Deep into that darkness peering

The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?
Edgar Allan Poe

Not necessity, not desire - no, the love of power is the demon of men. Let them have everything - health, food, a place to live, entertainment - they are and remain unhappy and low-spirited: for the demon waits and waits and will be satisfied.
Friedrich Nietzsche


Tristan Rothchild stared blankly into the remnants of the fire that had long sinced stopped providing heat to the moonlit study where he sat. Ash and ember were all that remained and the chill in the room should have sent him searching for a sweater or a blanket, instead he simply sat and waited, not even noticing the white puffs of his breath that were visible in the air. The study itself seemed to be waiting patiently for its owner to move. The curtains that lined the two large open windows didn't stir, as if they were holding their breath in anticipation.

Moonlight streamed in through those windows in narrow bands that seemed to slice through the shadows of the study, illuminating the book lined walls that surrounded Tristan as he hunched low in the high backed leather chair. One might have been tempted to believe him asleep if they failed to notice the way his hands gripped the arms of the chair, his knuckles white with the strain. Tristan himself hadn't noticed. If he had, he would have chastised himself for allowing his body to betray the darkness of his thoughts. He was not a man who accepted betrayal easily, even betrayal by his own body.

The silence of the room was broken roughly by a harsh series of coughs that wracked Tristan's body, causing him to wince slightly at the pain that seared through his ribs. As Tristan managed to stiffle the coughing, the cold silence rushed back into the fill the room around him. It was too late however, the sound of his rasping coughs had carried beyond the walls of the study and had managed to summon the one other resident of the Rothchild home.

"Sir shall I fix you...you've let your fire go out, Master, you should have called me," Kipling said, his voice admonishing at the same time that it soothed. The small, well dressed young man quickly stepped to the fire place and began to conjure the fire back to life. After a few moments the personal servant straightened, orange and yellow flames now wrestling against the darkness just behind his back as he turned to face the chair where Tristan sat.

"I'll bring you some soup and some wine, just give me a couple of minutes," Kipling offered as he looked at the master of the house. The slim, nervous young man was clearly worried and made no attempt to hide it. Refusing to be discouraged by Tristan's lack of response, he stepped over and pulled a shawl from the back of a chair that was the twin of the one Tristan sat in. He draped the shawl over his master's shoulders and chest before starting toward the door.

"Kipling," Tristan said the name softly, as if he were speaking to himself, but the man servant heard and stopped in the doorway.

"I leave in the morning, early," his voice remained low, and though calm, seemed to carry a sense of regret. "Very early. I won't be gone long this time, I think. But when I return I hope you will have what I requested."

Kipling wrung his hands together, hesitating before responding, "I wish that you would stay a few days before you travel again, Master Rothchild. You need your rest...but, yes, my contacts assure me that all is on schedule. I will have the girl here when you return."

"Thank you, Kipling," Tristan responded, making an effort to sound more cheerful. "Now bring me some of your soup, my bones are cold and my stomach is empty. And the last thing I need is you hovering over me all night like a mother hen."

"Of course, Master," Kipling said, smiling weakly as he disappeared into the quiet hall, leaving Tristan alone in the study once again.


Tristan: http://i1304.photobucket.com/albums/s524/TheDevilInASong/GavinRothchild_zps2d54b917.png

"Come.. come.. this way"

The voice was deep, quiet, and very male. He did not like to shout. Shouting only upset the livestock, and it was never easy to show, or sell, his particular animals when they were upset, weeping, crying, or worse, if they were screaming, cursing, or yelling either at him or the Buyers. That tended to put off the Buyers, which in this business, was not a good thing.

Nathan paused, as the livestock was unloaded. He had a smaller shipment today. Well, there was a reason for that. This was not the usual showing. Most of the time, the stable of livestock was presented for any Buyers that happened past. And usually, in that situation, Nathan had a full stock. That included untrained and raw, partially broken, fully trained, as well as virginal and non-virginal.

But this showing was private. Only a select few, specifically invited based on interest, would be attending. Nathan had the listing of preferences for these chosen few. And those would be the livestock presented. Of course, he would pad the showing with a few extra treats. One never knew when a Buyer would change his or her mind, or would decide to purchase more than one.

He much preferred these shows. Much easier to manage. The Buyers were more often than not well versed in the etiquette of purchasing a slave. Unlike the open shows, when just anyone interested, whether they had the money or not, could show up.

There were 5 Buyers for this particular private showing. Four were male, one was female. All the livestock for this showing were female, as requested. He had brought a dozen girls with him for this showing. Half were virginal, half were not. He also made sure to include a wide variety, from the petite blonde, to lusty red head. Of course there were the black haired and sable haired beauties as well. Nathan was known for the quality and diversity of his collection.

The other thing about Nathan that differed from others who dabbled in this same industry, was the fact the his livestock had names, instead of numbers. Nathan preferred it that way, often likening it to a stray animal shelter that named it's pets for sale or adoption. He found that the Buyers identified better with a potential slave when the girl (or male if that was requested) had an actual name. Of course that name could be changed after purchase.

The stock brought for this sale were listed as follows (and all Buyers were furnished with this list):

Maria - 22 yrs old, short black hair, deep brown eyes, 5'5", 125 pounds, non-virginal, untrained/raw

Candy - 18 yrs old, long dark red hair, sage green eyes, 5'8", 119 pounds, virginal, untrained/raw

Gretchen - 18 yrs old, long blonde hair, sea green eyes, 5'7", 124 pounds, virginal, untrained/raw

Caroline - 19 yrs old, long chestnut brown hair, chestnut brown eyes, 5'6", 110 pounds, non-virginal, untrained/raw

Jordyn - 21 yrs old, long strawberry blonde hair, emerald green eyes, 5'6", 120 pounds, non-virginal. untrained/raw

Dee - 21 yrs old, long blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'5", 105 pounds, non-virginal, untrained/raw

Beth - 19 yrs old, long black hair, dark blue eyes, 5'7", 115 pounds, virginal, partially trained

Taylor - 20 yrs old, short dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, 5'6", 117 pounds, non-virginal, partially trained

Nadine - 22 yrs old, shoulder length pale blonde hair, pale blue eyes, 5'4", 104 pounds, non-virginal, fully trained

Shasta - 18 yrs old, long black hair, sapphire blue eyes, 5'8", 129 pounds, virginal, fully trained

Emma - 18 yrs old, long golden blonde hair, grass green eyes, 5'6", 110 pounds, virginal, fully trained

Arianna - 21 yrs old, long maghogany brown hair, clear blue eyes, 5'6", 115 pounds, virginal, fully trained




Pictures were provided upon request. Nathan preferred the Buyers wait to see the livestock in person. Pictures often did not due the merchandise justice. They were much more beautiful when seen as living, breathing creatures.

Another thing that Nathan did not believe in were, private showings. He liked his livestock shown together. Comparison shopping, he called it. Often Buyers would want to see a girl side by side with another, this way, all were easily seen at a glance. Touching was allowed, but only to a certain degree. Penetration was not allowed, whether by fingers, tongues, objects, or other appendages. Nathan knew that was... different... than alot of stables. But this was his business, and his livestock were often more beautiful, better trained, and more desireable, than others. He aimed to keep it that way.

Each girl was chained by the throat, using a simple steel collar. Collars were available for purchase of course. The untrained girls were also chained by wrists and ankles. There was no need for that with the partially and fully trained animals. Transportation/Delivery was also provided, for a fee. Nathan's was a full service stable.

The girls were cleansed, and prepared. Nathan, again, being different, preferred to show off the girl's beauty by adorning each in something quite simple. Each were now adorned in a soft silken babydoll, in a color that would accent their hair as that was the most easily identifiable feature on each of these girls. The blondes were now bathed in black silk, the red heads in deep jewel green silk, the girls with black hair now wore ruby red silk, and the girls with the deep brown hair, were graced with the palest of pink silk.

By the 8pm show time, all was ready.

Slavery was all that Arianna knew. She was a rare breed. Born to a woman who, herself was enslaved. She never knew her father, all she knew was it was NOT the man that was the Master. She was never privy to any information on the circumstances surrounding her birth. Be that as it may, slavery was the life that Arianna was raised in. She did not attend school like other children. She was taught at home. She did not have friends as other kids perhaps did. Again, the Master associated with others of his own, tastes, so she indeed met other kids born into the same situation, but they were very few and very far between, and they were not friends.

Her training began early. When she turned 18, she was sold to a Slave Trader, and that just happened to be Nathan. There, she spent the next year in intense training. After she was confirmed a virgin, the decision was made to leave her unopened. Some girls were opened on purpose, it was the luck of the draw and the decision of the Owner, Nathan.

This night, was another night, another show. Arianna had been shown several times. She was well trained, intelligent, and quite beautiful. But, and Nathan himself often admitted this, many Buyers desired blondes, or red heads. Nathan had a "soft spot" for Arianna, finding her quite smart, enjoying her sense of humor and her wicked smile. He often used her for hosting shows, of course always offering her for sale as well. She was an impeccable hostess, engaging, and the Buyers all were quite entranced with her. But again, she was not the desired blonde or red head, and was passed up. Nathan often thought to keep her as his own, but he already had Gayle, and had owned her for some time. He was not in the position to give the needed time or attention to another personal slave.

Arianna would be used as hostess again, Nathan decided.

So it was she, dressed in the palest of pink babydoll silk, supple soft skin unmarred, smooth, the swell of her breasts, more than a handful, tipped with darkened nipples that gently peaked the pink silk, long mahogany mane falling free to spill over her shoulders, along the plane of her back, again accented by that palest of pink that caressed and slithered possessively along her curves as she moved. Her motion was like that of a dancer, silent, graceful, each bared foot stepping before the next. With a smile that indeed dazzled and a voice as soft as a bed of feather, Arianna greeted the Buyers, including Kipling, as the show, began. Each were called Sir or Madam as the case warranted. Each given a greeting of her kneeling before them, a brush of lips to their feet. Each shown to the viewing area personally, where Nathan then greeted each Buyer himself.

"I should confess, the purchase isn't for myself but for my...employer," Kipling explained to Nathan, managing at the last moment to refrain from referring to Tristan as his Master. The two were standing aside from the other buyers most of whom were focused on the small collection of attractive young women that had just entered.

"No need to elaborate, sir," Nathan assured the small, meticulously dressed young man. "Proxy purchases made for ones employer are quite common in our business. We are happy to assist in any way can. Do you know what your employer is looking for?"

"Oh, to be honest, I don't think that he knows what he is looking for," Kipling responded as he glanced at the bevy of young women, trying to understand just how he would decide between the girls. Some tall, some short, blonde, brunette, redheads, slender, curvy, with the exception of that fact that all were relatively young and all attractive they seemed to run the gamut of physical characteristics. Not for the first time, Kipling found himself wishing his Master had chosen someone else for this particular task. The reality was, there was no one else, not someone who could be trusted with something this sensitive.

"Well, I'll just have to do the best I can," he finally concluded, speaking as much to himself as to the man standing next to him.

"I'm sure you will do fine. Not to sound immodest, but with merchandise such as this, I don't think you could go wrong," Nathan said, smiling as he studied the other buyers. "Please excuse me, Mr. Kipling, I should see to some of the other guests. If you have any questions please don't hesitate to engage our hostess, Arianna. She is fully versed on each of the girls and quite experienced with our policies."

It's just Kipling, the personal servant thought to himself as the slave trader graciously excused himself. Kipling turned to find the attractive young hostess directly behind him, speaking with another buyer. She was quite striking herself, perhaps more so than most of the other girls, though he couldn't put his finger on why he felt that way. There was definitely something about her that seemed to speak to Kipling. Something about the way she moved, part feline grace, part flower petal on the breeze seemed to draw the eye, and there was an ease with which she interacted with the buyers and the other girls that made her stand out as well.

Kipling spent the next hour examining each of the young women as respectfully as possible, engaging most of them in conversation, but the truth was, he'd made up his mind in those brief moments as he had watched Arianna move through the room speaking with the guests. Perhaps he'd made his decision even earlier, perhaps the moment when she had greeted the buyers by kneeling before them and kissing their feet. Regardless of the when or the why of his decision, it was done. All that was left was to finalize the arrangements with Nathan.

A couple of hours later, Kipling was sitting in the back of a limousine with his Master's newest acquisiton, heading toward the secluded Rothchild estate, his thoughts as dark and tumultous as the thunderstorm that raged outside.

"If you have any questions please don't hesitate to engage our hostess, Arianna. She is fully versed on each of the girls and quite experienced with our policies."

She heard her name. She was always observant, always attentive. One should be, and she knew that. Yet her discussion with the Buyer before her was not interrupted. She too, like Nathan, much preferred these private showings. The Buyers were much more manageable, so much easier to deal with. Arianna did not have to worry about, if she were helping with the hosting duties, being groped or lewdly felt up. Yes, Nathan had body guards for exactly that purpose. Hidden in the shadows, even now, both Bert and Ernie, no, not their real names, but the names they were known as in this business, were keeping a wary, and attentive, eye on the girls and the Buyers, including herself and this Buyer.

They would step in when and if needed.

Arianna nodded to the Buyer as he stepped away. She motioned to Carl, one of the runners. A runner simply fetched a girl when a Buyer wanted a closer look. The closer looks were always done down on the main floor. Ari had just sent the Buyer there.

"Sir" even the runners were shown the proper respect from her, she was just another slave as well, after all... "Mr. Frank Boyle, Buyer #3, desires to see both Nadine and Maria up close please." Carl the runner nodded and scampered off.

Ari turned her attention to Mr. Kipling, Buyer #1. With a gracious nod, she listened as he explained that he simply wanted to move thru the room on his own and speak to each of the girls. "As you wish, Sir" her smile lit up her face. She liked Buyers like him, the ones that wanted to actually speak with the girls. They were always different. They saw the girls as so much more than the livestock, the slaves, that even Nathan saw them as. She leaned in to whisper, "if you are looking for intelligence, Sir..." which she guessed he was, hence his desire to speak to the girls... "I recommend Jordyn, Beth, or Taylor"...

There was something about Mr. Kipling. Arianna knew he was seeking a girl for his Employer. She had been privy to all the information on all the Buyers. Well, maybe not all the information. She was not allowed any financial information, nor did she know the amount Nathan charged for his merchandise. Questions regarding pricing was always deferred to Nathan and only Nathan. Arianna also did not know who Mr. Kipling's Employer was. In fact, neither did Nathan. It was not a needed piece of information. But it wasn't that.. that seemed to tickle in Ari's mind. It was something else. An air about him. As if he were more equal to her, which she knew was certainly not true. Maybe it was that the girl would not be his... But no, that wasn't it. Arianna had dealt with plenty of proxy Buyers. The feeling she was getting ... this was a first for her. Or... was it....

She shook her head as she stood to the side, watching the Buyers circulate the room, trying to place it. Everytime her crystal clear blue eyes alit on Mr. Kipling as he spoke, this time to Taylor, she got that same nudge, that same tickle. It dawned on her a moment later, it was almost the same feeling she got when meeting the new male merchandise. Why would she be getting "that" feeling?

Well, it really mattered not, right...

Well... wrong...

She was speaking to Ms. Joan Packard, the loan female Buyer, Buyer #4, when Nathan summoned her away.

"Arianna, to me please"

With a polite bow of her head to the Woman, Ari took a step back and turned, approaching Nathan and... Mr. Kipling, who was standing beside him. Her steps were quiet, light, as she came to him, lowering then to her knees before the Stable Owner. She kept her head and eyes lowered as she spoke. "Yes Master Nathan?" That was a title of respect that was used for the Owner of the Stable. Technically, he owned all these girls, the title was correct in this instance. All Buyers were called Sir, or Madam of course.

He reached down a fingertip gliding below her chin, lifting her head to look down upon her.

"Mr. Kipling has just purchased you for his Employer."

In his other hand was a simple leather collar. It was a traveling collar, a strip of deep chestnut brown leather with a simple silver ring upon it. Ari, as hostess, wore no collar at the moment, a show of how well she was trained. The leather collar was slipped about the curve of her throat and secured. The leash clipped to the ring.

And that was it.

She was sold.

For a moment, Ari didn't quite know how to feel.

Scared, would be the best description. She had felt the same when she was sold to Nathan, back when she was 18. She hoped she would not suffer the same punishments she had when she had come here. That was not something she wanted to go thru again. Nathan had his training methods, she had endured remarkably well. Where some girls did bear the scars of training, Arianna had none. She was strong, and resiliant, that was for sure.

Now she sat in the back of a long, black, limo. She was unrestrained. Nathan has insisted that she was impeccably trained and Mr. Kipling had taken his word for it. In reality, Arianna had been unaware as the night had progressed that Mr. Kipling had been intently observing her, even as he perused the other girls.

Ari had been allowed to stay clothed in the pale pink silk babydoll that she had worn for the balance of the night as well. Another anomoly. She had prepped enough girls that had been sold to know that most Buyers preferred them restrained, hooded, and naked. In fact, Ari knew, because she was a smart girl, and always had been, that more than likely, the majority of the sold girls were immediately used in the back of whatever car they were being transported in, by their new Owners. Some cars had only just pulled away when Ari heard the cries of a girl being mounted and fucked. Some men just could not wait, it seemed.

Ari had the distinct feeling already, that this.. Employer, was different, just as Mr. Kipling was. She observed this Mr. Kipling as the car cruised thru the night. She did not stare outright, and infact, she was not even sitting on the seat. The limo was huge, and Arianna was upon her knees on the floor, at Mr. Kipling's feet. Altho, she still had that "feeling" about him. She would not dare speak or ask. That was disrespectful, never mind that he seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, seeming to not even notice the thunderstorm that began to rage outside.

She had to keep herself calm. Arianna was scared. She had grown used to being with Nathan. She had grown used to his routine. She had heard horror stories about what happened to some girls once sold, even some of the girls from Nathan's stable.

What would this Employer, now her Owner, her Lord and Master, be like? Cruel? Evil? Sad to think those were the first words that came to her mind. When growing up, the Master of her mother had not been the nicest man. He was not overly vicious, but Ari remembered, on more than on occasion, hearing from where she slept, the party going on down in the main room, and her mother was the main attraction. Her mother offered for use to many men. Ari learned early what sex was. She had never been touched, the Master was adament about that. But she knew what it was, saw what it could do, remembered how her mother was used.

But, Ari was impeccably trained. She would do what was commanded, no matter what it was. The fact that Mr. Kipling seemed "different" than most, she hoped would mean the Master, his Employer, would be the same.

It was the better part of 2 hours, before the limo turned, slowed, a garage door opening and closing, leaving the still raging storm outside, arriving at the Estate.

The Estate that would home to Arianna.

Kipling sighed as the limo pulled onto the cobblestone drive that led from the main road up to the Rothchild estate, the tires rumbling over the rough stone, signaling to Tristan's personal servant that they had reached their destination. They were home, at last. Kipling had long since ceased to think of anyplace as home other than the stuffy confines of the estate house, and he despised having to leave home unless it was with the Master. He belonged with his Master, and if he couldn't be with Tristan to protect him, to see to his needs, then he needed to be at the Master's house to prepare things for the Master's return.

As Whitlow, the driver, turned into the garage, the large door closing behind the limo, Kipling glanced down at Arianna, the young woman that he had purchased for Tristan. She was beautiful, and hopefully, his Master would be pleased with his selection. Kipling found the whole affair somewhat lurid and distasteful, buying and selling people, owning a woman whose only purpose was to provide sexual satisfaction to her owner, but the truth was he wouldn't deny his Master anything. Tristan was under too much pressure, and was working himself to an early death. If somehow this young, fragile thing could help prevent or delay that death by serving as an outlet for Tristan's frustrations, then so be it. He would chain a thousand girls with collars and shackles if that was what it took.

"Follow me, dear," Kipling said as he slipped gracefully from the car and started toward the nearby door, which led into the servants' quarters, or the lower house, as it was sometimes called. The lower house contained the garage where Mr. Rothchild's extensive car collection was kept, as well as living quarters for Whitlow, the driver, and Ms. Finney the housekeeper responsible for keeping the estate clean and the laundry done. Phinneas Thomas, Tristan's personal chef occasionally stayed in the lower house as well, though he had a home of his own in the nearby town of Silverwood.

The lower house was connected to the main house by a covered walkway, and it was this walkway that Kipling led his Master's newest acquisition to. The storm that had followed them home was continuing to rage outside, a stinging rain and strong wind whipping at them as the made the short journey through the night to the main house. He spared a thought for the young woman who was still dressed in the barely there clothing from the auction, realizing that he should have offered her a coat to protect her from the elements. It wouldn't do for her to catch a cold the first night there. A pity he hadn't thought of it a few minutes ago.

When they reached the main house, Kipling quickly ushered the young woman through the doorway and out of the cold air. As he lead Arianna through the house and up to one of the comfortable sitting areas near the room that would become her bedroom, he spoke absently about the house and the surrounding estate, describing the layout as well as the history of the house and it's connection to the Rothchild family, which had begun more than 170 years ago.

"Please have a seat while I get you something warm to drink," he told the young woman as they finally reached their destination, motioning toward the small, luxurious loveseat to one side of the well decorated parlor. "Coffee, warm tea, perhaps a bit of brandy?"

She may have looked like she was not paying attention. She may have looked as if the only thing in her sights was the floor of the limo on which she knelt. But Arianna was not that naive. She glanced up every so often, knowing that the man who sat before her was not just wantonly staring at her. He was lost in his own thoughts. She took that advantage and glanced out the rather expansive windows of the large limo as it drove.

Having been graced as Hostess for the gathering, Arianna knew where they were. The other girls did not. But she did. She knew the city, the address, and she knew ahead of time. It had all been part of the preparations. Ari also had access to the internet. Again, part of the preparations. She doubted that the Buyers even realized that the email sent to confirm attendance had been from her, and not Nathan. She had also provided directions to the location. So suffice it to say, Arianna had done some research on the city and the surroundings.

She had estimated that, traveling for the length of time they had, the better part of a couple of hours, and at highway speeds, the Limo had gone mainly straight and fast, indicative of a highway, the destination was about 110-130 miles away from the purchase location. She also realized, that where ever this was, it was isolated. She saw no streetlights, except for the couple that had greeted the Limo when it finally turned off the highway.

Not that any of this information was for any particular reason. Arianna was not contemplating escape or anything of the sort. At least not actively. The thought had crossed her mind if it turned out that her Owner was exceptionally cruel. She had heard enough horror stories. But her training was such that the thought of freedom was not an active one in her mind, not now, not ever. Things would have to be pretty bad...... and of course they could be... they certainly could be.

Arianna had made the decision then to always try and at least have some knowledge of where she was. In this case, she was 110 miles or more away from the city. Her knew Owner obviously lived in some kind of seclusion, at least from neighbors. She had no idea if there were a wife, or kids.. It was not unheard of for an Owner to have a family... Mr. Kipling had not been required to provide any information of that type about who he was purchasing for. Just his gender, male, the gender slave he preferred, female, and the amount of money he was willing to spend.

It always came down to money, even tho Arianna had no idea what kind of money had just be shelled out for her. She had no clue that this Mr.Kipling had just shelled out $375,000 of his Master's money to secure her purchase. "She is well worth the money" Nathan had promised, explaining why she was more expensive than even the blondes for sale. "Intelligence... Mr. Kipling... Intelligence"....

She had taken note that they entered a garage, that seeming to stir Kipling, still Mr. Kipling to her, from his thoughts. The Limo halting smoothly, the door opening.

"Follow me, dear,"

It was then that Arianna felt that cold, balled up pang of fear deep withing her belly. She had felt that same fear the night she had been sold to Master Nathan. The night her real training began. She still remembered screaming into the darkness, only to hear his laugh. Nathan did have a bit of a dark streak when it came to training the girls he would be selling.

The thought made her shiver as she exited the Limo, following the man who had bought her thru he covered, yet still very cold and quite wet, walkway. By the time they were indoors, and the warmth of the house began to slowly snake around her form, the silken babydoll she wore was damp, enough so it clung quite possessively to her equally damp skin, especially the curve of her breasts, the peak of her nipples and the firmness of her backside.

Quietly, she followed him thru the house. And quite the house it was. It was not a house, it was a Mansion, an Estate, that belonged with the family of the Man who had actually purchased her. She doubted at that moment, that she were the first slave to grace these premises, nor did she think she would be the last. She listened carefully and intently as he told her the basic layout, the basement, which was strictly off limits unless she were brought down there by the Master... the first floor, sitting rooms, dining room, kitchen, bathing.. the 2nd floor, bedrooms, guest rooms, study, office, and bathing, and the top floor, which like the basement was off limits unless with the Master. On the grounds surrounding the Keep, was a large stable, and a pool. He outlined the history of the Keep to the family, and Man, that now owned it.

Rothchild. His name was Rothchild. What was his first name, she wondered. Not that it mattered to her, her name for him will always be... Master...

"Please have a seat while I get you something warm to drink," he told the young woman as they finally reached their destination, motioning toward the small, luxurious loveseat to one side of the well decorated parlor. "Coffee, warm tea, perhaps a bit of brandy?"

Her eyes roamed over the room quickly, before she lightly sat down upon the softness of the loveseat. Her skin was already dry, the babydoll still damp, clinging to her skin in some places, but was drying as well.

"tea, would be wonderful, Sir" she said, letting a small smile play across her lips. He was cute, this Mr. Kipling guy. Who was he to the Master of the house? Family? Friend? Employee? She still got that niggling little feeling in the back of her mind when around him.

Lightning flashed outside the east tower as Tristan started down the ornate spiral staircase, tucking the small iron key into the breast pocket of his vest. The crash of thunder that followed was so powerful the steps seemed to rumble beneath him, forcing him to lean heavily against the outer wall to keep his balance. His dark hair was wet and clinging to his clammy skin, his suit wrinkled and disheveled. Tristan didn't care how he looked, but he was sure that Kipling would be in a tizzy if he saw him before he could clean up. Especially if he saw the two nasty scratches on the side of his neck. Tristan had wiped the wound clear of blood several times, but each time it returned.

Tired and weak, the Master slowly descended the stairs to the second floor and quietly made his way to his room. There was no sign of Kipling, which meant the worrisome man either didn't realize that Tristan had returned, or was busy downstairs preparing food and drink. I swear sometimes I think he intends to kill me with baked goods and spirits, the tall, lean figure thought to himself as he stepped into the bathroom connected to the master bedroom. A few minutes later he emerged, the blood on his neck wiped away and the scratches at least partially covered by makeup. Tristan slipped out of his suit jacket and vest, leaving them on the bed as he exited the room.

After another somewhat shaky descent, the master of the house emerged from the stairwell onto the main floor, determined to speak with his man servant before retiring to his study to make some notes in his journals. Seeing lights coming from one of the sitting rooms, Tristan assumed that was where he would find what he sought. As he approached the doorway, the dark haired man reached up and loosened the tie at his neck.

"Kipling, I've returned. I hope you haven't been sitting down here getting tipsy on that Brandy of yours," Tristan said as he came around the corner and stepped into the small sitting room. He stopped immediately, even before he saw the girl on the loveseat, almost as if he had sensed that he wasn't alone before his eyes could possibly have confirmed it. After a brief second of pause, during which his eyes locked on the eyes of the stranger, Tristan sprang across the room to where she sat, snatching her up to her feet, one cold hand wrapped tightly about her throat.

"Who sent you? How did you come here?" the voice wasn't the same as it had been a moment ago when he'd been speaking casually to Kipling. It was a snarl and seemed to echo the fierceness of his action. Most who knew him described Tristan's eyes as intense in the best of situations, now they were rage personified. Despite his questions, the Master's fingers tightened around the mysterious girl's throat, cutting off her air supply, and her ability to answer.

"Master Rothchild, please, you must let her go. She is the one you requested I acquire. I brought her here at your direction," Kipling stood in the doorway holding a small gold tray with two teacups which were shaking much the way his voice was. Tristan didn't seem to hear him, his eyes still searching the young woman's face as if trying to decide if he knew her from somewhere.

"Tristan, please," Kipling tried again, this time his voice calmer, more soothing.

Tristan blinked several times, and then his eyes once again locked on the girl's eyes, but this time as if he was seeing her for the first time. His teeth were still bared, and a low growl rumbled in his throat as he finally loosed his grip on her throat enough that she could take a breath. Still holding her up in front of him, the Master finally broke his stare, allowing his eyes to move down and take her in entirely. With his free hand, Tristan reached up and in one quick motion he ripped the right side of her lingerie down off her breast, exposing it to his eyes.

In the background, Kipling seemed to tense as if unsure what his master might do. After a long moment in which Tristan stared at the bare breast that trembled in front of him, he finally lifted his eyes back to the girl's face, locking onto her eyes again. "Take her to the room that you prepared. I need to take care of some things in my study, then I will be in to see her."

With that Tristan released the slave and brushed past her without another word. He didn't bother to look at Kipling, knowing that it would gain him nothing but a reproachful look from the always proper man servant. Stalking to his study he slammed the door behind him, and fell back against it, trying to regain his composure and steady his breathing.

Back in the study, Kipling took a deep breath and then stepped in front of the loveseat, "Please follow me, miss. I'll show you to your room." As he led her from the sitting room, Kipling carried the tray and the tea with him. After winding down a hallway that snaked into the center of the house, Kipling stopped at an unassuming wooden door. Balancing the tray on one hand, the small man opened the door and walked into the darkness. A moment later there was a clicking sound and light sprang to life in the center of the room.

The room wasn't large, but thanks to the sparse decorations, it probably seemed so. There was a single bed against one wall, with a trunk at the foot and a small table next to it. A full length antique dresser stood against another wall, with a floor length mirror next to it. Other than that the room was empty. Windowless, the only light in the room was from an overhead light in the very center of the ceiling with a small metal chain hanging from it.

Kipling carefully placed one of the teacups on the side table and then turned to face Arianna. He started to say something to the girl, but clearly thought better of it. With a slight bow of his head, the young man stepped past the young woman and pulled the door shut behind him, leaving her alone in the room that would now be hers.

She heard him approaching, not that she could hear his nearly silent footalls, it was more that she could hear, or even feel, his breathing, sense the air shifting as he moved, as if she could feel his heartbeat, as he approached, again, nothing tangible, just the tingling that raised the hair long the back of her neck, as if an electrical charge had suddenly arced thru the room, and all this before he actually stepped into the room, his voice commanding the quiet...

"Kipling, I've returned. I hope you haven't been sitting down here getting tipsy on that Brandy of yours,"

Arianna had been about to go to her knees. She knew this was him. She did not need an introduction, nor had she needed to be told what to do. She would go to her knees and greet him as she would any Dominant, until she was told otherwise.

But she was never given the chance. He moved so fast, a Predator suddenly pouncing on his prey, she being that prey. His hand was about the slender column of her throat, tightening, as she was pulled to her feet. She hadn't even the chance to speak and explain who she was. The tight grasp cutting off her air, and her voice. A look of panic alit in her own eyes as she met his. Small hands, long fingers, grab at his wrist, more of a defensive reaction, not looking to hurt him in any way, not that she could, she was weakening fast.

"Who sent you? How did you come here?"

How was she to answer? She could not even gather enough air to beg. Eyes wide and wild, Arianna stared back at him, her panic written across her face, but a deeper part of her mind was more or less analyzing what was happening.

Why was he so paranoid that he would attack without even a hint of who she was? Was he afraid? Was he hiding something?

He had moved so fast, it was uncanny. He was certainly not a lazy lout who sat around all day. He moved like a Predator. That was what had gone thru Ari's mind in that moment before he had grabbed her. A Predator, Silent, Lethal, Dangerous.

And why was he wearing makeup on his throat? She knew makeup when she saw it.

Blinking, she tried to concentrate on what she was seeing, and not give in to the sudden thought that this man was going to kill her. Her own hands tightened around his wrists.. a silent "please" vibrated across her lips. Were those scratches on his throat? Had he been attacked? Did he think she had attacked him? Why was he hiding it? To hide a weakness? If one got to him like that, so close to his vulnerable throat, another could, right?

"Master Rothchild, please, you must let her go. She is the one you requested I acquire. I brought her here at your direction,"

MASTER Rothchild??? Arianna's world was beginning to swim around her. The lack of air taking it's toll. A low whimper actually managed to escape her pale lips as she fought to stay conscious. MASTER? Was that why she got that "feeling" from Kipling? He was a slave? No, perhaps not a slave as she was. A Servant. That made more sense. A Servant. He had to be. Not even a trusted slave would be sent to purchase another slave.

"Tristan, please,"

Tristan. His name was Tristan...

Arianna was losing her battle to stay focused. Her eyes rolled back, a deep shudder rippled thru her body, one that he surely felt, he had to have as he held her there, still strangling her, his grasp not loosening. Her own fingers trembling upon his wrist, the strength ebbing from her. Ari was suddenly very cold, so very cold, as the chill of fear, of death, snaked thru her form.

And then she could breathe again.

She had come back into focus, the pressure on her throat easing. Ari took a needed breath, still shallow, her throat burning as the life giving air moved past. Her eyes met his, and where his glittered, so did hers. A deepening shine, as life and comprehension flowed back into reality. But whose eyes were shining more, his... or hers... Another breath taken as finally, the Man, the Master, tore his eyes from hers, allowing them a slow roaming down her still quivering form.

The sound of ripping silk then broke the silence, as the Master chose to expose at least one breast to his gaze. The full curve swayed slightly at the motion, the dark nipple suddenly peaking at the wash of cool air that now ran over the surface, unimpeded by any covering. His eyes drank her in, and for a moment, Arianna felt as if he would devour her right there. Time slowed down, seeming to crawl. She was smart enough to stay completely quiet, taking her queue from the equally quiet Kipling. This was not the time, or place to beg, or anything else for that matter.

When he dragged his eyes back to her face, he found her eyes waiting. Arianna did not look down or away, she met his stare once more. It was not a challenge. Never a challenge. Instead, it was she allowing him a glance within her, at least as far as she was going to let him.

"Take her to the room that you prepared. I need to take care of some things in my study, then I will be in to see her."

His hand was gone from her throat then, and Arianna took that chance to gasp that deep breath she really desperately needed, just as she fell back into the loveseat she had been seated on a moment earlier.

He was gone as fast and almost as quietly as he had arrived. Altho the slam of the door was hard to miss, even if it were some distance away. One thing about large, expansive places like this, sounds tended to echo. And it was that.. that got Ari thinking again. How may girls such as she had been in this place? Had screamed here? Had begged here? Had moaned here? Had been owned, used, and even... died here? She was sure the halls of this place still held the slightest echo of those particular sounds, she was sure of it.

"Please follow me, miss. I'll show you to your room."

Ari blinked, the thoughts dissipating in the back of her mind, thank goodness. Reaching up, she trailed her fingers along her throat. Surely it was red, and more than likely the imprint of his fingers were still there. She wondered again, why? But that was not for her to ponder, not at the moment. But she could not help the ball of fear that lay like a rock in her belly.

"Arianna" she quietly said to him as she rose, a bit unsteady, to her feet. "for now, please, just call me Arianna, Ari actually"... for now.. she had said. Who knew if he would change her name. She had no choice. Arianna was not even the name she had been born with. It was the name that Master Nathan had given her. He had liked it. Said it sounded whimsical and pretty. Her given name she could no longer remember. It was not like it was that long ago that her name had been changed. But it was the fact that Nathan had beaten her viciously until she no longer could recall that name. Even her childhood was fuzzy now. The beatings had effectively sent those memories scattering into the far corners of her mind.

She made no move to cover herself, leaving that breast bared. She would not dare. If he by chance, came back, she knew it was better to be in the same "condition" that she had been when he left, at least until she knew him better...

Silent bared footfalls followed the other until they came to a halt before an unassuming wooden door. Ari knew they had retreated deeper into the Mansion. It was going to take her some time to learn this place, she absentmindedly thought to herself...

The door swung open, the light flickered to life....

The room wasn't large, but thanks to the sparse decorations, it probably seemed so. There was a single bed against one wall, with a trunk at the foot and a small table next to it. A full length antique dresser stood against another wall, with a floor length mirror next to it. Other than that the room was empty. Windowless, the only light in the room was from an overhead light in the very center of the ceiling with a small metal chain hanging from it.

Arianna stood at the center of the room, her eyes quickly roaming over every feature.

She met Kipling's gaze. He seemed he was about to say something, but she saw that his own "training" perhaps, kicked in and he remained silent. The slight bow to his head her only communication... and a moment later he had stepped past her and was gone. The tea, however had been left behind.

Once the door clicked close, Arianna let out a low, deep sigh. It was one mingled with fear and relief. The room itself was not cold. It was a comfortable temperature. She, was chilled, both from what had happened, and the dampness, however slight, of the silk that still partially hugged her form.

She stepped to the bed, and sat down upon the edge, taking the tea in hand. The cup was still heated and felt so very good. The tea itself tasted devine. It had been a long time since she had enjoyed a simple cup of tea, a very long time. A couple of sips taken and the cup was then set down. Ari took a long look around.

Were there cameras? Would he watch her every move?

But she saw nothing blatant that indicated there were. She moved to the trunk, opening it. For the most part, it was empty, other than a spare blanket. She then checked the large, antique dresser. Inside, there was actually clothing. Well, not much. A robe, she touching it quickly with fingertips.. "so soft" ... a dress, simple, basic, and black, along with a pair of pants, they looked to be riding pants and a shirt. Riding. Kipling had said there was a stable, right? Ari had ridden a few times when growing up, it being the one thing the Master at the time had allowed. It had gotten the child out of the house when he desired to use her mother. Would her Owner allow her to ride? Maybe? In the drawer were some very revealing lingerie. Ari had expected that.

She looked at the full length mirror, at the foot of that mirror were a pair of heels, obviously to go with the black dress, and riding boots. "Please...I hope he lets me ride" she again whispered to herself.

It was then she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Torn silk babydoll, one breast exposed, nipple darkened and aroused from the cool touch of air. Her throat did indeed bare the marks of his hand, he had held her that tightly. His fingers digging deeply, leaving reddened marks. No bruises, but any tighter and that would have been different story. Ari ran her own fingers along her throat again, taking a deep, quivering breath.

She then noted that off of this room was a small bathing room.

"I need to take care of some things in my study, then I will be in to see her."

His words rang in her mind again.

Would he want her to still be in the damp, torn silk? Arianna pondered. NO, she should be naked, ready, and on display for him. She knew that.

Clicking on the light in the bathing room, she found 3 large soft towels, a bathing tub and sink, and the like. Small, but just enough for her.

Arianna spent the next 20 mins quickly bathing, including her hair, drying, brushing thru her long mane, more than happy that a brush had been provided. "I wonder if Kipling prepared this room?" she asked to herself, thinking that more than likely he had. Then she remembered the Master's words, "take her to the room you prepared" She still wondered what he was to the Master. He had called him Master. So it was more than clear he was a servant of some kind. Should she ask him? She could use a friend, that was for sure, and she hoped that friend would be the nice young man.

The soft robe wrapped about her now naked body, she stepped back into her room. Swallowing, a deep breath taken, she thinking she heard footfalls once more, approaching, the robe is slipped from her shoulders and set upon the bed, leaving her naked. She would wait, if she heard the click of the lock... wait, had he even locked the door?.... when she heard the turn of the doorknob, she would go to her knees, crawl to him, and greet him properly... yes... that is just what she would do.

"...even though Chow Liu's attempted take over failed, I know he didn't act alone this time. He was more confident than before and more well informed. I feel betrayed and yet I can't say by whom, and so I suspect everyone. The shadows at my back are full of unseen knives and the eyes of the men in front of me hide secrets far more dangerous than knives. I must find the strength to hold. Somewhere."

Finishing the last word, Tristan hesitated, his pen poised just above the page of the leather bound journal he'd been writing in. There was more he could say, more he should say, but words weren't going to change the reality of his situation. Words were no use to him now. With a sigh, he sat the pen on the desk and closed the thick journal, which was very nearly filled with his thoughts and remembrances.

"Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart," Tristan mused to himself, remembering the quote from Shakespeare as he rose from his chair and stepped from behind the desk. Slowly he walked to the nearest window and peered out into the dark night that surrounded his home, the occasional flashes of lightning providing the only moments of clarity, the only respite from the darkness. He smiled to himself at the appropriateness of the moment, for his life of late seemed to be spent peering into darkness, waiting for the next flash of light, however brief that would light the way for him.

"Unfortunately there seem to be fewer and fewer streaks of lightning in my skies these days, and so I go stumbling through the dark like a twisted madman, flailing and falling," he said to himself, his face reflected in the window like a ghost haunting the room. He'd felt a bit like a madman after his short encounter with the young woman in the sitting room. How weary he must be to allow his paranoia to bubble so quickly to the surface, for so little reason. He felt foolish for the way he had behaved, grabbing her, nearly choking her unconscious. The poor girl was probably terrified now, he realized.

In his mind, Tristan could still the girl's eyes, the way she had held his gaze, not defiant, but not afraid either. Perhaps she had been trained to expect a certain amount of abuse, considering who, or what she was. Perhaps she would be perfect for what he had in mind. Perhaps she could even be one of those flashes of light in his dark world, he thought hopefully.

"Perhaps she can help you," Kipling's voice came from the doorway.

"I've told you about reading my mind," Tristan said with a wry smile as he turned to face the slender servant. The smile was weak and didn't last, but he hoped that it might convince Kipling not to worry too much.

"I hope she meets with your approval," the man servant commented, his tone more formal than normal. "I did my best to pick some one who I thought you would find attractive and who could provide you with intelligent conversation. You do plan on speaking with her at least occasionally, don't you?"

Tristan recognized the reproach in the young man's voice. He wasn't happy with my decision to acquire the girl, and he most certainly did not approve of how I greeted her upon our first meeting. Despite his misgivings, Kipling had indeed succeeded in finding a girl of unsurpassed beauty, Tristan acknowledged as he remembered the girl's slender, lithe body, and her firm breast trembling in front of him.

"As a matter of fact, I think I will go speak with her right now," the master of the house announced, putting a slight emphasis on the word speak, as if to imply he planned to do more than just that. Tristan knew he shouldn't provoke his loyal servant, but sometimes he couldn't help himself. He caught the brief look of annoyance on Kipling's face as he brushed past him into the hallway, and realized that he had once again succeeded in pushing the young man's buttons.

A few moments later, Tristan approached the door to the girl's room. He chastised himself for not having asked Kipling what the slave's name was, but quickly dismissed it as unimportant. He opened the door and stepped into the quiet, dimly lit room. Closing the door behind him, Tristan looked up to find the girl on her hands and knees crawling toward him, wearing nothing. He stood still, waiting patiently as she moved toward him, her body slinking like a cat. She was exquisite, every inch of her skin, smooth and flawless. Her hair was long and lustrous and brushed against her shoulders and back like a whisper across a field of long grass. Her eyes were big and bright and seemed to speak to him.

As the girl finally sat up at his feet, he saw the one thing that marred her almost unnatural beauty, the red finger marks around her long, elegant neck. The marks that he'd left when he nearly strangled her earlier. A pang of guilt stabbed at Tristan, but he pushed the thought away as best he could. He reached down to touch her on the top of the head, and only then noticed that his wrist was marked in much the same way that the slave's neck was marked. He remembered her hand gripping his wrist in the moments that he had his hand around her throat and realized that she had held tighter than he had thought.

Fitting perhaps that we should both be marked so, Tristan thought to himself as his fingers brushed lightly against the girl's soft, silky hair.

"My name is Tristan. Tristan Rothchild. I am your new Master, and this is your new home. This room is yours and you are welcome to the use of any of the items within. If you have need of anything, clothes, personal items, books, whatever, speak with Kipling and he will see to it. You are to submit to his directions as if they were my own," the master of the house explained, speaking calmly and casually as his hand continued to gently stroke the girl's hair.

"I travel frequently and often with little notice. I can at times be gone for long periods of time. When I am away you are free to leave your room and find what entertainment you can as long as you don't leave the estate, and you do not attempt to contact anyone outside the staff. There is a swimming pool, a rather extensive library, and the stables are available to you if you ride, though I insist that you take Kipling with you if you do choose to ride. He won't ride a horse, but he needs to get out more and enjoy the sunshine," Tristan said.

"There are two places that are locked, and that you are forbidden to enter. The basement and the tower room to the east. Please do not test my resolve on this matter," he added, his voice growing somewhat cold and distant. "Do you have any questions?"

"My name is Tristan. Tristan Rothchild. I am your new Master, and this is your new home. This room is yours and you are welcome to the use of any of the items within. If you have need of anything, clothes, personal items, books, whatever, speak with Kipling and he will see to it. You are to submit to his directions as if they were my own,"

She had crawled to him. She had lowered her head, kissed his booted feet, lain her head there until the slightest shift of his boot, the lightest touch to her head, gave her the needed indication to rise. She had settled into her kneel, the position she knew so well. A slight swallow greeted his words. She could feel the cold, chilling pang of fear trying to bubble up, and she fought to keep it at bay.

The stroking of his fingers thru her hair was soothing, and amazingly gentle. She had been quite afraid that his actions earlier would be the norm. She had heard many many stories of Owners and what they did with their slaves, once purchased. The stories were numerous, and all were horrifying. And all, scared her, deeply. It was so easy to end up with such an Owner. It was so easy to end up... dead.

But he seemed so much calmer now, as if more in control. Perhaps that was part of it. He remaining in... control...

"yes... Master... Thank You" her voice was soft, but had a deeper, strong edge to it. One may have thought she would have such a little feminine voice. Her voice was more... seductive, lyrical, like a coating of honey along one's skin...

"I travel frequently and often with little notice. I can at times be gone for long periods of time. When I am away you are free to leave your room and find what entertainment you can as long as you don't leave the estate, and you do not attempt to contact anyone outside the staff. There is a swimming pool, a rather extensive library, and the stables are available to you if you ride, though I insist that you take Kipling with you if you do choose to ride. He won't ride a horse, but he needs to get out more and enjoy the sunshine,"

Ride.... Her eyes lit up... She sooo wanted to ride again. She only hoped she would not spook the horses. She missed her mare, Deena, from when she was young. Deena had shown no fear of her at all... She felt the tiniest tremble of excitement vibrated thru her. Had he felt it too?

"There are two places that are locked, and that you are forbidden to enter. The basement and the tower room to the east. Please do not test my resolve on this matter," he added, his voice growing somewhat cold and distant. "Do you have any questions?"

She easily detected the change in his voice, the sound, the timbre. What were those rooms? Again, her imagination, and the countless stories she had heard came rushing to her mind and thoughts. Everything from a dungeon for punishment, to rooms for pleasure, and everything in between...

She lifted her eyes to his then, with the slightest cant to her head.

"How should I address... Kipling... Master? Is he also to be called Master? Or Sir, or Lord, or just... Kipling?" She really had no clue how to address him, and really wanted to know. And she hoped it would open a dialogue between them. His voice, was so deep, rumbling, and Ari found she liked hearing him speak, when she was not being strangled by him.

It was then that he withdrew his hand from stroking her hair and she saw the marks about his wrist. Marks that she, herself had caused. If he had been Master Nathan, no doubt she would trussed up and screaming in pain from the switching, or whipping, or caning he would have administered in punishment. Without thinking, Ari reached for his hand, capturing it in her own.

"Master...." the word flowed so easily from her lips, which she then brushed along the marks she had dug into his skin, kissing those marks with a moistened touch. "I.. am so sorry Master, for.... this" she whispered against the skin. She was suddenly shaking. What the hell had she been thinking when she grabbed his wrist that way? She was a slave. If he chose to choke her, so be it. But the thing was, she had not been thinking, just as she was not thinking now, once more holding that same wrist.

Tristan stood motionless as he felt the young woman's lips graze against his bared flesh, her soft, wet lips caressing the marks on his wrist. There was a tenderness to the moment, an intimacy, and yet he also sensed that the girl was anxious, even desperate. He could see her whole body trembling as she knelt in front of him. He considered the fact that she might still be scared after their first encounter, even more so now that she had seen the effects of her tight grip, but somehow that didn't seem to fit. In the sitting room, after he had finally removed his hand from her throat, the brunette had looked him in the eyes and he had not sensed any fear in her then. Curiosity, yes. Fear, no.

"It's nothing to be concerned about. I am to blame for our less than auspicious first encounter," he said dismissively, though he made no attempt to pull his hand away from the beautiful girl, or her lips. With his free hand, Tristan reached down and brushed his fingertips against the marks on her neck. "It probably wouldn't have been fair that I walk away completely unscathed, under the circumstances."

After a moment, Tristan pulled his hands back to his sides and slowly circled around behind the kneeling girl, "As for your first question, you can refer to him as Kipling, though it would amuse me greatly if you would occasionally refer to him as Imp. A moniker he is not very fond of, perhaps because it suits him too well. He sometimes takes himself too seriously, and so I often find myself forced to take the wind from his sails."

As he stood over the young woman, Tristan found himself admiring her beauty. The hair fell across her shoulders like the softest silk, and her smooth flawless skin seemed to shimmer in the faint light. Her body seemed to be the perfect blend of lean lines with rounded curves and he found himself wanting to see more. Reaching down to place a hand on one shoulder, Tristan commanded her to stand for him.

"Tell me your name, if you have one," he said. "Where are you from and how did you come to be here?"

"It's nothing to be concerned about. I am to blame for our less than auspicious first encounter,"

Her lips paused along the markings when his hand, his fingertips, so very lightly ran along the marks he had inflicted upon her throat. She was, honestly, a bit surprised that he had taken responsibility for what he did. Ari had found, in dealing with alot of the men and women who purchased a slave, that they bore no responsibility for what happened to said slave. It was a clear indication that most saw the purchase, that human, that girl (more often than not, it was females who were bought and sold, much moreso than males) as nothing more than a piece of merchandise.. sadly.

"It probably wouldn't have been fair that I walk away completely unscathed, under the circumstances."

Those 2 statements made Ari realize, he was entirely different.

But just how different came thru with his next statement...

"As for your first question, you can refer to him as Kipling, though it would amuse me greatly if you would occasionally refer to him as Imp. A moniker he is not very fond of, perhaps because it suits him too well. He sometimes takes himself too seriously, and so I often find myself forced to take the wind from his sails."

She chuckled at that.. her laugh a rather pretty sound, given the fact that it totally took her by surprise, his statement that is, and her laugh. He was different. He was speaking to her like a human being, which again, she found refreshing.

It was funny how, when she had dealt with the potential Buyers on the phone, they were often rather animated and polite. But as soon as said Buyer found out that she herself was a slave and for sale, the attitude changed completely. She no longer mattered and was treated as such. So many Buyers were amazed that she could even handle the "chores" she was given. Oh there were girls who were not so bright, that was for sure. They often were purchased first, alot of Buyers did not want a slave that could talk back... and would ask Nathan for a recommendation. There were smarter ones as well. Some, such as herself, more than others. When dealing with them at the shows, she found that perhaps she intimidated some of them herself, given how much she really did know, about them, about the girls and about what they were looking for. She was as guilty as Nathan had been when asked for a recommendation for a quiet, not so head strong girl, she would direct them to the ones who just were... no so bright.

"I will certainly remember that Master." she answered as her chuckle faded. Imp.. she liked the fondness she heard in his voice when he had said that. Another indication that he was different.

She stilled as he again walked around her. Ari could feel his stare, his eyes, slowly taking her in, assessing her. Almost as if he were learning every curve, each supple line, how her hair fell, the smoothness of hip, roundness of backside.

When his hand came to her shoulder, her breath caught. "Stand" ... one word, and she was on her feet, lifting effortlessly. She stood as trained, feet slightly apart, about shoulder length actually, hands behind her back and clasped, head up but eyes down, she staring at his leather boots once more, having just watched them walk around her several times.

"Tell me your name, if you have one," he said. "Where are you from and how did you come to be here?"

"Arianna" she said as she lifted her eyes to look at him. Perhaps she was not supposed to. She did not know his rules on that yet. But she hated speaking downwards, and felt that was disrespectful. And that was not something she had been taught, that was her own person preference and thoughts.... "the Slave Trader called me Arianna. If you desire my birth name......" she paused, trembling just a little bit... a chill shivering over her... "I no... no longer.. recall my birth name" ... it was sad to her, but try as she might, the name was gone. Her mind had hidden it deeply away as a means of survival... surviving the beatings that drove it from her....

"I was born to a woman who, herself was enslaved... My father was unknown to me, but I do know it was not the Man who owned my mother. I was born in Florida, and lived there until I was sold. I was called rare, by both my mother's Master and Master Nathan, because I was born into enslavement. It...... " she paused, taking a breath... "was... is... all I knew... all I know..."

"My childhood consisted of being home schooled, and training, once I was old enough. When I turned 18, I was sold to Master Nathan, and I was taken to California. The only reason I knew where we were heading was, well, I was good at reading maps, and when Master Nathan's driver managed to get lost in route, I helped get him back on track. I was navigator from that moment on... "

"I have been with Master Nathan for 3 years. I often helped schedule and plan his shows, and hosted as well. Until this past showing, where Kipling purchased me..

for you... Master... "

Arianna's voice was clear and melodic, and as her words began to fill the silence of the sparsely decorated room, Tristan stepped in front of her, studying her face. He watched for any signs of deception from her, however subtle they might be, though admittedly the girl had given him no reason to be suspicious as yet. Her story was simple enough, and more than a bit sad, to know nothing but slavery her entire life. Not unlike his own life, the Master considered. It was true that he had lived a life of privelege, and yet, that privelege had come with a responsibility that weighed so heavily he found himself wondering at times how much longer he could bear it. Responsibility could be a prison all its own, and the fear of failure that waited in the shadows acted as shackles as unforgiving as any iron. Perhaps each of us is a slave in our own way, he thought as he stared at the breathtakingly beautiful girl standing in front of him, or perhaps we simply fail to accept our own freedom.

And perhaps freedom is overrated, Tristan decided as he let his eyes finally stray from the brunette's face, taking in her exquisite form. Her flawless skin had a dark complexion, causing it to appear nearly bronze in the yellow light of the room, only a shade lighter than her hair. Her breasts were perfect, full without being overly large, and firm and high like only a young woman's could be. Her areola were small and nearly the same color as her skin. She was slender without being skinny, with a flat stomach and a subtle curve to her hips. Her legs were long and shapely and seemed toned from regular exercise. If one were asked to carve the perfect woman from clay, he could do no better than God has done here, Tristan mused as his eyes finally moved back to the girl's face.

"I have been with Master Nathan for 3 years. I often helped schedule and plan his shows, and hosted as well. Until this past showing, where Kipling purchased me.. for you... Master... " Arianna finished.

"It sounds as though you've known your share of hardship in your short life," he said as he once again began to circle the young slave. His shoulder brushing lightly against hers as he moved behind her. "I hope that you will find some comfort here, if such a thing is even possible for a...for you. I don't consider myself a harsh man, nor do I delight in the suffering of others I assure you."

Tristan stopped directly behind Arianna, his eyes on the floor rather than on her as he considered his words. How much could he tell this stranger, even if she did belong to him, literally? How could she begin to understand the situation, the dangers he faced, the crippling anxiety, the unbearable weight of it all? Why did he even care if she understood, wasn't she just a means to an end? A possession, a thing to be used? A tool?

Refusing to dwell on the answers to those questions, Tristan resumed his procession around Arianna, his hand brushing against her hip as he moved back in front of her. He stood there for a long moment, staring at the young woman, pushing his hair from his eyes with one hand. Taking a step toward Arianna, Tristan lifted a hand to her cheek and gently stroked her soft skin. He opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it. His fingers brushed her lips as his hand fell away from her face.

"Rest tonight. I will come to you tomorrow," the Master announced before turning and moving briskly to the door.

"Rest tonight. I will come to you tomorrow,"

His touch had been... gentle... fingertips smooth, yet she knew the strength within, had felt it, wrapped around her throat. Her thought went back to that moment. Could she have pulled free? Could she have saved her own life if he had intended to end it. Could she have killed him in the process? It was not like she had not killed before. It wasn't like she didn't know how.

But in truth, she was smart enough to know that.. one... why would he want to kill her? His servant had only just purchased her. And two, she had made no threat to him. His was an overreaction and she had known that, and trusted that he would figure that out before she had to act, or before she lost consciousness. It wasn't like she would attack him on a whim. Her restraint was well.... developed.

But, there was the small question in the mid of all her thoughts. The scratches along his throat and his attempt to cover them. As he had circled her, and as she had spoken to him, she took note of the marks. Sure he had tried to conceal them, but was using the wrong makeup and did not do the best of jobs. She would have to chat with him about that, she could hide them so no one would know. They were 2 long, relatively deep, not mere knicks. These were true scratches, but she could not tell what made them. Animal or human.

"thank you Master" she answered as he turned toward the door.

"Why are you hiding the scratches on your neck?" she suddenly blurted out... "If you wish them to be unseen, I can help you with that."

She knew she was tempting fate. She could have asked that question earlier, this was her error in judgement. But she could not help but wonder. What would do that to him? And more importantly... why?

Tristan's hand was already closing around the ornate doorknob when he heard the girl's question...her offer. He froze for a moment, trying to decide how to respond. He could deny that he had scratches on his neck. It wouldn't change what the girl had seen, but it would make it rather obvious that he didn't intend to discuss it with her. Unfortunately it might also spark her curiosity, something he wanted to avoid if possible. It would also make it difficult for either of them to trust the other going forward. Not the best way to start a relationship. He could of course, tell her the truth, but how much of that reality was she ready for? She would likely dismiss it as an awkward joke or dismiss him as mad. Slowly, Tristan's hand dropped to his side.

"Clearly I've done a poor job of hiding them," he finally admitted as he turned back to face the young woman who still stood in the center of the room, her body still exposed to the cool air of the bedroom. "To answer your question, I attempted to cover the scratches so that Kipling would not notice them. He tends to pester me about every little...scratch. I was not in the mood for his hovering tonight. I can only assume based on the fact that I am not currently bedridden and surrounded by medical professionals that my deception was successful, at least so far as he is concerned."

Locking his eyes on Ari's eyes, the master of the house advanced toward her, his lips twisted into a sheepish grin. He felt foolish for not realizing that as he had been circling his newest acquisition, examining every inch of her body, every curve, that she might have been looking back. It was probably not the first time that someone had underestimated the young woman, but Tristan vowed that it would be the last time he did so. As many enemies as he had, he knew he couldn't afford to underestimate any one in his life, let alone someone within his own household.

"I would be grateful if you could improve upon my amateurish attempt," Tristan acknowledged as he stood in front of Arianna. "I believe our favorite servant has provided makeup supplies for you, though I confess I don't know where he would have placed them. Perhaps in the bathing room or the dresser."

Before Ari could step away to look for the makeup, Tristan slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her naked body tight against his chest. His eyes were still locked on hers, his lips just an inch from hers as he spoke, "It's very important to me that Kipling not be troubled by such concerns. I would appreciate it very much if you would keep your observations to yourself. Can I count on you to do that for me?"

"It's very important to me that Kipling not be troubled by such concerns. I would appreciate it very much if you would keep your observations to yourself. Can I count on you to do that for me?"

She had wondered how he would react. Obviously, she did not know him well enough to even begin to guess how he would react to things. But after his outburst, his near strangling of her, she knew, or at least guessed, that he had some kind of temper. But that, coupled with the scratches, perhaps it was not a temper thing, but more of a self preservation thing...

And that told her, he had enemies. Unless the scratches were animal..?? But she got the distinct feeling they were not.

He was an interesting man, indeed, so far. She wondered how much more interesting he would... become...

Ari could feel his heartbeat, feel his measured, controlled breathing, feel the strength within his embrace, the same strength that he had shown earlier, fingers around her throat. Her naked form pressed to him, the slightest tremble vibrating thru her. She did not try and pull away, as one perhaps would have, having been suddenly pulled forward. No, she leaned into him, arms snaking up behind him, fingertips lightly trailing along his spine. She molded to his body, letting him feel the heat of her, the supple softness, every curve, the smoothness of skin. Her gaze still caught within his, lips so close, she could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke...

Her answer came, as she was canting her head just slightly to the side, her own moist tiers nearly brushing his now, before that whisper of a breath glides along his jaw, her voice, hushed, and a bit deep, the timbre was seductive, caressing, to say the least.....

"Master, if I were one to simply blurt out my.... observations... I would have done so already. No mention was made, and I saw the makeup on your throat when I first... met... you..." she did not say <when you were strangling me>... "I learned to be discreet... Master.. " she paused, taking a deep breath, one he could surely feel.

"Except.. when your slave is naked in your presence Master..." Those words sounded awkward, compare to just a moment ago. Even Arianna knew they did. Those came from her training, to always be enticing with with the Master, always be ready to please, always be desirable, luscious, wanton... always be the slave he purchase.. because in most cases, you were purchased for only one reason...

Tho Ari was nothing if not intuitive... He had not purchased her just to fuck. She was not all that sure how she knew that, but she just did. Surely if that had been the case, he would have already taken her. In fact, as she stood in his embrace, she got the feeling that fucking, while not the furthest thing from his mind, it never was when it came to men, fucking was not foremost in his mind either.

An interesting man... indeed.....

"May I ask, what is Kipling to you... Master... a slave, a servant, an employee, family?" she could not help but wonder. Why hide them from Kipling? Why the deception? It was more than obvious that Kipling was extremely important to this man, and very trusted by this man. Ari wanted to make sure she understood this relationship, if she were to be a part of it. A part of it as more than just a slave... she hoped.....

It had been years since Tristan had held a woman in his arms, felt her naked flesh beneath his hands, the warmth of her body against his chest. The feeling was intoxicating. Ari was intoxicating. The penetrating sureness of her gaze as she looked up into his eyes, the feathery softness of her brown hair as he brushed it back over her bare shoulder, the way her slender, nubile form seemed to meld perfectly against his own body. The sound of her voice.. The scent of her. The sight of her. The feel of her. She was an abundance of riches for Tristan's senses, and he found himself wishing he could endulge himself.

It was too soon. He knew that. Ari wasn't an escort or a cheap whore. Tristan had been with his share of both in his life, and if he had wanted either, Kipling could have arranged it for him. Ari was something different. They were beginning a relationship together, forming a bond that would in many ways define each of them for years to come. He would not risk beginning that relationship on the wrong foot simply to sate his base desires.

"May I ask, what is Kipling to you... Master... a slave, a servant, an employee, family?" the young woman's voice broke the short silence and managed to distract Tristan from his momentary preoccupation with the soft curves of her lower back.

As the Master of the house considered how best to explain his relationship with his most valued and trusted servant, he slowly released his newest servant, letting his arm fall reluctantly from around her waist. He did not however step back or make any other move to distance himself from Ari. He liked being near her.

"Kipling is many things to me. Servant, friend, confidant," he began, still not sure how best to answer the slave girl's question. "We met many, many years ago, far from here. Kipling was young and wild and frequently found himself in trouble thanks to his somewhat devilish sense of humor. I happened to find him amusing and so when he found himself in a situation that he couldn't talk his way out of with some rather unsavory gentlemen, I came to his rescue as it was."

Tristan was no longer staring into Ari's deep, dark eyes. Instead his eyes were staring into years past as he spoke, "After saving Kipling from a rather premature and quite nasty end, I took him under my wing. I saw something in him, perhaps a bit of myself at his age. He was, to say the least, grateful for the escape I had effected for him and desperate to demonstrate his gratitude. I allowed him to become my servant, though the truth is, I doubt I could have stopped him if I had wanted to."

"We've been together ever since," the master said, his eyes once again focusing on his young female companion. "He's still somewhat of a rogue and he still has too much wit for his own good, but I trust him completely. And he serves me without question. Such is the bond that we have now."