Knight in Amour

And meat for the beast

20/02/2008 02:45 Slaves Stable, Willowcombe manor

The bloodless corpse of Garnette's slave is dragged across the yard and dumped in his stall. Fourth of Oliver stands staring at it, shivering in fear. 'Stu' pats his shoulder and then turns him away from the lifeless gaze. He escorts the young man back to his stall, encouraging him to lie down and sleep. On his way back to his own allocated place he stops leaning on the low wall at the end of Warren's stall. He stares at First of Morgan as the man sits on his mattress, his eyes fixed on the metal bars of the divider.

"Real hard Bitch your mistress." 'Stu' taunts.

To his shock the man on the bed turns to look at him. There is a coldness in the gaze that makes him take an instinctual half step back. They are the eyes of a predator, such as he would expect to see in the face of some large wolf or big cat. To see them staring out of a human face kicks at some part of his hindbrain dormant from when mammals were mouse like creatures running in fear from dominant reptiles. He holds his breath praying that the beast will move on the find greater prey. Then the man blinks and the beast vanishes.

"You have no idea." War says.

"You back with us then." 'Stu' asks moving into the stall. He nods to Second of Colclough. "I thought you'd gone native like him."

War shrugs. "It's a survival trait." He says, stressing the 'a' and implying there are other better ones. He looks down the row of stall, glancing toward the corpse, even thought there are several concrete dividers blocking his line of sight. "That was not meant to happen." He says softly.

'Stu' shrugs. "He knew the rules and broke them."

War looks at the slave beside him carefully. Almost as if he is challenging the man to rethink the easy dismissal, then he shrugs, realising that there is a high chance that this is just one more of the aspects of a slaves life that they have learnt to tolerate.

"Leaves you in a strong position though." 'Stu' says. "They are all dancing to your mistresses tune now, aren't they?"

War looks at him carefully, half frowning. "What do you mean?"

"The way she dismissed us." 'Stu' prompts. He gestures towards the corpse. "Telling us if we are hungry, we should eat him."

War grimaces, equally uncomfortable with the thought of canabalism.

"I guess you will be telling us what to do soon enough." 'Stu' continues. "like Garnette and Dream's pets used to do."

"You are forgetting I'm to be sacrificed at the full moon."

Stu shakes his head, "They've had their blood. You are safe 'til Lammas at least." He sits on the matress next to War.

War grimaces. "I which I could believe that but..." He looks up through the narrow windows at the dark sky. "When I was a kid one of my carers just to have this phrase when trouble was brewing. She'd say there'll be blood on the moon tonight. I used to think she meant the fight would be so big the blood splats would be that high." He shudders. "Eclipse is tomorrow. This can't be over." He looks at 'Stu' pointedly then glances to the rest of the slaves. "How many of them still have something of themselves left?"

Stu shrugs. "May be six." He says. "But you have seen it. When we are with them we are theres, when we are here we are all too scared to try anything.. What can we do?"

"I dont know yet. I need to analyse it. Get some sleep, what ever we do we are going to need to be rested and ready."

Stu pats War leg then stands up. "Still it's good to have you back with us." He moves to leave the stall then stops and turns back. "What were you doing when the tree's caught you?" He asks.

"Securing an exit route." War says. "In case things turned nasty and I had to get my mistress out of danger."

'Stu' snorts a dark laugh. "Why? She's not in danger from any one." He dismisses.

War watches him go but can't help adding quietly "Any one but herself."

-

As the sun hits its highest, Warren feels the summons. He can sense the desire to sink back into the bliss of obedience dragging at his thoughts. He considers resisting for a few moments and then realises that he does actually need to meet up with Kirsty. May be if he can hold enough of himself together he will be able to remind her where her obligations actually lie again.

He heads across the yard. Despite the sun the ground is still frozen and hard against his bare feet. As he enters the house the sudden warmth is almost too good, and he has to catch himself before he falls into First of Morgan's gratitude to the Mistresses for the shelter of their domain

Kirsty is standing at her window as he enters her room. Even with her back turned towards him he can feel a difference about her. Something more dominating and potent. She turns and smiles at him with an expression that promises nothing of pleasure for him.

"Hello little slut." She says.

He feels Firsts desire to fall to his knees and crawl towards her. To beg to be allowed to pleasure her. He digs a finger nail into the palm of his hand, using the pain to focus his mind.

Her eyes narrow. "I hope you are not resisting me again Boy." She says. "You know where that leads."

War tries to say her name but it just comes out "Yes mistress."

"Enter then."

He steps forward, the door closing behind him, but does no more that what is required to 'enter' the room. Her mouth pulls tight as she senses he is being difficult. She walks forward, lifting the braid off the back of the chair as she approaches. When she reaches him she holds it up .

"Don't you remember how good this felt?" she asks teasingly. When he does not respond she loops it loosely around his neck. Then leans in and whispers. "Tell me pet, did any one feast on the flesh I so lovingly provided?"

"I do not know mistress, I was sleeping." He answers honestly.

"Did you?"

"No mistress. I was sleeping." he says.

"Shame I wanted to know if the muscles was as sweet as the blood." She says. She walks round him. "I have them now my pet, rejoice for me. The coven now kneels at my feet and whispers my name in worship."

"Congratulations Mistress." War replies.

"I don't think you really mean that." she says, the cord around his neck tightens. "But you will." She adds. "Lavinia is such a talented little witch. She has the ritual all worked out. And you, you will make the perfect host. But for one minor problem."

"Mistress?"

She turns him to face her, her face close to his, her eyes staring deep into his own. He can see a bright madness in her gaze. An intoxication that has nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with power.

"Submit!" She commands, her eyes widening as she speaks the word.

The power engulfs him. It is like a man trying to stand before a tsunami. If he puts up any resistance it is so rapidly overcome as to have been irrelevant; little more than tissue paper against a hail storm.

He closes his eyes in bliss and drops to his knees before her.

"Oh yes." She says as he start to lick her feet. "That's much better."