Stephanie's Slavery (Brackish Bay Book 2)

by Cerise Noble

  "I could understand the dresses."

  "Oh, of course. The dresses are ingenious. A good way to cover the slave women, make laundry easy, and yet have immediate access as desired."

  "And the chains. The chain belts were her idea, too. I liked the leather, but I'll admit the chain is pretty."

  "Most of this House was her idea." They lapsed into silence, remembering. "You know, Roy, you need to see Jillian. You're hurting, but she's lost her mother, so soon after she became one herself. You need to be strong for her."

  Roy's voice was solemn. "Yes. I know. I just—it hurts so much to look at her. She looks just like Jessica. Her voice is the same. I can't bear it."

  He wept, his hands trembling on me, his tears dampening the thin blanket. Tobin wrapped his arms around his best friend, and together they wept for our lost love.

  It was a long time later that Roy was able to draw a shaky breath and wipe his eyes.

  "I'll go today. You're right. Jessica wouldn't be proud of my neglecting our daughter."

  Tobin clapped him on the back. "Good."

  Gently, Roy shifted me, getting out from under my body. Quietly, he left the room. Tobin gathered me up, rocking and petting me.

  "Thank you, Stephanie. You're the bravest and best woman I know."

  I leaned on his chest, content that I had been well punished for any hurt I'd given Nanette, content that Roy and Tobin were on the way to healing. He lifted me and lay me on a long padded bench, then stroked my backside from shoulders to calves.

  "You're a brave girl."

  I squirmed, my welts still tender and throbbing. My voice was a cracked whisper.

  "I belong to you, Tobin. My body is yours—an outlet for your pain, an inlet for your pleasure."

  He stroked me a moment more, then left the room, returning with a cup of water, which I drank down gratefully.

  "I am very pleased."

  "I am glad."

  His lips on my shoulder did not surprise me, but they burned. The pain woke up, and I cried out while his lips and short beard scratched down my raw skin. When he reached the juncture of my thighs, he started from my calves and slid up, finally delving between.

  I was never wetter than when I was hurting. Lifting my hips, he placed my knees under them, and then his knees were between mine, his cock free of the pants and suddenly deep inside me. I moaned. Wordless sighs of encouragement slid out between my lips with every breath. He pressed deep, the head of his cock ramming my cervix with every thrust, my welted bottom and thighs radiating pain.

  He came, buried deep inside me, and I groaned, my own orgasm still immaterial. He waited, stroking me, and gradually his cock woke up again. Sliding upwards, he pressed hard on my tender asshole, and I opened for him, engulfing the whole of his cock. He thrust hard, slamming into my welts with sadistic delight in my cries. I sank down inside the sensations, lost underwater, barely able to breathe.

  He raked his nails down my back, and I clenched as a spasm wracked my body. Again and again I came hard around him, until I was exhausted and unable to remain on my knees. Gradually I sank down, facedown on the bench, the weight and prickle of his hairy body a comfort even as it emphasized my soreness. He pulsed and spurted, a hot splash deep inside me.

  His lips on the back of my neck were all the thanks I needed. I smiled, content to drift.

  When I woke again, he was gone, my wrists and ankles chained to the bench. Which was fine. I wasn't going anywhere.

  For a long time I told myself the story of my life with Jessica, remembering all my favorite parts and not so favorite parts, trying to fix it in my head so I would never forget.

  Tobin woke me at suppertime, unchained me, and let me kneel at his feet, eating with my fingers and lips. After, I relieved myself, and then I was chained down again. He stayed by me, stroking my hair until I fell asleep.

  In the morning he was gone. I woke to the sound of Jeffery's angry voice.

  "Tobin!"

  He wasn't there, so he didn't answer, and I didn't either, pretending to still sleep. My eyes flew open, though, when I heard a whimper. Nanette? What could she have possibly done to earn a spanking?

  "Please! Please! Please! I'm sorry!"

  Jeffery was scared. I could hear it in his voice.

  "You'll be more sorry in a minute."

  She must have done something dangerous, even more dangerous than defying Roy. I watched as he chained her down to the spanking bench, elbows on one pad, knees on the other, her hips held high by the pad in the middle. He jerked her dress off and she cried out. She was frightened of his displeasure, as well she should be.

  "No wonder you're such a naughty slave today. My brother hasn't disciplined you at all."

  He squeezed her unmarked ass, and she protested.

  "That's because I've been good!"

  He growled. "Just because you've been good for a few days doesn't mean you don't need your ass walloped now."

  She gasped. "No, please, Jeffery!" Silence. Silly little slave. "I'm sorry! Sir! Please, sir!"

  She figured it out too late. He began to spank her, a rain of furious blows, rapidly turning her pale moons pink, and then red.

  Then she made the mistake of trying to reposition to avoid his hand. I laughed to myself.

  "Defiance? I can definitely see you need a hard spanking."

  "No, sir, please!"

  "Yes, little slave. You need to be kept sore, to remember who your master is."

  "Please, sir!"

  "You don't run away from me. Not ever, Nanette."

  Run away? This little slave? I didn't think that was strictly true, but something must have happened that worried him. I remembered her brush with drowning. Ah. That was probably it. Something like that. I glanced at her dress. Yes. It was river wet.

  "No, sir, I won't, I won't, never again!"

  "I expect you won't."

  He began to spank methodically, now, starting at the top and burning her skin before shifting gradually down and burning burning burning until she was frantic. Even I, with my oft-beaten ass, would have had difficulty submitting to that spanking. I could see the outlines of finger welts starting on her skin. She wiggled and cried and struggled against her bonds, to no avail.

  By the time his hand had reached her sweet spot, she was howling. He didn't stop until she was sobbing.

  "You are going to stay with me, aren't you, Nanette?"

  "Yes, sir! Yes, sir!"

  "You will be careful, and not risk yourself on the shore, won't you?"

  "Yes, sir! Yes, sir!"

  He spanked her along the crease again, his hand punctuating his words. "You'll be good little slave, with your bottom sore, won't you?"

  She could barely speak through her tears, and I felt some empathy for the young woman.

  "Y-yes, s-sir! Y-y-yes, s-s-sir!"

  "Good girl, Nanette. Good little slave."

  She relaxed, her body limp, until he began to spank her thighs. Then she struggled, but it wasn't long before she was limp again, moaning with pain.

  And then I saw something I hadn't seen in a long time. She spread her thighs, pressing her ass back towards his hand. My heart seized, desire and envy slashing through me as her pain transmuted to pleasure and she begged him for more.

  Her voice was so soft I could barely hear her.

  "Please. Sir. Please. Please."

  He heard it, recognized it. Of course he did. He had played with me many times over the years. He began to stroke her welts, his voice a croon.

  "You are a good girl, aren't you, Nanette?"

  "Yes. Sir."

  "You belong to me, don't you?"

  "Yes. Sir."

  "You are my slave," Jeffery said.

  "Yes. Sir."

  "Good."

  Gently, oh so gently, he unfastened the chains and lifted her to standing. She slid down, her limbs too weak to hold her, her head falling back.

  "Sir." He caressed her face, then lifted her and carried her out. I lay st
ill, desire pulsing hot between my thighs, desperate for release, envious that Jeffery had claimed her, envious of the pleasure I knew he was about to give her.

  It wasn't very long after that Devon came to me. "You know he loves her, don't you?"

  I nodded. "Who wouldn't? And she's a suitable match for him."

  He stroked me, waking up my welts again. "Will you be a good girl if I let you go?" I nodded. He released the chains, rubbing my ankles and wrists and helping me to stand. "Get dressed. We'll take a tub in to them and you'll wash them."

  The envy threatened to eat my heart, but I looked at the floor, face flushed. "Yes, sir."

  He patted me on my sore bottom, and I winced.

  "You know, what you said to her really hurt. It was why she ran from Jeffery." He looked at my innocent expression. I daresay the slave had enjoyed the aftermath. "Do you need more?"

  "To bite my tongue?"

  He shook his head, laughing at me. "You would think, Stephanie, that being whipped by two men would be enough warning for anyone."

  I thought about it for a moment. "You're probably right."

  "Probably?" He grabbed my arm and bent me over his hip, spanking me a dozen times quickly before pushing me back to standing. "Behave."

  I nodded, breathing hard, the pain excruciating on top of my welts.

  We went to the bathroom and retrieved a tub. Devon and Gerard carried it to their room. I knelt down beside the bed, looking at Nanette's swollen eyes and red nose, but recognized the contentment in her posture, even as she frowned at me. My voice was still not recovered, and it croaked.

  "I'm sorry."

  "For what?"

  "For giving you doubts. For getting you in trouble."

  She reached for me; the pain of her spanking seemed to have ripped away her fear of me. She touched my face, and it was all I could do to tamp down the unwanted desire. She ran her fingers through my hair, and I let her.

  "You didn't get me in trouble. I ran from Jeffery."

  I smiled. "Foolish little slave."

  Jeffery reached from behind her, grasping my chin. "Ah. Still a brat, aren't you?" I raised a brow, and he patted my cheek, not a slap, but definitely not a caress. "Be a good girl and wash us off."

  I ached with longing as I washed him. He'd only grown more handsome over the years, his body stronger with battling the river for our fish every day. I relived the various times we'd played together over the years, with or without Tobin, and my body turned feverish. But I recognized that she was his priority now.

  ***

  For a long time life felt twisted, off center, and faltering, as if I was walking around dizzy. Jessica left a void that could not be filled, but gradually, we learned to swim around it.

  Life went on. I tended the new slaves, and Roy spent just enough time executing his duties as governor to keep the village running as smoothly as any village ran. Jillian's child grew, and I grew to tolerate her presence as she spent more and more time at the house.

  For the most part, there were enough people in any of the outposts to handle any new trespasser or those who wanted to be slaves in return for protection and shelter, and I was left largely to my own devices. I started to spend more time with Tobin in his workshop, learning some elementary techniques.

  And just when I started to feel like the dizziness had gone away, she shattered the illusion.

  Marri arrived.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

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