tune happily and busied herself putting away the trap and then wrenching the harness off Ayesha’s body. It was normal after an extended run for the tack to have embedded itself quite deeply. And it was for that reason that the bridle was the last piece of kit to be removed. The bit and tongue ring kept noise to a minimum. But at last she was able to swing the slave up under a winch and then soap her down before sending her through the showers and driers.
She dropped into a deep sleep almost as soon as she had finished her evening feed and Raika was able to lean on the stall door and reflect on a good day’s work.
Before her Ayehsa lay sprawled with the careless ease of sleep, her legs were flung apart and Raika could see the little craters in the flesh of the belly where the strap had run down from the belt, the labia were reddened and puffy from having been constricted and Raika knew that just a touch on the cruelly sensitised sexflesh within them would send the slave hurtling into orgasm. But that would have to wait, she had days of hard work and whipping to endure before she would have earned that pleasure. Her breasts rose and fell invitingly as she breathed deeply and their attraction was only increased by the rings of craters and small scabs around their roots. Raika felt a tingle at her groin as she contemplated their size and firmness…….maybe a bit of tit whipping would be good for her in the morning. She fidgeted a little, squeezing her thighs together as she considered whether or not that would be good training or just great fun for her. She knew how much trust had been placed in her and was almost delirious with gratitude and pride. Ayesha had certainly been one of the top performers on the circuit, and now she had been given into her sole charge. She made a mental note to give Mr Carlo and Mr Brian the best blow jobs they had ever had on their return. She felt real pride in herself these days and was absolutely clear in her mind that at CSL she had the first real home she had known in her adult life. The only thing that terrified her was that one day she might be sold again. But on that evening that seemed a remote possibility and she concentrated instead on the growing need between her legs.
She had just made up her mind to go and sample the dildos and vibrators in the dungeon before going to bed when the stable door opened and Sir John Fitzgerald slipped inside. He closed the door quietly behind him and smiled at her as he approached. For some reason, Raika felt the acid of sick apprehension dissolve her brief contentment.
“Trojan Horse,” he whispered, standing directly in front of her and as Raika’s world fell apart, all she could see was his smile; smug and supremely self-satisfied.
She reeled back and came up short against the half door to the stall. Those words had come back to haunt her at last. She had thought that she had blocked them out months ago; made her memories of her previous owner into merely scenes from a bad dream. But now he had stretched out his hand to claim her.
Through tear misting eyes she saw Sir John, looming above her.
“You know that when he put you out to auction your master told you he wanted you to do a job for him, and if you did it he promised to do something for you, didn’t he?”
She nodded miserably, recalling the huge black man plunging his massive tool into her while the big Irishman stood beside her. She recalled her master leaning down and promising her that if she continued to work for him despite being auctioned off, he would send her home with a rich bridegroom and she would live in honour for the rest of her life. It was her dream, to return to the hill country of northern India and to drive through her village in a powerful limousine, like the ones she was now used to seeing, with a handsome, rich young man beside her, and somehow her previous master had known what her dream had been.
He had described Mr Carlo and Mr Brian to her and she had
She dropped into a deep sleep almost as soon as she had finished her evening feed and Raika was able to lean on the stall door and reflect on a good day’s work.
Before her Ayehsa lay sprawled with the careless ease of sleep, her legs were flung apart and Raika could see the little craters in the flesh of the belly where the strap had run down from the belt, the labia were reddened and puffy from having been constricted and Raika knew that just a touch on the cruelly sensitised sexflesh within them would send the slave hurtling into orgasm. But that would have to wait, she had days of hard work and whipping to endure before she would have earned that pleasure. Her breasts rose and fell invitingly as she breathed deeply and their attraction was only increased by the rings of craters and small scabs around their roots. Raika felt a tingle at her groin as she contemplated their size and firmness…….maybe a bit of tit whipping would be good for her in the morning. She fidgeted a little, squeezing her thighs together as she considered whether or not that would be good training or just great fun for her. She knew how much trust had been placed in her and was almost delirious with gratitude and pride. Ayesha had certainly been one of the top performers on the circuit, and now she had been given into her sole charge. She made a mental note to give Mr Carlo and Mr Brian the best blow jobs they had ever had on their return. She felt real pride in herself these days and was absolutely clear in her mind that at CSL she had the first real home she had known in her adult life. The only thing that terrified her was that one day she might be sold again. But on that evening that seemed a remote possibility and she concentrated instead on the growing need between her legs.
She had just made up her mind to go and sample the dildos and vibrators in the dungeon before going to bed when the stable door opened and Sir John Fitzgerald slipped inside. He closed the door quietly behind him and smiled at her as he approached. For some reason, Raika felt the acid of sick apprehension dissolve her brief contentment.
“Trojan Horse,” he whispered, standing directly in front of her and as Raika’s world fell apart, all she could see was his smile; smug and supremely self-satisfied.
She reeled back and came up short against the half door to the stall. Those words had come back to haunt her at last. She had thought that she had blocked them out months ago; made her memories of her previous owner into merely scenes from a bad dream. But now he had stretched out his hand to claim her.
Through tear misting eyes she saw Sir John, looming above her.
“You know that when he put you out to auction your master told you he wanted you to do a job for him, and if you did it he promised to do something for you, didn’t he?”
She nodded miserably, recalling the huge black man plunging his massive tool into her while the big Irishman stood beside her. She recalled her master leaning down and promising her that if she continued to work for him despite being auctioned off, he would send her home with a rich bridegroom and she would live in honour for the rest of her life. It was her dream, to return to the hill country of northern India and to drive through her village in a powerful limousine, like the ones she was now used to seeing, with a handsome, rich young man beside her, and somehow her previous master had known what her dream had been.
He had described Mr Carlo and Mr Brian to her and she had
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