A Slave's Journey Begins

Tara sat gingerly on the edge of her bed in the slaves' shared sleeping rooms. Now that the adrenaline from her session with Liam had faded, she was left aching all over with an especially sore backside. She wished Siara was there, but her bed was unmade, her green robe thrown on the floor and she was nowhere in sight. And Katya, it seemed, had no interest whatsoever in talking to her. She had barely even glanced up when Tara arrived.

Tara tried to take the girl in without staring obviously. She looked to be about Tara's own age with porcelain skin and jet black hair that fell around her like an ebony curtain. Her bedsheet covered her from the waist down, but Tara could make out a fine curve to her silhouette and could see that her bare breasts were perfect white globes with blushing pink nipples. With her slight build and delicate features, she reminded Tara of a doll she had seen once in a shopkeeper's window. There was something else vaguely familiar about her that Tara couldn't quite put her finger on, but what drew her curiosity the most was not how Katya looked, but what she was doing. Lying on her side with her head propped up in one hand, Katya was reading a book.

It had never occurred to Tara that women were allowed to read or even capable of reading. It was a pass time for men, not for women and certainly not for slaves. It had never concerned her much, as she couldn't begin to imagine what might be of interest for her in any of the dusty old volumes she had seen in her old Master's chambers. An image popped into Tara's head of herself sitting behind his large desk, reading important documents, while a slave girl knelt at her feet. It was so ridiculous that Tara almost laughed out loud. She must have made some sound, as she realized that Katya's inky cat eyes were fixed on her, but still she did not speak and it made Tara increasingly more uncomfortable.

"Can... Can you really read that?" she said finally, nodding at Katya's book.

"Of course," Katya replied. "Can't you?" Her sarcastic tone would have been clear to anyone familiar with sarcasm, but Tara was not and took the question at face value.

"No!" she exclaimed. "Well, my mother never taught me anyway. I supposed because nobody taught her. Is it very difficult?"

Katya merely rolled her eyes and went back to her book, but now that the uncomfortable silence was broken, Tara was in no hurry to go back to it.

"My um... my training today was with Sir Liam. He's the one with red - "

"I know who he is," Katya cut her off without looking up.

"Well... I hope I pleased him," Tara said a little lamely. "He went pretty hard on me though. I don't know how I'm going to find a comfortable position to sleep in tonight, I'm so sore!"

"He barely touched you," Katya said flatly.

Tara's mind flashed to the afternoon she had spent with Liam - the paddles and the rope and the sting of the crop and the radiating pain of his hand spanking her while the other hand... Tara flushed with the memory and with indignation.

"He certainly did!" she said, trying to keep the pitch of her voice from rising.

Katya fixed her with a withering stare and then turned over, sitting up slightly so that her sheet fell away, exposing her buttocks. Tara gasped as she took in the large red welts covering Katya's pale skin. She unconsciously touched a hand to her own lower back and realized suddenly that despite how long and how hard she thought Liam had worked her over, her skin wasn't broken and although tender to touch, was barely even bruised. She wanted to say something to Katya but when she opened her mouth, no words came out. She waited for Katya to speak or turn around, but she did neither. Finally, Tara turned away from the marked backside and lay on her side, facing the wall. I wonder what tomorrow holds, she thought as her eyes fluttered closed.

Tara was shaken to her senses the next morning just as the sun was coming up. Her entire body ached and as she stood to stretch the stiffness from her limbs, she thought how good a nice long soak in the stone pool was going to feel. She followed Siara to the bathing room, but there was no bath drawn for her today. Instead Siara presented her with a bucket, a cloth and a chunk of soap root.

"You have ten minutes to get yourself cleaned up," Siara said.

The water was cold and the cloth rough, but Tara did the best she could. When she was done, Siara used her robe to pat the shivering girl dry and pulled her hair back, securing it tightly with a small band.

"Alright, let's go," she said, turning on her heel and heading towards the curtains that separated the inner chambers from the entrance.

"Wait!" Tara cried. "I'm.. I'm not ready. Shouldn't I get dressed at least?"

"Dressed in what?" Siara replied. "The rags you came in? I don't think so. And I'm afraid you have yet to earn yourself a robe so naked you are and naked you'll stay until Mistress Leanna says otherwise. Besides, you're serving in the kitchen today. It's going to get messy."

The kitchen at Blackmore Estate was bright and noisy and there seemed to be several things going on all at once, from the stable boys shouting out back, to the servers scurrying upstairs to the main rooms and downstairs to the cellars, to the cook arguing with a woman selling chickens. The wonderful smell of baking bread filled the room and Tara inhaled deeply, feeling her stomach rumble as she realized how hungry she was.

"And what is this scrap of a thing?" Tara looked up to see a large woman wearing an apron with a shock of red hair pinned under a kerchief staring down at her.

"Good morning, Ma'am," Siara said, bowing slightly. "This slave is in training and Mistress Leanna has asked if she may of service to the kitchen today, if it pleases you."

"Ah yes," the Kitchen Mistress replied. "Liam told me about this one. Well, come closer and present yourself to me properly little wench. Let me see my boy's handiwork."

Tara's mind barely registered the command before her body was moving to obey. Almost instantaneously, she found herself on her knees, legs spread,chest out, hands clasped behind her neck, eyes down.

The Kitchen Mistress circled Tara, remarking, "My goodness, there's barely a mark on her!" Then turning her gaze on Siara, she said, "Saving his talents for someone else perhaps."

Tara's eyes darted up to see colour rising in Siara's cheeks, but when she spoke, her tone was even. "Please, Ma'am, I am called to attend the Young Master's guests on the hunt today. May I take your leave?"

"Yes, my dear," the Kitchen Mistress replied and with another little bow, Siara was gone. "As for you," she said, turning back to Tara, "Your post is there." She nodded towards a woven mat in the corner beside the door. "You will be quiet, obedient, and stay out of the way. You will present yourself and service anyone who wishes to make use of you to the best of your abilities. If there is no one about, you may rest on your heels, but don't get lazy. If you miss a chance to serve, you'll regret it later. Do you understand?"

Tara wasn't sure if she did understand, but she answered immediately, "Yes, Ma'am. Thank you, Ma'am."

She had barely taken up position on the mat when a young paige came down the stairs into the kitchen. He picked up an apple from a large basket of fruit sitting on the cook's table and was about to bite into it when he noticed her and his eyes lit up.

"I know her!" he said. "I brought her up the slave quarters two nights ago. She's new, isn't she? Do you think I could give her a try?"

"She's there for the taking, boy," the Kitchen Mistress replied. "Do what you will with her."

The paige dropped the apple in his pocket and approached Tara. He touched her hair lightly and then ran his fingers over her pert breasts, causing her nipples to harden.

"You can look at me," he said. Tara looked up at him and he smiled almost shyly.

"Would you fancy sucking me off?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir," Tara replied, although it felt strange to address the boy that way,

On her knees before him, Tara tried to keep her hands from shaking as she undid his pants. Her eyes widened as his cock sprung into view. It was so small! Without thinking, she reached out and wrapped her fingers around the base, feeling it swell and harden more.

"Ahh," the boy sighed with pleasure. "That's nice. You can use your hands and your mouth together if you like."

Tara tentatively took the head of the boy's cock in her mouth and then slowly slid her lips down the shaft to meet her hand. She could feel the tip tickling the back of her throat, but it was nothing like when the Young Master had used her mouth, choking her and bringing her to tears. She began moving her hand and mouth in tandem, up and down in a steady rhythm. She could feel her skin tingling, her sex moistening, and she found herself wishing the boy would put his hands on her again. Without stopping the movement of her head and her hand, Tara raised her eyes to see the boy's face. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open. It was only a few minutes before Tara tasted salt on her tongue and felt the boy's muscles tense. With a short cry, he spurted into her mouth. It tasted different than the Young Master and there was less of it to swallow. She looked up at him again and he grinned down at her.

"Not a bad way to start the morning, eh?" he said, pulling up his trousers. He turned to leave and began heading out the door when he paused and pulled the apple from his pocket.

"Catch, slave!" he said, tossing the apple in Tara's direction. Tara caught it and smiled. Then she suddenly felt unsure and looked towards the Kitchen Mistress.

"You may eat what's given to you, girl," she said, barely giving Tara a second glance. Tara gleefully bit into the apple, its sweet juice replacing the taste of the boy in her mouth. She had barely finished eating when she heard another man's voice. He was big and smelled of sweat and horses.

"Let's make this quick," he growled. "We don't all get to spend our days lounging around on fancy pillows and kissing the prince's prick. Some of us have real work to do."

What fancy pillows? Tara thought but the Stable Hand gave her no more time to think before he was pushing his large, soft cock past her lips.

"Open up that whore mouth nice and wide," he said. "If I feel any teeth, I'll knock them out of that pretty little face of yours, understand me?"

Tara struggled to keep her mouth open wide around the Stable Hand's rapidly swelling cock, but as he pushed deeper into her throat, she began to gag and choke. Before she could stop herself, Tara found herself pushing against his thighs with her small hands and pulling her head away. Without a word, the Stable Hand pulled the length of rope he had been using to belt his breeches through their loops, yanked Tara's hands together behind her back, and bound them tightly together at the wrist. With one hand firmly behind her head and the other pinching her nose shut, he pushed her open mouth down on his hard shaft. With no other way to breathe, Tara's throat opened to gulp in air. The Stable Hand forced his cock in as well, and he began fucking her mouth with ruthless, pounding force. Before long, the constricting sensation of Tara gagging helplessly around him combined with the long rivulets of her saliva coating his cock, making it wet and slick, had him ready to cum. For Tara, the assault had seemed neverending and when he finally withdrew, leaving her crying and coughing, she thought the ordeal was over. She was mistaken.

"Did I tell you to close your mouth, whore?" he asked her.

Tara stared at him wide-eyed. He grabbed a fist full of her hair and pulled, causing her to cry out in pain. "I asked you a question. Did I tell you to close your mouth?"

"No, Sir," Tara sobbed. "Please, Sir. I'm.. I'm sorry."

"You're not sorry," he said to her, his voice little more than a hiss. "One taste of my whip and you would know what sorry is. Now open your fucking mouth."

Tara did as she was told and the Stable Hand let go of her hair, moving to stand squarely in front of her. A few rough jerks of his cock and a torrent of hot cum flew from its tip on to Tara's face. Some landed in her mouth, some on her cheek, some in her hair and some just below her eyebrow where it slowly dripped into her eye and began to sting almost at once. Walking around Tara as he tucked his spent cock back into his pants, The Stable Hand gave her a hard shove from behind and without her hands to break the fall, her cheek made painful contact with the kitchen floor. A dirty boot pressed against her face.

"Do you have anything else to say to me, whore?" the Stable Hand asked.

Through her pain and humiliation, Tara remembered the right words.

"Thank you for using me, Sir," she managed to say. "May I be of any other service to you?"

"Not today," came the reply and Tara felt his boot lift and her hands set free. She brought them to her face, curled up on the floor and sobbed.

"Get up." The Kitchen Mistress' voice was not unkind but was firm and Tara knew she had no choice. She slowly pushed herself back up on to her knees and saw that a bowl of water and a clean rag had been placed in front of her.

"Go on and get yourself cleaned up a bit, girl," the Kitchen Mistress said.

Tara dipped the rag in the water and pressed it to her face. The water had the fresh scent of lemons and Tara inhaled deeply, trying to erase the smell of the Stable Hand. Wetting the rag again, she wiped the dirt and dried cum from her face.

"Thank you," she said, extending the bowl and rag back to the Kitchen Mistress. As the woman took them from her, Tara noticed the red marks on her wrists where the Stable Hand had bound them. One taste of my whip he had said. Tara shuddered.

"Would he really whip me?" she asked the Kitchen Mistress.

"Learn to please him better and you won't have to find out," she replied.

As the day wore on, Tara found she had little time to rest as word spread quickly that there was a new slave in the kitchen and there was no shortage of opportunities to serve. There were young and old, big and small, long and short and eventually, Tara lost track of how many had used her.

When three of the stable boys came in together and surrounded her, she had felt overwhelmed, but although they weren't exactly gentle with her, they were not cruel either. They kept her mouth and both hands busy for almost an hour, stroking, sucking and licking their hard cocks. Warm hands tweaked her nipples and slapped her thighs and ass. When she felt fingers pushing into her wet pussy, she could only moan around the cock in her mouth. She learned that if she focused and breathed through her nose, she didn't gag as much and could take a man's cock deeper without that awful choking feeling. She began to pay attention to the tensing of their muscles and to the sounds they made before they came so that she could prepare herself and was ready to swallow the load after load of cum that was deposited in her mouth. When the stable boys were done with her, one came in her mouth, one in her hand and one on her tits. There was pleasure and satisfaction written all over their faces and for the first time, Tara felt the pride of a well used slave.

"Nothing like a little afternoon fun to work up an appetite, eh boys?" one of them said, as they clamoured about the kitchen to get their lunch. Tara watched them gather small meat pies, bowls of warm broth, and scones covered in cream. One of the boys set a plate of food and a bowl of broth down in front of her.

"Eat up, slave. I think you've earned it!" he said, giving Tara a wink before sauntering out the kitchen door with his friends.

After eating her fill, Tara was given leave to use the toilet and wash up. No sooner was she back at her post than the cook was ready for a go. Tara was happy to oblige.

It was late in the day when an old man pulled up a chair in front of Tara and sat down. But it was not him that caught Tara's attention. A figure stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the doorframe. It was Lucas. And he was watching her. Tara felt her breath quicken and a hot blush spread over her skin. She couldn't explain why, but something about him seeing her like this filled with with a strange and delicious sense of shame and desire at the same time.

Is he waiting for me? Tara thought. If only I could finish this one off!

She fairly ripped open the old man's pants and dove into his crotch, taking his flaccid, shriveled flesh into her mouth and sucking as hard as she could. When that did nothing, Tara started using her hands as well, stroking and sucking with vigour, but no matter how she tried, he only came to half-mast and then softened again. Her jaw began to ache and tears of frustration sprang to her eyes. Why now? Tara thought. Why must I fail while he's watching?

Finally Tara felt the old man's hand on her shoulder. She stiffened, expecting to be rebuked.

"That'll do, girl," he said.

Tara looked up at the man's lined face and suddenly she was filled with the memory of her old Master. He had always been kind to her and she must have been a disappointment to him too.

She bowed her head in real shame and said, "Please forgive me, Sir. I am... unworthy of use. May I be of any other service to you?"

The old man raised his eyebrows and replied, "Unworthy? No, I don't think so. In fact, that was quite the performance. But I don't believe it was for me, now was it?"

Tara bit her lip and felt her tears spill over. "No, Sir," she whispered.

"Let's have no more tears over it," he said. "You'll have your chance with the young Blackmore bucks, don't you worry. Now, why don't we start over? Perhaps you can show me what other service you might be to me."

Tara took a deep breath and after a moment's consideration, she knelt at the old man's feet, removed his boots and rolled his pant legs up above his knees. Sitting in front of him, she began rubbing the soles of his feet and heard him murmur with pleasure. She brought her lips to his gnarled toes and carefully kissed each of them, sucking them a little as she went. She worked her way up and down each veiny leg, then trailed a path of kisses along his thighs until she reached his cock again. She found it half-hard and took it easily in her mouth, using her tongue to tease it. She began sucking with unhurried, even strokes and slowly, felt it swell. When he finally came, Tara swallowed every drop and felt that it might be the sweetest release she had tasted yet. It was only after he had disappeared down the stairs towards the cellar that Tara looked back towards the kitchen door. Lucas was nowhere to be seen. Tara sighed. I wonder if I'll see him again, she thought. She didn't have to wait long to find out.