Nibbles_n_Tits
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Aug 29, 2006
- Posts
- 968
Miren
Miren followed the slaver down to the cells, her revulsion rising with each step. She would ever understand how one the race of man could have so little respect for its own kind. To enslave its own people was surely the ultimate act of barbarism.
“Put her in cell two,” he instructed Miren. “I’ll catch you up,”
Miren simply nodded her head, moved to the girl’s side, and helped her to her feet. She had yet to figure out what language the slave girl spoke, so Miren could ask and have answered only simple questions. However, it did not matter very much, what she had suffered was perfectly obvious. The girl panicked at the thought of leaving the familiar, if not safe cell, she had been occupying but Miren took her hand and calmed her. Miren spoke to the girl in Elven words so old that only a few of her kind would know what they meant and even fewer would recognize the magic behind them. Her words wrapped the girl in a sense of tranquility and Miren half led; half carried the girl to her new cell.
Miren had just finished settling the girl into her new cell and watched her fall into a light sleep when she heard the slaver’s voice.
“Here’s the key you lock the door on the way out then it’s time for our lunch,”
Miren looked at him closely before rising gracefully from the floor. He was doing the right thing, whatever his motivations. While this was not quite the same as doing the right thing for the right reason, it was something to be encouraged. The good must always be strengthened; it must be rewarded and reinforced. Her steps smooth and flowing, she moves to stand in front of him as she reaches for the key.
Holding the key in her hand, her smile is gracious as she says in her soft low voice, “Thank you, sir.”
Quickly turning back, she locks the door behind her and checks it twice to make certain she did the lock properly. She then takes the lock in both hands, and closes her eyes for just a second.
She quietly follows him back to the quarters and quickly washes up. She frees her hair from its braid and allows it to flow down her back in wave so pale it could be made of moonlight. Clean and smelling of flowers, she returns to sit across from him at the table. She sits still and calm, creating an aura of peace around her.
“Am I permitted to ask you polite, social questions? Or is that something hostages are not allowed to do?” The corners of her mouth lift in a slight smile as she waits for his answer.
Miren followed the slaver down to the cells, her revulsion rising with each step. She would ever understand how one the race of man could have so little respect for its own kind. To enslave its own people was surely the ultimate act of barbarism.
“Put her in cell two,” he instructed Miren. “I’ll catch you up,”
Miren simply nodded her head, moved to the girl’s side, and helped her to her feet. She had yet to figure out what language the slave girl spoke, so Miren could ask and have answered only simple questions. However, it did not matter very much, what she had suffered was perfectly obvious. The girl panicked at the thought of leaving the familiar, if not safe cell, she had been occupying but Miren took her hand and calmed her. Miren spoke to the girl in Elven words so old that only a few of her kind would know what they meant and even fewer would recognize the magic behind them. Her words wrapped the girl in a sense of tranquility and Miren half led; half carried the girl to her new cell.
Miren had just finished settling the girl into her new cell and watched her fall into a light sleep when she heard the slaver’s voice.
“Here’s the key you lock the door on the way out then it’s time for our lunch,”
Miren looked at him closely before rising gracefully from the floor. He was doing the right thing, whatever his motivations. While this was not quite the same as doing the right thing for the right reason, it was something to be encouraged. The good must always be strengthened; it must be rewarded and reinforced. Her steps smooth and flowing, she moves to stand in front of him as she reaches for the key.
Holding the key in her hand, her smile is gracious as she says in her soft low voice, “Thank you, sir.”
Quickly turning back, she locks the door behind her and checks it twice to make certain she did the lock properly. She then takes the lock in both hands, and closes her eyes for just a second.
She quietly follows him back to the quarters and quickly washes up. She frees her hair from its braid and allows it to flow down her back in wave so pale it could be made of moonlight. Clean and smelling of flowers, she returns to sit across from him at the table. She sits still and calm, creating an aura of peace around her.
“Am I permitted to ask you polite, social questions? Or is that something hostages are not allowed to do?” The corners of her mouth lift in a slight smile as she waits for his answer.