I turned my attention back to the girls licking at my feet. They had strong, clean backs, and their bottoms wiggled invitingly as they kissed and licked. I removed the coins from my money pouch as the slaver approached me, and dropped them into his willing hands. This time, his smile was genuine as he rubbed the hefty coins in his hands.

I pulled two lengths of cord and a small length of light rope from the larger pouch on my belt. “Kneel,” I told my new girls. They belonged to me now. They knelt silent and still before me, knees spread wide, hands to the side, breasts and bellies covered in light dust from the courtyard. They gazed at my feet. I reached down to move the hair from the neck of the tall girl so that I could tie the length of rope around her neck. She shuddered as I tied the knot, realizing the significance of the act. I measured a short length of rope from the neck of the tall girl and repeated the process with the shorter slave. She too shuddered as I tied the knot around her neck. The two girls were tied together by the neck, and a longer length of rope led from the short girl’s neck to my hand. I put the end in the short girl’s mouth. They would not move.

The slaver then removed his leather collars from the two newly purchased slaves. A slavegirl should not be without something around her throat to identify her slavery. When he was finished, he reached up and shook my hand. “Enjoy your purchase,” he said with sincerity. Smaller purchase or not, it was still a decent sale early in the day. He would always leave a customer on a good note. He turned and walked up the platform, signaling to an employee to help him gather the other girls.

“Heads down, hands crossed behind your backs,” I told my girls. I bound their hands behind them. On the platform, the darker girl had been added to the larger group, and they were all being herded on their hands and knees back towards the cage. The slaver had attached a leash to the collar of the lice infected girl. She followed him on her hands and knees in the other direction. I turned to leave, my girls following silently behind me.
 
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Leatherchain

Executioner
Travel Story
Chapter Two pt 1

I walked beside the cart, watching the swaying asses of the two slaves pulling it. They were still attached by the neck to each other, the free end of the rope tied to the yoke. It was a light, two wheeled contraption hardly bigger than a chariot, with a yoke long enough for horses, but which was now drawn by human animals, holding the yoke in their hands. It was a couple of hours after noon, and we were perhaps two miles outside of the town.

Travel Story Ch2 pre beating.png

After leaving the slaver’s place of business, I had made quick work of final preparations for the trip. The first order of business was getting proper collars for my two new sluts. A leatherworker had stamped my name in two collars, placed them around the girls’ necks, and then, with a special tool, permanently attached them with a rivet. I got strange looks at the shoemaker’s shop when I purchased socks, light shoes and heavy sandals to fit the girls. I finished buying the remaining supplies for the trip, including lots of dry goods, some fresh and dried fruits and four rough blankets. The other supplies were wrapped in the blankets and placed over the necks of the two girls to carry. With the slavegirls in tow, I headed back to collect the wagon from the young man I had paid to watch it. All of the knots tying down the goods in the wagon looked untouched, so I paid the boy the rest of his fee, collected my spear and shield from their hiding spots in the wagon, stowed the supplies, hitched the girls to the yoke, and set off down the main road out of town.

It was getting warm now. There wasn’t much traffic this far out. I was starting to sweat and get a little thirsty, so I commanded the girls to move the wagon to the side of the road for a short rest. They knelt in place, not dropping the wagon yoke. I took a gourd of water from the wagon and swallowed a deep drought to quench my thirst. I then poured some water into my palm and gave each of the girls a short drink. Later, they would be allowed to drink from the gourd or even a bowl or cup, but their first drink should be from their Master’s hand. I thought it might be a good time to give these girls my rules.

I untied the end of the rope, and using it as a leash, guided them from the front to the side of the wagon. “Place your hands on the upper edge of the wagon. Closer together. Spread your legs, inside foot touching each other. Good.” I looked at my handiwork, admiring the sight of the two naked women.

I walked a few paces from the road. It didn’t take me long to find a suitable thin branch from a tall bush, from which I stripped all of the leaves and bark, leaving only a smooth white wand. I walked back to my wagon. The girls had not moved. I reached over the edge and collected my short, wooden handled and braided signal whip. I heard an intake of breath from one of the girls. I was a bit of a traditionalist when it came to the purchase of a girl. There is a tried and true method of letting them know that you are serious about their obedience. Best to get it out of the way early.

I stepped behind the girls and let my hand wander lightly over smooth ass cheeks. They both whimpered lightly. I stepped back to begin.

“My name is R___. I am your Master. You need know nothing more about me. These are my rules…” The switch that I had chosen swished quickly through the air, striking the short girl squarely across her ass. She cried out in pain, but did not move. I struck her again, this time across the back of her thighs. She sobbed a cry and her knees buckled, falling slightly before catching herself and rising back up to position, her legs still spread, her hands still clenching the sides of the wagon. I did the same to the tall girl. She cried out at each blow, her body trembling, trying to maintain position.

“You are my slaves…my property. As such, your lives will now be dedicated to my service. Whatever I need or desire, you will provide it, if it is within your means.”

I struck each of them twice across the back. “You will obey every command to your fullest ability.” One more strike to each of them. They were struggling under the lashes. “You will obey immediately, with no hesitation. You will never question a command. You will strive to please in everything you do.”

I struck each of them on the inner thighs. They were crying openly. Their bodies were writhing, trying to anticipate and avoid the strikes of the cruel switch, though they maintained their grip on the wagon, and their feet always found the position to which I had set them. “You will strive to anticipate my needs and desires. You will learn my preferences for food, for sex, for relaxation and for work. You will maintain a level of silence when traveling, unless I allow otherwise.”

I gave them a moment to recover before I switched to the short signal whip. I cracked the whip lightly, snapping the popper across the ass cheeks of the tall girl. She screamed and her body danced in pain. I did the same to the short girl with the same results. I repeated the process to the short girls shoulder blades, and then to the tall one. “You will always maintain proper slave behavior and show proper respect to me, and any others we may encounter. Remember your place.”

I stopped the whipping briefly as my hands rubbed over soft skin with intermittent red welts. The sobbing wenches couldn’t control the movements of their bodies beyond hanging on to the wagon and staying upright. I felt quivering bellies and dancing breasts. I caressed throats and rubbed my hands over blistered backs and buttocks. After a few moments, they began to settle down. “I am not a cruel Master,” I said “but I am a strict one.” My hands found their way in between thighs, caressing vaginal lips and the crevice between butt cheeks. I pressed my body close while my other hand explored from the front, touching breasts, bellies, exploring arms and necks. A finger slipped into a whimpering mouth that did it’s best to suck to my satisfaction, though found it difficult under the restrained sobs. I stood up and repositioned the girls. “Now, stay there and take your beating. Don’t move. Show me that you are worth what I paid for you.” They straightened, and though still crying, did their best not to move. “Good,” I said. “Listen to what I say. I am your Master.”

I slapped the short whip lightly across their backs. They stifled sobs as best they could, and bowed backs inward, but otherwise did not move. “You will be my beasts of burden. You will pull my wagon, and move my gear. At some point, you will carry the load instead of pulling it. You will not dally, shirk, or make noise.”

Another slap across their backs, and then one across their asses. “You will act as my servants, gathering firewood and water, preparing my meals, cleaning and making camp. You will prepare my food first, and wait for what I give you. You will always think of my comfort first.”

The lash swiped down the lengths of each back. “You will act as my pets and sex slaves. You will greet me on your knees, you will amuse me with your bodies and minds, and you will keep me warm at night.”

The lash now wrapped around back and side to strike a front. It then flew around to do the same to the second girl. Each screamed through gritted teeth, then sobbed as she tried to control her body. “You will learn to please me sexually. You will make love to each other when it pleases me. I will take you any way that I please, and that is quite varied. I have a preference for taking a girl’s ass.”

Another strike across each ass. “You will swallow my cum, always. After I use you, you will clean my cock with your mouths. I often like to be woken by a girl sucking my cock and testicles. You will never waste a drop of my semen. You will never kiss my lips without first cleaning your teeth and mouth. Cum is for a slave’s mouth, not her Master’s.”

I gave three more strokes, back and forth across the girls’ bodies. They had almost given up, but the pain forced them to jump. “You will devote yourselves completely to my service. You will not think of yourselves or each other without first giving me everything that you can. You will become a tool for my use, a comfort for my rest. You will react as though to my thoughts.”

Two more strokes with the whip. “And you will answer, whenever spoken to, with ‘Yes, Master’ or ‘No, Master’. Do you understand my rules, sluts?”

There was a very rushed response. In quivering, sob choked voices, each slave responded, “Yes, Master.” There was continued sobbing.

I slapped an ass with the palm of my hand, and the girl jumped and cried out. “Good!” I said. I slapped the other ass for good measure. The hot skin felt good under my palm.
 
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Leatherchain

Executioner
Travel Story
Chapter two pt 2

I looked at my handiwork. Two quivering and naked slaves stood beaten and broken before me. They sobbed at the beating, but stood in the position that I gave them. Their bodies were striped in light welts and covered in sweat. They were exposed and helpless before me. I could now begin to mould them to my own desires.

I realized that my cock had grown hard and was aching. I often grow aroused after punishing a slavegirl. I reached forward and cupped the ass and pussy of the shorter girl. She would be fine, to start. I unbuckled my belt and set it over the side of the wagon. I then placed the wooden handle of the whip between the teeth of the short, buxom slave. I placed the braided lash between the teeth of the taller girl. “Do not bite,” I told them.

I moved behind the short girl, lifted my tunic and opened my breeches. My cock slid up between the large globes of her ass cheeks, becoming wet with her perspiration. I bent slightly to allow my hard cock to slip between her thighs, rubbing its shaft along her labia. My cock was becoming wet from my own juices and her sweat. I maintained no fantasy that she was yet aroused. It did not matter. My penis was slick enough. I pulled back and used my hand to guide its head to her anus. Then slowly and deliberately, I pushed it forward, until the head of my cock had just penetrated her rectum. She moaned in pain as I entered her. She was not aroused or worked open, and my cock is thicker than that of most men. I enjoyed the hot, tight sensation for just a moment, then pulled back just a little before plunging deeper into her ass. She cried loudly around the gag of the whip handle and moved forward slightly as I pushed, but she knew better than to fight me.

With one hand on the small of her back, the other now grasping her shoulder, I pulled back and again thrust deeper into her. She cried out and then sobbed as I violated her. Half the length of my penis was now buried in her ass. The skin of her buttocks now touched my belly and hips. I moved lightly back and forth inside of her, enjoying the sensations and the feeling of power. The head of my cock slid back to the tightness of her rectum, then slid forward again, allowing her rectum to squeeze and caress its shaft. I pulled back again, almost allowing the head to escape her anus.

“Push back,” I commanded. Slowly, she did so, impaling herself on my hardened cockshaft. She stopped midway up the shaft, her body bending down. I placed my hand between her shoulder blades to hold her in place, then reached around to cup her massive breasts. My chest laid flat against her burning back as I fondled and squeezed.

I massaged her breasts with my palms and fingers for a moment, then using them for more leverage, slowly pulled myself deeper inside of her. She moaned deeply around the whip until I had buried my cock to its base in her ass. I rested there a moment, enjoying the heat of her body and the throbbing around the base of my penis. Then I pulled back and rammed my cock deep into her ass, slapping the flesh of her ass with my hips.

I did that several more times, then alternated with slow and rhythmic motions. I was truly enjoying fucking this girl’s ass. She would be a fine thing to have on a cold night in the mountains. Her body was warm and soft and giving. I knew that I would fall asleep on top of her some night, my cock growing soft inside her ass after ejaculation.

I repeated the process of pounding into her ass. She was getting looser, and my cock was now thoroughly wet. It slipped more easily through her narrow passage. The friction of her rectum and the tightness of her bowel muscles were coaxing me toward ejaculating in her very soon. But I wanted to try the other slut, as well.

I stopped pounding and rested against the girl’s back a moment. I thrust twice more, not as hard, my hands still kneading the large breasts, before slowly pulling out. She gasped as the head of my cock popped from her rectum. I lay my hard penis between the globes of her ass cheeks a moment rubbing up and down against her anus. I would be back to claim this property as my own many times in the future.

As I stood, hard cock between twin globes of flesh, I caressed the ass cheeks and vagina of the second girl, her body squeezing against that of the first. She whimpered and fought the urge to pull away. “Push back against my hand,” I commanded.

I switched positions, so that I now stood directly behind the tall girl. I pulled in against her, hard cock now rubbing between her ass cheeks. She whimpered loudly and was on the edge of hyperventilating. I pulled back, placed the head of my cock against her anus and unceremoniously pushed it inside. She screamed into the lash of the whip and almost lunged forward, pulling me with her. Her rectum was like a vise!

I steadied her hips and regained my footing. Perhaps I should have given the process more ceremony. It certainly deserved it. I had never felt a girl so tight! Taking both hips in my hands, I pulled myself forward, penetrating deeper into her bowels as she cried. I had to push three or four times to drive my cock into a comfortable place inside of her. It was actually difficult to pull deeper into her, even though my cock was now harder than it had been in a long time and was covered in juices.

I reached around and grabbed one breast, while placing the fingers of my other hand into the collar at her throat. I could feel the tears that had streamed down her face onto her throat. I squeezed the breast and pulled down on the collar while thrusting my cock to its base inside of her. The muscles of her rectum strangled my shaft as I pumped into her. I squeezed a nipple as I thrust. She was gasping for breath and her body was shaking. Both hands were now groping firm breasts. I took a solid rhythm of pulls and thrusts, thudding against her body again and again. I could not last long against the strong sensations and whimpering submission. I would soon lose control and cum into this girl’s ass, no matter how long I wanted to enjoy her.

On a whim, I grabbed the long hair of the short girl and pulled her head down under the arm of the tall girl. “Get under there!” I grunted, nearly out of breath. “Hands on the cart, between hers!” I was working on mad instinct, now. It was pure, uncontrollable lust.

My left hand groping a smaller breast was smashed between two hot bodies. My right went around the belly of the short girl, pulling her up tight against the other girl before sliding up over a huge breast, grasping it desperately. I pumped like this for a moment before releasing the smaller breast to grope the other huge breast of the buxom girl. I pulled hard and rammed the shaft of my cock deep into the ass of the tall slave. Then again, as our three bodies competed for one space, my penis desiring release into the tightest hole it had ever entered, my hands groping madly for the abundance of titflesh it had acquired. Again and again I pounded, blocking out all sensation except the feel of the flesh I was conquering, abusing, until at last the great release happened. I thrust harder and ejaculated my seed deep into the bowels of my new slave. My fingers dug deep into soft mounds as again I thrust, and again I released. And then a third thrust, this time using my legs to push my hips as far as they would go, forcing my cock to its base into the girl’s anus, and the flow of cum out of my body and into hers.

I was spent. I lay against the soft, hot skin catching my breath. Reflexively, I squeezed again and ground against the buttocks of the girl. She was incredible as a sex slave. No. There were two girls, I remembered. The blood was rushing back to my head. My penis was still hard, but growing softer. I released the wonderful mounds of flesh in my hands, and put my hands on the back of the tall slave to push myself up. A breeze caressed my sweaty chest. The pressure on my cockshaft was still intense, and I was done. I pulled slowly out, the pressure of the girl’s rectum squeezing the last trickles of semen out of my cock until it’s head finally popped out, almost ejected by the force of her rectal muscles.

I leaned against the girls, trying to regain my strength. My penis still throbbed slightly between the battered buttcheeks. There were traces of blood upon it. I had opened the girl too much, too fast. She would heal. I again ground my hips against the soft flesh, enjoying the strong sensations on my spent manhood.

I removed the whip from their mouths. I then took a handful of curly brown hair and brought the tall girl’s face around to mine. Then I did the same to the long, thick hair of the buxom slave, until both girls were face to face with me, their new Master. My hands grasping hair at the base of each neck, I forced their lips to mine, one after the other, devouring them, forcefully opening lips and teeth to enjoy the feel of soft tongues, sucking on lower lips.

Then I looked them each in the eyes and smiled as I forced them to their knees before me. Quickly, hands and lips found my flaccid penis, eagerly licking and sucking it, cleaning it, fearful of being again beaten, desperate to please me. I let them work for several moments, as I regained my composure. The strong feeling of my testicles being sucked by one as the other tried to push my penis into her throat was all I needed to bring me fully back to the world around me. Any more and I would be again aroused to the point of no return.

I pulled them back by the hair, and then released them. They fell to my feet, covering my ankles in kisses. I enjoyed the sight. I dropped the lash down to play between their legs. They whimpered, the feel of the lash all too vivid in their memory. I coiled the lash and dropped to one knee. Taking a handful of long hair, I lifted the face of the short buxom girl and pushed the coiled lash to her lips. She kissed it deeply, fear and respect in her eyes. I did the same to the tall, tight girl. As she kissed, I saw the same fear and respect, and something else…something like awe…or lust…or some combination of both. It didn’t matter. But it was a good sign. I had chosen well when I decided to buy these two.

I took the rope that still attached them together and stood up, pulling them to their knees. I found my belt draped over the cart. I held it out to them, and after a moment, they understood. Quickly, they pulled the belt around my waist, over the tunic, and cinched it tight. Then they again cast their eyes downward and waited for my command. I tugged on the rope and they stood, and I led them again to the yoke of the cart. “Kneel,” I said, and then again tied the leash to the center of the yoke. They were once again tethered like beasts to my cart.

I walked back and pulled my shield and spear from the cart. I prodded the naked buttocks with the butt of my spear, and both girls wordlessly stood and started pulling the cart. I enjoyed the sight of the naked bodies tied together…the flush pink skin, the light welts crisscrossing the naked bodies, the sway of naked hips as they pulled their load. Soon, I saw a trickle of milky white semen trailing down from the asscheeks of the tall girl, slowly sliding down her inner thigh as she walked. And I daydreamed of the nights yet to come.
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Leatherchain

Executioner
Travel Story

Chapter Three

Evening was closing in. I had found a suitable camping spot, on the edge of a large field, well off of the road. There was a large outcropping of trees which hid us from view of the road and provided wood for a small fire. We were still close enough to the city that I had no fear of any roaming beasts, but I preferred to avoid the notice of people. Anyone wandering the roads at night probably had ulterior motives than simply getting from one place to another.

The sun was still up, but not for long. My new slaves were busy. One was preparing my small meal: a stew of boiled grains with dried beef and a few root vegetables, and a fresh apple. The other was preparing a bed of furs and two blankets. I was just putting the finishing touches on our camp, which comprised of making sure that the small wagon was suitably hidden and blocking any glint of the fire. I had turned a few saplings into spring traps that would pop up and surprise any unwanted visitor while making plenty of noise. My weapons would be close to hand when I slept. No one would approach from the open field with a bright moon above. My camp was secure.

I stood at the wagon, watching the two girls work. I enjoyed watching women, especially when they are nude and wearing a collar. When we arrived, after placing the cart, collecting wood and starting the fire, I had them wash their hands and mouths with brushes and water. I then poured the rest of the gourd over their heads and backs to cool and clean them. I poured another half gourd over my own head. I don’t usually waste water, but we had plenty and would be crossing a river in a few days. There was no shortage of water in this area. Cleaning us would help prevent the attraction of too many mosquitos and gnats, as well as just generally feeling better.

I watched as bare breasts and bottoms swayed and moved. I watched busy hands at work. I surveyed the welts and light cuts on their backs, buttocks and thighs. Some would bruise. I would clean them and apply a salve to help them heal and prevent infection. It would do me no good to have a sick and weak servant on a long trip.

I sat on a large, low branch that touched the ground and made a nearly perfect bench. I normally sat cross legged on the ground, but this was very convenient and comfortable. The second girl had finished making my bed. She knelt and looked to me for instructions. I made a gesture of drinking from a cup, and she quickly found a cup and water gourd on the wagon. She walked quickly to me, knelt, filled the cup from the gourd, placed the gourd on the ground, and offered me the cup with both hands. Her eyes were kept down. I drank deeply, and returned the cup, which was refilled and again offered to me. Soon, the first slave brought a bowl of steaming stew, offered the same way.

I ate the thick porridge happily. Traveling gave me an appetite. I looked at the two naked women before me. With such rich offerings, I was hungry for more than just the stew. I finished the bowl and gave it to one to refill. I had made sure the portions were enough for two good helpings. I drank some cool water and watched her ass as she knelt by the fire refilling the bowl and removing the small pot. She returned, offering me the second bowl as she had the first, on her knees, eyes down, both arms upraised. I would probably slack on this ritual at a later date, but for now, it served a purpose. Plus, it was rather nice.

I ate half a bowl of stew and began to feel full. I made sure there were still a few small bits of meat and some carrots. I reached out to one of the slaves and put my hand under her chin. As she looked up at me, I filled a spoon with stew and fed it to her. She smiled and happily ate. She had eaten nothing all day. I doubt that she had been fed at the market kennel. I did the same to the second girl, with the same result. I continued to fill the spoon until there was nothing left but two bits of carrot. These I picked up with my fingers to feed my new pets. They eagerly accepted, sucking graciously at my fingers as I fed them.

When they had finished the stew, I filled the bowl with water for them to share, first one, then the other. I then caressed their cheeks and traced the line of their jaws with my finger, down their necks to the collars and back again. I bit into the apple as I admired the soft curves of their faces. The apple was sweet and crisp. Juice ran down my fingers as I ate. I switched hands and offered my sweetened fingers to eager lips and tongues. I took another bite as I pulled the buxom slave to me. I kissed her mouth deeply and pushed the bit of apple between her lips with my tongue. I felt the swell of her breasts against me as I held her close. When I let her go, she rested on her knees and finished her bite. “Thank you, Master,” she smiled.

I put my hand into the hair of the tall girl. Her breath quickened. I held her there as I gazed at her face. She bit her lip. I doubt she knew she was doing it. I took a bite of apple and repeated the process. I pulled her up higher, making sure that the nipples of her smaller breasts rubbed against my tunic as I pushed the apple into her watering mouth. I licked her teeth with my tongue, then gently bit at her lower lip. She whimpered meekly as I slowly pulled her away by the hair, still gently nibbling her lip until I pulled her too far and the bond was broken. She stared at me, momentarily forgetting the treat in her mouth. Then remembering, she quickly chewed until she could speak, garbling through the words, “Thank you, Master.” She looked down and finished her meal. I smiled and continued to look at their naked bodies as I finished my apple.

I stood up. “Clean the pot and bowl. You may share whatever is left inside. Then rinse it and share the water.” I turned as the girls scampered to do their job. I walked around the outside of the camp, doing a final inspection, making sure that everything was secure. I walked around the edge of the copse of trees and toward the road a ways. Our path wasn’t very visible, especially in the moonlight. I could just see an occasional glimmer of firelight through the trees, but no other sign of our encampment. I walked back, making plenty of noise as I approached. I walked through the small camp and at the edge of the trees I stopped to piss into the woods. That would help discourage any small scavengers who would raid our supplies in the night.

I took the buxom girl to another spot and had her squat to do the same. Slaves are allowed no privacy or dignity. They are foreign concepts to most.

When we returned to the fire, I checked the bowl and pot. They were mostly clean, but a few small pieces were stuck, burned to the side. I retrieved a small rope brush from the wagon and handed it to short girl to finish the job, as I took the tall girl aside to squat and piss behind the wagon.

I reached into the wagon and retrieved a small box filled with basic medical supplies. It contained a variety of implements such as needles strung with strong thread, a small knife, several small pieces of clean linen, some herbs and several small bottles. I removed a jar filled with thick cream, and also a large rag.

The short girl was rinsing the pot. The fire was just embers. “When you are done, scatter the water to put out the fire. Put the pot and bowl on the wagon and kneel at my bed.”

“Yes, Master,” was the reply, as she put out the glowing embers.

I sat down with the jar on the furs and blankets, and the tall girl knelt before me. I motioned for her to come kneel directly in front of me, close enough to touch. As my eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness of the moonlight, I looked at her body. There were a few lash marks across her stomach and upper thighs. I dipped my fingers into the jar, reached out and softly rubbed the cream onto the wounds.

The girl gasped lightly at the first touch, then moaned lightly as she became used to the sensation. The cream would cool and heal the wounds. I caressed her face with my clean hand, then her shoulder and breast, fingers trailing to her naval.

The buxom girl came and knelt on the grass beside the furs. “Remove my tunic and massage my shoulders”, I told her. She moved behind me and did as she was told.

“You”, I said to the tall girl, ”lay across my lap.” Wordlessly, she did as she was commanded. She was lithe for a girl of her size. I caressed her buttocks lightly as I examined the criss-cross welts across her back and thighs. Slowly, meticulously, I spread the ointment over each lash mark. I paid particular attention to the few small cuts on her buttocks and thighs, which were created by the switch.

My clean hand roamed over her body where it was undamaged. When I touched her face, she kissed my fingers. She lifted up slightly when I reached down her body, to give me access to her pert breasts. I cradled and caressed them as I worked the cream into her wounds with my other hand.

When I was certain that all of the marks on her backside were covered, I slid my hand between her thighs, coating them where they had rubbed as she had pulled the cart. She opened her legs wider to accommodate my hand. I caressed her smooth labia briefly, receiving a shudder of pleasure from her body for my attentions. I once again dipped my fingers in the ointment, then pressed them slowly between her round ass-cheeks, coating the smooth crevice with the cool cream, then focusing on the pucker of her anus. The girl tensed briefly, then tried to relax, unsure of the sensation or what was to follow.

“Shhhh,” I crooned. “Just relax.” I pushed a well coated finger inside. She whimpered softly as she tried to maintain control of her body. I tried to be gentle. I knew that I had torn her when I first took her. This hurt, but would help her heal. Slowly and gently I worked my finger around, trying to coat the entrance to her ass, trying to make sure that everything was coated in the medication, ensuring she would heal quickly.

In a few moments, I was done. I caressed her buttocks and breasts softly. “Sit up,” I said. She knelt before me in the moonlight. Her nipples were swollen and perky, and she had goosepimples on her flesh. I smiled and kissed her softly on the lips.

I put my fingers into her collar, and pulled her forward onto her hands and knees. I walked a few steps to the yoke of the cart. She crawled to keep up. I reached down and retrieved the leash rope where I had left it. Soon, one end was tied to her collar and the other to the yoke. She was secure for the night. I turned and retrieved one of the blankets from my bed, bringing it to the girl. “Thank you, Master,” she whispered. She knelt and kissed my feet. I turned and walked back to the furs, where the buxom girl waited.
 

Leatherchain

Executioner
Arena Story

The attraction supervisor looked at the schedule as he walked down the corridor. Dust fluttered through the occasional light of openings and air vents as he walked by animal trainers and dancers and acrobats. He could hear the noise of the crowd above, mostly murmurings and laughing or shouting, but occasionally broken up by cheers. The day was early, and they were just getting warmed up. There was, as of yet, barely any blood on the sand.
He stepped into a side corridor and started walking down a set of dark stairs, deep into the bowels of the arena. The air was thick and heavy, the light of burning wall sconces casting insane shadows on the wall. Below, he could hear the real work of the show happening. There were hammers clanging on anvils, chains rattling, the sound of a whip followed by screams after each strike, the occasional roar of some large jungle cat. He knew the labyrinth of these halls like the back of his hand. The sounds and shadows were oddly comforting to him. He and a handful of other supervisors were the masters of this domain. This was his job. This was his way of life.
Wooden doors and shadowed alcoves passed. He stopped at a desk and had a few words with the man sitting there, ticking things off of a list by the light of large pillar candles. The man motioned behind him and two slavegirls dressed in grungy white rags came forward. The man handed them each two heavy bags. The attraction supervisor signed his name on one of the lists, set down the quill, and walked away. The two girls followed behind him without a word.
The heavy keyring on his belt jangled and the leather thongs of his braided flogger slapped lightly against his legs as he walked. When he neared his destination, a rough wooden door like so many others, he took a torch from the wall. Keys in hand, he opened the heavy door and was met by darkness and the foul stench of sweat, urine and fear.
Moving the torch around the room for light, he saw what he had come for: six women of various shapes lay on the ground before him. They were naked, chained together by the neck, their hands manacled behind them. Nothing else about the women was discernible. He pulled the flogger from his belt and struck the body nearest him. A stifled scream and muffled sobs followed.
“On your feet, sluts! Let’s go!”, he shouted.
Quickly, the women scrambled to their knees and then awkwardly stood. Their bodies moved with the pain of being bound for a long time. Their eyes were wide with fear.
He grabbed the hair of a girl on the end of a chain and pulled her roughly outside the small cell. The others, all attached by a heavy neckchain, had to follow. Once outside, he cast the girl to her knees. “Obeisance”, he commanded. The other girls quickly followed suit, dropping to their knees, eyes cast downwards.
He stuck his sandled foot between the knees of one, forcing her to separate her thighs. Regardless of their current situation, slaves should always follow accepted protocol. As he walked down the line of naked women, he did a quick evaluation of the group as a whole. An average lot for the job at hand. Not too pretty, not grotesque. All looked physically able. They were probably bought cheaply as a group lot specifically for the purpose of dying for the entertainment of the crowd. Some rich patron wanted to do his part for the festival, and earn the political and social rewards of his philanthropy.
“Get water for them,” he told one of the slaves who had followed him with the bags. She rose and quickly filled a bucket with water from a wooden barrel, bringing it back to the line of naked women. Using a gourd ladle, she began to give each of the naked women a long drink of water. He motioned to the second slave, who brought him another bucket, this one filled with day old table scraps of vegetables. She knelt beside him, holding the bucket up.
Reaching into the bucket, he pulled out a small, half eaten fruit of some kind. It was covered in the grease that always coats the scraps in the bucket. With a practiced hand, he grabbed the hair of the girl at the back of the line, the one who had been watered first, and brought her head up to look her in the face.
She was dirty, her face smeared with grime, her blonde hair tangled and wild as her eyes. She was young and athletic, and might have been attractive in other circumstances. He tilted her head back roughly and brought the fruit to her mouth. She snatched at it aggressively, like a wild animal. He pushed it into her mouth, holding her lower jaw open with his thick powerful finger and looking into her mouth briefly before letting her chew her prize. This one would put on a show for the crowd, of that he was sure.
Next he pulled out a chunk of what looked like cucumber, and grabbed the straight brown hair of the next girl. Her round face and large pleading eyes matched the rest of her. She was quite plump, with overly large breasts that hid most of her lower body from this angle. She was soft and weak, pleading for mercy and food. She almost whimpered, though she made no sound. He put the cucumber and his fingers in her mouth, feeling her tongue and teeth. She was missing two molars, he noted, as she tried to suck any juices from the vegetable on his fingers. She would not survive, though with her extra padding might last a bit longer, if for no other reason than the fact that she would take longer to bleed out. The crowd would enjoy that. He removed his fingers to allow her to enjoy her last meal. She swallowed it without chewing.
The next in line was an older, mature redhead, also with large breasts, but much more lithe and shapely. She took the direction of his forceful hands with a practiced air, and when he put the scrap of food in her mouth, she looked up at him and made it a point to suck seductively on his fingers. She was certainly attractive and in good shape, though just past her prime. It was obvious that she was well experienced in pleasing a master. It would almost be a shame to see her go to waste, even if she was a little past her prime. Perhaps with her strength and experience, she might win the contest and survive.
Next was a skinny brunette with a short haircut. She was young and very slender with small breasts, but not particularly athletic. Her only real standout feature was her eyes, large and alluring set in the elfin features of her face. She took her meal as a matter of fact, like any animal being fed. The man reserved judgement on her chances or performance.
The fifth woman on the chain was tall and stocky, though not overly muscular. When he pulled her up by her curly dark hair, he saw she had a plain face, medium breasts and large legs and thighs. She was very plain, not particularly pretty, though certainly not ugly, experienced but not old. She was the typical slave you would see in a kitchen or garden or sweeping a courtyard or working the fields: in other words, unnoticeable and unexceptional. When he fed her, she also looked him in the eyes and sucked lightly at his fingers, though not overtly sexually as the redhead had done. With her, it was more like the gratitude of a slave being fed by her master. The man reserved judgement on this one, as well.
The last in the coffle was a brunette with medium features. She was of average height and weight, well within her prime, with nicely shaped breasts and hips. She had pleading eyes. She was, in his opinion, the most attractive of the bunch. Remove the dirt and grime, feed her and put her in something sheer and flowing and she would be pretty enough to be a sex slave in a brothel or maybe a dancer. She wasn’t outstanding, but certainly was attractive. She was placed in the proper position among the women. At the end, she would draw more attention, and only face attack from one direction, increasing her chance of survival. The attractions supervisor made a mental note and thought that it might be nice if she lived. Although he enjoyed the violence and spectacle and destruction of soft beauty as much as any of the fans, probably more so, he also appreciated a good looking slavegirl, and didn’t like to see too many go to waste.
After each girl got a few more bites and another ladle of water, he made them stand. They were shaky and weak. They hadn’t been fed or watered since sometime yesterday, when they were placed in the cell. Their limbs would be stiff from lying on the hard floor with their hands bound behind them. With no light to tell time, and not knowing their future or even where they were located, it would have been difficult to sleep. Bound to each other in the dark, it would have been difficult, and pointless to try to stand to stretch out properly. Hopefully the food and water and a short walk would help re-invigorate them. He attached a short leash to the collar of the brunette on the end. The two slaves from the desk picked up their bags. With a tug of the leash he started forward, with all eight women following.
He wound his way through the corridors, past other cells and a couple of cages filled with various large animals. They passed an alcove where a man with a long bullwhip was whipping a naked slavegirl. All of her limbs were stretched out and bound, completely exposing her body. Her flesh was crisscrossed with angry red welts and stripes. When he struck her as they passed, her body jerked and she gave an involuntary cry, though she was almost unconscious. The group walked on by.
The man stopped at a well lit chamber. There was a large cistern of water flowing up and over into a trough along the floor. The long stone wall had several sets of manacles set at even intervals. He led the group to the wall and had them stand, backs to the wall. He took a key and undid the manacles of the brunette slave at the lead, freeing her hands, only to secure them again to the manacles on the wall. She groaned as her arms were pulled up over her head in a spread-eagle fashion. The two help slaves had put down their bags. One was drawing a bucket of water from the cistern as the other came and knelt on the floor to secure the brunette’s feet with the lower manacles, spreading her ankles apart. Then they moved on to the next slave, the larger girl.
The slaves were staring across the room. On the other side was a horrific scene from the point of view of a slave. Two other slavegirls, also naked and prettier than this group, were being tortured by two men. Their arms were tied to poles hanging from the ceiling, their hands bound around the poles with cord, so that they could not clench their fists. Their feet were secured to rings on the floor, their legs spread a little more than shoulder width apart, their bodies just high enough that the unfortunate girls had to stand on tiptoes, or put all of the strain of the weight of their bodies on their wrists. They had needles stuck at various points along their bodies. Their vaginal lips were being pulled widely apart by strong steel clamps. A chain ran from a fresh piercing far back on their tongues, then split as it ran down to freshly pierced nipples, lifting and pulling the shapely breasts tightly and painfully upwards. One of them, a brunette, was being choked by the large meaty hands of her torturer as he used a thin cane to whip up between her legs, striking her exposed inner pussy and the inner cheeks of her ass. The other, a matching blonde, was being beaten by another man with a large flat flap of heavy and stiff leather. A heavy rope hung down from the braid of her hair, ending in something large that was shoved deep into her anus. Each woman continued to give undefineable screams through their pierced mouths.
The six girls on the coffle looked horrified, but said nothing and did not fight as they were chained, one by one to the wall. The attractions supervisor knew what they were thinking, that they might be treated in such a way if they disobeyed in the slightest. He would not tell them otherwise. He knew that the two women were being prepared for their moment in the spotlight. They were to be ‘willing sacrifices’. At some point later in the evening, they would be brought forth, naked and beautiful before the crowd in order to commit suicide so that the festival might gain favor from the gods. They would likely put a noose around their own necks and step off of a platform, though they might instead be given daggers to plunge into their own chests or to slit each others’ throats. But even the most faithful and willing of slaves still finds it difficult to take her own life for the amusement of others, so they must be convinced by other methods. These two would be tortured for hours yet. When the two men tired, two more would take their place in giving these slaves such extreme pain that death would be a happy escape. They would be tortured in ingenious and practiced methods that would inflict unbearable pain, yet keep them fully conscious and leave no visible marks. That is why they used things like needles and sheets of leather, and focused on hidden areas like tongues, underarms, inner thighs, inner labia and anuses. These men knew their business well, and the women might already be silently begging for death.
The supervisor turned his attention back to his own charge. He finished chaining the athletic blonde and gave her breast a rough squeeze before his hand trailed down her body. At the other end, the pretty brunette was crying out and moving her body violently as the help slave roughly scrubbed her body with a soap covered brush. She shivered and squirmed as she was doused with cold water and the rough bristle brush scraped over her more sensitive areas: The bottoms of her feet, her underarms, the undersides of her breasts, her pussy and her ass.
The supervisor would inspect the physical properties of each of the women. He needed to know if there was anything to hide or enhance. He enjoyed this part of his job, as he would also get to enjoy the use of their bodies, if there was time and he left no visible wounds.
He moved to the next slave, the overweight slut. She had a substantial belly pooch for a slave, and incredibly large and full breasts which he cupped to weigh, then enjoyed squeezing and kneading. He pinched a nipple and twisted. He wanted to see how far it would twist and what reaction she would give. She gave a pained face and opened her mouth wide in a silent cry. He put two fingers into her open mouth, let go of the nipple and prodded her to suck. He moved the fingers in and out until they were nicely wet. Still kneading the breast with the offended nipple, he reached down to push his wet fingers between her labia. “Spread your legs”, he commanded, and she did her best to comply, but she was clumsy. He pushed the fingers in and out of her pussy roughly, but wasn’t impressed. He then pulled them out and pushed them back up and between her ass cheeks. Her ass cheeks were large and squishy. Most men thought that slaves like this were useless for sex. While he wasn’t overly attracted, he knew that sluts like these could have their uses. And he had a fondness for two things she could provide. He liked putting his cock between large breasts and fucking them. He also greatly enjoyed fucking a woman in the ass. Large sluts would often have very tight assholes, as they are rarely used for sex, and they had large soft buttocks to pad his hips as he slammed into them. More cushion, as the saying goes. He pulled his fingers out of her ass and pushed them back into her mouth to suck clean. He would wash his hands in a soap bucket afterwards.
Each woman would have her own moment to receive his attentions. He was a professional, and thorough. There was a schedule to follow, and he had allowed plenty of time to prepare them as the other acts performed.
As the wolves were being removed with their prize, this coffle would be led onto the sand. They would be clean, and fresh and hooded, so that as they fought each other to the death for the amusement of the city, their blood would show bright and clear. Not on grimy skin covering weak bodies, but clean and white, oiled and gleaming, showing off muscle tone or fat under the shining sun. The heavy white hoods that would cover their heads and faces would be spotless before the blood. It would all contrast nicely with the awkwardness of using knives that they had never, and would never see, and the fear evident in their movements.

He had to admit that it was novel spectacle. He would enjoy watching, from the sidelines. He wondered which, if any, would survive.
 

Leatherchain

Executioner
Finished a whipping pic, requested by a Forum member. (Thanks for the ideas and reference, Dafnees)
Big Girl whipping 01 Gift for Dafnees.png
 

Leatherchain

Executioner
And the second part of the request is finished.
Dafnees whipping 02.png
 

Leatherchain

Executioner
Post Apocalyptic Story
Chapter Five

I opened the door and stepped into the garage. The girl was right where I left her, bound and gagged on the floor. She looked up when I entered, so she obviously had not strangled herself with her bonds.

I walked towards her, and she never took her gaze off of me. I carried the whip that I had used on her the night before with a long knife in a leather sheath hidden behind it. Cindy walked behind me. She was nude and carried a tray with both hands. Since the fall of society, naked had been the norm. It would continue to be so.

Looking down, I took stock of the damage that I had done to her skin the night before. Her body was criss-crossed in bruises and welts.

“Don’t talk”, I commanded. I removed the gags from her mouth and helped her sit up. She made no noise.

Cindy knelt beside me and proffered a small plate. It was filled with a small harvest from our garden. There were some zucchini and bell pepper slices, and a good handful of green beans. There was also a small oat cake, cooked with honey. The girl eyed the plate hungrily.

Kneeling next to her, I repeated the process from the night before. Take a piece of food, hold it to her lips, wait and watch as she chewed and swallowed. She didn’t devour it, like I expected, but instead, she chewed slowly, seeming to savor the taste and feel.

As she ate, I looked closer at the marks on her body. Upon closer inspection, it wasn’t just bruises and welts. There were a few small cuts, as well. There were thin streaks of dried blood on her buttocks and upper shoulders. I hadn’t noticed it the night before. I had let my emotions get the better of me. I can’t do that in this new world.

When offered the glass from my hand, she drank greedily. Her thirst was obviously greater than her hunger. Returning to the plate, she resumed the slow savoring of each bite. She seemed sad. I know that sounds odd, given the situation, but it struck me. Soon, there was no more food, and I returned the rubber bit to her mouth.

Taking a small rag and the bowl of water from the tray, I began to slowly clean her wounds. Besides the cuts, her body was covered in dust, and there was the occasional dried splatter of mud. I cleaned her as gently as I could, caressing her gently, but not in a sexual way. She cried gently as I did so.

When I finished, I put the bowl back on the tray and looked at Cindy. She was kneeling perfectly, back straight, knees spread, eyes down. But her eyes weren’t actually lowered. They were looking at the girl on the floor. Her expression was blank. I lifted her chin and kissed her lightly on the lips. “You sure?”, I whisper. She nods her head and then lowers her eyes again, this time in deference. For once, I cannot tell what she is thinking.

Turning to the girl on the floor, I untied the rope attaching her to the table leg. Her hands were still handcuffed behind her, and the rope around her neck hung between her breasts.

“Sit up, on your knees.” With some difficulty, she complied. I once again removed the rubber bit. She knew not to speak. She stared at my shoes.

I looked again at Cindy. She was a statue. I gathered my composure.

“Don’t interrupt. This is important and difficult to say. You’ve put me in a helluva position. Besides the damage to my fence, and possibly to my food supply, I have to figure out what to do with you. You have put me and my slave in danger. You know as well as I do that I can’t let you leave this house...” A stifled sob escaped her lips.

This would not be easy. I set the long knife in it’s sheath before me, to the left. She stared at it and cried. “My brain tells me that I should have made it easy and put an arrow in you last night. It was a moment of weakness, and I’m sorry that I put you through all of this. I know how to end a life. I can make it quick, and virtually painless.” Another outburst, followed by long tears and continued sobbing.

But she didn’t fight. She didn’t try to get up and run. She didn’t beg for her life. She just cried. She was broken. She knew it was hopeless. She knew it all along. The veggie tray was going to be her last meal. That’s why she savored it, so. I’m glad we put in the oat cake.

This was heartbreaking to watch. I had to move on, and hope that Cindy was right.

“Cindy came up with another possible solution, but one that you will not like. Cindy is my wife. But for a long time now, she has willingly been my slave, serving me in every way, and allowing me to make every decision.”

The sobbing was slower, now. She was listening. I could hope...well, hopefully she would at least listen to the proposal. I set the whip on the ground before me, to the right of the blade. I put on the ‘Master voice’.


“Listen very carefully to what I am about to say. This will be the very last real decision that you will ever...”

“SLAVERY!” she yells, the word coming out in a rush.

“What...?”

“I choose slavery! I’ll be your slave!” Her breathing was hard, coming in quick bursts, her chest rising and falling in quick time. She was staring at the whip and blade.

“You don’t even have any idea what that means.” What the hell was I doing? She had agreed. She still needed to know.

“This will be real. Not some make-believe...If I take you as a slave, your old life ends. You will become a new person, one of my choosing. You will work. You will be used in every sexual way that you can imagine. I will not be gentle. There will be strict rules. Every infraction will earn punishment. Not just the whip. Things that you have never dreamed. I will get into your head and break you, making you someone else. You will live to serve me, and nothing else. I will have absolute control over your life, deciding if you eat, when you use the bathroom, if you live or die!” As soon as I said it, it sounded stupid in my own ears. That’s what we were already discussing, whether she lives or dies.

She sat silent, still staring at the whip and knife. I looked at Cindy. She sat quietly, beautifully. Her eyes were down, back straight, knees spread and breasts out, like a perfect representation of everything that I had ever desired. I wanted nothing more than to take her in my arms and hold her, right now.

I turned my attention back to the girl at my feet. “You are sure this is what you want?”

She raised her eyes slightly, demurely. “Yes,” she whispered. “Please.” She looked up at me. “Please. I want to be your slave.”

That was it. She had made her decision.

“Master. I want to be your slave, MASTER. “, I corrected. “Eyes down.” She complied. I took the last item from the tray, a leather collar with a lockable buckle and holes all down it’s length. A small lock dangled open from the buckle. Cindy still hadn’t moved.

I brushed the girl’s hair to the side, exposing her neck. She trembled at my touch. I could see and hear her shallow breathing as I placed the leather around her throat. She made a small, involuntary movement as I buckled the collar. She made a small noise and shuddered violently as the lock clicked shut, securing the collar in place. Securing her place.

I knelt down, and she fell into me. “Thank you! Thank you! I’ll be a good slave! I swear. I swear! Thank you.” Tears and kisses fell onto my hands as I lifted her back to her knees. There were tears in her eyes, but the smile was genuine.

Then she turned awkwardly and pushed her body against Cindy’s. “Thank you! Thank you. I can never repay you. Thank you.” Cindy put her arms around the girl, as she buried her head into Cindy’s neck, tears streaming onto her bare skin. They embraced like that, both naked, the new girl’s hands still handcuffed behind her back, Cindy’s arms wrapped around her. They rocked back and forth slowly, muffled sobs of ‘thank you’ repeating over and over.

Cindy had tears in her eyes. She said nothing. She looked at me, and gave the queerest little half smile that I had ever seen. Then she, too, dropped her eyes, but she continued to hold and rock the girl in her arms.

After a few moments, the sobbing slowed. It was time to move on. “Enough,” I said. “Kneel.”

Both girls turned and tried to get into position to face me. Cindy sat up straight, knees spread. My new slave tried to imitate her, but was neither graceful nor confident in her endeavor.

I very purposefully placed my right foot a couple of feet in front of the girls. “Obeisance!” I commanded. Cindy fell forward with practiced grace. Knees spread and ass in the air, her back bowed smoothly, her face came to rest at my foot. She put her hand around my ankle and peppered my shoe with kisses, occasionally licking deeply at the leather.

The second girl hesitated a moment, then did her best to imitate the better trained slavegirl. Even with her hands not bound behind her, she would have been clumsy. But she tried. Her plump ass was in the air, and her breasts on the ground. She maneuvered her shoulders until she, too, could kiss and lick my foot. She did so as fervently as any sub in any BDSM club that I had ever seen. What she lacked in skill and grace, she made up for with effort.

I looked down at my prizes. One I had won through years of effort. The other I had taken in conquest. Laying at my feet, naked, their bodies and mouths giving every effort to please me, they were like precious jewels in a crown that belonged to me. Suddenly, I was supremely confident. I rule this domain. Here, I am king.

I held the coiled whip to them, and they both kissed it, and my hand. I put my hand in the collar of my new girl, and pulled her up, choking her just a little.

“Up, girl,” I say as I guide her on her knees. “It’s time to begin your training.”
 

Leatherchain

Executioner
New drawing and variant finished.

Eye Contact.pngEye Contact var nose ring.png
 

Leatherchain

Executioner
The weather here sucks, my work and sleep schedules are all messed up. I am finding myself unable to work on mundane projects.

So, I'd like to get back into the creative mode. If you are reading this, then I assume that you are at least a little familiar with my work. I'm thinking of getting back into writing. I feel that some of my stories have found a nice little ending point, while others could go on and on.

I'd like to take a little poll, here. Which of my stories would all of you like to see continued, at least in the short term?

No promise that's what I'll actually do, but it's always nice to know where there is interest. Your thoughts fuel my thoughts.
 

Leatherchain

Executioner
Had a rather crappy morning. So, I sequestered myself and did nothing but drink and work on a drawing all afternoon and evening. I went heavy into detailed shading with this one.Two girls.png

This is how I like to imagine most evenings (and mornings) in 'The Travel Story'... or some variant of this.
 

Leatherchain

Executioner
Had another drink and decided to do a variant. Modern technology makes this so much easier. Didn't have to re-draw the whole thing. Wonderful.

Two girls suck variant.png
 
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