104 AD Part 3

104 AD Part 3

Marcella’s stomach fluttered. What else did Master intend to subject her to? She remained motionless on her back as he approached. He stood next to her before dropping to one knee. He held an item in his hand which he dangled in front of Marcella’s face.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1NEa12Rat8k3rvaOTay92ejwWFG8ArOaH/view?usp=drive_link

He secured the metal clasp of the leash around the ring on her slave collar before tugging it upwards gently. Marcella didn’t need any more encouragement as the fear of non sexual choking was enough to motivate her. She willed her sore body to move and began to stand. As she did, however, Master’s hand was ready to stop her and guide her back towards the ground. He wanted her to crawl while he held her leash. He was going to parade her around like a dog! But, as her hands and knees landed in the dirt, as drops of cum splattered to the ground from her face and vagina, as the chains binding her hands and feet rattled, as her matted hair fell into her vision and as her feces coated tits jiggled beneath her pendulously, Marcella realized she was lower than any dog.

With her properly on all fours at his feet, Master began to walk while yelling something to the crowd. Marcella followed as best she could, crawling through the dirt like an animal. The short chain between her hands made it difficult, but, luckily, Master was merciful and went at a slow pace. He periodically tugged on her leash, seemingly just to remind her that he was in charge. The crowd followed behind and slowly closed in. Marcella’s huge ass swayed back and forth while her chest bounced and semen continued to drip from her exposed female orifice.

The first thing the surrounding crowd did was yell disparaging, lewd comments. Marcella kept her head down and was thankful that she didn’t understand what they were saying. The comments became more aggressive and close, however, and it wasn’t long before Marcella felt the first swat on her bubble butt. Out of fear, she pressed closer to Master’s leg, hoping her would protect her. However, it appeared that he had other plans and, instead, encouraged them.

The crowd closed in and Marcella could see a majority of them were frightening, lustful, and evil looking men. Her butt was suddenly on the receiving end of near constant spanking and squeezing while her hanging tits were groped and her nipples were tweaked. Her hair was pulled, fingers were shoved into her pussy, asshole and mouth and men pulled at her feet and arms to cause her to fall. She had no means or ways to defend herself and Master simply tugged on her leash if she strayed too far away from his leg.

Nobody in the crowd dared to get in Master’s way or cause him any inconvenience. However, they were able to slowly feel out the boundaries of what Master would allow and grew bolder with each action. For his part, Master kept his slow, plodding pace. Marcella initially thought he was helping her by moving slowly, but she quickly realized he was only doing so to give the crowd more time to abuse her. To make matters worse, Master yelled out near constant encouragements to the crowd and kept them riled up.

Marcella grunted in frustration as her legs were, once again, taken out from under her and she face-planted into the dirt. Master cackled as he ripped at her leash and she gagged from the collar digging into her neck. She scrambled back to his leg for relief. She glanced up and saw they were approaching a large wooden shed with a closed door secured by a metal lock. She focused on the shed. Would this finally be her reprieve?

The sound of a man hocking a loogie broke Marcella from her focus and she looked towards the sound just as the man released a wad of spit directly in her face. She recoiled away but couldn’t even bring her hands up to wipe it. With the precedent set, the sound of hocking sounded all over the crowd as person after person approached the crawling slave girl to spit on her. They had to get close to ensure it wasn’t remotely possible to hit Master and soon there was a line of people waiting for their turn. Marcella started to sob as her body was rhythmically splattered with wads of spit while the previous groping and tripping and insulting continued. Her vision was glazed over with saliva but she managed to catch a glimpse of the shed which was, mercifully, just a few meters away.

Master stopped before the shed and slowly fished a ring of keys from inside his tunic. He yelled something at the crowd and the abuse of Marcella shot into overdrive. Master stepped away pretended to search for the correct key which left Marcella alone and kneeling near the door. She was surrounded on all sides by men who felt emboldened by the absence of Master as possible collateral damage. Marcella’s sobbing turned to a full on cry as the men pushed, slapped, groped and spit on her more aggressively. She laid on the ground and curled into a ball just as the first stream of piss cascaded down on her body. More streams of stinking golden urine showered on her from all directions. She kept her head as protected as she could, but a particularly nasty man managed to rip her protective arms away and shove a pile of manure directly into her face. She choked and spit as the vile stench of the cow-pie filled her senses.

Over the roar of the crowd, Marcella heard a familiar old woman speaking in English.

“Just say the word, and this will all be over. Give yourself to me and be freed.”

Marcella felt an instantaneous hatred well in her chest. Her face contorted in anger and she sniffled. No matter the abuse, no matter what this crowd did to her, Marcella was not giving the old woman what she wanted! She didn’t know where Isla was, she didn’t know when this nightmare would end- but she would be dead before giving up!

A puddle that smelled like raw sewage formed beneath Marcella as a jet of cum splashed against her face. She was surrounded by an endless horde of disgusting men either pissing, spitting, cumming or shitting on her. On the bright side, being covered in bodily fluids was a great deterrent against rape and groping of any kind.

After what felt like an eternity, Master yelled over the crowd and the last of the men backed off. Marcella was left laying in a pile of every conceivable bodily fluid with an untold number of layers on her body. Master patted his leg and whistled like he would for a dog. He was clearly no longer interested in touching her.

Against all odds, Marcella groaned and defiantly rose to her knees. All manner of liquid and solid waste dripped and slipped off her body. She looked and smelled like a heavily used porta potty but still she prevailed. She slogged through the puddle of bodily fluids and slowly crawled towards the sound of Master’s whistle. Her eyes were welded shut by god-knows-what and her leash dragged behind her. The chains on her hands and feet rattled in the dirt as she moved. When she made it to Master, Marcella stopped and focused on her breathing. The sound of a wooden door opening and a rush of damp, musty air met her nose. She turned and crawled into the open door where her hands and knees were met with dry straw. The door closed behind her and the metallic lock was secured, leaving her alone in the quiet, wooden shed.

Marcella grabbed a handful of dry straw and gently patted it against her eyes, managing to clean them just enough to open them. She glanced around the dim shed and realized she wasn’t alone!

A group of naked, pregnant women sat silently in a line with their legs open.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1_lfgIwMOtDo9yzaoZ-Wy8BcT-iHpVDJW/view?usp=drive_link

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1XQRi8KjG0lCc8yXYTFQAeiRGflxdCBJP/view?usp=drive_link

https://drive.google.com/file/d/13eGKFhtJSk2ZuzUvIBiKKT7sj2DAUZDM/view?usp=drive_link

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1-_9NentXFBglGonGe9A_YYYkV_Q0xHW0/view?usp=drive_link

They eyed Marcella with different levels of pity.

The last pregnant woman in the line stared at Marcella for a few seconds before her face lit up with a smile. It was Isla! She knew those freckles anywhere!

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1hx0zpJCc4RFG4JfPuF3tb0x38xOkA7dE/view?usp=drive_link

Isla joyously called in an unknown language, “Tha mi cho toilichte ur faicinn! Dè rinn iad ort?”

Marcella shook her head wearily and Isla’s shoulders drooped as she whispered, “Chan eil e gu diofar, chan urrainn dhut mo thuigsinn co-dhiù. Tha mi toilichte nach do bhris iad thu.”

The language barrier was too much for them to overcome as Isla spoke a language that nobody in this time period could understand while Marcella couldn’t speak at all. Marcella looked at Isla and saw her face was coated in dry cum. She also had several restraints and tattoos on her body.

On her arms:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1D64LWNUljVs2H0UujZ07nsjGty7qPT61/view?usp=drive_link

And on her feet:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1SyGN-dAN9Z87z_yBQOSK_Ef_8pU0t3h9/view?usp=drive_link

Isla struggled to traverse the straw and make her way over to an exhausted and completely beaten down Marcella. As if moving through straw while pregnant wasn’t difficult enough; the arm binder and leg irons made it almost impossible! The other pregnant slaves watched Isla with concern and fear in their eyes. It didn’t appear that she was supposed to be leaving the line.

Marcella laid in the straw which felt warm and safe compared to the horrors of the street. She was glad to have been reunited with Isla, but she didn’t have the strength to remain upright. Every muscle was completely exhausted while every fluid imaginable slowly dripped into the straw or dried on her body. Isla kneeled next to Marcella and sighed. Welts, cuts and scratches ran the length of Marcella’s body which was shackled, attached to a leash, and covered in a sickening slurry of bodily fluids. Isla thought she had been handled roughly but this...Nobody deserved this.

Isla couldn’t use her hands to help comfort her friend or provide any words to make her feel better, so she laid next to Marcella in the straw and whispered a series of soft shushing noises until Marcella was softly snoring.

Isla laid there for awhile, listening to her friend’s breathing and contemplating their situation. This round was far more extreme than any before. Was it possible that they were better off bartering their souls or ‘essence’ or whatever it was? It had to be better than whatever happened to Marcella. Isla worried it could happen to her. How long could the old woman’s magic hold out and continue to torture them? Isla shook her head, disappointed with herself. She should have never contacted that old bitch in the first place! She couldn’t remember the deal they made, and whenever she tried to her mind blanked out.

Also, when did she start considering Marcella a friend?

The metallic click of the lock on the door disengaging broke Isla from her thoughts. She swiveled her head and eyed the four pregnant slave girls who were silently motioning for her to come back to her proper place. She shook her head and rolled in the straw to put herself between Marcella and the door. She may have been a pregnant slave bound in an arm-binder and ankle cuffs, but she would do whatever it took to defend her abused friend from further harm. She wasn’t about to abandon her!

The door swung open and a familiar scowl appeared in the dim lighting.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1SXMIGslkE9euISnds_cvGIurJeRz2aHG/view?usp=drive_link

The old woman staggered as if her footing was a little unstable. Her shoulders hung low and she had noticeable bags beneath her eyes.

She spoke and sounded as if she were drunk with slow, slurred speech, “You...You annoying [i]bitches[/i] don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Isla scowled and shouted, “Fàg sinn nar n-aonar!”

The old woman grumbled, “I can’t understand a word you’re saying you stupid slut! I’ve had it with you!” Her voice turned deep and sinister, “Your friend didn’t break...but I bet you will.”

The old woman’s black eyes glowed and she fell against a nearby support beam. Her legs looked like they were about to buckle, but the beam kept her on her feet. Lightning crackled and Isla momentarily screamed before disappearing into thin air. Marcella stirred and lifted her head lazily. A handful of straw stuck to her face as she swiveled around to look for Isla. A divot in the straw was the only thing she left behind. With her remaining strength exhausted, Marcella’s head fell back to the straw and she returned to a fitful slumber just as her chest was struck with lightning.

*****