Chapter 11: Life as a Slave

She had not been traumatized, not bothered, not mistreated. It was all strangely… well… strange. She was expecting to be raped or something along those lines. Like the author said, traumatized.

Aisling was relatively happy now. That was strange thing to say as a slave, wasn’t it? well it was the truth. She had been here for about a month now and all things considered, it was a rather swell life. The master had her dress up in cute clothes and held cute poses for long periods of time.

The first thing he had her do was pose for a new painting he wanted of her. Once that was done, he had his guards take her to a special magic device and give it her blood. Well, not all her blood. It only needed a sample. The device was a tool used to categorize all the slaves the owner of the tool owned.

It learned the date of her birth, any allergies, and if any of her own relatives were also in the database. It was quite a handy machine, she had to admit. Now she had no hope of escape. The machine alerted anyone if she had her collar removed. But back to the present.

She was currently standing on one leg, with her wings swept upwards in a showing off pose. Her arms were wrapped around a fake sword stabbed into a platform he had her pose on. Her smile that she held was empty of course, like all fake smiles. But the diligence that she held firm in her heart was still there. She was determined to hold this pose till her master was done with his painting.

Unlike what she thought was going to happen, he didn’t have her service him in bed no, he had the head maid for that. Instead, he simply wanted her to do well at being a doll, or a muse for him.

She was very happy that she didn’t need to serve him in that way. he often had her just stand and look pretty for him to paint. But sometimes he would ask her to pose for a nude picture. Those times she really hated the fact that she was a slave.

But whenever she had seen those pictures in the hall’s days later, she had on an outfit that she hadn’t worn when she was posing for him. Often times, it would be a set of clothes that he couldn’t get, like roman togas made from Chinese silks, or she was wearing Japanese clothes.

Her eyes were nearly closed from the wide grin she had plastered on her face, and every now and then she had to blink. He didn’t like that. It seemingly ruined his concentration. Instead, he had a servant come over and drop water in her eyes.

The maid in charge of that was of course different every time he had her pose. It was rather nice actually, she didn’t have to make connections, think like a person. She could just be the doll he wanted. Though, the only difference was that she had to act like a person.

But getting back on track, it had recently been Halloween, and her master wanted her and all his servants and slaves to dress up. He had given them all costumes, most of them ever so slightly lewd. Aisling’s costume was that of angel, seeing as she had the wings for it.

She was actually wearing it right now; her master had wanted a painting of her first Halloween here as his new doll. What was rather strange though was that he didn’t have any other of the slaves do this. But then again, she was the only new one.

After about an hour or so of her standing there and perfectly holding the pose, her master put down his paints and brush. He looked at the painting and then back up at his doll. Then he gazed at the painting some more.

He nodded his head and smiled, he made himself ready and started to put away his supplies and such, but then remembered that his muse was actually a living and breathing doll; she had stood too rigid and still that he had plum forgotten that she was alive.

“You may move now. You can put back on your maids’ uniform and start up work again,” he told her.

She nodded at this and stepped off the platform she had been standing on. The next thing she did was grab the clothes that she had left on the side of the chair that sat beside the platform. She then stopped for a second. Most of the time when she posed for her lord, she posed while wearing her uniform.

But now she had on her costume, and she was told to take off said costume and wear her uniform. She didn’t know if she should ask for a room to change in, or if she was expected to change in front of her lord. But her master didn’t like girls her age.

She in fact had heard her lord and the head maid getting busy while in the safety and privacy of their own room. but at the same time, they had had sex while just in the office. It was a rather shallow conundrum.

“Master, do you want me to change here, or in another room?” she asked, hoping that he wouldn’t want to be a pervert.

He looked up from his work and squinted his eyes while looking at her. He put a finger to his chin and nodded his head. It seemed that she had been ignored partially, and she sighed. But just when she was about to take off her shirt, she was stopped.

“No, go to another room. I don’t want to be tempted to paint you mid-undress,” he said.

He tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling, “but later, I want to try and paint you mid-undress.”

She nodded at this and took her uniform and left the room. she held herself like a statue would, with her back ramrod straight and chest puffed out as to show herself off. It was very important for a doll to look her best.

But in the presence of her master or any actual authority, she was to look demur, submissive, like she was nearly an afterthought in the grand scheme of things. That was her posture, that was to be the way she held herself. And that was to be her life.

She went down the hallway, and down the staircase. She then went into the somewhat hidden door that the servants were supposed to use and opened it. The wall had a carved in pattern; the door itself was implemented in that pattern.

She pushed the large rectangle that had slightly more engravings than the rest of the rectangle of the wall pattern and slid it to the side and into the rest of the wall. She then stepped through the wall looked down the skinny corridor that went down into the earth.

There was very little light, and it led to the barracks and sleeping quarters for both the guards and maids and butlers. This was the only thing that really felt like an old manor that one would see in medieval movies that she had watched with her sister before such things were made illegal for some reason.

…

As she walked out of a hallway that led to another section of the manor, she pondered the meaning of the work shew was assigned to. It was rather normal work when considered against the other stuff that slaves often did or didn’t do. In all honesty, she was rather lucky.

As she walked down the public hallway, she dipped into another doorway and found herself where she was supposed to be. It was a library, a public library for guests to read in. But it felt more like a study room in all honesty. The door was rather out of the way when compared to all the other doors that lined the halls of this manor.

On her left was a row of bookshelves, and that was where she was going to clean first. She had been instructed to clean as thoroughly as humanly possible. So, that is what she did.

She unclipped the feather duster from her hip and looked at the tall bookcases that were planted in this wall. The room was about 10ft tall, with a rather tall doorway, the walls had bookcases implanted in them as well. There was also a hearth in the wall opposite the doorway.

In its little nook, there was a fire burning, and sitting in a wooden chair with rather comfy looking cushions was a guest. Thinking about guests, she looked at him nervously. She had been ordered to do some strange things before by guests.

Such as that one time when a young nobleman needed a footrest, and he asked her to be that footrest. He had then asked if she was used, and the duke had said not to ask about those kinds of things, “best not to ruin the prettiest dolls” he had said.

This guest though, seemed content to simply sit and read a book, said book was written in German form what little she could spot, and she didn’t know any German. That was a rather said fact, she had been asked if she knew any other languages, and she had to tell her master and some other guests that she only knew English, Irish, and some French.

That had seemed to dampen their spirits as nobles had to speak at least five different languages in total to be a noble. That was the only cool thing about this country. All the other things were rather strange. Such as the fact that women could marry up to three men, but men could only marry one woman. Though, that was more of a religious thing than anything else.

But getting back to the present, she seemed to not have bothered the man in the chair, so she went bask to her work. She went and turned back to the bookshelf and began dusting, it took her nearly 15 minutes to get all the dust and detritus off the tall thing that kept books.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

She then began to walk to the other side of the room, the right side to be more precise and began to clean the desk and such. The room’s left side had those bookshelves built into the walls, while the right side had a cozy looking desk and chair.

First, she lifted the chair a little and pulled it out from its place so as to not make much sound. She cleaned the chair with some fabric wipes rinsed in alcohol. She then wiped it down again with a dry towel. After about doing that thoroughly for 15 minutes, went on to the desk itself.

She looked at it and nodded her head to herself, she then got her hands and knees and looked under the desk for anything lost, there she found a mug for some reason. She got back up while holding the mug and set it on the chair. She then started to climb back down on her hands and knees, but someone stopped her.

Thinking it was the guest that had been reading the book by the hearth, she got back up to a standing position. She used her hands to flatten her maid’s uniform. Looking down on herself, she checked her skirt and shirt. It was rather alright for now. She looked over to the chair that the guest had been sitting in. and noticed the man was now standing and looking at her.

He stood about 5ft 6in tall, which was very tall for this time period. His hair was a deep brown, his eyes were both a deep blue in nature. His gaze was a bit unnerving as he seemed to be shocked for some reason, as if he had seen a ghost. He took a shaky step forward, and then another.

At this point, she just had to ask if he was alright. He seemed unwell, and he was a guest in the manor. So, the only natural thing to do was ask what is wrong… And you would be correct in that statement, if this was a normal case of that.

But you see, this man was a rather strange case. He seemed rather out of it, like his mind might just straight up explode at any minute, he also seemed familiar, like she had seen him from somewhere. Wait…

He was from her past world, the earth she came from. He had that same, pent up, insane, and all-around manic energy about him that seemed to draw in people like him, people that had the same ideals. Those ideals that got her entire troop killed in friendly fire.

And what were those ideals? You might find yourself asking. Well, that was rather simple, his ideals and the work he did for the nation went hand in hand with each other. It was Jingoism, the extreme of nationalism. She hated it in her past life with a burning passion.

So, what was he doing here? Why was he in this blessedly pure and non-eugenics-based world. And yes, there was eugenics, but only for people who signed up for it, you would be placed in an area of the state were your genes and your assigned partner for that area’s genes were needed and forced to spread them together.

It was a rather strange and overall weird situation, and he was head of it. If she was remembering this right, she had found him in this office railing a woman with sewn on animal ears, then closed the door. She got yelled at later, and she really hoped he wouldn’t rape her here.

But then again, she was a slave. She was merely a doll for people to use and pose for their own amusement. She had no say in the matter. Though, as mentioned earlier, she had yet to be asked into anyone’s room yet. The master liked older women, and she wasn’t even of age yet.

“My lord, do you need anything?” she asked in the most noncommittal voice she could speak in.

“It’s just, I have seen your pictures on the entry way into the greater manor. I was wondering if you had any older relatives that are… maybe… single?” He asked the question that she had not expected.

She had wondered if he was going to ask how old she was, she knew that he wasn’t into ten-year-olds, but he was into that loli stuff that she had liked when she was younger in her past life.

“No, my lord I have no access to my family as of this moment. They all live on Ireland. I also do not have any sisters or older aunts that would be interested in humans, I apologize,” she said it.

It hurt to speak with this man, after all, he had been the one to get the rest of her troop killed in that night raid on the United Kingdom all those years ago. He also looked quite older, like maybe thirty-five. And that was rather old in this world, if he didn’t flex whatever cards he had to get to this world, then he may never get a partner.

She loved that feeling, it was a giddiness that filled her belly and made her nearly lose her submissive poker face. She sure hoped that he didn’t catch that. It looked like he didn’t, and he slumped his shoulders.

“I was hoping to find a girl that was maybe a bit younger than me that I could maybe form a romantic bond with, but that ship seems to have sailed,” he let out in a pitiable voice.

‘Yes, little sad man. Cry, cry all those Fascist tears away!’ she screamed in her head.

…

Now, as a rule, it was very much against the unwritten rules of slave hood that you didn’t smile at the misfortunes of your master. But here was Aisling, smiling away in her own little room, telling her minor spirits that she had made pacts with about her day.

It was common knowledge among the other slaves that Aisling was a spirit beastkin, and because of that, the master liked her a lot more than the others. Some looked at her with jealousy, others with puppy dog eyes. Those people’s gaze’s seemed to stem from the fact that they thought she had a more, let’s just say intimate relationship with the master.

She often had to tell the others that she wasn’t a sex slave, she was really a muse for him to paint. But that was rather hard for her to do, as the other slaves often didn’t believe her. The reason that they didn’t was quite simple, she was a mutated beastkin.

Spirit beastkin could mutate if a major spirit of any element stayed in them for too long, this often happened because they got too greedy and wanted to stay that strong forever. But the drawbacks were quite potent.

If they kept the spirit in them for far too long, their minds would break, and they would shift into broken things. This is what a broken one was. Well, that is what would happen if a human did so. But if a spirit beastkin did so, they would shift into spirit beasts.

Spirit beasts were exactly what they sounded like, a beast that was tied to a pact with a spirit. It was something that was quite common in the bogs of Doggor, the large selection of bogs, swamps, and glades that made up the land in between England and France.

But, back to today, she was still confused as to why he was here. Why he, of all the people she hated, wanted to burn and kill, was here. She had heard nor seen news from the outside world since she was taken in as a slave.

In the past, people had summoned others form different Earths, and other worlds that contained the touch of man. It was a strange thing they did, the simple fact of the matter was that it was always used in emergencies. As far as she knows, there was no other emergency that the crown of Francia needed to worry over.

That being said, what did him being here mean for her? Was he here because of a magic incident? Or was he here because of a science experiment gone wrong? That was the real thing she needed to worry over. Would he be able to tell the she was in fact, someone from his past? That part was unlikely, so delving more into that worry would only make her mind more cluttered.

She lay back down on her bed, sighing as she did so. It was so confusing, the simple fact that he was here was a detriment to her psyche. She then got up from her bed, and looked at her dresser. It was a simple thing, only enough space for 5 pairs of clothes each.

Overall, it was small. The only clothes she had were maids’ uniforms. She cracked her neck and began to take off her clothes, at least, she was about to so she could sleep without overheating, buy the bell in her room dinged.

This bell was connected to another bell in the master’s room. Each bell was for a specific bell for each of his favorite slaves in his room. What was strange though, was the fact that it was like 12:30 in the morning, her master should be asleep.

She fitted her overshirt back on her body and as she made her way to the door. Just then, her own door opened and on the other side was a servant. He himself wasn’t a slave, but the servants and the slaves were treated about the same sometimes.

She was basically treated the same as a low paid servant. But that being said, she did see a lot of glares directed her way from the non-slave staff. This man was one of them, he was a personal servant of the master and one of his most loyal confidants.

It was rather strange to see him in front of her room like this. Sure, they lived on the same floor, but other than that, he and her barely interacted with each other. In fact, it was going to be rather awkward to walk with him to the master’s room.

“The lord wishes for us to go to his room. shall we go together?” he asked, and she nodded in response.

The two of them left the room and she noticed something right away, he wasn’t looking straight ahead. The man usually stared straight ahead all the time, so as to best show his dedication to his lord. His back was usually ramrod straight, as her back was right now, but it wasn’t.

What was even stranger was the fact that he seemed out of it right now. To her knowledge, he was the type of person to be on their best behavior and such at all times. But his arched back and saggy gaze said otherwise. It was all rather silly in her honest opinion, that a man such as this was like this.

So, something had to be wrong. She decided to ask that right away, as soon as they got into the normal hallway. She followed him up the stairs and to the secret-but-not-really-a-secret passageway. At the top of the stairs, he turned back and looked at her.

The look plastered on his face said something to her, it was tiredness. He was simply tired; he had been woken up rather early in his sleep cycle. That must be the reason he seemed so out of himself right now. But as he continued to not move from his spot at the top of the stairs, he sighed.

“You know, it is rather stressful. This job, I mean…” He took in another sigh, “the simple fact that he wants us to go up to his room in the middle of the night says a lot about him.”

He looked down onto her, as if thinking about something deep, like the intrusive thoughts at the back of his head were winning. At that point, she saw him nearly drop onto the floor due to his exhaustion.

“May I speak sir?” Aisling asked, and he nodded in turn, “I was simply thinking about how nice it is to get paid, how nice it is to not be painted nude. I know it was selfish of me; I am not taken advantage of all too much, I have a good relationship with the master,” it was now her turn to sigh.

“But you are paid for your labor, my good sir. Sure, you have to work till 10 o’clock in the afternoon, but I just finished my work thirty minutes ago. I only sleep for four hours. I clean the lord’s office at 4:30, I stay in place of the lord to paint for hours at a time. Yet I only an aloud to eat breakfast after that. And may I remind you that this schedule is not fixed,” she reiterated.

“The painting usually starts at six o’clock. The painting only ends when he is finished. That may be at a completely odd time, or when he decides to stick to the schedule, he has made up in his mind that only he can see and use. The cooks do not make food at any time like for you, my good sir. The cooks do not care if I am favored by the master.”

“They only make food at the normal eating times, but I am his favored slave, I must use his timetable, or he gets angered and threatens to hit me, my good sir,” she told him much to his shock.

He was simply a servant that used the same timetable as everyone else. Sure, he was good friends with the duke, but he didn’t follow the lord’s schedule. He only started work at nine o’clock, and only ended it at ten o’clock. He got to eat whatever leftovers the cooks had, and they would heat it up for him.

Sure, he was a well-paid worker, but that was overshadowed by his master’s absolute whims. This girl however, worked for twenty-three and a half hours a day. That was cruel, even to his noble person’s eyes.

“So my good sir, what is the matter?”

…