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Message-ID: <63006asstr$1405246241@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: The Bawdy Bloke <john@bawdybloke.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Violet Clothed Slaves (MSub, FDom, oral, BDSM, hist)
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Date: Sun, 13 Jul 2014 06:10:41 -0400
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Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

I've written a number of stories on my blog recently, and have been a 
little lax about posting them to the Newsgroups. As ever, I would love 
opinions and feedback as to what I have done right or wrong.
My site is http://bawdybloke.com
Thanks.
* * * * *

She was a bargain.

Half-as-much as a cow, and still cheaper than the goat I had bartered at 
the weekend market. Gaian slaves were cheap because of their tempestuous 
nature; as the elders would mutter, why skimp on cheap slaves only to 
pay for disharmony in your household later? Indeed, many wives 
considered a Gaian slave to be a slight from their husbands and demanded 
those with better breeding, but my wife insisted on girls from those 
rugged isles.

So I spent a mere three shillings on a delightful girl: mostly dark hair 
with a warm smile, a colourful brassiere and the brightest splash of 
Gaian purple velvet covering her dignity. Like many Gaian women she had 
her belly button pierced and streaks of colour in her hair, but "Pree" 
was one of the last girls the slave trader had, and so I haggled her for 
a rock-bottom price.

My home is modest: a mere two hundred acres of farm land and an eight 
bedroom estate with a dozen slaves. My ancestors have farmed this land 
for nine generations and my grandfather, Sir Alfred Foxton had fought 
alongside the king only a hundred seasons previous. The tapestries of 
the brave monarch, riding into battle with an undressed golden-haired 
lunatic by his side was the pride of the town. What was less well known 
was that my grandfather procured all the whores for that military 
campaign, as the Foxtons have always been renowned for their casual 
nudity and sexual proclivities.

It is a reputation my wife and I do not disregard, and moments after 
returning home, I stripped all of my sweaty, dusty garments from my 
body, and replaced them with a sturdy black collar. Pree watched on: she 
had said nothing as my rickety cart had bumped along the rocky road, 
instead remaining pensive and silent during the short journey.

But she had nothing to fear from me, or my family.

She stood waiting for instruction, but she was not mine to instruct. She 
hesitated: no doubt considering if she should shun her scant clothing 
too, and glanced at my swelling prick. Pree was gorgeous, and the sight 
of her in flimsy attire had sparked my fantasies but she was 
unavailable, to me at least.

The far cry from the back of the house, summoned me to the courtyard: my 
naked wife clicked her fingers as I arrived and pointed to her bushy 
crotch. I could see the feint splatters of male cum on her bush and the 
ruffle in her usually pristine hair. Her skin glowed too, a subtle sheen 
evidence of sweaty, frenetic sex.

My wife took many liberties with our hired help, as was her right, and I 
positioned myself on the raised slab waiting for her glistening crotch 
to slide against my mouth. It felt good; it tasted better. The musky 
gloop of her lovers' semen flowed into my mouth as my tongue swirled 
over her clit and her hole. She shuddered, her thighs muffling the sound 
of her voice.

I could see nothing but the curve of her ass, taste nothing but the 
sensational array of her juices and male cum and smell nothing but the 
fragrant aroma of a well-fucked cunt. But it was my life; it what my 
wife demanded from me. The rough swirl of my tongue against her clit, 
sent her shivering and groaning. Her pussy quivering as I ate her out to 
multiple orgasms.

She climbed from me, squeezing my cock painfully with her uncut nails in 
the process and helped our new slave, without her purple cloth onto the 
slab. "If ever you get fucked, my dear, then this is how you get cleaned 
up." My eyes met the surprised glance of Pree, hesitating as my wife 
demanded that the newest addition to our family settle her crotch onto 
my cum-covered face.

She was sweet. Like all of our Gaian slaves, she tasted delightfully 
sapid: a mixture of gentle spices and subtle honey. The sight of her 
mistress thrashing in orgasm had excited our young slave as her juices 
were flowing and she groaned the moment my tongue made contact with her 
slippery clit.

My turgid cock ached for attention as my tiring tongue swept over her 
engorged pearl. I would get used to tasting and pleasing Pree and I 
would enjoy feeling her orgasm with her Gaian profanities and her native 
squealing, just as I enjoyed the passionate cries of all of the women in 
the house.

Gaian girls come to orgasm in a most enjoyable of ways, showering the 
men licking their quim with their delicate sweetness as their rhythmic 
contractions sent shockwaves of delirium through their body.

And Pree was no different. She squealed as I whirled over her moistness, 
writing her a poem of affection with my tongue on her crotch. I loved 
doing that, the curve of the characters causing her clit to slide over 
my tongue that had her thighs flinching with bursts of arousal.

I felt her nearing her orgasm; the groaning, the squealing, the 
quivering cunt and the slide of her hand down my torso as her climax 
smashed into her and she slumped forward. "Good?" My wife asked and then 
grunted as Pree must have nodded. "The best you've had?"

"My boyfriend was better," Pree replied and I felt an icy blast freeze 
my insides. "All Gaian men are better at sex."

My wife pulled my legs, causing me to yell as my back scraped across the 
rough stone slab. I could see fire in her eyes, an angry growl in her 
voice as she picked up the bamboo on the floor and passed it to Pree. 
"Hit him," she demanded. "He is to give all women the best climaxes. Hit 
him!"

The feint fear of shock and surprise on Pree's face was unsettling, the 
ferocious demands of my wife more so. My wife held my breastbone to the 
stone as Pree was ordered to lash my thighs. I shut my eyes, unable to 
watch as the first blow splintered the stick, the second broke it.

The stripes of pain across my flesh as our new slave disciplined me for 
less-than-epic cunnilingus. It was no more than I deserved, and I would 
be hit by all the women on a daily basis as I was expected to provide 
for my household in every way.

Of course, our slave would have jobs to do: washing, ironing, tidying, 
cooking and cleaning. But she'd have a status above the "Master" of the 
House. Along with a dozen other slaves, my wife and two dozen farm hands.

I know my place.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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