Scott s Yucca Man Tale
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A SLAVE’S TALE. Ch 01. free porn video
Some of you may already seen this story on these pages. Some time ago this, as well as part 2 was copied and pasted here from another site without my permission. I regard this as theft. In order to put things partly to right I have decided to re-post not only those two parts but all the seven episodes so that my readers can enjoy the complete story and know that it is the choice of the author for them to do so.
A SLAVE’S TALE.
Suddenly I’m awake. But why? I have a vague feeling that a noise woke me but no idea what that noise was. Outside a storm is raging and I can hear the sound of rain against the window. Reason tells me that this is what woke me but I know somehow that it wasn’t.
I roll over and grope for the clock on the bedside table. I press the button and the light comes on. 2.39! I gaze at the clock my mind slowly surfacing. After a few seconds the light goes out and I’m once more in the dark. I lie quietly straining to hear ... anything. The house seems to be quiet and I start to relax a little. Then, a noise again. This time definitely not the rain or the storm but from inside the house. The sound of someone moving about clumsily. I freeze, my senses alert.
It is when I reach for the bell that I remember that I am alone in the house. Normally I would use the small bell next to the clock to summon my slave. But I had sold her at the market only two days before and hadn’t been impressed by any of the replacements. I had made, as I usually do, a handsome profit on her by selling her on as a fully trained house slave to a rich bitch. For only the cost of board, lodging and training I’d turned her from a somewhat feisty peasant slut into a hard working and obedient house slave who would happily service both the house and the lady of the house. My reputation was such that my slaves were always sought after and commanded high prices.
But for now there was just me alone. I would have to deal with whatever was stumbling around downstairs. Another noise stirred me into action. I quietly got out of bed and put on my silk dressing gown. I picked up the riding crop from the top of the cupboard by the bedroom door. Slowly I turned the handle and eased the door open. In the darkness I could make out very little except for a faint flickering light coming from the open door of the kitchen. As quietly as possible I crept down the stairs. Staying as much in the shadows as I could I moved until I could see into the room. A figure stood hunched in front of the kitchen table with her back to me. She was busy loading something in a bag by the light of a candle. Suddenly I wasn’t afraid. The figure was slight and obviously female. I stepped forward and flicked on the light switch.
As the room flooded with light the girl jumped back and gave a little scream before spinning round to face me. I almost laughed out loud. What a sad and pathetic sight greeted me. A young girl with rain-soaked and bedraggled hair, bare foot and wearing what I immediately recognised as the tatty remnants of a prison smock. The poor thing looked terrified.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Silence.
“How did you get into my home?”
Involuntarily she glanced sideways at the kitchen door. One small glass pane next to the lock had been broken and glass was on the floor.
“You little bitch! How dare you!”
I moved swiftly and re-locked the back door and put the key safely into my dressing gown pocket and then turned back to the terrified girl.
“I think I’d better call the police.”
This simple statement had an amazing effect. Suddenly she was down on her knees, hands clasped together and I swear I could see the hint of a tear in her eye.
“Please Miss, no Miss. Please don’t call the police. Anything but that. Please Miss.”
“And why not? At the very least its breaking and entering and probably theft as well. Just what were you stealing?”
I walked over to the table and grabbed the bag, up-ended it and tipped the contents onto the table top. Out spilled a half eaten loaf of bread, a lump of cheese, a nearly empty jar of jam and an unopened packet of my favourite expensive biscuits. I looked at the pathetic haul while the girl still on her knees snivelled and sniffed beside me.
“Why?” I asked, “Why this pathetic pile?”
“I was hungry Miss, I only wanted some food Miss I promise.”
“That’s still no reason for you to break into someone’s house in the middle of the night and also no reason for me not to call the police.”
“Please Miss not the police. Anything but the police.”
I looked down at her and tapped my riding crop against my calf.
“Please Miss ...”
“Quiet while I think slut,” I commanded.
Slowly an idea was forming in my mind. When I had sold Mary, my last slave, I had planned to by another girl new to the market that I could train up but supply was low at the moment and none of them looked very suitable. Maybe fate had thrown me something I could work with. Time to test things out.
“Stand!” I ordered and, grabbing a handful of her wet and matted hair I pulled her to her feet. She gave a little squeal of protest which I ignored.
“Shut up slut and follow me.”
I walked out of the kitchen dragging her behind me by her hair. I led her into the sitting room and placed her in the centre.
“Don’t move until I tell you”. I walked over to my armchair and sat down.
“Turn and face me” I told her. Slowly she did so a frightened look on her face. Pointedly I carefully placed my riding crop on the small table beside me then I leant over and switched on the fire. Then I sat back and had a really good look at her. She almost flinched under my gaze. She was about 5’2”, skinny girl. She was wet and unkempt and looked nervous in the extreme. The thin smock she was wearing was soaked through presumably from the rain and she wore no shoes. Her bare feet and lower legs were filthy.
“Well slut what are we to do with you if we don’t call the police?”
She opened her mouth to reply but I cut her short.
“Silence! When I wish to hear from you I will tell you.”
I stood up and walked to the door.
“Wait here” I commanded her before I walked out and locked the door behind me. I must be mad I thought to myself, what did I think I was doing? But something inside me relished the challenge. There was something about the girl that told me, with all my years of experience, that she would make an excellent domestic slave given the right training. And who better than myself to give her that training. However I couldn’t let her crimes go unpunished but kindness and cruelty go hand in hand and usefully can confuse the unwary. I went to the laundry cupboard and took out a large bath towel. After a moment’s hesitation I returned to the living room. As I unlocked and opened the door I sensed she was hurriedly moving back into position and now she was standing a couple of feet closer to the fire. The poor slut was cold!
Laying the towel on the desk beside her I resumed my seat.
“Strip!”
“Miss?”
“It is not a subject of debate. Just do as I say!”
Slowly, reluctantly she did so pulling her simple smock over her head and dropping it to the floor. Amusingly she then tried to cover her breasts and her pussy with her hands.
“Stand up straight and arms by your sides.”
Slowly she complied. In silence I examined her. Skinny, probably not eaten well for a while. Small breasts, a small size B if anything but with good perky nipples. A thin thatch of recently grown hair covering her cunt. Her legs, feet and hands were covered in grime. Her face, under the dirt, was pretty enough and her shoulder length black hair was matted and wet. Her whole body glistened from the rain and she was clearly cold.
“Take the towel and dry yourself.”
She grabbed the towel and shook it out before rubbing herself all over with it. I could see the towel becoming streaked with dirt as she did so. Ah well if my plan worked then I would have someone to do the laundry so it didn’t matter. When she was finished she started to wrap the towel round herself.
“Just throw it with your dress,” I said, “then kneel and listen carefully to me.”
Obediently she did as she was told, a good sign. She knelt in front of me with her hands in her lap.
“Hands behind your back and spread your knees. Remember this position, you will get to know it well in time.”
For a few moments I quietly looked at her.
“Well slut I have had a long think and possibly I may have come up with an alternative to calling the police. I cannot of course ignore or even forgive the fact that you broke into my home and caused some damaged while doing so. Silence! (I’d seen her start to open her mouth to speak). That we will deal with in due course. I would like to put a proposition to you but first I shall require some information. I shall ask questions and you will answer. Be warned I am very good at detecting lies and evasions. Is that understood?”
“Y-y-yes Miss”
“I recognise that tattered smock you were wearing as a prison smock. Is that so?”
“Yes Miss.”
“And why were you wearing it?”
“I was sent there as a punishment by a very cruel lady Miss.”
“Was she a Mistress?”
“Yes Miss.”
“What had you done to deserve being punished?”
“There were four of us bought as slaves by her and she would beat us cruelly for no reason Miss and one day I could take no more and refused to bend over for her. She called the police and had them take me away.”
“I see. And this Mistress’s name?”
Suddenly she collapsed in tears. “Please Miss, please don’t send me back there,” she beseeched me.
“Its ok,” I said calmingly, “I won’t send you back. Just give me her name.”
With a look of fear in her eyes she stammered out the name of a notorious Mistress that had for a long time brought disrepute to our class. I determined as a top priority to do something about her.
“So how is it,” I asked, “that you are breaking into my home and not locked in a cell in prison?”
“I was dragged out of her house and thrown into the back of a wagon. There were five other girls in there already. On the way the wagon broke down and thick smoke began to fill the back. We all yelled and screamed and they finally opened the door and let us out. They stood us in a group and one of them with a rifle guarded us. For a moment he was distracted and as they’d forgotten to manacle us I took the opportunity to run into a nearby alleyway. I kept running until night came Miss.”
“And how did you become the property of this ‘allegedly’ cruel Mistress?”
“I was stolen from the fields near my village about a year ago Miss although I think my father had arranged it. The dealer who took me away then sold me to the Mistress that treated me, and the others, so harshly Miss.”
I gestured to her to be silent. I sat back in my chair. Suddenly a great many things were becoming clear. I had better explain here about our society, so frowned upon by most of the world. I live in a small country, almost an island, joined to the mainland only by a narrow strip of land. It is a country solely populated by women and we have a strict hierarchy. There are noble women who, except in exceptional circumstances, are above the law. Then there are Mistresses of whom I am one. Then come the craftswomen, who are free but who make their money through toil and craft. And finally there are the slaves, young women trained to serve the noblewomen and the Mistresses. The world may frown upon us but it is a system that works and has worked for a few hundred years. My role in this society is one of slave trainer and I like to think that I have a good reputation. I take ‘fresh to the market’ young girls and turn them into obedient slaves and then sell them on to reputable noblewomen for a profit. A quite handsome profit I might add. My slaves are eagerly sought out and good money is paid for them.
I turned my attention back to the girl kneeling before me.
“How do I know that what you are telling me is the truth?”
Without a word she shuffled round until her back was to me. Even as a Mistress and knowing the need to punish every so often and sometimes severely, I was shocked. The girl’s back was criss-crossed with recent deep welts some of which had broken the skin and there were still, despite the rain, still traces of blood in them. I stood up and opened a drawer in a cabinet next to my chair. I took out a camera and took a few photos of the girl’s back before sitting down once more.
“Turn back to face me”
She shuffled back round with her head down and I could detect the hint of embarrassment on her face. I was pleased to see that she still held her arms behind her back and her knees were well spread.
“Do you know who I am slut?”
“No Miss.”
“But you know the system of this land?”
“Yes Miss.”
“I am a Mistress. I know the value and necessity of punishment. But even I am shocked by what you have shown me if it was, as you say, an unnecessary punishment.”
“I had failed to clean the floors to her satisfaction Miss.”
“Was it your usual practice to be slack with your duties?”
“No Miss. Of course not Miss.”
She looked at me almost with anger. How dare I doubt her account? I smiled inwardly. I didn’t doubt her but there was no sense in letting her know that.
“Two items still remain. I have a proposition for you. And your punishment.”
Her eyes went back down to the floor, “yes Miss.”
“As I see it there are two alternatives. I contact the police and let them deal with a runaway slave (she looked up briefly with fear in her eyes at the mention of ‘police’) or ... I deal with this ‘in house’ so to speak.”
I paused to let that idea sink in. She looked up again and this time there was the hint of puzzlement in her eyes.
“As I have already told you I am a Mistress and, I like to believe, highly regarded as a trainer of slaves. I buy young fresh girls and turn them into obedient house slaves and sex toys for the rich. I only sell to those I trust and I pride myself that all my girls live a fulfilled life.”
I paused again to allow her to absorb this new information and to wonder what was coming next.
“Two days ago I sold my previous trainee to a very rich and powerful woman. I have known her for many years and I trust her completely. Her new slave is in safe hands. I am now looking for a new trainee.”
Yet again I paused. When she looked at me I could see the glimmer of hope in her eyes.
“To start with I shall call you ‘slut’ or ‘cunt’.”
“My name is Anna Miss.”
“Do you think I give a damn for your name, slut?”
“No Miss.”
“I am offering you a position here as a trainee slave. Initially for 4 weeks and then, if all is satisfactory, for a full period of 6 months. You will then be sold to a lady of my choosing and possession will pass to her. But trust me she will have been thoroughly vetted beforehand. As long as you fulfil your duties you will be in safe employ. I don’t expect an answer immediately. You will need time to think about it.”
I had made my mind up. I sensed she would be a challenge but I had overcome them before in my career. But now on to the last but just as important item on my list.
“And lastly ...” I said gently pulling back her attention to me.
“We have the matter of a small crime to consider.”
She hung her head. “Yes Miss.”
A SLAVE’S TALE.
Suddenly I’m awake. But why? I have a vague feeling that a noise woke me but no idea what that noise was. Outside a storm is raging and I can hear the sound of rain against the window. Reason tells me that this is what woke me but I know somehow that it wasn’t.
I roll over and grope for the clock on the bedside table. I press the button and the light comes on. 2.39! I gaze at the clock my mind slowly surfacing. After a few seconds the light goes out and I’m once more in the dark. I lie quietly straining to hear ... anything. The house seems to be quiet and I start to relax a little. Then, a noise again. This time definitely not the rain or the storm but from inside the house. The sound of someone moving about clumsily. I freeze, my senses alert.
It is when I reach for the bell that I remember that I am alone in the house. Normally I would use the small bell next to the clock to summon my slave. But I had sold her at the market only two days before and hadn’t been impressed by any of the replacements. I had made, as I usually do, a handsome profit on her by selling her on as a fully trained house slave to a rich bitch. For only the cost of board, lodging and training I’d turned her from a somewhat feisty peasant slut into a hard working and obedient house slave who would happily service both the house and the lady of the house. My reputation was such that my slaves were always sought after and commanded high prices.
But for now there was just me alone. I would have to deal with whatever was stumbling around downstairs. Another noise stirred me into action. I quietly got out of bed and put on my silk dressing gown. I picked up the riding crop from the top of the cupboard by the bedroom door. Slowly I turned the handle and eased the door open. In the darkness I could make out very little except for a faint flickering light coming from the open door of the kitchen. As quietly as possible I crept down the stairs. Staying as much in the shadows as I could I moved until I could see into the room. A figure stood hunched in front of the kitchen table with her back to me. She was busy loading something in a bag by the light of a candle. Suddenly I wasn’t afraid. The figure was slight and obviously female. I stepped forward and flicked on the light switch.
As the room flooded with light the girl jumped back and gave a little scream before spinning round to face me. I almost laughed out loud. What a sad and pathetic sight greeted me. A young girl with rain-soaked and bedraggled hair, bare foot and wearing what I immediately recognised as the tatty remnants of a prison smock. The poor thing looked terrified.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Silence.
“How did you get into my home?”
Involuntarily she glanced sideways at the kitchen door. One small glass pane next to the lock had been broken and glass was on the floor.
“You little bitch! How dare you!”
I moved swiftly and re-locked the back door and put the key safely into my dressing gown pocket and then turned back to the terrified girl.
“I think I’d better call the police.”
This simple statement had an amazing effect. Suddenly she was down on her knees, hands clasped together and I swear I could see the hint of a tear in her eye.
“Please Miss, no Miss. Please don’t call the police. Anything but that. Please Miss.”
“And why not? At the very least its breaking and entering and probably theft as well. Just what were you stealing?”
I walked over to the table and grabbed the bag, up-ended it and tipped the contents onto the table top. Out spilled a half eaten loaf of bread, a lump of cheese, a nearly empty jar of jam and an unopened packet of my favourite expensive biscuits. I looked at the pathetic haul while the girl still on her knees snivelled and sniffed beside me.
“Why?” I asked, “Why this pathetic pile?”
“I was hungry Miss, I only wanted some food Miss I promise.”
“That’s still no reason for you to break into someone’s house in the middle of the night and also no reason for me not to call the police.”
“Please Miss not the police. Anything but the police.”
I looked down at her and tapped my riding crop against my calf.
“Please Miss ...”
“Quiet while I think slut,” I commanded.
Slowly an idea was forming in my mind. When I had sold Mary, my last slave, I had planned to by another girl new to the market that I could train up but supply was low at the moment and none of them looked very suitable. Maybe fate had thrown me something I could work with. Time to test things out.
“Stand!” I ordered and, grabbing a handful of her wet and matted hair I pulled her to her feet. She gave a little squeal of protest which I ignored.
“Shut up slut and follow me.”
I walked out of the kitchen dragging her behind me by her hair. I led her into the sitting room and placed her in the centre.
“Don’t move until I tell you”. I walked over to my armchair and sat down.
“Turn and face me” I told her. Slowly she did so a frightened look on her face. Pointedly I carefully placed my riding crop on the small table beside me then I leant over and switched on the fire. Then I sat back and had a really good look at her. She almost flinched under my gaze. She was about 5’2”, skinny girl. She was wet and unkempt and looked nervous in the extreme. The thin smock she was wearing was soaked through presumably from the rain and she wore no shoes. Her bare feet and lower legs were filthy.
“Well slut what are we to do with you if we don’t call the police?”
She opened her mouth to reply but I cut her short.
“Silence! When I wish to hear from you I will tell you.”
I stood up and walked to the door.
“Wait here” I commanded her before I walked out and locked the door behind me. I must be mad I thought to myself, what did I think I was doing? But something inside me relished the challenge. There was something about the girl that told me, with all my years of experience, that she would make an excellent domestic slave given the right training. And who better than myself to give her that training. However I couldn’t let her crimes go unpunished but kindness and cruelty go hand in hand and usefully can confuse the unwary. I went to the laundry cupboard and took out a large bath towel. After a moment’s hesitation I returned to the living room. As I unlocked and opened the door I sensed she was hurriedly moving back into position and now she was standing a couple of feet closer to the fire. The poor slut was cold!
Laying the towel on the desk beside her I resumed my seat.
“Strip!”
“Miss?”
“It is not a subject of debate. Just do as I say!”
Slowly, reluctantly she did so pulling her simple smock over her head and dropping it to the floor. Amusingly she then tried to cover her breasts and her pussy with her hands.
“Stand up straight and arms by your sides.”
Slowly she complied. In silence I examined her. Skinny, probably not eaten well for a while. Small breasts, a small size B if anything but with good perky nipples. A thin thatch of recently grown hair covering her cunt. Her legs, feet and hands were covered in grime. Her face, under the dirt, was pretty enough and her shoulder length black hair was matted and wet. Her whole body glistened from the rain and she was clearly cold.
“Take the towel and dry yourself.”
She grabbed the towel and shook it out before rubbing herself all over with it. I could see the towel becoming streaked with dirt as she did so. Ah well if my plan worked then I would have someone to do the laundry so it didn’t matter. When she was finished she started to wrap the towel round herself.
“Just throw it with your dress,” I said, “then kneel and listen carefully to me.”
Obediently she did as she was told, a good sign. She knelt in front of me with her hands in her lap.
“Hands behind your back and spread your knees. Remember this position, you will get to know it well in time.”
For a few moments I quietly looked at her.
“Well slut I have had a long think and possibly I may have come up with an alternative to calling the police. I cannot of course ignore or even forgive the fact that you broke into my home and caused some damaged while doing so. Silence! (I’d seen her start to open her mouth to speak). That we will deal with in due course. I would like to put a proposition to you but first I shall require some information. I shall ask questions and you will answer. Be warned I am very good at detecting lies and evasions. Is that understood?”
“Y-y-yes Miss”
“I recognise that tattered smock you were wearing as a prison smock. Is that so?”
“Yes Miss.”
“And why were you wearing it?”
“I was sent there as a punishment by a very cruel lady Miss.”
“Was she a Mistress?”
“Yes Miss.”
“What had you done to deserve being punished?”
“There were four of us bought as slaves by her and she would beat us cruelly for no reason Miss and one day I could take no more and refused to bend over for her. She called the police and had them take me away.”
“I see. And this Mistress’s name?”
Suddenly she collapsed in tears. “Please Miss, please don’t send me back there,” she beseeched me.
“Its ok,” I said calmingly, “I won’t send you back. Just give me her name.”
With a look of fear in her eyes she stammered out the name of a notorious Mistress that had for a long time brought disrepute to our class. I determined as a top priority to do something about her.
“So how is it,” I asked, “that you are breaking into my home and not locked in a cell in prison?”
“I was dragged out of her house and thrown into the back of a wagon. There were five other girls in there already. On the way the wagon broke down and thick smoke began to fill the back. We all yelled and screamed and they finally opened the door and let us out. They stood us in a group and one of them with a rifle guarded us. For a moment he was distracted and as they’d forgotten to manacle us I took the opportunity to run into a nearby alleyway. I kept running until night came Miss.”
“And how did you become the property of this ‘allegedly’ cruel Mistress?”
“I was stolen from the fields near my village about a year ago Miss although I think my father had arranged it. The dealer who took me away then sold me to the Mistress that treated me, and the others, so harshly Miss.”
I gestured to her to be silent. I sat back in my chair. Suddenly a great many things were becoming clear. I had better explain here about our society, so frowned upon by most of the world. I live in a small country, almost an island, joined to the mainland only by a narrow strip of land. It is a country solely populated by women and we have a strict hierarchy. There are noble women who, except in exceptional circumstances, are above the law. Then there are Mistresses of whom I am one. Then come the craftswomen, who are free but who make their money through toil and craft. And finally there are the slaves, young women trained to serve the noblewomen and the Mistresses. The world may frown upon us but it is a system that works and has worked for a few hundred years. My role in this society is one of slave trainer and I like to think that I have a good reputation. I take ‘fresh to the market’ young girls and turn them into obedient slaves and then sell them on to reputable noblewomen for a profit. A quite handsome profit I might add. My slaves are eagerly sought out and good money is paid for them.
I turned my attention back to the girl kneeling before me.
“How do I know that what you are telling me is the truth?”
Without a word she shuffled round until her back was to me. Even as a Mistress and knowing the need to punish every so often and sometimes severely, I was shocked. The girl’s back was criss-crossed with recent deep welts some of which had broken the skin and there were still, despite the rain, still traces of blood in them. I stood up and opened a drawer in a cabinet next to my chair. I took out a camera and took a few photos of the girl’s back before sitting down once more.
“Turn back to face me”
She shuffled back round with her head down and I could detect the hint of embarrassment on her face. I was pleased to see that she still held her arms behind her back and her knees were well spread.
“Do you know who I am slut?”
“No Miss.”
“But you know the system of this land?”
“Yes Miss.”
“I am a Mistress. I know the value and necessity of punishment. But even I am shocked by what you have shown me if it was, as you say, an unnecessary punishment.”
“I had failed to clean the floors to her satisfaction Miss.”
“Was it your usual practice to be slack with your duties?”
“No Miss. Of course not Miss.”
She looked at me almost with anger. How dare I doubt her account? I smiled inwardly. I didn’t doubt her but there was no sense in letting her know that.
“Two items still remain. I have a proposition for you. And your punishment.”
Her eyes went back down to the floor, “yes Miss.”
“As I see it there are two alternatives. I contact the police and let them deal with a runaway slave (she looked up briefly with fear in her eyes at the mention of ‘police’) or ... I deal with this ‘in house’ so to speak.”
I paused to let that idea sink in. She looked up again and this time there was the hint of puzzlement in her eyes.
“As I have already told you I am a Mistress and, I like to believe, highly regarded as a trainer of slaves. I buy young fresh girls and turn them into obedient house slaves and sex toys for the rich. I only sell to those I trust and I pride myself that all my girls live a fulfilled life.”
I paused again to allow her to absorb this new information and to wonder what was coming next.
“Two days ago I sold my previous trainee to a very rich and powerful woman. I have known her for many years and I trust her completely. Her new slave is in safe hands. I am now looking for a new trainee.”
Yet again I paused. When she looked at me I could see the glimmer of hope in her eyes.
“To start with I shall call you ‘slut’ or ‘cunt’.”
“My name is Anna Miss.”
“Do you think I give a damn for your name, slut?”
“No Miss.”
“I am offering you a position here as a trainee slave. Initially for 4 weeks and then, if all is satisfactory, for a full period of 6 months. You will then be sold to a lady of my choosing and possession will pass to her. But trust me she will have been thoroughly vetted beforehand. As long as you fulfil your duties you will be in safe employ. I don’t expect an answer immediately. You will need time to think about it.”
I had made my mind up. I sensed she would be a challenge but I had overcome them before in my career. But now on to the last but just as important item on my list.
“And lastly ...” I said gently pulling back her attention to me.
“We have the matter of a small crime to consider.”
She hung her head. “Yes Miss.”
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