So, this is a first for me. I opted for a fantasy setting with BDSM themes, including female domination, male submission, and slavery, from a male perspective.
Obviously, in real life all intimate relations should be safe, sane, and consensual. Oh, and slavery is wrong. I really hope nobody reading this hasn't got that memo yet.
Don't judge me too hard here guys. Alright, here goes.
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What I should start off with here is, I'm a slave.
About ten years ago, I was inscribing a text in a library in Ashen, when the enemy burst through the gates. It was a surprise attack, and I had little time to react. I still remember the screams. I still remember soldiers bursting into my study room.
I know the expectation is that the men of the city die with the city but... When they found out I was educated, they offered me death or the collar. They were impatient. I'm going to be honest, I really like living, is that so bad? I chose the collar. They shackled me to a column of teary prisoners and marched me back to Larsa as property.
I was sold to a fairly wealthy family and set to work writing letters and texts that the master and mistress of the house couldn't be bothered with. Their house was large and grand, more of a villa really. Intimidating white marble. They were a tall, dark people. The men were broad shouldered and powerful, and the women...
This is where our story begins.
It was a warm evening, and I was dressed in a loose fitting, beige tunic and similar pants. I wore my collar, a flat steel thing with an eye hook to which one might attach a leash, and with the name of my master's house inscribed on it. I am told that I am a handsome man in a shy way, I have blue eyes and brown hair, and have kept myself in shape despite my bookish profession. I believe in keeping a healthy body and a healthy mind.
I was rushing to the villa of the governor with a papyrus scroll I had written for my master. I didn't mind visiting the governor, as he was a mellow person who treated me decently despite my status. I was eager to reach him -- the scroll contained a description of a new military invention created by a local chemist. Though my master, Poseidonis, had not thought it interesting, I was sure that this combination of saltpetre, charcoal and a few other ingredients would prove revolutionary.
Marble streets rushed past. Women and men going about their business. I kept my head deferentially lowered. A man rushed by leading a donkey to market. I usually took the main street, as it was the fastest route to the Governor's Villa. The main road led to the great central marketplace (where I had been purchased) and royal palace, but the Governor's Villa was about halfway to these.
Marching past, I glanced at a sobbing, naked slave girl dragged on a chain by a hard eyed, rough man in his 50s. Her innocent blue eyes contrasted his dark Ashenite ones. He had a clean, shaved, handsomely dark military face and muscular frame. She must have been all of 20 years old. Cruel whip welts stood out on her backside. "Please master!! Please don't sell me! Oh my god, oh my god..." Her voice trailed away as the man turned a corner determinedly, presumably headed for the slave market.
The Larsans, a military people, are often dressed in armour, especially the wealthy. Certainly there were simply clad masons and craftsmen in wooden shops along the streets, but any person of even minor nobility, man or woman, wore armour plates strapped to their elbows and knees. And weapons.
I arrived at my destination, slightly off the main road. The crowds were smaller here, but I caught the eye of a cloaked man in a corner and quickly looked away. Ashen could be a violent place. Cognizant of him, I strolled quickly to the entrance of the General's villa. It was all greenery, a shrubbery and well cut grass at the feet of a truly majestic marble villa with many open air windows.
In front of the door stood six marble pillars arranged symmetrically, holding up a great marble balcony. Underneath stood the doors to the villa. In front of those doors, stood her.
She was a warrior, that you could tell at first glance. The bearing, the face paint, the armour. She had long, very straight black hair and fierce brown eyes highlighted with black liner. She was about my age and height, but the scorn on her face made it feel as if she were looking down on me. She wore a sword at her belt. And a coiled whip, like many Larsans.
"Nice day out, slave."
That word still irked me a little. I moved forward but she moved to block me. She had a smooth agility about her.
"Are you coming to deliver your little scroll, slave?" For a moment, she eyed me openly. Her eyes took in the bulge in my pants... I happen to be well endowed in that area. She continued to stand impassively in front of me with the same expression of mockery. I nodded, but she continued to block me.
Now I was getting frustrated. She was blocking my way. She was IN THE WAY of something very important that I needed to do. I tried to walk forward. She laughed and pushed me backwards.
"I'm... On business for my master..." I tried to shove past her again.
"Oh, you think you can manage the wars of our mighty kingdom behind the scenes, eh, slave".
The way she kept calling me that took me aback. I was just trying to get by! Her expression was as haughty as her words, and her tone was laced in the arrogance of the warrior class. She was disrupting my day for her own entertainment.
I tried again to walk by, and she deftly tripped me with her boot, sending me flying to the ground. I landed on my forearms, but furiously she kicked me over so that I was lying prone before her with her standing over me like some goddess from the netherworld.
"I WILL NOT HAVE A FUCKING SLAVE BRUSH ME ASIDE!!"
"I..."
"SHUT UP."
The sudden anger had taken me aback. Was it anger? I had a feeling that someone like her was accustomed to violence. Everything about her exuded power. Her eyes, her sharp cheekbones... I wasn't sure if I was panicking, or something else.
Then her expression changed, and she feigned sympathy.
"Oh, poor slave. Have you fallen?"
She helped me to my feet. I could tell that she was playing games with me. Then she stepped back and grinned slyly. I waited to see what she would do next.
"I don't accept attitude from slaves. Take off your clothes."
I had done nothing, nothing at all. What had I done? Followed orders? Sure I had been pushy but... This was getting uncomfortable.
"TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES, SLAVE."
I slowly started to undress, not daring to protest. The house was on a busy city street and I started to feel embarrassed as I felt the glances of passers by in their tunics and togas. She gave me a smug look as I took off my tunic, then my ragged pants. At a snap of her fingers and a point at my shoes, I removed those as well.
I started to feel nervous, panting a little. Sure, I had been naked when they had sold me, but that had been a long time ago. I was a person now, with a goal, with a job.
Impatiently, and with the same look on her face, she unsheathed her knife and ripped off my undergarments, pulling them and me as she did. Then she forcefully turned me, with a strength I would not have expected of her, and grabbed my cock from behind, the cold metal plates on her breasts pressing against my back.
"Oh, I..." I stammered a bit, not sure what to do.
"My, we are a handsome piece of ass aren't we. Does a woman own you?"
"Um, no I..."
"What a shame. Well, that's going to change. It will be nice to have someone to bully for a summer after I'm done defeating Larsa's enemies. Who can I buy you from?"
She had a certain tense, frenetic energy about her. I didn't reply, anxious about how turned on I was in all this. I was not meant to enjoy this. I was a scribe, a man...
She continued stroking me from behind, and looped the finger of her other hand on the O ring in my collar. Abuse of slaves was not uncommon in Larsa, but a few onlookers seemed amused that a man such as I would be taken advantage of by one of their female warriors. It was not unknown, but it was uncommon.
I was so hard, and she felt me with her left hand all over my body as she stroked me. Then, when I was almost at the point of orgasm, she took her hand off my cock. I moaned in frustration and tried to finish myself.
"What the fuck slave!"
She pulled my hands behind my back, and held them with one fist. With the other, she pulled out a pair of steel cuffs from a belt bag and locked them on me. I felt intolerably frustrated. She pulled out her whip and I cringed. I had felt one of those before, both from the master of the house and the mistress. As if my situation hadn't felt unmanly enough already, I had cried. I hadn't been able to sit for days.
"You will pay the proper respect, or I will beat the shit out of you right here and now, slave".
My cock still half hard, but anxiously trying to avoid her whip, I bent down and started kissing and licking her boots with my wrists still locked behind my back. I murmured "sorry mistress" and "please excuse me mistress" a few times with my cock rubbing now and again on the marble floorstones. I felt a strong desire to placate her.
"That's a bit better."
She pulled me up and with a satisfied smile clipped a leash from her leather satchel on my collar. I felt completely exposed and at her mercy. It was slightly cold, and I shivered a little with the breeze, but my mind kept returning to the whip. I knew that someone like her would not be easy on me if I annoyed her in any way. The cuffs held me in an open position.
I had dropped the scroll when she tripped me, and she went to pick it up, the leash still closed firmly in her fist. I looked down slightly. She casually sauntered back with it and then grabbed the leash right at the O ring and pulled sharply, laughing as I stumbled trying to follow her. She snapped her fingers at a tall, armoured man standing at the entrance to the main hall. "There are some clothes on the ground outside. You can burn them."
