A Fine Predicament (Retro/Tryste)

There was more laughter from the other three in sight at this treatment of her, though they quickly enough got back to their own discussions or book, respectively, as the spanking started to run it's course. By the end, only Michael was paying attention to her, and narrowed his eyes at how quickly stubborn fighting became meek submission. Odd.

His hand continued to lightly rub her ass, intending to take some of the sting out, though he might well be unintentionally making things worse for her as he spoke. "Better that you learn this now than later. Now, are you going to be decent or do I need to start up again?" He was willing to, though he didn't think it strictly necessary. Nor, however, did he think this would be the only time she would require a reminder of her new place in the world. Most new girls did at least three times before it really sank in.

He did not bother to sit her back up from where she was laying across his saddle. No, it was most apparent that she was going to ride into Karak Dorn just as she was...bound like a pig for market and with bright red ass up in the air for all to see, a further reminder of her new station in life. She would no doubt see other pledges that were basically treated as freedmen and women, most especially those with a skill beyond being moderately strong for their gender and knowing how to do basic farm chores. There would also be those, like her, who needed first to learn a bit of humility before they could be proper citizens.

The rubbing of her bottom only made the dull throb between her legs that much worse and a soft whimper was her first response to it. She did not want it again but not for the reasons he likely thought. This new sort of arousal was frankly terrifying. What sort of person, promptly after loosing their father, responded to humiliation in that way?! Furious with herself, she choked on her tears.

"No," she replied. "You don't need to start up again."

She was also very angry at him for making her body react that way. He was a disgusting sort of man and, not only that, he had destroyed a sweater that had belonged to her mother. One that she desperately loved and now would never have again. If she could shoot daggers at him, she would have, and she was grateful no one was looking at her. The expression on her face likely would have earned her another bought of punishment.

The rope on her wrists and ankles rubbed against her skin every time the horse hit a patch of uneven road. She gritted her teeth. Clearly he was not going to let her go from the bindings. After the sting went away, she noticed the twinge between her shoulder blades from her arms being pulled back.

Bruises formed on her back where his armored knee had pressed as well.

"If I cannot be freed, can I be covered?" she asked meekly. It was bad enough that the men in his group had to see her completely naked and had laughed at her but she would die if a whole city did. She also feared that someone would noticed the beads of feminine juice that had slipped down her thighs. The wet spot beneath her was cooling and becoming very noticeable to her.

"Good. I knew you'd see sense." He murmured, when he heard her first response. Likely, she would have gotten another spanking had he seen her face, though for her sake he pretended not to see her expression. So quickly he had turned from hero to villain...well, he was used to that kind of turnaround, though most pledges were more thankful. It appeared that for someone post-change she had lived a bit of a sheltered life...tucked back far enough in the woods to avoid most of the fighting, with good crops and steady rains so they didn't go really hungry the way he had. For a second, he envied her, till he caught himself. He was happy enough where he was, it was true, but the road had been anything but a straight one.

Her second question brought his eyes back down on her with a snort. "No, I think it best that you spend some time learning that there are consequences to speaking out against me. You'll get new clothes once I can have a proper pledge dress made for you." Pledges were required, by law, to wear a red stripe somewhere on their clothing, as a way of identifying themselves, in addition to being tattooed on the underside of their left arm, stating the date in which their pledge started. Anyone found within the seven years that was not wearing a stripe was publicly strapped as a reminder to the rest. Again, this was a way of ensuring that so long as the number of pledges remained reasonable there was no chance of them overthrowing the citizens proper, especially when forbidden weapons and armor.

His hand patted her thigh, as if to calm her, as he spoke. "Don't worry though...nudity does not share the same taboo in Karak Dorn as it did before the change. You'll not be..." He never finished, for even as he was speaking he felt that wet spot against his palm. Slowly, he drew it back, considering the wet spot on his palm and on his saddle. With a wry smirk, he shot a look down toward her. "It seems I'll have to find another way to punish you, doesn't it?"

Inwardly she fumed at his denial of coverage. Spanking hadn't been enough for someone like him, nor had her having to be objected to the laughter of his men. It was horrible how fast someone could turn from savior to tormentor. If life was going to continuously be like this, then what was the point of saving her from being devoured by the Eaters? Seven years of Hell hardly seemed worth it from that point.

All of her muscles tensed when his hand came across her thighs and there was a pause in his speech. Oh no! Her entire face turned the same shade of red as he had spanked her bottom. He had found the wetness there. She turned her head in time to see the wry smile and her terror was confirmed before he even made the smarmy comment about her punishments.

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about," she muttered beneath her breath. "The spanking hurt a lot."

That wasn't a lie. It had hurt her and done the thing he had intended for it to do. It just had a mortifying side effect which was worse to go through than the actual spanking. This sort of thing had always confused her; being turned on just didn't happen much for her.

Quickly she changed the subject. "Are we almost to the city?"

He snorted, amused, at her comment. Yes, this one was going to be a fun one to tease, once she got over being quite so short in her responses to him and learned to tease back a bit. In the mean time, he kept quiet until her second question came. "No, we have another two or three hours of riding till we reach the city proper, though we should start coming to the outlying fields within an hour or two."

The city of Karak Dorn extended to cover quite nearly what had been an entire county at one point...Some hundred and fifty square miles of land, most of it intensely cultivated to produce the food required for the burgeoning population, which was estimated to be close to fifty thousand people. Land was cheap, and available for all citizens, with raw land selling for less than a silver rose per acre, while cleared and farmable land went for much more....as much as five silver roses per acre, though even at that price many families owned small plots near to the main city for truck gardens, and it was not out of the question for new farmers to get a start pretty quickly. The soldiers of the city patrolled the outlying districts, but the city saw the value in having the land intensely cultivated....when people's livelihoods rested in a plot of land, they were far more likely to notice when strangers were around, and they could be dealt with.

What kept Karak Dorn together was a series of heliographs that relayed messages from one end of the land to the other....towers perhaps thirty five feet tall with a two man team in each one, just barely within sight of one another. During the day, they used a mirror to reflect signals much like old fashioned Morse code to the other towers. At night, they used a shuttered carbide lamp to much the same effect. They had the advantage of being far faster than any rider could hope to be, as well as more accurate. Thus far, they had turned back a half dozen major incursions, allowing the armies of Karak Dorn time to mobilize and strike out to attack any incoming force while giving them a fair idea of where the armies were thanks to the redundancy in the system that kept messages coming through.

Not that she'd learn about that for a while. For now, he merely patted her ass with a wry chuckle, murmuring. "Don't worry. You're not the first girl who's enjoyed my attentions, girl. You'll learn to stop fighting it soon enough."

Three more hours until they reached the city. Inwardly she groaned. Not only was she to be naked that entire time and painfully strewn up, but she also had to endure him knowing about the wetness between her legs. That was the worst possible thing he could have caught on to and it shamed her like nothing else had.

A sharp intake of breath was taken. He intended to use her body and he thought it was amusing that she objected to the idea. That seemed cruel to her. How many girls had been like her that he had taken advantage of? Girls that had their families destroyed and were preyed upon by that man.

"I don't think I ever will enjoy that," she said solemnly. "You really wouldn't force those sorts of attentions on me, would you?"

Even if her body responded that way to the punishment, she was terrified of the thought of sex. Things of that nature only crossed her mind when she was laying in her bed at night, unable to sleep.

"You can't even loosen this binds? My shoulders are really starting to hurt and I've learned my lesson." She cut in, changing the subject before he could answer.

"You had best get used to being bound. From the way you are acting, I'm wagering it'll be far more common for you to be bound than not, at least for a while." Strictly speaking, pledges weren't slaves. Very strictly speaking. But they came so close to that as to not matter in the eyes of the law of the new city. Once she had agreed, it wasn't something she could back out of easily. Well, there was one way to quiet her down, he supposed.

He spoke once more, after a moment's delay. "Don't worry. I'm sure that you will come to like my service...eventually." Even as he was saying this his hand stroked along the back of her leg and her ass, before slipping between her thighs, eased by the slickness he had already found there. His fingertips teased over her in an almost idle gesture, as if he only half realized what he was doing, though he knew well...and intended to feel her squirm on the saddle ere long.

Yes, he was a master of using the stick for punishment. Now to dangle the carrot before her to see if she took to it better.

Three hours bound like that was going to be painful and she gave a shuddering sigh when he told her she best get used to this treatment. What was the point of being saved from the fate that her father had met if being abused for seven years was the alternative. In that moment she was consumed with the want to join her parents; fueled by an inward remorse. No one wanted to actually help her.

"Stop!" she shrilly exclaimed as his fingers found their way between her legs, the sudden touch taking her out of her self pity. The stroking caused a shudder to go through her body. More shame filled her and she tried to squirm away from the new sensation his stroking caused. "Stop it, please!"

The stroking caused more wetness to form. It seemed that her body was very, very responsive to the stimulation. A strained whine of pleasure managed to make it past her clenched teeth. Heavy breaths were taken. Oh, God, hopefully his men couldn't hear her. If they could, hopefully they wouldn't care!

"See? You're going to grow to love this, eventually." He murmured, with a smirk, as his fingers continued their work. Well well..she was certainly responsive enough! He'd have to have her waxed when they returned to the city proper, though. He leaned forward over her, his other hand tangling in her hair to draw her head back, allowing the horse to follow the others in a natural herding instinct...one of the advantages to riding a beast instead of driving a vehicle. Even as her head drew further back, his lips pressed against her ear so he could murmur into her ear. "Once you learn to obey, you will enjoy this...that I promise you."

He released her hair, and retrieved the reins, his fingertips continuing to stroke and tease her lower lips, shocked by how wet she already was, as well as how much she was continuing to grow wetter. She was going to be a hot one, when she finally gave in to the attentions he was giving her!

This wasn't entirely unknown. The pledge system had it's uses, and compared to the rest of the known world post change was even relatively benign, but in the other cities oftentimes the only way a young woman could get a place in the cities was to turn to the oldest profession....sometimes against their will. The old techniques of the slave trade had become resurrected, aided by modern thought and analytical methods. Even without electricity, methods of breaking women and men to work had been all but perfected within the last three years. He'd not use the more advanced methods, surely, but a few basic tricks of psychology would not be a bad thing...if only to make her more content in her life.

She shuddered as he grasped her hair and pulled her up by it. Pale blue eyes rimmed with tears as he pressed his mouth against her ear. His whispered words sent a strange tremor through her body and her nipples instantly perked again. Esme hated herself fully for how she was reacting. Everything he did earned a pleasure response from her and it only intensified with the rougher he became. Perhaps it was her way of accepting what happened to her. Was she really going to submit so easily to his whims? He let her go and she flopped back over, whimpering.

The more he stroked, the louder she became, especially when he hit a small nub that seemed to explode with delicious sensation every time it was touched. Her gasps and whimpers turned into long moans and she thrashed about on the saddle. Loudly she begged for him to stop, practically screaming the request until her whole body went rigid. Her eyes clamped shut and juices trickled freely down her leg, ending with a loud wail of pleasure.

"Shit.." she managed to say as she trembled on the saddle. Her whole body felt as if it were alight. She burned with further embarrassment. Whatever happened to her would have been amazing under the right circumstances. Now she felt terribly dirty and on display.

Her wails got some attention. Squints was leering over his shoulder toward her, and even Nutcracker looked up from his book in surprise, but it was only Deuce who spoke. "If you're ever going to sell her contract, let me know Michael." Everyone within earshot burst into laughter, Michael included. His hand patted her ass possessively, shaking his head before replying.

"I think not. She's going to be a fine one, once this resistance comes down. Aren't you girl?" He murmured, looking down to her with a wink before chuckling and turning his head back toward the road. They were fairly safe now, with the forest giving way to scattered fields and herds of livestock that were growing more and more common as they went.

One thing was for sure...she was never escaping now.

How desperately she wanted to shoot a comment back at Deuce! Being made to squeal like a pig was not gratifying, it was demeaning. She hung her head and began to cry again as they laughed. Certainly not all pledges were brought in for sexual purposes. Why was she being made into one? A bit of denial trickled into her thought process just then. This was not to be sexual. This was simply a way of showing her humility.

"Good enough to ensure that this doesn't happen again," she replied back meekly. Her mouth was going to get the better of her but, at least for now, she was submitting a little bit. Enough to get him off of her back, she thought.

She picked up her head once too much blood had rushed to it and she looked around. The settlements and fields that rested outside of the city were quaint and cozy. If life had treated her better she may have found herself there in a few months instead strapped to the back of a crazy man's horse. The rest of the ride to the city proper she was silent and only made noise when the pain in her shoulders intensified. She wriggled her hands around to try and alleviate the strain but it did no good.

"Good. Glad to see that we understand one another." It would take more to make him happy later on, but for now, that was enough. He'd even give her a bit of mercy in drawing her up to sit just before him, facing away on the saddle, though she'd lay back face down once they got closer to the city.

Squints was the first one to spot the towering citadel in the distance, raising his hand and pointing with a grin. "And there it is...Karak Dorn."

The entire city was ringed by fields out to a couple of miles distance, both for ease of farmers living inside the city to get to their fields as well as a protective measure...no men could approach close to the city in large numbers without being spotted. There were farmers working in the fields, some in plain brown homespuns, some with red slashes across their chests and some without. There appeared to be a roughly equal number of men and women working, though the jobs they were doing were largely different...men were doing the heavier work like hoeing the ground while women were in among the vegetables with small weeders eliminating competition to the rapidly growing food for the city. Most looked up at the sight, some men's views lingering longer than others, though on the whole they didn't attract too much curiosity.

The city itself was far more compact than most of what the 21st century would remember as normal. When motor cars are not common and people needed to stay close in order to stay protected, the city by it's very nature built up rather than out. Of course, there were also other reasons...most of which could be summed up by the curtain wall that surrounded the city. Fully thirty feet high and ten feet thick, it encircled nearly a half-mile of land with concrete re-enforced with rebar, the exterior surface smooth as a plate of glass to give no one a means to climb the wall. Every two hundred feet there was a tower heading skyward for another twenty feet that extended slightly past the wall itself, studded with arrow slits that would allow them to fire down on any enemies at the base of the wall as well as giving anyone actually on the wall hell if they were an enemy.

What she saw was the first of three walls, each one built progressively ten feet higher than the one before, remnants of the time when the city was smaller than it's present sprawl. The gates for the walls were built on opposite sides of the cities, and many of the homes had been built so they could double as fortifications if need be, forming 'mini-walls' within the city to slow attackers further. In short, failing gunpowder Karak Dorn was not able to be taken by any means less than outnumbering their forces ten to one. Other cities were not so militaristic, but that was their own fault. Many of them had paid for their pride, as well, as the red armored men of the Legion swept over small city after small city, incorporating their land and killing those people that did not pledge to the city.

"Here we are, Esme. Your new home."

Emse me was allotted some comfort after that small show of submission. While he hadn't unbound her, he had sat her up. Her hands throbbed with the blood that the previous position had partially cut off and she flexed her fingers again, wincing. At least she could see past the hooves of Michael's horse without straining her neck. Being naked wasn't so bothersome either, now she had something other than her humiliation and misery to focus on. When Squints announced that the city was in sight she only got to see a proper view of the many tiered walls and the Spartan appearance of the city before she was draped back over his saddle; a proud trophy for his efforts fighting against a vicious swarm of Eaters. She sighed when she thought of it in that manner.

Maybe she was just a trophy after all. She imagined that whoever took in pledges had to be well off themselves. A pledge could easily be a status symbol amongst the most powerful men and women in the. An image came to her head of them being lead around the city with bejeweled leashes, ridiculous makeup, and teased out hair with numerous ribbons in it like the poodles in dog shows she used to watch. Although she knew that they had to learn a skill, she could not help but snicker at the images that danced around in her mind of pampered human pets.

"My new home is very intimidating," she replied to him honestly, all of the humor draining from her voice. It was difficult to call a place so millenarian home. It appeared cold and lacked personality; there was hardly any character to it. Almost everything looked the same from that distance and she felt uneasy about it all. "It is more... homey inside the walls, isn't it?"

He had to chuckle at her assessment of the place. The city had, indeed, been built from the ground up to be a military base, and with good reason. In the first two years since Karak Dorn had been founded, it had been attacked a half-dozen times, though it had never fallen. It also allowed the city founders to send out more patrols than they would otherwise, without fear of the city falling while they were away. All the same, he had to agree with her. From the outside, it did in fact look very militaristic. However, not all was as it seemed.

"Wait until you see the inside. Most of the people within the second and third ring take great pride in how their little slice appears, and sometimes their efforts hurts the eyes, I will admit. Still, I think you will appreciate it. Only the center ring is kept very rigid...perhaps out of some remembrance of how the city was founded, and what was important then."

He gave her ass another reassuring pat as they started to approach the walls. "Not to worry, though. You need never worry about eaters or their ilk ever again....that's what we soldiers are here for." He winked down to her before turning toward the gate, which they were rapidly approaching. He lifted up his hands to remove his helmet, resting it on the small of her back as he called out toward the guard at the gate. "Karl? Is that you?"

From the grin the other man gave him he was, indeed, Karl. Michael was certainly recognized. "Aye, Skywalker. Back from another rangin' then? I hope this one's a bit more behaved than the one Squinty there brought home from his last time." The five men of the patrol joined in on the genial laughter, though not without squints blushing nearly as red as his armor. The story had gotten around pretty quickly that he was horsewhipped. "Come in, the gates are open, and there's no sign of any force on the horizon. I believe the Maester wants to see you, though."

Michael nodded back to him. "He does, hmm? Well, I suppose that comes with being a founder that's all together too unreserved for the dear Maester's taste. I'll get to him when I get to him." His eyes turned toward the four men around him with a mute nod of thanks. "Ya'll are free to go. Dismissed." He snapped a salute to them, got one from each in return, and then started to ride within the city.

Karak Dorn within the walls was far more elaborate than without...the houses closest to the wall were all slices of a pie, with their back walls backed up against the wall itself, and their roofs flat to let men walk atop them to help defend the wall. They were also the lowest houses at three stories. Most of the others were four stories tall, with one or two towers jumping up to five or six stories tall. Most of the walls were brightly painted, and on many of the houses the awning also doubled as a storefront, with families renting multiple stories of the same building, using the lowest as a shop. In the wider sections of the streets, there were tent-like canvas structures that evidently served as places for merchants to sell their wares, with colorful men wearing equally colorful men crying out that theirs was the best, the cheapest, and most certainly better than that charlatan's things across the street!

"Ah...the merchant's quarter. And it seems we have a real festival atmosphere today, doesn't it Esme?" He spoke, never taking his hand off of her ass to hold her in place.

When they passed the guard she desperately wanted to call out for help; to scream and wail and make a ruckus about how Michael had taken advantage of her. As soon as she opened her mouth, however, she was cut off by the laughter of the men. The sound was enough to remind her about how brutal such people were and how embarrassed she would be if that chortling was turned around on her. She screwed her lips tightly together.

Though she was intrigued. Who was the Maester? For some reason she had assumed that Michael had been the top of the food chain but it made much more sense for him to be beneath someone. After all, what sort of true leader went out on dangerous patrols such as that. A shimmer of hope flittered across her face. Maybe she could find a way to be freed from the contract with Michael and put with someone more sensible. Someone who was not bound and determined to have her innocence. Surely seven years under reasonable rule would not be so horrible.

After he dismissed his men, he had set off with her in tow towards the marketplace. Although she had never been to one, she had read about them in some of her surviving books, and it was exactly how she imagined it. For a moment she lifted her head up to see brilliant colors and many, many different pieces of merchandise. She heard the cantor of the salesmen, all their voices coming together in resemblance to a hymn that the shoppers seemed to sing along with. A ping of pain caused her to flop her head back down and she sighed. His had rested possessively on her bottom as they approached.

"Do I have to go through the marketplace this way?" she asked, knowing the answer even before the words left her mouth. "So many people have already seen me naked! I think I've been punished thoroughly. Festive or not I am sure people will notice a completely undressed teenager,"

The government of the city was..complicated. There were three distinct high posts, the Maester, the Macto, and the Magister. The Maester held control over the general running of the city and control of all public utilities. He also held control over all road building and public health concerns. The closest thing to his title pre-change was something akin to a small town Mayor, or perhaps a governor. The Magister was in command of all judicial proceedings, though he had a half-dozen sub magisters to dispense justice in all but the most high cases. The Macto was so named from the latin word for combat, and was in charge of all soldiers, deployments, and decisions regarding defense of the city.

For truly important decisions, the three men met in a triumvirate, coming to a consensus on the topic before passing down judgement on a specific thing. There were also some areas in which one man could overrule the others. The Macto, for instance, was an arbiter in all matters of juris macto, or judicial dueling, that had started since the city was founded as a way to settle disputes between warriors, as well as what would be considered military courts. During peacetime, the Maester was considered the ruler of the city, but during wartime, the Macto stepped into that spot, giving the army a single commander that promoted a unity of purpose.

The three members of the triumvirate were voted into six year posts, at two year intervals, and were voted on by the members of the deliberative, who itself was voted in by the citizens in various sectors of society. Though in theory the spots in the triumvirate were open to anyone, it was an open secret that the twelve leaders of the original bands that joined together to form Karak Dorn in the first place were quickly growing to nobility, and it was likely they or their heirs would take places on the triumvirate when it came time to replace the incumbents...which was quickly approaching for the Macto. Being a founder, Michael was in consideration for the post, and considering his military background was considered a strong contender.

He had to snort as he heard her question, though it sounded at least a little amused. "Don't worry. You won't be the only pledge that has gotten uppity and required a bit of correction. Look, there." He motioned, where a young man was running naked as the day he was born, carrying a pot of water above his head in a clay jar. "Nudity does not hold the same taboo here as it did...before. Don't worry, though...my home is not far from here." He reached down to give her hair a ruffle, as he teased her. "Besides which, you do have such a nice ass...it'd be a pity to cover it, really."

The marketplace gave way to more residential streets as they went on, with the houses arranged like apartment complexes...fitting as much of humanity into the city as possible. They passed through another, higher wall into the second ring, where the houses were more like town homes...still cheek by jowl but with more room for each family. The innermost ring was their destination, though, and when they reached it she'd get her first glimpse of his home. The entire wall was perhaps four hundred yards across in a circle here, divided into twelve equal sections. Each section was separated from the others by a waist-high stone wall, with a semi-circular house built backed up against the third tier of wall, each one comprised of perhaps two dozen rooms of good size with a flat roof that would make an excellent fighting platform.

The twelve houses arrayed like spokes on a wheel around an auditorium sunken into the square in the middle of them. She'd find this was where the deliberative met, as well as the infrequent calling together of all citizens. He, however, had eyes only for the house opposite the gate. He paused at the waist-high gate leading to his home, only then reaching down to cut her bindings at her ankles and wrists. He'd lower her to her feet before sliding down to stand himself and motioning to the house. "There, my dear, is your home. Don't worry...you'll come to appreciate it, I do believe."

Esme found it particularly repulsive that a young man had to go around naked as punishment but she found herself envying him. He was able to move about. His legs and hands were free. If he so wanted he could run in any direction he wanted and, as long as he had that stupid pot on his head, no one would take notice. It gave her an idea. If she could not convince someone higher than Michael to grant her freedom, then a hair-brained scheme was in order.

Her eyes narrowed as he ruffled her hair like a child and then balked with a snort when he complimented her ass. It seemed like an inappropriate thing to do, within earshot of everyone. Nudity may have not held the same taboo but talk about private parts must have had some stigma still attached. Still she was ridden through the marketplace and there were some that did snicker. Some whispered and pointed; what they said drowned out by the common din of any marketplace. If it was any other time she would have loved to explore that area and, maybe, try to get a good deal on some useless bauble she could tell her children about. Children that, now, she was never going to have. Through the short ride to his home, she cried again.

When they got to his house she could not see anything but the ground. Her shoulders now hurt so much that even lifting her head was a chore. He had her tied up for far too long and her body was going to hate her for days afterward. When he cut the ropes, she nearly fell off of the horse, the rush of blood back to her fingers and toes causing an intense pins and needles sensation that made her cry out. She clung to him as he helped her down out of sheer necessity. Getting on to her feet was uncomfortable at best but as soon as they landed on the ground, she pushed away from him. Not to run; just to get some distance between the pair.

Her eyes scanned over his home and she let out a gasp. It was a nice place, connected to a eleven others in a large wheel like formation. The fence was a nice addition. The building was much newer than the old farmhouse her family had found and decided to make something out of.

"They build homes like this?" she asked in amazement. "I thought everyone lived in rundown little cottages..."

"Here, here.." He murmured, giving her hands a quick rub and intending to do the same to her feet before she gave him a rough push away. That brought his eyebrow up, but he said nothing. Her second comment got a wry chuckle from him as he started toward the door of the house, extending an arm to her as he did so. "There's a marble quarry not far away from here. It's a shame to let it go to waste, isn't it?" Each house was subtly different, designed by different men for their own little slice of heaven, but they all shared similar building traits.

Each one had a row of columns with Corinthian caps along the front, made of a marble so pale white and polished so smooth as to seem to be clouds. Each one was built in a vaguely Roman style, with a square shape complete with an inner courtyard, and no windows on the first story of the outside of the house, though she'd find there were plenty inside facing the courtyard. Even here, military necessity ruled, though if there was ever a need to fight here something had gone marvelously wrong. Still, better safe than sorry...

There was a boy in rough brown homespun rushing out, who took the reins of the horse to lead it around to the small gap between the two houses to the stable. He openly gaped at her, though was quick enough in trotting away to lead the horse back into the stables. Michael started walking toward the house, musing as he went. "We're going to have to get your marking done soon...the sooner your get your tattoo the sooner your pledge time officially starts and the sooner you can stop being a pledge." He opened the door, and allowed her to step in first. The interior of the house was wood paneled and quite cool, even in the warmth of the summer day. The entryway was merely a passageway, leading straight into the elaborately decorated courtyard, which was dominated by a large fountain of a fish ever spitting water into a basin.

The city had just completed the aquifer heading into the city, and water was no longer a precious commodity to the city...why not show it off a bit? No doubt, though, she would have at best only a vague memory of running water at all, since the lights went out. Lighting for the house was provided by a series of fiber optic cables salvaged from telecom works, which took light from the roof and guided it into the dark places in the house, as well as natural light from the wall of windows lining the courtyard.

He led her into the courtyard, walking counterclockwise around the square box toward one of two sets of stairs leading up to the second story of the house. Though they were outside, there was a wide overhang over them as they made their way up to the second story, which meant they could move freely even in rain without fear of getting wet. Not that it was raining now, of course. He led her around the walkway on the second story till he got to a single red door, which he would open and motion her inside as he spoke. "My quarters...and yours as well now. In you go."

When the young man came to get the horse, she crossed her arms in front of her body, though that hardly did any good. Her arms were slender and did nothing to hide the willowy hourglass figure they attempted to cover. He still gawked openly at her and she felt more like an object; more like herself and that frightened her. Everything about this terrified her. Only a few hours ago she was living a happy, if unfulfilling life, on her father's farm. Now she was an orphan in the care of a brutal warrior of a man... not care. That was too generous of a word. She was enslaved to him.

If there were any more tears in her weary eyes, she would have cried more, but her face was swollen from all of the weeping she did and nothing came.

She paused in walking forward. A tattoo? He intended to give her a tattoo? All of the color drained from her face. He intended to permanently mark her. Not only would she be old when she left but, if she ever managed to find anyone who wanted her, they would know she was a pledge for her life. The stigma seemed unbearable.

"Isn't there a much more humane way to do that?" she asked. "What about a contract drawn up or tag I carried around with me all of the time or something."

They hurried along and she took everything in with a careful eye. It was better to concentrate on the world around her than to feel the pain and indignation that was coursing through her. The fountain was a marvel to her. As a child she had been to see a few of them but she never had dreamed that people would think so little of water to have one now. While they didn't hurt for water they still went to great means to collect it back at her home. Tarps had been put out to collect morning dew and rainwater. Any gray water was used to scrub the house top to bottom. She may have not looked like it but Esme was a very, very hard worker and aware of conserving what she had. She whistled at the clever lighting system. That surely beat candles and acrid smelling lanterns any day of the week.

"Our room?" she parroted, disbelief shining on her face as he went to usher in her to the red back door. "I thought pledge's would have their own small section!" The sixteen year old young woman looked panicked. "I mean, it wouldn't do for someone of my station to interact with someone like you, unless you were telling me to get something done."

Her feet planted down on the floor.

"It's a little easier to alter a contract or tag and you're a bit less likely to lose the tattoo than you are either of those. We also keep basic medical information there..your blood type, any major allergies and et-cetera. Plus, it's in an inconspicuous spot under your left arm, and won't be seen unless one is looking for it. Don't worry. Yours will be simple and small." He winked to her, with a bit of a wry smile touching his lips. "Besides which...I've got one, as does every other citizen, even founders. I'll have to show you later."

He chuckled as he saw her expression, amused at her disbelief, and delivered a sharp smack to her backside to propel her into the room. "I've got other servants to deal with the house in large part. You are responsible for this room, as well as my own personal needs. Don't worry...it's not so monstrous as it at first appears."

When she was inside the room the first impression might be spartan. Though the walls were paneled much as they were in the rest of the house, the rich wood was largely uncovered. The one exception was a large, slightly stylized map of the area that looked like it could have been printed in the late 19th century, save that it had modern landmarks like Karak Dorn and the Free cities of Yakima marked on the map. Elsewhere, there was a sword that had probably started life as a pre-change machete though it had been lightened considerably to make it more effective, and a well-used Gladius..presumably Michael's. Other than that, there was a writing desk along one side and a wooden rack that she'd come to find out soon held his armor when he was not wearing it, along with a large bed and a couple of chairs in one corner. The far wall from the door was split by two windows and a set of french glass doors that opened onto a balcony. The only other door aside from that one and the one in which they were passing was in one corner that led to a privy and a private bathroom with more running water.

That feat had required quite a bit of engineering. A ramjet powered by an underground watermill used a diverted stream to pump a portion of itself uphill to a three thousand gallon water tank that was hidden within the wall itself, and higher than any of the houses built in the city. The rest was all gravity flow. All of the original founder's homes had running water, and a good portion of those on the second tier. The lowest tier was supplied water largely through a series of public fountains with eight, ten spigots to let the poorer members of society collect their water in relative ease. Waste management was taken care of through a series of sewers under the streets of the city, where any water not used in the fountains was constantly flushed to keep them clean.

Not that she'd have time to consider that. He had made his way to the rack for his armor, and had lifted the helmet from his head, sending her a glance over his shoulder. "Help me get out of this armor, Esme."

Esme yelped as he smacked her bottom, feeling a thrill of excitement go through her. Jumping to get away from it, she ended up in the place she really didn't want to go; his room. Small hands went to cover her behind in attempts to protect it from his further spankings. It might have been that all of them had tattoos but she didn't want one and it made her feel like she would be branded like cattle.

"Will I ever be allowed to go outside of your room?" she asked, almost fearfully. "I don't want to take care of your personal needs. I know what those are."

A frown pulled at the corners of her mouth. This was all so different than her home. While her farmhouse had a nice, homey feel to it, this was almost out of the set of military movie (what little she remembered of them). The weapons were intimidating and she wondered if he would turn them on her in anger. The only thing that looked moderately attractive to her was the map and only because it was the only picture there.

"I've never taken off armor before," she replied and she walked over to him. This request wasn't that bad. There was likely to be clothes beneath the armor or, at least, something to protect his skin from pinching metal pieces. "You'll have to walk me through it."

"Of course you will. You'll have run of the house right away, and once I know I can trust you you will have run of the city, along with a moderate allowance that will allow you to buy a few things from the market or entertain yourself when I do not have need of you." He settled on the bench before the armor rack, nodding as he heard her. "I doubt you've ever even seen this type of this armor, have you? It can be taken off and put back on by one person, though it is a bit of a pain in the ass."

He chuckled, extending his left arm first, turning his wrist over to reveal a set of brass hooks locked into a matching series of rings. "We'll start here..." He showed her how to remove each piece one by one, the leather ties of the breast plate which opened up like a lobster removing it's shell. Most of the armor came off with that, though there was a bit more on the legs and a separate gorget around his throat that added a second layer of protection to a natural weak point.

Beneath that was a thick fabric garment. "This is called a gambeson..it protects my skin from being pinched by the metal as well as giving me some extra protection should something penetrate the outer shell. Not that you care about if I get hurt, I'd wager." He chuckled, then winked to her before settling back and starting to work on the horn buttons on that multi-layered garment, drawing it back from his chest. There was one more layer, an old white T-shirt that was soaked through with sweat between the coat-like garment and the hot and heavy iron over the top of it. That was peeled off a moment later, finally revealing his upper body to her.

His efforts at sword play had made an excellent effect on his physique, at the very least. What fat he had on him pre-change had been melted away, leaving behind sculpted muscle and bone. Though he was not the equal of a pre-change bodybuilder, that was mostly due to the fact that he had more realistic proportions than any of them could have hoped for.

He motioned toward the third door, that led to the wash room. "Go run a bath. I can deal with the rest." Was she disappointed that she was sent away before he was stripped down, or relieved? He didn't really muse on it that much, instead allowing her to go on her way as he stood to finish undressing.

"Out to the market?" that seemed to amuse her greatly but only because it added another layer on to her escape plan.

Her fingers slipped on the hooks initially when she tried at first, simply because it was delicate work that she was not used to. This reminded her too much of sewing, which she hated, but did anyway. Each piece fell away quicker and quicker. Esme was intelligent and picked up on things rather quickly and menial things of this nature were very simple to figure out.

The scent of his sweat was not entirely repulsive. When the armor had fallen away completely, it wafted up to her. It was almost how she imagined a man should smell; musky. The strength of his body only intrigued her. As layers were removed she saw more of his flesh and there was not a centimeter of fat on him. No. He as defined muscle. This was something that she had never seen before. She wondered what lay beneath his breeches and her cheeks shone bright red for the thought.

Instead she was sent off to draw his bath and she sighed. Well, if what he said was true, she'd be exposed to it way too much. She shuddered and walked into the bathroom, guessing at what door it was. When she got in there she was amazed. It was like a prechange bathroom! There were faucets and spigots and even a toilet! She simply stood there with her mouth agape for a second or two before going over and turning on the water for him.

She watched in amazement as steam billowed out.

"Oh wow!"

He nodded as he watched her work, making sure as she did so that she was not damaging any part of the armor. Though it was a bit of an oxymoron, there were some parts of the armor that were quite delicate in areas that it was impossible for them to be hit by enemy actions. He was satisfied well enough, though, by her actions. She'd likely find herself doing this quite a bit, if all continued as they were.

A chuckle came from her exclamation in the next room, and he'd push from where he was to approach behind her, his calloused hand tracing over her back ever so slowly as he considered the tiled room. "I figured you'd like this. I made it a point to have a hot water boiler installed to heat a portion of the water coming in." The tub, itself, was several pieces of white marble, sunken into the floor with the utmost care and large enough for three people to sit comfortably, with twice as many if they were not afraid to get quite comfortable with one another.

He stepped past her, bare as the day he came into the world, and stepped down into the tub onto the bench seat integrated into the wall before stepping down into the water proper. When he lowered to sit on the seat, it came up to the midpoint of his chest, and would likely come up to her throat. A hand extended, and he shot her an amused glance. "Come, sit...it will help loosen your muscles from the ride."