Chapter 1
Amira restrained a rude sigh as father gestured to one of his dinner servants for another round of mead. This was usually a sign that he intended to begin a lengthy story of his own glories, on the battlefield or otherwise.
It wasn't easy to tell if the traveling merchant Mithras genuinely wanted to hear father's grand tales - or if he merely feigned interest as a tactic of flattery. Such a gambit wouldn't be beyond Mithras, who had already spoken of his business partnerships and noble connections in three different states at the evening's dinner alone. He was accomplished, as father was.
Yet there was something to be said for accomplishments obtained through one's inner merit, rather than those associated with the trappings of a noble office. Those of father's. Although Amira would never dare to interrupt to compare the two - as father continued on with his account of looting a Remosan baggage train after the battle. She'd only heard this story two times before. Her theory was that it was maybe half-true - at most.
The Miraeian noblewoman was twenty-two years of age, with raven black hair, brown eyes tinged with a hint of green. Her light brown, bronze skin kissed with the touch of the sun's warmth, perhaps from her experience in horseback riding as a girl and young woman. A passion that father had been quick to forbid of her as she reached marriageable age.
She had a natural smile that had merited her more than her fair share of compliments. An asset she'd been less inclined to show off lately - since father began arranging her marriage.
It would be a month from today, wouldn't it? Amira had been burying father's plans for her marriage to Tabelek away from active consideration.
The "ideal candidate to advance the interests of House Fire-Blood" in father's eyes, he had told her when he announced she was to be married.
A repulsive slug, in Amira's. She tried even harder to forget the one time she had met him at a function at the royal residence.
Father had finally concluded his war story to Mithras - perhaps having sufficiently thrown a scare into the foreign merchant. Mithras had known better than to emphasize this so far this evening, but he had extensive dealings in Remos. Certainly bringing up ones' personal travels in that land of slavers would've been a convenient way to wear out a welcome with father, who still detested Remos from his experiences of war a decade and a half ago.
Yet, father's finished two glasses of mead, and he's still interested enough in the actions of the former enemy to query Mithras of his travels.
"Tell me," the boorish drunk beckons from across the table. "What are the latest development in the lands to the north? There's no need to be coy, it's known that you've been there."
Mithras smiles in a tacit acknowledgement. It was no crime, of course, to do business in a land with a peace treaty with Mirae, and the trader would be glad to point this out if father insisted otherwise.
"Since the war, Remosan commerce and raiding has focused more on both al-Khan and the lands across the sea. Aramana, namely." Father at least would be relieved that the Remosan weren't actively plotting against Mirae.
"Most of the... captives that end up at the Great Slave Markets in Remos are from these two lands." Mithras chooses his words as artfully as he can. Quite obviously, slavery was a practice that the titled nobles of Mirae found quite objectionable - abhorrent, actually.
"There's no shortage of soldiers and ships in Remos, but it can sometimes prove difficult to organize warfare in a country without a king or centralized leader."
"Barbarians will do as they will." Father was no friend of al-Khan or Aramana, both nations with their own history of conflict with Mirae.
Amira's ears had been piqued at Mithras' description of the world beyond her homeland.
She had read of these Great Slave Markets, of course. A place where women made the captives of Remos would be sold into pleasure slavery.
It was her duty as an well-read, literate noblewoman of Mirae to educate herself on the world and the lands beyond. As unpleasant and uncouth as they were.
She spoke, mindful that every word had to be structured in a manner that wouldn't irritate father.
"These... slave markets," she said, knowing better than to use the official Remosan title for them. "What.. depravity of the barbarians can be seen there? Is it really so that the Remosans trade and exchange women at this market like... like property?"
Feigning offense and horror. Amira wasn't so naive to understand what a slave market was, although it would be interesting to hear it described from someone who had plausibly seen it with their own eyes.
"Yes. Like property, I'm afraid." Mithras has no reason not to answer when a noble of Mirae questions him, even if the topic is one inappropriate for virgin ears. "Women stolen from their homelands. Made to bear their bodies before a full market of ravenous slave owners. Abused, and even whipped by the cruel slavers of Remos if they fight back, unfortunately."
"That's... sickening." Amira said of Mithras' account of the enemy's slave customs. Before Father cut in.
"Enough talk of barbarians. We've already driven them from our lands to avoid learning of their 'ways.'"
Amira nodded lightly, taking great care to hide her rubbing of her knees together underneath her dress. Mithras' description was not unlike the accounts she'd read of in the manuscripts in her bedroom.
*Three hours later*
The Miraeian noblewomen circled the bud of her sensitive clit underneath her fur sheets, the sanctum of her bedroom protective enough to prevent any of father's servants wearing her quiet breaths and moans in the castle hallway.
Father had asked her yesterday when she intended to start packing her possessions when she'd "move" to Tabelek castle in the south of Mirae. Amira dreaded the day she'd have to make real preparations for father's plans for her, and only intended to do as such imminently before.
It certainly wasn't her impending marriage that stifled her erotic curiousities. Of course not.
Rather, Mithras' description of the Remosan Great Slave Markets had piqued some of her innermost fantasies.
Namely, the idea of serving a powerful and wealthy Master as his... slave. Being disciplined, trained. Wearing a collar, fulfilling his pleasures, distinguishing herself as a Master's favorite pet. Made to develop the potent slut elements of her sexuality, traits she'd hidden her entire life in Mirae.
Of course, before a girl was even made a slave in Remos, she'd have to be sold at the markets. One of the manuscripts she kept hidden in a locked compartment of her dresser had explained as such; written by a woman who'd lived in Remos for six years. A slave's status was finalized by her tattoo after her sale, which distinguished her from a freewoman.
Amira exhaled in a lusty breath as she imagined being whipped and abused before a market audience, as the merchant had described. Surely she'd be compelled to display every last inch of her enticing, youthful body. But one of the manuscripts she'd read had described girls for sale being whipped on their sensitive tits no matter how cooperative they proved with the auction process. The Remosans liked seeing foreigner sluts be disciplined with a slaver's whip, the firsthand account had indicated.
Gods, she'd give them what they wanted. Pressing her tits forward as the slaver stung them with a whip. Surely one of the most wealthy and powerful lords of Remos would notice what a fine slave slut she'd make, she imagined.
Amira arched her hips into the air as she toyed with herself, fingers toying with her sensitive clit intermittently before slipping inside her tight, clean cunt. She'd never known the sensation of manhood claiming her body before, although the idea of bringing one of father's stable attendants upstairs to deny Tabelek her virginity had come to mind.
At least, if the poor man didn't stand the risk of being executed if father found out.
Amira penetrated herself with the near-entire length of two entire fingers; her left hand touching her perky tit, finding a hard, stimulated nipple for her to twist and pull. She liked to toy with her nipples when she was nearing an orgasm - just because she was a virgin didn't mean she knew nothing of sexual pleasures.
Of course, Remosan slave custom required a pleasure slave to obtain permission from her Master to orgasm. A woman had described this custom in one of the manuscripts she'd combed over; including the strict session of punishment she'd received for climaxing twice without permission in her very first month of slavery.
Amira was subject to no such requirement. She huffed in muted, breathy gasps as two fingers circled her well-stimulated clit, bringing her to the point of climax. Imagining not her pending marriage, but the trappings of slavery. A Master in Remos would decide if a pet was worthy of such pleasures, Amira had read; it was unlikely Tabelek would even care after finishing with her.
The noblewoman slumped her abdomen back on her bed as she finished with her self-play. Catching her breath, tasting of the night's cool air. Her session of midnight fun having left her exerted; she reached for the vase of water kept at her bedside. Empty; she'd make sure to wipe her face with a fine cloth and place a dark cloak over her nightgown before going to the cistern spout down the castle wing.
It was well into the night when Amira walked to the common room; she'd struggled to sleep restfully since father had explained the marriage arrangement he'd intended for her.
The common room was down the hallway; the servants would've retired to their downstairs quarters at this hour. Amira wasn't expecting to find a single guest in the common room; having forgotten that father was lodging Mithras in the castle's finest visitors' suites. The traveling merchant was viewing the stars and the moon through the common room's stained-glass window; one panel opened for observation.
"Lady Amira." Mithras bows politely, respectfully enough. The nightgown-clad woman of the castle acknowledging his presence with a mere whisper.
The opportunity to discuss with this traveler outside of father's stern presence wasn't a chance she intended to discard carelessly.
"Guests often notice the many stars in the sky when they're staying up here." Indeed, the highest floor of father's castle offered the finest view of the surrounding lands - barring the observation tower.
"I can certainly see why. With my own eyes." Mithras hails the view, soon pointing with a finger into the night sky. "Do you see?" Beckoning Amira closer, to the window. "The North Star. If you follow that star, you'll always be northbound. Quite useful, when one is far from home on a road they couldn't name for their lives."
"I'll be going in that direction later that week, of course. Going north, for business. To Remos." Amira's ears perked at Mithras' words.
"To... the land of the barbarians?" Such frank language would've been a faux pas at dinner earlier tonight, especially in the presence of father.
"That's what you people call them."
Mithras was of course bolder outside of his company, Amira knew. An opportunity for her to learn more of the world beyond the confines father limited her to.
"I don't call them that. My father does. I know little of Remos," Amira asserted to Mithras. The last sentence of her statement is arguably a lie, although it was true she would know far less about the lands to the north than Mithras.
