This one has lived with it all her life. Born of two slaves, she was taken as property from birth. Her mother tried to hide her from her master, a cruel and heartless man, by saying the child was born dead. The master, whom had servants to tell him the truth, murdered the father, in hopes to find out where the child was. Her mother, saddened, heartbroken, spoke up as the whip slashed against her bare back. The child was in the woods, a tamed wolf protects her.
The master, finding the child, brought her back to his manor. Thrilled with infants, he pampered her, and had all the other slaves and servants bowing to her will. He had always wanted a daughter. Now he would have one. Her mother thought differently. She attempted to kidnap her own daughter and run as far as her legs could carry. A service guarding the child, now About six months old, stopped her. She lay dead on the stone floor till morning, a product of loyalty from the service who was richly rewarded.
Growing up in her extreme younger years, she was blessed with a name. The master called her Mistic. She was able to order about those slaves and servants whom slew her mother. She was told the story, and surprisingly accurate. She cared nothing for her mother, why should she want to be like her? A slave? Heaven forbid. So she played and enjoyed the attention the master poured onto her.
When she was about seven years old, she became very interested in the training of the slaves. The master, enjoying her interest with his work, let her join in. She taught the newer ones to keep their eyes lowered and never look directly at any master or mistress, unless expressed by them at the time. Showed them how to knee, in nadu and tower. Her master was taking a great liking watching her complete these tasks as well. His interest was not only in the way she taught, but what she was learning as well.
When she hit her womanly years, she blossomed. She had many gentlemen who wished to court her, and the master allowed certain ones. Though when he came upon them in the garden late at night, after the servants informed him of her doings, his fatherly nature disappeared as he collared the gentlemen and sent him to the dungeons. Mistic, standing uncomfortable in her nakedness, was ushered into the manor, a blanket thrown around her shoulders.
Once they were inside the manor, he half dragged her into his bedroom. There he took her to the bed and snatched off her blanket, revealing the body of a young woman, one of whom he has lusted over for years. After seeing her with his new dungeon slave he has stopped thinking about his “daughter” and about his slave.
She sat there shivering in the once warm room, now cold as ice under his glare. Standing there exposed to him, her eyes pleading, tears fell across perfect cheeses. Her eyes search his, and see his growth cold, his hand raised, he slapped her across the face, leaving a large welt. Her head snapped backwards, surprised, hehad never harmed her before.
“Never look me in the eyes, slave” The cold voice, and cold words struck her like nothing before. Even the strike against her a moment a go, was nothing compared to this. Slave? His slave? How could she be his slave? She was his daughter, and he her father.
“I’m sorry, master” Cringing speaking to him like that. Master. A blow to the heart. She looked up again this time her gaze not directed upwards to his eyes.
He moved like a cat, and was once again standing before her, his hands griping her body as if she was a piece of meat to be bought. She shrank back, and this time was grabbed by the hair and forced to her knees. “Kneel before your master, slave”.
Forced to her knees, her eyes tear again as he removed his robe, tied only at the waist. Her head was perfect in Height to see his raging hard on and she turned her head only slightly before he grabbed it and forced her attention. “Slave wants to see a man? You should have come tome, child, before attempting to get it elsewhere. Your nothing but a whore, just like your mother.”
Visibly flinching, she stutters out through her sobs, “Please no, don’t do this to me” Dropping his robe he grabbed her hair and lifted her to standing position.
“You know the rules for slavery, you have trained many of my slaves,” and with that he throw her upon the bed. Seeing her thrash he grabbed the rope from the bedpost and tied her down. Then reaching over to the nightstand, he takes a collar, and fastens it on her thrashing body. Seeing her eyes wide with fear, tears pouring out of them, she grinned. “Did he takes you first?”
She shook her head no, but not by much she thought, he caught them in the middle of their first attempt. Before she could utter anything, she felt pain, not to unbearable, and perhaps even pleasure. Looking down to where the master was, he had slide a finger into her pussy. Wiggling it about and struggling inside of her, she felt herself become wet whether she wanted to or not.
“That’s a good whore” With that he inserted another finger, this time quicker and more painful, enjoying seeing her cringe and whimper. She know the excuse for crying out. Feeling her tighten against his fingers, her removed them to make sure she wasn’t enjoying her punishment too long. “No whore, you will learn to obey my rules and mine alone, is that understand?”
“Yes, master” she managed to stumble out, her breathing short fearful gasps, watching his cock becomes if at all possible, harder and larger. She didn’t know what he was going to do with that but she knew it would not be pretty.
To Be Continued…
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