Chapter 9: New Owner

Of all the likely outcomes from my return to civilisation, I hadn’t anticipated the situation that befalls me. While the slave trader who acquires me makes sure to preserve my cunt’s virginity, my throat and arse become well accustomed to his cock. The trader is rough with me, but not unbearably so. For my part, I’m careful not to give him reason to use his belt or a whip on me. He clearly enjoys use of my body, and he seems hesitant to place me on the auction block. However, I suppose he needs to make a living.

I’m aware that my youth and looks will attract potential owners looking for a sexual plaything. I’ve mentally resigned myself to being bought by a brothel owner intent of making lots of money from my body in the shortest space of time. It isn’t an outcome I would freely choose, but I acknowledge that it is a marginally better fate than living wild in the forests, and much better than working in a quarry or mine. Eventually age or disease will consign me to the human scrap heap, but that is invariably a slave’s fate. I’ve already lived many years longer than most of my tribe. Consequently, I don’t fear death, knowing that many of my extended family are waiting to greet me in the afterlife.

I’m placed on the auction block and I’m the subject of some lively bidding. A slender dark haired woman eventually outbids several men. The slave trader who sells me walks away with a huge smile on his face, not that I should care. There were several young female slaves being sold at the auction, so paying a high price for me seems illogical. Only my fair hair and lack of a tongue makes me different from several others sold today. I’m instructed to wash myself and follow my new mistress to her house.

Mistress Yasmin is sightly older than me, and she doesn’t appear to be particularly wealthy. Certainly not someone with money to pay a high price for a new slave. Her clothing is unexceptional, and she wears very little jewellery. Compared to the large property next door, her house is small but well maintained. The personal belongings around the house suggest that she isn’t married. When I see that she already has two female house slaves tending to the domestic chores I am puzzled as to why she needs me. Nothing I can see around Mistress Yasmin’s house provides me with an answer to the question ‘why buy me?’. When I was at Wadi Halaf, I overheard speculation about different uses an owner might find for a mute slave. Unless my new mistress is involved in some shady activities, I can’t imagine how my being mute is going to be of any help to her.

The two house slaves are indifferent towards me, and my inability to speak places a further barrier between us. Leila, the older slave woman, is assigned to keep watch over me and advise me about my duties. Like many people I’ve encountered, Leila wrongly assumes that my inability to speak means that I’m simpleminded. Until I’m settled in my new environment, I don’t feel inclined to disabuse her of that mistaken impression. Leila gives me a tour of the house and shows me to a small alcove that she tells me is my allocated sleeping area. The flock mattress looks well worn, but it seems to be in a serviceable condition.

Leila shows me the basement of the house, which strangely has no dividing wall between the basements of this house and the property next door. A faded painted line on the basement floor seems to be the only demarcation between the two houses. I’ve no idea why such an arrangement exists, but anyone can move between the two properties via the basement. We don’t venture into the next door property and Leila and I return upstairs. Leila then takes me outside in order to show me the location of the well in the nearby square. Apparently one of my daily duties will be to haul buckets of water from the well to replenish the cistern inside the house.

I pay particular attention to the next door property as we head towards the square. The property displays a lurid sign above the front door. I cannot read, so the words mean nothing to me. When Leila sees me looking at the sign she tells me that it says ‘House of the Silk Robe’ and it’s a brothel that caters for customers with a wide range of sexual tastes. Aafiq once took me inside a brothel to scare me into behaving myself. That experience aroused my curiosity about sex rather than quell my tendency to disobey Aafiq when he was being obnoxious.

“I expect you will soon be familiar with the inside of the Robe,” says Leila. “Mistress Yasmin will soon tire of you and send you to work in there. Her cousin runs the brothel, so it’s easily arranged.”

I suspect that both Leila and Olive, the other house slave, are taking the opportunity presented by my arrival to offload some of their daily chores onto me. Since Mistress Yasmin has placed me under Leila’s supervision, I’m not in a position to complain.

I finally comprehend why Mistress Yasmin bought me when she starts referring to me as her sexy blond barbarian. She is clearly taken with me. I hadn’t anticipated being the sexual plaything for a woman, but I find that I’m aroused by the thought. Mistress Yasmin has a healthy appetite for sex, although her fetishes are more typical of a man than a woman.

When to comes to sex, Mistress Yasmin likes to play the role of a man. She invariably fucks me using a strapon cock. Phoebe’s efforts in training me in the more perverted forms of sex start to pay dividends. Mistress Yasmin’s preference for restraining me in tight bondage while we fuck would appeal to Phoebe’s hardcore tastes. Personally, I dislike such onesided gratification during sex. However, I have no say in the matter, and so I do my best to please my mistress. If Mistress Yasmin detects my distaste for bondage during sex then she either ignores it, or my hesitance gives her perverse pleasure, which drives her to try even harsher forms of bondage. Either way, I do my best to satisfy her needs, and she is clearly pleased with my efforts. I begin to spend most nights in Mistress Yasmin’s bed, although I invariably sleep restrained in some form of bondage.