{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"af1b0977-b05d-4cef-8e69-c289f49bf67b","seriesId":"b18eda85-de41-4b99-a266-c3a6b2ab1072","seriesName":"A New World","currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2026-01-27T20:51:22.595Z","updated":"2026-01-27T20:51:22.595Z","title":"A New World, Chapter 4: Home Again","slug":"a-new-world-chapter-4-home-again","shortId":"nWcfrZ7J","authorNote":null,"disclaimer":null,"type":"Short","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"Trig enjoys a drink, dinner, and Daisy.","partCount":1,"parts":[{"partId":"1b080ec8-d35c-4083-9827-9cfe76b89d52","title":"Chapter 4: Home Again","summary":"CHAPTER FOUR: HOME AGAINThat evening, the slaves were moving slowly, trudging along in their harness","wordCount":2469,"readTime":12,"number":1,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"Chapter 4: Home Again","content":"

CHAPTER FOUR: HOME AGAIN

That evening, the slaves were moving slowly, trudging along in their harnesses, heads down, mouths hanging open, nearly spent from their day of labor when they arrived back at the farm. Even Daisy had lost her firm step, stumbling along on her leash. For the last mile Trig was forced to use the whip several times, when he felt the wagon slowing under him.

Most of the day’s work on the farm had been done, but there was still work for Trig to do. “The master rises before the slaves rise, eats after the slaves eat, and goes to bed after the slaves do,” Mathias had often reminded him. Only the farm dog, Bandit, a shepherd mix, was on hand to welcome them, scampering around the wagon and team. Trig steered the wagon alongside the females’ slave shed and set the brake; it would remain here overnight for tomorrow’s work.

He unharnessed the slaves, Daisy too, and directed them to the stables, where they would hang their harnesses and footgear neatly on hooks holding equipment for human and equine livestock. Bandit, of course, rendered his assistance, happily herding the slaves along like flock of sheep. Like all slaves, they were naturally afraid of dogs and did their best to keep their distance from him.

Trig checked to make sure the tack was hung neatly, according to size, no tangles or dangling straps or buckles. The stable mistress, Ms. Erika, kept her stables in immaculate order for her beloved horses, whom she loved with a mother’s care, but she was quick to find fault with the human stock she sometimes had to deal with, or the staff who supervised them.

Once stripped to their collars and chastity, he had the slaves line up in the yard, where he hosed them down, going up and down the line, then turning around under the cold water. Mr. Kim was very conscientious about the health and cleanliness of all his livestock; he never wanted a dirty slave or horse put in the shed or stable at the end of day.

Trig noticed Daisy’s nipples were now poking from her round breasts, as goosebumps rose on her skin. He played the hose on her a bit more, enjoying the sight.

When they were sufficiently clean, he had them run a few laps around the yard to dry off, then directed them to a table upon which sat a large bucket of luke-warm, half-congealed slave mush, alongside a stack of tin bowls and spoons. Trig put Dingo in charge of ladling portions as the slaves lined up, bowls and spoons in hand. Daisy, being the smallest, found herself pushed to the end of the line. Despite its unappetizing appearance and taste, the slaves were ravenous, scraping their bowls clean.

Once finished, he had them stack their bowls and spoons inside the empty bucket, lined them up for a head count. He called to Daisy.

She scurried to him and dropped to her knees. “Do you know where my room is in the house?”

“No master.”

“Second floor, last room on the left. You do know left and right, correct?”

Daisy held up her left hand and waved it. “Yes master.”

“Go wait outside my room.” As she left, Trig unlocked the door to the male slave shed and ushered them in. Fed, clean, and tired, they were quick to find their pallets on the wooden shelves lining both sides of the shed, stacked three high. The other slaves were already asleep, some snoring, some stirring under their blankets as another dozen slaves entered and found their places. From some dark corner came the sound of a fart.

Trig bolted the door shut, and made his way among the various outbuildings and bungalows of the staff who didn’t live in the main house. He spotted a silhouette approaching him along the walkway in the half-light of lanterns hung here and there.

“Hey Trig.” He recognized the voice of Andy Kim, the owner’s teenage son.

“Hey Andy, you got night watch tonight?”

“Yes, unfortunately. My turn in the barrel.” Night watch was an unpopular but necessary duty rotated among the junior staff. “I saw Daisy waiting outside your room. She gives great head. Have fun!”

“I will! What was the dinner tonight?” Trig asked.

“Beef stew. There’s still plenty in the kitchen.”

Trig’s belly rumbled. Janice’s beef stew was one of his favorites; she didn’t skimp on the tender beef, with carrots and potatoes and pillowy dumplings with gravy you could drink by the spoonful. Janice always kept a warming tray in the kitchen, for staff whose duties kept them from communal meals in the dining room. Janice’s beef stew, then Daisy for dessert…

“Have a quiet night! Don’t let your dad catch you sleeping!” Trig waved as he made his way by.

Up ahead was Mathia’s bungalow, with pale yellow light spilling from the windows. As got closer, Trig saw a red glow on the dark porch, and caught the fragrant scent of a cigar.

“Hi Mathias.” Trig stopped at the steps to the porch, his hand on the railing.

“Hi Trig. How’d it go today? Any problems?” It was, of course, Trig’s first trip alone to Market Town, and Trig wasn’t surprised to find Mathias waiting up for his return.

“No, everything went okay.” Trig was torn; he was eager to earn Mathia’s approval, and share with him the events of the day…but it was late, and he was tired, hungry and horny.

Mathias pointed to the whip hanging on Trig’s belt. “Did you buy that today? Let me see it please.”

“No, somebody gave it to me.”

Trig unhooked the whip and handed it to Mathias, who unfurled it to its length. He felt the material of the handle for a moment, and then said, “Do you know what this handle is made from?” Trig shook his head no. “It’s shark skin. It gives a much better grip than any kind of hide, even if it’s wet, and will never wear down. And this,” he said, tapping the white knob at the base, “is bone. This is an excellent whip.”

“What kind of bone?” asked Trig.

Mathias shrugged, “Could be…anything.” Mathais uncoiled the whip, and found its balance point, letting the lash and handle drape over his forefinger. The lash was much stiffer than the old worn whips hanging in the barn. “See how stiff it still is? Not used much. What does that tell you about the master who carried it?” Mathias took a soft puff on his cigar, the glow briefly illuminating them both.

Trig knew Mathias was fond of these teachable moments, when a lesson in their shared profession could be explored. He had been through many.

“That he didn’t discipline his slaves?” Trig offered, even though he remembered Daisy’s submissiveness towards Alexander.

“Could be. Also, maybe his slaves were so well disciplined that he didn’t need to use the whip often.” Mathias smiled and raised a forefinger as he said this, a signal for Trig to take note of this lesson. Trig nodded in appreciation for this new knowledge. “Go in my kitchen please, and in the cupboard above the sink there’s a bottle and some glasses. Bring the bottle and a couple glasses out here. Try not to wake Vanessa, she’s a bitch when she’s cranky.”

Trig groaned inwardly. He always enjoyed time spent with Mathias, and this was a special day, his first time entrusted with thirteen slaves and two loads of cargo, and knew Mathias was being a kind and thoughtful mentor. But he was hungry and tired, and his horniness was diminishing as the former began to overpower the latter.

Inside the house he could see light spilling into the bedroom, and a woman’s pale leg poking out from under the sheets. There was a cuff around her ankle, with a light chain secured from the cuff to the footboard. Vanessa was Mathia’s personal property, the only slave on the farm who was not owned by Mr. Kim. He did his best to be quiet.

When he returned with the bottle and two glasses, Bandit was curled up on the porch. As he poured two glasses of corn liquor, Mathias said, “Tell me how you got this nice whip as a gift?”

Trig related the story of the broken wheel, Alice and Eleanor, and meeting Alexander at the lumber warehouse. Mathias sipped his bourbon as he listened.

“How was Daisy? Any issues with her?” Mathias asked.

Trig considered the brief flash of defiance he had seen in her eyes…or maybe only thought he had seen? He decided not to mention it; she had been well-behaved and helpful all day otherwise. “She was good, very obedient and respectful to her previous owners.” Trig took a gulp of bourbon. It burned into his empty stomach, not unpleasantly. He felt his belly growl in gratitude.

Mathias nodded. “I saw her go by a little while ago. Are you keeping her tonight?” Trig nodded yes. Mathias took a puff on his cigar, expelling a fragrant cloud that made Bandit lift his head and sniff the air.

“How was Jonas?” Mathias asked, to Trig’s surprise. It was as though Mathias had been along for the trip and had seen everything.

“I saw the gap in his harness…” Tri began, while Mathias looked off into the night. Trig knew that Mathias was listening intently, even though he appeared to be indifferent. Trig debated with himself about telling Mathias about his clumsy attempt to discipline Jonas, but decided truth was the best policy. He knew from previous experience that Mathias was a teacher who would accept a mistake or blunder, if one took responsibility for it. Besides, he’d probably notice the welt on Dingo’s back the next day and ask him about it. So, he told Mathias how he aimed for Jonas and whipped Dingo instead.

Mathias listened, nodding, showing no judgement or criticism. “Jonas was a trap racer ponyboy before Kim bought him. He tore a tendon during a race, so his racing days are over. He’s having trouble adjusting from being a pampered pony to a draft animal. I’m going to put him on a plow. Hopefully that will help him accept his new place.”

Trig drained his glass and put it down on the table between them, hoping Mathias would take it as a signal to let him be on his way.

“Take the morning off,” Mathias said. “Have fun with Daisy and bring her to the staff meeting after lunch. Also, tomorrow, I want you to find a hay bale and practice with the carraige whip. Good job today.”

Trig wished him goodnight, and walked away with a happy heart. It had been a special day for an apprentice slave manager, and he was grateful for Mathia’s words of affirmation. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open, however; the long day followed by a glass of bourbon was having its effect.

In the deserted kitchen he lifted the lid off the warming tray and savored the aroma of Janice’s famous beef stew. He was especially pleased to see several dumplings remaining; they were popular and disappeared quickly. He ladled about half the tray into a bowl, and wolfed it down. I might as well finish it all, he thought, no one else is likely to come by tonight. He ate the remainder directly from the warming tray.

He put the empty tray and bowl in the sink and splashed some water in them, to make them a little easier for kitchen slaves to clean in the morning.

He yawned as he walked down the hallway to his room, his belly satiated and happy, imagining the comfort of his bed and pillow. He was almost surprised when he saw the naked woman curled up like a puppy in front of his door, sleeping soundly--Daisy.

He rubbed his face, at the point where sleep was more enticing than sex, but he had ordered her to be here. How long had she been waiting? Would she think less of him if he just collapsed into bed? He nudged her shoulder with his boot.

Daisy startled awake, looking around before she realized where she was and who was looking down at her. She immediately got to her knees, “Please master, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep! Please have mercy!” she begged as she kissed his boots.

“It’s all right,” said Trig, yawning again. “It’s been a long day for both of us.” He poked her ass with his foot. “Go bend over the bed.” Daisy scurried into his room on all fours and draped herself over his bed as Trig followed, undoing his shirt and pants. Although he had imagined long unhurried and enjoyable sex with this lovely slave, he found himself more eager for bed and sleep.

Daisy waited, kneeling face down on the bed, her thighs open, while Trig stroked himself to hardness, aided by the sight of Daisy’s narrow hips swelling into her inviting ass. He placed one hand on her back and with the other aimed his hard cock at her vagina, when she spoke: “Master?”

“What?”

“Please master, I’m dry…may I suck you before you fuck me? I’m very sorry master!”

Trig felt between her labia, and she was indeed dry. Ordinarily, a slave asking a master to pause or hesitate before fucking her or him would meet with punishment, but he was just too tired to care. He might have been angry, but he couldn’t blame an exhausted slave he had just awakened not to be a horny bitch in heat Anyway, he had no intention of hurting her tonight; she had shared a special day with him. “All right, suck me.”

Daisy turned on the bed and took his hard cock into her mouth, her head bobbing as she slobbered on his cock. This wasn’t like her earlier, skillful blowjob; she was trying to get him lubed as fast as she could. When his hard cock was glistening with her drool, he used her hair to put her back into position, and thrust into her, again and again. He grunted in time with his thrusts; Daisy made no sound other than an occasional soft whimper as her breath was pushed out of her. Grasping her narrow hips, Trig growled as he came deep within her, then lay over her back, his cock twitching deep within her. He almost fell asleep like that, until his flaccid cock flopped out of her vagina.

He pushed her to the other side of the bed, and climbed in beside her. Daisy waited a moment, then lifted one leg a little high, exposing her bare ankle. “Master?” she asked softly, wiggling her foot. She knew she should be chained, and didn’t want any misunderstandings the next morning.

Tiredly, Trig locked the cuff around her slim ankle, tossed the key on the bedside table, pulled the sheet up above them both, then lay beside her, spooning her, his arm across her hip, his hand cupping her breast. They were both soon fast asleep.

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