While out gathering wood....

The chill of the morning air  bit into her dark, ebony skin. She had awoken early to begin her chores, an early start would  get  much of them done at a decent time she thought. Quickly she grabbed a basket and  lashed  some rope to it, sliding it onto her back and adjusted the newly fashioned rope straps....

 ... She could hear the distant  thump of an axe being  put to tree, a smile slipped across her face, there would be plenty of wood soon for the fire to do it's slow, dance of destruction upon. Her hair glistened in the  cool morning  light as she walked  towards the camps front gates....

...Down across the bridge she went, her bare feet  trembling at the coolness of the wood, feeling it's stinging bite upon them. A gentle tune, one she had heard played many times in the tavern when she worked  outside in the garden of her former Master and Mistress, hummed upon her lips happily.....

.. The sound of the axe grew steadily louder, it seemed to thump in tune  with the music she hummed. The small clearing growing closer, the smell of cut wood  filling her nostrils, it seems  she was not the only early riser this day.....

... Through the soft fern underbrush she went, gracefully  swirling around  this tree and that tree, steadily going forward to the clearing. She could see  the glisten of his skin as  he stood  upon the trunk of the fallen tree, the early morning light catching it  just so. A soft smile slipped across her lips.....


... She loaded the basket quickly, stuffing it full of the cut wood, its smell wafting around her head, invading her nose. With a bit of a struggle she managed to get  the heavily laden basket upon her back, the home made straps digging into her shoulders. She paused a moment, looking to the figure upon the tree truck, swinging his axe with a graceful pride.
  She turned away, adjusting the heavy load upon her back and  headed back to camp.....

... Load after load she carried back to the camp, each time returning for a new load of the  fragrant wood. Her eyes would wander  over  to the thrall as he chopped away. Her hand  lifted, shielding her eyes from the  ever  brightening sunlight. She gazed up, trying to figure out who the  figure was, her  eyes squinting in the bright  morning light......

 ....Another heavy load of logs stacked on the ever growing pile. Her mind drifted  to the sweet sounds of the forest as she strapped on the basket and headed back for another load. Ever so softly she began to hum once more, a made up tune she took from the forest itself. It made no sense or reason, but it put a spring in her step. A few moments later, she arrived back at the clearing, the familiar thud of the axe now silent, just the rustle of the fallen leafs in the gentle breeze. She took off the basket and began to load it carefully....

.... The rough hand grasped her by the hair and collar from behind. She tried to shriek, but  nothing came out, his  lips where upon hers. Her eyes wide with fear, looked  at the person before her, kissing her, it was familiar.
  She could feel his grip tighten on her hair and collar, yet it did not cause her pain, it felt... erotic. Timidly her  delicate fingertips reached forward, running over the sweat covered chest she had seen glistening in the sun. There was nothing  she could do, her  pleasure slave training  took over....

...His rough hand caressed her silken skin, pushing up her camisk as it traveled slowly upwards. Her hair fell upon her back like a hundred thousand tiny whips, her nipples began to harden. She could feel his manhoods' bulge against her  heat and belly, its touch making her moan with desire. She watched as her camisk fluttered to the ground, the sound of his kilt greeting it as it landed....

....She felt him slowly, passionately  press deep inside her warm, moist depths. A long, pleasure filled gasp rushing past her lips and into the sweet, cool air of the day. Her eyes once blinded by the bright light of the day, now shielded by him, began to regain their focus. Her eyes widened as she saw his face, it was rix, the camp thrall she had met not long ago. His eyes were filled with passion and desire as his hips  slowly  pressed forward and just as slowly withdrew....

 ....She had told her former Mistress  before she abandoned her, that she was do for a visit  with the Green, but that seemed to have not concerned her former Mistress in the least bit. She had not received the bitter  tasting slave wine  for over  7 hands + one Passage Hand (month and a half approx.) but it did not seem to phase her former  Mistress. Now  there was nothing she could do about it.....

....In and out  his slow, rhythmic motions continued, his eyes looking deeply into hers, her own locked to his. The smell of his scent  coursed  through her nostrils, burning  deep in the primal depths of her mind, She did not understand this sensation, this feeling....

....A low, primal growl rattled deep in his chest  like a distant thunder, her body convulsed, taken over  in an orgasmic tidal wave....
.....and then she felt it.....
.... A growing warmth deep in her warm, trembling depths.....
                                       .....His seed.....
       ...... pulsing....  
                                                ....throbbing.... 
                                                                           .....filling her......
..... like that she had felt from the Masters she had  pleasured before......
                                                                     ....only this time.....
                    .......there was no slave wine in her........