The Love of My Chains

[sinfulwords]

... I was just super proud of my first original piece...

Rightly so! It's written very well, Master's tattoo kink is just , and the blowjob is really hot. I'd really like to see how the story goes on.

...and worked really hard on it so the fact the criticism is vastly outweighing the positive reinforcement is a very humbling experience so my fifis took a little deep dive about it. Again. That reaction isn’t your fault.

There's nothing wrong with breaking storytelling rules, like yesterday I mentioned in another context that 'War and Peace' opens with a discussion of 1805 diplomatic happenings... in French I myself am fond of writing slices of sex life with mere semblance of plot.

I'm not sure you'd like to see yet another critic dumping on the infodump, but here I am, trying a different tack. Would a slave narrator know all that history, the factions of ancient society, the number of mass extinctions etc? In truth, what did a cotton-picking slave-girl in 1850 Alabama know about American or African history? I pondered this question when writing In the Cherry Orchard, narrated by a Roman slave-girl. Ignorance goes along with slavery – the story doesn't get dated because calendars mean nothing for Calliope. She likely does know there's such thing as the emperor, but she might well not know his name, and her eyes would glaze over at the mention of optimates and populares.

Thank u so much for reading and taking the time to tell me ur thoughts ^.^ I’m so flattered u think it’s well written and that u enjoyed some of the minutia about the male protagonist.

As for your critiques about the prologue, I am feeling a little sensitive about those kinds of critiques at this point but since I actually have a head cannon for your specific concern, I’ll cue u in. You the readers don’t know quite yet, and it’s not a total spoiler, but Sadie and Tyler have a very different relationship from other slave/masters. Their bond is a tender one as far as something so insidious can go. Sadie will reiterate this a few times throughout the novella, how differently Tyler treats her in comparison to how other slaves r treated. This knowledge, coupled with the imagery of the books in the bookcase I provided, it can be presumed that Tyler has read her history books about their world. There aren’t many forms of entertainment in their time so snuggling up close to the fire after sexy time for some reading aloud would totally be in character for them hopefully that smooths over some of the inconsistencies you’re feeling about Sadie’s role and education level

[RapeU]

You the readers don’t know quite yet, and it’s not a total spoiler, but Sadie and Tyler have a very different relationship from other slave/masters. Their bond is a tender one as far as something so insidious can go. Sadie will reiterate this a few times throughout the novella, how differently Tyler treats her in comparison to how other slaves r treated. This knowledge, coupled with the imagery of the books in the bookcase I provided, it can be presumed that Tyler has read her history books about their world. There aren’t many forms of entertainment in their time so snuggling up close to the fire after sexy time for some reading aloud would totally be in character for them hopefully that smooths over some of the inconsistencies you’re feeling about Sadie’s role and education level

I was thinking along the same lines. Not every slave/master relationship is the same. Some masters are harsh while others are kind. It's entirely within the realm of possibility that a slave is culturally aware. Even if they couldn't read, slaves could still communicate with one another and share oral histories.

I think your slave character knowing the history behind this dystopian world automatically says a lot about the relationship she has with her master. A positive relationship if her master is kind or a negative relationship if her master is harsh. Your story is unique because you didn't create a character that would be a stereotypical slave.

[sinfulwords]

You the readers don’t know quite yet, and it’s not a total spoiler, but Sadie and Tyler have a very different relationship from other slave/masters. Their bond is a tender one as far as something so insidious can go. Sadie will reiterate this a few times throughout the novella, how differently Tyler treats her in comparison to how other slaves r treated. This knowledge, coupled with the imagery of the books in the bookcase I provided, it can be presumed that Tyler has read her history books about their world. There aren’t many forms of entertainment in their time so snuggling up close to the fire after sexy time for some reading aloud would totally be in character for them hopefully that smooths over some of the inconsistencies you’re feeling about Sadie’s role and education level

I was thinking along the same lines. Not every slave/master relationship is the same. Some masters are harsh while others are kind. It's entirely within the realm of possibility that a slave is culturally aware. Even if they couldn't read, slaves could still communicate with one another and share oral histories.

I think your slave character knowing the history behind this dystopian world automatically says a lot about the relationship she has with her master. A positive relationship if her master is kind or a negative relationship if her master is harsh. Your story is unique because you didn't create a character that would be a stereotypical slave.

oh my god 100% the slave/master dynamic can be as diverse as any human relationship and I will definitely be showcasing that type of ying-and-yang in chapters to come. It's somewhat of a theme in this piece

And thank you so much for your gracious compliments ^.^ I'm so happy to hear you find the dynamic unique and interesting! If anything I was trying to avoid being trite at all costs. Thanks again for reading and all your input so far! Super appreciated

[sinfulwords]

Chapter 2

“...It’s open!” Master hollered from his seat, an enigmatic sort of anticipation tensing his expression yet he struck the perfect image of nonchalance as he leaned back in his chair, his cigarette dangling loosely from his smirking lips.

“Hey hey hey!” Came the familiar voice of Jax as he sauntered through the door.

We called him Jax. What his legal name was, I never knew—I suppose it never mattered. He was a young man in his early twenties, twenty-two to be exact, his youth coupled with a bothersome arrogance that billowed around him like a noxious cloud. More like an obnoxious cloud. He had mid-length blonde hair that was always disheveled, the thin strands filthy and weighed down by grease so it hung in his eyes. He had sharp features: jutting cheek bones, a pointed nose, and thin lips. Deep crescents of purple lurked beneath his eyes, eyes that were always wired, the blue irises endlessly bouncing around in his skull in chaotic circles. And although his gaze was frantic, there was an intensity there. There was a pure heart that had been corrupted by a powerful addiction. He was emaciated from rampant drug use, the same amphetamines that Master took, albeit, Jax, took his addiction too a much darker place than Master ever did.

“Jax, get the fuck in here ya son of a bitch!” Master greeted, the heat of such hostile words cooled by a sprinkle of camaraderie.

…This was how they spoke to each other, Master and his people, they spoke in swear words and insults but somehow the words always came out sounding so amicable…

“Grab a fucking seat, what the fuck’s taken ya so goddamn’ long, huh?” Master continued to heckle.

“Gotta say hello to Sadie first,” Jax answered with a gentleman’s conviction, closing the cabin door before moving across the small room to collect my hand and press the back to his lips. “Mademoiselle.”

“Get away from her ya fuckin’ freak,” Master laughed in good humour, although I could detect the tiniest bit of rage haunting his jovial tone. “You’re such a fuckin’ embarrassment, leave her alone!” He then spoke to me. “You have my permission to knee him in the balls, Babydoll!”

“I couldn’t,” I refused with a nervous chuckle, feeling the heat of scarlet instantly color my cheeks as I was suddenly made the center of such awkward attention. Instead of kneeing Jax in the groin, however, I said, “it’s nice to see you again, Sir,” and welcomed him into our home with a friendly smile.

“Always a pleasure, Princess,” Jax replied with a wink, his eyes dipping down to glance my bare tits before he turned around and made his way to the table, speaking to Master as he did. “I was being chivalrous you dick!”

“She’s a fucking slave, you ain’t gotta be chivalrous,” Master reminded him as the younger man pulled up a chair to Master’s left. “Get us some drinks, Babydoll,” he commanded me at once.

“Yes, Master,” I answered mechanically, instantly making moves to gather enough tin cups for all of Master’s friends that I knew would be arriving soon…

…There was no point in asking what sort of drink they wanted, there was only one kind: a homemade moonshine distilled by Master’s own people. It was clear as water and smelled like straight gasoline but people seemed to like it and they traded good assets for it….

“...Well, you don’t really treat her like a slave, so,” Jax elaborated, trailing off with a derisive sort of smirk, obviously judging Master for how kind he was to me…

…People did that quite a lot: taunted Master for the kindness he showed me…

“...I disagree, Jax,” Master countered, tone split between truculence and jest. “I’ve got her naked, in a collar, pouring me drinks with a belly full of my jip. Last I checked I don’t typically ask that of my subordinates or business partners—” Master paused and his playful expression sharpened into suave arrogance. “Unless you’d like to prove me wrong? Hm? You want a belly full of my cum too, Jaxy? Huh? You wanna strip down and pour drinks for me and Sadie? That what ya wanna do? Just say the word and I’ll fuck you over this table right here, right fuckin’ now!”

“Fuck you,” Jax snorted bitterly, rolling his eyes through a forced bark of laughter that was meant to soften the blatant audacity of his unsolicited opinions. “What I meant to say is, you don’t treat her like a slave you bought from The Pits, you treat her like a prized fuckin’ poodle.”

“Hot fuckin’ poodle,” Master remarked, locking my eyes and winking his thanks at me as I served him his drink. He then locked eyes with Jax, the smile falling from his lips as he said quite seriously. “What’re you tryin’ to say, huh? That I fuck poodles? Cause that’s not a very nice thing to say to a man who invites you into his home.”

“Please,” Jax derided boldly, his eyes glancing my breasts again as I served him his drink. “You’ve fucked far worse than poodles, Boss, and we both know it,” he teased as he took the cup and drank it half-down in three quick chugs.

Master chuckled, low and smooth, reaching for his own cup. “Blow it out your ass, kid,” he smirked before the two men shared a moment of mild laughter…

*knock knock knock*

The person knocking didn’t wait for an invitation, obviously hearing the voices inside, whomever decided to let himself in. “Ah, you fuck-heads ain’t gettin’ started without me, are ya?” Master’s chemist, Mr. Hollow, questioned as he walked through the door.

To the public Mr. Hollow was known as Black Glass because he was sharp and dangerous—but to the people closest to him, he was simply known as Darrius Hollow. He was renowned for his genius and outstanding wits and of course, for making the best Pulse Junk in The Burrows. He was a thirty-three year old black man of average height, about five-nine, slightly overweight, with a round kind face when he was ironically anything but kind. His cherub cheeks and round glasses made him appear soft and meek but his blood lust was just as profound as Master’s— only he was admittedly even more frightening at times because Mr. Hollow was indeed incredibly smart. If you looked into his eyes you would see all the calculation of the universe staring right back at you, always thinking, always evolving, always expanding. He understood chemistry, he could do math like magic in his head, he’d read more books than any one person I’d ever met in my entire life, but above all else, Mr. Hollow had the good sense to never get high on his own supply. He may’ve cooked the best Pulse Junk in our territory but the smoke of it had never passed his lips. Not even once.

“No, no, no, we’re just gettin’ started, D, pull up a chair,” Master insisted before calling to me. “One more drink for, Darrius, Sweet Pea. ”

“Yes, Master,” I answered mechanically, my bare feet pitter pattering back to the small counter to poor Mr. Hollow’s’ drink.

“Two more drinks for Darrius,” Mr. Hollow joked as he closed the door behind him and walked over to the table, rubbing his palms together as if anticipating a decadent dessert. “So, where’re the females at, huh? Thought we were breaking in some fresh meat tonight.”

“Yeah where is Patsy?” Jax asked, his tone and expression suddenly quite austere. “I came with the promise of getting my balls licked for high sales, so, what’s the hold up?”

“Patience is a virtue dick-wads,” lectured Master as he reached for his smoking pipe: a long clear glass tube with a bulb on the end. “He’ll get here when he gets here,” he concluded as he then grabbed an already-opened-bag of Pulse Junk: a white chalky substance that had the same consistency as rock-salt.

And then, as if on cue, another string of knocks pounded on the door and in entered Master Patsy, the final attendee of Master’s impromptu soiree.

Patsy O’brian was the only one of Master’s friends who was also a Leader. It was rare for two Leaders to be friendly because they were always vying with one another for power. Not Master and Master Patsy, though. They were both drug-lords but at different ends of the spectrum. Master sold uppers, Master Patsy sold downers and, so, they shared territory without cutting into each other's profits and ended up developing a long-standing friendship/alliance over the years. Together they were a true force to be reckoned with, which was why neither one of them had ever been usurped. They’d held their industries for over a decade now. Most Leaders were lucky if they could break five consecutive years in power. So, challengers came and went but no one had ever been able to dethrone Tyler Roberts or Patsy O’brian while they stood together as one.

Master Patsy was a middle aged man with short dark hair that was mostly silver, the gray color giving him quite the distinguished flare. His age suited him. He was tall like Master, six feet, but where Master was broad and toned, Master Patsy was trim and lithe. He was conventionally handsome, his facial features almost unrealistically symmetrical, prominent cheek bones, a hard jawline, and a set of the most beautiful brown eyes I’d ever seen—but he had a grisly scar across that perfect face: one wide mauve-colored scar that cut across it’s entirety, starting above his right temple and spanning all the way down to the left side of his chin. He had high standards that he expected to be met, punishing anyone who dared fail in such pursuits. He was unforgiving, cruel, and hyper-aware of his own authority, he expected it to be minded without defiance or complaint. He didn’t tolerate insubordination and he was quick to corporal punishment. Quite the Ying to Master’s Yang. Where Master was generous and warm as a Leader, Patsy was cold and calculating. He played people like pawns in a chess game, his apathy a thing of pure wonder if only for it’s exceptional magnitude.

Master Patsy, of course, hadn’t entered our home alone, the two young slaves he’d just purchased followed him on their hands and knees, both led on short leashes that were attached to identical chunky black collars. One slave was a female red head, her hair tied back in a tight bun, her counterpart a blonde female, her hair styled in the same fashion. They were both fresh-graduates from The Pits, as promised, and both bearing the familiar brand from The Nesting Pits in the same location on their bodies as me: their lower back. They were both slender but well endowed, their nipples clamped with clothes pins as pre-manufactured clamps were particularly hard to come by in our time. They were both completely shaven, their bare cunts exposed and vulnerable and I just knew that in no matter of time the skin there would be swollen and red. They both had gags in their mouths that were made of coarse leather, drool spilling from the corners of their ruby lips, their gazes angled dutifully down at the floor as they entered the cabin.

“Oh. My. God. They’re fuckin’ gorgeous!” Master exclaimed, the two naked slaves like a set of shiny keys that captured all his attention. Even his hands that had been busy packing his pipe had frozen in their task.

…A sizzle of jealousy coiled down my spine, warming my cheeks in a momentary flash of hatred for the two newcomers, but none of that spite ever made it to my face. I suppressed it, setting my jaw and maintaining an impassive expression. I was accustomed to watching Master fuck other slaves but I’d never come to like it. I’d sit there and fume because he wasn’t using me while privately hating the fact that he rarely used my holes in front of other people. He liked to keep my body private. I was a spectacle and treasure reserved just for him. That wasn’t the part that bothered me. What bothered me was the agony of my own desire. My body would always react so strongly whenever I’d watch Master or his friends use other slaves. What my eyes devoured would fuel my cunt, my lust soaring higher and higher, my slit getting wetter and wetter until every cell in my body would be throbbing for a release that I knew would never come. It was maddening…

“...Don’t start with your slave-worship crap, T, it’ll go straight to their heads,” snapped Master Patsy before turning to his slaves in an authoritative menace. “Bitches, center of the room, get on your backs and spread your legs” He commanded as he unhooked the leashes from their collars. “Be still and wait to be used”

The slave-girls obeyed without reaction, their clamped tits swaying as they crawled to where directed. Once in the center of the room the girls turned over to sit and in almost perfect synchronization they laid back and spread their legs to reveal the juicy pink of their pussies while simultaneously revealing the fact that they both had anal-plugs buried deep inside them. The plugs were made of polished wood, the bases texturized with black sand that glittered handsomely where two ass-holes should’ve been.

“Obedient fuckin’ whores,” Master commended, unable to stop the praise that flowed from him as naturally as water down mountain’s side.

“What did I just say about the slave-worship crap?” Master Patsy scrutinized, turning to look at Master with an exasperated but otherwise entirely tepid glare.

Master shrugged away his friend’s censure. “Fuck! Sue me! I give credit where credit’s due,” he explained before gesturing to the young slaves to emphasise his point. “They’re obedient’ fuckin’ whores!”

Master Patsy spat down at the two girls. “Stupid fuck pigs is more like it, ” he growled with contempt.

“What’re their names?” Mr. Hollow asked, muttering a word of thanks to me as I delivered his drink before promptly returning to the counter to prepare one for Master Patsy without even having to be told.

“Anus and Jizz Stain,” Master Patsy replied casually as if the names he’d chosen were as banal as Mary or Sue…

…It would be the taste of a lie to say I didn’t experience a pang of sympathy for those slaves when I learned of their humiliating titles. We’re taught at The Pits that masters knew best. Now, that checked out in my experience, overall, Master always seemed to have my best interest at heart. Even when he was moved to discipline me, he never got too carried away. But sometimes I just couldn’t see ‘Master knows best’ in other masters. They seemed so cruel, like they thrived on the misery of their slaves and Master Patsy was a classic example…

“...Those are the names on their official paperwork?” Master had asked through an incredulous bark of laughter.

Master Patsy nodded with a wryly grin, ignoring me as I delivered his drink. “I ain’t gonna have em long. Once we break ‘em in I’m gonna pass ‘em over to my men. They did well against the Shadow Ranchers last month. We gained a good chunk of fresh water. They can fuck these things to death as a reward….”

…Another pang of sympathy struck me like a sharpened spear. No matter how often I was exposed to it, the apathy of other masters never ceased to amaze me. They were so casual about the destruction of their slaves, people who dedicated their entire lives to their master’s happiness and well being. The flippancy just seemed like a betrayal even though it wasn’t my place to say so…

“...Solid reward,” Master had observed, still packing his pipe as he turned to me, “Sadie, Baby,” he called, his calm gaze finding my own as he jerked his head toward the slaves on the floor. “Why don’t you get their cunts ready for us, hm? Show these newbies how a real whore gets a couple of pussies wet.”

Pride detonated in my core, my libido revving to life at the mere mention of such a noble task.

“Yes, Master,” I replied diligently, savoring my subservience like a long sip of honied wine. And with my shoulders held high, I walked over to the novice slaves and proudly sank to my knees in front of the red-headed one, my own pussy beginning to throb as I took in her womanly musk.

“Perfect, now we got somethin’ to watch,” Jax remarked, sipping his drink, his lustful eyes fixed on me as I lowered my head to the young woman’s apex.

“Only the best for those who deserve it,” Master answered rather cryptically, punctuating his mysterious remark with a sip of his own drink.

My tongue made contact first as I licked the girl’s slit in a single clean stripe, her bitter saltiness immediately overcoming my senses in a powerful rush. I could hear her gasp around the gag, see her legs twitch in a startled jolt on either side of my head, the poor creature obviously speared by the magnitude of such an erotic exhibition. And she wasn’t alone. Her pleasure quickly caught fire unto me. I became infected be her helplessness, the heat of her shame warming my own and making my pussy throb all the more vigorously.

“Shhh, it’s alright,” I murmured comfortingly between long hot licks of her pussy, each one making my own ache even more. “Accept the pleasure,” I coached, my finger tips coming up to press into the anal plug where I began to push in and out ever so gently, secretly wishing the plug was buried deep inside my own ass instead of hers.

The Red Slave gasped again, almost groaning around her gag as I stimulated her ass and continued to worship her cunt with the tip of my tongue. I was teasing the moistening flesh, tenderizing it by shallowly running my tongue between the rosette planes, pausing at her clitoris with every up-swipe to flick and flourish it with attention. My hand that wasn’t toying with the anal plug eventually came up to the top of her venus-mound, my thumb finding her clitorial hood and jostling it lightly to create the most delectable friction that quickly sent her nerves into disarray.

“She’s already trembling,” Master Patsy observed snidely after a couple of minutes, still standing beside the table but now clutching his drink with a noteworthy tension.

“Of course she is, she’s a slut from The Pits,” Mr. Hollow reminded him, trying to discreetly shift the fabric of his pants. “Their holes are greedier than a mother fucker.”

“Don’t you dare cum without permission you fucking pig,” Master Patsy growled at the slave. "If you do there'll be a lashing in it for you.”

“How the fuck is she supposed to ask permission with a gag in her mouth, Patsy?” Master inquired in an exhale of Junk-smoke, his tone insinuating in every way he thought Master Patsy obtuse for not noticing such an apparent oversight.

Master Patsy shrugged, the malevolence of his grin enhanced by the tendrils of smoke now drifting through the air. “That’s her problem.”

Master shook his head with a chuckle, raising his pipe back to his lips. “You are an unbelievable bastard,” he chided before raising his lighter to the glass bulb at the end of his pipe for another hit.

The Red Slave groaned beneath my touch, the desperate sound almost like a sob as I sunk my tongue deeper into her slit and wriggled it around like a worm on a hook. I never stopped stimulating her asshole either. I was constantly pushing the rather large plug in and out; in and out; in and out; the juices that were trickling down from her sodden pussy making the thing slide all the more smoothly.

And as her urgency surged, so did my own. We climbed the ladder of her arousal together, higher and higher, our pathetic needy holes feeding off each other in a silent language of spasms and heat. Our slave-cunts may have very well been throbbing in perfect synchronization, each one begging to be used further and please the ones we called Master.

“Get your fingers in her pussy, Babydoll, open her up,” Master ordered from his chair, his pipe still in his hand, his zippo lighter in the other as he stared down at the scene before him with wide captivated eyes.

Like a chemical reaction, Master commanded, I obeyed. My hand that had been stimulating the girl’s ass came up to the entrance of her pussy, not hesitating for even a moment before I was slowly plunging two digits deep inside her. I could feel the tautness forged by the anal plug, her wet satin walls clenching tight around my fingers as I steadily began to thrust.

“Ah, m’Guh!” The Red Slave cried, her words distorted and garbled around her gag.

“Yeah, you like that don’t ya, bitch?” Jax asked rhetorically, aggressively, his expression almost morphed to cruelty from all the potent ‘hunger’ roaring behind his bulging eyes.

The Red Slave replied with another groan, moaning in time with the rhythm of my fingers, the desperate sound ringing out along with all the wet echoes that were rebounding with every flick of my wrist. The tip of my tongue quickly found The Red Slave’s clit and laid siege, eagerly flicking over the swollen bud, left and right and all around, driving the helpless girl closer and closer to a shameful climax that was becoming ever more vicarious for me; all eyes on us; just two obedient fuck-dolls writhing and wet on the cabin-room floor.

“Pwea’e cah uh’uh,” The Red Slave babbled around her gag, the words entirely unintelligible.

“What was that?” Master Patsy asked, his tone overly smarmy as it was all too apparent that he understood she was asking for permission to cum but he wanted to prolong her torment. “I can’t understand you, Bitch, speak clearly.”

“Pee’a Ma’ah cah uh’uh,” she wailed, her tone pitching higher as I licked her clit faster and fingered her deeper, the humiliation she was being forced to endure only seeming to push both our lust to unfathomable heights.

“I still can’t understand you, you stupid fucking pig. Speak. Clearly,” he emphasized slowly and with ever more spite, his tone flaming with condescension as if her incoherence made him angry.

“Let the girl cum, P,” Master interjected through another billow of Junk-smoke. “You have no idea how good Sadie is with her mouth.”

“Yeah, no shit, you won’t let any of us touch her!” Master Patsy snapped, the many arguments the two’ve had over the subject apparent in an overly harsh tone.

“Drives ya nuts, don’t it?” Master chuckled triumphantly, the image of my tongue flicking over The Red Slave’s clit reflecting in his bloodshot eyes, her unintelligible pleas for release like a soft song humming beneath his words.

“Well, clearly I share all my slaves with you, so—” Master Patsy trailed off, his implied conclusion being that since he shared all his slaves with Master that Master should show him the same courtesy.

“You have a new fuckin’ slave every other goddamn week, ass hole, I own one fuckin’ person!” Master explained, so much self assurance embedded in his simple words. “I’ve got like emotional attachment and sentimental value and all that shit. You’ve got a hard-on. That’s the difference. So, you can miss me with all that Kumbaya-hippie-dippy-we-should-share-everything-commie-fuckin-bullshit, alright? You’re not EVER fuckin’ my pride and joy.”

“P’ea, Ma’ah! P’ea!” The Red Slave was chanting beneath the squabble, desperately begging for permission to cum, her entire body almost seeming to vibrate like the ring of a bell from the sheer intensity of her blistering need.

“Ah, get fucked, T, ya sappy fuckin’ cunt,” Master Patsy snapped with an affectionate roll of the eyes as he placed his drink on the table before taking steps toward the fire place.

“Just a man with a whole lotta love to give, Pats,” Master replied, amusement high in his eyes as he took a sip from his cup, his gaze tracking Master Patsy as the older man grabbed the punishment cane that was tucked in the corner of the hearth and the wall. The switch was a long, thin rod that stung like sliced flesh with every harsh caress. It was the same rod whose marks decorated both my breasts and ass.

“Yeah, if by love you mean bullshit, I agree, you are full of it,” Master Patsy teased as he approached the center of the room, his presence casting over me and the other slave like a looming shadow. “Get off her, Sadie,” he barked at me, snapping his fingers and jerking his arm to the left.

I immediately obeyed, backing away from The Red Slave but I continued to kneel on the cabin-room floor right beside her.

“So, you wanna cum do you?” Master Patsy growled at The Red Slave, bringing the switch down directly on her swollen clit, the scream that followed so extravagantly pitched it burned my eardrums. “Greedy fuckin’ Pig!” Master Pasty continued, striking her again, even harder than before, the scream that followed nearly identical in volume and pitch—but she was a good little slut and she kept her legs spread wide open, only her knees twitching with every strike.

“See, this is why I like it when you invite Patsy,” Mr. Hollow laughed, speaking to Master through the sound of yet another shriek as Master Patsy struck The Red Slave’s cunt again. “Evil mother fucker always puts on a good show.”

Master laughed in turn. “Everyone loves a good villain,” he agreed, sipping his drink as Jax tapped his shoulder to capture his attention.

“Make Sadie lick the other one, Boss, ” he requested, pointing to The Blonde Slave who was still lying untouched spread-eagle on the floor.

“You heard the man,” Master said to me tilting his head toward the slender blonde with clothespins clamped on her large round tits. “Eat the bitch out.”

“Yes, Master,” I purred obediently, another swell of arousal slamming down on the shores of my dignity as I humbly clamored to submit myself between the younger slave’s thighs.

My hands slid over her soft peach-colored skin, her warm flesh like silk beneath my fingertips, the soft whimpers that spilled from her lips as precious as gold coins in my ears. I slowly lowered my head to take her clit between my lips, causing the sweetest chirp to echo in her throat as I took to sucking her clit, tenderly, my tongue flicking and swirling in absolute perfection.

“And don’t you be a greedy fuckin’ pig about it!” Master Patsy snarled down at The Blonde Slave. “Unless you want a beating like this bitch!” *WHACK*

I could feel and smell The Blonde Slave was already aroused. She appeared to be well trained. Her body had been groomed to famish for servitude just like mine. It craved to be used, to submit, it craved to be owned. Like I keep reiterating, the way I was treated was exceptional. Master was an outlier for the kindness he showed me. The Nesting Pits trained the bodies of slaves to become aroused by their own abuse for in all probability they were going to be subjected to it for the rest of their lives. So, it wasn’t surprising to me that The Blonde Slave was already drenched in her self deprecation for simply baring witness to her slave-sister’s brutal treatment. And having the same concepts ingrained in my own head, my subconscious took over and I caught The Blonde Slave’s clit between my teeth.

“Her greedy hole is already soaked, Master Patsy,” I tattled before promptly returning to licking the girl’s slit as commanded.

I wanted to see her punished. I was throwing the poor creature under the bus for only a hope of a promise that it might gain me deeper access to the dark abyss of my own deranged pleasure.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Master Patsy snarled, turning from The Red Head and snapping his fingers at me in an impatient gesture to get out of the way. I obeyed in a hurry, scurrying over to sit at Master’s feet where I pressed my breasts close to his calf and wrapped my arms around one of his shins before lowering my cheek to rest delicately against his knee.

Master’s hand instinctively found the back of my head, gentle fingers running absent-mindedly through my hair as we both watched Master Patsy take a knee and shove two fingers deep inside The Blonde Slave’s cunt, feeling around to assess her wetness. The girl’s breath came heavy as Master Patsy probed her like a specimen, her cheeks flushing with both shame and pleasure that only seemed to compliment her desperate visage.

“Well, I’ll be fucked, you’re an even greedier pig than the other one!” Master Patsy admonished, immediately pumping his fingers hard and fast, his ferocious pace obviously acting as some kind of punishment for the slave’s limitless greed.

The Blonde Slave cried out in time with her masters fury, his rough fingers drilling through her insides with enough force to bruise the spirit as much as the flesh. She wailed around her gag, her legs spreading even farther apart, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she relished in the small threads of pleasure that accompanied all the pressure and pain.

“We should take the gags off,” Mr. Hollow suggested. “I wanna hear em scream.”

“Be my guest,” Master Patsy abided, never looking away from the tormented face of his helpless slave. “Why’re you such a greedy little pig, huh?” He asked as Mr. Hollow knelt down and unbuckled the girl’s gag.

The Blonde Slave gasped as the gag was removed, coughing briefly through a series of loud moans, each shuddering cry of pleasure acting as another flag of indignity that she waved proudly through the air.

“I asked you a question,” Master Patsy snarled, his other hand coming around to swat the girl’s cheek. He didn’t strike her incredibly hard, but hard enough to make his severity known. “Why’re you such a greedy little fuckin’ slut?”

“I’m sorry, Master!” She answered. “I can’t help it!”

“She ain’t sorry enough,” Jax accused from the side lines, remnants of Junk-smoke floating out from his nostrils and Master’s pipe still clutched in his hands.

“Why don’t you go make her sorry?” Encouraged Master, jerking his head at the two slaves on ‘the floor’.

“Or come make this whore sorry,” Mr. Hollow offered as he unbuckled The Red Slave’s gag and tossed it to the side. “C’mon up on those knees now, Honey,” he ordered The Red Slave, grabbing her by the bicep and hauling her into position. “Open that pretty little mouth.” He turned to Jax. “You gotta take a piss, man?” He grinned across the room.

Jax threw back his head with a laugh before chugging down the rest of his drink. “As a matter of fact,” he answered, pushing back his chair and standing to his feet…

[VictimEyes]

@sinfulwords -

YOU'VE GOT ME WISHING THAT 'BABYDOLL' WAS TONGUE-BATHING MY PUSSY UNTIL I SHOUT OUT IN ECSTASY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
- consequences be damned!!!!

By creating such a wide contrast between Master O'brian's treatment of his slaves and Master Roberts treatment of Sadie, you have succeeded in making an unlikable character quite likable.

Keep up the good work!!

[Claire]

So, personally, I have no interest in the whole master-slave kink, but I think there is a lot to like in this chapter. It does a lot of character work and I see a few potential seeds for what the story might ultimately end up being about.

First thing I liked a lot was Sadie's jealousy of and compassion for the other slaves. In some sense, she feels fully indoctrinated by her training. But then there is a sense of justice or fairness shining through that seems to contradict that. She seems to think that being a slave is a role she has been chosen to fulfill and that she should do so, that she has an obligation to do so. But at the same time, she seems to think that those who do accept their role should be rewarded or respected for that with what she considers to be a fair treatment. And that's genuinely interesting because I doubt that was what she was taught. I expect her training to have taught her: "If your master punishes you, it's because you deserve it, don't question it."

The master I find interesting because he currently strikes me as this: He doesn't seem to really like the other men as his disdain for how they treat their slaves shows. But maybe he entertains men like them because that is expected of a man in his position in this society? And his favoritism for Sadie feels to me like his attempt at finding a genuine connection to another human being that he can't seem to find elsewhere.

If the story ever elevates Sadie to rejecting her role as a slave, then I can see these established character dynamics and personalities create some delicious tension that would be fun to explore.

Good chapter! I really liked what you did here!

[sinfulwords]

@sinfulwords -

YOU'VE GOT ME WISHING THAT 'BABYDOLL' WAS TONGUE-BATHING MY PUSSY UNTIL I SHOUT OUT IN ECSTASY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
- consequences be damned!!!!

By creating such a wide contrast between Master O'brian's treatment of his slaves and Master Roberts treatment of Sadie, you have succeeded in making an unlikable character quite likable.

Keep up the good work!!

Hey, thanks for reading the update, and taking the time to tell me your thoughts, I’m so grateful for your enthusiasm and feedback

And I’m in ORBIT over tongue bathing I’m sure Sadie would be more than happy to give you a turn so long as Master says it’s okay I’m also so happy to hear you’re picking up on the ying and yang of the two masters and how they treat their slaves ^.^ it’s definitely a theme I had in mind and was trying to highlight! I really appreciate your feedback, friend

[sinfulwords]

So, personally, I have no interest in the whole master-slave kink, but I think there is a lot to like in this chapter. It does a lot of character work and I see a few potential seeds for what the story might ultimately end up being about.

First thing I liked a lot was Sadie's jealousy of and compassion for the other slaves. In some sense, she feels fully indoctrinated by her training. But then there is a sense of justice or fairness shining through that seems to contradict that. She seems to think that being a slave is a role she has been chosen to fulfill and that she should do so, that she has an obligation to do so. But at the same time, she seems to think that those who do accept their role should be rewarded or respected for that with what she considers to be a fair treatment. And that's genuinely interesting because I doubt that was what she was taught. I expect her training to have taught her: "If your master punishes you, it's because you deserve it, don't question it."

The master I find interesting because he currently strikes me as this: He doesn't seem to really like the other men as his disdain for how they treat their slaves shows. But maybe he entertains men like them because that is expected of a man in his position in this society? And his favoritism for Sadie feels to me like his attempt at finding a genuine connection to another human being that he can't seem to find elsewhere.

If the story ever elevates Sadie to rejecting her role as a slave, then I can see these established character dynamics and personalities create some delicious tension that would be fun to explore.

Good chapter! I really liked what you did here!

Thanks again for reading and taking the time to write down all your thoughts in such elaborate detail Its super appreciated,

I’m also grateful you’re reading my little tale despite your preference against master/slave stories. It’s definitely not a dynamic for everyone but I certainly enjoy it ^.^

You’re very astute in your character analyses (I’ve noticed that in your own work too actually lol). Sadie is very much indoctrinated by her training, as any of us would be influenced by our upbringing, however we human beings are always in flux. She has spent the last near-decade of her life with a master who goes against the norm and treats her more tenderly than her training would’ve ever allowed her to dream, so, her character and values are also influenced by her masters ‘kindness’.

Tyler is a complicated man I wouldn’t say he disdains the others for the way they treat slaves but being cruel for nothing more than his own sexual gratification is not something he would do. His violence will always have proper motivation he’s a lover and a fighter but definitely has a softer heart than most in his world and that does come out as a sort of tepid judgement toward his compadres when they’re being overly cruel in his eyes.

And yes, you nailed it! Sadie is his only source of true comfort. As you accurately deduced, he’s removed from his friends to a certain extent; it’s hard to keep a part of one’s self kept under lock and key. Being a big powerful leader requires a certain amount of “acting” because showing weakness can easily lead to a death sentence. Sadie is his only salvation from all that expectation.

I’m over the moon that you liked it thank u again for reading and all your input!

[Claire]

@sinfulwords I'm curious to see where you will take this. If I may trust the opening post, 4 chapters and an epilogue left to go?

[sinfulwords]

@sinfulwords I'm curious to see where you will take this. If I may trust the opening post, 4 chapters and an epilogue left to go?

Yep! Only four more chapters and an epilogue! It's just a little novella that details a single night in the lives of Tyler and Sadie I hope you continue to enjoy the continuing developments ^.^