A Slave's Journey Begins

Tara tried to take deep breaths to calm the rising sense of panic she felt. She was in the Training Room, she knew that much, despite being blindfolded. Her other senses seemed heightened, making her acutely aware of the cold floor biting into her knees, the heady smells of sweat, oil, wood and leather around her, and then, the unmistakable sound of of the door opening. She heard footsteps coming towards her, and then, nothing. It must be Liam, Tara thought. She stayed perfectly still in position with her back straight and hands clasped behind her neck, waiting for any movements or commands he might make.

Tara didn't know how long she knelt in silence, but eventually her arms started trembling and she realized that she would not be able to hold position very much longer.

"Permission to speak, Sir?" she squeaked.

"Denied," came the cold response and Tara felt her heart skip a beat. It was the Young Master. Tara remembered the way his steely eyes had taken her in, the iron grip of his hand as he fucked her mouth that first night in Blackmore Estate. Realizing that she was alone with him again, and in this room especially, filled Tara with dread.

Several more minutes went by, neither of them saying a word. Tara's knees burned and her shoulders screamed at her to release them. Finally, she had to make a decision. She sat back on her heels, keeping her legs spread and her chest out, and rested her hands on her thighs, palms facing up. In this position, she still offered herself to him and she desperately hoped she had made the right choice. After a long pause, the Young Master spoke at last.

"You're weak," he said. "And undisciplined."

Hot tears filled Tara's eyes behind her blindfold and slid down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Sir," she whispered miserably.

"Sorry for what?"

"Sorry for... being weak and undisciplined. And.. for breaking position, Sir."

"How do you think you should be punished for your failings?"

Tara paused, unsure of how to answer, and then said, "However you see fit, Sir."

Thomas considered. In truth, she had held position longer than he had expected.

"Up and open, slave," he said.

Tara stood and spread her legs. Thomas circled her once, as he had when she had first been presented to him. Then, without warning, he pushed three fingers into her dry cunt. Tara's thighs clamped together and she cried out in surprise and pain as the Young Master twisted his fingers inside her still sore pussy. He could see her fighting for control as she slowly parted her legs once more.

"You will tell me what you have learned since arriving here," Thomas said. "You will do so honestly and thoroughly without exaggeration or omission. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Sir," Tara replied, her voice raising in pitch as his fingers probed roughly causing her to gasp and wince."Permission to gather my thoughts, Sir?"

Thomas watched Tara carefully. "Granted," he said.

Tara licked her lips and bowed her head. After a few minutes, she turned her face in the direction of Thomas' voice and began to speak, recounting in detail her training with Liam, Siara and Lucas; how it had felt to cum for the first time, to be spanked, scolded, sucked and stretched, how she had been used in the kitchen and what she had learned about how to give pleasure, and finally about being marked and learning to submit and obey, even when it had been most difficult.

Of course, Thomas already had a full report of Tara's training and progress, but the point of the exercise was to hear it from her own mouth. He noted that she wasn't rambling, nor was she trying to impress him or gain his sympathy. He also noted that as she spoke about the activities of the past four days, her pussy had become hot and moist, opening to his fingers and clenching hungrily around them.

"You are a natural slut, but that does not make you a natural slave," Thomas said. He removed his hand abruptly from between Tara's legs and commanded, "Lie prone, slave."

Tara sank to her knees and stretched out on her belly with her hands at her sides. For several minutes, she could hear the Young Master doing something, but she couldn't make out what it was. Then she felt the rope go around her body.

Thomas loved the feel of the rope in his hands. The knots were second nature to him now and it only took him a few minutes to efficiently hogtie the girl, bending her knees and securing her wrists to her ankles behind her back. Then he created a harness of sorts, winding the rope around her ribcage and each thigh, looping it through one of the many hooks in the ceiling and hoisting her into the air. She had remained silent while he tied her up, even though he knew the bondage would become painful quickly, but when she felt herself leave the ground, she was overcome with fear.

"Please, Sir," she cried out, whipping her head, which was the only thing she could move at all, frantically back and forth. "Please put me down, I'm scared!"

Thomas surveyed her from a distance. Her long limbs looked lovely tied together, the rope framing her marked, plugged ass invitingly.

"What are you scared of?" he asked.

"That I'll fall!" she screamed.

Thomas was next to her immediately and slapped her hard across the face with an open hand. It left a solid red imprint, but he knew, would not leave a bruise. It also left her spinning in a slow circle, the full weight of her body supported by the ropes alone.

"That I'll fall, SIR," he corrected her.

But Tara was past the point of listening. The sudden pain and movement combined made her more frightened than ever and forgetting herself completely, she began screaming.

"Sir Lucas! Sir Liam! Mistress Leanna! Please, someone help me!"

Thomas gave a dark laugh. The very act of binding the slave had made him half-hard, and now hearing her screams, seeing her fear, and feeling his absolute power over her, his cock swelled to its fullest size. He would very much enjoy teaching her this lesson in who her Master was. He adjusted the ropes so that his slave hung a little lower and coming up behind her, used one hand on her back to steady her and the other hand to pull the oiled plug from her ass. After being stretched all day, Tara's virgin asshole remained slightly open, as if begging to be filled again. Thomas wasted no time freeing his cock from his pants and gripping her narrow hips, forced himself into her anal passage.

Tara was certain she was being torn apart and screamed in pain and protest, but Thomas paid no attention. With his balls pressed against her spread wide ass cheeks, he savoured her tightness, her inability to resist. Then he slowly withdrew and pushed into her again, this time grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling back sharply until her screams became strangled in her throat and she could only sob and gasp for air. When her screaming subsided, he released his grip and her head hung limply, tears dripping off her face. He began fucking her with long, hard strokes, each one punctuated by her weak cries. Tara's bones felt ready to snap, her belly cramped unbearably as the Young Master moved deeper and faster inside of her, and her ass burned with a kind of pain she had never felt before.

"I want you to remember this, slave. As long as you wear the Blackmore collar around your neck, you belong to me and me alone. Not Leanna. Not Liam. Not Lucas," Thomas said, ramming into her with increasingly harder thrusts as he named each one. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Sir," Tara said through her tears, hoping only that her obedience would make the pain stop.

"A little test then. Tell me, slave - who owns this body?"

"You do, Sir."

"Who owns this ass?"

"You do, Sir."

"Who owns these tits? This mouth? This cunt?"

"You do, Sir. You do, oh please, you do."

As Tara repeated the words over and over again, their meaning began to truly sink in and she understood for the first time what it meant to be owned, to be a slave.

"Please what, slave?" Thomas demanded.

Please stop, Tara's mind cried.

"Please use me, Sir," she heard her voice say.

Thomas continued fucking the slave's ass, picking up speed, until he finally came deep inside her. He pulled out slowly, milking the last drops of cum into her gaping asshole. Then he set to work on the ropes, first lowering Tara to the ground and removing her blindfold, then untying her, knot by knot. As he freed each limb, he rotated it, moving it back and forth to get the blood circulating again and to ensure that none of her muscles or joints had sustained any serious damage. Tara allowed herself to be manipulated in his strong hands. Like a rag doll, she thought.

"My old Master gave me a doll once," she said softly, her eyes glazed over, her mind far away. Then looking right at him, "Now he has given you one too."

Thomas held her gaze. Her behavior was inappropriate - speaking out of turn and making such bold eye contact - but he decided she had had enough for one day. He stood up and went to the Training Room door. He opened it to find Leanna waiting with her customary scented cloth and cool drink. He took them from her and motioned to the slave on the floor.

"Put her in a warm bath and see that she has something to eat," he said. "Speak with her about her training today and have someone stay with her tonight if need be." Some slaves found it harder than others to recover from hard use and Thomas knew that novices especially could find themselves utterly destroyed if not properly taken care of.

Leanna took in the rope marks crisscrossing the girl's body, her tear-stained face, and the cum tinged with blood seeping from her ass.

Kneeling down next to her, she said, "Come, Tara. Try to stand up."

Tara tried to do as she was told, but her legs were like jelly beneath her. She tried to take a step forward and felt searing pain shoot through her legs and up from her backside. She started to sink back down to the floor, but Leanna's arms held her up and her firm voice propelled her forward. "You must walk, Tara."

Leaning heavily on the Slave Mistress, Tara willed herself to put one foot in front of the other and Leanna half dragged, half carried her out of the Training Room.

**********************

It was late when Thomas heard a knock at his bedchamber door. Lost in his own thoughts, staring out into the night sky, he had let the candles burn down and the room was cold and dim. Dressed in only his pants and undershirt, he opened the door and for the second time that night, found Leanna waiting on the other side. He stepped back and she glided in, closing the door behind her. She carried herself with the most poise of any woman he had ever met. Even in her slippered feet, she was only a few inches shorter than him and despite being fifteen years his senior, was still an incredibly beautiful woman.

Leanna went about the room, lighting the candles and closing the windows that were letting in the cool night air. She sent for hot water to be brought up to Thomas' private bathing room and for a plate of bread and fruit to be prepared for him. Thomas sat on the edge of the bed and watched her. She had been many things to him over the years - mother, lover, teacher, and friend. As she swished past him again, he took her hand.

"Stop," he said.

Leanna paused and looked down at her young master, then gracefully came to her knees in front of him. Taking his other hand in hers, she pressed her ruby lips to each of his palms.

"You think I was too hard on her, don't you?" he said.

"I think you know best how to manage your own slaves," she murmured in reply. "Now, Sir Thomas," her voice teased him, "Permission to undress you?"

He stood up, pulling her with him. He didn't have to say a word, she already knew the answer was yes.

Leanna knew how to undress a man. She removed his boots, his belt, his pants, his shirt, all with an ease that came from years of practice. She led her naked master to his large, porcelain tub, now filled with steaming water and lent her arm for support as he lowered himself in. She retrieved the plate of food that had been sent for him and placed it within his reach along with a cup of wine, then took her place on her knees behind the tub, massaging his neck and shoulders until she felt the tension he held there start to ebb. He placed his hand over hers. Enough, the gesture said, and she moved to the side of the tub, sitting back on her heels, legs slightly apart, hands clasped behind her back. There was no reason for her to assume this position, it was simply how she felt most comfortable.

Sipping his wine, Thomas asked, "How was she when you left her?"

"She'll be fine," Leanna responded. "Sore, but fine."

"And how is Katya? I heard she was marked without permission."

Leanna waved her hand dismissively. "An error in judgement on the gentleman's part, hardly worth worrying about." With a sigh she said, "Katya is... Katya. Petulant as always. Submission does not come easily to her, she questions everything. She reminds me more of her father every day."

"Do I?" Leanna heard the question of a sad little boy in the voice of a powerful man.

"In some ways, you remind me of him very much and in other ways, you couldn't be more different." Thomas looked at her and saw tears glistening in her violet eyes. He sometimes forgot that she had loved the old man too. "I think you have the very best of him in you, Thomas," she said.

He extended a hand to her and when she took it, he pulled her close to him and kissed her as she had taught him to kiss - with authority. His hand slipped beneath her robe and tugged gently on the gold ring piercing her nipple, which hardened instantly and he heard her sigh with pleasure. Thomas knew that even old men could still enjoy the pleasures of the flesh, but he wasn't certain how it was for women.

"Leanna, do you still... feel desire?" he asked her.

"Slaves have no desire but to serve."

He pulled on the ring harder, hard enough to hurt. "Answer me."

"Yes."

Thomas smiled. Slaves were forbidden from touching themselves to achieve pleasure or release without permission, but they had played these games before. "Up and open, slave," he said.

Leanna rose to her full height and parted her legs without question.

"Disrobe," Thomas commanded, "I want to see your body."

She removed her shoes and let her robe fall to the floor, awaiting her master's orders.

"Use your hands to open your pussy lips. Yes.. wider. I want to see your clit."

Leanna pulled her vaginal lips wide apart, forcing her clitoris out from under its hood. The gold bar piercing it made it particularly sensitive and although she was used to the sensation, she still had to fight back the orgasm that could have washed over her the moment her clit was exposed.

"Use one hand to play with it," Thomas said. "And use the other hand to fuck yourself. Start with two fingers."

Leanna began to masturbate as she was instructed. She never felt right about doing this, but it had been a long time since she felt the rush of release and truth be told, she badly wanted to cum, if permission was granted. Until it was, she focused on her presentation, thrusting her breasts forward, tilting her head back and allowing a low, seductive moan to escape her lips. Three fingers, he ordered her. Four. Faster. Finally, Leanna had to ask.

"Permission to cum, Sir?"

"Denied," Thomas said, stepping out of the bath.

In a swift motion, he picked up her discarded robe and pulled its sash free. Still dripping water, he gathered her wrists behind her back and used the silky material to bind them tightly together. Coming around to face her again, he backed her against the stone wall and stroked her cheek lightly with his knuckles.

"My turn," he said, before pushing all four fingers into her mouth. When his hand was thoroughly coated with saliva, he brought it down between her thighs and entered her wet cunt. He took his time finger-fucking her, before he curled his hand into a tight fist and slowly pushed it into her, deeper and deeper, until he made contact with the entrance to her womb. He pulled back, twisting his wrist inside her, and pushed in again, fisting her with one hand, rolling and pinching her nipples with the other. When his hand eventually moved from her breasts down her body to press against her red hot clit, it became too much to bear.

"Thomas..." she breathed, the slight tremor in her voice the only outward sign of the storm raging within, but in her eyes, her need was clear.

"Do it," he whispered, and felt her whole body convulse as she let herself climax, shuddering around the fist lodged inside her.

Afterwards, Thomas left her alone in the bathing room to collect herself and get cleaned up. When she emerged in her robe, Thomas frowned.

"Stay," he said.

Leanna turned down the heavy blanket on the bed and smoothed out the sheet.

"I should get back to my quarters," she replied.

Thomas approached her, his face set in mock seriousness. "Would you disobey your master?" he asked, trailing his fingertips in a straight line over her lips, down her long neck, between her breasts, stopping where her robe was knotted closed. He deliberately pulled the end of the sash until the knot became loose and her robe fell open.

"Stay," he said again. "That's an order." They both knew it was a request.

"As my master commands," she said with a smile, letting the robe slip from her shoulders.

Thomas lay down on his feather mattress in the spot she had made for him and then looked at Leanna, who had paused by the side of the bed. Her eyes went to the cold, creaking floor. A slave's place, of course, was at her Master's feet...

"Oh, for god's sake!" he muttered, reaching over and pulling her roughly into bed next to him. Within minutes he was snoring, his arm draped over her body, but Leanna remained awake. One more day until the banquet. One more day until Tara's life would be changed forever, for better or for worse.