A Slave's Journey Begins

It had taken only a few days for the fever that took hold of Tara's mother's body to take her life as well. Tara had seen her Master at the cremation and had so badly wanted to run to him, to feel his arms around her, but his face had remained like stone and he had looked right through her. He was not there when the collar bearing the Blackmore crest was fixed around her neck and over the next year, he visited his country home less and less. Tara kept the house as best she could and numbed herself to the outside world. When word came that her Master had died, she felt a fresh wave of sadness wash over her and feeling truly alone in the world, she had taken to her bed with no intention of getting up again.

Tara's first thought when she awoke the next day had been that the house was being robbed. The sound of horses outside her window, a clattering from the kitchen below, and most alarmingly, the voices of strange men approaching her bedroom filled her with panic. Frantically, she had searched her sparsely furnished room for anything that could be used as a weapon and that's how the two Stewards of Blackmore Estate came to find her - a wisp of a girl in a white cotton nightdress, blonde hair hanging loose in a tangled mess of curls, wielding a wooden hairbrush.

"Well, what have we here?" the dark haired Steward had said. "It looks to me like a little bird from the village thought she could make a pretty nest in a big empty house. Tell me, are you a friendly bird?" He reached his hand towards her and Tara swung wildly at him with the brush. He easily ducked her swing and grabbed her flailing arm, twisting her hand behind her back and turning her around so that her back was pressed against the wall of his body. With his free hand, he roamed the length of her through her nightgown.

"Not much in the way of tits on this one... Let's see what else you have to make up for that."

Tara could feel a growing hardness through his tunic and although she fought him with all her strength, her writhing only served to excite him further. "Does the bird have a name?" he asked, as his hand went to lift her gown. In response, Tara turned her head and bit him.

"Ow!' the Steward cried out, more from surprise than from pain as Tara hadn't done him much damage at all. He gathered up her hair in his fist and pulled her head back sharply. "None of that, wild little bird," he growled. "Or I'll have to cut your wings."

"Lucas, stop." The other Steward who had been casually watching his friend play with the girl suddenly spoke. "She's collared."

Lucas let go of Tara's hair and spun her around roughly so that they faced each other. His eyes fell on the steel collar around her neck and he ran his thumb across the markings it bore.

"It looks real," he said.

"I thought the old man didn't believe in the keeping of slaves," the other steward replied, moving closer to get a better look at Tara himself. "Besides, look at her. Does she look like a slave to you?"

Tara had all but forgotten about the collar she wore and what it signified. Words from a different lifetime came rushing back to her. What had the Slave Mistress said...

"In your Master's absence, or if he is indisposed, he may grant permission for you to be used by others as he sees fit. This may include guests of his house, members of his family, or those stewards, guards, or groundsmen he employs. Remember that even the lowliest stable boy has the right to take his pleasure with you if it serves the pleasure of your Master and you must strive to serve everyone with equal obedience and humility."

Under the gaze of the two young men, Tara became very aware of how far from the mark of what she was supposed to be, she must actually seem and her face filled with colour.

"Well at least she has the good sense to blush!" Lucas had laughed.

"What do you want to do with her?" his red-haired companion had asked.

"Load her onto the cart and take her back to the Young Master with the rest of his father's things, I suppose," Lucas replied. To Tara he said, "Collect your things, slave, and present yourself within the hour at the front gates." Turning on his heel, he called, "Come on, Liam, let's finish clearing the other rooms. At this rate, it will be midnight by the time we're home."

Liam turned to give Tara a last glance and said, "What if she runs away?"

"I wouldn't worry about that," Lucas had said. "One look at her collar and anyone from any of these parts would know exactly where to return her. Where could she possibly go?"

Tara had listened to their voices fade down the hallway and then sat heavily on her narrow bed. She could easily slip through the garden door and hide in the woods, but what the Steward had said was right. If she ran now, she would have to live as her mother had done - in constant fear and hiding. And yet, if she went with these men, there was no telling what lay ahead. It could be they offered her a chance to join the world for which she had been trained. Or it could be they would slit her throat, throw her lifeless body in the river and no one would ever be the wiser. Tara made up her mind. It's a chance I must take, she thought. Besides, she couldn't deny that the Steward's rough hands on her body had filled her with fear, yes, but also a breathless rush of excitement. She began gathering her meager possessions - the hairbrush flung into a corner, the doll given to her once upon a time by her Master, and a few items of clothing. She got dressed, twisted her unruly hair into something resembling a braid and wrapping her mother's shawl around her shoulders, made her way into the early afternoon sunshine.

Lucas and Liam were hoisting two remaining trunks onto the wooden cart. When they noticed her standing there, there was a brief discussion of where to put her and a hasty rearranging of things to make a space for her to sit. Standing in the cart, Lucas offered her a hand to help her up. She took it, but hesitated as she looked at the space they had made. The wood was splintered and caked with dirt.

"Wait," Lucas had said. He jumped down and after rummaging around the front of the cart for a few minutes, had returned with a worn looking blanket which he spread out for her to sit on. The unexpected act of kindness caught Tara off guard and she felt tears spring to her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered. And then remembering herself, she said louder, "Thank you, Sir."

"Ah, she speaks," Tilting her chin up with his thumb, he gave her a long look. His eyes were dark, his skin tan, his mouth turned up at the corners. Tara felt her stomach flip-flop and she found she could not hold his gaze. Lucas cracked a wolfish grin and gave her bottom a sound smack as he hopped off the cart and mounted his horse.

Tara had tried to keep her wits about her as their journey began, but as the hours passed, she found herself dozing off and had finally fallen asleep as the sun went down. When she woke again, it was pitch dark, her body felt bruised and sore from the constant bumping of the cart and the night around her felt full of strange and menacing sounds. She wondered how long she had been dreaming and tried to look around for any clues as to where they might be. In the distance, she thought she saw the flickering of light which could only mean that the city was not far off. Suddenly nervous about what was in store for her there, Tara sank down in the cart and rested her head on her knees, doing her best to shut out the world around her. For this moment at least, she was safe. She did not look up even when she felt the cart jolt to a stop and movement of things around her. It was only when she heard Lucas' voice and felt the glow of his lantern fall on her that she raised her head.

"Wake up, little slave," he said. Tara rose unsteadily, but her legs were stiff from being in the same position too long and she toppled forward. Strong arms were there to break her fall and then scoop her up entirely. Hoisting her over his shoulder, Lucas carried her into Blackmore Estate. It seemed to Tara she passed through a winding maze of dimly lit corridors before being deposited in the center of a large circular room. As Tara took in the thick carpets, plush chairs, and generous cushions that filled the room, Lucas stoked the fire that was burning until it roared with fresh warmth. She saw Liam appear in the doorway.

"He's waiting for you," he said to Lucas.

Lucas turned to Tara and said, "Wait here. The Master of the house will be here shortly." Seeing the bewildered expression on her face, he seemed to want to say something more, but then thought better of it.

"Do you think he'll keep her?" Liam asked as they turned to leave.

"I hope so," Lucas replied, his eyes raking over her one more time. "I really hope so."

The young Thomas Blackmore surveyed the mess of things piling up in his courtyard. He knew he should take a closer look at it in the light of day, but the thought of going through the dusty relics of his father's life filled him with a deep sadness and he felt almost ready to take a match to the whole lot of it. He had tried to convince his father many times to sell off the ramshackle cottage in the country, but the old man had stubbornly refused, choosing a life with some stolen whore over a life with his family. Thomas had a mind for matters of money and from the day he had turned eighteen, had taken over all his father's business affairs and investments. Ten years later, the Blackmores were among the richest families in the city, and Thomas - the Young Master, as he was known - had built an estate full of the finest horses, wines, and slaves to be found. Standing well over six feet tall, with his chiseled features, distinctive white-blonde hair and icy grey eyes, he cut an imposing figure and there were few who would cross him. He heard Lucas come in behind him.

"Is this all of it?" he asked. When Lucas didn't answer, he turned to look at his Steward and long time friend. "Lucas, I'm tired. Is this all of it?"

"Not quite, Sir," Lucas replied. "You had better come see for yourself."

The fire had warmed the Round Room and was casting long shadows on the walls when Thomas entered. In the middle of the room was a rail thin girl in the clothes of a peasant. In different circumstances, Thomas might have thought she was a thief trying to steal some food to eat or something of value to sell and would have seen her punished. He might even have enjoyed punishing her himself. Could it really be that his father had kept this creature as a collared slave? That hypocrite, Thomas thought bitterly. After all the old man's ranting about how owning slaves was wrong, after all their drawn out arguments about keeping slaves' quarters at Blackmore Estate, after all his condemnations of the excellent profits Thomas had made buying and selling the most beautiful and skilled of slavegirls - after all that, to discover that his father had kept a slave himself, Thomas felt at once relieved and betrayed. He walked deliberately to the chair by the fire and sat down. The girl did nothing. With his boot, he nudged a cushion into place at the foot of the chair. Still, she did not move. Finally he turned to regard her fully. She looked terrified.

"Come here, slave," he said, his tone cold and sharp. "Present yourself properly."

Present yourself. That was a command with a corresponding position that she used to know, but now, Tara's mind went blank. Was she supposed to stand or kneel? Hands behind her back or behind her neck? Should she try to explain herself or say nothing at all? Tara found herself paralyzed, standing awkwardly in front of this powerful stranger, her heart beating too fast, her face growing redder with every passing second.

Thomas sighed impatiently. This was no slave. He stood abruptly, meaning to dismiss her at once, but towering over her, the glint of metal around her neck, hidden beneath her ragged shawl caught his eye. He tore the shawl from her shoulders and tossed it on the ground. The collar she wore was plain, silver steel, nothing like the elaborately adorned collars of other slaves of his house, but it was well made and the imprint of the Blackmore crest was clear. So it was true. Leave it to the old man to give the collar of our house to a slave with no training, he thought. He looked down at the girl, who seemed to be visibly quivering and felt his cock twitch. She needed a bath and some meat on her bones, but otherwise, she might make a decent addition. He had recently sold a slave with golden hair and although she had brought an excellent price, he had regretted losing her as soon as the deal was done. Thinking now of the expert caress of those soft lips, his cock swelled insistently and he decided the slave was worth trying out.

As he circled her, Tara felt like she could barely breathe. She felt him undoing the buttons of her dress until it fell away, leaving her clad in nothing but her thin white petticoat. She could not bring herself to look up at his face, but she felt certain that those piercing eyes missed nothing about her, from the curve of her small breasts with their pink nipples, to her long legs meeting in an untouched bush of blonde curls.

"On your knees," he said. She obeyed instantly. He undid the opening of his trousers and Tara got her first real look at a thick cock in the flesh. At the Slave Mistress' house, she had seen crudely drawn pictures, heard elaborate descriptions, and even come up with her own dark and secret imaginings of what it might be like, how it might feel in her hand and taste in her mouth, but none of that had prepared her for the musky, growing hardness that confronted her now. He pressed the tip to her lips and she opened them. She flicked a kitten tongue over the head and tasted salt before feeling his warm flesh fill her mouth completely. She explored the ridged, veiny terrain of his cock with her tongue and hoped that whatever he planned to do next, she would not be found unsatisfactory.

Thomas stood still and let the girl get used to the feel of his cock in her mouth. He withdrew and then pushed back in, a little deeper, pleased to find her obedient and responsive. He had broken in his fair share of slaves and knew from experience that a girl who lacked the skills of a slave was far easier to train than a girl who lacked the submission of a slave, although there were ways, some more vigorous than others, to attain both. He decided to push her further.

"Look at me," he commanded. And when she did, he pushed his cock firmly to the back of her throat. Instinctively she tried to pull her head back, but he clamped his hand into her tangled hair and forced her to stay still. He pulled back slightly and then drove in again, forcing the full length of his shaft down her throat. Her big blue eyes widened and filled with tears as she choked on this new invasion. He began fucking her mouth in earnest then, with long rough strokes that left her sputtering and gasping for air. When he came, she only managed to swallow a bit of his sticky seed, choking and gagging on the rest, spilling it down her chin in thick white globs that spattered on her petticoat. Tears streaming down her freckled face, she knelt before him in misery and he considered his options. On one hand, there was something he liked about her, but on the other, he had a reputation to maintain and couldn't risk a slave from his house performing so disgracefully, especially in public. Just as he was closing his pants, she did something he did not expect. She grabbed his hand and pressed her moist lips to the back of his fingers. Then she clasped her hands neatly behind her back and waited, eyes down, knees apart. A small smile crossed Thomas' face. So she had had some training after all.

"What's your name, slave?" he asked her.

"Tara, Sir," she replied.

Leaving her as she was, he strode to the door. "Take her to the slaves' quarters," he said to the paige waiting just outside. "Tell Leanna she has five days and the use of my Stewards to do what she can with this one. She'll have an opportunity to serve at Sunday's banquet and I'll decide whether she should be kept or sold after that."

The paige, a boy younger than she, led Tara down hallway after hallway and finally up a flight of stairs, through a guarded set of heavy doors and into a small receiving room. A curtain opened in the back of the room and a woman came to greet them. She stood at least a head and a half taller than Tara, not counting the thick, dark hair piled high in shiny coils on her head. She wore a long robe in deep red that shimmered slightly when she moved and through which her smooth, lustrous skin could just barely be glimpsed. Tied with a sash, the front of the robe dipped invitingly to reveal a wide gold collar studded with gleaming gem stones and below that, a good deal of her generous, creamy breasts. Tara thought she could just make out what looked like a gold ring piercing each nipple. "Who on earth is this?" she asked.

The paige relayed the Young Master's instructions and disappeared.

Leanna looked the girl over. She was young and perhaps too thin, but there was an innocence about her yet that that could make her a valuable slave, if she could learn to use it. She had a good many questions for this new addition to the quarters over which she presided in Blackmore Estate and taking in her dazed expression, uncertain posture, and the mess on her petticoat, Leanna suspected she would also have a good deal of work ahead to prepare her properly. But it was late and she was expecting one of the girls to be returned shortly. After a night with one of the Young Master's guests - a merchant who more often than not, drank too much and then angered by his failing cock, compensated too heavily with his riding crop - Leanna would have her hands full. What the girl needed now was sleep and everything else could wait till the morning.

"Alright, come along," she said, gesturing for the girl to follow her behind the curtain. But the girl took a half step forward and then with a soft moan, crumpled into a heap on the floor.