The Rebellious Slave Ch. 03

Author's Note: Hello again, fabulous readers! This chapter covers the original second half of Chapter 5 and all of Chapter 6. It was very difficult to edit and I ended up changing a bunch of stuff during the final pass (hence the slight posting delay) and it's also way too long (yet again), but I think I am finally happy with it. It does deviate not insignificantly from the original, while retaining its core themes. Overall, I think I balance affection and cruelty a lot better this time around, while also including oodles of research for some actual realism. Please be advised that there is lots of sexual sadism in this chapter so, you know, be aware of that. Whether you love it or hate it, please rate it and let me know. We got in the Hall of Fame on the last one, woot-woot! As always, I'll be hanging around and responding to comments whenever I can.

—HisPet21

***

Kara awoke groggily. For a moment, she thought she was back in Telma, sleeping at her parents' house in the countryside. There was a bright, welcoming fire warming her—just like the one back home—and when she'd visited, they'd always let her sleep on the couch in the living room, taking in the comforting scent of burning wood. But as Kara opened her eyes still wider, she suddenly realized that she wasn't in Telma afterall. The reality hit her hard and violently, as if some invisible force had hit her in the chest, forcing the air out of her lungs. Frantically, she scanned the room, only to find that it was empty, at least for now.

It was dark but for the fireplace, which cast a soft, eerie glow across the floor. If she looked straight ahead, Kara could see a set of ornately carved, wooden double doors and against the wall to her left were a multitude of bookshelves, all filled with old leather volumes. In the center of the room atop a plush, blue carpet was an embroidered loveseat and a set of two armchairs, sitting before a wooden coffee table. Kara could also make out a few windows, all with the curtains closed. But for some reason, she found herself most intrigued by four distinct oil paintings, which all depicted the same ancient oak tree during different seasons of the year. The autumn painting was particularly beautiful and reminded her of Octobers back home, when the leaves turned gold and then red in the chilly air.

It could be worse, Kara thought, willing herself to keep calm even as it all came rushing back to her: her abduction, the auction, and of course, Lord Arlington's cold, blue eyes. You could have been in a dungeon; this isn't so bad. Just don't panic. Easier said than done, but Kara had to try. Just don't panic.

Shifting in place, Kara discovered that she was kneeling on a set of throw pillows and a spreader was forcing her legs apart. Her arms were also chained high above her head and connected to a large gear hidden in the rafters, so that she could be lifted into the air and then lowered back onto the floor again. The contraption looked sturdy enough, but perhaps there was a weak spot, maybe a rusty chain link or a loose bolt. Mustering up all her strength, Kara grabbed onto the chains and pulled hard, being sure to put all her weight onto the damn things. But it didn't matter. Even after a lot of straining and panting, nothing gave.

It's alright. You'll be okay, Kara reasoned, but she didn't really believe it and as the true nature of her predicament began to sink in, she could feel her heart start to race beneath her breast. No, no...it's alright! Don't panic! Just don't panic!

Suddenly, there was a loud creak and Kara almost jumped out of her skin, but it was only the butler coming in through the doorway. Still kneeling on the floor, she watched as he crossed the room, a bottle of wine and an ice bucket in one hand and a single glass in the other. Carefully, he set them down on the table, before moving to the fireplace and prodding the logs. Kara's heart was throbbing so loudly in her ears now, she could hardly hear anything else, but she knew that this might be her only chance to get help and forced her lips to move.

"Please, please, help me..." Kara begged, but the butler simply ignored her and went about his business, adjusting the curtains and fluffing the pillows. Once done, he headed back toward the doorway and Kara felt her panic heighten, making her voice hoarse with desperation. "Please, please, please! Don't leave me here! Please!" But then the doors slammed shut and Kara was all alone again, save for the crackling of the fire.

It's alright...just don't panic, just don't panic, just don't panic...

But it was too late.

For the first time since her capture, Kara hung her head and sobbed. She'd tried to be brave, but she couldn't hold back her emotions any longer. The fear and the grief overwhelmed her all at once until she was gasping for breath through her tears, nearly drowning in them. Questions she had been pushing to the periphery of her awareness suddenly broke free and flooded her mind. Would she ever see her family again? Uncle Florence, her parents, her friends? And what would this man do to her? The infamous Lord Arlington? As the tears continued to fall, Kara could hear the grandfather clock in the far corner ring out ten times and the creaking of the wooden doors as they opened once more. Hoping beyond hope that the butler had come back for her, Kara looked up, but no such luck. Alone in the room with her was Lord Arlington, back for the evening and looking amused.

"My goodness," Lord Arlington teased, noting the tear streaks and mascara lines on her face. "Surely the living room isn't that horrifying?"

Quickly, Kara ceased her sobs, determined not to show any weakness. The man was an absolute monster, responsible for the destruction of her homeland. If ever there was a time to remain obstinate and defiant, it was now. But Lord Arlington hardly paid her any heed and instead, plopped down onto the loveseat to pour himself a glass of wine. There was a large manila folder in his hands and with growing horror, Kara realized that her name was scrawled atop it.

How much do they know about me? Kara wondered, aghast. And how?

Aside from the fire, it was quiet in the room as Lord Arlington shuffled through her papers, occasionally quirking his eyebrows in surprise or grinning devilishly at something he'd read. Kara wasn't sure how long it'd been, but eventually, he set down his glass and pulled up an armchair. Unlike in the auction hall, she had to look up to see the man's face and found the subservient nature of the position appalling.

"I see you're as eager to get started as I am," Lord Arlington drawled. "Do you know who I am?"

"I do," Kara whispered. It was surprisingly difficult to form the words and even then, her voice was unnaturally quiet—strained even—as if each syllable took great effort. Kara cursed her weakness, but she couldn't help it either. Not with the Fourth Lord of Isleydor towering over her, even his casual demeanor somehow menacing. "I do...Lord Arlington."

"A good start. And do you know why you're here?"

"Because you're a monster!" Kara spat, which was even harder to manage, but somehow she did and, when lightning did not immediately strike her, grew bolder. "I'm here because you think winning a war means you have the right to...to own people. And because you're too far gone to think any differently."

"Close enough," Lord Arlington conceded, but his eyes were hard. "I understand you come from a vastly different cultural background, but it can't hurt to ask: Are you familiar with basic slave protocols?"

"Slave...protocols..."

In spite of all her bravado, Kara could feel the words slinking into her brain like icy tentacles, ensnaring her mind and making her heart grow cold. An idea occurred to her then, a bad one. Like everything else she'd tried, Kara knew it was a long shot, but she still had one last chance to get out of this and at the very least, she had to make an attempt.

"Please," Kara begged, trying for the very first time to let her sincerity show. "I know what you paid for me. I can probably match it and then some. I have friends beyond the border and—"

"Not another word," Lord Arlington ordered, his voice cold. "This subject is off-limits."

"But, I—"

"I told you, this subject is off-limits," Lord Arlington reiterated, and somehow, his voice was even colder now. "Never—and I mean never—bring it up again."

This time, Kara immediately fell silent. It wasn't a conscious decision. It just sort of...happened. The words were there—tumbling out in a flurry—and then they were gone. Arlington's tone was like dark, deadly poison, killing off mid-conception any thoughts she might have had and leaving her speechless.

Keep it together! Kara thought, and for the second time that night, she felt a familiar sort of shame—and anger, too—consume her, mocking her for her weakness. He's only a man. Keep it together!

"I...I don't believe you," Kara told him, her voice soft, but defiant. She couldn't give up now, not yet. "Everyone has a price, even you, and—"

The words had barely left her lips when Arlington raised his hand and slapped her. It wasn't hard enough to cause any real damage, but Kara could feel a sharp, shooting pain as his open palm made contact and then a warm, persistent sting spread across her cheek. Wincing, she gripped hard onto the chains above her and braced herself for worse, but Arlington had already moved on.

"I can see that you are struggling, so we'll start with something easy," Lord Arlington told her, his voice dripping with condescension. "Speech restrictions."

Speech restrictions? Kara felt a sneer on her lips then, but Lord Arlington was eyeing her strangely now—more than a hint of warning in his expression—and she decided it might be best to wait and at least hear him out. What kind of ridiculous...?

"There are only a handful of rules, all very straightforward," Arlington continued, nonchalant. "Rule One: Whenever I ask you a question, I expect a verbal answer, preferably a 'yes' or a 'no.' Extraneous detail will be punished. If I want specifics, I'll demand them from you as a follow-up. Rule Two: Whenever you address me, it will be with appropriate respect. You will always refer to me by my title, either 'Master,' 'Sir,' or 'My Lord.' Failure to do otherwise will, of course, be punished. And finally, Rule Three: You are not to speak unless spoken to, with a few rare exceptions. Unless otherwise forbidden, you may beg without permission or, if we don't have company, you may request permission to speak. Do you understand, slave?"

For a moment, Kara very seriously considered giving him what he wanted. He wasn't going to let her go and if she faked subservience now and gained his trust, it would make a later escape attempt that much easier. But to bow down so easily would be to betray all of the brave men and women who had died to oppose this man—all the soldiers she had treated on the battlefield, bruised and bloodied and crying for their mothers in her arms—and she simply couldn't do that. Kara knew in her heart of hearts that if she were to give in now, that choice would haunt her for the rest of her life and she already had far too many ghosts following her around.

"With all due respect," Kara began, and though her voice shook, the conviction in her eyes was unrelenting. "You may be able to make me scream in agony, or tremble in terror, or sob in pain. But you will not get me to submit to you. Not now and not ever. Do with me as you will, but don't expect obedience. Not from me."

Lord Arlington narrowed his eyes at her, but there was no anger, only a careful consideration of her words. For a moment, he seemed to contemplate what ought to be done with her and Kara braced herself for another blow to the face. But his mind made up, Lord Arlington turned toward a wooden chest tucked under the loveseat and removed a ball gag. His footsteps soft against the carpet, he walked up to Kara and dangled it before her face.

Is...is that it? Kara thought. This is the infamous mindfuckery of Lord Arlington?

"Slaves who don't speak with proper respect won't speak at all," Lord Arlington explained, and he stepped out of sight. Kara could hear him kneel behind her and shivered as his hands brushed her face, carefully lifting her hair up and out of the way. "Now, open your mouth."

No, Kara thought, and she felt a sudden surge of determination rise up within her belly and consume her. No, no...no!

In the end, Kara knew it was useless to fight, but that didn't mean anything. She had lost so much during the war against Isleydor—her home, her loved ones, her freedom—and now, she was desperately combing through the wreckage of her psyche, cutting her hands on splintering dreams and the broken remains of long-forgotten promises. Eventually, she found it—the one thing she still had, the one thing that no one could ever take from her—and snatched it out of the rubble: defiance. She clung to that singular instinct for dear life and promised herself that if Lord Arlington wanted to take it from her, then he would have to pry it from her cold, dead fingers. He wrapped an arm around her torso and then grabbed her chin, but despite the threatening gesture, Kara clamped her mouth shut so tightly that it hurt.

"You're probably wondering why a gag would be an incentive for obedience," Lord Arlington continued, not the least bit fazed, and he pinched the little hinge where her upper and lower jaws met until it finally popped open. As the hard rubber ball of a gag was forced inside her mouth, Kara struggled and gasped, wide-eyed and unable to believe it had been that easy. "Now, I'll let you in on a little secret: I very much enjoy a good begging, and I'll often use the sincerity and desperation of your pleas to effectively gauge my response. But if you cannot speak, you cannot beg for my mercy. Begging is a privilege, my dear. And only when I think you are ready to speak properly will you get the privilege back."

With that, Lord Arlington locked the gag into place and stood to his feet. Kara expected him to return to his chair then, but he didn't and she could just barely see him lurking about in the darkness behind her. Her head would only turn so far. And since Kara couldn't get a good look at him, she listened instead, straining to hear anything above the silence. Suddenly, there was the grinding of a gear, followed by a gentle, persistent clicking. It grew steadily louder and looking up, Kara realized that the chains above her head were lifting into the ceiling, forcing her up on tiptoe. When Lord Arlington came back into view, he held a dagger in his hands and expertly twirled it in his fingers so that his blade caught the light.

"I don't know why Martkorp allows their slaves to wear clothing at auction," Lord Arlington sighed, feigning frustration and pressing the blade to her collarbone. "But now that I have you tied and gagged, I should probably appraise my property more thoroughly, don't you think?"

Lord Arlington lifted her chin with the tip of his blade, watching her terrified eyes closely as they glimmered in the firelight. She swallowed hard, then shuddered as he switched over to the cutting edge. Gently, he used the blade to guide her head to the side and Kara dared not fight him this time. Even in her semi-panicked state, she could sense its sharpness and knew that very little pressure would be required to draw blood.

"Smart girl," Lord Arlington praised, a slight smile on his lips. "Very stupid, but also very, very smart." Then with devilish precision, Arlington released her throat and slipped his blade under the gore of her bra. "You have beautiful eyes, my dear. But now, let's have a look at the rest of you, shall we?"

Kara knew what was coming well before it had happened, but that didn't mean she was prepared. Lord Arlington lifted his blade and immediately, the cloth gave way, as easily as if he were slicing through warm butter. There was tension, then a release, and her breasts were instantly exposed to the firelight. Kara could feel the heat on them and as her pert, pink nipples stood up in the warm air, she averted her gaze. She could hardly stand the humiliation of being laid bare like this, with her clothes ripped to shreds and the firelight flickering over her curves. But while Kara couldn't stop the assault, she could certainly limit her participation. Just beyond Arlington's imposing figure, she could still see that same beautiful, autumn oak painting and stared at it, trying to pretend she was somewhere else.

"Oh no...absolutely not," Lord Arlington chided, and his blade was at her throat again, abruptly clawing back all the attention she'd so painstakingly redirected. "That's a good girl. Stay here with me." Then Kara felt his free hand roughly grab her breast and as he rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, she winced. "Ah, so expressive...I can already tell you'll be an exceptional toy."

Kara glared at him, trying to make sure he could see the hatred in her eyes, but Lord Arlington only chuckled under his breath. Almost lovingly, he dragged his blade down her neck, over her collar bone, and then rested it between her breasts, watching them gently rise and fall as she breathed. Kara hoped that was the end of it, but then Arlington began to survey her body with the knife, starting at her chest and then migrating down her belly to her navel. His movements were slow, but full of intent and the way his blade danced across her flesh was eerily affectionate, exposing and then exploring every irregularity. Kara could only watch in hypnotic terror as Arlington ran his knife over her flushed skin, enjoying the way she shivered and writhed under his fingertips. Though he didn't cut her, the coolness of his blade in contrast with the heat of the fire intensified every sharp, new sensation and little goosebumps rose in the wake of his bladework.

"Keep breathing," Lord Arlington ordered, and Kara realized she'd stopped and somehow hadn't noticed. "Good girl, that's it."

Resting his blade above her navel, Lord Arlington gently teased her belly button with the pointed tip, then suddenly hooked it into the elastic of her panties and cut them free. The loincloth soon followed, and then Kara was nude except for the golden chain across her waist. There was no time to process anything after that. Almost immediately, Kara could feel his knife at her skin again, sliding gently downward and toward her sex. All the panic and helplessness she had been fending off suddenly returned to her as he pressed his blade against her upper thigh, then reached his free hand down between her legs and ran his fingers through her soft, naked folds.

"So smooth, so delicate..." Lord Arlington whispered, leaning into her ear. "Your cunt will feel positively delicious clenched against my cock." Placing a finger on either side of her clit, he began to massage it and Kara whimpered piteously into the gag, then cried out as he slipped two fingers inside her and began to thrust. His motions were gentle and rhythmic and against her will, Kara felt herself moisten. "Eyes open," Lord Arlington ordered, kissing her cheek softly. "I think a fair punishment is in order to demonstrate where the balance of power lies and to fully discipline you for that outburst earlier. I'd like you to keep your eyes on me throughout, my dear."

Every instinct was now screaming at Kara to obey, but in her mind's eye, she could still see Tamius fighting off Martkorp handlers and then turning her deadly expression toward Lord Arlington.

I can't give in, Kara thought. No, not yet!