Fic: Andrea's Story, Part Three
I'm not entirely certain the ending here works. It is a nice romantic moment, but it just sorta stops.
30
Andrea stomped thought the door of Master Tez’s office, slapping the sheaf of papers in her hand onto his desk.
“That was a short appointment, Andrea,” he said mildly, looking from the manor’s account books.
Shaking with rage, she dropped down to her knees. “Master, I must beg you to release me from the elfmaid Servalin’s commission.”
“Andrea, stand up would you? I can’t see you behind this desk when you’re kneeling. Now what is the matter?”
She stood up. “Master, you promised me that you wouldn’t assign me commissions to make slave gear!”
“And I have not. Did not Servalin say she wanted tack for a pony?”
“A lie! Just look at the first pages. A collar! Ankle and wrist cuffs!”
“Mmm…” Master Tez picked up the commission’s specifications and began to flip through them. “Ah, you didn’t read through the whole document, did you?”
“I didn’t have to!”
Master Tez raised an eyebrow. “Well, I clearly see the request for a harness and bit. Not to mention several other accessories.” He spread the pages out for her, and pointed at various diagrams.”
“Eh, but…” Wondering if she’d made a horrible mistake and insulted an elf that her merchant master was counting on receiving business from, she looked down to where he pointed. Well, that’s definitely a harness… “That’s not a pony,” she noted, pointing to the figure the harness was fitted around in the drawing.
“Well, not the four-legged variety,” Master Tez allowed.
“Wait, wait…” She read through the specifications, all the way this time. There were pages and pages of the stuff, all rendered in obsessive detail. “This is all really elaborate for a slave’s gear. I mean silver harness bells?”
“I don’t believe it’s actually for a slave,” her master said, pointing to the appendix. “Here are the measurements.”
“They’re too small! Oh, no! She doesn’t mean to put a child into this!”
“Not a child, I don’t think.”
“But, but… other than that, it could only fit an…” Andrea blinked. Servalin had been rather petite, even by elven standards. “It’s all for her?”
“I think that would be a safe assumption, yes.”
Andrea blinked again, letting the papers slip out of her hands and scatter across the desk. She plopped down into an upholstered, weak-kneed and confused. “Why would she…? I mean, she’s a… she wouldn’t want to… unless she did want…” She cleared her throat. “I don’t understand.”
Master Tez was practically smirking, which was almost as bizarre a sight as some of the diagrams in the specifications in front of her. “I have a reputation in the area as the most open minded of elves. From there, it follows that if a certain elfmaid wanted a set of… equipage… outside what is normally the call of tanner artisans, and I had a slave well-trained in the proper skills, I would be the person to go to.”
She shook her head. “But what’s it all for?”
“Andrea, how many times have you had sex?”
The question was so blunt and direct that she didn’t think to create a face-saving lie. “Never,” she admitted.
Now it was Master Tez’s turn to blink. “What, never? You’re thirty years old.”
“I know that !” she said, blushing. “It’s just that… well, it’s not like there were a lot of boys my age here at the manor when I came of age, and there were no other half-elves here.” She was the only one, come to think of it, that she’d ever seen in the Domain. Of course, given the, er, wide variety, of slaves Master Tez had accumulated, she at least didn’t stand out as unusual in that respect.
“Were all the human boys so awful to contemplate? Or is that not where your attraction lies?”
“Well… I didn’t, um, mature, until I was twenty-two.” The curse of half-blood, she thought, though elves had it worse, taking a century or more to even start being taken seriously as adults. “Boys that were as mature as me were around seven years younger.” And usually bone-stupid. Emphasis on bone. “And men who were older were just… yech.” Well, there was one older male, but he wasn’t human or ever likely to be interested in her.
“So, no one you are or were interested in at all?” Master Tez’s tone was blessedly clinical, not that it helped much. Her face grew even more flushed and warm.
“No, no one,” she lied.
“Mmm,” he said, idly picking up a red-dyed leather rose blossom up from his desktop and considering it. She’d made the thing from scraps she’d had left over from another project a couple of years ago, and had presented it to her master on an impulse. “You are, perhaps, blessed in your discretion. Elven sexuality maturity, perhaps in compensation for their low fertility, lasts a very long time. You are familiar with the fact that it’s unheard of for elven couples to partner for life, yes?”
“I knew. I think that's what the matrons at my orphanage were talking about when they described elves as “unnatural and depraved.” Though they had spared her young ears the details, the charge had hurt all the same. She wondered if her mother, whomever she had been, had thought the same thing when she'd bedded an elf. She had her doubts that her mother had been elven. Most elven women, she'd learned, didn't bed human men voluntarily, and if any by-blows occurred they weren't permitted to come to term, low elven fertility or not.
“Well, it's perfectly natural for elves. Depraved we'll get to in a moment. The problem with elves and their sexual relations is, for lack of a better term, variety. Human partners can complain about losing interest in sex because of lack of variation when being with a partner for less than a decade. Imagine being an elf in the same position, when a physical or family partnership can last for centuries.”
“I guess that wouldn't help your reproductive rate either.”
“Quite. In any event, in order to stave off boredom for as long as possible, before perhaps going utterly monastic for a few centuries, elves have come up with a wide variety of... spices, so to speak.”
Andrea scratched her head, looking over the specifications again. “What's all this got to do with sex?”
“Simply put, some people, not just elves, find the idea of restraint during sex, called 'bondage', to be quite stimulating. For many, the more extreme the restraint, the better. Hence the... equipage... Servalin ordered.”
Andrea recalled when she had been bound during the harrowing passage through the Barrier. “Stimulating” wasn't the phrasing she would have used. “I’ll take your word for it, Master.”
“Good idea.” He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a wallet of trade rods, tossing them to her. She caught it automatically, surprised at its heft. “That’s your ten percent of the commission.”
Andrea let the pile of thin silver rods slide out into her hand. “You’re joking. This is almost the full price of one my regular commissions!” It wasn’t required in Elven law that a slave be paid for their work, but Master Tez always did so out of courtesy, and to allow his slaves to buy the occasional luxury in reward for their service.
“Yes,” Tez agreed. “Finding an artisan of quality who would take such a request is rare, given the inherent frivolity of its intended use. Rare enough that I can command a hefty price for your services.”
“Really?” Andrea tried to do a quick calculation in her head of what her normal workload would pay out if she received many more commissions like this. The only answer she could easily come up with was lots and lots. “So, tell me, Master, should I expect to get any more work like this?”
“If you perform well on this first one, I expect so. Servalin will undoubtedly spread the word around to other interested parties if she is pleased with the result.
“Well,” she said brightly, “I’d better get to work then.”
“Enjoy yourself,” Master Tez replied and waved her on her way.
35
“Good morning, Master,” Andrea greeted, as he climbed up the stairs to the estate’s archives, intent on hunting down a record from back when the Elven Domain and the human kingdoms to the east were actually on speaking terms. He looked down on her, standing in the tower’s atrium, a cup of tea in her hand. She had done something different with her hair this morning. Instead of her usual ponytail, she’d done it up in a series of elaborate, tight braids, interwoven with dyed strings and colored beads.
“Good morning, Andrea,” he replied, then added, “Your hair looks very nice.” She’d obviously put a great deal of effort into it, so he thought it prudent to compliment her for it.
“Thank you, Master!” she called back cheerily, then skipped off.
* * *
At the knock on his door, he looked up from estate’s account book and called, “Enter!” Andrea slipped inside, bowing to him automatically. “Master, I just wanted to let you know that the Elfmaid Servalin’s latest commission is completed.”
“Excellent, I’m sure she will be pleased by your work, as always,” he said. “I’ll inform her shortly.” Then he blinked, finally noticing her clothes. Andrea was wearing… well, there was nothing uncommon about a female wearing a bodice for personal support. Except that most bodices weren’t made of kidskin leather. Or decorated so elaborately. Or worn so tightly that they shoved the wearer’s bosom up in such a distracting manner. Of course it would have helped if she’d tightened the strings of her blouse completely….
“Andrea…” he began to say.
“Yes, Master?” She smiled at him.
“Rub some… ahem… wear some protective cream on your skin, would you? I imagine getting a sunburn there would be very uncomfortable.”
“Yes, Master. Right away.” She bowed again and walked off, still smiling.
* * *
“Andrea, attend,” he ordered, some days later. She’d been working on another harness commission, one actually for a horse this time, when he found her in her workshop.
“Master Tez?” she asked, putting her hammer and awl down to stand up and bow automatically, as he shut the door behind him. He fingered the leather rose that she had presented him with some years ago in his hand distractedly,
“Andrea, I’ve noticed that you’ve been… altering your appearance… in recent weeks,” he said. “Different hairstyles, different clothes, different footwear.” Actually it was the footwear that had prompted his decision to confront her today. Knee high riding boots, dyed black, with silver wire stitching, silver buckles running up the sides and heels at least two inches higher than strictly necessary for hanging onto stirrups. Never mind that he knew for a fact she hadn’t even been on a horse since she was seven.
“Yes, Master,” she replied demurely. Which had been another warning sign. Demure was not Andrea’s default expression by any stretch of the imagination. “Do you disapprove of them, Master?”
“No, no, by no means. I’m actually glad you’re paying closer attention to your personal appearance. It reflects well on me when my servitors look their best.”
“Thank you, Master.”
“I’m just wondering… what exactly prompted this rush of self-improvement?”
She shrugged in attempted casualness, but the blush on her face betrayed her. “I… just wanted to look nicer. I’m a grown woman after all.”
“Yes, you are. Which makes ask, are you looking nicer for yourself, or for someone else?”
Andrea ducked her head down, hiding her eyes. “Someone else.”
“Andrea, look at me,” he ordered. When she brought her face back up, he asked, “How long have we known each other?”
“Twenty-eight years, Master,” she replied softly.
He ran his hand over his bald scalp. “Andrea, there are certain aspects of my servants’ lives which I try not to interfere with, unless it effects the smooth operation of this estate. As slaves, you have little enough privacy as it is. You deserve all of what little consideration I’m legally permitted to give you in the area of personal relations.”
“You always have been a very understanding master, sir,” she agreed.
He nodded. “Quite. Which isn’t to say that I’m deaf and blind to what’s going on behind my servitors’ doors. It’s just that I do my best not to pay attention to it, or react in any way, unless someone is being hurt.”
“I’m fine, Master. No one is hurting me.”
“Yes, but… I am worried about you being hurt. It’s a matter of power dynamics, you understand. Or maybe you don’t.” He drew in a breath and tried again. Better, he thought, to be blunt about this. Beating about the bush would only prolong the pain if things went badly. “Andrea, are you hoping to have sex with me?”
Her face went bright crimson as she stuttered out a reply. “With you?! No, no! Of course not! I… I… What would make you think that!”
He started ticking points off on his fingers. “You’ve been dressing provocatively, which is not your normal behavior. You’ve never had sexual relations before, unless something has changed in the past five years since we last had a conversation on this subject. You’ve already expressed disinterest in finding partners among the humans or humanoids in my service. And, most importantly, as your owner I most certainly am the most important person in your life. It’s your job to please me and make yourself worthy of my appreciation, less you be sold to someone else.”
“You’d never sell me, Master!” she exclaimed.
“No, I wouldn’t,” he agreed. “But it is a power dynamic that cannot be ignored.” Tez began to pace back and forth in front of her. “You are a slave. Your body, mind and soul are legally mine in the eyes of Elven Domain. That gives me a disproportionate amount of control over you. Power that in a less careful master could be subject to considerable abuse.”
“Oh, I see,” she said, her face falling.
“So you can see the need for me to be circumspect in my interaction with you, or any other slave. Including sexually. Most especially sexually.”
“Of course, Master.” Andrea’s voice was flat, dull and defeated.
“I’m not trying to be cruel to you, Andrea. The only thing that doesn’t prevent slaves from being abused in this manner is the ridiculously entrenched chauvinism in this local Elven culture, one of its few saving graces in my opinion.”
“I understand, Master.” She ran her fingers through the elaborate braids of her hair. “If you’ll excuse me, I should get changed into something… something more sensible.” She turned away from him, opening the door.
“Andrea, stop,” he ordered and she froze. “Close the door and lock it.” She did as he bid, finally looking at him again straight in the eye, openly curious. “Bend your neck.” Andrea bent her neck, brushing away the braids of her deep black hair. Then she gasped as he inserted the key into the lock of her collar, allowing it to fall to the floor.
“Master Tez, what are you doing?” she gasped, standing up straight. “I could get my head lopped off!”
“Hence the locking of the door,” he noted. “Andrea, you are my slave, but you are also a beautiful young woman with her own mind. A mind capable of making its own choices. If you think you would be happy to be with me, then I am more than willing to make you happy. But it must be behind closed doors and it must be as equals. Nothing else is acceptable to me, or fair to you.”
“You’re the eldest of elves, Master. Hardly my equal,” she pointed out.
He sighed. “My age means less than you might think. Certainly less than other elves think, despite my attempts to disabuse them of my supposed deep wisdom. But you have a point.” He opened a storage cabinet set against the wall, holding some of her works in progress and abandoned experiments. He took out a leather collar, the surface as yet un-dyed, scored with the beginnings of an elaborate engraving for one of Andrea’s “discreet” customers. Her jaw dropped open as he wrapped around his neck and buckled it snugly. “How does that look?”
“It looks… it looks fine, Mas-“
“Just ‘Tez’ please,” he interrupted.
Andrea blinked. “It looks fine, Tez. But why?”
He smiled at her. “The first lesson on this subject is, when two people are in the bedroom, it doesn’t matter who’s wearing the collar.”
The End?
30
Andrea stomped thought the door of Master Tez’s office, slapping the sheaf of papers in her hand onto his desk.
“That was a short appointment, Andrea,” he said mildly, looking from the manor’s account books.
Shaking with rage, she dropped down to her knees. “Master, I must beg you to release me from the elfmaid Servalin’s commission.”
“Andrea, stand up would you? I can’t see you behind this desk when you’re kneeling. Now what is the matter?”
She stood up. “Master, you promised me that you wouldn’t assign me commissions to make slave gear!”
“And I have not. Did not Servalin say she wanted tack for a pony?”
“A lie! Just look at the first pages. A collar! Ankle and wrist cuffs!”
“Mmm…” Master Tez picked up the commission’s specifications and began to flip through them. “Ah, you didn’t read through the whole document, did you?”
“I didn’t have to!”
Master Tez raised an eyebrow. “Well, I clearly see the request for a harness and bit. Not to mention several other accessories.” He spread the pages out for her, and pointed at various diagrams.”
“Eh, but…” Wondering if she’d made a horrible mistake and insulted an elf that her merchant master was counting on receiving business from, she looked down to where he pointed. Well, that’s definitely a harness… “That’s not a pony,” she noted, pointing to the figure the harness was fitted around in the drawing.
“Well, not the four-legged variety,” Master Tez allowed.
“Wait, wait…” She read through the specifications, all the way this time. There were pages and pages of the stuff, all rendered in obsessive detail. “This is all really elaborate for a slave’s gear. I mean silver harness bells?”
“I don’t believe it’s actually for a slave,” her master said, pointing to the appendix. “Here are the measurements.”
“They’re too small! Oh, no! She doesn’t mean to put a child into this!”
“Not a child, I don’t think.”
“But, but… other than that, it could only fit an…” Andrea blinked. Servalin had been rather petite, even by elven standards. “It’s all for her?”
“I think that would be a safe assumption, yes.”
Andrea blinked again, letting the papers slip out of her hands and scatter across the desk. She plopped down into an upholstered, weak-kneed and confused. “Why would she…? I mean, she’s a… she wouldn’t want to… unless she did want…” She cleared her throat. “I don’t understand.”
Master Tez was practically smirking, which was almost as bizarre a sight as some of the diagrams in the specifications in front of her. “I have a reputation in the area as the most open minded of elves. From there, it follows that if a certain elfmaid wanted a set of… equipage… outside what is normally the call of tanner artisans, and I had a slave well-trained in the proper skills, I would be the person to go to.”
She shook her head. “But what’s it all for?”
“Andrea, how many times have you had sex?”
The question was so blunt and direct that she didn’t think to create a face-saving lie. “Never,” she admitted.
Now it was Master Tez’s turn to blink. “What, never? You’re thirty years old.”
“I know that !” she said, blushing. “It’s just that… well, it’s not like there were a lot of boys my age here at the manor when I came of age, and there were no other half-elves here.” She was the only one, come to think of it, that she’d ever seen in the Domain. Of course, given the, er, wide variety, of slaves Master Tez had accumulated, she at least didn’t stand out as unusual in that respect.
“Were all the human boys so awful to contemplate? Or is that not where your attraction lies?”
“Well… I didn’t, um, mature, until I was twenty-two.” The curse of half-blood, she thought, though elves had it worse, taking a century or more to even start being taken seriously as adults. “Boys that were as mature as me were around seven years younger.” And usually bone-stupid. Emphasis on bone. “And men who were older were just… yech.” Well, there was one older male, but he wasn’t human or ever likely to be interested in her.
“So, no one you are or were interested in at all?” Master Tez’s tone was blessedly clinical, not that it helped much. Her face grew even more flushed and warm.
“No, no one,” she lied.
“Mmm,” he said, idly picking up a red-dyed leather rose blossom up from his desktop and considering it. She’d made the thing from scraps she’d had left over from another project a couple of years ago, and had presented it to her master on an impulse. “You are, perhaps, blessed in your discretion. Elven sexuality maturity, perhaps in compensation for their low fertility, lasts a very long time. You are familiar with the fact that it’s unheard of for elven couples to partner for life, yes?”
“I knew. I think that's what the matrons at my orphanage were talking about when they described elves as “unnatural and depraved.” Though they had spared her young ears the details, the charge had hurt all the same. She wondered if her mother, whomever she had been, had thought the same thing when she'd bedded an elf. She had her doubts that her mother had been elven. Most elven women, she'd learned, didn't bed human men voluntarily, and if any by-blows occurred they weren't permitted to come to term, low elven fertility or not.
“Well, it's perfectly natural for elves. Depraved we'll get to in a moment. The problem with elves and their sexual relations is, for lack of a better term, variety. Human partners can complain about losing interest in sex because of lack of variation when being with a partner for less than a decade. Imagine being an elf in the same position, when a physical or family partnership can last for centuries.”
“I guess that wouldn't help your reproductive rate either.”
“Quite. In any event, in order to stave off boredom for as long as possible, before perhaps going utterly monastic for a few centuries, elves have come up with a wide variety of... spices, so to speak.”
Andrea scratched her head, looking over the specifications again. “What's all this got to do with sex?”
“Simply put, some people, not just elves, find the idea of restraint during sex, called 'bondage', to be quite stimulating. For many, the more extreme the restraint, the better. Hence the... equipage... Servalin ordered.”
Andrea recalled when she had been bound during the harrowing passage through the Barrier. “Stimulating” wasn't the phrasing she would have used. “I’ll take your word for it, Master.”
“Good idea.” He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a wallet of trade rods, tossing them to her. She caught it automatically, surprised at its heft. “That’s your ten percent of the commission.”
Andrea let the pile of thin silver rods slide out into her hand. “You’re joking. This is almost the full price of one my regular commissions!” It wasn’t required in Elven law that a slave be paid for their work, but Master Tez always did so out of courtesy, and to allow his slaves to buy the occasional luxury in reward for their service.
“Yes,” Tez agreed. “Finding an artisan of quality who would take such a request is rare, given the inherent frivolity of its intended use. Rare enough that I can command a hefty price for your services.”
“Really?” Andrea tried to do a quick calculation in her head of what her normal workload would pay out if she received many more commissions like this. The only answer she could easily come up with was lots and lots. “So, tell me, Master, should I expect to get any more work like this?”
“If you perform well on this first one, I expect so. Servalin will undoubtedly spread the word around to other interested parties if she is pleased with the result.
“Well,” she said brightly, “I’d better get to work then.”
“Enjoy yourself,” Master Tez replied and waved her on her way.
35
“Good morning, Master,” Andrea greeted, as he climbed up the stairs to the estate’s archives, intent on hunting down a record from back when the Elven Domain and the human kingdoms to the east were actually on speaking terms. He looked down on her, standing in the tower’s atrium, a cup of tea in her hand. She had done something different with her hair this morning. Instead of her usual ponytail, she’d done it up in a series of elaborate, tight braids, interwoven with dyed strings and colored beads.
“Good morning, Andrea,” he replied, then added, “Your hair looks very nice.” She’d obviously put a great deal of effort into it, so he thought it prudent to compliment her for it.
“Thank you, Master!” she called back cheerily, then skipped off.
* * *
At the knock on his door, he looked up from estate’s account book and called, “Enter!” Andrea slipped inside, bowing to him automatically. “Master, I just wanted to let you know that the Elfmaid Servalin’s latest commission is completed.”
“Excellent, I’m sure she will be pleased by your work, as always,” he said. “I’ll inform her shortly.” Then he blinked, finally noticing her clothes. Andrea was wearing… well, there was nothing uncommon about a female wearing a bodice for personal support. Except that most bodices weren’t made of kidskin leather. Or decorated so elaborately. Or worn so tightly that they shoved the wearer’s bosom up in such a distracting manner. Of course it would have helped if she’d tightened the strings of her blouse completely….
“Andrea…” he began to say.
“Yes, Master?” She smiled at him.
“Rub some… ahem… wear some protective cream on your skin, would you? I imagine getting a sunburn there would be very uncomfortable.”
“Yes, Master. Right away.” She bowed again and walked off, still smiling.
* * *
“Andrea, attend,” he ordered, some days later. She’d been working on another harness commission, one actually for a horse this time, when he found her in her workshop.
“Master Tez?” she asked, putting her hammer and awl down to stand up and bow automatically, as he shut the door behind him. He fingered the leather rose that she had presented him with some years ago in his hand distractedly,
“Andrea, I’ve noticed that you’ve been… altering your appearance… in recent weeks,” he said. “Different hairstyles, different clothes, different footwear.” Actually it was the footwear that had prompted his decision to confront her today. Knee high riding boots, dyed black, with silver wire stitching, silver buckles running up the sides and heels at least two inches higher than strictly necessary for hanging onto stirrups. Never mind that he knew for a fact she hadn’t even been on a horse since she was seven.
“Yes, Master,” she replied demurely. Which had been another warning sign. Demure was not Andrea’s default expression by any stretch of the imagination. “Do you disapprove of them, Master?”
“No, no, by no means. I’m actually glad you’re paying closer attention to your personal appearance. It reflects well on me when my servitors look their best.”
“Thank you, Master.”
“I’m just wondering… what exactly prompted this rush of self-improvement?”
She shrugged in attempted casualness, but the blush on her face betrayed her. “I… just wanted to look nicer. I’m a grown woman after all.”
“Yes, you are. Which makes ask, are you looking nicer for yourself, or for someone else?”
Andrea ducked her head down, hiding her eyes. “Someone else.”
“Andrea, look at me,” he ordered. When she brought her face back up, he asked, “How long have we known each other?”
“Twenty-eight years, Master,” she replied softly.
He ran his hand over his bald scalp. “Andrea, there are certain aspects of my servants’ lives which I try not to interfere with, unless it effects the smooth operation of this estate. As slaves, you have little enough privacy as it is. You deserve all of what little consideration I’m legally permitted to give you in the area of personal relations.”
“You always have been a very understanding master, sir,” she agreed.
He nodded. “Quite. Which isn’t to say that I’m deaf and blind to what’s going on behind my servitors’ doors. It’s just that I do my best not to pay attention to it, or react in any way, unless someone is being hurt.”
“I’m fine, Master. No one is hurting me.”
“Yes, but… I am worried about you being hurt. It’s a matter of power dynamics, you understand. Or maybe you don’t.” He drew in a breath and tried again. Better, he thought, to be blunt about this. Beating about the bush would only prolong the pain if things went badly. “Andrea, are you hoping to have sex with me?”
Her face went bright crimson as she stuttered out a reply. “With you?! No, no! Of course not! I… I… What would make you think that!”
He started ticking points off on his fingers. “You’ve been dressing provocatively, which is not your normal behavior. You’ve never had sexual relations before, unless something has changed in the past five years since we last had a conversation on this subject. You’ve already expressed disinterest in finding partners among the humans or humanoids in my service. And, most importantly, as your owner I most certainly am the most important person in your life. It’s your job to please me and make yourself worthy of my appreciation, less you be sold to someone else.”
“You’d never sell me, Master!” she exclaimed.
“No, I wouldn’t,” he agreed. “But it is a power dynamic that cannot be ignored.” Tez began to pace back and forth in front of her. “You are a slave. Your body, mind and soul are legally mine in the eyes of Elven Domain. That gives me a disproportionate amount of control over you. Power that in a less careful master could be subject to considerable abuse.”
“Oh, I see,” she said, her face falling.
“So you can see the need for me to be circumspect in my interaction with you, or any other slave. Including sexually. Most especially sexually.”
“Of course, Master.” Andrea’s voice was flat, dull and defeated.
“I’m not trying to be cruel to you, Andrea. The only thing that doesn’t prevent slaves from being abused in this manner is the ridiculously entrenched chauvinism in this local Elven culture, one of its few saving graces in my opinion.”
“I understand, Master.” She ran her fingers through the elaborate braids of her hair. “If you’ll excuse me, I should get changed into something… something more sensible.” She turned away from him, opening the door.
“Andrea, stop,” he ordered and she froze. “Close the door and lock it.” She did as he bid, finally looking at him again straight in the eye, openly curious. “Bend your neck.” Andrea bent her neck, brushing away the braids of her deep black hair. Then she gasped as he inserted the key into the lock of her collar, allowing it to fall to the floor.
“Master Tez, what are you doing?” she gasped, standing up straight. “I could get my head lopped off!”
“Hence the locking of the door,” he noted. “Andrea, you are my slave, but you are also a beautiful young woman with her own mind. A mind capable of making its own choices. If you think you would be happy to be with me, then I am more than willing to make you happy. But it must be behind closed doors and it must be as equals. Nothing else is acceptable to me, or fair to you.”
“You’re the eldest of elves, Master. Hardly my equal,” she pointed out.
He sighed. “My age means less than you might think. Certainly less than other elves think, despite my attempts to disabuse them of my supposed deep wisdom. But you have a point.” He opened a storage cabinet set against the wall, holding some of her works in progress and abandoned experiments. He took out a leather collar, the surface as yet un-dyed, scored with the beginnings of an elaborate engraving for one of Andrea’s “discreet” customers. Her jaw dropped open as he wrapped around his neck and buckled it snugly. “How does that look?”
“It looks… it looks fine, Mas-“
“Just ‘Tez’ please,” he interrupted.
Andrea blinked. “It looks fine, Tez. But why?”
He smiled at her. “The first lesson on this subject is, when two people are in the bedroom, it doesn’t matter who’s wearing the collar.”
The End?