S had thought that, at last, this would mean H would end her long enforced abstinence. But two days had passed since her collaring, and H had made no further moves to relieve her need beyond occasionally fingering her or massaging her breasts as he pressed into her from behind, never bringing her to completion, only whispering "soon" as he withdrew from her hungry body.
She thought she might truly be going insane. She was sure she was in heat again. At this point, it had been just over one month since H had captured and subdued her. True, her overall quality of life had greatly improved. Her hair was softer, her body rounding about her thighs, chest, and middle thanks to regular meals, and she felt stronger. Perhaps something to do with the pills she took each day. But when would she be called upon to legitimize her slavery to H? She coveted L's easy and regular exchanges with H. If L so much as wriggled her ass in H's direction in the morning, H was boring into her before S could even pour their coffee.
H often told S that she should meditate on her new status as his slave, anticipating not only the day he would legitimize her, but her every day following until she too proudly wore seven twists in her collar. S tried, but more often her thoughts took their own paths.
It was a hot and airless evening that found S making the quarter mile trek behind the house with the trash to the heap - a routine expectation she fulfilled twice a week for the house. Usually she saw little else on these walks than the occasional lizard skittering to the shelter of a rock, or the sudden frantic sprint of a hare across the dust. But today, as she squinted ahead at the heap, she saw the larger movement of a human.
S paused momentarily, as the person had not spotted her yet. The man was noticeably wane, even from a distance, rummaging through the trash heap for any usable food or piece of scrap to make a shelter. S shifted the bag of trash to the ground, which created a small clatter from its contents. The man immediately alerted and whipped around to face her.
S was afraid, but not for the reasons she anticipated. The man posed little physical threat to her. S had lived in the wild long enough to learn how to make quick work of predators. She reached inside the trash bag, closing her hand around an empty glass bottle. Her eyes met his to find they were sunken and hollow. S was afraid because his hungry gaze lit her on fire.
It was not a decision as much as instinctive impulse. The man closed the distance between them swiftly but stopped short of an arm's length from S. S raised the bottle slowly from the bag and then placed it on the ground. She wouldn't be needing it. She eyed the man's growing bulge under his stained shorts. He smelled of sweat and other worse things, but the ache between her thighs was overriding every objection. In a moment, he was on top of her. S twisted beneath him on her knees as he pulled aside her shorts and panties, his bony hands clawing at her legs and hips before pushing himself into her. The relief was unbearable. S locked her arms against the rough dirt and pushed herself back onto him with every thrust. Grunting like animals, they rutted for only a few precious minutes until S felt him burst inside her. He began to pull out but S reached behind her and clawed his backside to her until, a few thrusts later, she too came.
Standing, she looked at the man still on his knees in the dirt. Filthy, disgusting. His limp cock dribbling onto the red desert ground. S felt a wave of nausea overwhelm her and she turned to vomit. Wiping her hand across her mouth, and then between her legs to clear his leaking cum, she shouldered the trash and walked the rest of the way to the heap, depositing it there. By the time she returned the man was still kneeling, wheezing, on the ground. S picked up the bottle, smashed it against a rock, and held it at him. He scrambled away until S could no longer see him in the falling dark of evening.
In the yard, S used the hose to clean herself of the man's stench and cum. A cold panic was rising in her. What had she just done? H could never, ever find out. She waited until her hands stopped noticeably shaking to enter the house. By the time she entered the bedroom, she was sure every aspect of her composure was in place.
H was just stepping out of the shower and L was sitting on the bed, brushing her damp hair. S's shower was always after theirs, but as she strode to the bathroom, H caught her about the waist.
"Be sure to clean behind your ears, my pet." He winked and gave her a slap on the ass before letting her go. S scrubbed every inch of her body twice over with water so hot she was practically pink upon exit.
