WARNING! You must be 18 or over to read these stories of rape and non-consensual sex. This story is all fiction and no characters in it are meant to resemble any real person. That’s the legal part. Here’s the important part to me. This is fantasy, by the author, to be shared with readers who share in such fantasies. That is the story’s sole purpose for being here. In the real world, this sort of behavior is simply not acceptable, period, by any of the laws or morals of any humane people. That means you too. If you actually hurt someone without their informed consent, just stop. Take a deep breath and stop right now. That’s not your right. A surprising number of subs exist out there, so take the time to meet one and make your corner of the world a better place. Don’t trash two lives letting your frustrations get the better of you.
The Dire Amazonian Flower
The battle is not important. It’s over, and we won, though it could have gone tits-up in a heartbeat. All we wanted to do was attack the Pearlship while it was docked in Graelston, a rather small harbor town in the northern provinces. Grab some treasures of the East, maybe a female galley slave or two, and be off. Low opposition and surprise should have worked for us. Well, they didn’t. To simplify everything: it was the wrong ship, with lots of slave girls but little wealth otherwise, and a pack of crazed and fearsome Amazonian raiders hit the ship just a few minutes before we were about to, doing some of the work for us, but also putting themselves in our path. We attacked anyway, and won the ship and many raider captives as well.
By our rules, I kept whichever raiders I could catch, no easy feat, as these women were dire in the extreme. Tall, sturdy, strong, they were well-rounded and appealing in a fearsome way, but they didn’t go down easy. I had to fight a terrible swordfight with one, and even after I disarmed her she lunged at me, clawing and hissing, and it took five blows to her head from the blunt side of my weapon just to daze her. As she fell to her knees in the icy mud, dizzy and disoriented, I managed to tackle her and put manacles on her hands, locking them behind her back so she couldn’t hurt someone. I chained her feet to be safe. Only then did I get around to her attire, a motley collection of fabric, armor-pieces, and crude jewelry. I pulled it all off, breaking or tearing it as need be.
“There goes your clothing!” I told her as I stripped her. “Some proud warrior bitch you are now!” She roared in rage, struggling under me. Her body was bare now. I destroyed everything she had, including her coming-of-age stone, which she had sewn into a headband. I put it on a rock in front of her and smashed it to pieces. She cried out in frothing fury, seeing her only distinction piece destroyed. She was youngish, and lacked any of the other battle markers common to her people who have stood out in war.
When she was naked, bound, and humiliated, I turned her over to get a good look at her front side. It was definitely different. Don’t think about Amazonians as being these lithe, graceful forest gazelles with flowing golden blonde hair and smooth white skin. Those are from the south, and as hard to find as unicorns. This woman was a Northern Dire Amazonian. She was tall, sturdy, well-curved everywhere, with straight brown hair and a big pubic patch. Her breasts were large and pierced, as was her vagina. She wore ceremonial tattoos and ritual scars up and down her flesh. She stank, and I doubted she had washed in months. Well, I could clean up the filth, trim her as I pleased, and teach her some manners. And if I did it right, I’d gain a devoted slave that worshipped me forever. It’s been said often, with considerable evidence, that if you can break a Dire Amazonian woman for one hundred one days in a row of their first year in captivity, you can claim her heart and soul. But you have to break her, not just beat her.
And that began with a good rape, right there on the spot, in the cold and muddy grass. It had grown fairly dark out, but the torch lights of the army gave us enough of a glow. I held her down, which took effort even with her in chains, and got my own pants off. My cock was at the ready after struggling with this sweaty piece of woman meat for the last ten minutes. She shrieked and bucked, trying to stay away from me, but my cock found her slit and I slammed into her in an instant. I felt the tearing and her massive shudder. So, she was that junior. She didn’t look like a teenager, but they said the Amazonians don’t breed often, that sexually they have the libido of Venus but the knowledge of children. Maybe so. Either way, I just plowed the savage bitch, plunging hard and fast into her defenseless hole until my cum burst into her womb. She cried out in shame and rage, but her struggles ceased. I wrapped my arm around her neck from behind and pressed my other hand to her head, driving her face down into the ground. “Are you going to behave? Are you going to make a fuss?”
“You seem to have me,” she growled. “I guess I’m stuck with it.”
“Hold that thought,” I told her. “You’re going to be repeating it. I’m going to tame you whether you want it or not.”
She didn’t reply. I pulled her up and rechained her feet with some slack for walking but not running. Then I marched the sullen bitch to our camp. She hung her head in shame on seeing her sisters in arms, never mind that they were also all naked and chained like her. We’d captured precious few of them, though we killed many more. I went right to the center of camp.
“Got a slave post free?” I asked Visnic, a friend of mine.
“That’s a fine one you got, Arrep. Sure, I pounded ten of them, and we’ve only used six so far.” We went over to an unused post and I slapped the steel collar around her neck. It was bolted tight to the post, itself six inches thick of treated wood, buried twenty feet into the ground. We could hold horses, oxen, and certainly slave females on them.
“What’s your name, woman?” I asked her.
“Helega,” she said. “Daughter of Martana, granddaughter of Selene and Xalla!”
“Helega. That’s too harsh a name. From now on you are, let’s see, Flower.”
“Flower!” she roared. “You will not call me Flower!”
I gripped her neck. “Don’t forget your place, Flower!” I hissed at her. “We’ll talk more on this later, when you’ll introduce yourself to me as Flower, Owned Property of Arrep Martenstern.”
I left her steaming to catch up with the goings-on at the ship. Our workers were going through everything, taking the ship apart at the seams. We had no need of a ship, but plenty of need for the materials. There was no gold, not aside from the modest amount kept around for purchases. But there were galley slaves, females kidnapped in their youthful prime, coated with northern slave oil for warmth, and seated naked down in front of oars, to which they were chained to row under the whip until they burned out and died. Now they were kneeling, their hands on their heads, in a muddy makeshift pen. They were slaves, sure, and not our enemy. We weren’t abusing them. None had been touched yet. But they were also property of our enemy, so now they belonged to us. I strolled among them, checking them out, inspecting them as it were. Because each one of them was going to be auctioned off before the evening was out.
Many of them smiled at me. They smiled at everyone. They knew the score. Freedom was a long lost non-option, so they went with attracting the nicest and richest bidder, the better to secure a modest enslavement later. It often failed, but it was common enough to try. They were all lookers. It seemed that the ship belonged to Prince Albertus of the Reesland Confederacy, so they were selected as much for attractiveness as for strength, and they indeed seemed to have both. All were full-breasted, slim-waisted hotties, grown taut and firm through years of exercise and modest diet.
“And what’s your name, little girl?” I asked a woman in her late twenties. She was blonde, with her hair in multiple braids for ease of treatment, and good full tits.
“Angela, my lord,” she said with a smile.
“And what about you, little girl? What’s your name?” I was asking another blonde, who managed to keep her hair in a stylish pattern. She had even larger tits, especially for her frame.
“I’m Kaitlee, my lord. I’d love to become your property.”
“Hmm. And what about you?” I asked an elvish chick. “Who are you?”
“I’m called Syliya,” she replied. “If that pleases master.”
Then I spotted her. Brown hair. Medium height. Very strong, sleek musculature. Tits out to the next town over. And she’d already seen me. “Well well, what is your name, little slutty girl?” I asked Janaya. “And I expect an answer.”
“I’m Janaya, master,” she said through clenched teeth.
“And how long have you been making yourself useful as a galley slave on this ship?” I asked.
“Twenty-three years, master,” she said. “I’m still strong and ready to serve.”
It had to be killing her to talk like that to anyone, least of all me. I could see that she hadn’t forgotten me any more than I had her. The problem was those tits of hers. I hadn’t fallen as far as Janaya in the past couple decades, but I was still serving as a fairly junior officer, and I didn’t have a lot to bid on her. Her tits were going to double her price, probably out of my range. I moved on, lest I be seen speaking too familiarly with a new captive.
Yes, they were all a good bunch of hotties. There were sixteen of them, versus forty-six of us eligible to bid. Some of us who nabbed an Amazonian weren’t going to be as interested in also gaining a recent galley slave, though the galley slaves were, by any standard definition, a lot better looking. Of course, standard isn’t always standard. But whatever. Odds were that some of us would get two slaves before the day was done, and others zero.
The auction did start, with a makeshift platform serving as the stage, and torchlights used to light up the girls. Our chief selected out one for himself, a buxom redhead, and then served as the auctioneer for the others. I was mainly interested in three of them. Janaya, the elf Syliya, and Kaitlee. Basically, in that order. Luckily, they were in that order, so I didn’t have to guess if a better option was coming up.
Janaya, in fact, was the very first slave put up on the block. “Look at these tits,” the chief said. “I almost grabbed them as my personal choice, but I’m a generous leader, so they’re out there for you guys to bid on.”
The bids rose rapidly. I had only so many treasure shares to part with, and within a couple minutes we were past my limit. So, no Janaya Jolav for me that cold night. She ended up with the lieutenant. Well, he was a bit of a right bastard who liked to beat on his women. So good enough.
Syliya was a few girls later. As an elf, of course, she could be passed down generation after generation. On the block she was made to admit that she’d been a slave already for eighty-six years, a blip on the elvish lifetime, and desperate to somehow get out of slavery. Well, not tonight, I thought. I bid on her quickly and often, but again the price went up beyond what I could afford. Two down.
Kaitlee was the last option I cared about. She was a real looker, and unlike Syliya or Janaya, had no unusual features to drive up her price. She was just attractive and strong. Good big tits, but not freakishly large like Janaya’s. I bid early and hard. If I was going to lose, best to do it quicker so I could get into a warm bunk all the sooner. But I didn’t lose. We drove it up close to my limit. I was bidding off with a sergeant, Rorick Malhoun, well-known for being miserly and saving pay for just this sort of thing. But he backed off, and I walked away owning Kaitlee as my personal property. The shares I had left wouldn’t buy a sea hag, so I quit the auction and claimed my prize. Kaitlee was kneeling and waiting for me, her big tits outthrust as slave girls were trained to do.
“I’m so glad it was you that bought me, master,” she said, completely disingenuously.
“I’m sure you are,” I said as I put a collar and leash on her and bound her wrists behind her. “Walk with me.” I made her leave that way, away from her friends. Away from everyone she knew. Of course, all her friends were staying with us, so it wasn’t a big deal, but some of the girls acted like it was. I took her to my little tent, which was actually a bit larger than most, but nothing special. There I cleaned off her feet and pushed her inside, joining her a moment later. We had light from a small permanent light orb I still had from olden days.
She was lying there, beside the bedroll and sleeping bag, shivering in anticipation. She looked scared. She probably was scared, and with good reason. I wanted to keep her that way, but not to the point where she wouldn’t be useful. I demand a lot from my slaves, including mentally. Their compensation is that I don’t beat them senseless except for cause.
“Our druid says it will become very cold tonight. I have an Amazonian captive outside that will spend a very difficult night shivering, but she’s tough enough to survive it. Her kind just are. What about you? When was your last slave oiling?”
“It was yesterday, sir. I will survive this cold if you make me sleep naked as I am now.” She wasn’t sounding as chipper and happy as before. Those were stock phrases, things slaves in her position learned to do to make themselves seem valuable. But now she had nothing left except her looks and charm.
“I want to know who you are. I want your full name, where you’re from, who your family is if they matter. What skills you possess besides rowing a ship. Start talking.” I got undressed mostly and ready for bed while she began speaking.
“Yes, sir. My full name is Kaitlee Arniol, but the Arniols are nobody. We’re farmers, peasants. But my mother and aunts were known for being very beautiful, and they married prosperous farmers, and I would have done the same, maybe even a minor gentry. But when I was fifteen the raiders came to our village. We thought we were safe because the sea was ten miles away, but they came in and hit us hard, and sacked everything. They killed everyone they didn’t capture. I watched my family, except for my sister and aunt, get slaughtered in front of me. Even my mother, because she was with child and they didn’t want that. They hardly took anything except pretty girls and some ornaments. They didn’t even let us girls walk back to the shore without stripping us naked and binding us, so our feet were cut up by the time we got there. They had three ships, and I guess they were from different parties, because my sister and aunt went to a different ship and I’ve never seen them since. That was eleven years ago. Ever since then, I’ve lived on that ship. I’ve been raped more than I can remember, and whipped bloody, and made to row and row more. That’s it. That’s my whole life. I used to know homemaking tasks, but I’ve forgotten it all. I’m not good for anything anymore except brute labor and sex.”
“Then I hope for your sake you get better,” I told her. “I require a personal servant to handle my gear and make life easy for me. It is a lot of tedious work, and I’ll expect you to carry out without fail or flaw. I will punish your mistakes severely no matter how much mercy you beg me for. Is that understood?”
“Yes, my master,” she said. “Will master be kind enough to show slave Kaitlee the tasks she needs to learn?”
“Of course.”
“Then slave Kaitlee is very happy to be master’s property.”
“Good. Now let’s see how well you fuck, or else you were a total waste of money.”
I let her do the work and set the pace, to see what she’d learned. It wasn’t much. Galley slave girls get lots of sex, but most of it is right at their stations with other girls right there surrounding them. Sometimes they might get called to the captain’s quarters for personal attention. She was very good with her mouth, though, probably from all the chained and seated blowjobs that were just easier for everyone. She’d be a keeper. When I was done, I covered up and went to sleep, letting Kaitlee lie on the ground beside me.
Morning came, and I put Kaitlee to work fixing my breakfast and tending to my camp. We weren’t leaving yet, so she didn’t need to pack. After a couple of hours, I went off to see about Flower. I found her where I left her. The Dire Amazonian was seated and shivering from the cold. These women were tough, but they still were human, and sitting out naked in the snow and rain all night took its toll.
“Is this how you kill me, male?” she demanded. “You leave me to slowly freeze? Are you afraid to finish me yourself?”
“I don’t want you dead. I want you to joyfully service me for the rest of your life, or until I get rid of you. And I expect you to love me and be grateful,” I said to her. “And we both know I can do it, because all I have to do is break you enough times. Yesterday was one.”
“Yesterday I was weak from blood loss,” she hissed. “And you going to freeze me today?”
“No, I’m going to put slave oil on you as soon as you ask me to. You just have to ask the right way.”
“I won’t! I’d rather die!”
“Time will tell,” I told her, walking away. She was facing the other way when I returned with a bucket of cold water and doused her with it. She cried out in rage and pain. Her hands were still chained behind her, and she couldn’t even wipe the water off herself faster. “Let’s see how much cold you can take, Flower. I want this question resolved.”
She growled and hissed, even trying to bite me, as I returned with bucket after bucket of cold sea water. She fell to a sitting position, shivering violently, but still refused until I had dunked the tenth bucket on her. She looked up at me, on the verge of speaking.
“Yes? Did you have something to say?”
“No!” she stated. So I put three more buckets onto her.
“No more! No more!” she finally cried.
“Well?”
“I am Flower,” she said. “Property of, what was your name?”
“Arrep Martenstern.”
“Arrep Martenstern.”
“Now say it in full.”
“I am Flower, the property of Arrep Martenstern,” she said sullenly. Break number two.
“Good Flower,” I said, producing the vial of slave oil. “Stand up.”
“I know how to rub oil on myself!”
“Well I’m going to rub it on your body, so stand up, lift your arms, and spread your legs as much as you can.”
“I will not!” she cried.
“Then you get none!” I said, putting it back. “Tomorrow we’ll try again.”
“You just want me to submit tomorrow!”
“Of course I do,” I told her. “But for today, you can stand here with your pride and freeze.” I stepped in and shorted her chain so she had to remain standing. Then I left her alone. I made a point of not even going near the holding pen. Someone would alert me if my slave woman showed signs of failing health. In fact, these Amazonians could take a lot of abuse until they submitted, and even more until they were actually in danger. Flower would be miserable, but she could take the cold another day.
Meanwhile, I had things to do. The town had to be properly taken down, the ship taken apart, hostages and captives taken and allocated, treasure divided. It was a lot of work. I was hopeful about getting another slave girl from the townies. Maybe a young one I could sell off when we returned to the capitol. I realized after working half the day that it was going to be tight. There were a lot of fires during the attack, and a lot of the women and children perished in them. We managed only a few dozen female captives, now nude and sobbing in our hastily constructed long jails. I had two already, so a third was going to be hard to justify when we had the means to make sure everyone got one. Still, I went to the auction and found that without more shares, I was simply out of the bidding.
Kaitlee, at least, had put herself to good use. After showing her how that morning, she had cleaned, oiled, polished, and buffed up every last piece of my gear that was relevant to cleaning, oiling, polishing, or buffing. She must have seen me coming because she was kneeling in proper slave presentation mode, legs apart, hands behind her head, tits thrust out, mouth open. It was pretty degrading for the girl, but it kept her knowing her place. And Kaitlee seemed to know it just fine. I inspected her work thoroughly, but couldn’t find a single flaw.
“It pleases this slave that master is pleased with her work,” she said with her head bowed. “Does master wish to give more commands to the lowly girl?”
“Only for excellent sex,” I told her. It was late enough and I was ready for bed. She smiled.
“The slave body is master’s toy,” she said. “To be played on as gently or roughly as master wishes.”
“Good. I see your attitude to yourself is excellent.”
She smiled again. “Master’s kind words make the slave very happy because they are the best possible rewards.”
She was laying it on thick, but I let her continue. She’d obviously been train in pure subservience, and I wanted her to continue that way. I had enough to do with training Flower over the next three months. Having Kaitlee start out broken and tamed would make that a lot easier.
I spent more time in exploring and putting her naked body through strenuous paces that night. It began with a long anal fuck, which she found painful and stressing in the extreme. I guessed she didn’t get much up the ass on her ship. But she licked my cock clean without complaint. And then she worked her magic on the rest of me before I plowed her cunt the proper way. I fell asleep satisfied, with Kaitlee on the ground beside me.
Morning came, and Kaitlee anticipated everything, having the campfire going and my breakfast ready when I rose. As I sat on a log to eat, she knelt between my legs, sucking me off with great enthusiasm. I shot my load down her throat and she eagerly swallowed every drop of it. “Slave has been kindly fed the best she needs,” she said after dining.
“Yes,” I replied, having little to add. She was turning out to be a good slave, but I didn’t want too much praise to go to her head. I left her to her chores, which at this point were not many, and went to check on Flower.
She was still standing there, chained up like before. Her hands had been chained behind her back since her capture, and she’d spent the last twenty-four hours standing while chained at her neck to a post. She was shivering and blue-toned. She still managed a red-hot glare as I walked up to her. “Good morning,” I said to her. “So, let’s get to it. Who are you?”
“I am Flower, owned slaved to Arrep Martenstern,” she growled, but unable to hide the shivering in her voice.
“Hello, Flower. Tell me, Flower, what would you like most right now?”
She glared, and even growled, but slowly and awkwardly spread her legs wide while lifting her arms up. “I would like Master Arrep to put slave oil on my body so I can stay warm.”
“That’s good. That’s very wise of you. Now beg me to do it.”
She twitched but kept her arms and legs in place. “Please, master Arrep, please put slave oil on my body.”
“Of course, you only had to ask,” I said. “Now hold still!” I worked slowly, watching her to see if she tried to hit or kick me. She actually faced forward, locking her gaze on something in the distance, trying to ignore my touching and rubbing all over her. I made sure to go nice and slow, rubbing each spot thoroughly to get full coverage. Her tits I played with particularly long, rubbing her nipples, and kneading the big fatty mounds to work her hot blood back into them. They were cold to the touch at first, but I warmed them back up.
And then there was the matter of her crotch. Her unwashed pussy and ass were plenty wet from earlier sitting in puddles, but now they were cold and clammy, so I had to warm them up too. While she stood seething and shaking in angry I massaged slave oil into her pussy, soaking it into her public hairs and rubbing my fingers and thumbs into her slit. She was warm in there, and slick too. I made sure to massage her clit hard, getting the insulating oil into every last crack and crevice around her love nub. She was shaking so hard she seemed to be sweating as I went at her, and then did the same with her ass, slathering it onto her buttocks and into her crack and around her anus, piercing it a little with my thumbs to warm her up. Finally I slathered it down her long, strong legs, checking out her tattoos and scarring along the way before finally rubbing her feet.
“There,” I told her. “Now you’ll be warm. I won’t ask you to endure hardships you can’t endure. Not anymore.”
“As you wish,” she growled quietly.
“So, what do you say?” I asked.
“I said, as you wish!” she spat back.
“No. I did you a kindness. Now what do you say? I think you’ll want to thank me, won’t you?”
She glared but spoke up. “Thank you, master,” she said, monotone and grim. But she said it, which surprised me. I was planning to use it for her next day’s break.
“Alright. Now, are you ready to work to earn your keep?” I asked her. “I have lots of chores for you to do.”
“Of course, master. I eagerly await your… chores.”
Well that wasn’t insincere in the slightest. She wasn’t dumb, Flower. She wasn’t going to get hung up on words anymore. But to do more with her, I had to release her from the pole and take some of her bonds off. And that was exactly what she wanted me to do.
To be continued
