Chapter One – Good Morning Master

A soft mist rises from the still waters of the pond as rays of the rising sun ilter through the leaves of the temwood trees. The screech of a tarn taking flight pierces the stillness of the morning. The engulfing fog of slumber recedes as the hiss and sizzle of raw flesh against hot metal is heard. A gentle draft carries the aroma of grilled bosk steak and freshly baked dark bread and Killertrees smiles.

In the kitchen, the slave girl’s bare feet glide over the smooth stone floor, fiery auburn tresses tumble down over her back. The table in the center of the kitchen is set for one, a single rose fresh from the garden is nestled in a vase. A heavy mug glistens with condensation, its contents dark and rich, creamy chocolate bosk milk. A small bowl holds a scoop of creamy bosk butter and sits beside a dark temwood cutting board with a steaming loaf of fresh baked dark bread. On the stovetop a bosk steak sizzles in a skillet on a back burner. The girl’s attention is focused on a vulo egg omelet with cheese and peppers and mushrooms. She tilts her head slightly and pauses as she hears familiar footsteps in the hallway, then smiles as she turns the omelet out onto a warm plate and then adds the small bosk steak and sets the plate on the table in her Master’s spot. She inventories the table and quickly grabs a crock of strawberry preserves from the cool room and places the crock beside the warm bread. The girl then scampers over to the corner of the room and kneels on the slave mats, auburn tresses settling over the ivory fullness of her breasts just as the door to the kitchen swings open.

“Good morning my Master,” she says as she lowers her head to the floor. Auburn tresses glide forward over her shoulders, baring the smoothness of her back, and the soft full swell of her bottom lifts slightly from her heels.

Killertrees steps through the door, his stride strong and sure. He nods acknowledging the girl’s morning greeting as he settles into his spot at the low table. The furs he sits on have been warmed by the stove and were put in place just before he arrived. The breakfast set before him is prepared just as he likes it. “You have done well girl, I am pleased,” he says.

The girl smiles as she hears her Master’s words, and knows that now she may lift her head from the stone floor. She shivers slightly as a cool morning breeze flutters the curtains over the window above her head. The bright sunlight dances over fiery auburn tresses.

The girl kneels on a small scrap of dark larl fur, the ivory softness of her legs highly contrasted by the dark fur. Her thighs part widely and naturally, delicate hands resting atop tightly stretched thighs, her palms open and up. Her belly is taut and firm, her back straight and strong, her shoulders drawn back lifting the fullness of her breasts. Dangling from pierced nipples are golden images of a bound slave girl. Around tyki’s waist is a strand of golden slave bells that chime with the swing of her hips. Encircling her neck is a silver and gold collar, hammered and formed by her Master, a pair of dragons entwined and circling around her slender neck, their mouths forming the locking clasp of this outward symbol of her bondage.

As her Master settles into eating his breakfast, tyki opens a small temwood box filled with glittering treasures. The fall festivals will begin soon and Master has worked steadily through the summer forging new wares for the festival. This temwood box is filled with some of the bina and slave adornments for the entertainment of the free. The girl ahs polished each trinket in preparation for sale and after spending last evening with needle and thread she has finished stitching up rep cloth packets for keep the bina chains from tangling. As Master eats his morning meal, tyki slips a trinket into each of the rep cloth packets. Her fingers work deftly with the trinkets, a smile on her face, she keeps an eye turned to her Master, in case he should desire her attention. The quiet stillness of the morning is a welcome respite as the senses awaken and prepare for the rush of things to be accomplished through the day. Over the time the slave called tyki has remained under this roof a calm, peaceful routine has been established. There is a reassuring steadiness in the household. This does not mean that nothing unusual or unexpected happen or that everything is predictable. However, there is an underlying stability that allows the girl to know what is expected of her and enables her to grapple with what is out of the ordinary while knowing that order will resume after the event. Her desire to please her Master is strong and drives her to find new ways to meet Master Killertrees’ needs each day. The work in the forge is hot and dirty, but a plunge in the cool pond at the end of the day is refreshing and cleansing. The labors have kept her shape pleasing and at the end of the day her slumbers are deep and restful.

As Killertrees finishes his breakfast, tyki packs away the small packets into the temwood box and rises to her feet and glides across the kitchen to the stove, carefully lifting the large kettle of hot water from the stove and carrying it down the hallway and dumping its contents into the tub she prepared earlier. This last pot of water will finish heating the water in the tub for Master’s bath. She lays out a soft clean towel beside the tub and returns the kettle to the kitchen. She pours the hot water from the tea kettle into the sink before clearing the dishes from the table. She feels a shudder course through her being as she senses the closeness of her Master, her senses so highly attuned to responding to his very presence.

She plunges the soiled dishes into the sink and quickly washes them up and sets them in the drainer on the countertop. Killertrees watches his girl as she completes her morning duties. He appraises her form and movement. Diet and exercise have gently molded and firmed her shape, her skin tone has remained clear and smooth. His mark in her flesh healed cleanly, she is well-marked as his property. Her skills in the kitchen have proven to be delightful and her devotion to pleasing him has remained constant.

Today, Killertrees will finish hammering tout the last bands of steel collars and bindings. The remaining days before the fair would be spent assembling pieces and packing the wagon for the journey. Killertrees runs her fingers through his beard appearing to be lost in thought, but actually enjoying the pleasant view of the naked slave as she goes about her chores.

As tyki sets the last dish into the drainer, Killertrees says, “Well girl, is my bath ready yet?” He knows well that she finished filling his tub before washing the dishes. “Yes Master, your bath is ready for you,” she says as she dries her hands and hangs the rep cloth towel on the rod over the sink. She smiles and turns on her toes to follow Master down the hall.

As they step into the bathroom, tyki draws the robe down off Killertree’s shoulders. Her fingers linger for an instant along his back, tracing the strong muscles of his shoulders. She turns and places the robe in the woven hamper as Killertrees steps into the hot tub and sinks down into the steamy embrace. The slight stiffness of joints not yet quite awake begins to melt away.

While Killertrees settles into the tub, tyki opens the bottle of liquid soap, the scent of coconut and sandalwood fills the air as she lathers the soap in the palm of her hands before gliding her hands over his shoulders. Her hands caress his shoulders and down over his upper arms. She rises up on her knees and leans her belly against the edge of the tub as she runs her hands down over Master’s broad chest, her fingers circling playfully around his nipples.

Killertrees reaches up and graps both her small wrists in one hand, then leans his head back and presses a kiss to her lips. “Now girl, climb in her so you can bathe your Master properly,” he commands the girl and then winks. She smiles as she slides around to the side of the tub and then climbs over the side. Her thighs straddle his hips as she sinks into the embracing waters. Her fingers splay across Master’s chest as she caresses the strength of his chest and arms. She leans into him, her breasts pressing against his chest as her hands reach around to caress his back. She pivots and faces Killertrees’ feet, she takes one of his legs in her hands and begins washing his foot and clave, her fingers massaging the muscles as the glide over he soapy flesh. Killertrees begins to stroke tyki’s back, his fingernails lightly raking down along her spine. Tyki begins to rock forward and back slowly on her knees as she washes Killertrees’ feet. Her shaven mons gently caressing his swelling manhood with her every movement and she purrs.

Tyki pivots again and Killertrees can see the deepening color in her swollen nipples and the fire of a slave’s belly smoldering in her green eyes. As she straddles his hips again, his hands grasp her hips and guide her down atop his hard cock. His helm presses against the cleft of her heat, the lips swollen with excitement part before the helm, tyki whimpers softly as she slowly settles over his manhood and it impales her. “Now girl, bathe me,” he commands.

As she soaps and lathers and massages her Master’s chest, her body moves slowly upon the rod that impales her. The soapy massage strokes lengthening slowly, gradually increasing the rocking of her hips to strokes along the full length of his hard cock.

Killertreees hands grasp tyki’s hips and sharpen the movements, his hips lifting to thrust deep into the girl, the pace quickening. As the passion dance quickens the water in the tub roils and churns like a storm-tossed sea. The girl’s breath quivers and her back arches, the fullness of her breasts bouncing with each thrust and slapping against the surface of the water. Killertrees reaches up and pinches and twists each nipple. Tyki yelps as the swollen, tender nipples are tweaked, her body trembling and flushed with the fire of a slave’s need.

Killertrees says, “Now girl, cum.” She cries out in surrender to passion’s furry, her heat clenching tightly around the throbbing shaft of his cock. Her clit and heat throbbing and pulsing with rapture, her heart racing, she clasps her fingers behind her neck and surrenders to the storm surge of passion that lifts her soul in a whirlwind, the sloshing water continuing to caress enflamed flesh as she slumps forward against her Master’s chest.

As her heat spasm and clenches around his swollen cock, Killertrees feels his need rise up within him. His manhood pulses with the release of his seed. His fingers tighten around the girl’s hips and slams her down into the driving thrust of his cock as he spends his seed into the warmth of her slave heat.

“Ah, now that is the way to get the circulation going in the morning,” says Killertrees as his fingers stroke his girl’s silky auburn tresses. “Okay girl, it’s time to get dressed and face the day,” says Killertrees as he lightly slaps the girl’s wet bottom. Tyki shivers as she climbs out of the tub and feels the first draft of cool air envelop her.