The One Called Mercy

Author's Note:

On the 1st of January 2013 a story I submitted to Lit. was approved. The title was "Mercy" and it was set in a world similar to Europe in the 1800s. It is by no means historical fiction, so don't look for references that point out any major royal family member or recognizable landscapes – you may or may not find them.

As I wrote that short bit of erotica I began to fall in love with the character and promised myself that I would come back to her and I would write her past, and share with the readers what circumstances formed my dear submissive, but very strong and confidant Mercy. This is her story and I hope you enjoy it as much as I. ~ Red

1828

The stench of his breath forced her stomach to twist as he grabbed her chin and pulled her face closer to his. Mercy's gaze shot back and forth between the leering look of the farmer and her father's soulless gaze. The swollen lip and black eye she sported were signs that her father would no longer listen to her pleas and cries for aid. He had sold her to Henry Tatewater for land that bordered the Lewis farm and there was no turning back, even though she had been born free and had developed a mind of her own – she was a woman and that meant she was worth less than the land they stood upon.

"Get yourself in the carriage girl," Tatewater said before dropping his hand from her chin and stepping back. "We'll discuss your role in my life as we travel back to my home."

Mercy's lower lip trembled as a tear rolled down her dirty cheek. She had been working in the barn when she heard her father yelling for her. Not a moment was wasted as she made her way to his side and hurried to greet their guest. Henry Tatewater had stood there staring at her as if he would devour her without thought or care. And when her father explained that she was to go with the farmer and do his bidding, she knew her world would never be the same. Without thought to the consequences she turned away, hoping to run as fast and as far as her long legs would take her. The flight was cut short when her father pulled her back, turned her around and smashed her face with his fist. She cursed his name and another punch was delivered, breaking her lip. Tatewater had done nothing to stop the assault.

Once more she looked at her father and searched his face, hoping for a sign of parental love that would prove that she was simply having a bad dream. Surely her eighteenth birthday was not being celebrated by an introduction into slavery. "Go on!" Henry shouted and pushed her toward the carriage.

Mercy stumbled forward and walked the short distance that separated her from her father and Tatewater's vehicle. Her chest was tight and her palms were cold and clammy. She looked back and said a silent prayer, before turning away and racing toward the woods. "You fuckin' whore! I'll beat you till you're dead!" her father shouted. She looked back and screamed as he started to run toward her.

"Stop!" Henry shouted, while grabbing the old man. He turned toward his carriage and shouted out a name, "Matthews!"

Mercy ran harder, while spinning her head to look toward the carriage. A tall, thin black man jumped down from the vehicle and sprinted after her. It did not take him long to catch her. She was lifted up and tossed over his shoulder. Mercy screamed and pummeled his back with her fists, but no damage did she inflict. He was much stronger than he looked and when they reached the carriage, Henry Tatewater was there with the door open. Matthews threw her inside and she landed squarely on the hard wooden floor. She moved to crawl onto the bench, but was told to "stay put". She looked at Henry and knew the demand had come from him and that the look on his face told her that his word was law.

He ordered Matthews back to his post and then gave Mercy's father a gentlemanly nod, before climbing in and taking a seat on the cushioned bench of his carriage. The horses pulled away, taking Mercy away from the only parent she had and the only home she'd ever known.

She sat on the floor, tucking her feet up under her, while staring at the ground that peeked through the slatted wood. "Mercy, look up at me."

Mercy lifted her head and stared silently toward Tatewater. He looked like the same man she had seen coming and going from her father's lands for the past eighteen years, but there was a different air about him now that he possessed her. He was no longer a neighbor, or one of her father's friends, he was her enemy.

"I know you hate me," he said as she continued to stare at him. "But in time you'll see that living with me is not such a harsh life. My home is spacious, warm, and my larders full. You are young and with youth comes strength. As you know I have four children and they are in need of mothering and though I am not a young man, I am not a dead man." He saw her lift a brow and he chuckled. "Oh but you would like that wouldn't you? Me dead and you free. But before you begin planning my demise, let me explain your place in my world."

He cleared his throat, reached down and touched her cheek. Mercy pulled away, but he moved to grasp her chin. He held her firmly in place while he bent down and spoke softly to her. "You are nothing. You are a piece of finery that becomes just another trinket for my offspring to inherit. Now since my eldest is not yet of legal age that means a member of my family would be in charge of distributing my wealth and property. That relative is my father, a man that taught me everything I know and a man who has outlived six wives. Why do you think that is?"

Mercy swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and thought back over the rumors of Tatewater's father. His last wife had been killed while traveling to her mother's home. It was said that her horse stumbled, tossing her from its back and she fell to her death. A few years prior to her death, his other wife had died when she fell from the loft of their stables.

"I see the wheels are turning," Henry was saying. "Now, my father is currently married to a woman, who is twice your age. You are young, untrained and easy on the eyes. Do you think he would hesitate to dispose of wife number seven so he can take you as wife number eight?"

"And your wife – did you dispose of her?"

Henry smirked. "No, I did not, though my father believes I did. Jane passed away from childbirth. The babe lived and will be one of the four whelps you will be in charge of."

"I know nothing of children," she admitted, "and even less about being a wife."

"A wife?" Henry laughed. He reached down and cupped her right breast. She slapped his hand away. He laughed again, then slapped her face. "I don't want nor need a wife. I need a slut and a nanny."

Mercy turned away and buried her face in her shoulder. He toyed with her hair and twisted several locks around his fingers. "A willing slut is what I desire, but I have no qualms forcing you to service me." He pulled her up to her knees, using her hair as a rope. Mercy grabbed his wrist and tried to free herself. He clicked his tongue against his teeth and shook his head. "No, my little whore. You don't want to fight me." He reached between his legs and opened his trousers. His cock, hard from the promising warmth of her young mouth, jerked toward her. "Open your mouth Mercy," he said as he brought her face closer to his groin. "Do not bite me girl, but take me in, just the head, then suck as if you were drawing out the succulent juices of a ripe peach."

She stared at the swollen appendage. Its bulbous head with a dark center eye stared back at her. Mercy felt her stomach knot and roll in disgust. Her gaze shifted from his cock to Henry's eyes. Again her lips trembled and tears fell. She shook her head no, then cried out when he pulled her hair and forced her head back. He lowered his face to hers and spit at her when he spoke. "This act is nothing compared to what I will make you do. Take my cock, girl, suck it and when I spill my seed down your pretty little throat, you will accept every drop. Is that understood?"

Mercy nodded her head and felt his hold on her relax. "Good," he whispered, then pushed her back toward his throbbing shaft. "I know your mother died when you were but a babe, so your ignorance is both a curse and a blessing. I will instruct you, but only once, be sure to listen closely. After you suck on the head, open your mouth further and begin to coax the shaft down your throat. It will take practice, but when it comes to a nice, deep, throat fuck, I am a patient man," he whispered, then chuckled at the lie that spilled easily from his lips.

She opened her mouth, closed her eyes and took in the head of her owner's sex. The spongy tip was softer than she had imagined it. Her scalp hurt from Henry's pulling, but the more she sucked the softer his hold became. She turned her head to the side and opened her eyes just enough so she could make out his expression. Mercy was surprised by the relaxed look on his face. Gone were the angry and hostile lines that had greeted her the minute she balked at the selling of her soul. Instead his looks had softened. His eyes were closed and his lips were soft.

Her brow furrowed in confusion as she continued to suck on his cock. She recalled his demand that she slowly take more of him in and began to act on his order. As she took another inch of his member into the warmth of her mouth, his expression changed again as did the grip on her hair. He began to pet her and his lips parted, words slipped free and none of them were harsh or cruel. In fact the more she sucked and the deeper she drew him in the kinder the words became. "Yes, my sweet sweet girl." "Perfect." "Deeper." "Slower." "Right there." "Oh fuck yes."

Mercy felt a sense of control sweep over her. She popped off his dick and stared shockingly at his wet rod.

"What is it?" Henry asked, clearing his throat and questioning her reasons for abandoning her chore.

"What is this that I'm doing?"

He laughed, reached down and stroked her cheek, then traced her lips with the pad of his thumb. "It is called sucking my cock and you are a natural. If I didn't know better I would say you were experienced, but your father has guaranteed you are innocent and for what I paid him, he would dare not lie to me."

"I am pure," Mercy admitted.

"Tell me Mercy, did you like what you were doing? Sucking my cock?"

Mercy stared at his member and thought about how it felt in her mouth. She realized it was not the act of sucking his cock that she had liked, but it was how he seemed to forget she was there. He no longer pulled her hair, nor had he threatened her when she stopped sucking him. Her gaze went back to meet his and she lowered her eyes. "I did." Instantly she felt his hand on her chin and the harsh touch he'd used on her was gone.

"A fine gem you will be," he said before coaxing her back to his slick member. She opened her mouth and drew him in. "Yes, a fine gem indeed."

As she began to move his dick further into her mouth, she thought to herself about how to use her body to control her fate. It was apparent that Henry Tatewater was going to use her however he deemed fit, and he had already proved that if she cooperated and willingly gave him what he wanted his touch would be light. "Deeper," he said, interrupting her thoughts. She took a deep breath and gagged while trying to shove his member down her throat.

Instinct had her pulling away. "Breathe through your nose," he hissed and pushed her back down. He held her there, forcing her to gag around his rod. "Take it," he ordered as she clawed at his thighs and tried to free herself. He wrapped her hair around his fingers and lifted her up, then slammed her back down on his shaft. "Breathe through your nose!" he demanded before repeating the process of fucking her throat.

The pain was back. Her head hurt. Her temples pounded. Her throat was sore and fear rolled through her, but she did as he ordered and began to breathe through her nose as he used her. A warm hot fluid filled her mouth and she knew it was the seed that he had spoken of earlier. She balked at the taste and the knowledge of his juice coating her tongue and filling her throat.

The threat of his hand against her cheek, or his fist against her face made her swallow the gushing milk. She tasted the salt and wanted to vomit, but he controlled her and held her to the base of his crotch. Tears fell from her eyes as his seed continued to be drawn out of his tight balls. When he was done, Mercy felt him relax. She was pushed off his sex and told to wipe her mouth. With a trembling hand, she wiped off the excess fluids that coated the sides of her lips. "Now clean your hand," he said, through panted breaths.

Mercy looked for something to wipe away the sticky fluids.

"With your tongue girl."

Her lips curled in disgust and Henry Tatewater laughed. "Waste not a drop. It is precious – my seed."

She licked her lips, tasted him again and swallowed the bile that threatened to free itself from her stomach. Quickly she licked her hand and washed herself like a pet cleansing its fur. Henry repaired his state of dress and said nothing more to Mercy. She sat on the floor and prayed that soon she would be given something to cleanse the taste of his fluids from her mouth.

They reached his home and Henry helped her from the carriage. "You will share my room," he said as Matthews hurried ahead of them. He opened the door, stepped back and waited until both Henry and Mercy were inside. Once they had crossed the threshold, he closed the doors and returned to tend to the carriage and the horses.

Inside Henry's home Mercy immediately was assaulted by four children, though in truth, the fourth was an infant cradled in a young boy's arms. "So is this our new mother?" the boy with the babe asked.

"No. I explained she would be a nanny, not your mother."

The boy walked over and thrust the baby into Mercy's arms. She quickly took it, fearing that if she did not, the boy would have willingly dropped the infant on the cold hard floor. The three children, turned and ran upstairs, while the babe stared up at the strange woman.

"This is Sara," Henry said. "She's been nursing from Matthews' wife's tit. She'll be along shortly and the other three, those are my sons. Daniel, the one that gave you the babe. Micheal, the redheaded boy, and Jack the smaller of the three." Henry looked up and angled his head. "Ah, perfect timing. Ruth, this is Mercy."

Before Mercy could say anything she was greeted by a dark woman with short hair and large breasts. Stains of dried milk covered her bodice. "There's the wee one," the woman said and reached for baby Sara. "I'll take her. It's time for her feeding."

Mercy willingly gave up the infant and watched as the black woman walked away. She then turned to look questionably at Henry. He looked down at her and allowed his gaze to roam across her bosom. "Perhaps another lesson before supper," he whispered, before grabbing her wrist and pulling her toward the stairs.

The first few weeks of Mercy's instructional period were made up mostly of beatings that were delivered by a firm hand. That first day when Henry dragged her up the stairs and threw her into his room, she had immediately searched for a weapon to protect herself. Fear of the unknown drove her to seek out something to destroy her Master with. He was prepared and had her bound with a leather cord before she could grasp the candle stick that rested on a bedside table.

After her first night, he explained that her sexual needs could be met, if she desired it. She cursed him and another lesson commenced, one that had her suspended naked from a chain that hung from a rafter in his stable. A whip was laid upon her skin and the punishment did not cease until she was begging him for forgiveness.

When Henry gave the signal that he was finished, Matthews stepped out of the shadows, lowered her and carried her past Henry's oldest son. She hid her face in his shoulder, wincing whenever his fingers brushed against her red-streaked flesh. He placed her on the Master's bed and called for his wife, who began to sooth her sore muscles and broken skin. Henry took her that night and praised her for not fighting him. He covered her backside with his seed, and spread it over her flesh marking every inch of her. When he was done, she was left alone and slept fitfully. When morning arrived she relieved him of his morning erection, swallowing his cum while willing herself not to throw up.

The second beating came when she ran from his chambers after he flipped her over and tried to penetrate her ass. He did not force his cock into her tight hole, but instead had her tied face down onto his bed. She begged him not to punish her and promised to please him in all ways. He laughed, told her he was proud of her and then he gave her ass to Matthews. The black man's cock was much larger than Henry's and when he pushed his way into the virgin channel Henry was there encouraging his slut to welcome every rock hard inch. Matthews did not come but when he was ordered from the room Mercy's ass was stretched and she welcomed the smaller dick of her Master.

The harshest beating was delivered when Mercy refused to suckle milk from Ruth's tits and lick her pussy until she came. Henry had used the black woman, then used Mercy and then he had told both women to fuck and lick each other. Ruth moved to do Henry's bidding, while Mercy stared back in shock and horror. When the black woman reached out to stroke Mercy's breasts, the young woman screamed and scooted back.

Henry rose from the chair he'd been occupying and slapped the white woman. Mercy scrambled from the bed and again tried to flee from her Master's bedchamber. She was brought back and punished until once more she was agreeing to do his bidding. She brought Ruth to climax four times before Henry shoved his dick into Mercy's pussy and fucked her, ordering Ruth from the room.

The following morning Ruth came to Mercy and shared with her how easier life would be, if she simply obeyed the Master and welcomed every thrust of his cock, whether it was delivered to her throat, her pussy, or her ass. "Embrace him. Learn from him and eventually you will become someone he cares for and perhaps marries."

"I don't wish to become his wife!"

Ruth reached out and held Mercy's hand. "A wife holds more power than a slave."

Mercy stared silently back at the black woman and recalled the power she had felt that first time in the carriage and his cock was settled in her mouth. She then recalled the story Henry had told her concerning his father. "A wife has no power," Mercy whispered. "Nor does a slave – but a servant, a willing and obedient servant who aches to please her Master – she holds power and the Master is so full of himself that he doesn't realize how much she controls him."

Ruth eyed her suspiciously. "Whatever you are thinking Miss Mercy, let it go. Just serve Master Tatewater and enjoy the passion he can bring to you. In the end you may discover that you crave what he provides."

Mercy lifted a brow in disbelief.

"Before he looses control, do you not become aroused by the pain he inflicts?"

"Nothing about Henry Tatewater arouses me," Mercy answered.

Ruth laughed. "You lie to yourself because you fear the answer. I have witnessed the desire in your eyes and the way your body quivers when he shouts for you to come to him. Yet, you push and push, forcing him to punish you until you are begging for relief from his abuse. Why else would you do this, unless you desire it?"

Mercy rolled her eyes and rose from where she'd been sitting. "I fight him because what he is doing is wrong! I am not property! I am a free woman!"