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When Aeton informed her that they would be going to be visiting a good friend of his in Athenia, she was overjoyed. He was taking her with him this time! He’d never taken her to see his friends -- they always came to him. She figured that this friend of her master’s must have been important because he outfitted her with a shiny new collar with plenty of trinkets dangling from it and more jewelry than she had ever seen in her twelve years of life. None of her master’s other slaves had collars made of gold or hand picked trinkets to attach to them. It made her feel more special than he told her she already was.
The trip to the Inner Circle of Athenia was a long one from where they had once been and she was more than relieved when they arrived on solid ground once again. She followed behind her master as any obedient slave would, careful not to let dirt tarnish the gifts he had bestowed upon her. It did not take long for the girl to notice that the quality of both house and person were improving the longer they walked. She began to wonder about this mysterious friend of her master’s. Her master never minded when she asked questions, and never chastised her for doing so, unlike his other slaves -- unless, of course, it was in front of company. But there was no company yet, so what was the harm in asking the burning question on her mind?
“Master,” she asked, unprompted, “who are we going to see?”
‘My good friend, Alector,’ Aeton answered without looking at her, ‘Keep up now.’
Alector? That name didn’t sound familiar, though Ariah wasn’t wholly concerned with that. She wanted to know if Alector had any other slaves her age. Nêreus and Nileas, her ‘brothers’, played too roughly. She wanted to braid someone’s hair and play with make up, not get pushed in the mud and stepped on. Hopefully, no one like Nêreus and Nileas would be at Alector’s home.
When they finally arrived, Ariah did her best to stand properly like her master had taught her. It was important that first impressions were good ones -- something her master reminded her of often. The last thing she wanted was to embarrass herself and her master by behaving poorly or inappropriately. She had always been told she as special.
Special people didn’t embarrass their masters by being silly.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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When Aeton informed her that they would be going to be visiting a good friend of his in Athenia, she was overjoyed. He was taking her with him this time! He’d never taken her to see his friends -- they always came to him. She figured that this friend of her master’s must have been important because he outfitted her with a shiny new collar with plenty of trinkets dangling from it and more jewelry than she had ever seen in her twelve years of life. None of her master’s other slaves had collars made of gold or hand picked trinkets to attach to them. It made her feel more special than he told her she already was.
The trip to the Inner Circle of Athenia was a long one from where they had once been and she was more than relieved when they arrived on solid ground once again. She followed behind her master as any obedient slave would, careful not to let dirt tarnish the gifts he had bestowed upon her. It did not take long for the girl to notice that the quality of both house and person were improving the longer they walked. She began to wonder about this mysterious friend of her master’s. Her master never minded when she asked questions, and never chastised her for doing so, unlike his other slaves -- unless, of course, it was in front of company. But there was no company yet, so what was the harm in asking the burning question on her mind?
“Master,” she asked, unprompted, “who are we going to see?”
‘My good friend, Alector,’ Aeton answered without looking at her, ‘Keep up now.’
Alector? That name didn’t sound familiar, though Ariah wasn’t wholly concerned with that. She wanted to know if Alector had any other slaves her age. Nêreus and Nileas, her ‘brothers’, played too roughly. She wanted to braid someone’s hair and play with make up, not get pushed in the mud and stepped on. Hopefully, no one like Nêreus and Nileas would be at Alector’s home.
When they finally arrived, Ariah did her best to stand properly like her master had taught her. It was important that first impressions were good ones -- something her master reminded her of often. The last thing she wanted was to embarrass herself and her master by behaving poorly or inappropriately. She had always been told she as special.
Special people didn’t embarrass their masters by being silly.
When Aeton informed her that they would be going to be visiting a good friend of his in Athenia, she was overjoyed. He was taking her with him this time! He’d never taken her to see his friends -- they always came to him. She figured that this friend of her master’s must have been important because he outfitted her with a shiny new collar with plenty of trinkets dangling from it and more jewelry than she had ever seen in her twelve years of life. None of her master’s other slaves had collars made of gold or hand picked trinkets to attach to them. It made her feel more special than he told her she already was.
The trip to the Inner Circle of Athenia was a long one from where they had once been and she was more than relieved when they arrived on solid ground once again. She followed behind her master as any obedient slave would, careful not to let dirt tarnish the gifts he had bestowed upon her. It did not take long for the girl to notice that the quality of both house and person were improving the longer they walked. She began to wonder about this mysterious friend of her master’s. Her master never minded when she asked questions, and never chastised her for doing so, unlike his other slaves -- unless, of course, it was in front of company. But there was no company yet, so what was the harm in asking the burning question on her mind?
“Master,” she asked, unprompted, “who are we going to see?”
‘My good friend, Alector,’ Aeton answered without looking at her, ‘Keep up now.’
Alector? That name didn’t sound familiar, though Ariah wasn’t wholly concerned with that. She wanted to know if Alector had any other slaves her age. Nêreus and Nileas, her ‘brothers’, played too roughly. She wanted to braid someone’s hair and play with make up, not get pushed in the mud and stepped on. Hopefully, no one like Nêreus and Nileas would be at Alector’s home.
When they finally arrived, Ariah did her best to stand properly like her master had taught her. It was important that first impressions were good ones -- something her master reminded her of often. The last thing she wanted was to embarrass herself and her master by behaving poorly or inappropriately. She had always been told she as special.
Special people didn’t embarrass their masters by being silly.
Keep your head down. Never look Aeton in the eye. Keep yourself silent. You are to be seen, not heard.
Alector of Athenia backed up his assertions with the threat of violence, and Calliope had no option but to accept the terms with which he operated. Calliope of Aetaea was a doll to be lavished with praises and to accept them with poise. She was a vessel with which Alector drew out his pleasure. She was forced every day to drink the contraceptive tea, for the merchant had no desire to sire young. Hedonistic and bound by no obligation to begat screaming children into the world, he did as he pleased. This day, Alector had invited a guest to his manor, a stout but lavish manor located on the outer reaches of the Inner Circle. He'd worked very hard to get where he was, and the slave-wife known as Calliope knew that better than most. He'd leave her locked in her room for hours on end, beaten and filled with his seed. She hated it, and yet a repulsive sense of satisfaction lived within her at the pleasure that mingled with pain that he administered. A shiver wrought from her as Alector brushed his fingertips along her neck, the tremble resonating to every which extremity.
Then, the servant arrived with news that Alector had arrived. A willowy man twice Calliope's age, he opened the door to let Aeton and his slave through. Calliope did not seek to look at either of them, letting her gaze linger to the floor as the two merchants enrolled themselves in conversation. Surely, they wrought ideas of trade and the jewels that Alector had made famous throughout the land, but it wasn't her place to limit any of it. Rather, as the two spoke, Calliope sat herself on the floor, kneeling to the floor with her rear directly placed atop her feet. She motioned for the servant to join him, but the male had long left. It was the girl that was left, a slave that looked too young to be an adult, given a collar to wear about her neck. She seemed so much happier than Calliope had ever been in her enslavement, and the red heat known as jealousy bloomed within her at the realization of that.
The two merchants left within their charges, but there was a guard that remained posted at the door to prevent Calliope's escape. She was a prisoner wed to her master, a treasure to be kept and abused until she died. Rather than dwell on the present, she allowed an awkward smile to cast upon her lips. She assessed the young girl with some measure of curiosity, wondering if she was going to draw forward and join her. The smile wove wider upon her lips as she sought to be encouraging, but her feet began to tire beneath her. Now that Alector was gone away with his business associate, she allowed herself to sit normally.
Calliope of Aetaea leaned back against the nearby wall, offering a glance to the place next to her as she nursed the aching feet. It was another thing Alector demanded, for her to always sit on her knees. She scarcely understood why. She rubbed her feet until the extremities were soothed, her head pressed back into the wall as she asked the slave,
"What's your name?" It was both genuine question and assessment. Calliope had been allowed to keep her name, wed to Alector rather than fully enslaved to him. But, she knew many a slave who had long forgotten their identities and existed solely as a number. She wondered if it was better or worse to have no grasp of who you once were.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Deleted
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Keep your head down. Never look Aeton in the eye. Keep yourself silent. You are to be seen, not heard.
Alector of Athenia backed up his assertions with the threat of violence, and Calliope had no option but to accept the terms with which he operated. Calliope of Aetaea was a doll to be lavished with praises and to accept them with poise. She was a vessel with which Alector drew out his pleasure. She was forced every day to drink the contraceptive tea, for the merchant had no desire to sire young. Hedonistic and bound by no obligation to begat screaming children into the world, he did as he pleased. This day, Alector had invited a guest to his manor, a stout but lavish manor located on the outer reaches of the Inner Circle. He'd worked very hard to get where he was, and the slave-wife known as Calliope knew that better than most. He'd leave her locked in her room for hours on end, beaten and filled with his seed. She hated it, and yet a repulsive sense of satisfaction lived within her at the pleasure that mingled with pain that he administered. A shiver wrought from her as Alector brushed his fingertips along her neck, the tremble resonating to every which extremity.
Then, the servant arrived with news that Alector had arrived. A willowy man twice Calliope's age, he opened the door to let Aeton and his slave through. Calliope did not seek to look at either of them, letting her gaze linger to the floor as the two merchants enrolled themselves in conversation. Surely, they wrought ideas of trade and the jewels that Alector had made famous throughout the land, but it wasn't her place to limit any of it. Rather, as the two spoke, Calliope sat herself on the floor, kneeling to the floor with her rear directly placed atop her feet. She motioned for the servant to join him, but the male had long left. It was the girl that was left, a slave that looked too young to be an adult, given a collar to wear about her neck. She seemed so much happier than Calliope had ever been in her enslavement, and the red heat known as jealousy bloomed within her at the realization of that.
The two merchants left within their charges, but there was a guard that remained posted at the door to prevent Calliope's escape. She was a prisoner wed to her master, a treasure to be kept and abused until she died. Rather than dwell on the present, she allowed an awkward smile to cast upon her lips. She assessed the young girl with some measure of curiosity, wondering if she was going to draw forward and join her. The smile wove wider upon her lips as she sought to be encouraging, but her feet began to tire beneath her. Now that Alector was gone away with his business associate, she allowed herself to sit normally.
Calliope of Aetaea leaned back against the nearby wall, offering a glance to the place next to her as she nursed the aching feet. It was another thing Alector demanded, for her to always sit on her knees. She scarcely understood why. She rubbed her feet until the extremities were soothed, her head pressed back into the wall as she asked the slave,
"What's your name?" It was both genuine question and assessment. Calliope had been allowed to keep her name, wed to Alector rather than fully enslaved to him. But, she knew many a slave who had long forgotten their identities and existed solely as a number. She wondered if it was better or worse to have no grasp of who you once were.
Keep your head down. Never look Aeton in the eye. Keep yourself silent. You are to be seen, not heard.
Alector of Athenia backed up his assertions with the threat of violence, and Calliope had no option but to accept the terms with which he operated. Calliope of Aetaea was a doll to be lavished with praises and to accept them with poise. She was a vessel with which Alector drew out his pleasure. She was forced every day to drink the contraceptive tea, for the merchant had no desire to sire young. Hedonistic and bound by no obligation to begat screaming children into the world, he did as he pleased. This day, Alector had invited a guest to his manor, a stout but lavish manor located on the outer reaches of the Inner Circle. He'd worked very hard to get where he was, and the slave-wife known as Calliope knew that better than most. He'd leave her locked in her room for hours on end, beaten and filled with his seed. She hated it, and yet a repulsive sense of satisfaction lived within her at the pleasure that mingled with pain that he administered. A shiver wrought from her as Alector brushed his fingertips along her neck, the tremble resonating to every which extremity.
Then, the servant arrived with news that Alector had arrived. A willowy man twice Calliope's age, he opened the door to let Aeton and his slave through. Calliope did not seek to look at either of them, letting her gaze linger to the floor as the two merchants enrolled themselves in conversation. Surely, they wrought ideas of trade and the jewels that Alector had made famous throughout the land, but it wasn't her place to limit any of it. Rather, as the two spoke, Calliope sat herself on the floor, kneeling to the floor with her rear directly placed atop her feet. She motioned for the servant to join him, but the male had long left. It was the girl that was left, a slave that looked too young to be an adult, given a collar to wear about her neck. She seemed so much happier than Calliope had ever been in her enslavement, and the red heat known as jealousy bloomed within her at the realization of that.
The two merchants left within their charges, but there was a guard that remained posted at the door to prevent Calliope's escape. She was a prisoner wed to her master, a treasure to be kept and abused until she died. Rather than dwell on the present, she allowed an awkward smile to cast upon her lips. She assessed the young girl with some measure of curiosity, wondering if she was going to draw forward and join her. The smile wove wider upon her lips as she sought to be encouraging, but her feet began to tire beneath her. Now that Alector was gone away with his business associate, she allowed herself to sit normally.
Calliope of Aetaea leaned back against the nearby wall, offering a glance to the place next to her as she nursed the aching feet. It was another thing Alector demanded, for her to always sit on her knees. She scarcely understood why. She rubbed her feet until the extremities were soothed, her head pressed back into the wall as she asked the slave,
"What's your name?" It was both genuine question and assessment. Calliope had been allowed to keep her name, wed to Alector rather than fully enslaved to him. But, she knew many a slave who had long forgotten their identities and existed solely as a number. She wondered if it was better or worse to have no grasp of who you once were.