She had been coming down into the city every market day for the past three months, ever since she and her husband had returned from their visit to the capital. What she had seen on that visit had changed her life. The sight of her old friend, Aliciana, reduced to slavery by her husband as punishment for theft, had at first terribly shocked her and then excited her beyond measure. She had tried to drive away the thoughts, the fantasies that Aliciana's joyful acceptance of her terrible fate had aroused in her but to no avail.
Yamrah had glimpsed a life of sexual happiness such as she had never known for herself; she could not be content to return to her meaningless duties as wife to the Governor of this border post. Her husband, Rhogus, was an amiable, elderly, portly man and unable to understand her sudden bad temper and moodiness. He could never in a thousand years give her the satisfaction she had seen when Aliciana,now just Ali the slave girl, glimpsed up at her Master.
She began to slip away into the city, once a month, on the day the slave market was held, telling Rhogus she was going to dress fittings or meetings with friends. She would put on a non-descript cloak and slip through a side gate out of the fort where the Governor had his rooms. She hid her face and took up a position overlooking the slaver's block. From the fringe she would watch as the slavers displayed their wares to the buyers from all over the land. She would imagine herself to be one of the barbarian girls captured by legion raids beyond the northern borders, or one of the townswomen condemned for petty crime or debt. She watched them as they stood naked, terrified before the men who would become their masters. Most were professional slavers who would sell the women on to training houses or slaver-wizards within the Empire of Vri or elsewhere. Only the ugliest, oldest and stupidest women would remain behind in a border town like this. She would watch until the last woman was dragged from the block and then return home. She would have the servants prepare her a hot bath and then lie in it until the water was cold, frigging herself furiously as she imagined herself displayed, auctioned, owned.
She would spend hours, naked before her mirror, examining her body, displaying it as she had seen the slaves displayed, trying to judge if she would fetch a good price, how she would look with a slave's ring through her nose.
She knew that her obsession was growing. It was only a matter of time before she was recognised and her trips were reported to her husband. But she could not control herself.
She looked up as a drum sounded out a staccato phrase, signalling the start of today's auction. The slaver's men were bringing their stock up onto the platform at the far end of the market square. Over the heads of the crowd she watched as the women, blinking as they were brought out of the holding pens into the light of the square, looked around, timidly, defiantly, blankly, at the men who would soon bid for their flesh.
And then her heart leapt inside her. At the far end of the line stood a man. A barbarian, a huge bull of a man, who towered not only over the women who waited before him in the queue but over the burly slaver's men who lead him up onto the platform by the heavy chains that bound him hand and foot. She found herself rising, her drink forgotten, to get a better look.
"Good morning, my lords and ladies, noble citizens. As you can see we've something special for you later on. But we've plenty of fine merchandise for sale today. There are bargains to be had, lords and ladies, just you wait and see. Now, our first lot...."
Yamrah found herself moving forward, drawn towards the front of the crowd by the sight of him. Soon she could see his whole body and the sight brought a pounding in her ears and a constriction in her chest. His huge frame was heavily muscled, his black hair hung long and luxuriant down his back and, like the women, he was naked. His organ was long and thick and she felt her mind flood with images of it, growing thicker and hardening as she knelt to kiss it. She felt moistness between her thighs at the thought of it entering her.
Suddenly, she looked up and he was watching her. He was not in the least intimidated by his situation. He looked down at her with disdain and a faint smile on his lips, knowing she was inspecting him and why. For some reason her mouth went dry. She could not meet that gaze, could not! She collapsed on a bench and bowed her head in her hands, shivering with shame and desire.
Around her the auction continued, half a dozen women being knocked down quickly before the auctioneer said: "And now, nobles, citizens, the a very special item. Freshly captured in ferocious fighting on the border. Took four legionaires to hold him down while they got the collar on him. Don't worry though, he's quite safe now. Look at the size of him, ladies and gentles, think what he could do in the arena, think of the many healthy slaves you could breed from this specimen. Now then, who will make me an opening offer, who'll say fifty? At the back. One hundred anywhere? You sir? One hundred I have."
As the bidding built furiously, Yamrah looked up at him. Still he stood unmoved. Didn't he understand he was a slave now? And how dare he a mere barbarian look at a civilised woman as he had looked at her? How dare he? She would have her revenge for that, she would. No one must own him. No one but her.
As if from far away she heard her own voice cut across the bidding.
"One thousand."
The crowd fell silent and she knew that she had raised the price above what the auctioneer had expected. Stunned she sat back as he called for higher offers. Three times he called and then he was pointing to her and saying, "Sold to the lovely lady at the front. And for our next item, nobles, gentles, citizens..."
She sat back, stunned at what she had done. She had the money, there was no problem with that. But what would she tell people, how would she explain. She sat still, turning over the enormity of what she had done, until the sales had ended and the chief slaver came over to her. Behind him the barbarian towered. His chains had been removed but he made no attempt to escape but stood placidly behind the slaver, a leash running from the collar around his neck to the slaver's hand.
"My Lady, very good to see you here. A most discerning investment if I may say so. Will you be paying in cash or should I send an account up to the Residence?"
She managed to mutter something appropriate but her gaze was captured and held by the barbarian. He looked down at her with indifference, almost with contempt. The slaver, seeing the direction of her eyes, smiled.
"Big brute, ain't he, my Lady? Don't worry. He's quite harmless now. The chains were just for show. He's fully controlled. Had the collar on him soon as we got him."
"The collar?" she asked vaguely.
"The control collar. It's a wizard's thing. We couldn't let a barbarian wander around without it. As long as he has it on he will obey any commands his owner gives him. Has no choice in the matter. Now, here you are."
He put the leash into her hands and turned to the barbarian.
"This is your new owner. Obey her. That should do the trick, my lady. He's your's now."
"Does he understand?"
"I understand. Well enough." At the unexpected sound of the barbarian's voice, deep and dark, she almost gasped. Then she recovered her pride.
"You must call me Mistress."
The barbarian smiled. It was not a comforting sight.
"Yes. Mistress."
"Well, my Lady. Here's your receipt. And the key."
"Key?"
"To the collar, ma'am. In case you need to take it off." Seeing her blank expression the slaver went on. "In case you want to breed him, Lady. He won't be uh capable while the collar is on. Safety factor. Better be sure that he's well tied down before you take it off."
Blankly, she took the key and hung the chain it was on around her neck.
*********
She led him into her quarters by a back door. She had felt that every eye was on her as she lead him through the streets. But her mind was filled with the slaver's last revelation. It had sent a wave of disappointment through her and she was forced to face up to the lusts that had driven her to buy him in the first place.
In her quarters she stood him in the centre of the parlour and then went to lock the door and close the shutters. Her hands trembled as she closed the latches. She took a deep breath and turned back to look at him. He was standing there unmoving, the leash still attached to him collar and a small smile on his face.
"What am I going to do with you?"
"Whatever you wish, Mistress. I am your slave."
She felt herself flush at the insolence in his voice.
"Remove that leash. And the tunic. Let me see what I've bought."
Wordlessly, the barbarian unclipped the leash. He drew the simple cotton tunic over his head and let it fall, beside the leash on the carpet. He stood before her, hands on hips, naked except for the collar, still with that smile on his face.
"Don't move," she barked, "and don't speak unless you're spoken to. Slave."
She walked slowly around him, carefully examining his hard muscular body. She came closer and ran her hands over his skin, feeling the muscles in his arms, his back, his buttocks. Then she came and stood before him and reached down to take the length of his penis in her hand. She felt the weight of it, the thickness and a fresh wave of lust filled her head and moistened her sex.
She began to play with his prick, pulling the foreskin back and forward as she looked up into his calm, contemptuous eyes. But she might as well have been pulling on a length of rope. No firmness grew beneath her hands and after several minutes futile tugging she dropped it and turned away, collapsing onto a nearby couch, snarling with rage and frustrated desire. When she looked back he was still watching her, still in the position she had ordered him to hold.
"What damned use are you to me?"
"I cannot say, Mistress."
"Do you have a name, Slave?"
"I am called Cormorn, Mistress."
"Well, Cormorn, I think I'll rename you. Droopy, perhaps or Useless. Would you like that? Would you? Answer me, damn you!"
"No, I would not like that. Mistress."
"Look at me, Slave!" She stood and drew her dress over her head and, throwing it into a corner, stood before him naked. "Am I not beautiful? Am I not desirable?"
"You are, Mistress."
"See these," she said, cupping her breasts and holding them out to him. "Here, smell!" She drew her fingers along the slit of her vagina, soaking them in her juices and held them to his nostrils. "Aren't you aroused? Doesn't that excite you?"
"No, Mistress."
She snarled in frustration and then went to lie full length on the couch.
"Well, you still have a tongue even if your...your thing is useless. Get down on all fours. That's right, down. Now crawl over here and lick your mistress' cunt, Slave!"
Slowly, deliberately he went down on all fours and began to approach her. What she had intended to be humiliating and ridiculous became somehow menacing and exciting. It was as if he were a jungle cat, stalking his prey. And she was the prey. His lips touched her inner thigh and she shivered with anticipation. And then he began to run the edge of his tongue along the slit of her wet, pulsing pussy and she heard herself moan out loud.
As his lips and teeth delicately and gently touched her throbbing clitoris she heard herself begin to babble out loud. "Ahhhh, yesss, yes, good. Do that, yes, do it. Lick, suck, touch, yes, so good, gods. Gods, oh yesss, ahhh."
She felt herself begin to build to a climax. But this was not enough. She wanted more. She wanted to be filled, to be fucked, to have that length, long and hard inside her.
"Stop. Stop! Let me up. Stop!"
With a last effort of will she forced herself away from him and stood. He looked up at her, curiously, from where he knelt at the end of the couch. Her breathing, harsh and desperate filled the room.
What was she going to do? She must have him. But he was a barbarian! She could not control him without the collar. And she must keep him controlled. She must! If he were to get free...
She blanked out the end of the thought. She did not wish to think what would happen to her, what he would make of her, if he were free.
Then she thought again of what the slaver had said and a plan came to her. She grabbed a robe and threw it swiftly around her perspiring body.
"Come with me." He rose and followed her as she lead her way down the (mercifully deserted) corridor to the guest quarters. She opened the door to reveal a chamber hung with dark purple curtains.
In one corner was the thing she had been seeking: a large heavy couch which had a set of manacles and chains attached to each corner.
"On your back on there. Quickly!"
As the barbarian lay down she clamped the bonds around his muscle-thickened wrists and ankles. She looked down at him and took the key to his collar from around her neck, her fingers fumbling as she put it into the lock.
As the collar came away she heard his breathing deepen and saw his face flush. She looked down his body and saw his organ thickening and rising. She threw the collar into a corner and knelt by the couch, taking his wand in both hands and bringing the tip to her mouth as she had dreamed of doing since she first saw Ali do it to her Master.
The barbarian moaned and began cursing under his breath. She giggled.
"BAD slave! I'm sure that's not respectful."
"Bitch. Slut. When I get my hands on you...." He tried to reach her but the chains held him down.
"I'll have to see you apologise for that when I've got the collar on you again. My what a lovely thing! And its all mine."
She knelt and lifted the half-hard cock to her mouth. Gently at first she took just the tip in her mouth, starting as it jerked at the touch of her lips. The barbarian moaned, deep in his throat and she felt her excitement start to build again as it swelled at the touch of her tongue, lapping around the bulbous head, swelling till it made her mouth ache.
She took it from between her lips and began to lick it, all along its glorious length. The barbarian strained at his chains again and began to mutter in his own language. Yamrah rose and climbed up onto the couch with her legs astride him.
"We will do this often, my slave. I won't have to call you Droopy after all will I?"
She sank to her knees and felt the rock hard length of him pressed against her belly. Gathering her nerve she rose up and manoeuvered herself over his huge erection. She took a deep breath and impaled herself on it, feeling the heat of it, pierce her, spread her, fill her.
She threw her head back and slowly rode the barbarian, gradually building the pace as her excitement and his grew. This was what she had been seeking all these months at the slave market. This was what she had wanted.
She felt his hard hands at her breasts, at her clitoris and howled her joy to the ceiling.
******
A moment later, Yamrah returned from the place the shattering orgasm had sent her and felt her breath slow as the barbarian's organ drooped and slipped from her. She smiled as she stored the memory of it away safely and promised herself a repeat performance soon. Then suddenly, the realisation struck her. He had touched her!
She looked down aghast at the man below her. The big barbarian had wrenched free the chains that held his wrists to the couch! How could she have been so foolish to think restraints made to hold women would be enough to hold him? She started to rise but in an instant his huge right fist swooped up at the side of her head and she knew no more.
******
Yamrah returned to herself to the sound of weapons clashing and a terrible ache in her head. She was in darkness and there was something dry and vile tasting stuffed in her mouth. For a moment she could not make out what had happened to her and then memory flooded back.
At first all she could do was moan in terror and wonder how she could have been so foolish. And then as more sensation returned she began to realise that her situation was even worse than she first thought. She was neither lying nor standing erect but rather bent over at the waist, stretched across a leather covered bar and both her wrists and her ankles were encircled with leather loops that pulled downwards to keep her body taut across the bar. Her head was encased in what could only be a leather slave hood; a ball-gag filled her mouth and muffled the cries for help she tried to make.
Through the hood she heard the sound of a woman crying, screaming for help. She recognised the voice of one of her maids. She was running from something and calling out in terror. Then a roar of triumph as her persuer caught up with her and a shout of victory in the barbarian tongue. The sound of sobbing as the woman was carried away.
Stunned, Yamrah slumped against the bar. The barbarians were inside the city! Her fate was unimportant compared with what she had allowed to happen! The barbarians were in the city!
Then suddenly she heard a door opening and the sound of a body staggering into the room and falling.
"In here wizard!" came a bass growl. The barbarian. Cormorn. She heard him stride into the room and slam the door shut.
"Is...is this the woman?"
Quavering and timerous, she recognised the voice of her husband's court wizard, Falmethon.
"It is. Do what I have ordered. If the results are satisfactory you will be allowed to keep your miserable head on your shoulders."
"Well let me look at her then." A moment later the hood was of her and she was blinking in the light as Falmethon gazed at her with astonishment and the barbarian with satisfaction.
"But this is my Lady Yamrah! The Governor's wife."
"His widow," growled the barbarian. "And what difference does that make? Perform the ritual!" He sank back onto a chair in front of her and stared at her intently.
"Forgive me, my Lady. I...have no choice." Falmethon brought a small table from another side of the room and began to lay out magical instruments on it. For a few moments, Yamrah was stunned by the news, so casually delivered of Rhogus' death, the result of her stupidity and the barbarian's cunning. He must have let himself be captured, planning to escape and open the city gates to his tribe. What a fool she had been...
But then her eyes focused on the table and on one small item that the wizard had placed at the centre of it. A small gold ring. The nose ring worn by all slave-girls, the wizard-ring that bound them into magical slavery forever! She had dreamed of slavery, envied even the lowest of serving girls the imagined pleasure of having a master to serve, but now that she was faced with the reality of a life of servitude, panic filled her mind.
She began, foolishly, futilely, to struggle against her bonds, trying to break free. Falmethon stepped in front of her again. There was sadness in his eyes.
"There is nothing you can do, Yamrah. Be still, sleep now."
He touched her forehead lightly with his fingers and she felt her eyes close as of their own accord.
******
When she awoke it was dark. She lay on the floor of the Governor's bedroom by the great bed piled high with furs, naked and alone. The light from a burning brazier cast shadows around the room. She shook her head to try to clear it and became aware that a chain ran from one of the iron rings at the foot of the bed (rings that had never seen use while she was married to Rhogus) to something around her neck.
She looked over to where her husband's full length dressing mirror stood and saw what she had feared. Around her neck was a steel collar and in her nose, glinting in the fire light was the gold slave ring. She reached up and felt it, solid and unbroken as if it had been there forever.
Was she now a slave? She felt no different, except perhaps that she felt no desire to try to escape or to remove the ring and collar. They seemed right on her. And somehow the memory of her husband's death no longer caused her pain or shame. It was something that belonged in the past.
She was still looking at herself in the mirror, remembering the many times she had posed before it after her visits to the market, when the door opened. At that instant she knew that she was in truth and forever a slave.
Her heart raced and she felt her mouth dry as the barbarian stepped into the room. Desire rushed through her like fire and she felt her nipples harden and her pussy moisten in an instant.
"Cormorn," she breathed.
He turned as he heard her and with a slight smile on his face said, "You must call me Master."
She felt a wave of shame at her presumption. "Yes, Master, of course. Please forgive me, Master." How had she dared to address her Master by his name?
"Stand slave. Display position." She rose, the length of chain tinkling as she did so and stood with her hands clasped behind her neck, her breasts thrust forward for inspection, her legs set slightly apart, her eyes down, awaiting her Master's examination. He walked all around her twice.
She licked her lips nervously when she saw that from his right hand dangled a five-thonged slave whip. Would he punish her? Had she been displeasing? He sat down on the edge of the bed before her.
"What is your name, slave?"
She found herself replying in the ritual form she had so many times imagined using:
"I have no name as yet, Master. It has not pleased my Master to give me one. When I was free my name was Yamrah."
"Perhaps I shall call you Slut."
She felt herself flush with shame.
"Or Hot Slut. Or Stupid Slut. You are all of those things aren't you?"
"Yes, Master," she whispered, blushing once again.
"Would you like to be called by those names?"
"No, Master. I would not like that."
"Then you had best be pleasing to your Master. Down on all fours."
She dropped instantly at the barked command, realising that he was replaying their earlier encounter but with himself in command. He undid the leash from her collar and went to sit in a chair by the fire.
"Now crawl over here and get your slut's mouth around your Master's cock."
She got down on her knees and began to crawl towards her Master. But the leash that tied her to the bed brought her up short just inches away from the dangling organ. She heard herself start to whimper.
For a few moments Cormorn kept just out of her reach, amusing himself at the little cries of frustration that came from her. Then he stepped forward and she leapt onto him with a little shriek of joy taking the length of him in both hands and the head of his huge organ into her mouth, reveling in the taste of him.
Delicately she began to lick, to nibble, to suck on the hardening length of him. Above her she heard her barbarian Master's breathing deepen and become harsher. She felt a little bubble of pleasure at the power that she had over him. She began to work harder moving her mouth faster and sucking harder and deeper.
Then she heard his voice, hard and angry: "Stop that!"
She looked up at him, fear running through her at the displeasure of her Master.
"To the end of the bed! Assume punishment position!"
Trembling she rose to her feet, but under the glare of her master she did not dare protest. She stepped quickly over to the bed and grasped one of the bedposts, bowing her head and presenting her back and her arse to be punished. Without a warning there was a whistling sound and her back exploded in fire and pain. She tightened her grip on the bed post, trying to keep herself in position.
But it was impossible; after five blows she fell to the floor, screaming and crying at the pain, begging over and over for her Master to show mercy. But he did not. After a time the rain of agony stopped and the only sound in the room was the Master's heavy breathing and her sobbing.
"Never, ever try to do that again. You are not in control, you are only here to obey and serve. Do you understand?"
"Yes, yes Master. Please forgive me..."
She scuttled across the floor trying to kiss his feet.
"On the bed, on your back!" Yamrah whimpered with pain as her tender skin touched the furs on the bed. Then she felt her ankles being grasped and the touch of cold metal encircling each of them in turn as her Master clapped steel restraints around them spreading her legs wide. Then the same treatment to her wrists and she was spread out across the furs, her limbs pulled towards the bedposts at each corner. Yamrah swallowed as her Master looked down on her.
"Yes, that is where you belong."
He picked up one of the cushions spread lying on the floor and stuffed it under her, raising up her cunt and exposing it. And then he was over her, his hands, his mouth, touching, sucking, pinching, biting. And she could feel the solid, throbbing length of his manhood hardening as he moved against her body. The waves of pleasure that his touch brought to her demanded that he finish it, finish her, fill and fulfill her. And then he was inside her, the length of her Master's cock inside her filling her.
And she heard her own voice as she cried out: "Yes, oh yes, thank you, thank you, Master. My Master! Do it, do it forever! Oh Fuck me Fuck your Slave. I am yours! Master!
**********
Afterwards she lay content as he rested and then rose and left the room. She was satisfied as she had never been before. She had her Master and he had her. She did not care what became of her, where she would go, whether she would stay here or be taken back to the barbarian lands. Her Master had found her and it was enough.
And then the door opened. She looked up hoping to see his face again, but it was another barbarian warrior. Wordlessly he came to the bed and unlocked the restraints that held her in place. He put a leash onto her collar and said gruffly: "Come!"
Nervously she said: "Sir? Am I to go to the Master again? Will he want me again tonight?"
His answer shattered her newfound happiness: "Not tonight. Not ever. You are to be sold in the market tomorrow. It is the order of Cormorn Khan."