The Master's Servant

Please note that the story is labeled as non-consent due to the themes of slavery and indentured servitude. The first chapter is setting the stage; no overtly sexual content here! Future chapters may involve more non-consent and sexual elements.

As always, this story is intended only for audiences 18 years old or older. All characters depicted are 18 years old or older as well. Enjoy!

*****

The walk through the forest seemed long and tedious. The carriage had stopped to let her out hours ago. As her bare feet crunched the leaves underneath her, she looked on. Still no sign of the house. She'd wondered, with a sinking feeling, if the man had given her the correct address. Soon it would be getting late, and she didn't want to be alone in the forest when it grew dark.

Above her, the birds sang their songs. The flapping wings could be heard overhead as they flew. Back and forth. Back and forth. Jealousy began to coil itself around Eavan's heart. She looked up at the wings in the trees; how lucky there were to be able to travel of their own accord.

The sun was setting as she approached the dwelling. Relief washed over her once she saw a glimpse of where she would be staying. Large grey stones stacked one upon another made up the wall. As nervous as she was to enter the place, she knew she would likely be safer inside its walls than she would be if she'd stayed outside, or even if she tried to travel somewhere else alone. There was a gate with two men posted outside. For the first time all day, Eavan felt exposed. She'd only been allowed to keep her papers and a thin scratchy dress ill-suited to travel.

She covered herself as best she could when she approached the guards. How undignified she must have appeared to them. Her hair disheveled from travel, her once-white dress now stained. Little leaves had clung to the hem. To her surprise, they hardly noticed her. Instead, they inspected the papers and let her go. Once she had been allowed to enter, Eavan stopped. Inside the walls were many other servants. She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling embarrassed. There were gardens and an area dedicated to farming. Eavan had never seen such a large and impressive palace. Among the other information listed on the papers, there were also instructions for her. Her husband's handwriting read:

'Go immediately to the great hall. Wait there until you are called for.'

Eavan did just that. As she passed other servants she sighed to herself. Her fate would be much the same, she suspected. There was a hitch in her breath as she recalled the events that had taken place only last night.

She'd sat by the fire enjoying the stillness and quiet before her husband came home. When he'd opened the door, he said nothing to her. He'd been uncharacteristically quiet all night. She'd watched him as the servants came and went, serving dinner and then desserts. Usually, he would have scolded one of them or perhaps he might have noticed something about her appearance that caused him displeasure. He was a frightful, aggressive, man, but somehow his silence was even eerier.

"Tomorrow I'm going to have someone take you to Westport," he'd said cooly standing at the foot of the bed as she crawled underneath the covers.

Eavan looked up. Westport was nearly a day's journey from their home. They'd only ever go once or twice a year.

"Why's that?"

He looked irritated at her question but continued to talk. "You will be going there to live-"

Eavan interrupted standing up and coming round the bed, "Live there? Why would-"

The familiar sting of his hand caused her to step back.

"Because you clearly haven't learned your place." Her husband said harshly, "And I have tried and tried to teach you. But you refuse to learn. So, I've decided to let someone else have a go at it."

Fear prickled at her stomach and at every nerve in her body. At least she'd come to expect what would happen to her here; if she was sent away there was no telling if it would be worse. She said nothing.

"Your silence won't please me now." he said curtly, "The man has already paid to take you on as a servant. You will arrive tomorrow at his home."

A voice drew Eavan out of her memories and back into the grand room where she stood.

"You must be the new servant," said the young man, "I'll get the master. Wait here. He'll want to look at you first before you're proper settled."

Eavan said nothing but fiddled with the hem of her sleeves. The place was much more grand than her previous home. There were large paintings that hung on the walls. The walls themselves appeared to be made of fine materials. For a moment she gazed at the painting, drawn in by its beauty. She was only distracted when she heard the footsteps enter into the room. Their sound echoed through the grand hallway. A chill ran through her as the man came into view.

His hand reached for her chin and instinctively she flinched. The man looked at her strangely, then tried again. His fingertips were soft and gentle against her flesh as he tilted her head one way and then another. His thumb brushed Eavan's lower lip, pulling it back to look at her teeth. The man examined her arms and legs as well, frowning at the bruises.

Finally, he looked into her eyes.

"Your papers," He said.

He had a calm voice. Still, Eavan's delicate hands shook as she handed him the papers her husband had provided her. He took them. After reviewing their contents, he folded them and placed them underneath his arm.

"I will show you to your quarters. There you can change into the clothes I have provided you," he said as they walked briskly down one of the large corridors and down a small stairwell. "Your husband explained that you are not accustomed to hard work, but I do expect you to do everything that is asked of you. I have no patience for disobedience."

There was silence between them for a moment before he spoke again. Eavan was still processing all that had happened. The events felt more akin to a dream than her actual life. She noticed that he'd stopped walking.

He turned to her, "I expect you to answer with 'Yes Sir' when I have spoken to you. Is that clear?"

She was unsure if she should look him in the eye. She fidgetted, afraid of the fact that her disobedience to this man might lead to something much worse than anything her husband had done.

"Yes, Sir," her voice shook and she saw his eyes soften.

"There's no need to be scared," He said sweetly, "I am well aware of how your previous husband treated you. There's no place for that here. I merely need you to address me with respect."

Skeptically she nodded. She'd felt her cheeks turning red, embarrassed at his knowledge of her situation. How had he known? Surely, her husband had not mentioned it. She tried to push out the thought of him. It was true that she had never loved him. Still, it was painful and humiliating to be tossed out and rejected as she had. Even more than that she had nothing of her own. She was, for all intents and purposes, the property of a complete stranger.

The floors were made of stone. The ceiling hung low above their heads. Finally, they'd reached the end of the hall. He'd opened the door for her. It was the smallest room she'd ever been in. The walls were made of grey stones, as was the floor. There was a small rug on the ground that peeked out from underneath the small wooden-framed bed. The bed was made and covered in white sheets and a thick quilt. Beside the bed stood a small night table with a lamp. In the cubby portion of the night-stand, there was a small basket filled with small items. There was a trunk at the end of the bed as well.

"Your clothes are inside of the trunk, along with an extra quilt and a towel," The man explained, "You will work from sunrise to sunset, starting tomorrow. I pay all the workers weekly wages. I provide you with breakfast and a small lunch. Sundays you will not work, unless, for some reason I require it. You are free to shop inside the walls and may spend any free time as you wish, however, if you would like to leave the estate, I ask that you see me first."

There was a pause, "Yes Sir,"

"Good," he said, "Now, I'll leave you to get settled. If you have any other questions, one of the other servants will be able to help you."

Once he'd closed the door, Eavan took a seat on the bed. It felt lumpy and uncomfortable. She looked around, feeling dismayed at her dismal little room. The quilt beneath her was soft, but nothing like the fine silk blankets she'd had at home. Without warning, she felt a sensation bubble up inside of her. The thought of her husband shot back into her mind. Who was he to just push her out, to call her defiant? She marveled at how unfair it all was. He probably was lounging about as the servants made him his dinner. Meanwhile, her stomach growled unkindly in the dimly lit, ratty, little shack of a room.

After the anger had subsided a little, and she had crawled underneath the covers, the sadness began to creep in. She turned off the oil lamp and stared at the ceiling.

In the morning she woke, her back aching from the lumpy mattress. She dressed slowly; the new clothes were stiff and scratchy. She sighed. The room felt very cold without the warmth of her blanket wrapped around her. She longed for the fresh brewed coffee and pastries she would have had this morning if everything had been just as it was before. Still, she was thankful to sleep in a bed without her husband beside her.

She walked cautiously up the stairs, unaware of the time. The sun was bright outside. It had clearly been up longer than she had. She wondered briefly if she would be reprimanded for this. No one had come to wake her. No one seemed to notice her now either. Suddenly, she caught a glimpse of a slight Irish woman talking to a storekeeper and walked over to them.

"Excuse me," she said, "But do either of you know where I could find the breakfast hall?"

The young woman before her almost laughed, "What for? Breakfast wasn't for almost three hours ago."

Startled at the thought of having nothing to eat until lunch and nothing for dinner, Eavan gave off a worried look. The young woman noticed this but didn't seem to pity her. "You must be the new maid."

"Yes,"

"Well, I'd get to the washroom quick if I were you." The woman chided, "You're pretty late as it is and the other girls aren't going to like that you've left 'em to do your work."

Eavan nodded. "Where is the washroom?"

The girl sighed. "Inside. Left. Down the corridor, take the flight of stairs, then go down another corridor. The second door on the right."

Eavan nodded again, not wanting to bother the woman any longer. As she turned to go back inside she caught bits of their conversation.

"Did you see that look when she found out she'd missed breakfast. I bet she'd never gone a minute without food,"

"Where'd she come from anyway? Usually, you don't see spoiled maids like that."

The rest of the conversation was lost as she got closer to the front door. She tried to remember the directions the woman had given her but she realized that the lady had not told her whether she should go up or down the stairs. Most likely it would be downstairs, where all the servants stayed. She followed the directions, going down the staircase quickly. To her disappointment, she found no second corridor, as the woman had told her.

Confused, she wondered if it might be different here. It was much grander than her home had been. She wondered what the upstairs portion did look like. Once Eavan had climbed the small stone staircase again, she turned as she was told and followed the hallway until she arrived at a closed door. It was heavy as she pushed it open. It creaked loudly and there was a slam. She looked up, brushing the wisps of dirty blond hair out of her face.

Horrified, she froze. Before her, it was not a washroom full of young maids but instead, the master himself. He had clearly been sitting in his private study, reading. She was shocked to see how quickly he'd darted from behind the large oak work table. Grabbing her arm firmly, he lead her out of the place as she stammered her apologies in the hallway.

As another servant walked down the hall, Eavan could see how the other young woman avoided any eye contact. Ducking her head, the woman curtsied and then passed them as quickly as possible. As the turned down another hall, Eavan was pulled into a room. The master had turned to close the door.

"Exactly what do you think you're doing?"

"I was just trying to find the washroom,"

"In my private library..?"

"I didn't know it was your-"

"Let me make one thing very clear to you. Perhaps I did not explain things well enough before." He said coming closer to her, "You are here to work. There is no reason that I should ever find you wandering around my grounds without reason. There is no reason that you should not have been able to wake and follow all the other girls to breakfast and then to the washroom and finish all the rest of your work."

"I didn't mean to-"

"You will not speak over me." he interrupted firmly, "I am simply giving you a warning. It would suit you to listen now."

After that, she looked down, her arms covering her waist. Something strange fluttered inside of her at his tone. Her dress felt even itchier than it had before. She felt the back of her neck and her face getting hot with embarrassment at being reprimanded. Yet, it was not at all like when her husband would reprimand her. There was no air of condescension in this man's voice.

"That's better," he said lifting her chin again to look at him. He appeared more sympathetic now, "You would also do well to find a friend here. Someone who can show you around. I want to be able to keep you on, but I need workers who work well."

He looked at for just another moment, "You are excused."

"Thank you, Sir," she said heading for the door as quickly as she could.

"Eavan,"

She turned, her fingertips perched on the handle.

"The washroom is outside. It should be easy to find. But the women have most likely finished there now. You should find the kitchen. Lunch needs to be prepared and I'm sure you must be very hungry."

"Yes Sir,"

He nodded, signally that she was allowed to leave. Embarrassed and intimidated, she walked back down the stairs. She arrived at the bottom floor and could hear voices echoing off the walls. She followed them down one hallway and then another until, miraculously, she found the kitchen. When she stepped into sight, all the noise stopped. The women turned their heads. Disgusted expressions crossed their faces as they surveyed her appearance.

"Well, if it isn't the little princess. Did you have a nice long rest ye majesty?" barked a short, heavyset older woman. She smelled like old cabbage and smoke, "Maybe you're ready to start your work now?"

"I'm sorry," she began as the room was filled with snickering from the other women.

The old woman crossed the room, roughly shoving a bucket of soapy water towards Eavan. "Sorry's for shit. Start cleaning."

Eavan's eyes darted around the room as she saw other girls with food trays. The woman caught her pleading glance.

"You can eat when you get done." The woman said curtly, "After that, you can scrub the corridors."

Quickly, Eavan set the bucket on the floor and began to scrub the stones with the rough brush. By the end, her hands were blistered and sore. Her stomach was twisting in painful knots. When she had finished, all the other women had left. There on the table lay one plate with a piece of bread and the smallest portion of meat she'd ever seen.

She ate quickly. Despite how stale the bread was, and how salty and cold the meat was she was so happy to be eating anything at all. It didn't fill her, but the pain in her stomach was slowly starting to dull. She looked around but there was no other food laying out. Afraid of getting into more trouble, Eavan decided to do as she was told and scrub the hallways.

It was dark before she had finished the downstairs halls. Her hands were red and painfully sore. She dumped the soapy water and headed to bed as quickly as she could. Determined to make sure that she woke before it was time tomorrow.

Each day was worse than the last. She woke early in the morning to get ready. Brushing her hair into a tight bun that would surely become increasingly disheveled as the day grew older. She had hardly seen the Master. The woman who had been placed in charge of all the young servants was cruel and often mistreated her. Usually, Eavan's job was to scrub the floors of the servant's quarters and kitchen. When she did not get done with it quickly enough to move on to the next task- cleaning the large stone fireplace or washing the dishes, she would be beaten by the older woman. The woman seemed to relish in harming Eavan.

She could still feel the welts on her back from last night. The tender bruises on her legs were beginning to fade. Still, she felt weak and lightheaded from lack of food. She hadn't been allowed to go upstairs in a week due to her laziness and sorely missed the warm sunlight. She looked around, set down her brush, and began to sob. How had she ended up here?

Just then she heard footsteps. Fearful that it would be the headmistress, she scrambled to get her brush and began scrubbing again. She did not want to look up. Surely the woman would find some reason to penalize her for crying.

"Do you need some help there?"

She turned, surprised to hear that it was a man's voice. The man standing behind her was slouched in the doorway. He was tall, well-built, and was wearing workers clothes. When he stepped closer to her, she could see that his hands were dirty.

Despite her silence, the man took the brush out of her hand and sat down beside her. Eavan hesitated as he started to scrub at the spot she was working on. Most likely, he expected his kindness to be rewarded. When he looked up at her, she saw that his eyes were large and blue. They looked kind. She looked around nervously. She also didn't want to be caught having someone else do her work for her.

The man noticed her nervous nature, "Don't worry. Everyone's upstairs getting things ready for tonight."

"I haven't seen you before," Eavan stated, rubbing her sore hands as he worked.

"I'm Arden. One of the farmers. I don't usually spend much time inside." he said looking up at her, "unfortunately."

"I'm Eavan," she said, not knowing what else to do.

He waited a minute for her to explain more, then sighed. "I heard you snuck into the Master's library."

"I did not-"

"A lot of the people here come from interesting backgrounds. Maybe some of them were even thieves or criminals." He interrupted, looking at her strangely.

"I am not a thief!" Eavan stated strongly.

"Then where did you come from?"

Eavan was silent. If everyone was unaware that her husband had sold her away, she wanted to protect that secret. But, her silence only served to confirm Arden's suspicions.

"Before the Master inherited this place it used to belong to his father. He'd take in people from all sorts of bad situations, you know, orphanages, wives who lost their husbands, that sort of thing. And he gave them jobs so they wouldn't be beggars."

There was a pause between them as Eavan continued to listen. Arden put the brush away and looked at her for a moment. "When his father died, he inherited the manor. He's been running it the same way. Taking in people who were down on their luck and letting them live here in exchange for work. Giving them food and a bed and clothes. That's much better than they would have gotten by themselves."

Suddenly, Eavan felt outraged. Was this man trying to tell her that she was lucky to be in this position? She had never been treated worse in her entire life. Her living conditions and food rations were hardly anything to be thankful for. Not to mention how undignified it was to be sold by your own husband to a complete stranger.