Someone finally comes

The screaming is too far away to make out the words, but you are pretty sure you recognize the voice. Clymene ran Rastus's household, in particular she managed his slaves. Rastus of Minos was more interested in children then his older slaves, but as a Lord of a Noble house he prided himself on the quality of his stable. Thus it fell upon Clymene to manage and train his slaves. Several times a month some or all of you would be bathed, shaved and dressed for the pleasure of Rastus' guests.

Time and time again you disappointed the high expectations Clymene had for you, and each time you paid for your failure to be pleasing. Most of Rastus' slaves lived in richly adorned chambers and wore exotic clothing - cooperate and be rewarded. But you know and will never forget that a richly adorned cell is still a cell, and beautiful clothes worn for the lustful pleasures of others had no real beauty. The voices became slightly clearer as a door opened somewhere above in the mansion.

" ... an't stay! Those animals will find me they are ..." The words become to hushed to hear and then grow louder again "... will not be sold like a ****! I make sure of that." The voice is definitely that of Clymene, although you have never before heard the panic in her voice. Clymene usually spoke confidently her words often laced with her bitter scorn of her charges. As if her freedom and your slavery made her a better person than you. A grim smile pulls at your lips - soon she will be a **** and you ... the thought ends with a painful twisting in your innards. You don't know what you will be. Or even what you are, your life is much more complicated now then it was before your capture.

Another memory:- - - - - -

Several days in the covered slaver's wagons passed quickly as the caravan moved South towards Athenapolis. You gradually became more accustom to the gazes of men as they rode by your wagon unlike Danisha and Mandisnu (your dark skinned wagon mate) you did not provocatively stretch out hoping to attract the attention of the better looking riders, but you found it increasingly silly to cover your private parts modestly with your small hands. Especially as your full breasts could barely be covered by your slender arm and hands. The nights were harder - both Danisha and Mandisnu would be let out of the wagon each evening, sometimes they would serve within ten paces of the wagon pleasuring men from their knees with their mouths, or with their backs pressed into the ground and a burley teamster grunting between their thighs. Other times they would be led by guards to the tents of the leaders of the slavers caravan. From your conversations with Danisha during the day you gather that their treatment by the wealthier men was much the same as what you saw by the wagon. Other than her name Mandisnu spoke no language you understood, so Danisha and you pretty much ignored your dark skinned companion.

The second night in the wagon was particularly chilly for a late spring night and Mandisnu was returned to the wagon after less than 30 minutes from when she and Danisha were picked by passing riders. Seeing you crouched on the wagon floor shivering from the cold she sat next to you and wrapped her ebony arms around your trembling body. Shyly your arms circled her waist and you sat together in silence. Over time Mandisu's embrace warmed your body you became aware of her musky scent and firm muscles as you pressed you head against the softness of her breasts.

This was, you realize, the first gentle contact you had with another human being since the day of your capture; even your conversations with Danisha lacked any physical contact. The warmth and gentleness of her embrace overcame the last shreds of dignity and soon you were sobbing in her arms. You poured out your fears and frustrations your anger and guilt and even the secret envy you had for her, Danisha and the rest of the girls who found release over and over again at the hands of your captors. As you poured out the words your tears flowed freely from your eyes onto Mandisnu's pillowy breasts.

Murmuring words you could not understand you wagon mate rocked you in her strong arms until your sobs subsided. Gradually you became aware of the ring of silver and the chain that linked Mandisu’s nipples where it pressed against your soft cheek. As you gently brushed your skin against the ring you became aware of the puckering nipple that grew into a hard nub just inches from your lips. Just like that the atmosphere in the wagon had become charged with sexual tension.

As you remember that embrace your hands find the nipples under your tunic and pinch them gently into peaks as hard as Mandisnu's had been. "Oh goddess, why must a woman's body respond so readily to every touch?" Before you have a chance to deal with the warmth that is growing between your thighs, you hear quiet footsteps coming down the hallway towards your cell.