国外原版主奴经历记载 ｓｉｓｔｅｒｓ

ailuchu

SISTERS

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I struggle to keep my feet hooked round her thighs, toes gouging, kneeling on either side of her slim hips, my hands in her hair, thumping her head on the stones while turning and shaking my own to keep her nails from my eyes. Pots of make-up scatter as we kick and scream, combs and brushes crunching beneath us. A discarded mirror shoots across the room and disappears under the one chair in the large chamber. Her fingers rip at my cheek, a fierce, red pain as her knee rebounds off my inner thigh, trying to kick me off. "Bitch!"
"Slut!"
"Whore!"
"Cun-aaaagh!"
You rip me off her by the hair, seizing my right wrist and twisting it high behind my back as soon as the pain makes me release her. I totter, panting as my head is dragged back, rising onto my toes in an effort to relieve the pressure on my arm, croaking &quotlease... aaaah... please..."
"By the Priest Kings! What is going on here?"Your voice is like thunder but I am too angry to be cautious. Only your foot planted in Anna's stomach stops her jumping up and attacking. I fight with the hand in my hair, kicking towards her ribs. Angrily you jerk me round, rolling her away in a tangle of bruised limbs. She scrambles to her knees as I teeter, kicking and sobbing, a shred of red silk hanging round her neck, a few more bits clinging to the cord around her waist, the rest of her tunic in rags on the floor. I have fared slightly better, the halter that loops around my neck, crosses and then ties back, opening up and cupping my breasts, having simply slipped up into a scarlet coil, the semi-transparent bit of skirting that wrapped my hips completely torn away. I gradually stop panting and wriggling, and start fearing, my knees wanting to fold under me as I look at the teeth marks clearly visible on Anna's left breast. From the way she is suddenly kneeling very straight, her hands clenching and unclenching on her thighs, I am sort of glad I cannot see your face. With a final warning wrench to my arm you push me towards where she kneels before the row of trunks on the west wall. "Get over there slave." I stagger and then fall to my hands and knees, crawling and moaning as my wrenched shoulder throbs. When I straighten and push my hair back from my face it feels as though the roots themselves are bruised, and my lips drawing together in a little moue of pain. I look up reluctantly, trying to stop my hands shaking against my thighs, fingers trembling as I turn them over, my anger draining away.
"I asked what was going on here, slaves." We both flinch at the tone of your voice. "Look at you, you're a mess..." You fling yourself down in the room's single, great carved chair, foot coming down on the mirror with a crack. Anna begins desperately clawing her fingers through her hair, trying to do something with the shreds of cloth my nails haven't torn away, while I do my best to get my breasts back into my halter.
The sound of the mirror hitting the wall and shattering is like an explosion. "I asked you a question..."
Your voice is all the more menacing for being quiet. I stop fussing, kneel straight and answer. "We were fighting, Master."
Some might mistake the soft growl rising in your throat for a purr, but we both know better. "Who started it?" you demand, looking squarely at Anna who is taking an intense interest in your sandals.
My mouth is full of the taste of iron, my tongue thick and uncooperative. "I did, Master." Lying is not an option I know, you can read my body too well for me to get away with it, check the cadence of my voice, the look in my eyes. But my mouth won't form the words. You gaze snaps to me and I bend my neck, unable to meet it.
You come forward quickly, crouch and gently tilt her chin up, face only inches away from hers. "Is this true?" She licks her lips, nods. "Speak."
"Yes Master, Luba started it." You move away but she stays in position, chin lifted, swan neck extended as far as possible. If I can just keep looking at the soft grey stone of the far wall, perhaps I will stop trembling. You walk round us, inspecting, seeing more than we can ever imagine. You steps ring on the flags, beating a tattoo; angrily you kick away a pot of kohl; my heart jumps at every snap of leather against stone. Beside me Anna lets out a little gasp, then another. Snap, snap, snap. You crouch before me now, huge, hard-eyed. The brush of your fingers along my cheekbone makes me wince ¨C in my fear I'd almost blocked out the pain of the scratches. You palpitate the thickened, hardening patch on my upper arm where she punched me until I grimace with the pain, then straighten abruptly.
You shake your head, mouth a tight line almost lost in the dark hair of your beard, left hand straying unconsciously to the whip ever-present at your belt. The worst thing about belonging to a slave trainer is knowing how thoroughly you understand slave flesh, how efficiently you can hurt it... knowing how thoroughly you understand our thinking and use that, alongside the pain, to make every lesson count. Your jaw comes out a fraction, a sure sign you've come to a decision. My stomach turns over uneasily.
"Anna, go and tend the fire. You can clear up this mess later."
She leaps to obey, long limbs golden in the dusk light, edged with the glow from the brazier.
"And light the lamps."
She seems more than happy to concentrate all her attention on lifting coals with the long tongs, listening. Your gaze bores into me until I cannot bear it and have to lift my eyes to yours. What I see makes me flush and look down immediately.
"Run to the kennels, ask the first guard you find there to beat you, 10 lashes for damaging my property, and 10 more for allowing my property to be damaged. Then beg to be kenneled. You can stay down there until I decide what to do with you."
I lift my left hand towards you for a second, entreating. &quotlease..." But the plea dies on my lips. My brain is numb. "...until I decide what to do with you..." echoes again and again through my stupid head. Somehow I force my legs to function, to lift me, tears sliding down my cheeks but no noise coming. I cannot even say "Yes Master", just nod. A wave of your hand dismisses me. As I turn to go I hear a muffled snort from Anna. "Go, I am disgusted with you. And you can stop sniggering, slut." I hear the sound every slave knows and dreads, the click of a whip being unsnapped, the sibilant hiss of leather tongues being shaken out. "If I could be bothered to pour my own paga you'd be joining her. You'll get yours when you've tidied the room." Anna whimpers as I spin on my heel in a discordant jangle of bells.

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"You can try harder, or I can force the issue." You told me that once and now, pulled along by the leash on my collar, back still red and aching, I have some notion of what you meant. My arms throb from being suspended for my punishment, then cuffed for the night, but somehow instinct takes over and I half walk, half run behind the striding guard, my head held proudly, arms tucked in at my sides, bottom pushed forward, stomach tight... My hair, washed and brushed, flows behind me, covering the welts on my back. The livid red marks down my cheek are the only flaw. None the less my eyes are outlined in stinging black kohl, the lids streaked with purple, my lips red and shining. I look like a slut, I move like a slut, leaning slightly backwards and walking, hips rotating forward, as though pulled by my cunt.
The guard, a jovial red-bearded fellow called Barus, unclips the leash as we reach the door to your chambers, gives my naked behind a friendly pat, laughing at my hiss of pain, and walks away, confident I will not be going anywhere. I drop to my knees and scratch at the door, push the heavy planks open just enough to crawl inside, keeping my shoulders low, arms part bent, my arse in the air, every inch a whipped dog. I scan the room quickly; Anna kneels in the centre. Her hair is growing out, covering half the stripes on her back. Her hands hang at her sides as she kneels, secured in cuffs which run on a long chain through a link at the back of the metal loop around her waist. She can bring both hands to her sides at the same time, but any further movement of one hand pulls the other behind her. More chains coil in a pool of silvery metal in front of her.