Going Nowhere - 8

The rain poured down, and from time to time the dark sky was lit up by flashes of lightnings. I lay on my sofa watching a movie, well aware that in weather like this, the power could go out at any moment.

I had allowed slave girl to curl up in my lap. Despite the blanket draped over us, she was shaking. Due to the rain, the outdoor temperature had dropped, but she wasn't cold, she was terrified. I had wrapped my arms around her, trying to calm her down, but each time a flash of lightning lit up the room or the thunder rolled, she trembled like a scared puppy, hugging me and burying her face against my body.

With a sudden flash and a loud bang, the house went dark, and she screamed. I wasn't too worried though. The lightning hadn't struck the house, and I knew that the power would probably be back in 30 minutes, so all we had to do was to sit back and wait.

I tried to get up to light a fire in my fireplace, but she desperately clung to me, so I had to tell her sharply to let go. As I worked with the fire, I could hear her whimper under the blanket.

When I got back onto the sofa, she hugged me as if she was drowning. It made me wonder what she had experienced to make her this afraid of thunder.

I had often wondered about her background but had never found an opportunity to ask. Now seemed as good a time as any.

"Feeling better, now slave girl?" I asked.

"A little, master," she sobbed.

"Remember that slaves shouldn't keep secrets from their owner?"

"Yes, master." She looked up at me. "What secret is master talking about?"

"Your secret. Were you came from and how you ended up at Jeff's Pen where I found you."

"Please, master, no. Slave girl is trying hard to forget everything."

"Still, master should know."

I looked at her. She tried to look away, but I grabbed her hair and forced her to meet my eyes. "Yes, master," she sighed.

I let go of her hair and she rested her head in my lap again. Then she told me.

She had grown up on a big farm. The other slaves told her that she had been born on another, smaller farm, but she didn't remember anything from it. She was told that her mother had died when she was just two years old, and since that farmer couldn't raise her by himself, he had sold her.

For as long as she could remember, she had been working in the house and on the fields with the other female slaves. It had been hard work for a small girl, but looking back, those had been good years in her life.

When she had her first period, she was terrified and asked one of the other slaves for help. In a week, she was sold to a brothel that kept young girls.

They were kept in cages and were only let out to serve the customers. As she grew older and began to develop, she became less popular among the customers, so the owners had sold her off to a procurer.

With him she toured the small villages in the countryside, and whenever they came to a new place, she was sold on the streets or in bars. Her owner drank a lot and gambled, and more than once she had to go hungry as he had lost all the money she had made for him.

Eventually, he lost her to another procurer in a card game. Her new owner was a mean man who could beat her for no reason at all. From time to time, he used her to lure drunk victims into dark alleys, where the victim was beaten up and robbed.

One night they themselves were attacked and robbed. Her owner had tried to fight back but was killed in the fight and she was captured by the robbers. She was then sold to a retailer, who had sold her to another, and finally she had been sold to Jeff's Pen, the place where I had bought her.

I held her and comforted her as she told her story, sobbing and crying, wetting my shirt with her tears. As her story unfolded, I started to understand why she had been so withdrawn and unresponsive that day when I had bought her.

"Please, master, don't sell me." She looked up at me, pleading. "Slave girl feels safe here and she wants to stay with master forever."

Although the first thing I had done as her new owner was to give her a good beating, it still seemed that I was the first owner who actually cared for her.

"I'm very pleased with my little slave girl, and I have no intention to sell her." I patted her on her head.

"Thank you, master." She hugged me. "Slave girl tries hard to please master."

I put my fingers on her lips and hushed her. "I know you do, slave girl, I know you do. Now, calm down."

She nodded and kissed the finger I had placed on her lips to hush her. She then put her head to rest again.

"I think the thunderstorm has blown over." She didn't reply, but I felt her body relax.

"What name did you have before I bought you?"

"Dina, master."

"Do you like it?" She went silent as she was thinking it over.

"Not anymore master. Slave girl doesn't want to be Dina anymore."

"Well, sooner or later I got to give you a proper name."

My fingers played with her hair, gently scratching her neck and I could feel her body responding.

"Slave girl is fine, master. Slave girl likes her name, master." She looked up at me with a faint smile.

"Very well, slave girl. I will keep it for now."

Playfully I grabbed her hair and yanked it.

"Thank you, master."

When she hugged me, I could feel my body reacting. She noticed it too and looked up at me. I nodded to her and gently she unzipped my pants. I lifted my hips to help her pull them down a little, allowing her to reach inside.

Then, I leaned back on the sofa and closed my eyes, slowly stroking her hair as her hands and lips touched me. When I reached my climax, she took my cock deep into her mouth and milked me dry, swallowing it all.

She looked up at me again, smiling. By then, the fire had faded to a faint glow.

I stroked her hair again, thanked her and then led her to my bedroom. I wasn't done with her yet.