Violet-Clothed Slaves

Half-as-much as a cow, and still cheaper than the goat I had bartered at the weekend market. Gaian slaves were cheap because of their tempestuous nature; as the elders would mutter, why skimp on cheap slaves only to pay for disharmony in your household later? Indeed, many wives considered a Gaian slave to be a slight from their husbands and demanded those with better breeding, but my wife insisted on girls from those rugged isles.

So I spent a mere three shillings on a delightful girl: mostly dark hair with a warm smile, a colourful brassiere and the brightest splash of Gaian purple velvet covering her dignity. Like many Gaian women she had her belly button pierced and streaks of colour in her hair, but "Pree" was one of the last girls the slave trader had, and so I haggled her for a rock-bottom price.

My home is modest: a mere two hundred acres of farm land and an eight bedroom estate with a dozen slaves. My ancestors have farmed this land for nine generations and my grandfather, Sir Alfred Foxton had fought alongside the king only a hundred seasons previous. The tapestries of the brave monarch, riding into battle with an undressed golden-haired lunatic by his side was the pride of the town. What was less well known was that my grandfather procured all the whores for that military campaign, as the Foxtons have always been renowned for their casual nudity and sexual proclivities.

It is a reputation my wife and I do not disregard, and moments after returning home, I stripped all of my sweaty, dusty garments from my body, and replaced them with a sturdy black collar. Pree watched on: she had said nothing as my rickety cart had bumped along the rocky road, instead remaining pensive and silent during the short journey.

But she had nothing to fear from me, or my family.

She stood waiting for instruction, but she was not mine to instruct. She hesitated: no doubt considering if she should shun her scant clothing too, and glanced at my swelling prick. Pree was gorgeous, and the sight of her in flimsy attire had sparked my fantasies but she was unavailable, to me at least.

The far cry from the back of the house, summoned me to the courtyard: my naked wife clicked her fingers as I arrived and pointed to her bushy crotch. I could see the feint splatters of male cum on her bush and the ruffle in her usually pristine hair. Her skin glowed too, a subtle sheen evidence of sweaty, frenetic sex.

My wife took many liberties with our hired help, as was her right, and I positioned myself on the raised slab waiting for her glistening crotch to slide against my mouth. It felt good; it tasted better. The musky gloop of her lovers' semen flowed into my mouth as my tongue swirled over her clit and her hole. She shuddered, her thighs muffling the sound of her voice.

I could see nothing but the curve of her ass, taste nothing but the sensational array of her juices and male cum and smell nothing but the fragrant aroma of a well-fucked cunt. But it was my life; it what my wife demanded from me. The rough swirl of my tongue against her clit, sent her shivering and groaning. Her pussy quivering as I ate her out to multiple orgasms.

She climbed from me, squeezing my cock painfully with her uncut nails in the process and helped our new slave, without her purple cloth onto the slab. "If ever you get fucked, my dear, then this is how you get cleaned up." My eyes met the surprised glance of Pree, hesitating as my wife demanded that the newest addition to our family settle her crotch onto my cum-covered face.

She was sweet. Like all of our Gaian slaves, she tasted delightfully sapid: a mixture of gentle spices and subtle honey. The sight of her mistress thrashing in orgasm had excited our young slave as her juices were flowing and she groaned the moment my tongue made contact with her slippery clit.

My turgid cock ached for attention as my tiring tongue swept over her engorged pearl. I would get used to tasting and pleasing Pree and I would enjoy feeling her orgasm with her Gaian profanities and her native squealing, just as I enjoyed the passionate cries of all of the women in the house.

Gaian girls come to orgasm in a most enjoyable of ways, showering the men licking their quim with their delicate sweetness as their rhythmic contractions sent shockwaves of delirium through their body.

And Pree was no different. She squealed as I whirled over her moistness, writing her a poem of affection with my tongue on her crotch. I loved doing that, the curve of the characters causing her clit to slide over my tongue that had her thighs flinching with bursts of arousal.

I felt her nearing her orgasm; the groaning, the squealing, the quivering cunt and the slide of her hand down my torso as her climax smashed into her and she slumped forward. "Good?" My wife asked and then grunted as Pree must have nodded. "The best you've had?"

"My boyfriend was better," Pree replied and I felt an icy blast freeze my insides. "All Gaian men are better at sex."

My wife pulled my legs, causing me to yell as my back scraped across the rough stone slab. I could see fire in her eyes, an angry growl in her voice as she picked up the bamboo on the floor and passed it to Pree. "Hit him," she demanded. "He is to give all women the best climaxes. Hit him!"

The feint fear of shock and surprise on Pree's face was unsettling, the ferocious demands of my wife more so. My wife held my breastbone to the stone as Pree was ordered to lash my thighs. I shut my eyes, unable to watch as the first blow splintered the stick, the second broke it.

The stripes of pain across my flesh as our new slave disciplined me for less-than-epic cunnilingus. It was no more than I deserved, and I would be hit by all the women on a daily basis as I was expected to provide for my household in every way.

Of course, our slave would have jobs to do: washing, ironing, tidying, cooking and cleaning. But she'd have a status above the "Master" of the House. Along with a dozen other slaves, my wife and two dozen farm hands.

I know my place.