Kiara

You open your eyes and feel the ropes around your wrists hold you against the post you are tied against. You don’t remember how you got to be tied to that post but you do know that you are the merchandise on offer at a **** market. A week ago, men with clubs took you away from your parents’ house on the day of your fourteenth birthday, they stripped you and gave you clothes that kept your modesty intact but was somewhat more pleasing to the eye than the rags you were wearing previously. You look around you and see other posts with girls either sitting in front of them on cushions or tied to it like you are. You are all under some time of awning that’s been made with a red fabric and giving the carpeted area a red glow to it. The reason you are tied to the post is because you made your seventh attempt to escape last night and you guess they dragged you here while you were ****.

Voices and footsteps on a cobbled pathway interrupt your thoughts and you look over to see the man in charge of the slavers showing around another man. The slaver has brown skin and dark hair while wearing a turban to cover most of it. The other man was pale with grey hair and carried himself like a man who knew exactly what to look for. The other man was obviously a buyer and he made a point of stopping at each girl to give them an apprising eye.

The buyer stopped at the first girl on the row opposite you, gave her a look over as she got up from her cushion and then moved on, letting her sit down again. The man moved onto the next girl and gave her the same treatment before moving on. Three girls up the row, the man turned to look at you. He said something quietly to the slaver he was with but you couldn’t make out what he was saying. You noticed with dread that the man was now heading over to you and stopped before you.

“Why is this one lashed to a post?” the man asked as he gave you the same appraising eye he had given the other girls.

“This one is wild, good sir, she has to be guarded when not lashed to something like the bitch she is” You give the slaver a **** stare and silently transmit your desire to kill him through your eyes.

“I think I am getting that, bring me my tools” The man’s aid brought up a satchel that clinked as whatever was inside of it hit against each other. “I think I shall take a closer look at this one”

The man takes out some instruments from his satchel including a piece of wood that looked like the corner of a box but with markings along both straight edges. This, the man took to your head and slotted the corner just underneath your chin and had his aid write down the dimensions of your head. The man took out several more instruments including a cloth ribbon that also had figures written on it. He wrapped that ribbon around various parts of your body and recorded the dimensions each time. It took the man half an hour to get all your figures recorded into the book he had with him but he did and you never lost an article of clothing in the process, so you were both happy.

“That wasn’t so bad now was it?” the man said to you “They tell me your parents sold you because they didn’t want a girl as special as you but I can see your potential, I know what you are, I know your true value. Something which was lost on your parents it seems.” You look up at the man and stare him straight into his eyes, you know your parents sold you out and that it was because of your special gifts but this man was still here to buy a ****.

“I am not a ****” you say simply and with all the passion of that statement only scarcely hidden behind your seemingly calm voice.

“You are now, the sooner you accept that role, the sooner you can evolve out of it and turn it into something meaningful” you continue your staring contest with the man. You have nowhere to go and nowhere to stay but this man seemed better than some of the other buyers that might take an interest in a young girl such as yourself. You sigh and drop your head, allowing your body to go limp so that only the ropes holding you to the post kept you on your feet.

“Fine” you say, in total resignation. You figured that this man would be your best bet to get away and escape but you have a feeling in the base of your stomach that you won’t be escaping at all.

Four years later

You open the door to your master’s chambers and enter without even announcing your presence. It has been four years and in that time, you took to your role as your master’s **** well. In return for your loyalty, your master has treated you as a trusted lieutenant instead of a **** and most of his business contacts that meet him mistake you for his daughter at first glance. Your light blond hair falls to your shoulders where a sleeveless cotton top covers your chest from your collar line to stop before reaching your stomach and is held tight by lace cords on either side. Your bottom half is kept decently modest by a skirt that covers your thighs and with slits on either side of it so that you can move freely. Your modest B cup breasts are held tight under your top but the cotton fabric is the only thing that covers them. You also had a special ability that you discovered when you were trying to convince the cook for more sweets, you found that you could get inside of other people’s heads and control them as well as hypnotising people. Your master told you that hypnotising people with just your eyes was likely an ability only you could possess and the mind control abilities were an extension of that. You also found that this ability is limited based on the Willpower of the person you use it on.

“Master, you wanted to see me?” you call to the man how is sitting in the centre of the room on a couch while a caramel skinned woman in nothing but a thin skirt rubs his feet

“Yes my dear, your latest trainer in acrobatics and hand to hand combat has told me you have little left to learn so I thought it high time that your training ended” over the last four years, your master had hired several trainers to teach you the Mu’quat style of martial combat. Mu’quat was a style used by local assassins and especially favoured by females of the League of Assassins that operated in this area. You have even taken the odd contract from them with your masters’ permission.

“I don’t believe that, I still have yet to master disarming tactics or use of weapons other than my hands or my knife” you are of course referring to the six inch curved blade that is sheathed to the sash that keeps your skirt up and is located in the small of your back.

“Yes but you have an adequate knowledge of these things and the only way for you to master them is by practise, so I am sending you back to where you came from. The Morridan Expanse is nice this time of year I hear, and I’m sure your parents agree since they moved back there shortly after selling you.” Your eyes open wide at the mention of your birth place and the fact that your master is sending you there

“As far as I’m concerned, you have been a better father than my real one . . . but if there is some reason for sending me there other than finding my parents . . .” you let that train of thought settle as your own race. Did my parents really sell me so they could afford to go home? You think to yourself before shaking your head to clear it of unwanted distractions

“I’m touched, but this is more important than your parents . . . I thought you might have been more interested in leaving if you had a personal reason but I guess I was mistaken. No matter, I’m sending you anyway and as for what precisely you shall be doing there . . . even I don’t know. But if you could look into setting up contacts for me, I’d be very much appreciated” you knew the only contacts that your master wanted were slaving contacts and slaves from the Morridan Expanse always sold dearly since it was on another continent.

“How long will I be gone for?” you ask, suddenly noticing you don’t really want to leave your life here.

“As long as it takes . . . whatever ‘It’ is, also I’m freeing you” that last comment struck you like a blow, you had technically never been freed and had always been treated like property, if very much prised property, but you had gotten accustomed to it. Knowing that for your master to treat you this well, you had to make some sacrifices helped to make the idea of no freedom more bearable and it had gotten you out of a lot of trouble because important slaves that were allowed out on their own were a common site in this land but still.

“That isn’t necessary, master . . . I am only a **** here, in the Morridan Expanse I am free . . . more or less” you decided that you wanted to hold at least one tie back to your home, even if it was an adopted one and one where you hold little freedoms.

“As you wish but don’t regret it if it comes back to haunt you my dear” you don’t care since you are sure of your loyalties to the man who spent a lot of money just so he could have you and even more money to train you in ways most people didn’t even get.

It takes you a mere two days to prepare for the journey across the ocean to the land of your birth. You take little with you but the clothes on your back with a spare set and some more respectable clothing in case it is needed and some goods to give you a financial start in the new lands before you board the Ocean Galley as it prepares to make its way to a land called Caelonia, on the south eastern side of the Morridan Expanse and one of the few places to have trade overseas.

You give your home one final wistful look as it dips below the horizon before you turn your gaze in the direction of the place that will be your new one and prepare to being your adventure.