The Blond Ex-Heiress

A young woman who looked about your age sat on top of a bucket. She added hay to her makeshift stool, most likely trying to add a modest amount of comfort. Her hair was as golden as the sunlight spilling into the cell through the window.

Both her hair and skin looked buttery smooth. There was not a flaw on her body that you could see. And you could see quite a bit. Like most slaves in the pens, she had no proper clothes on. Rather, she had a small dirty rag tied around her waist, stained and torn in several places.

If she had bent over even a little, anyone behind her would have gotten one very good eyeful of all she had to offer. With no top on, she kept her hands crossed over her chest, doing her best to protect what was left of her modesty. Her long hair was also draped over her chest, adding a bit of coverage to her modest chest. Her dainty body was very slim and trim, though not in an unhealthy way. From what you could make out, you’d guess she was a b-cup and on the smaller end of it, too.

Still, she was quite pretty. Her baby blue eyes stared harshly at the floor. Her button nose scrunched up a bit in anger, almost highlighting the delicate features of her face. All in all, you can’t help but let this angel in a cage take your breath away. After a few long moments of your staring, the blonde takes notice of you.

Her anger intensifies almost immediately. Standing up, the girl marches towards you, attitude held in every step she took. “It’s about time someone came in here!” She spoke in a thick and odd accent.

You recognized that accent. Britanian, if you remember correctly. Was she from overseas? Perhaps your father ordered her special.

“My name is Camalia Duthrand and I demand you release me at once!” Camalia slams a fist against the cell bars, taking special care to keep her chest covered with her hair and the other hand. Now that she was standing up straight, you could see her golden blond hair went well past her hips. Her baby blue eyes met yours in an intense gaze.

But of course, you didn’t even so much as flinch. You look her over one more time, making sure she sees you eyeing her up, to which she shrinks back a little. A light tint of red appears on her porcelain cheeks. “I really don’t think you're in any position to be making demands, ****.”

Her gaze grew sharper at your words. “I AM NO ONE'S ****, YOU PLEBEIAN!”

The use of the word ‘plebeian’ surprised you. You’ve had to explain to slaves what certain words meant before, mostly so you didn’t have to dumb down everything you said to them, and no **** has ever used such a word before. Let alone against you.

“I apologize, Young Master, this one has proven quite difficult. Not to mention stubborn. I assume you’ve heard about the collapse of the North Shanty Trading company?”

You had. They were a rather large trading company that expanded greatly over the last five years. “I heard they were doing rather well until recently.”

Garmen nodded his head. “Yes. Thanks to that company's use of wizards to send goods by magic, it has been dominating much of the trading business, leading to much of it's competition shutting down."

You nodded. "And, thus, leading to this young woman being bartered by her own father-"

Camaila suddenly turned around and stomped back to the bucket. She reached down to grab it.

"I swear, if you try to throw that bucket," Garmen bellowed at her, "I will make you break it into tiny pieces and eat it!"

At his words, Camalia seemed to shrink a bit. She moved her hand away from the bucket, choosing instead to sit on it and glower at the both of you.

"I seem to have struck a nerve," you say wryly.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, young master. I assure you, my slaves are usually more disciplined," Garmen apologized.

“I already told you, I am no one's ****", Camila yelled. "I am a noble from the House of Duthrand and as such, I demand to be let out of this horrid cage! And that someone return my clothes!”

You cannot help but chuckle at this. She clearly did not understand that any status she had before was gone. Her clothes were most likely already resold to a real noble.

“I hardly think such a mix up is something to laugh at, you jumped-up-!”

You silence her by slamming your fist against the bars. She releases them and steps back, clearly stunned. Her hand makes it way back onto her modest chest, which now heaved a bit as her breathing intensified. Your hand hurt a bit but nothing you couldn’t handle. Keeping a strong hand was important for slaves who got out of line after all.

And this one was as out of line as one could get. “Garmen. I’ve chosen. I’ll take this one.” Camalia’s eyes widened in surprise.

“A well thought out choice, young master. She will be good practice for the more rowdy slaves you’ll have to contend with in the future. Not to mention with her upbringing, I’m guessing she’s never lifted so much as a finger for anything but sipping tea. Teaching her from the ground up will surely help you in training more adept slaves in the future,” Garmen praised, a wide smile on his face.

Though it was a bit unearned. You mostly picked her cause you thought it’d be fun to wipe that arrogant attitude out of her. Now the only question is how to handle her?