**Please realize that this is an ongoing story and will be posted a chapter at a time in order to keep sections from being too long. Also, this tale involves my rendition of the Master/slave relationship... loosely based upon John Norman's 'Universe of Gor'. It is not intended to go by the book.**
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She cowered upon hard, hoof trodden, earth; nothing more then a heavy chain and a pile of torn, filthy rags beneath a blanket of dusty tangles. Like some old guard dog that was no longer useful, the feet of both free and enslaved walked right past her. She had become invisible to everyone. Just an unfortunate weight of burden upon the slaver that now owned her.
Anya could remember a time when she had been so much more - alluring, seductive; one of her first Master's most prized acquisitions. She had lived to please him and those he honored as his guests, though it was more her Master's tastes to simply display her like some piece of lovely art. Leaving her untouched and untrained in the ways that she normally would be desired.
A fatal mistake perhaps but one that she could never bring herself to blame upon him.
The elderly Master could have never known that his grandson would be so brutally different. Never in all the years had the man come to visit his relative had he ever let on to being anything but well mannered; kind even. How well he had fooled them all.
Shuddering in the heat of midday, she forced herself to shove the horrible memories once more from her mind. It never helped dwelling on those times. After all, she was free of the man; broken but free. Cared for now only because the pity of one man's heart couldn't bring him to put her out of her misery.
But then, she was a slave.
Her life not her own... Even in death.
Rolling laughter and soft giggles, curled upon the faint wind that dared to lift the hopes of those suffering in the oppressive heat. The mingled harmony reaching her ears with a bittersweet aftertaste from the inside of her Master's tent. She knew that his best girls would be lathering themselves upon every perspective buyer that wandered into the cool shade within. Lifting tempting glances and flaunting lush curves just barely covered by the most delicate of materials. The man could be the most repulsive being on the planet but it was their job to make him feel as though he was the center of their devote attentions.
Her heart ached for the chance to once again be part of it.
To tease and flirt.
To feel the heated gazes of appreciation upon her flesh once more.
Hot tears stung the corners of her eyes in the wake of self pity. She would never again get to be one of those that delighted in pleasing her Master, or his guests. That would laugh and smile with eyes demurely lowered despite the vixen's glint that would light them. Now, all she was good for was opening the flap of her Master's tent when someone wished to enter.
An amazingly gentle tap of a boot against her thigh, all but tore her from her little world of self hate. She had been so engrossed in her own thoughts that she had not even heard the steps of this man approach, and moved quickly to gather the bright material from the entrance. Tangling herself further in the hefty links of chain which kept her bound before the tent. Still delicately shaped fingers, trembling lightly in fear of recrimination for her mistake as they clutched the flap.
He didn't move.
Swallowing against the building lump in her throat, she dared to peek up at this new guest through thick mats of tangles and dirt.
Silhouetted by the angle of the harvest sun, she could not make out any features of his face; whether he was angered or simply observing was lost in dark shadow. The racing pulse that had jumped when he made his presence known nearly doubled when he continued to stand motionless. He was tall, even by typical standards, and standing over her like some all powerful conqueror prepared to deliver the final strike. The broad expanse of shoulders tapered to a lean waist before turning into the long, muscled columns of his legs. Thick, dark, traveling leathers encased him like a second skin, their fine tooling and apparently seamless construction a testament to money.
Her heart stopped.
This man carried only one visible weapon, claiming him either a fool or one that needed nothing more then that.
Somehow, she knew he was far from a fool, for the scimitar that glistened in the bright light surrounding him was well tended but the scabbard scarred. It was not for show or simple sword play.
Tearing away her forbidden gaze, she waited another breath before moving to timidly lower the flap back in place over the entrance. As if that simple motion broke some sort of spell, he finally turned on his heel and stepped past her, disappearing into the cool sanctum of the tent.
He had black hair that fell well beyond his shoulders.
She didn't even realize that she sighed or that she had failed to completely close the flap. Dirt encrusted fingers still holding it open enough to allow her daring eyes a prolonged look inside. Somewhere in the back of her mind begging him to turn around so that she could the face that had been hidden to her.
He didn't but the rumbling tenor of his voice when he greeted her Master was enough to bring tears to her eyes. Like thunder before a summer rain storm. It was a voice that had all the other girls, no matter what they were doing, sending discreet glances in his direction.
Lowering her gaze back to the deep russet tones of dirt beneath her knees, she let the fabric fall back into place. Effectively slamming the door on any further daydreams, she might dare to hope, his image would conjure. It would only serve to further depress her.
Perhaps... Just one.
He had not meant to stand outside the tent and stare at the pile of grime that might once have been recognizable as flesh and blood. Nor had he thought to take longer then a second to assess just what it might have been before. It was just an unfortunate loss of good sense that had him doing so. Pity most likely. The fact that something continued to nag him in the back of his mind, however, was growing alarmingly vexing.
The timid glance the creature had given him had not been missed, and maybe that was why he had acted so out of character. He really couldn't be blamed for it, when the eyes that had thought to be unseen were so decidedly.... Exotic.
Brilliant rays of blues ranging hue from the deepest of azure to the palest of ice had been a starburst over a bed of moss.
Two rare flowers fringed by long, lush spikes of golden brown.
Gods curse him; he had almost asked how much the slaver wanted for the little beast wholly on those eyes alone. A fact that had him censoring every word before it could slip out of his mouth as he responded in kind to the greeting he received.
The slaver was a respected man in the region, known for the top breeding and nearly obsessive care he provided with his merchandise and the display of beauty that filled the tent was blatant testament to the fact. Not one girl was anything but exquisite. Whether curvaceous or petite, they were dolled up in the finest fabrics, the subtlest of scents, and allowed the most discreet layers of jewels and precious metals. Promising smiles were not painted but truly genuine displays of pearly teeth and inviting lips.
Anyone of them would be a more than welcome sight upon a man's bed. So why in all the levels of descent was his mind constantly curling back to a single pair of eyes?
Flickers of annoyance shown in his eyes just long enough to catch the attention of his host as he was led to a back partition. The pair of men were long time business associates and something more then simple acquaintances.
Of course, nearly ten full harvests of exchanging greetings could account for that, as well as, an added knowledge of the other's moods.
Politely motioned into taking a seat, he obliged despite the urge to pace about the much smaller room. The tic at the edge of his jaw did not go unnoticed by keen eyes as they were provided a platter of fruit, meat and cheeses along side the traditional horns of ale. Either was the fact that the younger man seemed intent on looking at the eyes of each girl that filtered before him.
Waiting patiently for them to be left to themselves, the elder man eased calmly into the pile of lush pillows and sinfully soft furs that made up their seats. Remaining silent in his observations of his guest, he could not help but fill to the brim with curiosity over what could possess him with such a mood. When, finally, the dividing wall of heavy fabric fell into place, he wasted little time cutting to the root of his intrigue.
"You are brooding, Kyrstof, it is uncommon for one like you to do something such as this."
Jarred from his thoughts by the heavily accented baritone, the younger man lifted his head to look upon his companion only for it to fall once more with a disturbed sigh. "You know me a bit too well."
"Is not to be expected? For what, two hands of the seasons we have known each other?"
"Aye..."
