Anna woke, chained by the edge of the rough stone hearth. She stared into its cold recesses, wanting more sleep, but rousing herself before the last of the banked coals died out. She shifted and rose to her feet, brushing away the straw that clung to her muslin skirt, scant protection against winter's chill. She stretched up on toe top to reach a nub of candle, revealing tender pink arches and blackened heels. The iron shackle encircling Anna's ankle lay slack, and the heavy chain hung down, coiled loosely and fastened to an iron ring bolted to the floor at the side of the hearth. Taking a reed from the tinderbox, Anna stuffed its end deep into the dim glow of coals, saw smoke rise, and drew the reed in close, her slender hand hovering around the yellow flame. She touched the flame to the candlewick and watched it grow. Flickering light played on her small, freckled nose.
The candle flame grew taller as she carried it to the lamps and one by one, lit them around the expanse of stone floor and wooden planking, iron pots and buckets, dried herbs and hanging sausages. Anna's chain dragged behind her, raking and singing across the uneven stone and rattling as she reached the wood. Placing the candle back on the mantle, she pursed pale pink lips and blew it out. She licked her fingers with a quick tongue and pinched the wick. 18-year-old Anna's tangled blond hair hung in curls and wispy tendrils, bobbing with her every movement as she sighed and gripped the chain with one hand as she pulled on thick felt boots and then walked outside. Just out the kitchen doorway, she stooped low at the wood box and brought up heavy lengths of firewood. Anna turned and found her way inside and pulled in the snow-covered links behind her. Her fingers stuck to the frozen metal, and she winced. She built a fire in the center of the immense hearth, fanned the flames, watching as flames licked and caught the upper boughs. She wiped her reddened nose on a kerchief. The throbbing in her ankle lessened as she stood before the new fire. Snow melted from the chain's links. The girl looked into the flames and wondered if she'd ever get away.
A dull screech of wood on stone disturbed her reveries, and Anna paused, holding an iron pot in quivering arms, about to hoist it to the hook above the fire. She raised her pale brows, inclining her head toward the darkened passage leading from the kitchen to the rooms in the front of the house. Another dull screech of wood came, and the sound of his footsteps. Anna flicked her hair from her eyes and rushed the pot to its position, and in her haste, she splashed water from the pot into the fire. A whoosh of acrid smoke billowed out and flames sputtered wildly. . She began to fan the flames back to life with the bottom of her blouse, rapidly drawing the thin cloth up and down. She craned her neck, watching for the approach of her master. The rounded bottoms of Anna's breasts were thoughtlessly revealed in each upswing of her arms. Her nipples stiffened from cold air and fright.
A man strode from the darkness, his broad shoulders filling the narrow passage. He gripped the rough cloth of his shirt and tugged it over his massive form as he slowed to take in the sight of the girl. She stood tense inside a halo of dark ash. Her pale face and blond hair were spotted with soot. She trembled. He laughed at Anna as he jerked her hair and forced her to twist around to face him. "Look at you, covered with cinders." He shook his head, frowning as he slowly wound her hair around his hand. "And no meal started yet? Then you'll kneel here, girl and take what I give you." His thick forearm jerked her head toward him and her cheek slid hard down against his belly. Her soft lips and cheek were chafed against his shirt as he forced her onto her knees before him. She knelt, face still pressed hard to his growing bulge, knowing what was expected of her. He held her hair tight, and gripped her jaw, pinching it until she whimpered. He pushed her face backward enough to peer down into her eyes. He growled as he pulled his pants open, freed his cock and shoved it into Anna's small mouth.
The fire crackled back to life as he jammed his thick cock deep into her throat. Sparks flew and smoked in her hair. He watched her head as it bobbed, and smiled as Anna began to choke and sputter. He widened his stance and used both hands to pull her mouth harder onto him as he thrust and pounded in a brutal rhythm. He took his time, feeding off her body's jerks and her muffled cries as she fought to breathe. The girl's mouth was hot and wet and her lips sealed tight around his cock. He gazed down at her thin waist and the curve of her backside as he raped her soft face. He watched her mouth stretch wide. His thick shaft made her cheeks bulge and tears streaked her face. He grimaced and leered. The girl gasped and took in a quick breath as he withdrew from her. He gripped her hair and held her face close as his hot seed spurted over her eyes and lips and dribbled from her mouth and chin. Anna squeezed her eyes shut; she didn't see the blow coming. As soon as he'd finished using her, he used the flat of one broad hand to smack her small face, again and again, back and forth, her face bruising as his own fluids added to the sting.
"I'll eat my breakfast at the tavern. You clean up this mess," he said. His knuckles ground against her scalp and he yanked her hair, then finally released her. She crumpled as he let go, weeping soundlessly. He patted his pocket and nodded as he felt the key to her shackle. She felt his boots thud on the stone floor as he left her. An icy draft crept under her skirt and she sat up, shoulders jerking and twitching as she wept, miserable and cold.
Anna lay there only minutes, then rose again, touching her mouth gingerly, her fingertips resting on a welt. She drew a wool shawl around her shoulders, tied it in place, and began to sweep up the ash and cinders from the stones in front of the fireplace. The water in the pot started bubbling and she poured oats into it, wanting a thick hot porridge to soothe her. Her jaw ached, she couldn't chew. Anna stirred the oats and felt them thicken. She longed for a lump of sugar to sweeten them a bit. She filled a bowl and sat at the plank table, gazing out into the brilliant glare of sunlight on snow.
Anna thought about the key again. She ached as she remembered how close she'd come to stealing it just two days before. He'd forced her into his bed. The huge man had drunk far too much down in the tavern. He'd come home full of piss and fire to breed her. He'd flung her onto his bed and fucked her hard and shouted about getting many sons out of her, many sons to do the fieldwork, sons of his slave girl who'd have no more rights than she did, but to serve him. He filled her with his hot seed as he ranted, then he grunted, belched and passed out on top of her. She shifted and struggled and managed to get out from under his great bulk. Her eyes blazed as she realized her opportunity had finally come. She'd slip the key from his pocket and be free of him. She moved quietly, lifting the chain, not letting it clink as she searched the bedclothes for his vest. There. A corner of the vest stuck out from beneath his belly. He'd removed the vest, but now he sprawled out on top of it, his arms thrown up on either side of his head, his legs splayed, snoring loudly. She crouched beside the bed and began to tease the vest out from beneath him. She tugged and pulled and finally had half of the sodden garment in her hands, but not the side that held the key. He groaned and shifted in his sleep. She held her breath, as she held tight to the cloth, and as he turned away from her, she yanked hard. The cloth ripped and the key spun out, flying past her. It hit the floor, clanging as it skittered away from her.
She scrambled to retrieve it, but it had landed just out of her reach. She fumed and stretched out, laying her body flat out on the icy floor. She stretched, trying to tuck just one fingertip under the key. The iron shackle began to bite deeper into her leg as she strained to gain another inch, to save herself. No use! She couldn't stretch her arms out one more inch. Sighing, she sat up and looked around the room for a tool. Something, anything to draw that key to her. She spotted one of his heavy boots. She rose to her knees and crawled to retrieve it from under the bed.
He'd been watching her, of course. Some feral sense alerted him, even in his drunkenness, to his potential loss of property. He peered through slitted eyes as she stretched her slender body out to reach the prize. He grinned as he saw her firm breasts flattened against the rough floor, as she scrambled and pulled herself nearly apart to get that key. He felt his cock rise as he gazed on her wide-spread pussy still dripping his cum, one of her legs stretched out so straight by her bonds, the other knee drawn up, to pull herself forward. He let her fetch the boot. She turned back to crawl toward the key, his boot clutched in one hand. He rolled off the bed and brought his foot down hard on the small of her back, shoving her swiftly to the floor. Her knees were scraped raw as he pushed her down. She cried out as her chin thudded against stone. He stood, shifting his weight onto her completely, and she couldn't breathe. He hiccuped, chuckled and bent down, picking up the key with a casual sweep of his hand. She sucked in air as he walked away, carrying the key to a hook a good ten feet beyond the reach of her chain. He dragged her by her chain out to the hearth side, and then he beat her.
