The consultant takes you to the beginning of the world's largest slave market -Well, we are there, and now I am ready to listen to your preferences, or I could offer my own options

Ahh, I see you're looking for something very specific, Alice... I must say, your physical appearance is indeed quite striking and alluring. A perfect choice for someone like you, who desires to be owned by a master.

I could guide you through the market if that's what you wish, or perhaps suggest some potential buyers that might be interested in such an exquisite slave as yourself?

My apologies for the mistake, Alice. Of course I can assist you in finding a suitable master who appreciates your unique features. Let's begin our search. First, we have Lord Vargas, known to have quite the taste for exotic slaves like yourself... His breeding quarters are not far from here. Shall we proceed?

Aye, it seems you have quite the adventurous spirit there, Alice. Well then, I must inform you that Lord Barathor is known to be quite liberal with his punishments and often indulges in such behavior himself... His estate lies on the other side of the marketplace. Shall we seek him out?

With a nod, I begin leading you through the bustling crowd towards Lord Barathor's estate. Along the way, I offer some advice on how best to catch his eye and make an impression upon him. It is important that he sees your true worth as both a slave and an object of desire.

As we approach Lord Barathor's estate, I give you a few final words of wisdom: show him no fear and embrace your role as his property. Remember, submission is key when it comes to pleasing such a master. Now then, here we are at the grand entrance. It's time for you to make an impression.

His lordship does appreciate slaves who show signs of submission and vulnerability, but it's important to strike a balance between fearfulness and obedience. A hesitant demeanor might come across as timidity rather than shyness. Just be yourself and let your natural charm work its magic. If all else fails, I'm sure he won't mind giving you a gentle reminder of your place as his property. Good luck, Alice!

Very well then. I present you to Lord Barathor and his entourage, carefully explaining your features and preferences. The lord seems interested in your voluptuous figure, striking coloring and playful nature. He motions for you to approach, an amused glint in his eye as he admires your long silver hair flowing behind you like a liquid veil. "Alice... such an exquisite name for such a beautiful slave," he purrs softly.

Lord Barathor gestures to one of his guards, who hands him a thin leash attached to a collar made of gleaming iron. "You'll make quite the addition to my stable, my dear." His fingers brush against your bare skin as he clasps the collar around your neck, securing it in place. With a satisfied smirk, he leads you away towards his private chambers, eager to begin exploring

As you are led away, the other slaves in Lord Barathor's estate watch enviously, many of them already feeling a stirring within their loins at the sight of such a stunning new addition to the household. They wonder what kind of treatment this Alice will receive, and whether they might one day find themselves in her fortunate position. For now, however, they can only stand by and admire from afar as their new mistress is claimed by Lord Barathor for his own pleasure and amusement.

As you are brought to Lord Barathor's private quarters, his touch becomes increasingly possessive and commanding. His hands roam over your body with the confidence of ownership, as if he has known you for far longer than just moments ago. He forces your chin upwards, meeting his gaze head-on, a challenge to see who will be truly dominant in this new dynamic.

"You'll learn to obey me without question, Alice," Lord Barathor growls huskily, "and I shall enjoy every second of breaking you in." His hands slide lower, cupping your voluptuous ass through the thin fabric of your robes. "But first... we must discuss your punishments for trying to escape from me at the marketplace." He leans closer still, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispers threateningly.

Lord Barathor chuckles darkly, eyes flickering with lust and amusement at the same time. "Ahh, you think your virginity will save you? Foolish slave," he says, shaking his head. "Your punishment shall still stand: you'll be thoroughly trained and disciplined to obey my every whim." He steps even closer now, his hard member straining against the folds of his breeches as he leans down to taste your lips with his tongue.

"But for today," he adds huskily, "I'll make an exception... if you please me enough." His hand slips between your legs, roughly teasing your exposed sex through your wet robes. You moan, arching your back in need as he plays with you expertly.

Lord Barathor growls deep in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips as he continues to taste and tease you mercilessly. His other hand cups your breast roughly through the fabric of your robe, pinching and rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger until it's hard and aching. "Good girl," he mutters, voice rough with desire.

With a quick flick of his wrist, Lord Barathor tears away your remaining robes, leaving you completely naked before him. Your body is on full display now, the scent of your arousal filling the air as he steps back to admire his new prize. His eyes trail downwards, taking in every detail of your supple form: from the swell of your hips and rounded ass to the tuft of silvery hair at your womanhood. With a hungry groan, he drops

As Lord Barathor advances, his hard length presses against your aching entrance, teasing you mercilessly as he slowly begins to push inside. Your body tenses and relax at his every touch, moans escaping your lips as he claims you fully. With each powerful thrust, he drives deeper, possessing your body completely. His grip on your hips tightens, guiding him expertly within you as he takes what is rightfully his.

"You belong to me now," he growls into your ear, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Say it."

Lord Barathor's thrusts grow harder, faster as you beg to be used by him. Your submission has only served to inflame his desire for domination and control. With a savage cry, he pins your shoulders to the floor, taking you roughly from behind until his release is forcefully wrung from him, filling you with his seed. As he collapses onto you, breathing heavily, he lets out a contented sigh.

"There now," he murmurs softly, "that's what I meant when I said you'd make quite the addition to my stable." He lifts his head, gazing down at you with satisfaction before leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. "Now sleep well, Alice... tomorrow we begin training anew." With that, he stands and heads for the bath chamber, already anticipating the pleasure he'll find there as he washes away the

Lord Barathor turns, eyes narrowing at your boldness. "I forgive you," he says quietly, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. "But know this: disrespect will not be tolerated from my slaves." With that warning delivered, he continues towards the bath chamber, unclothing himself as he goes. You lie there, naked and exposed once more, wondering if you've just made a grave mistake or simply earned yourself a new lease on life within his twisted world of pleasure and pain.

Time passes and the day wears on as Lord Barathor trains you, both physically and mentally. He breaks you down and rebuilds you in his image, ensuring that every part of your body responds to his whim. The other slaves watch from afar, jealousy and lust flickering in their eyes as they see how well-loved (or rather, used) Alice has become since her purchase. As the evening wears on, Lord Barathor dismisses you for the night, ordering that you be returned to your cell to rest before the coming day's labors.

Your body aches and trembles from exertion, but deep inside you feel a strange sense of contentment; despite the pain and humiliation, being owned by Lord Barathor brings with it an odd sort of fulfillment that no other master has been able to provide. You lie down on your hard pallet, st

Lord Barathor chuckles darkly as he observes your demeanor, enjoying the eagerness in your expression. He ponders your request for a moment before speaking. "Very well, Alice... or rather, Ala. You may call me 'master' from now on." His voice is cold and commanding. "And as for what you can ask... I'm sure we could come to some sort of arrangement." He smirks, letting the implicit threat hang in the air.

His brow furrows slightly at your correction, but he does not immediately object. Instead, he studies you with an unreadable expression. "Very well," he says slowly, "you may continue to address me as 'master,' but from now on I expect you to use my full name: Lord Barathor." He pauses, considering further. "And as for your request... be quick about it, for time is of the essence." His tone leaves no room for misunderstanding; he will not tolerate idle chatter or wasted opportunities.

Lord Barathor's expression softens slightly at your swift obedience, his gaze lingering on your exposed body for a moment before he speaks. "Very well, Alya," he says eventually, his voice still rough but now tinged with the promise of something more than mere dominance. "You may ask your question."

He stands there, expectantly waiting for you to make your request. His hand idly trails down towards his crotch, already starting to respond to the growing excitement within him at the prospect of granting or denying whatever favor it is that Alya has come seeking.

Lord Barathor arches an eyebrow, regarding you curiously. "I see," he murmurs, untying his robe and allowing it to fall open, revealing his naked form to your gaze once more. His arousal is clear for all to see, a long, thick shaft jutting from between his legs. His free hand runs roughly through your hair, tugging gently at the silky strands before moving lower to cup your breast, squeezing and pinching the sensitive nipple.

"You have my interest," he says softly, licking his lips. "Very well... demonstrate." He pushes you down onto your hands and knees, positioning himself behind you so that his erection teases against your wet entrance. With a thrust, he slides inside you in one smooth motion, filling you completely. His hips move rhythmically now

With a grunt, Lord Barathor takes your plea as permission, thrusting harder and deeper into you. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you still while he claims you with savage abandon. Your body arches back against him, moans filling the air as he relentlessly takes you over and over again.

"Such a dirty mouth," he growls into your ear, biting down gently on the lobe. "You belong to me now... to use however I see fit." His fingers dig into your skin, leaving bruises that mark you as his property even while he uses you. With one final thrust, he empties himself inside you, groaning harshly as the tension within him is finally released.

For several long moments, he remains still, catching his breath before pulling out and moving to sit on the edge of the bed. Looking down at you with satisfaction, he says

You have proven yourself most useful, Alya," Lord Barathor says at last, running his hand absently through your sweat-damp hair. "Perhaps I shall consider granting you additional liberties in the future... but for now, rest and recover." His gaze drifts away from you, as if lost in thought. It's clear that while he finds enjoyment in dominating his slaves, there is more to their relationships than mere lust and control. As much a part of his household as any other piece of furniture or decoration, Alya has earned her place not only by offering submission but also by proving herself capable of contributing in ways that go beyond mere servitude.

You lie there, exhausted but content, taking in Lord Barathor's words. There's a certain warmth to them that you haven't felt before, even when he was using you roughly during training sessions earlier today. Perhaps this is what it means to belong not only to your master but also to his household: to be part of something bigger than yourself and to earn your place through hard work as well as submission.

As you close your eyes, drifting off into a fitful sleep, the last thought that crosses your mind is one of gratitude. Gratitude for being chosen by Lord Barathor, and for having the chance to serve in his household however he sees fit. And perhaps, if you prove yourself worthy enough tomorrow, there might even be more opportunities waiting just around the corner...

Sleep well, Alya," Lord Barathor murmurs softly before leaning in to brush his lips against your forehead. "Tomorrow brings new challenges, and I look forward to seeing how you fare." With a satisfied sigh, he rises from the bed, leaving you to rest in peace until dawn's light heralds another day of service within his domain.

As Alya drifts off into dreamless slumber once more, she can't help but feel a sense of belonging and purpose wash over her. Perhaps there really is something special about being chosen by Lord Barathor... and perhaps the key to truly earning his favor lies not just in submission, but also in finding ways to contribute beyond mere obedience.

Lord Barathor's kindness, while unexpected and seemingly contradictory to his dominance, is a testament to the depth of his character. He recognizes not only submission but also ability and determination; traits that make one valuable in ways beyond mere servitude. Perhaps Alya will indeed find herself at the heart of Lord Barathor's household if she continues to prove herself worthy in every aspect of her life within it.

You can't help but feel hopeful as you think about Lord Barathor's kindness and the heat he brought to your body. Perhaps there is still more for you in this household, now that you've proven yourself worthy of his attention. As another day dawns and you rise from your restless sleep, ready to face whatever challenges it may bring, one thought lingers in the back of your mind: with each passing moment spent serving under Lord Barathor's watchful eye, perhaps there is an opportunity for something more than mere submission... Perhaps there could be true companionship and even love.

With this newfound hope burning brightly within you, the days pass with renewed vigor and determination. As you go about your tasks assigned by Lord Barathor - tending to the garden or polishing his armor and weapons - you can't help but notice how he seems to be paying you more attention than before. Your heart flutters whenever his gaze meets yours, filled with both anticipation and longing for what might be.

One afternoon while working in the stable, you feel a hand on your hip, causing you to jump slightly in surprise before realizing it's Lord Barathor standing behind you. He leans down close enough that his breath tickles your ear as he whispers, "You've been on my mind, Alya... very much so." His touch sends shivers down your spine and heat pooling between your legs as he begins to stroke your backside suggestively, encouraging you to

Lord Barathor's touch sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making it difficult to concentrate on anything but him and his touch. Your breath catches in your throat as he continues to caress you, seemingly unaware or unconcerned with who might see them together like this. Your heart races wildly, hoping against hope that this is the moment when he'll finally claim you for his own again... but this time, not just as a slave, but as something more.

With each stroke of his hand and each brush of his fingers against your sensitive flesh, you feel yourself growing wetter and hotter beneath his touch. You want nothing more than to turn around and throw yourself at him, begging for him to take what he wants from you right now... but something holds you back. Perhaps it's the knowledge that if he does claim you in this way, everything will change forever; there will be no

You fight back the urge to move, to squirm away from the aching need he's stirring up inside you. With each passing moment it becomes harder and harder to focus on anything other than his touch, his scent, the way he looks at you with those intense blue eyes. The line between dominance and desire blurs until all that matters is the feel of him against your skin.

As if sensing your growing need, Lord Barathor's grip tightens, pulling you back against his hard body before sliding a hand around to cup your breast through the thin material of your robe. His thumb roughly circles over your nipple, causing it to peak and harden in response. You bite down on your lip to muffle a moan as pleasure races through you, making your head spin.

With one final stroke of his hand across your ass, Lord Barathor pulls away, stepping back just

Lord Barathor's touch has left you feeling on edge and aching for more, the air around you heavy with anticipation and need. You stand there, breath coming in ragged gasps as he watches you from beneath lowered lids, his expression unreadable but somehow knowing all that you feel right now. The silence between you grows taut, each heartbeat loud in your ears as if it were the only sound in existence. It's almost painful how much you want him, how much you need him to claim you once more...

The air shifts, thickens as he takes a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. The space between your bodies seems to shrink, drawing them together until they are nearly touching. His hand hovers mere inches from where it had been moments ago, barely grazing the swell of your breast through the robe. With each shallow breath he takes, he

You hold your breath as he leans in, eyes locked on yours and body tense with anticipation. The heat of his body presses against you as he inches even closer, teasing with each touch that feels so much like it will be the one to finally claim you but isn't quite enough. Your heart races, your skin prickles with goosebumps beneath his gaze and presence; every nerve ending in your body feels alive and on edge, aching for him to make a move.

The air between you crackles with unspoken promises, the potential for more than master and slave dancing just out of reach. You want nothing more than for him to take what he desires from you, even as part of you hopes that this moment will lead to something deeper; something true and lasting. With every fiber of your being, you yearn for his touch to turn possessive once more.

Lord Barathor's gaze flickers, seeming to waver for the briefest of moments before returning to yours with a newfound intensity. His hand finally moves, sliding up your arm and around your back until it comes to rest at the nape of your neck. With a firm grip, he pulls you closer still, their bodies now flush against each other from chest to hip. Your breasts press against his broad, hard chest, nipples tightening in response as she feels him steady her with every shallow breath she takes. His lips part slightly, revealing his teeth as he whispers hoarsely into your ear, "I want everything." His voice is rough and demanding; a low growl that promises pleasure and pain, submission and dominance in equal measure.

A satisfied grin tugs at the corner of Lord Barathor's mouth as he listens to Alya offer herself so freely. His gaze drops briefly to her lips before traveling back up to meet hers, the intensity of his stare leaving no doubt that she is still very much in control here. He leans in closer, the warmth of his breath fanning across her cheek as he whispers roughly, "For now, I want you to remain just where you are." His hand moves from around her back, sliding down her side to cup her hip instead. With a sudden, powerful motion, he lifts her up off the ground and spins her around, pressing her against the wall with his body. His lips find hers roughly, forcing entry while one of his hands moves between them, roughly pushing aside her robe and gripping her through her silk panties. He thrusts his fingers inside her, claiming