emeraldgryphon
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Joined: 6/29/2007
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The early morning light filtered through the trees as a cool breeze began to disperse the fog clinging to the valley, revealing a small campsite nestles into a dell near the stream. One canvas tent, a small wagon, and a team of horses standing at picket was all that there was, and the coals of last night's campfire still smouldered in the firepit. Before long the tent door opened and a man emerged, yawning as he stretched and moved to begin striking camp. His name was Rikard, and he was an itinerant peddler, trapper, tinker, and all-around jack-of-all-trades. He had came north into the forests away from his usual territory hunting mink pelts to sell in the south and had quite a few bundles in the wagon already. This Kingdom was fairly well-known for the unique pleasures that its Queen and Court indulged in – keeping pleasure slaves of both sexes, but Rikard wasn't too concerned about running into the Queen and her Court way out here. He finished striking the camp and loaded the wagon as the fog finally cleared out, but as he climbed into the wagon something caught his eye from farther downstream, like light reflecting from metal.
Curious, Rikard stepped back down and reached for the short sword at his side – a plain serviceable weapon that had seen him through many fights. Carefully he moved into the trees and stealthily made his way downstream, keeping below the ridgeline as he searched for the source of the reflection. Fifteen minutes later he detected voices from just around a bend in the stream and moved up onto the tree-lined ridge hip, moving slowly on his belly, crawling up through the underbrush lining the ravine below the hip. A campsite came into view, laid out in a streamside meadow nestled in a long valley. Nine large wagons were pulled up end to end forming a curved wall matching the bend of the stream and about forty yards from the bank. Six large canvas pavilions formed a wall of sorts at either end of the wagon line, three on each end stretching from the wagons to the bank. As Rikard watched he could see several female guards standing at perimeter points around the camp edge while other women moved around the camp. They were all wearing distinctive black and green livery of sorts, and the pennons flying from the wagons matched the livery colors. From what Rikard could tell it seemed to be merchant flags of some type, probably a private household company, funneling profits to a noble owner.
Several other people were busy in the camp, both men and women, preparing food, fetching water, mending clothes and so forth, but they did not wear the black and green. Their clothing consisted of a simple chiton, belted with a piece of rope and tied over the shoulders. Around their necks were steel collars, and their limbs were locked securely in chain siriks. The sirik was a very efficient method of restraint, Rikard mused, consisting of a central chain that depended from the collar and fell to just below the knees where it split into two chains that each terminated in locked steel anklets. The central chain passed through a welded steel ring, and to the ring was attached chains that terminated in locking steel manacles. In this way the wearer of the sirik could move about and perform tasks easily, but with the simple application of a padlock or two could be tightly restrained and denied movement.
So. It was a slaver's camp. Rikard let out a breath as he considered his next move. He was going to have to get out of here soon, but he knew now that he had been lucky – camps this size always posted guard sentries a little distance from the camp like the spokes of a wheel. Carefully he began to look around, barely moving as he scanned obvious points that would give maximum visibility and coverage both. Wait – there, and there, and probably one just to his left on the other side of the trees lining the hip. He had came up the ravine on his belly, if he was right then he had literally crawled past her without even knowing it. Only the slight ridge of the hip had kept him from being seen.
Sudden activity in the camp recaptured his attention, and as he watched a string of four slaves were pulled into the middle of the camp by six female slavers. Rikard noticed that the entire company of slavers seemed to be female, large, strong females, while most of the slaves were small and male. Three of the four were male, and the fourth was a sweetly hipped blonde. All were naked with their hands chained behind them, and they were not collared. They were however, dripping wet. As Rikard watched they were taken over near the fire and knelt on a rough blanket with their leading chain snapped to a holding pike driven into the ground. They had obviously been bathed, taken over to the stream and washed, probably by other slaves. More chain coffles appeared between the tents now, coming from the other side of the camp where the stream had formed a sandy beach. Each string was brought over and chained near the fire to warm up and dry off, shivering in the cool morning air. Bowls of broth or soup were brought to each chain, made of hollowed out bread with hard baked crusts, making the whole thing edible. Wooden spoons were in each bread bowl and as Rikard watched he saw the slaves obviously had some training, or had simply learned not to risk the wrath of their owners, because they all waited for the command to eat before even touching their spoons and then eating with haste when one of the slavers cracked her whip.
These were new slaves, he surmised, probably either just purchased or acquired, being taken deeper into the Kingdom for sale to private training Houses for later resale or to private owners. The other slaves wearing the chitons were company slaves then, long since trained and used to their place, but still in sirik. These women kept their slaves under intense discipline Rikard realized, constantly in chains not only to preclude any escape attempts, but also to constantly remind them of their submissive place. One male company slave was busy folding clothing, and as he bent over to place the tunics in a basket one of the slavers passed behind him and reached out to force his head and torso into the basket. She then moved right up against him, her groin grinding against his ass and thrusting her hips into him, laughing as she held him for a few seconds before letting go and moving away, pleased with her sport. The slave stayed in position for a few seconds before straightening back up, but before he did so Rikard could see under the chiton was a steel chastity device, probably a belt, and locked on. Rikard wondered if the slavers had access to the belt keys, or if the leader kept the keys herself. Normally such keys would be kept under tight security to preclude any kind of revolt or escape attempts. If the leader did have the keys it was likely that all a slaver had to do was ask for the use of a slave and she would be given the key to that slave's belt. He shuddered at the thought of being locked up in such a device, totally at the mercy of a woman and dependent on her for sexual pleasure, which might or might not be given depending on how well the slave pleased his Mistress. Rikard realized that he would be unable to move from his present position without alerting the sentries to his presence, so he settled in as comfortable as he could to await nightfall.
As he watched he saw the discipline which the slaves were under, kneeling with knees spread wide whenever one of their Mistresses approached, and moving with haste to obey any and all commands. The slaves prepared and served dinner to their Mistresses once the new slaves were fed, bustling about, pouring drinks, fetching plates, and towards the end of dinner, serving as more intimate playthings. Two slaves were chained together by their collars and knelt between a Mistresses' knees, servicing her orally while another was bent over his Mistresses' lap and spanked for sport. Another slaver strapped a phallus onto her thigh and made a female slave ride it after unlocking her chastity belt and dropping it to the side, bouncing on her leg until the girl was ready to orgasm and then pushing her off of the well-lubricated implement just in time to reach out and pull a male slave onto the phallus, sliding it into his ass and starting to fuck him slowly and deeply. The girl was quickly pulled between another Mistresses' knees and made to lick her while another replaced her discarded chastity belt, locking it back on the tormented girl. Over by the wagons Rikard saw four slaves bent over a bench and chained down with their asses in the air. A Mistress approached them, carrying what looked like four waterbags or bladders, but only as she hung the bags behind them on the wagon and unrolled tubing that ended in a nozzle from each bag did he see what was going to happen. He could feel himself getting aroused as she inserted the nozzles and started the flow, imagining himself under her control, imagining how that must feel, imagining himself kneeling chained and being forced to service a Mistress, imagining being kept under the same discipline as the others, and his cock was hard as it had ever been as he lost himself in the fantasy. Suddenly he saw a sentry leading his wagon and horses into the meadow and into the camp, giving the reins to two slaves where they knelt, and he heard her tell them to unharness the horses and put them at picket with the company horses. She walked into camp and spoke shortly to a slave who ran quickly to the center tent on the far end of the campsite. In short order the tent flaps parted and Rikard got his first look at their leader – a gorgeous girl with raven black hair that was braided and fell to her knees. She wasn't much taller than him he could see, but she was solid, with lean muscle all over, and shapely legs and a firm chest. Even at this distance he could see her nipples as they hardened in the cool evening air. She was dressed in simple black leather, with a tight corset, bracers on her arms, and tight breeches tucked into thigh high riding boots. On her belt was a whip and a large set of keys. As she strode closer to the fire he could see she had a heart-shaped face, with full lips and deep-set eyes that flashed the brightest blue. Her skin was somewhat pale, but definitely not delicate looking.
“What have you found, Marcella?” she asked the sentry by the fire. “A tinker's wagon and horses from a short distance upstream, Ma'am. The horses have been standing in yoke for most of the day, but the tinker is nowhere to be found.” The leader of the women stood silent for a moment, lifting her eyes to scan the darkening hillsides. “Fan out. Standard search pattern. If the tinker is here, bring him to me.” She lifted a whistle to her lips and blew a short, but complex, series of blasts. Immediately he heard movement from just over the hip of the ridge, stealthy movements, and realized the sentry was much closer than he had thought. He froze, absolutely still. What was he going to do? They had his horses and wagon, and there were sentries all around him. With an low sigh of relief he heard the sounds moving away – she was going back along the stream. But still, it was only a matter of time until she found his trail. He had to move now. He slid as quietly as he could over the hip and under the trees where the sentry had rested, and then carefully down the other side, keeping under the rhododendron bushes that grew here. He intended to skirt the meadow and get around on the far side of the camp before he entered the stream in order to eliminate his trail, but he saw that the rhododendron grew only sparsely around the rest of the meadow, but there was a ditch or runoff ravine of sorts that crossed the meadow itself. Moving quickly in the gathering gloom he ran the short distance in a crouch and dropped into the ravine. Looking back he could see movement on the top of the ridge and coming down behind him – they had found his trail! He altered his plan then, and moved back along the ravine the way he had came, freezing as two sentries moved past him up on the meadow, scant feet away. The ravine passed beyond the camp at the foot of the hip in a curve, and he followed it quietly as he moved past the camp and down to the stream, slipping quietly into the icy water and slowly across the stream. As he searched carefully for purchase in the cold water his foot caught on something and before he could lift his foot over the current pushed him off-balance. Whatever it was that had his foot suddenly went taut, and he tried to leap over the edge of the net he now knew it was but the tripcord had released the pressure on the net and now it drew tight about him, threatening to pull him under. He drew his sword and began to hack noisily at the net, but he was being pulled off his feet and the water was dulling his strikes. He could hear voices behind him now, louder and louder as they ran to the bank. He fought the net, trying to open it far enough to swim free, but suddenly the net grew taut again and he felt himself pulled backwards, this time by human strength. The net drug him off his feet again and his sword slipped from his numbed fingers, and out of the net, lost in the dark water. As Rikard struggled he felt the sandy beach suddenly under him and then several hands were grabbing him, pulling the net tighter and hauling him into the camp to drop him in a sodden, freezing heap near the fire. He continued struggling until he crawled free of the net only to find himself surrounded by the slavers on all sides, with weapons drawn. As he stood he was grabbed by two of them and held tightly, shivering madly in the cold air. The leader was standing a few feet away, and she snapped her fingers. Immediately a slave stepped forth with a blanket. “Get those wet clothes off of him before he freezes. What is your name and why were you spying on us?” The slaves began stripping him as the guards continued to hold him, cutting clothing off if necessary, leaving him in only his loincloth and toweling him off before wrapping him in the blanket. “Rikard, Ma'am. I was camped a short way upstream last night, my fellows and I, and I got a late start when I noticed your camp and decided to investigate. They've doubtless reached the next town and are waiting on me.” he lied, hoping to make sure they released him, but his hopes were dashed when the sentry who found his wagon spoke. “He's lying, Ma'am. There was only one set of wagon tracks arriving, and no horse or wheel tracks leaving. He's quite alone.” The leader looked back at him, displeased, and gave a sharp signal. Immediately he felt his legs kicked out from under him and he fell heavily to his knees. An arm went around his throat and his hands were pulled roughly behind his back and manacled. The blanket was yanked away and one of the slavers reached down to cut the loincloth away, pulling it free and rendering him completely naked. A leash was snapped about his throat and handed to the leader. “I'll ask you one more time Rikard – why were you spying on us all day without making your presence known?” He hesitated and she pulled hard on the leash, reaching for her whip. “Because... I was afraid. “ he stammered. “Afraid of what?” “Afraid of what might happen to me if you found me. You are .... slavers, after all.” She nodded at one of the guards who pushed her spear butt between Rikard's knees, forcing them apart. “And what might happen to you, praytell?” She smiled sweetly at him, and he looked down in horror to see his cock becoming aroused. He started to close his knees, but her smile vanished as she said, “Keep those knees open – I didn't give you permission to close them.” He moaned, dropping his eyes, and said something inaudible. “What was that? What did you say?” Rikard raised his face, in emotional agony, and clearly said, “Yes... Mistress.” “Ah, I see you know quite clearly what could happen to you. You will continue to address me as Mistress, or any of my sisters, even though you are free, in view of your possible impending enslavement.” He moaned at this pronouncement, shuddering uncontrollably. “Please ... don't do that to me, please..” he begged, but the leader gave another signal and a woman stepped in front of him and stepped in close, bending his head back as she stepped around him with a boot on either side of him. His head was forced back as it was gripped between the woman's thighs, and he found himself looking up at her face, barely visible above the swelling of her breasts. Hands gripped him, ice cold, and his cock drooped, trying to shrink away from the chilling touch of the hands, and then he felt cold metal sliding up around his cock and the belt being taken around and locked behind his back. As he was held there helplessly, the leader slid a steel collar around his neck, locking it, and then laughing when he fell backwards as the guard released his head. The leash jerked then, and Rikard struggled back up to his knees to find the guard holding his leash. The leader had vanished back into her tent, and the guard pulled him over to a low chair where she sat down, untied her breeches, and pulled them down over her boots. She moved her knees apart. “Get your tongue over here and serve my pleasure.” Another tug on the leash nearly pulled him off his knees, making him move towards her as she lifted her ankles over his shoulders. She grabbed his head by the hair and pulled his face against her sex.
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