The Slaves Journey Ch 04

Recap:

This continues from the moment Ch 03 finished. I had been near drowned as I was used by a guard and kneeling I was feeling sorry for myself, a new feeling for me and one I hadn't experienced in a long time.

This section is about her descent to obedient slave and how she was broken. If all you wish is to read sex then this chapter may not be for you. That said i hope those who read continue to enjoy. Now to the story...

**

"It hadn't always been this way" I kept telling myself as I filled the glass once more swilling my mouth of his foul taste, a taste of sweat and dirt; his musk strong in my nose. His cum ran down my thighs and I took a tissue holding it to myself as I walked to the shower. "It hadn't always been this way" continually ringing like an alarm bell, or wake up call to me. Turning on the shower I grabbed the head from the wall and aimed the water upwards onto and inside my pussy. I looked down as the water jet pounded my clit like bullets and quickly I was tingling and slowly moving it about altering where it hit and my breaths short and sharp as the water forced its way inside to wash out the seed; I watch it run, like a white oil slick in a river, over the shower floor and down the drain. My eyes look down my body and to my clean shaven mound and the ink placed there and elsewhere on my arrival, the mark of ownership.

Watching the stream leave me was relaxing and yet again I started to recall my arrival and my inking.

**

After my examination and the drugged sleep, I had found myself as I roused restrained, but not viciously, by rope about my wrists and ankles to an armchair and was naked. Next to me were my two fellow purchases the blonde and the dark skinned girl. They to were rousing and we just looked at each other eyes wide and asking silent questions to each other with our looks that none of us could answer.

Opposite us sat our purchaser, and I took my first, if not calm, at least it was an appraising look at him. He was tanned, with the powerful body of an athlete. He didn't speak a word but looked silently at us through hazel eyes and had a stare that seemed to go straight to your soul and tell him all of your weaknesses. The silence seemed to last forever, obviously it didn't but it worked I was scared and unnerved. Eventually when he did speak it was with the clipped English spoken accent of the foreign student who had been through elocution, and privilege dripped on every word. His words were measured and he spoke in calm and low tones with a voice that told you he was used to being obeyed. You could see even as he sat that he was a tall, powerful man. He was clearly a man who could defend his position of power himself without having need of someone else's strong arm to back him up. The tailored shirt rippled where toned muscled placed it under stress and his dress just served to reinforce his power.

He informed he was Master, King of this area which is a small, but rich Principality. We were informed slavery was outlawed, though the clear smiles on our faces were short lived when he added;

"But I am not a charity, nor am I altruistic. No ladies, saving you has cost me. You for example," he points to the dark skinned girl. "You cost me over $20 000. Then there is the travel expenses and they all add up. As a rough calculation if we say you all owe $40000 to me... Slavery is outlawed, however voluntary indenture to clear debts is legal and until such time as your debt is paid and you are clear from my outlay and the cost of your keep then you are mine by your own choice."

He spoke at length about his civility and how the chance for freedom was before us. He presented before us papers of indenture. A document which once signed told of our agreement to remain in servitude to him and the Principality until all debt, current and future were cleared, and whilst he didn't say so in so many words the threat and the knowledge that there was no alternative was clear to us. Our bonds released we each one by one took the pen offered and signed. The others in silence but as I scribbled a signature I looked to him saying:

"Do not take my signature as acceptance of this." He just smiled at this.

Beckoning the dark skinned girl to her feet and to move forward to stand a few paces from him legs apart and hands to her head elbows out and fingers interlaced. The blonde girl was then called forward and did the same. I waited my turn but it didn't happen.

"Hands down girls. Caress each other and kiss before your Master."

They looked to each other and slowly hands touched and then held each other skin caressing and moving about the others body. I watched as they kissed, their tongues linking in that split moment where the lips meet for the first time. The man who would be Master watched, not passionately or with an eye that said he was enjoying what was before him, he appeared merely calculating and appraising of what was before him. With a hand gesture the blonde American stepped away and smiled it seemed she was made to serve in her movements and the dark skinned girl looked down.

"You." he pointed to me, "move forward and let me see you caress the dark animal."

I stepped forward and my eyes looked to her as she looked up heavy lashes blinked over her brown eyes. Her hands touched me first and I felt the heat of her touch to my pale skin. It excited but me but I didn't know why it should as it was not my choice, or hers but it seemed we both enjoyed, or at least did not hate the touch of the other. Our bodies pressed and i felt our breasts crush together. She ran fingers against my sides and I responded the same slipping my hand to her bottom and we lean to kiss. Soft lips touched and as tongues met hands slid to cup each others sex. I felt her finger curl inside me and my own finger followed sliding inside her, her wetness coating the finger. Without thinking or second thought my finger slipped in and out of her as she did me and despite ourselves I could feel the arousal between us until he called a halt to it and we return to our seats.

"You and you are to be my pets," he points to me and the dark girl, and then in a distant voice he speaks to the American "You are to be a present."

Talking now to a watching aid we had not noticed he said "Take the blonde to Andre. Dress her how he likes and tell him happy birthday." The girl is taken away in silence.

We were taken to a room and once again restrained in examination chairs. The woman who at the sale handed us our dresses to walk to the car enters and she is beautiful her red dress hugging her to perfection and the cut exposing her cleavage. Her make up perfect and she is like the cover of Vogue or Marie Claire. We discover she is his wife and as she approaches us the knowledge of this seemed to relax me; it was an example of civilisation in this new strange world, but that was to change...

She stops behind me and I hear a buzzing and then feel the razor as she runs it over my head, the hair dropping heavily to cling over my pale flesh and breasts. Again and again the razor moves over my head and I feel the blades vibrate on my scalp even without a mirror i can tell my head is being shaved. The buzzing stops and my head is lathered and a wet razor runs across removing whatever stubble remains there.

Heels click and she moves before me, I watch as she lathers my mound She smiles as she scrapes a keenly edged razor across me, her soft fingers running over the cleaned strip to detect the remaining stubble. She takes a labia in her fingers tugging it to make sure no spot is missed. My legs and arms receive the same treatment and then she leans forward kissing me softly on the lips before shaving my eyebrows. She holds a mirror and I hardly recognise myself as a face looked back stark, hairless and tears fell.

***

Back in the present and I remembered the tears falling and I turn off the shower and taking a towel softly rub myself dry, patting the tattooed mound. Dry I move to my bed parting thighs I reach to the drawer and take out two cold kegel balls and practiced fingers ease them inside. I am at the mercy of clients each night and their reports. We work hard to keep our used bodies pleasing and tight. My body now works well at this and my muscles close and move the balls inside me and I sigh and moan. I feel myself moisten and a finger circles about my clit as my eyes close As I tighten and relax my mind returns to my arrival and how I was broken to a beast.

***

We were both shaven from head to toe and both silently cried tears rolling down our cheeks. "Excellent my Love. Put the marks on them." he says. I am shocked as if from nowhere a man appears and we are tattooed. The needle inks my skin with an image of a black crocodile with an open mouth. It is put on my neck, my right breast so its open mouth looks like it is biting my nipple and placed as if leaving my pussy its tail just off my labia with the body, open mouthed, as if walking upon my inner thigh. At the end of this Master walks to us rubbing his smooth soft hands across our bellies he says "CREAM" here pointing to just above my mound and the dark skinned girl has "COFFEE" placed upon her.

We wince once more as the tattooist inks the words indelibly scribed on our skins between navel and mound. We both had refused to show pain or fear now and as we looked at him coldly he remained calm informing us that the ink was marking to set us as property and that all about here know to return us.

He informed us that despite our markings he was aware his "pets" were not yet trained and broken but that we would be and until such time we would be living away...

We found ourselves at his farm where staff all marked with crocodiles took us to what would be our home. With everything I had been through I was still not prepared for this... our home was a sty.

Not a sty as in a room which was messy, it was a sty, Coffee and I would share beds with the pigs, no dormitory for us. We are fastened together then to a ring on the sty wall. We slump as one to the dirty muddy floor and as we do headphones are placed over our ears and taped in place. The voice of the Master plays and it is soft and soothing over and over his words tell us we are animals and he is our Lord... we are nothing but what he wishes... we will work hard to please... a smile from him is all we desire... Over and over, we fall asleep to his words and wake to them still talking to us.

We woke to the filth of the sty caked to our naked bodies, the first thing we notice though is the soft voice of the man we have signed our freedom away to in our heads. His voice is soft calming and though you don't want to already you can feel yourself wanting to believe what you hear. Shut out of the world by the headphones we do not hear the approach of the foreman; a tall dark skinned man, bright white teeth flash between his lips. His face covered in a bush of a beard he smiles and pours the pig swill and kitchen rubbish to the troughs and pigs run happily toward it and barge each other and us as they eat. A separate bucket is poured to our trough and we look at it and each other as lettuce, potato peels and such drop to the trough. We hear "Master loves You..." and ironically "Master feeds you..." as our eyes watch the man put the bucket to one side and laughing invites us to eat.

The swill stinks, and over the days we see why; the farm workers urinate over it. At first they do it out of sight and then openly as our supposed Master watches and smiles. He supervises our treatment and we wake up to his smiling face, bright teeth and stern eyes looking at us as we hear his voice through headphones, then as they are removed continue to hear him as he speaks to us in real life.

We have a routine; we are woken, fed and then taken to a whipping post. In the beginning we scream, beg, dig in our heels as we are dragged there. This is an area with two posts upright in the ground and our hands are cuffed to the chains hammered in place there. The foreman, his full beard hiding most of his face but his eyes dark and hard flexes his arm and uncurls his cat. He smiles as under the gaze of his, and our, Master he whips our backs, hard enough to sting but never to cut. With each stroke we can see Master watching and smiling and in headphones his soft voice telling us that he loves us and we love him more. The foreman enjoys his task and his face is cracked by a big smile with each stroke as we feel the sting of the cat.

We gasp and these become sobs as the lashes build, we feel the knotted end whip about the back and curl onto the ribs and Master smiles and watches. Our backs warmed by the cat's tails I breathe heavily and watch Master approach, cane in hand and a show of swooping it through the air... we both hear the whistle as it cuts the air. My feet twitch remembering in the auction centre each mornings strokes to the soles of my feet. He walks about us slowly, each pace seeming to take an age... around and around he walks the tip of the cane softly running a line over our bodies until without waning my calves burn and I dance a squeal both in pain and shock shortly joined by Coffee.

Again and again we squeal and dance, calves burning until we don't stand we hang by our wrists to the post sobbing. But our ordeal is not over and as I hang I feel the movement of a pole across my tummy, forcing me to push back my ass; I know what is to come and wait, ears taught I hear the brief whistle and cut of the air before my ass burns with the first of 6. We squeal and beg, tears of pain and self pity roll freely down our cheeks. We cant stop them though we know this is what he wants and in these early days we do not wish to bend or break to him.

Punishments over we hang resting over the pole. We feel the headphones removed and hear Master's voice in reality. He walks to face us a soft hand raising to caress tear stained cheeks. He makes a show of putting cooling cream onto his palm before walking behind us.

"There, there my pets. You know I have to do this for your own good and you need to see your own free will has gone." We hang silent, seething but grateful for the cooling cream. His voice is soft, his hands and touch softer as our burning welts feel the cold cream slip across them we cant help but let contented and sighs escape as our skin feels the relief. He takes us one by one leading us by the wrists to what I assume are animal breeding pens and we are fastened into the stocks. It is designed to open the animal ready to accept its fate and it does the same to us as covered in dirt, hairless, beaten, we hear the locks click and we are on show. Our owner crouches still smiling still speaking softly and he takes a breast in hand twisting it till I scream, then I am attached to a pump and feel the suck as the milking machine start to milk me. Neither Coffee not I have any milk to give but the pump sucks and releases each morning we are on the pump for an hour the incessant rhythmic click of the pump and pull upon our teats.

We are kept in the breeding pens and the farmhands walking wearily back from their work in fields look over at us, stopping to walk about us and point and laugh. I scream as one opens his trousers and a dirty cock presses to my lips. I feel the pain of a crop to my pussy and the foreman says

"Suck him off you cunt! As long as they don't fuck you they can have what they want from the animals. The two best workers this week get you both for the weekend." He laughs, "Then they fuck you, and they don't get pussy for a weekend or to themselves often so it will be hard on you."

I feel my mouth open and his cock slides urgently in. He has been working hard and he tastes of dirt and sweat. Strong hands hold my head still as he thrusts again and again, I feel him in my throat and I gag. I am choking and everyone is laughing until with a scream he holds me in place and I feel his cock surging and my mouth filling. He withdraws and I am gasping for breath cum pouring out of my mouth.

The weekend arrives and and under the gaze of the Master we are placed under a hose and a cloth thrown to each of us. We wash each other, the water is cold and we shiver but delight in the week's filth and mess falling away from us until we look clean and the Master indicates the water halted. We stand there shivering and Master appraises us his words soft yet hurtful as he discusses us with his wife.

"Fucking animals dear, no class unlike you."... "No pride in themselves, see how dirty they were?"... "I doubt they will be worthy home pets, maybe working whores is the best we can hope for."...

His wife walks about us nodding and making sounds of agreement, then she takes our hands and we all walk to a barn. Within here is a mirror and though not totally clean I smile at my pale skin visible again mostly free of filth and my mound and head has the stubble of hair growth, my smile widens until I see the bench and beside it a bowl, soap, cloth and razor and my heart sinks. Coffee to has seen this and her face shows she feels as I do; we are deflated.

"Cream! Lie upon the bench looking up." The command is the voice of the woman. I stood still until a punch delivered by her expertly to my kidney sends the air from me and I stagger to the bench. As I settle I hear the room fill with farmhands.

"Coffee, you will shave the animal... clean. If there is the least hair felt when inspected you will suffer."

Coffee moves and I feel the lather move about my head, mound eyebrow - anywhere hair is beginning to regrow upon me and then the tug of the razor. I cry and when finished I stand and look in the mirror once again a dehumanized thing looks back at me and we swap places.

The two best workers are called forward and we can see they are already hard the trousers hiding nothing and they take us away. All weekend we were used. Used alone, used together, in front of the other farm hands who enviously watched on. They winners have their instructions; we cannot be broken but we can be bruised, pussy and mouth are available but not anus. The men, nondescript to my mind now, used us their cocks rutted us hard forcing our walls apart mercilessly and it was clear to me that to them we were not people, not like them - yet exactly like them caught in a world where all tattooed meant nothing.

They had worked hard for this treat and they meant to enjoy it. They revelled in the watching eyes of others as they parted thighs and slapped labias till we screamed and begged for mercy. They held us open so every eye saw the cock slide between pussy lips and then later pulled out dragging thick white semen from us. Our hands were slapped away as we tried to cover our used and dribbling sex from prying eyes.

No matter how starved of women you are no one can last forever fucking and remain hard. But any respite was short as they then traded us for rations. The farmhands eager to sample us readily agreeing to give portions of next weeks food for time with us. We screamed and we clawed, the men laughed... we begged and pleaded and they laughed harder. Sunday night came and the barn unlocked to see Master and the foreman standing by him moves to us grabbing us to stand in the light. We are both a foul mess and the Master's eyes look at us and then he waves us back to the sty and our chain. We settle into the dirt of our home not caring, feeling our bruises throb and our bodies ache the memory of a clean body only a day ago so distant it seemed.

Footsteps are heard and Master, impeccable as if dirt does not dare touch him leans in and softly strokes our heads... "There, there my dears try hard to please I am sure you are good and will soon be with me in my home." We both just stay silent and still but the soft touch is a strong memory even now after all these years I recall it.