by Aran Ashe
"There are no male slaves here?" Anya asked.
"Not here - the males have separate quarters. They are many fewer in number. We are not permitted to mix, except by our masters' choosing ..." Axine trailed off. Anya could imagine.
Axine next showed her the sleeping quarters, which comprised a large dormitory with rows of single beds, and one huge one in the middle. There were also a number of doors to smaller rooms adjacent to this main one. "A slave much in demand with the masters will sleep here only rarely," Axine told her. "I doubt if we need reserve a bed for you," she laughed, then realised that her compliment had only served to make Anya very anxious. "There's nothing to fear," Axine said, and took her by the hand. "We're all friends here. You'll feel better after a bath."
And Anya did. The bathhouse was centred on a large pool, floored with deep red tiles, with a white marble surround. The walls and colonnades were soft blue and the pool was filled with bond-girls, laughing, splashing, sitting on the side, washing each other's backs and brushing out their hair. They waved to the two women standing on the side, and Anya waved back shyly. She thought that she might get to like these women, though she doubted if she could ever feel so free and unabashed about her body as to display it in the unself-conscious way that they did. "We have some private bathrooms, too," Axine whispered, as if she had read her mind. "How could anyone be so cruel?" repeated Anya, partly to herself, as she lay back, wreathed in steam, and soaked her tired body in this beautiful, peculiar bath which was sunk into the floor.
Axine began massaging Anya's shoulders. "The cook is ... very strange," she said. "And yet the masters seem to tolerate her. I think they use the cook to frighten us."
"Yet you were not afraid of her when you came to collect me?" Anya ventured.
"I felt reasonably safe - I had orders from the Taskmistress. Well, from Marella, actually, but I didn't tell Cook that." Anya was reassured that Marella had not forgotten her.
Axine's hands felt very soft about Anya's shoulders; they helped her to relax. Axine, like Marella, seemed genuinely kind, but unlike Marella, Axine was a slave. And yet it seemed she was a slave with dignity and self-assurance, unlike the slaves who had allowed themselves to be abused so mercilessly by the cook. Anya could not imagine this woman cowering down before the cook or doing anything that she did not want to do. But, as a bondslave, she must surely have had to do just that as part of her training, at the very least.
"Axine?" Anya said. "May I ask you something?"
Axine laughed. "Of course. That's what I'm here for. Ask anything you want."
There were many things, of course, which Anya needed to know. "Why do you wear your hair like that? Did the masters command it?"
"No - it suits me, don't you think?"
Anya had hardly ever seen a woman with hair so black, and certainly never so short. Cropped tight, almost to the scalp, it formed a soft black brush.
"What will happen to me?" Anya asked.
"In what way?"
"What will they have me do, here in the castle?"
"Your duties will be varied, as would any bondslave's. The Taskmistress will direct you. A slave need not concern herself with the precise nature of her duties, and should never try to guess."
This seemed a very strange philosophy, thought Anya. "Is the Taskmistress really so cruel as she seems?"
Axine looked shocked, and glanced around as if to see whether anyone could have heard. "Never say such a thing out loud," she warned Anya very gravely. "The Taskmistress has her duty too, just as we do. She is responsible for our training. At times, she may be required to discipline the bondslaves. That does not make her -" Axine herself avoided the word, "unfair. In fact she is quite the reverse. She will want to help you to develop your talents to the full."
Anya wondered what this could possibly mean in the context of her slavery.
"Axine - will she beat me?" Anya felt Axine was being very indirect, and should set things out more clearly.
"Anya, I can't answer that. You are very beautiful ..." Anya bowed her head. Why did people keep saying that and making her embarrassed? The Taskmistress expects much from slaves as beautiful as you are. Your training shall certainly be exhaustive." Axine had a far-away look, as if she were reliving some very vivid memory. Axine was very beautiful, Anya thought, with that short black hair, those deep blue eyes, and those delicately formed features which belied her strength of character. Her breasts were small and boyish, with very tiny nipples; her waist was slender and her hips, though small, were full and neatly rounded. Her bush was trimmed to a perfect triangle of blackness.
"Stand up now and let me dry you." Axine helped Anya from the bath and, wrapping a large soft towel around her, proceeded to dab her very gently. Anya was quite unused to such pampering and secretly enjoyed it. Then Axine spent a long time brushing Anya's hair. "I like to see it shine," she said. But then she could not decide whether to tie it back, or to work it in a plait. "I think we ought to keep it simple, for tonight; the Taskmistress will probably prefer it so."
Axine's words made Anya apprehensive: "Will I then be ... I will have to spend the night with her?"
"No. Well, probably not. She will want to begin your training, though what form that might take depends ..."
"On what?"
"That which she judges is required."
Anya was remembering what the Taskmistress had threatened. "She said ... that she might put me ... with one of the masters." Anya hoped that threat had merely been to frighten her.
"That is certainly possible," Axine said.
"What ... what will they do to me?"
Axine looked surprised. "Anya," she sounded quite concerned. "Are you ... you are not a virgin? Have you been with men?"
Anya now felt very foolish for having asked in such a way, when that really wasn't what she'd meant to say at all. She had wanted to know if their lordships might ill-treat her, might take delight in forcing her to do things against her will, or would they be gentle? But now she was too embarrassed to discuss it any further, and still her fear was undiminished.
Axine next had Anya sit and then lie upon a low, backless couch, rather like a padded bench, and place one foot to each side, so that they rested upon the floor, "so that I may complete your preparation," Axine explained. Anya naturally was very self-conscious about this; she did it with unease. Axine sat astride the bench, between Anya's legs, and looked at her, which made Anya look away in shame.
"There is nothing for you to worry about," Axine reassured her. "I have to brush you, that is all - to make you more presentable, to emphasize your beauty." But that made Anya feel very much worse, for Axine would, by her grooming, only draw attention to Anya's deepest shame, which even now must be clearly visible to the bondslave.
Axine began to brush her very gently, the softened strokes directed always upwards and outwards, away from Anya's sex. It was as she'd feared - this preparation would only serve to emphasize her blackness.
"You must not shrink away from this, your secret beauty," Axine said very softly, but Anya only closed her eyes. "It should be your pride and joy. Few women are so fortunately endowed as you have been. Such beauty is very rare, and known in Lidir only in legend ..."
So that was what the Taskmistress must have meant, thought Anya, by those strange comments which she had made when she had examined her.
"In legend ...?" Anya asked, and looked at Axine now, intrigued.
Axine smiled. "Mm ... Legend has it that Lidir was once ruled by a very beautiful woman - a princess - who had your colouring of hair, and the markings which you now display ..." Axine watched Anya very carefully.
"A princess?" Anya asked. Her eyes were very wide, for she was fairly sure who this must be; she had seen her picture on the staircase.
"Mm ..." replied Axine.
"What manner of ruler was she?" Anya was sure that she was very good.
Axine began brushing Anya once again. "It is said that she was kind and very just. Her people
loved her, but ..."
"But ...?" Anya was entranced.
"One day, she just disappeared." Marella had said only that she was "gone'.
"Disappeared? Where?"
"That was the mystery. No one knew. It was as if she had vanished," Axine opened her hand to emphasize the point, into the air. She could not have left the castle, for it was at that time sealed fast, under siege from a great army from the west. At dawn she could not be found. Her bed had not been slept in. Many of her subjects thought she had been spirited away by magic, but whatever the truth was, she was never seen again ... Ever." Axine was looking at Anya very intently again, as if expecting her to say something very significant. Then she continued in a voice so soft that Anya almost could not hear her: "Yet all of that was so very, very long ago ... long before any living person's recollection ..."
So, the Princess must be dead, after all - and yet this mystery had captivated Anya. "And was the castle then able to repel the attack, or did the army conquer?" she asked, because this seemed to her important.
Axine, however, seemed very deep in thought. "The army then withdrew," she answered vaguely. Anya had to press her further. "Legend has it," she then went on, "that the Princess, by her disappearance, somehow wove a magic spell which would protect Lidir and keep it strong until she could return. Many subjects give this legend credence still ..." Axine was still looking at her very strangely. Anya formed the opinion that Axine might be trying to test her with her words; she knew well what Axine was driving at.
"And what do you believe, Axine?"
Axine was silent for a very long while before she spoke:
"I see a very beautiful woman," she said. Anya did not let Axine's flattery sway her.
"But do you see - a princess?" And now Anya was surprised by her own directness. The legend had charmed her.
It was now Axine's turn to be very bashful, and to cast her eyes away.
"Enter!"
Anya froze when she heard that woman's voice. Axine had to force her across the threshold of the Taskmistress's apartments.
"The bondslave is delivered, ma'am, according to instruction," Axine announced very gravely. Anya, surreptitiously glancing up, looked about the room. The walls were unadorned; bearskins were scattered here and there upon the floor; the only furniture seemed to be a table, some chairs, a cupboard and a large upholstered couch, upon which the Taskmistress sat. She was not alone; a slave-girl who looked very young was standing in front of her, facing away from the door and towards her.
"Thank you, Axine," said the Taskmistress. Her tone was quite polite. "That will be all for now. You may return to your duties."
Anya waited by the door while the Taskmistress ignored her and whispered something to the girl. Anya could see, now that her face was half-turned, that she was very close to tears. Then the girl seemed to bow her legs very slightly outwards; the Taskmistress was smiling. Anya could not see the woman's hands, which were hidden behind the slave. The girl's hips began moving very slowly in a circle. Anya knew that the woman must be doing something to her. Then the girl lifted up on her toes, and Anya flushed with embarrassment and shame at what she had to watch, for she could see the Taskmistress's fingers moving between the girl's legs; her middle finger was stretching up between the cheeks of the bondslave's bottom. The Taskmistress disappeared from view - she was kneeling in front of the girl, who was making low, sobbing sounds as the Taskmistress's hand, reaching under, now spread her cheeks whilst the middle finger was pushed very deliberately and very slowly up the bondslave's bottom.
Anya did not want to witness this degrading scene a moment longer. She could hear soft kissing sounds, or gentle sucking noises, which she did not want to hear, and sudden catches of breath which, every so often would interrupt the slave-girl's sobs, as the finger then began working out and slowly in again, forcing the girl up higher on her toes.
The bond-girl started gasping. Suddenly the Taskmistress was visible again, standing beside the girl, not touching her at all, and yet the girl's legs and shoulders were shaking. She was still balanced on her toes.
"Stand down, my dear," Anya heard the Taskmistress whisper. "Save your pleasure for the present. The night, as yet, is very young." The girl's heels returned to the floor and Anya could hear her sobbing very quietly. The Taskmistress's palm smoothed over the bondslave's bottom and for the first time, she addressed Anya, who immediately glanced down.
"So, you have arrived at last. You are tardy, beautiful one. I hope this will not become a vice of yours." She said that word so viciously that she made it sound as if she really hoped the contrary. "For then we shall have to seek appropriate correction for that unfortunate condition - to ensure that you are kept at all times on your toes." Anya knew full well what the woman meant. It made the bond-girl sob again, and the Taskmistress deemed it necessary to whisper something sharply in her ear, which made the girl stand bolt upright and keep silent.
"Did you enjoy your sojourn in the kitchen?" The woman laughed. "Did Cook lead you a merry dance?" Anya's teeth were clenched tight. She hated the Taskmistress for her calculating cruelty. "Speak up, slave ... I can have you sent back to help the cook if you'd prefer that. Hmmm?"
"No!" Anya could not stop herself from crying out. "Ma'am, please ..." she added very weakly.
The Taskmistress strode quickly over to her and lifted up her chin, then searched Anya's eyes minutely. Anya could not bear this woman's stare so close; it seemed to pierce right through her. "Look at me," said the Taskmistress. "Beg me not to do it."
"Please, ma'am," Anya wanted to look away, but the Taskmistress's gaze paralysed her. "Please, I ..." she faltered. The Taskmistress's eyes widened as if to swallow her; that faint and spicy smell pervaded Anya's nostrils. "I beg of you, do not send me to the kitchen."
A very strange feeling came in Anya's belly as she heard these words spill out; she felt almost as if it was not she who had spoken them, and yet it seemed this standing outside of herself served only to heighten her shame and nourish it now with forbidden excitement. The Taskmistress bent towards her and Anya froze. The woman closed her mouth about Anya's lips and, sucking them very slowly, she quelled them in their trembling. The feeling surged once more inside Anya. She could smell and taste the bond-girl's musky heat upon the Taskmistress's lips.
The Taskmistress gently pulled away, leaving Anya swaying unsteadily. "My child, it seems you adjust well to ... training," the woman said softly. "Now, once again, but this time you shall beg your Taskmistress to do with you what she will ..."
Anya was very frightened now; she felt very cold.
"Proceed," said the Taskmistress in a very steady voice. "Your Taskmistress is waiting."
Anya could not bring herself to say it. For the second time, she felt outside herself she was willing herself to comply with the Taskmistress's instruction, willing her tongue to say this thing to satisfy the woman, willing herself to save her body from Ildren's persecution. And yet she could not do it. Even if she died, she could not do it.
"Mmm ..." The Taskmistress made a sound as if she had just tasted something delicious. "Do not ..." she began, and seemed almost to shudder, "do not be fearful of your resistance. You still have very much to learn. Your spirit shall adapt in time. But now, we must advance your training ... very gently. And teaching you will be so very great a pleasure ..."
Ildren spun round on her heels and walked back to the bondslave, who was plainly very scared - her head was down and her shoulders were hunched around her, as if she were expecting to be beaten. She was taken over to the other side of the room and stood against the wall, at a point where Anya could see an iron ring set into the stonework above the bond-girl's head. The Taskmistress lifted the girl's hand, then unfastened the gold chain at her wrist and looped it through the ring before refastening it, so the girl's left hand was now suspended above her head. Although the bondslave had been chained, it seemed to Anya that this was a token gesture, for the girl could very easily have freed h
erself with her other hand. It was, of course, most unlikely that she would ever choose to do such a thing, or even try to move unless by the Taskmistress's explicit directive.
Then Anya realised that the Taskmistress had not finished. The girl was turned around to face the wall, and the chain around her middle was similarly secured, by a second ring at waist height, which Anya previously had not noticed. Somehow this seemed very much more sinister, since the girl not only had her back to the room, and therefore could see nothing which might be taking place behind her, but her chaining now appeared that much more intimate, her potential movements that much more restricted, making her appear to Anya very vulnerable indeed. The Taskmistress now bent down, and sure enough, attached to the wall, very low down near the floor as might have been predicted, was a third ring; to this, the slave-girl's right ankle was finally chained. These restraints left the bond-girl very uneasily balanced with her body on a diagonal line, and by virtue of the small size of the middle ring, held very close up to the wall. The muscles of her legs and buttocks appeared to be in tension; her bottom formed two tight round curves, over which the Taskmistress carefully smoothed her fingers. Then suddenly, apparently on impulse, she squatted down and spread her palms behind the girl's knees and, pressing, slowly ran them up the bondslave's legs and on towards her bottom, kneading the tight-sculpted muscles until her palms were reaching up the slave-girl's back as if in supplication. Ildren threw back her head and closed her eyes in obvious delectation; the bond-girl merely whimpered.