A Dark(ish) Faerie Tale, Book One
Slave © April 2018 by Candace Blevins
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
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First Edition April 2018
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Disclaimer
Slave (A Dark(ish) Faerie Tale, #1)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Bibliography
Chapter One
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BECAUSE YOU’RE NEVER too old for Faerie Tales...
Halflings born in the human realm can stay if they can pass for human, but a baby with bright red and yellow hair, pointed ears, glowing green eyes, and swirled purple and green nails had to be relocated. With no family in Faerie to claim her, the newborn was auctioned off as a slave.
In Faerie, slaves are property with no rights. The baby is now an adult, and has been given in tribute to The Winter Queen.
Queen Mab has worked hard to make everyone in Faerie fear her, but her new pleasure slave enjoys the kiss of her whip. Can the Dark Queen have a tender side? The Dragon King once loved her, after all, so there has to be more to her than the evil, ruthless queen we’ve seen so far.
Climb aboard and experience the best and worst the Winter Queen can dish out.
SLAVE is book one in the Dark(ish) Faerie Tale quadrilogy. The series takes place within the greater Kirstin O’Shea universe, but can be read without being familiar with the other books and series.
Chapter One
Queen Mab
For every season, there are positives and negatives. Today is the summer solstice, and I’m miserable in the heat. Plus, my sister is Queen of Faerie during the summer.
From here on out, the days will grow shorter, and the time of my reign draws nearer. Come the fall equinox, I’ll be the ruling Queen once more, and my days will be filled with the duties of running the queendom.
However, for the time being, I had the luxury of spending all the time I wanted in my dungeons, and I was fully taking advantage of the long days — there are so many people to torture and play with in the bowels of my castle.
I’d acquired the former Eagle King as a result of a horse trade a while back, and was still having great fun with him, but I’d been informed we had a new pleasure slave — paid to me in tribute by a wealthy businessman — and she’d been put into a holding room so I could personally handle her intake process.
Prisoners are fun to punish, but the rare pleasure slave who’s been trained to enjoy torture is a special treat. I’d seen the paperwork on this girl, and based on her previous owners and trainers, I had hopes she might prove a nice diversion.
I was informed she seemed a nervous wreck, so I went to the holding room instead of having her brought to the throne room. I brought another slave with me, one who’d record the new slave’s answers and any notes I wanted put into the girl’s file.
Contrary to what most probably think of the Wicked Winter Queen, I don’t make a habit of abusing my slaves just because I can. I’d whipped this particular stenographer slave once when she was rude to a business associate, and I’d assigned her to dishwashing duty in the kitchens for a month when she zoned off while on the job, but the girl’s been with me nearly fifteen years and those are the only two times she’s been punished.
My first view of the new little pleasure slave sent tingles through my magic. She was a little slip of a thing and strikingly beautiful. Someone had put her into my preferred inspection pose — feet a little wider than shoulder width, perfect posture, eyes straight ahead, fingers laced at the back of her head. She still held it beautifully, and her arms didn’t appear to be shaking.
Some slaves hold their position when I enter, but most prostrate themselves. Neither choice earns reprimand or punishment at this stage, but I was intrigued she’d chosen to follow orders over protocol.
Whether she’d been naked when she arrived or had been stripped to nothing by my guards, I didn’t know. I wasn’t certain of her most recent owner’s slave protocols for travel, but the Master he purchased her from wouldn’t have permitted clothing at any time, nor would her original owner, where she was raised and trained.
I walked in a circle around her, observing. She didn’t break posture. Didn’t move a millimeter, other than to breathe. Her nails were swirled purple and green, her red hair had streaks of gold, and her eyes practically glowed green. I circled her a few more times, and noted her toenails matched her fingernails. I’d need to double-check to be sure the familial searches had been done.
My new slave had enough muscle I knew she’d be able to handle what I doled out, but was soft enough she’d still be fun to play with. I couldn’t wait to see her flawless white ass with streaks of red from a strap, and then dotted with smaller streaks from a flogger. However, she was too thin for my tastes, and I made a mental note to check later to see if this was her natural size, or whether her food intake had been severely restricted.
“What’s your name?”
A deeper breath, so she’d have enough air to speak, but she answered quickly, her eyes still straight ahead without looking at me. “My original owner called me seven-sixty-three, Ma’am. The Master I just came from called me little one.”
Before I slapped the shit out of the girl for her impertinence, I asked, “Do you know who I am?”
“No, Ma’am?”
Her voice wavered and her arms finally shook a little. The poor thing was scared shitless, and I was about to terrify her even more, whether I wanted to or not. I softened my voice and said, “You address me as my Queen or Your Majesty, Little One.”
Her face showed complete and total panic, and she fell to her knees and prostrated herself at my feet, apologizing profusely while using as many honorifics as she could throw in between her apologies.
So, the little slave hadn’t chosen
to follow instructions over protocol earlier, after all. She didn’t know who I was.
I let her continue a moment before I said, “You didn’t know. Don’t let it happen again.”
I was dressed in the tight dark pants and shirt I prefer when torturing prisoners, and I wasn’t wearing a crown. The girl didn’t mean any harm, and with only another slave to witness it, I could let it slide. If she’d meant to slight me, she’d have been on the floor, bleeding and screaming.
She thanked me for my mercifulness in at least a dozen different ways before I ordered her to shut up and stand at attention. The little thing quickly obeyed — her hands tucked into the small of her back, her head forward with eyes lowered, and legs spread so she could balance and stand this way for hours, if necessary.
“What kind of slave has Kalonymos gifted me? What have you been trained to do, Little One?”
She was still terrified, but she answered without faltering. “My first owner called me a sex slave, my Queen. My second master called me a pleasure slave. I’ll be whatever you wish me to be, Your Majesty.”
“Do you prefer men or women?
“A slave’s preferences do not matter, my Queen.”
I sighed and turned to the stenographer slave. “Look through her file to be sure all familial searches were done when she was brought to the Summerlands. If everything’s in order, tell the Captain of the Guard to send someone deserving of a reward to Blue Hole Falls, and then you can join us there. I’m going to explain a few things to the new acquisition, so your services won’t be needed for a short time. Don’t dally.”
I grasped the new slave’s arm and teleported us to the falls. I have a permanent throne here — not a hard metal one, but a comfortable chair I can sit in all day if I have a mind to.
Plus, the ground is softer and wouldn’t hurt the slave’s knees while she knelt before me. Sometimes, I couldn’t care less about a slave’s comfort, other times it’s more practical to keep the pain to a minimum while I put them in their place.
I sat, got comfortable, and smiled inwardly when my new slave fell to her knees before me. Her eyes were focused on my groin, which was fine for now. She’d been trained to look at her Master’s dick, which was so much better than making them look at your feet. I’d let her fall back on her earlier training until we could schedule her into an orientation. For now, I could learn much about her by observing her reactions.
However, slaves are never allowed to shy away from answering my questions, so this needed to be dealt with before we moved forward.
“When one has only a few sex slaves, one can’t afford to allow them a preference, Little One. However, with as many slaves as I own, it becomes sensible to play them to their strengths. When I ask a question, I expect an answer. If you’d like to couch your response in politically correct speech, feel free,” I leaned forward and gave a stern look, “but don’t use pat answers in an attempt to keep from answering.” I held the look a few seconds to be sure the words had enough impact before I straightened and tried not to look scary. “You’ll be given a little leeway since you’re new and appear to be trying, but it’s advisable to stay on my good side.”
She wanted to shrink into the ground, but to her credit, she held her position and didn’t slouch, and instead of apologizing, gave me the answer I wanted. This little slave had promise.
“I’m attracted to dominant personalities more than gender, my Queen. I prefer most men to women, but a dominant woman turns me on, while submissive men... don’t, Your Majesty.” Her eyes flicked up a brief second before landing near my pussy again. “I’m sexually aroused by strong women, my Queen.”
A test. “Were you attracted to Kalonymos? Are you going to miss him?”
“My first owner had me trained to prefer pain over pleasure, but this frustrated my most recent owner and master, Your Majesty.”
The little slave passed my test with flying colors. She answered my question truthfully, but without saying anything ill of her former owner.
I laughed, because I knew Kalonymos well enough to know he shouldn’t have bought the slave he spent a few days in a pleasure parlor with, and became enamored with. She’d pleased him without pain a few days, but hadn’t been able to keep it up long term. “I imagine he had no idea his punishments were what you craved.”
“He did not, my Queen.”
“Did he give you to me because he didn’t know what to do with you and thought you’d fit well into my sadistic leanings, or because he thought you a naughty slave beyond his capability to tame, since you kept acting up and forcing him to punish you?”
Another test. Slaves don’t talk bad about their masters – current or former. However, I’d also told her I expected her to answer my questions.
“I wouldn’t venture to guess my former owner’s intentions, my Queen. I suspect it might be the latter, though I believe the pleasure parlor would have purchased me back, if he’d asked them.”
I suspected Kalonymos didn’t want to admit to them he’d made a mistake in purchasing her, as they’d probably warned him when he inquired about buying her. I was impressed with the way she’d managed to both answer my question and not openly speak badly of her previous master. My ‘tribute’ slave was one Kalonymos had thought so close to worthless, he may as well gift her to me rather than try to train her so he could sell her. He had no idea her true value.
Also, the notes from the pleasure parlor listed several clients who always requested her for parties, and I noted a number of friends and allies who’d had her in their castle for four to six weeks at a time. For royalty who don’t staff their own sex slaves, the ability to rent them long term to provide to visiting guests is important, and this little thing was quite popular. I noted both Count Ivan and King Koschei had purchased her for days at a time on more than one occasion, and I blanched at what those two must have put her through.
The stenographer slave arrived with a strapping guard. I waved him to the perimeter and teleported away from the slave to give the stenographer a few details I wanted written down. I also had her make a note to tell my assistant to copy the notes into Kalonymos’s file. My memory is excellent, but you never know when having a thousand or more years of notes all in one place will prove beneficial.
I looked back to my newly acquired slave and considered a few things before teleporting back to my throne and telling her, “If you fit in here and continue to please me, I’ll consider giving you a real name. For now, we’ll call you Little One. Tell me, did your former master feed you enough?”
“My Queen, he began combining loss of privileges with regular whippings when I didn’t follow rules or was clumsy. Eating is a privilege, Your Majesty.” The delivery guy had noted her caloric intake on the trip — gruel twice a day and some bread scraps. He’d refilled her water bag when he’d watered the horses, and noted she only ran out twice on the trip, so she wasn’t likely dehydrated. She’d had enough calories she shouldn’t be weak or lightheaded, but I felt the need to be sure she had good food.
“I’ll send you to the cook when we're finished here, with instructions you’re to eat until you’re full. From there, someone will take you to the baths and stylists, and you’ll eventually make your way to my chambers this evening. I’ll get with my designer to decide how we’ll clothe you, but for now, I quite like you nude.”
She’d look good in corsets, and in sheer robes. Sometimes, the right clothing can show off nudity by highlighting what isn’t covered.
I asked her a series of questions about her preferred type of whip, her least favorite punishments, and her erogenous zones. I asked her how she’d lost all three virginities — cunt, ass, and throat. It was in her file, but I wanted to hear it from her. This slave’s original training had been by one of the best, and if she were telling the truth — and I had no reason to think she might be lying — her entire body was an erogenous zone, with one exception: her eyeballs. My insides warmed at the possibilities. Oh, what fun I could have with this beau
tiful little slave.
To end the interview process, I leaned forward and ordered full eye contact. “I have a dungeon full of people I can torture if I only want to hear someone scream, but to watch a little wisp of a thing orgasm while I torture her? If your paperwork is accurate, you’ll be a rare treat. How well we get on will determine whether I keep you for my personal use or make money off you by renting you out. You’ll never get to make decisions, but if you please me, I’ll ask your preferences when it amuses me to show kindness. Now, since I don’t want to wait until tonight to sample the goodies...”
I waved the guard over and ordered him to strip, and to hand me his belt while he disrobed.
Chapter Two
Little One
When I awoke a few days before the solstice, I thought it would be an ordinary day. I’d been nervous when the lead slave had sent me to medical for a check-up, and then terrified when I figured out the nurse was filling out paperwork for my exit from the castle. Despite the fact I hadn’t fit into my former owner’s castle very well, being sold to strangers is terrifying. Would I have a single master? Or would it be another pleasure parlor, where I was rented out to people who preferred masochists? I’d been happiest at the pleasure parlor, but only because if I had a bad Master, it was only for a short time. I’d enjoyed the variety of pain I received.
I’d needed pain, and the only way to get it from my last Master had been to misbehave, or to accidentally break things. I’m sure they thought I was the clumsiest slave ever. Still, I hadn’t thought I was bad enough to be sold. I’d made sure I didn’t need to be punished more than once or twice a month, and I’d been careful to appear forgetful instead of defiant when I didn’t follow orders.
My former owner didn’t even tell me goodbye. I went from the medical office to the loading area near the stables, where I was loaded onto a cart with other goods being sold to a far-off castle — fabrics, rugs, yarn, and thread. Ironic, that I was naked while being delivered alongside fabrics destined to be made into clothing.
Slave Page 1
