CHANGED CIRCUMSTANCES A Sequel to "A Reversal of Fortune" Chapter 51: 'Jus Primae Noctis' (The Law of the First Night)
This is a story of erotic fiction meant for adult readers over the age of eighteen years
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Written by Jean-Christophe (Chris): April, 2012 Read my stories at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Jean-Christophe_Stories
The characters and ideas contained in this story are the writer's and shouldn't be used without his permission. Please respect the integrity of the story and don't do any rewrites, make alterations or add pictures."
Chapter 51: 'Jus Primae Noctis' (The Law of the First Night)
Rafe:
The Major is correct. As best as I can - over the pounding of our feet and the clattering of the carriage wheels - I am listening into the conversation between him and my Master. And I am plagued by my very mixed emotions.
Master boasts at how he had me sit astride his body and impaled my ass on his proud member as he rode me to climax. Master confides his feelings and his enjoyment about this to Major Swanston but gives scant regard to mine. But then - why would he concern himself with me? After all I am just a slave and whether I felt shame or pleasure as my Master sexually used me is of no consequence. I exist only to give pleasure to my owner.
The two freemen dispassionately talk about me in the most humiliating terms. I hear myself described as being 'tight-assed' and a 'good fuck'. I don't know which shames me the most? Is it the fact that I am totally disregarded and spoken about in the crudest manner? Or is it because my beloved Norge is hearing what happened between Master and me.
As I listen, my thoughts wander back over the events of last night and to this morning.
Yesterday evening, upon our return home from La Forõ€'˜, Norge and I had been unharnessed by the grooms, hosed down, fed and watered and placed in Norge's stall to rest up after our arduous run back to the city.
It felt good to be back in the stall, which over the intervening six months had assumed the status of 'home' in my thoughts. During my stay at La Forõ€'˜, I was constantly aware of the few nights I'd spent locked in the stall with Norge as he clasped me in the close embrace of his powerful arms. And I recalled our last morning together in this place as I'd pleasured his cock for one last time.
That was six months ago and as I looked at Norge, I could see his interest in me hadn't waned during my absence. His cock was still as inviting as it was on that morning six, long months ago.
Impulsively, I fell to my knees in front of Norge and leaning forward, I kissed the head of his cock with all my unfulfilled yearnings. The touch of my lips seemed to electrify Norge; he arched his back and a soft moan escaped his lips. Emboldened, I ran the tip of my tongue up and down the sensitive underside of his penis and reaching behind, I hungrily grabbed an ass cheek in each hand. Instinctively, my right index finger began to explore the warm, moist environment of the deep cleft between his buttocks until it found its target.
As my fingertip excited the sensitive tissue of his puckering sphincter, I could feel the red- hot heat of his desire as his magnificent body trembled at my touch. His knees sagged and leaning down, Norge kissed the top of my head.
As I continued with my ministrations, Norge grabbed hold of my ears and directed my mouth down over the head of his cock until I'd taken it into the eager embrace of my mouth. Hungrily, I began to feast on it and I savoured the first, sweet nectar of his manly essence.
My pent-up needs of the past six months gave way to the immediacy of the moment. As I used my tongue to pleasure Norge, I thought back to those illicit, morning trysts with Sir Conn. How thankful I was for those secret, stolen minutes in the shrubbery for they had helped to train me for this moment. But, as enjoyable as they'd been, they were nothing compared to the absolute exhilaration I felt as I serviced my beloved Norge's cock.
Norge synchronised the thrust of his hips to the bobbing of my head until we were in perfect unison with one another. The silence of the stable was broken only by Norge's appreciative moaning and the slurping sounds of my own rising passion.
With my face buried into Norge's smooth, hairless groin, the erotic scent of his masculinity assailed my senses and worked its magic on me. It awakened my own manifest needs and I enthusiastically applied myself to the task in hand.
Incrementally, I took Norge's powerful organ further into my mouth. I used my tongue to tease - or should that be to exquisitely torture - him. Pursing my lips I used them to piston up and down the rigid shaft of his cock while the tip of my tongue flicked around its tip; tantalising him and challenging him to drive deeper into me.
I was very much aware of my own erection whose rigidity throbbed with an exquisite intensity I'd not felt for months. I felt the precursory squirts of my own precum and I was conscious of it hanging threadlike from the eye of my cock.
Norge's need became more urgent as he pumped his cock ever deeper into my mouth. His breathing became more ragged and his thrusting more urgent. I could feel the pulsing of his cock as he moved closer to his climax.
Suddenly, with a guttural cry, he grabbed hold of my head and drew me closer into him as he reached his climax. With each throbbing explosion of his cock, I swallowed hard taking care not to spill any of his precious semen on to the floor. To do so would be an act of sacrilege to this slave who is my god.
Afterwards, bathed in the warm afterglow of our encounter, I rested secure; locked in Norge's strong embrace. Temporarily, the world beyond the stable doors no longer existed for me. My world - my total world - was contained within the four walls of our shared stall. Time stood still and I have no idea for how long we rested on the straw-strewn floor with our bodies pressed close to one another and our limbs entwined.
I only know that I felt a peace and contentment that was new to me. The horrors of the past six months - my fall from grace, my enslavement and the time spent at La Forõ€'˜ faded from my memory and I gave myself over completely to Norge, this slave who I now worshipped as my Master.
Guy Maratier has enslaved my body but it is Norge who has enslaved my inner being and my soul. In a sense, he is more of my Master than Guy Maratier will ever be.
Guy Maratier owns my body but it is Norge who rules my heart.
All too soon, a house slave came to fetch me and take me to my Master.
How strange it felt to enter into the house that had once been mine. As I climbed the back stairs -used exclusively by the household slaves - and along the corridor leading to Master's bedroom, I noticed very little had changed. The dＤor and the furnishings were the same as the day I'd left for the courts.
However, one thing was different! The Barrois family portraits which Charlotte Maratier had so vindictively forced me remove from the walls and take down to the basement had been triumphantly replaced with recently commissioned portraits of her, Guy Maratier and his son Etienne. As I walked past Charlotte's portrait, her eyes seem to follow my every movement. As I looked at her likeness, I could see - and feel - the malevolence she bore for me. Even though the house was heated, I found myself shivering beneath her baleful gaze. The artist had captured her cruel likeness to perfection.
On entering my Master's bedroom, the slave informed me that our Master was still dining and that I was to wait for his arrival. In the interim, he instructed me to kneel in the display position alongside Master's bed. I hurried into the position demanded of me; I sat back on my heels, placed my hands behind my head and tightened my upper body so that my torso was displayed to perfection. The slave parted my knees so that they were spread to their fullest and then arranged my cock and balls into a prominent display ready for my Master's inspection.
Satisfied, the slave left me on my own to await my Master's pleasure.
Forbidden to move, boredom soon overtook me. All around me the minutiae of everyday sounds seemed to amplify. The exaggerated, loud ticking of a clock on the bedside table and the distant booming of the grandfather clock in the hallway marked the passage of time. Every fifteen minutes the grandfather clock chimed and I was able to measure how long I'd spent on my knees.
I grew restless and my muscles ached from the stress of inactivity. It was virtually impossible to maintain complete stillness - the human body isn't made to be immobile - and even the threat of punishment didn't prevent me from fidgeting. I tried to empty my mind of all thought but that too proved impossible.
What thoughts went through my mind as I knelt in silence? I thought of many things. I thought of the horrors of being a slave at La Foret and I was overcome with guilt for the suffering that I, as Lucien, had caused to so many wretched slaves in my greedy pursuit of wealth. I thought of the soul-destroying nature of their lives, of the backbreaking labour and the viciousness of the overseers' whips falling on their naked, unprotected bodies.
And yet, I felt gratitude that my stint at La Foret was behind me and that my life would now be comparatively easy when compared to their unhappy lot. Such a thought did me no credit and I felt shame that I had once been a willing party to their suffering. In my solitude, tears of remorse stung my eyes.
I also thought of myself as the slave I am. I reflected on my past performances and I wondered how I could improve on these and become a better slave. How strange it was for me to think like this; I have accepted the inevitability of my fate and I now worry about being a better slave to my Master.
Then my thoughts turned back to those nights when, as the Master, I'd selfishly used my slaves for the same purpose that my Master now intends for me. In my mind's eye, I see a long procession of all those slaves I'd so thoughtlessly used for my sexual gratification and then callously discarded.
It has taken my own enslavement to open my eyes to the cruel iniquities of slavery and all its manifest evils.
However, there were happier thoughts. I was overjoyed at being re-united with my beloved Norge. I thought of our lives together working as our Master's ponies. And I thought of the nights we'll spend -our naked bodies touching - in the warmth and seclusion of our stable stall.
Then, inevitably, my mind turned to my Master and his imminent arrival and what was to follow. Naturally, I was nervous and uncertain. As Lucien, I'd always been in charge and taken the lead in my sexual exploits. Then, I'd ruled supreme and my slaves simply acquiesced.
Now it is my turn to submit as a slave to the demands of a Master.
My time as a slave has redefined me. It has given me insights into my psyche that I could never possibly have imagined. Lucien had always seen himself as dominant - understandably so given his family's background as slave-owners - and to suggest that there could be a 'gentler' side to his nature would have been anathema to him.
But my past six months as the slave Rafe have revealed much about my character. Naturally, my slave submissiveness has been the most evident result of that. My unquestioning obedience to my Master was inevitable. Only the most determined slave could hold out against a Master's strong will. To do so is to invite dire retribution. What slave can hold out against a confident and determined Master and his whip? Inevitably, all slaves must break and bend to their owners' will.
But there were other changes too. Previously unknown facets of my character were unexpectedly revealed. Most noticeably was my need to submit to Norge. Now I long for Norge to dominate me completely; to claim me as his own and to enter into my body.
But before that can happen, I had to submit to my Master, Guy Maratier and that is why I waited on my knees for him.
Nervously, I waited for his arrival and suddenly the silence was broken. In the distance, the grandfather clock boomed and in the stillness of my mind, I counted out nine chimes. It was nine o'clock and by my reckoning I had been waiting on my knees for two hours. Quite obviously, my Master was in no hurry to exercise his 'right of the first night' over me. Or was he playing a game with me and keeping me in suspense?
Then the door was opened and my Master purposely strode into the room and stood before me. With my heart pounding within my breast, I immediately fell onto all fours and crawled forward to pay him homage by kissing his feet. I waited expectantly for his instruction with my nose pressed to the carpet and my ass pointing to the ceiling. I was acutely aware of the vulnerability of my position as I waited.
Without speaking, he slowly circled around me and I was reminded of a predatory cat playing with its hapless victim. From my position, I could only see his feet as he towered over me. Then, I was aware that he walked over to a bureau and I heard him rummaging in a drawer.
Once more he walked back to where I was kneeling. He took up a position behind me and I heard a whistling sound followed by a loud 'thwack' as a heavy leather strap cuts across my upturned ass. The suddenness and unexpectedness of this caught me off-guard and my involuntary cry of pain echoed around the room. Four more times his straps fell on my defenceless, naked body. Then as suddenly as he'd begun, Master stopped.
"Stand and display!"
My Master's instruction cut through my thoughts and hastily, I leapt to my feet and displayed my body for my Master's pleasure.
Ever so slowly, my Master's eyes scanned down over the front of my body and came to rest at my groin. As he surveyed me, I feel a frisson of excitement wash over me and a shiver of expectancy caused me to tremble.
Before, I had only been in my Master's presence in public and always there'd been others around. Last night however, we were alone as I stood naked before him in the intimacy and privacy of his bedroom.
Master stood almost face to face with me. I could feel his hot, laboured breath scorching my cheek.
He placed his left hand on my belly and smiled as he felt the involuntary contraction of my stomach muscles responding to his touch. With his right hand, he reached up and gently stroked my cheek before moving a finger down the wildly throbbing vein in my neck.
Then, he reached behind me and placed his right hand in the small of my back. My body stiffened at this close physical contact and I knew instinctively, this examination of my body was a precursor to my Master using me sexually.
Involuntarily, I shuddered at the thought of this and my reaction caused Master to smile. Then, his fingers fanned out and began to explore my back. Slowly, they moved up and down my spine like fingers on a piano keyboard seeking out the soundness of the vertebrae. I began to tremble uncontrollably as the hand gently caressed my muscular buttocks before a finger was crudely pushed into the crevice between the two globes of my ass.
Master sensed my resistance to his exploratory finger; he delighted in the defensive clenching of my buttocks as, vainly, they tried to resist his advances. Undeterred, he gently used his finger to excite my anus and obviously he was pleased as he felt my resistance weaken. Deliberately, he pushed his finger against my puckering hole and, not to be denied entry, he forced his finger through my tightly clenched sphincter; this caused me some discomfort as my hole was unlubricated. He explored the inner depths of my body seeking out the prostate gland. He found it and I rewarded his efforts with a series of low appreciative moans as my body began its quivering response to his invading finger.
He placed a hand on my fluttering belly and gauged my laboured breathing. He moved this hand up to my chest and felt the rapid beating of my heart. Removing his hand from my back, he then began to massage my pectorals and used his finger tips to excite the sharp needle points of my very sensitive nipples.
Suddenly, both hands moved down to my groin as Master sought out my hard erection. He felt the pre-cum leaking profusely from the tip of my cock and rubbed its viscosity between his forefinger and thumb. Master leant forward, parted my lips, placed his fingers in my mouth and ordered me to suck; at the same time, he whispered into my ear.
"I'm looking forward to fucking you, Rafe!"
I trembled at this prospect.
Suddenly, Master stepped back and ordered me to.
"Flex, Rafe!"
I wanted so much to please Master and instantly I raised both arms and bunched my biceps into hard, rounded balls of knotted muscle for his appreciation.
Master's hands moved over my arms to my shoulders, poking and squeezing at them as a test for their rock like hardness. Once more, I felt his hands glide down over the solid mounds of my chest pausing to playfully tweak my nipples before continuing down to trace out the scalloped edges of my abdominal muscles with a finger. Then, I suffered the indignity of having that finger poked into my deeply indented navel. His exploratory finger excited me and I began to tremble
Master ignored my genitals and his hands slid down the outside of my legs to my feet before they began the return journey up the inside of the legs; they paused to test the corded muscles of my thighs before continuing on to my hairless groin.
I felt the utter humiliation of this inspection most acutely. However, I knew that most slaves are routinely subjected to these degradations; and I knew that, as a slave, I had to endure his inspection without complaint or any show of resistance.
For a slave these inspections serve to re-enforce his servile state. When Lucien Barrois conducted such examinations, he saw them as routine and akin to inspecting a farm animal prior to buying or selling it. To him, a slave was no more or no less than any other domestic animal. However, casting my mind back to those occasions and, if I was truthful with myself, there's nothing Lucien enjoyed more than fingering an attractive, male slave. As I looked at Master, I could see that he now shared that enjoyment.
Next, Master ordered me to turn and he placed a hand on either side of my narrow waist and moved them up the widening 'V' of my back to the armpits. He ordered me to raise my arms above my head so that he could see the interaction of my wide shoulders with the strong back muscles. His hands glided over my back feeling the rippling effect of those muscles. Satisfied, he cupped a tight buttock in each hand and, squeezing hard, he once more tested them for their firmness. Satisfied, he order was given for me to.
"Bend and spread."
Dutifully, I bent at the waist as instructed and as I did so, Master kicked my ankles apart even wider. Reaching behind, I used both hands to part my ass-cheeks. I was acutely aware that, once more, I was fully exposed to his scrutiny. Master stood behind me and looking back between my outstretched legs, I could see him positioning himself to get a better view of my displayed anus.
I felt the weight of my cinched balls hanging between my splayed thighs pulling down on my rampantly hard cock. I felt Master's hands groping at my ass and fingers moving up and down my crevice. He weighed my balls in a cupped hand and stretched my scrotum out from my body.
Reaching in between my thighs, he pulled back on my cock, briefly holding it away from my body before allowing it to slap back to test its flexibility. Then with a loud, almost affectionate smack on my ass I was ordered to.
"Stand, face the front and display."
Standing rigidly at attention with my feet apart and my hands behind my head, I waited the next assault on my body. I didn't have long to wait as Master once again grabbed my scrotum and rolled each of my testicles between his fingers.
Next, he teased my slowly deflating cock back into a full erection and began a slow masturbation with his thumb and forefinger formed into the shape of an 'O'. Master ordered me to.
"Start pumping your hips, Rafe."
In response, I began a slow to and fro thrusting movement through the finger and thumb encircling my cock and with further urging from him, I quickened my pace until I was sweating from my exertions.
Incrementally, I quickened the pace of my thrusting hips. Gradually, I relaxed and gave myself over to the enjoyment of the moment. How good it felt to have this opportunity to masturbate after the long period of my enforced abstinence.
But it wasn't to be. Master removed his hand from my cock and admonished me.
"Not just yet, Rafe!" Master laughed at my eagerness. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, boy!"
As my enthusiasm waned, Master stepped back to appraise me with his eyes. A hot flush of embarrassment washed over me as he did so. Instinctively, I knew he was evaluating me as his property and I felt my face burning from my shame. After my six months as a slave, I should've been inured to his attention. After all, such inspections were routine at La Forõ€'˜ where I was subjected to daily inspections by my handler, Sir Conn and to a lesser extent by Claymore Jackson.
But those inspections were mostly impersonal in that they monitored my physical development. However, this one was more personal. I knew it was a lead in to my Master's plan to use me sexually.
Then he spoke.
"You're a fine slave, Rafe! I'm very pleased with you."
What could I say other than?
"Thank you, Master!"
"Undress me!"
I moved quickly to obey Master's instruction.
Throughout the duration of my servitude, I have been a common, heavy duty, work slave and I was unused to the refinements of a Master's bedroom. However, my time as a Master did in a way prepare me for this. How many times had I stood in my Master's place and ordered a slave to undress me. And so I was able to draw on those experiences when a slave had undressed me and now I applied them to my situation.
Remembering back to how a slave had ritualistically removed my clothing; I began to undress my Master.
Shyly, I unbuttoned Master's shirt and slid it off his shoulders until he stood stripped to the waist before me. Then dropping to my knees, I removed his shoes and socks. Next, I unbuckled his belt, unzipped his fly and eased his trousers down over his legs into a crumpled heap round his ankles and helped him to step out of them. Momentarily, I hesitated: my gaze was transfixed by the tent poling at front of his white boxers shorts. But a cuff to my ears refocused my attention back onto the job at hand. Gently, I eased the shorts over Master's hard erection allowing it to spring free from its confinement and slid them down his legs to his feet. Carefully, I eased them over each foot until he stood as naked as I was.
The soft lighting of the room fell upon my Master's body bathing the alabaster whiteness of his skin in a mellow golden glow and burnishing the dark auburn of his tousled hair. This same light fell upon my crouching body and highlighted the rich, nut brown colour of my slave acquired tan.
This was my first sighting of Master's naked body and it is truly a thing of beauty. Even as a slave who, at one time had a free man's appreciation of the naked, male form, I could appreciate it. His musculature is clearly delineated but it lacks the unsightly bulk of the over- zealous fitness fanatic and because he is a free man he retains his body hair. I'd always liked a moderate cover of body hair on a free man but never on slaves whom I'd once regarded as non-persons.
As Lucien Barrois, I'd always been inordinately proud of my body hair. It had matched the mid-blond colour of my unruly curls and dusted my limbs with a silky, golden down. The coarser hair on my chest had accentuated the contours of my well-defined pectorals and highlighted my rosy-pink nipples. A treasure trail of slightly darker hair had trailed down over my ribbed abdomen and joined my chest hair to my blond pubes.
Of course all that is in the past. When I was enslaved I'd lost my body hair along with my freedom and now my body is slave smooth and hairless and my scalp is closely cropped. This is standard practice in the enslavement process. It, along with collaring and branding, serves to dehumanise the new slave and to impress upon him his lowly status. I had felt this most acutely at the time but now I accept it along with my nakedness as just another necessary condition of my servitude.
There'd been a reprieve of sorts when I'd worked on the waterwheel and in the team of heavy-duty drafts during my sojourn at La Forõ€'˜. Like the field slaves, I'd regrown my body hair. For practical reasons it's not possible to 'groom' field-hands; too much time would be wasted in shaving the slaves on a regular basis. A field-slave's time is a valuable resource and no responsible slave-owner wants to frivolously squander it with the regular, high maintenance grooming of a slave. An occasional hosing down, clipping of the head and beard is all the grooming any field slave requires and that is all that La Forõ€'˜'s slaves ever receive.
However, that had changed once I commenced my pony-training. Once more my body hair was removed and daily grooming became part of my routine.
My body's hairless state was in sharp contrast to my Master's. His body hair highlighted his manliness; my lack of it emphasised my slave submissiveness.
Kneeling before Master, his cock was at my eye-level - indeed it stood at right-angles to his groin placing it just inches from my face. It has to be said that Master is generously - if not prodigiously - endowed. Nevertheless, he has no need to feel cheated. It was always a source of manly pride to the males of the Barrois family that they were well-endowed and it would seem that Guy Maratier has inherited this desirable trait from his Barrois forebears. Indeed, it appeared that Master's cock was larger than mine although he is uncircumcised whereas I have been cut and this variance in size might simply be an illusion caused by this physical difference between us.
"Continue!"
My face was just inches from Master's groin and I could smell his heady masculinity. I was sorely tempted to take the initiative but I was unsure of what Master expected of me. As the seconds ticked away, I waited for his instruction and my nervousness grew. What must I do?
I remembered back to when I'd stood naked as a Master with a slave kneeling before me and I drew on those erotic memories. I'd always appreciated a slave paying due homage to me by kissing my cock and balls without any bidding from me. I'd enjoyed the slave's spontaneity as he leant forward to do so. Of course, there were occasions when a new slave, inexperienced in my ways, didn't know what to do and I'd found it necessary to instruct him. On those first occasions, I would patiently show him what I wanted from him but after that I expected him to remember. Was this the case with my Master? Should I pay him the same type of spontaneous homage that I'd once demanded from my slaves?
Shyly, I leant forward and kissed the head of my Master's cock. Through my lips, I felt his slight tremor and the stiffening of his body. Was it my imagination or did I hear his soft moan of pleasure?
Emboldened, I burrowed my head into his groin and my tongue searched for his balls. At the touch of my tongue, Master's body was convulsed by his trembling and his soft moaning grew even louder.
Guiltily, a vision of Norge flashed before me and suddenly my cock sprang to life. My erection throbbed with impatient intensity.
As I burrowed my face into Master's groin; I breathed in his manly scent and I took one of his balls into my mouth. Ever so gently I suckled each of his balls and this raised my Master to new levels of pleasure. He arched his back and cried out.
"YES!!!! YES!!!!"
This encouraged me to continue and I used the tip of my tongue to tease the underside of his cock with feather-touch gentleness. I was rewarded; Master grabbed hold of my head and directed my mouth down over his glans.
The muscles of my mouth relaxed as I swallowed my Master's cock into its depths and I lifted Master to newer heights of ecstasy.
My emotions betrayed me. By rights, I should hate this man I must now call my Master; his past treatment of me warrants that I should. And yet, despite my feelings of disloyalty to Norge, a part of me wanted to submit to him.
Perhaps it's a measure of how slave-like I have really become. But as I knelt before Guy Maratier and pleasured him, I had feelings that were almost akin to affection. Is this the type of affection that a slave develops for his master? Did my slaves harbour similar feelings for Lucien Barrois?
And of course, there was another intangible at play in all this; my Master and I are related by blood. We share the same Barrois bloodline although my slave mother taints mine. Given a different set of circumstances, we could have been close cousins. Is there any truth in the old saying that blood is thicker than water?
The bedchamber's silence was only disturbed by the sounds of our sex; the slicking of my rounded lips as they moved piston-like up and down Master's hard erection and the moans of his mounting passion.
Master held my head firmly between his hands and forced me to take more of him into the warm, moist embrace of my mouth. After six months of enforced abstinence I was happy to do so.
To steady myself, I reached behind Master and took hold of a firm, rounded buttock in each hand. How good he felt to the touch!
My trembling hands traced out the curvaceous contours of my Master's ass and emboldened by his shuddering response, I used a finger to probe into the deep, warm recess of his ass-crack. Then I hesitated; had I overstepped the boundaries in doing this? I'd forgotten myself for I was thinking and acting like a master who'd taken the lead rather than remaining slave passive and allowing my Master to use my body. Had I transgressed and offended him?
I paused in my exploration and waited for Master to admonish me. He remained silent and emboldened by this; I used my finger to excite the sensitive opening to his body.
I felt the delicious contractions as Master's cock fired off two or three warning shots and I tasted his salty essence in my mouth. My own cock throbbed with impatient desire.
I looked beyond Master to his bed and knew that soon he'd order me to lie upon its silken sheets as he claims me as his slave.
My slavery had brought me to this point. Initially, it was a journey not of my choosing and I was reluctant to take it. But I sensed I was discovering new things about myself. Could it be that I was about to find my 'true' inner self.
Was it possible that I was a slave not just in body but also in mind? Did I possess a slave's nature?
Suddenly Master pushed my head away from him leaving my mouth feeling strangely empty. He stooped and placed a hand beneath my chin and uptilted my face so that we looked into each other's eyes. Master smiled down at me and uncharacteristically, he stroked my cheeks. Shyly, I smiled back at him. He told me to stand and I quickly scrambled to my feet.
Master ran his hands down over my chest pausing to playfully tweak my nipples before sliding them down over my belly to my cock. He took it into his fisted hand and used his thumb to tease and excite my piss-slit and in doing so, he reduced me to a quivering, mass of overstimulated nerve endings.
Then, he took me into his arms and kissed me. His tongue forced itself into my mouth and I saw this as a foretaste of what must follow.
He led me to his bed and instructed me to lie on it.
Master was now ready to claim his 'droit de seigneur' rights over me and take my virginity. And I was ready to surrender it to him.
Master ordered me to lie on my belly and I waited with tensed body and bated breath for his next move. Suddenly, I felt the cold stickiness of a lubricant as Master's finger prepared my asshole for his entry. Slowly and deliberately, he worked to relax me and stretch me. For several minutes, his slicked finger slid in and out of me as he eased away my tension. How good his finger felt and how easily I gave in to its probing pleasure. Soon it was joined by a second finger and I felt myself being stretched open even wider.
Master continued with his preparations until he was satisfied that I was ready and lying on his back, he ordered me to straddle him and to position my ass over the tip of his erection. He told me he wanted to watch me as he fucked me. He said he wanted to look into my face and see what emotions played out there.
I guess my first emotions were those of fear, uncertainty and a fair degree of frustration.
Uppermost in my mind was the question of how painful this would be. I knew from my days as a Master that I'd caused pain and discomfort to my new slaves as I penetrated them for the first time. Then those things hadn't concerned me; my sexual gratification was the only thing that mattered.
However, now that I was on the 'receiving end', I worried about possible injury or damage to myself. And all manner of dread thoughts raced through my mind.
Fear held me back and I really found it difficult to position my body so that Master had ease of entry into me. Master assisted by holding his cock perpendicular to his prone body and telling me to lower myself onto him. As we made physical contact, the heat of his cockhead seared itself against the sensitive tissue of my sphincter sending anticipatory waves of pleasure coursing through my body. Yet, despite this, I remained unreceptive to Master's upward thrusts.
At first, Master was gentle and encouraged me to relax but eventually his patience was exhausted by my lack of co-operation and he gave me several admonishing slaps and ordered me to.
"Relax, damn you Rafe! I need to fuck your ass!"
To help me, Master reached up with one hand and playfully tweaked my nipples. With his other hand he stroked my straining cock and fondled my tightly constrained balls. And it worked. Incredibly, I felt my ass muscles relax and suddenly, Master's cock breached my last defence.
As the mushroom shaped head of Master's cock speared through my resisting sphincter, I was aware of my virgin tightness and I felt the sharp, agonising pain of his entry; it was as though my body was being rendered in two. Impatient to bury all of him into the deeper recesses of my body, Master continued his relentless pushing. With each upward thrust, I felt I'd been stretched beyond the limits of my physical endurance. The pain was intense and I cried out - no I begged - Master to stop. However my pleading went unanswered.
It was an uneven tussle and one that I must inevitably lose. Master's needs must prevail over my pain. Instinctively, to help ease my distress, I wriggled my ass to better accommodate his invading cock and to my surprise the initial, intense pain gave way to feelings of pleasure. True, the dull ache remained by it was tempered by a sensation of exquisite tautness and my cries of pain were replaced by the low, appreciative moans of my mounting desire. Suddenly, I was enveloped by sensations of incredible calm and anticipatory joy and I now gave myself over to the erotic pleasures of the moment.
Spitted on my Master's cock, I swivelled my hips and to my delight I felt the full length of his cock slip easily into my ass until it was buried to the hilt. How good it felt as the vein-gnarled surface of his throbbing prick massaged and excited the nerve sensitive inner linings of my rectum.
I slid my ass up and down Master's impatient cock and synchronised my movements to his thrusting. Mere words can't describe the intense pleasure I felt as his rigid manhood probed and sought out my pleasure spots. And I responded by working the internal muscles of my ass to give him reciprocal pleasure.
Master and I became as one entity; coupled together by our common needs. How long we remained like this I don't know. Time stood still and the pain I felt no longer mattered. Our bodies glistened with our sex induced sweating and the air in the room hung heavy with the erotic scent of our carnal lust.
Master ordered me to slowly masturbate as his hands massaged my chest and teased my nipples. With each upward lunge of his cock and with each stroke of my hand, my own turgid member cried out for relief. My balls tightened within my scrotum and they too ached for release.
Master's plunging became more rapid and I sensed his mounting urgency. Without warning, there was a pause in his wild thrusting; a cessation when all I felt was the urgent throbbing of the excited cock buried deep within my ass. Suddenly, Master's exultant shout announced his climax and, as he ejaculated within the tight confines of my body, I felt the exploding jets of his semen heat-blasting my innards.
I arched my back and bit my lips as I tightened my ass muscles to hungrily milk him of every last vestige of his seed. As I did so, my cock now sought its own relief. Ramrod straight and poker hard it pointed at Master's chest; I felt the tight contraction of my balls and the powerful surging of my cum as it escaped through the narrow confines of my piss-slit. With each exquisite spurt I sprayed Master's chest and belly with globs of my glistening, pearly- white sperm.
Satiated, I sat astride Master and waited as he deflated inside of me. I felt his flaccid cock slip out of my ass and I was conscious of a new 'emptiness' and a sense of regret.
Then, thinking back to when I was Master, I remembered how I'd always required a slave to clean me. As a slave, I knew this was now required of me. Without Master's prompting, I leant forward and licked up my semen; pausing from time to time to tease his nipples and to explore the depths of his navel with the flickering tip of my tongue. Master responded by stretching his prone body to its full length and moaning appreciatively.
Master had exercised his ownership rights over me. He'd opened my body and initiated me into slave sex. And I knew that I had pleased him and earned his approval.
Having done so, perhaps I'd be free to offer myself to my beloved Norge? I longed for this with all my heart.
I was unprepared for what happened. Normally, after a slave has satisfied his Master he leaves the Master's bed and returns to the slave quarters or retires to the floor alongside the bed. I assumed, because the stables were some distance from the house that I would sleep on the floor alongside Master's bed.
But Master didn't order me from his bed; instead he took me into his arms drawing me closer to him and, before long, he fell asleep. However, unlike him, sleep eluded me and I spent a restless night.
A new day dawns:
At last, the long night draws to a close as the predawn light filters in through the shaded windows and suffuses the room with its promise of a new day. I welcome the dawn for I have lain awake in the night's darkness with my mind in turmoil.
How strange the bed feels! After six months of sleeping in the slave stables at La Forõ€'˜, I have become accustomed to the cold hardness of a cobblestoned floor for my bed and of prickly straw for my mattress.
This plush bed had once belonged to me but now it feels alien and I am uncomfortable; so much so that I had found it difficult to sleep. The soft silken sheets lie in a crumpled heap at my feet. They had weighed too heavily on me and I had slept uncovered.
Master lies at my side lost in the slumber of the contented. I, on the other hand, had slept fitfully and have lain awake for most of the night lost in the confusion of my conflicting emotions. I have spent the night suspended between the highs of sexual ecstasy and the lows of self-doubt, shame and guilt. There are so many unanswered questions spinning around in the vortex of my mind
I turn onto my left side and prop my head on my hand so that I can better scrutinise this enigma of a man who is both my blood relative and my Master. I watch the steady rise and fall of his powerful chest and the undulating rippling of his belly as he breathes. The filtered sunlight falls upon his prone figure gilding it and highlighting the rich auburn of his unruly, tousled hair. The red-gold stubble of his overnight growth tints the alabaster whiteness of his handsome face.
Master stirs slightly and shifts his body to a more comfortable position; I lie very still so as not to awaken him. Once more he settles down and I watch as his early morning erection inches into life. Fascinated, I watch it lengthen and thicken thus forcing the prepuce to retract back along the ramrod stiffness of his shaft. Soon the eye of the exposed glans appears to be winking 'good morning' at me and I wince at the memory of last night's pain.
This morning my ass is indeed sore and feels well-used!
Master stirs; he momentarily opens his eyes and with an appreciative murmur he resettles back into the short limbo of nothingness between diminishing sleep and full wakefulness. I wait apprehensively for him to waken.
Last night Master had deflowered me. In exercising his owner's right of 'jus primae noctis', he'd used his cock as the instrument to take away my virginity and to introduce me to total, submissive slave sex.
What are my thoughts about this? Mixed - and confused - to say the least!
This morning, as always, Norge is uppermost in my thoughts. I'm overwhelmed with my love for Norge and yet, I am racked with feelings of guilt. I know I shouldn't feel guilt for what happened to me at my Master's hands. As his slave I had no choice but to submit.
Masters decide and slaves obey. That is the immutable law of slavery!
However, try as I might I can't rid myself of my feelings of disloyalty to Norge for the guilty pleasure I'd felt as my Master used me.
And truthfully, there'd been elements of pleasure for me despite the pain and discomfort I'd felt. And it is this that confuses me. Does the fact that I had found that pleasure with Master make me disloyal to Norge? Common-sense tells me it doesn't - and yet my doubt persists.
Master stirs into full wakefulness. Reaching out he touches my face and speaks.
"Good morning, Rafe!"
"Good morning, Master. How are you this morning?"
"I'm well Rafe! What about you? How's your ass this morning?"
"It's very sore Master!"
"That's too bad, Rafe!" Master points to his rampant erection and tells me. "As you can see I have to take care of this so despite your discomfort, I need to use your ass again."
I wince at Master's words.
"Alright then Rafe! Let's have you on all fours. I want to fuck you doggy style."
Despite my apprehension, I scramble into position and wait while Master lubricates me. Unlike last night, Master is in a hurry. Master positions his cock against my hole and with a series of powerful lunges he forces himself into me.
This morning, Master has a sense of urgency which is reflected in the almost mechanical way he uses me. He doesn't consider me in anyway. He ignores my yelps of pain and I realise that he is using my body merely as a receptacle for his lust and his seed.
What is happening to me negates any of the guilty pleasure I'd felt last night when there'd been a small degree of intimacy between us. Unlike last night, I'm not enjoying this experience; there is no pleasure in it for me. The only emotions I feel are deep humiliation and shame as Master dispassionately uses me. By his actions this morning he leaves me in no doubt that I am just another of his slaves to be used by him for his sexual gratification.
Fortunately, my ordeal is soon over. Given its short duration, Master's need must have been great but I am left unfulfilled and bruised.
Master however must be pleased. He resoundingly slaps my ass and tells me.
"Rafe, you're one helluva good fuck!"
Master's words reduce me to a new level of my slavery. Through my tears I reply.
"Thank you, Master! I'm happy that you are pleased with your slave."
"I am, Rafe. I'm very happy with you. But now it's time to return you to the stables and get you cleaned up and into harness ready for the day. We have a busy day coming up and I want to make an early start."
Then unexpectedly, he orders me to lie face down on the bed as he examines me for injury or damage.
He spreads my buttocks and looks at the pink, striated rosette of my sphincter.
"Your pucker looks puffy and there is some bruising. But I suppose that's to be expected after the pounding I gave it. We'll need to look after it and put a salve on it."
Do I detect a note of concern in his voice? If so, I bitterly tell myself, his concern isn't for me as a person. It is an owner's concern for a valuable piece of property.
But then, I feel his fingers gently smearing a cool, soothing balm around my anus. I wince at his touch but I do feel instant relief. The salve's icy coolness rapidly spreads throughout my ass and soothes the throbbing and the itching in my swollen, bruised flesh.
"Well need to use this over the next few days. I'll speak to the grooms and tell them to apply the salve to you until the swelling and bruising disappear. In the meantime, there's to be no fucking between you and Norge. Is that understood?"
"Yes Master!"
These two words hide the bitter disappointment I feel. During my stay at La Forõ€'˜, I'd fantasised about my first full night back with Norge. The thought of our passionate lovemaking gave me the incentive to continue through the darkest days of my slavery.
Now that has been delayed yet again. My disappointment is great!
Master dismisses me and sends me back to the stables. There I'm re-united with Norge. He looks at me and his concern for me is clearly evident in his face. Tactfully, He doesn't question me about last night or the happenings in Master's bed-chamber.
From my perspective, the time isn't right to speak of those things or to tell Norge of my feelings. That will come later.
And time doesn't allow us to talk as we are fed, groomed and harnessed to Master's new carriage for the first time
This morning Master, accompanied by Major Swanston and his repulsive slave, Pug, is to drive us over to his grandmother's residence where the slave Ben is to be whipped.
Poor, foolish, unsuspecting Ben!
Despite my own suffering, I do feel pity for him and his plight.
To be continued.......
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