Authors Note: This is a 3-part series with a central theme and reoccurring characters. As such it is suggested to read in numerical order to maintain continuity. This is a story with sex, as opposed to sex with a story. Anticipate deep conversations, intimate connections, and heartfelt moments. All sexual activity is performed by those of age 18+. Please do not copy any of the text for public usage without my permission.
I welcome constructive feedback and comments.
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Prelude
There are some things you need to know, first and foremost. They are important, and throughout this telling I will continue to pause and give such updates. The revelation of details in parts such as these are given so that if you haven't figured out what's happening by then, it becomes something that would otherwise cause head-scratching and confusion - something I would very much like to avoid.
That is why I'm doing it this way. This is a collection of perspectives, one that in the spance of near two weeks changed the course of an estate's life. My estate. There are few things that range higher on my priority list then where I live and who I choose to live it with. They are my everything, and as such they receive my utmost attention and abilities.
Another thing you should know is a little about the encompassing world. My estate is surrounded by a collection of estates owned by different houses (families). It became common and authoritative to state ones house with ones name (House Ravenin, House Gour, House Yayin...etc). As such it also became a calling card and a promise, what a family does and is known for quickly becoming common knowledge. This also became a brand, something to tell someone if you wanted to get out of trouble or into it.
Slaves are common property utilized by all who could afford them. It is an unfortunate circumstance that there must be a division between those that have and those that have not. Land gets sold, families get deposed, estates and houses get ravaged by war. In some cases slavery is a negotiating tool, doing one thing for a set amount of years and receive compensation. In other ways it assures freedom, do this task for certain years in atonement for a crime and be released.
The current state is thus: A border skirmish is presently underway between the elves to the west and the humans. It isn't all the elves, though. Only certain castes or factions are causing the disruptions, those unhappy with the encroachment of humans into their 'gods-given' land and upsetting the natural balance of things that has stood for generations. The other part of the elven population is prospering, creating inspiring cities, port towns, and profitable trade with humans. It has only led to further prosperity and fracturing of their people, clearly defining the haves and the have nots.
Other races have done much the same, and as such those that have the foresight prosper and those that do not rebel. The tremulous peace always erupts into skirmishes on our borders. Contests of lands and minerals from ancient times are traded and sold in modern ones, peacefully bargained over without the need for bloodshed. Yet still there those who oppose openly, blood on their hands and fires in their hearts to return to the old time when ranges were wide open and free.
Those that have prosper, and those that have not rebel. That is the current state, as unfortunate as it is.
The border skirmishes do provide plenty of slaves, though. Those captured during skirmishes are are often sold at auction to cover their debt to estate and land, fulfilling their bargain of forced service for crimes and returned home. Slavery takes many forms and service, some willing and not.
This is the story of my house and estate, a testament of hot days and wonderful nights in the midst of skirmishes, deceit, and hopefully providence.
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The slave auction in Kadatan was always an experience to visit. The sun was bright and warm overhead, pairing nicely with the cool wind gusting down the wide cobble road between the parallel rows of two story buildings.
The weary-eyed elven slaves, ten of them this time, stood on a wooden stage with a yellow and blue banner hung above it. Although dirty and dressed in thread-bare rags, the slaves didn't look like they had been beaten. Captured and caged were more probable, caught during raids that encroached on lands which had been claimed by the estates then imprisoned in accordance to the law for damages caused. Hot heads, really. Righteous to a point, justified to the same length.
Since there was currently a tenuous treaty with the elves, and slaves were considered commodities while on our lands, they were given a choice: five years of honest service in exchange for freedom to return to their lands, or ten years of forced labor in the mines or fields then returned to their lands. Either way if the commitment was completed a service writ was given, a statement of contract closed and a release from custody. Escaping without a writ meant there were no laws or protections, leading to all manner of atrocities.
The writ was the only true way to leave. The slaves were owned, and property wasn't allowed to be damaged by another. Beatings were common after purchase. Some houses survived solely on disciplined slaved labor, and those houses were also remarked as tasteless. There were better ways, honest in keeping with nobility. Civilized folk should act differently, but that didn't stop the leering or jeering at the slaves on the stage by the common folk below. It was all in good fun, mostly.
"So, which do you have your eye on?" asked Jansen, black hair draping down his back in a straight pony tail and a broad nose that had followed his family line for some time now. "I could use that one." I followed his finger that pointed at a muscular male elf that looked ready to spit nails. "Or that one." A smaller elf male, clearly out of his league and shy, looking like he might have been dragged along during a skirmish rather than engaged in combat on his own accord. "A cup bearer, for sure. Five years would be easy for him."
I nodded in assent. "This stock seems younger than the last one. Something stir their hearts recently?"
"Crissone, the port town east of Whalegon on the north western border, was attacked a few weeks ago. These were the ones involved. Their reason for the attack was due to supposed pollution coming down stream and tainting their water." Jansen grunted, shaking his head. "Now they're here. Crissone will take some time to repair due to the most recent raid. Luckily, we have such a willing work force. Lost cause, found labor."
I knowingly nodded, letting my eyes skim the disheveled elven crew. The stout males stood out. They were tall and regal to a fault, a lean musculature that accompanied strong shoulders, with an impression that they were clearly upset to be up there. A few of the females, smaller and thinner by comparison yet no less athletic, held their chins high even as their feet moved nervously.
Even though elves were notoriously hard to age my guess would have been between late twenties and early thirties for any of them, maybe a shy older with the exception of the boy on the end. No doubt they'd heard tales of how slaves were treated. Certain nobles had reputations, ill-fitting and otherwise. I held a few hopes that mine had gotten around. They would recognize a good deal when they saw one.
I had third pick of the stock so I waited until the first two, Jansen and Thoed, had made their purchases. That left six of the stock to pick from: Two adult males, three adult females, along with a young male.
I pointed at one of the larger adult males and one of the females with a proud chin, waving them to the side as I came up to the stage. The slave handler grabbed their bound hands behind their backs, guiding them to where I was standing.
