cinnibear

The Chest #2

  • She awoke from her very fitful sleep. She was still knelt in front of the chest her fingers splayed across the top. Sleep did nothing for her anxiety or for the fact she was contemplating returning to Ko-ro-ba. She knew to go back would mean she would enter the city as a unowned slave. She didn't even know if Lusa was still on the continent. She would surely be captured and sent to the slaves market.
  • She was a very well trained slave and could easily fetch a fitting price for a Master looking for such quality. But it has been years since she had served and maybe some brushing up was in order if she was going to pull it off again.
  • She knelt on what would be a serving fur. She remembered her training. Her thighs where kissed together.(since she is unowned and not displaying for her Master). Her hands rested lightly Palm up on her thighs. Her back was straight and shoulders pulled back thrusting her breasts out and up. Her hair fell in auburn ringlets down her back barely grazing her rounded backside.
  • She heard his call to be served. Her pulse thundered in her ears and she swallowed back her fear. Master what can this girl get for you? Her voice was light just above a whisper. His steely gaze turned to her. His lips curled into a slight smile. She was a vision no doubt but still a slave. His lust filled mind concocted many a sight of her serving his every need on her knees or in his furs. His leather breeches tightened slightly as he regarded her and growled his response. Paga lightly warmed girl. He turned his attention back to the room but still watched this creature as she moved with the fluid grace of a tarn in flight.
  • Yes Master warmed paga. She whispered his order back to him and raised from the furs. Her delicate hands ran the course of her frame smoothing out any imperfections in her silk wraps. Every so slightly peeking up to get a look at the stunning male she was about to serve. Turning fluidly towards the service quarters the only sound was the light tinkling of her slave bells about her ankles. Her luscious hips swayed softly and her hair brushed the dimples just above her bottom. Drawing his attention to the beautiful perfection of her ass.
  • Peeking back through lowered lashes she sees his obvious approval of her. A small smile curves her full lips as she makes her way into the service area. Sapphire eyes scan the shelves looking for a proper vessel in witch to serve this Master his paga. Spotting a wooden chalice on the very top shelf.
  • She steps forward and lifts up on the balls of her feet. Her slender arms reach up above her. Tiny fingers splayed wide hopping to tip the edge and bring the vessel down from its resting place. A slight nudge of her fingers dislodges the vessel causing it to tumble free of the shelf. Catching it gracefully before it smashes into the counter.
  • She reaches to the right and plucks the cloth from the counter. Her eyes scan the vessel for any imperfections that would damage his supple lips. Running the rim across her breasts lightly feeling no tugs or rips to her flesh she starts to rub the vessel with the towel she previously acquired. Rubbing diligently at all the surface until it gleams in the lamp light she deposits the towel back onto the counter and turns for the supply room.
  • She retrieves the Sul Paga from the supply room where it was nestled closest to the outer bricks of the roasting pit. She tucks it securely under her arm and exits the room. Lights quick steps bring her back to the handsome Master. Her eyes lowered to the floor she melts to her knees before him. Quickly nestling the paga between her thighs.
  • She bends forward and lightly grasps the cork with her teeth and pulls until she hears the pop of the cork. Lifting the bottle from her thighs she fills the Masters chalice and sets the bottle aside. Her hands remain steady as she lifts the vessel to her lips and places a chaste kiss to its rim.
  • She turns it carefully three quarters of a turn then lifts it high above her head with her head bowed between her arms. Barely above a whisper she says. Master this slave prays the paga will warm your belly as much as this service to you has warmed this slaves belly.
  • She waits for him to take the vessel from her hand and dismiss her back to the furs. His voice was barely a growl. Very nice girl you may go back to the furs.
  • She bends forward and places a kiss at his feet between his boots and whispers. Thank You Master. Then she scoots back and raises gracefully to a stand. Takes three paces back and turns. Her slave bells chime softly as she returns to the serving furs to await another Masters call for her service.
  • She blinks her eyes stunned at how easily she remembered how to serve. Her hand traced the lock and then she looked at the key nestled in her hand. Her fingers trembled as she put the key in the lock. Her eyes fixated on the clasp. All she has to do now is turn the key. Her breath catches and she drops her hand into her lap. She scans the room and then stands muttering softly. Not quite yet.....
  • To be continued.
aalice11
damsels-distress:

bimboisbetter:

Rich eyed her outfit lecherously. Mary squirmed on the couch - at least, she tried to. It came across as more of an excited wiggle. She bit her lip, hand sliding down to her legs, thighs clenching together.
Jesus, she thought, how did he do this to me? Why can’t I stop myself?
Ever since meeting Rich, she’d had no control. He so much as looked at her and she felt her panties get damp. He’d told her once that he thought she’d look good in a skirt - that night, she threw out every pair of pants she owned. He complimented her hair and she started wearing it down all the time, growing it out.
She’d tried to explain it to herself at first as some kind of crush or something, but that was never really very convincing. She was out of control. More specifically, she had no control. She was quite literally not in control of herself. It was frightening. It didn’t seem to matter what she thought or felt or wanted. When it came to Rich, Mary acted completely independent of her own logical thought process. She just… acted.
It scared her, wondering how far she was going to go. She was already doing damage to her life. She’d started calling in sick to work to go hang out with Rich. Whenever he saw her, he’d comment on her outfit, which had caused her to completely reinvent her entire wardrobe. Now, she didn’t wear anything unless it made her look like some kind of walking high school wet dream.
Once, when she was at Rich’s place, hanging all over him like she couldn’t keep herself from doing, he made a comment. She was telling him something - who knew what, she tended to just babble like an idiot around him - and he said “Baby, you talk too much.”
Just like that, Mary changed. It was like turning off a ceiling fan - she kept talking, but slowly, over time, things wound down. She found it harder and harder to string together full sentences. Words of more than two syllables felt difficult. Then words of more than one. Within two days of Rich saying that, Mary suddenly found it all but impossible to communicate anything through words. She was relying on giggles and nods, ‘ummmm’ and ‘uhhh’ and simple body language. And she wasn’t in control of her body.
So now, here she was, sitting on the Rich’s couch, unable to even begin to say what was going on inside her mind.
"Are you excited, baby?" he asked, leaning back in his chair.
No, she thought, I’m terrified. I don’t know what you’re doing to me, and I can’t stop it. I’m throwing my life away to be some trashy little plaything you fuck with for your amusement, and I can’t even figure out why I’m doing it!
She tried to scream that at him. Instead, she bit her lip and nodded eagerly with a smile.
"Yeah? Are you nice and wet for me?"
I fucking hate it, but yes. I can’t help it. I’m always wet around you. My body betrays me. I can’t stop it. If I was in control I’d be running out of that door and probably calling the cops.
She slid her hand a little further up her legs, nodded slowly, and batted her eyes at him.
Rich unzipped his pants with a grin. “Good,” he said, “come over here.”
Mary stood up, a wide smile on her face. Rich held up a hand. “Ah ah ah…” he said, smirking. “On the floor.”
Oh jesus. You can’t be serious. You asshole. I can’t believe you’re making me do this.
Mary blinked slowly. “Ummm…?” she said, and slowly sank to her knees. When she saw Rich’s look of approval, she smiled, and crawled over to him, slowly. He opened his pants, his hard cock standing at attention. “Oooooh…” Mary cooed softly.
Stop. Just stop. Get up and leave, Mary ordered herself as she crawled. You don’t have to do this. You’re in control. He doesn’t own you. You’re not a slave, not his slut, not some bimbo whore like you’ve been acting. Just stop! Run!
Mary knelt between Rich’s legs, sitting up to rub her cheek against his cock. “Mmmm…” she purred. She giggled.
(Thanks to the anon who suggested the idea behind this - a girl who can only giggle and say things like ‘ummmm’. Lovely! Hope you enjoyed the end result!)

Preserving a bit of the work of the Mysterious and now Missing “Summer”.  Whoever he or she is …  I hope this person is doing well.

damsels-distress:

bimboisbetter:

Rich eyed her outfit lecherously. Mary squirmed on the couch - at least, she tried to. It came across as more of an excited wiggle. She bit her lip, hand sliding down to her legs, thighs clenching together.

Jesus, she thought, how did he do this to me? Why can’t I stop myself?

Ever since meeting Rich, she’d had no control. He so much as looked at her and she felt her panties get damp. He’d told her once that he thought she’d look good in a skirt - that night, she threw out every pair of pants she owned. He complimented her hair and she started wearing it down all the time, growing it out.

She’d tried to explain it to herself at first as some kind of crush or something, but that was never really very convincing. She was out of control. More specifically, she had no control. She was quite literally not in control of herself. It was frightening. It didn’t seem to matter what she thought or felt or wanted. When it came to Rich, Mary acted completely independent of her own logical thought process. She just… acted.

It scared her, wondering how far she was going to go. She was already doing damage to her life. She’d started calling in sick to work to go hang out with Rich. Whenever he saw her, he’d comment on her outfit, which had caused her to completely reinvent her entire wardrobe. Now, she didn’t wear anything unless it made her look like some kind of walking high school wet dream.

Once, when she was at Rich’s place, hanging all over him like she couldn’t keep herself from doing, he made a comment. She was telling him something - who knew what, she tended to just babble like an idiot around him - and he said “Baby, you talk too much.”

Just like that, Mary changed. It was like turning off a ceiling fan - she kept talking, but slowly, over time, things wound down. She found it harder and harder to string together full sentences. Words of more than two syllables felt difficult. Then words of more than one. Within two days of Rich saying that, Mary suddenly found it all but impossible to communicate anything through words. She was relying on giggles and nods, ‘ummmm’ and ‘uhhh’ and simple body language. And she wasn’t in control of her body.

So now, here she was, sitting on the Rich’s couch, unable to even begin to say what was going on inside her mind.

"Are you excited, baby?" he asked, leaning back in his chair.

No, she thought, I’m terrified. I don’t know what you’re doing to me, and I can’t stop it. I’m throwing my life away to be some trashy little plaything you fuck with for your amusement, and I can’t even figure out why I’m doing it!

She tried to scream that at him. Instead, she bit her lip and nodded eagerly with a smile.

"Yeah? Are you nice and wet for me?"

I fucking hate it, but yes. I can’t help it. I’m always wet around you. My body betrays me. I can’t stop it. If I was in control I’d be running out of that door and probably calling the cops.

She slid her hand a little further up her legs, nodded slowly, and batted her eyes at him.

Rich unzipped his pants with a grin. “Good,” he said, “come over here.”

Mary stood up, a wide smile on her face. Rich held up a hand. “Ah ah ah…” he said, smirking. “On the floor.”

Oh jesus. You can’t be serious. You asshole. I can’t believe you’re making me do this.

Mary blinked slowly. “Ummm…?” she said, and slowly sank to her knees. When she saw Rich’s look of approval, she smiled, and crawled over to him, slowly. He opened his pants, his hard cock standing at attention. “Oooooh…” Mary cooed softly.

Stop. Just stop. Get up and leave, Mary ordered herself as she crawled. You don’t have to do this. You’re in control. He doesn’t own you. You’re not a slave, not his slut, not some bimbo whore like you’ve been acting. Just stop! Run!

Mary knelt between Rich’s legs, sitting up to rub her cheek against his cock. “Mmmm…” she purred. She giggled.

(Thanks to the anon who suggested the idea behind this - a girl who can only giggle and say things like ‘ummmm’. Lovely! Hope you enjoyed the end result!)

Preserving a bit of the work of the Mysterious and now Missing “Summer”.  Whoever he or she is …  I hope this person is doing well.