DEEP INTO THAT DARKNESS PEERING (closed)

[AmbrosiaCaress]

Deep Into That Darkness Peering
(Closed for TheDevilInASong and AmbrosiaCaress)

This is a restart of this story. The introduction post was written by both
TheDevilInASong and AmbrosiaCaress... We hope you enjoy

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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

Expose yourself to your deepest fear. After that, fear has no power, and the fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. You are free.
Jim Morrison

People fear death more than pain. It's strange that they fear death. Life hurts alot more than death. At the point of death, the pain is over.
Jim Morrison


Tristan Rothchild stared blankly into the remnants of the fire that had long since 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.

That same light, of that same moon, illuminated more than just his study. For her, the moon was the light that glittered off the sand, a thousand deep sparkles, swallowed momentarily by the next wash of the ocean as the wave gently lapped forward. The tide was coming in, the sand slowly disappearing beneath. Her bared feet left fleeting steps, and as she turned, her gleaming golden tinged eyes glancing back, each footstep conveniently disappeared.

This was a good thing.

There would be only a few more minutes, before the quiet would be interrupted. A few more moments of hearing just the soft sound of the water, the lazy whoosh of the light summer breeze.

Brushing her hands together, fingers gliding over one another. The salt water was a good astringent, a decent cleansor. The blood was easily washed away. But then again, fresh blood was quite easily diluded in water, and washed away. At least off of skin. Clothing, that was a whole other matter. But then again, she had provided for that little instance as well. Where she had been wearing a sleek, silken, form fitting evening gown, her deep auburn red mane pulled elegantly up into a bun, a flowered band accenting, that gown was ruined. Coated in the bright crimson splash of arterial blood. Her firey mane, pulled down now to tumble over her shoulders. Khaki shorts and a black tank top now adorned her still damp body. Damn... the blood had gotten everywhere. Arms, hands (of course), even her neck, chest, and a bit on her thighs. Damn that slit on that gown.

And then it came. The screaming. Loud, piercing, and if one were close by, surely it was ear shattering. She was far enough away that it sounded almost haunting. A ghostly sound. A sound she very much enjoyed. She was willing to bet it was his wife that had found him. And she just had to wonder just what that poor woman was thinking. Mattered not to her. It was done. He was dead. It was time to move onto the next, when and if there was a next. Then again, there was always a "next".....

The faintest hint of a smile danced across her lips then as she disappeared off that beach, and into the darkness....

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 stifle 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."

"As You request, my Lord." Her voice was soft, and always... absolutely always, respectful.

The "next" had come quite quickly for her. Within a fortnight actually. She never asked questions. Questions would only initiate punishment. Punishment brought pain. He was good at giving pain. She had a very high pain tolerance. But he always... always.. exceeded it. He was good at that too.

"You will be sold to him. You will gain his trust. You will be nothing more than a lowly slave, as you always have been" His fingers danced beneath her chin, lifting her head, his eyes capturing her own. She listened, his words winding around her slowly, purposely, snaking into her mind and laying claim.

Sold... to him....

The words rung in her head, rolled thru her mind. Sold to him. The idea of being sold, of being enslaved, was not what caused that chill to shiver down her spine. No, it was not that. She was enslaved. She always had been...

That chill was familiar. She always felt it before the start of the next.... assignment.

"As you desire, my Lord"..............................



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.



"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, usually numbering about a dozen, was presented for any Buyers that happened past. . That included untrained and raw, partially broken, fully trained, as well as virginal and non-virginal.

He never kept more than a dozen at a time. A small amount compared to other Slavers.

But this showing was private. Very private. A showing for one, and one alone, a representative for Another. A very important "Another"

He much preferred these private showings. Much easier to manage. The Buyer was 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. And his stock was a bit low at the time. He had 5 to show this particular Representative. The best of his recent take of livestock, actually. All 5 were well trained. All exceedingly beautiful, and all much more intelligent than most. That had been the top request for this showing. Intelligence. Nathan had been able to easily comply. Nathan was known for the quality of his collection. He was one of the few who valued intelligence in his stock.

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 (Nathan dealt exclusively with females) had an actual name. Of course that name could be changed after purchase.

The 5 of his top of the line offerings were:

Dee - 21 yrs old, long blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'5", 105 pounds
http://s1070.photobucket.com/albums/u487/RainandHeat/806210-bigthumbnail-1.jpg

Beth - 19 yrs old, long black hair, dark blue eyes, 5'7", 115 pounds
http://s1070.photobucket.com/albums/u487/RainandHeat/NICE.jpg


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

http://s1070.photobucket.com/albums/u487/RainandHeat/277953_f520.jpg

Maria - 22 yrs old, medium length black hair, deep brown eyes, 5'5", 120 pounds

http://s1070.photobucket.com/albums/u487/RainandHeat/MARIA.jpg

Killian - 20 years old, long red hair, golden sage eyes, 5'6", 125 pounds
http://s1070.photobucket.com/albums/u487/RainandHeat/red3-1.jpg

Pictures were provided upon request, altho 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. This particular Buyer's rep had not asked for pictures. He too, wanted to see, and interact with the choices, in person. Nathan liked this guy already.

Nathan was not part of this plan. She had been sold to Nathan, knowing that the "Target" was seeking a female slave, and knowing that the "Target" would be engaging Nathan to purchase that slave from. The "Target" was extremely secretive. It had taken weeks, months, even years of exhaustive work to even find out this little tidbit of information. There were whisperings that he had owned a slave before, and that she had either been free'd or had died. It had been a stroke of sheer luck that it had been confirmed that he indeed was looking to purchase a female. Sheer luck that could not be passed up.

The kicker was, she needed to be the one purchased. She needed to be alluring enough to capture, and hold, his attention. None realized that the "Target" himself would NOT be doing the actual purchasing. Not even her.

Her...

Killian Ann Timber...

When she had been a child, her nickname had been Kat. Childhood seemed so long ago. She was all of 20 now, her 21st birthday fast approaching... and more than likely, she would be spending it in the collar of her new.... owner....

"As you can see Mr. Kipling, I have presented for you a stunning collection of 5 beauties to choose from. I think you will find all are well versed and of exceptional intelligence...."

 

[TheDevilInASong]

http://i1304.photobucket.com/albums/s524/TheDevilInASong/Kipling_zpsf859fdc4.png
Kipling

True night was still an hour or more away when Kipling arrived at the appointed location, though the sun was low enough in the sky that it barely peeked above the tree line, leaving the world hazy and grey. Dusk had always been one of his favorite parts of the day, that moment between day and night, between the light and the darkness, that quiet moment when a hush seemed to settle over the world and its inhabitants. Strange that, as if those inhabitants who had been so busy about their business in sunlight were suddenly aware that the creatures of the night still existed and were soon to arrive out of the long shadows and the dreams of night. It was a time for mystery and magic, soft words and sharp edges, and most definitely for beginnings and endings.

Yes, a new beginning, he thought to himself as he slipped from the limousine, carefully smoothing the wrinkles in his jacket before making his way to the front of the small, nondescript warehouse. Perhaps, this is just what he needs to finally forget about her. To forget about all of them. A breath of fresh air, he thought. Just before the dark haired young man stepped inside the building, he took a long, deep breath of the fresh air. For luck, he told himself.

After a short introduction to the man in charge, Nathan, during which identification was verified and certain documentation completed, Kipling was ushered into a small room at the back of the warehouse. A moment later the door opened again and five attractive young women were led in. Much to his relief, and perhaps a bit to his surprise, the young women were well dressed and well groomed. In the back of his mind, Kipling had almost expected to see a bevy of nude women with collars around their necks, linked together by a large, iron chain shuffling in. He much preferred the reality.

"As you can see Mr. Kipling, I have presented for you a stunning collection of 5 beauties to choose from. I think you will find all are well versed and of exceptional intelligence...."

"They are quite lovely," he agreed as he allowed himself to study each of the girls in turn. With the exception of that fact that all were relatively young and all attractive they seemed to run the gamut of physical characteristics. Some tall, some short, blonde, brunette, redheads, slender, curvy. 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.

Forcing himself to focus on the decision, the personal servant mentally eliminated two of the women from contention, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was about them. Taylor and Maria. He was sure they were not right for his master. They didn't stand out enough. A man like Tristan Rothchild needed an exceptional companion, someone extraordinary, just as he was, Kipling thought as he considered the next girl.

Dee was slender and elegant and her blonde hair cascaded down over the front of her shoulder like a waterfall. And the way her eyes seemed to smolder, she was breathtaking. 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 yet, even as he introduced himself and shared a brief conversation, no smile touched her lips. There was a coldness to her that most might not have noticed, but Kipling noticed. His master would have noticed, and his master needed warmth now. He'd had more than his share of bitter cold in his life.

Somewhat discouraged, he turned his attention to Beth, a busty young woman with long, black hair. She was the youngest of the girls, and quite beautiful. There was no doubt that his master would find her attractive, any straight man would with that face and that body, he acknowledged to himself as he approached her and introduced himself. By the time he finished speaking with her, Kipling was convinced that she was the right choice. She was soft spoken, but clearly bright and well schooled. She could provide the master with a proper companion.

His mind nearly made up, the well dressed young man approached the final girl, Killian, the redhead. "Good evening, my name is Kipling," he said as he stepped in front of her, his hands clasped together behind his back. "Tell me, Killian, why should I choose you as a companion for my master?" He hadn't asked the other girls the same question, but in truth, since he was likely to choose Beth, he saw no reason to beat around the bush, so to speak.

 

[AmbrosiaCaress]

Of course, Nathan did not elaborate on how long he had owned each of the girls. Perhaps, if Kipling had pushed a bit, those details would have been revealed. But in general, Nathan felt it was not a needed detail. He had information on each of his girls, background, how they came to be in his possession, their training levels, who trained each (if that information was available upon his aquiring the girl)... What he presented to the Buyers was a glossed over dossier on each. Most Buyers, to be honest, could not stomach the cold, hard, truths of how most of these girls came to be in this.... situation. From many being sold into slavery for money, to others, mostly the homeless and runaways, being... "taken" ... some call it kidnapping... It was a cold, and some called it heartless, profession. And again, some Buyers just did not have the stomach for the details.

Killian had come into Nathan's possession the same way as most did. She was sold to him. By her previous Master. He had grown tired of her and wanted "new blood". That happened often. It was not unusual. And the fact that he had purchased Angel from him during the same transaction, again, was not all that unusual. Nathan still made a profit, and got a viable, trained, slave in the process. A win/win for him. His stable, his profession, lived off the fact of selection and change. He needed to keep his stock fresh, always. This type of transaction was perfect for him.

And Killian was striking. And intelligent.

Killian on the other hand, made a mental note when her Master purchased Angel. That, was unusual for him. He owned others, she knew that. But rarely did be bring anyone new in. What was it about the exotic, dark skinned Angel? Not that it mattered to her. There was nothing she could do about it. She had a job to do. Angel would not be taking her place. More than likely, the girl would be dead within the month. Not many could withstand her Master's.... tastes... or habits....

"Good evening, my name is Kipling,"

His voice was soft, deep, pleasing. Killian found herself almost smiling. She knew immediately that this was not the Master. She could tell just by his demeanor. He was by no means weak. But he was not the Dominant.

"Tell me, Killian, why should I choose you as a companion for my master?"

There, she was right. She was almost always right. She was good at reading people. She had to be. It was crucial to her staying alive, and doing her .... assignments...

She had watched, as he had contemplated each girl. She knew, just from the glance he gave to Maria and Taylor that he would not be considering either of them. Perhaps they were just not the "taste" for his particular Master. Killian thought both were rather plain, in both looks and attitude. Neither were stupid, not neither were particularly smart. They were adequate. Yeah, that described both of them quite well... adequate..

Then there was Dee... Killian did not like Dee at all. In the short time she had associated with her, Killian found her devoid of any personality. Beth, well, Beth was cute, smart, and young. And very well trained... That was her downfall. She was boring, pretty much. Sure, she would provide endless entertainment physically... but intellectually, she would agree with whatever the Master said. She had no opinions of her own, and even if she did, she would not dare to voice them. Boring.... and meek... that was the word for Beth. Meek. Some preferred meek. Meek was a good way to be when a slave. But Killian knew this Master needed more. Not only from the information she, herself, was privy too, but she just had a ... feeling....

"Why choose me? Over Beth?" she quickly identified what she knew he was thinking. She had watched his reactions to each of the girls.

"I will tell you this, Sir, I am smart, but then again, so is Beth. I am pretty. But then again, so is Beth. I am well trained. But then again, so is Beth..." Killian's golden eyes sized up Kipling before flicking over to Beth for a moment, who was looking down... "But if your Master wants an imaginative girl, one who can be as entertaining, engaging, exciting, both physically and mentally, than that girl is me. Beth is a yes girl. She will do whatever he tells her without question. And make no mistake, he will find her pleasing in bed. As will any he may choose to share her with. But with me, I will challenge him both sexually and intelligently. He will find I can be just as pleasing to have a conversation with, as to fuck. You will both find that, yes, I am well trained. But I am still Killian, and while I will always say "yes Master" he will always know if what he says, and does to me, is something I truely enjoy, or something I loathe......"

She paused.... taking a breath...

"The question really is... does your Master desire nothing more than a puppy dog to beg at his feet, a kitten to curl up in his lap, or does your Master desire a slave that will pleasure every aspect of his life and personality."

 

[TheDevilInASong]

"Why choose me? Over Beth?"

So she's perceptive and she wants me to know it, Kipling realized, careful not to allow that thought or any other to register on his placid face. If the redhead was going to try to impress him, let her do so with unsure footing. Despite the realities of her current circumstances, he sensed that she was someone who was used to being in control, used to getting what she wanted. He couldn't help but wonder how she would react if he appeared unmoved by her words, and more importantly, by her beauty.

And she was beautiful, with a quirk to her smile and a twinkle behind those golden eyes that gave her the illusion, if it was indeed an illusion, that she knew what you were thinking and that she was amused by it. Her hair was the color of fire, red and orange that seemed to catch the light and glimmer like a prescious metal.

The fire of her hair wasn't the only heat to Killian, that was sure. There was an intensity to her voice as she spoke that made her glow. She was making a case for why she should be chosen for the Master, and yet beneath the words there was an unmistakeable sense that she believed she would be chosen. An undeniably attractive confidence.

O! for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention, Kipling thought to himself as he listened, his eyes studying her intently. Surely Killian would have supplied Shakespeare enough inspiration to fuel a thousand sonnets. She was beautiful without doubt, but when she spoke, when she trained those eyes on you she became breathtaking.

"The question really is... does your Master desire nothing more than a puppy dog to beg at his feet, a kitten to curl up in his lap, or does your Master desire a slave that will pleasure every aspect of his life and personality."

She reminded the young man of her, of Amelie. The one the Master longed to forget. The one he'd forbidden Kipling to speak of. They did not look alike. Killian with her freckled skin and red hair in no way resembled the fair skinned, dark haired Amelie. Killian was outspoken, even brash. Amelie was quiet, softspoken. And yet, despite these differences, there was something that the two women had in common. A vibrancy. A glow. Perhaps it was in the eyes.

"To be honest, I don't know what my master wants. Perhaps a soft little kitten to curl in his lap is exactly what he's looking for, but I doubt it's what he truly needs. What he needs is someone to breath life back into him," Kipling finally spoke. "I pray you can do that. If you can't, I will find someone who can."

And so the decision was made. Kipling turned away from the girl to let Nathan know of his choice, and as he did so a clap of thunder shook the building's walls. Let's hope that's not an omen, he mused to himself, a shudder creeping down his spine. After signing the final documents, the personal servant was escorted back to the entrance to the building and asked to wait for his purchase to be brought out. He stared out through a small window in the door, watching as the lightning danced across the sky. The night had brought with it a storm, magnificent and terrible, rain that pounded against the earth, and thunder that made its inhabitants tremble.