A New World, Chapter 10: Night of Dreams, Night of Violence

Trig and Mathias stood watching the slaves line up for their evening feeding. Mathias noticed an odd expression on Trig’s face, as though he was trying to make sense of something.

“You did well, whipping Buster and Jasmine,” Mathias said to him.

Trig looked up at Mathias. “I’ve never really punished slaves like that before,” he said.

“Didn’t you discipline your family’s slaves? You’re the youngest, aren’t you?”

Trig nodded. He had two older sisters and, in most families, punishing slaves was a job for the youngest child, once they became old enough to administer a proper paddling or strapping. It was a good lesson in dominance for a young master or mistress, and an equally effective lesson in submission and humiliation for the slave.

“Didn’t you enjoy paddling an adult slave? Making them jump and yelp and sob?” asked Mathias.

“Yes…but this was different,” said Trig.

Mathias laid a hand on Trig’s shoulder. “Yes, it is different. That’s why it needs to be done by a professional. With control and restraint and skill. I know what you’re feeling right now, and that’s what will make you a good slave manager.”

He let Trig think about this for a few moments, then added, “When you punish one slave, try to reward or show mercy to another. It reminds them that a master can dispense both punishment and reward. That’s what a slave lives for. That’s how you get into their heads.” Mathias tapped his temple with his forefinger.

Mathias turned to the line of slaves. “Toby!” he barked. Toby came running and dropped to his knees before Mathias and Trig. He tried to kiss Mathias’ boots, but the four long prongs protruding from the punishment collar made it impossible to reach them with his lips, just as the collar made it impossible to lay his head down to sleep.

“Toby,” said Mathias, “why are you wearing a punishment collar?”

“Because…I was sleeping in the hayshed when I should have been working, master,” said the slave, his slack face showing the effects of sleep deprivation.

“Are you going to sneak off and sleep and make more work for your fellow slaves anymore?” asked Mathias, as though scolding a child.

“No master! Never!” said Toby.

“Would you like me to take that collar off?”

“Master…please...yes please...please take it off! I haven’t slept for days!”

Mathias stroked his chin, in a staged demonstration of thought. “I told Master Kim you should wear it for a few more days until I’m sure you learned your lesson. However, Master Kim is inclined to be merciful, and he said I should take it off.”

Trig knew that no such conversation between Mathias and Kim had occurred; Kim usually did not concern himself with the daily discipline of his slaves.

Mathias took out his key ring, found the key to Toby’s collar, and bent down to remove the heavy iron collar from the slave’s neck. It left a chafed and red ring above his lighter slave collar.

Toby sobbed in gratitude. “Thank you master! Thank you!” he said, blubbering as his lips and tongue played over Mathias’ boots. “Thank you!”

Mathias nudged him away with his boot. “Go on, get your mush, and I expect nothing but obedience and hard work from you!”

As the slave rose to his feet and scurried away, Mathias said, with a wry smile, “He’ll have the best sleep of his life tonight.”

After a moment he added, “Kim wants Daisy in his office tomorrow. You can take care of that while I get Buster ready for the slave market. We’ll have to leave early, right after breakfast.”

As Mathias gathered up his equipment, the collar, cuffs, gags and strap-on dildo, he noticed a slave kneeling at his feet. It was Violet, her forehead pressed to the dirt.

“What, Violet?”

The slave kissed his boots and looked up, her palms flat on the ground, kneeling in a little ball. Mathias knew enough about slaves to know she was going to ask for something, always a risky endeavor for a slave.

“Master, may I take a flower from the garden? I want to look pretty for Master Andy tonight,” she said.

“Yes, you can take one flower. Don’t go overboard. And make sure you do your best to please him. He’s your owner’s son. I don’t want any complaints in the morning.”

“Yes master, thank you master!” Violet rose to her feet and ran off to the flower garden, neglecting to kiss his boots again. Mathias thought about calling her back and scolding her, perhaps a few licks of the strap…but he just wanted to go home. He could deal with her lack of respect tomorrow, and remind her of proper behavior.

Mathias and Vanessa

Vanessa was waiting on the porch of his bungalow when he arrived. There was a bottle of bourbon and an inverted glass on a side table besides a porch chair. Mathias settled into the chair as Vanessa took the glass in her hand and poured three fingers of liquor into it. She placed the golden glass on the side table and knelt, very close to his knee.

As Mathias’ personal property, Vanessa did not attend Buster and Jasmin’s punishment, but the slave grapevine had kept her informed. She knew what her master did to the two slaves.

Vanessa had previous owners who would be aroused to intense and sometimes violent lust after witnessing a slave’s torture and degradation; she did not understand this, but she knew that Mathias was not one of those masters. After he had disciplined a slave, he seemed to want only silence, and to be alone with his thoughts.

Mathias let his fingers stroke her blonde hair as he sipped his bourbon, and Vanessa let her cheek rest against his thigh. They stayed like this for some time, until Mathias stood up and placed his empty glass on the table. He took her by the hand, leading her into the bedroom, barefoot Vanessa following him. The door clicked closed behind them.

Janice and Dingo

Janice clumped up the steps to her bungalow, balancing two plates of blueberry pie in her hands. Two forks were tucked in the pocket of her apron. She kicked off her clogs and made her way down the hall the to her bedroom, where a naked man lay on her bed.

Almost naked: Dingo still wore his chastity cage, and steel collar as well. He lay comfortably, on his back, arms clasped behind his head, ankles crossed. The bed chain was coiled on the floor, unused.

“Hello, beautiful mistress,” he said as she entered.

Janice knew that she was not beautiful; like many good cooks she was stout through the middle, her breasts heavy, her legs and ankles thick from standing all day in a busy kitchen.

“Hello, handsome slave,” said Janice. “Shouldn’t you be on kneeling on the floor next to my bed? You know slaves aren’t allowed on furniture without permission.”

Dingo rolled over onto his belly. “Does my beautiful mistress wish to spank me?”

Janice laughed, setting the plates down on a bedside table. She reached over and gave Dingo two light slaps, one on each buttock. As a frequent draft slave, his thighs and ass were taut and muscular. “There…I hope you learned your lesson!”

Dingo turned onto his back, holding one arm out to invite Janice to join him in bed. She stripped off her clothes and settled besides him, her head resting on his bicep. Janice let her forefinger run along the metal rings of his chastity cage, tapping them with her nail. She could see that he was aroused, his cock swelling in the cage, which pleased and flattered her. She knew Dingo could fake obsequious compliments, but he could not fake desire. It made her feel beautiful.

“Should I let this beast out of its cage?” she asked him.

“It might break the bars soon if you don’t!” he answered. It was almost true; the flesh of his cock protruded between the rings of the cage.

Janice took a cage key from the bedside table drawer, and undid the small lock. She gently tugged the cage off his penis. Dingo winced as his swollen dick was freed, flopping onto his belly. It instantly grew erect, an obelisk on the flat plain of his groin. Jancie laughed and cupped it in her palm, squeezing gently. Dingo opened his thighs and allowed her fingers to fondle his heavy balls as they kissed.

Janice was a big woman, but Dingo was bigger, and he rolled over on top of her, his strong hand on the back of her neck, pulling her up to his forceful kiss. Her lips parted, yielding to his probing tongue, the first of many penetrations she would experience this night.

Janice’s large breasts flopped to her sides, and Dingo took one in his hand, lifting her nipple to his mouth, kissing it…sucking it and nibbling on it. Janice mewled softly as he enjoyed her bosom.

Dingo centered himself between her open thighs, his cock finding her labia, and entering her. He thrust, and thrust, and thrust, as Janice crossed her thick ankles over his back, grasping him tightly, pulling him into her. She held him in her arms, impaled and pinned under the weight of this muscular man as he pounded her into the mattress, making the bed creak.

She knew Dingo was capable of pleasing a woman several times in a night, and this was how they always began their time together, a quick and energetic fucking, followed by kisses and cuddles, then more sex, slow and gentle, and feeding each other whatever delights Janice had brought from her kitchen, until they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Janice constricted Dingo in her arms and legs as he began to erupt within her, spilling semen that had been building up since their last tryst, some days ago.

As he grunted with pleasure and lust, Janice indulged a fantasy of which she was profoundly ashamed, and never shared with anyone: Dingo was not a slave, but her husband, and made love to her because he loved her, not because he was commanded to…. She orgasmed noisily to this thought, tensing and arching under him, her eyes welling.

Once spent, Dingo pulled out of her, and rolled onto his back, his cock still twitching. Janice snuggled into him, feeling the warmth of his semen inside her, her cheek on his broad chest. She could command him to say the words, I love you, wanting so much to hear him say it himself: I love you, Janice, I love you. But she did not, and she knew he never would.

Erika and Lily

Lily was sitting on the steps of Erika’s bungalow, and dropped to her knees when her mistress of the evening arrived. Lily was afraid of Erika, who was almost boyish in her demeanor and carriage, affecting no attempts at femininity, comfortable in trousers, boots, and a flannel work shirt, a crop hanging from her belt. Tall and lanky, Erika was not “butch,” as Lily had seen other such women inclined to women, but rather seemed a woman who just didn’t care. This confused Lily.

Lily knelt and tried to kiss Erika’s boots, but Erika pulled her foot back. “I work in a stable. You don’t want to kiss my boots, unless you like horse shit,” Erika said. She used a bootjack affixed to the floor of the porch to yank off her dirty boots. “I want you to clean those in the morning,” she said to Lily. “They don’t have to be gleaming, just clean.”

“Yes mistress,” said Lily.

Erika looked down at the young slave bitch kneeling at her feet. Accustomed to reading the feelings and emotions of animals, she could sense Lily’s unease and uncertainty. “Come with me,” she commanded, and Lily rose to heel her.

In her bedroom, Erika gestured for Lily to sit on the bed, as Erika fixed the bed chain around her slim ankle. Lily’s feet dangled above the floor.

Erika undid her belt, tossing the crop aside. She knelt besides Lily and took the girl’s hand in hers. “Lily…have you ever been with another woman?” she asked, gently.

“No mistress,” said Lily, her eyes downcast.

“Lily, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to make you feel good, and show you how to please a woman. I’ll make you feel good, and then you’ll make me feel good. Okay?” Lily nodded yes.

Erika guided the girl to lay back in the bed, and opened Lily’s slender thighs. “Close your eyes Lily, and just enjoy what you feel.”

Erika tugged down her trousers and stripped off her shirt. She climbed into bed besides Lily, whose eyes were clenched shut.

Erika tenderly kissed Lily’s small breasts, first around their soft mounds, then her nipples; Janice was surprised how stiff they were, little pink buttons poking up from the pale flesh. She kissed down the length of Lily’s belly, letting her tongue explore Lily’s navel at her narrowed hips, before continuing down the slave’s abdomen to the soft delta of her mons venus.

Erika’s fingers unfolded Lily’s labia, finding the small button at the apex. Erika gave it a gentle kiss, and was glad to hear a soft whimper of pleasure from the slave. She slipped her middle finger into Lily’s vagina, using her thumb to caress the slave’s clitoris. Lily moaned and arched under her, as Erika kissed her, pushing her tongue into Lily’s mouth, opened wide.

With her middle finger and skilled thumb Erika masturbated Lily to a shuddering orgasm, then drew the panting slave into her arms, letting them both catch their breath.

“Did you like that?” Erika asked the girl snuggled against her. Lily nodded yes, her face pillowed on Erika’s breast. “Can you do that to me, Lily?” Erika lay back, opening her long legs widely.

Lily unwound herself from Erika’s arms and began by kissing the swell of her belly, her hand cupping between Erika’s thighs. “Yes,” said Erika, “yes, just like that…” Lily worked her way down as Erika stroked her fine hair, letting it play over her breasts and belly, the bed chain clinking quietly as Lily learned to pleasure her mistress.

Andy and Violet

Violet positioned herself on Andy’s bed, her slender legs curled up under her, body half-turned to the door, a pose that would best show the profile of her breasts and flatter her legs as she looked over her shoulder. She reached up to adjust a blue cosmos flower tucked into her black hair, making sure it was just right.

When she heard the doorknob turn, she put a pretty smile on her face as Andy entered the room. Andy took a moment to regard the lovely slave, then walked closer to the bed, his smile of anticipation mirroring Violet’s.

“Wow,” he said. “You are so beautiful!” Andy took her hair in his hand, and let the strands drape over her breast, arranging it just so. Like all women, slave or free, Violet enjoyed a man’s gentle touch and his words of appreciation of her form.

Andy undid the buckle of his belt, and Violet licked her lips, showing that she was ready to please him. “But tell me,” Andy began, “are slaves allowed on furniture?”

Violet’s smile became a look of confusion. “Master? I thought you would--that I should…”

Andy drew his heavy leather belt through the loops of his pants, a sound that would fill any slave with dread. He doubled it up in his hand and brought it down on Violet across her shoulder.

She shrieked, scrambling off the bed to the opposite corner, as Andy followed her. She cowered against the wall in an almost fetal position, Andy lashing again and again, on back and legs as the slave blubbered and screamed, red welts rising.

When he was satisfied that Violet had been sufficiently disciplined, he tossed the belt aside and grabbed the sobbing slave by her hair, pulling her back onto the bed, her face near the footboard. “Now you can get on my bed, slave!” he said, laughing at his own joke.

Andy took the bed chain and wrapped it twice around Violet’s neck, then locked it in place so that she had almost no freedom of movement. He put her face down, then yanked up her hips so that knelt on elbows and knees, facing the bottom of the bed.

Andy undid his pants and freed his cock; it was already hard, and had been hard since watching Jasmine dancing and screaming under Trig’s whip; he had enjoyed that very much.

He thrust his hard cock into Violet’s pussy, making her gasp as he penetrated her. The slave sobbed into the mattress as he took her.

When he felt himself getting close, he pulled out completely, and lifted Violet’s hips higher. He spread her buttocks to expose her pink anus, and spat on it.

Violet screamed as he entered her ass, feeling the hot burning as her rectum was stretched around his shaft. Andy took a fistful of her hair, pulling her head back as he pounded. Violet’s sobs and whimpers of pain added to his enjoyment.

Andy wanted to fuck her longer, perhaps enjoying all three of her holes, but his cock responded to the tightness of her anus, her sobs, her beauty, and recollection of Jasmine’s whipping. Andy erupted into her with a grunt of pleasure, filling her ass with his cum.

He collapsed over her, his cock twitching inside her. After a few moments he pulled out, eliciting another cry from Violet. He lay back into the pillows, almost laughing with pleasure. “That is some good slave pussy!” he said aloud.

Violet was still weeping at the foot of his bed. “Shut up bitch, or I’ll give you a real reason to cry.” Violet tried to mute her cries, but her ass was still burning. Andy used his feet to push the slave off his bed and onto the floor at the foot of his bed. He rolled over onto the pillows, going to sleep with a satisfied smile.

Daisy

Daisy’s pallet was on the top shelf of three tiers in the slave shed, and she was fortunate to have found herself a place against the wall, giving her a few more inches of space and some privacy.

Nearby, Jasmine was still weeping softly, as some of the other slave bitches tried to comfort her, surrounding her and patting her shoulders; another draped a rag dipped in cool water over her red and striped buttocks, dabbing them gently as Jasmine sobbed. Daisy wished Jasmine would shut up.

It was raining again, as it often did at night this time of year, and Daisy felt a slow but regular drip of rainwater from the roof close by her pallet. The incomplete repairs on the roof had ceased; the rotted roof beams had been temporarily replaced by a sheet of canvas weighted in place by bricks. The tarp had been hastily placed, and there was a gap of between the tarp and roof. Rain dripped through the gap, making a puddle besides Daisy’s pallet. Daisy knelt up and tried to tug the canvas to cover the gap, but it wouldn’t budge.

Daisy pulled her pallet closer to the wall, and curled up into herself. She was still sore from her hours confined in the closet, and Jasmine’s and Buster’s punishment was still vivid in her mind. She had seen slaves punished before, even brutally tortured and executed. She had learned a certain stoicism to process such matters: I am not the slave being punished; I am not the master punishing the slave; therefore, this has nothing to do with me, and I will think no more of it.

Daisy had another tool in her mind’s toolbox. She put herself in a field of wildflowers, walking barefoot in the grass, feeling its soft texture under her feet. Bees and butterflies darted among the flowers. There was no sound but the wind, as the flowers nodded in the breeze. She was wearing a dress; Alice had once let her wear one of hers, flowery and sheer, and it felt so beautiful, and empowering, so unlike a slave, an animal, naked but for her collar. She had loved wearing the dress, but it had made her hate being naked afterwards.

In her mind she turned up her face to the warmth of the sun and the blue sky, closing her eyes. She was soon asleep, dreaming of white clouds sailing across the sky, the gentle wind fluttering the hem of her dress and the flowers of the field.

Trig

Trig was dreaming of Alice.

They were on the road, and Trig had just repaired Alice’s cart. Her mother Eleanor was there, but was looking away, as was their slave, Tiny, harnessed to the cart. Alice was standing close to him, very close. Her eyes were half closed, her lips half open, her head tilted slightly as though for a kiss. Her hands were on his shoulders. Trig, she said, Trig….

Suddenly, Alice was shaking his shoulders, and her voice became deep and manly and insistent. “Trig! Trig! Wake up!”

Trig was confused as Alice faded away, and he beheld Mathias looming above him in the half light of early dawn.

“Trig! I need you. Get dressed and come to Andy’s room. Quietly!” Mathais whispered, and disappeared. Once Trig had separated reality from dream, he groggily pulled on his pants, shoes and shirt and set off down the hallway to Andy’s room, rubbing his eyes.

The door was closed, and when he opened it and entered, he was surprised to see not only Andy and Mathias, but also Andy’s father, Mr. Kim. They stood in a half circle, looking down at something on the floor at their feet.

It was Violet, the bed chain wrapped around her throat, her face purple and grimaced. Her fingers were clutched at the chain at her neck, her eyes dull and sightless, her tongue protruding from her lips. There were marks of a belt on her thighs and back. Blood and semen trickled from her anus. A pale blue cosmos flower was crushed beneath her.

Violet was dead.