The following is part one of a long, epic series of slavery and choices. It contains viewpoints of characters that are morally wrong and do not reflect my personal beliefs. I hope you can recognize the difference between a fictional story and real life and I do hope you enjoy.
-OOO-
**Chapter 1: Whatever Happened to Lady Jade?**
The Sultan leaned back in his ornate armchair, stroking his freshly shaven chin. The only light, save for a dim orange glow emanating from the ornate wall sconces, came from a large mounted television screen on the opposite side of his desk. He rested comfortably against the plush fabric, watching the images tick by. Every ten seconds a new image flashed by, presenting the wares of the merchants he had long ago allied himself with.
On the whole he felt that the offerings this time were poor. The woman on the screen was pretty enough, he conceded. She was, in fact, quite beautiful. The camera had captured the terror in her blue eyes quite well, so that he could make out the extra moisture behind them that gave away either the stopping or starting of tears. But as he read her profile, the Sultan was thoroughly unimpressed. *A preschool teacher? She ought to have been satisfied by the children her husband gave her. If she even bothered with a husband…*
Women these days were given far too much freedom to make their poor choices. It was one of the reasons why he had expanded the harem so vastly in recent years. Strong and hale he might be but the truth of it was that his best years were now behind him and the time he had left on this side of the veil was less than the time he had already accrued. How the world had gone to shambles! It vexed him endlessly that he had such little time to complete his work. This woman, this soon to be slave, should never have been allowed a career, let alone a position molding the impressionable minds of young ones.
There was no respect left in the world. Not since humanity had lost its collective balls half a century or more back. When he had been a lad, a woman did not dare usurp the natural role of a man. She recognized her husband as her superior and did as she was bid. But even as he had grown to adulthood, the man who would one day become His Potency could see the changing of the tide and the doom it wrought upon the human race. The screen flashed again, revealing a woman with a complexion to match his own; a smooth teak that no doubt burnished like freshly smelt bronze in the light of the sun’s rays. Her features were refined and proud, her sharp brown eyes a mask of defiance rather than defeat.
His manhood stirred. Such a woman simply called out to be tamed. One word from Mehmed and the woman would be tranquilized and on her way to him before the day was out. But as he read her profile, his eyes narrowed. *A shopkeeper? Really?* Even in her misguided defiance of her natural role the woman was too weak to have aimed as high as her ambition indicated. *Probably cowed by a relative*, he thought as he read her place of origin. At least in some small parts of the world the men hadn’t become complete eunuchs. The Sultan sighed. This was the last offering. He would not be obtaining a new property today. He resolved to have words with the men in charge of the operation. Their scouting had grown quite lackluster of late.
With an irritated flick of his wrist, he closed out of the secure torrent he had been watching instead returned to YouTube. His partnership with the Tears of Midnight organization had been intended to cut down on costs. It was much less expensive to simply buy one’s merchandise from the dealer than to send men into the field to bring one in themselves. At this point, however, it seemed that such a costly venture might have become necessary again, for the first time in a great many years. As it happened, there was one particular piece of merchandise His Excellency had had his eye on for some time.
“Come,” he said in a voice that was somehow quiet as snowfall and as commanding as a whip.
At once, a woman who had been dancing directly underneath the large mounted screen the Sultan had been staring at straightened herself and walked primly to stand before the desk of her master. She was 24 years old with brown colored hair streaked with lines of gold. Her skin glowed with the faint traces of a tan; like someone who browned easily despite being of a naturally lighter complexion. Hazel eyes looked straight ahead, careful to ignore the face of the man behind the desk. She was naked and, save for the strong metal collar fastened about her neck she wore no adornments. A chain hung between her breasts, dangling just above her pubis.
“You summoned me, Most Excellent One?”
Her voice was even and cool, carefully inflected to project her education.
The Sultan smiled at her, though no mirth reached his calculating eyes. “My merchants continue disappointing me,” he said calmly. “What am I to do about it, I wonder?”
The woman did not look while she was being addressed, nor did she dare to give a direct answer to his question. “I would not know, Holiness. Such matters are beyond the functions of my station.”
He continued smiling, admiring his work. “Indeed they are. A wise answer. And yet, I have asked you for your opinion. Give it.”
The command was simple and direct. She dare not ignore it.
“Perhaps Your Grace could find new merchants?” she suggested.
“I could. But my partnership with Tears of Midnight stretches back longer than you have been alive. Such bridges are not burned easily.”
The woman was silent.
“You may speak,” said the Sultan, somehow making even such an innocuous expression an authoritative command.
“Perhaps it is a sign, Magnificence.”
The Sultan was intrigued. “A sign?”
“You have acquired many properties over the years. You have accomplished much work in recent years alone. Perhaps it is a sign that your work is done.”
He greeted her words with silence, his shrewd eyes examining her face for the smallest betrayal of her true emotions. He knew each one of his women. He knew them better than they knew themselves. He could always tell when they thought about him uncharitably. He did not need words. The weakness of their nature always told.
“I see…You think my work is done, do you? Perhaps you feel my years are catching up to me? Maybe you hope that I have completed my work?”
For the first time, fear presented itself in the woman’s eyes, although she still did not make eye contact.
“You will live on forever, my lord,” she said quickly with the bite of fear. “You taught me…you taught me to observe the signs. I only wish to better comprehend what you have taught me.”
*And there it is.*
“You were a lawyer, were you not?”
The girl grew stiff. Her anxiety was palpable. Her formerly magnificent poise began to unravel as her knees began to tremble.
“Look at me,” he commanded. The nude woman turned her blue eyes on her master for the first time, silently pleading for something she could not vocalize. “I asked you a question. You were a lawyer, were you not?”
“Yes,” she whispered after a pause.
“What is your name?”
“Sweet Canal,” she answered immediately.
“Come to the other side of the desk and kneel.”
Sweet Canal obeyed without hesitation, marching to the opposite end of the heavy mahogany desk and kneeling before her owner. Her leash made a faint jingling sound as she moved and it curled up on the floor. She lowered her eyes to the floor, knowing that her position had changed and permission to meet his eyes had not come with it. The Sultan reached a brown, gnarled hand down and lifted her leash, fingering it gently. “Look at me,” he directed.
Sweet Canal lifted her eyes and looked directly into the face of the man who had all of their lives in the palm of his ancient hand. “What was your name?” he asked her softly.
“Sweet Canal,” she answered dutifully.
“No, girl. What *was* your name? Your birth name.”
The woman’s eyes widened. Her heart began to hammer in chest like a galloping mare. Her skin prickled into gooseflesh despite warmth. “Master?” she asked with a frightened timbre.
“I believe you understood the question.”
There was a long pause where nothing was said, until at last Sweet Canal whispered a word she had neither spoken nor heard in four years. “Molly,” she said in a barely audible whisper.
“That’s it,” the Sultan said softly. He ran his fingers through her hair gently, observing her face carefully. He was dressed in a long tunic of white and gold that was trimmed with crimson fabric about the hem and fringes. It was tied at the middle with a red sash that his old fingers began to undo.
“Do you remember what it was like out there before you came to me? Do you remember your life before?”
Molly -no, Sweet Canal- was trembling. “It was a false life,” she said quickly. “Nothing but lies. I know better…You taught me.”
“And you have been a good student,” said the Sultan menacingly. “But that was not my question. Do not play stupid, girl.” He gave the chain a small tug. “Answer the question you were asked.”
Sweet Canal flinched as her leash was pulled. “I remember,” she whispered.
“Of course you do. You remember your mother and your sister, don’t you? And your friends? Who can forget good friends, after all.”
Sweet Canal didn’t understand why he was doing this. She was a good girl. She was good! She had never given him any cause to complain about her devotion…
“My mother…” She couldn’t bear it. She had tried for so long to forget. “Please,” she said, her voice breaking, “my mother-”
“Is a whore who filled your head with lies,” said the Sultan sharply. Molly flinched. “I am the only family you need; I and the rest of your sisters.”
Sweet Canal nodded even through the tears that filled her eyes, threatening to fall. “Yes, my lord. Only you. I only desire you.”
The Sultan opened the sash and parted the fabric of his tunic, which had been cut at the pelvis to open side to side. He was nude underneath.
“I grow tired of hearing you talk. Make your lips more useful.”
At once, Sweet Canal bent her head and caught his member, only the slightest bit hard, between her lips and dutifully began to suckle. As the Sultan gave himself over to the pleasures of his flesh, he watched the monitor greedily, his eyes absorbed in the young, prancing form of his latest obsession. His cock currently being sucked by a slave he had so easily reminded of her place, he felt high on his own ambition. It was time he aimed higher than the sky; it was time he aimed for the stars.
America’s Internet darling would never know what hit her. He vaguely wondered how the children would react to the loss of Lady Jade as he filled his property’s mouth with seed.
-OOO-
Jade Sterling was, to put it mildly, America’s darling.
At the age of 12 she had founded a YouTube channel to showcase her talents, mostly in the realm of song and dance. An obviously pretty starlette, by the time she had entered her teens she had accrued over half a million followers. As she entered her senior year she boasted over three million. Now, at 18 and with high school a thing of the past, she was closing in on four million. Jade had managed to transpose Internet fame with actual fame, in no small part due to her obvious musical talents.
For many, it felt like they had watched a star in the making grow up as nearly every day she invited her subscribers into her life and sang for them, danced for them, talked to them, and laughed with them. Millions of young people felt they had grown up with her and related to Lady Jade as a peer and companion. And some still, far more than Jade herself would believe if she ever was told, had…discovered themselves…while watching her. For Jade Sterling, the lovable Lady Jade, was unquestionably beautiful.
Jade had somehow hit the genetic lottery, appealing to those who longed for more wholesome beauty and those who sought raw sex appeal in equal measure. She was multiracial, her appearance evidently a blend of the best of many worlds. Her face was angular with a narrow nose and high cheekbones, products of her white father’s Germanic heritage. Her mother, meanwhile, had passed on Jade’s trademark curls that were as black as onyx, skin the color of lightly creamed coffee, and a soft, curvy physique that caught the eye of everyone who looked at her.
She worked out three times a week as did many of her health conscious generation. She might never attain the rock solid abs of some of her peers, but then again, Jade wasn’t really seeking that image. She enjoyed the softness of her femininity, simply wanting to be fit and healthy. Perhaps the only part of her body she was dissatisfied with, or at the very least self-conscious of, was her butt, which she thought was just a shade too big. But perhaps the most startling of her features was a pair of vivid green eyes; so rare for someone of her complexion. Somehow the rarest eye color in the world had manifested itself in a girl of mixed European, African, Hispanic, and Native American descent. It was no wonder so many people had fallen in love with her. Just looking at her was an experience in itself. Her graciousness when praised endeared her even to older folks and few could deny her talent.
Lady Jade made a name for herself as something of a musical polyglot. She sang with a rich, soulful voice that some commentators remarked was like taking a step back in time some five decades to the heyday of Soul. Yet she also rapped with a lyrical flow that exuded confidence and charisma. And *yet*, she enjoyed singing classic rock songs not just in English, but in a number of dead classical languages, giving her appeal to many who might never have been exposed to her otherwise. She was the kind of girl people either loved or envied with no middle ground.
She was also currently missing, with the whole wide world of Internet sleuthdom on the hunt for the missing starlette.
Sadly, for Jade, no one was looking for a private jet chartered by the Sultan of a reclusive, yet powerful island in the Persian Gulf. Unconscious and dead to the world, she flew over the homes of thousands of people who listened to troubling news reports, many of which bore the headline: Whatever Happened to Lady Jade?
Many hours later, after several rounds of drugs designed to keep her sleeping, Jade finally awoke with a headache that threatened to blind her and a roiling wave of nausea. She groaned in agonized discomfort as someone hurriedly approached her.
“She is awake!” said a female voice urgently.
“About time. I thought she was dead.”
“You knew perfectly well she was not dead. Help me with her.”
Jade groaned some more, unwilling to open her eyes. She felt soft hands touching her and lifting her up gently.
“Be careful with her. If we move her too quickly she will get sick.”
“I know, I know. Calm your tits.”
Both of the voices seemed accented, though at this point Jade still hadn’t opened her eyes to see her surroundings. Neither voice seemed to have the same sort of accent though.
“Hey. Hey there. Are you alright?” Soft hands touched her cheek as a woman with what sounded like a British accent called her up from the depths of the hellish twilight she was in. “Can you open your eyes? Speak to me.”
Jade tried to open her eyes but saw only a bleary haze. “Wh…Wherm’I..” she slurred.
“You are safe,” said the British voice. “You are with friends.”
Friends? Jade didn’t understand. She felt like she was going to be sick. Her vision was clearing up but things were still hazy and the room was spinning. “Wha happened?” she asked blearily.
“Just sit still and try to keep your eyes open. Your vision should clear up soon.”
“They really dosed the hell out of her,” said the other voice. “I guess the rumors are true. Tears of Midnight are on the outs.”
“Yes, that’s all very interesting,” said the first voice impatiently, “But it is not particularly vital to our task right now, is it? You know what? You are not helping. Go find Slut Puppy.”
Slut Puppy? What the hell were they talking about?
At last, Jade could finally see the woman kneeling in front of her. She was very beautiful with bright blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. She also happened to be utterly naked.
“What the hell?” Jade asked in confusion.
“Relax,” said the woman. “You will be alright. You have been given some very powerful sleeping drugs, probably more than once. Your accent is North American so I would guess you have come far. You will feel ill for a bit but I assure you, no harm will come to you…”
Jade went into a panic, her already queasy stomach threatening to spill its contents. “Sleeping drugs? What do you mean? Where…Who are you? Where am I? What’s happening?!”
The British woman sighed, an unhappy look on her face. “That is…going to be difficult to explain. I will answer your questions, but first I need you to take a deep breath and calm down. If you panic you will increase the likelihood of getting sick. Aside from being disgusting it will be extremely unpleasant for you. Please, take a deep breath and steady yourself. I will not let any harm come to you.”
Jade felt the roiling of her stomach and her head swam nauseatingly. She felt like she was falling but the other woman held onto her. Slowly, she tried taking a deep breath.
“Good girl. Good girl. It will be alright. I will answer as many questions as I can.”
As Jade felt her body begin to reorient itself with being awake, she suddenly became aware of one particularly alarming fact: She too was utterly naked.
She shrieked in alarm, nearly toppling over in the process. The other woman sighed and internally cursed being the only one with her at the moment.
“I know this is all very strange and shocking to you. I promise, it will be okay and I have answers to all your questions. But you must calm down! I cannot help you if you do not remain calm.”
“I am *naked*!” Jade screamed. “Who the hell are you and what do you want with me?” She wrapped her right arm protectively around her breasts and positioned her left hand to cover her privates.
“I know you are naked,” said the other woman. “So am I.” She spread out her arms wide for Jade to see. For the first time, Jade noted the metal collar and leash the woman wore and her confusion and fear became even more pronounced. What kind of sick place was this?
“You are American? Just nod or shake your head, please.”
Jade nodded but quickly stopped as it made her feel sick.
“You are on an island in the middle of the Persian Gulf. It is situated roughly between Iran and Saudi Arabia. You may have heard of the nation of Tabalu? It is owned and controlled by a very powerful man called the Sultan. You were kidnapped and brought here to serve the Sultan.”
Jade’s beautiful green eyes were wide as saucers. She was dreaming. She had to be. This was just a silly nightmare. There was no way this was real…
“What I am trying to say is-”
“What she is trying to say is that you are a sex slave,” another voice cut in.
Two women approached them. Both were just as naked as they were and both wore identical collars and chains made of solid black metal. One was relatively short and appeared to possibly be of Hispanic descent. The other was tall and pale with dark hair and a haughty expression. Both were undeniably attractive women.
But Jade only fixated on one thing. *Sex Slave.*
With a sudden lurch, Jade doubled over and vomited onto a glossy tiled floor.
“You have all the grace of a wet dog,” the blonde British woman said disdainfully.
“I speak only the truth as you know, my dear Shaft Swallower. Have you told her your name yet?”
She glared at the newcomer. “I am trying to keep her from doing exactly this. I have not yet made formal introductions.”
Jade wretched empty air as she felt her entire body enter into a panic. *It’s only a nightmare, it’s only a nightmare…*
The three chained women talked and argued among themselves as Jade got to her hands and knees weakly. She struggled to her feet and looked around at where she was for the first time and felt her stomach drop.
She was surrounded by rustic opulence. The walls and floors were covered with tile painted mosaics in a style that would have been at home in a Roman bath. The scenes depicted naked women engaged in a wide variety of sex acts with what looked to be one recurring man. The room was cavernous and spacious, stretching deep into corners and alcoves Jade couldn’t make out. It was warm and humid and smelled quite good; like many different kinds of soaps and lotions all rolled into one. As she turned, she saw a wide pool of water with steam coming up from its surface.
As she gazed at her surroundings and at the three nude women who occupied it, she was struck with the realization that she was standing naked in what was quite obviously a harem bath house like something out of a history book.
“Yes, take a look around, brown girl,” said a thickly accented woman. “This is your new home.” With a broad, predatory smile she placed a hand on her shapely naked hip. “Welcome to the harem.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/qr6za5/cinnamon_pillows_part_1_mf_noncon
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