A New Slave Part 2

Jp with Rosmary and D2wintr

Trembling in fear at Lucretia's threat, Orla's chest seemed to cave in at the stark realisation that there was absolutely nothing she could say to alter the horrendous situation she was in, and that any more attempts would be worse than useless. She allowed herself to be led defeatedly out of the room and through the sorceress's opulent abode. Fine tapestries worked in gold decorated the corridors, and equally expensive rugs from the Southern Kingdoms were strewn about the polished marble floor. And all about, through the many lancet shaped windows, was the great grey-hued desert known as the Sea of Ash, a view that was a constant reminder she was a long way from home.

The chamber to which she was brought was encased in tinted glass with wooden benches running alongside these transparent walls, and in the centre was a huge, but empty, mosaic-tiled pool. Beside the pool was a table bearing an assortment of washcloths, sponges, combs, brushes, perfumed soaps, and various bottles of oils and lotions. The house slave known as Soo, knelt and twisted some brass knobs near the bath, causing the pool to begin to fill.

Orla pressed her face up to the glass and curiously peered outside at the manor's landscaped grounds, the busy street beyond replete with camels and exotic chariots; and beyond the street, the unending desert vista farther in the distance. It occurred to her she did not even know which city she was even in. If she was to escape she would need to learn where she was situated in relation to Zatar's borders and main roads. Should she take a wrong turn she could easily end up being recaptured or simply dying for want of food and water. In her present diminished state without her magic she doubted that she would be strong enough to survive the great many days it would take to reach a neighbouring kingdom on foot.

“Don't worry, the glass is reflective; you can see out, but not in,” Soo suddenly spoke.

“Oh, that's a nice trick,” Orla said, assaying a smile.

“Most windows of wealthy homes are like that in Zatar to guard against spies and rivals. Mistress is a great lady and also has many suitors seeking her hand, and they can be very persistent at times.” Soo came over with a wicker basket and set it down in front of Orla. “Well, girl, take everything off,” she said briskly. “Your dress, your shoes, any jewellery you're wearing, and put it all in the basket.”

Orla's eyes widened at the request and she grew uncomfortable as she saw the other woman didn't intend to give her any privacy to undress for her bath. “What will happen to it all?” she asked, stalling.

“Your things?” Soo smiled condescendingly. “They're from your old life. You won't need them any more. So they'll be thrown in a fire, just like An'neer said.”

Orla's hand trembled as she reached up to pull off an earring Horo had bought her. Tears threatened, but she managed to restrain them until the slave girl turned and walked a few steps away. She wondered how long she could expect to be trapped here until Horo tracked her down or whether she could manage to escape on her own. She was dismayed to have to once more be rescued by someone, especially Horo who had devoted decades of his life to finding her after she had been magically pulled into that amber stone crystal by Ceriden.

Soo knelt by the pool to fill a basin with the already steaming water. She soaked a scrub cloth and soaped it thoroughly, then stood and started back to Orla, at which point she noticed that Orla was still very much dressed.

“You were told to strip,” Soo said in annoyance.

“Well, yes, about that,” Orla responded awkwardly. “I would prefer to bathe myself... if that would be fine with you?”

The house girl smirked. “Don't tell me you're modest?”

“A little,” Orla admitted. “So, if you wouldn't mind if I washed on my own...?” She smiled, trying to win the other woman over.

Soo's expression didn't budge. “I was told by my mistress to wash you until all your skin is shining like a pearl, and that's what I'm going to do.”

Embarrassment caused the temperature of Orla's face to increase. Her mind frantically sought a way out of this dreadful predicament, but she soon saw that she really had no choice in the matter. The house slave's mouth had set into a thin line. “Strip! If I have to tell you again, I'll send word to An'neer that you're being disobedient—and she will tell Mistress, and Mistress will come and enjoy whipping the hide off you!”

Orla did not doubt it, and was terrified of incurring the ferocious woman's wrath. With nothing else for it, she slipped out of her shoes, and then, a lot more reluctantly, undid the fastenings of her dress, a splendid frock which she had been so pleased to wear at Draken's pre-inaugural gala the previous night. Letting it fall from her shoulders to the floor, she picked it up and neatly folded it before placing it in the basket along with her shoes.

Orla felt her cheeks burning as she lastly removed her silken undergarments, and almost before she knew it was standing there completely nude. Her face twisted with a greater surge of embarrassment, all too conscious of Soo's critical gaze upon her. She was not by nature an exhibitionist and felt bashful, almost mortified baring herself like this in front of an unfamiliar stranger.

“Was that so hard?” the house slave asked in a mocking tone. “You really have nothing to be ashamed of. You have a really nice body, and beautiful legs I see. No doubt Mistress will be getting her coin's worth out of you.”

Her face aflame, Orla turned away, instinctively trying to cover her nakedness. Snorting with contempt, Soo produced a key and abruptly unlocked her collar. Orla gasped in sudden surprise as it was drawn off her neck and she unexpectedly had all her magic restored to her. She immediately tried to figure out how she could best use all the powers at her command to get herself out of this horrible place, and quickly.

As she tried to form an impromptu plan in her mind, Soo directed her over to a drain in the floor and set to work bathing her, lathering her skin, shampooing her hair, rinsing her head, vigorously scrubbing her flesh, working down from her neck, shoulders, and along her arms, back and legs, turning her about brusquely, lifting her feet. Orla blushed deeply and furiously as more intimate areas were washed, and sobbed softly as her body was meticulously cleaned, buffed, and polished from head to toe like she were some inanimate object.

Finally, Soo guided her down the steps into the huge pool where she could soak in the soothing vanilla-scented water for a few minutes. Orla watched miserably as the slave carried away her clothing and things to be disposed of. But the moment Soo disappeared out the door to fetch her new attire, she mentally pulled herself together and hastened out of the pool, sudsy water splashing around her.

Wrapping a towel about her middle, Orla dashed over to the glass wall. If she could get one of the panels open she could take flight and then simply hide somewhere in the city until she could figure out her next move. For want of a better plan she considered it a fairly decent one, other than for her acute state of undress. Perhaps she should first put on her new clothes before vacating the premises? But that might mean having to subdue the house slave, something she had little experience doing and even less confidence that she could pull off.

All of a sudden there was a click as the slave collar flew across the room and snapped back onto her neck again. A powerful voice spoke in her head, “Escape is useless, daughter of chaos,” it spoke like thousands of voices speaking at once as a grim and evil presence filled the room. “You will break. My servant will make sure of it. Your goddess and the guardian can't save you here, child. You are in my domain now and you will follow my laws, one way or another.” The otherworldly presence faded off soon after.

Orla slumped to the floor on her knees, jaw slack with horror at the staggering force that had just seen fit to single her out to threaten. Petrified, she sent a desperate prayer to Fernoia and was soon thereafter comforted by the memory of that Being's words spoken to her in the dream she had the previous night, assuring her she could not be directly harmed by this nameless evil originating from beyond Aeran. Though there was certainly danger to her physically, her mind and soul would be safe from the taint of its malign influence.

“This will be what you will wear from now on,” Soo said, returning with Orla's new attire. The girl smiled in surprise. “I see you have put your collar back on already. The Mistress will be pleased you're accepting the situation. Not that you have any choice but to accept it.” The slave handed her a small bundle of garments along with golden jewelry and ornaments. “When you're ready, return to your Mistress, and be quick about it. She's excited to see what you look like in that outfit. So are many of the staff who will be interested to hear my report.” The house slave smirked tauntingly at Orla and left her alone to get dressed.

Orla hardly acknowledged Soo's unkind words, so shaken as she still was by the mind numbing terror that had effortlessly thwarted her escape attempt. Now her abduction began to make more sense. Whatever supernatural force this was had recognised her as a follower of Fernoia and must have therefore decided to take her completely out of play, back at Soldor's palace, which it had done swiftly and most effectively. Here she was well and truly trapped now in a notoriously savage foreign land, for what could she do against such a godlike power as this? She replayed the mighty gestalt voice in her mind. Her goddess and the guardian could not save her. Guardian? What guardian? Who was that?

Frowning in thought as she brushed her wet hair, Orla remembered the garments she had been given to wear and that she had best change into them. It was only then that she saw the outfit was little more than two tiny pieces of gauzy black fabric much like An'neer wore. With no other choice, she donned the short diaphanous skirt, secured the gold clasp, and tied the matching bandeau top around her back. The skirt was ruffled and by design served to exaggerate the curves of her waist and hips. It came down to the middle of her thighs and flounced and swished with every slight movement, making her look ridiculous. The small top left her stomach and shoulders completely bare and tightly hugged her breasts, pushing them upward and displaying far more of them than she had ever shown in public. Both the skirt and the top were adorned with decorative gold chains of sequins and colourful beads.

Shuddering in dismay, feeling sick to her stomach, Orla looked at the remainder of the gaudy jewellery that was part of the vulgar costume. None were to her tastes, no surprise, but perhaps they could be converted into local currency or traded for necessities if by some great miracle of Fernoia she managed to break out of this hellish place. With that in mind, she put on the gold earrings, clasped a jangly bracelet on her left hand, a gold anklet on her right foot, and slid a hathphool studded with emeralds on each hand. Lastly she slipped into a matching pair of jewelled high heeled sandals that made her look taller, further highlighting her lovely legs.

Orla looked in the mirror again, hardly recognizing herself. Embarrassedly, her small hands fluttered for a moment to her chest to cover up her cleavage and her unaccustomed bare belly. Although she had seen a few of the other slaves wearing similar outfits she was still taken aback at how revealing it was, more than anything she'd ever worn before. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and frightened.

Tamping down the fear growing inside her, she squared her small shoulders and forced herself to leave the bathing chamber and head back toward where the horrid woman awaited her. She walked with slower steps, trying not to stumble due to all her nervous trembling and from the high heeled sandals that would take some getting used to; she didn't know how anyone could bear wearing them, and already could feel them starting to hurt her feet.

Lucretia was seated alone upon a red cushioned divan and licked her lips at the sight of Orla as she walked into the room. “Ah, it fits you so perfectly,” she said huskily, her hot gaze drifting up and down the fae elf's fine body. “You are a tad on the pale side of things, my sweet, but you look most delicious. Oh, how much fun we shall have together...”

The woman's expression was one of unfeigned joy, contemplating her latest prize, but all the slaves knew that wicked smile hid little more than boundless cruelty. She had seemed about to say to Orla more when the steward entered the room, bowing with no small bravado in his gesture.

“My lady, we have the escaped slave, and even perhaps better still, a man you might find of interest.”

Lucretia began to frown with irritation at mention of a man, however her attitude rapidly changed as the steward brought in the panicked raven haired girl clad the same as Orla was, and whose beauty utterly paled beside that of the young man with her. His features were sharp, but somehow soft at the same time. His hair was short and the color of new fallen snow. His skin was even fairer than Orla's, and his eyes… his eyes were like white diamonds, and utterly captivating.

The sorceress leaned forward as she took him in. This wasn't just another pretty face, he was a stunning picture of youthful masculinity beyond the word handsome, and in that incredible moment for what might have been the first time in her entire life, Lucretia felt the stirrings of desire... for a man.

Orla turned to look at him and even she was momentarily awestruck and unable to tear her gaze from him.

Lucretia finally collected herself and rose from the divan to examine the man more closely. “What an exceptional specimen you are. You have a name, I suppose?”

He looked at her coldly. “I can't seem to remember.”

The steward cleared his throat, “He has amnesia, my lady.”

“So it would appear,” Lucretia said and looked the young man in the eye. “Well, your name is Silver. You were my slave, and still are in fact. Isn’t that so, Ada?”

The other girl gave a quick nod of affirmation.

The man shrugged unconcernedly. “Sure, whatever you say, lady.”

Lucretia's mercurial eyes jerked back to him, and she scowled. “You have a tongue on you, don’t you?”

Silver smirked at Orla as if wondering whether he should answer with a smart mouthed response and she found herself smiling a little despite the woeful situation.

As much as he seemed to want to talk back, Ada's warning nudge stopped him from crossing dangerously too far over the line. “Apologies, Mistress,” he said, giving the correct response.

“You at least remember that.” Lucretia smiled slowly as she ran a hand over his arm and then his chest. “We shall have to see what else you remember... and what else you can do.”

Orla suppressed a relieved sigh, glad to have the terrible woman’s attention off her, but she felt sympathy for anyone else on the receiving end of it. As she thought that, her eyes were drawn back to the exciting young man, wondering who he was and how he had ended up here without any memory.

“You are in my power and belong to me,” Lucretia told him sternly and then looked at each of them in turn. “As do you all."