The runaway.

You catch the runaway serum girl completely off guard, squatting with her knees spread wide as a stream of piss steamed on the leaf strewn ground between her feet. She rises to her feet, startled and turns to bolt, but you seize her wrist and jerk her back into your arms before she can run. Grabbing and wrapping your fist in the long, loosely tied braid of her hair, you turn her around and **** her head up to inspect your prize. She is a rarity in this part of the world, an Easterner, of the nomadic tribes that dwell on the vast grass steppes that border the civilised world, many weeks' travel from these forests.

The runaway's looks are typical of her people, shorter and stockier than average with swarthy skin and jet black hair. The warriors of the nomads tend to be impressively muscled, their rarely seen womenfolk sturdy, wide-hipped and full-breasted. This serum girl has clearly been enhanced since her capture, and her waist, neck, and limbs are much more slender than would be usual for her people. With her wide hips and firm, ample breasts, the narrowing of her waist has given her a pleasing curvaceous figure. Those **** curves are well displayed by the simple white silk vangla she wears.

The short thigh-length **** tunic is open-sided and loosely fitted, held in place by a sash around her waist with the front cut in such a way that her torso is exposed in a deep V from her shoulders to her navel. This gives easy access to the ****'s body for her master. You take full advantage of this ease of access now, releasing her wrist and slipping a hand beneath the silk vangla to cup a large, firm breast. Her nipple is long and hardened beneath your palm as you dig your fingers hard enough into the pliant flesh of the ripe mound to make her gasp and squirm as you hold her in place by the grip of her braid.

You jerk her head back to examine her face, she is undeniably beautiful, her mouth wide and sensuously full-lipped. Her eyes are the darkest of browns and slanted. Her expression is a mixture of annoyance and excitement. Though she is clearly vexed at her recapture, she seems aroused at the prospect of being **** to submit to you. You remove your hand from her breast and tug free the knot on the sash that secures her vangla in place. You run your hand up her thigh, beneath the hem of her silk tunic and cup her sex. She wears no undergarments, perhaps discarded along with her **** heels, as she thought she would remove herself from items commonly worn only by those enslaved.

The ****'s peren is hot to the touch, her mound silky smooth and hairless. Whether this is due to recent shaving or the use of waxes or lotions that are commonly used to remove a ****'s maidenhair down to the roots, sometimes permanently, is impossible to tell. You have heard masters debate at length the merits of both methods, some convinced that permanent removal of the peren's pubic thatch is preferable, whilst others insist that regularly binding a **** to shave her cleanly is both a more enjoyable process and a repeated lesson to the girl that her body is her master's to shape as he sees fit.

"Wet already, like a good slut," You chuckle as you inform the serum girl that you can feel the moisture seeping from her as she anticipates a hard brolling now she is captive.