I could feel her eyes on me before I woke up.
Half-asleep, I lifted my head. For a brief moment, our eyes met in the dark. Her eyes glittered under dark bangs, an outlaw’s hat, high cheekbones casting shadows in the dim light. Her eyes narrowed as she cocked her head, one eyebrow raised. A challenge. Was I crazy, or was that a half smile on her face?
Just as suddenly as she came, she left, walking down the same narrow dark hallway. I was just able to make out a hint of her incredible figure from behind before I gave up, burying my head in my arm again.
Then I remembered where I was.
The room was suddenly flooded with light. I was jolted awake by the shouts of men. “Wake up!” they commanded, leering into the cages. “Wake up. Everyone up.” Roberto and Lorenzo. Two local louts with crew cuts and aggressively flexed biceps. Roberto stopped in front of Julia’s cage, grinning menacingly as she struggled to her knees, hands still cuffed on her back behind her long blonde hair.
Not wanting to draw attention to myself, I shed the threadbare blanket and rolled off the drab cotton pallat lying on the hard wood floor. Naked, I shivered slightly in the cool basement. I assumed the position that had been drilled into us during our training: On our knees, hands clasped behind our back, breasts thrust slightly forward. Eyes down.
Ready to serve.
There were twelve of us at the moment, in the basement that functioned as some sort of holding pen, as far as anyone had bothered to explain to me. 12 cages adjoined in the center of the pen, close enough that we could reach our hands through and touch each other at night – which, of course, was against the rules and punishable by cuffing, isolation, or a turn on the sawhorse.
There was no talking, but in the brief moments when we were left unsupervised we had been able to glean information about each other. Almost everyone had come from a raid on Horvath, Gant, or the neighboring towns. Most were ladies’ maids, or well-respected nieces of provincial yet wealthy landlords. A few, like Julia, were gentility. One was a governess.
Over the three months I had spent in the dungeon I had gone up for auction six times, and managed to learn a few useful bits of information in the process. The dungeon was controlled by a man named Ted Kilgrave. Everyone else worked for him. Kilgrave made his living in high society, farming slave girls from the upper echelons of far-flung corners of the empire. Kilgrave’s women had a reputation for beauty, elegance, and submission – a rare and deadly combination you couldn’t find at the local market. His slaves could fetch staggeringly high sums depending on their looks and their pedigree. Men would pay a high price to defile the face of the daughter of an enemy family. Courts would parade Kilgrave’s trophies around on leashes like prized greyhounds.
As far as dungeons go, this one was relatively tolerable. The bathrooms, for example, were emptied regularly by the maids (or whoever happened to be due for a punishment). We were taken to an airy first-floor room to exercise occasionally, and we were bathed semi-regularly. Those of us who were up for auction always enjoyed a real bath with perfumed oils the week showings were scheduled.
Kilgrave was hesitant to use force on his girls. Whippings and spankings left marks, as did chaining. Bruises lowered a girl’s value, and with the constant possibility that someone might drop by to view the collection, it was never safe to leave a mark. Instead, obedience was instead achieved through other means. Punishments were a common occurrence; I was regularly made to kneel and scrub every inch of floor in the house or paraded around naked in front of guests for infractions like attempting to use my hands during feeding-time. For major infractions, the guards were more creative. Rapes were common, and it was not unheard of for someone to be taken to an all-night session, returning limping and exhausted the canlı bahis next morning with an aching jaw. Occasionally, a new slave would be shown the sawmill: Spread-eagled to the device in a back room, with all her holes open and available for use at any time. Most of us learned quickly after that.
From Mary, the one-time scullery maid who was occasionally friendly to me during punishments, I had learned that every slave has a shelf life. If they stay in the pen too long, Kilgrave decides they won’t sell. Most are sold to local dealers, who traffic in rougher clientele. A few joined a harem of women Kilgrave kept in a house and rented out to anyone willing to pay. I wasn’t approaching my shelf life, but I didn’t want to find out what might happen if I was.
Suddenly the louts snapped to attention, hands raised in salute. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Kilgrave enter the dungeon. He was well-dressed as usual in sharp khakis, riding boots, a white button-down and a vest. He was laughing at something the woman behind him had said, turning toward her flirtatiously for a comeback. As I followed his eye line, my stomach dropped. I quickly averted my eyes.
It was her.
Entering the dungeon behind Kilgrave, I had caught just a glimpse, but there was no denying that it was her. The woman I had seen watching me sleep, stalking us in the night. No wonder I couldn’t see much of her in the dim light: She wore all black, from hat to boots. Although she wore trousers and a form-fitting vest rather than the full skirts that were popular among nobility, signs of aristocracy dripped off her, from the jewels accentuating the outfit to the sharp cut of her features to the soft Italian leather of her boots. I kept my eyes on them as she walked by my cell. I could see a leather whip strapped to her side.
“Pick whatever you like, darling,” said Kilgrave, kissing her on the cheek. “The boys will be more than happy to set up a private showing.” Roberto and Lorenzo affirmed him with a “Sir”.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have company upstairs that I must attend to.” He turned to leave. If I knew Kilgrave, that ‘company’ was likely his newest acquisition, Sapphire, a Dame from the hill country.
The air was still as the mystery woman walked in slow circles around the pen, occasionally stopping to tap her feet or murmur assent. “You like that one?” Roberto’s voice cut through. It came from behind me. They were talking about Julia.
“It’s not bad,” she purred. She had a beautiful voice: Rich and smooth, like her laugh. A deep, commanding voice, with just a hint of a throaty whisper. “What’s the pedigree?”
“Aristocrats,” said Roberto. “Nobility, from the Lazarus region. She’s beautiful, this one. Educated, talented. You won’t do better.” She must be wealthy if they’re showing her Julia, I thought.
Julia had only been in the pen for a month, but everyone expected her to sell. The only daughter of a minor duke from an outlying county, she has a decorated pedigree with royalty on both sides. Besides that, she was incredibly beautiful. Ashen-blonde hair that reached all the way down her back, stunning green eyes, and full lips that read elegant, playful, or mysterious, depending on how you looked at them. She had a waifish thin waist, yet still had full breasts and heart-shaped bouncing globes below her waist. Men typically went crazy for her. She had been brought to parties at Kilgrave’s house on more than one occasion to serve as the erotic entertainment.
“Bring her in,” said the woman. “I want a closer look.” I hear the chain snap to Julia’s collar as she was dragged out of her cell and down the hall, wrists still bound behind her back. The woman took another lap, her heels tapping on the floor as she walked. “This one too,” she said, tapping what I guessed to be Katya’s door. Then she left.
I stayed kneeling, motionless. Most of our day would be spent like this; we were trained to remain still while clients shopped. Suddenly, bahis siteleri however, I was shaken out of my reverie by the door of my cage shaking. I flinched. Lorenzo.
“Get your little ass over here,” he leered, and I obeyed, crawling the short distance to the door. I presented my wrists behind me and he fastened metal cuffs roughly around my wrists. Then he took the chain thathung from the back of my collar and threaded it through the ring between my wrists. He pulled tight so my elbows locked, my shoulders turned outward and my breasts jutted forward. I gritted my teeth. Then, struggling to my feet, I waited as he fastened another chain to the front of my collar. Finally he led me down the hall where the other girls had gone.
Lorenzo clipped the chain into a metal ring on the floor and left. I waited in the small private room, with just enough slack on my chain to shift from foot to foot. I had been here before waiting for what seemed like hours. I had discovered that there was a small crack in the frame of this particular room. If the door to the room across the all was ajar, you could catch a sliver of action. I craned my neck until I could make out a figure in the room. It was Julia. Her wrists, still bound, were now chained tightly to a ring overhead. Her legs were forced apart, ankles held in a spreader bar.
She was alone, which meant our mystery domme was with someone else. Probably Katya. I concentrated on the distant murmers of voices; I heard a faint slap! and Katya’s squeals, but could not make anything out. I sighed and fidgeted.
Before long she made her way to Julia. I could tell it was her by the shoulders, the boots, the back of her raven hair as she traced her crop up and down Julia’s naked torso. Julia was trembling as the woman leaned in and spoke into her ear. She paused, savoring the girl’s discomfort. er voice rose sharply. “Answer me!”
“No m-miss,” Julia replied weakly. She began to cry. “Please miss, not with women, I beg you – ” The woman leaned in before she could finish and forced Julia into a kiss, gripping the slave girl’s hair as she ground her lips over Julia’s. She covered Julia’s nose with her free hand so she could barely breathe. After what seemed like nearly a minute, she pulled away, leaving Julia tear-stained and gasping for breath.
“Shut up,” the woman said. “Not another word. Understand?” Julia nodded, still shocked.
She stalked out of the room. I quickly looked away from the crack.
“That’s an incredibly fine piece of work, Roberto,” I heard her say. “Incredible. What I wouldn’t give to discipline her sorry little ass until it turns red.” She exhaled. “What’s the price?”
“5,000? Are you kidding me? She’s barely even trained.”
“That’s part of the deal.”
Another sharp exhale. I could hear her tapping her foot in the hallway, thinking rapidly.
“How about you let us have a few minutes alone, Roberto?” she said.
“I – I don’t know , my lady – ” he stuttered. We weren’t supposed to be left unsupervised. Kilgrave’s rules are strict: No drugs. No gifts. No penetration.
“Just walk away for a few minutes,” she ordered sharply. “Five minutes.”
Her voice softened. “I’ll make it worth your while.” she said.
“Fine, Ms. Rabine. I take a walk.”
“Get out,” she spat under her breath as he departed. I held my breath.
A minute later, she sauntered back into the room, looking like a cat that ready to devour a treat.
“Loud little brat, aren’t you?” she asked. Before Julia could respond she gripped the back of the girl’s and forced a ball gag into her mouth. “And expensive as hell.” She tightened the gag and walked around Julia, admiring her handiwork. Julia struggled weakly against the tight restraints. The woman leaned in. Lady Rabine.
“If you were my slave, I’d have you beaten within an inch of your life,” she said throatily. “Stop struggling. And for the love bahis şirketleri of god, stop crying.”
She cleared her throat and stood. “Now where were we?”
She began tracing Julia’s abdomen with the crop, running circles over her exposed nipples. Her eyes glittered with lust. Julia’s eyes still had a panicked note in them.
“I love a gorgeous young body like this,” she said, half to herself. “I love breaking it in. I love to leave the first marks on that lily-white skin.” She slapped Julia’s tit with the crop. Hard. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough that Julia cried out in pain from behind the gag. Lady Rabine smirked.
“I love this hair,” she said, grabbing a fistful of the blonde mane and yanking the girl’s head backward so her eyes met the sky. “I love to grab a girl by the hair and drag her around by it.” She was practically hissing.
Lady Rabine released the hair and stepped back, tracing long stroked up and down Julia’s side. “I can have anything I want, Julia. But do you know what my favorite thing in the world is?” Julia whimpered. “It’s taking an beautiful little girl like you and making her my own personal slut. My personal lesbian fucktoy.”
She rammed two fingers into Julia’s cunt, grabbing for a handful of breast with the opposite hand. Julia tensed and cried out, pushing against both the spreader bar and the ceiling hook to no avail. The Lady continued the assault on her pussy, pumping her fingers in and out in time with Julia’s bucking hips. “That’s right, little girl,” said the Lady. “Show me how much you want it.”
Julia screamed into the gag, moaning as Lady Rabine settled into a pulsating rhythm. “Look how wet you are for me, Julia,” she cooed. “I can smell it from here. Wouldn’t your family be so disappointed if they knew you were here, getting off on being my little lesbian fuckslut?” Julia shook her head no, but her body continued to respond to Lady Rabine’s expert hands. Lady Rabine laughed.
“No? You want me to stop?” she said? She pulled her hand out of Julia and wiped it on the girl’s thigh. “That’s fine,” she said. “I don’t need my fingers getting soaked by a slut like you.” Julia was shaking like a leaf and gasping for breath. Even from where I was restrained, I could see how close she was to coming.
Lady Rabine resumed pacing around Julia, enjoying the site of the young girl thrashing before her. “Lovely,” she muttered, leaning in to kiss Julia’s cheek.
She pulled the crop out from its holster. “Don’t move,” she commanded. She dragged the leather tip back along Julia’s neck. Julia shivered. Then she switched to flicking the leather lightly back and forth over her exposed lips. “That’s right,” she murmured, as Julia began to whine. She flicked the leather lightly over Julia’s clit, eliciting moans from the chained girl.
As Julia’s moans escalated, Lady Rabine inverted the crop plunging the round blunt end into Julia’s hole. She pumped vigorously. Julia was writing and moaning, drooling around the ball gag as Lady Rabine kept an eye on her ensnared captive.
She had clearly done this before.
Right when Julia seemed like she was might explode, the Lady slowed down. She buried the rod deep in Julia’s pussy and began pulsed. Her eyes locked on Julia’s as her thumb danced lightly over Julia’s clit.
An orgasm ripped through Julia’s body. Her wrists shook in their overhead restraints as her eyes rolled up toward the ceiling, beautiful flaxen hair lying in tangled ruins down her back. Her legs trembled and she seized around the crop, still buried deep between her legs. She nearly chocked on the ball gag.
Lady Rabine stood watching her, an inscrutable expression on her face. Pleasure, desire, and contempt all rolled into one.
Slowly, Julia began to calm her ragged breaths. She was still in tears.
Lady Rabine took hold of the rod again, drawing it and out of Julia’s glistening pussy one last time. Then she thrust it firmly into the girl, leaving the leather end dancing between her outstretched legs.
“Hold onto my crop for me, slut.” she ordered. “Don’t let it slip out, or there’s be hell to pay.”
I shivered as she walked toward the door.
“I’ll be back.”