Then one morning I wasn’t sent to my chores. My wrists and ankles were locked together in the bracelets and I was left in the dark curtained slave cage, with the night smell of the girls dreams lingering in the air. Since the top cover had been closed the steward had either by neglect or design not bothered to open it, despite the air getting progressively warmer. I was no longer surprised, nor did I fret about it, already used to being subject and subjugated to male whims. I was more concerned that I couldn’t fuss with my hair & that I would have enough time to prettify myself when I was released from the cage. I knelt there quietly, facing the curtain, waiting for it to open. waiting in the warm sticky darkness.
I guess sometime after breakfast the steward had opened the curtain and had me crawl out of the cage. Awkwardly as my wrists and ankles were still chained but as prettily as I could. He had attached a chain to my collar as a leash & led me stumbling upstairs & into the delivery yard, behind the kitchen. Now I was upset and anxious. I didn’t quite recognise the way he took me but it had been the way I had entered the house, after that traumatic journey, on my first day. & now I was so confused and flustered by trying to walk with my ankles chained together, that I only caught glimpses of the tearful waves of the girls as I was led past them & outside the house for the first time in over a month.
In the yard I saw a wheeled curtained slave cage, my heart sank. As he lifted the curtain for a moment I expected to see the cage full of girls, but instead there were only 2 naked girls, chained like me, but gagged, one was also hooded in a tight leather bag hood. I noticed that the two already were branded like lita and the other girls, so were not new slaves. And both were obviously very frightened. I wasn’t sure which girl looked more afraid the one hooded or the girl who’s eyes were so very wide over her gag. This did absolutely nothing for my composure. I wanted to cling to the steward but the chains would have prevented me. If I had dared to, his posture was impassive and stern. For a moment I though I might wet myself in fright, I felt such a sharp pang in my uthera. That was all I had time to notice before I was pushed into the darkened cage.
“Master?” finally I couldn’t help myself but call out as the curtain closed plunging us into darkness.
“Do you want to be gagged?” The steward said, quite matter of fact, from outside of the cage.
“No Master.” I whispered.
“Well keep those soft lips of yours closed, girl.”
“Yes Master, thank you Master.”
He didn’t reply, I heard him walking away.
We were left waiting frightened wondering what was to happen to us. I knelt close to the two girls in the darkness. I might as well have been gagged, because all I could hear from the two girls were frightened miserable whimpers & myself I was too terrified to breathe let alone utter a word.
It was some time later we heard horses being attached to the wagon and with a very loud crack of a horsewhip in the air, the wagon set off.
The ride was no less bumpy or uncomfortable than I remembered, but it was at least mercifully short. We were soon off the rough cobbled road and onto the relatively smooth paving of the port. If we hadn’t been sealed in the cage we would have felt and smelt the cooling tang of the sea air. Although the port was far less busy than it had been on market day, to us in the cage it seemed a confused mass of shouting and jostling, mainly male voices but also interspersed with obedient and deferential female voices. The wagon stopped several times while the driver seemingly engaged in idle & long conversation with each and everybody he knew along the route
Then finally we arrived at our destination & we were pulled from the wagon and led stumbling into a small low shop. The first thing I noticed was the unpleasant sweet aroma of burnt flesh in the air. & two girls kneeling chained to steel poles, pale with fear. I saw the branding horse & knew immediately what it was, nearly swooning with terror myself. To one side of the shop there was a small cage containing 3 girls chained by the neck and ankles in a forced kneeling position with their bottoms in the air. The three each had 2 angry looking fresh brands freshly burnt into the flesh of their buttocks. & the shop still smelt of their sizzled soft tissue. I fancied I could feel the heat from here, but it was the heat of the small forge. My two travelling companions, were led to another cage and the unhooded girl was promptly hooded in a tight leather bag hood, like her already hooded companion.
They were locked in a similar position to the 3 freshly branded girls. A thin metal belt similar in appearance to the slave bracelets was locked around their waists and their wrists attached keeping them well out of the way of their bottoms. I noticed all the other girls were wearing them too, just a moment before I was secured in one. The position keeping my wrists at my waist was immediately more uncomfortable & confining than simply being cuffed or braceleted.
Then the smithy led me to another metal pole and I was attached to it by the O rings on my collar and cuffs, kneeling there. A large ball gag attached to the pole was stuffed into my mouth. I had never been gagged before. Denied of even the possibility of speech I felt utterly like an animal or an object. The pole was quite smooth and well polished but was also sticky and slimy with fear. Needlessly to say it felt very unpleasant on my bottom, pressed as I was right up & chained against it with my buttocks around it. The men exchanged a few words and some coinage. He seemed to be pretending to be annoyed about the extra work, grumbling good naturedly to the driver. Or at least that’s what I thought, in any case such matters were male concerns not mine.
The smithy seemed in no hurry to do anything much, whistling to himself. He went to my two travelling companions, who already bore well healed branding scars, with a jar of some sticky looking ointment, and with a brush carefully so as not to get any on himself, applied it to each of their brands in turn. There was a slight pause of about a few seconds then there ensued the most frightful muffled, gagged squealing I had ever heard & the strong pungent waxy aroma of melting, rather than burning flesh. It was so unpleasant & upsetting that I was glad when I saw him closing the curtain on them. This did nothing to muffle the squealing & whimpering. After a few seconds he banged on the cage & ordered them to silence & they quietened. But I could still hear them whimpering & squirming in pain inside the cage as their old marks of ownership melted over the next couple of days. In earlier times when there were still free women, the collar not the brand was the mark of ownership. Now when women were all enslaved at 19 the brand was that of their owners.
He sat down at his bench and lit a cigarette & shouted a curt order. A naked brunette hurried into the shop carrying a large mug of steaming coffee. She was from the tavern next door & her duties for the day were fetching and carrying for the traders in the street around the tavern. She was clearly uncomfortable in the shop, and wouldn’t even look at me and the other girls chained on the poles. When he pushed a coin in her mouth, she hurried away with obvious relief. He sat there for quite a long time before turning to his small forge and with bellows stoked the flames. The man looked incredibly strong and brawny, branding slaves was only a sideline to his usual smithy work. Then the first girl on the poles was released and strapped over the branding horse. She was numb with fright, he had to slap her body a few times just to get her in the right position. Then she was strapped firmly down, with broad leather belts. She wasn’t gagged, apparently it was easier on a girl if she was allowed to scream.
He went to the forge and withdrew a test iron. I glowed red hot in the air, he probed a piece of wood with the hot iron & seemed satisfied with the results. Then he took out the first branding iron, that was now incandescent. Stepping behind the girl he lined the iron up carefully then pressed it into her flesh. She let out the most bloodcurdling scream I had ever heard, as the metal sizzled into her flesh. She had wet herself all over the horse too.
“That’s it girl scream, let it all out.” He said to her still holding the iron in her flesh and pressing steadily deeper.
Then expertly he pulled it free & took the second brand from the forge. Her screams were horrible, truly awful. I started to squirm and struggle on the pole futilely. Then he took another jar of ointment and applied it to her brands. She screamed again. The ointments sealed the wound very quickly and helped the brand heal cleanly and quickly over a couple of days, but stung terribly like salt in a wound. She was released from the horse and instructed to clean up the mess she had made and clean and polish the irons. He sat smoking watching her idly.
I was numb with fear myself now. From my kneeling position I could see out of a low barred window into the street and across the walkway to the front of a tavern. Outside the tavern I could see a mans knees, and between them I saw a girl kneeling there performing fellatio. As she served him intimately another girl seemed to bring him a fresh drink. They both seemed to have dyed hair, one pink the other a quite strikingly beautiful light blue. In the taverns girls often have coloured hair. It is quite pleasant apparently to see coloured hair over your lap & between your knees, and even pleasanter, visually to have girls with golden hair like me loving you with their lips, lita had called me a blow job blonde on more than one occasion. They & the vista of their service looked so graceful and natural, so right. I longed, desperately wanting to be one of them, to not be waiting to be branded.
When she had finished he led her to the cage and put her with the other 3 girls, gagging her and hooding her. He put the second girl in the horse, & if anything her branding was even more horrid. then there was only me.
Then it was my turn. I must have bee sobbing too loudly. Because he cuffed my face sharply and pushed a gag into my mouth.
“Enough noise from you little blondie.” He told me pushing the gag firmly in and buckling it closed behind my head.
“Shhhhh” He told me not unkindly as he fastened the broad straps firmly across my body.
He passed another broad belt between my legs, separating and firming my buttocks. It was horribly damp at the crotch.
The door opened and another girl was brought in. The smithy grumbled quite good naturedly. The men chatted easily for quite some time. Then after his customer was turning to leave he turned & looked down at me.
“Well I think I’ll have some lunch before I deal with you blondie.” He told me, and pulled a hood over my head, & buckling it securely closed around my neck.
“Don’t go anywhere.” He said patting my bottom. then leaving with the other man.
Being hooded is terrifying especially for the first time, in total darkness in the tight nearly suffocating leather hood. I was completely immobile waiting for his return, listening to the muffled cries & whimpers of pain and fear from the other girls. I wondered if he was across the walkway in the tavern. Actually he was.
He came back after an hour or so & leaving me hooded proceeded to stoke the hearth as I listened fearfully to him working. Then I was unhooded. He took out his test iron, & pressed it into the piece of wood. The tormented block fizzled and burnt, with that strong smell of burnt wood. He lit himself a cigarette on the iron, but wasn’t satisfied, bellowing the hearth some more. Then when he was satisfied he withdrew the first branding iron, holding it up before me as if looking for my approval of its readiness. mumbled frightened, not really anything at all just mumbled frightened as he stepped behind me with the white hot metal.
Although he pressed the iron into me very quickly. He seemed to stand behind me for what seemed like an eternity before I felt my skin begin to sear and sizzle as the glow of the iron approached. I sobbed in agony, into the gag. Then it bit into my skin & through the subcutaneous fat of my bottom & then into the flesh. It was agony, absolutely excruciating. I was consumed, engulfed, by pain.
My screams must have been very audible even tightly gagged as I was. Because he told me quite soothingly “That’s it blondie scream.”
“let it all out, blondie.” He told me as I felt myself wetting myself in pain & fright.
Then he pulled free the first brand & went for the second one. I struggled and fought, but the straps held me perfectly immobile, quite implacable.
The second iron burnt its way into me, he seemed to me to hold it in me longer and deeper than the first but he didn’t. If I had foolishly expected the ointment to be soothing at all I was in for a horrid surprise, it burnt & stung as badly as the irons, as it cleaned & started healing the wounds.
He sat and watched me cleaning up my mess. I felt utterly humiliated like a beast, branded cattle, which to him I was. He hadn’t ungagged me & led me like this to the cage and the rack inside, to be chained & left hooded just like the other slaves while my brand healed. Listening to the other girls being branded before they were squashed into the cage with us, sobbing in misery & pain, quietly into our gags, in the blindness of the hoods. Then when he had finished for the day closing up the cages and drawing the curtains, closing up his shop for the day & leaving us.
As they day grew to a close & turned into evening and then night. We could hear loud sounds of merriment and pleasure from the surrounding taverns as we waited, & waited. Till eventually in the early hours of the morning I guess the sounds outside died down & we all managed to fall into a fitful and uncomfortable sleep.
In the very early morning I heard male voices and the door opened, I was pulled from the cage. I had a most uncomfortable realization that I had been identified by the brand on my bottom, rather than anything else. I wasn’t unhooded, or ungagged, and I was left closely chained. Another metal belt was put around my waist, and a cool feeling broad metal U shaped device, was passed between my legs, hinged on this belt. It was extremely snug on my bottom and pubic mound and considerably wider at these two places. I was quite glad the metal was so smooth and well finished. The belt was locked at the front with a small padlocked. I had been chastity belted!.
A long leather leash was attached to the front of my collar, and I was led stumbling out of the shop. The men stopped and chatted for a bit, in the street, then I felt the leash snap painfully on the backs of my legs as he led me stumbling, blindly away.
Rather than hoping that someone on the street would come to my rescue, an extremely unlikely turn of events. I felt quite fortunate that the cobbled streets were empty, as it was very confusing & disconcerting being led about like this. Especially as he kept snapping my legs with the leash. I was totally distraught and in floods of tears by the time I felt my feet on a wooden platform, that seemed to be swaying somewhat. As I would realize later I was being led onto a ship. Then down some tricky wooden stairs and then locked in a tiny cage and left. Sobbing still, hooded gagged and closely chained, sobbing in humiliation and vulnerable fear.
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