Slave Unbound

Chapter 19

Rewards and Punishments

**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.

The act of putting on her tunic brought a wince, a flare of dull pain from the cracked rib in her torso, but it still felt good to be actually getting dressed to go out to the practice yard. Not killing the assassin hadn't, as she had feared, brought any kind of rebuke from the Mistress. In fact, she had come down to the healer's room upon their return to the House to praise her for the win. Her main reward for it was to no longer be under Cookie's thumb, but she's also promised another, very special, reward to be received later. For Leita though, just being free of the capricious and foul concubine was good enough.

It had not all been good news yesterday, however, as two of the House's gladiators had not walked out the arena on their own feet. One of them had been Myrinus. The blue-lipped mariner had fallen in his fight with Lamaran, apparently getting quickly overwhelmed by the other man's skill, despite his confidence that it would not be a difficult combat. While he'd not died, he was hanging by a thread in the healer's room, Einrich doing his best just to keep the man breathing.

The other gladiator, a fairly new purchase named Tobin, had foolishly charged directly into a lot's spear, effectively managing to kill himself. She remembered how cocky he had seemed in the training yard, touting about how he had once been a military officer in the Dassidon Empire and was a seasoned warrior. Apparently, his skills in combat had not been equal to his ability to boast.

Though always sobering to lose a member of the stable, she felt far more troubled over Myrinus's critical health than Tobin's ignoble death. She'd found the mariner to be a relatively good-natured man and someone she had begun to take a kind of liking to, considering their activities. Even with her no longer needing to pacify Cookie, she could easily see herself having the occasional, casual, interlude of intimacy with the man in the future. Assuming he survived.

Sasinel gathered the attention of the room with a sharp bark, announcing the arrival of guards to escort them from the women's dormitory and out into the training pitch. Guarded attendants came in to put them all in shackles for moving through the House before they were herded out into the hallways and ushered along. Leita managed to get into the chain line directly behind the sidil.

"I assume we will not be doing any special training today, with Myrinus down." She said quietly to her pale friend.

Sasinel gave a shake of her head, frowning. "Kalder will require me to help with general training. Any further news of Myrinus, hei? Will it hinder you training today, hei? It is likely that the worse may happen, and I know you had become close with him."

Leita sighed. "I've heard nothing since yesterday when I was being treated for my own injuries. And I am worried for him, but I am prepared."

"For his death, hei?" Sasinel asked, peering at her. "Or to train today, hei?"

"Both." Leita returned absently. "Death is something we all have to be prepared for and I am always ready to learn."

Sasinel considered her for a long moment, the mixture of respect and empathy easy to read on her sidillian features. However, she said nothing more as they continued on.

As they reached the exit to the yard, attendants released them one by one from their fetters to join the men who were being released through a separate door up the hall. Being second in line, Leita was among the first to see the unexpected tableau waiting for them in the training yard. It made her stop in her tracks and gasp, a reaction that many others, male and female alike, mirrored as they came into the yard behind her.

At the center of the pitch stood Mistress Marlowe and Cookie, a knot of guards gathered about them. The concubine was stripped completely naked and heavily chained, kneeling in the grass beside the HouseMistress. It was evident that she'd not slept somewhere comfortable last night, as her frenzied hair was full of bits of straw and dirt and her sweaty flesh was filthy.

It was also clear that she was in great anguish, tears liberally running tracks down her soiled face. She looked worn and exhausted, but otherwise unharmed, save for the injuries to her dignity and pride. She seemed unable to look at anything but the earth in front of her knees.

Mistress Marlowe had a pair of attendants begin gesturing for the gladiators to approach and gather in front of the scene, more guards coming to flank about them for added security. It was unlikely anyone would actually attempt anything, if only to satisfy their curiosity for what was going on, but having the HouseMistress in the midst of entire stable of gladiators evidently made the guards very uneasy. Leita could seem them gripping their weapons especially tightly.

"Let me begin by informing you that our Element of Water has woken from the fever of his injuries and Einrich is optimistic that he will eventually fully recover." Mistress Marlowe began once the whole stable had gathered and fallen quiet. She gave a brief pause to allow the gathering to give hearty cheers at this news. For Leita, it was a sigh of relief, but she noticed that this revelation seemed to make Cookie's anguish double for some reason.

After a moment, the Mistress raised her hand into the air for them to quiet once more before continuing. "Upon waking, he told a rather interesting story. It would seem that his loss was the cause of treachery. Just before he was put out into the sands, a knife was stabbed into him, meant to wound him mortally and incapacitate him enough that it would seem his death came at the hands of his opponent. Fortunately, the people of the southern reaches are made of much stronger stuff than expected."

Again, the Mistress paused for effect and to allow for reactions, this time composed of a number of sounds of outrage, mixed with more cheers for the surviving gladiator. After a moment, she quieted them again, though this took a little more effort than last time.

"It has been determined that the instigator of this was also an accomplice to the trap that was lain for another of our stable yesterday." She looked directly at Leita, which guided the eyes of most of the rest of the stable to her as well. Leita, however, directed her gaze at Cookie, already deducing who it was that the Mistress was talking about.

If Cookie's current state had not been a very obvious clue of her involvement, it would still have been easy to deduce that the hateful woman would back any plot to see Leita harmed through treachery. There was also little difficulty in believing that she'd have tried to have Myrinus killed as some kind of revenge. It was obvious that their displays of carnality had been more than consensual. Likely, Cookie assumed that hurting him would hurt her, since she'd managed to survive her own trap.

"Leita." The Mistress called out, over the sounds of whispers from the gathered gladiators. "Come forward."

Without any hesitation, Leita stepped up to the Mistress and Cookie, her eyes still fixed on the later with a quickly growing sense of loathing.

"These acts were aimed, both directly and, most likely, indirectly, at you, by my concubine, Cookie." She lowered a hand in gesture to the kneeling, wretched, woman beside her. "So, my reward for your impressive victory over your foe yesterday is to be the decider of her punishment and her fate."

Leita's eyes snapped up to look at the Mistress, fully taken aback by the words she'd just heard. "Me, Mistress?" She asked hesitantly, unsure that she was really understanding.

"Yes, Leita." The HouseMistress said with a nod. "Whatever you decide that should be done to her, I shall see done. Just as you have control over who lives and dies on the arena sand, you now have the same control here. What would you have done with her?"

Leita took a long moment, staring down at Cookie, considering her choice, deaf to the wash of mutterings from the rest of the stable. A petty part of her wanted to give the horrible woman suffering of the worst kind. She'd been foul since the first day they'd met, petty and arrogant, flaunting her power over Leita and all others under her. If she deserved any mercy at all, it was very little.

And yet, Leita found herself feeling a strange pity for the woman. She was damaged. Most likely broken from her previous days in a collar and further warped by the granted power of getting to return the injustices she may have once faced upon others. For a brief moment, Leita realized that Cookie could be her someday, if she gave in to that same kind of vindictive nature.

"Then, if the choice is mine, I say she should fight for her chance to be forgiven." Leita said thoughtfully. "Put her in the arena to fight a lot this next week, armed and garbed in the same fashion as her opponent. If she wins, she is forgiven. If she dies, then that is her fate." She looked up at the Mistress. "Until she fights, just to give her a chance, she will train this next week in the yard with the stable, live as one of us, until she has either earned her life or faced her death."

Mistress Marlowe regarded Leita with an interesting expression, seeming both surprised and a little disappointed by the choice, but also strangely awed. Finally, she looked to Cookie and gave a sharp nod. "Then so it shall be. Cookie will spend this week training and living as a gladiator, and next week the sands will decide her fate." She paused and looked back to Leita.

"However, what should we do if she loses her fight, but isn't killed?" She asked, almost amusedly.

Leita was already prepared to answer this, a slight grin on her face. "Then she fights again the next week, until she either wins or she dies trying, Mistress. That way, she can't simply just surrender in hopes of being done with it all." She paused a moment, letting a petty little part of her add something. "Also, Mistress, she should train in the yard in nothing but a pair of shoes. It makes it much easier to see how she is moving her body, or so I'm told."

There was a rash of laughter among the gathered stable, with which the Mistress joined after a moment. Smiling, she nodded her agreement. "Well, I will defer to your experience there." She chuckled. "I would have chosen the whip for her, or worse, had I been in your place. However, I gave her fate to you and I honor what I offer, so I will abide. Hopefully, she will recognize the mercy she has been given."

Leita rather doubted that Cookie would, nor would she be very kind should she manage to regain her place in the House. However, Leita felt she would gain something from the perspective and, more importantly, her death, should it come, would not be directly by Leita's decision. Of course, given the looks of dark glee on many of the faces around her, faces of slaves who were often tormented by Cookie simply for her own amusement, the foul woman might have preferred a quick death before it was over.

And, if Cookie did decide to try and get some kind of revenge on her, she had now earned quite a bit of respect and support from her stablemates. They would likely be more than open to helping her counter whatever vengeance Cookie might bring.

Further still, if she had any feel for their Mistress, her abiding by the decision to allow Cookie to be forgiven didn't mean that Mistress Marlowe would let such a betrayal be so easily erased from her own books. She'd very likely keep a much tighter rein on the woman afterwards, if not dismiss her outright.

At the Mistress's orders, a pair of guards took Cookie away to be cleaned up and fitted with a stable collar, the concubine so distraught that had to be nearly dragged along. As they left, the Mistress gestured to Kalder that he may start the daily training and the rock-like man immediately began barking instructions, organizing sparring groups, and breaking up the gathering so the Mistress might leave.

However, before she did leave, she reached out a hand towards Leita, commanding her attention. "I wish for you to remain with me this afternoon, my dear." She said, gesturing to the space next to her. Leita obeyed without question, approaching with her hands forward for a guard to place restraints on her.

However, the Mistress held up a blocking hand to the guard who was stepping forward with manacles. "I don't believe that is necessary. Leita likes it here, don't you?"

Leita blinked a moment, caught off guard by the comment and the unexpected show of trust. "I am a gladiator of House Firebridge, Mistress. A proud one, if that is enough for you."

"It is." She said with a smile, again gesturing to the guard that the manacles wouldn't be necessary. "I would hope that my bodyguards would be more than sufficient to stop an unarmed girl from doing me any harm, should you decide to."

Leita looked to the men, who seemed none-too-pleased with the arrangement, but quickly returned her gaze to her Mistress and nodded. "I have no intent to do you harm, my Mistress. On my honor."

"I believe you, Leita." She replied with a smile. Dismissing the excess guards back to their various posts, leaving only her personal bodyguards following behind them, they returned back into the House and began walking down the corridor before she said anything more.

"You know that Cookie was an accomplice in the conspiracy against you yesterday, but have you deduced who it was that arranged it to begin with?" She asked casually, apparently curious just how perceptive Leita might be.

"I have, my Mistress." Leita answered confidently. "As well as who armed the spellcaster with his arcane tools." She added, noting a look of surprise cross her Mistress's face. Likely Mistress Marlowe had not considered the two events to be connected.

"And whom do you suspect?" She inquired, seeming even more interested now.

"I more than suspect, Mistress." Leita replied. "I am confident that my old owner, the Baroness Wilholme is who is behind all these attacks. She had intended for me to die as a lot, humiliated and afraid. I disappointed her in that. I fully believe this, the spellcaster, and even the viciousness of the first gladiator I faced were all arranged by her to ensure that I die and do so horribly."

Mistress Marlowe marveled at her a moment, seeming truly surprised by Leita's intuition. "You are correct, Leita." She said finally. "And quite sharp to have seen this. I am quite proud of your astute intuition. She has, indeed, been trying to tamper with your battles in order to make you suffer or worse." She reached over and brushed a hand down Leita's cheek. "I must say, I am pleased she has failed thus far."

Leita reached up to gently take hold of her Mistress's hand, an act that had her guards' swords out as fast as lightening, but Leita did not flinch, only kept her gaze on her Mistress. "As am I, Mistress." She said, giving her fingers a kiss. "And that I please you."

The words, the affectionate gesture, and the amorous look in Leita's eyes took the breath from her Mistress for a moment. The reaction only made Leita feel more bold. Since her Mistress had wanted her to learn how to seduce someone, she intended to show that she had learned well. Paying no attention to the bodyguards, who were still tensing to cut her down, Leita continued to softly give attention to her Mistress's hand, turning her face to bring her lips to the fingertips and place a delicate kiss there.

The HouseMistress made no effort to free her hand, actually gesturing for her protectors to stand down with the other. She seemed entirely off-guard, surprised beyond measure by Leita's forward behavior. For all her surprise, however, she seemed far more intrigued with its possibilities. "My dear Leita, are you trying to curry my favor?"

Leita smiled seductively at her. "Of course, Mistress." She said slyly. "If she will allow me, I would be happy to show her just how well I can 'curry her favor'." She gave the woman a look of such intense ardor that she felt the hand quiver ever so slightly beneath her lips and saw a faint blush of crimson bloom into Mistress Marlowe's features.

"Is there no end to the surprises within you, girl?" She breathed, seeming to not even realize that she'd spoken the words aloud. Leita, for all her real inexperience, felt certain that the look in her Mistress's eyes was one of amorous thirst. She recognized the look of lust quite easily, having seen it many times before when dealing with the furtive advances of guests to the Baroness's home, who'd seen her as something they could play with.

However, this wasn't just a look of base carnal whim. She was certain that it was a look of true, covetous, desire. "You are without your concubine, Mistress, for a week, if not longer. Since I took her from you, should I not offer myself as some kind of replacement?"

"I do believe that is an excellent point, darling." Mistress Marlowe replied breathlessly, her own ardor growing by the second. "I must admit, when I first acquired you, I didn't realize just how truly alluring you could be. I am so used to the over-polished illusion of painted on beauty that I was blind to the natural appeal of your innate attractiveness. However, you have certainly grown more desirable with time."

"Thank you, Mistress." Leita purred stepping a little closer and caressing the side of her Mistress's face. "I thought you to be very beautiful the first time I saw you. I have desired to impress you and be called to your chambers for some time, Mistress. I want to taste you on my lips and take that flavor with me into battle for you and House Firebridge."

A rush of thrill ran through Leita at the way the HouseMistress's lips trembled, at the way her breath caught slightly on the inhale. The note of vulnerable need that echoed in her eyes. In that moment, Leita was the one in control, was the one who held her Mistress's chain. It felt exhilarating and she reveled in that power.

"Take me to your bed, Sabrina." She whispered. "Surrender to yourself to your slave, as you have never surrendered to anyone in your life. Let me run my fingers through you, stoke the deepest embers within you. Let me show you what it is like to be taken, instead of the one taking."

There was a brief, intense, moment that they shared, like a current of lightening running between their bodies. Sabrina seemed left utterly speechless, unsure how to react to this unabashed boldness. In the next moment, she was propelling them at all speed towards her bed chambers.

The volume of protests made by the HouseMistress's bodyguards as she commanded them all from her bedroom as they arrived ran near to insubordination. They warned that she was being fooled, that Leita was dangerous and not to be trusted. In the end, they had no more power over her than any slave. Any slave, perhaps, other than Leita, who held her owner in a firm grip of seduction and want. Maybe the woman was drawn to the danger of it, maybe she simply found herself needing someone to trust, even if just for an hour, in a world where trust was less than a myth.

Whatever the reason, Leita found herself completely alone with Sabrina Marlowe, without the discomfort of having an audience for their lovemaking. And with the sanctity of being the one who chose this act instead of having it forced upon her. As soon as the door to the room was closed, she was upon the sensual House owner, kissing her with a passion that felt akin to the fury she felt on the sands. She tore open Sabrina's gown roughly, attacking the bare flesh beneath it with her mouth.