Slavery Ch 04

Alana wondered curiously through the lamp lit hall of Azeric's home. After bathing, no one had come to collect her. Eventually she grew tired of waiting, and decided to go and explore. Nervously, she opened a door. Thankfully, it was the door to a strange, and fortunately empty, kitchen. Alana was curious to see no fridge or oven, and briefly wondered how Mia prepared the delicious meal that they had eaten this evening. Backing out of the kitchen, Alana caught the sound of voices coming from a door that was ajar at the end of the hall. She was sure that it had been closed before.

Curiosity got the better of Alana. Padding quietly along the stone floor, her bare feet hardly made a sound. Hovering outside the door, she felt instantly stupid; eves dropping was all well and good when you could understand the words that you were hearing, but with her extremely limited vocabulary, this activity was pointless. The voices were not the two that she had suspected, though. One was Azeric's deep, heavily accented rumble, the other seemed familiar but she couldn't place it. It definitely wasn't Mia's shrill, chastising tones.

Peeking around the door, Alana caught her breath. The man with the cold eyes, the one that had offered her as a reward, was sat on a small sofa. Azeric was sat in a huge wooden chair at an equally huge, ornately carved desk. His eyes looked shocked when he saw Alana, but he held out a hand to her in welcome. Shyly, she approached. When a cool hand closed around her upper arm, she froze. Azeric stood abruptly as long, thin, golden fingers dug into one of her bruises. Alana winced, though it wasn't as painful as she had expected. Taking one large step towards her, Azeric pulled her into his arms, away from the rough grasp of the man who seemed to be in charge of him. A high pitched, tinkling laugh filled the office, chilling Alana to the bone. There was something very wrong with the man who had bought her.

Alana curled up on Azeric's knee as he sat. She glared at the lean man across from her, feeling safe enough to risk angering him. It was strange, she thought, that Azeric had so quickly gone from threat to protector.

"Zeve," Azeric said in what sounded like a warning. Alana wondered if that was the man's name. Whatever he was called, he ignored Alana's glare, probably thinking that she was beneath him, and no concern. They talked briefly, the tension in the room staying until he decided to depart. His leaving seemed quite sudden to Alana, but she supposed if she had been capable of following the discussion it wouldn't have been. Her arm throbbed.

"Pain," she said to Azeric as she pointed at her arm. It was the first word that the doctor had taught her. He absently rubbed at the angry red finger marks on her arm. Shifting her to the side a little, he picked up a pen and started to write on a document before him. Alana was fascinated by the letters, enough that she pushed the pain in her arm from her mind. The writing looked a little like Arabic, with some letters looking Greek. It was written from left to write, as English was, but had no discernible punctuation.

Perhaps noticing her fascination, Azeric placed his pen down. He pointed to the first word on the page and sounded it out. Alana repeated this. He proceeded to do this throughout the whole document, and by then Alana could recognise the letters that represented several sounds. Azeric then wrote a word on scrap paper.

"Alana." Azeric pointed at the word, then handed her a pen. He had written her name. Copying it, she tried to make her imitation of the letters as neat as possible. Azeric made her write it seven times before he seemed satisfied. Alana said his name and handed the pen back. He seemed happy to teach her how to write this also. Azeric then drew a symbol and pointed to her collar. Putting her on her feet, he went to a large cabinet. He pulled huge sword from it, and laid it on the desk. Taking Alana's hand, he got her to trace the same symbol that he had drawn. Still not understanding what it meant, Alana assumed that it represented his family. She felt a lot happier about the loving way that he caressed what she assumed was a symbol of her slavery.

Feeling quite content, Alana reached up to stroke Azeric's face. He smiled down at her and bent to give her a tender kiss. A warm feeling spread through her stomach. Pressing against him, her hand started to caress his arm. Alana reached up to him, not really sure what she was asking for, but hoping for some contact. He pulled her close, and nuzzled his face into her neck. She felt his tongue run along her wound, and shivered. Lifting up her dress, he pulled it over her head. Alana felt very exposed as his eyes took in her body and all of its imperfections.

Despite feeling reasonably safe with Azeric, when he scooped Alana up she still shrieked. He had hurt her, even if it was unintentional, and she was well aware that he could do it again. She was placed firmly on the desk, her legs forced apart. He had a grin on his face that told her that he was pleased with her advances.

Alana jumped as his thumb found her clit. He started circling against her with a gentle pressure that was just perfect. A finger started to push itself into her. Alana winced and started to push Azeric's hand away. She hadn't realised that she was so tender. Finding her lips with his, he withdrew his finger, but carried on stimulating her clit. Soon she was gasping and moaning into his mouth, crushing herself against his hand. Maddeningly, his pace stayed the same. He chuckled against her, seeming to enjoy Alana's display of desperation for him. Her nails dug into his bare arms as finally she found her release. When Azeric stepped away, she felt embarrassed; sat with her legs spread, her pussy glistening, she realised that she was too sore to offer him any relief.

On a whim, Alana scooted from the desk. Dropping to her knees and gazing up at Azeric, she reached for the skirt of his uniform. He looked confused, but when he realised that she intended to undress him, him obligingly disrobed. Alana's small hands rested on Azeric's solid thighs. She gazed at his hard cock, a drop of liquid shining at the end. She leant forward, intending to lick it up. Azeric stepped backwards almost causing Alana to fall on her face.

It was Alana's turn to be puzzled. He knelt next to her, stroking her hair comfortingly. He shook his head, pointing to her mouth. Alana really didn't understand. He had given her oral sex, so why didn't he want her to reciprocate? He took her hand instead, wrapping it around his shaft. She moved it slowly over him, earning a moan of appreciation. It wasn't enough though. He had taken care of her needs, stopping when he caused her pain. If she had known where he kept the healing goo, she would have used it on herself. Instead she stood, and bent over the desk, turning back to look over her shoulder in what she hoped was a sultry, inviting expression. Climbing to his feet, Azeric approached cautiously.

"Pain?" Alana nodded, but didn't move. When his reply came it was harsh, almost angry, "no." His hands ran over her back, squeezing lightly, pleasurably. He stood her up, turned her to face the door and patted her bottom. She took the hint, she was dismissed.

Alana awoke the next morning to Azeric crouching over her. For a moment he looked so ferocious that she tried to scramble away. Grabbing her ankle, he dragged her playfully back beneath him. He waved the tube of blue goo at her, and she blushed. She decided that she wouldn't make this easy. As Azeric was unscrewing the lid, Alana took the opportunity to escape him; she wriggled out from under him and bolted for the door.

As she fled into the hallway, his hand brushed her shoulder, but didn't quite grab it. Giggling, she ran down the hall. Azeric groaned behind her, and she assumed that he had forgotten the cream. He would need it if he wanted fuck her. Turning a corner, with the intention of hiding, Alana barrelled straight into Mia. Unfortunately, Mia had a tray of fresh fruit. The fruit squashed between the two women, Alana stumbling naked and sticky to the floor.

Suddenly yanked to her feet, Alana struggled against Mia's steely grip. For an old woman, she sure was strong. It was then that Azeric rounded the corner. He took one look at the women and started to laugh. He was just as naked as Alana. He swapped a few words with Mia who looked surprised, then apologetically at Alana. She muttered a few words, smiled and left. The look in Azeric's eyes was still amused, but also tinged with disappointment. He hefted Alana over his shoulder, and headed back to bathroom.

Instead of dumping her in the bath like she had expected, Azeric put her on her feet and knelt in front of her. The bizarreness of the situation made her giggle, it looked like he was about to propose. His tongue darted out to lap at the squashed fruit that covered her. After a few tastes in a variety of places, Alana couldn't help but moan. She could feel herself getting wet already, and desperately wanted to feel Azeric's tongue moving over her clit. Hoping that he would comply, she parted her thighs.

Feeling his rough tongue lapping at her made her knees shake. As Azeric pushed it into her, she grabbed his shoulders. Swiftly, and non-too gently, he pulled her to the floor. He passed her the tub of blue goo, gesturing that she should apply it to herself. He watched fascinated as she pushed her fingers inside herself, only cringing slightly at the much diminished pain. Deciding to please him as much as she could, Alana moved her fingers in and out of herself. It felt amazing. She was incredibly sensitive, but soon she found she wanted something bigger, thicker to fill her. Moving as quickly as she could, Alana tried to pounce on him. He managed to use her momentum against her, and soon had her pinned to the floor. In a practised move he used his knees to spread hers, then pushed the head of his enormous cock against her opening. Gasping, Alana found herself being painfully stretched once again.

Despite being on top of her, or perhaps because of it, Azeric was incredibly gentle. He took his time edging into her inch by inch. Every wince from Alana earned her a soft kiss. It was only when he was as deep into her as he could go that he started to move in a controlled, steady rhythm. A finger slipped between them and started to rub at her clit as his mouth latched onto a nipple. His teeth being in such close proximity made her understandably nervous, but there was nothing she could do. As Azeric stroked at her, her hips started to move with his. The pain really wasn't so bad today, and was even starting to feel pleasurable. Alana's muscles started to twitch around him earning a guttural groan. His mouth moved away from her nipple as his thrusts built to a punishing rhythm, all thoughts of gentleness seemingly forgotten.

"Pain," Alana panted beneath him. He met her eyes in apology, his red irises dark with lust. His hand closed over her mouth as he increased his speed even more, panting in her ear. She started to feel suffocated. She screamed into his hand as a piercing pain shot through the flesh just above her breast. Unlike before, his teeth stayed sunk into her as he continued to fuck her. He moved his hand and she lunged, her teeth sinking into the skin of his chest. She knew she wouldn't draw blood, she hadn't yesterday, but she wanted the opportunity to inflict a little pain back. His teeth withdrew then, his tongue lapping at the bloody mess as she whimpered. He made a sound that was close to a roar, and emptied himself within her. For a moment she was mortified, remembering the doctor's comment of being used to breed an army, but then forced the thought from her mind. Denial could be a very nice place. When Azeric collapsed heavily atop of her, she knew that for him, it had been the best yet.

Azeric soon moved away from her, lifting her trembling body into the bath. The water stung the two bite marks, as well as the sore flesh between her thighs. When he moved to kiss her, she pulled back. He frowned, but allowed her some space. Alana couldn't understand how he could keep hurting her after being so loving. He was a contradiction, and she wondered if maybe the other girls had known that his race would be like this. He could be so brutal.

Alana washed quickly, and then climbed out of the bath. She applied the blue goo with her back turned to Azeric, but couldn't find the pink lotion. As soon as he was out of the pool, Alana gestured to her injuries. Her arm had black finger marks on it from Zeve, if that was his name, and her thigh was purple from falling. With the bite marks as well, she imagined that she looked a mess. Azeric kissed her on the head and lead her back to the bedroom. He disappeared for a moment and came back with another grey dress, just as sheer as the previous two. There were beautiful silver flowers embroidered into the fabric, with crystals in the middle. It really was lovely.

Alana was surprised when she was fed a quick, simple breakfast, but when they left the house and headed for the river, Alana realised why. The heat outside was already stifling, and after her previous burns she was sure that Azeric wouldn't want her out for long. Walking through the beautiful gardens, Alana couldn't help but stare. This time Azeric didn't seem so enthused by her interest, and kept his large hand on the back of her head, forcing Alana to study her feet. It was only once they boarded a small boat that she was permitted to look around again, and she did so with wonder from under the canopy.

It was only one they arrived at the market that Alana started to understand why Azeric had forced her head down. The majority of people stared openly at them, some even with a shocking degree of hostility at Azeric. Alana wondered if he had done something terrible; the visit from Zeve had been very tense last night. Had he broken some law? He clearly wasn't from this planet and his customs were very strange to her. Maybe the natives weren't too keen either.

Azeric took Alana straight to the clothing shop that they had visited previously. Leaving her in the doorway, he purchased something that the man had behind the counter. Alana was quickly ushered out again. As they walked around the market, seemingly aiming for a particular stall, Alana kept her gaze locked on the floor. Azeric's hand briefly squeezed her shoulder, and she fought the urge to pull away; she hadn't quite accepted the events of the morning.

Arriving at their destination, Azeric pointed Alana to a stall with beautiful jewellery. He spoke quickly to the assistant, and soon there was a box with jewellery in the colours that slaves could wear: grey, silver and charcoal. Alana picked a heavily beaded necklace. It was made up of thin strands of beads, in the three colours she could wear. The beads shone beautifully in the sunlight, and Alana loved the way that the ropes of beads were plaited together. Azeric nodded his approval, and soon they were heading back through the growing heat.

Once again, instead of going back to the house, Alana was sat in the shade in the training arena. It seemed hotter today, the sweat beading upon her forehead and dripping down her back. She lounged back on her arms, lazily watching Azeric swing his sword at yet another warrior. Absently, she fingered the symbol on her neck, smiling at the thought that it matched his. Thinking about recent events, Alana really did consider herself lucky; Azeric was protective, loving, and mostly gentle. He had hurt her several times, this morning losing control completely, but he wasn't a cruel man.

Fighting the urge to look in the bag next to her, Alana wondered what was in it. Before he had gone to spar, Azeric had pointed to it and told her 'no' very firmly. It was clear that whatever it was, was not for her eyes. In the end, it was the arena and not Alana's will power that stopped her. Facing Azeric were three burly warriors, and they all looked angry.

As Azeric took a defensive stance, Alana's stomach flipped. Previously, he had greeted his challengers, exchanged pleasantries perhaps. This was different. The three approaching men had their swords drawn, pointed at him aggressively. They shouted at him, seemingly goading him. Alana stood, but wasn't really sure what to do next. The men approached Azeric in an arch. Alana watched their footwork; it was precise, but wary, as if they feared the warrior before them despite the numbers being in their favour.

Azeric waited until one of his opponents struck at him. His coiled muscles un-bunched, allowing him to lunge powerfully forward. Lightening quick he managed to parry the blow, then thrust forward with his own. He drew the blade across the man's upper arm scoring a thick red line into his flesh. Alana thought that would be the match over, or at least by the previously displayed rules it would have been. Azeric seemed to think so also; he turned his back on the men and started to leave the arena. One of the uninjured men moved before Alana could do anything but cry out.

"Azeric!" His eyes found hers just as the heavy hilt of the sword descended upon his skull. She saw the shock, pain and disgust flash across his face as his knees crumpled beneath him. Behind her, in the stands, a cry rang out. All of the warriors watching yelled their fury at the situation. Alana, before she had thought her actions through, ran towards the fallen warrior, her fallen warrior. As she skidded to a halt, and knelt by him she glanced up at his attackers; they frowned down at her, yet did nothing to stop her aid.

Vibrating with an unknown energy, Alana reached down to stroke the hair from Azeric's face. Before her hand made it though, his eyes flew open and she froze; she had never seen emotion like it, and could only liken it to an animal ready to rip into his prey. Large hands encircled her waist, and she screamed as she was lifted into the air. Her nails raked the golden skin that was restraining her. Kicking back with all her might she struggled to get back to Azeric who was starting to rise. He glanced at her, but seemed satisfied with what he saw.

"Alana," he hissed. She froze, the energy draining from her, allowing her to rest limply against the man who held her.

A cry filled the arena. Alana's head whipped around to find the source, and saw a group of soldiers approaching. The men who had challenged Azeric seemed to pale, and metal clattered against metal as they dropped their swords into the sand. Azeric turned his back on Alana, facing the would be adversaries. To her horror, Alana saw that a thick, black coloured liquid was trickling down the side of his neck. Blood. What else could it be? Her whole body went cold with the sudden certainty that another person close to her would be snatched away; it didn't matter that he was alien and her master, just that he had held her and cared for her. Tears started to streak their way through the light coating of dust that covered her skin.

Turning to look at her, Azeric noticed her tears. He motioned the man holding her to let her go, then summoned her to stand with him. Not really understanding what was going on, and worrying that the blow would lead to a fatal concussion, Alana clutched his hand desperately. She knew that he was tough, that she was probably being foolish, but he had always avoided injury and seeing the strange coloured blood running over his skin made her feel queasy with concern. It wasn't long, though, until Alana was snapped out of her morbid fantasies.

The soldiers stamped their way towards the group at an alarming pace. Circling around them, they stood behind the three who had dropped their weapons. Blood was pooling onto the sand from the injured one which was not helping Alana's feeling of sickness. The three men dropped to their knees in unison. Three soldiers stepped forward and, with a whoosh, drew their swords. Alana didn't have a chance to gasp before the swords were hefted and sliced, seemingly with ease, through the necks of the kneeling men. Alana couldn't help but watch one man's face in horrid fascination as pain, then death, flowed across the features. The heads, followed by the bodies, hit the ground with a sickening thud. Screaming rent the air. All Alana could focus on were the empty eyes that rested in the heads.