Terra Stone: Mistaken Identity Chapter 6

 Artwork by TroyDM

Terra Stone

In

Mistaken Identity

Chapter 6

 

Lord Quintan’s Office

Quintan Slave House, Sutter’s World

 

          He was in a foul mood as the doors slid apart opening the way into his private office from his living quarters in the slave house. He had gone to his living quarters first after leaving the vulnerable slave unmolested in the special cell. Over the past few hours through the diligent work of Mester. Quintan had learned a great deal about the Union Agent Terra Stone, so much that added to her the natural beauty of her body and face, he had looked forward to many hours of putting her to his pleasures and desires before offering her up to the highest bidder in a private auction to parties that would pay dearly for the knowledge she possessed. Then the news of the arrival of the Union warships and put a stop to that for now. It was a shame that she had been able to hear that bit of news. As it has visibly given her a glimmer of hope when she was so close to breaking and accepting her fate and new life.

          Oh well, he thought to himself. Let the slave have a spark of hope. I will make crushing it later on all the sweeter. The thought of breaking the slave terra or as she was to be referred to here slave 9876309.brought a smile to his face as it brought back the memory of the first slave that he had acquired. He was a low-level administrator back then in the government house here on Sutter’s World. Her name was Felica and she had been the beautiful and spirited daughter of an influential trade delegate from Sparjak. She had laughed and publicly rejected his attempts to gain her favor. Quintan Sutter did not take rejection well and her callousness and amusement did not set well with him. So, he set out to learn as much about her and the people of Sparjak. It seemed that Sparjak had barely made it into the Union as they were a culture of corsairs. They were raiders by nature and loved the thrill of action. They were also one of the worlds in the Union that were still very active in the business of trading in slaves. He had wondered how he could use that to his advantage. Then he learned that Felica was an avid melee fighter and had been known to wager on her matches. Rumor had it that was how she had acquired her hand slaves.

          He could hear Mester responding to whomever as I he pressed the earpiece that was always feeding him information on whatever was going on. From the irritation that his aide was displaying whatever it was could not be good. But this had been the day for it starting with being interrupted with the slave earlier by his idiot cousin’s call. And while Simbaro could always be counted on to panic and overreact, how he wormed his way into the position of Prime Minister still baffled Quintan. Then again Simbaro looked the part of a handsome politician so it was likely as Quintan always suspected that he was just a puppet for the public to see while someone else was running things. More than likely Simbaro’s wife, Loreta was the one really running things to include her husband. She was driven and at times ruthless, a combination that had caused many a ambitious woman to wake up naked in one of his slave pens. Loreta had found herself once there herself. It had only been Simbaro’s affection for her that saved her thigh from a slave brand and collar on her neck before a trip to the auction block.

          And while the interruption had been annoying, it had also very necessary. The information that two Union warships as well as a support ship were in the sector was very concerning. The dark hair slave was of no value other than she was one of theirs. She was young and of low rank and if she was important she would not have been allowed to travel alone from the Union embassy ground or come looking for the slave he had already. No, the ships had something to do with the first Union slave. She was very important and valuable, the knowledge in her head was worth far more to the right buyers that what her body and looks would bring on the open block. This could very well be a show of strength to try and intimidate him. That might work with Simbaro, but everything that had been done was legal. The slaves were his legally despite who they used to be.

          “What have you to report, Mester,” moving around behind the massive desk and sitting down. “I am guessing that those Union ships are now in the sector.”

          “Not in the sector, my Lord,” Mester started. “The Jutland and Hood are in orbit of the planet. And the Alcatraz is in a higher orbit with the carrier Yorktown while the cruisers Yamato, Trafalgar, and Spruance have taken up a blockade formation and started to stop and board all inbound and outbound ships. Five of our shipments have been seized.”

          “WHAT! That is illegal! They have no grounds to stop and seize my cargo.” Quintan flared.

          “Actually, they can and have been, my Lord. Acting on the assumption that their people may be on a ship entering or leaving this system. They are stopping all outbound ships checking to see if either slave is on board as cargo. And the in bound just to make sure she is not here at the moment and being brought here.”

          “They know that she is here. This is harassment pure and simple.” He fumed.

          “They are being very cleaver I think, my Lord.” Mester countered.

          “How so?” he asked caught off guard by the usually very much in agreement aide.

          “Whoever is orchestrating the Union operations, knows that their people are here and in our control.” He started explaining, “Likely they either followed Tabor and Cyrus from Romata III or ascertained their final destination from the paperwork filed there for the purchase of the other slaves obtained there from the government sale. Therefore, stopping all outbound shipping is to be expected. They are checking to see if their woman or women have been sold being shipped to their new owners or if we are trying to get them off world to hide them.”

          “So why are they stopping the inbound ships?” Quintan said not so much of a question to Mester as to himself as he considered the possibilities. Then he had it, “They are using the unlikely assumption that she is not here yet as their probable cause to stop and search incoming ships. Reasonably sure that she is not there, but for that reason to search ships that they normally could only watch sail past them.”

“Exactly, my Lord. And it has proven to be very successful for them. And has explained the reason for the Alcatraz presence here. They had detained seven ships so far. Their crews were arrested for piracy and smuggling. The slave cargo was seized for closer identification. And all now in cells on the prison ship. They have effectively cut off all our incoming merchandise. With our current inventory these losses are a minor inconvenience for now. However, if this blockade is prolonged then it will cause us problems filling orders and meeting the projected stock levels for scheduled Auctions.”

          “Effective, ingenious, and diabolical all at the same time.” Quintan had to admit he was impressed. “I cannot wait to meet this person, have we heard anything from them or their delegation since this stated.”

          “Yes, my Lord, A Union assault shuttle has landed at their compound. We were informed to expect their representative within the next hour.”

          “Perhaps we should satisfy their suspicions. Have the two slaves brought up and chained to My desk as decorations. Inform them both that I expect perfect obedience from them and if they displease Me in the slightest way, they will wish that they hadn’t.” smiling wickedly. “I want to make sure that this representative sees that they are not the same as when they came here.”

“One moment, my Lord” Mester placing a hand to his earpiece. “We have some reports as to the ships that have been seized and those arrested. They have both the Baroness and Dido locked up on the Alcatraz.”

          That puts a different spin on things. Dido and Baroness are two of his best suppliers of slaves. They were renowned notorious slavers and pirates that were wanted in several sectors. Dito was a raven hair enchantress that had used her beauty to distract men and women into a trance as she took them and all they had. The Baroness, whose name was ironically enough really Anne Bonny, took the name as she didn’t care for the comments and teasing she received for sharing the name of a female pirate from Earth’s Golden Age of Piracy in the beginning of her career. Now no one dared to address the flame haired beauty whose wraith and vindictive nature was legendary. Their loss would be felt on his operation for sure, it was indeed unfortunate that they been returning with full chambers of prime stock for standing orders as well as for the monthly auctions.

 

 

Lord Quintan’s Office

Quintan Slave House, Sutter’s World

 

          Quintan looked up from his desk as Mester returned with two slaves following behind him on their leashes. Two hours had passed and the representative from the Union was due to arrive at any time. 9876309 and 9956215 were both very lovely pieces of slave flesh. While 9876309 was taller and older that her companion. 9956215’s Latina heritage was very apparent from her dark hair and eyes to her deep olive complexion. She was nicely shaped and was larger breasted than her lighter skinned senior. Quintan smiled to himself and thought that as exciting and inviting the slave Terra was. The slave Maria was an exotic beauty in her own right. She had the body of a pleasure slave and would bring a good price now and a better one once she was properly trained in the pleasure arts.

          Both slaves were naked needless to say, their hands locked in slave cuffs in the small of their backs. A muzzle gag was held firmly in the mouth of each as they were knelt beside his desk and their leashes locked to slave rings mouthed in the side of the massive desk. He rose from behind the desk and stepped around to stand looming over the two chained naked women. At a signal from him the gags were removed..

          “Listen closely, slaves.” He began. “In a short time one of your former comrades will be arriving to speak with me regrading the two of you. I have had your muzzled removed. But you are not allowed to speak unless I tell you to. Am I understood.”

          “Yes, Master.” They said in unison. Both had been here long enough and felt the pain sticks enough times to know what was expected of them and what would happen if they disobeyed.

          “My Lord, the representative has arrived at the entrance hall to the house.” Mester informed them. “He has two others with him.” Looking up with a concerned look.

          “Which Ambassador have they sent?” asked Quintan.

          “He is not an Ambassador, my Lord.”

          “Very well, which Admiral have they sent?”

          “He is not an Admiral, my Lord.”

          “Is he a Captain of one of the ships?” Quintan pursed puzzled.

          “No, my Lord.” Pausing for a moment. “He’s a Master Gunner of the Union Marines named Raphael McNally.”

          “What!” exclaimed Quintan that so junior of an officer was being sent.

          “Rafe!” Terra cried out in surprise and was instantly writhing on the floor in pain from her slave collar, “Please Master, stop!”

          So, the slave knew this Master Gunner. Interesting he thought.

 

          A few moments later the slave had recovered and was sobbing from the electric shocks administered to her via her slave collar. It was a quicker and easier method of punishing a slave, but not as gratifying or enjoyable as using an old fashion pain stick. This was indeed a day for surprises as the Marine entered the room. He was not in his uniform dress but in full battle armor and ready for a fight. The scar on this McNally’s cheek and the way in which he carried himself, said that he was a warrior and not some headquarters commando. But that was not all, fore behind McNally following on a slave leash were two females wearing only thin pleasure silk tunics and slave collars. One was a dark skinned raven hair beauty and the other was a flame haired wildcat, Dito and Baroness.

          “I was under the impression that you Union types did not care for the slave trade.” Quintan opened coldly.

          “My name is McNally, Master Gunner McNally. You may address Me as Master Gunner or McNally, Quintan.” He replied with a cold thin smile.

          “Most people address me as Lord Quintan.” The slaver fired back.

          “Well, slaver trader, I am not most people as you can see. Let’s get down to business. I’m not a politician or a bureaucrat so I have no patience or time for dancing around the subject and saying nothing. You have something that I want. As it happens, I believe that I have something that you would like back as well.”

From the desk of Paladin

 

Tal and greetings,

I just wanted to drop a quick note to to my followers. I have been working on Chapter 5 of the Terra Stone adventure and if all goes well you should have it by Thursday at the latest. Then I will start work on part 2 of Ragenta's Assessment.

As always thank you for following and reading. And if you have any questions or opinions just drop a comment and I will get back with you.

Be Well

Paladin 

Lady Ragenta in The Assessment Part1

 

Artwork by TroyDM

 Lady Ragenta

In

The Assessment Part 1

 

Lady Ragenta’s Chambers

 House of Chains, Victoria

          Ragenta sat alone in her private chambers looking at her reflection in a full-length mirror. She had dismissed her hand slaves for the evening because she wanted to be left alone. The chamber door was bolted so no one could disturb her. Over a full hand had passed since her encounter with the Slave Master Franco outside one of the training rooms in the pens. At first the encounter had shaken Ragenta, being mistaken for a slave girl. Her, the Mistress of the House treated as if she was just another House slave. Granted she was in the pen area, outside a training room, and at the time she wore only a modest tunic of a house slave, as well as locked in a house collar and slave bells. But surely, he should have been able to tell that she was not a slave. The barbarian slaves she had been training had thought she was, but they were nothing by stupid barbarians. All had to be taught how to speak as they only spoke their primitive tongue and not Gorean. Even the red savages of the plains didn’t have to be taught how to speak. She had not encountered many of the red skinned female that had been brought west as slaves. They were very rare in fact and always brought a good price.

          Rising from her couch and walking over to the mirror and examining her own reflection. She had removed all her clothing and completely naked, what was referred to as slave naked as girls on the blocks are sometimes sold in auction not even wearing a collar. The auburn-haired girl in the mirror was beautiful, she would have brought at least one silver perhaps two depending on the market untrained and new to the collar. Red hair was highly desired in slaves. Men found the fire crotches to be especially hot collar sluts. That alone could increase her price to a silver tarsk or more.

          Ragenta shook her head, what was she thinking. She was not a slave, she was a Free Woman and Mistress of the House of Chains. Yet the image staring back at her was of a naked woman that looked as beautiful as her own hand slaves or the ones she sold off in countless auctions. Before she realized what she was doing she walked over to one of the chests at the side of the room. Opening it, Ragenta took out the slave collar she has worn in the training room. Returning to the mirror she watched the girl in the mirror as she placed the collar around her neck locking it there on her. She did look like a slave. Anyone seeing her like this would assume that she was one. Her thigh, not any of the common brand sites had been kissed by a hot iron bearing any of the common brands like the kef or dina. But while it was required by Merchant Law and the laws of many of the great cities, not all owners marked their slaves for various reasons. She had always thought that was foolish not to brand a slave. But then the brand and the key to the collar clenched rightly kept her were her anchors back to her life as a free woman. Only the matter of her castes and the practice of female slaver disguising themselves as slave when training other slaves in special cases legally kept her from being a slave right now.

          A free woman, who willingly placed the collar of a slave upon herself, instantly becomes the slave of the owner of that collar. It was a basic law much the same as the Couching Law of Ar in which any free woman that been intimate with the male slave of another without consent of the owner thus became a slave herself and property of the male slave’s owner. Ragenta was very familiar with that law as they were planning to open another House of Chains in Ar. As well as it was a useful trap to lure in lusty free woman and then add them to one’s slave chain.

          Ragenta was brought back to reality by knocking at her locked chamber door.

          “Yes, what do you want,” she called out slightly annoyed since she had left instructions that she was not to be disturbed.

          “Lady Ragenta, I was sent to let you know that Atilas has returned from Ar and would like to meet with Spectus and yourself in the private dinning hall.” A male voice called out.

          “Very well, inform Atilas that I will be there shortly.” She answered in a manner that it implied she was finished with the conversation. Inserting the key into the collar and removing it, she placed it in a trunk to the side and began to dress for the meeting.

 

Private Dining Hall

House of Chains, Victoria

          Spectus was seated by one of the low tables when Ragenta entered the hall. He was brash and arrogant, Ragenta didn’t care much for him and certainly didn’t trust him. But when at a time when they had needed more gold to expand their operation, Atilas had thought it wise to take on another partner in the slave house. Spectus had the gold they needed even though it was never clear where it came from. She had suspected him of being a mercenary or a pirate perhaps. In either case he was used to the taking and selling of slaves.

          “Aww, Ragenta. It is so nice that you could join us this evening.” His smile always made Ragenta uneasy. It was almost as if he could see her through her robes and veils when he looked at her. Yes, he was a slaver, and she was a female. But they shared a caste and were partners in this house. He should not be looking at her as a potential acquisition for their pens and sales.

          “Spectus, it is so nice to see you have returned,” she lied. “I trust that your journey to Brundisium was productive and profitable.” It was fortunate for her that her veils hid the contempt she held for him.

          “Very, I brought back some fine stock for our pens. The exodus of Cos from the walls of Ar has flooded the markets there with prime slave flesh. The troubles between Argentum and Corcyrus has added some prime flesh as well. I even managed to acquire another coffle of barbarians very cheap. With so many former free women of Ar in collars they were very cheap indeed.”

          More barbarians she thought to herself. Yes, they seem to be plentiful at times. But how was he getting his hands on so many of them? It was very good for their profits to buy cheap, put a little in training and then resale them at several times what their investment in each slave was.

          “I was thinking that it might be better if we were to consider being more that just business partners, Ragenta.” He smiled at her.

          “I don’t think that would be wise, Spectus.” The mere thought of sharing a couch with him turned her stomach. “It is best to keep business and personal matters separate as much as possible. Besides it would be unfair to Atilas.”

          “What would be unfair to Atilas?” inquired a voice from behind her. Turning she saw her other business partner Atilas entering the hall with their chief Physician, Dantor. Seeing both men joining them brought a smile to her lips. Atilas was not only her partner in the House of Chains with Spectus, but their families had worked together in the slave trade and went back many years. They had even been playmates growing up until both started going through puberty and it was decided that it might not be proper for them to be spending so much time alone as Atilas was being instructed on the arts of capturing and binding slave and her family did not wish him to practice his capture knots on her.

          Still, he was the only free man in the house to have ever seen her without her hood and veils with the exception for Dantor, who had been her physician since she was a girl. And in her defense, they were both young when he had seen her before she had blossomed into a beautiful woman. But she had no illusions that her old friend and partner would not be pleased to learn she had been caught in the pens and punished as if she were one of their slaves. Atilas would not be angered that it had been done to her, but that she was careless enough to put herself in such a position.

          “Spectus was just displaying yet another example of his poor sense of humor by suggesting that he and I should consider pursuing courtship.” Ragenta laughed under her veil as she smiles in Atilas’ direction.

          “I was only jesting when I said that.” Spectus retorted attempting to downplay the whole matter.

          “I would hope so.” Atilas said dryly.

          “I would never contemplate entering into a courtship or a companionship as it would mean I would lose control of my portion of the House of Chains. And to enter into one with either of you would give the other a controlling share of the House.” She said matter of factly stated as she knelt as a free woman should in the company of men around the table. Then changing the subject, “In any event, I am pleased that you are both back. Especially since you took some of my best trainers with you on your adventures. I had to actually go down and instruct one of the classes of barbarians myself.”

          “You have my most sincere apologies, Ragenta, for inconveniencing you so.” Spectus said mockingly with a lecherous smile. Then added just to further annoy both partners. “Tis a shame that I was not here to see you instructing the barbarians. I bet the view was spectacular.”

          “If you must know, sleen.” She snarled back, “I was properly dressed while I was instructing the ignorant sluts.” Then paused to finish in a low seductive voice, “As far as how spectacular my view is, Spectus, you will never know.”

          “Enough!” Barked Atilas. “Both of you. Ragenta, I know that you felt it was necessary to go down to the training areas. But I prefer that you do not go there when I am not in the House or with you. You may be Mistress of the House, but you are still female, and it is not always safe for you to be there.” Turning his attention to his other partner, “Spectus, jesting or not. I would prefer that you refrain from making such comments or suggestions to Ragenta. She is not only our partners and caste sister, but she is an old personal friend, and I take issue with such talk. Now I would like to see what you have brought us back from Brundisium.”

          The tension in the hall quickly disappeared as the two men left leaving Ragenta and the Physician in alone with the slaves present. As soon as the attending slaves had refilled her ka-la-na and brought Dantor one as well, Ragenta had dismissed them with a wave of her hand.

          “I have to agree with Atilas, Ragenta” lifting his bowl and sipping from it. “It is much too dangerous for a woman such as yourself to be moving about in the lower pens and training areas. Especially, a woman of your considerable beauty. It would not do for you to be mistaken for new stock.”

          “Yes,” recalling her on her knees before Franco like she was a house slave several days ago. “I suppose that it could be.” This gave her the opening she hoped for with the physician. “If something were to happen to me while down in the training and pen areas, would anyone believe that I am Mistress of the House and not a new piece of collar meat?”

          “Honestly no, my dear.” As he recalled the vision of the Mistress of the House standing and laying on the couch completely naked while he examined her. “Aside from your hand slaves, who may or may not be called upon to identify their Mistress in such a case. But they are only slaves after all.” Shrugging his shoulders, “And only myself and Atilas have seen your face without veils. And only I have seen the rest of you uncovered. I hesitate to say that your body could very easily be taken for that of a slave’s, my dear Ragenta.”

          This fact was now even clearer to her than it had ever been before. Franco had clearly seen her as nothing but a slave at his feet that day. Yes, the slave tunic, bells, and the House collar had not given him any reason to think she was anything else. He had treated her as such taking the whip to her when she did not respond quickly enough to please him. It frightened her and at the same time excited her as well. It scared her that she could so easily be mistaken for a slave. That she, the Mistress of the House, could be seen as a slave girl. But it also thrilled her at the possibilities that it opened up with the right precautions and measures. There had to be some means that if she got caught while disguised as one of the house slaves that she could be identified and released. Though to be sure if such a thing were to happen. Atilas would be furious with her and Spectus would be even more of a threat than he was already. She had little doubt that if he had his way, Atilas would be dead, she would be a slave, and he would own it all.

          “There is no way to prove who I was if that was to happen then?” she asked.

          “Well, you are undocumented, my dear. There are no documents on file in the House or elsewhere to verify that you are you. The body of every slave in the house is measured and recorded down to the smallest detail. Those documents are secured in the records room of the house for as long as the slave is in the house. If you were caught, there would be nothing to use to verify who you are. Your body has not been recorded and kept on file because you are not a slave.”

          “Well, there is a very good reason for that as I am not a slave.” Ragenta retorted. “We have no records for women that are not slaves? What about the free women that work for and in the House.”

          “The only women that have such papers on them have submitted themselves for assessment for their possible value as a slave. We measure and document them for the simple reason that it saves time later when they are actually enslaved. If for whatever reason they are not enslaved when the assessment is finished. We keep the records for whether they come back later of their own will or not. Everything is documented from the nipple size to fingerprints.” Dantor said matter of factly still not sure why Ragenta was so interested in such things.

          “So, if I wished, you could do such an assessment on me in the privacy of my chambers.” She asked with interest.

          “I could and I couldn’t, lady Ragenta. It is not that simple. Yes I could examine and make a rough assessment of your worth in the privacy of your chambers. But I would not have the tools and equipment to do a proper assessment, nor the assistants or scribes to record the results for a documented assessment. For that the assessment would have to be done down in the assessment and appraisal chamber.” Dantor answered.

          “Then,” taking a deep breath, “I suppose that I would have to go down there.”

          “That would be very foolish of you to do, Ragenta,” Dantor warned watching her closely with a wary eye of years working for her family. He had seen her naked many times from the day of her birth up till the last time almost a year ago. He was her physician after all and her took care of her medical needs. He had also worked for Slavers and knew that she had the looks and body of a woman who they would put in a slave collar given the slightest reason and change.

          “First off, if you feel that you need to be in a situation or could be in a situation where you might be mistaken for a slave. I would highly recommend that you either have Atilas with you or have him arrange for guardsmen that he trusts to accompany you in the pens and training areas. Do not let Spectus know of your plans or activities. I do not think that he was jesting with his suggestion of Courtship and Companionship to you. He wants control of your share of the House and will do whatever it takes to gain it.” Ragenta had to admit that Dantor had made a couple of very good points with his opinions. Before he had approached them with an offer to buy into the House of Chains as a partner. It had been rumored that he or his agents had attempted to purchase a couple of the smaller and struggling House along the river. Both Atilas and her had more than once regretted allowing him to get his foot into the door.

          “Second, your movements within the house do not go unnoticed. If you were to go down to the Assessment chamber from within the House alone and with no known House business there. It would be noticed. And within five ahn of your entering the chamber the eyes of Spectus would know and be finding a reason to be there and reporting to him.”

          “I am not wishing to have my value as a slave assessed, Dantor.” She responded. “I just want so record available on hand if something should happen.” Taking a deep breath and deciding that she needed to at least tell him what had happened. “While Atilas and Spectus were both away. They took some of my best trainers with them. I was struggling to arrange that all the classes were covered. I ended up taking the training of one of the barbarian classes on myself. Before the slaves arrived after I was in the training room, I changed out of my robes and into the house tunic of a trainer. I put on a House collar and bells so that they would not know I was a free woman.”

          “So, you choose to appear to them as another slave, a higher slave, but not a free woman whom some of them already learned to fear.” Injected the Physician. “Not an unreasonable conclusion or tactic when training slave. And not unheard of for a female slaver to do, but not without its risk. I take it that it did not go well or something happened.” It was said as a statement and not as a question.

          “I didn’t check before stepping into the corridor to check the message box outside the door. When I stepped into the corridor clad as a slave, Franco was there. He took me for a slave and was not pleased with my slow response to his questions and instructions.” She winced at the memory of the slave whip being used on her.

          “Franco,” Dantor laughed, “I am guessing that your slowness earned you the kiss of Franco’s slave whip.”

          “Yes! And given that I could not identify myself as the Mistress of the House. All I could do was kneel and say yes Master like a good slave. Which caused me to wonder what would happen if anyone looked close enough to notice that my thigh was missing a brand.”

          “And why you are interested in and wanting to be assessed and recorded. So, if you are cornered and discovered there is something to prove that you are not a spy or a lying slave, but Mistress of the House.” He interrupted her again. “But as I said before if you go to the Assessment Chamber from within the house without a justified reason. And by that I mean, more than your Mistress of the House and go where you please or are curious. It will be noticed and Spectus will be informed. I would not be surprised if he showed up while you were naked as a girl on the block still.”

          “Then it is hopeless,” Ragenta sighed.

          “Its not totally hopeless, there is a way. But I would advise against it. I would advise against placing yourself in any situation where you might be seen as a slave.”

          “If I can’t go to the Chamber and can’t be assessed in my own private chambers then what other option is there?”

          “While the assessments done on a regular basis are those of women about to be enslaved either of their own accord or with encouragement. We do have formal request by free women who wish to have a frank and discreet appraisal of themselves. If you were to say be out of the House on an errand or to attend a play or something. And you returned to the house with an appointment made under an assumed name through the public entrance. I can arrange that, and that you will be granted the assurance of the House that you will not be taken from the Chamber down to the pens for branding. But that is all I can do for you other than bringing the papers to you once you return to the House. But again, I recommend that you do not do this, Ragenta.”

          “You can do that?” she looked at him with wonder.

          “Yes I can arrange this. But once you are in the chamber you will not be treated as a free woman, but as a prospective slave. And there is nothing that I can do to prevent that without causing questions.”

          “Make the arrangement.” Ragenta finally said.

 

 

 

 

         

 

  

Terra Stone: Mistaken Identity Chapter 5

 

Artwork by TroyDM

 Terra Stone

Mistaken Identity

Chapter 5

 

Quintan Slaver House, Sutter’s World

Special Merchandise Cell

 

          It was difficult to tell the time in the cell she was in. It like her previous cell was lit by energy cells. Which were brightened or dimmer at the whim of those watching her. Terra was sure that she was under constant observation in this place. Any doubts that she may have had were laid to rest when right after being chain in this cell, she had picked up the food bowl and started to use her fingers to eat. It was then she felt the special features of her slave collar as an energy pulse was released from the collar directly into her neck causing her to collapse to the floor.

          There was no possible way for anyone to know unless there was some form of observation. Now much as she despised doing so, she got on all fours and only used her mouth to eat or drink like an animal. Mumbling to herself that legally she was only livestock and not a person under the laws of this planet. This was only getting worse for her. Terra didn’t even know what time it was. The handlers control the light levels in the cell. Handlers came and went at all the hours it felt like. Sometimes when she slept, which raised the question was her food being drugged?

          The last time she had woken wearing wrists and ankle cuff that felt like they were made of the same metal as her collar. She was not sure what the purpose of the cuffs were but was sure that she would not like it. Especially since the chain that had run from her slave collar to the ring bolted to the floor had been removed and she was able to most about the cell further than the chain had allowed her before. As she had noted before, this might be a pleasant place to stay were it not for the chains, cages, and devices intended for restraining someone to be used for the pleasure and enjoyment of others. In the pit of her stomach something told Terra that her being placed in this cell alone was not by chance. That sooner or later she would find herself secured in one of these devices to be the plaything of someone with more control of the situation that she was going to have.

          To her dismay, Terra was not going to have to wait a long time to find out. The intercom system announced that all slaves in special cell 5174 to be secured. She looked to the steel door to the cell thinking that she heard someone on the other side. Before she could finish the thought that they were coming for her, the cuffs on her wrist suddenly forcibly drawn together before her body and locked together as if they were one piece of metal wrapped around her wrists. She was not expecting this, there had been intelligence that such devices were available for use with prisoners. But she had no idea that slavers had already begun to use the technology as well. Then she found herself falling to the floor as the same thing had happened to her ankles as well as the sudden surprise of her ankles being pulled together throwing her off balance as she landed on the cushions with a thud.

          If it were not happening to her, she would have been impressed at the swiftness and efficiency of the devices locked on her. She lay completely secure and helpless to escape or resist in mere seconds. While Terra knew it was futile, yet she found herself pulling at the devices that bound her trying to pull them apart. I was only then that door slid open and five handlers entered her cell. After the door closed behind them the one that seemed to be in charge started giving directions to the others. The puzzling part was the leggy brunette was only wearing a sheer chamise and a slave collar like the one she wore only it had a golden sleeve on it. She walked over to Terra and squatted down next to her.

          “My aren’t you a lovely piece of slave meat.” The newcomer softly laughed she placed one finger on Terra’s lips telling her not to speak, “I am Misha, and yes, I am very much a slave, the same as you. How am I able to tell those male handers who are not slaves what to do? Well as you can see with those dazzling green eyes of yours, my collar has a silk sleeve on it. That means that I am a high slave in this house and a trainer of other slaves. Our Master, Lord Quintan deemed that with my talents I was worth more to him serving in his house as one of his slaves than he would make selling me to the highest bidder.” The way she spoke with a touch of arrogance and authority told Terra that she had given this speech countless times before. “Now I am going to remove my finger, but you are not to speak unless spoken to first. You will address me as Mistress and the others as Master or Mistress when you respond to them. If you fail to obey or cause any problems, then little slave you will feel the wraith of my pain wand.”

Terra had been introduced to the slavers pain wands and had no desire to feel one again. The movement behind where Misha squatted caught her eye. The others that had come in with Misha were adjusting and changes to the pleasure rack. The railing at the foot of the rack had been removed, a metal sheet had been laid over the leather straps that were woven together to make the place for the slave to lay, something else was place beside it but she could not tell what it was. One of the men stepped around Misha to effortlessly pluck her from the floor where she lay, placing Terra over his shoulder head to the rear, carrying her in the direction of the rack.

Despite all her training, Terra knew that there was nothing that she could do to prevent what was about to happen from happening. She was naked and securely restrained in a locked cell. Not to mention, there were two slaves and three handlers in the cell with her, she was good, but she was not that good. So, when she was lowered to the rack she didn’t fight or struggle. Much as she wanted to give the man handling her a piece of her mind for being too free with his hands and where he was touching her, she refrained as that girl Misha was standing near by with her pain wand ready to strike. They placed her in a kneeling position at the foot of the rack with her feet dangling over the edge. There was a buzzing sound, the anklets that locked her ankles released their hold and she was able to separate them.  

“Part your knees widely, slave” The man commanded, and Terra obey. Soon as she opened the placement of her thighs and knees, she heard another buzzing, and her ankles were locked in place to the metal sheet that she knelt upon. Two metal clamps, much like her cuffs, were placed at the top of her calves by her knees locking her legs in the position they were in. A chain was connected to her wrist’s cuffs locked before her body and a large round cushion was placed against the front of her thighs. The slack in the chain taken up till she found herself pulled forward over the cushion till her arms are fully extended and locked down to the steel plate before her. Fear filled Terra as she knew that in this helpless and vulnerable position, she was open to be penetrated at will for the pleasure of any that wished to make use of her.

“Don’t you look so adorable like this, pretty slave” Misha commented with a laugh as she lightly raked her fingernails over Terra’s vulnerable flesh. “I wonder what is so special about you little slave to warrant the Master’s personal attention.” She mused.

It was then that stocky and well-muscled man that Terra has seen twice before watching her with the man called Mester. This must be the Owner of the slave house and her now, Lord Quintan. His eyes roamed over her naked and secured vulnerable body. What he planned was obvious as he wore a fine silk robe and she doubted anything under it. Walking around her so that she could see him without straining to turn. Quintan smiled as he handed a small whip to the girl Misha, it had multiple leather blades each four foot in length. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out what the purpose of the whip was. It was to be used on slaves when they were displeasing or failed to obey. Slaves like her.

“So, this is slave 9876309,” leaning over to lift her chin to look into her face. “Or should I call you Agent Terra Stone of the Union Navy Investigation and Intelligence section.”

“How do y..” Terra did not get the chance to finish before Misha had brought the blades of the whip four times across her back and exposed bottom causing her to scream out in surprise and pain.

“You will address him as Master and speak only when spoken too, slave!” Misha had snarled at her.

“Misha, Misha.” Their Master admonished the high slave. “I did after all talk to the slave. It might have been more of a statement than a question. But that is academic. I will let you know when I wish this slave to be whipped. Understand?”

“Yes Master,” Misha responded lowering her eyes and steps back.

“Now to you pretty slave Terra” turning back to the helpless slave on the rack. “I suppose that girl is wondering how I know who she was before coming here.”

“Yes, Master.” She replied weakly as two panels slid back to reveal to viewing screens on the wall before her. The first showed a naked slave on a leash who was kissing and licking the boots of the man who held her leash with one hand and slave whip like Misha’s in the other. Terra did not know who this woman was or her connection to her, but it was clear that she had been beaten and punished till she broke. The other screen showed a man who was strapped to a rack designed for torture, he was naked as well with a slave collar on his throat. This one she knew, as it was Cyrus the man responsible for her being a slave in this place. It was clear that he had been tortured and abused by his captors.

“The fool Cyrus, you know. He is the reason you are here. When properly motivated he was quite talkative when it came to who he brought me as a slave and how that came to be. But I knew who you were before that.’ As he pointed to the other screen, “That is Lt Marla Rojas, or it was as she is now a slave like you. She was sent to try and infiltrate my business to look for you. Unfortunately, for the former Lieutenant, I have knowledge of all the intelligence staff working for your diplomatic delegation on this world. She was, it seems, a great admirer of yours. Now she is like you, my slave. I might even sell you both together as a set.” He laughed at what he found amusing. He opened his robe and showed Terra that she was right about nothing being worn under it. Terra struggled against the bonds that held her helpless as Quintan started to move behind her knowing that she could not stop him from taking her as a slave for his pleasure.

She could feel him as he pressed up close to her, biting her lower lip for what she knew was about to happen. Then the screens changed and the image of Mester appeared on them causing everything to stop.

“Lord Quintan! Forgive this intrusion, but there is an urgent call coming in from the Prime Ministers office for you.” Mester stated with a concerned expression on his face.

“Slave,” staring at the back of Terra’s head, “Don’t make a sound or not only you will suffer, but your little friend will have an accident. I have invested in nothing other than housekeeping and processing so her loss will not matter. Am I clear, slave?” Quintan coldly informed her.

“Yes, Master.” Terra responded instantly. She had no illusions that he would do exactly as he said. While she might take a chance and deal with the pain and suffering it would bring her. Terra Stone was a professional and would not risk further pain and suffering, an more than likely death on the young Lieutenant. The girl had suffered too much already because of her.

“Better not chance it,” he glanced at Misha and nodded, “Muzzle the bitch just to play it safe.” Then he looked to the screen, “Mester, give me 1 minute then patch the call through to me here.”

Misha must have had the muzzling device handy, because barely had their Master given the command and the high slave had pinched Terra’s nose to cut off the air while nudging her hard in the side to cause her to gasp and expel any air she was holding in. Soon as her mouth opened the device was inserted and the foam expanded to fill the mouth as the device sealed on her face. The image on the screen changed from the man Mester to someone she had not seen before. Everything about the new man screamed politician from his mannerisms to the way he dressed.

“Quintan! What have you done now!” Prime Minister Simbaro demanded over the channel. Then seeing the Slaver ready to mount a bound slave. “Could you at least have the decency to get off whatever slut caught your eye and gotten dressed before taking this call?”

“I was in the middle of conditioning this slave when I was informed of your urgent communication.” Quintan answered in a bored and tolerant manor. “Now, I am a busy man and have a business to run.” Pausing to take a breath and wanting to say what has your shorts in a twist only thought better of it. Simbaro might be a cousin, but he was the Prime Minister of Sutter’s World so instead, “What has caused you so much concern that you found it necessary to call me.” After all there was no loss love between the two men.  Simbaro despised Quintan and all that he represented. But acknowledged that the Slaver was very wealthy and had much power and influence. Perhaps, more than the Prime Minister. Quintan on the other hand detested his cousin for the weak and sniveling politician he was.

“The Union’s Diplomatic Delegation has been in contact with my office about a missing officer that they feel you may know something about.” The Prime Minister began.

“Are you insinuating that I am responsible for every person that goes missing, Simbaro?” Quintan was actually surprised that it had taken this long for this call to come.

“Well, if you did not do business with such unsavory types I might not think that.” Simbaro retorted. Quintan thought to himself better pirates and smugglers than weak bureaucratic backstabbing cowards that would sell their own mother for their own comfort and power.

“Again, so a Union officer has gone missing, why is that my concern.” He had to hide a smile as he actually had two Union officers in his slave chains at the moment.

“I would think that a Union Battlecruiser now in orbit would concern you.” Then rather smugly, “At the very least it may deter your suppliers and buyers from making landfall.”

“There is a Union Battlecruiser on the way?”

“Not on its way, Quintan. It is in orbit as we speak. The USS Jutland arrived early this morning. And the Battlecruisers USS Hood and the Prisoner Barge USS Alcatraz have entered our system. If the Ambassador Black is to be believed, there are three more capital warships on their way. Now what did you do?”

“I did nothing you sniveling twit.” One Union war ship in the system alone was a problem. But there were three and more on the way spelled a blockade and that would not do. He looked at the slave before him. She must be more important than he believed for this show of firepower. Which meant that she was worth far more to the enemies of the Union than what she would bring on the normal sale block on her body alone. But he would have to get her off planet to make him any gold. And with a blockade of warships, that would be next to impossible. And why send a Prisoner Barge? The color started to drain as there was only one reason to bring a ship like that. They expected to have to transport a great number of prisoners or slaves. “I will deal with this, Quintan out” and the transmission ended, and Prime Minister vanished from the screen to be replaced by Mester.

“Your orders, my Lord,” Mester asked.

“Move the other slave in here with this one. I want them to be isolated from everyone. Have Cyrus cleaned up but don’t ship him to the mines just yet. I may still be able to use him.” The Slaver paused to think.

“m’Lord, the Jutland just sent word to expect a representative from the Union soon.” Mester informed him. There might be hope yet Terra thought to herself.

“Then we had best prepare to receive guest.” He looked down at the slave ready for use before him. “Why could that fool not waited another 15 minutes to bother me.” He said to himself as much as anyone around him. Backing aways from the slave and closing his robe. Looking at the naked prepared slave once more then Quintan turned and left the cell.

 

 

 

 

  

 

Lady Ragenta: Through Different Eyes

Artwork by TroyDM

 

Lady Ragenta

In

Through Different Eyes

 

          Ragenta was furious. She was one of, if not the most, renowned slavers in Victoria. With her partners Atilas and Spectus, she was part of the finest slave house in Victoria. Their House of Chains was doing so well that Atilas had traveled to Ar to scout locations to either take over an existing slave house or build a new one. He had taken one of their best training slaves with him for his personal enjoyment and insight on the locations. That made perfect sense. Spectus on the other hand had decided to travel to Brundisium as the markets there had been flooded with slaves after Cos had left Ar. Many of the slaves had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time and had been taken as spoils.

Interestingly, many of the new slaves had been former free women of Ar who had supported the occupation of Ar by Cos. They had taken to the roads, looking for any way to escape execution. Some had begged the collar as the price of being taken from the city. Others had fallen slave to other refugees and bandits along the roads. The results were that the markets would be flooded. It was Spectus’ decision to take three more of their best training slaves with his party to service their needs, and of course work with any slaves that they were going to bring back. That put Ragenta down to four training slaves, which would normally not be a problem. Only at this time they had just received a shipment of barbarian slaves. Barbarians could be very profitable as they were natural slaves. Ragenta was not clear on exactly where they came from, but it was far away and the slaves they got from there had to be taught everything, including how to speak the language.

If Spectus was bringing back more slaves from his venture, then they were going to need the cage space, and these barbarians who had only started training needed to have their training accelerated for possible earlier sales that would have normally been done. Ragenta had to double the size of a couple of the training classes with the trainers whom she knew could handle the increased load. But she still had one class to cover and was out of trainers, so she would have to teach them herself. Again, something that she had done before, but she tried to spend as little time as she could down in the pens because the presence of a Free Woman caused a major disruption to the normal activity in the pens and training rooms; the Mistress of the House down in those places caused pure chaos.

To keep things running as smoothly as possible she had come up with a plan. It required a practice that she did not care for, that was employed by others Free Women of her caste. It was bold and risky for a woman to carry out, especially outside of a controlled setting. Ragenta would dress in plain robes of concealment instead of the much finer ones that showed the blue and yellow silk of the caste of Slavers. As Free Women are not usually allowed in the pens and training areas, she would have to have one of her guardsmen escort her down to the training cell. Once there she would enter the training cell and lock the door behind her till she was ready for the slaves to enter after their morning feeding.

Removing several items from the bag she had brought with her. Ragenta removed her slippers, placing them in the bag till the time to return. One at a time the many layers of her robes, light tunics, and stockings were removed and placed in the bag till she was what is referred to as block naked. The room had several full-length standing mirrors that would be used by the slaves today. She looked upon her reflection in one of the mirrors.

Ragenta regarded herself with the same eye that she would appraise the value of a slave. She was, she thought, very beautiful, and had a great body to go with her face. The reddish tint of her hair would also increase her value. Shaking her head and bringing herself back to reality, she grabbed the plain cloth tunic of one of the house slaves and pulled it over her head then smoothed it down over her body. It barely concealed her but she had to wear the same as the trainers or it might be noticed. Taking a sting of slave bells she wrapped them twice about her left ankle before locking them in place. With a length of binding fiber she made a belt which further displayed her beauty and curves. She attached a slave goad to dangle from one side and another coil of binding fiber was tucked into the belt on the other side. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the final item that had been in the bag, a slave collar that had the simple legend inscribed “This slave is property of the House of Chains.”  It also had a small ribbon tied to it showing that she was a trainer. Closing her eyes, she slipped the cold steel collar about her neck and closed it. The falling of the tumblers as the lock closed were deafening.  Looking back to her reflection she saw not herself but a house slave looking back at her. A chill ran down her spine. How did the others who did this do it so matter of factly?

A pounding at the door shook her out of it. Regaining her composure once more, Ragenta went to the door and unlocked it. She stepped behind the door so that escorting guards did not get a good look at her like this. Once the slaves were in the cell she closed the door once more.

“I am…” She paused for an instant as she could not use her name. “I am… Enta,” she finished. “I will be taking over your training for a few days until Ula returns. Do. Not. Test. Me, slaves.” All of the slaves, four in total, turned their eyes to her instantly. “Strip! And kneel facing the mirror as the slaves you are!” she snarled at them.

“Yes, Mistress,” they cried out in unison as house tunics were removed, and each rushed to kneel before the mirror in the position of nadu; that of a pleasure slave before men.

Ragenta walked about each checking their posture and position, ensuring that they were doing it correctly. She was pleased she only had to nudge one of the girls with her foot to widen her thighs.

“Now, slaves. Answer the questions as they are asked while looking at the slave in the mirror. What are you?” she demanded of them.

“I am a slave girl.” They responded in unison.

“What is a slave girl?” came next.

“A girl that is owned.” They answered.

“Why do you wear a brand?” she said watching them closely.

“To show that I am owned,” they answered.

“Why do you wear a collar?” came next.

“So that men may know who owns me.” They responded.

“What does a slave girl want more that anything?” watching each of them.

“To please men.”

As they answered, Ragenta detected a stirring in a couple of them as that truth was sinking in.

“What are you,” she said. As she circled them Ragenta was always careful to keep her left thigh away from their view. The tunic she was wearing was just long enough that it would cover the most common brand sites, but if she lifted her arms above her head, the hem of the tunic would show her left thigh was brandless.

“I am a slave girl,” they all replied a little softer.

“What do you want more than anything?”

“To please men.” They answered with a soft tone on excitement.

 

The next two ahn involved the slaves repeating ‘I am a slave girl’ over and over as they looked at the slave in the mirror. Front time to time Ragenta would step back and let them keep reciting the chant. The psychological effect of saying it over and over while seeing themselves as a slave in the mirror could have been achieved in several ways, but this was one way that it could be done in a large group instead of individually. Finally, after the slaves had started on their third ahn of repeating these questions and answers, Ragenta had to step away for an ehn.

Walking over to the door of the cell, deciding to see if any messages had been left for her in the box outside the door while she had been conducting the training session. Instructions had been given that, while Ragenta was working with the slaves, she did not wish to be disturbed. Unless it was a dire emergency, they were to just leave notes for her in the box by the door. She would check the message when time allowed and leave a response. Ragenta was out the door before she remembered what she was wearing. Oh well, she thought she’d be back behind the door in less than an ehn.

“You slave,” came a gruff male voice from behind her as a hand took by the arm and spinning her around in the direction that the voice came from. “What do you think you are doing snooping around in that box?”

Ragenta was taken by surprise as she looked up to see the face of Franco, one of the Slave Masters for the House who oversaw the running of the pits. Franco was an imposing man that had a reputation for being very good at handling slaves. His tactics and methods, thought Ragenta, while not being overly sympathetic to the suffering of slaves, had bordered on cruel and sadistic. Twice she had had to reprimand him for taking things too far, the slave in question having been devalued or disfigured to the point that a slave that had been slotted for a prime selling lot in an auction had been pulled and sold for a fraction of her original value in a minor market.

“Did you not hear what I said, slave. Or are you just stupid?” he demanded again.

“I was sent to retrieve the messages for…” she never got the chance to finish as a large hand cuffed her across the mouth with enough force that it spun her while knocking her to the stone floor. She felt the bite of the five leather blades of his slave whip on her now bare ass as the hem of her tunic road up exposing her bare flesh to him. It was the first time that she had ever been under the slave whip; she screamed out.

“I do not know who made a trainer of a slave that does not know enough to kneel before a man and address him as Master,” he snarled. He spat on her.

Ragenta, with tears running down her face and rage in her eyes, started to rise to confront him. It was only when she looked up in his hard face and eyes while at the same time hearing the chimes of the slave bells on her ankle as she moved that she froze for a heartbeat. He had not struck Lady Ragenta. No, he had struck a slave, or one that he saw as a slave. She was after all wearing the collar, tunic, and bells of a house slave. Checking her movement so that instead of leaping at the man, she instead went swiftly to her knee assuming the posture of a pleasure slave with her thighs opened as wide as she could to him. Her hands resting palms up on her thighs as she lowered her eyes and in a very low and even voice, “Please forgive this slave, Master. The Mistress sent her to retrieve her messages.”

“I know all the training slaves. I don’t remember seeing or hearing of a new one.” His gaze upon her as he appraised her closely.

That sent a chill down Ragenta’s spine. None knew of her plans and methods in the instruction of the newest slaves in the class. While it was not unheard of for female slavers to wear the disguise of a slave while training others, there usually was someone there always watching them to control the environment. She had foolishly not seen the need for those safety protocols. Here partners were gone, and she was left to get these slaves trained and run the house by herself with what trainers they had left her with. Saying who she was would not go well for her given that she was kneeling in a slave collar now. First off, she would not be believed. She would be seen as a lying slave, dragged to a whipping ring or post where they would strip her by hand or give her the slave whip. There was no telling how far into the beating it would before it was noticed that her body lacked any slave marks.

“I am new, Master. Mistress just acquired this slave from another house as part of a wager. I am Mistress’ personal slave, and she put me to work soon as I was delivered to the house. She has named me Enta.” Ragenta was very nervous as she answered Franco. She prayed that he would not question what she had just said. There was a small glimmer of truth to what she had told him. The slave collar locked on her neck was on the ledger assigned for Lady Ragenta personal slave. She had been looking for one that she liked the looks of and had a collar ready. So by locking it on herself, that part was true as to how she had been sent down to train the barbarian slaves.

But no papers existed and so she risked been taken to be fully documented, and when stripped for this formality, the lack of any brand would be noted and she would next be sent to marked. Now Ragenta was cursing how smooth her house operated. It was highly possible that Lady Ragenta could vanish, and a search would be conducted while she was a chained slave in her own house the whole time.

“I would have words with your Mistress then,” Franco said as all Ragenta could think of was urt-dung! If he walks into the training cell she would be done for.

“Mistress is not in there Master,” she quickly responded, which was the truth. Now she had to come up with a fast and good explanation. “Master, the barbarian slaves have given Mistress a horrible headache. She told me to finish the day with the class then return to her chambers with the tools she is letting this slave use.”

“Lady Ragenta is roaming the pens in plain robes without her escort?”

He looked concerned. The purpose for the escort being that no Free Woman was allowed past the business and residential areas of the house without an escort for security reasons. There was always that remote chance a slave would overpower a lone Free Woman and steal her robes to escape.

“Mistress,” Ragenta stated ,picking her words very carefully, “said that it was near time to return the slaves to their cells and feeding areas and that she did not wish to wait or pull a guard from there post.”

Alright, that is good so far she thought.

“I pleaded with Mistress not to take such a risk.” (A clear lie), “But she insisted that the secure passages would be empty and there was no risk this time of day.” There was a measure of truth to that, but now it was time to see if the Master believed her.

“Very well, slave. Inform your Mistress that I ask a moment of her time when she is not busy. Now harta!”

Ragenta leaped to her feet at the command to hurry, the bells on her ankle chiming with her movement. Before she had cleared the doorway to close the door, Franco slapped her firmly on her ass causing her to gasp in surprise being touched so. Again, she wanted to round on him, but he had only treated her like he would any other slave. Letting out another sigh, this one of relief, as the door was once more closed behind her.

Ragenta laid back against the door and breathed heavily as her heart pounded in her chest. Her knees were weak with fear; she had just knelt as if she were a slave before one of the Slave Master of the House of Chains! He had used his slave whip on her and treated as if she was just a slave. Yes, she was kneeling at his feet, belled and wearing a house collar and slave tunic, but how did he not see that she was a Free Woman?

Then the sound of bars being struck signaled the beginning of the 15^th ahn.

 

“Slaves, take your tunics and report to the common food troughs before returning to your cells.” Ragenta clapped her hands together rapidly as she watched the slaves rushing about to gather their tunics and dash out the door.

Once the last one was out, Regenta felt her knees were still a little wobbly from her ordeal. Ragenta leaned against the door. She was Mistress of this house, yet one of the best Slave Masters thought she had just been another slave. Did she look that much like one?

Unknotting the cord about her waist, she placed it and the slave goad on the table with the bag. Ragenta walked over to look at her reflection in the mirror. There appeared to be a very beautiful slave looking back at her. Reaching to pull at the disrobing loop at her shoulder, the tunic parted and fell about her feet in a pool of fabric. Ragenta appraised the naked slave in the mirror. The girl had an excellent body and was a beauty, given her knowledge that she was trained in many ways of a slave and literate as well. The slave in the mirror would be worth at least 5 silver tarn discs or more in a normal market. Then to her horror, the slave was now kneeling facing the mirror with her thighs widely parted like a pleasure slave. She looked like any of the naked barbarians as they had chanted over and over the slave mantra that she had taught them.

"He is Master, and I am slave.
He is owner, and I am owned.
He commands, and I obey.
He is to be pleased, and I am to please
Why is this?
Because he is Master and I am slave."

          Ragenta heard herself starting to say this mantra as well. Shuddering, she stopped herself and leaped to her feet. Could Franco not tell that she was not a slave. Or as a Slaver did he see every woman as a potential slave?

          Removing the bells from her ankles, she pulled on her stockings and slippers. Not bothering to dress all the way, she just put the heavy outer robes over her naked body, pulling up the hood and adjusting the veils to hide her face. She snatched up the bag she had brought with her. It was not until Ragenta was withing the private corridor that it occurred to her that she had not taken off the slave collar. But now was not the time to attempt to remove it, as she was passing house workers and slaves moving through the corridor. The key was in the bag and did she now have a master key in her chamber?

As she moved through the corridor, without the multi layers of gowns usually worn between her bare skin and the coarse, yet tightly woven fabric of the outermost robe, she caught herself biting her low lip as the rougher fabric tormented her unprotected nipples. Perhaps this was not such a such a good idea, and she should have dressed more fully prior to leaving the training cell. But it was once again too late for that. At least the heavy material of the robe would not give a hint to any seeing her of how it was affecting her under it.

          It was not far to the exit that led to her chambers. Only now, Ragenta found herself closely watching the slaves as they moved past her. How freely they moved about, some in light tunics, others in silks that left nothing to the imagination, and a few with nothing but their collars. She noticed how they shied away from her. How the men would examine them as they passed. But for the most part, other than a couple that had been detained and knelt before one of the free members of the house for one reason or another, the slaves moved about the house unnoticed. They came and went doing their task and chores, left alone to engage in whatever task they had assigned to complete. Franco had assumed that she had been such a slave. Did he see something in her that she would never dare to admit. Or was it just that a female locked in a slave collar and dressed in slave garments could only ever be seen as a slave?

The barbarians in the class had not questioned that she was their assigned training slave. This might bear more looking into, she thought. It might be possible for her to move about unseen as she watched the business of the house, or even in the streets of Victoria for that matter. Ragenta smiled to herself under her veils as she formed her plan while returning to her chambers.