Wronged: A Sex Slave's Story

[GrayOldFart]

Wronged

A Sex Slave's Story​

Grann pounded against his step daughter again and again and again, desperate to cum within her just one more time. Below the warm, September sun and atop the loosely tied bundles of sheep wool, they'd each climaxed already, and for them once was normally enough. But today was different for them; today was the last time they would ever make love, and Grann -- the half of the pair who knew this -- wanted as much from this last fuck as he could possibly get.

He exploded again with a mighty groan that, he could see in her eyes, surprised her. As they often were, they'd come to each other behind the sheep shack, only fifty yards from the hovel where her mother was caring for her little brother and infant sister. His grunts and her cries had always been managed to prevent Grann's wife -- in whose name all the property and wealth was -- from hearing.

He had no reason to be quiet this time, though; he had no reason to be discreet. Flayn, his wife and her mother, had discovered the affair, and had threatened to go to the Church, which had a dim view on cheating spouses -- male or female -- as well as severe laws of physical punishment against them. He would be lashed; he would go to a Church Labor Camp, to work off his sins ...for the rest of his life.

Flayn, of course, would have been left alone, with a farm she couldn't work alone, and she would be alone, too, for she knew her eldest would flee rather than be stuck here in this dreadful life without the only man who'd ever loved her.

So a deal had been struck. Grann would stay and remain a dutiful, faithful husband. And his lover would ...go away.

The euphoria running wild through the gambler-turned-reluctant-drover waned, and he rolled off his small framed, young lover. He simply stared up into the mid-afternoon sky, torn between the thrill of the pleasure still enveloping him and the knowledge that as soon as he walked away, the Slavers -- who Flayn had agreed to hold back for his final fuck -- would rush the barn and take her away.

"I love you," he said softly. He didn't look her way for her reaction to first time he'd said those words to her. Instead, he rolled away and, with his trousers and shirt in hand, he headed down the slight incline to the creek to wash away the wonderful smell of her one last time...

(How's that? You can write from here as far as you wish: to the attack, through it to a successful kidnapping, to the sex slave market ... Five seconds, five minutes, five days ...whichever you wish. )

 

[secretsara]

Anya clenched her teeth as her step-father's cock rammed into her. She wanted to scream with pleasure, but if her mother ever found out what was going on between them, there would be hell to pay.

They had started when she turned 18, though her mother's husband had been eyeballing her for much longer. She was a small, slender girl, barely 5 feet tall, but she had a perfect young body and a face that was far more beautiful than she imagined. Her hair was a fiery red and curly, though she usually wore it in a simple braid.

It had been a simple, but effective seduction. She had been watching the herd, and a ewe whose time had come was mounted by a ram. It was nothing new, but it was something to watch other than sheep grazing, so she sat down to watch.

"When do you think it'll be your time?" he had said, sneaking up and startling her. The shock had quickly turned to laughter, and she had felt his arms slip around her. When she felt his cock pressing against her, she knew exactly what he was asking her.

Her answer was simply pulling her skirts up to her waist and bending over the log she had been sitting on. The first time had hurt, but he had been gentle and sweet and took enough time to make sure she enjoyed herself.

Since then, they had found reasons to be in the same place at the same time almost every day. He would whisper the same question, and she would give the same answer. It seemed that she was always ready for him, and even when they only had a few minutes, she was always able to reach a climax. They fucked in a lot of places, but the sheep pen was the best, with the thick soft wool to rest on and bury her face in while he fucked her.

This time, despite the risk, he had kept caressing her breasts when he was done, fondling them and making her squirm with pleasure until she realized that he meant to go again. That had never happened before, and she had shivered with excitement at the idea. She knew it meant something special, but she had no idea what that could be.

Until he finished, the second time, and pulled out of her quivering pussy. She was on her knees with her ass in the air and her skirts around her waist when he said those words, and her voice was too muffled by the wool for him to hear her response. He was already gone when she pushed herself up and straightened her skirts out, but it didn't matter. He had said it.

She giggled and slipped her breasts back into her blouse, and she stood up carefully, feeling his cum sliding down her thighs. Then the men appeared, stepping out from behind the shack. They were rough, unshaved and had battered, scarred faces, and they carried a large sack and clubs.

"Who are you?" she asked, nervously.

"Don't make us hurt you now, pretty thing," the one said, and the other lunged for her. She opened her mouth to scream, but a fist slammed into her belly and knocked the wind out of her. She dropped, gasping for breath, and they pulled the sack over her head.

By the time Grann came up from the creek, the slave-wagon was rolling away across the plain, and if he noticed the bag in the back, thrashing and sobbing, he was able to look away.

 

[GrayOldFart]

Through the remainder of the hot day, the cold night, and most of the following day, the wagon did not stop except twice, and that was only to replace the horses with fresh ones ...and toss more bound and bagged bodies into the bed with Anya. As her second evening in the now cramped cart approached, it stopped once more, and this time the passengers were unloaded and sat around an already skin searing camp fire before their hoods were removed.

A new face -- a huge man, well over six and a half feet tall and three hundred pounds of rock hard muscle -- eyed the girls for a moment, then grew obviously angry at their condition. He turned to the man who'd led Anya's capture and threw a punch into his face so hard that his nose exploded in blood before he fell to ground. The big man looked between the other seven men, hollering, "Food! Water! They are no good to us dead. NOW!"

The men jumped into action, some gathering dried meats and figs and flasks of water while others untied gags and hands, leaving the shackles where tbey were on most of the hostages' ankles. The big man watched the girls, ignoring the men, and when the last girl was unbound, he said sternly, "Do not misunderstand my concern for your welfare. If you try to flee, you will be punished."

 

[secretsara]

Anya had no idea how long she was in the wagon. She heard the slow, steady clopping of hooves, and the creaking of the wheels, and occasionally the voices of the men. Sometimes the wagon stopped, and a few other bodies pressed against her, through the bag. It was cooler for a time, enough that she was grateful for the other bodies, and then warmer. If she had been able to think, she'd have known that a day and a night had passed, and then another day, but first fear and then hunger and thirst made thinking impossible.

When the bag came off at last, she was too exhausted to do more than squint her eyes closed against the light of the fire. She didn't actually see the big man punch the other, but she heard the blow, and the pained yelp, and she cracked her eyelids apart to see the one who had punched her laying on the ground, his nose flattened and half his face covered in blood. She saw the big man who was barking orders, and shivered. He was gigantic, so tall her eyes were at the same height as his armpit, and his arms were bigger around than her thigh.

She stared at him in a kind of exhausted awe as he watched his men remove the ropes from wrists and the gags from some of the other girls' mouths. It was only then that she really noticed that she was one of a dozen girls huddled around the fire, all of them young and half-mad with fear and thirst, and filthy. The men in the wagon had not stopped to allow them to relieve themselves.

A water bag was shoved into her hands, and she drank from it. One of the other girls had drunk too much and been sick from it, so she only drank until the pain of thirst in her belly had eased. She reached under her skirts and poured the rest of the water over her legs to clean herself as well as she could, and then tore the soiled underskirts away. As humiliating as it was to have these men watch her as she cleaned herself, and to have nothing covering her but her ripped and ragged outer skirt, it was better than standing there in her own mess, like some of the other girls, who were too deep in their horror to even attempt to clean themselves.

The big man delivered his warning as the others handed food around, and Anya ate the meager portion they gave her in a few mouthfuls. She had no thought of trying to flee. The night was cold and dark, and the fire warmed her. She remembered what Grann had told her. He loved her, and she knew he would come to make this right, if she was only patient.

 

[GrayOldFart]

Once his men had sprung into action, the big man -- someone had called him Dreer -- watched over the feeding and cleaning and crying and more with seemingly little interest ...except when it came to Anya. He often looked her way, looking her over well ...ogling, but without any sort of hungry expression, as the boys of her village had done even before she began developing her womanly figure.

No, while Anya likely didn't fully yet understand, he was estimating her value at the meat market that the troupe was heading for. She was everything his customers would want: petite yet rounded, flawlessly beautiful, with a red mane that would double -- possibly triple -- her final price due to its uniqueness in this part of the world.

At one point when she looked his way, he smiled -- thrilled at his good fortune, not expressing any friendliness or compassion -- and then walked to stand over the comparably tiny young woman. "At dawn, we will take you to the river ...to clean."

He didn't wait for her response, instead turning and bellowing, "Prepare them for night!"

The men jumped into action, roughly manhandling the girls into a tight group to one side of the fire and lashing all of the ankle shackles not just to one another but to a stake that a man had been pounding deep into the soil over the past couple of minutes. Blankets -- old, tattered, flea infested, and numbering one to each pair of girls -- were tossed to the group.

Dreer watched in silence then -- before walking away into the dark of the night and leaving guards to watch the girls -- warned, "Try to escape ...and I give you to the men."

[OOC -- Feel free to post all the way to dawn if you wish or to some point in the night where something you want to happen happens.]

 

[secretsara]

Anya found herself forced to share a blanket with a hard-faced girl with black hair and fat thighs. She stank of the wagon and in the dying light of the fire, she looked at Anya with pure contempt. For a few moments they wrestled over the blanket, until they realized that they had to huddle close against each other for the warmth of each other's bodies as well as to share the blanket. The blackhaired girl did so grudgingly.

"If you try anything, I'll break your neck," she whispered, pressing herself against Anya's back, almost like Grann had used to do.

"Try what?" Anya whispered. "We're both prisoners."

"What were you thinking, cleaning yourself?" she hissed, as they lay down.

"I was filthy, disgusting," Anya said, unsure how it was this girl didn't understand.

"Now you're clean, so who do you think these bastards are going to come for when they get drunk?"

Anya remembered the way the men had been looking at her. It was the way the boys in the village had looked at her, the way Grann had looked at her before they became lovers. A look of desire and frustration. Just the thought of it made her body ache for Grann, and she felt herself getting hotter there as she remembered him pumping into her two days earlier. The sound of the men drinking by the fire reminded her that it would not be her lover that took her this time, but these frightening, violent men. It made her heart race with fear, but it didn't seem like the rest of her understood that it was fear and not desire.

These conflicting emotions storming within her were the reason she was still awake long after midnight, when the first black shape came, blocking the starlight over her. The reek of urine came with it, and Anya opened her mouth to scream, but before she could, a hand covered her mouth.

"Don't make a sound," a female voice whispered, "Do you want to get us all killed?"

Anya shook her head, and the shadow moved on. Anya wondered if she would make it, if this opportunity would come again. How had she gotten free? But a sharp stone would have cut through these bindings in an hour or so, she guessed. She thought about following, but surely Grann would have caught them up, by now.

A moment later, there was a soft yelp, from the direction the girl had gone in. A scuffling followed, and then after a few moments, a chuckle. The first scream came a minute later, and woke the rest of the girls. They listened in silence, as the girl screamed and begged and sobbed. Some actually managed to get back to sleep, but Anya was still awake when the sky began to turn bright with the approaching dawn. She could finally see what was happening. The girl was wailing in misery, but the only thing Anya could see was one of the men mounting her. Anya's only experiences of sex had been warm and sweet, with a man she loved and trusted, and she could not imagine why the girl sounded so miserable. Of course the men were frightening and harsh, but it didn't look like they were hurting her.

A little while later, as soon as the sun was up, Dreer came and woke them. They were led down to the stream to bath in the icey water, under the watchful eye of the satiated guards. Anya saw the girl that had spent the night with them hobbling down, her face streaked with tears. The other girls kept their distance, as if she had some kind of contagious disease, and this time Anya followed the example. She didn't want to draw any more attention than she did already, with her red hair and her soft curves.

 

[GrayOldFart]

"We're done here!" Dreer bellowed from a small rise looking down upon girls in the stream. The words seemed as if directed for those bathing in the water, but it was the men who leaped into action, herding the prisoners out of the slowly moving channel and back up to a small grassy spot near him.

As the girls were being driven upward, Dreer was heading downward and intercepted Anya. "This one."

Suddenly, two of the stronger men had her securely by the arms, lifting her so that her toes barely touched the ground and hauling her away from the others into the woods. They ignored her protestations and resistance, following Dreer as he continued along a well worn path that eventually opened into a small meadow lit by the morning sun spilling through a hole in the canopy.

A man was there, a man of obvious means. He was dressed in the finest of clothes, with boots and a buckle that shined in the morning light. Atop his head, was a grand hand with a large, purple-dyed feather, and on his hip was a sword in a scabbard decorated with the same purple as above; each were signs of the House of Turpine, the wealthiest, most powerful noble family in the lands. They were also the greatest consumers of young, beautiful women -- sex slaves -- of all the Houses, throwing lavish parties for their political and financial friends -- and even foes -- in which any man, or even woman, could have her every sexual need or desire fulfilled.

He ogled Anya for a moment, then said calmly, "Let me see."

Without hesitation, Dreer stepped before Anya, lifted his knife before her -- blade out and down -- pulled her tattered, dirty gown out away from her body, and with a single movement cut it down the middle from neck to thighs. He stepped aside, leaving the girl naked to the man's eyes except for the cloth hanging from her shoulders.

The man in purple stepped slowly forward, ogling Anya as the two ruffians held her still. Dreer wandered away to the edge of the meadow, snatching up licorice weed and chomping out the juice before spitting the remnants of the small plant onto the ground.

The Turpine was obviously impressed with the nude form before him, a slight smirk upon his lips as he circled around Anya and the men restraining her, lifting her torn gown to look closely at her buttocks, then moving casually back to stand a few feet before her.

"Six hundred," he said softly .

From the edge of the meadow, Dreer erupted in laughter.

The Turpine's smile faded. He half glanced Dreer's way as he said a bit firmer. "Seven hundred."

"I can get three times that at the Market," Dreer told the man in purple. "Look at her."

"Eight hundred."

"Look at the hair," Dreer said, identifying a trait that Anya likely had never even thought of as being a valuable asset. Could she possibly know that the Turpines had once taken an entire village, killing all the men and selling all these women and children across the World just to take the possession of a pair of red headed twins that the Baron of Turpine had spied on a drive through town? He started walking slowly around behind Anya as he said with a smile, "Your father would have a fit if he were to learn that you had let such a woman get--"

"One thousand!" the man cut in, his anxiety rising noticeably. "One thousand ... and my troops let you, your men, and your merchandise reach the market alive. Don't test me, Dreer."

By this point Dreer was standing directly behind Anya, looking from his greater height over her shoulder toward the Turpine. He stepped up close to her, laying a rough hand upon her smooth, round buttock, saying just loud enough for the man before her to hear, "One thousand... For one thousand, I would have to enjoy her first ... to get out of her what she is truly worth to me."

"To touch a female destined for the Baron of Turpine would be grounds for--"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Dreer cut in, obviously not intimidated by the younger man, despite knowing who and what his family was. He practically spat out, "Then pay me! Pay me what you know she's worth!"

The Turpine was tired of the game. For a long moment, he simply stared at Dreer ... and during that long moment, Dreer's hand gently caressed over Anya's skin, from her buttocks to her belly, up almost to a firm round, breast, and finally down until his fingertips were playing in the mass of red hair at the meeting of her thighs. When Anya showed signs of her disgust, he whispered just loud enough for her to hear, "Fight me, and I'll kill this Turpine and raped you to death myself."

A bag of coins jingled as it hit the ground near Dreer's feet. The Turpine said, "Fifteen hundred ... or no one leaves here alive but me."

"Enjoy your life," Dreer whispered to Anya as he kissed her sharply on the shoulder, snatched up his bag of coins, and -- with his two men -- suddenly turned away and headed back down the trail they'd arrived on.

"Please do not be afraid. No one is going to harm you," the Turpine said, quickly holding a hand out toward Anya in a friendly, wait gesture saying. Men emerged from the bushes in two directions, stopping just inside the trees, looking at Anya and obviously ready to pursue her if she fled. "We're going to take you to my coach. There are clothes ... food ... drinking water. You will be well cared for."