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.