The Slave Harem: A Kingdom of Slaves Book Read online

  This was the entrance to a country called Pariny.

  He was headed for somewhere in that vast range. A secret compound. An isolated retreat.

  He had dreamed of it twice before leaving the Slave Palace. In one dream it was full of light and flowers, as if flooded with life. In another, he heard a darkness full of moans and sighs. He could not decide which was to be his fate. If either.

  Ren shivered though he was not cold.

  The plane landed and as he descended the stairs, two men with dark hair and dark suits immediately came up to him, separating him from the line of other passengers.

  “We have a car waiting,” said one. He had an accent that was thick but pleasant.

  Ren kept his head bowed, as he was trained to do even in the outside world. He was a slave. Not a free man.

  The other man also had dark brown hair. He looked older than the first, and had a scar on his chin. He did not speak.

  Both men were trim and tall. Bodyguards. Or something very like that.

  He could not read their auras. When he was too nervous, the lights of other people faded from his vision. Right now he was too keyed up to see much in that regard yet.

  He did not ask questions. He had been instructed not to.

  The car was a sleek, black limo that smelled of new leather. To Ren, that meant he was to be presented in style at the very least.

  The seats in the limo ran parallel to the car’s length. The two men sat on one bench facing Ren. Ren sat alone on the other.

  He had no luggage. Nothing. Not even toiletries. He’d been instructed to bring nothing as all would be provided for him. His i.d. was an embedded chip in his wrist, and had been scanned for him before the already paid-for flight. He had no rights. No money, nothing to his name but his collar, and his status as a pleasure slave.

  But he’d been well taken care of already so far. He’d been served brunch and early dinner on the plane, which had been large but a private charter with only a few other passengers who seemed very dignified and important. He had not been chained or treated disrespectfully by the staff who served the meals. He had been allowed to get up and use the lavatory when necessary. No one spoke to him except to ask his preference in drinks.

  The windows of the limo gave Ren a view beyond the men sitting in front of him. First buildings and cars and sidewalks crowded with people passed by the windows. The city did not look much different from other cities Ren had been to, including Lirangel. They entered a freeway which led to the city outskirts and dusty rows of modest houses.

  The limo took an off-ramp that quickly led to a two-lane highway lined with maples and pines. The road became hilly, more desolate. A half an hour passed.

  Ren stayed still and quiet. Neither of his escorts spoke a word. One had a phone in his hand and was tapping on it. The other stared straight ahead, the muscles of his face stiff as if he were angry, perhaps mulling over a past event.

  Ren had been trained well. In his life as a pleasure slave, he was expected to remain submissive in every situation he found himself in, unless otherwise instructed by his master. Though he had not yet met his new master, he belonged to him now. His expected decorum would be one of utmost obedience and deference.

  He kept his head slightly bowed. He did not meet his escorts’ eyes. But he could see their auras now, the stiff-faced one’s a reddish brown, the other’s a more sedate yellow. Both colors revealed that their attentions were less on him and more on other matters.

  It made sense. They would not be worried he would run. He was Palace trained. Willing. And he’d been bought and paid for, all legal with his own signature tying the bond.

  The limo slowed, and Ren braced himself against the motion of the abrupt turn. He looked through the front part of the vehicle and saw a break in the trees and a dirt outcropping. Beyond that was an iron barred gate, much like that at the Slave Palace. Through the bars he saw an asphalt paved drive that wound through the trees out of sight.

  The gate opened for the limo and they glided over dirt and rocks and onto the smoother blacktop.

  Soon, the trees cleared and Ren could see more of the grounds they had entered, an estate to rival even that of Lirangel’s Slave Palace.

  Looming out of the ground cover like a fantasy world come to life, giant marble sculptures reared. Unicorns. Griffons. Dragons. They looked down upon the narrow lane as if to guard it from invaders. On both sides of the road the sculptures loomed. Ren counted six, then a dozen. White lions, an onyx Pegasus, a tourmaline dragon with transparent wings as if carved from green ice.

  Around another bend, the compound came into view. Huge. Imposing. A black mansion surrounded by large, white, flat-roofed outbuildings. Neatly trimmed lawns sloped between the buildings and the main house, lush and emerald. The four-story house itself sported a “V” roof. Poised at the top, balancing on two back legs, was a black unicorn, reared up, hooves pawing at the air, head back as if it wanted to conquer the sky.

  The limo pulled along one of the outbuildings to a concrete porch that led to a door.

  Ren’s escorts exited first, and motioned Ren out.

  Ren stood by a curb where the neatly trimmed grass looked so full and green and shiny he thought for a moment it was fake. But all around him was lush, real. Amazingly serene.

  He had arrived.

  Chapter Eight

  Preparation

  His escorts pushed a button that rang a bell at the outbuilding’s door. Soon it opened, and an older man, about forty-ish, in a white shirt, black trousers and bowtie stood at the threshold. He had wavy light brown hair styled neatly back from his face.

  “I will take him from here,” the man said, gesturing almost violently for Ren to come up the two steps to the little porch.

  Ren obeyed, not looking back.

  The man said, “Ren is your name, correct?”

  For nine million, Ren expected his name to have already been confirmed. But he answered in his trained, polite tone. “Yes.”

  “I am Niko. You will address me as such. Follow me. And shut the door behind you.”

  “You are not the master?”

  Niko laughed. “You are not ready to meet the master yet.”

  Ren looked up, forgetting his lessons in submissiveness for a moment. “I am quite well-trained and quite ready.”

  Niko’s eyebrows rose. “Well, all right then. But I say not.” He shook his head as if already disappointed by Ren, and that was when Ren saw his aura, blue and green with soft fuzz at the edges. Ren interpreted that to mean this guy was content in his job. Even loved it. “This is the preparation house. You will bathe. You will be given a new collar, among other things, and you will be instructed as to the rules. You will pay attention at all times. If your mind wanders, I have permission to use whatever methods I deem necessary to get your attention. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir. Uh, yes, Niko.”

  Niko led Ren through a front room that looked like any sitting room or living room of a typical medium income household with sofa, two recliners, a flat-screen TV, and a coffee table.

  One area of the room led to an open doorway. A kitchen perhaps? The other led to a hall and that was where Niko took Ren.

  At the end of the hall was a brightness and as they walked, Ren saw the hall open to a large bathroom, as big as the living room, maybe bigger. There were two toilet stalls at one end, and a huge open shower at the other with multiple water spigots in the center wall.

  Two men in white shorts and nothing else stood by the shower.

  “Let’s have a look,” Niko said. “You will disrobe now.”

  It all felt rather strange, but Ren was not shy. Not anymore. He began to undo his shirt.

  Niko stood before him, arms crossed, and watched.

  Once Ren had his shirt off, he folded it and looked around for somewhere to put it.

  Niko said, “You won’t be needing those clothes anymore. You may dispose of them here.” He indicated a hamper by the wall outs
ide the shower.

  Ren put his shirt in the hamper, then proceeded to take off his shoes and slacks.

  Fully naked, he hesitated to place the shoes in hamper as well. He didn’t know why.

  “All of it,” Niko instructed.

  Ren nodded.

  “Come here and stand in front of me.”

  Ren obeyed.

  Niko looked him up and down, then took a small tablet from his pocket and tapped on it. “Turn,” he said.

  Ren turned slowly, letting Niko see his whole body.

  Niko looked bored, again tapping at the tablet screen.

  Once, Niko took a step forward and peered closer at his cock. Then he motioned to the grooms who stood by the shower. One came over.

  “Take his collar.”

  Ren must have given some indication of surprise, because Niko added, “Don’t worry. You’ll get a new one. The master likes them fancy.”

  Niko made more notations as he circled Ren’s body, glancing at it now and again.

  Ren held his breath. He had had assessments like this at the Slave Palace, but he’d always felt secure. Here, he had no idea what to expect. Niko had spoken of rules. Ren longed to hear them. Rules made him feel safe. Rules let him know what to expect, what to do, how to be.

  Niko took a step back. “Now, before we go any further, you will let these men bathe you. You will be getting the full treatment inside and out. Including an enema. Do you have a problem with that?”

  Ren was almost offended. He was Palace trained which meant he was prepared—the best. But if they wanted to do it all again, he would obey. “No, sir.”

  “Good. They will groom you while I watch. If I see anything out of line, you will be punished. Know this. You will never be sent back from where you came. Once you crossed the border of these grounds, you became property of its owner for your lifespan. But you can still be rejected. And believe me, you do not want to be rejected for any reason. Then you will live a lonely life, isolated and un-revered. I am sure your purpose in becoming what you are is not to end up like that.”

  “No, it is not, sir, Niko.”

  “Good.”

  One of the men by the shower turned on the spigots, then motioned to Ren.

  The other stood by a cabinet, opening it. Within, Ren could see bottles of shampoo, soaps, enema tubes and other necessities for preparing pleasure slaves.

  He was too nervous to see the auras of these men, these grooms, but he didn’t really care about them. He cared about presenting himself in the best light possible.

  He cared about how he might be welcomed by their employer, his owner.

  The grooms were thorough but the shower was quick. They knew their job and Ren was used to being handled, and used to being clean inside and out. Usually, however, he did the job himself.

  When he was dry, Niko came forward with something that looked like a combination of a collar and a necklace in his hand. The main part was embedded with blue and green gemstones. The part that looked like a necklace was made of an elaborate weave of chains, all silver, spilling across Niko’s hand like captured rain.

  “Bend forward,” Niko ordered.

  Ren bent his head. Niko put the collar on him and the chains tickled the skin of his chest and they made a sound like tiny bells clinking together. Chimes.

  “This way,” Niko ordered, abruptly turning.

  Ren followed Niko out of the large bathing room and into another area that contained a couple of straight-backed chairs and a long, white table scattered with tablets, and what looked like gaming equipment, but wasn’t. Ren tried to see, but Niko stood in front of him and motioned to the nearest chair. “Sit.”

  Ren obeyed, the cushion of the chair hard and cold against his backside. His hair, still wet, streamed little cool drops of water down the center of his back. He suppressed a shiver but sat with his back straight. Yet even with his training, this was all new and unknown and his muscles remained taut, his pulse thrumming in his veins.

  The air in this small room smelled faintly of old dust, though it appeared quite clean.

  Niko, in his clean white shirt and bowtie fiddled with something on the table. Something hummed, then dinged. When Niko turned, he had a sort of wand in his hand. He leaned toward Ren and said, “Remain still.”

  “What is it?” Ren began to ask, but before he could finish, the wand touched him on the right side above his pec and it felt like a thousand flaming needles invaded his skin.

  He could not hold back his cries and his mind went black at the edges and spun. A sharp, metallic taste coated his tongue. He jerked forward but Niko took the wand away and it was already done.

  Through streaming eyes, the tears falling so fast he could not control them, Ren looked at his chest. It was already red and swelling, the ash salt scent of burnt skin invading his lungs. The skin blistered where it formed a design of a generic flower with open petals and a solid center. He had been branded.

  The pain of it continued to slice through his body, making his stomach clench, making him want to be sick.

  He looked up at Niko, who set the wand down and came at him with another tube.

  Ren flinched, but it was only salve. When Niko rubbed the ointment onto his skin, Ren groaned in pain, feeling stabbed and hurt all over again.

  “Master’s orders,” Niko said unapologetically.

  Ren was still catching his breath as a simple square bandage was placed over the brand.

  “It will heal in a week or so. If the redness doesn’t subside by then, you need to report it.”

  Report it? To whom? He clenched his teeth and tried to swallow away the bitter metals that had been released in his mouth at the sudden pain. His training told him endorphins would soon kick in, but in the meantime he was dizzy from the assault and could not think what to say in response. His body began to sweat all over. He shivered.

  “There now,” Niko said, handing him a small towel. “Wipe your tears and chin up. Everyone gets the brand here.” He pointed to his own chest, which was covered, crisp shirt buttoned to the edge of his bowtie. “Even me.”

  That did not make Ren feel better. The pain of a burn did not subside quickly. He was still resisting the urge to double over. He used the towel to wipe his face, and the sweat from his shoulders and the unassaulted portions of his chest and stomach.

  When his thoughts settled, he thought of Master Holden and Master Locke. What would they say? There were those who liked pain, who were trained to take it. He was not one of them, and that box was not checked on his auction bio.

  Master Holden would say in his cool, unaffected manner: Be brave and always obey.

  Master Locke, in a warmer tone, would no doubt remind him: There will be an adjustment period, and you must endure, take time to settle in.

  Ren envisioned Locke’s dark brown eyes narrowed, and tried to focus on remembering the flickering warmth he noticed in them, and in Ren’s mind the man’s pretty blue-green aura spiked with pure blue love. Love for his partner. His private pleasure slave Wulf.

  He took a deep, shuddering breath. His voice came out thick? “Even you?” he asked Niko.

  Niko nodded.

  “Are you a part of the harem?”

  “No. But I am owned just the same. The master has younger tastes. But I perform a function. I see to the initiation of all new slaves. I oversee their well-being through the grooms. I am the master of the grooms.”

  Ren nodded. He did not feel well at all. Not after what Niko had done. But he had to muster all his courage, for Niko had told him—with no reason to lie—that the branding was done to all of them here in compound. All of them were bought and owned, perhaps even the bodyguards who’d brought him here from the airport.

  Niko crossed his arms over his chest. “Can you stand now?”

  Ren slid off the chair, his skin sticking to it from leftover sweat. His legs wobbled for a moment. The pain had been that shattering.

  “Yes,” he finally answered.

  �
��Good.” Niko motioned toward the hall they’d come through. The shadows became golden as they passed the huge bathing room and approached the front room again.

  The grooms exited the hall to the bathing room, and Ren was left alone to follow Niko. To obey.

  Chapter Nine

  Master

  When they stepped out of the little, square white house a slow breeze washed over Ren’s still-hot skin. Between the outbuildings that surrounded the giant mansion, the grass glowed, and little white flowers lined their path. Bees thrummed about them. The air had a sweet quality to it, fresh and unfettered by city smog. The sky beyond the hill and the trees drew into itself a moonstone blue radiance that soothed both mind and eye. A trail of small white clouds wrote themselves upon the air.

  Ahead of them, the mansion was like a shadow of itself, shiny and surreal as if carved from black onyx. The windows sparkled like many open eyes, square and staring. On the lower level, blots of pink and lavender marred some of the windows. As they moved closer to the big house, Ren saw they were curtains. One window was open and the breeze had stolen the lightweight, pink chiffon and pulled it over the sill to play with it along the bushes that grew there.

  That color—pale against such a dark, stark visage of architecture—seemed almost out of place. Like an escaped bit of hope, an energy of a fulfilling dream Ren hoped for in his most secret heart.

  Now they walked up raw, unpolished marble flagstones—all gray and black—that led to a shaded porch supported by large, dark columns. Ren’s collar chains chimed as they climbed the even, black steps.

  His naked skin had cooled a little in the fresh air. His hair was drying fast, unbraided and long, like a little jacket against his back. The pain on his chest had receded a little, but not much. It made him feel more alert.

  Coming up the porch, Ren saw tall, double doors, and they opened inward at their approach. He squinted to see inside, blinking. When his eyes adjusted, he saw no one. Just a room richly carpeted with rugs of Asian design in maroon, ivory, and black. The walls were red, and lined with masks of all shapes, colors and sizes. Some looked carved of wood, others made of metal. Some had feathers. Some had hair.