Two hours ago, my ship reached the docks at Dryac.
An hour ago, a slaver tried to drag me into an alley.
Fifty-nine minutes ago, a beast of a man knocked him out cold.
Fifty-eight minutes ago, I told my rescuer to screw off, I could take care of myself.
Fifty-five minutes ago, I felt a thick leather belt on my bare backside for the first time.
Forty-five minutes ago, I started begging.
Thirty minutes ago, he bent me over a crate and claimed me in the most shameful way possible.
Twenty-nine minutes ago, I started screaming.
Twenty-five minutes ago, I climaxed with a crowd watching and my bottom sore inside and out.
Twenty-four minutes ago, I realized he was nowhere near done with me.
One minute ago, he finally decided I'd learned my lesson, for the moment at least.
As he leads me away, naked, well-punished, and very thoroughly used, he tells me I work for him now, I'll have to earn the privilege of clothing, and I'm his to enjoy as often as he pleases.