Enter the Pins

A/N: Chapter was jointly written by both Durzan and Master-V.

The first thing you notice upon passing through the tall outer gates of the pins was just how rancid the stench of unwashed bodies and human feces were. As soon as a whiff of the foul odor reaches your nose, your eyes begin to water and you have to fight not to control your gag reflex as you walk further into the compound.

Dear gods! You think, as your eyes scan over the iron pens. How can even slaves be kept in such squalor?

You pull a silk handkerchief out of your breast pocket. It is pure white with light blue embroidering going along the outer trimmings. Holding it up to your nose, it helps you block out the worst of the foul odor.

Lavender. Beatriz always gives the laundry that special touch. You smile to yourself as you think of your House's head . It's an ironic title, you must admit. Then again perhaps giving slaves something to strive for was just another way of keeping them tame.

Still, Beatriz was one of the exceptional ones. She was trained by your father when he went through his initiation. You feel just a little giddy at the thought that even in her late 40s, Beatriz was held in high regard as a prized praised for her beauty. Not to mention that she is a master chef who runs a tight ship around the house. It wasn't uncommon for your father to have her run the day to day operations of the house, even during special events like an important social gathering. But now it was your time to choose and train your own . The first of many, you hoped.

Dozens upon dozens of slaves of both sexes were held here. Some slaves were confined in solitary; others were stuffed into their cells built for no more than two or three as if they were sardines. In either case, their unwashed bodies were scratched, bruised, and raw from the chafings of their restraints and time spent training or traveling. While you had seen slaves and servants whipped before, this was the first time you were exposed to the differences between being free and being property. It was a sobering thought to realize that not all slaves were treated as well as Beatrice; for the first time, you had a better grasp of just what the harsh life of a may be like.

"This way, good master," the auctioneer said, turning down another of the main hallways. "Most of these slaves have already been trained. Come to the display room; my workers have already brought the newer slaves there."