It's a Slaves' World - Chapter 1

I was crammed into a cage in the back of a wagon, my hands bound securely to the iron bars of the cage. I looked in awe at the house of my new owner. A gorgeous manor set against a mountainside. The sun rising over just over the peak of the mountain, a manor that I should be seeing as yet another prison actually started to look like a divine paradise. Looking at such a sight I could almost forget that I am just a lowly slave. I could close my eyes and see myself lounging in the vast gardens rather then running back and forward fetching drinks for the abusive master and his wife. Instead I was cooking in the open sunlight getting chaffed by rope around my wrists and exchanging sweat with about a dozen other slaves.

As we entered the gates of the mountainside manor the sight remained breathe taking as I looked out at the gardens of the estate. Huge oaks and maples shaded the walkways and gorgeous fruit trees in blossom littered the fields of green with slashes of color. Flowers in carefully maintained plots decorated the area around a huge expanse of crystal clear and still water. A private lake! What luxury!

We were all half marched half-dragged out of the wagon and into a grand hall. However certain I am that it is decorated in only the most recent fashions I felt like I could choke on all the frilly and huge fabrics and upholstery that filled the room. A group of men and women stood on one side of the room, dressed in formal dresses and suits they chatted to each other ignoring our entrance entirely. We were pushed into a line where we stood waiting while that same group of men and women continued chatting until I thought I might fall asleep standing up. God since when does it take this long to introduce the new slaves to the household? As I caught myself drifting asleep there was an eerie silence that drifted across the room making me hesitate for a second. Did I fall asleep? Looking around the room I noticed all the men and women that had been here when we arrived, silent and looking expectantly at an empty door way. Talk about anti climactic. A sudden tension filled the air, as the expectant faces turned from the door to us in our drowsy line. They seemed looked at us as if we were their newest toys, which makes no sense! Every other owner I have ever had was one middle aged woman, mad at the world for her slowly fading beauty and deciding to take it out on any younger girl around or an old man that wanted to surround himself with young flesh that he can corner and grope in any corner of his mansion that he chooses. Basically I was either being beaten or hiding from a potential and unwanted sexual encounter, but always by one person. There are at least a dozen people here.

One person at a time walked up to the row, selecting a slave then leaving the room with them following behind like the perfect little slaves that we had all been brought up to be. A long time ago we came to accept that in this world there are two classes of people. Slaves, which includes everyone from the cooks to the maids to the people they keep around for entertainment purposes and extracurricular exercise. And free people, which basically means only the Deviani. Deviani being the people that "discovered" our little civilization and decided that we would make excellent slaves. I’m sure we were a very successful society before our history got wiped out, not a piece of it left. Not even a name. We are their slaves now, no personal history needed.

One woman, completely not fantastic, led me out of the room. I followed her down the hall with my eyes focused on the floor at her heels. Head lowered, silent and obedient like the perfect slave that I was brought up to be, like generations before me. This is so strange. Why are there so many masters in one household? Lost deep in thought I almost walked into my new master when she stopped in front of a door. Backing away before she could notice my stumble. Thank god! My first five minutes in this house, walking into my master is probably not a good way to make a good impression. As it is they are probably going to be watching for an excuse to discipline me, after all they bought me for dirt-cheap for a slave of my caliber. The women find lots to be jealous of in me and the men get untold thrills in cornering me for their twisted pleasures. I have never been called beautiful or gorgeous, being a slave I could never expect such a grand compliment, but the looks I get, the lust you can see dripping from their hanging tongues and the glares the women give me as I walk by, I like to think that if I were not a slave that I would be envied and wife material. If only I could hope for a luxury like falling in love and getting married. I will be selectively bred for new slaves if my master so desires, I will be shipped off to god knows where when I am deemed of no more use. But as it is I have been passed from owner to owner, each one desperate to be rid of me. I have a tendency to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and either get blamed for something that isn’t my fault or actually be at fault for some usually devastating amount of drama such as broken china or spilled drinks. I am not sure if I have a lack of forethought or I am clumsy but either way bad things happen around me. Plus on top of all that if that weren’t bad enough, I have a tendency to speak out of turn. Translation from master to the slaves’ language that means that I speak at all, worse yet that I say something that shows that I have a personality and wit hidden beneath my perfectly bred slave exterior.

Walking into the chamber behind my new master I did my best to sneak a few glances at the room I was sure I would be spending a lot of time in over the coming weeks until I do something to cause them to sell me yet again.

***Please Please Comment! I really would love to know what you think! Should I continue?