Sitting in the cold entrance hall, Cassandra's hands shook nervously as she gripped the crisp sheaf of papers tightly. The contract she had always dreamed and fantasized about having, one that would see her desires lived out at last.
Her new owner walked in, slacks and white cotton shirt hiding a powerful, large frame. Wispy curls of black hair showing underneath the open collar, piercing blue eyes staring at her small shaking form crowded onto the corner of the small red leather ottoman. "Have you signed the contract yet? We need to get on with your introduction, and I would rather have you marked sooner than later. It's easier to cut the ties to your old life, that way." he said quietly, voice carrying through the mostly empty room.
Eyes lowered, she held forth the contract for him to inspect, talking in a quiet, throaty tone. "Signed on all three pages, Sir. As requested, I have already donated all of my belongings to The Estate. All I have, now, are the clothes on my back..."
"Good!" He drawled. "Timely obedience is something expected of all servants on the Estate grounds. You are also expected to obey without question when commanded by anyone of a higher rank than yourself, unless the command contradicts a previous command from myself or my mate. You will spend your first week getting acquainted with life here, and within the first month start receiving your modification therapy. Wait here, your guide will be along presently."
Pacing the rosewood-inlay parquet floor, her thoughts raced ahead as she waited. What would her modification involve? She had caught glimpses upon arriving at the gates of red-tailed post human hybrids, and something darkly scaled moving through the undergrowth, crowding thickly on the sides of the long cobbled drive.
The Estate, known to the outside world as the Chateaux of Dreams, was almost impossible to join as anything more than a servant. Having come into existence at the end of the 23rd century during the beginning of human awakening, it was one of the first and most extreme post-human modification houses. One could, of course, if money was no issue, simply pay for modification and leave, re-enter society as an idol, a model of perfection to those without the means to fulfill their desires. Positions were much in demand and fierce competition existed between the masses of aspiring humans. Females were more often than not selected over males for the symmetry of their bodies, the gentle curves and soft skin favored over the coarser male figure.
The soft slap of bare feet against the wooden floors brought her out of her reverie with a start. Her guide, Shorn, had arrived to lead her into the bowels of the large building. The time had come for her to leave her memories of the outside world behind and start again, begin a new existence.
There were no obvious differences between Shorn and those outside the estate, if one looked past the slight grey fur covering his exposed skin, the strange liquid look of his figure and the depth and clarity of his violet eyes.
His voice was as a stream in high summer, flowing and melodic. Hinting at hidden eddies and rapids. He stood behind her, talking with a slight amused lilt. "Cassandra? Follow me, please. And... Congratulations on your successful application. At this late stage, many aspirants for the position turn back."
Whirling around, Shorn quietly made his way towards the teak doors at the end of the hall. Cassandra followed, stumbling in his wake as the spicy scent of cinnamon roiled subtly off his skin. Neglecting to ask the obvious question, she thought quietly to herself, "The position serves me... As I serve it. Pleasure isn't my hobby, it's my talent".
Led down a red brick staircase hidden behind the doors at the back of the entrance hall, the slightly muggy air cooling as the distinct smell of clinical grade cleaning chemicals wafted up from below, she watched with fascination as the lower halls slowly gave way from crumbling brick and old mortar to clean steel walkways and opaque glass doors, lit with recessed lighting in the high ceiling.
Shorn stopped suddenly, facing an unmarked door. Taking hold of Cassandra's arm, he pulled her gently into the crowded room, the door swinging shut with finality behind them. Cassandra stood in Shorn's shadow, staring meekly at the tall man sitting on a tall stool in the far corner of the room.
