Slave Amira Ch. 01

Chapter 1

Amira restrained a rude sigh as father gestured to one of his dinner servants for another round of mead. This was usually a sign that he intended to begin a lengthy story of his own glories, on the battlefield or otherwise.

It wasn't easy to tell if the traveling merchant Mithras genuinely wanted to hear father's grand tales - or if he merely feigned interest as a tactic of flattery. Such a gambit wouldn't be beyond Mithras, who had already spoken of his business partnerships and noble connections in three different states at the evening's dinner alone. He was accomplished, as father was.

Yet there was something to be said for accomplishments obtained through one's inner merit, rather than those associated with the trappings of a noble office. Those of father's. Although Amira would never dare to interrupt to compare the two - as father continued on with his account of looting a Remosan baggage train after the battle. She'd only heard this story two times before. Her theory was that it was maybe half-true - at most.

The Miraeian noblewoman was twenty-two years of age, with raven black hair, brown eyes tinged with a hint of green. Her light brown, bronze skin kissed with the touch of the sun's warmth, perhaps from her experience in horseback riding as a girl and young woman. A passion that father had been quick to forbid of her as she reached marriageable age.

She had a natural smile that had merited her more than her fair share of compliments. An asset she'd been less inclined to show off lately - since father began arranging her marriage.

It would be a month from today, wouldn't it? Amira had been burying father's plans for her marriage to Tabelek away from active consideration.

The "ideal candidate to advance the interests of House Fire-Blood" in father's eyes, he had told her when he announced she was to be married.

A repulsive slug, in Amira's. She tried even harder to forget the one time she had met him at a function at the royal residence.

Father had finally concluded his war story to Mithras - perhaps having sufficiently thrown a scare into the foreign merchant. Mithras had known better than to emphasize this so far this evening, but he had extensive dealings in Remos. Certainly bringing up ones' personal travels in that land of slavers would've been a convenient way to wear out a welcome with father, who still detested Remos from his experiences of war a decade and a half ago.

Yet, father's finished two glasses of mead, and he's still interested enough in the actions of the former enemy to query Mithras of his travels.

"Tell me," the boorish drunk beckons from across the table. "What are the latest development in the lands to the north? There's no need to be coy, it's known that you've been there."

Mithras smiles in a tacit acknowledgement. It was no crime, of course, to do business in a land with a peace treaty with Mirae, and the trader would be glad to point this out if father insisted otherwise.

"Since the war, Remosan commerce and raiding has focused more on both al-Khan and the lands across the sea. Aramana, namely." Father at least would be relieved that the Remosan weren't actively plotting against Mirae.

"Most of the... captives that end up at the Great Slave Markets in Remos are from these two lands." Mithras chooses his words as artfully as he can. Quite obviously, slavery was a practice that the titled nobles of Mirae found quite objectionable - abhorrent, actually.

"There's no shortage of soldiers and ships in Remos, but it can sometimes prove difficult to organize warfare in a country without a king or centralized leader."

"Barbarians will do as they will." Father was no friend of al-Khan or Aramana, both nations with their own history of conflict with Mirae.

Amira's ears had been piqued at Mithras' description of the world beyond her homeland.

She had read of these Great Slave Markets, of course. A place where women made the captives of Remos would be sold into pleasure slavery.

It was her duty as an well-read, literate noblewoman of Mirae to educate herself on the world and the lands beyond. As unpleasant and uncouth as they were.

She spoke, mindful that every word had to be structured in a manner that wouldn't irritate father.

"These... slave markets," she said, knowing better than to use the official Remosan title for them. "What.. depravity of the barbarians can be seen there? Is it really so that the Remosans trade and exchange women at this market like... like property?"

Feigning offense and horror. Amira wasn't so naive to understand what a slave market was, although it would be interesting to hear it described from someone who had plausibly seen it with their own eyes.

"Yes. Like property, I'm afraid." Mithras has no reason not to answer when a noble of Mirae questions him, even if the topic is one inappropriate for virgin ears. "Women stolen from their homelands. Made to bear their bodies before a full market of ravenous slave owners. Abused, and even whipped by the cruel slavers of Remos if they fight back, unfortunately."

"That's... sickening." Amira said of Mithras' account of the enemy's slave customs. Before Father cut in.

"Enough talk of barbarians. We've already driven them from our lands to avoid learning of their 'ways.'"

Amira nodded lightly, taking great care to hide her rubbing of her knees together underneath her dress. Mithras' description was not unlike the accounts she'd read of in the manuscripts in her bedroom.

*Three hours later*

The Miraeian noblewomen circled the bud of her sensitive clit underneath her fur sheets, the sanctum of her bedroom protective enough to prevent any of father's servants wearing her quiet breaths and moans in the castle hallway.

Father had asked her yesterday when she intended to start packing her possessions when she'd "move" to Tabelek castle in the south of Mirae. Amira dreaded the day she'd have to make real preparations for father's plans for her, and only intended to do as such imminently before.

It certainly wasn't her impending marriage that stifled her erotic curiousities. Of course not.

Rather, Mithras' description of the Remosan Great Slave Markets had piqued some of her innermost fantasies.

Namely, the idea of serving a powerful and wealthy Master as his... slave. Being disciplined, trained. Wearing a collar, fulfilling his pleasures, distinguishing herself as a Master's favorite pet. Made to develop the potent slut elements of her sexuality, traits she'd hidden her entire life in Mirae.

Of course, before a girl was even made a slave in Remos, she'd have to be sold at the markets. One of the manuscripts she kept hidden in a locked compartment of her dresser had explained as such; written by a woman who'd lived in Remos for six years. A slave's status was finalized by her tattoo after her sale, which distinguished her from a freewoman.

Amira exhaled in a lusty breath as she imagined being whipped and abused before a market audience, as the merchant had described. Surely she'd be compelled to display every last inch of her enticing, youthful body. But one of the manuscripts she'd read had described girls for sale being whipped on their sensitive tits no matter how cooperative they proved with the auction process. The Remosans liked seeing foreigner sluts be disciplined with a slaver's whip, the firsthand account had indicated.

Gods, she'd give them what they wanted. Pressing her tits forward as the slaver stung them with a whip. Surely one of the most wealthy and powerful lords of Remos would notice what a fine slave slut she'd make, she imagined.

Amira arched her hips into the air as she toyed with herself, fingers toying with her sensitive clit intermittently before slipping inside her tight, clean cunt. She'd never known the sensation of manhood claiming her body before, although the idea of bringing one of father's stable attendants upstairs to deny Tabelek her virginity had come to mind.

At least, if the poor man didn't stand the risk of being executed if father found out.

Amira penetrated herself with the near-entire length of two entire fingers; her left hand touching her perky tit, finding a hard, stimulated nipple for her to twist and pull. She liked to toy with her nipples when she was nearing an orgasm - just because she was a virgin didn't mean she knew nothing of sexual pleasures.

Of course, Remosan slave custom required a pleasure slave to obtain permission from her Master to orgasm. A woman had described this custom in one of the manuscripts she'd combed over; including the strict session of punishment she'd received for climaxing twice without permission in her very first month of slavery.

Amira was subject to no such requirement. She huffed in muted, breathy gasps as two fingers circled her well-stimulated clit, bringing her to the point of climax. Imagining not her pending marriage, but the trappings of slavery. A Master in Remos would decide if a pet was worthy of such pleasures, Amira had read; it was unlikely Tabelek would even care after finishing with her.

The noblewoman slumped her abdomen back on her bed as she finished with her self-play. Catching her breath, tasting of the night's cool air. Her session of midnight fun having left her exerted; she reached for the vase of water kept at her bedside. Empty; she'd make sure to wipe her face with a fine cloth and place a dark cloak over her nightgown before going to the cistern spout down the castle wing.

It was well into the night when Amira walked to the common room; she'd struggled to sleep restfully since father had explained the marriage arrangement he'd intended for her.

The common room was down the hallway; the servants would've retired to their downstairs quarters at this hour. Amira wasn't expecting to find a single guest in the common room; having forgotten that father was lodging Mithras in the castle's finest visitors' suites. The traveling merchant was viewing the stars and the moon through the common room's stained-glass window; one panel opened for observation.

"Lady Amira." Mithras bows politely, respectfully enough. The nightgown-clad woman of the castle acknowledging his presence with a mere whisper.

The opportunity to discuss with this traveler outside of father's stern presence wasn't a chance she intended to discard carelessly.

"Guests often notice the many stars in the sky when they're staying up here." Indeed, the highest floor of father's castle offered the finest view of the surrounding lands - barring the observation tower.

"I can certainly see why. With my own eyes." Mithras hails the view, soon pointing with a finger into the night sky. "Do you see?" Beckoning Amira closer, to the window. "The North Star. If you follow that star, you'll always be northbound. Quite useful, when one is far from home on a road they couldn't name for their lives."

"I'll be going in that direction later that week, of course. Going north, for business. To Remos." Amira's ears perked at Mithras' words.

"To... the land of the barbarians?" Such frank language would've been a faux pas at dinner earlier tonight, especially in the presence of father.

"That's what you people call them."

Mithras was of course bolder outside of his company, Amira knew. An opportunity for her to learn more of the world beyond the confines father limited her to.

"I don't call them that. My father does. I know little of Remos," Amira asserted to Mithras. The last sentence of her statement is arguably a lie, although it was true she would know far less about the lands to the north than Mithras.

"That's very commendable." Mithras closes the window, the touch of the cold air less bearable to the nightgown-clothed Amira than himself. Now only bright moonlight entered through the portal.

"For what purpose... Are you going there?" Amira deigned to question him, careful not to appear too inquisitive about the guest's travels.

"For a business venture, actually." Mithras suddenly appears more guarded, perhaps choosing his own words carefully. He assesses the reaction of his host's daughter, perhaps keenly deciding what exactly he'd share with her.

And yet, he remembered her line of questioning at the dinner table today.

He could've sworn that he saw a spark of curiosity in her eyes as he explained the setting of the Remosan slave markets. He decided he'd find out if his eyes had deceived him, even if his words sent his host's daughter hastily departing the common room in offense.

"A slave brothel, actually." Mithras can't hide a devilish smile as he sits on a couch, the surprise on Amira's face quite evident. "I'm not completely involved. A partner, if you will, with the primary owner."

"That's..." It's hard for Amira to form a response to Mithras' disclosure. She eventually speaks in a whisper, a tacit acknowledgement of sorts that she was discussing matters that no titled noblewoman of Mirae should've ever even thought of it. "I can see why you didn't bring it up to father."

"A slave brothel." Amira speaks quietly, slinking onto the couch opposite of Mithras. "How exactly does such a... 'business venture' work?"

While the lady of House Fire-Blood often found herself visualizing herself as a pleasure slave in her bedroom fantasies, the role of a whore isn't one she imagined befitting her. She preferred imagining herself as the collared and decorated pet of a handsome, powerful Master - a whore for him, perhaps. She could at least question Mithras on such a brothel without his answer proving shamefully befitting of her.

Mithras rests his foot above his knee, beginning to explain the business of pleasure slavery to his impressionable host. "Some girls who are beginning their slavery in Remos are sold to a brothel, rather than a specific Master." Certainly not a fate Amira would want. "They'll be instructed how to properly please those who pay for their services."

"Those who are respectful and well-behaved? Maybe a year or two down the line they'll be listed on the markets again, and they'll have the chance to be sold to a Master. I didn't mention that some of the girls I saw sold at the Great Slave Markets were brothel workers, by the way. No wonder they were on their best behavior."

"It sounds... quite terrifying." Amira responds, speaking truthfully. Being whored out to strange men for a price wasn't an experience most women would want.

"I can understand why they... behaved. I wouldn't want to be sold to one of these... brothels, if I ever became a Remosan captive."

Mithras' own eyes gleam with interest. Perhaps the spark of curiosity he saw in Amira's eyes earlier in the evening was no mere figment of his imagination.

"Oh, you wouldn't. A Miraeian girl? Nobility? You'd make a slaver a very wealthy man. For a price far greater than a brothel mistress would want to pay for any one slave."

Amira's hands play with themselves nervously as the topic of the conversation shifts. One she should not be having, but the prospect of learning what her own sale at the Great Slave Markets would entail was far too delicious to resist.

"Really? You think so?" She asks, inviting more Remosan-style flattery.

"I'm certain." Mithras expresses confidently, sensing his opportunity to manipulate the impressionable Amira.

"You'd be displayed at the Great Slave Markets at midday, when the most customers are present in the auction square. Your slaver would introduce your noble pedigree - make it clear he's not offering any mere captive of a village raid, of course."

"I imagine some of the wealthiest barons of Remos would compete to purchase you."

Mithras shamelessly peers at Amira. "Eleven thousand gold pieces, maybe? Although I could say with more certainty if your clothing weren't hiding your body, girl."

Amira runs her hands excitedly up and down her legs. Uncomfortable that Mithras had stopped with his forecast of this scenario - wanting him to continue. Wanting to learn what exactly would happen in this - what would happen if she were to be sold as a pleasure slave.

She made the decision to entertain his fantasy.

Amira tugs her nightgown slowly, the fabric sliding down over her full, perk tits. Showing off her chest to Mithras, so that he might estimate how a crowd of slaveowners might appreciate it.

Mithras chuckled quietly as he saw just how stimulated hard Amira's sensitive nipples had become just imagining all of this. The first man, she realized, to see just what kind of woman she really was. One who deserved nothing more than to be collared and branded as a Remosan Master's pet, his slut, his kinky little slave.

"Hm... Perhaps even more." He spoke truth. Many barons of Remos would offer much of their treasure to train a respectful and breedable princess of Mirae in the customs of pleasure slavery.

"I'd be worth every last gold piece." Amira asserts, a tone of protestation in her voice. Her heart racing as she placed her hands behind her back, imagining being sold as a slave as if... as if it were real.

"Perhaps so," Mithras feeds her expectations, although he's careful to distinguish between mere fantasy and the reality of the slave markets.

"Although we'll never for sure, my girl. With your marriage in the coming weeks of course." There was only one way for a young woman such as Amira to find out how much she'd be worth at the Great Slave Markets of Remos.

Mithras is easily able to spot the fire in her eyes suddenly doused with disappointment.

A slave couldn't be extradited from Remos to Mirae at the mere behest of her parents, right? Of course not. Amira was smart enough to know the answer to this without asking.

"What if... there was a way?" Amira asks, her hands nervously fidgeting behind her back as she discussed the first step towards actualizing her fantasy.

"To be sold on the markets?" Mithras plays coy. "Even if there were, that's no mere game or value proposition. You'd be a pleasure slave after your sale, the property of your new Master. A woman of his harem."

"But perhaps that's... what you want, girl?"

A rush of excitable energy had passed through Amira's body as Mithras explained the consequences of such a sale in explicit detail. It didn't escape her how shameful her words for, how they'd dishonor House Fire-Blood in a potentially permanent fashion. Cost her the respect of her friends, her family. But Mithras had asked her what she wanted, and she knew the answer.

"Gods, yes, yes, yes, Mithras." The admission of her fantasies in word for the first time expressed in even a more potent form then she'd thought herself to be capable of. Maybe she really was a shameful one, Amira thought.

"Since I've been a young woman I've dreamed about such a possibility. About being a..." Amira pauses for a moment, having to collect her thoughts and remember she was speaking to someone who was involved in the sale of women. "About being a slave. Serving a powerful Master. Learning the customs of Remos."

"I simply must tell you, Mithras, that I would far prefer for my fate to be decided at the slave markets than by my father's marriage plans. Is there a way?"

This girl's slut instincts were quite potent, Mithras realized. It only seemed fair to help her, even if it meant never returning from Mirae. After all, he'd stand to make such a sum from a percentage of her auction contract that it'd be worth it, anyway.

"There is a way." Mithras can't resist scooting forward on his couch as he explains the solution to a keenly attentive Amira.

"It's called a consignment contract. You'd make it with the Slavers' Guild at Winding Sea Castle, actually. If you were to be sold at Remos City. Which you will be." Mithras talking about how she, personally, would be sold. Amira's excitement was intoxicating, although she's sure to pay close attention.