Rosemary for Sale
This is a work of fiction. The setting is an alternate historical Great Britain. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. All characters depicted are 18 years old or older. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Rosemary lay awake on the small cotton pad they had given her. She could smell it was nasty and it had not been washed since the day she had arrived but she was still grateful to have it. It was a more peaceful bed than what she had in the orphanage. She had seen inside some of the other enclosures. She knew it could be worse. Straw and refuse lay about in some of them, crowded with several women. Others were barred shut or smelled heavily of something foul and dank. She hoped to never find out what made them smell like that.
She guessed that the only reason she got her own cell in this hellish place is the fact that she had retained her virginity. She knew from how the other women were treated, she was different and it was the only thing that set her apart. Had she known her virginity was going to be used against her like this, she would have taken the risk of a teenage pregnancy and allowed one of those horny boys she knew to violate her body.
She strained her ears, searching for any sound indicating what time it was. There was nothing she could identify solidly. The frequent distant screams echoed down hallways. Sounds of wet slaps on soft things. It could be strikes of crops on flesh, whips snaking onto bodies, beasts of burden being urged to pull and carry. Or her fellow slaves being punished and pushed to new limits.
She unconsciously pressed her shirt against her nipples. She had been beaten and whipped her first week on the property until she was grinding her rough burlap shirt against her nipples at every chance. At first, it was such an unnatural movement for her. Instead of the heavy chastity belt the orphanage had put on her, here at Lancaster Manor they used a different method to ensure her virginity remained intact. They put heavy leather mittens on her hands and buckled them on. When no one was around to monitor her, one of the porters would clip the ends to her thick leather collar. She had to learn to press her arms against her chest to make the shirt rub against her small tits.
During those first few days, she had seen several of the other girls who were bought at auction alongside her being trained in the same way. Rub or get strikes. Rub or the cane swats against her ass. All the other girls had it easier, thought Rosemary. They had larger tits, ones that swayed and moved when they shook their chests. Like large pendulums, their breasts made their own friction against the rough fabric. There was no pressing their arms tight to their chests, pulling and tugging the harsh weave of fibers over nipples. She hated them all.
Rosemary jerked as she heard the cold sound of metal on metal. She knew from the countless times she heard the noise that it was the porter using his key on her cell door. The outline of light her cell door made suddenly became a rectangle of brightness. Rosemary squinted, hoping that today it was Tony who was sent to fetch her and not that awful Brent. She began frantically pressing the burlap cloth that served as her top against her sore nipples.
Her eyes adjusted and she saw it was Tony this morning. Her heart slowed down a bit, knowing she would get a toilet trip first. Brent always forced a blowjob before leaving her cell, his sperm dripping down her face and from her hair as he led her through the cellar. He never allowed her to swallow, despite the frequent instruction that she never spill a single drop from any male. Parading her through the cellar ensured she was punished throughout the day for disobedience with a double-cock gag strapped to her face. She never got a choice which end was going to be her gag and which end was for display, the long and narrow cock or the wide, fat monster. There were times she was sure it had recently been used before going into her mouth. She knew Brent was tormenting her for some reason.
Tony was nicer. He would let her pee and clean up from her time in the cell before he made her suck him off. He loved to grind his foot against her crotch as she drove his cock down her throat. And she was allowed to keep clean too. Her primary objection about Tony was he insisted on bathing her. He focused so much attention on her tits and pussy she almost always came, necessitating another round of the wet sponge, or sometimes just a cold bucket of water. It always depended on his mood at the time and how well she sucked his cock. And then there was the harsh towels to dry her off.
There were days she preferred Brent, but only when bathing. He left her mostly alone. He was clearly instructed to wash her tits and pussy and he always rubbed her clit until she doubled over with an orgasm. She still could not tell if he was better at making her cum or if Tony was, since there were times Tony didn't quite get her the
re. Despite how harsh he was, Tony was still the least sadistic to her.
She knew she had been here at least two months, her cycle having just ended a few days ago, her second one since she was purchased. It was a long standing policy at the orphanage to sell off any unclaimed children the day they turned 18. Orphans had the choice of either auction or abandonment. No one wanted to be abandoned here, so they all effectively became wards of the State.
Wards of the State were considered public property and it was the local government's civic duty to properly care for its wards. Which it did so by selling them off. Bounties were paid for any property recovered and an active slave trade kept revenues up and the streets empty of beggars and the poor. Since the orphanage sold her directly, it was allowed to add in the cost of her chastity, which was no small sum.
Rosemary had spent almost 4 years of her life as an orphan, watching the prettiest girls and slightly built boys leave the building with rich benefactors. She got to interview with them too from time to time, but no one ever showed interest in adopting her. She had arrived at the orphanage at the age of 14, having lost both parents to the local debtor's prison. In a lot of ways her life had improved since those dark days.
Tony attached a braided leather lead on to her collar before un-clipping her mittened hands. She rolled her shoulders and made her elbows pop as she stretched. The sharp jerk on her leash made her quickly follow him to the bathing area set up for the slaves of the household. She knew if she tried to touch herself beyond rubbing her nipples, she would be beaten at the minimum. Her pussy was no longer her own.
This morning was turning out to be very different than all her others. Tony led her to the bathing area where the water was warmed and already a bit soapy, not the cold bucket she was used to. A second smaller bucket was full of clear warm water, set aside to rinse her off. She looked at Tony in confusion. She learned in her early days here not to speak unless told to. Both Tony and Brent were strong advocates of silence from slaves. And the panel and cock gags used as reminders were very effective.
In silent practiced moves, Tony took off her collar, mittens, and short burlap shirt. He stood back to allow her to bathe. She knew that even if she were to try to escape, now that she was free of her bondage, there was no where to go beyond this room. It was all slick stonework and she barely kept her footing with the help of the porters in here. Running was dangerous. Plus the gate they used to keep the area separate only opened with the porter's key. Tony and Brent were too strong to over power, especially while naked.
After using the small cloth provided to scrub with, she stood with her arms behind her head, legs apart, waiting for Tony to begin his assault on her tits and pussy. After several moments, she opened her eyes to see him staring back at her. Was that pity she saw there? What was he sad about her for? He dipped his hand into the smaller bucket and tossed the clear warm water against her skin, removing any residue from her own ministrations. After she had rinsed off, she expected Tony to begin his drying routine but he just threw one of the harsh towels her way. Rosemary quietly adapted and quickly dried herself off, paying extra attention to her crotch.
When she was finished, she dropped to her knees and hobbled over to him, her eyes wide and mouth gaping. Her hands reached for his cock, clearly straining against his pants. Tony slapped her away from his crotch, his face locked into a stern expression. He made a single movement of his head, a shake indicating No. His eyes darted around the room quickly and Rosemary took the hint. They were being watched and she was not behaving the way he needed her to. She stood back up, almost eager for her collar and mittens now. She could tell something was bothering Tony. Something involving her. He had even skipped giving back her scratchy shirt.
She was slow to follow him now and he was constantly tugging at her leash. Her feet were stumbling along, the sense of dread welling up inside her chest. Hot tears began to form in her eyes. She instinctively knew there was something wrong from the way he walked, his looks at her. Tony clearly knew what was about to happen to her and she was not allowed to ask. Her stomach growled and she almost turned down the hallway to where she was fed, but Tony kept going straight. Was she to be examined again? There were not many other doors down this way and she had never been to any of the other rooms.
Part of her was grateful to be skipping the feeding room. It was the only place she saw any of the other slaves anymore. It was a large open space with a few support columns breaking up the room. Wooden partitions were placed along the walls, ensuring that the slaves could not see the others unless the porters decided otherwise. Each stall had a tube extending down from the ceiling with a leather covered pipe extending from the bottom fashioned to look like a fake cock for each slave to suck on to get nourishment.
Her first day here, they had brought her in for her feeding and she tried to revolt. The room stank of bodies and sweat, spilled muck at the feet of the feeding slaves already locked into their stations. She could see they were strapped in place, the 'cock' forced into their mouths, hands cuffed around the tube, preventing them from backing off the device. Rosemary bucked and kicked, earning herself a whipping instead of a meal. Her hands were chained over her head and she was summarily beaten at her assigned stall, the feeding cock smacking her face as she tried to avoid the strikes. Her screams echoed in the room, causing many of the trapped slaves to sob around their feeding tubes. The tube she was to feed from dripped the foul meal provided for her, piling up on the floor, making it hard for her to stand.
