Ladies Prefer Champagne Alpha Male Romance Mega Bundle (16 page)

Sold into Slavery

We had been traveling through the dark eastern forests for days when finally, we came to a market place. The other slave girls and I were trotted out onto the market platform and we watched in horror as hundreds of men came to ogle us, looking at our bodies, admiring us as if we were pieces of meat.

“Gentlemen, the finest virgin slaves from all around Europe, here for your delectation… This may be your only chance to sample the beautiful, virgin skin of one such as…”

The seller glanced at me and gestured towards me—or, really, he gestured towards my body, for that’s all he cared about.

“One such as Dashandra here…” the seller announced, grabbing me hard by the wrist and forcing me forward.

He grabbed my shift and lifted it up, revealing my nude body to the men. I turned my head away, ashamed and burning with embarrassment and even… a little excitement? This was the first time many men had looked at my body and I couldn’t help but admit that I was a little curious to know what they thought of me. The boys in my town had always told me I was beautiful, with my sweet little angel face, my nose, slightly upturned and my girlish body, looking a little bit younger than my eighteen years. My dark hair cascaded over my shoulder in gentle curls and my girlhood was covered in a soft down of dark brown hair. I had gotten used to men looking at me now.

Maybe gotten used wasn’t the right word. I had… Resigned myself to it. I hated it but there was nothing I could do to stop it, now was there? All I could do was close my eyes and pretend I was somewhere else…

I thought of the songs my mother had sung to me as a child. The songs were but a distant memory now but I loved the soft, lilting melody that just barely reached out its graceful finger tips to me from across the waves of time…

But the song could not efface the leers and grins of the men watching my body, watching my young, dark flesh, and evaluating me, judging me, placing a price on my virginity.

“Twenty-five hundred for the little chocolate-colored tart!” someone called out.

My hips were not as well developed as those of other girls in my village but they had been growing curvier and curvier as I became older, as had my chest, which not swelled pleasantly. My breasts heaved now as the men looked me over, leering at me. This was a filthy market town and I’d be glad to leave it, even if it meant going home with one of them…

“Three-thousand for the black one!” roared one man. I realized with horror that he had no teeth.

“I’ll give you four-thousand for the whore!” someone else roared. He seemed, somehow, to have even fewer teeth, if you can believe it. I winced at the word—I supposed I should get to used to being denigrated in such a way, though…

“Ten-thousand!” someone called from the back of the crowd, and murmurs rippled through the buyers as a man strode forward. To my relief, he had all his teeth. But that was the only positive thing about him, as far as I could tell.

For one thing, he was huge: bigger than any man I had ever seen. He was as tall as a tree and built like an ox. He had a thick beard and long hair and he had war paint permanently tattooed onto his face. War paint that indicated… I gasped when I realized what it meant.

He was one of the Bear Tribe. The forest dwelling half-bear, half-men of fairy tales and myths. He had to be… There was no denying it. Why else would he have such a tattoo as I had only heard described in stories?

In the legends, the Bear Tribe lived and hunted deep in the eastern woods—the very woods we were in right now—having been banished there by civilized men many thousands of years ago. They had some sort of rudimentary society there and some were noble, honorable men, though savages all the same, while others were simply brutal, simply horrible. They could transform into bears at will and even though they all went about, well-armed and armored, they hardly ever used the impressive swords they hefted, preferring to go to battle as bears.

Indeed, it was said that those of the Tribe felt more at home when bears. Rather than men who transformed into bears, they thought of themselves as bears who could transform into men.

Though they lived in small packs, which were organized into larger tribes, I knew from the stories that they preferred quiet solitude to everything else—passing weeks at a time without seeing another living soul, simply hunting and living in quiet, except for brief explosions of violence…

Even if the price hadn’t been so far beyond what the others were offering, none of the others there would have dared to bid against the bear man. After waiting a moment, more out of courtesy and tradition than anything else, the seller announced:

“Well, then… Sold to the gentleman with the very fine tattoo… And the very large sword.”

Before I knew what was happening, the bear man was striding towards me. Tears began to leak from my eyes as he worked his hands under my armpits and lifted me down from the platform. He took me by the hand and led me away, away from the village and into the woods. We walked for a few moments in silence, my tears falling quietly behind him before he spoke.

“You needn’t worry too much, child. I did not purchase you for me, but for my master.”

That relieved me somewhat—perhaps his master was a normal man, a human being and not a supernatural monster?

“He’s rather gentler than I am. At least with the women folk,” he said, a scornful last. “A bastard nonetheless.”

I didn’t know what to say. This seemed to annoy the bear man.

“Well? Are you dumb?”

“N-n-no, sir,” I whimpered, shaking my head. “Just scared.”

“You’re damned right to be scared. What’s your name?”

“Dashandra.”

“Dashandra. A lovely name. I’m what was your father’s name?”

“Walondo.”

“Dashandra Walondoff. He’s dead now, I imagine?”

I nodded, taking a deep, chest wracking breath. Yes, yes, he was dead, indeed. He had been slaughtered, along with most of the other men of the village, when the raiders came. I had watched them kill him, along with my brother… They tied them up and led them outside, my mother wailing the whole time. First, they forced my father’s head to the ground, one of the raiders placing a boot on the side of his head while another held my brother tight. They drove a long, wickedly curved knife into my brother’s gut and cut upwards, his innards falling out. They let him wiggle around and try to collect himself and worst of all, they forced my father to watch his son suffer and die. Then and only then did they place my father’s neck on a tree stump and give him the sweet consolation of death…

But I wasn’t about to tell this bear man all that.

“My name is Gaston. And my father’s name was also Gaston. I’m Gaston Gastonoff,” he said, smiling at how silly it sounded. I tried to smile too but I was still thinking of my brother, lying on the ground dying…

We tramped on in silence for several more minutes before Gaston struck up conversation again.

“Come now, lass, you ought to speak. My master won’t like it if you’re silent. He likes his little ladies to have something to say for themselves.”

“What do you want me to say?” I asked darkly. “You just bought me as a slave in a marketplace. I’m little more than a commodity to you. You just want me to talk so that I’m a better value for you and your master. I have no interest in giving you your money’s worth.”

Gaston stopped and rounded on me, jabbing at finger at my chest.

“Now, listen here, little lady,” he said, his eyes fierce. I could see now that he was quite handsome—beneath that thick beard and tattoo and long hair was a strong, chiseled jaw and sad, deep blue eyes. I felt myself sinking into those blue eyes…

“You’re no commodity to me. To my master, maybe, but to me, you’re a thinking, living, breathing human and I don’t want to see you killed for offending the son of a whore I work for.”

With that, he set off again in a huff and I followed, even more nervous at the way he described his master.

“I thought you said he would be nice?”

“Oh, he is, so long as he likes you. And what he likes is if you lick his balls. Literally, for you, and figuratively, for me.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle darkly at this. I decided that against all odds, I liked this man, this Gaston.

“But you don’t like to lick his balls,” I observed.

“No, no, never quite came around to the taste myself,” he replied with a scowl.

“Are you a werebear?” I asked, changing the subject completely. He eyed me suspiciously.

“So you know what the tattoo means? You’d be surprised how many folk don’t understand it. They haven’t heard the old tales. Glad to see that the legends are still alive where you’re from.”

“Of course. You’re one of the Tribe.”

“Aye, and I’m taking you to the Chief of the Tribe.”

My eyes widened. In stories, the Chief of the Tribe was always the alpha male, the leader of the bear pack. He was always the biggest bear, the fiercest, the meanest. My stomach all but dropped down into my feet.

“Is… Is he to be my master?”

“He is, little lady.”

“But in the stories…”

“Exactly. And that’s why it’s best you learn to please him.”

“How do I please him then?”

“Oh, come now, lass, you know how. All little ladies of your age have figured it out.”

“I haven’t. I’m a virgin.”

“But surely you’ve taken boys back behind the barn or out into the fields for a little fun.”

I shook my head.

“My father and brother always kept a close eye on me. They were very concerned that I the other boys in the village would want to play around with me… They were very concerned for my honor.”

“Good, good lads,” Gaston muttered. “Well, er, the way you do it is… Well, you know.”

I smiled. He blushed. I decided I liked seeing this handsome warrior squirm.

“No, tell me. Or maybe you can show me.”

“Now, I can’t bloody well do that.”

“And why not? You’d just be training me for your master!”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“Then I won’t tell.”

Gaston looked around, as if we were being followed. Finally, he sighed and began to undo his belt.

“Fine, I’ll give you a quick little lesson.”

Learning to Please

I grinned. If I was going to start learning something about relations with a man, I’d rather it be with this sweet, powerful warrior and not some domineering chief whom I didn’t know…

Gaston dropped his leggings to reveal his cock… And lord, what a cock it was! It was closer in size to a horse’s than a man’s and it seemed to have a huge knot at the base like a dog’s. He was a bear man, after all.

“This is my cock,” he explained, as if it needed explanation. “And, it’s quite nice if you use your mouth on it.”

“How so?” I asked.

“Well, get down on your knees. That’s a good first step.”

I complied.

“Now what?”

“Now, lick it, lass,” he said, huskily. His cock continued to grow as he held it in his hand, letting it drift closer and closer to my mouth. I leaned forward and gave it a slow, tentative lick, from the base of the knot up to the head. I was pleased to find that it didn’t taste bad at all. If anything, it had a pleasant meaty, smoky taste to it, not unlike the sausage we made in my village.

“Oh, yes, that’s nice…” Gaston murmured and ran a hand through my hair. “You’ve got quite nice lips, girl. And a lovely little tongue, don’t you?”

“Thank you,” I said with a giggle as I licked down his cock, feeling it grow under my tongue, the veins in the shaft becoming all the more salient as I licked him. I began to suckle my way along his shaft from base to tip, working my way up and tasting him, savoring each spot that I sucked. He gasped and sighed. I seemed to be doing this right.

“Now, you should take it in your mouth.”

“Like this?” I asked again, seeking clarification though, of course, I knew what he wanted. I wasn’t quite as innocent as I acted. My father and brother had, in fact, jealously guarded my virtue but I did had girl friends after all, and they all told me how it happened with boys. They told me how to suck a boy’s cock, how to pleasure him, how to kiss him, and how sex and other… things… like that worked. So I did get a fairly complete education, albeit only a theoretical one. Here, though: this was my practicum.

I took the head of Gaston’s cock in my mouth and swirled my tongue around it, tasting its salty-sourness, suckling at his meaty flesh and starting to bob my head on his, letting the tip dip into my mouth and then pop out. He moaned softly, obviously enjoying this. He ran his hands through my hair, stroking my dark curls and sighing in pleasure. He was such a strong, handsome man… How long had it been since he’d had a girl on his cock like this? Probably a long time, if he was always busy running errands for that Chief of his… And I couldn’t forget that the Chief was soon to be my Chief. And my Master. Most importantly, my Master.

But for now, I was happy to serve Gaston and his cock. I continued to bob my head, focusing just on the tip of his cock as I took it into my sweet, virgin mouth, letting my dusky lips clutch at the fleshy sheath of his dick and massage it. I curled my lips over my teeth so I could grip his cock without it hurting and I sucked him till he sighed and groaned, thrusting his hips gently into my mouth.

Meanwhile, I used the broad side of my tongue to slather the underbelly of his cock, tender as it was, with saliva and to devour it, all but lashing it with my greedy flesh. I wanted more of this. I was definitely enjoying this and more than the act itself, I enjoyed how it seemed to make Gaston feel: I enjoyed his sighs, his moans, his groans, and his pleasure.

Then, suddenly, I felt his cock begin to twitch. He was getting close, this bear warrior of mine. I bobbed my head faster and faster, working his cock, just like the girls in the village had always told me. And then, before I knew it, he was cumming.

I was surprised at first and I felt my throat close up, gagging a bit. I knew, of course, what was going to happen and I knew that I was supposed to swallow his seed happily: that’s, after all, what all the boys liked, the girls in the village said. The boy won’t like you if you don’t swallow his load and your husband will be mad at you and might even beat you if you don’t swallow. Always best to start cultivating a habit of swallowing graciously when young.

But still, that didn’t prepare me for the salty, sticky cum that invaded my throat, as if his cock were a bee’s stinger, injecting burning venom into my mouth. Nonetheless, I managed to swallow his hot seed, drinking it down greedily and lapping at his cock to get every single drop.

Gaston certainly seemed to be enjoying himself. He grasped at my hair, digging his fingers into my head and pulling my hair, making me yelp softly as he fucked my face, emptying his balls into my greedy, waiting mouth. With a pop, he slid his cock out.

“And that, lass, is you you’ll please the Chief.”

I wiped my mouth with my tunic.

“That’s all well and good, Gaston Gastonoff, but how will he please me?”

Gaston laughed. “That’s absolutely none of your concern.”

“But maybe I want to be pleased,” I said, my eyes flashing. Gaston smiled.

“I see where this is going, little lady. I’m already in dangerous territory.”

“So what does it matter if you stay in that dangerous territory a bit longer?”

I must have made a compelling argument because Gaston grinned and ordered: “Bend over, against that tree.”

I complied, feeling already my pussy dripping down my legs. I couldn’t ever remember being this wet. Certainly, I had played with myself before—I couldn’t imagine any girl my age who hadn’t. But I’d never been this turned on, this wet.

The bear man slid my tunic up over my bare hips, revealing my tender ass to him. He slid his hands over my buttocks, and I shivered. I felt so revealed, so vulnerable to him, but I didn’t mind whatsoever. I trusted him. I was sure that he wouldn’t hurt me, that he would do what he could to protect me…

The bearman knelt behind me and spread my ass cheeks. I gasped: here he was, looking directly at my dusky pussy, framed by my dark mocha tuft of hair. Besides that, he could see my tight, puckered asshole—I never considered that a possible place for relations with a man but I knew, of course, from girls in the village that it was very often coopted for that very purpose.

Gaston began to lick my thighs, sliding his tongue up from my inner thighs, getting ever closer to my pussy. I gasped and groaned, wanting him to get closer and closer. I pressed y hips back towards him, feeling a bit whoreish as I did so but that was all right. I groaned, delighting in the way I showed off for him, and I all but shrieked when his tongue touched my pussy. He hit the part of my pussy where my slit meets my asshole first and then lapped down, running into my clit suddenly. I groaned and before I knew it, I was stripping the bark off the tree I had myself leaned again.

“Oh, fuck,” I moaned. “Please, Gaston, it’s so good…”

“That’s the idea, little lady. But don’t expect the Chief to do much of this to you.”

“W-why not?”

“He’s really only interested in his own pleasure. I doubt he’ll pay much attention to yours,” Gaston murmured between licks. Depressing as those words were, the sound of his voice send delicious reverberations through my pussy, sending little shockwaves of pleasure up through my body.

“Oh, god, it’s good!” I moaned. “I want you to do this to me forever. Will you please pleasure me like this once I belong to the Chief?”

“You already belong to the Chief. I’m just delivering you. And no, no one will touch you but the Chief. If you’re very lucky, the Chief may allow one of his other slaves—a female, mind you—to pleasure you while he watches or while he takes his pleasure inside one of you. That’s almost certainly all you can hope for.”

I moaned, as much from dismay as from pleasure.

“Gaston, it’s not fair. I’d rather stay with you than go with the Chief.”

“That’s not my choice to make, little lady,” he growled into my pussy. I whined and sighed, pressing my hips back into his face, forcing him to slurp more and more deeply, devouring my pussy. He brought a hungry, bear-like intensity to his task and I groaned, delighting in the way his tongue slid among the creases of my cunt, slid through my pussy lips, slid all over, and the way he sucked down my juices greedily. The girls in the village also told me that boys didn’t like to do this to girls but Gaston seemed perfectly happy and enthusiastic about licking me as much as I wanted…

“Down… Down there…” I murmured, almost incoherently.

“Here, my little lady?” he asked, his tongue dancing over my clit once again. I gasped.

“Yes! Yes! Please, right there!”

His tongue lashed my clit and it wasn’t long before my hips were convulsing, my muscles twitching and I was cumming. I squealed, all but shrieking as I came, my juices flowing freely onto Gaston’s face and into his beard and moustache.

I leaned heavily against the tree, panting and just trying to catch my breath, or maybe even just keep stay conscious.

“Little lady, if you’ll have me…” Gaston murmured shyly and suddenly, I felt his hardness pressed against my warm hole from behind. I nodded lazily.

“Please—just know that I’m a virgin. I might cry and it might be tight.”

He grinned. “That’s not something to apologize for, my little dear.”

With that, he slid his massive girth into me. I gasped and threw back my head, shrieking as he penetrated me. God, but it was good. He stretched me out, spreading my pussy wide. I wanted this. I wanted Gaston so badly, more than I could remember wanting anything, besides my family and old life back… But if this was my new life, it could be a lot worse. And would be, if Gaston was to be believed. I was inclined to savor these moments now instead of worrying about the future.

“How is it?” Gaston asked softly, running a hand over my sweaty back. It was chilly here in the forest but I was warm, my body burning from arousal.

“You’re so big,” I whimpered. “And I’m so tight. It hurts but it’s fantastic. Don’t stop.”

Gaston nodded and gently, he began to slide his cock in and out of me, my juices easily lubricating his meat and allowing his fleshy rod to claim my own flesh, driving into my body slowly at first and then speeding up, picking up the pace till he was pumping into me, his hips forcing his cock into my hot, moist depths with each forceful thrust of his hips. His pelvic bone slammed into my ass, causing my little, round butt with wiggle sensuously as he fucked me, plunging his engorged tool into me over and over again. I felt as though he were taking me—as though I were being conquered conclusively, and I would never belong to anyone ever again. How would I explain that to Gaston? How would I explain to him that I belong to him now and not his Chief, despite what the rules and laws might say?

Gaston continued to pump me, slamming his cock into me from behind, eliciting yelps from my lips that turned into shrieks which then turned into screams and cries. I wanted more, more of his cock, more of him inside of me. I knew he would cum soon and I craved it. I craved his warm seed in my belly, and on some level, I hoped that it would quicken there in my womb, that he would fill my belly with his child, possibly a bear-child…

“Harder,” I moaned. “Gaston, fuck me harder. I’m all yours.”

“Ugh, don’t tempt me, girl,” he growled. “I don’t think you could take all I could give you.”

“Do it!” I ordered. “Slam it all into me! I want it!”

“As you wish…” he sighed and with a groan, he forced the knot of his cock into me. I shrieked, gripping the tree I was bent over towards as his knotted werecock spread me open wide. It hurt but it was a pleasant, delicious ache, like when you stretch muscles which have been sedentary and cramped much too long. This was something I had needed for a long time and finally, I had an itch which was getting scratched.

His cock throbbed within me, and god, was it wonderful. I loved every moment of that throbbing werecock within me and it was almost enough to make me forget the hardships of the past few weeks. I felt his hands slide up underneath my tunic to tweak my hard nipples, cupping my perky breasts and I whimpered as pressed my chest into his hands and my butt into his hips simultaneously.