Posted by Moore on April 02, 2004 at 06:05:13:
The author would like to gratefully acknowledge the contributions of Diana B.; the star I steer this story by.
Diana woke to a harsh voice. "Wake up, slave," it repeated, louder. Sardinia slapped the bed with one of her leather outfits. "I'm awake," she said groggily. "Thump," went the leather whip-like outfit on the bed next to her. "You will only answer 'Yes Master' or 'No Master.' Do you understand?" he roars at her.
Diana remembered last night when she asked Sardinia to be a little more rougher with her when they were playing. He had apparently taken it to heart. "Yes master," she replied meekly, her eyes downcast.
"Sit up," he orders.
She does as she is told, sitting up and swinging her feet off the bed and onto the floor.
"No," he corrects her. "sit on your heels like a good slave."
"Yes master," she says meekly, looking down. She tucks her feet underneath her and sits up straight.
"Put your hands out in front of you," he orders. She puts her hands out. Sardana grabs her wrists, and ties her hands together with her leather outfit.
He stands over her, and looks pleased at the sight of her kneeling while bound before him.
He puts his hand to her face. "Lick it, slave," he commands.
She licks his index finger, in between it and the middle one, and then she runs her tongue over the length of Sardana's middle finger. She licks his palm, little light licks, feeling the fingers curl with her hungry attention.
"Start sucking my hand, slave," he demands huskily.
"Yes, master," she meekly replies. She takes his middle finger into her mouth, and starts bobbing her head up and down on it.
"Suck me better then that or you are in for a whipping," he growls.
She takes his thumb into her mouth, slides it inside her mouth, over her teeth, then sucks hard on it. Diana slides it back out over her teeth, then leans forward and sucks it in.
"Your a good licking slave." He steps back, his thumb coming out of her mouth with a wet plop. He undoes his pants. His penis, already hard and ready, points at her face. She is hungry for a taste of its musty saltiness.
Diana leans forward, eager to lick him, suck him, please him.
SLAP. Her head turns to the side from the force of the open handed slap across her face. "Did I tell you to suck my dick? You are a slave. You do what I tell you , and only what I tell you."
"Get on your hands and knees," he orders. Her face still stinging she says, "yes master," and gets on her hands and knees, facing away from him.
He runs his hand over her, feeling her, appraising her form, feeling the muscles and the smoothness of her skin. Sardinia moves forward slightly and reaches around to her pussy. He strokes her; an arrogant, possessive pawing. "Do you like my fingers in you?" he asks, cockily.
"Yes master," she answers, trembling.
"You are a slut, slave." He spanks her ass. "Do you like to be spanked, slave?"
"Yes, master."
"You are a pain whore, slave."
He strokes and spanks her for awhile.
"You have nice tits," he growls, taking his hand off her ass and grabbing a handful of her breast. He twists her nipple, causing her to squeak. He straightens up, and slaps her ass, harder then before. "Yes master or no master, nothing else!"
"Yes master."
He rubs against her ass as he leans forward to maul her breasts.
Diana closes her legs and pulls slightly away from his penis, nervous about its proximity to her anus.
He spanks her so hard she falls forward. "You are MY fuck toy!" He puts his hand over her vagina. "This is mine!" He puts both of his hands on her breasts. "These are mine!" He pulls her hair, turning her head, glaring at her. "You are my sex toy to use for my amusement. Don't ever pull away from me again!"
"Yes master," she moans, looking up at him, and breathing hard.
He bends over her, and supports his weight with one arm. He puts his other hand on her clit, and strokes it roughly. After he stokes her, he pushes a finger into her. His breathing is changing more to short, ragged breaths as his hunger for her grows. Finally, he growls in her ear. "Ready slave?"
Without waiting for her reply he straightens up. He pushes his cock into her slit. Sardana grabs her hips, and pulls him toward him, driving himself all the way into her.
He starts thrusting, rubbing her knees on the rough sheets. Her knees hurt as he rocks her back and forth.
"Faster slave. Move your fucking hips faster. Fff ast er," he says, thrusting at each syllable for emphasis.
"Yes master." She receives her master's passion, feeling him in her. Her breasts swing back and forth as he continues driving into her.
"FFF ast er. FFF AST ER!" he demands.
Each of his powerful thrusts inched her forward on the bed. She lowers her head and shoulders to give him a better angle.
"FFF AST ERRRRRRR," he groans.
He pumps harder, slapping his hips against her, until he starts to come. As she feels him come in her, she contracts her muscles around him every time he pulls away, and relaxes them when he thrusts forward.
When she had squeezed everything out of him, and he had stopped pumping in her, he slowly lowered himself on top of her.
"Hmmm," he lazily muttered.
"Yes master," she purred.
"Oh, yeah," he said, falling over on one side and pulling her down with him on the bed. "Slave mode off."
They laid together, sweaty and spent, and held each other, before heading out for the day.
Journal Entry ------------
Diana, the two men at arms, and I walked to Perpignan's wall from the inn. The wall around the town is massive, fifty feet high and as thick. Diana marveled at the amount of stone used. When I informed her that the wall was hollow, she looked at me in disbelief. The men at arms collaborated the information. The outside face of the wall has thirty feet of solid stone. But the inside face has only a few feet of stone covering it. Inside the wall are guard barracks, corridors to allow the rapid movement of troops, and armories. This arrangement prevents magic using creatures from easily sweeping the wall of all its defenders with one spell. It allows for the clandestine movement of troops for reinforcement, or to have a rallying point under cover before a sortie. But it still was not enough to save the previous kingdom that existed here from being destroyed by ravenous monsters.
We walked the broad lane between the wall and the crowed town buildings until we came to the Castillet. The Castillet, a small fortress in its own right, is a gate through the walls that surround the city of Perpignan. The Castillet was built by Guillaume Gitard, who was in charge of the project and who used for the construction "terbol" or artificial "pouzzolane," made of crushed bricks mixed with lime.
We walked out of the morning sunlight and into the passage. The Castillet squatted down over and around us, heavy and menacing. The points of two sets of portcullises hung down like hungry teeth, ready to drop and trap us. Dark, barely noticeable murder holes lined the top of the passage, ready to spew forth molten lead or flaming oil. We all picked up our pace, and went through quickly. The men at arms knew the guards at the end of the passage, and we were on our way without delay.
We walked for about four miles over some pleasant farmlands. I noticed a few differences between the frontier's farms and the farms in civilized areas. All of the farm houses were bunched together, often sharing a wall and having interior doors joining each house. The farmers banded together for common defense from the hungry monsters that roamed the night. The farmers also had a youngster standing watch with a whistle or other sound making device. I saw a young girl watching our passage, but the youngster ignored my friendly greeting. The men at arms explained the youngster was on guard, and any failure in her vigilance could spell disaster. The armed farmers also seemed unusual to me. As in Perpignan, everyone had a weapon, even the small children.
We followed the path along the river. My head was filled with images of barge travel, improving the roads and charging tolls, of well projects, of granaries and the storage fees I would charge. The river bent sharply ahead of us, and the sound of my men at arms' reading their shields snapped me out of my thoughts.
The river curved up ahead, forming a S shape, sheltering the western aspect with its width from the wilderness beyond. The east side was wild, and filled with monsters. Although the rest of the river was deep all the way to the ocean and for dozens of miles inland past this point, the center of the S shape was shallow. Many raids from carnivorous monsters had come from beasts that crossed the river at this fording area.
But Lord Hargrim Dhentali built Sentinel Wall to end this hunting trail. Lord Hargrim Dhentali is the commander of Sentinel Wall, having paid for it with his own funds after a lifetime of successful adventuring. The walls reach thirty feet into the air, stretching for a hundred yards in either direction from the ford. Crenellations top the walls of Sentinel Wall, making it look like a jagged jawbone from a distance. The watchtowers contain ballistea and catapults ready to fire. Patrols of cavalry, the pride of the area, patrol the banks of the river.
Befitting a military outpost, Sentinel Wall is not elaborate. There is a weapon smith, stables and associated buildings, several barracks, a training field, a few warehouses for supplies, and an area for the workers and camp followers that support any military post. No sign of a market place.
While we were there, a caravan, laden with supplies, arrived. They too were wary and suspicious. I learned a great deal about overland mercantile trade in the area. It seems monsters in the area have learned that large groups of wagons means food, and often rouse themselves to attack. I talked to many of the soldiers based at Sentinel Wall as well, and quickly found out they wanted many of the trade goods I had in the warehouse at Perpignan. I am hungry to start organizing a caravan of my own.
Lord Hargrim Dhentali was leading a cavalry patrol so I did not get to speak to him, although I did leave word with his attaché, listing the goods I have available should he want to trade upon my return.
But I did speak with Bernard Laporte, the mercenary leader. Laporte is a powerful man. He towered over me. Laporte seemed to be carved in granite. He has the thick wrists and thighs of a swordsman, and old scars on his left ear. Although balding, he projects an image of authority and confidence. His sword, chain mail, and dagger seemed to magnify his presence. Diana seemed quite drawn to him. I think...never mind.
Although I was apprehensive at first, Laporte and I hit it off very well. He is a businessman at heart, renting warriors for pay, and we spoke the same language. But Laporte is more then I expected. Laporte is hungry for the love of Baroness Isaboe Du'Pree. If he does heroic deeds, and gets recognized by Count Perpignan, he can be made a Lord for his service, much like Lord Hargrim Dhentali. Then Laporte will be able to woo the Baroness as her peer.
Laporte offered me a deal. If I helped him impress Count Perpignan through glorious combat and noble deeds, he will reduce the monthly cost of the mercenaries I hire. He seemed to relish the prospect of providing mercs for caravan duty, despite the likelihood of attack. Laporte did not want his men killing "vermin," as he put it, like the rats and such at the whaling area. Laporte wanted to heroically adventure. He and I discussed many things, only taking a break when the caravan I already mentioned arrived.
I feel I have a strong ally in Bernard Laporte. He has a great charisma, and his men seem very loyal. I have secured twenty (!) veteran mercenaries, entirely at my disposal, for the rest of the year. Despite the dangers of the frontier, I believe such a strong force will see me clear of any problems.
Jean Baptiste Fourier is my mercenary captain. He is a mage specializing in the creation and control of fire. The man has an easy laugh, but a quick temper. He has not mastered the larger area fire spells, whatever that means. Fourier has agreed to be responsible for any fires he starts that devours any of my merchandise, and to make restitution to any innocent parties that he inadvertently damages. I thought this was going to be a problem, but Fourier informed me that Laporte had told him the same thing. I have agreed to defer to him about all military matters, which seemed to please him greatly.
Rene Cassin is my mercenary sergeant. He is an older man, probably lifetime military. His chain armor and equipment look well used but serviceable. Cassin seems very "by the book," and addresses myself and Diana as Sir and Madame. Otherwise, he seemed alert and capable, but we did not speak at great length.
I bid farewell to Laporte, agreeing to do all I could to help him on his romantic quest. I would rather have wealth then glory, even glory for the sake of love. But my eyes flicked to Diana, and I felt less sure about that then I ever had before. The old woman's voice saying "On the edge is where you find what you are looking for," came back to me then, but I ignored it.
The trip back was very pleasant. The two men at arms assigned to me by Marshall Ibels seemed to have respect for the mercenaries, alleviating me of my concern about a rivalry between the two forces. Surrounded and guarded by a platoon of armed men keeping hungry monsters away made my merchant heart happy. While the farmers entering Perpignan through the Castillet ahead of us were searched at length, we were waved through as a sign of respect.
End of Journal Entry ------------