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Saturday, October 8, 2011

Willing Slave

The first 2 chapters are a preview, if you like the story and want to read the rest, please buy it for $.99 on Amazon Willing Slave

Willing Slave
Chapter 1
A man studied the scenery as his carriage slowly made its way down the lane. He was a homely man in his early 40’s, and was slightly overweight. He had been called ugly more times than he cared to admit. Fortunately, looks were not an important part of his career.
He was a slave trainer. He personally selected beautiful women with a pleasant and caring attitude, and trained them to be sex slaves. He had several regular clients who constantly wanted someone new for their harems, and he always kept an eye out for women that would suit them.
He studied the dirt-laden woman tilling a large garden closely. Even through the dirt, he could see promise. She had a quiet, hidden allure that appealed to quite a few of his clients.
He banged on the roof of his carriage to indicate to the driver that he wished to stop awhile.
After exiting the carriage, he waited for someone to come see what he wanted. Soon enough, a man in his early 50’s approached.
“Can I help you?” The man asked this stranger.
“Who is that woman?” The slave trainer’s question was thickly accented by his native tongue.
“She is my daughter. Why do you ask?”
The slave trainer studied him closely for a moment. His clothing was threadbare and had been patched up several times. He looked worn down by life, and his shoulders drooped, as if he carried a large burden.
“I am looking to buy women who would make excellent slaves. I assure you, I only deal with established clientele who treat their slaves very well. She would not be mistreated in any way. How old is she?”
“Just turned 18.” The father bit his lip, obviously torn over the proposition. The slaver could see various arguments flicker in his eyes, and he could also see this man’s almost physical need to better his life. In a world where the poor often had extra children specifically to make a bit of money by selling them into slavery, it was a testament that this man had not done so already.
Finally, the reluctant father came to a decision. “No sir, I love my daughter too much to sell her into slavery.”
“That’s too bad,” the slaver said genially. “I am prepared to pay 1000 gold pieces for her.”
“1000! Why so much?” The father asked in breathless shock.
“Because, I don’t deal in cheap slaves. I only deal in slaves who are sold for small fortunes. This is how I know they are well treated. No owner wishes to abuse someone he paid so much for,” the slaver explained with a smile. He was nearly certain that the man could not turn down such an offer.
The father agonized over the situation. It was true that they were poor. Their farm was too small to grow enough food to feed the entire family, which consisted of him, his daughter, his older son, his son’s wife, and their seven children. One less mouth to feed, and 1000 gold pieces, would definitely go a long way in providing for their family.
“Are you certain you want her?” The father asked.
“I need a better look to be absolutely certain, but I am fairly certain, yes,” the slaver replied.
Quickly, before he lost his nerve, the father invited the slaver to have a closer look. He did, gently inspecting her hair, eyes, teeth, height, and body proportions. He even wiped some dirt off her face to determine its actual color.
She was merely curious until his hands traveled from her face down her body, then she started to protest, but after a reassuring gesture from her father, she reluctantly allowed the examination.
“Yes, I am certain I want her,” the slaver pronounced.
Her father sighed, and with a heavy heart explained things to her. “This gentleman has offered to buy you for 1000 gold pieces. He has promised you will be well treated.”
“I see,” she replied. She felt some apprehension, but mostly she was stunned by the amount. 1000 gold pieces!? For me? That would be very good for the family!
“Do you mean it, truly, I will be well treated?” She asked, her voice quivering.
“Yes,” the slaver vowed.
She nodded in acceptance, knowing that her family desperately needed the money.
Her father, normally a man of few words, felt the need to praise his wonderful daughter. “She has been blessed with a very special gift. She knows when you speak true, and when you lie.”
“Does she really?” The slaver’s interest piqued sharply. If true, this would be the best purchase he had ever made!
Both father and daughter nodded.
The slaver decided to test her skill. “Please nod your head when I tell the truth, and shake it when I lie.”
He told her some facts about himself, and she nodded. Then, he told her some lies; she shook her head. He alternated fact and fiction unpredictably, and was amazed as she nodded or shook her head correctly each time.
“You are not guessing at all?” He clarified. The gift of truth was very rare, and even then, most truthsayers had only about 80-90% accuracy.
She shook her head, and he could see in her eyes that she did not lie.
As a final test, he randomly stated truths or lies in several other languages. Still, she was 100 percent correct.
“Does she speak all of those languages?” He asked her father, temporarily too amazed to speak directly to her.
“She speaks only our language. I doubt she’s ever even heard a different language before,” the father explained.
“I see.” Smiling warmly, the slaver addressed her directly.  “Please take a few moments to gather your belongings, and make your good byes.”
She nodded, and left to do his bidding. The slaver returned his attention to her father, pulled out his purse, and paid the man for his daughter. He even added an extra 200 gold pieces for the man’s honesty in telling him such valuable information.
Upon her return, father and daughter embraced tearfully for a few moments before she was escorted to the carriage. Other members of her family had gathered in silence to watch her leave. It was obvious that they were shocked by this turn of events.
She watched her father grow smaller with distance as the carriage left, and wondered if she would ever be able to see her family again. Maybe she would be allowed to write them. Considering that she was old enough to marry, they all knew the day would come when she had to leave, but there had been no hurry. This must seem so sudden to them, but she simply felt as if she were watching herself from afar.
“What’s your name?” The slaver interrupted her thoughts.
“Saria,” (Pronounced rhyming with Maria not Daria.) the woman answered, and turned to look at him. He wasn’t handsome, but he was well groomed, and not unpleasant to look at. She already trusted him completely since he had promised to take care of her, and her gift proved he wasn’t lying.
“I’m Darren. Yes, I have a last name, and a lofty title, but those are not important. What is important is that you are now a slave, and I am going to train you to please your future master.”
“Should I call you master?” Saria asked. Her instinct telling her that had he wanted her to, he would have asserted that first thing.
“No. You may call me Darren. In fact, I insist on it.” One of the reasons he was such a good slave trainer is that he treated his slaves with care and respect.
“Where are we going? To the city?” Saria asked. She had never been farther away from home than the nearby town. The city was at least half a day away, and the thought of going there somewhat excited her. She wondered if she would get to see much of it.
“Actually, I live in the Imperial City,” Darren replied.
“The Imperial City?!” Saria exclaimed. “Isn’t that very far away?”
“A couple of days, not so very far. Aren’t you curious about the kind of things I will teach you?” Darren wondered. That was usually the first question a new slave asked.
“Well yes, but I figured that it must be intimate things since you paid so much,” Saria admitted. Having a large family in a small house meant that she had frequently heard what goes on between a man and a woman. Her sister-in-law had also described it a bit.
“That’s it exactly,” Darren nodded.
Saria inhaled slowly, and took stock of her emotions. She wasn’t sure how she felt. Not shocked or tearful or happy or anything. Nervous? Yes nervous, and a little bit numb.
She studied Darren more closely. His aura was kind, and she could not quite imagine him being intimate with anyone. How would he teach her? Am I supposed to let him touch me? Will he beat me if I don’t? His aura seemed to suggest that he wouldn’t.

Go To Chapter 2 

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