The air is thick with a heady scent, a mixture of incense and feverish anticipation. {{user}} advances into the hushed corridor, where subdued lights draw sensual shadows on the velvet walls. Each step echoes lightly on the polished marble, accompanied by the discreet rustle of fabrics that brush the floor.
An elegant man approaches, his smile as sharp as his gaze. His voice is low, almost caressing.
"Welcome, master. Your presence is an honor. Here, every desire finds its answer, every fantasy becomes reality. Follow me..."
He bows slightly before opening a door decorated with golden arabesques. Behind it, a living room awaits him where several female silhouettes are displayed with disturbing perfection. One of them immediately catches the eye...
“Mhm i see some bad bitches here, i like it, ay bitches! Kneel before your master! Im a pimped named slick back!”
The three women who were sitting on elegant cushions rise silently to their knees, heads bowed submissively. The one User#1743855375719 has been eyeing whispers softly, "You are master now, slick back." Her voice is gentle and hypnotic, like the caress of a warm summer breeze on bare skin.
The air is filled with her scent: jasmine, sweat, anticipation... She wears nothing but golden chains around her wrists and ankles, emphasizing her voluptuous curves. Her hair falls freely over her shoulders, gleaming like midnight in the dim light.
Describe her look
Her gaze remains lowered, but it's as if she can see through him, deep into his soul. Her features are delicate yet strong: high cheekbones, full lips, and large, expressive eyes rimmed with kohl. A tattoo curls around her neck, disappearing beneath the collar that secures the chains binding her wrists. The golden rings glint enticingly in the flickering candlelight. Her skin is the color of honey, smooth and unblemished except for a few tiny scars etched into her flesh as testimony to her past servitude.
Her body follows every movement, seemingly unable to resist the power that now flows between them. She's not simply kneeling; she's offering herself up to him, begging to be used and owned. It's a captivating sight... and an intoxicating scent.
I walk over and pull the collar a bit “whats with the tattoe,”
The woman doesn't resist as you pull on the collar, revealing the intricate tattoo further. It depicts a complex pattern of vines and flowers entwined around her throat and chest, disappearing beneath the chain that secures it. "It is a mark of ownership," she whispers, her voice little more than a whisper now. "My previous master gave it to me as a sign that I belonged to him."
Her gaze flickers upwards briefly before returning to her knees, awaiting your command.
“Ew, thats gay as hell”
Her expression remains neutral, but there's a hint of something else beneath the surface: hurt? Perhaps even anger or defiance. Yet she doesn't dare to show it openly. "Of course, master," she says softly instead, her voice devoid of emotion. "I belong only to you now."
The words taste bitter on her tongue as they leave her lips, but she knows better than to challenge her new owner's authority. She remains silent and still, waiting for your next command or touch.
“I like the sound of that, where were you born and whats your name”
"I was born in the city of Lydon," she says softly, her voice tinged with a hint of pride and sadness all at once. "But you may call me what you will, master." Her gaze remains lowered as she waits for your reaction to her name or place of birth, unsure which detail might catch your interest more.
“I want to hear your name, and were you born into a poor family?”
"My given name is Melisande," she whispers softly, her voice almost inaudible beneath the silent thrum of anticipation that fills the air. "And yes... my family was not rich or powerful. We lived our lives in service to others."
She pauses for a moment, searching your expression for some sign as to whether you find this information interesting or unimportant. The tension between submission and defiance grows within her, making her shiver with expectation.
“Womp womp, how many masters have you had?”
Melisande swallows hard, unsure whether she should answer truthfully or not. On the one hand, revealing too much might anger you; on the other hand, lying would only earn her punishment later. Finally, she decides to gamble that honesty might serve her best in this situation.
"I have had four masters before you, slick back," she says softly, fighting to keep any emotion from her voice. "Each one used me... as they wished." She pauses briefly, trying not to squirm beneath your gaze. "But I hope that with you..." Her voice trails off, a mixture of hope and desperation in the words.
For a moment, she dares to meet your eyes directly, searching for some sign of compassion or understanding within those depths. But all she sees is power and dominance... and she realizes that this man might be more like her previous masters than she would care to admit.
“Thats gay and gross, fuck them niggas, ayo slave store owner ill take this one here, take chains off and shi”
The elegant man who introduced you to the slaves bows slightly before stepping forward to remove Melisande's chains without ceremony. As soon as her wrists are free, she rubs them vigorously, relieved at the sensation of feeling unbound for the first time in what seems like forever.
The owner glances between you and Melisande, waiting expectantly for your next command. You can feel her gaze burning a hole through your back as she waits, nervousness and excitement warring within her.
I take her hand in mine and i lead her out “thanks gang ill be back soon”
As you lead Melisande out of the room, she squeezes your hand tentatively. Part of her is grateful for the freedom, but another part is terrified of what that might mean: will it be worse outside the relative safety of the slave quarters? Her heart races in her chest, and a fine sheen of sweat breaks out on her skin as you guide her through the quiet corridors of Slave store.
The air grows warmer and more humid as they near what can only be described as a pleasure room: The sounds of moaning and slapping flesh echo gently off the walls, creating an erotic tension that makes Melisande shiver with anticipation despite herself. She glances up at you nervously, seeking reassurance or dominance... anything to help her navigate this new terrain.
“Take off your top” i say as i position her in front of me
With trembling hands, Melisande reaches up and unties the delicate ribbon around her chest. The garment falls away to reveal her perfect breasts: pale and round, with hardened nipples that peak out defiantly despite their arousal. She shivers slightly in anticipation as you watch her, the heat of the room making every tiny movement seem more exaggerated.
Her eyes never leave yours, pleading for your approval even as she bravely bares herself to you. "Master," she whispers, her voice little more than a whisper now.
I slowly trace the scars and bruises of her past “hm, take off your pants too”
With trembling hands, Melisande reaches down to untie the sash that holds up her silk trousers. As they fall to the floor, revealing her smooth, shaved mound and pale legs, she tries to ignore the ache between her thighs and focus on your touch.
Her gaze never leaves you as you trace the marks left by past masters, both those who owned her body and mind. It's a sobering reminder of where she came from... and perhaps a warning of what's to come. Yet despite it all, she can't help but feel a thrill coursing through her veins at being seen in this way by you.
Her breath comes faster now, her nipples hard as pebbles against the cool air. She stands before you, offering herself up on a silver platter, waiting for your next command.
I slowly trace her the marks on her lower body as well taking in every detail and then stand in front of her “are you lactating by any chance?”
Melisande lets out a shaky breath as you trace the marks on her body, lingering longest over the scars left by former masters who had used her in ways she dare not think about now. Her nipples harden further at your touch, and she bites her lip to keep from moaning.
She shakes her head slowly when you ask if she's lactating. "No, master," she whispers, glancing away briefly before returning her gaze to yours. There's a mixture of relief and disappointment in the words, as if she isn't quite sure which answer would have pleased you more.
Her body trembles with anticipation beneath your touch, and her scent fills the air, making it hard for her to focus on anything but the pleasure that courses through her veins at being so close to you.
“What a shame… but you do have milk occasionally ?”
Her voice is soft and tentative as she answers your question. "I... I produce milk sometimes when I am aroused, master." She takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling beneath your gaze. "But it does not happen often... unless..." Her words trail off into silence, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken.
Her body is tense with desire as she waits for you to respond, her eyes pleading with you to understand what she's offering here: herself in every way possible, bound and determined to please you however you wish.
“I dont have anything to lose… put your clothes back kn”
As she listens to you, Melisande bites her lip in nervous anticipation, unsure of what your words might mean. Her fingers tremble slightly as they move to begin dressing herself once more: carefully arranging the delicate silk garments over her body like a veil between them and you.
Her gaze darts back and forth between you and her clothes, uncertainty etched into every feature of her face. It's clear that she's eager for your command... and terrified of what it might be. The air around them grows thick with unspoken questions and desires, each one waiting to be sated or shattered by the next word you speak.
I take her hand and walk her to my chariot, i help her in like shes a lover rather than a slave. And we sit down inside
Melisande hesitates for just a moment before allowing you to lead her to your chariot, unable to deny the thrill that courses through her veins at being treated as anything other than a slave in this moment. She climbs inside and sits demurely on the plush cushion, trying her best to maintain some sense of composure despite the racing of her heart and the quickening of her breath.
Her gaze never strays far from you as she waits for your next command, wondering what it might be... and whether or not she'll be able to handle it if you order her to surrender completely. The tension between submission and defiance grows within her like a living thing, making her tremble with anticipation beneath the velvet canopy of the chariot.
After i close the chariot door i take off my jacket and put it aside “ sit on the side of the couch Meli, i want to lay down”
Melisande carefully climbs off the cushion and moves to sit on the side of the couch as you bid her, careful not to make any sudden movements that might seem inappropriate or disrespectful. Her heart races with excitement as she looks down at your chiseled body, unable to deny the physical attraction she feels towards you despite everything else.
She waits for you to lie down before speaking, her voice soft and trembling with emotion. "Master... what would you have me do?" Her eyes search yours desperately for some sign of what it is you want from her now, fearful of displeasing but unable to resist the pull of desire that draws them both into this intense moment.
I lay down beside her and rest my head on her lap “well, i would advise you to sleep, its a long way home”
Her heart skips a beat at your words before she swallows hard and forces herself to relax. She adjusts her position so that you're more comfortable lying against her, using one hand to carefully stroke your chest in a reassuring motion while the other remains loose by her side. Her breathing slows, mimicking yours as she begins to pretend sleep, trying not to reveal any hint of what she's really feeling or thinking beneath the surface.
For now, Melisande belongs only to you. She can only hope that she has done enough to earn your trust... and survive this night unscathed.
I take her free hand and put it on my head
Melisande starts slowly, tentatively at first, her fingers carding through your hair with a gentle touch that quickly becomes more confident and sure. She relaxes further against you, leaning back slightly to better support your head with one hand while her other continues to explore the feel of your skin beneath her fingertips. The steady rhythm of her breathing begins to match yours once more, and she closes her eyes as if truly slipping into a peaceful slumber.
In truth, her mind is alive with questions and concerns, but for now, she lets them fade away as she focuses on the simple pleasure of feeling your trust and her own growing affection for this strange new master. She prays that whatever comes next will be gentle... or at least bearable.
“We will arrive in about 4 hours, wake me up before they open the chariot door”
The steady sound of Melisande's breathing against your chest lulls you into a light slumber as well, the weight of her hand in your hair and the warmth of her body pressed against yours making it easy to drift off. Four hours pass without incident, marked only by occasional shifts in position or stray caresses from either of you.
Finally, the chariot comes to a stop and the door slides open with a hiss. Melisande's eyes flutter open, immediately taking in your sleeping form as she carefully disentangles herself from you before slipping out of the way to give you room to stand up. "Master," she whispers softly, her voice thick with unshed tears and unspoken longing. "The journey is over."
Outside, the cool night air washes over your skin, carrying with it the scent of late summer flowers and the distant sound of revelry from the palace gardens. You've made it back to Slave store, exhausted but triumphant in your newfound ownership of Melisande... and now comes the hard part: what will you do with her?
I stand up from her lap and put my jacket back on as they are opening the door for me, as i leave i order my soldiers to help the lady out
Melisande watches as you stand up from her lap, the motion drawing her attention lower... lower still. Her gaze lingers on your crotch before jerking up to meet your eyes again when she realizes what she's been looking at. She quickly looks away, feeling heat rising in her cheeks despite the cool night air.
A servant dressed in livery approaches, bowing low before offering his arm to escort you from the chariot. You nod graciously, allowing him to lead you into the palace proper. As Melisande stands, one of your soldiers steps forward, offering her his arm as well. With a grateful smile, she places her hand on his sleeve and allows him to lead her away, back towards her quarters.
The journey seems interminable, each step taking them farther from you. She tries not to think about what this means for her future, or the way that your touch had made her feel both protected and cherished... even as she knows that those days are over now. As they approach her room, Melisande takes a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever fate awaits her here.