A gay story: The Slave Boy 01 *Don’t worry!
I’ve had some problems with taking a long time to complete series, but this is one story where you don’t have to worry. The entire story is completed as of now, but I am releasing it in two chapters for sake of length. I’ll release the next chapter next week.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy my new ‘series’ The Slave Boy.
All Characters are 18+*
It was very dark in the slaves quarters. It was always dark. Most rooms in the Keep tried to have high vaulted windows for natural light, but the slaves weren’t worth the windows, so our sleeping place was a long low-ceilinged hall under the grand hall. It was only five feet from the rough cobbled floor to the thick creaking ceiling, and the thick pillars that kept the floor above our heads never seemed like quite enough.
Cave-ins had happened in the past, so every night we slept in the fear that we wouldn’t wake up, or that we would wake up screaming with a jut of splintered wood in our stomach, like that poor old woman not two moons ago.
We didn’t have separate rooms, only the main family, and honored guests got private rooms. Lesser guests, like visiting peasants and infantry slept on the thick straw in the main hall. We slept in the thick straw under them.
I could tell it was morning by the foggy clang of the slaves bell. It rung at the very crack of dawn all year round, so in winter we got to sleep in a little. However, in winter there were more feasts and celebrations because there was no open war in the winter and the only way to pass time was to get drunk and sing and impregnate the slave girls with bastards.
I was a slave, so this is a list of all of my possessions. Two linen shirts, white. One thick cloth vest, brown. One light pair of summer trousers, brown. One heavy pair of winter trousers, brown. One winter cloak, black. One pair of felt boots, black. One pair of light slippers, brown. Three pairs of thick woolen socks, white. Three loincloths, white.
Those were all of my possessions. My food was given, or withheld, every day. I could not carry weapons, and even in the kitchens, I was allowed one knife during the day to chop vegetables and meat. Every night, when all of our masters and those we served finally fell asleep; we were thoroughly checked by the cook, who doubled as the slave-master.
I had been captured when I was fourteen, and I was one of the lucky ones. Yes I worked longer, yes I got less food, and yes I got very little sleep, but I worked in the kitchens. It was hard work, but I worked in a place where only theft or laziness could get me whipped, and I was a boy.
Slave girls were free property to any freedman who wished to have a roll in the hay. Many of the slave girls were so cowed by now that they were afraid to go to the market. I knew a girl of sixteen that had already borne three bastards. The slave-master had to use girls as house and kitchen slaves. They were heavily desired by the crowds at feasts, and they generally worked better in the kitchens, but they did need a few males as well, they could go outside without the near-certainty of being raped by a passing soldier.
I was lucky because when I was fourteen, I was cramped and weak and filthy from over a month jammed in the hold of a viking ship. The crops-master proclaimed me too weak to work in the fields. I may have gone to a quarry or a mine, an even worse fate, but one of my slavers, the man who had captured me when I was cowering under a bed in the loft above my father’s shop, recalled that I was a baker’s son. I still remembered him, a tall fierce man with reddish hair and pale eyes.
I was sold to the kitchens of a rich general named Boris Strong-hammer, and I had worked there for four years now. I supposed I would work here for the rest of my life, maybe even live to the ripe age of fifty. Slaves could grow old in the kitchens, as long as they worked hard enough.
I put on a fresh loincloth, my heavy trousers, socks, felt boots, linen shirt, padded vest and warm winter cloak. I put my slippers in my pocket, those are what we wore inside. Me and a scrawny man named Colin were the only men in the slow trudge of house slaves. We crawled out of the tiny hatch that had been unlocked by the slave-master, and he counted us out and tallied our names as we came out.
Today we were all awake, but woe to any girl that had slept past the slave bell and not been awakened by her fellows. That had happened to me just once, and the slave-master had stripped me naked on that freezing cold morning, tied me to a post and poured buckets of water over my head till I was half-drowned and my skin turning a dull purplish-blue from the cold. He had whipped the warmth back into me, and then told me if I liked to sleep so much, that he would give me a reason to stay in the quarters.
It hadn’t happened again.
The house-girls trudged over to the great hall above the hatch we had just crawled out of. They would clean the mess up as quickly as they could in order to dodge the letch of an early-rising drunkard.
Four house-girls and eight kitchen-slaves, including myself and Colin. It was hard work keeping up for not only the family and guests, but for all of the field slaves, who spent their winter rebuilding and fortifying the keep walls, and tending to the animals.
We worked for an hour, making porridge with honey for the guests and family, and porridge without honey for the slaves. In the brief time when no dishes needed to be scrubbed and no food needed to be made, we all ate a small bowl of porridge and a shriveled apple.
In no time, we were working again.
—
It was in the noontime lag when we saw them.
The sun had come out, so despite the cold we were eating our afternoon meal of pottage (thick soup of vegetables, grains, onions, and a few scraps of pork) outside to enjoy the brief sunlight. The courtyard was white with packed snow, except in places where hooves and feet had churned it to frozen mud. The wooden keep door opened, the watchman was blowing an excited call on his horn, when they came in.
We got up and huddled against the wooden kitchen (kitchens needed to be built far away from large homes, even stone homes because of the wooden supports) and watched them come in, over fifty men on horses, with a small herd of remounts following them. The horses were laden with clanking bags of metal armor, for the men were only wearing the leather pads worn under the armor, and each man had the livery of their home on it. It was fifty land-owners, back from some crusade or war, here for food and wine and girls.
I watched long enough to see Boris Strong-hammer come out and clap one of the men on the shoulder, but then I fled back into the kitchen, eating my pottage as fast as I could. Fifty men meant we would have to work until the break of dawn.
—
Colin and I were the slaughterers. Boris wanted to make this into a feast, so Colin, me and several of the field slaves were ordered to slaughter and butcher two fat hogs, a fat calf, three goats and a dozen fat geese.
We were all exhausted after nearly two hours of slitting, boiling, skinning, butchering, and plucking, but the work had barely began. All of the animals were too big to be slow-cooked with this little time, so they would have to be roasted. The twelve field slaves were digging pits and chopping wood, while the kitchen slaves were spicing and preparing the animals, shoving sharpened poles all the way through them and cutting slits in the meat to rub spices and oils. The organs of the animals were cut out and cooked as sweetbreads.
We always felt overworked, but even with the help of the field slaves we were dying. We were working so hard that we were all allowed a chunk of bread spread with soft cheese and a slice of onion. I wept with gratitude. It hadn’t been ordinary hunger of the belly, we felt that every day. It had been the deep, all-consuming hunger of the flesh, where I could feel myself growing stronger with every bite of the soft nutty bread and soft flavorful cheese and pungent onion.
We still had to cook fresh bread and roll barrels of wine and mead out of the cellar. We had to grill fish and greens on a flat scrap of tin. Had to make beef stew with wine in it and rich-man’s-pottage, a mixture of herbs and grains and pork so tender it melted into the stew.
My eyes were blurred and my hands were raw with work. It was finally time to serve. The men were to carry in the whole bodies of the hogs and the goats and the calf, served on giant wood platters and garnished with greens and stuffed with herbs and gleaming with juices and gravy. My hunger was so great that I had to swallow over and over to stop myself from drooling. My knees trembled with weakness and I nearly dropped the platter of goat that I and another young man were bringing in. When we set it down, he asked me if I was alright. His eyes were so beautiful. I looked down and mumbled that I was okay before hurrying back to the kitchen to help.
The men sat at two long wooden tables, and those poorer, or with less status sat on stools or the floor. They tore into the meat like animals and ate it with their fingers and teeth. They were like wolves, pushing us out of the way and lunging at the slave girls trying to pour their wine.
Ten girls were too little for nearly a hundred men. Some of the local nobles had brought their girls, and that brought it up to maybe thirty, but it still wasn’t enough. They fucked them in plain sight, in corners, covered by cloaks, or even just on the tables. Freewomen were there too, and they satisfied their men, and some men they weren’t with, but there was no one to serve the food but me and Colin and a few of the field slaves.
We had to duck and dodge to avoid flying food and utensils, I saw Colin get hit by a metal plate and he fell unconscious. Two field slaves dragged him out before one of the barbarians started to piss on him, or kick him, or something equally cruel and degrading. One of the Freewomen had gotten up and was doing a lewd dance to the music of a trio of men with a drum, a brass horn, and a fiddle. I thanked God for her presence, she distracted the men and allowed me to serve platters of stew and fish and refill the wine jugs without being disturbed.
I was rushing out of the room to grab a big pot of stew to replace a spilled one, when a man grabbed my forearm. I froze and turned to him attentively, hoping he wouldn’t kick me, or tell me to lick wine off his boots. Both had happened before, many times.
I looked right into the eyes of Haagan the Fierce. I knew this man and that froze me even more. He was the man who had captured me, and proclaimed me too weak to work in the mines or quarries or fields.
I still remembered what I had seen him do. All of the captured slaves had been in a barn, and I had seen him fuck a boy. The boy was older then me, a scared farmer boy with big muscles and a simple frightened face. Haagan had turned the boy on his stomach and taken his penis and shoved it first in the boys mouth, and then the boy’s ass. The boy had whimpered piteously with pain and humiliation.
I remembered this feverishly, I had been sick and weak and I had seen it through pounding and throbbing eyes. All I remembered was Haagan’s name, and his red hair. His hair was a thick rich dark red, and his beard was trimmed short, most of the men left their hair and beard long, but he kept both short. I remembered why. He was a legendary fighter, and he got right in, fierce and close, he kept his hair shorter so no one could grab him and pull him in.
I wondered if he remembered me.
I stood there in front of him, and then in a moment of panic I realized that I hadn’t heard what he said. His eyes were the color of ice, coldly amused.
“Forgive me sir.” I babbled hoarsely, casting my gaze to the floor. “Forgive me, I…I did not hear you.” I looked at his big leather boots with the lines of metal buckles up one side, cringing and waiting for a blow.
His voice was deep and rolling and amused. “This wine is watered to make it last longer, I want you to bring me some of your master’s French cognac, I know the greedy bastard keeps a few bottles hidden away.” He saw the naked fear on my face, and he pulled a small bronze token from his fingerless leather gloves. “Bring this to the cook, and you will be vouched for.”
I relaxed a little, bowed deeply and fled to the kitchen.
—
The little bronze token had an imprint of a sparrow-hawk on both sides. When I showed the token to the cook, the big man froze and then sighed.
“I guess I’m going to be rid of a good slave for the rest of the night.” He saw the confusion and fear on my face. “If Haagan has given you his token, that means he likes you. He’s going to force you off into some corner and fuck you until dawn breaks. I hope the other men will be done with my girls soon!”
He crossly got me a glass bottle from the cellar. The cook had never given me a word in my life, unless in command or complaint or punishment, but now he was giving me advice. “Haagan has never used a boy from this Keep before, but I’ve heard that he’s a thousand times better to his boys then most of the rest of these pigs treat my girls. Listen to him and try to play along, and he might even give you a trinket or something.”
I took the bottle and slid it under my vest. The bronze token in my palm felt like it was cutting lines into my flesh and my breath was a tight little wheeze in my chest. Had Haagan known somehow? Been able to guess that I had felt stirrings for Colin and the field slaves and men my whole life, stirrings that I should have felt towards women? Had he known somehow that I wouldn’t resist? That I had never disobeyed an order in my life? Or had he just seen me as the only slave boy in the room that was small and skinny enough for him?
I knew almost nothing about what happened when men used other men like women, except that they liked smaller, more womanly men. I stopped at the duck pond for one second, and in the smooth ice I could see a distorted image of myself, scrawny, dark-haired and dark-eyed. What on earth could possibly be attractive about me?
I hurried into the great hall, memories of that frightened farm boy filling my eyes and ears.
—
I slid behind him and he turned in his heavy wooden chair. I caught his eyes for a moment before turning submissively down, and the flash of his icy eyes made me flinch, and made my groin throb once, so hotly and powerfully that I gasped. I timidly gave him the bottle, and he took it from my hand. I flinched when his rough calloused fingers brushed mine. I was trembling like a mouse and my knees felt so weak that I might collapse.
He smiled broadly and I was surprised at the flash of white teeth. “You look feverish boy, come with me.” I suddenly did feel feverish, with the wave of heat that pulsed through my body when he touched my forehead with the scarred knuckles on the backs of his fingers. My knees did buckle and he caught me as he stood up in a fluid motion. He put on his red cloak with the black designs on it, and swept me down the narrow hallway, while I followed, dry mouthed and confused and suddenly terrified.
This man was going to fuck me. I still remembered the bawling sounds the farm boy had made, first of pain, and then delirious shameful pleasure. Sometimes, when I jerked off in the darkness I played guiltily with my asshole, only it was so dry that even with spit I could only work one finger inside. How would a man’s cock fit? I remembered those hurt screams that the boy had let out, the look of hurt on his simple face. I felt so scared.
Suddenly, we were in one of the private rooms. I had never been in one of the private rooms before. It was a stone room with a wooden floor and ceiling. A small fireplace burned brightly and warmly. There was a chest filled with Haagan’s belongings and a small table with a small mirror of highly polished bronze. A ceramic basin and pitcher of water stood on the table. Instead of straw and a blanket, like I had always seen, there was a wooden frame with strings pulled tight across it, and resting on the strings was a thick woolen sack filled with straw and fresh herbs to make it smell nice.
The woolen blanket on the bed was dyed in bright colors, and over that, a thick sheepskin covering. He even had a shuttered window. The floor had a thick red rug covering it, and my slippered feet sank into the softness.
I turned to see Haagan, watching me with those unsettling bright eyes. I looked down, trembling and weak in the legs.
I felt so… there was no other word for it… feminine. I felt like one of the very young slave girls about to get raped for the first time. Sometimes eventually the girls liked it, especially if the man was gentle, but the first time it was always rape. I felt very aware of my body underneath my clothing, especially my cock, which was slightly erect. I had never felt this way before, hot and flustered and scared and eager all at once. More scared then eager. Sometimes, those girls who got raped for the first time came in and they would be bleeding and crying. Some even hanged themselves.
I remembered the cook’s advice. To listen to every word he said, and to try to play along. I took a deep breath and slid out of my padded vest. I took a few trembling steps and placed my vest on a bit of bare floor near the wall. I didn’t dare look at him, any moment, and he would jump on me like the men that women told stories about. My fingers were trembling, and I was having trouble untying the laces that kept my shirt tied tight at the neck and chest.
I flinched and gave a panicky little cry when his rough hand touched my trembling hands at my throat. His hand wrapped slowly around the neck of my shirt and pulled me in close. His chest, clothed in a horsehair vest and a sweat-stained lined shirt, was right in front of my nose, and I could smell the thick masculine smell of him. My knees weakened a little and for a moment he was holding me up.
My hands were on his chest and I was shaking, standing so close to him that his smell filled my nose and the tips of our footwear touched and when I swayed a little from weakness I could feel the tip of his erection brush my stomach through all of the cloth.
“So frightened…” He murmured, and his free hand was suddenly stroking my hair, petting me. I could feel my eyes close slightly, and a small moan escape my mouth. It felt very good. I felt a moment of humiliation, at being soothed like a frightened animal, but I just closed my eyes tight and tried to focus on how good that felt. My mouth felt so dry, I swallowed.
“Has another man ever had his way with you? Laid on top of you? Or forced you to touch him? Has another man maybe, put his mouth or hands on you?”
I shook my head, not daring to open my mouth or look up into his eyes. My cock twitched inside my pants. I was having thoughts, thoughts about Colin, and the field slave with the beautiful eyes. Thoughts about Haagan. Oh God, what was he going to do to me? And why was I aroused?
“Such a good boy though, yes… You are going to remember this night for a long time. Look up at me boy.”
I was able to look up as far as his chin, covered with short dark red hair, and with a slight dimple. He put his hand under my jaw and made me look up the rest of the way. He didn’t hurt me with his hand, but I could feel the strength of his hand, and knew that if he wanted to, he could have me screaming for mercy, my clothes torn open, cowering on the floor at any moment.
He had a new scar on his right cheek, a thin line that went right under the bone. That hadn’t been there the last time I saw him. His eyes were pale, and full of a mixture of lust and curiosity, and a lazy sort of warmth. I could feel his heartbeat under my hands and his shirt, powerful and steady, like a horse. I jumped and cried out when a soft knock came from the door.
I had jumped slightly away from him, and he laughed and ruffled my hair with his big warm hand. My heart was beating frantically with fear and confusion and surprise and even lust. My cock was halfway hard in my pants, and this man was being so… so… I couldn’t think of a word for what Haagan was doing to me.
“You keep trembling little one, kept stumbling in the great hall. I took the liberty of telling one of the other slaves to bring a little sustenance. ”
He opened the door, and Colin was standing there, a large bandage on his head where the sharp edge of the metal plate had cut him. He looked at me with confusion, and then with something like disgust. He thought I was filthy. All of the strength drained out of my legs and I nearly fell. I cringed under his gaze.
He handed the dish to Haagan with a bow and he left with one last disgusted look at me. I felt tears beading up in my eyes. Haagan turned and I gasped weakly when I saw what was on the tray. A succulent slice of beef with slices of cooked onions and carrots all in thick gravy, and a small bowl of thick meaty soup, and even a fish that had been stuffed with greens and grain. There was also a small pitcher of water and a thick white cloth.
I was so hungry. Haagan pushed me back gently with his hand so I collapsed into a sitting position on the soft bed. “Slaves don’t eat very much, so I just got you a little snack.” He knew that this plate contained more meat then I normally ate in a year. He was joking with me.
He gave me a spoon and an eating knife and sat on the carved chair, facing me. He watched me as I ate. The meat was so rich, so succulent. I ate shreds from the slice of beef, hardly able to eat it. I was able to eat the carrots and onions easier. I ate the soup and felt strength reach every part of my shivering exhausted body. I was only able to nibble the fish, and I was too full. I wanted it so badly, but I knew that if I took one more bite of that rich meat, I would vomit all over the red rug.
I pushed the tray away. “Th-thank you Master Haagan. I…I have not had real meat in many moons.” Even then, it had been a squirrel.
He took the tray from me and finished the slice of beef in four large bites, wiping the gravy that trickled down his chin. He tore the steamy flaking fish from the bones in quick neat bites, licking his fingers afterwards. I had only been able to finish the soup.
He smiled, amused. “Poor little kitchen slave, having to waste away preparing this meal and not even able to eat more then a crumb of it. What is your name boy?”
I looked down at my feet, and answered. “My name is Aro, sir.”
The only thing left on the tray was the untouched napkin and the pitcher of water. He picked them up and put them on the floor near the bed. He saw me looking, and smirked.
“You will need them when we are done. Are you thirsty Aro?”
I looked up. Why would I need a napkin then? I was thirsty, that meat had been salty and juicy and now I craved the water, or maybe even the watered wine that they allowed us when we were working very hard. Instead, Haagan held up the strange French wine with the funny name. Con-yak.
He stood up and uncorked the cognac and held the bottle in front of my nose. The smell that wafted out was dry and acidic and sharply alcoholic. Much stronger then the sweet red wine most drank.
“Take a sip Aro, it is a dry little drink, but it will make you relax. It will make you enjoy.”
I had been able to ignore why I was here when I was eating, but now I remembered. This man was going to fuck me. I leaned forward and took a long drink, even though the sharp liquor burned my mouth and lips with it’s sourness. He pulled it away with a chuckle and took a swig himself, the expensive liquor dripping from his mouth and matting the short hairs of his beard.
The cognac hit my stomach like a flaming arrow and spread a wave of warmth throughout my body. He chuckled. “Little Aro doesn’t have much luck holding his wine, does he?”
My vision quickly doubled, and then went back to normal, though my head felt light and warm. When I touched my cheeks they felt feverishly hot.
Suddenly Haagan was standing over me where I was sitting on the edge of the bed. He used his hands to grab my wrists and push me down onto my back. He lifted my legs up onto the bed and I refused to open my eyes, trembling and dizzy from fear and the cognac.
“Open those pretty eyes of your Aro.”
I did, and suddenly I was looking up at his handsome face, thats right, he did have a handsome face. “I like to undress my boys personally.”
I moaned a little when his warm hand touched the feverishly hot side of my neck. The strong effect of the swig of cognac was fading into a general lightheadedness. I looked up at him with fear, and strange taboo feelings of warmth all over my body. He took my face in both hands. His forefingers smoothed my eyebrows, his thumb explored my soft lower lip. The rest of his fingers buried themselves in his hair.
He leaned in, and I thought he was trying to kiss me but then my lip was between his teeth. He wasn’t biting hard, just tugging in an almost playful way. He nipped my earlobes in those strong white teeth.
Then he went lower and I gasped as he bit and nibbled my neck. His teeth felt so good on that warm skin. He was so big. His body, leaning over me on the bed was lean but tall and broad and muscular. His arms were as thick as one of my legs, maybe thicker.
Then his hands were on my laces. I squirmed weakly and gasped out helpless little noises. I sounded like a hurt kitten, I was so ashamed at the weak, feminine noises I was making.
He unlaced my shirt with deft motions, and slid it over my head, carelessly tossing it to the side. My skin was covered in sudden goosebumps with the rush of cool air. I looked down at myself and all I could see was my slender white torso with my rose-colored nipples standing up in hard little buds from the cold. I had a small trail of scant dark hair leading from my navel to the waist of my trousers, and a few pitiful dark hairs between my nipples, but that was it.
He lifted himself slightly so he was sitting on the side of the bed and looking me slowly up and down. My cheeks were flushed and red and I mewed softly with fear. I felt like a wounded animal being targeted by a predator. He leaned down again and I felt his teeth on my neck again, scraping, biting.
His hands went around my rib cage, fingers splayed, holding me still while his mouth went down. I felt his rough beard on my chest and then on my nipples. He was biting and sucking them as if I were a woman and he was biting my breasts. I yipped and cried out. It felt so strange, I felt like I should be screaming and crying and fighting, but all I was doing was squirming to try and get my nipple further between those strong white teeth and whimpering with how good it felt.
My nipples were so tender. He pinched them between his fingers and twisted and I cried out, squirming a little underneath him.
“So sensitive.” He breathed. I could feel the cool air of his breath on my sore and chafed nipples. He lapped his tongue down the narrow rift down the center of my stomach. I could feel his short beard scraping me all the way down.
I yelped when he stuck his tongue into my navel. It was a sensitive, erotic feeling. He splayed his hands on my hips, gripping hard, but just short of bruising me. I covered my face with my hands, gasping and feeling my breath on my face and feeling his slick tongue trace patterns on my ridged stomach. He nibbled and bit the skin around my navel.
He would see it, feel it. My erection was just under his rough chin, separated by the smallest of spaces and two layers of cloth. I whimpered as his chin bumped against the swollen head of my cock through the fabric.
“Uncover your eyes Aro.” His voice was a throaty purr, excited and commanding. I put my hands down, feeling tears of humiliation and fear trickle into my hairline. He was looking up at me, smirking, his pale eyes lusting and glittering under dark brows.
“You’re hard boy… You don’t think I felt that?” He licked his full lips slowly, and I cried out and tilted my head back when he cupped the bulge in my trousers with his big rough hand.
I covered my mouth with my hands and let out a few weak whimpering sobs. I felt so helpless. The warm glow of the Cognac made me dizzy and compliant. I was like a rag doll in his arms.
He untied the rough hemp cord that kept my pants up and yanked them down to my ankles in one rough motion. I whimpered and looked away, unable to watch as he undressed me like a girl. I felt that same feminine feeling that I did earlier, so helpless.
The air was cool on my bare legs and my skin rippled up into goosebumps. He sat back on his heels and surveyed me, smirking with his power over me. He was powerful, and he was Nordic, and he had clothes on. I was almost naked, a southern slave, and thin and underfed on top of everything else.
He smiled as he tugged off my slippers and stockings, and tugged off my trousers. I tried to cover myself with my hands, but he took hold of my wrists and pinned them to the bed at my waist. I was only wearing a small white loincloth. A cord around my waist, with a pouch-like cloth that went between my legs. My erection was visible, the length of my cock straining against the thin translucent cloth, and the heavy pouch of my testes below.
He licked his lips slowly, and looked into my eyes, his expression amused and eager. “You have a tasty member for such a little thing. Do you want to unwrap it for me?”
I let out a choked sob of humiliation. On top of everything else he would force me to uncover myself. He released my wrists and sat on my upper thighs to pin me. He was unlacing his shirt and watching me with his burning icy eyes.
I gingerly untied the cord around my waist. I slid the cord out of the top of the pouch, leaving the cloth covering me for as long as possible. I was probably just enticing Haagan more, but I didn’t want to leave myself entirely naked for his gaze.
He was just in his trousers and shirtsleeves and stockings. His boots were still by the door. “Take off that little scrap Aro, you’re ruining the view.”
My hands were shaking so hard I couldn’t hold on to the pouch. I finally just ripped it away and closed my eyes, trembling. He whistled softly, and I moaned when he ran his rough callused fingers very gently down the shaft of my cock. It felt so good. He didn’t touch me again, and when I opened my eyes I couldn’t help the breathless shocked little cry that escaped my lips.
Haagan the fierce had stripped out of his shirt. His body was ropy and lean with muscle, and a long pink scar stretched from under his arm to his navel. Thick dark reddish hair covered his chest and stomach in a bushy pelt. His dark nipples were surrounded by hair, and the little buds were erect from the cold air.
Haagan smirked at me. I felt so weak and un-masculine compared to him. I was skinny and small and smooth. He rubbed his crotch, and I gasped when I saw the thick bulge that his fingers moulded around.
“Like it Aro? This is going to be jammed in your pretty little ass soon…”
I cried out when his hand wrapped around my cock again. I was completely helpless, moaning like a whore in a dirty story when his hand was fondling my cock. My chest was covered in red marks from his teeth.
With one hand he untied the laces that kept the fly of his trousers shut. He reached into his trousers and pulled out his cock. I moaned deep in my throat. I had seen plenty of men naked before, but I had never seen another erect cock.
He grinned at me and held it in his hand and bobbed it so I could feel the hard hotness of it hitting my thigh. It was two inches or so longer then my own at maybe eight inches, and very thick. His fingers barely met around the base as he tapped the hard length against my thigh.
“It w-wont fit.” I whispered. I could feel how pale my face was. “It wont f-f-fit!”
He ran his hand up the side of my body, and I gasped as he did, his fingers were so warm and rough. His thumb brushed my sore nipple, and then he raised his hand away. “You’ll be able to take my cock Aro, I haven’t met a boy who can’t take it yet.”
I shuddered as he gave my cock a few gentle strokes. “Take your hand Aro, and pet this pretty cock of yours. It will make you feel good.”
He got up and walked to the other side of the room, casually kicking off his stockings and walking out of his breeches. His buttocks were firm and round and flexing as he walked, he had strong thick legs. I stroked my cock and watched him, dry-mouthed. Part of me wanted him. Part of me wanted him to touch me and bite me and fuck me all night.
He came back with a small leather flask. I had never seen anything like it. It was far too small for water, or even spirits. He walked back to the bed, naked, his eyes flashing. His body was a powerful V-shape into his hips, with strong legs and thick arms. His cock went out in front of him and wagged gently with every step. I could see a pearl of moisture glimmering at the tip. He stroked it casually with one hand. His pale eyes were gleaming.
He casually flipped me onto my stomach, grabbed my hips and pulled them into the air. I stayed there, with my face and chest against the thick sheepskin on top of the bed, closing my eyes and panting from the sensation. I felt his hand briefly caress my cock and I moaned low in my throat.
He stroked my ass with his hand, pinching and fondling my buttocks, and then spreading them. I whimpered as the most vulnerable and unexplored part of me was teased by a cool draft, and his fingertip.
Then I found out what was in the flask. Some kind of clear vegetable oil that he dribbled on his fingers and cock and my asshole. I could feel a thin stream of it running down my thigh as he rubbed it in circles around my twitching little hole. I cried out as he suddenly jabbed one finger into my asshole.
The finger curled inside me, and suddenly every part of my body twitched and broke out into a cool sweat. I cried out at the sudden warmth that flared through me. What had he done to me?
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He purred softly, jabbing his finger inside me again. I cried out as another wave of warmth flooded through my system. My cock stood hard and hot away from my body, bobbing against my stomach. I saw a little drop of precome land on the sheepskin covering under my stomach. It glistened gently in the oily fibers.
“I asked you a question boy.” He jabbed his finger in me again, and I whimpered weakly with lust. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Y-Yes sir.” My voice was desperate and hoarse.
“How good does it feel?”
“Ah! It f-feels amazing sir!”
He chuckled low in his throat and continued to move his finger in and out. Then I whimpered softly when he nudged at my opening with a second finger. My asshole was burning, but not too badly.
“How do you like that Aro? Do you like it when I fuck your little boy-cunt with my hand?” His voice was getting hoarser, and more eager. I could see his cock. He was giving it careless little strokes between plunging his slick fingers into me.
I cried out drunkenly. I wasn’t sure how I felt anymore. I felt so vulnerable, and the little ring of muscle was aching and burning. I was drunk and scared, but my cock was raging and dripping and he kept nudging my sweet spot with his fingers, driving me crazy.
He soaked his fingers in oil again, and I let out a painful cry as he jammed three into my burning ass. His finger tickled my sweet spot and I reached for my cock, I was so close to coming, I needed to come.
He withdrew his hand and grabbed my wrist with his oily fingers. He grabbed both of my wrists and held them in one hand behind my back. I moaned as my cheek was buried in the sheepskin bed covering. The oily sheep-smell filled my nose as I closed my eyes and he stuck his fingers in me again, stretching and hurting and driving me insane.
“That’s a naughty thing you did Aro, you can’t come until I say you can come. Clasp your hands behind your neck, and don’t move them until I give you permission. If you do, I will have you punished.”
His voice was thick and growling and lustful. What for me was a terrifying prospect that could mean days of misery and pain and missed meals, it was an extra turn-on for him. I clasped my hands behind my neck, and that forced my face into the sheepskin. I couldn’t see him. I was drunk and scared and my cock was dripping and hot and swollen.
I felt something hard and hot and slick against my burning asshole. I whimpered softly as he grunted and pressed hard. I let out a little scream when the head of his cock finally popped in.
He growled lustily. “Damn… You have such a tight cunt. I’ll have to change that Aro!”
I let out a piteous whine as he slathered more oil on his cock and forced his way in even further. I felt like my asshole was on fire… It hurt so much and he wasn’t even brushing my sweet spot and even my reddened angry cock was starting to wilt a little from the pain.
Suddenly, he jerked his hips and the head of his cock practically slammed into my sweet spot. My hurt whimper changed into a breathless cry of arousal, my cock twitched and became rock hard. The jolt of pleasure seemed to dull the pain slightly, change that burning feeling into a sensation of fullness.
“There we go Aro… Is it starting to feel good?”
“Y-Yes sir! Please do it again!”
He chuckled and moved so that the head of his cock was grinding against that special spot hard. I arched my back and cried out as beads of sweat popped from my flushed skin. He put his hands on my hips and started to shallowly fuck me. I could see his hips coming towards my hips by looking down and in between my splayed knees. He was only a few inches in.
I could also see my stiff needing cock. I needed release, I needed to rub it. I cried out with frustration and lust. His cock was filling me and leaving me, stretching and burning me. Bruising and battering me. The foreskin still partially covered the head of my cock, and I could see precome pooling around the slit, glimmering.
I could feel his heavy hairy testes slam into mine. I could feel his thick pubic hair against the little dimple at the top of my ass crack. He pulled my hips even further into him as I whimpered from the pain and he leaned over so his stomach pressed against my back. He moved so I was completely and fully enclosed in his grip. I could feel his muscularity, his hairiness, his hugeness. I could feel his short beard on my shoulder and his breath in my ear.
He started to hump his hips while holding me completely in his grasp. He swore and plunged and panted with ecstasy. His breathing was hoarse and rough and vinegary-smelling. Suddenly his hand reached around and closed on my throbbing oozing cock.
I cried out with lust. His hand was skilled and deft, rubbing me fast and tight. I humped my own hips, loving the sensation of fucking his hand and pushing my ass back onto his cock.
His hand squeezed my cock brutally and I wailed loud enough to be heard through the stone walls. I wailed and my cock spasmed and liquid fire spurted through my cock onto the bed. I could see the white ropes smearing the coverlet in thick patterns. I was reminded deliriously of the pastries the cook sometimes made, where he drizzled buttercream over them.
He pounded his hips so fast that his thighs made a clapping sound against mine. The force of his testes hitting mine was just short of painful. Then he swore and I could feel wetness inside my ass. I could feel hot creamy warmth that lubricated my burning sheath as he slowed and panted.
For a moment, he held me to him, and I could feel his cock softening inside me. I shivered, crushed under him on my knees with my hands cupping the back of my neck. I had time to think that this was actually nice. I hadn’t ever thought that something like this could be anything but painful. But I wasn’t bleeding, and I wasn’t too sore. He had been rough, but he had used plenty of oil.
I had heard from the slave girls about men who fucked them in the ass without lubricant. They carried it with them, to try to convince the few men who would listen. Haagan had used oil, and now his body was resting against mine. He was so warm.
I felt my eyes closing, and I was just starting to relax when he grunted and got up, his soft cock sliding from me. I was shocked at the feeling of loss.
“You can put your hands away boy, and clean up.”
He bent down and reached for the thick white cloth. He used it to wipe the semen and oil from his cock. He went over to the cognac and drank from the bottle.
I crawled to the edge of the bed. My asshole felt full, and sloppy; as if it would spill over. As soon as I put my legs down on the floor an unbelievable amount of come and oil spilled down my thigh. My asshole spasmed weakly as I tried to keep it in, and even more spilled out. It landed on the carpet, and Haagan was smirking at me.
I felt so humiliated and degraded at that moment. Shivering and naked, trying to crawl of the bed and leaking all over the floor. I felt like a dog that had piddled on a fine rug. Tears started to leak from my eyes and I tried to hold them back, my stomach feeling queasy with shame.
I used the thick absorbent cloth to wipe myself and the carpet as best as I could. With him watching, I knelt over it and clenched my ass to make the rest of it dribble out and onto the cloth. I did it with leaking eyes and a red face. I was trembling the whole time. I had never felt so used, so ashamed.
When no more would come out, though I still felt slippery and loose, I stood up. I was slightly hunched, half because I was sore all over, and half because I was feeling so submissive and cowed. I reached for my loincloth where it had fallen; I needed to go help with dinner, and to get away from those cold pale eyes.
“No.” He didn’t speak loudly, just firmly. I still flinched and dropped the scrap of white fabric. I still felt a jolt of fear and arousal and mistrust. I felt so vulnerable around him.
“You’ll be spending the night with me Aro. It’s been a long time since I have had a boy in my bed, and I am going to enjoy every moment of it. Get back on the bed.”
I winced where I stood, and crawled back into the bed. I curled up on my side so I would not be facing him. I let the tears stream down my cheekbone and into my ear. I was so naked. I shivered from the cold, but didn’t have the courage to cover myself up. It was probably forbidden.
Suddenly the mattress strings squeaked. I stiffened as he crawled onto the bed.
“Get off the covers boy, I’m freezing.” His voice was gruff and businesslike. I squirmed up the bed and he hefted the sheepskin cover and the colorful wool blanket. He slid under and yanked me under as well.
It was so warm under the soft wool covers. I could feel his hairy lean body so close to mine, and I tried to flinch away, but he just put an arm around my waist and pulled me closer. I could feel his soft cock against my ass, and his beard scraping my neck.
Eventually I just went limp. He held me closer, and the warmth of his body was actually very comforting. He was fantastic when he was holding still, and just holding me to him. I stayed there, and hoped that he would fall asleep, and forget about his desire to stay active all night long.
—
I had finally been drifting off to sleep when he woke from his doze and I felt his hardening cock against my ass. He threw the covers off of us and I curled into a fetal ball at the chilly air on my naked body.
“Wake up Aro.” He sounded amused, and excited. He sounded eager. I uncurled, shivering in the cool air. The fire had died down greatly and it was cold in here.
Far from looking fazed, his thick cock actually seemed harder and perkier because of the cold. He was on his knees, looking down at me where I was laying, smiling. His arms were covered in goosebumps and his thick chest hair looked warm.
“Come here Aro.”
I crawled to him, and I nuzzled my face against his chest. I’m not quite sure why I did it. Maybe it was because he had been kind enough to feed me and use oil. Maybe it was because despite how humiliated I felt, he had made sure that I was aroused, and that I reached climax. I knew that this could have been many times more humiliating and painful.
I rubbed my cheek against the rough warmth of his chest, and somehow, I felt safe. Haagan wouldn’t hurt me. He might do things that felt disgusting and shameful and amazing, but he wouldn’t hurt me.
“That’s a good boy…” He murmured, stroking my hair in both of his hands. His voice was a little softer. He understood that I was going to trust him. “Come up here boy…”
I straightened so I was on my knees as well, leaning forward a bit so our groins didn’t touch. My genitals were still small and shriveled and soft in the chill air. His pale eyes shone brightly, and then he cupped my beardless cheeks in his hands and kissed me.
Nothing could have shocked me more. I hadn’t expected a kiss at all, or if he had kissed me, maybe a rough slobbering kiss while he buggered me, but not this. His stubbly beard scraped my lips and chin. His lips were strong and warm, and he was cradling my head in his hands. I could feel my cock twitch with first signs of life.
I broke away from the kiss, shocked, and staring at him, wide-eyed and confused. He chuckled and pulled me in again. This time his mouth opened, and his tongue was suddenly intruding mine. I wasn’t sure what to do, it was caressing the inside of my mouth, my tongue. I sucked on it and he growled softly with pleasure.
I thought nothing of it when he took one of his hands away from my face. I was getting into the kiss, so I barely noticed when he gently rested his hand on my hip. Then I let out a surprised yelp when he pulled my hips right into his, so my hardening cock rubbed against his.
I closed my eyes again with a soft moan as he started to hump his hips gently, rubbing against me, inflaming me. It felt so good, so dirty, but at the same time so good.
I whimpered softly with frustration and confusion when he put both of his hands on my head and pushed me away from the kiss.
“It’s time for you to learn how to handle a man’s cock.”
I was confused. Was he going to fuck me harder? Why was he pushing me down? His hands curled over my shoulders and he was pushing me down with my face near his chest, pushing me closer and closer to his…
I suddenly realized what he wanted me to do. For a moment, every part of me was repulsed and repelled by the idea. I let him push me down until I was level with his cock, but a little voice inside my head was screaming at me.
I whimpered softly and tried to pull away, but he held me there. “Oh, Aro, you were just starting to enjoy it… Now behave, or I’ll have to give you a whipping.”
I flinched. I thought he was starting to be kind, but if he was still willing to whip the skin from my back, then perhaps I was wrong about him. I leaned forward slowly. I would do it, but I wanted to do it on my own terms, I didn’t want to be forced into it. Forced into it any more then I was already being forced into it anyway…
I kept expecting him to force my head down, but he didn’t. He just held me still while I tentatively stuck my tongue out to taste a man’s cock for the first time. It was right in front of my nose, eager and hard and twitching. I could see the tip of my tongue touching it for the first time. It was warm, and it tasted salty.
I rested on my hands and knees, and I moved forward so the head of his cock moved between my lips. I moved down, it was surprisingly easy if I just didn’t think. His thick cock moved smoothly in and out of my mouth, bumping the back of my throat. I wrapped my hand around the base of him. He tasted like olive oil and musk. I realized that I was tasting myself.
That wasn’t all I was tasting. As I rubbed my tongue over the head tentatively, I tasted clear precome oozing from the slit. It was salty, and earthy. I liked the sensation, and I wrapped my lips around his head to suck the precome from the slit.
He hissed softly, and pushed my head down. I flinched, but he just chuckled. “Down boy… I’m not made of leather.”
I raised my head. “Sorry.” I whispered tentatively. He grinned, and I couldn’t help but like the fondness in his eyes.
I lowered my head and wrapped my lips around the hot smooth head. I could feel the foreskin against my lips, and I pushed it back as I pushed my head down. I could taste droplets of his precome on my tongue.
He stroked my hair, and suddenly he was lying back. He lolled on his back, propped up by pillows. He pulled me between his legs to keep sucking on his member. I had to lie down on my stomach to get comfortable. I propped myself up on my elbows and tentatively pulled the tip of his member into my mouth. I tried to go deep, as if my mouth was a woman’s pussy. I could only take a little of him without choking.
I flinched when he tangled his fingers in my hair. “Stop trying so hard Aro. It’s not about how deep you go. Use your hand, see? Just suck on the tip, nice and gentle. Use your tongue… Ahh… there you go…”
I wrapped my hand around the base of his shaft. I could feel the thick dark reddish hair covering his groin against my hand, and a few hairs near the base of his dick. I accidentally drooled a little over his cock, and I tried to hide it by rubbing the saliva in. He growled with pleasure and stroked my hair. I tried to do it again, drool over his member and rub the saliva around with my hand.
“You learn fast boy… Keep licking the tip, and rub harder.” I did so. It was like a puzzle that I needed to solve somehow. At least I thought it was like that, until I realized that my own cock was rock-hard. He wasn’t touching me, he wasn’t pounding my sweet spot, I was aroused. That was just another low that I had reached. I found myself moaning as I sucked on the rigid flesh of his cock, and rubbed his thick base.
He was growling with pleasure. He put the flat of his hands on my head and forced my head down so hard that I choked with surprise, and suddenly I could taste something thick and bitter and creamy. It was his come. He was coming in my mouth.
He was breathing heavily. I was sucking on his cock, feeling his come fill my mouth. I wanted to spit it out, but he took my jaw in his hands and looked into my eyes.
“Swallow it boy.” I was frozen in the shadow of his amazing pale eyes. I felt my throat work, and his creamy semen coating my throat. I was suddenly and painfully thirsty. I looked down. I had swallowed it. Swallowed a man’s come, like a moaning whore in a dirty story. I felt my eyes stinging.
Haagan leaned over me, and pushed me down onto my back. He was moving slowly, his smile was warm, and his eyes were lazy, half-shut. He reached for my groin, and I flinched. I thought he was reaching for my anus, that he wanted to fuck me again. A rational part of my mind told me that he wouldn’t be able to fuck me so soon, but I was scared anyway.
I gasped when his hand wrapped around the shaft of my cock, and he stroked me gently. I closed my eyes and moved my hips gently. My body was betraying me. My body always betrayed me. By being weak, being aroused, being human. His fingers were so rough, but so warm. I could sense the strength in them. He was being so gentle, but if he wanted he could clamp his hand on the most vulnerable part of me, and cause unimaginable pain. I was shaking, not because I thought he would do it, but because I was so completely at his mercy.
I flinched when his finger touched my sore anus. I was right, he was reaching there. The tip of his finger slid easily into the sheath of my asshole, I was still slick down there, with traces of oil and come.
It hurt, my sphincter was bruised and softened, and the walls were battered, but it was just one finger at least. I whined softly as he continued to stroke my aching cock and wormed his finger deeper inside me. I gasped when the tip of his thick digit touched my sweet spot.
I shivered and felt my body break out into sweat. He was grinning up at me, grinning lazily. Part of me hated him so badly, as he had me there, helpless and sweating and moaning with his finger up my ass. The rest of me loved him for it, and that just made me hate myself even more.
Tears leaked from my eyes as I whimpered and felt come spurt from my throbbing aching cock.
He grinned down at me, and gave my cock a small pat. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? Come here.”
I flinched when his ropy muscular arm snaked around my waist and pulled me into his body. I stiffened completely, clenching every muscle. His body was fully against me, warm and smooth and hot and rough with hair in places. I could feel his breath against the back of my neck.
It was dark. I could feel his breath get shallow and slow. He smelled wild, like an animal. His arm relaxed around my waist. I waited, and eventually I heard him snore. I tried to move away. I had to leave. I gasped when his arm tightened, pulling me against his chest.
He muttered something, and snored. I wouldn’t be able to leave tonight. I went limp, and felt tears leak from my eyes. I was so confused, so tired. I needed to sleep, or the slave-master would punish me. He would probably already punish me for not leaving after the first round.
Haagan… He had been one of the men who captured me. He had made it so I became a kitchen slave instead of one of the poor bastards in the fields or the mines. He made me feel amazing, and I couldn’t deny the arousal and lust that I felt when he touched my body. At the same time, I couldn’t deny how scared I was of him. It went against every instinct, everything that I had learned, to relax and trust this man. Our masters were cruel, always. But here was Haagan, who had taken me into his room, fed me, fucked me, but made sure I came both times. I just didn’t know how to feel.
He grunted and pulled the covers over us both. I blinked, suddenly drowsy. His breath was warm and steady on the back of my neck. He was a strong virile man, and I would need to get some sleep before he woke up again.
I closed my eyes, and I fell gratefully into the arms of sleep.
—
I was wrong.
I thought that he would wake me up again, but when I opened my eyes it was daytime. I could hear the fires roaring, and I could hear the slave bell ringing. It took all of my self control not to leap from the mattress and sprint to the kitchens.
Also, his arm was still tight around my waist, and he was snoring softly into my ear. I pulled the covers up a little higher, over my shoulders.
I had time to rest, and to think. I would most definitely get punished for this night of neglecting my duties. Girls were switched if they stayed with one man for too long, and men were punished harder then the women. I wanted to stay with Haagan as long as I could.
I realized that I was considering seducing him when he woke up. Anything to have him stay with me… Even fucking me again, but my asshole was so sore.
I could feel his heartbeat, his rough chest, his limp genitals. I could feel his short beard against the back of my neck. I closed my eyes. I couldn’t help it, I couldn’t ignore it. I had feelings for Haagan. My feelings were desperate, and confused, and a little frightened. But Haagan was still the first person to have treated me with any sort of kindness or gentleness since I had been enslaved four years ago. He had taken care of me, in his own way. The alcohol and the oil… Even when he made sure to make me come.
He was so warm. My stomach felt sick at the thought of how I would be punished for my absence… But his presence comforted me.
He shifted with a groan, and his hand moved up further so it was resting on my chest. I shivered at the sensation on my sensitive nipple. He was not awake, just moving around as he slept. As he settled into his new position, I settled too.
I was going to get punished, I might as well wring out every ounce of pleasure that I could.
—
I felt it when he woke up for real. He yawned and stretched like a cat. He kissed the back of my neck and rolled out of bed, rubbing his temples and grimacing. I stayed frozen for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. I could hear the stream of his urine hitting the bottom of the chamber pot.
I rolled over and peeked at him from under the covers. I could see the muscular expanse of his back and shoulders, his firm chiseled buttocks and firm muscled legs. He was a prime fit example of a man. His reddish hair was shorn close to his head, and I could make out the tendons in the back of his neck.
He prodded the fire, kneeling so his muscles moved and flexed under the skin. He stoked it and added a split log.
I moved slowly, stretching under the covers. I jumped when he looked back at me. His eyes were piercing and cold. My anus felt numb and painful. When he looked away again, I reached between my legs to feel. The little ring of muscle was raw, and stretched, and it still felt oily.
He took a deep drink from the pitcher, and then to my horror, he was reaching for his leggings. He couldn’t get dressed now! I didn’t want to go back!
“Um… M-Master Haagan?” He looked at me and grinned warmly.
“What is it Kitten?”
The endearment shocked me. Shut me up. I just didn’t know what to think, so I looked down and shut my mouth. What was I doing? And why did I feel such a humiliating mixture of pleasure and indignity at my new nickname?
He snorted softly, and he dropped his leggings to walk back to the bed. I was gratified and hesitant to see that his thick cock was soft, but starting to twitch. He reached out, and I did everything in my power not to flinch when he cupped my jaw in his warm hand. He tilted my head so I was looking up into his pale eyes.
“Come on, don’t clam up now. What was it you were going to say Kitten?”
My mouth felt frozen. My tongue felt like a stone covered in leather. I managed to speak, but not the words I had wanted to say. I needed to seduce him, bring him back, but all that would come out of my mouth was.
“Please… Don’t go.”
He wasn’t smiling anymore. My breath caught in my throat. Was he angry?
“What is that old cook going to do to you when you get back?” This Haagan was different. All night long he had been half-drunk and jovial, horny and gleeful. Now he looked serious.
I told him the truth. “Strip me in the courtyard, pour water on me and whip me, Sir.” His fingers tightened slightly on my jaw and I flinched. I couldn’t meet his piercing blue eyes. They were just too intense.
He was very quiet. Then he startled a little cry out of me when he leaned in and kissed me hard. This was different then before, intense, like he was trying to swallow me whole. When he broke it, I couldn’t help but look him in the eye. He was smiling again, and something inside of me melted.
“That wont happen.” He murmured.
Then I was on my back, with his naked body over me, kissing him hard enough that my lips hurt and feeling his hard cock dig into my stomach. He was reaching, reaching for something I couldn’t see. I didn’t try to see it, one of my hands was tangled in his hair and the other was on the flat of his back. I didn’t know how I felt, and I didn’t care. I was exhilarated and breathless, my cock was hardening fast, grinding against his hard stomach.
I felt a sudden panic and exhilaration when his fingers were between my legs, slick with oil. I froze up, and whimpered softly.
“Hush.” He said gruffly, “It will feel good in a minute.”
I couldn’t help myself. I let out a scared moan when his fingers penetrated, just underlining how sore I was. He stuck two fingers inside of me and I squirmed with discomfort. I closed my eyes tight, and I could feel him slathering his cock with oil. He was panting with how eager he was, his breath was moist and hot in my ear. I clung to his back, eyes wide open, shivering and looking up at the wooden ceiling.
His cock pushed at my sore and violated entrance, and then pushed in. I let out a muffled cry of pain, and Haagan shushed me gruffly, groaning under his breath. He started moving his hips in shallow thrusts, grinding my battered insides with his thick throbbing member. I was panting so quickly and shallowly it sounded like I was crying. My fingernails dug into his back, and he grunted. I couldn’t help it. It felt like I was being split open by a tree.
I let out a high-pitched mew of pleasure and relief as he hit my sweet spot. It was a magical place, that eased the pain and filled me with intoxicating pleasure.
He kissed me, and it was welcome. Tears were streaming down my face from the pain of the initial entry. When he kissed me, he slowed down, grinding the head of his cock against my sweet spot and darting his tongue in my mouth to taste me while I clung to him and wrapped my legs around his flexing lower back.
He broke the kiss and tucked his chin behind my shoulder. He dug his hands under me and clasped my shoulders, he spread his legs, and suddenly he was pistoning in and out of me. I cried out with pleasure and eye-watering pain as he reamed me open, my aching cock bouncing between us, his hot grunts in my ear.
He grunted and thrust very hard, his entire body tense and trembling like a wire. I was numb down there, but I could still feel the hot come leaking out of me. Feel his hard cock softening inside of me.
He sat up, panting. Suddenly his hand was on my cock, stroking and squeezing. His one hand cradled my testes and squeezed them very gently. I cried out and arched my back. The pleasure was intense and hot and everywhere after the pain. I was rushing towards a climax so quickly that I didn’t care how I looked.
I writhed on the bed and clutched handfuls of the coverlet in my hands and I let out a gasping cry when I felt my groin explode with pleasure. I could feel hot liquid drops landing on my abdomen and chest.
I panted, and went limp. Haagan lay down on top of me, crushing my body underneath his, his head resting on the bed, his ear against my cheek. I could feel him panting, his chest expanding and getting smaller. I could feel his soft cock against my softening cock. I could feel his heart beating, his wiry hair against me. His hot breath in my ear.
I tentatively rested my hands on his back, one between his shoulder blades, one on his lower back, feeling the ridge of his spine. His arms were splayed above me. He was exhausted. The sex had been brief, violent, and he was covered in sweat.
I closed my eyes. I just wanted to sleep, to cherish the extra few minutes I had until I would have to report to the slave-master. I couldn’t sleep though. My stomach felt upset.
He had just violated me. It had been so painful that I had been crying and begging for him to stop. He still hadn’t stopped. He had taken my innocence, three times. I was in a lot of pain. I should have hated him, but I didn’t.
His weight was constricting, but it felt nice. I liked the warmth of his body draped over mine. I liked him. He had given me something new, and precious. I had never been able to have pleasure before, half of the time when we settled into our straw beds at night, I was too tired even to stroke myself. My asshole was sore and gaping and burning, but I felt empty. I wanted to be filled again.
And with that, my eyes closed.
—
I was being shaken awake. I jumped blearily into alertness, looking around frantically, ready to duck or dodge a blow.
I relaxed only slightly when I saw that Haagan was over me. He was fully clothed, in leather leggings and a linen shirt and a horsehair vest and a long gray cloak. He was wearing his heavy riding boots and all ready to go. I felt sick to my stomach. The slave-master was not going to be lenient with me.
Haagan’s voice was chipper and alert. “Hup, Aro, it’s time to go!”
I pulled the covers around my skinny chest. I had several oval red marks on my chest from where he had given me hickeys. “Wh-What do you mean, S-Sir?”
“I bought you Kitten… You’re coming with me. I had one of the girls fetch your things, so get dressed. It’s two days ride to Whitthorne.”
He was right. My pitiful bundle of belongings was neatly wrapped on the floor, and he had even laid out some fresh clothes for me to wear. I was trying to think, trying to comprehend the consequences.
I was no longer the slave of Boris Strong-Hammer. I belonged to Haagan now. I belonged to the man who had fucked my ass raw. I belonged to the man who I secretly desired, despite (or perhaps because of) the things he did with my body.
I rolled out of the bed, naked and sore. He was full of energy. He pulled my linen shirt over my head, talking about how eager he was to be home.
He was treating me differently now. There was a gentleness to his movements that had been absent. He fastened the cloak over my shoulders, and held me at arms length to take a look at me.
“Damn, you are a pretty little man aren’t you? Follow me Aro, we’re leaving.”
I moved through the hallways and into the main hall. Many of the men were still sleeping. Disheveled and red-eyed serving girls cleaned up and served watered wine and porridge to those who were awake. The men were mostly hungover, and they eyed the girls blearily, as if wondering if it was worth it to take them.
I walked through the hall in a sort of daze. My ass felt sore, but in a good way. Just walking made me feel how my asshole had been stretched, and it was making me horny. I was leaving. It didn’t seem possible, but I was leaving.
The skeptical, sensible part of my mind warned me that Haagan might be just as cruel. He might even be worse. I might be working sixteen hours a day and then still expected to be fucked every night.
But I was still hopeful. Was it wrong of me to hope that my life would get better with him? Was it really too much to ask for?