Tara allowed herself to be led to a long wooden table in an adjoining room and when Siara placed a plate of buttered bread and a bowl of steaming broth were in front of her, she ate as though she would never eat again. It was only once she had eaten her fill and had a long drink of cold water that she realized that she was still completely naked. And Siara was gone. Tara stood from the table, uncertain of what to do. She looked around for something to cover up with, but found only shelves of plates, cups, and bowls and the tools of a basic kitchen. She was about to venture back towards the bathing room when the sound of voices stopped her in her tracks.
"Sir Liam, what a pleasure to welcome you to our humble quarters. The Training Room is ready for you," Leanna's voice was smooth as silk. Liam... Tara's mind raced. The lanky, red-haired Steward from the day before. The one who hadn't spoken to her at all and who had looked on expressionlessly as his friend fondled her. Why couldn't it be the other one... Why couldn't it be Lucas? The thought came unbidden and Tara had no sooner remembered the other Steward's name than she realized how foolish her thoughts were. Obviously a slave would have no say in who should use her and even if she did, Tara knew next to nothing about this man Lucas. Except that he frightens me, she thought. He frightens me... and excites me at the same time and I don't know why.
Liam hadn't been to Blackmore Estate's slaves' quarters in some time, but the room Leanna took him to was a familiar one. The post in the centre of the room with its metal hooks, the wooden A-frame in the back corner, the stocks, the low platform draped in velvet, the few sturdy wooden chairs, the hidden antechamber filled with shelves lined with phalluses in every shape and size conceivable, and the room's long windowless wall covered in an array of paddles, whips, floggers, canes and other such instruments.These were his favourite tools. Although not particularly strong, his skill with these implements was well known and his markings were often requested for slaves, either when they were to be sold or displayed, or when they were to be disciplined. Many owners lacked the taste for properly punishing their slaves when the need arose and Liam's unique skills were often called upon to do the job. Slaves would be delivered to him here, some strong, some weak, some demure and some defiant, and he would work them over, relishing their inevitable cries and pleas, and later, their wetness and their heat. Outside of this room, Liam knew himself to be of average appearance, lacking in the charm that others he knew so effortlessly used to talk pretty girls out of a dress and into a bed. But here, he was Master. And he had a job to do.
"Welcome, Sir Liam," a soft voice said. He turned and in the doorway saw Siara standing behind the little blonde slave he and Lucas had brought back to the Estate. She looked better than when he first saw her, but was still pale and trembling next to Siara's bronzed beauty and quiet confidence. The lion and the lamb, Liam thought with a small smile. He knew Siara well. Two years older than her, they had both grown up knowing that Blackmore Estate was their future and although they had been trained for very different purposes, their dedication to their service was equal. Liam had honed his marking skills on her flesh and knew her responses well. She could take more than just about any slave he had ever encountered and what's more, she could do it with a grace and dignity that few others could match. It was one of her greatest strengths as a slave and it was largely thanks to him. Each of them in their own way made the other better and stronger. But as Siara's seductive prowess had grown, Liam had found her raw, uninhibited sexual energy more and more intimidating. He could have taken her at will at any time - there had been many times in that room when they had both been drenched in sweat and he had felt her desire as palpably as if she had actually demanded he drop the paddle in his hand and fuck her on the spot. Yet he never had, never could, never able to shake the feeling that he wouldn't be able to satisfy her if he tried, that he was only capable of taming her animal lust when her skin bore the marks of his control over her. She was only a slave, her satisfaction should have been of no consequence to him whatsoever and yet, he knew her body so well, knew when her sighs and moans were pretense and when they were real, knew which spots were ticklish and which bruised easily. Many times he had ordered her to make herself cum while methodically flogging her breasts, her belly, her thighs and ass, and knew the tense muscles and guttural howl of her true climax from the high pitched screams and flailing theatrics she so often put on for show. All these things should have made their coupling more intense, more intimate than any others, but instead they made a coward of him in her presence leaving him feeling impotent and shamed. Despite all this, he had only truly broken her once. It had been a cool spring night months ago when he had somehow got caught up drinking and carousing with the Stable Hand and his boys. As the night wore on, the drinks flowed freely, and the talk grew more lewd.
"I'd split her in two, if ya know what I mean!"
"I'd make her suck my horse's cock while fucking her!"
"Oh, I'd make her scream alright, she won't be able to sit for a week when I'm through with her!"
The words had filled Liam with an aggression he didn't know he possessed and he had felt his frustrations coming to a boil he could no longer suppress. Stumbling outside, he charged the paige guarding the stables by night to fetch him the slave Siara.
"Send her alone," he had said.
When she had emerged, still rubbing sleep from her eyes, Liam had come at her from behind, pulling a burlap sack used for carrying feed for the horses over her head. Hoisting her onto his horse, Liam had ridden with her into the dark woods. At a small clearing, he had stopped and after jumping down himself, had practically thrown her to the ground. Ripping the cloak she had probably hastily thrown on after being roused from her bed with no warning from her naked body, Liam had grabbed a switch of birch from the ground and laid into her mercilessly. The switch was a cruel weapon, cutting into her skin deeply and making her scream in earnest, although there was no one to hear her. Finally shoving her face down in the dirt, he had dropped his trousers, kicked her legs open, and pulled apart her striped and bloodied ass cheeks. It was then that he heard her.
"Liam, please don't," she had said. He froze. She knew it was him. It was a choked whisper and even then he had known how difficult the words were for her to say, how they went against all her years of training and against the very fibre of her being. She was a slave, conditioned to never question, and certainly to never protest. She was made for pleasure, but there was no pleasure in this for either of them and she knew it. But he was beyond caring then, blind with drink and pent up anger at himself, fueled by a dark hunger that had to be satisfied. He drove into her with brutal force, literally tearing her open. After a few savage thrusts, he spilled his seed into her tight, dry back passage and staggering to his feet, had been repulsed at the mix of blood, semen, and excrement on his rapidly shriveling member. Staring at her shuddering back in the moonlight, Liam had taken in the cuts on her body in a detached kind of way. They were careless, uneven and ugly. There was no artistry behind them, only anger. No one will believe this is my work, he had thought. Leaving her the horse, he had stumbled back towards the Estate and after retching violently at the gate, had made his way to bed where he passed out in a pool of cold sweat.
Siara had been confined to the slaves' quarters for two weeks, no visitors and no use permitted. Thomas of course, had seen her condition and despite having important guests to entertain had allowed Leanna's ruling to stand. Thomas' anger at having his property damaged and made unavailable had been severe and Liam had been certain that he would not get off lightly when Thomas found out it was his doing. And part of him was glad for it. He had resigned himself to accepting what was coming to him and was on his way to face the Young Master's wrath when he had heard Thomas raising his voice, something that rarely happened to begin with and stranger still, it was raised at Leanna.
"She won't tell? What do you mean she won't tell? So help me god, Leanna, I'll beat it out of her myself if I have to!"
"It won't do any good, Thomas," Liam had heard Leanna reply. "She won't tell because she can't. She doesn't know who used her this way."
"Well, that's a fine story indeed," Thomas' voice had come back hard as nails.
"She says she was blindfolded the whole time."
Over the following weeks, Siara's cuts and internal injuries had healed well and she was returned to service without delay. Liam avoided her as much as possible, which was not hard to do on the large estate, and when he did run into her, she seemed her usual self. He tried to reason with himself that what was done was done, the girl was fine, and all was well. But still, his nights were plagued with her screams. When his feet found their way to the slaves' quarters almost of their own accord and Mistress Leanna met him at the door, he had had no idea what he intended to do or say.
"Sir Liam, what a pleasure to welcome you to our humble quarters," she had said. If she knew the truth about what he had done, she gave no sign whatsoever. "I wasn't expecting you, but I can prepare a girl and a room for you if you wish."
"Er.. no Leanna, thank you," Liam had replied hesitantly. Although he'd known her all his life, Leanna still unnerved him. "I was wondering if Siara... I mean, is she... I wanted to.." Words failed him and Liam had been just about to turn on his heel and flee, when Leanna had cut in.
"Siara is available this evening and will be most pleased to be of service to you. Would you like her in the Training Room?"
"No," Liam had replied. "Please send her to my room when she is ready."
Within the hour, she had been there, knocking discreetly at his bedroom door. He had been surprised. What had he thought would happen? That she would refuse to come? That she would tell Leanna the whole story and have her send someone else instead? No, that wasn't Siara. She entered and sank gracefully to her knees. Her hair was gathered with a band at the base of her neck and left to flow down her back. He knew she would be clean, oiled and ready.
"Good evening, Sir," she had murmured.
Liam had watched her kneeling before him for several minutes before he spoke.
"Stand up," he said. "And turn around." She had obeyed instantly.
"Remove your robe." Her robe had fallen to the ground, leaving her naked.
Even from where he sat, the scars on her body had been clearly visible in the flickering light, although somewhat concealed by her long hair. He picked up a candlestick and approached her to see them up close anyway. Some would fade and disappear over time, but some, he knew, would leave her forever marred. It's a good thing she'll never be sold, he had thought as he surveyed at his own terrible work. She would fetch a much lower price now. He reached out to trail his fingers lightly along the raised skin of a scar and felt rather than saw Siara flinch at his touch. It was a subtle movement that anyone else might have missed as she corrected herself immediately, but in that tiny pulling away, Liam realized a truth he had known all along and could no longer deny. Slave or not, she had trusted him and he had truly hurt her. And it was making him sick.
Tipping the candlestick slightly, Liam had allowed a few drops of hot wax to fall on Siara's back. She made no sound in response, but the muscles in her shoulders tensed in anticipation.
"The man who... marked you this way... You must hate him," Liam had said softly. "And yet... he had every right to use you as he wished, had he not?"
"Yes, Sir," Siara had whispered.
