The Little One

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Quatre Winner, Jun 29, 2014.

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  1. The royal city of Bram sat in a low valley under the Whitecap Mountain, at the center of the Great Crossroads. It had been the hub of trade between the kingdom of Ogenta and the outside world for generations, and consequently Bram was a rich and prosperous city, but it could not exactly be called a happy one. Not if the majority of the population was asked its opinion, which it never was.

    Freemen had many opportunities in Bram that they could not find elsewhere. The many, many slaves who served them had none. Their presence may have stirred the compassion of a few, but mostly they were a silent, ignored fixture of life. Human, elf, dwarf, nymph, anyone or anything that could be caught. No one asked how they were made subservient, or where they came from, so long as the slaves served their purpose. They toiled in fields, cleaned homes, guarded livestock, served in Ogenta's fierce armies. They did whatever was expected of them, but even among themselves there was a hierarchy. The lowest of the low were the pleasure slaves.

    In the kingdom of Ogenta, when young men came of age, it was the tradition for their fathers to gift them with a pleasure slave for 'practice', so they would later be able to produce strong, healthy sons with their wives. They were always male slaves so there were no unwanted pregnancies. That was the theory, anyway; dalliances with female servants were heavily frowned upon. The last thing any of the great Ogentan families wanted was a half-slave child mucking up their family tree.

    The royal house was especially protective of its line, and of those allowed to associate with their heir apparent. They had even been careful not to let him have any but ugly female slaves waiting on him throughout his life. However, today had seen the end of a week-long celebration of the prince's coming-of-age, where he would be receiving his very first pleasure slave. Until a suitable young woman of royal birth could be found to marry him, the prince would 'practice' on this new slave. Given the fact that this was the prince, speculation ran rampant about what the slave would look like, as they were chosen mostly for their beauty.

    However, as custom dictated, the new slave had been sent straight to the prince's chambers, so none but the king's chancellor and the prince's personal servants knew for sure. The chancellor just gave knowing looks and said nothing, and the servants had been too busy all day to gossip. Inside the prince's chambers, they were busy putting the last finishing touches to his room, bustling about to make everything perfect for his first night as a man.

    Only one figure in the room remained motionless, and the servants moved about as though he didn't exist. They had not even spoken to him the whole time they made sure he was bathed and doused with the usual oils and perfumes. There was a strict barrier between them, just as there was between the servants and their prince. Slaves of his sort were not to be objects of pity, were not to be talked to, any more than one would converse with a pretty piece of furniture.

    Nor did the slave try to speak to them. He seemed unaffected by what they were doing, and stayed on the prince's luxurious bed where he had been placed, motionless and silent.

    The slave had his head bowed, a shock of white, almost feathery hair hiding his eyes, hands palm upward on his bony knees in the usual posture of the defeated. His skin was pale, almost milk-white like his hair, especially in the moonlight that caught the contour of a slim shoulder and cheek. In sharp contrast were the many scars, old and recent, that stood out on the visible areas of skin. Everywhere except his face. One might have been forgiven for thinking, at first, that it was a ghost of some long-lost victim of the king's wars. The slave wore only a short, sleeveless white tunic and a heavy silver collar around his thin neck, which bore the symbol of the crown- a sign of the king's ownership. Obvious signs of skin rubbed raw by such collars darkened the skin underneath.

    In spite of the scars, anyone who knew the first thing about slaves would have seen the quality of this one right away in his pointed ears. Elves were an exceedingly difficult race to capture, so this one would have cost a king's ransom. How he had come to be a slave at all no one had ever bothered to ask, nor did he show what he felt as he knelt on the bed, awaiting yet another master.

    (Your response doesn't need to be this long, and mine probably won't be, either. I may have gone overboard setting things up. If there's anything you want to change at any time, let me know, and I'll change it. Very little is set in stone. That's half the fun of an rp!)
  2. The prince was of a fair age and of fair looks indeed. We was the only born on line to a thrown which had been handed down in his family for generations to rule over Bram. He had seen many things for his age. His mother had made sure of it. He had took place in a war his own father had started and he disagreed with. As most sons of royals did, he had been out in charge of troops at a young age. He was now rough and seasoned because of it.
    He was the talk of the city and had been seen the day he was born. He was handed his life just as he would be handed his first. That was only talked of even more through out the city and his home of stone, walls, and expensive silk.
    He was passed around from hand to hand making sure he was clean. They spoke no words to him and made no eye content. They were only servants. He had always had it this way not by his desire but by the book written by the mind of a sadist old man a long time ago. The servants kept their distance only speaking to him when spoken to. He spoke to them on most days for that was the way he was, but that day was different. They seemed to keep at a little more of a distance right out of even words' reach.
    The prince pushed through the doors of his room and saw what he only could expect, a prime slave ready for any touch he could give. He was sickened by this. He knew not how to react though. It had been a gift to him. He noticed the features of it silently. Then he knew only how much his father had spent on it for it was of elf kind. He called out to it,"Sit like a normal being. There is no need to be ready for anything." He was simply filled with disgust for the whole situation.

    ((Long first one. Do not be afraid to make yours shorter. Also please let me know if I got anything wrong.))
  3. (We're good to go! The world is going to be both our creation, so have fun with ideas :D)

    The little slave went visibly rigid at this command, not because it was spoken harshly (he was used to that), but because 'sit like a normal being' made no sense to him. What was he supposed to do? Frantically, the slave tried to think of what the prince would think of as normal. Slaves were not supposed to ask questions, but to obey as though they had read their masters' minds. Punishment usually followed any hesitation on their part, even if it was out of confusion on what their masters required of them. If the little slave guessed wrong, he would be punished.

    Slowly, unsure but desirous to escape retribution, the slave uncurled his slim legs, then slid them over the side of the bed, back straight, hands folded in his lap, head still down. It was forbidden for a slave to raise his head, and especially his eyes, in the presence of his master. This one seemed to be calm and still, but in reality, his heart was racing, his body preparing for some form of cruelty. In addition to not knowing how to sit 'normally', he had no idea what the master meant by not needing to 'be ready for anything'. Perhaps the prince was too tired to use him? That was possible, but he couldn't be sure.

    Carefully, the slave watched his master out of the corners of his eyes, from under the fringe of soft, white hair. He had learned to observe without seeming to, but was still limited. The prince's posture was….tense, to be sure. He seemed uneasy, or angry, or both. The elfling didn't know what to do about it, or what was wanted of him, so he remained still and silent, waiting further orders.
  4. The prince paced around his quarters in deep thought as to how to handle the situation. He had always hated the use of slaves and servants against their will. This would have made no difference on in matter though. Until he was king, his opinion mattered not. He was simply a figure of what would one day be a new page in kingdom. He knew this was normal of a prince's life just as it was for a princess. He had always just put up with it.
    He knew the elf must be frightened by the situation also. He was sure the elf had been trained and untainted though. He tugged softly at his brown wavy hair as he thought then turned to green eyes gaze onto the slave. He sighed. "What is it you would like me to do with you?" he questioned annoyed not at the slave but at everyone else in the world who knew not of his desires.
  5. That question completely threw the elfling for six. Like? What would he, a slave, like to be done with him? No one ever asked a slave what they liked or wanted, ever, except in the midst of their 'duties', when they were expected to pretend they wanted their master's ill-treatment and to beg for it. That certainly didn't count. What, then, did this master wish for his answer to be?

    The elfling felt his breath catch, and he trembled slightly, fearing this was some cruel new game to which he did not know the rules. This master was clearly agitated, but the slave didn't know why. He assumed, as all slaves were taught to do, that it was because he himself had done something wrong, or failed to do something in the first place. He truly didn't think the prince was asking him what he actually wanted; that would have been laughable. It must be a trick question.

    "My….master will do as he pleases with me." The slave licked his lips, turning his head slightly, so his hair shifted and fell even more into his eyes. "His pleasure is my pleasure." A diplomatic lie, the kind the slave was used to. Resistance brought nothing but pain.
  6. He heard all of the fear in the slave's fear in his voice. It shot right threw his as if he were an archer's practice target. He strided over to slave and slammed the palm of his hand down on the table beside him. "No, what is it you want? Leave all your training outside this room. I do not want a slave." his voice caught in his throat some and realized his brash actions must be terrifying the slave. He backed up and quickly corrected himself. "I do not care what they say I should do with you. What is it you would like? Name anything. I will make it yours." He stops for a moment and walks back up to the slave and lifts his head. "You have has to hold your head down too long."
  7. The prince's frustration was understandable, but what he was asking was easier said than done. To the slave's abused mind, it was roughly like telling the prince he should sell his kingdom for ten bronze pieces and live the rest of his life as a fish. To be applied to for his opinion frightened the slave even more than the pounding. He wasn't allowed to have opinions or thoughts of his own. Whatever remained of his true self was buried so deeply that digging it out again would be a monumental, if not impossible, task.

    He said nothing, because he didn't know what to say, and stiffened as he felt his chin lifted to look up at the prince. As all slaves were taught to do, he did not make eye contact, but cast his gaze somewhere to one side. The elfling didn't at all trust what the prince seemed to offer, he had no reason to do so, though less downtrodden slaves would have leaped at the opportunity. In truth, all he wanted was to lie down and not wake for a long while; he had not slept in two days, or slept well in years. He was too tired even to eat, much less process what the prince was saying to him.

    The one thing he did know was that, when the prince had said he didn't want a slave, said slave would be punished for failing to be enticing enough. Perhaps this prince didn't care for males? Regardless, the slave knew he would be beaten for it, and sold off to someone else.

    In the end, he decided it was best to get things over. As he considered what the prince said to be nothing more than a strange twist on the usual proceedings, he leaned his head down to give the prince's wrist a long, lingering kiss, reaching out to stroke over his lower abdomen.

    "Let me please you, master. Your slave asks for nothing more…" His stomach had stopped rebelling long ago at these lies. At this point of his life, he felt nothing but a dead weight where his heart should have been. But the slave knew how to act his part, even as he sent his mind away where he could forget, while his body did what was expected of him. Being an elf meant he was especially beautiful and enticing to humans…most of them, anyway. This one wasn't interested, which meant pain for the elfling. Just get it over with….. That was all he had to do…

    (Yeah, he REALLY doesn't want to, but he honestly thinks the prince is playing a sick game. He doesn't understand what it means to be free to choose, poor thing. Be patient with him! Not that your character has to be XD But yeah, if given patience and kindness, he'll start to come out of his shell.)
    #7 Quatre Winner, Jun 29, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Jun 29, 2014
  8. (Trust me I can be. c: Thanks for saying something though.)

    The prince felt chills run through his body with such a kiss and touch. The words spoken rang through his ears and anyone else in all the lands even another slave would probably fall for such a creature. He swallowed down his thoughts and pulled away. Anger rushedthrough him as to why the slave did not understand. His eyes felt heavy though. He did not want to argue with anyone today. He had felt he a duty to whatever was left of the mind of this person sitting in his presence. He russled his some and started to strip down. "Strip down and mess your hair up. I want them to believe that we did even though we did not when the servants check on me tonight." he spoke as the took off the last of his clothing.
  9. The slave had moved already, mistaking the prince's anger for lust. Both emotions were usually almost one and the same with his masters, as his scars plainly attested. He wasn't shocked or surprised when his master began to strip, though his stomach felt like lead, as he felt he knew what was to come. Automatically, he had started to slip his short tunic off, revealing more prominent scars underneath. The slave didn't even think about resisting- an order was an order.

    But then, the words his master spoke caught the slave off-guard, so much so that he paused, the tunic still wrapped around his arms. His master wanted him to….make it look like they had….but not to actually? The slave's breath caught in his throat, and confusion swirled in his head, as he began to realize that, perhaps, his new master truly didn't want him at all. Why, then, would he bother with the pretense, and not just send the slave away? Maybe the king was desirous of his son using the expensive gift, and he might get in trouble if he didn't. That was all the slave could think of to justify this bit of trickery. Maybe the prince felt it was easier to pretend he liked his gift than face his father's wrath.

    Even then, the punishment a prince received, and the punishment meted out to slaves, were in such disparate categories they couldn't even rightly be compared. If it was ever found out that his master failed to 'use' him…. Shuddering slightly, the slave tossed his tunic aside, and made his hair look as wild as possible, but didn't know what else he should do. It hadn't occurred to him that the prince might be trying to help him, because no one ever had before. At the moment, he had no choice but to obey.

    Out of the corner if his crystal blue eyes, he watched the prince, only noting in a vague way that he was beautiful. The elfling knew, however, that looks meant nothing, for he had handsome masters before this who were just as cruel as the rest. He stood in the middle of the floor, nude, feeling vulnerable as ever, but also strangely calm. Whatever this was about, his master had made it clear that he didn't want the little slave at all. If the elfling got one night of reasonably unbroken sleep tonight, it would be worth the trouble.
  10. The prince turned around and looked at the elf. He nodded. "Good enough." he spoke sternly. He froze for a moment looking at the elf's scars. His eyes stumbled and caught on all the elf's feature but he pushed aside any thoughts. He knew his plan and he was going to stick to it.
    He forced himself to love at this point. His legs just barely carried him into the bed. He climbed into the sheets. "My parents know I have never been one to do anything by the book. They assume I did something different or wrong. To keep then from wondering sleep in my arms. That was they will just think I like you more than I probably should." he commanded. He opened his arms and sheets up to the slave.
  11. The elfling had noticed the odd look in the prince's eyes, a moment of fear or disgust, followed by desire, until his handsome features smoothed out again into sternness. The slave didn't know what to make of this, but did as he was told, slipping under the covers and curling automatically against the prince's strong chest.

    Anyone paying attention, however, would have felt the tension in his limbs, and seen the flicker of loathing and confusion behind his dull blue eyes. He still didn't quite understand, more than half expecting the prince to just start using him right then and there. If he didn't, there was only one conclusion for the slave to make- the prince was not interested in males, and his slave would be flogged and sold once this fact was found out. The elfling certainly wasn't fighting to stay his slave out of loyalty at this point, since one master was like another. He didn't even dare fall asleep this way, so close to someone his master. The little slave curled into himself, intensely wakeful, but knowing he could not refuse the prince if he decided to use him after all. He didn't know what to think of any of this...
  12. The prince felt the tenseness of the slave as he curled up against him. He carefully wrapped the blanket around the elf and then slid his arms around him. He did not understand why the elf still seemed so frightened at first. It hit him though. He had been told by his father if the slave did not please him to simply punish it as he saw fit. Then they would send it back and purchase a new one. It was no big ordeal. It happened quite often. A sickened feeling rushed over him. He wondered when the last time the elf had slept easy was. Then he remembered being told by his father something else. That the slaves sleep did not matter. He was allowed to wake it up at anytime or keep it awake all night. He felt utter disgust and his grip tightened around the elf. He wondered when the last full goods night sleep had been for the elf.

    He felt an uncomfortableness between him and the elf which he had expect but was beginning to understand. He had too many thoughts to sleep and too much rage to rest. He questioned with authority in his voice but also an undertone of caring in a hushed whisper,"What is your name, young elf." Anyone could have seen or felt the rage and concern that danced in his green emerald eyes.
  13. He would feel a ripple of fear, almost an outward shudder, pulse along the elf's back and limbs as his arms tightened. If he dared to look into his master's beautiful eyes, it would not have comforted him. The darker emotions burning there were known to the elf far more than he wished, though he didn't know that his master's rage was not aimed at the little slave. Concern he knew nothing about, and didn't recognize, so he shrank into himself.

    "Kira….my master." he whispered, his voice musical in spite of being thin and tired. He didn't ask for the prince's name, of course, because it was not his business. The prince was just 'Master' to him, and always would be. The one thing that kept Kira from total fear of the human was that he hadn't struck him yet.

    If the prince knew anything about elves, he would have been even further saddened by the slave's aversion to being touched. Physical contact was like air and water to elves, and for it to have become closer to poison for this one showed how much his personality had been warped. To Kira, touches meant nothing now but being abused. Without tender, loving contact his powers had withered and warped, leaving him unable to sense friend from foe. He could not now feel the prince's genuine care, though perhaps somewhere in his heart and mind was still the chance for healing.
  14. The last word cut through him like a iron blade of the most hated foe and burned him within like a villaged of loved ones set blaze before his very eyes. He tried to loosen up but his muscles stayed tense in anger at what the world had done to this being in front if him. "My name is William." he managed to say calmly. "Please, call me William when no one else is around. In the presence of anyone, I am afraid Master will have to do." He sighed softly and the questions began to fly around his mind again. "Kira, when was the last time you slept easy and through a night?" he questioned aloud. His heart throbbed in pain for the creature.
  15. Please…. That was a word that no master ever said to a slave, ever. Even the hired help rarely merited a 'please'. Anyway, it was totally at odds with what the elf felt in his master's tense muscles, and the angry look on his face. What did the prince want? What kind of game was this? To ask the slave to call him by his first name in private, like pretending they had slept together…and yet, to be so full of rage the elfling could feel it sloughing out of every pore.

    The further questions into things no master should even care about just added to his mental imbalance. Kira had long ago ceased to trust anyone or anything, but it was deeply imbedded in his nature to want to trust. He had never, in his long career as a pleasure slave, been treated kindly, not even by other slaves and servants. They would have been punished severely for it, so that was hardly surprising. To be given even this little kindness from a master, whether false or not, was almost unbearable. He couldn't actually care…it wasn't possible…he shouldn't fall for it. If the prince was raising his hopes, only to dash them again and make them sink lower than ever, it was the cruelest act he had ever experienced. Kira almost wished the master would abuse him and get it over with.

    His think neck drooped, the white, feathery hair brushing against it as his head lowered almost against William's chest. There was as little contact as possible, but the prince would feel the brush of softness, before he heard anguished words escape the slave's throat.

    "Please….please, Master….I know…I know I am beneath you…" he choked for a moment, "Oh gods….is that not enough? I have nothing left. What do you….want from me? What do you wish to gain by… making me hope…? Use me….I can't feel…I don't care…. I will pleasure you in any way you desire, but please….don't make me hope."

    The words seemed to explode from him, as though years of abuse and sorrow only needed a small act of kindnesses to release everything. It was just a short spurt, and the slave didn't cry. He hadn't been able to for as long as he could remember, but his bony frame shook with the effort to stem the tide. It was just a momentary break in the wall, but in that instant, William would see a glimpse of the elf's true feelings and thoughts, which he had never before dared to speak, except to the darkness of his lonely cell at night. The moment he brought himself under control, Kira went still, as though realizing how far over the line he had stepped. He didn't dare move, not even to raise his head. No master was supposed to know what their slaves felt...

    (He'll start to warm up, little by little, no worries!)
  16. "Please….please, Master….I know…I know I am beneath you…" he choked for a moment, "Oh gods….is that not enough? I have nothing left. What do you….want from me? What do you wish to gain by… making me hope…? Use me….I can't feel…I don't care…. I will pleasure you in any way you desire, but please….don't make me hope."

    It broke through William's thick skull finally how his actions were really effecting the elf. He saw all the confusion and hurt pour out in every word. The words were water to his fiery anger as he saw how his emotions were confusing the elf. His muscles loosened and pulled the small elf into his stand muscular chest gently.

    "I will never do such things no matter who tells me to. I have been trained to do many things I do not find right or morally sound. I will follow one right now though and that is not take requests for someone who I was told was of lower value than me. I am not trying to make you hope. I do not care if you feel no hope. I do care what happens next to you. If you follow my orders, things will go my way. I am your master do you have a choice?" The words burned for a moment but he continued, "You do not know me and I not you, but I can tell you now that you do feel and care. You just showed me that. I know there is something left of you once were that will never come to light again most likely, but you may be able to be here and not be abused anymore if you just follow my word without hesitation. I wish you were not beneath me. One day you will not be if I can help it."
    The whole time he has spoke his hand gently rubbed and petted the back on the slaves head. He held the slave as close as he would let him and as lovingly as he would also. The prince had always had a lot of love for those around him no matter their position. He had even once fallen for a servant.He knew much of the world from that servant, their situation, and how it had been handled. He could not help but pity and concern himself over the creature in his arms.
  17. Kira listened to William speak, still confused, still unable to process what was being said, except in a general way. He memorized the words almost hungrily, but had to put them aside to go over them later, when he was alone and had time to think. Most of them made no sense to him whatsoever, in his current frame of mind. The one thing he did latch onto, though, was the directive to follow William's orders and he would not get hurt. That he could follow and understand. Maybe the rest would trickle into his mind and settle and become real, but for now, that was really all that made any sense to him. Follow orders and he would be spared. Yes….he could do that.

    In spite of his horror of being touched, Kira felt his body ease a little into William's arms, because now his world made a little more sense. Kindness he didn't understand, but orders were a different matter. If he ever came to crave William's touch, in truth, it would take some time. At least he wasn't being struck and slapped around for daring to speak what he felt. That was a novelty that still amazed the slave.

    "I will follow your orders, Mast….W….William." He hesitated over the name, feeling almost like his tongue would burn off just for saying it. But the prince had given him an order to use his name when in private, and if that kept abuse at bay, it would certainly be a first. At any rate, even if Kira had been teh type to argue, he wouldn't have any energy left for it at this point.

    Then, remembering that his master had asked him a question, he added, "I have not slept in three nights' time, M….William." It was a fact, not a plea for more pity.
  18. Shock rushed through him and anger again filled his vains. "This is your last order for the night. Sleep and then when you wake sleep some more." he said sternly. He hated giving commands in such a way but he finally understood it was the only language the elf now could understand. He remembered his young self running around the castle free of worry and doubt about life. He remembered passing flowers out to the help of the house making sure not to miss one. He remembered the one servant taking him to the library and showing him the books on flowers. He yawned and smiled softly. Those were always thought that would being him some happiness and ease. He would never replace them or misplace them. His eyes began to flutter close and his body relaxed against the elf's in a almost child like maner. He mumbled softly, "I wish you understood my actions. I just have someone to liv-." his words faded off into pure sounds of sleep.
  19. Kira obeyed as well as he could by closing his eyes and forcing his body to relax. However, he did not allow himself to let go until long after the prince had fallen into a deep sleep. Only then did his body finally, blissfully shut down, the total darkness and oblivion his only comfort. True understanding of all that had happened would have to come when he woke again; his exhausted body and mind simply could not process any more.

    The advantage to sleeping in his master's arms, when he could get no real comfort from them, was that he could sense the prince waking and not be caught sleeping himself. There had been more than one point during teh night when William moved enough in his sleep to wake the elfling, but Kira was surprised when morning came that he woke feeling somewhat rested. Even somewhat was more than he was used to. As he felt the prince start to wake, his mind went into full consciousness, though he pretended to still be asleep. William seemed to want him to continue to sleep, and Kira obeyed that command as much as he could.

    Yet, from under his dark lashes, he watched the prince warily. The events of last night were still crowding around in his head, and he was still mostly confused. Kira turned William's words over and over again in his head, considering them, trying to understand the meaning. William's whole way of thinking, if real, was so wholly new to him that he had to spend a long time just trying to come to grips with it. Yet, the slave was not so damaged in the mind that he did not start to think, perhaps, William was truly different from his former masters. The only thing Kira could think of to try and confirm this was through close observation. The slave even wondered what his master had been about to say before he fell asleep. The broken sentence almost felt like a missing link to understanding William's mind. He still didn't trust, but William had gotten through where few others could. Kira was at least wanting to believe things could be better.
  20. William did not sleep peacefully through the night though it would have appeared so to most. He only occasionally squirmed in his sleep from discomfort. His mind was full of all the bad things that could happen to that one servant. It was not a rare nightmare for him. When he awoke, he tried his best to hide his slightly labored breath and still weary eyes.

    His mind then began to swirl with more questions for the going elf. He smiled softly thinking the elf was still asleep. He softly ran his fingered through his hair and whispered really to himself, "No one as beautiful as you should ever have to cry or worry. I cannot stand for it." His fingers gently danced through the elf's hair a little longer. He was happy the elf had been able to sleep,but he wanted to wake him to talk for hours to him about life and what had happened to him. He did not know why but he was somehow drawn to him. At first, he thought it was because he is am elf, but he had met elves before. They had never had such an effect on him. He watched the elf silently waiting to be called to breakfast or brought it.
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