Lady Ragenta: No Good Deed Act 4 Unexpected Turn of Events

 Ragenta

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No Good Deed

Act 4

Unexpected Turn of Events

Ragenta was lost in thought as she started back towards the holdings that had been the late Dantor’s laboratory. She had honestly not known what to expect when she met with Atilas to escort her looking like one of their house slaves down to the paga tavern. After seeing the inside of the Fowled Anchor there was no doubt in her mind that begging Atilas to escort her there was the right move. As a free woman she would have been enslaved if she entered, as a slave on an errant she was sure that she would not have left either. Especially after she had came to the attention of the owner of the establishment, Sirus. She shivered when she thought of him touching her as she was examined and accessed by him in the middle of the tavern like the slave she appeared to be.

          Atilas had seemed to enjoying having her as his slave while there. She had thought she would be knelt beside him at his table. She had not counted on him ordering her to strip and display herself as she had for him in private the night before. Only this time she was standing in the middle of the Tavern’s main room while those around watched and looked upon her naked except for a slave collar and bells. When the puggy tavern keeper offered 4 silver tarsk for her, her heart had stopped. That was a very good price for a slave new to her collar which she would be. Had anyone but Atilas been holding her leash and acting as her master. Ragenta was sure that she would have been sold to the tavern. But Atilas had given his word not to sell or brand her as long as she didn’t confess herself as a slave while being kept under a slave’s discipline. It was a very fine like that she had to walk.

          She smiles at the thought of how well he had used her like a slave girl several times before sending her home. She had very much enjoyed the time together they had spent together after dinner alone. His touch and feel as she was with him. It was gentle and kind, as lovers that had waited far too long to be together. They had shared her couch as if they were companions. This morning before leaving the house she would have loved to see that play out for them. But then she has presented herself to him in her disguise as one of their slaves. She had agreed and been put under slave discipline to him as if she were such a slave. Ragenta had not minding being walked through the streets of Victory as the leashed slave of the noble Atilas of the caste of slavers, House of Chains. It had even appealed to her vanity on a certain level that she was beautiful enough to be mistaken for such a slave.

          Ragenta smiled and blushed a little at how her more intimate region was so tender and sore from him having using her richly and much taking the pleasures of a slave from her body. Master had chained and slave raped her several times in the alcove. But that wasn’t the right term for it. Yes, she had not been asked if she minded being used as a slave. But she would not have said no, as the term concerning slaves was used, she was juicing nicely from the sexual stimulations that she had received beyond the thrill of being under his control as she was. She was juicing just thinking about this morning and being with him.

          Genta was so lost in her thoughts that she failed to pay attention to her surroundings. It was not until the stinging crack of a switch across the her back that she was brought back to the moment.

 

She wheeled about to say something forgetting her present attire only to turn her back to the freewoman standing there with the switch as it fell on her again. Genta could do nothing but cry out and endure the abuse as her hands were securely locked behind her in slave steel.

          “Stupid filthy slave!” the free woman dressed in the robes of a scribe screamed at Genta striking her again and again. All Genta could do is turn so that her back was presented to the woman and cry out in pain. Her normal bold and aggressive nature suppressed out of self-defense. She wanted to scream at the woman to stop and demand to know why she was doing this. Her disguise was working too well and all this woman saw was a slave girl. “Clumsy Slave!”

          “Please Mistress, please don’t hit me please.” Genta begged as she dropped to her knees before the woman as tears of shame rolled down her cheek. None paid them the slightest attention other then to wonder what this slave had done to anger the woman other that to be a slave girl. Female slaves were bore the brunt of free women’s anger and scorn. “Please, Mistress, forgive me!” she begged.

          “Filthy, slave.” The woman snarled as the blows ceased. Genta knew that she was not to move, to stay on her kneels and be as submissive as she could or the woman might start again. Her body was on fire from the stings of the switch. When she was in her normal clothing she carried such a switch and had used it often on slave girls that crossed her path. That was something that Genta or Ragenta would have to rethink in the future having been on the receiving end of such a switching now.

          “Please forgive a slave, Mistress for offending you.” Genta sobbed as she took deep breaths. Then seeing a sandaled foot thrust between her face and the stones of the street. Inwardly she groaned in humiliation. She knew what was now expected of her. Softly as the tears fell she kissed the foot of the woman who stood over her. As she bent more forward to do this she knew that her ass lifted more and she was showing off more than she wished to those behind her watching. In fact the attack from the woman had cause her tunic to shift and fall off her shoulder stripping her to the waists. With her wrists locked in the small of her back there was nothing she could do to fix the tunic and cover herself once more. “Thank you, Mistress Thank you.” She pleaded in shame as she begged like a slave not to be punished and forgiven for whatever she had done if anything.

          “Maybe we should thank the woman.” One man said behind her.

          “Why?” replied his companion.

          “The may be a she-sleen. But she gave a better look at this slave’s curves.” The first had laughed. “Let’s go seeing this one has me hungry for that new fire crotch at the Fowled Anchor, she is a hellcat in the furs.”

          “You may stop, slut” The woman informed Genta who was still kissing the feet of the woman to placate her. Slut? Why had she, oh, she had not washed and cleaned myself after being well used by Master, she meant Atilas, and yielding to him several times. She remembered that smell on the slaves in the training pens after they had been well used by the staff during their lessons. Genta softly moaned as she thought about what that must have been like, then of Master again, she was feeling the moisture again. She scolded herself to stop and focus. She had no desire to be switched again by this woman. “Next time be more aware of where you are going, slut.”

          “Yes, Mistress, thank you.”

          “Now be off with you, there are surely chores that you are neglecting.” With that the woman turned and was moving off down the street once more.

          Genta struggled to her feet. Looked about then set off swiftly in the direction of the lab.

The way to the lab of Dantor was only a couple more blocks. Genta was taking no more changes and made her way there as best that she could avoiding other as much as she good. The only time that she stopped was when she begged a slave girl who had just finished scrubbing the entrance to her Mistress shop and about to go back in. A first the skinny slave was reluctant to help her. But when Genta pleaded that her tunic had come loose under the blows of a passing Mistress switch the girl grew more sympathetic having felt the bite of a free woman’s switch for little or no reason herself. The girl fixed Genta’s tunic so that she was no longer stripped to the waists.

          Genta wonder how she could show her thanks. At first she thought of buying the girl and making her one of her hand slaves. But that would not work for the obvious reason that the girl had seen her as a slave and if she saw her as the Mistress her secret would be out. The best that she could do would be to look in from time to time visiting the shop when not dressed as a slave. She was starting to think that this disguise was bad for her as a slaver. She was seeing the life on the other side of the collar and not as cold and merciless as she once was when it came to buy, selling, training, and acquiring of female

 slaves.

          Seeing the sign over the front door of what used to be Dantor’s laboratory and office in the city, she let out a sigh of relief. She needed to get out of this slave collar and back into her slaver robes soon. Today was starting to scare her as she feared that Master had started something in her belly that there was only one cure for. Atilas! Atilas! She had to stop thinking of him as her master. She was not a slave, she was not a slave, she was the Lady Ragenta of the caste of slavers! It was hard for her to remember that at the moment with her hands braceleted behind her back and wearing only a slave tunic and collar. And the slave bells that jingled with her every step or movement.

          She was almost to the door with it struck her like the blow from that woman’s switch. They had pulled the string through and tied the signature knot before leaving for the tavern earlier. Genta had not though about it because when they left her wrists were braceleted before her body. It would be harder then if they weren’t chained, but she could easily undo the knots. But with her hands fastened behind her it would be next to impossible. Attempting to back up to the door and doing it blind or kneeling facing the door would draw unwanted attention to herself from others, especially roving patrols of the city guard. Then the second problem struck her. There were no keys to the collar or the bracelets in the dwelling. She has surrendered them to Master on command before leaving.

          Genta’s mind was racing. Finally, she concluded that there was only one thing to do. She would have to move on and return to the slave house like this instead of changing clothes here in the laboratory. She had left in guise of a slave, she should be able to return no problem. She would just have to be checked back into the house. The notation on her card has said she was assigned to the Lady Ragenta and would at times be housed outside the house at the laboratory or in her Mistress chambers when in the house. No problem she would just have to remain a slave a little longer that she has planned on. After all that she had gone through today, a few more blocks to the house was nothing.

 

          Genta had been passed through the gate of the high walls of the courtyard of the slave house. With all the house slave moving about the courtyard on work details or being exercised under supervision of training slaves or house guards she was scarcely noticed, because as beautiful and well curved as she was, there were a dozen or more that were her equal. She moved with small quick steps as she had instructed countless slaves over her career as a slaver. She was mindful of where she was going but made sure that she avoided direct eye contact with any of the staff or slave trainers she passed. She had felt the switch on her body today, she had no desire to be on the suffering end of a slave goad.

          When she finally reached the entry way to the house, she swiftly knelt behind the line of slaves that were waiting to be checked in. A board looking scribe in wrinkled robes moved down the line as he checked off each slave by her assigned house number on her collar. He would tell the slave to lift her chin so he could read her collar number off then usually tell her to proceed where she was going or to report somewhere. Genta swallowed hard as she realized that she had almost fired this man for being drunk while working. He would not have the slightest clue who she was. But it was closer than she wished to be to being under discipline to one she had disciplined herself. Then it was her turn.

          “Collar,” was all he said. Instantly she lifted her chin and turned her head slightly so that he could read her collar. “74586, 74586, oh here you are. Go kneel by the wall till you are collected.”

          “But, Master,” she started, “I am to return to Mistress chambers and prepare them for her.”

          “What is your slave number.” He demanded.

          “74586, Master” she answered softly. It would not do for her to be this close and find herself under the slave whip for lack of respect.

          “Yes, 74586 is go to the wall until she is collected.” He looked down at her none too pleased with having to repeat himself.

          “I got her Talis,” Another male voice said behind her. Then she felt strong hands on her arms as she was pulled to her feet and walked over to the wall where she was placed on her knees once more. A short length of chain was clipped on her collar tethering her to the slave ring on the wall behind her. There were five other slaves at the wall with her. She wondered what had happened that she was here.

          Another scribe came to them with two house slaves. One of the slaves moved from chained girl to chained girl and removed her slave tunic. Genta wanted to protest because the slave tunic she had was longer than most cut to hide her lack of a brand. If it was discovered, there would be questions on how she got there without a brand. But then she would be sent to the iron worker and branded to correct the matter.

          The two house slaves assisting the scribe moved down the line. Each chained slaves would be told to open their mouths when the first slave was before her. When it was her turn, a ball of slave gruel was thrust in her mouth.

          “Eat that all up slaves,” the scribe had said, “It a new formula we just got in called Nutri-girl, eat up like good girls.” The female scribe laughed. Genta chewed up the ball of bland tasteless slave food. Spectus as been the one to bring this foul stuff in to feed the slaves, Said he got a good deal on it but would not say where. Next slaves moved down the line pouring water into their mouths. Now they had been fed and watered. The slaves then moved back to the end of the kneeling slaves. Genta could not see what they were doing without turning her head.

          “Mistress, may I speak?” she asked the woman.

          “Make it quick, slave.” the annoyed scribe answered.

          “Mistress, I was to go directly to Mistress Ragenta’s chamber upon my return. She will not be pleased if I do not have her bath ready for her.” She gambled that her story would not be checked.

          “Oh, I am sure that you were, girl. But fret not, I can assure you that her next slave will pick up where you left off, 74568.” The scribe laughed.

          “But Mistress, I am 7458..” Genta never got to finish as the wadding from a slave hood was thrust in her mouth an ihn before the hood was drawn up over her head and buckled in place. She tried to scream out that they had the wrong slave but was effectively muzzled. She heard the kicks of the coffle chain being attached to her collar and the collars of the slaves to her left and right. Her and the others were urged to their feet by the switches of the trainers as the first girl in line was herded into the courtyard with the others forced to follow behind her.

          “Did that slave identify herself as slave 74586 and not as 74568?” Genta heard the female scribe ask.

          “Who cares, this was a rush sale lot. What does it matter if she is sold tomorrow or next week. We need to make room for the slaves that are being shipped in.” replied the man at the door. Genta’s heart sank as she was being taken to the auction house to be sold. Her lack of brand would be discovered, and she would be marked as a slave and sold with the rest. Never seeing Atilas again or saving her Sena and her mother. There was a very real chance that Sirus could see her and buy her off the block for his tavern.

Genta had once more tried to inform the handlers at the auction house that there had been a mistake once the slave hoods and neck coffles had been removed. That had earned her the back of a handler’s hand across her mouth. Her eyes flared once more but were lowered in submission when he produced a slave goad and turned it on. She was then gagged by the master’s will as she was forbidden to speak unless told she could. Genda was taken to the pens where she was told to bathe and groom herself before being chained in a examination cell for the buyers to look at.

 Chained in the exhibition cell, the only way that she knew how much time had passed was by listening to sounding of the bars. She had several potential buyers stop and examine her. Her lack of a brand was noted each time. And true to her fears, Sirus was one of the potential buyers. He had informed his associates to mark her down to be bid on and purchased if at all possible when she ascended the auction block.

          How had this all gone so terribly wrong that she would sold as if she were just another slave in her own auction house tomorrow evening. It was always a danger for a woman in this caste. And if she had been sent to the block as part of a debt repayment or as the result of a hostile takeover or betrayal. She would still have been marketed as the former Lady Ragenta of Ar and not merely next is slave 74586 what am I bid. She would still be sold as a slave either way, but the first would be going out in style and the other as just be the result of poor records keeping and bad timing.

          It was now only a matter of time before she was taken from the cell to have her thigh marked. There was nothing that she could do to stop it. Not would listen that she was not the slave to be sold, they would definitely not listen if she claimed that she was not a slave but the Lady Ragenta. She was a naked and chained slave number 74586 as far as they were concerned. The only thing that claiming who she really was would accomplish would be for her to be whipped as a lying slave. Only Atilas could get her out of this, and even then there would be questions asked. Then again, he might just have her marked and documented as a slave, either keeping her for himself or selling her at a guaranteed profit.

          She looked up at the sound of footsteps approaching her cell. Taking a deep breath, she quickly moves to kneel in the furs with her thighs widely opened as she is expected to. Her hands rested atop her thighs and her eyes were lowered. How many times had she put slaves in this very position. Now she was the slave that knelt before the free men and women. Or she soon would be.

          A bowl of slave porridges and another of water was slide under the bars of her cell. Ragenta wrinkled her nose at it. It was bland and tasteless usually. Before she had been fed prior to being brought to the auction house, Ragenta had only had it as part of Dantor’s plan at the villa and one other time on a dare. She really had no desire to eat the stuff, but she was hungry and if she didn’t then either they would come in and stand over her while she did or water it down and use a feeding tube on her.

          “What not what you ordered?” Came a snarky woman’s voice from behind her. “Secure the door and I will call when I am ready.” A shiver of fear ran down Ragenta’s back as she dared not to look up but she recognized that voice. I was the voice of the free woman that had taken the switch to her in the streets. The cloth of the slave tunic had been no shielding against the switch, but now she was naked chained and locked in a cell with the free woman. It was little to no comfort that the auction house staff would not let the woman cause any serious damage to her as it would lower her sale value. In one day she had gone from merchant to merchandise. “I am crushed,” the woman said, “After I had that batch made up just for you. Shall I have the handler bring the slave whip to encourage you, slut.”

          “No, Mistress, please don’t call for the whip.” Reaching out to pick up the bowl of slave porridge to eat only to have the switch come down hard on the back of her hands. She yelped and dropped the bowl spilling some on the stone floor of the cell. Then the tip of the switch was under her chin lifting her eyes and face to look at the Mistress with her. The woman still in the robes of a scribe wore only a thin house veil, she looked very familiar to Ragenta.

          “Just as I thought,” the woman laughed. “I thought that I recognized you in the streets yesterday afternoon. The House of Chains collar threw me off. Last time that I saw you, slave, you were on the leash of the Physician Dantor being led away from the house.” That caught Ragenta’s attention that this was not just some wondering free woman that had taken a disliking to a slave. No this woman had to be there at the assessment and knew Dantor. “74586, That buffoon, Talis, must have been drunk still or hungover again. The sale order I wrote out was for 74568.

          “When I returned to the house this morning and learned that there was a problem with one of the slaves being sent to the auction house I started to look into it. When I learned that it was a flame haired slut with no brand. Then I had to find out for myself. And look who I have found but you, Lady Andraus. If that is really or was really your name. Because according to the ledgers of the House of Chains, slave 74586 is called Enta and assigned a hand slave to Lady Ragenta. It has been long rumored that Lady Ragenta was a flame crotched bitch. Interesting isn’t it. Slave”

          “Yes, Mistress,” was all Ragenta could say. Her voice failing her. What was her name, she was the scribe in assessment? She was working with the traitor Norac. Was she a traitor and spy too? If she was then there was no hope, not as long as she was chained in a cell as a naked slave girl.

          “On your belly, slave.” Lady Kiana grabbed her by the hair and pulled roughly forward to her belly on the cell floor. “Now on your belly and eat your porridge like the slave beast you now are.” Ragenta had managed to break her fall slightly but the weight of bare body against the hard stone still hurt. Then she inched forward as she was told and slowly stared to lick at the food in the bowl as if she were an animal. Which it looked like she was going to be. Something was not right, There was a lot not right at the moment. But the food, there was more in the bowl then what the daily ration of a slave should be given.

          “Do you like your food, slave?” Kiana cooed with a laugh. “It is something new that Spectus brought back from his last trip. We haven’t been using it as there is a very limited supply of it. He said it was called Nutri-girl. A special formular of slave feed. It is supposed to enhance slaves’ curves and keep her trim, but this batch also helps in training as it makes her more,” she paused, “accepting of commands and conditioning. So, eat up little slave girl.”

          Ragenta was humiliated as she lay naked and chained on her belly lapping up the food as she had been told. She was sick to her stomach as there was nothing more that she could do for herself. She had remember hearing the term Nutri-girl when she was being prepared for transfer to the auction house. Yes, the wad of packed slave gruel was said to have this Nutri-girl in it. And while she knew that she had no choice other that obey all commands at the time. She had felt like she needed to be a good girl for the masters when they were handling her once she had reached the house. She was being drugged!

          “Good slave, now lick it up off the floor. Mustn’t waist it.” Ragenta groaned at that comment to her but licked it up off the stone floor as she was told. “Up! Display!” Kiana commanded her and she obeyed. Ragenta leaped to her feet with the rattle of her chain, standing straight with her breasts thrust out as she lifted her arms to place her fingers interlocked behind her head, her hips were canted with one knee slightly lifted. She looked straight ahead as Kiana slowly circled her. “Yes, you will bring a fine price. Oh, yes I know that you are not the slave scheduled for sale. And no I am not going to stop it. You have cost me too much, slave. I do not care if you are Andraus or even if you are Ragenta herself. And I think you are. Norac had some side deal going on to take Ragenta. I was not part of it. But Dantor left with the ‘Lady Andraus’ in tow like she was a slave. Ragenta was found on the villa by guardsmen looking like she was a slave. I don’t care of you are or were Ragenta, Andruas, or someone else. I cared for Norac. He wasn’t much of a man but he was kind to me. And so was Dantor. He was a kind mentor to me. And now they are both dead and you were somehow connected.” Ragenta’s heart fell. Not for Norac, he was a tarsk as far as she was concerned, but for Dantor. She was responsible for so much pain and death. Maybe she should be punished and made a slave for the rest of her life. “I really don’t care who you are or were. But I have ordered your branding, and you will be sold tomorrow.”

          Kiana then struck the helpless slave girl several times with the switch then left her curled up begging for the beating to stop. Ragenta was still sobbing in humiliation and shame as she heard the cell door open and the Mistress depart.

 

 

 

          Ahn had passed the best that she could tell by the sounding of the bars in the auction house. Ragenta has been removed from her cell and coffled with two other slaves. They had been gagged by master’s will upon being added to the chain of slaves. Ragenta had walked these corridors many time, but in like she was now. Before she had pain the surroundings little mind. The walls were lined with slaves kneeling and chained to iron rings mounted in the walls. Their lines only broken by a recessed hall leading to a holding pen. Every shackle and every pen was filled with slaves both male and female segregated by lots and sex.  Most paid them no mind as they were led past. But few just watched, others would call out taunts or insults. What chilled her the most was the look she got from a few of the chained and cages kajirus. They didn’t call out or make comments about or to her. No, they just watched her with hungry eyes, their plans for her evident by their swollen member that stood out. How many times had she taunted and laughed at kajirus as they could look and not touch a free woman. They were not to touch a kajira either, but it happened from time to time. And as a reward for them or a punishment for her, once she was branded and sold she might be tossed to one of them at the whim of her owner. Then something else occurred to her, what if the Lady Kiana bought her? The woman truly seemed to hate her and would make her slavery as the Lady’s slave a living hell for her.

          As the last in line, Ragenta was removed from the common chain and knelt with the other slaves by the wall, a chain tethered her by the neck to a ring in the wall. Not that she could go far naked and back braceleted. She watched as each of the girls with her had been removed from the wall and strapped down to the slave to the branding rack. The restrained slave would scream out as the white hot iron would kiss her thigh marking her. A physician would apply salve to the brand and the slave removed and back braceleted once more. Lady Kiana wanted Ragenta to watch each of the girls before her being branded to know what was going to happen to her.

          Finally it was Ragenta’s turn, She was secured to the branding rack as Lady Kiana watched. Once she was immobile and restrained. The assistant coffled the other slaves and took them back to their chains and cages.

          “You look scared, slave.” She laughed at Ragenta. “Any last confessions or pleas? Not that they will save you from the iron now.” Then nodding to the iron master, she smiled coldly then paused as he stepped out and she leaned in closer. “So who were you? Besides, the fake Lady Andraus. You were Ragenta the slave mistress weren’t you!”

          Before Ragenta had the opportunity to respond a large hand with a cloth appeared over the mouth and nose of the Lady Kiana. She struggled and tried to break free but quickly fell limp.

          “Capture scent is wonderful stuff.” Atilas laughed holding the unconscious scribe in one arm. Then lowered the woman to the stone floor.

          “Thank You, Master, I didn’t think she was going to shut up.” Ragenta said dryly.

          “I gave you one simple instruction to return to the house and look how much trouble you got in.” He shook his head as he went about the task of stripping the scribe of her clothing.

          “It got complicated, Master.” She sighed. “I don’t think I can get out of this mess. And I’m not sure that I should. Atilas.”

          “Hush, slave girl. I am thinking but heard enough to know that she has pieced together who you are. No, it doesn’t bode well for you.” Looking at the naked woman on the floor. “She will have to disappear one way or the other.”

          “And myself?” she looked to him.

          “By the Priest Kings, I should mark you hide and let you live the life you seemed to flirt with so much. But if I did that then I fear the House will fold as there will be no working with Spectus. Two on one is the only thing that is keeping him in check as it is now.”

          “I am so very sorry, Atilas for all the trouble that I have caused.”

          “If it were anyone but you, I would have marked and sold you long before now. But we go back too far, and perhaps when this business with the new house in Ar is done we might reconsider something more that business partners.”

          “Master,” she laughed, “I am hardly in a position to argue anything with you at the moment. You can do with me as you wish.”

          “Ragenta,” he got very serious, “I will not lie, I enjoyed having you as my slave while at the tavern. But that being said, there is a power struggle going on in our house. The only thing that is keeping Spectus in check is the two of us. He is pushing for more and more control. However, my sources say that he has suffered a setback on something that has weakened his position. Even with his dealings in Brundisium, he is over extended and will take several months to be able to challenge for control of this house. With the purchase of the house in Ar, the wheels will be motion so that it will be up and running sooner that that. I have already arranged for you to supervise movement of staff and slaves to the new house when I am ready.” As he was telling her this, Atilas had already started removing the straps and shackles from her and helping her off the branding table.  “I won’t lie, branding and keeping you is very tempting. But right now, you are more valuable to me as a partner than a slave.”

          “What about her,” Ragenta pointed to the drugged woman on the floor.

          “We have to dispose of her in a way so that anyone she tried to tell will not care or wish to act on it. There is no profit in it, but it might be best to have her fed to sleen.” Atilas said coldly.

          “I may know of something so that will not be necessary. At least not killing her anyway.” Ragenta smiled. Bending to pick up the fallen ledger the scribe had been holding. She used the discarded writing stick to write some orders then handed the ledger to Atilas. Who read them and laughed.

          “Ragenta, I will tell this now. Do not do this again. I will not release you if I ever find you wearing a collar again. That means no more even for training of slaves. Ever, am I clear.”

          “Perfectly clear, Atilas.” She answered. With that he removed her collar and handed her a bag with her own clothing in it. He had brought it with him from the laboratory. While Ragenta dressed, Kiana was secured to the table and gagged. The robes of the scribe placed in the bag with the collar for slave 74586. A collar was taken from a shelf, and a new slave was assigned number 36725 as she slept. The new slave soon woke to find Atilas and Ragenta standing over her as the returned iron worker marked her as a slave. Once she was marked, the iron worker dismissed, the cloth with capture scent was once more placed over her mouth and nose. 36725 was then placed in a slave hood and removed from the table to be transferred to a isolation cell.

         

          The next morning, Atilas bid Ragenta goodbye as he departed for Ar to finalize the purchase of the slave house there. After his tarn took flight. Ragenta returned to the auction house, proceeding down to the isolation cell that held slave 36725. Once the door was closed behind her she smiled at the kneeling slave.

          “Things didn’t turn out as you thought did they.” Ragenta smiled.

          “No, Mistress they didn’t” the girl answered bitterly. “But this isn’t over.”

          “Oh, but it is. You may think that you will be able to use your information about me to bring me down.” Ragenta looked at the hate in the slave’s eyes. “I could have you whipped but I won’t.  At least not yet. There is still time for that.” She watched the slave grow uneasy at the thought of what could be done to her. It was not pleasant being on this side of things.

          “Some masters like to have their slaves tell them of their past. I will have to tell the truth. And the truth will come back to haunt you, Mistress.”

          “Perhaps it will, slave.” Ragenta agreed in surprise to the slave. “But have you ever heard of the Pani? Interesting people from what I am told. They are said to live somewhere beyond World’s End. They are buying goods by the warehouse full all along the coast. They have purchased hundreds of slave girls as well. You have been sold to them.” That shook the girl as it was said that only death waited beyond World’s End.

          “I can still tell someone before I reach where they are taking me.” The girl challenged.

          “You could,” she paused and smiled wickedly. “If you were able. As I said you have already been sold to their agent. Your food was laced with tassa powder. You may be feeling the effects already. Your new owners have a tight schedule to meet it seems so you will be transported by tarn basket to wherever they are taking you. Rest well Kiana and serve your new owners well, I doubt we will meet again.” Ragenta smiled as the girl slowly slumped to the floor of the cell. “Now to go make arrangements to buy another slave.”

 

          The cell door open and she stepped out so that the handlers could prepare the girl for transport.

         

 

I hope that you have enjoyed Act 4 of No Good Deed, I do ask that you take into consideration that while My AI artwork is getting better. It is still not an exact representation of what I am painting with My words. So slaves that in text are naked might have some form of clothing on them as it was not possible to get results without clothing or to get a decent result when I attempted to remove the clothing in the editing. 

Thank you

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

Lady Ragenta: No Good Deed Act 3 The Tavern

Ragenta

in

No Good Deed

Act 3  

 

The streets of Victory were busy as free and slaves moved about them as they made there way down the stone paved roadway. This was not the first time that she had walked these streets wearing on the tunic and collar of a House of Chains slave. For that matter she had done so several times in the livery and collar of the slave of her alas Lady Andraus while scouting and seeing what she could learn. It had amazed her how easily she could move about when others thought she was a only another slave girl.

Now she followed her oldest friend, down the streets of her city. She wore the collar of the House of Chains locked on her neck that she could not remove as Atilas held the key. She wore only a slave tunic from the House of Chains, and a sting of slave bells locked on her ankle. Atilas now had the key to those as well. Before leaving Atilas had ordered her to surrender the keys to him that she had hidden at the at Dantor’s. She trusted Atilas completely or she would not have placed herself before him, a member of the caste of slavers as was she, dressed as if she were a slave of their house.

Dressed as she was and with her wrists locked in slave bracelets. Atilas could take her to any of several iron masters that were under contract with the House of Chains. It would be a simple matter to have her thigh branded and even have gold loop fixed in her ears, then she really would be his slave. She moaned and pulled at the steel locked on her wrists knowing full well that she could no more remove them than the collar on her neck. What bothered her was the wetness between her thighs. This was not uncommon in female slaves. But she was not a slave, then remembering her lineage she shivered. Suddenly, she was scared and wanted to go back, but the leash snapped on the chain linking her slave bracelets pulled him on behind him.

She yelped as she felt a sharp slap on her ass that was peeking out from under her slave tunic. Genta turned to see a young boy and girl standing to the side together. The boy was grinning and pointing at her. She wondered if they were brother and sister or like her and Atilas had been at that age. She softly laughed to herself thinking better watch out little mistress or you will find his ropes and bracelets on you one day.

A thought suddenly occurred to her that none of the people that they passed saw her as anything but a chained slave on the chain of her master. And Atilas didn’t seem to mind having her as his chained slave. Genta as she had to think of herself was not sure how she felt about that. The smell of the Vosk brought her back to the moment. The mast of ships rose up over the tops of the warehouses and shops. Rounding a corner she saw the sign for the Fowled Anchor and froze in her track. This suddenly had gotten very real for her. It was one thing to plan it out and say she was going to slip in and out of a paga tavern looking like a slave. Now that it was happening it was something totally different. The reality of the situation crashed down on her when she passed through that archway. She would only be a slave called Genta. If Atilas was not holding her leash, her leash, any man in there could grab her and toss her on her belly and use her as a slave for their pleasure.

The leash when tight, she was jerked hard forward after him, stumbling she followed him into the paga tavern.

         

          “Come along, slave.” Was all Atilas said at first, then looking back, “This is what you wanted now I hope that you can survive it.”

 

 

Inside the Fowled Anchor Paga Tavern

Victoria

           As a member of the caste of Slavers, Ragenta had all too aware of how perilous her position as a woman could be. Being a beautiful red-haired woman increased her risk. Perhaps that is why Dantor nor Atilas could understand her reckless behavior now. Dantor had known her past and tried to shock her into abandoning her temptation of fate.  Dantor had been the only man in the House of Chains that has seen her face and hair since the incident so long ago at the races. Last night with Atilas stirred something that she had not felt since her father had learned of what happened.

          Her excursions out of her chambers dressed in the collar and tunic now seemed so foolish. There had been a thrill, because she knew that all she needed to do was get back to her room and it was over soon as the collar was removed. Dantor had done his best to put a scare into her with his handling of her assessment in the hopes that she would not reconsider. And even locked in the collar of one of his villa slaves, she had not felt the danger or how real the collar was up till the time when she was in the hands of the raiders. Norac was about to add her to the slave coffle when Dantor killed him, then was killed himself. Yet even then she had not accepted how close she was to being a slave. A part of her knew that she would get out of it, she always had.

          But when Atilas shortened her leash and pulled her into the Fowled Anchor, she was truly scared for the first time. Nothing she has seen in the markets and pens had prepared her for what she saw now.  Ragenta has seen women like herself herded and penned as animal. She had ordered it in fact. But it was only now seeing women like her locked in the collars serving naked or in pleasure silks, groped and fondled, their bodies for the pleasure of the men they served.

          Suddenly she was very aware of how thin and revealing the slave tunic she wore was. How heavy the slave steel was locked on her neck and wrists suddenly seemed. Slave steel that she could not take off when she wished. A shiver ran down her spine a fraction of an ihn before a burly arm reached down and wrapped about her waists. It pulled her back into the lap of a dirty and revolting seamen that under normal conditions she would have never spoken to.

          “Now, aren’t you a pretty little fire crotch,” The sailor laughed as his hand roamed her body. She struggled and squirmed to get away to no avail as well held. To him she was just another comely piece of collar meat like the others. But then she felt her body violently jerked forward by the wrists from his lap. Genta spun and fell to the floor of the tavern as Atilas stepped between her and the man.

          “This slave is mine, and unless you wish to draw steel, sit down and find another.” Atilas said in a cold menacing voice.

          Genta looked to Atilas then to the sailor. The sailor backed down especially when his companions whisper who’s slave he had just accosted. Then it dawned on her that Atilas had just announced to all that she was HIS slave. None too gently she was pulled to her feet by the chain leash on her wrists. There was none of the gentleness that he had used with her last night. She was being treated as she had seen him treat countless slaves over the years.  Only then did it hit her, that was what she was till he decided differently. She may not have said the words that once said could not be taken back. But inside the house presenting herself wearing a collar and tunic might be overlooked under the guise of training new slaves in the house. But she had done presented herself so clad outside of the house. She had surrendered the key to the collar to him. He had placed her under slave discipline, so she was literally his slave till he decided otherwise. To every man and slave in here she was only a slave.

          “Proceed me to that table, Genta.” He commanded her as she picked herself up off the floor, pointing to a table.

          “Yes, Master,” she said softly. She then proceeded to the table he had indicated. Out of the corner of her eyes she looked at the other slaves in the room. As far as she could see, she was the only fire crotch in the serving area. Reaching the table, she moved to the side and dropped to her knee, she left her thighs closed then instantly opened them wide as her Master watched her. Her Master, Atilas was her Master and she his slave till he decided different. The thought scared her and thrilled her at the same time, With her braceleted hands she tried to smooth the high hem of her slave tunic to cover her more, but it still barely hid her womanhood. Her eyes darted about, some of the slaves seemed to be enjoying themselves as they laughed and giggles while flirting and teasing the patrons they served and were fondled by. Her mind drifted as she wondered if she would be happy having to serve in a place like this. Was her mother and Sena doing that now?

          “I do not need to tell you what a precarious position you are in, Genta.” Atilas letting his eyes roam over the flame haired slave kneeling before him. He would be lying if he said he was not a little pleased to have her so before him and under his control. He had thought about her being so many times over the past few years. The images if her naked body when he carried her naked, braceleted, in a slave hood over his shoulder when they were young still stirred him. Had he known then that their families would learn of what happened, Atilas might have carried her down to the docks and boarded a ship with her as his slave back then. But he hadn’t. Now, the opportunity had presented itself where that regret might be corrected. She had after served herself up to him as if she were a slave. Only his sense of honor would keep the iron from her thigh this day. He would not even need to use silver or gold to influence the judgement of the Magistrate to pronounce her slave even with her being a citizen in high standing in Victoria.

          “Yes, Master,” was all that she could say. Ragenta knew very well that it would be up to him if she saw the day end as a free woman. She may not have ever been trained as a slave but the wetness between her thighs tight now was something that she would have taken for an indication of a natural slave.

          “Paga, Master?” inquired a shapely brunette slave in a whisp of pleasure silk. She was only doing her assigned function as a tavern slave, but she got a wicked look from Genta. The brunette slave paid her no mind, the flame crotch with the Master was only a slave herself so she didn’t matter. Sirus the proprietor of the Fowled Achor and owner of her as well, did not look kindly on slaves that neglected patrons. And she had no wish to be short-chaired and denied food for displeasing him, and those were the light punishments she might receive.

          “Yes and give my respects to Sirus.” It was all he said as the slave quickly backed away from the table quickly made her way through the maze of tables. Then to Genta, “watch what she does and where she goes. You will serve me for then on.

          “Yes, Master,” Genta responded with a nod of her head. It was not lost on her that he knew the proprietor of this tavern. She supposed that she should not be surprised. Tavern owners were known to make frequent trips up and down the Vosk acquiring fresh stock for their tavern chains.  They would set up camp along the shore and meet those not wishing to venture into one of the river ports because of legal matters. Not being able enter the city docks tended to require them to sell their ill-gotten goods outside the walls at much less than they would have fetched in more prime markets. Genta would not have been surprised to learn that Atilas or even her father had acquired many slaves either that way or through tavern owners acting as agents.

          “Ginger! What are you doing on the floor.” Demanded a gruff voice from behind her. It was followed by sharp sting from a switch striking her left flank causing Genta to cry out and flinch. Which earned her a second.

          “Hold, Sirus.” Atilas laughed and lifted a hand to the man behind Genta. “I don’t think this is the slave that you call Ginger.” Then pausing to look at Genta with a what are you withholding from me girl look. “But I would be very interested in hearing why you think she is your slave called Ginger.”

          Genta felt fingers in her hair as her head was roughly jerked back till she was looking into the round bearded face of a man as well as the ceiling behind him. Her head was turned back and forth as her ears were examined for gold loops which were not there nor was there evidence that they ever had been in her ear lobes.

          “The likeness is uncanny. If she is not blood with My slave Ginger I would be the son of an tarsk. They would make an excellent matched set. How much?” His hand was still locked in Genta’s hair. Did this man just offer to buy her as a slave? She was not a slave and her nostrils flared at the idea that he saw her as one. Her head jerked as the Sirus twisted her hair in his grip more. “She has fire, much like the one I own. So much pleasure to break them.”

          “She knows much but is new to the collar and untrained. But I would like to hear what you think this raw slave is worth.” Atilas nodded as if he cared not what the tavern keeper did to her, she was only a slave after all. The grip in her hair loosened and released her. “Strip and display, slave girl.” He commanded her.

          Genta looked at Atilas in disbelief. He must be joking, he would not make her strip like a slave in so public of place. But then she noticed his hand going to a leather strap that he always carried coiled at his waist. He often used the strap instead of a slave whip. Shaking the strap out. Genta leaped to her feet, her braceleted wrists going to the disrobing loop at her shoulder which once freed allowed her slave tunic to fall to the floor around her feet. Her chained wrists were lifted over her head and the chain brought down to rest on the back of her collared neck, she adjusted her pose as she displayed her naked body for all to see. Her breasts rising and falling with a mixture of excitement and fear.

          The Tavern keeper, Sirus walked about Genta touching and caressing her naked flesh as he pleased. After all she was only a slave wasn’t she.

          “Yes, I see what you mean about being raw and new to the collar. Her thigh is yet to be marked.” He looked at the slave then to her owner. “It would almost make one wonder if she thought she was still a free woman masquerading as a slave. But how could she be with such lovely slaves’ curves and flanks. Yes that is the body of a slave if ever I saw one.” Genta gasped as he reached down and rubbed his fingers along the petals of her sex, then slipping on within her holding it there. “Is she white silk? Like most fire crotches she juices quickly and well”

          “No,” Atilas laughed at her discomfort, “I can personally attest that this little slut is very hot and juicy in the furs. So how much do you offer.” Genta wanted to react but if she moved or said anything she would surely be drugged to a slave ring and whipped. This to her horror and dismay, she found herself moaning and reacting to the touch. Not only that but her anger had vanished as quickly as it had come on at the thought that Atilas thought she was a hot and juicy little slave.

          “Having richly enjoyed Ginger, I can well image that she is a fantastic slave in the furs. But given that she is unbranded still and raw to the collar. I would say she is worth two silvers alone for the promise that she holds.” He stepped in front Genta an saw the fear in her eyes. “What’s the matter pretty little vulo? Worried that the slaver will sell a slave?” He laughed. But that was exactly what had her scared. Atilas was many things, her friend, her partner, after last night her lover. But at the moment most importantly, he was a slaver and her master. Selling slaves is what he did for a living. And at the moment she was a naked slave being fondled in the middle of a paga tavern.

          “A fair estimate for a raw slave such as this one,” Atilas agreed. “But the markets can affect the price. A slave that might sell high one day might bring a few coppers the next in another market. There is a rumor that Talena of Ar, once daughter of the might Marlenus of Ar, the traitress of Ar had sold in a minor market for less than a silver and her beauty was said to be exquisite. But that is only a rumor.”

          “But here in Victoria, with the war between Argentum and Corcyrus has flooded the markets as much as the fall of and retaking of Ar did. But using her to make a matched set, I would offer 4 silvers for her as she is expecting to earn three times that off her before I sell her to rotate my stock.” Then the he smiled. “But me thinks I could offer double that and the offer declined. Tell me I am wrong.”

          “You are not wrong, Sirus.” He laughed. “I have plans for this little slave. But I like the notion of making her a set and may wish to buy this one called Ginger later on.”

          “Perhaps, I might be willing to part with her. For the right price or concession.” Sirus smiled then looked over at the counter where his man was signaling him. “We must talk more, but for now I have business to attend, Noble Atilas.” Bowing his head slightly in respect as he moved off slapping the displayed slave on her flank as he left.

          “I would not be a bit surprised,” lifting the vessel to his mouth and draining it before continuing. “That he might suspect that he has just fondled a renowned female slaver posing as a slave. Or is she really posing and not embracing her true self? Fetch me more paga, slave.”

          Genta broke position as she had been commanded to refill master’s paga. For half a heartbeat she started to lower herself to retrieve her tunic, but that permission had not been granted. So she dodged and weaved her way through the tables and patrons as she had watched the tavern slave earlier. And while she might have been slapped or fondled as she passed, she was not stalled or detained, as all had watched either outright or out of the corner of their eyes what had transpired between Master and the tavern owner.

          Atilas leaned back smiling as he watched the sway of her hips as she moves through the tavern. Ragenta was indeed a beautiful woman and as a professional slaver he could only evaluate her a prime slave flesh. Under normal circumstances she would be on her way to an iron worker to have a kef or dina seared into her left thigh and her ear lobes pierced with tiny gold-plated hoops. Last night had been quiet enjoyable for him, with some training she would make an exquisite pleasure slave and demand a high price on the best auction blocks. She would end up the jewel of any man’s pleasure garden.

          And after all, she had presented herself to him as if she were a collared slave of their house. It had not been in the training area of the house or anywhere directly connected to the house. As a female member of the castes of slavers she knew well what that would mean she had just delivered herself into slavery.

          But these were anything but normal circumstances. They had grown up together as children. But that should not matter, he was a slaver and she was a potential slave. It was business pure and simple. She was his partner in the House of Chains. People dispose of their partners in many ways all the time. Reducing her to the slave she was pretending to ben and would be a profitable way to take over her share of the business. Spectus would make her a slave without a second thought and was likely plotting just that. But he was not like Spectus. He was growing to detest the man more every day.

          Watching the naked slave girl as she made her way back to him trying hard not to spill his paga, he could only conclude that she would make an excellent slave with just a little work. The offer of four silver tarns for her as a raw and untrained slave by Sirus was an extremely good price. Especially, given that he and the House had nothing invested in her thus far so it was all profit. Why had he not taken the offer then? It came down to two things. Honor and loyalty. Two things slavers were not well known for. She was one of his oldest friends, they had once been really close. After last night he had been seriously pressing to resume the long abandoned planned courtship and companionship. Then she had presented herself before him as if she were a kajira. And that had opened a whole new vessel of worms. He cared for the free woman deeply, but desired the kajira in his furs.

          Ragenta was playing with forces she didn’t truly know nor understand. A barbarian slave had once told him of a myth or legend from her people. Of a woman called Pandora, who opened a forbidden box letting out locked up daemons. That was exactly what Ragenta was doing. She was a fine slaver and excellent trainer. But she was also of the slave sex herself and vulnerable to the very emotions and needs that she had nurtured and brought out in the slaves she trained and sold. Now as she returned to the table, slow and gracefully kneeling naked before him, wearing only a slave collar and bells, that training was taking over. As her sweetly curved flanks came to rest on her heels, her thighs had widely parted revealing her slave sex, as she was in the slave position nadu, or also known as the position of the pleasure slave. The cup of paga was brought up in both hands as she tenderly and with great softness kissed the rim of the vessel before offering it to him.

          “Master, the girl Genta,” the slave’s name he had put on her, “hopes that you find this simple paga and girl pleasing.” It was a conditioned response that slaves were trained to do when serving their master. But she had also in the wording offered herself for his pleasure. Was that the conditioned response exerting its self, or was she unknowingly slipping over the edge into transforming into a kajira. There had been no irony or coldness in her words. No sarcasm in any way.

          She could not believe this was happening to her, but she could do nothing to stop it as she looked over the rim of the cup she was kissing before offering it to him.  She had surrender control over herself to Atilas, the same as she had Dantor a few hands ago at the Villa. Then and now the only ones that did not know she wasn’t a slave was the one she trusted and held the key. Atilas has also informed her before leaving Dantor’s that she was under slave discipline and would be treated as a slave and should conduct herself as if she were one. She had never imagined that would mean her stripping in the tavern to be appraised for possible sale.

          But then she understood why Atilas had done it. For a professional slaver to have a house slave on his chain and not entertain an offer for the slave would have been suspicious. It bothered her that she was not more outraged by having been touched and handled by Sirus like she had been. Not only that but that she had pleased that the Tavern keeper had offered to pay four silver tarsks for her. That was a respectable price for a trained slave. And she had never been formally trained yet. Yet? Ragenta shiver as her master accepted the cup. Wait, her master? No he was her friend Atilas. No, she was naked and wearing the collar of property of the House of Chains. He owned the House of Chains and any slave locked in its collar. Therefore, till he removed the collar from her neck, he was her master and she one of his slaves.

          She had to remember that she was Genta the slave for the time being. Thinking that she was just playing at being a slave could lead to her making a mistake that would expose her and humiliate her Master. Which results in her legally being enslaved. The man Sirus was already suspicious. He looked at her like he knew that she was not a slave but a free woman on a chain that had not accepted what she was. Genta did not think that he knew who she was as much as what she was. But she also knew now that he had one slave that could be her mother or Sena.

          “Did you seen the slave that you are looking for?” Atilas asked as he enjoyed the paga.

          “No, Master, but if I understood Master Sirus,” she had remembered that she must address all men as Master while she was locked in the collar. “His slave called Ginger was on a break.” Genta smiled watching him drink the paga. “Please let Genta know if you wish more, Master.” She offered. If he was going to drink let it be her that served him and not that little slut that had brought him the first cup. Then it occurred to her that a slut comes with the price of a cup. So, she might end up chained at the wall while her Master took one of the tavern slaves to the alcoves if he wished. Why did the thought of him with another slave bother her so.

          “I am good for now, girl.” He chuckled noting that she was being very attentive so that the house slave was not called back. How interesting that even the snug and mighty Lady Ragenta would willingly serve him as a slave to keep another slave from serving him. “But let’s take a look beyond that doorway and see if we can find her.”

          “Master,” Genta looking where he had pointed and the sign that read alcoves. Why there was a sign she didn’t know, as many of the lower caste and even many warriors could not read. “That is the area for the alcoves. I think that the slave kennels are under the kitchen.”

          “You may be right, but let’s check anyway.” He grinned wickedly at her with the hunger of a master in his eyes. “But go that way, girl.” The command had been given. Slowly she rose to her feet, turning and moving in the direction that her Master had told her to go.

                                     

          Genta was unsure of her feelings as she walked as a naked slave before her Master. She was excited and wet between her thighs at being controlled and commanded by him. And those feeling and emotions scared her more than being chained by Norac at the villa or fearing she would be discovered in a collar there by the Guardsmen.

          What she found on the other side of the door was disappointing in a way. She did not know what to expect really. But it was just a simple hallway with rows of alcoves cut out of the walls on either side. Each alcove had a small ladder to climb into the chamber and a heavy leather curtain to conceal what was happening within. It was easy to tell which chambers were in use as the curtain was drawn all the way closed and primal moans and cries of passion escaped from within.

          There was no way to know if her mother or Sena was chained for the pleasure of a guest in one of these places. She watched as a naked slave was carried down the ladder from one alcove. Her wrists were bound behind her with binding fiber and a slave hood covered her head. She was carried with her head to the rear as one does a slave. Her master laughed at the sight.

          “She is being taught a lesson. She is a free woman that has been a she-tarsk to someone. They have paid to have her abducted and brought here. She will be gagged and sometimes hooded while chained naked in an alcove as if she were a slave for use. If someone decides to use her. A tarsk-bit on a thong will be tied about her belly for payment for her use, she is free after all, Usually the wench is forced to drink drugged watered-down Kalana or juice, When she wakes she will be bound and gagged naked in the alley with a coin tied about her belly. If she is lucky she will make it back to her home with her shame. If she is not then she will be picked up and sold to one of the closer slave markets or houses.” She looked at the drugged woman then back at him. He laughed again. “Relax, Genta you will not be put out like that. You wear a collar if anything you will be branded in the morning” He laughed and slapped her back flank. “into the alcove slave girl.”

         The alcove was to Genta’s surprise bigger than she had expected. She had only heard stories told when no one thought she was around or listening. On the floor were some rough looking furs to protect the back or knees for the slave when they were put to use. That made sense as one would not wish to mark or damage a slave, as it would lessen their value. There was a slave whip hanging on a wooden peg in the wall. A small shelf held coils of binding fiber, a gag, slave hood, small locks, and a bottle of paga with a cup. Also on the walls were heavy iron slave ring mounted. As well as on the floor and in the four corners of the alcove. Slave bracelets, shackles and extra chains also hung from pegs in the wall. This place was very well stocked for the use of a slave she thought to herself.

          Then as Atilas fastened a chain which ran to one of the slave rings in the floor to the collar that she wore. It became clear to her that she had not been brought her to show it to her or talk, but to be put to use as a slave. Atilas had paid for his cup of paga and would use his own slave in the alcove.

          “Atil…Master,” she stopped and corrected herself. But a finger on her lips silenced her.

          “Sirus is suspicious, he knows that you are not a slave. Likely a free woman that I have brought here to let her see inside a paga tavern to satisfy her foolish curiosity.” He low softly and close to her so that if anyone was outside the alcove that they could not hear what was being said. “I don’t think that he knows your true identity so I will not say it. Right now the only thing separating you from being a legal slave is a signed document and a brand. So, a slave you are. Once we are out of here then I will decide what will be done with you. You are in that collar by your own hand, and property of me.” Then leaning in close and whispers into her ear. “What a mess you have created. If your fail to please me then you will be punished as a slave. And if you do it too well and show that you enjoy pleasuring a man, then you are a natural slave and should be branded right away. I wonder which way this will go”

          With that she was put on her hands and knees before him, her chained wrists locked to one of the slave rings as well. A hand forced her head to the furs as she felt him enter her from behind in the position of slave rape. Last night had been gentle an kind when he had use me in my chambers. This was the used of a slave pure and simple. It was not tender it was not gentle, and to her horror she started to feel herself responding to it.

          “Remember collar slut, do not yield till I say.” He informed her slapping her left buttock hard. She yelped in pain as she gasped and moved under him.

          “Yes, Master” was all she could get out. What was happening to her. She had watched as slaves were brought to yield from behind curtains or one way glass as they were broke to their collars. But they were slaves, she was the Lady Ragenta of the caste of slavers she should be cold and unfeeling when it came to this. But she wasn’t, Her body was slick with sweet as she pressed back to her Master, “Please Master..Please!”

          “Yield, little collar slut” As he continued to take his pleasure bringing a second begging from her before releasing in her then pushing her to the floor of the chamber gasping for breath lost in waves of new feelings. Atilas had to show her no mercy when he took her. He had to take her like the slave she appeared to be. He only hoped that he had not broken her so soon, else there would be little recourse but to brand and keep her in a collar.

          Moving to the curtain he, pulled it back a little to look out and see the shadow of a man moving quickly away. Sirus or one of his men had been listening as suspected. Now either Sirus himself would believe, or the minion would report that the female with the slaver was being used hard like a slave and responded like a slave.

          Going back to the girl curled into a fetal positions and laying her out on her back as his hand roamed her naked form once more this time with more gentleness. Her breasts lifted and fell with her heavy breath. Her jade eyes were still glazed.

          “Master, I did not know.” Was all she got out before he placed a finger on her lips once more. His other hand was caressing her more intimate region slowly working her up again.

          “Now, Genta, it is time for a slave to tell her Master who she felt she had to endanger herself in this way to find..” Smiling at her as his fingers worked inside her.

          “My mother, Master,” she whimpered softly.

          “Your mother died long ago, girl.” He told her.

          “No, Master,” biting her lip as tears formed now that she was opening up to him. “She was a slave of my father. He freed her but she was a slave at heart and begged to put back in a collar. Dantor kept her at his villa with a younger sister that neither father or I knew of. They were taken in the raid like I almost was.”

          “So, you and this Ginger could be a matched set.” The pieces falling into place for him. This also presented a whole new set of problems. Knowing Genta as he did. She would not stop till she found them and bought them. But the revelation that she was of slave stock would only fuel Spectus to demand Genta be added to the inventory of the house. And the way she was responding to his touch and use, he feared the fires had been ignited in her belly already if she was the offspring of a pleasure slave which was the only time he could see Kallis taking to his couch.

          “Yes Master.” She nodded then gasped at his touch and whimpered.

          “What the hell,” He rolled atop her and took her once more like a chained slave in heat. Her fire crotch was consuming her.

 

          Two ahn had past and she had pleasure her master several times. She was a little lightheaded as she descended the short ladder to the hall. Master was wishing more paga as he had worked up a thirst with her. She was wet and sore from his use of her. She just been opened for men the night before after all. While it should have caused her concern, but Genta gave no thought to the fact that she was about to walk back into the tavern hall wearing only a slave collar and bells.

          Before she reached the door another slave was entering the hall, she too was naked save for her collar and bells. It was like seeing their reflection in a mirror. Sena!

          “Sena!” Genta gasped in surprise and delight.

          “I am Ginger now!” her younger sister snapped. “My new Master put this filthy barbarian name on me. It’s about time that you got put in a collar. So you didn’t get away after all”

          “I did because Dantor saved me, but that is a long story. Is mother here?” Genta asked excited.

          “No, the masters decided that two of us together would cause questions, so we were separated and sold to different groups.”

          “Master will help buy you from here.” She started.

          “Maybe my master will buy you, it would be sweet to see you squirming on your back pleasing drunken sailors.” Ginger spat.

          “Don’t be like that, Ginger. It will work out.” Then they heard the voice of Atilas called for his slave Genta. “Master is calling. I have to go see you soon sister!” Genta turned and fled back up the alcove ladder.

 

          After telling her Master Atilas of finding her sister, He had told her to dress and leashed her once more. This time with her wrists locked behind her back. Something was troubling him she was not sure what. Then he took her into an alley pinning her to the wall, she cried out as he took her once more then and there. Was this why mother wanted to be a slave again she thought to herself.

          Atilas on the other hand was not happy. He was enjoying the slave Genta very much. Too much. There was no doubt in his mind that with a little more time he could have her eating from his hand and begging him to call for the iron to be heated. The thought of owning her was not displeasing to him. He had wanted her for so long and now she was his. But was this what she wanted or was she swept up in the wave of feelings and emotions. Many a free woman had found herself branded and collared after loosing herself to the same things then to find that she was just a play thing to be left behind and sold.

          “Ragenta,” using her real name and not her slave name. “Go back to the lab and then back to the house. Once you are out of the collar. Do not put it back on unless I tell you to. I have business to attend to and will see you before I leave for Ar.” He told her.

          “Yes, Master” she nodded her head. With that he removed the leash from her collar, placing it back in the pouch on his belt. Then turning her about, dismissed her and sent her on her way with a slap on her ass.

          She looked well as a slave. The collar suited her, and she had the body and reactions of a pleasure slave. Were it not for the bond they shared, the professional in him would have her trained and sold on the block for a high price. But there was that bond, Atilas decided that if she became a slave, she would be his slave.