tagNonHumanSlavery Ch. 02

Slavery Ch. 02

bypoison_alice©

Alana awoke sweating, with far too many lumps digging into her. It took her a moment to remember where she was, and when she did she sat up with a gasp. She was alone in the room, bright sunlight streaming in through a floor to ceiling window. Alana brushed at her sleep crusted eyes, and then looked down at her right leg, arm and side. The crystals that hemmed her clothes had dug into her flesh and left angry red marks. She bet the other slaves weren't waking up in this much of a mess. For a moment she was grateful that Azeric wasn't in the room, and then chided herself. Why should she care what he thought, he owned her.

"Alana." The voice was female, and came from a doorway to the side of the room. She turned her head and saw a grey haired woman facing her. Her skin was the same beautiful caramel as the soldiers last night. The woman pointed to herself. "Mia." Alana nodded. The women said another word then held out her hand. Alana scrambled from the bed and stood before her. Mia tugged Alana's scant clothing from her. She wiped at her face, and took the pins from her hair, letting it cascade around her shoulders. Like everyone on the planet, Mia was at least half a foot taller than her.

Wrinkled hands pulled Alana from the bedroom, and pushed her naked into the room next door. Alana couldn't help but gasp as she saw the huge, sunken bath filled with clear green water and Azeric. Mia hander Alana a cloth and some soap, then pointed her towards the pool of water.

Alana hesitated, just long enough for Mia to give her a firm shove. She stifled a cry as she stumbled forward a few paces. Still, it was loud enough for Azeric to turn and face her. He glanced past Alana and said a few words. The door clicked shut behind her. She had to assume that Mia was gone. Taking a deep breath, Alana took a few timid steps. She hovered a pace from the edge of the bath, gazing nervously at the huge man in front of her. He held out a hand and she started to shake. He was just too big. She could not join him naked in such a confined space. Her feet wouldn't move. She was no virgin, she knew how things worked, but being bedded by a man who could crush you, being bedded by a man who owned you, made her body revolt. Her mind told her to get on with it before he gave her back, but her legs were jelly.

Alana watched as disappointment, and then acceptance flittered across Azeric's face. His jaw set, and in a flash he was out of the bath. He strode past her. Alana thought about the emotion on his face, thought about the other women's reactions to him. He had been rejected by two slaves. She remembered her humiliation when she thought they were laughing at her.

"Azeric." His name escaped her lips as he reached the door. He stopped, but did not turn to look at her. After a moment's pause he left the room. Alana felt a sob well up inside her and, with a shudder, forced herself to contain it. She wasn't sure if it was relief or fear that caused her to react so. She studied her own emotions for a moment as she tried to calm herself. She was afraid, certainly. There was guilt there for upsetting a man who, so far, had only been kind to her. She felt homesick for Earth and, strangely, also for the slave sellers. Finally, there was the confusion which was overwhelming. Alana turned to look at the inviting green pool, and decided that a soak would be the best solution.

Settling on the edge of the bath, Alana allowed her body to slide into the water. The heat soothed her, embracing her tense, aching muscles and caressing the stress away. Alana was a stunned to realise that the bath was more like a small swimming pool; it would take her several strokes to cross the length of it, and it was so deep that she could not stand without being completely submerged in the strange green water. After luxuriating for several minutes, and then swimming a little, Alana decided that it was time to get clean. Her fear that she would be sold on was still gnawing at her, and she understood that it was a real possibility. She resolved to do whatever she could to please Azeric, no matter how distasteful or painful. That started with being presentable the next time she saw him. With that in mind, getting herself clean was a surprisingly quick affair.

When Mia arrived to collect her, Alana was rather shocked her change. Mia tutted at her as Alana got herself dried, was rough when she bundled her into the freshly washed, scanty dress that she was given yesterday, and all but wrenched her arm from its socket as she dragged her out of the bathroom. Alana didn't protest at the treatment, she was too afraid to. Mia seemed to be someone that Azeric employed, and probably respected. Surely Mia's opinion would be taken into account if he was to consider selling her on.

A sense of trepidation spread through Alana as she entered the dining room. There was a long wood and metal table that looked almost medieval, certainly out of place with the crisp, clean white walls and Mediterranean colours. It looked good though, the contrast of what she thought of as minimalist, with the heavier furniture. It was the man that was seated at the head that concerned her; he looked even more fearsome with his plate piled high with food, his crimson eyes staring determinedly down at it. His lips were set in a frown, his dreadlocks tied behind his head making his cheek bones and jaw look severe.

Mia led her rather forcibly to a seat at Azeric's right hand. Alana couldn't help her reaction of fear; she was waiting to be sent away again and couldn't stop her hands trembling at the thought.

"Alana." The sound of him saying her name made her stomach flip. She looked up at him, meeting his blood red gaze before nervously looking back down. A gentle finger lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes once more. With his other hand he gestured at the food laden table and said a word that Alana was sure she had heard before. He said it again, gesturing to her in what she assumed was a request for repetition. Alana said it and earned a smile, although she wasn't sure if it meant food or eat.

Azeric piled food onto her plate until she had a bit of everything. There were items that were bread like, fruit like, meats and cheeses, something hot that resembled a type of porridge, even something that looked like bacon, but tasted like steak. Alana's favourite by a long way were the grape like fruit that tasted like the cherry compote that you find at the bottom of yoghurts. As she was eating, she noticed that Azeric had stopped and was watching her. As she paused, he grinned at her encouragingly. It was a little unsettling as it displayed the teeth that looked razor sharp. Alana gulped.

When Azeric stood, after Alana had eaten the majority of food on her plate, Alana realised that he was dressed in armour. He reached out his hand for hers and, hesitantly, placed hers in his. After being pulled to her feet he gently led her out of the house into the glorious sunshine. It was then that she realised that he lived on the grounds of the beautiful villa from last night. There were many single story villas, all like Azerics, that formed a small village. Alana realised that it must be for the soldiers. Her heart sank a little as she came to the conclusion that escape wasn't an option. It hadn't been a thought that she had really entertained, but being a slave was certainly not a lifestyle choice.

As they walked through the lush green grounds, Alana realised that the passing soldiers would nod to Azeric, stare at her, but not stop and speak. They would speak to their own people, soldiers of their own race but not to him. He kept a furious pace, so much so that Alana had to jog to keep up. With the heat and the dirt path, it wasn't long before she stumbled into him, gasping in horror. As her body collided with his, though, he didn't even stumble. His huge hands righted her and then, seeming to realise the problem, he slowed his pace.

Despite knowing the rule that slaves only look at the ground, Alana couldn't help being fascinated by the sights: gardeners were working on vibrant, alien looking plants; soldiers were training on a huge dirt oval, surrounded by spectators, many of whom didn't seem to be warriors; the buildings were all white with dark wood, and many had purple and pink flowers winding up trellises. It was only when Azeric placed a gentle hand on the back of her head that she realised he had noticed. She glanced sheepishly up at him, but couldn't read his expression.

Much to Alana's surprise they eventually arrived at a huge outdoor market. They had travelled by boat down the river, a smaller boat than yesterday steered by Azeric. He hadn't forced Alana to sit under the canopy, something that she was regretting; the hot sun was starting to burn her skin. There were wonders galore at the market: fruit and vegetable stalls, butchers stalls, places to buy pottery, art work and clothes. Everything was unfamiliar and wonderful to Alana. What was more, Azeric would let her have a good look around before her stroked her hair, reminding her gently that looking was forbidden for a slave. He seemed to enjoy her sense of wonder.

Alana, as well being in awe of her surroundings, was shocked by the fact that, not only was she the only human, Azeric was the only one of his species present. The native species, the ones with the golden skins, barely acknowledged him. Often as not, they would go out of their way to avoid crossing his path. The men and women who owned the stalls treated Azeric with respect; they were happy to have him as a patron however, they did not seem friendly. A new found respect for her owner filled her.

It was on the way back to the boat when Azeric took Alana into a small shop. Amongst the stalls it was easily miss-able. Fabric adorned the walls of the shop in jewel like colours. There was a small section of grey clothing towards the back, and it was to those that Azeric headed. He browsed the clothing, constantly in discussion with very timid shop keeper. As he studied garment after garment, Alana was drawn to a counter of accessories.

The hair clip caught Alana's eye immediately. The ornately curved metal looked like silver. It was studded with diamonds, or the alien equivalent, and between those pearls were nestled. The clip looked exactly like one that her grandmother had given her before she died. A strong wave of nostalgia swept over Alana bringing tears to her eyes, and a sense of loss so strong that she thought she would collapse. Without thinking, her fingers brushed the delicately constructed piece.

Jumping as a purple hand closed over hers, Alana looked guilty into Azeric's eyes. Uncurling her fingers from the clip, he lifted the fragile clip in his hand. Staying behind Alana, he scooped up her hair, twisting it into a design that pleased him. When the clip clicked closed in Alana's hair she gasped. Would he tease her so? She imagined how her hair looked; the bleach blonde twisted with the brown and secured with her heirloom. She had seen it like that many times on Earth.

Another ten minutes or so passed as the Azeric made his purchases. All the while Alana's stomach turned. Would he let her keep the clip? As they were leaving she feared that he had forgotten that she had it in, feared that they would be branded thieves.

"Azeric." Alana pulled away from him as she spoke his name. He turned, a look of concern and surprise upon his face. She had not uttered a word to him all day, or touched him voluntarily since she was gifted to him. The unexpectedness of her outburst left him waiting patiently for her to find the words she needed.

"Azeric." There was pain in her voice, the fear of losing such a close replica of something that had been so dear to her at home. Alana raised a hand to the clip, and held the other hand towards the man before her begging him silently. He merely smiled and took the hand she offered, pulling her out of the shop. It seemed that he had bought her a gift.



Voyerism had never been something that Alana enjoyed, but standing at the edge of the training oval that she had seen earlier and watching Azeric fight stirred in her an uncomfortable desire to run her hands over his solid muscles. He was a glorious fighter, winning every battle that he was challenged with. Of course, the aim wasn't to kill the opponent, but to draw first blood. Azeric's unique purple flesh so far remained unmarred.

Men, both in the stands and in the battle ring, had shown a startling interest in Alana when she first arrived. Many must have studied her as she trembled on the stage before the soldiers last night, but they seemed fascinated that she had been brought to watch Azeric train. As with most things, the fascination had soon worn off leaving Alana free to study her owner without fear of reprisal.

After the seventh match, Azeric strolled over to Alana. He met her eyes and gave her a wide, somewhat frightful, grin. He looked positively bloodthirsty, yet strangely Alana's heart felt a little lighter as he neared her; it was as if his joy at winning was infectious. As he stood before her, Azeric raised his fingers. At first Alana thought he would caress her cheek, but instead thick fingers settled on the collar that she wore around her neck that was engraved with a symbol. He touched it almost lovingly. Alana's heart sank as he caressed one of the symbols of her slavery.



Feeling somewhat doll like, Alana gazed up at Azeric with fearful eyes. As she had bathed after their outing, Mia had entered and handed her a blade. It was similar to cut-throat razors that some barbers used. Humiliatingly, she had motioned where Alana should shave. Although the slavers had kept Alana bare, it had been a few days since and the stubble had been growing back. Now, as Azeric towered above her, it was apparent why she had been tasked with shaving.

Slowly, keeping eye contact until the last second, Azeric pressed his lips against Alana's trembling ones. She was concerned at first that he would bite her with his wicked teeth however, he was being almost tender. As his kiss became deeper, he backed Alana towards the bed. She hit the edge with the back of her knees causing them to buckle. Alana ended up sprawled on her back on the bed, the scanty dress she wore riding up and exposing the flesh beneath that it had barely concealed before. Crimson eyes stared down at her, dark with lust and appreciation.

Azeric's body was already bare to Alana, and she watched, half in terror, as his cock grew solid. Alana scrambled backwards as he knelt on the edge of the mattress. He was on top of her without warning, moving faster than she could have imagined despite the earlier display of his prowess. His body pressed heavily against hers, crushing all air out of her lungs. Alana writhed beneath him. Her limbs flailed wildly, panicking and desperately trying to fight him off.

Azeric whispered words to Alana and made soothing sounds, yet she could not relax. She had promised herself that she would do anything, but it was all happening so fast. He tried to remove her dress from her though only succeeded in pushing it up over her breasts. The fabric bunched around her throat making Alana feel as though he were about to suffocate her. He tried to claim her lips with his. Alana bit down hard. She tasted blood in her mouth which made her panic more. Surely she would be punished.

Azerics hands were surprisingly gentle as they rand down her body, not at all rough like she had imagined, yet all her crying didn't stop them. Finally, Alana found her voice.

"No. No!." The words didn't work as they had last night. Azeric paused and met her eyes. He seemed perplexed by her resistance. Large hands started to massage her breasts, then her hips. Using his knees her spread her legs easily. The head of his cock pushed against her opening. It was too big for her, and she was far from ready. Alana felt a pressure between her legs which made her scream at him, her thrashing beneath him renewed. In her own language she told him that it would be too much, that she was too dry, but it made no difference; he just didn't understand. With a tender kiss to her forehead, Azeric thrust roughly, agonisingly into her.

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