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The artwork that accompanies this story was created by  www.deviantart.com/0formant0 and it is being posted with his permission. He has really inspired me lately to write and the following is a credit to his artistic abilities.

This is a work of fiction. The setting is an alternate historical Great Britain. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. All characters depicted are 18 years old or older. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Rosemary for Sale

  Rosemary lay awake on the small cotton pad they had given her. She could smell it was nasty and it had not been washed since the day she had arrived but she was still grateful to have it. It was still a more peaceful bed than what she had in the orphanage. She had seen inside some of the other enclosures. She knew it could be worse. Straw and refuse lay about in some of them, crowded with several women. Others were barred shut or smelled heavily of something foul and dank. She hoped to never find out what made them smell like that.

  She guessed that the only reason she got her own cell in this hellish place is the fact that she had retained her virginity. She knew from how the other women were treated, she was different and it was the only thing that set her apart. Had she known it was going to be used against her like this, she would have taken the risk of a teenage pregnancy and allowed one of those horny boys she knew to violate her body.

  She strained her ears, searching for any sound indicating what time it was. There was nothing she could identify solidly. The frequent distant screams echoed down hallways. Sounds of wet slaps on soft things. It could be strikes of crops on flesh, whips snaking onto bodies, beasts of burden being urged to pull and carry. Or her fellow slaves being punished and pushed to new limits.

  She unconsciously pressed her shirt against her nipples. She had been beaten and whipped her first week on the property until she was grinding her rough burlap shirt against her nipples at every chance. At first, it was such an unnatural movement for her. Instead of the heavy chastity belt the orphanage had put on her, here at Lancaster Manor they used a different method to ensure her virginity remained intact. They put heavy leather mittens on her hands and buckled them on. When no one was around to monitor her, one of the porters would clip the ends to her thick leather collar. She had to learn to press her arms against her chest to make the shirt press against her small tits.

  During those first few days, she had seen several of the other girls who were bought at auction along side her being trained in the same way. Rub or get strikes. Rub or the cane swats against her ass. All the other girls had it easier, thought Rosemary. They had larger tits, ones that swayed and moved when they shook their chests. Like large pendulums, their breasts made their own friction against the rough fabric. There was no pressing their arms tight to their chests, pulling and tugging the harsh weave of fibers over nipples. She hated them all.

  Rosemary jerked as she heard the cold sound of metal on metal. She knew from the countless times she heard the noise that it was the porter using his key on her cell door. The outline of light of her cell door suddenly became a rectangle of brightness. Rosemary squinted, hoping that today it was Tony who was sent to fetch her and not that awful Brent. She began frantically pressing the burlap cloth that served as her top against her sore nipples.

  Her eyes adjusted and she saw it was Tony this morning. Her heart slowed down a bit, knowing she would get a toilet trip first. Brent always forced a blowjob before leaving her cell, his sperm dripping down her face and from her hair as he led her through the cellar. He never allowed her to swallow, despite the frequent instruction that she never spill a single drop from any male. Parading her through the cellar ensured she was punished throughout the day for disobedience with a double-cock gag strapped to her face. She never got a choice which end was going to be her gag and which end was for display, the long and narrow cock or the wide, fat monster. There were times she was sure it had recently been used before going into her mouth. She knew Brent was tormenting her for some reason.

  Tony was nicer. He would let her pee and clean up from her time in the cell before he made her suck him off. He loved to grind his foot against her crotch as she drove his cock down her throat. And she was allowed to keep clean too. Her primary objection about Tony was he insisted on bathing her. He focused so much attention on her tits and pussy she almost always came, necessitating another round of the wet sponge, or sometimes just a cold bucket of water. It always depended on his mood at the time and how well she sucked his cock. And then there was the harsh towels to dry her off.

  There were days she preferred Brent, but only when bathing. He left her mostly alone. He was clearly instructed to wash her tits and pussy and he always rubbed her clit until she doubled over with an orgasm. She still could not tell if he was better at making her cum or if Tony was, since there were times Tony did not quite get her there. Despite how harsh he was, Tony was still the least sadistic to her.

  She knew she had been here at least two months, her cycle having just ended a few days ago, her second one since she was purchased. It was a long standing policy at the orphanage to sell off any unclaimed children the day they turned 18. Orphans had the choice of either auction or abandonment. No one wanted to be abandoned here, effectively becoming wards of the State.

  Wards of the State were considered public property and it was the local government’s civic duty to properly care for its wards. Which it did so by selling them off. Bounties were paid for any property recovered and an active slave trade kept revenues up and the streets empty beggars and the poor. Since the orphanage sold her directly, it was allowed to add in the cost of her chastity, no small sum.

  Rosemary had spent almost 4 years of her life as an orphan, watching the prettiest girls and slight build boys leave the building with rich benefactors. She got to interview with them too from time to time, but no one ever showed interest in adopting her. She had arrived at the orphanage at the age of 14, having lost both parents to the local debtor’s prison. In a lot of ways her life had improved since those dark days. At least here at the Manor, she was not assaulted all the time.

  Rosemary paid a heavy price for entering the orphanage a virgin. Not only was she fitted with a heavy and awkward chastity belt, but none of her clothes could fit her properly again. Anything she wore would clearly show she was belted. Only the simplest of dresses were made for her to cover herself and even then, the bulk of the belt clearly stood out against her slight frame.

  What made her time at the orphanage the worst was how often she actually came out of that belt. Frequent medical exams ensured she stayed virginal during her time there. She was always blindfolded for the procedure. Probing fingers mashed and moved around her genitals, sometimes there were hands grabbing at her breasts. It became routine to be examined like this, strapped to a strange half table, stirrups holding her legs apart. She was scared that at any moment someone would plunge into her, ripping her virtue and ending her value.

  Every evening, she would pass out from exhaustion. Rosemary would be woken up with her wrists and ankles tied in a spread eagle pose. One of the girls would then pick the lock on her belt and free her. After a few weeks, the girls managed to produce a key, one of the spares the orphanage kept locked up. Rosemary was violated every night from then on. Tears and begging for mercy usually occupied several hours of her nights this way, her voice never above a whisper. She was too scared to be caught bound to her bed by the headmistress.

  The other girls kept telling her that if she was found like this, the headmistress would keep her bound all the time, a pervert free to torment. They would threaten to tear her open, tell her how much it hurt, how much it would bleed. And then mercilessly rub her clit until she came. Yes, her life at the Lancaster Manor in many ways had become an improvement.

  Tony attached a braided leather lead on to her collar before un-clipping her mittened hands. She rolled her shoulders and made her elbows pop as she stretched. The sharp jerk on her leash made her quickly follow him to the bathing area set up for the slaves of the household. She knew if she tried to touch herself beyond rubbing her nipples, she would be beaten at the minimum. Her pussy was no longer her own.

  This morning was turning out to be very different than all her others. Tony led her to the bathing area where the water was warmed and already a bit soapy, not the cold bucket she was used to. A second smaller bucket was full of clear warm water, set aside to rinse her off. She looked at Tony in confusion. She learned in her early days here not to speak unless told to. Both Tony and Brent were strong advocates of silence from slaves. And the panel and cock gags used as reminders were very effective.

  In silent practiced moves, Tony took off her collar, mittens, and short burlap shirt. He stood back to allow her to bathe. She knew that even if she were to try to escape, now that she was free of her bondage, there was no where to go beyond this room. It was all slick stonework and she barely kept her footing with the help of the porters in here. Running was dangerous. Plus the gate they used to keep the area separate only opened with the porter’s key. Tony and Brent were too strong to over power. Not while naked.

  After using the small cloth provided to scrub with, she stood with her arms behind her head, legs apart, waiting for Tony to begin his assault on her tits and pussy. After several moments, she opened her eyes to see him staring back at her. Was that pity she saw there? What was he sad about her for? He dipped his hand into the smaller bucket and tossed the clear warm water against her skin, removing any residue from her own ministrations. After she had rinsed off, she expected Tony to begin his drying routine but he just threw one of the harsh towels her way. Rosemary quietly adapted and quickly dried herself off, paying extra attention to her crotch.

  When she was finished, she dropped to her knees and hobbled over to him, her eyes wide and mouth gaping. Her hands reached for his cock, clearly straining against his pants. Tony slapped her away from his crotch, his face locked into a stern expression. He made a single movement of his head, a shake indicating No. His eyes darted around the room quickly and Rosemary took the hint. They were being watched and she was not behaving the way he needed her to. She stood back up, almost eager for her collar and mittens now. She could tell something was bothering Tony. Something involving her. He had even skipped giving back her scratchy shirt.

  She was slow to follow him now and he was constantly tugging at her leash. Her feet were stumbling along, the sense of dread welling up inside her chest. Hot tears began to form in her eyes. She instinctively knew there was something wrong. From the way he walked, his looks at her, Tony clearly knew what was about to happen to her and she was not allowed to ask. Her stomach growled and she almost turned down the hallway to where she was fed. But Tony kept going straight. Was she to be examined again? There were not many other doors down this way and she had never been to any of the other rooms.

  Part of her was grateful to be skipping the feeding room. It was the only place she saw any of the other slaves now. It was a large open space, a few support columns breaking up the room. Wooden partitions were placed along the walls, ensuring that the slaves could not see the others unless the porters decided otherwise. Each stall had a tube extending down from the ceiling with a leather covered pipe extending from the bottom, a fake cock for each slave to suck on to get nourishment.

Her first day here, they had brought her in for her feeding and she tried to revolt. The room stank of bodies and sweat, spilled muck at the feet of the feeding slaves already locked into their stations. She could see they were strapped in place, the ‘cock’ forced into their mouths, hands cuffed around the tube, preventing them from backing off the device. Rosemary bucked and kicked, earning herself a whipping instead of a meal. Her hands were chained over her head and she was summarily beaten at her assigned stall, the feeding cock smacking her face as she tried to avoid the strikes. Her screams echoed in the room, causing many of the trapped slaves to sob around their feeding tubes. The tube she was to feed from dripped the foul meal provided for her, piling up on the floor, making it hard for her to stand.

  She was not let out of her cell for two days after that. When she was brought back to the feeding room again, she was the first one there. Brent explained to her that if she fought again, each slave would see what happens if they fought. Rosemary cried and sobbed, the leather and metal pipe forced far into her mouth. Whatever foulness was in that pipe, it was the only meal she would be getting from now on. Her empty stomach and thirst made her desperate to comply with the demands.

  Today, she passed the hallway with only the faintest longing for a meal. Her stomach was empty and her fear was making her feel a bit sick. She was also not comforted by the fact she did not hear any noise from down that way. Normally, there was crying and sobbing at the minimum. Choking sounds from another captive who was being fed a new recipe. Right now, anything that sounded routine would calm her. The strides Tony was making was putting her into a panic.

  When they stopped in front of the exam room, she relaxed slightly. She knew what to expect in this room. She closed her eyes, preparing for the usual leather strip that was to be her blindfold. When Tony dropped the heavy leather sack over her head, the slight noise she made earned her a strike to her tits. She could feel the back of his hand on her chest for several minutes after he hit her, especially her right nipple. The ring he wore caught it with his swing, pinching it hard.

  He removed her collar and belted the leather bag around her throat. The stiff belt prevented her from moving her head freely, increasing her sense of dread. Her eyes adjusted to the new darkness and she could see pinholes in the leather, allowing just enough light for her to make out the floor, Tony’s black boot barely in her view.

  He grabbed her hands, clipped them together and brought them above her head. Another click and they were secured there. He stepped away, his footsteps fading, leaving Rosemary to contemplate her new situation. The first thing she noticed was the smell inside the hood. The strong smell of the leather was pleasant to her, but there were other smells she picked up on too. ‘Someone has been sick in this thing’, she thought, the faint scent of vomit in her nose. She tried to stop thinking of how long she might be here, stuck in this hood. She did not dare step away from the spot Tony left her at. Her mild panic was starting to grow when she heard footsteps again in the hall.

  She felt more than saw the leash being connected to her new collar, the tug yanking her toward the exam room. Rosemary began to calm a bit. She was very familiar with what went on in this room. She climbed upon the exam table without being told, placing her legs into the stirrups. The leather padding stuck to her skin, making it hard for her to move once she was in place. Hands strapped her legs tight to the supports and a belt was strapped over her arms and head, tight on her forehead. A final belt was placed over her belly, cinched too tight for her to breathe properly.

  She struggled to keep quiet. The belt on her belly was new. It scared her. It kept her hips from moving when combined with the straps on her legs. She had never been strapped down to be examined like this before and panic was starting to make its way into her chest. Despite the severe consequences of making noise, she was preparing herself for a scream when she heard voices talking about her.

  “Is this the one, Father?” a male voice sounded. “She looks so small. No wonder she is not producing. Are you sure the cooks have been feeding her the right dosages?”

  “Yes, Martin, the cooks have been properly doing their jobs.” She knew that voice. She rarely heard it, but that was Lord Lancaster. They must be here examining her today.

  A hand grabbed her right breast, pulling and kneading it like it was some dough. She was squeezed and pressed, her nipple being pulled on at the end of the treatment. Rosemary was in agony, struggling to keep from making any noise. She knew the punishments were harsh from the porters. She could only imagine how bad the Lord would treat her if she were to try to speak right now.

  ‘Producing? Producing what?’ she thought, as her left breast was mauled.

  “The Doctor thinks she might produce properly if she were impregnated,” said Lord Lancaster. “Which is such a shame. I was hoping to get some Virgin milk out of her. They are so hard to find these days without directly breeding them. I could have set whatever price I wanted. And I hear that its much more delicious than the other varieties.”

  Her tit was still in the grasp of whatever hand was currently tormenting her. She felt a hand at her crotch, rough dry fingers exploring her clit and pussy. Hot tears began to form in her eyes. She just knew that hand was going to tear her open, they were going to mount here right here.

  “She is so small down here, Father. I bet she would be fun ride!” The excitement in his voice made Rosemary almost cry out. His fingertips were pressed up against her hymen, his thumb resting on her clit. She wanted him to rub it, just move it just a little.

  “She is getting moist! Ha! She wants it Father. Can I? Can I take her?” The glee she heard in his voice shook her. They were openly negotiating her virginity while mauling her. Her tits ached, the constant stimulation of them for the past weeks driving her mad. Her clit throbbed, needing more than the fingertip pressed against it. Her body started to shake, a silent sob coursing through her, her panic taking control. The only positive effect of her movement was that it make Martin’s fingers move, sliding over her clit which sent her body into stronger convulsions.

  “Is she cumming? Brent, you told me it takes some effort to elicit an orgasm from her,” said Lord Lancaster. “Tony, you said the same. Were you lying to me?” His voice went cold and hard suddenly. Even Rosemary became still, Martin’s fingers still pinching at her pussy. She barely drew in breath, the leather sticking to her face.

  She heard something slice through the air next to her and Tony’s voice saying “My Lord, I think she was crying. She is easily cowed ever since her first days here.” Rosemary knew he was right. She had given up all hope of anything other than a short, painful existence here once she was sold. She knew very well the lifespan of most slaves like her was short.

  Her mind was whirling. Both Tony and Brent were here in the room, as well as Lord Lancaster and his son. She felt her examination was not going as well as it could have. She was not allowed to speak for herself and she was clearly not meeting the expectations they had of her. ‘They wanted me to make my own milk?’ she thought. ‘And now what are they are going to do to me? Impregnate me? Oh god! Not like this!’

  “Have her Martin. Its your birthday today. Keep her, she’s yours. Add her to your collection if you want. Her fate is yours to decide.” Lord Lancaster was disappointed in his purchase. “I will see you this evening for your birthday feast.” Heavy footfalls faded off out of the room.

  “Brent, take her to my room. I want to enjoy my present before breakfast.” He pinched her clit against her pubic bone and withdrew his fingers quickly. Rosemary held her breath, her scream stifled successfully. Her panic was rising but she had no choices. She was property and Martin Lancaster wanted her in his room. And Brent was going to take her there. She just knew he was going to find a way to torment her.

  She knew both porters unstrapped her from the table. She could feel Tony on one side of her, Brent must have been on the other. Once the leather belts had been released, she moved off the table toward Brent, attempting to give him less reasons to punish her. He grabbed her by the back of her neck and pushed her forward.

  He forced her forward from the room, never once letting go of her neck. They turned away from the exam room and he made her stop in front of a door. She could see his arm pull open the door, revealing a set of stairs leading up. She had never been off this level of the estate and she had no idea what was in store for her at this point. A shape moved past, an expensive shirt and pants flashing in front of her. ‘That must be Martin,’ she thought. The holes in the leather hood allowed her to see a bit, but it was not enough to make out finer details. She had to keep her gaze low just to use the holes to see.

  Brent kept a strong grip on her neck as he pushed her in front of him up each step. He partly was lifting her up with each motion forward. Her breathing became labored after a few steps. The thick leather with its tiny holes was not allowing much air to pass. Brent seemed to know this, his strong hand at her neck keeping her upright. When she started to stumble, he slowed down, allowing her to breathe more. She was getting lightheaded.

  She felt Brent move next to her face. “You are going to wish they had started milking you,” his hard voice sounding harsh. “If Martin likes you and adds you to his collection, you are going to suffer such daily torments you cannot imagine. He lets me watch after them most days.” He gave a quick laugh in her ear. “He normally picks just one to play with on his own and there are so many to care for.”

  Rosemary had wondered why it was mostly Tony who came for her in the mornings and evenings. Now she knew. Brent was usually overseeing Martin’s collection, whatever that meant. She was afraid to find out. He hauled her down an unfamiliar hallway, a long rug on the floor running down the center. She could see the occasional table leg and door frame but she still had no idea where she really was.

  “Personally, I hope you fail. I have too many to take care of as it is without adding you to my chores. I will eagerly admit you have talent sucking cock, but Martin won’t be using your mouth today.” Brent then reached down and forced a cloth to her crotch, pressing on her pussy and drying up the moisture that Martin caused. “He thinks you don’t like sex, so if you go to him all sloppy and wet, then I look like a liar. Better that your first time is rough and dry. I really hope he makes you cry out so I can punish you.”

  He then shoved the cloth between her throat and the bag, blocking off many of the holes and forcing her to smell herself, the damp cloth pressed against her nose and mouth. Tears began to flow from her eyes, her emotions getting out of control. She was about to be raped by her new master and Brent was doing everything he could to make it as miserable as possible.

  He pushed her forward and she stumbled onto a soft surface. Perfumes and slick fabrics enveloped her senses for a moment, almost overriding the scent of her arousal and the leather sack. She could feel her hands being grabbed and she was pulled further onto what she was sure was Martin’s bed. A sharp sounding click later and her hands were stuck in place. She pulled and struggled but it was no use, she had been connected to something on the bed frame.

  She felt hands grab at her ankles and a body pressed up against her legs. The hairy legs was a strange sensation to her, causing her skin to crawl with the tickle of the contact. Warm hard flesh pressed against her pussy as Martin pressed his cock against her. Rosemary tried to close her legs, terrified of the pain she knew was coming. His dick missed its target and slid along her clit and up along her belly. The bed shifted a bit and an arm pressed down next to her side. His cock moved along her pussy again and began to press into her vagina.

  She instinctively tried to close her legs, anything to stop what she knew was coming. “Spread her,” Martin said. A pair of calloused hands grabbed one of her ankles and pulled. A softer pair of hands with hard long fingernails grabbed her other ankle. Rosemary almost made a noise, the shock that there was another person in the room nearly forcing a squeal out of her. She knew it must be Brent who had pulled on her, but she had no idea who the other person was. It certainly was not Tony.

  Marin kept trying to penetrate her but his cock was too dry to enter. He shifted off of her, saying “Lick her, Cumdump.” The softer hands left her ankle and she suddenly felt a mouth on her pussy. Spit and a tongue worked on her cunt for a few moments before Martin returned, trying to mount her again. His rock hard cock sliding along her quim, finding her entrance. He pressed forward into her hymen and she could feel it tear.

  She was steeling herself for tremendous pain, her insides ripping and bleeding out. Instead, the feeling of fullness overwhelmed her senses as his cock pressed up inside her. His dick made contact inside her vagina, stroking her G-spot for a brief moment. She felt so good that, for a moment, she forgot all her training and let slip a satisfied grunt. Martin instantly stilled atop her.

  “Did you just laugh?” his voice hard and cold. She could almost see his anger through the leather hood sack. He placed a fist into her belly and pressed his entire weight into her. Her breath was forced out as she rapidly shook her head, desperate to tell him No any way she could.

  “I heard her laugh, sir,” said Brent.

  Rosemary was shocked at his words. ‘That was no laugh and he knows it!’ she thought. The pain in her stomach was rising into her mind, blocking out almost all thought. Martin’s cock was still buried inside her cunt, it’s slight movements stimulating her in ways she was not expecting. There had to be something wrong with her. She was enjoying the sensations. ‘Maybe I am a pervert?’

  He plunged into her pussy a few more thrusts and withdrew, pressing with his fists hard into her belly as he moved off. “Cumdump, finish me. She doesn’t deserve my cum.” Slurping and gagging noises began immediately. “Brent”, he said casually, “after you tend to my collection, take her over to that bar I like. Oliver knows what can be done with her. Tell him she replaces that girl I broke last month. Oh, and canes today. I like how they scream with the canes lately.”

  ‘He broke a girl? How?’ Rosemary could not believe what she was hearing. He was so casual and matter of fact about what he just said. She had been caned once, for breaking curfew at the orphanage. It took her days to sit again and the marks lasted for weeks. ‘Lately? That means canes are regularly used!’ she thought.

  “Very good, sir,” Brent’s reply sounded smug. He had wanted Martin to treat her badly. He had gotten what he wanted, certainly.

  She was left on the bed, unable to pull herself free. She kept her legs closed, wondering how badly she was bleeding. She was so absorbed in trying to process what had just happened to her that it was quite a shock when she heard women’s voices all crying out different words. “Tits!”, one screamed. “Ass!”, cried out another. “Cunt! Feet! Thighs!”, all cried out in different voices. ‘They sound like dogs barking!’, thought Rosemary. She squirmed on the bedding, imagining horrible cane strikes on her body.

  She heard the slice of air just before it hit flesh. “Oww!!”, a woman screamed. Several more strikes followed, her screams drawing out with each hit. She took a breath and screamed “Thank you!” followed quickly with “Tits! Tits! Tits!”. There was a pause before Rosemary heard the swish again and another woman screamed loudly. “Oh god! My tits! Cane my tits! Please!” Brent landed several strikes to the woman before she started chanting “Feet! Feet!”

  Another pause that soon began to fill with sobs, Rosemary strained her ears for the next blows to land. Even though she could not see them, she had seen enough canings to know that the marks on the first woman were just now beginning to develop full color. The first red lines were now filling up with blood, turning them a deep red or worse.

  ‘He is making them choose the punishment the next one gets!’, she thought. ‘That is so sick!’ She was slightly relieved that she had not become part of Martin’s ‘collection’ even if it did mean her fate was now up to Oliver at the bar. Brent continued his beatings on the women. The cries of ‘no’ and ‘ouch’ and the screams going on for so long that Rosemary started to cry for them. She tried to cover herself on the bed, her mind reacting to the sounds by imagining herself as the next target. Occasionally one of them would sound pleased with Brent’s choice of target, crying out with ‘Yes!’ and sounds of pleasure.

  Through it all, Rosemary could hear Cumdump slurp and gag on Martin’s hard member. He always increased his pace when the screams were at their loudest. She had no idea how long it had taken but the cries of the women all eventually turned into a singular plea: “Mercy! Mercy!” As the chorus of voices started to peak, Martin began to grunt and Rosemary could hear Cumdump choking.

  “All of it. All of it Cumdump”, she heard Marin saying. “Don’t spill a drop or you will be whipped.” Cumdump went quiet for a moment and a satisfied grunt sounded from Martin. Rosemary heard something heavy land on the floor and her new master spoke. “Heh. She swallowed it all, but she passed out. Make sure she is breathing. And prepare her for whipping after you have taken out the trash. She is going to be my guest’s entertainment tonight! As well as my collection. Lovely marks on them too! My party is going to be so well decorated this evening!”

  For a moment, Rosemary was confused. Martin had instructed Brent to take her to the bar, not take out the trash. Her confusion passed quickly as she realized that to Martin, she was the trash. Her tears, already freely flowing in pity for the beaten women, rolled down her face and gathered into the cloth at her mouth. Her juices mingled with her salty tears, filling up the hood with her scent all over again. She was so focused on herself, she did not notice Brent had moved to check on Cumdump nor that he was releasing her hood from the bed frame.

  When he jerked her off the soft bed, she squealed in fear, knowing a cane strike was going to land on her. Instead, Brent punched her stomach, making her double over in pain and fall to the floor. She could barely make out a female shape lying there next to her. Black belts kept her legs bound tightly together. Rosemary could see scars crossing all over her legs, old ones mixed with healing ones. Before she could see any more, Brent lifted her up by her hood and hands, literally dragging her from the room. She heard Martin humming Happy Birthday to himself, clearly satisfied with how his morning was proceeding.

  Brent pulled her along quickly down the hall again. She was barely able to keep her footing as he hauled her out of the house. Once they were outside and her feet were on the sharp gravel of the walkway, Brent let her go for a moment. He released her hands from the top of the hood and connected them again behind her back. She felt the belt at her throat being loosened and suddenly the bag was removed. Brent’s hand caught the soaked cloth at her throat before it could drop to the ground.

  He tucked the bag under his arm and moved in front of her, his eyes locked on her face. He looked so angry and she could not help but cry. “You don’t deserve to see where we are going but if I leave you blinded, I won’t have time to do all my chores before tonight’s celebrations.” His voice was hard and as cold as metal. “Follow me or I will clamp you.” He held up some spring loaded clips, wide and with spiked edges. There were several of them, all attached with chains. She had no idea where he would clip those painful looking things to her and she did not want to find out.

  “And no noise,” he added as she shoved the moist rag into her mouth. She knew better than to resist the improvised gag.

  Brent turned and began walking down the gravel drive. Rosemary struggled to keep up, the sharp stones hard on her feet. From time to time she stepped off the path into the cooler grass on the side. As they got farther away from the manor, the lane curved, allowing the trees on the property to hide the home from the street. They approached the end of the drive and Rosemary could see a figure locked into a pillory. When they got closer, she could see it was a woman, her clothes in tatters and hanging off her frame.

  “If you do a good job greeting the guests today, you might be released,” Brent said as he placed the leather hood over her head.

  “Please! Please let me go! Please Brent! I will do anything! Please!” she cried as he buckled the belt around her throat. Rosemary stared at his cool expression. He slapped her ass a few times and tore a bit more of her dress.

  “Do a good job today Sara. Your brother wants a good birthday party!” he said, walking quickly away, a shocked Rosemary nearly running behind to catch up.

  Her mind was spinning. ‘That was Martin’s sister?! Surely that could not be real! Why was she out there near the street?’ She had no answers and would not dare ask for any. Brent moved fast, his long strides carrying him easily down the street. Rosemary fought to keep up, her tiny breasts bouncing on her chest. She drew stares from all sides as she ran behind the Lancaster porter. She tried to not think about how many people she passed were runaway slave hunters. How many of them would snatch her up and apply for a bounty at City Hall.

  Brent looked behind at her from time to time. She wondered what would really happen if she tried to run. Would he let her? Would he call out that she was a runaway? It was obvious she was property so she could not claim any misunderstanding. The rag in her mouth tasted sour and was soaking up her drool for a time. When it got saturated, she would suck on it, getting a fresh taste of herself and her tears. Her growling stomach reminded her she still had not had a meal today. Despite how foul it was, she missed her morning meal right now.

  They soon began passing smaller homes, built closer together. They were approaching the center of the town, people packing the streets. Every step became harder for Rosemary to keep up with Brent. Pinching fingers would sneak out at her nipples and tits. Slaps to her ass and legs started to become a regular occurrence. Brent must have noticed and approved of the treatment because he slowed, allowing the crowds more time to molest her.

  She thought he had led them to the wrong place when she noticed they were getting close to the local prison. Thick stone walls cordoned off the area, a single barred gate with guards manning it was the only entrance. The smiles she received from them made her feel like she was a target. All the men in this area looked at her like that. Big, burly men, well dressed and well paid, each one of them giving her a stare that scared her to the core. She followed Brent as close as she could, drawing the gaze of everyone in the street.

  ‘The Last Chance’ was written above the door he entered and Rosemary noticed the bar was only separated from the prison by an alleyway in the back of the building. The noise was deafening inside and barely lessened when she entered. So many eyes focused on her in that instant, she felt like she was meat in front of starving dogs. Brent had already moved toward the bar itself, forcing Rosemary to thread a path past all the tables. Hands grabbed and fingers probed at her as she struggled to get to his side.

  She was not the only slave here and not the only nude one either. The second floor of the building had a walkway that ran around the room, doors every few feet. From how frequent people were coming in and out of them, she knew those rooms were being used to fuck slaves. The sounds alone were familiar enough to her. Along one wall were men and women locked into pillories and stocks. She could see a few of their faces, tear stained messes. Others were only showing their backsides, cum and other fluids dripping off them.

  ‘What's going to happen to me? Oh god! Please don’t let me end up like this!’ she cried in her mind. She had thought the orphanage was bad. This place was going to be her end and she knew it. The sense of dire dread growing in her chest. She began to cry again, her hot tears streaking down her face.

  She reached Brent just as he had finished saying something to an older balding man. “Fuck him! Damn it Brent, he broke my Wendy last month and now he wants to replace her with that stick thin stray?” The man looked straight at her. “Her tits are too small! Look at this shit! She cant be in the fuck wall!”

  Brent leaned over and said something close to the man’s ear. “What the fuck! First time just today?! Bullshit, she’s not even bleeding! So I can’t sell her out as a recent virgin, no one would buy that! Fuck! And besides, all my rooms are full. I can’t take on another whore right now.”

  Rosemary wanted to run, to escape this nightmare. She looked over at the fuck wall, bodies trapped by panels. All she could see was asses, feet and hands. At least at the places that were not already occupied with someone pounding on the trapped slave. There was a woman ramming a strapped on dildo into another girl right next to a man pounding away into another pussy. Next to them was a man whose cock was being stroked and teased by a woman, the man with her was binding the slave’s balls and cock with a thin leather cord.

  ‘The rooms upstairs are probably worse than this!’ she thought, scanning the room for every predatory look. There were far too many for her to feel good about this place.

  “Fine. Fine. Take her out back then. I know I won’t get what I need out of her. You had better make it up to me, Brent. Wendy was a grand whore until he ruined her. After what he did, she was not even good enough for the wall.” The bald man looked at Rosemary one more time and winked. “Put on a good show slave. Its your last chance!” He laughed so hard at his own joke, Brent grabbing her arm and pulling her to the back of the building.

  No one touched her with Brent leading her on, something she was quietly grateful for. The probing fingers she had been enduring were having an effect on her. The faint touches to her pussy were reminding her that she had not gotten to cum yet and all the attention on her was starting to make her feel a bit horny. ‘What is wrong with me?’ Rosemary wondered. She hated this but could not deny how her body was reacting to how she was being treated.

  Brent took her down several steps and stopped next to a wooden pillory that was set up in the alleyway. She hated how it looked, little carved spikes at the bases of the pillars, a head hole and two wrist holes in a board meant to keep her upright on the spikes. A whipping cane hung from a hook right in front of her. Brent opened the device and placed her neck into the largest opening. He lifted a knee into her crotch, forcing her to keep in place. He reached behind her and released her hands from each other. Quickly, he moved them into the wrist slots and closed the locking bar into place. She was now trapped, literally her last chance.

  As Brent took the mittens off her hands, a youthful boy came running out of the bar. He carried a chalkboard sign and some rope. She could not see all of what was written on it but she saw For Sale very clearly. The boy made a great deal of effort to make sure it hung just below her pussy. He handed something to Brent as he went back into the bar just as Brent was attaching one of her ankles to the metal cuff attached to the post. Rosemary began to cry as the pressure of her body began to press her foot into the spikes.

  It was not that they were sharp. The pressure points were brutal on the bottoms of her feet. And it increased to new levels when Brent cuffed her other leg to the second post. She was now spread open for anyone in the alley. Free to harass her or use the offered cane to her skin. Her cloth gag was her only respite, allowing her to keep a bit of dignity. And silence. It had kept her from making any noises around Brent, something she was grateful for. Some of those pinches had hurt and without her gag, he may have punished her.

  He finished locking her up and she quickly realized she could take pressure off her feet by hanging from her neck and wrists. But not for long. She could not hang herself like that and eventually she had to put her weight back at her feet.

  “So you see what your predicament is? Good. I knew you were a smart one, even if you were not well endowed.” She felt him grab a nipple. He slowly increased the pressure, twisting as he continued to speak. “This is The Last Chance. It’s named that because this is the last chance most slaves here have before they either die or get donated to the prison yard. You are not a prisoner of course, so if you escaped from there, you would earn your total freedom. But nude? Starving? Locked in a stock for hours?”

  ‘Hours? How long am I going to be here?’ she wondered.

  “I think the prisoners there would make short work of something as slight as you,” said Brent. He released her nipple, the pain changing from his pinch to the return of blood to her nub of flesh. “Your only hope is that, before midnight, someone comes along willing to buy you. Oliver in there wants enough to replace his Wendy, so you have quite a sum to attract. Oh, and this is mine.” He pulled the rag from her mouth.

  As she moved her jaw, free of the gag, he placed the object the boy had given him into her mouth. A ring gag, simple and effective. The single leather strap going behind her head quickly and pulled on tight. “The boy has a good eye for the right size. You could take one larger but this will keep you from biting as you are inspected. And since Martin has invited all the big spenders in town to his party, there is a very good chance you are going to be tossed to the prisoners tonight.“

  Tears began to flow from her eyes as the drool she could no longer contain began to drip out of her mouth. Brent smiled at her, turned on his heel, and walked back into the bar. Over the next 12 hours, men and women wandered into the alley and inspected her. Some took strikes at her ass and legs with the offered cane. Some plunged into her pussy with their fingers, pleased with her look of pain. Some forced fingers into her mouth, gauging how deep she could take a cock. She could see that some were slaves themselves, wearing collars proudly over their clothes. Others were clearly servants, out having a good time during the afternoon.

  The sun went down far too slowly for her, the crowds thinning, whispers of the Lancaster party taking over the local calendar of events. She hung from the stock several times, never quite able to allow her life to fade. Her feet were in agony, her drool a pool below her face and between her legs. She knew she passed out several times. It was only a cane strike or fingers in her mouth or pussy that woke her again.

  The crowd in the bar started to pick up again near the midnight hour as some patrons arrived to see what the evening after a Lancaster birthday party might bring them. Rosemary heard cries and screaming and a raucous cheer from the bar. Her heart sank as cheers of ‘Sara! Sar-ra! Sar-ra!’ filled the place. She could only guess that Sara Lancaster had in fact been freed from her pillory. Only to end up at The Last Chance. She could not decide if her tears were from her own pain or for pity that Sara had ended up here too.

  She was so lost in her own self that she did not fully notice the older man standing across from her. His stern look was severe. She could not tell if he was sizing her up or angry at her. He moved very close to her and she could see how fine his clothing was. He lifted the flower out of his lapel and placed it in her hair. He then ascended the steps to the bar. Oliver could be heard arguing and raising his voice.

  A few minutes passed and Oliver appeared in the alley, a huge smile on his face. “You are quite a lucky cunt! This here is Thomas and he just bought you for Master Malone, your new owner.” He unlocked the ankle cuffs which allowed her to get off those damned spikes. Her feet felt raw. The locking bar swung free and she nearly collapsed. Thomas caught her, one hand grabbing at her breast, the other pressing against her back. He shifted his grip slightly and held her tight to himself. She grabbed at his arm, not to rip it away, but to grip it and hold on. He had lifted her fully off the ground and was simply carrying her along. She did not mind the crushing pressure on her tits, the relief from her feet worth the new discomfort. Besides, it was far better treatment than she had gotten lately regarding her breasts.

  Thomas kept her gagged and never said a word to her as they traveled down the street away from the prison. After they had gone about a block, he waved at a passing carriage. The driver stopped and opened the door for the man, helping to lift Rosemary inside as well. When the driver slipped his fingers into her pussy and asshole, she just accepted it. She also realized that she had become moist along the way, her body yet again telling her she enjoyed some part of this.

  The rocking of the coach plus her long day made her pass out on the floor, Thomas’s boot just inches away from her face. He looked down at her and smiled. He was certain Master Malone would be very happy with this newest slave. She was very compliant and not broken fully. And still so young and new. She should easily take to the training at Malone Manor. Thomas already had several thoughts on what her first tasks needed to be after she became acquainted with Master Malone.

Description

The artwork that accompanies this story was created by  www.deviantart.com/0formant0 and it is being posted with his permission. He has really inspired me lately to write and the following is a credit to his artistic abilities.

This is a work of fiction. The setting is an alternate historical Great Britain. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. All characters depicted are 18 years old or older. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Rosemary for Sale

  Rosemary lay awake on the small cotton pad they had given her. She could smell it was nasty and it had not been washed since the day she had arrived but she was still grateful to have it. It was still a more peaceful bed than what she had in the orphanage. She had seen inside some of the other enclosures. She knew it could be worse. Straw and refuse lay about in some of them, crowded with several women. Others were barred shut or smelled heavily of something foul and dank. She hoped to never find out what made them smell like that.

  She guessed that the only reason she got her own cell in this hellish place is the fact that she had retained her virginity. She knew from how the other women were treated, she was different and it was the only thing that set her apart. Had she known it was going to be used against her like this, she would have taken the risk of a teenage pregnancy and allowed one of those horny boys she knew to violate her body.

  She strained her ears, searching for any sound indicating what time it was. There was nothing she could identify solidly. The frequent distant screams echoed down hallways. Sounds of wet slaps on soft things. It could be strikes of crops on flesh, whips snaking onto bodies, beasts of burden being urged to pull and carry. Or her fellow slaves being punished and pushed to new limits.

  She unconsciously pressed her shirt against her nipples. She had been beaten and whipped her first week on the property until she was grinding her rough burlap shirt against her nipples at every chance. At first, it was such an unnatural movement for her. Instead of the heavy chastity belt the orphanage had put on her, here at Lancaster Manor they used a different method to ensure her virginity remained intact. They put heavy leather mittens on her hands and buckled them on. When no one was around to monitor her, one of the porters would clip the ends to her thick leather collar. She had to learn to press her arms against her chest to make the shirt press against her small tits.

  During those first few days, she had seen several of the other girls who were bought at auction along side her being trained in the same way. Rub or get strikes. Rub or the cane swats against her ass. All the other girls had it easier, thought Rosemary. They had larger tits, ones that swayed and moved when they shook their chests. Like large pendulums, their breasts made their own friction against the rough fabric. There was no pressing their arms tight to their chests, pulling and tugging the harsh weave of fibers over nipples. She hated them all.

  Rosemary jerked as she heard the cold sound of metal on metal. She knew from the countless times she heard the noise that it was the porter using his key on her cell door. The outline of light of her cell door suddenly became a rectangle of brightness. Rosemary squinted, hoping that today it was Tony who was sent to fetch her and not that awful Brent. She began frantically pressing the burlap cloth that served as her top against her sore nipples.

  Her eyes adjusted and she saw it was Tony this morning. Her heart slowed down a bit, knowing she would get a toilet trip first. Brent always forced a blowjob before leaving her cell, his sperm dripping down her face and from her hair as he led her through the cellar. He never allowed her to swallow, despite the frequent instruction that she never spill a single drop from any male. Parading her through the cellar ensured she was punished throughout the day for disobedience with a double-cock gag strapped to her face. She never got a choice which end was going to be her gag and which end was for display, the long and narrow cock or the wide, fat monster. There were times she was sure it had recently been used before going into her mouth. She knew Brent was tormenting her for some reason.

  Tony was nicer. He would let her pee and clean up from her time in the cell before he made her suck him off. He loved to grind his foot against her crotch as she drove his cock down her throat. And she was allowed to keep clean too. Her primary objection about Tony was he insisted on bathing her. He focused so much attention on her tits and pussy she almost always came, necessitating another round of the wet sponge, or sometimes just a cold bucket of water. It always depended on his mood at the time and how well she sucked his cock. And then there was the harsh towels to dry her off.

  There were days she preferred Brent, but only when bathing. He left her mostly alone. He was clearly instructed to wash her tits and pussy and he always rubbed her clit until she doubled over with an orgasm. She still could not tell if he was better at making her cum or if Tony was, since there were times Tony did not quite get her there. Despite how harsh he was, Tony was still the least sadistic to her.

  She knew she had been here at least two months, her cycle having just ended a few days ago, her second one since she was purchased. It was a long standing policy at the orphanage to sell off any unclaimed children the day they turned 18. Orphans had the choice of either auction or abandonment. No one wanted to be abandoned here, effectively becoming wards of the State.

  Wards of the State were considered public property and it was the local government’s civic duty to properly care for its wards. Which it did so by selling them off. Bounties were paid for any property recovered and an active slave trade kept revenues up and the streets empty beggars and the poor. Since the orphanage sold her directly, it was allowed to add in the cost of her chastity, no small sum.

  Rosemary had spent almost 4 years of her life as an orphan, watching the prettiest girls and slight build boys leave the building with rich benefactors. She got to interview with them too from time to time, but no one ever showed interest in adopting her. She had arrived at the orphanage at the age of 14, having lost both parents to the local debtor’s prison. In a lot of ways her life had improved since those dark days. At least here at the Manor, she was not assaulted all the time.

  Rosemary paid a heavy price for entering the orphanage a virgin. Not only was she fitted with a heavy and awkward chastity belt, but none of her clothes could fit her properly again. Anything she wore would clearly show she was belted. Only the simplest of dresses were made for her to cover herself and even then, the bulk of the belt clearly stood out against her slight frame.

  What made her time at the orphanage the worst was how often she actually came out of that belt. Frequent medical exams ensured she stayed virginal during her time there. She was always blindfolded for the procedure. Probing fingers mashed and moved around her genitals, sometimes there were hands grabbing at her breasts. It became routine to be examined like this, strapped to a strange half table, stirrups holding her legs apart. She was scared that at any moment someone would plunge into her, ripping her virtue and ending her value.

  Every evening, she would pass out from exhaustion. Rosemary would be woken up with her wrists and ankles tied in a spread eagle pose. One of the girls would then pick the lock on her belt and free her. After a few weeks, the girls managed to produce a key, one of the spares the orphanage kept locked up. Rosemary was violated every night from then on. Tears and begging for mercy usually occupied several hours of her nights this way, her voice never above a whisper. She was too scared to be caught bound to her bed by the headmistress.

  The other girls kept telling her that if she was found like this, the headmistress would keep her bound all the time, a pervert free to torment. They would threaten to tear her open, tell her how much it hurt, how much it would bleed. And then mercilessly rub her clit until she came. Yes, her life at the Lancaster Manor in many ways had become an improvement.

  Tony attached a braided leather lead on to her collar before un-clipping her mittened hands. She rolled her shoulders and made her elbows pop as she stretched. The sharp jerk on her leash made her quickly follow him to the bathing area set up for the slaves of the household. She knew if she tried to touch herself beyond rubbing her nipples, she would be beaten at the minimum. Her pussy was no longer her own.

  This morning was turning out to be very different than all her others. Tony led her to the bathing area where the water was warmed and already a bit soapy, not the cold bucket she was used to. A second smaller bucket was full of clear warm water, set aside to rinse her off. She looked at Tony in confusion. She learned in her early days here not to speak unless told to. Both Tony and Brent were strong advocates of silence from slaves. And the panel and cock gags used as reminders were very effective.

  In silent practiced moves, Tony took off her collar, mittens, and short burlap shirt. He stood back to allow her to bathe. She knew that even if she were to try to escape, now that she was free of her bondage, there was no where to go beyond this room. It was all slick stonework and she barely kept her footing with the help of the porters in here. Running was dangerous. Plus the gate they used to keep the area separate only opened with the porter’s key. Tony and Brent were too strong to over power. Not while naked.

  After using the small cloth provided to scrub with, she stood with her arms behind her head, legs apart, waiting for Tony to begin his assault on her tits and pussy. After several moments, she opened her eyes to see him staring back at her. Was that pity she saw there? What was he sad about her for? He dipped his hand into the smaller bucket and tossed the clear warm water against her skin, removing any residue from her own ministrations. After she had rinsed off, she expected Tony to begin his drying routine but he just threw one of the harsh towels her way. Rosemary quietly adapted and quickly dried herself off, paying extra attention to her crotch.

  When she was finished, she dropped to her knees and hobbled over to him, her eyes wide and mouth gaping. Her hands reached for his cock, clearly straining against his pants. Tony slapped her away from his crotch, his face locked into a stern expression. He made a single movement of his head, a shake indicating No. His eyes darted around the room quickly and Rosemary took the hint. They were being watched and she was not behaving the way he needed her to. She stood back up, almost eager for her collar and mittens now. She could tell something was bothering Tony. Something involving her. He had even skipped giving back her scratchy shirt.

  She was slow to follow him now and he was constantly tugging at her leash. Her feet were stumbling along, the sense of dread welling up inside her chest. Hot tears began to form in her eyes. She instinctively knew there was something wrong. From the way he walked, his looks at her, Tony clearly knew what was about to happen to her and she was not allowed to ask. Her stomach growled and she almost turned down the hallway to where she was fed. But Tony kept going straight. Was she to be examined again? There were not many other doors down this way and she had never been to any of the other rooms.

  Part of her was grateful to be skipping the feeding room. It was the only place she saw any of the other slaves now. It was a large open space, a few support columns breaking up the room. Wooden partitions were placed along the walls, ensuring that the slaves could not see the others unless the porters decided otherwise. Each stall had a tube extending down from the ceiling with a leather covered pipe extending from the bottom, a fake cock for each slave to suck on to get nourishment.

Her first day here, they had brought her in for her feeding and she tried to revolt. The room stank of bodies and sweat, spilled muck at the feet of the feeding slaves already locked into their stations. She could see they were strapped in place, the ‘cock’ forced into their mouths, hands cuffed around the tube, preventing them from backing off the device. Rosemary bucked and kicked, earning herself a whipping instead of a meal. Her hands were chained over her head and she was summarily beaten at her assigned stall, the feeding cock smacking her face as she tried to avoid the strikes. Her screams echoed in the room, causing many of the trapped slaves to sob around their feeding tubes. The tube she was to feed from dripped the foul meal provided for her, piling up on the floor, making it hard for her to stand.

  She was not let out of her cell for two days after that. When she was brought back to the feeding room again, she was the first one there. Brent explained to her that if she fought again, each slave would see what happens if they fought. Rosemary cried and sobbed, the leather and metal pipe forced far into her mouth. Whatever foulness was in that pipe, it was the only meal she would be getting from now on. Her empty stomach and thirst made her desperate to comply with the demands.

  Today, she passed the hallway with only the faintest longing for a meal. Her stomach was empty and her fear was making her feel a bit sick. She was also not comforted by the fact she did not hear any noise from down that way. Normally, there was crying and sobbing at the minimum. Choking sounds from another captive who was being fed a new recipe. Right now, anything that sounded routine would calm her. The strides Tony was making was putting her into a panic.

  When they stopped in front of the exam room, she relaxed slightly. She knew what to expect in this room. She closed her eyes, preparing for the usual leather strip that was to be her blindfold. When Tony dropped the heavy leather sack over her head, the slight noise she made earned her a strike to her tits. She could feel the back of his hand on her chest for several minutes after he hit her, especially her right nipple. The ring he wore caught it with his swing, pinching it hard.

  He removed her collar and belted the leather bag around her throat. The stiff belt prevented her from moving her head freely, increasing her sense of dread. Her eyes adjusted to the new darkness and she could see pinholes in the leather, allowing just enough light for her to make out the floor, Tony’s black boot barely in her view.

  He grabbed her hands, clipped them together and brought them above her head. Another click and they were secured there. He stepped away, his footsteps fading, leaving Rosemary to contemplate her new situation. The first thing she noticed was the smell inside the hood. The strong smell of the leather was pleasant to her, but there were other smells she picked up on too. ‘Someone has been sick in this thing’, she thought, the faint scent of vomit in her nose. She tried to stop thinking of how long she might be here, stuck in this hood. She did not dare step away from the spot Tony left her at. Her mild panic was starting to grow when she heard footsteps again in the hall.

  She felt more than saw the leash being connected to her new collar, the tug yanking her toward the exam room. Rosemary began to calm a bit. She was very familiar with what went on in this room. She climbed upon the exam table without being told, placing her legs into the stirrups. The leather padding stuck to her skin, making it hard for her to move once she was in place. Hands strapped her legs tight to the supports and a belt was strapped over her arms and head, tight on her forehead. A final belt was placed over her belly, cinched too tight for her to breathe properly.

  She struggled to keep quiet. The belt on her belly was new. It scared her. It kept her hips from moving when combined with the straps on her legs. She had never been strapped down to be examined like this before and panic was starting to make its way into her chest. Despite the severe consequences of making noise, she was preparing herself for a scream when she heard voices talking about her.

  “Is this the one, Father?” a male voice sounded. “She looks so small. No wonder she is not producing. Are you sure the cooks have been feeding her the right dosages?”

  “Yes, Martin, the cooks have been properly doing their jobs.” She knew that voice. She rarely heard it, but that was Lord Lancaster. They must be here examining her today.

  A hand grabbed her right breast, pulling and kneading it like it was some dough. She was squeezed and pressed, her nipple being pulled on at the end of the treatment. Rosemary was in agony, struggling to keep from making any noise. She knew the punishments were harsh from the porters. She could only imagine how bad the Lord would treat her if she were to try to speak right now.

  ‘Producing? Producing what?’ she thought, as her left breast was mauled.

  “The Doctor thinks she might produce properly if she were impregnated,” said Lord Lancaster. “Which is such a shame. I was hoping to get some Virgin milk out of her. They are so hard to find these days without directly breeding them. I could have set whatever price I wanted. And I hear that its much more delicious than the other varieties.”

  Her tit was still in the grasp of whatever hand was currently tormenting her. She felt a hand at her crotch, rough dry fingers exploring her clit and pussy. Hot tears began to form in her eyes. She just knew that hand was going to tear her open, they were going to mount here right here.

  “She is so small down here, Father. I bet she would be fun ride!” The excitement in his voice made Rosemary almost cry out. His fingertips were pressed up against her hymen, his thumb resting on her clit. She wanted him to rub it, just move it just a little.

  “She is getting moist! Ha! She wants it Father. Can I? Can I take her?” The glee she heard in his voice shook her. They were openly negotiating her virginity while mauling her. Her tits ached, the constant stimulation of them for the past weeks driving her mad. Her clit throbbed, needing more than the fingertip pressed against it. Her body started to shake, a silent sob coursing through her, her panic taking control. The only positive effect of her movement was that it make Martin’s fingers move, sliding over her clit which sent her body into stronger convulsions.

  “Is she cumming? Brent, you told me it takes some effort to elicit an orgasm from her,” said Lord Lancaster. “Tony, you said the same. Were you lying to me?” His voice went cold and hard suddenly. Even Rosemary became still, Martin’s fingers still pinching at her pussy. She barely drew in breath, the leather sticking to her face.

  She heard something slice through the air next to her and Tony’s voice saying “My Lord, I think she was crying. She is easily cowed ever since her first days here.” Rosemary knew he was right. She had given up all hope of anything other than a short, painful existence here once she was sold. She knew very well the lifespan of most slaves like her was short.

  Her mind was whirling. Both Tony and Brent were here in the room, as well as Lord Lancaster and his son. She felt her examination was not going as well as it could have. She was not allowed to speak for herself and she was clearly not meeting the expectations they had of her. ‘They wanted me to make my own milk?’ she thought. ‘And now what are they are going to do to me? Impregnate me? Oh god! Not like this!’

  “Have her Martin. Its your birthday today. Keep her, she’s yours. Add her to your collection if you want. Her fate is yours to decide.” Lord Lancaster was disappointed in his purchase. “I will see you this evening for your birthday feast.” Heavy footfalls faded off out of the room.

  “Brent, take her to my room. I want to enjoy my present before breakfast.” He pinched her clit against her pubic bone and withdrew his fingers quickly. Rosemary held her breath, her scream stifled successfully. Her panic was rising but she had no choices. She was property and Martin Lancaster wanted her in his room. And Brent was going to take her there. She just knew he was going to find a way to torment her.

  She knew both porters unstrapped her from the table. She could feel Tony on one side of her, Brent must have been on the other. Once the leather belts had been released, she moved off the table toward Brent, attempting to give him less reasons to punish her. He grabbed her by the back of her neck and pushed her forward.

  He forced her forward from the room, never once letting go of her neck. They turned away from the exam room and he made her stop in front of a door. She could see his arm pull open the door, revealing a set of stairs leading up. She had never been off this level of the estate and she had no idea what was in store for her at this point. A shape moved past, an expensive shirt and pants flashing in front of her. ‘That must be Martin,’ she thought. The holes in the leather hood allowed her to see a bit, but it was not enough to make out finer details. She had to keep her gaze low just to use the holes to see.

  Brent kept a strong grip on her neck as he pushed her in front of him up each step. He partly was lifting her up with each motion forward. Her breathing became labored after a few steps. The thick leather with its tiny holes was not allowing much air to pass. Brent seemed to know this, his strong hand at her neck keeping her upright. When she started to stumble, he slowed down, allowing her to breathe more. She was getting lightheaded.

  She felt Brent move next to her face. “You are going to wish they had started milking you,” his hard voice sounding harsh. “If Martin likes you and adds you to his collection, you are going to suffer such daily torments you cannot imagine. He lets me watch after them most days.” He gave a quick laugh in her ear. “He normally picks just one to play with on his own and there are so many to care for.”

  Rosemary had wondered why it was mostly Tony who came for her in the mornings and evenings. Now she knew. Brent was usually overseeing Martin’s collection, whatever that meant. She was afraid to find out. He hauled her down an unfamiliar hallway, a long rug on the floor running down the center. She could see the occasional table leg and door frame but she still had no idea where she really was.

  “Personally, I hope you fail. I have too many to take care of as it is without adding you to my chores. I will eagerly admit you have talent sucking cock, but Martin won’t be using your mouth today.” Brent then reached down and forced a cloth to her crotch, pressing on her pussy and drying up the moisture that Martin caused. “He thinks you don’t like sex, so if you go to him all sloppy and wet, then I look like a liar. Better that your first time is rough and dry. I really hope he makes you cry out so I can punish you.”

  He then shoved the cloth between her throat and the bag, blocking off many of the holes and forcing her to smell herself, the damp cloth pressed against her nose and mouth. Tears began to flow from her eyes, her emotions getting out of control. She was about to be raped by her new master and Brent was doing everything he could to make it as miserable as possible.

  He pushed her forward and she stumbled onto a soft surface. Perfumes and slick fabrics enveloped her senses for a moment, almost overriding the scent of her arousal and the leather sack. She could feel her hands being grabbed and she was pulled further onto what she was sure was Martin’s bed. A sharp sounding click later and her hands were stuck in place. She pulled and struggled but it was no use, she had been connected to something on the bed frame.

  She felt hands grab at her ankles and a body pressed up against her legs. The hairy legs was a strange sensation to her, causing her skin to crawl with the tickle of the contact. Warm hard flesh pressed against her pussy as Martin pressed his cock against her. Rosemary tried to close her legs, terrified of the pain she knew was coming. His dick missed its target and slid along her clit and up along her belly. The bed shifted a bit and an arm pressed down next to her side. His cock moved along her pussy again and began to press into her vagina.

  She instinctively tried to close her legs, anything to stop what she knew was coming. “Spread her,” Martin said. A pair of calloused hands grabbed one of her ankles and pulled. A softer pair of hands with hard long fingernails grabbed her other ankle. Rosemary almost made a noise, the shock that there was another person in the room nearly forcing a squeal out of her. She knew it must be Brent who had pulled on her, but she had no idea who the other person was. It certainly was not Tony.

  Marin kept trying to penetrate her but his cock was too dry to enter. He shifted off of her, saying “Lick her, Cumdump.” The softer hands left her ankle and she suddenly felt a mouth on her pussy. Spit and a tongue worked on her cunt for a few moments before Martin returned, trying to mount her again. His rock hard cock sliding along her quim, finding her entrance. He pressed forward into her hymen and she could feel it tear.

  She was steeling herself for tremendous pain, her insides ripping and bleeding out. Instead, the feeling of fullness overwhelmed her senses as his cock pressed up inside her. His dick made contact inside her vagina, stroking her G-spot for a brief moment. She felt so good that, for a moment, she forgot all her training and let slip a satisfied grunt. Martin instantly stilled atop her.

  “Did you just laugh?” his voice hard and cold. She could almost see his anger through the leather hood sack. He placed a fist into her belly and pressed his entire weight into her. Her breath was forced out as she rapidly shook her head, desperate to tell him No any way she could.

  “I heard her laugh, sir,” said Brent.

  Rosemary was shocked at his words. ‘That was no laugh and he knows it!’ she thought. The pain in her stomach was rising into her mind, blocking out almost all thought. Martin’s cock was still buried inside her cunt, it’s slight movements stimulating her in ways she was not expecting. There had to be something wrong with her. She was enjoying the sensations. ‘Maybe I am a pervert?’

  He plunged into her pussy a few more thrusts and withdrew, pressing with his fists hard into her belly as he moved off. “Cumdump, finish me. She doesn’t deserve my cum.” Slurping and gagging noises began immediately. “Brent”, he said casually, “after you tend to my collection, take her over to that bar I like. Oliver knows what can be done with her. Tell him she replaces that girl I broke last month. Oh, and canes today. I like how they scream with the canes lately.”

  ‘He broke a girl? How?’ Rosemary could not believe what she was hearing. He was so casual and matter of fact about what he just said. She had been caned once, for breaking curfew at the orphanage. It took her days to sit again and the marks lasted for weeks. ‘Lately? That means canes are regularly used!’ she thought.

  “Very good, sir,” Brent’s reply sounded smug. He had wanted Martin to treat her badly. He had gotten what he wanted, certainly.

  She was left on the bed, unable to pull herself free. She kept her legs closed, wondering how badly she was bleeding. She was so absorbed in trying to process what had just happened to her that it was quite a shock when she heard women’s voices all crying out different words. “Tits!”, one screamed. “Ass!”, cried out another. “Cunt! Feet! Thighs!”, all cried out in different voices. ‘They sound like dogs barking!’, thought Rosemary. She squirmed on the bedding, imagining horrible cane strikes on her body.

  She heard the slice of air just before it hit flesh. “Oww!!”, a woman screamed. Several more strikes followed, her screams drawing out with each hit. She took a breath and screamed “Thank you!” followed quickly with “Tits! Tits! Tits!”. There was a pause before Rosemary heard the swish again and another woman screamed loudly. “Oh god! My tits! Cane my tits! Please!” Brent landed several strikes to the woman before she started chanting “Feet! Feet!”

  Another pause that soon began to fill with sobs, Rosemary strained her ears for the next blows to land. Even though she could not see them, she had seen enough canings to know that the marks on the first woman were just now beginning to develop full color. The first red lines were now filling up with blood, turning them a deep red or worse.

  ‘He is making them choose the punishment the next one gets!’, she thought. ‘That is so sick!’ She was slightly relieved that she had not become part of Martin’s ‘collection’ even if it did mean her fate was now up to Oliver at the bar. Brent continued his beatings on the women. The cries of ‘no’ and ‘ouch’ and the screams going on for so long that Rosemary started to cry for them. She tried to cover herself on the bed, her mind reacting to the sounds by imagining herself as the next target. Occasionally one of them would sound pleased with Brent’s choice of target, crying out with ‘Yes!’ and sounds of pleasure.

  Through it all, Rosemary could hear Cumdump slurp and gag on Martin’s hard member. He always increased his pace when the screams were at their loudest. She had no idea how long it had taken but the cries of the women all eventually turned into a singular plea: “Mercy! Mercy!” As the chorus of voices started to peak, Martin began to grunt and Rosemary could hear Cumdump choking.

  “All of it. All of it Cumdump”, she heard Marin saying. “Don’t spill a drop or you will be whipped.” Cumdump went quiet for a moment and a satisfied grunt sounded from Martin. Rosemary heard something heavy land on the floor and her new master spoke. “Heh. She swallowed it all, but she passed out. Make sure she is breathing. And prepare her for whipping after you have taken out the trash. She is going to be my guest’s entertainment tonight! As well as my collection. Lovely marks on them too! My party is going to be so well decorated this evening!”

  For a moment, Rosemary was confused. Martin had instructed Brent to take her to the bar, not take out the trash. Her confusion passed quickly as she realized that to Martin, she was the trash. Her tears, already freely flowing in pity for the beaten women, rolled down her face and gathered into the cloth at her mouth. Her juices mingled with her salty tears, filling up the hood with her scent all over again. She was so focused on herself, she did not notice Brent had moved to check on Cumdump nor that he was releasing her hood from the bed frame.

  When he jerked her off the soft bed, she squealed in fear, knowing a cane strike was going to land on her. Instead, Brent punched her stomach, making her double over in pain and fall to the floor. She could barely make out a female shape lying there next to her. Black belts kept her legs bound tightly together. Rosemary could see scars crossing all over her legs, old ones mixed with healing ones. Before she could see any more, Brent lifted her up by her hood and hands, literally dragging her from the room. She heard Martin humming Happy Birthday to himself, clearly satisfied with how his morning was proceeding.

  Brent pulled her along quickly down the hall again. She was barely able to keep her footing as he hauled her out of the house. Once they were outside and her feet were on the sharp gravel of the walkway, Brent let her go for a moment. He released her hands from the top of the hood and connected them again behind her back. She felt the belt at her throat being loosened and suddenly the bag was removed. Brent’s hand caught the soaked cloth at her throat before it could drop to the ground.

  He tucked the bag under his arm and moved in front of her, his eyes locked on her face. He looked so angry and she could not help but cry. “You don’t deserve to see where we are going but if I leave you blinded, I won’t have time to do all my chores before tonight’s celebrations.” His voice was hard and as cold as metal. “Follow me or I will clamp you.” He held up some spring loaded clips, wide and with spiked edges. There were several of them, all attached with chains. She had no idea where he would clip those painful looking things to her and she did not want to find out.

  “And no noise,” he added as she shoved the moist rag into her mouth. She knew better than to resist the improvised gag.

  Brent turned and began walking down the gravel drive. Rosemary struggled to keep up, the sharp stones hard on her feet. From time to time she stepped off the path into the cooler grass on the side. As they got farther away from the manor, the lane curved, allowing the trees on the property to hide the home from the street. They approached the end of the drive and Rosemary could see a figure locked into a pillory. When they got closer, she could see it was a woman, her clothes in tatters and hanging off her frame.

  “If you do a good job greeting the guests today, you might be released,” Brent said as he placed the leather hood over her head.

  “Please! Please let me go! Please Brent! I will do anything! Please!” she cried as he buckled the belt around her throat. Rosemary stared at his cool expression. He slapped her ass a few times and tore a bit more of her dress.

  “Do a good job today Sara. Your brother wants a good birthday party!” he said, walking quickly away, a shocked Rosemary nearly running behind to catch up.

  Her mind was spinning. ‘That was Martin’s sister?! Surely that could not be real! Why was she out there near the street?’ She had no answers and would not dare ask for any. Brent moved fast, his long strides carrying him easily down the street. Rosemary fought to keep up, her tiny breasts bouncing on her chest. She drew stares from all sides as she ran behind the Lancaster porter. She tried to not think about how many people she passed were runaway slave hunters. How many of them would snatch her up and apply for a bounty at City Hall.

  Brent looked behind at her from time to time. She wondered what would really happen if she tried to run. Would he let her? Would he call out that she was a runaway? It was obvious she was property so she could not claim any misunderstanding. The rag in her mouth tasted sour and was soaking up her drool for a time. When it got saturated, she would suck on it, getting a fresh taste of herself and her tears. Her growling stomach reminded her she still had not had a meal today. Despite how foul it was, she missed her morning meal right now.

  They soon began passing smaller homes, built closer together. They were approaching the center of the town, people packing the streets. Every step became harder for Rosemary to keep up with Brent. Pinching fingers would sneak out at her nipples and tits. Slaps to her ass and legs started to become a regular occurrence. Brent must have noticed and approved of the treatment because he slowed, allowing the crowds more time to molest her.

  She thought he had led them to the wrong place when she noticed they were getting close to the local prison. Thick stone walls cordoned off the area, a single barred gate with guards manning it was the only entrance. The smiles she received from them made her feel like she was a target. All the men in this area looked at her like that. Big, burly men, well dressed and well paid, each one of them giving her a stare that scared her to the core. She followed Brent as close as she could, drawing the gaze of everyone in the street.

  ‘The Last Chance’ was written above the door he entered and Rosemary noticed the bar was only separated from the prison by an alleyway in the back of the building. The noise was deafening inside and barely lessened when she entered. So many eyes focused on her in that instant, she felt like she was meat in front of starving dogs. Brent had already moved toward the bar itself, forcing Rosemary to thread a path past all the tables. Hands grabbed and fingers probed at her as she struggled to get to his side.

  She was not the only slave here and not the only nude one either. The second floor of the building had a walkway that ran around the room, doors every few feet. From how frequent people were coming in and out of them, she knew those rooms were being used to fuck slaves. The sounds alone were familiar enough to her. Along one wall were men and women locked into pillories and stocks. She could see a few of their faces, tear stained messes. Others were only showing their backsides, cum and other fluids dripping off them.

  ‘What's going to happen to me? Oh god! Please don’t let me end up like this!’ she cried in her mind. She had thought the orphanage was bad. This place was going to be her end and she knew it. The sense of dire dread growing in her chest. She began to cry again, her hot tears streaking down her face.

  She reached Brent just as he had finished saying something to an older balding man. “Fuck him! Damn it Brent, he broke my Wendy last month and now he wants to replace her with that stick thin stray?” The man looked straight at her. “Her tits are too small! Look at this shit! She cant be in the fuck wall!”

  Brent leaned over and said something close to the man’s ear. “What the fuck! First time just today?! Bullshit, she’s not even bleeding! So I can’t sell her out as a recent virgin, no one would buy that! Fuck! And besides, all my rooms are full. I can’t take on another whore right now.”

  Rosemary wanted to run, to escape this nightmare. She looked over at the fuck wall, bodies trapped by panels. All she could see was asses, feet and hands. At least at the places that were not already occupied with someone pounding on the trapped slave. There was a woman ramming a strapped on dildo into another girl right next to a man pounding away into another pussy. Next to them was a man whose cock was being stroked and teased by a woman, the man with her was binding the slave’s balls and cock with a thin leather cord.

  ‘The rooms upstairs are probably worse than this!’ she thought, scanning the room for every predatory look. There were far too many for her to feel good about this place.

  “Fine. Fine. Take her out back then. I know I won’t get what I need out of her. You had better make it up to me, Brent. Wendy was a grand whore until he ruined her. After what he did, she was not even good enough for the wall.” The bald man looked at Rosemary one more time and winked. “Put on a good show slave. Its your last chance!” He laughed so hard at his own joke, Brent grabbing her arm and pulling her to the back of the building.

  No one touched her with Brent leading her on, something she was quietly grateful for. The probing fingers she had been enduring were having an effect on her. The faint touches to her pussy were reminding her that she had not gotten to cum yet and all the attention on her was starting to make her feel a bit horny. ‘What is wrong with me?’ Rosemary wondered. She hated this but could not deny how her body was reacting to how she was being treated.

  Brent took her down several steps and stopped next to a wooden pillory that was set up in the alleyway. She hated how it looked, little carved spikes at the bases of the pillars, a head hole and two wrist holes in a board meant to keep her upright on the spikes. A whipping cane hung from a hook right in front of her. Brent opened the device and placed her neck into the largest opening. He lifted a knee into her crotch, forcing her to keep in place. He reached behind her and released her hands from each other. Quickly, he moved them into the wrist slots and closed the locking bar into place. She was now trapped, literally her last chance.

  As Brent took the mittens off her hands, a youthful boy came running out of the bar. He carried a chalkboard sign and some rope. She could not see all of what was written on it but she saw For Sale very clearly. The boy made a great deal of effort to make sure it hung just below her pussy. He handed something to Brent as he went back into the bar just as Brent was attaching one of her ankles to the metal cuff attached to the post. Rosemary began to cry as the pressure of her body began to press her foot into the spikes.

  It was not that they were sharp. The pressure points were brutal on the bottoms of her feet. And it increased to new levels when Brent cuffed her other leg to the second post. She was now spread open for anyone in the alley. Free to harass her or use the offered cane to her skin. Her cloth gag was her only respite, allowing her to keep a bit of dignity. And silence. It had kept her from making any noises around Brent, something she was grateful for. Some of those pinches had hurt and without her gag, he may have punished her.

  He finished locking her up and she quickly realized she could take pressure off her feet by hanging from her neck and wrists. But not for long. She could not hang herself like that and eventually she had to put her weight back at her feet.

  “So you see what your predicament is? Good. I knew you were a smart one, even if you were not well endowed.” She felt him grab a nipple. He slowly increased the pressure, twisting as he continued to speak. “This is The Last Chance. It’s named that because this is the last chance most slaves here have before they either die or get donated to the prison yard. You are not a prisoner of course, so if you escaped from there, you would earn your total freedom. But nude? Starving? Locked in a stock for hours?”

  ‘Hours? How long am I going to be here?’ she wondered.

  “I think the prisoners there would make short work of something as slight as you,” said Brent. He released her nipple, the pain changing from his pinch to the return of blood to her nub of flesh. “Your only hope is that, before midnight, someone comes along willing to buy you. Oliver in there wants enough to replace his Wendy, so you have quite a sum to attract. Oh, and this is mine.” He pulled the rag from her mouth.

  As she moved her jaw, free of the gag, he placed the object the boy had given him into her mouth. A ring gag, simple and effective. The single leather strap going behind her head quickly and pulled on tight. “The boy has a good eye for the right size. You could take one larger but this will keep you from biting as you are inspected. And since Martin has invited all the big spenders in town to his party, there is a very good chance you are going to be tossed to the prisoners tonight.“

  Tears began to flow from her eyes as the drool she could no longer contain began to drip out of her mouth. Brent smiled at her, turned on his heel, and walked back into the bar. Over the next 12 hours, men and women wandered into the alley and inspected her. Some took strikes at her ass and legs with the offered cane. Some plunged into her pussy with their fingers, pleased with her look of pain. Some forced fingers into her mouth, gauging how deep she could take a cock. She could see that some were slaves themselves, wearing collars proudly over their clothes. Others were clearly servants, out having a good time during the afternoon.

  The sun went down far too slowly for her, the crowds thinning, whispers of the Lancaster party taking over the local calendar of events. She hung from the stock several times, never quite able to allow her life to fade. Her feet were in agony, her drool a pool below her face and between her legs. She knew she passed out several times. It was only a cane strike or fingers in her mouth or pussy that woke her again.

  The crowd in the bar started to pick up again near the midnight hour as some patrons arrived to see what the evening after a Lancaster birthday party might bring them. Rosemary heard cries and screaming and a raucous cheer from the bar. Her heart sank as cheers of ‘Sara! Sar-ra! Sar-ra!’ filled the place. She could only guess that Sara Lancaster had in fact been freed from her pillory. Only to end up at The Last Chance. She could not decide if her tears were from her own pain or for pity that Sara had ended up here too.

  She was so lost in her own self that she did not fully notice the older man standing across from her. His stern look was severe. She could not tell if he was sizing her up or angry at her. He moved very close to her and she could see how fine his clothing was. He lifted the flower out of his lapel and placed it in her hair. He then ascended the steps to the bar. Oliver could be heard arguing and raising his voice.

  A few minutes passed and Oliver appeared in the alley, a huge smile on his face. “You are quite a lucky cunt! This here is Thomas and he just bought you for Master Malone, your new owner.” He unlocked the ankle cuffs which allowed her to get off those damned spikes. Her feet felt raw. The locking bar swung free and she nearly collapsed. Thomas caught her, one hand grabbing at her breast, the other pressing against her back. He shifted his grip slightly and held her tight to himself. She grabbed at his arm, not to rip it away, but to grip it and hold on. He had lifted her fully off the ground and was simply carrying her along. She did not mind the crushing pressure on her tits, the relief from her feet worth the new discomfort. Besides, it was far better treatment than she had gotten lately regarding her breasts.

  Thomas kept her gagged and never said a word to her as they traveled down the street away from the prison. After they had gone about a block, he waved at a passing carriage. The driver stopped and opened the door for the man, helping to lift Rosemary inside as well. When the driver slipped his fingers into her pussy and asshole, she just accepted it. She also realized that she had become moist along the way, her body yet again telling her she enjoyed some part of this.

  The rocking of the coach plus her long day made her pass out on the floor, Thomas’s boot just inches away from her face. He looked down at her and smiled. He was certain Master Malone would be very happy with this newest slave. She was very compliant and not broken fully. And still so young and new. She should easily take to the training at Malone Manor. Thomas already had several thoughts on what her first tasks needed to be after she became acquainted with Master Malone.