Book About Slave Novels & Stories

No kindness, no care, no reprieve—especially not after trying to escape. Her lips quivered as a darker thought surfaced, chilling her to her core. What if this was a façade? What if he planned to share her, to parade her around as some kind of twisted entertainment, forcing her to perform degrading, unspeakable acts in front of an audience? She had heard those stories too. The slaves who were returned—battered and hollow-eyed—had recounted every harrowing detail of their torment.

’ Sophia thought as she twitched her lips. "I'm sorry to say but that's gross, you know." She stated and turned to leave. "This is part of your job." He said as she pressed her lips together and closed her eyes tightly dejectedly, her back still turned. What is his problem, huh? "Do you want me to start explaining what you are, huh? You're my slave, get it?" That word hit Sophia but she shrugged and made to leave the room, not knowing what reply to give to him.

My hot, wet body eager and ready for him to take. When he finally slid into me, I was again aware of how full he made me feel and how good it felt. For a race that had slaves unable to think straight and easily deny them their sexual desires I was starting to understand they were incredible lovers. Maybe this whole slave thing wasn't as bad as I'd initially thought? I didn't know for sure, but I did know I was enjoying every moment of being bedded, my hands running over smooth toned skin and exploring him as much as he explored me.

I’m not dressed as a slave, but I’m not well dressed like a fancy high-ranking wolf. I decide to head to where the slaves are, preparing for their masters. I want to see how some of them are treated. Maddox treated me well because I was his mate. Although, I do think Maddox is a good man and would treat any slave decently. I’m the only slave he had, and he only bought me because I was his mate. There were slaves in the pack house, but they were purchased by his parents and uncle.

He didn’t fully believe the suggestions yet, but he stayed with the page anyway. At one point he muttered under his breath, “This feels stupid,” yet he didn’t put the book down. He kept reading, slow and resistant, the attempt itself more important than any sudden breakthrough. The silence of the room pressed in, but for once he didn’t fill it with old patterns.

Maybe because I am too young and have never experienced such kind of things, I feel uncomfortable inside as if I have done something bad. After I take a walk in the garden, I hear someone crying when I return to my room along the hall. The voice is familiar. It is Emelia, my slave. I go directly to her room. I think although I will not comfort her, I still want to see how she is doing. But when I get near to her room, I hear her crying and other girls comforting her. So she does not need me. Yes, she never needs me. When she was chosen to be my slave, she cried loudly and wanted to see her parents instead of being happy.

Turned out I was wrong. Because already had something up his sleeve. I didn’t know it yet, but another Slave Games was coming. And it was coming a lot sooner than I expected.

"Slaves are delicious creatures who are subject to the whims of their Master at any time." I moaned loudly, my legs spreading for his fingers, my arms going around his neck and kissing his chest as he finger fucked me. My Master made me cum in front of them, for their viewing pleasure. Once again, I felt like the slutty slave girl seducing the sales clerk, Gwen, or the needy, pathetic slave who enticed Sharon to ease my suffering; all of them strangers to me except for Lisa and Zoe and I felt so wanton, such a slave.

I quickly got down from the bed and rushed out of the room, making my way to the slave dining. When I got there, the long dining table was already filled to the brim with slaves; young and old alike. I managed to find an empty seat facing a male slave and sat down. We were often divided into groups to share a big bowl of food, which often led to fights and arguments about who would eat the most; that moment was always when the elderlies would scold us, telling us we had more stamina than them and should eat less, leading to rebellion from the younger ones.

"I don't want to be their slave." I don't tell her about the other stories I'd heard about the barbarians, like how they would sell their slave to other men to bed, after they grew tired of their own, how they would rape a slave if she did not submit willingly, and how sometimes barbarians would put their women on display in horrid public events. I'm determined to get us out alive and free, and I'm determined to find Cordell again. I want to see his red-brown hair, bright green eyes, and a sunny smile. I want to hear him laugh and feel his rose-petal lips on my skin when he kisses