Stephanie's Slavery (Brackish Bay Book 2)

by Cerise Noble

  She tsked and shook her head.

  The crack of the spoon on my unmarked bottom was thunderous. I couldn't keep my voice down, and soon the room was filled with my wailing, punctuated by the tremendous cracks that burned and welted.

  For some reason I'd thought Lauren spanked lightly. And I suppose she did, when it was children. But for me—I realized she was upset with me, also. Everyone was upset with me, if the satisfaction on the faces and in the voices of the men at the table was anything to go by.

  It wasn't long before I was crying, twisting my hips to get away, my cheeks slipping in the puddle as I tossed my head and bit my lips to stifle my cries.

  She didn't stop. Spank after spank after spank inflamed my skin. Gradually I quit fighting, bitter hate directed inward, reminding me again and again why I was the worst sort of person for abandoning my beloved at such a time.

  Lauren stopped, and I felt listless, all the blackness suffusing my heart. She leaned over, petting my damp hair.

  "It's not your fault she's sick. But your actions belong to you. She needs you."

  "Why? I'm worthless. I couldn't be with her when she needed me, can't help or fix it."

  "She loves you. And you love her. And there is nothing else that matters. You need to show her your love. What have you always done? You have been with her. Defended her. Protected her."

  "But I can't!"

  Lauren shook me. "She doesn't want a cure from you, Stephanie, she wants your presence. And she wants you to know she loves you no matter what, so you damn well better believe it."

  "How can she love me?"

  Lauren's voice could have cut steel. "Are you calling my lady a liar?"

  "No-o-o!"

  My voice trailed off into a scream as Lauren started at the top of my buttocks and began the spanking all over again. Methodical, brutal, she snapped the spoon into my flesh with a strength that rivaled Tobin's. Layer after layer, the oval brands gradually covered my bottom cheeks in overlapping rows from the top of my crack to the middle of my thighs.

  By the time she was finished, I was limp, unprotesting moans wandering out between my cracked lips. She must have gestured to Nathaniel, because he released me. I lay still, absorbing the heat from my punishment, letting it thaw the icy blackness in my heart.

  Jessica still loved me, even though I'd failed her. And it was my duty not to fail her again.

  Even so, it was a long time before I found the strength to push myself up from the table. I realized the other men were gone, all except Nathaniel. He eyed me with a worried frown.

  "Thank you," I said. His frown deepened, and then I turned stiffly to Lauren who stood watching, arms crossed. "Thank you, ma'am." I dropped awkwardly to my knees, and pressed my forehead against the toe of her boot.

  She snorted. "You're welcome. Now get dressed and get the laundry started. And when you've made progress, you may go visit your lady."

  I nodded, abject misery giving way to determination to prove my worth.

  There was an awful lot of laundry. But every time I felt myself sinking into self-loathing, I touched the rough, welted skin of my bottom and remembered I'd already paid for my neglect. Sometimes I squeezed hard enough to bring tears to the surface, and I cried into the soapsuds, the cleansing tears that I'd denied myself for too long.

  The first batch was hanging in the sun to dry when I went back inside and started up the stairs. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done, putting one foot after another.

  She was in her room, in the middle of her bed. The soothing scent of lavender filled the air. Jacqueline lay beside her, her fingers gently stroking Jessica's arm. I wept at the sight of her, at the flickering in her spirit.

  "Stephanie?" She reached her free hand to me, and I threw myself on the bed, burying my face in her shoulder while I cried. Her bones felt so fragile. "Oh, Stephanie, I've missed you so much."

  My voice was the barest whisper. "I've missed you, too. I'm so, so sorry."

  For a long time I apologized, and she forgave me everything. Gradually her chiming laugh melted the rest of the ice in my heart, and I felt the ragged pain of her imminent loss far keener than I had in a long time.

  But it was good, clean pain, and I was glad for it. Glad to reassure her of my love. Glad to give any comfort I could to her fears and worries.

  Roy came in later and put me over his knee to inspect Lauren's work. It was the first Jessica had seen of it, too, so Jacqueline helped her sit up so she could run cool fingers over my bruising welts.

  Her voice was sweetly amused. "You're such a naughty brat, aren't you, Stephanie?"

  And, just like that, my existential horror was reduced to a petty misbehavior, something easily corrected with a sound spanking. I nodded, something suspiciously like contentment growing in my heart. She crossed her arms.

  "I think she needs another spanking, master."

  "No! Please!"

  I wiggled in his grasp, but he would have none of it.

  "Be still, brat. It's been too long since you were spanked regularly."

  I screwed up my face and whined. "That doesn't mean you need to make up for it all today."

  He chuckled, and his big hand slapped down on my welts. I howled. It was a short spanking, quick and to the point. It was enough to set my skin on fire and restart my tears. Afterward, he tucked me into bed with Jessica, and I dozed, grateful to inhale her scent, to feel her soft skin against mine.

  When I woke, my fingers were entwined with Jacqueline's, and she gave me a wry look. "I guess I can forgive you, too."

  I nodded. Surprisingly, I found myself grateful for Jacqueline's attention to Jessica.

  Together we took care of our lady. Taking turns, we went out when we needed a break, when we needed to weep and breathe somewhere other than in her presence.

  ***

  She turned to Roy one day, taking his face in her hands. "You will need to take another slave. Someone to replace me."

  He'd gotten angry. "No one can replace you!"

  "Not in your heart, no, but in your House. Roy, promise me you'll find another woman, another slave to help you."

  He'd shaken his head, his fingers tight on her delicate ones. "I can't promise you that, Jessica. I've loved you all my life. I can't bear the thought of someone else being to me what you are."

  And so she'd made us promise—me, especially.

  "You work with the new slaves. You meet them. You torment them. You would be able to find one who is good for him, one who will lift him from the grief that he will try to let consume him."

  "I will try, my lady."

  She'd shaken her head, unexpectedly vehement.

  "You don't understand. He is the governor of hundreds of people. He is the leader, the lord who holds it all together. If he falls apart, our whole village falls apart, and it will no longer be the haven we intended it to be. You can't let my dream, my life's work, be broken by my death. Keep him sane. Help him be strong. He will need you, Stephanie. But he will need her even more."

  "I swear to you I will find him a suitable slave after—after—after—"

  I shook my head, tears spilling unheeded, unable to say the words.

  "After I die."

  My voice was inaudible. "Yes, my lady."

  ***

  It took Tobin the longest to appreciate my newfound industry. He lay to sleep with me, silent and turned away, rising early to work on the furniture for the new homes, on items to trade.

  For a while I let him, hoping my actions would be enough to convince him of my sincerity. But when weeks passed, my frustration bubbled over.

  "If you hate me so much, why don't you just release me?"

  He stopped abruptly in the act of undressing. "What did you say?"

  "You heard me. If you hate me, give me to someone else. I daresay there are any number of men willing to stick their cocks in me, even if it means putting up with my temper."

  He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, forcing me to look
at him. "You have no idea how difficult you are to deal with. I'm pretty sure you'd be returned within a fortnight."

  "You certainly don't know how to deal with me." He slapped me, but I am foolish, so I continued. "You haven't laid a finger on me for months."

  "And what would you have me do? Beat you to within an inch of your life?"

  I blanched. Tobin would never, never, never—would he? Of course not.

  "No, sir."

  "I don't want to damage you, Stephanie." That was it.

  My voice got softer. "You would never damage me, sir. I love you. I trust you. I ache with loneliness when you won't touch me."

  For a long moment his fingers caressed the mark on my face. "What would you have me do?"

  I swallowed hard. "Spank me. Fuck me. Please. Sir."

  His fingers twisted in my hair, and I moaned. His hands wandered down my body, flicking and twisting my nipples. I melted, chest heaving and moaning.

  "You like this?"

  "Yes, sir."

  He released my hair and ran calloused fingers down my spine until I arched my back, pressing my breasts into his chest. "This?"

  "Yes, sir."

  He grabbed my bottom. I squeaked, but it was barely sore. I'd gotten another spanking from Roy a few days before, but it was mostly healed. "This?"

  I squirmed against his front, attempting to rouse his thick cock. "Oh, yes, sir."

  "Come here." I went willingly as he sat on the bed and pulled me over his knee. "I think we need to keep your bottom sore more often."

  I whimpered, the heat rising in my core. "Yes, sir."

  He raised a thick palm and slapped it down hard. I flinched, moaning.

  "Ask me to spank you."

  Such a hard thing to do. "Please. Sir. Please spank me."

  "Please spank what? Your naughty bottom?" His hand fluttered, a flurry of light spanks peppering my buttocks.

  "Yes, sir! Please spank my bottom!"

  He stopped. "Try again."

  I squirmed. "Please spank my naughty bottom!"

  He resumed. My skin started to pinken.

  "I think you need a good, hard spanking, Stephanie. What do you think?"

  I squirmed harder. Of course I needed it. I just didn't want to say it.

  "Yes, sir."

  "What was that? What do you need?"

  I flushed, humiliated. "I need a good, hard spanking, sir."

  "Ah. That's good then, because that's exactly what I want to give you." I cried out when his spanks tripled intensity, burning my skin and covering all of my soft flesh. "Thank me for your spanking."

  "Oh, sir! Thank you!"

  "For what?"

  "For—spanking me."

  "What am I giving you?"

  "A—a—a good hard spanking."

  "Thank me."

  "Thank. You. Thank you for—for giving me—a good, hard spanking."

  "Good girl."

  And, just like that, I was immersed in the pleasure only pain could bring me. He spanked on, harder and harder, until my flesh was sore and my skin felt like it was glowing. I could feel his cock swelling against my hip, and I wiggled against it, teasing him.

  I heard him chuckle before I realized what it meant. He grabbed my right leg, pulling it over his knees until I was straddling his thighs, my most intimate area spread and displayed for him. I gasped. He slid a finger along my sopping slit and then slid his whole hand through my wetness. I gasped again, moaning. The fingers of his other hand dug into my stinging buttock and spread me even wider. I panted, feeling his eyes peruse my delicate flesh.

  Smack! The wetness of his fingers enhanced the incredible sting as he spanked my crack. Smack! Smack! Smack! I cried out as he spanked along the pale skin between my cheeks, burning and shocking in its volume of pain.

  He spanked my vulva, too, the explosion of pain setting me to wriggling away from him.

  "Ah ah, Stephanie. You asked for a good spanking, and you're going to get it."

  "I didn't want you to spank me there!"

  He chuckled. "Who do you belong to, slave?"

  I hesitated only a fraction of a second. "You, sir."

  "Then I will spank you wherever I decide to spank you. Is that clear, Stephanie?"

  I nodded. He spanked hard on my asshole, and I shrieked.

  "Yes, sir! Yes, sir!"

  Tensing and relaxing by turns, I panted and groaned while he proceeded to prove his point. He spanked my vulva until my nether lips were swollen and throbbing. He spread them apart and spanked my clitoris until I was delirious with heat and need. He spanked my crack until it matched the color of my buttocks, then spanked my asshole until it burned. All the while I yelped and squealed and moaned.

  When he was finished, he slid me forward on the bed, gathering all the pillows and the blanket to roll into a bundle and push under my hips. I whimpered, but it turned to a hum of pleasure when he slid the smooth slick head against my wet hole. He thrust in hard, once, twice, thrice, then withdrew and slid it against my asshole. I cried out, but he slid in deep. My cries turned to moans when he began to thrust, his hips banging my sore bottom, his balls slapping my sore clit. My asshole stretched, the burn of his spanking merging with the soreness from his girth. I writhed, intoxicated with the different flavors of pain. His hands wrapped around my hips as he fucked me hard.

  "Pinch your nipples, Stephanie." I whimpered, but obeyed, feeling surreal with the sensation of giving myself pleasure at his direction. "Twist them. Now pinch hard. Harder."

  I gasped, but his thrusts never slackened. Soon there was nothing but swirling pleasure, a maelstrom of pain and delight.

  Somewhere in there, I came.

  Soon after, he did, also. And then wrapped his arms around me and held me through the night.

  Chapter Ten

  As Jessica's health declined, the social structures in our village solidified. Fewer people came to our house, and there were no longer any families with children living in the other wing. I grew restless with less onerous duties, and spent long hours with Jessica, shot through with long hours attempting to find oblivion with other slaves. Our territory was marked with little fences, not enough to deter the wildlife we hunted, but enough to warn humans they were crossing a boundary.

  When Nanette came, I wondered if she would be the one for Roy.

  I'd been outside, hanging laundry—of course—and Roy was near the dock, conversing with Devon. When Jeffery rowed up, and I saw the bite on his forearm, I'd silently cheered. This was a slave with fight in her, not one of the simpering ones I sometimes saw who came from the villages looking for food and shelter. There was a girl with her, a sister, by the looks of it. They both had the same blonde hair, the same cute noses. Somehow the girl reminded me of Jillian, even though her prettiness was coarser.

  The men on the dock called to Jeffery, reaching for the boat and helping tie it to the dock. The girl was handed up first, and she stood shivering. Jeffery and Devon started to lift the young woman, handing her up, as well, and she squirmed unexpectedly, twisting right out of their grip and falling into the river.

  My heart in my throat, I ran forward. Her wrists had been bound; there was no way she could save herself. The girl screamed, and Jeffery dove in without hesitation. Roy had just bellowed for men to keep a sharp eye for crocodiles when Jeffery surfaced, hauling the woman with him. Roy pulled her onto the dock, and she fell hard, coughing and sputtering. The girl threw herself beside the woman, sobbing and shaking her older sister.

  The young woman's voice was hoarse. "I'm fine."

  Devon pulled the girl back, and Roy knelt heavily beside her. I could see the strain of governing etched in his face, his unreasonable anger at yet another stray.

  "Give me one good reason to keep you alive and not throw you back in for the crocodiles."

  I bit my lip, hating that the thought had even crossed his mind, no matter how well I knew he wouldn't do it.

  She sneezed, more water dripping from her face, and someho
w her voice was sweet. "If you weren't sure, why did you pull me out the first time?"

  Roy's growl was more fear for his friend's life than anger at her. "Jeffrey did that. Against orders."

  I snorted. As if Roy really would have ordered her to drown. He might not risk Jeffery on a hopeless cause, but he would not let her drown, if it could be helped.

  "What do you want with me?"

  He guffawed. "Too stupid to know she's not the one who should be asking questions."

  Abruptly he rubbed his face and stood, retreating back to the house. I touched his arm as he went, but he didn't spare me a glance. I closed my eyes for a moment, wishing I could do more for him, wishing that the young woman had charmed him. But she hadn't.

  In fact, the one staring at her with a familiar heat in his eyes was Jeffery. My estimation of the woman went up, but I was still in charge of new slaves.

  "Well, she's here now. Put her in the dungeon."

  Jeffery and Devon pulled her up, removing her waterlogged boots, and she started to babble.

  "My sister. She's only twelve. Please. Don't hurt her. Please. I'll do whatever you say."

  I froze, looking at the child. If she was twelve, I was a crone. But that must mean the woman didn't know who or what we were. I softened my tone.

  "We won't harm the child. Take her to the kitchen."

  Lauren would know what to do with her. The child yelled, and I winced.

  "No! I don't want to leave her!"

  Before I could form a non-harsh thought, her sister spoke.

  "Suzanna. Go. I am fine. I am a grown woman. You are a child. Do you understand?"

  That quieted the girl, thank goodness. She was suddenly meek.

  "Yes. I understand."

  I watched as one of the men took Suzanna to the house, to Lauren, and Jeffery took the woman to the dungeon. There we left her, as we did any stray slaves who wanted to serve our House. The waiting wore on their nerves, giving us a better idea of their character under stress, gave our men a chance to observe them and see if they had an interest in claiming them.

  By the morning, she was moving around the room, her explorations full of curiosity and intelligence. I immediately warmed to her.

  "We're going to get you cleaned up. Normally, we take the people we catch in our territory to the village and sell them. But Jeffery seems to have taken an interest in you. He's asked the governor if he can keep you."