Penance

Your gift to your Master is obeisance
Most attractive is your complaisance
His gift to you, the knowledge, at your core
That you are a slave, ever more.
What begins as rape becomes a dance
In ecstasy, you shall beg for your chance
To be a woman, in his arms surrender
His wants, his needs, forefend never hinder.
What the free woman can never realize
The slave she only deigns to despise
Knows a freedom far greater when the fire burns
To please and be pleased without guilt, she learns.
I am a slave, anon and forever, without regret,
My Master awoke my slave belly, I shall never forget.

I entered the smoky tavern at my Master's side, the silver chain held loosely in his fist dangling between us, as clear a sign as my red silk shift that I was his property. I padded beside him on all fours, the cool metal of the silvery links brushing against my bare shoulder, tightening the grasp of the leather collar at my throat, then loosening, as we continued apace toward a table at the center of the room. The tinkling of the leash was lost amongst the greetings of the men already drinking and taking their pleasure of the serving girls, but I heard every sensual note.

My Master took a seat opposite another man, but I dared not look up to venture a glance at his companion, for I had not been given leave. His boots looked familiar, however, and his musky masculine scent was redolent upon the air, blending with the smells of ale and leather and sex to craft a cologne to set all the senses to whirling. I knew him, for my Master had sent me to him for discipline once, and only once; Javin had a heavy, cruel hand, and I had dreamed, in both dread and delight, of future encounters with him.

I sat up, balanced on my heels, at my Master's command, and greeted the burly slave master demurely, "Good evening, Lord Javin."

His answering smile was predatory. "Good evening, whore," he rumbled, extending a rough hand to brush against my cloth-covered breast. "I hear you have been a naughty slave, perhaps I shall own you at last."

I did not shy away, for his touch was a welcome caress after my Master's long denial. He had been punishing me, and it had been very effective; he had disdained to touch me, seeking the company of other red silks for the past seven days, while I was chained to the wall and forced to watch. His cruelty had made me burn with desire and envy and, most powerfully, remorse, even as the other girls had shrieked and writhed beneath him, and I knew now that such arrogance as I had permitted myself would never fall from my lips again. Yet I had thought, when my Master had collared and chained me this night that my discipline was at an end. Was I now to be lent to Javin, or worse yet, sold to him, to become a hearth and kettle slave for some unimaginative smith's son? I dared not speak, but in my heart, I pleaded silently for a reprieve from such a fate. Forgiveness could not be begged for, only earned; had my contrition been enough?

Wordlessly, my Master unfastened my leash, laying the shimmering length of chain upon the table. Lifting my head briefly for his permission, I saw his slight nod, and I began my way across the noisy pub. Men watched my progress, knowing that the red silk meant I was a passion slave, available for their pleasure, if only they could negotiate an adequate arrangement with my Master. One even stopped me, reaching out to grab my auburn braid, drawing me up sharply beside him. "What is your price, slut?" he inquired, and I shall confess it, lest my Master accuse me of being untruthful in this narrative, his drink-roughened voice sent a shiver through me, and my heart began to race.

"Five hundred shefia for a night, my Lord," I answered promptly, in a dulcet tone I hoped he would find pleasing. If my Master would not have me, perhaps at least I could bring him fortune, and quell the need that raced through me, if only for a brief instant, for I knew that until I rode upon the wave of my Master's oft-brutal desire, I could never truly be sated. Nonetheless, I ventured a glance upward, wide-eyed innocence in my emerald gaze, and a saucy smile of promise upon my lips. As quickly, I lowered my head, but not before I'd caught a glimpse of the handsome young man who contemplated my flesh.

The stranger grunted, and released me with a gentle push; I wonder if the free women, how strange they called themselves thus when I saw how desperately they yearned for what I, a slave, possessed, knew just how much the passion slaves were respected, and well-treated. A man might bed his wife once, to bring forth a child, but it was with his "girls" that he took his pleasure most nights. A free Mistress could never truly know what it meant to be a woman.

I hurried on, fielding a few more questions before I reached the bar, a beautiful piece of art fashioned from the shell of some great sea creature. I rose, then, to accept the mug of rich, dark ale the bartender already had waiting for me. My Master would settle the account later, Varin didn't need to worry about that. Bowing to the bartender, I traversed the tavern once more, to kneel beside my Master still holding the mug. I pressed its cool surface to my breasts, and then, lifting my simple silk shift, brushed the rim of the mug between my legs. Finally, I raised the drink to my lips, and took a sip; though my Master said not a word, I knew he watched on.

Finally, he growled a question, and my breath quickened, "What do you desire most, slave?"

Lifting the mug, I answered, "That you would accept my gift, and allow me to dance for you, Master."

I heard Javin's chuckle, and I felt my cheeks redden. Though I had not been given permission to show it, both men knew that a fire raged within me, a tumultuous blaze that could only be damped by one thing.

The mug was taken from my hands, and my Master granted my other plea with one harsh command, "Dance!"

And dance I would. Rising in one fluid motion, I flounced away from the table, as though my Master and his companion were of no further consequence to me. Head high, expression haughty, eyes smoldering with contempt for all around me, I moved to the fire, swaying before it, my back to all of the men who had quieted to watch. I lifted a hand, freeing my auburn hair to spill over my shoulders with a negligent gesture. My hair cascaded to my waist, stirred gently by the crackling blaze before which I preened, an arrogant, and free, woman. I pirouetted slowly, as though considering my reflection in a nonexistent mirror, then turned back to the fire. I bowed to it, lifting my shift to let its welcome warmth brush against my naked thighs. As I turned to the crowd, I dropped the hem of my simple dress back into place, smoothing it primly, denying them, with that simple gesture, any pleasure of me.

Conversation had resumed; they ignored me, as I pretended to ignore them, heedless of their covert glances, or so I chose to appear. Now I began to move, a languid, faltering step, as a young woman who was uncertain of her desire might move, torn between the demands of her culture to be free and in control, and the yearning of her body to release its tethers to propriety. I slid my hands down my sides, pausing to run my fingers shyly over my breasts; a quick exclamation, as my own touch stirred something in me, something the prim and proper lady could never acknowledge. I turned away from the crowd, lowering my eyes so they could not see what I wanted, for they must never know, and I moved about the edge of the room, the silk tight across my breasts, clinging to my ass, its silken caress stirring the inferno that was raging inside me.

It was my Need Dance, my last, desperate plea to my Master, to tell him just how much I loved him, how urgently I needed his touch. Whatever he asked of me to prove this truth, I would grant, and I could only hope that my seductive playfulness would earn his favor. Everyone in the room knew what I was about, and I could not know, until the dance concluded, if I had been effective in my display of passion.

I came to the door that led from this place, and I bowed to it, as I had to the fire, brushing my lips to the brass knob, thanking it for the freedom it offered me. Somewhere a drum began to sound, or perhaps it was the racing of my heart, but no, the tempo was, for the moment, slow and soft. I turned to the crowd once more, and this time, as I swayed before them, I looked desperately into their eyes, hoping that one would favor me. But no, not even my Master would acknowledge his recalcitrant slave.

I spun from the door, then, toward the center of the room, and the drum's cadence increased, mocking the uncertain girl who was captive of her passions. I twirled and spun, lifting my shift to reveal my tight ass, and the proof of my desire rife between my thighs. I was bare of fur, for a Master should always be able to see his slave's need if he desired. I clenched my fists, then let my hands fall open, flinging both arms up and above my head, breasts jutting out, full and pendulous, the nipples taut against the red fabric. I let one hand drop to my side, flinging the other out toward the crowd, beckoning them. I flung my head back, gazing up toward the heavens, lips parted in sensual invitation. I stepped forward slightly, then flung my left leg out straight. As my foot returned to the stone floor, I plucked a flower from the hair of a barmaid who was scurrying from my path. I raised the pretty blue rose to my lips, closing my mouth around it for a moment, my movements rapturous now. I then released it, unharmed, and slid its silky petals across my throat, my fingers grazing the collar I wore so proudly.

Now, frantic for attention, as I portrayed the gradual transformation from freedom to slave, my hips began a slow gyration of their own accord. Back arched, I presented my need for all to see, swaying to the beat of the drum. I danced, thus, about the room, till I reached the bar, where I flung one leg over the cold shell of some long-dead monster, grinding against it in wanton abandon. When no one rose to claim me, I flung myself from it in disgust, once again smoothing my gown into place. The drum fell silent, and I walked toward an empty table, seeking to claim it. What did I need of such visceral pleasures, my stance and movements seemed to say. I am a free woman. I sat on the edge of the table, my arms crossed over my breasts, my legs together, and looked defiantly out at the crowd. A serving girl came by, offering me a glass of fine wine, and I accepted it, sipping delicately of the amber liquid. I held the pose for an instant, then two, before flinging the glass away from me, to shatter upon the floor.

Grabbing the hem of my shift, I leapt to stand upon the table, drawing the simple garment over my head in one fluid movement. I held the cloth between my hands, as I spun, all pretense of disinterest gone now. I was bare of all but my Master's collar, and the star-shaped brand upon my thigh, and I was free, free to serve. Once again I arched my back, running the silk between my breasts, cupping each upon a sea of crimson cloth, rolling each nipple between my fingers. Though my breasts were not large, my flesh was fair, and my nipples were long and dark, pointing upward in mute testimony to my desire, the need I had allowed to build inside me. I slid a hand between my legs, plucking at my clit, twisting it roughly, before dipping two fingers abruptly into my pussy, and beginning a slow, sensual grind, plunging deeper and deeper till my wrist was pressed tightly against my naked mound. My thumb teased that sensitive nub, and my juices flowed freely, glistening upon my thighs. I danced, cavorting upon the table, drawing all eyes toward me as I gave voice to my yearning. I allowed my moans, my soft cries, to fill the room as I tended the flames. When I was certain I had their attention, I drew the silk slowly downward, along my belly, over my ass, teasing them with the dress I had worn but moments before. Finally, I straddled it, rubbing shamelessly against the sensual material. When I bent one leg, falling motionless at last, and pulled the silk free, it was damp with my nectar. I lifted it to my lips, inhaling deeply of my scent, and allowed my tongue to dart out, savoring my taste upon the cloth.

After a moment, I lifted the dress, bunched it up into a strip, and wound it about my head, till it bound my eyes tightly; deftly, I knotted the makeshift blindfold into place, and sprung up once more.

With a heartfelt cry, I spun three times, and then leapt from the table, uncertain of my fate. When I felt strong arms around me, pressing me tightly against a muscular frame, I knew that I had succeeded. Roughly, I was shoved to my knees, and the musky scent of male flesh told me what was waiting. There was nothing of vanity or reluctance in me now, my transition was complete, a transformation I found myself grateful for every day of my life. With a kittenish cry of glee, I pounced on the offered prize, closing my lips about an unknown cock, till my cheeks were puckered with the intensity of my kiss. I lapped along the underside, taking in the scent and flavor of him, and knew it was not my Master. Yet the heat that churned within my slave belly seared so hotly that I could not, would not, allow that to halt me. Unfamiliar hands cupped my breasts, pinching wickedly upon my nipples, and I had been so ignored for the last week that I felt each new pain as though I were a virgin, this the very first rape. The man before me grabbed my head, lacing his fingers at the nape of my neck, and pushed my face down, burying himself in my tight throat. Willingly, I took him deep into me, suckling upon his shaft as though he were the very life I had craved. My cries of pain were muffled, merely sensual caresses running the length of his shaft as new indignities were inflicted upon me. Strange hands cupped my ass, and two fingers were thrust into my pussy, buried to the wrist in my moist, velvety depths. Rumbles of laughter, and the murmur of renewed conversation surrounded me, while my head bobbed up and down, my frantic suckling a sensual counterpoint to the clink of glasses and the flurry of insults hurled at me.

"She is not but a tavern whore," someone cried. "We shall all use her this night."

"Look at how she touches him," another marveled, as my hands cupped the stranger's balls, molding them beneath my fingers, squeezing gently, drawing him ever deeper. When I sensed his impatience, I increased the pace without being told, but still he took pleasure in forcing me down till my face was buried against his thighs, and I thought I should die for lack of breath. As questing fingers were withdrawn from my pussy, I felt another offering, the head of a cock brushed between my nether lips. I rose up a little, just in time to feel my captor's cock twitch, and his hot seed began pouring down my throat. I knew without being told that I would drink it all, for anything less would shame my Master and me alike.

With a lusty chuckle, he pulled from my mouth, and I licked the last bits of cream from his tip before he thrust me aside, into the arms of whoever was behind me. In one motion, he spun me around, and lifted me from my feet, pressing me back against the wall. I flung my legs around his waist, and gripped his shoulders tightly as he sheathed his cock inside me. I gave a cry of delight, for I was slick and ready, and turned my head slightly, resting my chin upon my shoulder for a moment, as I was lifted, flung upward upon his passionate thrust, and then falling toward oblivion as he began to withdraw. I could feel the sweat upon my forehead, and I knew I was flushed with need, but without my Master's permission, I would not be permitted to surrender.

The rough stone wall scraped against my back, and my hair swirled about me in a fiery cloud, as he took me with violent, unapologetic strokes. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, along with my desperate cries. I was quivering, my whole body in tune with the music that played across my nerves, and the powerful fingers that gripped and twisted my nipple only added a new sweetness to the aching melody that sang through my flesh.

Through my blindfold, I could see nothing of my rapist, but his touch was firm as he guided me upon his cock, and I was the wanton whore I'd once feared to become, my hips grinding against him in a dance that had become intuitive. His breath against my cheek, his bruising grip upon my thigh, the hand that released my nipple, leaving it to the cold, each commanded me, and in turn, they were my undoing. I began to beg, for all the room to here, "Please, please, let me come. Oh, please, Master."

For a moment, there was nothing but the pounding of his shaft inside me, and then, from a long distance away, I heard my Master's voice, "Cum for me, slave."

I had hoped it was he who had me upon his cock, and now I was not certain that I could surrender to this stranger. Perhaps sensing my doubt, he leaned forward, biting at my shoulder as he thrust into me time and again. Convulsively, my legs tightened about him, till I was only a blur of writhing, twisting girl-slut, swaying upon his cock. With a cry, I began to tremble, my breasts heaving as I felt release overwhelm me. "Thank you, thank you," I kept saying to the stranger, and he only chuckled, as he withdrew from my quivering depths, his cum striking my belly in hot, ropey jets, spilling over my thighs as he dropped me in a boneless heap upon the floor.

I could only groan, still in the throes of a pleasure I had not thought I would be granted, but new hands were upon me before I could catch my breath. Two men caught me between them, and I was once again lifted free of the floor. They impaled me simultaneously, and my shriek was one of despair, not for their rough treatment, but because I knew I could not hold another orgasm in abeyance for long. Once I began to cry so openly, I couldn't stop, and my ecstatic pleas brought more laughter, and I could hear the jingling of coins. I rose and fell, bounced from one shaft to the other, my body desperate for more. When they both plunged into me, I thought they would tear me apart, with only a thin bit of flesh in my innermost places keeping them apart. I clung to them, oblivious and uncaring of their identities. My nipples were bruised, turning purple from their attentions, and I knew there were teeth marks in my shoulders, and fresh scratches across my belly, but each little torment only added to my need. I could not look for my Master, but I knew he was watching, and I freely gave of myself, tempting them to ever greater brutality.

They withdrew from me in unison, as abruptly as they had claimed me, and I begged them to fill me once more. They only laughed, forcing me to my knees, and each shot hot, sticky seed into my face, and over my breasts. My tongue darted out, catching every drop I could, and as they abandoned me, I rubbed their cream into my aching nipples, across my sensitive scratches, until I was spread with their provender.

Not yet done was I; strange hands and strange cocks claimed me in quick succession, and I shall never remember all of that night. One man grabbed me and threw me across a table. I felt rough leather rubbed across my back, and I knew that his desire was to beat me. And true enough, the crop rose and fell, spreading a gradual heat from my shoulders to my ass. It was not for my pleasure that he struck each blow, however, and even when my cries filled the night, and I pleaded with him that I could take no more, his crop rose and fell, until I was quivering with my sobs. The men whistled and cheered, as though they thought I deserved this punishment. When the blows finally ceased, and a gentle hand brushed my ass, I surrendered yet again, adrift on a sea of ecstasy, for I knew it was my Master's touch.