Lady by Candace Blevins

Author:Candace Blevins
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kaleidowords Publishing

Chapter Twelve

Rowan

I didn’t know her name, but I’d find her when I got out of this accursed bondage of slavery. In some ways, the fields were easier than the stables, but mostly they were hell on earth. We were up at four in the morning, and we worked the fields until noon when we finally got what they called breakfast, but in reality was stale bread and a goulash of whatever leftovers the kitchen could throw into a pot — never mind the taste. We were starving though, so we ate. We were allowed a nap before it was time to box up the morning’s harvest and load the crates onto carriages. We had another meal around seven in the evening, were sent to get our enemas before we were allowed a shower, and then we had to provide pleasure services until around one in the morning before we finally went to bed, only to awaken at four the next morning and start over again.

I think my time in the evenings was the hardest. I was positioned over two tables, one on either side of a wall with a hole just big enough for my body — so my head was in one room and my cock and ass in the other. If a man wanted to fuck my ass, he secured my ankle cuffs to hooks on the wall, so my legs were out of the way. If a woman wanted to ride my cock, she brought them down, extended the table, and attached my ankles below so she could climb on and ride. Magic filled in the parts of the hole-in-the-wall my body didn’t occupy, assuring none of them saw my face, and I never saw them. I was a dick or ass they paid to use. Nothing more.

Most evenings, my ass was fucked for hours while my cock was ignored.

I was required to keep a hard on at all times when on pleasure duty, whether my cock was used or not. If it flagged, someone stuck a needle into it and injected an irritant that made it hard as a rock, though felt as if it'd been crammed full of stinging nettles.

The room my upper torso occupied was barely the size of a closet, with rafters and unfinished walls. I was strapped to the table, gagged, and my wrists locked to the iron band around my waist. My collar was attached to the table. I couldn’t move. I was an object. A sex toy. My ass and cock didn’t belong to me. My body didn’t belong to me. I’d been certain my mind was untouchable, no matter what they did to me, but I’d cried with despair the entire time I was used during those first nights. I now understood no part of me was untouchable.

Through it all, I thought of the yellow and red haired beauty who’d shown me kindness.

For the first time since my father had signed me into slavery, someone had understood my problems instead of assuming I was refusing to obey.

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