On the morning of his eighteenth nameday Will Edgemont, Lord Paramount of Edgemont, freed his only elf slave. Or more accurately, tried to.
"No, Master," Ythri said as she refilled his cup. "You can't make me."
Will sighed in his seat. Ythri was well-read on the matter as was her wont. He could force her to do many things but his tiny city-state was more progressive than most of the human kingdoms. Not to the point of abolition, of course; elf slaves with their skills accumulated over long lives were too valuable to the estates (and especially beds) of the Edgemont House of Lords for the movement to ever gain traction. But activists had successfully lobbied for certain rights a century ago: room and board, respite from work or punishment deemed excessive for their state of health, and one copper a week as allowance. The cruelest masters had found a loophole, "freeing" slaves to starve on the streets when too old or sickly to be worth the upkeep.
Henceforth, no owner could legally release a slave without their consent. The irony was not lost on Will in the slightest.
"You don't need to take care of me anymore," he said. "Don't you want to travel the world? See your homeland in person instead of pictures in books?"
"Traveling is too dangerous." Ythri touched his shoulder. "Might end up property of fat old pervert."
Will laughed and playfully swatted her soft hand off his arm. He supposed she had a point there. Freed elves were fair game in most of the barbaric human realm, and after centuries of conquest that realm now spanned the lion's share of the continent. For all their long lives and wisdom the noble-to-a-fault fae queens were no match for mankind's warfare, greed and political cunning.
Unguarded, Ythri's freedom would not last a day outside Edgemont. She was beautiful even for her kind. Enchanting eyes the color of rubies, flawless milky skin that refused to blemish under any amount of sun, soft pink lips that could light the world on fire in one smile. Will often wondered just how much illegitimate human blood filled her veins. His father had bought Ythri from a kingdom nearby where she'd presumably been born. Her ears were too long and pointed for a proper halfling or even the daughter of one but her features were ever so slightly gentler at the cheeks and chin than the nearly triangular faces of full elves, her silver hair tinged with blonde in the right light. And of course, upon adolescence he'd been able to appreciate her breasts and hips fuller than those of even many human women.
They'd featured heavily in his earliest fantasies, his first forays into pleasuring himself. Still did, if he were to be completely honest.
"Master?"
Will looked up from his paperwork and spat out his tea. "What are you wearing?"
While he'd been distracted Ythri had let her hair down and slipped out of the baggy brown frock she normally donned while cleaning his rooms. Beneath it was an outfit not among the dozens he had bought her over the years. Will knew that for a fact because his own breeches had never felt so tight.
The dark bodice she bared was a maidservant's outfit in name only, more outrageous than anything he'd seen on even the most shameless bar wench. Ythri's ample breasts strained against the tight leather, bared to the white undergarment by the window of laces holding the whole construct together. It reminded him suspiciously of the "house-elf" costumes he'd noticed inspecting firsthand a nearby slave brothel he'd been itching to shut down, meant to cater to the often violent fantasies of clients who could not afford a bedwarmer of their own.
"Do you like?" she asked with a knowing smile.
He could only gape and nod. Ythri smiled at his approval and crossed to the other side of his desk in one long stride. Before she could sit in his lap though, as aroused as he was, Will knew he had to push her away. Her teasing had only grown bolder in the weeks leading to his nameday, from lingering touches to flashes of creamy skin to now this. Part of that could have been attraction, he supposed. With his shaggy brown hair and lean frame sharpened by years in the training yard, most women seemed to find him handsome. Including the elven ones who couldn't care less about his titles and lands.
But Will knew the true catalyst to her actions. He had done a poor job masking his own desire for her as he'd grown from boy to man and Ythri was nothing if not eager to please. She was not his bedslave, or a slave at all in his heart. She'd cared for him after his parents had succumbed to the plague and left him a Lord at the age of ten. More of a surrogate sister than a mother figure, despite being older than his actual mother in human years. She'd arrived at the Edgemont estate a young adult and seemingly hadn't aged a day throughout his entire adolescence. He'd calculated that within a decade or so they would be at the same point in their relative lifespans, and from there on she would have to watch him grow old.
He'd resolved long ago to let her go before she spent the rest of her century of youth taking care of him. She'd already lost enough of her life to that.
"Master?"
"We shouldn't do this," Will made himself say. The way Ythri flinched hurt him but he pressed on for her sake. "I know what you meant to give me today but you don't need to make me happy anymore. There's nothing stopping you from being free now. Look, I'll smuggle you home myself if I have to-"
Will's next words were swallowed. By Ythri.
The sudden feeling of her lips on his stunned him. It was a chaste kiss that ended the very next second, but the lingering sensation made his pulse race.
"Why?"
"Dumb Master," she huffed. "This is home. Wherever you are."
He moved to speak. She shushed him again with a finger to his lips.
"I love you, Will."
His heart all but stopped.
Will.
It was the first time she had ever said his name. Ythri was a shit liar even for an elf, and he had never heard her more honest or vulnerable. He stared right into the wide pupils of her mesmerizing red eyes to find them wet with tears. Fearful. Not of him, but of rejection. She wanted him.
Ythri, his beautiful Ythri, wanted him more than anything in the world.
What little self-control Will had left burst knowing that. He drank in the sight of her flushed face and heaving bosom, and stood to take her in his arms. She was tall for an elf but he'd overtaken her in his second growth spurt and now towered over her, which meant he had to lean over to access her lips. His heart soared with joy as he kissed her. This time he held nothing back and plundered her wet mouth with his tongue, tasting the same unusually bitter herbal tea from his cup. She kissed back fiercely. Too fiercely.
He pulled away with a hiss and licked at the tang of metal. Sure enough, she'd broken skin with those sharp elven canines.
"Sorry, Master," Ythri giggled in a tone that was anything but. "Had to."
Will watched in utter confusion as she slid a teasing finger across his lips, unfolded a square of parchment tucked into her bodice, pressed the collected drops of blood onto the sheet and handed it over. It was a contract almost identical to the one he'd bought in order to free her, or the one he'd found in his father's desk that by some old magic bound Ythri to him and prevented her from attempting to run away or hurt him. He'd burned the latter and ordered her to try and hit him. No luck.
"Change of profession," he read aloud. "Housekeeping to...sexual service?!?"
Ythri flushed a shade of pink and nodded. "Yes, Master."
"This is not what I meant by easing your load." Will felt his cock twitch at the thought of what her new workload would entail. "You
want
to be my bedslave?"
Her ears were red all the way from tip to root now, but she pressed a quill into his hand so ardently he could only infer the idea aroused her even more than it did him. One quick scrawl of his name in his own blood and Ythri visibly shivered. The Edgemont crest branded on her shoulder that marked her as his property glowed. Old magic, Will knew. Like any other pureblooded human he was about as sensitive to it as a blind man to color.
Before he could even ask if the contract was truly complete Ythri began to undress. He stopped her, a brilliant idea forming in his mind.
"What do good bedslaves always ask?"
A second passed before a knowing smile dawned on her face. He'd rarely make her ask for permission for anything; they were master and slave in the eyes of Edgemont law only.
"Can I please strip for you, Master?"
"No," he whispered forcefully in her ear. "I want to unwrap my present myself."
The excited shudder that ran down her body made Will's blood boil. He was right; she enjoyed fulfilling their nominal roles in this way. Even fantasized about it, given how thoroughly she'd planned this in advance.