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.
