I quietly entered the hall, carrying the heavy tray of coffee jug and accompaniments with a graceful curtsy. Slavegirls must always curtsy when entering a room, where Master or Masters are present. Or if indicated drop to all fours and crawl to kiss Masters feet. As was expected, demanded from slavegirls my service was quick unobtrusive but always making sure that my cleavage and bottom were jiggling prettily.
I was wearing my the apron i had just been given to wear & was very pleased with the filmy fabric having been kept nude for my chores for the last month or so since I arrived. Nude except the tiny ‘modesty’ veil that barely covered my mouth and was utterly diaphanous and glossy, that all slave girls had to wear.
The glossy silk apron was baby pink and matched the colour of my veil, it was also shiny but completely diaphanous too. It barely reached down and covered my intimacies and only just about covered my nipples, the fastening strings under and around my breasts made the apron push up and plump my cleavage for a very comely buxom
appearance. I was very pleased with it and it was the only item of clothing I had ever been permitted here so far. It was much nicer than the one given to my fellow blonde slave, who I shared a kennel or cage with at night. Hers was only a half apron and didn’t cover her breast at all. Although she did have very pretty nipple bells to jiggle. I also had my nipples pierced and ringed with a short chain between the rings. A tiny pretty bell swung freely on the delicate heart shaped links and was also very pretty.
We were not permitted much clothing and never panties or nether shields as they are called here. Except
to wear briefly and then to be gagged with when they are moist and hot with our arousal gagged for sex. Like that distant now memory when I had been taken. The burly Men who had appeared in my darkened apartment in the middle of night, waking me in my bed, dragging me from it, stripping me naked. And forcing me to dress me in my extra lacey silk underwear, the lingerie I wore for special dates. I was forced to serve them drinks while they lounged on my furniture. All the while sobbing and pleading, desperate to know what they wanted until I was stripped off and then gagged with my warm moist panties into a muffled terrified silence. They had actually seemed bored by the whole process of my capture, and this game seemed to amuse them briefly. After that I had been bundled into a heavy leather transport sack and then all I remember was waking up here, with lots of other frightened naked and very beautiful girls, just like my kennel companion.
There were actually lots of slave girls here but she and I were new and as well as sharing the tiny crawlspace kennel with her , we were both what was known as white silk so also wore the iron belt at nights. The tiny kennel we shared whose gate was only high enough to crawl on all fours slowly and very carefully though. An the kennel itself no higher and tiny and cramped for 1 occupant, holding us both.
There were 3 Men seated around the central coffee/drinks serving table. I made sure that my posture was graceful and pretty as I knelt at the table. They were all, as most Men are here well but slimly built, lithe and powerful. I always felt very soft and weak in their presence which of course I was. I could imagine being tossed over their shoulders onto their strong chests and being carried like so much struggling baggage, spoils of conquest. I wasn’t not permitted to look above my Masters belt line without permission, but I could feel their casual observation of my service burning into my lowered head as I poured the coffee and mixed the liqueur into the fortified morning drink. I felt self conscious and flustered and my thighs were slightly moist under my apron already. Could imagine being carried away as their reward.
I was always now excited and wet in the presence of the Masters. They were just so masculine and
dominant and I felt so vulnerable and weak, feminine and submissive in their presence. I had seen other girls hurrying back from serving one or other of the Men. Furtively but not very much so, with a Masters pleasure on their lips, or between their thighs licking their lips or pressing their fingers between squeezed thighs and sucking their fingers, like cream. I had glanced jealously at them and they had smiled and wiggled at me. Once or twice I had seen one slave give her friend a hot sticky kiss, sharing the thick sticky cream. I had always glanced down embarrassed but very hot, so wanting to be her at that moment.
When I and the other slaves were at our chores, mostly cleaning the hard tiled floor on all fours, one of the Masters might stride though and we would all raise our bottoms slightly and greet Him submissively, usually ignored completely, I might add. But we would all be so wet but also frightened lest He stop and decide to discipline us for some reason with the crop they all seemed to carry about with them. I had only felt a criss cross crack across my raised bottom or my thighs, once or twice and the stern but bored on His part admonishment for me to hurry, or to scrub/polish better.
And I didn’t want to feel it ever gain, let alone be sent to fetch it or worse for a proper beating. Even though I knew I would deserve my punishment and was strangely flattered that a Man such as these a Master, might desire me enough to punish me if I didn’t please Him as much as He expected me to. Though I very much preferred the thought of being spanked to the thought of the whip on my soft behind. I had seen one of the girls being pulled over a Masters lap and spanked soundly. I had been sent out of the room, but then the girl had left the room slightly later with His pleasure all over her lips and face, she had looked very pleased with herself even though her bottom was still swollen and puffy looking from her spanking.
I knelt before the first Man, Masters guest. I am guessing both of them were guests or strangers but I was not permitted to look up and see their faces.
“Please Master, how may this girl serve your coffee and your pleasure, Master, thank You Master.” I
asked.
“Stand up slave.” He told me
I lowered the jug and stood up with a curtsy, He snapped His fingers and indicated that I should move closer to Him.
He patted my bottom, it was bare from behind and I was as yet unbranded. Later when I was sold into whatever city state I ended up in I would be branded, on one buttock a pretty brand indicating that I was irrevocably now just property. As well as a tiny coin stamped with my owners symbol attached to my clitoris when I was no longer white silk and was also belled there. Most of the girls in the cages and pens here were as yet unbranded, owned but still unsold to our final Masters.
“That is a very pretty apron slave.”
“Thank You Master.” I whispered quite hoarsely, pathetically flattered by his comments. And ever so pleased with the new apron.
“A little too long maybe slave.” He said, it was very short and only just barely covered my intimacies as long as I didn’t move too quickly.
“Yes Master, Thank You Master.”
He touched the hem and then sniffed His fingers, I looked down in shame realizing it was damp.”
“Yes a little too modest for a hot little blonde like you.”
“Yes Master, Thank You Master.” I curtsied blushing,
“Strip,” He told me
“Yes Master, Thank You Master.” I didn’t dare disobey, fumbling as I tried to hurry with the apron strings.
“Hurry slave unless you want to taste the whip.”
I suddenly felt all the breath and colour drain out of me at the mention of punishment. Choking with
fright now. Finally what felt like an eternity, but was just an instant the apron string tugged loose and the apron slipped down. With a quick flash of His hand He caught it very adeptly before it fell to the ground then tossed it to the floor. The quickness of His movement scaring me even more, how easy & casually powerful He was.
He put His finger between my legs, I suddenly realized was very warm and wet there now.
Lifting His fingertip to His nose He sniffed the slickness.
“Now you smell like a pretty little blonde too slave.”
“Yes Master, Thank You Master.”
He pushed His fingers under my veil into my mouth.
“Suck me clean, slave.”
“Yes Master, Thank You Master.”
“You may look up fucktoy.”
“Yes Master, Thank You Master.” I obeyed meeting His eyes. Even when a slavegirl is allowed to look up for example during fellatio, she really only sees her Masters eyes not really discerning His whole face. He is a person she is not.
I sucked His fingers clean looking deeply into His eyes submissively and seductively as if I was performing fellatio, which I so wanted now with him. And I so wanted to please Him this way now, I could feel my thighs squelching and squidging and knew He could smell and hear me too.
“Now you may serve me coffee slave, extra liqueur, no honey or sweetener.” He told me slapping my bottom.
“Yes Master, Thank You Master.” I gasped. The slap was so light, from His perspective but took my breath completely away.
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He and the other
Masters never said a word to me for the rest of the afternoon as I knelt before
them,
except to tell me to pour more coffee and how they wanted it.
After they left I tidied the cups and the hall, then was about to rejoin my fellow new slave on all fours scrubbing & polishing the floors.
But instead I
was led into an area downstairs where several other slaves were already hooded
and bagged in the horrid leather transport sacks. They had disks attached to
the buckle that closed the sack to identify them. For the briefest of moments I
had the satisfaction of
knowing that I had been found pleasing enough to be
bought. By Him maybe, the thought aroused me massively and very immediately,
but also frightened me, He would be very strict with a little blonde ‘fucktoy’
like me I feared, & hotly hoped. But then realized alongside my sale so had
lots of the other girls, and were most likely off to another city and a slave
auction. I wondered if my cage companion had been similarly vended too. We
hadn’t even been given names yet, pretty or otherwise. But I didn’t have long
to think about any of this before my wrists were locked behind me and I was
gagged. The heavy leather sack pulled down my head and belly buckling closed
between my legs, then the other part of the sack pulled up so I was bent double
and properly contained in the sack.
I hadn’t even been fed or permitted to toilet for today and would never dare soil the sack, no matter how desperate would be to pee or how long we had to wait. Although we would never dare soil ourselves, implied in their harsh treatment of us as transported goods. That any girl who did so would be severely punished or simply tossed over the side of a transport barge. Nonetheless the sacks when opened would be slick with our fear and arousal too. Being placed into the sacks which were rarely cleaned felt so clammy from the previous
occupant too. It was so humiliating and embarrassing thinking that the next girl would be in your helpless stink too.
My own sack was tagged I assumed then we were all tossed casually into a wagon with the other sold slaves, for transport. The slavers were laughing and joking so casually as they worked, how I hated them,
They were such beasts and how I now ached and longed hotly so to be owned by a such a strict beastly Master.
