Sighing deeply, jasmine drops her eyes again, watching the idle swirl that her fingers are making in the cool white sand. Watching the other subs with their Masters makes her happy for them but sad for herself. Will she never be chosen to serve? She had worked so hard on her lessons but she will never be like the small graceful gazelles that flit around the hall now serving their Masters. She was too tall and well built to be to the liking of most Masters, who preferred the small feminine bits of silk that served them now. Sighing again she missed seeing the heated discussion on the far side of the room where a man was arguing heatedly with her Training Master. Did not see the resigned look in the eye of her Master as he looked in her direction and whispered orders to the harem slave. Giving jasmine one more searching look, and sharp glance at the man beside him, he mumbles something roughly to the man and then he sadly shakes his head and walks away.
Jasmine thought when the slave came to get her she was being dismissed and lowered her head as to not to show her shame and embarrassment at not being chosen. But when the slave whispered to her that she was to pack her belongs, as little as they were, she thought she was being sent totally away in shame. Jasmine was then lead out an awaiting horse being held on a lead by a huge man wrapped in furs. As the slave lifted her on she felt the panic well up inside her, but her training told her to do as she was told. She had lived at the house were subs and slaves were trained since her mothers Master had died and her mother had been collared by a new Master. It was the only thing she knew, outside these walls were a mysterious as the stars in the skies. Her and the other subs were trained completely and had been encouraged to practice on the towel boys in the baths. She had very fond memories of a certain towel boy until he had gotten collared lately by a loving Mistress.He made her practice until she had gotten everything right.
Her thoughts where suddenly jolted back to reality with shout of the large man on the horse ahead of her. Watching this man command his men sent a shiver of fear and excitement through her body. The thin clothing she had been wearing in the hall did nothing warm her from the chill of the night air and her erect nipples rubbed against the silk of her gown. As the night wore on she thought they would never get to their destination, the inside her thighs were sore and raw from the rough leather of the saddle.
She must have dozed off because the jerk of the horse stopping woke her with a start. Looking around she saw she was in the middle of various sized tents. She did not notice that the huge man had come around to her side. He effortlessly pulled her from her horse and carried her to the small tent beside the largest one in the camp were he opened a flap and stood her on her feet and told her "Rest here until I call for you." She stood in a daze as he just turned and walked away. Hearing a small sound behind her she turned as a slave entered the tent bringing a cup and a steaming bowl. He placed it on a low table and giving her a knowing leer told her "Eat and rest well lady you will need your strength." She felt a shiver up her spine as the old slave left the tent cackling to himself under his breath. As she looked around the tent, it was like all other traveling tents she had been in. A low bed of pillows with a blanket of furs replacing the quilted silk she was used too. A small brassier burning to warm the interior and a small lamp that spitted and sputtering hanging from a tent pole. The smell of the food and her weariness forced her to move. After eating the stew, which turned out to be very tasty, the bed called to her in a demanding voice. Taking no time to disrobe she crawled under the fur blanket and was soon fast asleep.
She was awakened by the old slave entering the tent with another bowl this time filled with a type of porridge. Slung over his arm was a bright red bit of silk with a corset of matching leather. "You must rise and prepare yourself for the Master. He wishes you to wear this." Getting up and washing her face in the cold water left for that purpose made her cheeks almost as red as the silks. As she brush her hair and preparing to pin it up the old crone grabs the pins and throws them across the room stating "Master wishes his women to wear their hair down as a woman should. Now out of them clothes, I must look for flaws and disease." With that he ripped the dress from her back and started to poke and prod as if she was some cow he was looking to find fault with. He pushed her onto her back and lifted her legs to look more closely at her center and she could take no more. "Be off old crone I came from a respectable house and have no disease and I am not here for you too fondle." "Hehehe, so the kitten does have claws. The Master will trim them for sure if He does not plan on pulling them out first for your sass." The old slave replied.
Putting on the red silk and corset was another problem because it was made too small. But he old crone was determined that she would wear it. Sliding the silk into place she found it barely covered her breasts and clung tightly to her hips and bottom. Wrapping the matching corset around her middle he tightened the stays until she could barely breath, pushing her breast up high and making her waist nip in, her bottom round out. Standing back the slave said "As good as you will get, now follow me the Master waits." The old slave opened the flap, then disappear so she hurried, as fast as the corset allowed her to breathe, after him. He lead the way to the large tent beside her own and the cool night air made her nipples stand erect. She heard many rough male voices talking and music coming from the tent. By the time they arrived at the tent her breaths were coming in short quick breaths.
With the old slave shoving her through the tent flap she found herself in the center of the tent with men seated at low tables completely encircling her. The man that had brought her here seated directly in front. He had taken off the bulky fur and was clad in a leather chest plate, rough cotton loin clothe and laced boots. He large frame covered with bulging muscles and his dark hair long tied to his nape. A wide leather belt was around his waist with a riding crop and a large knife in its sheath.
She finally remembered her training and stood with her back straight, head held high with her eyes lowered. The voices dimmed and she knew that the large man was watching and appraising her. They others in the tent were awaiting his decision. As time went on, the feeling of rejection again went through her and she could feel the tears starting. She did not see what they saw. The long swan like neck with the proud head. The long dark curly hair that men dream of running their fingers through. The tall womanly body with the large firm breasts with the nipples standing proudly, the nipped waist and hips and ass that would harden a man just to watch it walk across a room. A silence fell over the tent as he studied her. All he said was "Dance for me!" in a voice that was used to being obeyed. Her deep blue eyes flew open and locked with his. His were so dark they were like bottomless pools. There was a silent battle of wills as the two gazed at each other and she felt like she was being totally consumed. As the music started she dropped her eyes and started to wonder about the burn that had started within her
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