by Cerise Noble
She didn't. After a long time, she lowered the rifle. "It's over."
Jessica stopped singing. "Over and done." Her voice held a trace of smugness.
Hanna nodded. "There were a few of the warlord's men that escaped into the trees, but most are inside the stockade, on their knees."
I grinned, a savage smile full of bloodlust, wanting to see Tobin's kills.
Jessica knew me too well. "Stay here, Stephanie."
I cut my eyes at her in defiance, but she raised a dainty blonde eyebrow, so I pouted instead.
***
It wasn't until dawn that a man knocked on the door downstairs. I jerked awake, ashamed to have been caught drowsing, and shook off Jessica's hand to fly down.
I checked that I knew him and when I recognized Andy, one of Gerard's youngest soldiers, I threw open the door. He bobbed his head at me, a weary grin on his face.
"Just checking that you ladies and babies are all well."
"We're well. How was it, Andy? They are all defeated?"
Youthful arrogance at its best. "Of course they are. Chained and kneeling until ol' Roy decides how mad he is about the gash they gave 'im."
"Gash?" I must have betrayed my concern because he gulped.
"Er, just a cut. Nothing serious."
"Should I send Patsy?"
"Naw, no need. Just getting stitched up now."
"Stitched??"
He held up his hands in a placating manner. "Now see here, there's nothin' to get worked up about, Miss Stephanie!"
I had already spun back around and taken the stairs two at a time.
"Patsy! You have to go now! Some of the men are injured!" She blanched, gathering up her bag of supplies and creaking down the stairs as quickly as she could. I followed, impatient with the slowness. "Andy! Help her get to him."
"Eh, Miss Stephanie!"
I grabbed his shirt and yanked his face down to mine.
"You listen now and you listen well. If you do not get Patsy to Roy instantly, and he takes even a day longer to heal than he should, I will find you, and I will cut you. I will cut until you—"
Patsy's hand on my mouth abruptly stilled my venom. Her voice was sharp, and her eyes glittered dangerously.
"That's quite enough. And I'm sure your queen is none too pleased with you right now. You might want to go make amends before she tells your master how your tongue's been wagging tonight."
Andy stumbled back a little as I released him, and for a moment I saw what he really was—a boy, barely grown to manhood, cocksure but scared underneath it all, utterly grateful to be alive, to be well, and now, uncertain. I'd stripped him of some of his warrior pride by intimidating him as I had, and my shame cut to the quick. To apologize to him right now would make it worse, so I settled for fleeing back up the stairs, for finding Jessica and kneeling before her.
She'd handed the babe off to someone else, and her fingers twisted cruelly in my hair. "Is he hurt? Is he? Who is hurt, Stephanie, what do you know??"
I met her eyes. "Andy said that Roy was cut, but not badly. I overreacted. I'm sorry."
The other women clamored.
"Who else? Who is hurt? Is there anyone dead?"
Hanna shushed them from the window. "I don't think any of our men are dead. Stay calm."
She was wrong, but it placated them for a time.
It was midday before we were allowed to emerge from the house, to see the men who returned to the main island, or to ride a boat out to see the men who stayed at the outpost.
There were numerous injuries. Tobin had been shot in his left arm, and it was fully bandaged when he came to me. Roy had a gash across his throat and jaw that should have ended his life, but by some miracle was just a fraction too shallow. Only one of our men died, a young man named Banther, who'd come out of the woods and asked to live in the community. Despite his short time with us, he was mourned.
But if our men had fared poorly, the warlord's men were worse. Roy had executed the warlord himself that morning, and the captured men were allowed to live if they accepted chains. Some did not, and they were also executed. Our law and its consequences were explained to them, and they swore obedience and loyalty, or they were taken to the village to be sold.
Men from the other bank came, and quickly set the outpost to rights.
It was a few evenings later before my outburst was brought up. Andy had spoken to Gerard, who had told Tobin, and then Jessica had told him I needed a spanking, anyway, for frightening the women. Of course.
"I can't punish you properly, Stephanie."
"Yes, you can. It's your left arm that was hit, not your right."
He glared at me, and I winced. "You're a brat who doesn't stay still." I looked at the ground. "I can't hold you down and spank you like you deserve, Stephanie, so this time I'm just going to watch."
I bit my lip and glanced up. "Watch what?"
His cruel grin was enough to raise the hairs on the back of my neck. "Andy has volunteered."
I glanced at the young man beside him. He put a hand on my shoulder, and I let him.
"It's for your own good."
I nodded, my lips pressed together. Upstart.
"When, sir?"
He considered. "How's about now?" He turned to Tobin. "Now suit you, sir?"
Tobin's eyes met mine. "Now, Stephanie."
I glanced around. There were more people than usual still up at this hour of the night, and I wondered if Andy had anything to do with it.
I looked to Andy. "Where, sir?"
My voice was sharp. He pointed to a strange sort of bench I hadn't noticed before. It was like stairs with two steps on either side, joined back to back. I frowned.
He led me to it, directing me to kneel on the lower step on one side, and then lie across the higher step. Then he pulled my elbows down to lean on the lower step on the other side. I fidgeted, uncomfortable.
Tobin circled us. "Ingenious." He glanced approvingly at Andy. "We'll discuss this more later."
Andy's chest practically puffed up from pride, and my mood soured further. His left hand pressed hard on the small of my back, and his right slid my skirt panels up. The first strike of his palm was a shock, like the first spank always is. I flinched, and again, when it fell again. He began a steady rhythm, and I was able to relax, anticipating the level of pain and handling it, shunting it to the side of my mind.
Tobin's hand on my chin changed that. I looked up, looked into the green eyes of the man I'd loved as long as I'd known him. Looked at the sensual curve of his lips as he spoke the word.
"Harder."
Andy obliged, and I squeezed my eyes shut, wriggling on the bench. Tobin squeezed my chin.
"Open your eyes, Stephanie. Your pain comes from me, even if someone else delivers it. I want you to feel it."
And just like that, I lost my defense. The pain of each spank cut through my skin, sting spreading and burning. He stopped, and I gasped in relief, but then there was a heavy splat of leather. He'd taken his belt off. I sucked in air and struggled against his hand, struggled against Tobin. Tobin's voice again.
"You need this."
I sagged, the vicious strokes flaying my nerves. I couldn't keep my eyes open after a while, and he let me shut them, his fingers never leaving my face, his breath on my lips.
"Take your spanking like a good girl, Stephanie."
I moaned, a sobbing hitch in my chest and my face crumpling. He kissed my forehead, and the pain released my guilt about worrying Jessica, my fears for Roy.
When Andy was satisfied with my submission, he stopped, smoothing my skirt back down over my throbbing ass and petting my shoulder. "Next time you'll remember your place."
He rejoined his companions, getting thumps on the shoulder and other manly accolades. Tobin kissed me softly.
"Your place is to support and uplift, not to tear down with threats and anger."
I nodded, tears finally falling. "I'm so sorry, Tobin."
He helped me off th
e bench and sat on the ground, my head pillowed on his thigh while he stroked my hair.
Chapter Eight
Years passed. Jessica and I spent more and more time apart as Jillian grew, and I turned my attention to taking care of the slaves in transition—new slaves, slaves without masters, slaves who were miserable with their masters.
I learned to curb my tongue with them, understanding that not all of them were built like I was, with a need and craving for pain. Pain was rarely welcomed, and I learned the value of a kind word.
As there were more and more people with greater skills, Tobin was needed less for building, and turned his attention to furniture making. Soon he had built an impressive dungeon in the house, a place for punishments and pleasures.
I took lovers. Tobin indulged me when I found a mutual desire with the other slaves. One day, however, Jeffery came to him.
"If I may, sir, a word?"
I was too far away to hear the men talking, but I could feel their eyes on my skin, and it heated. When their conversation was over, it was done. Word came from Roy to relieve me of several of my accustomed duties for a fortnight, and Jeffery was given rights to my body, a thought that fired my blood and traced prickles over my skin when Tobin told me.
He came to me that night. I woke with his hand over my mouth and his knife at my throat. Lightning danced between my clit and my collarbones.
His voice in my ear set me to shivering with anticipation. "You're going to be a good little slave for me, or I'll whip you until you scream."
Still covering my mouth, he pulled me out of Tobin's bed, and I watched Tobin's eyes on mine, his mouth curved up in a grin.
"I don't know if you can make her scream. She's a stubborn brat."
I glared at him, my skin too hot to handle.
We entered Jeffery's room, and he slid the knife slightly, just enough to cut the top layer of skin, before releasing me. I dropped to the floor, my fingers flying to my throat and coming up red. I gasped, panting with fear and arousal.
"You told me to ask next time."
I stuck my fingers in my mouth, my chest heaving and eyes rolling. It had been far too long since I'd had that copper tang on my tongue. I sucked, swiping at the cut for more and sucking them again.
"Oh, yes."
He slapped my face, knocking my fingers away from my lips, and then his hand was in my hair. I moaned, arching back and offering my nakedness to him.
"Stand up."
I obeyed, and he backed me against the wall, his bare feet nudging mine until I spread my legs wide. He unbuckled his belt and rolled it up, leaving just a short tongue of it free.
"Hands behind your head."
My breath came harsh, my nipples crinkling in the air as I obeyed. The tongue snapped down on my breasts, and I caught the scream before it came out. He grinned, knowing how close I'd come, so I sneered at him.
The belt lashed down on my breasts again, and this time he didn't stop to watch my reaction. Instead his eyes burned my skin even after the leather did, explosions of heat and pain. I moaned, shifting back and forth against the wall, my elbows pressed wide to keep from blocking his hands. I realized what he was doing. The leather tongue flicked over the sides of my breasts, never reaching the delicate tips. I thrust my chest at him as my core turned molten, and he laughed.
"Such a good little slave."
The feel of his lips on my nipples was an unexpected jolt of sensation. I moaned again, deep in my throat, and he bit down, eliciting a shriek. I heard Tobin's laughter behind him, and couldn't manage to care. He bit the other, and then withdrew, watching my chest heave. I thrust my chest towards him again, and he slapped the tongue of leather down hard, a burst of pain in my nipples, one, then the other, and back again, over and over until I was wailing, near tears but wet to my knees.
Jeffery grabbed my elbow and jerked me away from the wall, turned, and shoved me onto his bed on my hands and knees. He parted my sopping lips and slammed inside. I grunted, filled with his cock, my breasts so tight and sore I couldn't bear the touch of the bedclothes. It didn't matter what I wanted. He rode me hard, a fist in my hair and a hand on my shoulder blades, making sure my tits scraped the cloth with every pump of his hips.
I was delirious with pleasure by the time he withdrew and spurted hot ropes of cum over my ass. "No! No, no, no!"
He slapped my ass hard, then rubbed his seed into my skin. "No what, little slave?"
"No, you can't stop now, dammit!"
He chuckled. "Who says I'm stopping?"
I felt him tug my shuddering body over his thighs, and then his hand fell hard. I wiggled, kicking and struggling.
"I'm not punishing you, little slave. This is so that you'll be ready when I fuck you again."
I stopped trying to get away, and switched to arching my back, shoving my ass towards him. He slapped me hard, and then picked up his belt. The flare of pain across my skin was like nothing else. I howled as each stripe painted a darker red on my skin, the heat and swelling sating my need for pain almost as well as a blade did.
Slap! The belt landed, again and again. My skin burned. Each stroke reverberated deep in my flesh, and I knew I'd feel it long after.
He stopped when I was whimpering, lying still and submissive to his strap, wrapped in a haze of pain. He stroked my inflamed ass.
"Such a good little slave, Tobin. I can't believe I waited this long to ask you about her."
Something about the wonder and gratitude in his voice pleased me, and I reached a hand for him, wrapping my arm around his hips in a show of approval that he had asked.
"Up." He shifted me again, placing me on my hands and knees again, turning towards the center of the bed. "Suck me until I'm wet enough to slide into your ass."
My eyes widened, and he grabbed my hair, shoving my face down onto his thick cock. I gasped for air and then I felt Tobin's hands on my ass. I moaned. He slid fingers deeply into my cunt, and I shivered until Jeffery's hand tightened on my hair.
"Don't stop, little slave. Or I might not let you cum tonight."
My head jerked up, his cock forgotten and bobbing in the air. Tobin's fingers slammed in hard, and my vision blurred, throbbing sensation radiating through my body. Jeffery's smile turned cruel.
"Suck."
I hurriedly wrapped my lips around his shaft, sucking and bobbing while Tobin did his best to distract me.
I was a quivering mess of nerves when Jeffery deemed the lubrication sufficient. He and Tobin turned me, so that I was presenting my ass to Jeffery and my mouth to Tobin. Tobin slid his rock hard cock between my lips, and I sucked, grateful to know what my master liked and to be able to settle into a known rhythm. Jeffery slid fingers up my slit, painting my crack with the dripping wetness before he slid his cock inside. I bore down, curving my back to accept his invasion, shivering at the sensation, so like and unlike my master's. He took a moment to allow my muscles to stretch, and then he began to thrust.
I moaned around my master's cock, and he chuckled, his voice breathless as I milked him for his seed. Jeffery's hands were so tight on my hips, I knew he would leave bruises, and I shivered with the swirling sensation. He filled me deeply with each solid thrust.
My cunt had never felt so empty and unused.
He shifted the angle, and then his balls were slapping my swollen clitoris, not enough to help me cum, too much to ignore. I cried out around my master's cock, and he scolded me, the flat of his hand stinging my face.
"Enough of your complaining. You're a slave, Stephanie, you get what we give you."
Why did that just magnify the heat in my heart a hundred-fold?
Jeffery's hips banging my sore ass combined with my master's words, and I flew apart. Orgasm rent the fabric of my thoughts, and then I found myself collapsed on the bed, the bitter taste of my master's thickness on my tongue, Jeffery's heat spurting deep inside me. I don't know that I'd ever been so content before in my life.
Having a respite from my tedious chores in
no way enabled me to relax and rest. I was worn out with serving Tobin and Jeffery, exhausted from their constant attentions. I would go to breakfast and leave it half eaten when Jeffery caught my breasts in his hands and led me to his room by my nipples, fucking my tits until he exploded across my face. I would lie to sleep, only to be woken when Tobin flipped me on my belly and lifted my hips to his.
My body ached. And yet I glowed. Content and sated, I knelt for them, eager to serve, eager for more.
It was not to last. The respite from chores ended, and with our return to a full workload, all too often I was exhausted from long days of work. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, sewing, maintaining the garden and prepping food stores all had to be done, in addition to time spent with the other slaves. As word spread of our territory, we had stragglers every week, a slow trickle that swelled our ranks and made increasingly complex social structures necessary. I still spent as much time as I could with the new slaves. My words were poor, but any who paid attention were able to swiftly discern the hierarchies in our community.
Occasionally I faced a challenge. Zahira was one such. A perky breasted, dark tanned Amazon bitch who thought physical strength and beauty were everything.
"You don't have courage to face me."
I smirked at her blindfolded face. The men had caught her crossing one of our fences, and she'd been no match for them. I knew she considered me an easy target, just from the lightness of my steps.
"I don't need courage." I touched her shoulder, and she flinched. My grin became sharper. "I belong to this house. You do not."