tagNonConsent/ReluctanceThe Rebellious Slave Ch. 18

The Rebellious Slave Ch. 18

byHisPet21©

Author's Note: Hello, fabulous readers. As always, thank you for all of your wonderful comments, ratings, and favorites, which have been so encouraging and helpful. Seriously, you guys make me a better writer and because of your comments, I feel that the story has majorly improved since its first chapter. This, in particular, is one of my favorite chapters to date, even if it is rather long, so I hope you enjoy it. And, as promised, there is now sexyness as well as plot. If you find that 7.5 pages is too much to get through in a single sitting, I suggest reading pages 1-4 and 5-8 as separate hunks, although the division is imperfect. Sorry for the delay, but let me know what you think, please, and happy reading.

HisPet21


*

Removing the annoying prison collar from Kara's neck had been difficult and dangerous. It was metallic in nature and had been wrapped around her skin very tightly, leaving virtually no space between iron and flesh. But with a little creativity and some garden shears from Mirianna's shed, Karrington had managed to cut the horrible thing off of her. Now, Kara stood in one of her host's two bathrooms, staring at her reflection curiously. She had just taken a bath and rivulets of water dripped down her bare back from her soaked locks. The steam still lingering in the air made tiny goosebumps ripple all along Kara's skin, so that her pink nipples stood out at attention and her luscious curves glimmered with warm dew. But Kara's image was marred, most prominently by the red band around her neck, left over from the irritation caused by her collar. There was also a raised lump along Kara's spine, from her Martkorp tracking implant, and she couldn't stop running her hands over it. The thing had been deactivated during Kara's processing at Bremmington, but it still creeped her out, like a parasitic insect below her skin.

Carefully, Kara wrapped her hair in a towel and vigorously rubbed the cloth along her locks, trying to dry them as best she could. When her hair had gone from doused to damp, Kara was able to pull a brush through her brown mane and tie it behind her in a ponytail. But as Kara turned away from the bathroom mirror to reach for a borrowed toothbrush, the Slave Registration Number inked below her shoulder caught her attention. For a few moments, she merely stared at it, entranced by the bold black digits, which contrasted starkly with her pale flesh. In fact, the juxtaposition was almost hypnotizing. But as Kara whispered that number under her breath, it became suddenly and unbearably obscene, and she could feel an angry hurt rising in her chest and consuming her.

As if her life depended on it, Kara suddenly found herself scrambling around in her host's bathroom drawers, until she found a barber's shaving blade. Then, she turned so that she could see her tattoo reflected in the mirror, and began to cut away at it. There were better, safer ways to remove a tattoo, and cutting away at the inked skin certainly wouldn't eliminate it. But Kara couldn't wait. She felt an incessant need to at least mutilate the evil brand. Biting against the pain—the glorious, life affirming pain that was indicative of her freedom—Kara sliced over the ink until thick, red blood obscured the tattoo's meaning.

Trying to ignore the trembling of her hands, Kara turned on the sink, leaving red fingerprints on the knobs, and watched as hot water gushed into the basin. Slowly, she washed the barber's blade of blood and then her hands, but decided to let the streams of red liquid marring her back remain. She couldn't bear to wipe away the bloody mess hiding her horrible tattoo, and decided to let it scab over. In the morning, when it was a series of dried cuts, she could disinfect the area and apply a bandage. And with that, Kara took a deep breath, wrapped a towel around her body, and moved toward the door. But with her hand on the knob, she paused once more to look back at herself. "You're going to be okay," Kara told her reflection, and she exited out into the hallway.

Greenwood's room was directly across from Kara's, and he was just turning in for the evening when she appeared, her back decorated in red stains. Concerned, the old man scrunched up his face and moved toward her slowly, until he realized how proficiently she was bleeding and quickly raced to her side. "Dear god, girl!" Greenwood screeched. "Are you okay? What happened?" He tried to touch Kara's wound to inspect it, but she pushed him away.

"My own personal brand of therapy," Kara explained, and Greenwood suddenly nodded, understanding. "Besides, it'll scab over by morning, and I'll be fine." Greenwood was such a kind hearted soul, and Kara didn't want to cause him any undue concern, even if her dark past was none of his business.

Kara's room was a tiny little thing, with an old bed in the center. Throwing her towel in a nearby hamper, Kara switched off the lights and crawled under the bed's pink covers, completely nude. For a moment, she simply lay there, savoring the bittersweet combination of bliss and anxiety that had plagued her ever since her escape from Bremmington and Lord Arlington's accompanying threat to track her down and drag her back. Kara was just about to close her eyes, when she spotted a shadowy figure in the corner of her room, tall and frightening, so that she almost screamed. But there was a hint of moonlight coming in from a nearby window, and Kara soon realized that what she had mistook for a man was merely a coat rack with a hat draped over it. Kara remembered Lord Arlington's words then, that she would be sleeping with the lights on until he caught her. And, in spite of herself, Kara turned her head and eyed the light switch.

"It's just a stupid coat rack," Kara hissed, furious with herself for allowing Arlington's scare tactics to intimidate her. "Stop being an idiot, and go to sleep. Jeez."

But, unfortunately, falling asleep was easier said than done. In spite of herself, whenever she opened her eyes, Kara saw quavering tendrils in the darkness that looked like fingers and strange shadows that resembled men. The house was old too, and it creaked something awful, awakening Kara with a start on several occasions. Eventually, she gave up and, grumbling to herself, crossed the room toward the light switch. Kara was just about to flick it on and head back to bed when soft, but angry voices assaulted her ears and she pressed herself against the door to listen.

First, she heard Greenwood's voice, which was quiet and sincere. "Are you going to sit outside her room all night?" he asked. "Isn't that, you know, a little creepy? Stalkerish, even?"

"You never know what might crop up in the middle of the night," Karrington's voice replied, defensive and a little closer to the doorway. "Kara didn't have to come back for us. She could have left us in prison to rot away and die, as your girlfriend apparently intended, but she didn't. Honestly, I owe her my life," Karrington continued, and his tone became almost endearing. "I fully intend on repaying that debt, too. There is no way in hell that Arlington is going to get his slimy hands on her again, not while I'm around."

"You've only known her a little while," Greenwood protested. "Not that I think it isn't wise to try and repay Kara for her kindnesses, but she's a strong girl. Give her some credit for that, and don't push yourself on her too fast. Arlington's pretty bad, Ben. Worse than Judith, even. She's going to have a lot of scars and you'll need to respect that."

"You should have listened to way that pig talked to her," Karrington snarled, and there was a loud bang as he hit the wall. The reverberations reached Kara's ear, pressed against the door, and she almost cried out from the pain. "You don't talk to women like that," the man continued, earnest and upset. "You don't say those sorts of awful, horrible things. You just don't. And I won't let anyone ever talk to her like that again."

As Greenwood wished Ben a good night, Kara moved back over to the light switch, intending to head off to bed as well. But there, with her finger pressed against the plastic protrusion, Kara paused. Suddenly, with Karrington outside her doorway, the darkness no longer seemed so thick and oppressive. Even the coat rack in the corner appeared less sinister, and its resemblance to a man waned. Turning back toward her bed, Kara decided that she would not need the lights on after all and she crawled back under the covers, drifting off to sleep almost instantly.

***

Arlington tried, once more, to wipe the sleep from his eyes. Bremmel had already brought him several cups of coffee, but not even caffeine was able to sustain his lordship. For the past twelve hours, he had been handling the aftermath of the jail break at Bremmington and there had been much to do: approving public announcements, arming the police for a city wide search of the fugitives, fighting off an incessant entourage of reporters, preparing for the reconstruction of the Montarieve Bay Tunnel, and handling the capture of Commander Ciara's Rescue Regiment. When Arlington had finally earned a few hours of sleep, his attempts at rest could hardly have been considered a success. Even after falling away into darkness, his lordship had been plagued by bizarre dreams and restless moments in limbo, somewhere between waking and sleeping.

And yet, it was not the sleep deprivation that most bothered Lord Arlington, but the immense embarrassment the jail break had caused him. His lordship had lost both of his trophy slaves in under a week and the grand nature of Kara's escape, in particular, had made him the laughing stock of every major news station in Isleydor. Arlington couldn't even make it from the front door to his car without being harassed by a trespassing reporter hiding out in the bushes or even, in one instance, masquerading as his driver. The paparazzi were insufferable little pests, like gnats. Swat one away, and dozens more were upon you in a moment to take its place.

Of course, Arlington wasn't in any danger of losing his position, which had been a permanent arrangement ever since his Final Re-Evaluation, roughly a decade ago. Still, the escape of Lord Arlington's trophy slaves would damage his reputation and make it more difficult to navigate Isleydor's political bureaucracy. The older, wiser politicians would know better than to disrespect his lordship over such a trivial matter, but the younger generation of legislators and judicial representatives—who would be cocky and over confident after being voted into office—would have to be knocked into line. That would take time Arlington didn't have, not with Nardia's take-over on the horizon. He needed to recapture Tamius and especially Kara as soon as possible, in order to break them both and reassert himself amongst his peers. Groaning into the palm of his hand, Arlington carefully looked down at the press release he was working on, to be completed within the next few days. His lordship had a horrible headache and his knee was bothering him, but he dared not take any pain medication, for fear of becoming hazy and unable to focus. God, there was so much to do. In fact, there was too much to do and Arlington wondered if he might have to pull another all nighter.

"My lord?" began a soft, sultry voice, and Arlington turned in his seat to find Alice at the door to his office. She was holding the breakfast tray he had ordered, with a fresh cup of coffee, eggs, and toast. Normally, Bremmel brought him his meals, but Alice was known to badger the butler into letting her do it when something was on her mind and she wanted an excuse to see Arlington. "I hope you don't mind, my lord," Alice continued, setting the tray on Arlington's desk and kneeling beside his chair, the yellow dress she wore cascading around her in waves. "It's just that Mr. Bremmel is so busy and he needed a little help. So, of course, I offered to bring your food up."

"I'm sure that's exactly how it happened," Arlington smirked, a knowing glint in his eye. Alice tried to smile innocently in reply, but it was clear from the way that she fidgeted that she wanted something. "What is it, pet?" Arlington asked her gently, glad to be pulled away from his work, if only for a moment. "We both know that you didn't come here out of the kindness of your heart. So, why don't you spill and tell me what is on your mind?"

"Did you get it, my lord?" Alice blurted, and she peered over the top of Arlington's desk at the cubbyhole where Bremmel kept his mail. "Did you look at it yet? I think it's there. The yellow package, with the red stamp." She pointed avidly at the parcel, clearly trying to reign in her excitement and failing miserably at it. But then again, that's why Arlington loved the girl so much. Alice had always been easily excited. Give the girl a lollipop and a hug, and she'd be happy for a week.

"Oh," Arlington chuckled, understanding now. Teasingly, he held up the package and moved as if to tear it open, but paused. "Should I open it now?" he asked Alice, a playful shimmer in his eyes. "Or after breakfast, maybe? The eggs will get cold if I don't eat them soon."

"I could heat them up for you," Alice offered, her beautiful eyes frantically darting to the package in Arlington's hands and then back to his face. "It wouldn't be a problem at all, my lord."

"Gee, I don't know," Lord Arlington mused, tapping his fingers against his desktop, as if in deep thought. "I'm not much for re-heated food, pet. Yes, I think we had better wait until after breakfast."

"Please, open it now?" Alice begged, and she turned to more subversive tactics. Arlington didn't have a chance to move away before she had grabbed his left hand and started to kiss it adoringly, because she knew how much he enjoyed it. Then, when she let go, Alice began to tug insistently at his sleeve. "Please, my lord! Please! If I have to wait any longer I am going to die of anticipation! You would feel bad then, wouldn't you? Every time you visited my grave, you'd see the epitaph on my headstone: Here lies Alice, who died of anticipation. And, of course, the guilt would be unbearable."

"Unbearable, you say?" Arlington inquired, and Alice nodded vigorously. "Well okay, then. I wouldn't want to bite off more guilt than I can chew. You win." He chuckled as Alice—whose emotions were always so readable—released an audible sigh and quickly tore open the package. Inside was a book coated in bubble wrap and once the padding had been removed, Arlington held in his hands a hard copy of Alice's recently released book, compliments of her publisher. The title was rather plain: The Hunting Patterns of the Mibanese Hawk. But the illustration on the front cover was stunning, depicting a black hawk with red wing tips as it dashed across the sky, narrowing in on a fleeing sparrow. And, of course, the author's name, Alice Leighton, was beautifully printed at the bottom. "I wonder if the author will honor me with an inscription?" Arlington inquired, and Alice jumped to her feet to sit in her lord's lap.

"Why, of course I will sign your book," Alice smiled, putting on her most scholarly face and flipping open to the foremost flyleaf. Reaching for a pen, she pressed the ink filled tip to the paper and then paused. "To my most loyal fan and adoring lord," Alice finally began, reading her inscription out loud as she wrote it. "Thank you for all of the support that has made this book possible." Then, with a flourish, she signed her name. Alice was just about to hand the book back to Lord Arlington when she looked down at his right leg and gave a little gasp of horror. It was forcibly straightened in a brace she hadn't noticed before, and much of the leg was wrapped in a metallic cast, with glowing lights along its sides. "You're hurt?" Alice inquired.

"Unfortunately," Lord Arlington admitted. "Yesterday, a band of prisoners from Bremmington got loose—including, by the way, my secondary trophy slave—and I was shot. Don't worry though, pet," he assured his girl, who was still cringing empathetically. "The doctor says I'll be good as new in a week and a half. These sorts of casts speed up the healing process quite a bit, and I have access to the best medical care available."

"Are you in much pain?" Alice pressed, touching the strange cast tentatively. "Do you want me to go to the pharmacy and pick up some of the better pain medications?"

"No," Arlington replied, shaking his head dismissively. "Those things make me a little loopy, and I have to focus. There is so much to do, since we'll be moving our forces into Nardia soon. And now I have to deal with the repercussions of this prison break, and get my trophy slaves back." Exasperated, Arlington sighed into the palm of his hand. "God, there is just so much to do."

"If you have a few minutes, my lord, perhaps I can provide some more natural pain relief."

Sliding from Arlington's lap, Alice knelt under the desk and between his legs. The girl was careful not to jostle her lord's injured knee as she unzipped his dress pants and pulled out his semi-hard cock. Placing her hands on his hips to steady herself, Alice wet her soft, pink lips with her tongue and quickly engulfed his member in her mouth. Her pulsating flesh was wonderfully warm and her gentle suckling quickly aroused Arlington, so that he became fully erect. Gradually, he felt his lengthening cock press firmly against the inside of Alice's cheek as it grew, and growled pleasurably. But though the sensations were delightful, Arlington suddenly gripped his girl's hair and pulled her off of his pulsating member.

"If we're going to do this, we're going to do it right," Arlington told Alice, his voice suddenly hoarse with lust and hunger. The stress of the past twenty-four hours had made him desperate for some sort of violent, physical release, which was exactly what Alice offered. "Take the dress off," Arlington ordered, his voice impatient. "And any under clothes too, of course. If you're going to suck me off, you're going to do it naked."

Obediently, Alice gripped the cloth of her dress and pulled it upward and over her head in a single, fluid movement. As it turned out, she wasn't wearing a bra and her small, but gorgeous breasts stood eagerly at attention, the pink nipples erect and aroused. Trying to look sexy and alluring, Alice gripped both tits in her hands and kneaded the flesh eagerly, watching her lord's cock twitch in anticipation. But although Alice loved to tease, Arlington hated teasing and the girl was quick to move her mouth back down upon his cock, but was stopped suddenly.

"I said all under clothes, including the panties," Arlington growled, not angry but filled with perverse desire. As he watched Alice slide the panties past her thighs and down her ankles, he gripped his aroused member and stroked it vigorously, unwilling to wait until she'd finished. Her mound was still wrapped in a chastity belt, but the device was small and unobtrusive, leaving the girl's gorgeous, shaven cunt open to view. "Good girl," Arlington praised. "Now, back to work." And he held out his engorged cock.

Alice was a tiny creature, and when her lord was fully erect, she had a difficult time swallowing his entire member. As a result, she had a tendency to work her way up to it. Tentatively, Alice gripped Arlington's cock in her right hand and jerked him off vigorously, while simultaneously lapping at the purple head. A droplet of salty sweet pre-cum dripped from the tear shaped opening and onto her tongue, which made her own arousal grow insistently between her legs, egging her on further.

Releasing her master's cock, Alice pushed her tongue up and down his shaft, pressing tightly against the skin before easing a few inches of it into her warm, waiting cavern. There, she thrust her head onto and off of his cock, going a little farther toward the base each time. But Arlington soon grew inpatient and Alice could feel his fingers in her hair, right before his lordship pulled her head all the way down onto his cock. Tears sparked in her eyes from the annoying gag reflex that had always plagued her, but Arlington didn't mind. He rather enjoyed the pained expression on his darling's face, and loved that she willingly indulged his sadistic tendencies.

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