The Slave Harem: A Kingdom of Slaves Book

by Wendy Rathbone

  Ren’s skin prickled, not from pain now, but the strangeness of it all. His feet brushed against the soft rugs. Niko, one step ahead of him, stopped in the middle of the room where an arrangement of pillows lined the floor. The doors closed behind Ren, obviously operated by sensors. Or perhaps by someone unseen pushing buttons in a nearby room or office.

  Niko made quick motion with his hand, and whispered, “You will kneel.” The well-dressed, older man dropped to his knees on one of the pillows.

  Ren quickly stepped up beside him and did the same on the other pillow. He saw Niko had his hands clasped behind his back. Ren copied him, looking up at the vast collection of masks, so many faces, so many eyes watching.

  Ren watched as Niko, facing forward, eyes unblinking, said coolly, “I present your newest acquisition. Ren. From the Slave Palace of Lirangel in the country of Avilan.”

  A strange, almost metallic-sounding voice seemed to emanate all around them. “He wears nothing but my collar and the brand, I see.”

  “This one’s beauty has not yet hardened. As far as I can see, he required no make up or mask to create his features to your preference. But I bow to your judgment on the matter.”

  “I agree with your assessment.”

  The voice almost seemed to echo. Perhaps various hidden speakers throughout the room created the affect. Ren wondered. The air seemed to vibrate with the intensity of it.

  Ren glanced about the room all while trying to remain still and not turn his head. Glittering faces, round open mouths, cheeks like buttocks, chins like dildos. Some of the masks might have been called obscene by some, but with his training Ren thought many were imaginative if not downright beautiful.

  “Very good, slave Niko. You may go now.”

  Without a word or even a nod, Niko stood, his clothing rustling, and turned. Ren listened as his footfalls whispered across the rugs and felt the breeze as the door opened behind him.

  Ren stayed very still, kneeling on his pillow. Alone in the mask-room now. Waiting for a voice. Minutes passed.

  Ren studied more of the masks. They did not unnerve him, but interested him. He’d never seen such a vast array of them. So unique. Colorful. Each one different from the last. He wondered about his new master now that he knew he was a collector. Why Ren? Why nine million dollars? He knew he was good at his training, handsome even. But was he that special?

  The amplified voice interrupted his thoughts. He had no idea how long he’d been kneeling, silent and alone. But now the voice had returned, offering some company.

  “Ren, welcome to my abode.”

  Ren’s hands squeezed together behind his back. “Thank you, Master.”

  “Will you please stand?”

  Ren obeyed quickly, letting his hands fall to his sides. He arched his back, lifted his chin.

  “Turn, please.”

  Ren began to turn his body.

  “Slowly, please.”

  Well, at least the master was a polite one. He’d used the word please twice now.

  When Ren had turned all the way around and again faced forward to a long wall of masks, the master said, “Excellent form. Not overly muscular, which is preferred for your purpose. Long and lean limbs. A face that could be a poem. You are even more exquisite than your videos and personal file from the Slave Palace portray you.”

  Ren let out a puff of air from his nose. “Thank you, Master.”

  “I am a collector. I acquire rare and beautiful things that appeal to me, that sharpen my appetite for the unusual, the exotic. Art. Sculpture. Jewels.” He paused. “Masks.” Another pause. “People.”

  The voice surrounded Ren. Its sharp tonal quality, male but pitched in such a way as to hit a tenor pitch, still felt unreal. As if it operated through some system, like a machine. But behind it, he could hear the man. Faint but there. Not soft. But not cruel. It commanded him.

  “Usually slaves come to me in a more formal manner.”

  Ren flushed to hear that maybe he’d already done something wrong. But that would all fall on Niko, wouldn’t it?

  “Hair done up, make up to enhance, widen, lengthen, brighten. But you are the way you are naturally, and one reason to be chosen, I should think. But something else as well. Care to reveal that to me?”

  “Something else?” Ren almost forgot his manners. “Master.”

  “More than physical beauty, you have a talent. It has been recognized through a thorough study of you. You read people. I could see it as you found their pleasure without any tentative hesitation on your part, without exploration of their bodies, or verbal questioning as to their needs or desires. You pleasured those you had not even met as if you had known them before, or had been with them before. How?”

  Ren swallowed. He’d never told a soul, not even Master Locke, about his ability to see so much light around and on people, to see the trails of longing on their bodies, of desire, of arousal, and simply follow them with hand, lips, tongue, cock. He’d never revealed that sometimes, rarer times, he even received images in his head out of context of beautiful venues, smiling faces, happy people while pleasuring another.

  What had this man seen? Was this why he’d been purchased? Master Holden and Master Locke had never mentioned they noticed Ren was able to read people. They only knew he was expert in technique, quick to figure out where another wished to be touched, and how.

  “I am not sure I understand what you mean, Master.”

  “A lie on our first meeting. Hmm. This is not an amenable start.”

  “I do not lie, Master. I am sorry if you think so.”

  “Withholding information I ask for is the same as a lie.” The statement seemed to bounce from wall to wall, not yelling, but echoing, louder than before.

  “You will tell me what I ask, or I shall call slave Niko back and have him take you back to the branding room. You will receive another permanent brand that marks you as hostile, untouchable. Then you will be whipped and placed in isolation.”

  Ren’s mouth fell open. “Master, I want to be honest. But I am not sure how to speak. How to begin. I am afraid you will not believe me. But, please. I will answer your question.”

  “Very well. I am waiting.”

  Ren focused on one mask, a simple gold eye covering; it gleamed with an outline of white diamonds. “I s—see. Colors. I see colors.”

  “Continue.”

  “On people. Like light. Clouds of it. Or ribbons. Like lightning almost. Playing upon the skin. The lights are like storms and they tell me to go ahead, or stay away. They tell me how a person will respond. And auras around people. I see those often. They communicate emotions to me. I can almost taste the colors.”

  “Are you aware there is a term for tasting color? Or smelling color?”

  “No, Master.” Ren waited.

  “It is called synesthesia. Can you taste or smell the colors?”

  “No, Master. Unless I put my mouth upon the skin of the person projecting a color on that part of their body, I cannot taste it. And even then, sometimes all I taste is skin.”

  “And when you do taste the colors, what is it like?”

  “There are different tastes, Master. Bitter. Sweet. Salt. Tart.”

  “Did you see Niko’s aura?”

  “No, Master. I was too nervous. Sometimes I do not see another’s aura right away. Sometimes I do not try to see, and then when I try, it is there.”

  “Perhaps some people are closed off to you.”

  “I do not think so, Master. It is this way only when I am closed. When I am too anxious.”

  “Perhaps there are ways to test this.”

  Ren swallowed. The continuing throb of his burn made his whole body tense, and even as he forced himself to relax, his training kicking in, there remained an inner tremble to his muscles. He also began to be afraid he might disappoint this master.

  He’d never trained with his gift for seeing auras and colors on and around people at full disclosure. No one had ever asked him about it and he had
only ever followed his instincts concerning the ability during sexual contact. And, of course, he’d read the true love in the blues and coppers that darted about Wulf’s aura, and the pure blue of Master Locke’s aura and the tall sapphire crown at his head.

  He wanted to explain all of this to the nameless voice. Instead, he merely said, “Yes, Master.”

  “I shall make the proper arrangements soon. You will be called upon then.”

  Silence.

  Ren filled the space with a final response. “Yes, Master.”

  Chapter Ten

  The Harem

  Suddenly a door opened amid the largest wall of masks. The voice, somewhat faded now, said, “Move forward through to the next room. You will abide there. You will be shown where you will sleep and eat. You will be informed of the rules.”

  A loud snick filled the room, as if a machine that had been on was turned off. Sounds of voices came from the room beyond the open door, and a not-so-quiet murmur like rain.

  Ren stepped over the threshold and realized he faced the side of a tall waterfall. Water poured over a rocky edge and into a huge swimming pool. The waterfall was taller than Ren and about seven feet wide.

  He felt the coolness of the spray on his face, arms and chest as he stepped around the fall and the entire room came into focus.

  An enormous atrium met his eyes. It probably took up the entire first floor of the mansion. This was the room of the pink flowing curtains. This was the room where, it was now apparent, his master, the great collector, kept his people collection. His rare and beautiful humans. His pleasure slaves. He immediately spotted about a dozen naked men in various areas.

  This was the room of the harem.

  He couldn’t help his first thought. What made each one of these men so special that they, like Ren, had been collected?

  Ren did not know where to look first. Surrounding the swimming pool were several couches and chairs and tables. Beyond the pool and up two steps was what looked like a combination living room and playroom, with more couches and chairs, a giant flat screen TV on a half-wall, and just beyond that a sort of bar with a counter, sink and refrigerator.

  Beyond the other end of the pool were alcoves that contained beds with lamps, pillows and plush rugs. These were small bedrooms, open-ended, but divided by half walls. He saw at least a dozen, and in the middle a hall that he surmised led to a bathing/restroom area.

  Light flowed in the main area from dozens of recessed lamps in the ceiling. Plants decorated the room near each window, half a dozen to the right, same on the left, lending a bit of natural green color to the slick, luxurious interior. In one corner, beyond the TV area, were sets of weights, three treadmills and two stationary bikes to form a large exercise room.

  This place was meant to be a cage, yes, but a very gilded one at that. Ren tried to count the naked men. Two were swimming laps in the pool. Three watched TV. Two reclined on different couches by the pool. Another two, who looked like identical twin brothers, sat at a table playing some sort of board game Ren did not recognize. One sat on a bed in one of the alcoves reading on a tablet. Two more were standing by the waterfall near Ren. One approached him, tablet in hand, as Ren came into the room. He was followed by another man who moved with jerking motions. He was like a stuttering shadow to the first greeter, but extremely pretty, Ren could see.

  “Been expecting you.” The first man was about six foot, Ren’s height. He spoke with an accent, like the bodyguard at the airport, which reminded Ren that the machine voice of their master did not have any detectable accent. For a moment, he wondered why, then forgot about it.

  “I’m Ren,” Ren said.

  “Yes. I know. I’m Cam. This is Zanti.” He motioned to the man behind him, who ducked his head and moved even further behind Cam, as though shy.

  Cam had blond hair cut above his shoulders and long in the bangs. They swept his handsome face. His blue eyes were rimmed with black eyeliner. His eyebrows were golden and trimmed.

  Zanti had coloring more like Ren, dark hair pushed straight back, not as long as Ren’s, the edges curling under his earlobes. He was a couple inches shorter than Cam. Exactly Ren’s size and type.

  Both men had amazing bodies, lean with firm muscles, perfectly curved asses, and thick cocks resting against hairless balls. One dark, one light, their skin gleamed healthy and would probably be like silk to the touch.

  “Here’s the thing. I do this rarely, only four times since I arrived here, so it’s not routine.”

  “What?” Ren asked, confused. The swimmers in the pool splashed a bit as they went by doing laps.

  “Greet the green ones. The freshers. The newbies.”

  “Oh.”

  Zanti’s lips curved upward and he peeked out from behind Cam, staring hard at Ren. His gaze was hard, almost angry. It was unnerving. Ren kept his attention on Cam.

  “Rules are important.” Cam pressed his lips tight. Zanti smirked, then let out a strange snort as if he were about to laugh.

  Ren blinked and nodded.

  “Remember them well,” Cam said.

  “I promise,” Ren replied.

  “Okay. Rules.” Another pause. “There aren’t any!” He let out a big laugh. Zanti giggled silently as if he was ten years old, his breaths coming out in hisses.

  Ren gave them a small smile but did not laugh.

  “Seriously, the biggest rule here from on high is we all have to get along. Fighting is punished, of course. Physical, I mean. You can yell all you want. If Master gets tired of it, he’ll have Niko bring you in to set you straight. Only if you hurt someone are you hurt in return. Space is respected. If someone says to get away, or not touch, you respect that. Otherwise, we can do as we please. Play, fuck, drink, even trash the place. Anything but leave. If we make a mess, there is a cleaning crew that comes in early mornings before most of us are awake. Got it?”

  “Yes,” said Ren. “Do we have chores?”

  Cam let out a sputter of air. “No. Just look pretty. Do as Master tells you. If he wants you to wear your hair a certain way, then do it. It’s as Master’s commands, nothing else. He isn’t strict about how we behave within this room, but you always do what he says.”

  “Yes, I know. I am well-trained to obey my master,” said Ren.

  “I’m sure you are or you wouldn’t be here.”

  “Do we see the Master at certain times?”

  “See?” Cam laughed. “No. Only if he calls you upstairs. Which you will learn isn’t always what you think it might be.”

  Zanti, who had not said a word, nodded and raised his eyebrows up and down as if to mock Ren. Ren decided he would stay away from that guy, pretty as he was. Maybe if Zanti had been sweeter, Ren would have melted a little on the inside to look at his beauty, but Zanti was already being a dick in more ways than one. He was too nervous to see Zanti’s aura and read him, but thought the guy might be jealous. He had already figured he’d have a lot of work to do to settle into his place among all the men here.

  Ren nodded, wanting to know more, but keeping his mouth shut.

  “You can find new toiletries, toothbrush, toothpaste, hair brush, etc., in the bathrooms behind the beds. Do you need a shaving kit or is that permanent?” Cam indicated Ren’s hairless body.

  “Permanent.”

  “All right.” He waved his arm toward the alcoves. “You can pick an unused drawer in the bathroom—there are plenty—and stash your stuff there. You’re to be clean inside and out every morning, no exceptions. You know what that means.”

  Ren nodded. An enema if needed every day. He was trained for that.

  “The alcove on the far left has been newly made up for you. You’re number thirteen. Lucky, huh?”

  Ren nodded. “Does the master have a name?”

  “His name is Master. He’s not the master. He’s Master.”

  “Got it.” Ren blinked. His burn ached and he realized he’d lifted his hand to rub around the outside of the square bandage.

 
He glanced from both Zanti and Cam. Cam had the flower brand above his right pec. It looked long ago healed. The scaring formed the flower’s edges and inner pattern perfectly, the skin darker and slightly raised where it had been burned.

  But Zanti’s chest was unmarred. How could that be? Niko had said all the men had brands. Even Niko had one.

  Ren frowned. “He doesn’t have a brand.”

  Zanti flipped him off and turned away, walking a few steps, his back to both Cam and Ren. Apparently, the guy did not talk.

  “Yes,” Cam answered. “We have all questioned it. But if you’re thinking Zanti is the master hidden within the confines of this harem, think again. Zanti is as much one of us as anyone here. But he has problems. He doesn’t speak. He is different. There are more reasons, but I am not at liberty right now to discuss them. We’ve all come to the conclusion that the brand would just make his condition worse. The pain of it is an ordeal.”

  “What condition? Why doesn’t he speak?”

  “That’s Zanti’s story, and Zanti’s not talking so accept it is none of our business. Leave it at that, ok?”

  Ren nodded. Not a problem.

  Cam tapped something on his tablet, then pointed at Ren’s chest. “You’ll find pain pills in the kitchen area in the middle cupboard under the bar. Use them. They aren’t much stronger than aspirin, but they help.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Any more questions?”

  “How often do you see the master? I mean, Master.”

  Cam’s smooth eyebrows narrowed. “Are you asking about me or all of us? And this may seem confusing at first, but we do not see Master.”

  “What?”

  “We do not see Master. He sees us. He asks for one or two or more of us. We go upstairs and do whatever we’re told. You’ll find out soon enough.”