Slave Unbound

Chapter 3

Making Deals

**Characters and text are protected under copyright law

Disclaimer: This story is not meant as 'erotica', but dark adventure-fantasy. It may contain material that sensitive readers might find uncomfortable. Please be advised.

Cornelius sneered at his image within the large mirror, vainly soaking in all the handsome details of his reflection. He was a man with very little to not feel arrogant about. As the owner of House Victorious, one of the more prominent gladiatorial houses of the Grand Arena, he was wealthy and powerful beyond desire. He was of lower noble birth, but highly respected and revered in the social elite of Solace. He was a man of great physical beauty and health. And he had a singularly brilliant and ruthless mind. He was the kind of man that kings longed to be.

Perhaps that might be a bit overstatement, but it was closer to truth than to not being. Only two houses in the Grand Arena were considered of higher prestige than his, though neither especially towered over his in that regard. In his corral was several of the more popular and famous gladiators. Most considered him spectacularly attractive, his charisma of personality trumping even his physical looks. He'd wooed royalty into his bed before with his charms.

Because of those charms and his generally high standing and regard among the aristocracy, it was common for him to entertain and receive visitors regularly, many of much higher social pedigree in the hierarchy, often begging him for a few minutes of time. Such was the case of the Baroness he was intentionally keeping waiting in his parlor. He enjoyed making people have to wait for him, usually spending his time mugging and primping before his mirror, making sure everything on him was perfect.

Behind him in the reflection, the mostly naked form of his personal pleasure slave, Delphine, lounged upon his bed. Long russet hair tousled and wild about her, shapely limbs languidly splayed, she seemed half asleep, though Cornelius knew that she was quite aware and ready for anything her Master asked. The long delicate chain running from her gilded collar to the heavy ring mounted in the bed's headboard, pooled around her amid the satin bedclothes. It was long enough that she could move some distance out from the bed, long enough that she could come to where he stood before the mirror and drape her remarkable body about him like a cloak.

For a moment, he considered having her come over, kneel before him and please him while he watched in the mirror. The idea of making the Baroness wait impatiently for him while he had his slave's mouth gave him a giddy thrill of mischief. There was no doubt that she was waiting very impatiently, he knew her well enough to be certain, but knew also that she would pretend that she had not minded any length of wait he gave her.

Like many female noblewomen, she longed to have him seduce her, or at least just pretend to, bored and neglected by her husband. She was not especially unattractive, though far older a woman than Cornelius ever took to bed with him. However, just the suggestion that he might ever consider her in such ways would be enough to make her sit and heel like a faithful hound or even an obedient slave. The thought once again made him consider having Delphine come serve him while he watched in the mirror, but he ultimately decided against it.

The truth was, he felt a spark of curiosity at her visit, as the Baroness Wilholme never came without some form of formal advance notice. She was a woman of great propriety, despite her obvious desires towards him, which meant that she'd consider an unannounced visit from a married woman to an unmarried man to be the height of scandal. Further, she'd chosen to meet with him alone in a private parlor, something else that might be considered improper for her. Likely, her desires had overcome her sense of decorum, probably fueled by her husband's well-known infidelities.

While she might not be to his usual standards of youth and beauty, he might be swayed to make an exception for her, to some degree at least. She was far from unappealing enough and there was something delicious about the idea of despoiling, even just a little, a woman of such rigid sensibilities. The idea of putting such a prudish woman on her knees gave a swell of arousal to him that would make it well worth setting aside his usual standards.

Cornelius made a final inspection of himself, teasing his bangs a final time, before finally taking his leave of the mirror and striding confidently out of his bedroom and through his large manor towards the parlor where his servants had left the Baroness to wait for him. He paused only a moment outside the parlor door, mentally setting himself. The key to always having the upper hand with those over him in social station was always having a flawless aura of confidence and power. While Cornelius had no lack of confidence in general, projecting it strongly enough was always a concern.

Finally ready, Cornelius entered the parlor with all the presence of a monarch. Within, he found the Baroness Wilholme seated upon a small plush divan, the thinnest mask of calm barely covering her seething impatience. Feigning a look of regret and apology, Cornelius gave a slight shake of his head and gracious smile.

"I beg your forgiveness, Baroness, for your wait." He said in a syrupy tone that instantly reduced the boiling irritation within her significantly. "I fear that I was engaged in a bath when you arrived." He saw the momentary twitch of her features at this 'admission', followed by the faintest blush coming to her cheeks as she was obviously imagining him immersed in a tub, likely mentally adding herself to the picture.

"Then I thank you for your indulgence of the interruption, Housemaster." The Baroness returned with a slightly breathy voice, as she rose gracefully from her seat, smoothing her dress with a slightly fidgety motion. "I apologize for the unannounced visit."

"Think naught of it, my lady." He replied with a slight bow of reverence, showing all proper respect, but inwardly smiling at the fact that he now had her asking forgiveness when it was himself who had kept her waiting. "I am always happy to entertain, especially such a stately noblewoman as yourself."

The slight blush about her face deepened a little and a little smile forced its way to her lips. "Thank you, Cornelius. You flatter me, as always."

He renewed his little bow, then straightened. "Can I interest the lady in a glass of wine?" He offered, gesturing towards a small cabinet nearby.

There was a slight hesitation as she considered it, but she finally gave her head a slight shake. "Thank you, but no."

"Well, the offer shall stand, should you change your mind." He said with a courteous smile as he went to the cabinet anyway, fetching out a decanter and wineglass. "You are a guest in my home."

"Most gracious of you." She returned with a little inclination of her head, looking as though she were trying to free herself of the spell of charm and seduction he was starting to weave. "However, it is not on a social call that I have come to visit you today."

Cornelius paused a moment, prepared to fill the glass with wine, peering at her curiously. "You are here regarding Arena business?" He asked, cocking a manicured eyebrow towards her. Despite his position, this was somewhat unexpected.

"I am." She replied formally, straightening herself a moment while she fought to regain her composure. "I have come to request that your house accept a lot against a slave I have sold to the Arena as a combatant."

Yet again, Cornelius paused in surprise. This was even more unexpected. "You have a lot in the Grand Arena, my lady?" He asked rather inanely, inwardly wincing at his surprised response, realizing his shock was costing him his advantage here.

"Yes." The Baroness replied, now with her sense of presence in full bloom, obviously recognizing the opportunity to take the upper hand in this exchange. "As I have said, I have sold one of my house slaves to be sent into the arena as an open combat. I wish to make sure that whatever House accepts the battle takes it seriously."

Cornelius stashed away the decanter, taking a sip of the expensive wine to give him a moment to recover and, hopefully, recapture command of the moment. "Of course, my lady." He said a moment later, putting forth his most charming demeanor, complete with sly grin and a sparkle of seductive eye that would make any woman flutter. "I always take such things quite seriously. What sort of battle-slave have you come into possession of? Or is this perhaps some rowdy Orling yardboy that needs taming?"

The Baroness cleared her throat, suddenly looking slightly uncomfortable. "One of my maid-slaves. A girl whom I wish to see made an example of by dying in the Arena."

Yet again, Cornelius was caught off guard, but his recovery was quick and his response drew a somewhat displeased expression from the noblewoman. He laughed out loud. "A maid? You want House Victorious to accept a lot against a common slave girl?" He tossed back a mouthful of the wine. "I am third highest House in the Arena, my lady. Such a lot would be beneath my gladiators. Such a fight is more fitting for one of the lower Houses, at best. Better, this seems more like a matter to be settled by your whip than by the arena, my lady."

Baroness Wilholme's mouth drew up in a tight purse, her eyes narrowing dangerously. The look of anger and arrogant pride stole much of the Housemaster's mirth. "I am in no mood to be mocked, Cornelius. This girl is not just some wretch I wish to see punished. This is an example I wish to set for the rest of my slaves. I intend to bring several to witness the fate of this girl upon the sand, a fate that I want to make sure is horrible, painful, and resulting in her brutal death."

The fiery passion, almost maniacal, that flared in the noblewoman's eyes gave Cornelius serious pause. Gone now was all the humor of the moment, as well as any thoughts of seducing this woman. All of a sudden, she seemed less like a woman and far more like a venomous viper, coiled and ready to strike at anyone stupid enough to incite her fury. Despite this, what she was proposing was near to ridiculous. Had her submission to the arena been some male work slave, well-muscled from labor, or a female prison slave that had previously been a bandit, he might could have simply set one of his fledgling gladiators to it, if the slave turned out to be somewhat formidable it might even prove a decent notch in the fighter's belt.

A house maid, however! He felt quite certain this girl would be little more than just a base execution on the Baroness' behalf. There would be no prestige or valor to be had, even by his freshest gladiator, in dismembering some trembling little scullery girl. It was beneath his House and would be a stain of dishonor he'd spend weeks washing away in society.

"My lady, I can see you are very serious about this." He began, trying to project as much diplomatic influence as he was able to muster. "And I would be very happy to use my influence and position to make sure that this lot is taken up by a House that will treat it with the brutality you wish to see brought to it. However, House Victorious has a reputation to maintain."

She took a sudden step forward, eyes blazing. "It is that very reputation that I wish to make use of, Cornelius. I do not want some low-end fighter to see this done, I want my slaves to see that I have the influence and power to see this handled by a House of distinction and prestige. If I simply wanted this girl dead, I would kill her myself. I want this to be a spectacle. I want her death to be SEEN."

Suddenly, Cornelius understood. A low House would attract only a small crowd, whereas his House, one of the major players in the Grand Arena, would have a full attendance. As she said, this was meant to be an example. Only, he realized, this wasn't meant as an example for her slaves. The pieces fell into place for him instantly: a young female slave, a husband renown for infidelity, a public execution in the most brutal place in the world.

The Baron had obviously bedded this poor wench and the Baroness wanted to send a message to her wayward husband. 'This is what I do to your playthings.' She was not the sort of woman who publically announced that her husband was unfaithful, that would be improper. She could not confront him, as her power was power he gave to her and was able to be taken away. So, her recourse was this little show of defiance.

Sadly, if Cornelius knew the Baron, he'd care little, even he ever noticed the display against him. Likely, this was nothing more than just some impotent rattle of what little bit of saber the Baroness had. Meaningless and puerile. However, as it was all she had, her determination to have this, at least this, would be important to her.

With a sigh, Cornelius drained the remainder of his glass of wine. "I will need something to sweeten this arrangement, my lady." He said lowly, eyes fixed away from her, his power once more regained. In the end, Baroness or not, her ability to really affect him was sorely limited, though she could still prove trifling enough in social circles to be more annoyance than denying her vengeance would be worth. In the end, she needed him for this. She'd come to him because she had enough of a relationship with him already to even broach the request. Any other House of stature would send her away disappointed, especially one above him in prestige.

"Simply taking on a lot against a little slave girl would look bad for my House, but if the rewards were significant enough, even such a pitiful display might be explainable." He said slowly, striding across the room to the hearth within the room, his gait full of arrogance and pride. "Can you attach a proper price to your need to set this example?"

Smoothing her gown, as though it had become as ruffled as her emotions, the Baroness calmed and smiled. "I already have, Cornelius. I have attached a prize of three hundred crescent to the Arena's lot, paid only at the result of her death."

Three hundred gold coins was quite the purse indeed, high even compared to many of the prizes for lots he willingly took for his house, and this one would be in addition to whatever pittance the Arena itself attached to it. Still, he sensed he had the leverage to push. "That is a considerable sum, my lady. Still, even with such a public reward attached, my House will take some damage to its reputation. A private addendum might make such matters worthwhile, my lady."

The Baroness bristled slightly, but mastered herself quickly, stepping a little closer. "I'm sure I might could add something extra, privately." She ventured, her voice turning silky and her fingers absently playing at her skirts.

However, Cornelius had no more desire to grant this lady anything that might prove as enjoyable for her desires as his. His smile turned into something a bit wicked as he shifted to face her. "I will accept the 'Virgin Upon the Sholes', which I hear hangs in your personally gallery hall." The stricken look upon her face at the demand made it all worth it.

The painting was nothing especially wonderful in itself, but was the final work of the master painter, Edrick Alsworth, before his untimely death. It was worth a whole township in value, which is to say, essentially priceless. Having come into possession of it had been quite a feather in the Baron's cap and his gifting it to his wife at her thirty-fifth birthday had been quite the talk of Solace at the time. Since, it was something she'd often bragged over at parties and social events.

That she hadn't instantly refused told him that her desperation was more than enough to push the matter. "Surely my lady's vengeance is worth a paltry old oil painting. It was not even his best work, Farah." He made sure to emphasis the use of her first name as he moved back to the cabinet to refill his glass, confident that he had her well in his palm.

The Baroness' jaw fluttered a moment before she uttered a sigh. "Might I accept that offer for a glass, Cornelius?"

"Certainly." He replied with a sly smile, removing another glass.

"I want her to suffer, Cornelius." She said defiantly as she accepted the wine. "Suffer and then die. If she does not suffer, I keep the painting. And remember that the purse, as well as the painting, is paid only upon her death. If she survives, you get nothing."

Cornelius nodded. "Of course." He said, tipping his glass towards her in reverence. "I will make sure to assign someone who will make sure that her time upon the sands is full of torment and pain. Someone who will provide you with the spectacle you desire. And, when it is over, he will hack her into pieces. If you like, I can have one preserved for you to—"

The Baroness made a grimace and waved away the comment. "That much is not necessary. I have no desire to replace my painting with anything so grisly. That her death will be long and hideous will be worth its loss." She turned her face away from him, drinking heavily from the glass, obviously in an effort to hide her dissatisfaction at her losses in this deal.

"So, what is this girl's name?" He asked conversationally.

"Does it matter?" She asked, turning back to him. "She is registered at lot #211, the private purse undisclosed for the moment to insure that a lesser House doesn't sign for it before yours can."

Cornelius smiled and took a long draw off the wine, already imagining where he would hang the 'Virgin Upon the Sholes'. "No, it doesn't matter. It's not like anyone will remember it once she's dead anyway."