tagSci-Fi & FantasyWilling Slave, Unwilling Master

Willing Slave, Unwilling Master


First time writing anything like this, so I apologise in advance if it's rubbish. This story will be a slow burner, with sex happening later.


— — —


"I know you mean well lad, but this is all nonsense."

I sigh as i'm handed back my leaflet, at least this grey haired old salaryman didn't just throw the thing away. His red haired slave girl gives me a sympathetic sort of smile as he pulls her into the madding crowd on a thin leather leash. She would almost have looked human, had it not been the intricate pattern of spots running down the back of legs.

Ducking away from the fierce wind kicked up by one of the landing interplanetary supply ships I head for cover deeper inside the transport hub. The main hall of the terminal is a vast temple of sterile whiteness, high overhead I'm just able to make out the ceiling wide view screen, today showing the undersides of long lost aircraft. A reminder of what once was, as well as fuel for the recent trend of retro everything. Anti-gravity bridges span the upper levels, but the main body of traffic is on the ground floor where I am. Tucking myself between two advising screens I lay down my foldable glass tablet, using the device to project a realistic poster on the wall behind me.

Forcing myself to smile begins to wear thin around the second hour as I try and tempt passers by into my alcove for a chat. Unfortunately the only people who approach me are those who think I'm handing out coupon codes to one of those zero-grav laser tag games. I'm about to pack up when I notice a disturbance in the steady stream of people flowing into the station.

A little confused at first, I quickly take notice of the women who towers above the humans around her. She stands about eight feet tall, with delicate scales covering her otherwise - mostly - humanoid face, where a human would have a nose she has two slits. Instead of hair are brussels of shimmering feathers in every colour imaginable. I wonder briefly if her look is natural or if she shares my sisters love of cosmetics.

Our eyes meet, despite her reptilian features her eyes are much like ours. Which is a comfort, strange eyes freak me out. To my mingled horror and fascination she starts moving in my direction. I'm about to meet what is unmistakably a Vil, an alien from another world. Of course Vil isn't their actual name, it's just the best human translation.

Rapidly I run though what I actually know about the Vil. They are private, secretive, highly suspicious and until fifty years ago our mortal enemies. It was just our bad luck to discover a wormhole to a species that had roughly the same attitude to foreign relations that we did and our races were soon entrenched in a brutal and bloody war. The conflict raged for so long that no one really knows who actually started hostilities, I like to think it was team effort. It all happened before I was born, but seeing the haunted look in my parents eyes was enough to convey just how bad things got.

Fortunately common ground was found before either race was entirely wiped out. unfortunately that common ground was slavery of the lower Vil, a race that had even worse luck than us and shared - or at least inhabited - the same world as the Vil. Peace was built off of the backs of the enslaved, and the free labour and new markets caused Earth global economy to explode, with Vil-Rah, the Vil's home-world reporting similar economic success.

Despite her size the Vill women emerges gracefully from the crowd without a single ruffled father. She's the first of her kind I've ever seen in real life, most of her kind are too paranoid to ever set foot on Earth, despite the peace. I'm not surprised to see a leashed slave at her side. Though this girl has clearly been breed on Vil-Rah, judging by the scales on her bold downturned head.

Tentatively I hold out one of the leaflets, which the women takes with a nervous smile. Despite our physical differences our species are pretty evenly matched in terms of military might. No one, Vil or human wants to see a return to the dark times so everyone is taught how to politely interact, even if most of us will never get the chance. I don't know if I should be feeling honoured or afraid.

"This paper has kindness human." The women observes in slow, carefully considered english.

I nod, a smile forming on my face. I'm not sure how practiced at our language this women is and I don't want to offend her. "Would you be interested in trying any of the tips?" I ask, gesturing to the 'Improving comfort' section of the leaflet.

She bites her lip, a scaled hand slowly stroking the head of the petite girl beside her. It's interesting the difference between how the human's and the Vil treat their property. Most humans have their slaves trail behind them, then kneel at their feet when stationary. This Vil at least likes to keep her girl close at hand.

"Kindness can cause pain when it is used in error human." She replies at last.

"You don't think they deserve kindness?" I ask, gesturing to the girl beside her.

"You believe to free her would be kind human?"

I tell her at once that I do.

"She would feel fear, confusion, loneliness and sadness. You see through human eyes, I see through my eyes, she sees through hers. You are understanding human?"

I knew the Lower Vil were naturally submissive, but I wasn't convinced being owned was enjoyable for all of them.

"But they have been bred and trained to feel that way," I argue, noticing a pair of enforcers drawing closer, ready to step in should the fragile peace be threatened. "Raise a Lower Vil like a human child and they won't feel like that."

Another smile touches her scaled face, displaying a pair of vampire like fangs. "A Earth dog barks, this is it's nature yes. A Lower Vil seeks an owner, is it's nature human." She pauses, gently rubbing her fingertips behind the slave's ears. "You are owning?" She asks, nodding down at the girl.

"No." I reply.

"You would be a kind master I think. But you must do the true seeing, you must do the true hearing. Then you will do the true kindness. You understand human?"

"Not exactly." I reply nervously.

She beams at me, as if she's just told a joke she's very proud of. "The talking was enjoyable human, I will be keeping the paper yes?"

"Yes please do," I say the smile returning to my face. "Thank you for taking the time to talk with me."

She nods, and in one smooth motion ducks down and picks up the slave girl who wraps her arms around her Mistress. Before the pair of them wander towards the inner city grav-trains. I watch them disappear, not an entirely unsuccessful encounter. The Vil women may have been tall, and downright terrifying in some regards, but I think in our own ways we both value kindness.

I have to scoff at some of what she said though as I head towards the out of city trains.

As if I would ever own a slave.

— — —

The grav-train slides into the station, coming to a halt before moving gently to the left and against the platform proper. I have no idea how complex train lines must have been to operate before trains could overtake each other.

My little finger flashes as I slide my hand over the payment scanner, a conformation that the charge has been registered. Again I can't help but wonder how tiresome it must have been to use physical money. I'll have to try and find out when exactly old style concurrency was phased out, I'm not sure exactly what job I want after I finish my mandatory schooling at twenty-one, but it will have something to do with history.

I walk home, enjoying the fresh air.

My father's large four wheeled car sits shining in the driveway. There's been a huge resurgence of these refined oil powered machines, based on the designs of two hundred years ago. I really don't see what the appeal is, but then me and my father rarely see eye to eye. It's unusual to see him home so early though. It either means he had a productive day or a really bad one.

Not particularly keen to find out which and suffer another lecture on my after school activities I sneak around the side of the house. My feet crunching on the gravel path, another retro feature, but this time one of my mothers.

The door unlocks automatically as I place my palm on the handle, pushing inside with as much stealth as I can mange.

"Good afternoon master Dan."

I groan, looking up to find Emily standing in the middle of the sparkling kitchen her arms held obediently behind her back. She's wearing her blonde hair in a pony tail today, the better to show off the small scales and spines that run from under her ears and down her spine, despite how sharp her spines look I know from experience that they are very soft and yield when touched.

"Hey Emily." I say, trying not push my frustration on to her. "You're looking lovely today." I'm not sure if my father - to whom Emily belongs - gives her compliments, but I know by the way her face lights up she enjoys receiving them.

"Thank you sir!" Her cheeks glow rose and I can hear the tiniest of contented clicks from deep in her throat. Thinking back to the women I met today I wonder if true Vil make that noise when they are happy.

"Your mother and father wish to see you in the sturdy sir." She says, her smile faltering.

That sounds decidedly ominous, normally they save their complaints for meal times, I don't recall having a formal lecture since the time I stole Emily's collar and in my enthusiastic twelve year old way tried to free her.

"I don't suppose you know why?" I ask, forewarned being forearmed after all.

"No sir," she replies, looking down at her feet. A sure sign she's lying.

I touch her arm lightly, "Well it was nice knowingly you." I jest, though her blue eyes look positively panic-stricken as I walk away.

I rack my brain trying to work out exactly what I might have done to deserve such a summons as I make my way slowly through the halls of our extensive home, the longest of which incorporate full wall and ceiling screens, today showing misty forest complete with scented pine air pumped through the air conditioning system. Finally I reach a large oak door and knock. Emily, quiet as a ghost, hovers a little way behind me.

"Come in." My father's voice is muffled by the wood.

The first thing I notice as I walk into the study is my mother's hands twisting in her lap, something she only does when she's very on edge. Then I take in my father, he's still wearing his suit and sitting behind his desk. And on the floor in front of everyone a slim red haired girl kneels, her fragile naked body trembling.

"No." I say at once.

"Dan." My father warns, a rumble in his voice. "You can't keep up this silly project forever, the world has moved on! You need to as well. Plus." He says a huge grin appearing on his chubby face. "She was really cheap."

"You can't do this to me."

"We're not doing anything to you." My mother coos, "She's a gift."

"A person is not a gift." I protest.

"This one is." My father replies, "If you don't want her I will send her back to the compound, but this will be the last gift you ever get from us."

I'm incensed. How can they - knowing how I feel about slavery - Buy me this slip of a girl, then act like I'm being a brat when I refuse her. Regardless of the consequences I can't own a slave, I just can't. What would my friends say? It goes against everything I fought for for years.

I'm about to nod, agreeing that returning her really would be the best thing when her head shoots up and her green eyes meet mine. I have never seen a person look so scared, she shakes her head feebly, before seeming to remember herself and returning her eyes to the carpet. Braced as if preparing to be hit.

"Fine." I mumble, "I'll take her." My father just smirks. "But you two." I say pointing at my parents, "Are going to sit and listen to exactly why I'm so against slavery."

"Fine," The smirk vanishes from my father's face, "Girl!"

Almost immediately Emily appears, her eyes respectfully downcast and her arms held behind her back.

"Take this," he gestures to my new slave girl, "Thing to my son's room."

"Yes master!"

The girl on the carpet seems a little dazed and it takes more than one attempt for Emily to pull her gently to her feet, before leading her out of the room.

"Right," I say, grabbing a chair and pulling some leaflets from my bag. It's unlikely that either of them will listen, not like that Vil women did. But the fact that they have too is good enough retribution for now.

— — —


Master doesn't want me. The memory of his rejection rattles through my head again and again as I follow the scaled slave through the hallways. I've never seen a girl like her. Then again, I've only ever seen eleven other Lower Vil girls in my entire life.

Oh why did my body have to betray me! Why did I have to be so afraid, meeting my Master should have been a happy moment, it's all I've ever wanted. Yet all I did was shake and look disgusting. No wonder he doesn't want me.

I'm distracted from my misery by the intricate patterns on the walls as we climb the stairs, these shapes unlike the forest scenes downstairs remain completely stationary, at least so far as I can tell. I'm so caught up in the wonder of it all that I stop in front of a spiralling mass of colours contained within a wooden frame. I've never seen anything like it, it's beautiful in a way I didn't know something painted on paper could be. Slowly, I reach out my hand, intending to trace the spirals with my finger.

Another warmer hand falls on top of mine. "You must not touch Mistress Abigail's art work." Emily says sternly, "Come on, we have a little bit further to go. You don't want your Master to think you're disobedient do you?"

I shake my head. I will prove to Master i'm a good obedient girl, and he will be happy to have me. I begin to slowly walk again, keeping my eyes fixed to the soft carpet to prevent myself from becoming distracted.

"It's overwhelming at first," Emily comments, "My Master had to punish me often before I settled down, but master Dan is kind. He will let you experience what you wish to experience."

Because he doesn't care about me? Doesn't want me near him? I can't work out the implication of her words.

Entering my Master's room sends a shiver up my spine. It's so warm, there is none of the cold angles that make up much of the rest of the house, everything is beautifully organic. Wooden bookshelves dominate every wall, their contents a disorganised mass of colour. The natural wood extends to the floor, where is bathed in dappled sunlight from a pair of overhead skylights, behind which I can see the branches of a gently swaying tree. Emily takes my elbow gently to get me moving again.

"Kneel." She commands sweetly, pointing to a soft rug in the middle of an otherwise very hard floor.

"Thank you." I say softly, I realise with a start not speaking for three days has left my voice dry and cracked.

"You're welcome," She smiles, "I'm sure Master Dan will allow us to be friends!" With one last ernest grin she walks out of the door, leaving me alone in a patch of sunlight.

I manage to keep my eyes obediently fixed to the floor for nearly ten minutes, before curiosity gets the better of me. As it often does. I just can't help myself, there are so many things in this room i've only experienced as pictures. But photographs could never do justice to how inviting Master's bed looks, or how cozy his little sofa and view screen area looks. I wonder if he will allow me to kneel beside him while he watches a show or a movie!

Continuing my visual inspection of the room my gaze falls upon the nearest and most cluttered book shelf. Does he have any books on the approved list? Will he let me read if i'm really well behaved? I peer curiously at the bottom shelf, then frown as I see titles like: 'The evils of slavery' and: 'The slave trade, a hollow victory?'. These books are definitely not on the approved list. I look away, does Master believe slaves are evil?

Well, I will show him i'm not! I'll prove that i'm a valuable possession! I settle down to wait, it shouldn't be this difficult. The urge to fidget was taken from me when I was young, I've been trained to stay still for long, long periods of time. Just like all Lower Vil, but no one ever explained how hard it is to stay still when you're buzzing with anticipation.

— — —


Oh hell Emily, you could have least made her comfortable. The girl is kneeling on the floor, a thin rug the only thing to separate her naked knees from the hard wooden floor. I should have come up here sooner, It's taken me a long time to build up the courage to face fact that I'm now a slave owner.

She doesn't look up as I draw closer, shaggy red hair hiding her face. Feeling disturbingly like a car trader inspecting my newest model I let my gaze fall over her naked flesh. I bite my bottom lip, until I realise what i'm actually seeing. She's thin, too thin. Her ribs outlined clearly along her side. What at first glance I took to be an underdeveloped teenager is in reality a woman grown, but withered like dry fruit.

I move slowly around to her back, trying not to startle her. Though, for all intents and purposes she is a living statue. Her markings are truly amazing, a pattern like nothing I have ever seen before. An organic maze of lines that never cross, imprinted in her skin in shades of brown and light red. Like nearly all Lower Vil they start just below her ears down to the base of her spine, before wrapping around her hips to nestle between her legs. Wincing I notice her arse is criss crossed with cane marks, some recent, others older.

"What the hell have they done to you?" I ask the room at large, my voice cracking.

"Master?" She replies tentatively.

"You were caned?" I say, cursing myself as I stupidly gesture to her behind, as if it were something she's likely to have forgotten.

"Yes Master, I." She pauses before blowing on. "I was disobedient. I promise I will behave better for you Master, I promise."

"You don't have to call me Master," I tell her.

"Please! I won't misbehave again! I won't! I won't Master! I promise." She begs, her fingernails digging into the flesh of her wrist held behind her back.

"Hey, stop that." I say, kneeling down to pull her hands apart. "You must not hurt yourself, okay?"

She holds her arms awkwardly at her sides, "Yes Master, i'm sorry." She sounds terrified.

"Please don't be afraid." I say.

She takes a few deep breaths to steady herself, before nodding slowly. I'm a little disturbed, what I meant as reassurance was taken by her as a command to no longer appear afraid. I get a sudden inkling as to what the Vil women at the transport hub was talking about, I'll need to learn to look past the convincing act if I ever want to know what this girl is feeling.

"Do you have a name?" I ask, pulling her up by the elbow in the same way I watched Emily do, bringing her shakily to her feet. This close up I can just make out the characteristic bunt smell of road dust kicked up by an Anti-grav transport and her sweat, which someone has attempted to disguise with cheap perfume.

"I was called Rose Master."

"Oh, and I was half expecting a number." I say, slowly pulling my hand away, poised to catch her should she keel over.

"All of the girls I grew up with were named after plants Master." She replies matter of factly.

"Huh." I say, not sure what to make of that piece of information. Fairly confident she's not going to collapse on me I head over to my wardrobe. "Do you like that name?"


"Do you like the name Rose? Or would you rather chose a new name?" I ask, finding a long black t-shirt that's going to be like a night dress on her short slender frame. Turning back to her I'm relieved to see she's still standing, even if she is still refusing to look at me.

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