A Slave's Journey Begins Ch. 03

When Tara's eyes fluttered open, her first thought was, I must be dreaming. She was lying naked in a pool of cool, clear water, carved in smooth stone right into the wall. There were other basins around her and slabs of stone over and around which water flowed freely. Wild flowers hung from vines and floated by, carried by a lazy current to an unseen source. Her bath was perfumed with an exotic scent and Tara touched her dripping fingers to her face and inhaled deeply.

"I can only find the rose oil, will that do? I - oh, she's awake!" A bronze-skinned girl with long brown hair pulled into a messy braid that hung almost to her waist stood at the foot of the pool and stared at Tara. She wore a long green robe, tied lopsidedly, that didn't do much to stop her high, firm breasts from bouncing into view when she moved. In the doorway, the tall woman from the night before appeared and looking at her in the light of day, Tara thought she might be the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

"Yes, Siara, that will do," she said, taking the small bottle that the girl offered. "Now leave us. You can see if Katya needs more ointment and then start preparing the Training Room for Tara."

Siara pranced away with a theatrical sigh causing Leanna to roll her eyes as she undid her robe and let it slip to the floor. Tara marveled at her porcelain skin and at the metal catching the light as her breasts swayed. A ruby pendant hung from her navel and as she approached the stone pool, Tara saw the glint of a gold bar piercing the flesh between her legs as well.

"Sit up, my dear," she said. When Tara did as she said, Leanna stepped into the pool behind Tara and settled herself so that Tara sat directly between her outstretched spread legs. She poured the rose oil onto her hands and began working the knots out of Tara's hair. "Tell me your story," she said. Tara didn't know where to start and began haltingly at first, unsure of what to say and tongue-tied by the feel of slippery breasts, soft and wet against her back. But once she began, the words poured out and she found herself telling Leanna things that she had never told anyone - how the Slave Mistress hadn't wanted to waste time on her training and how she didn't know if she was cut out to be a slave at all and how she had been opened by her Master and then left untouched and how lonely she had been and how frightened when the Stewards came to take her away.

"I didn't know where they were taking me or why," she said. "But I knew I must go with them. And... And I don't know if my new Master will keep me, but I do so want to serve him. I may not be beautiful like you, but I think I could learn to be pleasing if you would only give me a chance."

Leanna lifted the girl's arms, washing her with quick strokes of a damp cloth foaming with soaproot. Tara. Daughter of a runaway slave who had captured Sir Thomas' heart and poisoned his mind against his other slaves and the keeping of any slaves at all. As Tara spoke about her Master, memories of the man she had known filled Leanna's head. Sir Thomas Blackmore had been the first to claim her and she had served him faithfully for many years. She had initiated his son into the pleasures of the flesh and was as proud of the Young Master as his own mother. When Sir Thomas began speaking to her of his "found" slave, Leanna had fought to keep the jealousy she felt in check. Even then she understood that jealousy was not an emotion that a slave had any right to feel. She heard the anguish in his voice when he told her of the pain this slave had suffered at the hands of a sadistic Master, of the marks she bore from years of being bloodied, burned, and beaten. Leanna knew there were men who enjoyed the suffering of their slaves a little too much, but there were few who would go so far as to cause permanent damage to their own property. Sir Thomas had had to hide his slave who wore the collar of another Master and Leanna had watched him pull further away from his home, his slaves and his son to be with her. When he did return to the city, it was often with a troubled mind.

When he asked her one day how she could bear the taste of the whip, whether she longed for the freedom to give her body to whomever she chose, she had no answers. When he suggested that all slaves should be set free, she had been confused. And when he no longer wanted her to kneel before him, she had been deeply hurt. When his stolen slave died of fever, Leanna had hoped that he would return to her at last, but all her ministrations, all the efforts of a hundred supple slave girls prostrated at his feet had served only to increase his pain, not extinguish it. Sir Thomas had been a man lost to the world and when Leanna had finally stood on her balcony and watched the smoke billowing from his funeral pyre, she had only thought, Be at peace, Master. Be with the woman you love and be at peace at last. Tara's words jolted her back to the present. If you would only give me a chance. Leanna wrung the washcloth, letting cool water trickle down Tara's neck and heard the girl murmur with pleasure. She was a natural slave, Leanna could sense it in her bones. But she would have to work hard to keep the collar she wore.

Tara felt Mistress Leanna give her a little push forward and when she shifted her weight, the statuesque slave rose from the water.

"It's not within my power to give you a chance," she said, retrieving a jar of scented powder from a carved wooden box and patting herself with it. "It's within your own power, if you truly want to learn."

"I do!" Tara said, sitting up on her knees.

"It won't all be easy," Leanna said. "There may be things you find... difficult to accept. Every slave thinks she is ready to serve until she is tested. And then where does her obedience go? The Young Master expects perfection from his slaves and if you should fail, he will expect you to accept your punishments gratefully. Are you capable of that?"

"I think so," Tara said, but her voice held less conviction. Her experience with the Young Master had left her shaken and the thought of being truly punished by him sent a chill down her spine.

"Very well," Leanna said. "We can start with all that hair. Come with me." She lead Tara to one of the low stone platforms in the bathing room. "Lie down," she said.

Tara climbed hesitantly onto the smooth surface. From the underside of the platform, Leanna unhooked two coils of thick, damp rope.

"Siara!" she called. "Come in here and help me." When Siara appeared in the doorway, Leanna said to her, "Heat some wax for Tara." Siara's robe swished by Tara's head and she found herself looking up into bright green eyes that stared sympathetically back.

"The first time is the worst," she said, brushing a stray curl back from Tara's face. And then she was out of view, but Tara could smell fire and then something slightly sweet.

"Put your arms up, my dear," Leanna said. Tara obeyed and felt her arms stretched taught against the stone, her wrists clasped together, and then lashed to the platform. Her legs were next, spread wide and bent at the knee, each one tied down to her shoulders. The position left her stretched uncomfortably and feeling helpless and exposed. Leanna saw her distress.

"A slave must be most at home in her restraints," she said. "We'll have to work on your flexibility and endurance."

"The wax is ready," Siara said. Tara felt Leanna applying a hot, sticky substance to the tuft of hair under one arm. Then, without warning, the wax was ripped away, taking her hair with it. Tara screamed and strained against the ropes holding her down as tears filled her eyes. Then she felt the hot wax covering the hair under the other arm.

"Please don't!" she cried, turning her pleading eyes on Leanna's face, but Leanna remained unmoved.

"Your pain tolerance is terrible," she said. "I see we will have to work on that too." And again, she pulled the wax off in one swift motion, oblivious to Tara's high pitched screams of pain. Next, Leanna deftly untied one of Tara's legs and stretched it the length of the platform. Tara felt both relieved to have the strain on one leg removed and immediately terrified as she felt long strips of the hot wax applied from her ankle to her knee.

"Look at me, Tara," Leanna said and Tara struggled to lift her head from the platform and focus her gaze through her tears. "You know what I'm about to do. You know there will be pain. But there is nothing you can do and nowhere you can go. Breathe. Yes, good. Submit to the pain, Tara. Don't fight it. Are you ready?" Tara nodded and with a firm grip on her foot to hold her leg in place, Leanna tore off the first strip. Tara whimpered but did not cry out.

"Good," Leanna said. "Now for every strip I tear, I want you to thank me. Do you understand?"

Tara nodded vaguely, but she was already tensing for the next strip to come off. Leanna moved from Tara's feet to her head and bent down so that they were almost nose to nose. Her eyes were lined with kohl and Tara felt hypnotized by their violet depths. She was not the first person to feel bewitched by Leanna's beauty, and she would not be the last.

"When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer me properly," Leanna said softly. "Do you think the Young Master repeats his questions? Now, for each strip of wax I tear off, you will thank me by saying thank you Mistress Leanna. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress Leanna," Tara breathed.

Leanna returned her attention to Tara's wax covered leg and giving her barely a moment to prepare, ripped another strip away. Tara clenched her teeth and forced herself to breathe deeply.

"Thank you, Mistress Leanna," she said, but it came out as little more than a whisper.

"What was that, slave?" Leanna demanded sharply.

"Thank you, Mistress Leanna," Tara repeated.

No sooner had the words left her lips than she felt another strip being torn away. She winced, but remembered Leanna's words. Submit to the pain. Don't fight it. Again and again Tara repeated the phrase, "Thank you, Mistress Leanna, as slowly both her long legs from ankle to knee, and then from knee to hip were stripped of all hair and then rubbed with a cool, softly scented oil that left her skin smooth and radiant. The pain faded from the unbearable, scorching misery she had first felt to a low, tingling burn that made her more aware of her entire body than she had ever felt before. With both legs done, Tara thought the ordeal had finally come to an end, but was surprised to feel her knees bent and tied down to her shoulders once more. And then Leanna's fingers combing through the curls between her legs. So even her most private and sensitive places were not to be spared. The thought of the hot wax touching her there filled Tara with fear.

"Please, Mistress," Tara said, her voice breaking. "Not there."

Leanna considered her helpless subject for a moment.

"Siara!" she called. The girl appeared in the doorway. "How is Katya?"

Siara shrugged and said, "It looks worse than it is really. Her backside has the worst of it. In fact she'll be nicely marked for the banquet and she knows it for all she's been complaining and lying about all day while I do all the work."

Leanna sighed tolerantly and said, "I might have a job that you'll enjoy. Our little Tara has done very well. I think she deserves a reward."

Siara made her way down to the platform where Tara lay and looking up, Tara noticed that her collar too was a bright gold studded with green gems that complimented her eyes and sparkled prettily around her long neck. She thought of her own collar, plain and dull by comparison and felt ashamed that her Master had obviously thought so little of her. Filled with new resolve to be the kind of slave worthy of beautiful adornments, Tara found her voice.

"I... I'm sure I don't deserve anything at all," she said. "The best reward I could hope for is just the chance to learn from you - from both of you. And hopefully to be pleasing to my new Master."

"I can see you're learning already," Leanna said, with a soft laugh. "But to be pleasing to the Young Master... well, you have a long way to go yet."

Siara made her way down to the platform where Tara lay and surveyed her body. Fair skin, light hair, blue eyes, thin lips, small breasts, and a nervous air about her, like a horse that might get spooked and bolt at any moment. She had barely stirred this morning when Siara scooped her out of bed and lowered her into the bath, but she was wide awake now. At twenty-two years of age, Siara was the oldest of Blackmore Estate's current slaves, not counting Mistress Leanna. Lovely Mia with her hair like spun gold and the softest skin Siara had ever felt had been a few years older, but Mistress Leanna had predicted from the moment she arrived that the Young Master would not be able to turn down the price a slave like her would fetch and she had only served a few months before she was sold. Unlike most of the other slaves, Siara had been born at Blackmore Estate, her mother a slave of the Old Master. She knew the castle's corridors and passageways as she knew her own face and although it had never been formally confirmed, it was generally understood that when Mistress Leanna's time was through, she would be called on to take over as the Slave Mistress of the Estate. She was a strong girl, well proportioned and good humoured, with a ripe, guileless sensuality and a nearly insatiable appetite for sexual pleasures that kept her in high demand. The Young Master himself rarely called for her, but she didn't mind. There was something about him that frightened her and she much preferred serving the guests and Stewards of the house anyway. Looking at Tara, Siara felt no jealousy towards the new slave, but as she knelt at the foot of the platform between Tara's spread legs, she did feel a rush of excitement at the thought of tasting her sweetness.

Siara combed her fingers gently through the soft, damp curls covering Tara's sex and traced the shape of her vaginal lips to the slit where the pink folds opened. Replacing her fingers with her tongue, Siara licked at the opening with a series of deliberate strokes until she tasted the wetness she was waiting for. Siara moistened her full lips with Tara's juices and pressed them to the pulsing little nodule she discovered hidden under its hood of flesh. As she worked the spot over with her expert tongue, Siara could feel Tara's thighs straining at her bonds and a new flood of wetness confirmed that her efforts were having their desired effect. Without stopping her tongue, Siara brought two of her fingers to Tara's glistening opening and slowly pushed them in. Although her fingers met no firm resistance, Siara instantly noticed the tightness of Tara's passage, despite being slick with her fluids. She must not have been used for a very long time, Siara thought sympathetically. Curling her fingers, she applied slight pressure and heard Tara's mewling change to a high pitched cry.

"Mistress, can she cum?" Siara asked.

Tara struggled to catch her breath and process the sensations coursing through her body, but each new sweet assault Siara mounted with her moist lips and insistent tongue was harder to resist than the last. And Tara didn't even know what she was resisting. She only knew that when some of the girls had practiced using their mouths on each other during her first training, she had felt strange and uncomfortable watching them. Their small, delicate hands were so different than her Master's, their shrieks and giggles so... undignified compared to his commanding voice. She had turned away from their silly games thinking 'this is surely not for me.' Yet, here she was, legs splayed wide, growing ever more excited by the ministrations of another slave girl and helpless to do anything about it.

"It's too much," she tried to say. "Please, please stop, I can't take it." But her words came out as fragments of sound interspersed with incoherent gasps and moans. Then she felt Siara pushing something into her, forcing her open and touching her in places she had only been touched once before. Tara's cries became more frantic, drowning out what Siara and Mistress Leanna were saying and she was only dimly aware when Mistress Leanna covered the hair on one side of her mound with hot wax.

"No, I don't want her to cum just yet. But keep her on the edge as long as you can. That should help reinforce a connection between pain and pleasure," Leanna said. She motioned to Siara to move back saying, "Keep your fingers where they are. They seem to be doing the job nicely. As for you, Tara - you'll be getting your first real lesson in pain and pleasure very soon so we might as well get started." And she ripped the wax away.

Tara felt certain she was being skinned alive. The fresh torture of this new assault combined with Siara's fingers inside of her, probing and pressing, caused a strange twisting, tingling sensation in Tara's loins that overwhelmed her completely. By the time Leanna was through, Tara had screamed herself hoarse and her whole body was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Her muscles ached from straining against her bonds and her now naked sex felt stretched and sore. She should have been relieved when Siara withdrew her hand, but instead she found herself whimpering and bucking her narrow hips, unconsciously begging to be invaded again. Leanna smiled as she rubbed a cool, sweet-smelling salve into the smooth, pale skin between Tara's legs. She covered the mound and the lips, but carefully avoided the inflamed centre which was open and wet and fairly pulsing with need. The ropes that held Tara in place were loosened and Leanna gently helped her to a sitting position, rubbing her arms and legs to bring feeling back into them.

Tara ran her fingers through her hair, which no longer resembled a tangled bird's nest of straw, but a rippling curtain of yellow waves that just covered her pert pink nipples, tickling them deliciously. She was very aware of the warm moisture still seeping out of her sex and wetting her thighs and she shifted slightly, trying to push the need she could not name from her jumbled thoughts.. It was then that her stomach growled and she realized she was famished.

"Come and have a bite to eat," Leanna said. "I expect Sir Liam will be here shortly and you don't want to keep him waiting."