Breeding a Lady, Breeding a Slave (Breeding Sex, BBW, Romance, Fantasy) (Erotic Tales of the Barbarian Empire) Read online

  BREEDING A LADY, BREEDING A SLAVE:

  TWO TALES FROM THE BARBARIAN EMPIRE

  By Celia Demure

  Copyright: 2013 Celia Demure

  All rights reserved

  Series: Erotic Tales of the Barbarian Empire

  Contents

  Breeding a Slave

  Breeding a Lady

  Breeding a Slave

  I found her at the slave auction at Kymeira Square. An acquaintance of mine, the Lesser-Lord Elonis Gal, pulled me along to the place, as he wanted to survey the load of petite blonde Kyssan pleasure-girls that had just arrived. I had business with him, and grudgingly obliged to accompany him out of courtesy.

  I watched the small ladies led onto the stage, stripped, displayed. Some of them were pretty enough, but I was irritated and tried to push my business with the boorish Gal. He was, alas, more interested in finding a Kyssan girl with a tight bottom he might enjoy reddening with his whip…

  Gal had already made several purchases when one of the final groups of females was brought to the front.

  And then… SHE was there.

  I am not sure how she came to be mixed with them. She was of a sturdy build, yet generously curved—as I could see even under the bulky robe she wore. The slave-masters led her onto the stage with two of the petite Kyssans, then pulled the loose robes from all three so that their features might be fully displayed in nakedness. It was a chill morning with a mist of rain, and the two small Kyssan girls shivered… but she stood steady and proud, oblivious to the cold.

  And she had reason to be proud. My eyes grew wide as I admired her body. Shoulders squared and strong, yet arms tapering to hands that were almost dainty. Proud breasts with nipples standing out in the cold like tiny pink fingers. Below them, the curve of her soft, rounded belly … Her hips flared wide, dramatically so, and my gaze was drawn to them and the image of feminine fecundity they seemed to represent, the dark curling hairs between the softly padded thighs…

  One of the slave masters turned them, and I had a good view of her broad back, body tapering towards her waist, then broad again at her full and luscious buttocks. Her long brown hair hung in a braid, down to the small of her flawless back.

  When the slave masters turned the females ‘round again, I saw her face.

  Dearest Goddess! If my loins had been stirred before, this was the moment my heart jumped.

  Those eyes, big, wet, some color I almost couldn’t name, maybe grey? They were downcast, but just once I saw them turn up, quickly scan the audience, and I imagined they met mine…

  They were set under bold eyebrows and a flawless forehead. A delicate little nose, and a mouth … Ahhhh! The mouth was wide, lips full and pouting, suggesting pride and vulnerability at once. Lips I HAD to kiss. There was no choice.

  A slave master held his open-palmed hand above her head, signal for the bid.

  My arm shot skyward and I placed a bid of 20,000 Gessae. Gal looked shocked at my sudden intensity and willingness to spend; the bid was indeed rather high to open. I did not care.

  My bid was not challenged, and in a few moments she was mine, only a few debit papers to sign. While I waited to collect her, a slave master handed me her pedigree, and I read it with hands strangely quivering.

  It said she was a Lady from a minor house of the island of Knelle, a nation defeated several years before on the Grand Fleet’s Quincentenary voyage of conquest. I recalled that most of the people had been destroyed in earthquakes and a rain of fire which our naval mages brought down …

  Still, for a Lady, 20,000 might not be so bad a price. She’d formerly been owned by an Outland estate, the name of which was not given. A scrawled note from her former master noted her as fairly obedient, but too withdrawn for his tastes.

  He also stated that her response to the whip was indifferent. For some reason, the idea of those strong shoulders and soft back under the lash coiled my stomach. Of course, there would be no scars, as the slave-masters employed expert healer-mages to polish up their wares and hide evidence of such previous use…

  I had almost forgotten about my “friend” Elonis Gal, until he met me at the holding pens, where I was to collect my new acquisition. He had two tiny little Kyssans on either side of him, being fitted with traveling-chains. One of the yellow-haired girls was red-faced and crying.

  “Hush!” he barked. “When I get you home, I’ll bend you over and give you good reason for that. Save your cries for when I can relax and enjoy them.”

  He turned to me, his pudgy face studying me as if I were a mad beggar on the street. “20,000 for a plump Knellian wench? My friend, I do hope you find some use for her.”

  A slave-master called my name, then opened a side-gate.

  There she was, my newly-bought beauty, clad in her rough robe again. She stepped forward slowly, her head low. Yet there was grace in her step—a strange surety—and she did not hesitate to walk towards me, accepting her fate, her new master.

  “Look at me,” I commanded.

  The face turned up, those wet grey eyes met mine, darted away as if looking at something in the distance, then locked on mine again …

  She extended her arms, hands palm up, a surrendering gesture. Her full lips quivered a moment, then she spoke, a melodious and unmistakably feminine voice, trembling only slightly.

  “I am… ahhh… yours,” she stated, the traditional submissive greeting of slave to a new master.

  Her voice was heavily accented, and her cadence was odd, hesitating, as if she had memorized the words phonetically.

  “Use me gently if you will, ahhh—Master.”

  I stayed close by her side as she was fitted with traveling-chains. The slave-masters told me she would be delivered shortly, as they had a few others to escort to new owners in the high manors first.

  I nodded, and locked eyes with her before heading home, only hoping that they would hurry, wanting to see her again—and touch her—as soon as I was able …

  #

  When she first arrived at my house, she was skittish and tense, flinched at my touch, turned her head ever so slightly as if to deflect my kiss.

  She bore my attentions quietly and obediently, but she did not enjoy them, those grey eyes always wide in some state of mild panic that never left while my touch was upon her.

  Something in those trembling eyes touched me, yet I tried to shrug it off. She was, after all, purchased for MY pleasure, to be used as a vessel for MY lust.

  Why need I concern myself with her fears or discomfort?

  I did not think myself to be an imposing man. I am tall, and keep my body firm and strong through swimming and running, but I am hardly a brute. My greying, close-cropped hair and dark, small eyes give me a somewhat severe appearance, I’ve been told … But numerous females had found those very features enticing in the past.

  So why did she flinch at my touch? And… Ye Gods… Why did I care so much what she did or thought!

  I had my servant Azul purchase a padded collar for her neck, and a gilded chain. I myself fitted the collar on her, and secured it with its tiny golden key. As the lock clicked, she closed her eyes … then opened them slowly, those wet orbs open wide, staring at me.

  She knew her fate was in my hands now…

  Her cell was a small closet off of the hallway close to my bedroom, fitted with silken cushions and a high barred window through which the moon could shine brightly on many nights. I had used it for some rare meditations previously;
now, it would be her home.

  That night, I visited her cell. As I ran my hands over her voluptuous body, enjoying the softness of her skin, my touch wandered up across the exquisite pillow of her slightly curved belly, towards the proud breasts… each the size of a ripened sun-fruit, not too large but a firm handful, enticing and haughty somehow in the way they stood out. The areolae were a deep coral pink, and I remembered how her nipples had stood out in the chill of the auction…

  I slid my finger around her right nipple, slowly, teasingly, and felt her shudder.

  But this was a different kind of shudder, deeper… and perhaps—just perhaps—not borne of fear this time.

  I felt the nipple grow taut, extending. I slowly rolled it between two fingers, and she shuddered again, and moaned.

  I leaned down and took her left nipple into my mouth, suckling like an infant. Her legs kicked in an involuntary motion, her eyes going wide.

  Her former master had called her withdrawn? What rough touch had he used on her?

  I pinched one nipple while continuing to suck on the other, then nibbling … The slightly salty taste of it teased my tongue, and there was something else, a scent in my nostrils, musky and primal and pungent.

  Had she become aroused that quickly?

  Sliding my hand down from her nipple, down over the soft belly, I guided it over the soft curls between her thighs, felt a sticky dampness, then softness as my fingers slid over the lips of her sex …

  She moaned again.

  I slid a finger inside, slowly. The tightness of the spongy passage was amazing, conforming to my finger as I slowly slid it deeper.

  I had heard of women who maintained a natural tightness sometimes exceeding that of virgins, and was retained with experience. But this was new to me, and incredible.

  My finger fully nested, I used my thumb to slowly rub her clitoris, hidden under the pink flap of her prominent clitoral hood. She gasped and let out a series of rhythmic moans as I continued to fondle her there… all the while her taut nipple still in my mouth.

  I had to have her!

  I pulled my hand and mouth away, and she let out a soft sigh, as if of disappointment.

  I pushed her to her back, pried her legs apart. My phallus stood before me, hard and angry and red … Dripping with lust, burning with need, my heavy, dangling seed-sacs full and tight with the essence of lust which she had elicited.

  I knew that my lustful male ‘serpent’ was larger than most. But she’d had her share of cocks, surely?

  I saw her womanhood glistening in the moonlight with her sticky flowings, and aimed for that vulnerable target…

  I had intended to be gentle, the civilized part of my mind still fighting against my lust.

  But when I moved forward and those soft, wet nether lips of hers kissed the head of my male weapon, my hips responded to some low instinct…

  With an animal grunt, I thrust my maleness fully into her, sinking into the embrace of the tightest silken sheath I could ever imagine.

  She let out a pained gasp, like a soft scream, and her face contorted, eyes closed, teeth clenched and brow wrinkled in pain.

  One part of my wanted to keep thrusting, to use this flesh without regard as I should rightfully do with my property. But another, more tender part won out.

  I stopped thrusting, feeling myself nestled deep up in her warm belly. I stroked her cheek and softly kissed her forehead.

  Her eyes opened, and she looked at me as if questioning.

  “Shhh,” I said.

  I felt her relax under me, and slowly I began thrusting again, so very slowly. The friction of her tight passage was still amazing, I could feel the soft contours massaging every inch of my member as it slid in those moist confines… So slowly, tenderly, I moved in and out.

  Her mouth parted, and she began a series of soft gasps, enjoying herself now.

  I picked up my tempo slightly, thrusting full in at the end of each stroke. I pulled her legs up to my shoulders to get as deep as possible, wanting to experience as much of her as I could, wanting the head of my phallus to kiss the mouth of her womb.

  Her climax came without much warning, starting gently and shortly growing more violent. Her moans took on a sharpness, became louder, her face and shoulders suddenly flushed.

  And then the squeezing commenced.

  I felt a low throbbing around my member inside her, as if her womanhood was conducting the pulse of her heart. The throbbing became a sort of churning, as her eyes flew wide and her mouth opened and she loudly began a melodious moan, a single utterance of pleasure broken only by the breaths she was forced to take, growing in loudness and pitch.

  I stopped moving, buried deep inside her.

  Her passage churned around my phallus, kneading it, milking it, like a thousand silken fingers stroking every spot, from the base to the flared head, and I felt my moment approach. My balls clenched in their sac as my body prepared to deliver the issuance which would complete the coupling.

  I was fighting now, her spasming passage so tight that at times it seemed it might almost force me out. I would not let that happen; the male animal part of me was quite determined complete this mating in the proper manner.

  I grabbed her shoulders, and held her close and tight, feeling her breath on my ear as she moaned, tasting the sweat on her skin.

  I thrust harder, deeper than before, and began to shake as my climax hit.

  I felt the first pulse as a pressure building in my loins, then an ecstatic fire coursing up my member. Her moans had been growing more soft, but as she felt me throb inside her she made a loud noise, and I swear I saw her smile…

  Gods, I thought as the pleasure-spasms wracked my body, it’s as if she craves my very seed!

  With each spurt inside her, my head jerked slightly, muscles jerking down the length of my body, the climax overwhelming me.

  One, two, three spurts… My entire body working for only one purpose: to fill her with my seed.

  I could feel the increased moistness as I added my male essence to her fluids, and I kept emptying myself, shaking, panting.

  Four heavy spurts, five, six, the ecstasy unbearable as my member pulsed and spat again and again … Until the seed overflowed and began to run out of her, and I felt it warm and sticky on my ball-sac as it ran out of her to puddle on the silken cushion under her fine posterior.

  When it was done, I lay there inside her for some time, as if in a stupor.

  Only after a time did I become aware that she was softly stroking my cheek, and smiling up at me.

  She let out a disappointed sigh as I pulled my flesh from hers, my maleness disengaging from her sheath with a soft, wet sound. We were both soaked in sweat, the smell of our mixed fluids pungent in the air.

  She was still smiling. I kissed her softly twice, once on her luscious lips, and once on the forehead.

  Azul soon brought moist cloths and a rams-bladder filled with warm water.

  I think he was startled when I insisted on cleaning her, inside and out, myself.

  She sighed as wiped her soft flesh and cleaned her outside with the cooling cloths.

  But, when I moved to rinse out her feminine depths with the water-bladder, she shook her head vigorously, her lips moving in whispers, pleading with me not to do so.

  So he wanted my seed to stay in her womb?

  I nodded and relented, leaving her be “down there.”

  Afterwards, as she settled into sleep, I left her, retiring to my own bedchamber with a feeling of sadness. Some part of me would not have minded spending the night with her in that cell …

  It would have been undignified for the Lord of the house, I knew, but I still wished I had stayed.

  #

  One night, a few weeks later, she sang to me.

  After an intense session of pleasure with her, we had collapsed onto the cushions, still soaked in sweat. My copious seed still dripped from her.

  I had used her well, yet tenderly as I had become accustomed.
And in exchange for my two spewings inside her, I had given her innumerable moments of climactic ecstasy, wonderful to me, seeing her shake and moan and smile softly just after each …

  I did not get up to clean myself or her, yet she didn’t seem to mind.

  She lay with her back to my chest, breathing softly. One of my arms was draped over her breasts, and she clasped my wrist tightly with her dainty hand.

  She made a small noise, like a whispered hum, and she started to sing.

  It should have startled me; after all, she had rarely even spoken before. But I felt so at peace with her, the flood of moonlight soothing our souls, and her singing seemed like something I had longed for, the missing element I did not know was needed.

  The words were Knellian, mostly unknown to me.

  But the rhythm, her emotion carried them… The song turned from happy and light to somber, the melody becoming discordant then harmonious again… and certain words were repeated, savored, then the song moved on… Atrellus, Gnorlleian, Reni …

  Names, I suddenly realized. They were names!

  I had seen Imperial lineage lists, of course; I was keeper of my own family’s records, sketchy though they were, since the Brillean conflict had destroyed our records at Korsus.

  I wondered; was this something similar? Certain words of the song, repeated with the names, must mean married, begat… The entire song was a lineage list! How many generations, fifteen, twenty? If it was like the Imperial lists, it must be going forward in time…

  Cathissa, she sang softly, then words of joy, an etheric melody.

  Then, after a minute, her voice broke for the first and only time, and the song turned dark, her voice more low and rumbling than I could have imagined. I felt her clutch my arm even more tightly, and she seemed to shake.

  The melody lifted slightly again, still the song centered on someone called Cathissa, and now another name, at first unrecognized in her lilting song, but then… I realized…

  It was MY name. This part of the song was about HER life.