Lord of Avalon (2 page)

Yet her new master seemed worried about her chain. It
certainly didn’t bother her—she’d been chained in one way or another since she
was ten and had moved into the virgin slave quarters with the other girls.

To be unchained—well, it would be like being undressed. She
might be naked, yes, but the chain somehow gave her dignity. To explain that to
someone who had never worn a chain would be impossible, she knew.

Jenya took a step back, confused.

Lord Rydah, sensing he’d said something wrong, decided not
to talk about removing it. “How about we wrap it around your waist like this,
okay?” He used the small hook at the end to fasten it in a loop around her
waist. The girl looked relieved.

Odd
, he thought.

He knew he had much to learn from his breeder. Jenya bowed
and moved away. Sighing, Rydah returned to his work.

Jenya stood in the living room, watching her new master. He
wasn’t at all what she had expected. He seemed in no hurry to make babies with
her. She admired the way his work seemed so important to him. That he wasn’t a
rich Damon meant little to her. Later, it might grate. Right now, she was happy
to be owned by a member of the ruling caste.

Her job was to have his babies, as many as he demanded—or
could afford. From the looks of his surroundings, one might be all she’d be
having.

Jenya felt her nipples harden as she thought about Lord
Rydah making love to her. Well, hardly love, more like a mechanical pumping to
lodge a baby within her. She had been trained not to become too emotionally
involved, but how could she not? The whispered conversations among the virgins
about love were far more interesting than the dull lectures on duty and
obligation that the mistresses subjected them to.

The other virgins told her that some masters actually fell
in love with their slaves. Could it be possible? Was Lord Rydah capable of such
emotion?

Watching him hunched over this books, Jenya decided, no, he
probably wasn’t. With her luck, he’d be a cold fish that only purchased a
breeder out of familial obligation.

Her nipples shriveled. She stood, legs slightly apart, arms
behind her, and waited, like a dutiful slave should.

As Jenya waited for her master’s orders, she allowed her
mind to drift back to the first time she had ever seen him. She had doubted he
had been interested in her at all. He was among a dozen Damon who had come out
to examine the newest crop of virgins.

She was just ten
rynes
old. It was her first
Selection…

Being naked in front of these strange men did not
embarrass her or the other girls. They had been taught at an early age that
clothes were not necessary for breeders. When older, they would have to be
accessible to their masters at all times.

They were all very proud to have been selected for the
Damon caste. Other, less desirable girls had been sorted out into lower castes
by the pen owner. The most wretched of those would be bred to Warriors or
Laborers. Jenya shuddered at the thought of their fate.

She walked into Selection with forty of the girls, all
ages ten to thirteen, their thin chains clinking noisily. The older girls were
nervous, for they hadn’t been selected yet. If a breeder hadn’t been chosen by
a Damon by the time she was fourteen, she’d be considered rejected, and either
sent down to the lower castes or shipped off to another region where she might
have a second chance at a Damon lifestyle.

Jenya knew she was small for her age, with undeveloped
breasts and no growth between her legs. Lord Syminton had hesitated putting her
up for Selection—there would have been no shame in holding her back a few
months until she grew. But he had made the decision just this morning, seeing
something in her that might attract a sharp-eyed Damon. Syminton had been in
this business for many rynes, and he could spot a beauty in the making. He told
Jenya he suspected she had those characteristics.

So Jenya had been included in the group that marched out
proudly, looking down as they had been taught, but glancing up surreptitiously
to see the type of men who might breed them in a few rynes.

By high lord law, no breeder could be touched until she
had turned eighteen, but that left a lot of room for study, training, selection
and preparation. Already, Jenya’s arm itched with the small “V” that had been
branded into her upper left arm just last dal, the mark certifying to all she
remained a virgin—and would until she was delivered to her new master. It was
part of the Syminton guarantee.

Jenya glanced up and tried to memorize the faces around
her. She had seen many fine cloaks as she walked the circuit. But the faces
were hard to discern during her brief peeks. Some were stern and foreboding,
while others seemed open and friendly.

She and the girls were in a shallow round pit, about two
capeks below the level of the Damons who stood in a large circle around them.
This served two purposes, her teachers had told them. First, it established in
the girls’ minds that they were the underclass. In the slave pens, they knew
they were the most desirable breeders and that feeling naturally went to their
heads. By placing them below the level of their future owners, it brought home
to them their true position. Second, it allowed the Damons an excellent vantage
point to see them, while not actually being close enough to touch them.
Touching them was prohibited, although some Damon tended to think they were
above such laws. But this way, only by jumping down into the pit could they
approach them and strict social customs would prevent anyone from attempting
it.

“Slaves, you may look up,” Syminton intoned and as one,
forty faces, including her own, tipped up toward the men. Immediately, they
each broke into big smiles designed to attract a rich Damon.

By some chance, Jenya was standing right below the man
she would come to know as Lord Rydah when she heard the command and found
herself looking right into his piercing brown eyes. She blushed and glanced
down again, fearful she might annoy him somehow. The lord’s expression did not
change, so she risked another look as the slaves began walking their circuit
again.. She turned her head over her shoulder to catch his eye again.

* * * * *

Lord Rydah, still bent over this scrolls, rubbed his eyes
and cast a glance back at Jenya. She was standing still, her eyes closed,
swaying slightly on her feet. She looked so inviting.

For eight long
rynes
, he’d been waiting. He
remembered the sun he first saw her like it was just a
dal
ago. She had
been with many other girls, but when she looked up and smiled, it was as if she
suddenly had been the only one in the pen.

Seeing this young girl, so shy and yet so curious,
touched him. His eyes roamed over the other girls, but kept coming back to this
small, fair-haired girl. His mind gave conflicting point-counterpoints as he
studied her. She hardly seemed the breeder type. Her legs were rather thin,
although her hipbones seemed adequately wide. She had no breasts for nursing,
although she was quite young yet. And she seemed to be intelligent, although it
could be just the way she smiled at him.

He looked around at the other lords and saw them pointing
out girls for closer inspection, yet none chose the little blonde. They seemed
to prefer the ones with fuller hips, more developed breasts and a slightly
saucy gait or flirtatious look. Oh, these older breeders knew all the tricks!

But not this girl. He thought maybe she had been paraded
out too soon. She seemed unsure of herself, as if puberty was too far away to
give her a hint of what she might become. He started to select another girl for
a one-on-one examination, an older girl who had nice wide hips and budding
breasts that promised to be well-able to nourish a Damon child, but he couldn’t
bring himself to point.

His eyes roamed over the circling line of girls, coming
back again and again to the girl he would come to know as Jenya. He knew that
only if he selected her for Inspection would he learn more about her.
Inspecting her didn’t mean she was “the one”. Many Damons carefully studied
many girls before selecting their breeder.

Rydah realized that he was reluctant to choose her
because of what the other lords might think. Perhaps they’d surmise that he
chose this thin one because he preferred boys, or because he couldn’t afford a
full-figured breeder.

He laughed at himself when it became clear that this girl
was the one that most interested him, and he was only rejecting her because of
his shaky social standing. Here he was, surrounded by Damons of much higher
social order, and he was deferring to them without even being aware of it.
Though he swore such things did not matter to him, here was evidence that they
did.

He shook off his embarrassment and caught the elder
Syminton’s eye. “That one,” he said, pointing to the thin blonde. “I’d like to
hold her for Inspection.”

He purposefully did not look at the other Damons, though
he could feel their stares.

Lord Rydah came out of his daydream and was surprised to see
the light fading outside. He rubbed his eyes. Just a few more pages and he’d be
finished. He scratched a match and lit the two candles on his desk, then
returned to his task. His eyes swam in and out of focus.

Rydah checked his timepiece—the courier would be by in less
than an
hura
.

He turned, suddenly aware that he’d been ignoring Jenya for
a while now. She stood impassively in the living room, her chain still hooked
around her waist. For just a moment, he admired her body again. He longed to
take her into his arms and slide his hard cock deep within her. He could
imagine her warm wetness, her rapid breathing, her small arms encircling him.

He found himself breathing shallowly in anticipation.
“Jenya,” he said.

She opened her eyes, startled.

“Come here.”

She came to him quickly in her jingling stride. He directed
her to stand next to his desk. “I’ve got just a few more pages to do. I know
I’ve been ignoring you. But I have to finish this work tonight. It would help
encourage me to work quickly if you would stand here by my side. I want to feel
your presence.”

She nodded and stepped close. Rydah inhaled her scent again.
Her hair smelled like fresh rain. Her skin had a natural, sweet perfume. He
closed his eyes and drank in the delicious odors.

His cock grew hard. He glanced over to see her firm young
breasts at eye level. His eyes drifted down to the downy fur at the triangle of
her legs and the hint of the pleasures below. “Spread your legs apart,” he
ordered. She obeyed instantly.

In spite of his efforts to finish his task, he allowed his
hand to reach out and flick the bell, causing it to bounce against her clit. He
noticed the muscles of her upper thighs twitched in response. He watched,
fascinated, as her labia parted and swelled. Her clit peeked a shy greeting
from behind its hood.

That was a stupid idea
, he told himself.
I’ll
never be able to finish my work now. All I want to do is breed her.

Jenya was no fool. She could see the impact she had on her
lord. She resisted a smile. The man was human after all. She could see the bulge
in his breeches. Jenya felt a sense of pride and power for the first time.

Now she knew why the bell had been such an important
adornment to her body. She could remember dreading the moment her clit-hood
would be pierced, yet knew she would not be presentable to her lord until it
was done, so she had gone to the clinic with determination…

The other girls had told her that it hurt, yes, but only
for short time. The way they held themselves with self-assurance and
satisfaction made Jenya wonder if they suddenly thought of themselves as holy.

Lady Margeld, the Noblewoman of Lord Syminton, escorted
her, naked, down the corridors until they reached the right cubicle where the
two nurses awaited. “This won’t hurt much,” she assured Jenya. “You know why we
do this, don’t you?”

“To stimulate my reproductive organs so that I might be
more receptive to my master,” Jenya said by rote.

“Yes, but do you know exactly what that means?”

Jenya grew embarrassed. “Um, it’s to rub against my
clitoris and make me want to breed all the time.”

Margeld’s face broke into a broad smile. “That’s right!
All the Damon breeders have them. You want to be ready for your master at all
times. Only then will you be a successful breeder. Now, I’ll leave you to the
nurses.” She turned and left the room, leaving Jenya at their mercy.

A nurse with a hooked nose directed Jenya to sit up on
the padded bench that was raised at one end. She fastened her legs with straps
to both sides, pulling her thighs far apart.

“Here, drink this,” the second nurse said, thrusting a
cup into her hands. Jenya looked at it questioningly until she responded.
“Don’t worry, it’s just something to relax you, so it won’t hurt.” She gave her
a kindly smile. “I’m Agthar, this is Tumira.” She pointed at the hooked-nosed woman.

Jenya swallowed the contents of the cup gratefully. The
liquid burned going down and brought tears to her eyes.

Agthar made her lay back on the slanted table until she
was resting comfortably.

Tumira immediately dove between her legs and began
pinching the fold of flesh above her clit. Jenya, though not embarrassed, felt
uneasy at the familiarity the nurse showed with her virgin parts.

“Right here,” the nurse said softly, more to herself than
to Jenya.

Agthar tried to distract Jenya by holding out the tiny
bell that would soon be permanently attached to her. “Isn’t it lovely?”

Jenya, reaching out to touch it with her fingertips, had
to admit it was. The bell was no more than a calabon in length—maybe even a
little shorter. The delicate jewelry was hand-crafted in mindira, the rare,
yellow-white metal mined in the Pincarn region. A narrow ring made with a
sturdier mindira alloy allowed the bell to swing freely. Jenya held it up and
listened to its soft but clear tinkle.

“It’s beautiful,” Jenya breathed. She began to relax a
little, possibly from the drink or the knowledge that this exquisite piece of
jewelry would soon be hers.

Agthar took the tiny bell from her fingers and jingled it
once again, and Jenya watched, fascinated.

“Ow!” A sudden pain startled her. Jenya tried to jump up,
but the straps held her down.

“There, it’s nearly done,” Tumira announced.

Jenya looked down between her legs to see a needle poking
through both sides of the flesh above her clitoris. In a flash, Tumira removed
it and replaced it with the bell that Agthar handed her, threading the ring
through the flesh and locking the tiny pin home.

“All done.” The nurses stood back.

Jenya, amazed at how quickly they had worked, stared at
her new jewelry. There was very little pain now. Tentatively, she reached down
and flicked the bell and noticed right away how the delicate rim of the bell
bounced against her skin, just below her clit. For a moment, she thought the
nurses placed it too low, then was startled to see her clit peek its little head
out from underneath its hood.

She flicked the bell again, and now the rim just touched
her expanding clit. The sensations, though subtle, aroused her.

Now she knew why those other girls had looked so
satisfied. It had taken a few days for the soreness to dissipate, but the
pleasure the bell gave her had been worth it.

Jenya smiled at the memory as she stood next to Rydah’s
desk. She moved her hips, letting the bell bounce softly against her clit. Her
nether lips parted in anticipation, although she remained a little nervous.
Jenya watched as her lord copied the remaining few pages quickly. His
penmanship was neat and although she couldn’t read the writing, she believed
the documents were important.

Rydah came to the last page and finished it hurriedly, not
even starting over when he made a slight error. He simply covered it up with a
bolder stroke of his pen and moved on. It would be good enough for the priests
of Zandir, he decided.

Sighing, he put down his pen and checked the time. Just ten
lapars
before the courier would arrive. He debated mating with Jenya first. Ten
lapars
would be plenty of time to plant his seed. Still, it seemed rushed, even for
him. He decided to wait.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t fondle her.

He wrapped up the pages for transport, then slipped them
into a bluta-skin bag.

“Slave, come with me.” He led her to the couch, then sat,
bringing her between his knees. She stood stiffly, clearly apprehensive.

“Relax,” he said gently. “I’m waiting for a courier. I just
want to touch you until he arrives.”

She nodded and looked down at his hands. Her skin seemed hot
to his touch. Was she in breeding mode now? Most Damons who took breeders
simply mated with them daily to ensure they became pregnant.

He touched her skin, amazed that this young breeder was now
his. She inhaled slightly and he felt her breasts swell to his soft touch. By
Rand, they felt good to him! As he watched, stroking her gently, her nipples
became erect, stretching out a good
calabon
for him.

He so wanted to touch her slit, feel the wetness there. He
could certainly smell her desire now, but he had to hold off for a few more
lapars
.

Where was that damned courier!

He ran his hands down along her sides, letting her rib bones
slip under the pads of his fingers. The smoothness of her stomach as it flowed
into her hips fascinated him. He stroked his fingers up and down between her
bottom rib and the wide flaring of her hip bones. He could imagine her stomach
swollen with his child. His cock threatened to rip open his breeches at the
thought. Uncomfortable, he adjusted the fit of the cloth around his straining
cock.

Rydah looked up and saw that Jenya had closed her eyes, and
her head had tipped slightly to one side. Her soft breaths caught in her
throat. As his hands continued to trace her outline, down along her hips to the
thighs, enjoying the smoothness there, her tiny bell tinkled in anticipation.

The scent of her sex overpowered him. In another
lapar
,
he would have to have her, and the hell with the courier! He reached behind her
and ran his fingers over the firm globes of her ass. It, like the rest of her,
was perfect. His fingers traced the small numbers up high, near her waist and
he smiled inwardly. She belonged to him now. He could hardly believe his good
fortune.

He leaned in and opened his mouth slightly, just letting his
lips brush against her nipples. They were fully extended now, he could tell. He
could imagine his child suckling on these proud nipples, growing healthy and
strong.

He wondered if he could draw out any milk from her now. He
flicked his tongue at the hard nubbins and sucked greedily for a moment.

A sudden knocking at the door disturbed him. Finally! He
leaned in and rested his forehead against her stomach, just below her breasts,
collecting his wits about him. He breathed in deeply, taking in the odor of her
sexual heat one more time.

Sighing, he released her and stood up. His cock had to be
coaxed to lie against his stomach, out of the way. It throbbed with need—a need
that would soon be satisfied.

Rydah picked up the soft leather case and went to the door.

“Lord Rydah?” The courier was just a boy, no more than
sixteen. He bowed, but not before he caught sight of Jenya, standing naked just
a few
capeks
behind Rydah. His eyes widened, then he looked down.

“I-I have come for the package for Zandir. Is it ready,
sire?”

“Yes. Here it is. See that it is delivered safely into the
hands of Priest Jenar.”

“Yes, m’lord.” He bowed again and allowed himself one more
glance at Jenya. Rydah thought he caught just a glimpse of an erection pressing
the boy’s breeches before he turned and fled.

Smiling, Rydah closed the door. He turned and took in
Jenya’s beauty one more time. She was all his. She would do anything he asked
of her. The training at the slave pens was thorough, although she had yet to
breed. No doubt she had observed many other slaves pleasuring men in many
different ways. He wondered if the girls had to take notes, or if they were
quizzed on techniques. The idea amused him.

He rubbed his tired eyes. “Do you require anything? Hungry,
thirsty?”

“Only if m’lord is having something,” she murmured. By Rand,
her voice made him hard! How did a breeder do that so easily?

He nodded, realizing how long it had been since he had
eaten. There wasn’t much left in the larder. Tomorrow he’d have to go to the
market. The thought of him walking along the market stalls, trailed by his new
breeder made him swell with pride.

“Yes, you may fix us dinner.” He watched her turn and move
into the kitchen. He admired the swell of her ass, the heaviness of her upper
thighs. She would be a good breeder, he told himself again.

* * * * *

She brought bread and cheese and waited for him to give her
permission to eat before she downed a bite.

“Come,” he said when they were finished. “We shall retire
upstairs for the night. Tomorrow you will have your own bed.”

Jenya nodded, secretly pleased to be invited upstairs. It
wasn’t what she had expected. Her slave mistress told her of breeders being
kept chained in kitchens, in basements, or, in the warm season, outside near
the back door. Rarely did one sleep in a Damon bed!

Upstairs, Jenya observed the simple sleeping mat, a blanket
tossed carelessly over it, two pillows at one end. A wooden box contained some
clothes. Two small candles were the only other furnishings in the narrow room.
Because of the steep pitch of the roof, only the center portion could be
utilized. Still, it was both cozy and breezy—windows at both ends of the gabled
roof were open, letting cooler air in.

“Are you ready to do your duty?” His voice sounded stiff and
forced to her. He seemed ill at ease.

Jenya turned, eyes downcast, the obedient breeder. “Yes,
master.” Her nerves were like tight wires. All her training had prepared her
for this moment, yet she worried she’d do something wrong somehow.

“Good. Lie on the bed on your back and prepare yourself.”