Naive traveler (Ingenue)

[the savage]

Every single step I have to fight off the urge to jerk on the leash. Hard enough to send you crashing to the floor. I have enough trouble with the creature being almost willing. This happiness is almost sickening. Makes me want to... my fingers flex tight, little fists. Wanting to slam them into you. But I restrain. Barely. Violence seems to only strengthen whatever twisting bond you are trying to form.

Seeing you on the bed, acting like there will be foreplay. It is not going to happen. I get in the bed with a growl. Hands placed on your shoulders. Shoving violently, watching you tumble back onto the pillows. "Just get to work slut."

[Ingenue]

I can't figure out what's making you so angry. It's practically boiling off of you, the twist in your lip, the tightness in your jaw, the clenching and unclenching fists. It's partly why I offered to massage you; ease some of it out. But you just shove me aside with barely restrained violence, dump your beautiful ass into bed and expect me to start working on you.

Seeing the gentle approach so definitively rejected, I figure something different is expected. Slipping a little way down the bed, I run my hands down your chest before digging in my nails. Just enough to cause a twinge. Damaging my master would be.. unthinkable. My lips and tongue dart over your throat, pausing now to nip your skin, now heading further down your body, kissing and biting with one goal in mind. Towards your cock.

[the savage]

Not surprisingly you are attempting to stretch this out, provoke some reaction besides lust from me. I don't respond, simply lying on the bed. Letting you do whatever. As long as the steady process towards my cock continues. Stopping myself from even moaning when your lips seal around my cock. When your tongue flicks the head.

[Ingenue]

So. The sexiest man in the world is laying here completely passive and I have him all to myself and I can do whatever I want to him.

Nope, can't see anything arousing about that. Not at all. Nopers. Not a thing.

Of course I'm aware that you want quiet so you can sleep. So I prevent myself from moaning in pleasure too. A certain flush to my cheeks and brightness of the eyes are the only indications. And the way my mouth works over your cock like it's the most precious thing in the world. Licking and teasing the head, bobbing up and down the shaft, a little further each time. No noise but the warm wet sucking and the soft breaths through my nose.

If I was an ungrateful piece of garbage like that slave, this would be the perfect opportunity to sink my teeth in. How dare she threaten that? The thought makes me feel indignant at her (I'll have to make her suffer for that tomorrow) and strangely protective towards you. It's like a kitten trying to defend an alligator, but I can't help it.

[the savage]

It goes against every instinct to be passive. My urges are towards the violent application of force. To shove you down, force your legs above your head and thrust roughly until I am satisfied. And the girl is brimming with tears and bruises. But fine, this one wants to pretend it is a relationship, I will take advantage of that. At least for now. I let my eyes slip closed, and go with the sensations.

[Ingenue]

I've tried affection, I've tried scratches, what else is left? I could just obey, but that's missing the point. I have to be better than a mere sex slave. I have to be an extension of my master and my master is the bestest so I have to be the best I can too.

Wait, I know. Think of something sad. Think of little kittens left outside in the rain. Think of the abused piece of meat down in the dungeon, branded and covered in bruises, hanging in an excruciating position, all because I lured her here.

In short time, tears start to drop and now there are soft sniffling noises as I keep making love to you with my mouth.

[the savage]

I hear the tears, the sniffles, everything. Returning to the proper position of a sex slave. Unwilling, horrid. Suddenly my hands snap up, taking grasp of each side of your head. Pushing it down further, shoving my cock completely into your throat. The sudden insertion make you flail your arms a little bit. Gasping and making little noises. As my hips pump up and down.

Violently, I do not stop. Taking your throat like I took the pussy of that thing hanging downstairs. My hips gain speed, loosing all control of myself. In a sudden move I roll over, so I am straddling your face. Now I can thrust downwards. Over and over again. My hands tangling in your hair, I feel small strands of it snapping in my hands. Groaning loudly as I use you. Like I hadn't used you in a long time.

Before long I have sent wave after wave of my cum jetting down your throat. Without a word I roll off and go to sleep.

[Ingenue]

Well, that worked better than I thought. If you can count this vicious throat-raping as better. I do love turning you on, but the result is always - scary. On my back, taking your hard length all the way into my throat with soft, involuntary noises spilling from me, my hands come up and grip your butt, nails digging into the cheeks. Your pleasured groans are so nice. I don't want it to stop - but I'm grateful when it does. I quickly swallow your cum, but you have already rolled off of me and are ignoring me. I long so much to be held in your arms. With a sigh, I curl up at your feet.

I wake up once or twice in the night sobbing at nightmares I can't quite remember, but I try to keep it quiet. My poor rapist needs his rest. He works so hard and he doesn't sleep or eat enough. At least I'm here for him.

When next I wake up, early morning light is shining in through the tall windows. You still seem dead to the world. I lie there, luxuriating in your closeness for a while. Soon, though, restless energy asserts itself. I slip carefully out of bed and into the bathroom. Washing myself up takes little time and it's still too early to wake you.

I look down at you lying there, so peaceful. Tucking my hair behind my ear, I lean down and kiss your forehead, watching the facial muscles shift in response to what must be an almost unknown sensation. And then I sneak out of the bedroom and down the broad stairs.

The security chief, when I leap out and hug him, reacts by slamming me back against a wall and needs lengthy reassurances before he believes I'm not trying to escape, the silly man. But he does follow me when I ask, if only to keep watch on me. If I'm any judge, master's newest toy will be in no condition to resist whatever I do to her, but I don't believe in taking chances. So I'm glad to have backup when I walk down into the dungeon.

She's conscious but groggy. I don't think she slept at all. The bruises have darkened all over her, criss crossed with whip marks. The burn is still livid. Probably still causing her agony. I lower her gently until her feet touch the stone floor. She cries out when I start to unbind her arms. It must be agony. She collapses as soon as she's left standing under her own power. I let her stay there and fetch the hose again, leaving the cold water in a gentler spray this time. When she's clean I kneel beside her, whispering reassurances, rubbing some life back into her arms. As soon I figure she can stand, for lack of a convenient collar (only good creatures are granted those), I pull her to her feet by her hair.

She asks no questions, seeming past caring for now. I fetch what I need then lead her out. She doesn't do more than glance at the security chief as he steps in to half push, half drag her after me. In the dining room I fix the cuffs in place. Basic steel for her, none of the softer, safe leather I love against my own skin. She murmurs in confusion as I lift her onto the table and place her on her back, spreadeagle, cuffing her in place with her welts and bruises all on display.

I wink at the security chief. "When the kitchens prepare breakfast for master, tell them to place it around that centerpiece." It needs a finishing touch; I head out into the gardens. Ah, rose bushes. Perfect. I cut a few and bring them back inside, leaving them on their long, thorned stems. Most of them I arrange in the slut's dye-streaked hair. One is tucked into her nipple ring. The last two? One goes in her pussy, one in her ass as she murmurs a confused protest in her native language. They don't hurt her too much going in. The thorns on a rose being angled towards the flower head, it's only when pulled out that they will be terrible.

A few of the servants begin to make their appearance, setting out dishes and food. There are one or two stares at the cute, naked pet who has the hot alternative chick chained to the table; but most of the servants have seen worse. As I leave, I see one putting a dish on the floor next to my master's chair, and my heart does an ecstatic backflip.

Better hurry now. I scamper back up the stairs and open your door gently. Ah, I see something woke up in my absence. I climb on the foot of the bed, crawl a little way up and curl into your side, where I begin to lick your morning erection softly.

"G'morning, sexy master." Lick, lick. "Pet decorated the table for breakfast." Lick, lick, kiss.

[the savage]

I'm muttering as I awake to find the creature gone. No longer in bed, wandering the house freely. Sure, security is tight enough that escape is hopeless, but there are plenty of sharp objects lying around that it could end badly. As i dress, I make sure to tuck my gun into my waistband. Might need it, it would be a shame to waste a promising slave, but whatever I have done it before. Not like there isn't plenty of promising woman flesh out there to make a handy replacement. Thousands go missing in this country every year. And nobody bats an eye, even though it is worse than the KGB under Stalin. Guess they realize how much more brutal private enterprise can be.

I head towards voices, and enter my dining room, to find my head of security in there with the creature, and the soon to be sold slut. Or rather my former head of security, since he knows his job in the rare chance that a woman manages to escape captivity is to immediately return them. Not, socialize with them. My face is blank as I enter the room, even seeing you turning towards me, looking for some sort of greeting. The poor chief doesn't even have time to open his mouth before the first bullet passes through his eye. Spraying blood and gore onto the thing on the table. Which immediately starts screaming and praying, thinking that surely she must be next.

Ignoring her, I turn my attentions to you. Up and about with out my permission. It makes my blood boil. On you with the still smoking barrel pressing under your chin before the guard finishes crumpling bonelessly to the floor. I drag you out of the room without a word, down into the dungeon, punishment cells. Clipping your collar to a hoist hanging from the ceiling and pulling it up, just enough that you have to strain with your toes to stop from suffocating. As I watch you, I finally speak. "Never go anywhere with my permission." Following each word by slamming a paddle against your bare ass. Watching you swing wildly from the force of the blows. When I am done I cut you down, watching you crumple before me. "Creature think I enjoy this? That creature can worm it's way towards freedom by disobeying me? Horrible idea.:

[Ingenue]

I had been taking the punishment with resigned tears, until one word makes all the color drain from my face.

"Freedom?! No, please!" Probably the only American ever to react to the word with such terror. "Please don't abandon your pet, master! It was trying to set up a surprise for you - i-it will never leave your side again!"

[the savage]

There is nothing, no response until I finally send you crumpling to the floor. Begging not to be released. My lips curl in a small smile. But it goes away when you promise to never leave my side again. Not what I wanted, I just want you unwilling to do something so stupid again. "Now get up creature, no time to be wasting. I have to meet my buyer in a few, and you need to be ready to service him while he decideds whether or not to buy the other cunt."

[Ingenue]

I have no idea how I manage to find my feet. I'm just standing before I even register hearing the order; eyes staring unfocussed into nothingness.

"Pet has groomed and disp-p-played her all ready.. but.. t-th.. wh.. dead body!" My voice rises to a wail at the end. You don't want me to go near something so horrible?

[the savage]

I have had it, you no longer have teh right to speak. Snapping my hand out, I grab the nearest gag. Forcing it deep into your mouth, probably a little deeper than it should have gone. All the while you are making little mewling noises as I latch it behind your head. "It comes off when I am no longer angry. I get angrier, I'll take the tongue."

[Ingenue]

I quickly still when I feel your hands around my head. You're gagging me. That's good, right? You must want me to be safe. I let out small sounds as I adjust to the presence in my mouth, the thing that keeps my teeth apart and renders me voiceless. It's strangely comforting in a way. No human being would surrender to being gagged like this: ergo, I'm still your possession and don't have to consider threatening concepts such as "freedom".

I wish you weren't angry. It seems the more I try to show you how special you are to me, the more I screw up. Expecting initiative at some times, squashing it brutally at others - it's all very confusing for a simple romantic creature.

Time to follow you. We need to fix this stupid slut before some strange man buys her. And my master wants me to entertain that man. That can only mean one thing, because I doubt he wants to see me juggle.

[the savage]

The only thing, the only thing that prevents me from spending the entire day in that dungeon, instructing you in all the proper meanings and uses of the instruments down there. Some of them are so sinister that they have not been used by even the worst torturers in recorded history. That one thing is that the buyer will be here. In fact as I lead you out, another member of my security team is waiting. The buyer has been shown in and is waiting in the library. A quick glance at his hands shows there is blood on them. Right there, I promote him to the new head. He can be filled in on the rest of his duties later, but showing enough gumption to clean up a dead body is a good start.

I lead you into the library and partically shove you into the buyers lap. He is no handsome man, heavy, borderline unable to walk under his own power. Beet red skin. The sort of man that you know couldn't get any unless he owned a brothel. Smiling. In my own language I tell him to enjoy the offerings of my house while I bring out the merchandise. I leave when his hand is down between your legs. Smiling to myself. I decide to take my time let you learn how bad things could be.

Returning to the dining area, shaking my head. I don't need decoration, though I like the fact that no=one touched the blood on her body. It is still there, now dried into several sticky patches on her. Even some grey and white flecks. Bone and brain. My cock springs to attention as I realize I have killed and tortured today, without fucking. Have to correct that. Without a word I walk over, and rip the rose out of her. There is a squeal of pain. THorns must have knicked. I make sure that my cock rubs against that tear in her most sensitive flesh. I fuck her hard and fast. Hand in her hair, bouncing her head against the table over and over again. Steady thumps, each one eliciting a new squeal of pain. Keep her quiet when I turn her over. Finally my cock twitches and I explode inside the cunt of this former lesbian. Whores don;t have sexual orientations. Untying her I bring her back to the library.

[Ingenue]

I perch obediently on the huge man's lap. The look in my eyes as I watch you leave is a longing one, full of adoration, pining for the slightest touch or hint of approval. Of course, you, center and ruiner of my life, don't even think of looking back to me.

I turn to the man and, to my surprise, he is watching you too. But his face is not affectionate. No, far from it. A catalog of hatred is in those eyes. Scorn, envy, disgust and some evil satisfaction as he curls his lip. I think for a moment he's about to spit. Then he shakes himself out of it and turns his attention to me. He clearly doesn't care that I was looking. I'm not a thinking creature to him: I'm a commodity. Some kind of flesh robot like the others he undoubtedly keeps for his abuse. His fleshy finger roughly probes inside me. Knowing I have to play the friendly little house pet, I reluctantly put my arms around him and nuzzle into the flab of his neck. I'm even more glad of the cock gag. I don't think I could produce a very convincing smile.

Then both our attention is caught by a terrible holler from the direction of the dining table. Sounds like my master just pulled the rose out - heh heh, deflowered her - and from the particularly delicious scream, he wasn't gentle about it. I know my eyes just lit up with mischief. The man obviously doesn't know what just happened, but nor does he seem surprised, or even concerned. Mmm, I just wish I was there to see it happen. All those thorns tearing at her dry pussy, smears of blood - everything I'd calculated to please my beloved owner. And when he's happy, I'm happy.

With a little moan, I wrap myself around the visitor again. His pants are already unzipped. Now he grabs one of my hands and guides it to his cock. What does he want? I begin to stroke it up and down and that seems to be the right answer. My other hand caresses him gently. He's no picnic, honestly, big and flabby and even a little sweaty, despite the cool weather. Hearing the sound of the slut in the other room getting treated like she deserves, heavy thumps and screams, makes me happy, but the longing to be at my master's side much worse. My hand speeds up stroking the man's cock, which is fully hard now.

He pushes me suddenly off his lap, onto the floor. I shake my head, confused, and get to my knees and look up at him. One fat hand jerks towards his feet. He wants a foot rub? Master never lets me do that. I start caressing his left foot, kneading and working it with my fingers, and he sits his bulk back and starts jerking his cock again. I guess this is a turn on for him. Strange man. I hate him, because he hates my master, but I have to be nice because I'm a good, friendly pet, and it's what my master wants. I'm made to switch between his feet several times before the noises in the other room stop.

I look up to see you dragging the battered, bruised, branded girl by her dyed hair. She looks awful; dazed, with blood smeared around her pussy. The visitor looks up, grinning like a king on his throne, points to me and her both, and makes an offer. Insultingly low just for one.

[the savage]

I am surprised when I return to the room, that he isn't fucking you. He is the horniest man I had ever met, save myself of course. SMiling at that thought. Instead he has you down by his feet. I never did understand the desire to humilate the creatures. They aren't human and therefore can't be made to feel shame. But he still does it, however wrong he might be.

The price he quotes is low, but then again he has always loved to haggle. It would be easier to just kill him and take over his business. GOds know I have teh resources to eliminate one slimy worm. But I keep him around because he knows the purposeof a brothel. Me, I would likely spend all my time fucking every single woman brought in there too death. Entertaining, certainly, a valid use of time, less so.

Negotiations between us are fast and furious. Of course spoken in the language you do not understand. Dropping into English for one sentence. "Play with the toy while the humans figure this out."

[Ingenue]

I hear rapid words passing back and forth and recognize some numbers in there, though too fast for me to translate. And I noticed how the ugly look of contempt wiped off his face before you came near him. I feel sure he'd cheat you if he could get away with it. Well, he won't. My master is the cleverest. You'll get the better end of the deal. You bought me, didn't you? And I never would have ever dreamed I could settle into this role. You must have seen it in me long before I did. So you are able to judge people at least a little.

I realize my eyes have gone dreamy again gazing at you, and tell myself to concentrate. So I am able to snap to attention as soon as you tell me I can play. I'm definitely not sorry to put Mr Foot Fetish's pudgy toes down again. I somehow felt dirtier doing that than I ever have being raped by you. With a brief nuzzle on the way past you, I go to investigate what toys are available in here.

And ooh, look. I wonder what this is. It's a two-pronged fork, handle about a yard long, and it has a power cord. There's a wall socket within easy reach of the crumpled girl, who seems to have lost interest in the proceedings. The fork hums and crackles at the tips when it's powered. I wonder what happens if I poke her with it. Cocking my head in a mood of scientific inquiry, I poke her bruised butt cheek with it. The reaction is instant. She leaps away with a screech, scrabbling on the polished floor.

My eyes take on a disconcerting playful look as I glance at you, expressing my appreciation for this new game. Following her, I poke her from the other side, sending her jerking back the way she came. Passing by one of the wall displays, I add a pretty leather riding crop to my armament. The next jab from the electric prod gets her square on a nipple. Screaming something I don't understand, she turns face down, which just gives me a clear shot at her ass. First with the crop, then another shock underneath, towards her pussy. The high pitched noise she makes at that is like nothing I've heard from her yet.

It must take an incredible effort of will from someone who must want to curl up and die after all the abuse piled upon her from the moment of her arrival, but she forces herself to her feet and runs away from me. With me deliberately standing to block the doorway, she chooses the stupidest possible direction, being right towards the two men discussing her future.

[the savage]

Eventually it devolves into a screaming match. Or it would if I ever raised my voice. That requires an emotional investment that I have never been able to muster. So I am remaining calm, speaking in my normal voice, which only seems to inflame him further. People don't like it when you remain calm and they get angrier. I hear the sizzling of the probe, and by the way his eyes are flicking over he must really be enjoying the show. But he keeps naming prices that are too low. Claiming that the recent influx of peacekeepers means that most of his clientel are being chased off. When I point out that is bullshit, since my best customers are those people he goes even redder.

Hearing the patter of feet charging towards me, I move, without even thinking. Fist coming up, connecting with someones face. I hear an oomph, feel a splatter of blood on my hand, and then a body crashing to the floor. The man starts screeching, how that one isn't even trained, how can I possibly be selling her. My teeth grit, he is unreasonable. And now he is out of a job. I reach out, and clench my hands around his neck. Squeezing, his fat face going redder. Trying to claw free, but I don't let go until his eyes have burst, blood red now. Letting go, he crumples boneless to the floor.

Turning, my cock is rigid. I have always found killing to be the largest turn on. With a smile I look at the both of you. One is already on the ground, writhing. Grabbing you, I toss you down on top of her. Stacking the two of you up like cordwood. And without another word I enter... one of you. I am not entirely sure which. A few pumps in that pussy, before pulling out and claiming the other.

[Ingenue]

Two murders in one morning are severely testing even my ability to rationalize away. It's not that this man in particular is a great loss. I don't really think in those terms. He wasn't nice, but killing is wrong. I think. Seeing the satisfaction in your face, smiling in my direction, dulls that certainty a little.

I recognize the newly stoked lust in your eyes, even though its cause terrifies me, and my response to it is as automatic as breathing. I come to you. Don't even consciously register dropping what I was holding; my hands are just empty. I've just started reaching out toward you when you grab me and fling me on top of the slut. And then begin to rape her.

She lets out a low moan, a vacant sound, as if the horror has overwhelmed her too much to even register your violation. And that's understandable. I saw, though you didn't pay it any mind, that in her crumpled, face-down position on the floor, her face is inches from that of the dead brothel-owner. His bloodshot eyes, filming over, stare lifelessly into hers. She must have even smelt the final breath leaking out of him.

Without warning, you pull out of the toy and start to claim your pet instead. I look up at you with a hint of approval and a soft grunt at your rough entry, still muted by the gag. Every thrust knocks the breath out of her, beneath us, and you're not gentle. Why should you be? You need it to be hard. We need it to be hard.