Dystopia Pt. 03

Isla shuddered and thought about her friend's story and resolved to stay close to her master and hope that he would protect her from that. She shot Emil a sideways glance, studying his bored expression.

'Well let's look at the facts. He hasn't slept with you, or shown interest in you. He's even been naked in front of you and didn't react when you were naked in front of him. Either he doesn't care about sex or he doesn't care about sex with you. There might be a brothel in town that where he visits some boys. Ok, assume he does that, where are you going to be? Sure as shit not hanging out in the lobby of a brothel. A town this small probably won't have a slave pen. So that leaves me either in the room, which would just be weird, chained outside, or more likely loaned out to a friend'

As her tension ratcheted higher as more and more unlikely scenarios filled her brain 'what if he makes me fight in the dog ring?!' Isla's heart nearly pounded out of her chest as they pulled into the town. Now that she was paying more attention, calling it a town was generous. It was maybe two or three dozen buildings all hodgepodged nearby. There was the main street that ran through it, but no other official roads or open spaces to see the buildings from a distance.

It was small, it was dirty, it was poor, and it was terrifying. The truck came to a stop outside an inn with a dancing horse sign, and Emil shut off the engine.

"Ok this is the Prancing Pony. Anyone in town can give you directions here." He then pointed to a thatched roof off to the left of the inn, "That is the Weaver's shop, they should have everything you need. Here's ten silver. That should be enough for the basics. Come get me when you're done and we'll get the rest of the supplies."

Isla's eyes widened as big as saucers. He was going to leave her alone, unarmed, in a strange town in the middle of nowhere, with more money than she had ever held before. That was like...how to make a victim 101.

"Master no! Please don't make me go alone!"

Emil started, completely taken aback by her sudden vehemence.

"Whoa! What's wrong? You ok?" His eyebrows climbed up into his hair, and he gripped the steering wheel tightly with the force of his adrenaline reacting to her.

"Master, you've never owned a slave before and no one here knows me. I couldn't protect myself from muggers. Slaves have a certain protection from kidnapping and rape, but only if people know. I'm not branded or collared and I don't want to get hurt."

"Branded? Collared? People do that?"

"Yes sir! A free woman has the right to carry a weapon and defend herself. I'm a slave. Carrying a weapon is a death sentence for me. Even if I'm not armed, if I injure a free person it's death."

"Well I've been in this town for years I've never even heard of anything like that happening. Well, except for the Rivers daughter a long time ago, but that was never proven. Or Tanner senior, but they never caught the guy. I'm sure you'll be fine." Emil said shrugging his shoulders.

Isla bit her lip and looked him square in the eye. "Please master? I don't want to be any trouble, but I really don't want to get hurt. Wearing your collar means I'm under your protection and gives me the right to invoke your name if I need to. Please?" Her voice cracked a little bit, even though she didn't mean to. The prospect of wandering out there alone and unprotected was truly scary.

Emil's expression softened as met her gaze. "Ok, ok. If it will make you feel better. Where do we get a collar? I assume the slave auction sells them."

Isla had to stop herself from collapsing in relief. She did let out a huge breath she forgot she was holding as quietly as she could and she shook her head at Emil.

"Probably, but blacksmiths usually carry some as well. If not they can usually make one pretty quick." she told him, a trembling finger pointing to a familiar anvil sign hanging outside a forge on the other side of the street.

"Well I guess we're going there first then." He said as he kicked open the driver's side door.

Isla quickly followed him, and darted around the cab of the truck to catch up to him. As they stepped onto the porch, she looked up at Emil, "Thank you master."

Emil just nodded and cleared his throat. "Hey Perrin, you in there?!"

The steady clang of hammer on anvil stopped as they walked inside, and around a short wall that seemed to serve as a windbreak. The walked into a large room made almost entirely of stone and packed earth. In the middle was a large raised furnace, covered by a metal shroud with an opening on either side. Large bellows were built into the far side, and right next to each opening of the furnace was an anvil raised on a log. They were smaller than she expected, but being solid metal they still probably weighed one or two hundred pounds.

On the left side of the room was the single largest man she had ever seen. He was seven feet if he was an inch. His shoulders were like mini boulders, and he handled the long hammer in his hands like it weighed as much as a fork.

His face split into a grin seeing Emil though, and his eyes seemed kind as he shook his hand. Emil explained what he needed and the smith nodded along. Finally he produced a rounded piece of metal that was obviously an opened circle with a taper on one side and a few holes.

Emil nodded in approval, took a piece of paper and scribbled something on it; handing it to the smith. Studying the paper, he took out a tiny chisel and began making delicate lines. Isla scooted closer to the fire and warmed her hands, mentally adding gloves to her list; as she watched the smith at work.

It didn't take long. With Emil nodding his approval over the final piece the smith waved her over to the anvil where he stood, and slipped the ring around her neck. The smith had her bend over the anvil so that her left cheek rested on it. A bolt of fear surged through her as the smith took a very large hammer, and with two taps closed the ends of the collar, with the tapered end fitting inside the other.

He then had her sit on the floor and pull her hair forward so that the back of the collar was exposed and resting flat on the surface of the anvil. Delicately, with long tongs, he reached into the furnace and pulled out a red hot length of metal about an inch long.

"Don't move girly, this will burn the skin right off you."

Isla stilled as much as possible and squeezed her eyes shut. She felt the smith pull the ring as far back as he could; then without warning, she felt a shift and then four quick, but very powerful, hammer blows. As soon as he finished the job Isla felt a stream of cold water cascade over the anvil, hissing as it soaked her hair and clothes.

She felt a scraping along the collar as the smith filed down whatever ragged bits he needed too. When he was done, the pin held the two ends of the collar together and the tops of the pin had been smashed down into the ring itself forming an impenetrable weld.

She was owned and collared.

The reality hit her like a kick to the face. Sure she had known intellectually that she was a slave, but she had been passed from buyer to buy so many times in the last year, that it didn't feel quite real. Now though, she could feel the weight of the collar sealed around her throat; binding her to her master.

She felt her shoulders sag as tension began to drain from them. With trembling fingers, she felt the metal encircling her neck. The smooth metal was cool and solid, with scratches on the front. It felt thicker than she thought. As she touched it, a small part of the back of her brain envisioned her stroking a shield.

This was her protection against the outside world. From now on, no matter what happened she was the property of Emil Jackson and under his protection. He was the barrier to her being resold, attacked, or manhandled. She studied him out of the corner of her eye. Tall, well-built beneath his baggy coats, and so far hadn't made a single move on her.

'I will never let myself go through that hell again. I will be perfect, he will never want to get rid of me. In a couple months, he'll wonder how he ever lived his life without me.'

With this collar, she was safe.

Dear reader! I'm so sorry it took me so long to complete this portion of the story. I'm eternally grateful that you read my work, and I hope that it I continue to enthrall you. Please leave a comment or vote, because they are insanely helpful in guiding the form of the story. I know in this section there was barely any hanky panky, but I promise in the next part things are going to get very hot and heavy. It's actually one of the reasons why I'm taking my time with that bit, is I want to make sure that it is up to snuff for you. I'm aiming for something here that will last a while, and I apologize for the long buildup. The reward is coming!

Thank you again so much! Please don't forget to comment and vote!

-Cathetel