Heir to the plantation. (Wreckles & AmyBeth)

[Wreckles]

​

When it came to enduring the heat of Vacqueryas, Milien Duflot had years of experience. Well he had to, considering the fact that this was where he grew up.
It was in the middle of the summer, a week after his 24th birthday when Milien had finally been allowed leave of his three year military service, and now he was on his way home.
From the horseback he savored the familiar scenery, the lush gardens, open fields filled with all manners of different grapes. The fresh scent in the air! If it was one thing the natives of Vacqueryas took seriously, it was the cultivation of wine - the Duflot family was no different.
Milien's father was a prominent producer of wine, it came with the family name as they happened to be owning one of the largest vineyards in southern France.
Things were expected of Milien, now that he was returning home. The frequent letters received from his mother could not contain her joy of having her only son come home and "take over" as she more or less put it.

Milien wiped his brow with his sleeve, the musketeer hat did little to alleviate the rays of the blazing sun. Luckily the white silken shirt allowed for plenty of air to run through it.
He was close now, just one more hill and the familiar view of the Duflot manor and it's sprawling grounds would greet him. When it finally did, he urged his horse into full gallop.
Everything was exactly the way he remembered, it even had that familiar scent - crushed grapes. Speeding through the dirt path, joined with plentiful symmetrical vines on both sides like they were welcoming him home.
His real welcome however awaited at the steps of the manor.

With a tug of the reins his steed diminished in speed, allowing for the dust clouds to catch up with him.
Clad in a long white summer dress stood his mother with a posture only mothers are capable of when seeing their young for the first time in years. Milien had barely time to get out of the saddle and forming the words "Mothe-" before he was hugged tightly.
It was all fond greetings really, Milien knew the word 'Army' always tasted sour like a unripe grape for his mother - despite France no longer being at war.

When his mother finally relented she snapped with her fingers and a young slave girl appeared with a tray containing a damp cloth and a glass of water. Milien made use of them both, glancing at the girl who patiently waited for him to dismiss her. He did not recognize her, a new addition? Not that he made a habit of being familiar with the faces of the slaves, but this one was pretty.
Putting her out of his thoughts he turned to his mother who whisked away the girl, "Am I correct to assume father is occupied in tending to that garden of his?"
A wide smile and a nod he received from his mother who then hooked her arm under his and together they walked off. Milien's steed being tended to by the stable-hand.

Milien's father had been governing over the vineyards for many decades, it was no secret that he wanted his son to take over. But such discussions were best saved for later, now was high time for lunch!
They three of them sat beneath the shade of a great willow, enjoying the fruits of the harvest. His father suggested that they take a tour of the estate grounds, to get acquainted once more. Milien knew it was just his father's way of wanting to spend time alone, which was something he'd gladly obliged. Before they headed out he was given his fathers leather whip with the motivation 'The owner must always be ready to discipline his servants if required'. Such was the way of the Duflot, obedience was something to be instilled. It was better to be Feared and Respected.​

 

[AmyBeth]

Mellina

Airia

Mellina and Airia had been daughters to a lowly merchant at one point in their young lives. But this lowly merchant father was in need of financial relief as he had drank and gambled away every cent to his name. He had sold his daughters into slavery both for a handful of silver. Mellina had been 14 and Airia had been only 8. Mellina had managed to stay by her sister’s side. She had been purchased separately and was purposefully rebellious and disobedient even though her first owners had been kind, intending to us her as a maid for their youngest daughter. Mellina was eventually returned to the slave stocks to be reunited with her sister. It always followed as such until the slavers, sick of having to make the same sale twice, decided to make a deal 2 for 1. That was the day that Mellina and Airia had come into the hands of the Duflot family.

Mellina was dark in hair and eyes with full lips and high strong cheekbones. She was curvatious, with a full and well developed bosom and rump. She had been bought for the purpose of bedding twice. She had a fiery disposition as it would seem. She was strong willed and struggled with the concept of both slavery and obedience. The only thing Mellina cared for was the protection of her younger sister. Mellina was now 23 years of age. She had failed to meet the lady of the houses standard for waiting on guest. Mellina would refuse to smile and look pretty, and did not care if she walked with grace and poise. She was sent to the fields to toil away as Lady Duflot found her useless as house staff.

Mellina had done well in the fields. She enjoyed working with her hands. She did not like the threat of the lick of the whip on their backs but there was not much she could do to change that. She had risen in ranks among the outdoor slaves, who were the lowest ranking of the estate. She soon became the speaker of the field slaves. Their master, had been gracious enough to at least listen to one member of the slaves, who would report on progress and if there was anything within reason that would increase production of wine. Mellina, being strong, willful and too smart for her own good had ended up with this job within a year of service.

Airia on the other hand was extremely suited for working inside the home. She was sweet docile, quiet and well mannered. And even at only 17, She too had risen in the time spent at the Duflot estates. She had gone from waiting on higher ranking servants to frequently waiting on the lady of the house herself. Airia did not mind her life she had as a slave her only true complaint was that she saw so little of her sister, but at least they were both safe and together. It had seemed that they had gotten relatively lucky compared to the life they both could have faced.

With the return of the first born son of the Duflot family the house hold was abuzz with chatter. Some girls swooned over his handsome face and feature. Many men boasted of his victories in battle. But there were a few a quiet cautious few who worried of his return. A few young ladies that bowed their heads and tried to hide their faces Airia did not notice. She was excited, she saw how pleased her master and mistress were and loved the excitement that ran through the household. Mellina was not so blind. She knew that she should take caution that she needed to protect her sister from any harm even if it was from their young master.

When Airia served Master Milien she kept her head perfectly turned down, eyes down cast the image of a sweet and docile house slave. She was aware of everything around her, as was part of her job and she felt his eyes momentarily linger on her. This made her skin dance. When dismissed she was thankful to be able to retreat from view.

Mellina saw her Master before many of the other slaves; she also saw the tall young figure beside him and knew right away who it must be. She continued to work, bent over at the waist removing ripe grapes from their vines. As they neared she dropped into a curtsey as the other slaves followed suit with bows and curtsies. She noticed the Master’s whip now was in the possession of the young man who was clearly the returned son.
​

 

[Wreckles]

Admittedly, Milien pondered just how things would be different when he returned home. Perhaps the vineyard had not changed, except for a few people here and there but the essence remained true to the old values. Wisdom however, told him that he had definitely changed. But when he walked there in the grounds with his father rambling on, trying to cram in everything Milien had missed ever since his military duty, he found himself slipping into the role of a heir surprisingly ease. This was, and felt like, home.
Handshakes and introductions were made as they encountered overseers, charged with holding up discipline and production on the grounds. Such was the chain of command, Milien's father gave commands on what he wanted done, the overseers put them in effect.

They had yet to encounter Milien's childhood friend, a behemoth of a man known only as Lacroix. Although their ages differed by ten years, they had always gotten along well.
Milien walked the grounds with the poise and rigidity called upon by years of training as both an officer of the French nation, and heir to this plantation. One hand on the whip affixed to his black leather belt while the other served as gestures when he wanted to accentuate a point.
Walking by a couple of slaves his father made a pause, "Mellina! Come over here."
His father made an effort to explain her role in all this. He kept it brief and Milien made an mental note that she was only mildly more important than the others. Still, he saw the benefit of having such a position for the slaves, it was a means to keep the plantation productive.
Milien walked up to the girl called Mellina, working in the outdoors had given her a slightly rugged look but there was no doubt that there was beauty beneath that. The girl barely reached up to his chin as he faced her. Milien had been around slaves his entire life, most of them cast down their eyes immediately at the presence of someone in authority. However this girl exuded something different. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. Was it defiance? Milien had learned to trust his instincts, the girl was unbroken.

"I assume this means we'll be seeing more of each other then. I prefer to know who father has given such responsibility to, when the day is done you are to come up to the estate. We'll have a chat." Milien made sure the girl saw that he was thumbing the whip at his side. He turned to the overseer, "Make sure she washes up before. I won't have be having a discussion with a dirty slave." His voice firm, issuing commands was in his blood. And with that said he turned his back and father and son continued their business.

The day came at a close little by little, the sun shifting from being scorching to just warm. Miliens father had finally left him alone and retired to his chambers. The young heir himself had taken temporary office in the old study on the second floor, he made mental notes of what to replace, which furniture to bring in. Perhaps father had meant for him to take his office but Milien had no plans to just replace, he was going to shape this place in his own image. Plus this room had access to a balcony overlooking the grounds.
A jug of the plantations wine was neatly placed at the table along with glasses. Milien patiently swirled the purplish liquid, the scent strong of oak and grapes. Five minutes ago he was notified that the slave girl - the speaker - was waiting.
Even though the man was doing nothing of importance he was going to make her wait as long as he deemed fit. No doubt she was tired and hungry after a day of toiling on the grounds, being tired and hungry put the edge of people. As he took a sip of the wine he wondered if such a simple trick would make a dent in her mind.
When ten minutes had passed and his glass was empty he called out "Enter!"

 

[AmyBeth]

Mellina rose from her bow and walked towards the two men head held high. She stood before them but hesitated a moment before dropping back into a curtsy and hesitated yet again before bowing her head to her Master and his son. But unlike most slaves she did not down cast her eyes as she was expected to. She looked up at the stranger even if for just a moment. She sized him up. He was clearly athletic from his time spent at war, and his military and highborn background had him holding himself tall. He thought he was better than her, better than all the slaves. She didn’t like the way his large hand rested on the whip, as if ready and very willing to use it at any minute.

She listened to him speak. Before she was a slave she would have spoken back to the man who seemed to thoroughly enjoy commanding. This man’s father was no soft owner, he was not weak or ruled his plantation with an iron fist not afraid to punish when needed. But he had been reasonable, he made sure that his slaves got decent standard of care, keeping healthy slaves meant high output of wine. She had the sense that the man before her would not only not mind raising a hand to her but would most likely enjoy it. She did not speak as she had not been told to, and knew if she opened her mouth she would most likely get herself into trouble. Instead she bobbed another curtsey and nodded her head clearly understanding her orders. She heard his orders to make sure she was bathed and her heart palpitated. Why on earth would he care if she was dirty? She was just a field slave and though he wished to speak with her tonight, there was no real reason to be close enough to her to notice whether the rich clay of the vineyard was on her skin or not.

She continued her work, thinking as she removed grapes from the vine placing them in baskets that were then carried away and replaced with an empty one. She had set up a program where jobs were rotated around slaves, so they didn’t burn out picking in the sun all day, which increased production as slaves were entering the field more fresh and rested as well as increasing moods of the field slaves. Today was her short end of the stick, as she toiled for what seemed like an eternity. But at the end of the work day instead of joining the rest of the field hands for a plain supper she was guided away to the baths. She wasn’t even allowed to bath herself as two older slaves took over scrubbing every inch, every single inch of her body. She took over when the women had begun to annoy her and exited the bath on her own. She was also given a new uniform free of dirt wrinkles and sweat from the sun. Once dressed the slave women ripped through her hair roughly removing the knots and mess, and pulled the sides from her face allowing her long dark curled hair to hang free at the side. Mellina still did not enjoy that she was being made to looks so ‘presentable’ for a meeting with a man that should care little what she looks like, it seemed something dangerous. Once she was put together the women shooed her out and told her to hurry to the estates, better to be early then late.

She stood waiting to be showed into the office in which she was told young Master Duflot was to be found. Her stomach was tight with pain and hunger. She had not been fed nor given water since mid-day. Her body was fatigued as the work and sun drained away the energy from her body leaving her drained and also irritable; which always had a way of getting her into trouble. She was kept waiting for what seemed like an hour. She knew he was just trying to show his dominance. Mellina knew better then to get mad but it was hard not to. All she could do was remind her self of her sister. If Mellina got herself in trouble she would be getting Airia in trouble as well. Just as she thought of her sister she heard a sweet high voice whisper behind her. “Mel?” She turned slightly and smiled at her sister they saw each other in passing once every day or so and only had time to talk once or twice a month. “What are you doing in the main house? If my lady sees…” Mellina placed her finger to her lip to hush the girl. “I am too meet with young Master Duflot. Be safe my dove.” She said to her sister just as she was told to enter.

Airia always admired her sister’s strong beauty and stronger will. She watched in awe as she walked in the study back straight her body smooth and strong. If Airia was in her shoes, told to meet with either of the Masters in person she would have been shaking in fear. But not her big sister. No Mellina walked in head straight, she seemed to be in control of herself, if she was fearful of what this meeting entailed she did not make the sentiment public. Mellina stepped to the middle of the room in front of Milien and curtsied deep and held the position it was costmary to do so until she was told she could rise or release. She bowed her head but again peeked her eyes forward to look at the strong young man before her. He sipped upon wine that her sweat, body and work had created enjoying the spoils of her labor. “You wished private audience with me Master Duflot?” She said in a warm rich voice, rounder then her younger sister’s airy sing song voice. She was educated better than most slaves, because she had not been born a slave, she knew better than most the appropriate greets and sayings she was expected to say.

 

[Wreckles]

Milien gazed at the slave girl who now stood before him. Despite being pleasant to the eyes the young heir's countenance were absent of any warmth. Having elicited more information from his father as to why there even was such a position for slaves, Milien had been nurturing a particular disdain for the idea. In his mind, slaves were equal to property. If they did not serve their purpose they were of no use and should be discarded. For this he scowled inwards at his father for even harboring a different viewpoint on the matter.

Putting down the now empty glass on a massive wooden table he approached the girl, fixing his eyes on hers. "I hear you've made quite a name for yourself here. Mother tells me you were first assigned domestic duty but were later deemed unfit due to a certain... Fiery temper I believe she put it." His voice was like a steel dagger wrapped in silk. "And now you've found yourself a prominent position! How proud you must be." Milien almost spat out the words, taking a pause to study the girl from top to toe. Albeit being a head shorter than Milien, and having spent the day working the fields she still stood with rigidity in her back.

Clenching his jaws momentarily, still keeping the slave pinned with his brown eyes. If there was a lack of firm discipline on the grounds the slaves might think they are anything more than just that. His insides churned, without warning and swift like a viper he smacked the girl with his open palm. The slap echoed firmly before dying out in the study, a perfect red imprint of his palm marked her cheek. "This title. This 'speaker' does not exist anymore. You are nothing but a slave, never forget that." Milien calmed his spirits and regained his composure. He continued in a less fiery tone. "Get out of my sight slave."
When the girl was out of sight Milien exhaled and poured himself another glass of wine. Eyes were a great tool of measuring someone and the girl, this Mellina, was a topic he was sure he needed to revisit. No doubt the other slaves looked up to the girl, in a world where there was a distinct lack of power, even a glimpse of such were prominent. He needed to crush that.
Slowly a plan was being formed, unlucky for her, Milien took pleasure in impairing his will onto others. A smirk appeared on his features as he bounced ideas of how to best subjugate her. He needed to be merciless here.

Roughly ten minutes had passed before there was a hefty knock on the door. When having been told to enter by Milien the door swung open and the stature of a gargantuan man came into view.
Milien, in stark contrast to how he had treated the slavegirl, was now smiling broadly as the man entered. "And here I thought there weren't any trees large enough to cover you!" The giant man scoffed heartily and made a slight bow before embracing his Lord and childhood friend. "They kept growing while my height stagnated." He responded in a deep growling voice.
Milien smirked, "Yet you managed to elude father and I when we walked the grounds earlier. It is good to see you Lacroix."
Always Milien had considered himself tall and crafty, athletic even but standing next to Lacroix who was almost two heads higher than him and certainly wider, well it put things into perspective.
Lacroix was a few years older than Milien but they had grown up together as if no barrier existed. He was dressed in a brown leather tunic and pants as was customary for the Overseers of the Duflot family. The whip attached to his belt making the role even more obvious.
Milien offered him some wine while the pair walked out to the terrace overlooking the grounds. "You must tell me how you've been faring here Lacroix, but first business. A matter where I know your expertise will be a boon. You know of this 'speaker' of the slaves. Mellina I believe she's called. Tomorrow I need you to sabotage her work and make it look like she is at fault. She is to be disciplined of course, but before you do anything. Send word to me and wait for further instructions."
With that said, the two returned to being old friends in dire need of catching up with one another.

 

[AmyBeth]

Mellina did not move a muscle as the young man approached her. She stood strong and unwavering even if her muscles ached and her head spun slightly from the heat and labor in the sun. She nodded her head as he explained her progression at the estates in more or less an accurate manor. She could imagine the man’s mother saying just that. “I am grateful, sir.” She said bobbing her head once more when he asked if she was proud. She had managed to escape punishment before the young Master Duflot arrived but she felt in her bones that things were to change very soon. She could almost feel the cold indifference and loathing radiate off his body directed at her by his unwavering gaze.

She did not even have time to flinch as her fears manifested themselves sooner then she thought. The slap had knocked her face to the side with its force. The string on her skin made her eyes water but she refused to let the tears spill. She would not cry for him. She kept her chin resting on her shoulder for a moment catching her breath, but the sting and ache only grew not faded. She could deal with the abuse the overseer had a way for being overly thorough with the slaves, but loosing what little power she had gained was a bigger blow then many. She turned her face and looked up into his face fully for the first time her dark eyes meeting his own. Her very full lips parted slightly as her jaw swung open ever so slightly. This man had just returned and he had already taken away everything he had worked for, for the last year of her life.

She paused a moment, before bobbing down into another curtsy and turning on her heels. She would exhale a sigh of relief to out of the serious man’s presence, she reached up and touched her cheek tentatively, it was hot to the touch and felt swollen. The burn had subsided leaving a deep inner ache in her face. She had been slapped before by her master, but she had always inspired them to do so, spilling tea, or talking back, or even just making too much eye contact with them, but this man had lashed out simply because it bothered him his father gave her such a position. She had been better behaved with the new member of the house hold then she usually was with his parents and still he left with a welt on her face. She feared further encounters; she knew her own personality well and knew that he would not like such a fire in one of his slaves.

As she headed down the hall to return to her quarters in the slave house off of the fields she spotted the dark giant shape lumbering towards her. She had a distaste for the man that frequently took his rage out on the field hands. She pressed her back against the wall head bowed hoping to go unnoticed as possibly a slave of the household, now that her dirt and grime had been removed. She thought of her sister, how was she too protect her with all these violent men in control of them both.

She slept poorly her mind racing of all the things she wished to do, she wanted to escape, steal her sister and some food and just run. She could protect her; they could have a small cottage in the woods. But she shook the idea from her head; she was not want to fantasies and day dream. Today her duty was to remove the full baskets of grapes and load them to the cart that was to bring them to the building in which the wine process begins. She was also in charge of bringing the others empty baskets. It was grueling work as the baskets were heavy and the sun was hot, but it was better than bending and picking all day long.

 

[Wreckles]

It was high time for supper when Milien and Lacroix had ended their conversation. Milien was confident his plan for tomorrow would provide with plenty of opportunity to show this Mellina girl her place in the world. It was in the moments of silence where he sat in the study, gazing at the overfilling bookshelves that made up for the bulky of the interiors that Milien realized he needed a personal servant. To fetch him things, to carry out missives - the usual business. Fortune smiled upon him when he remembered that his mother had gossiped about the indignant slavegirl Mellina who ought to be more like her younger sister - docile and obedient. Rubbing his chin upwards, now that is worth looking into the young heir thought.

Making his way to the dining hall Milien found both his mother and father already seated and dining. Rose, the head maid of the manor quickly saw to it that the young master got a plate and some wine, neither food nor wine was in short supply on the Duflot family. Milien wanted to test if he could manipulate still his parents, a harmless practice he told himself. "I've come to realize that in order to efficiently run the plantation I need a personal servant to handle all the irrelevant things. You know what I speak of father." His father seemed occupied with sniffing his wine and when there was a moment of silence he looked as if someone had roused him from his sleep. "What? Oh yes of course you need a servant hrm, who is suitable to this task Rose?"
The head maid curtsied without looking them in the eyes "There is a girl who would fit your description young Master. Her name is Airia." Milien nodded, that was her name. "Send her to my quarters after dinner."

Milien had left dinner unceremoniously, it was obvious that now that the son was home again, his father had chosen to delegate most of the responsibilities immediately upon his shoulders.
Though the young heir did not mind, he found himself enjoying himself as he walked the stone hallways that lead to his chamber. A somewhat less ostentatious room than the study, but after all a bedchamber was only so much no?
Finding a young slavegirl patiently waiting at his door, Milien immediately saw the resemblance, and noted that she was the pretty girl who had given him the tray earlier today. "You must be Airia." his voice firm and deep. The young heir towered over the slavegirl, she seemed so lithe he could wield her like a longsword. Folding his arms across his chest, "Have you been informed of what is expected of you?" Milien could feel a sliver of disdain from her sister spilling over. He was not going to make this girls life any easier.

"Tomorrow at exactly seven o clock you will bring me a tray of breakfast, a minute later and I will have you whipped for disobedience. Do I make myself clear?"
The slave stood with her back against the stone wall, Milien was aware of how predatory he felt as he leaned in - no easy task considering their difference in height. "Serving me is an honor for the likes of you. I know you will not fail me." Straightening his back again Milien continued, "You will follow me tomorrow, always be ready to see to my every need." Milien himself was unsure as to why he had underlined the words 'every need'
Waving his hand like one would to an annoying fly the heir dismissed the girl before he retired for the night.

It had been a while since Milien had slept so well. Perhaps it was the tranquil chirping of the birds outside his window, perhaps the comfortable and rich silk bed sheets. Or simply because he was home again.
He felt well rested as the light knocking of his door roused him from his sleep. "Enter." He commanded as he sat up, and in came the slavegirl Airia. "Place it there on the table." Milien said and pointed towards the writing desk. It was only then Milien became aware of the stiffness of his cock. Morning glory.
He took on a brazen tone, "Come here." And pointed strictly to a spot on the floor besides the bed. Throwing off the sheets to reveal his throbbing erection as he situated himself on the edge. "Kneel." There was no room for argument in his voice. Milien demanded, far from asking. "Open your mouth. It's time for you to make yourself useful."