Yana Montero

"Die Master-und Slave" (Stig/Yana)

Fri, 21 Oct 2011 04:31:49 -0400

When Stig saw the slight terrified look on Yana’s face, he realized he had been harshed and regretted his action. He calmed down although his thoughts still tried to fight some type of battle within himself. A cold rush of imaginary air ran down his spine when she called him by his first name. But before he could process what the sensation meant to him, he grew more concern at the clothing she showed him. He got up from his seat finally realizing she had been standing the whole time and also seeing for the first time the small bag of clothes she had brought in with her. He frowned, “That’s all you have?” He asked as he sat on the edge of his desk once more. “Take a seat,” he motioned to the chair in front of him. He watched her the whole time- his eyes mesmerized at her angelic face… So young, so innocent looking. He then questioned his thoughts about her; he obviously found her attractive. Very attractive as a matter of fact but he reminded himself why he was truly there before he was once again pulled in by her beauty. “Don’t change,” he said to her, “We will eat lunch soon. Are you hungry?”

She nodded quickly, “Some of us aren’t as well off-” she spoke, her face immediately resonating in a light blush. She hadn’t been able to hold her tongue and she feared she’d been rude. It was true though, what did he really expect of her- she was selling her will and body as a slave to carry on her older brother’s daunting task. She didn’t have fine dresses. She sat down slowly, as though she was cautious of his movements, her eyes never wavering from him. She felt him drink her in as many men had, in college she’d declined many advances. Saving herself for the right person, she’d wished she’d given them a shot now.

“Yes” she spoke, her tummy grumbling in response. What she’d eaten in the past few days consisted of water and crackers, she knew she’d lost some more weight while being held up and sold. “Very” she spoke again.

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Thu, 20 Oct 2011 14:04:09 -0400

"Die Master-und Slave" (Stig/Yana)

Thu, 20 Oct 2011 14:03:47 -0400

Yana’s submission greatly pleased him. Perhaps more than he probably should. His purpose of claiming a slave in Asher City did not include him completely playing the part; he was there to witness for himself how his father lived; to understand why his father had to leave his mother.

Yes, he knew to understand he had to be in his father’s shoes to some extent but he told himself to never truly get involved. He told himself he wasn’t going to be one of those people who exploit the less fortunate for their weaknesses. But what is he doing now?

A foreign emotion filled his chest every time he looked at her. She was calm and appeared to have no questions… As if she had already accepted what was set forth before her. She accepted that she was a slave, there was no doubt in her actions around him.

When she wore the ring he knew it was final; she was his slave and his alone for as long as he permitted.

He waited patiently for her to tell him who her first master was. He had heard stories of masters trading slaves for new ones or re-selling them in the black market when they disobeyed or were defiant. Yana appeared to be neither. Having and being a slave in Asher City was a life-long commitment. It was only up to the master when and if the slave could be set free. And as he sat there waiting for her response, he wondered how it was for her. If he wasn’t her first, did he want to know how it went for her? How much was he willing to learn about her past? Masters that he had encountered told him proudly that masters do not owe their slaves anything. They take from their slaves and do not have to give anything back. How cold and cruel, he thought. But not in the same position, is he willing to share his life with this stranger?

“You are my first master,” she then spoke, her voice remaining meek and soft.

This surprised him. And inevitably excited him. “Your first,” he said much to himself as a confirmation of what he heard. Lowering his head to see her face much better, he wondered, what had gone wrong in her life that placed her before him today? He assumed nobody wanted to be a slave; someone owning you like you’re a piece of furniture and could do to you whatever they pleased. And he assumed the same thing about her- and this bothered him. He wondered what she was thinking.

Bothered might he be, he was anxious, all in all. What did it mean to be the first master? She hadn’t had any before him, clearly, she wouldn’t have anyone to compare him with. The thought played in his head and that same foreign feeling arose from within his chest. It was suddenly clear to him - he realized the power he had over her. Glancing at the simple ring she wore, possessive words echoed in his head: My slave. Mine.

“Slavery is in my family… It’s in my blood.” Her next revelation confused him and further more fed his curiosity. The question was, would he dare get pulled into it? Now he questioned his new found liking to this power he just realized. He felt like a hypocrite not wanting to be one of the exploiters but here he was doing exactly that. This irritated him; something that had been happening since he got to Asher City. He had always been a patient person but something about this place that was eating him, turning hi, And he didn’t like it one bit.

He frowned, thoughts still entangled in his head, “Very well,” he looked her in the eyes, “You’re aware how this works,” he might’ve said the last words harshly, feeling mad, but not at her but to himself. “Shall we go through the rules,” his head was pounding. He got up and sat behind his desk, not acknowledging the fact that she had been standing the whole time. He took the pencil and with his left hand started scribbling on the paper. “You are to address me Master at all times. You are not to disobey or disrespect me. Your time-” he paused feeling a bit overwhelmed, “Your time is my time. I own your freedom. I tell you when you sleep, when you eat, when you go out. You are my slave,” the last words, terrifyingly, sounded right when he uttered them…

He swallowed and licked his lips before he continued. “People call me Stig. But you—” this he firmly stated, “you will only know me as Göran.” He wanted her to know him by the name his father once used, because what he was now was someone he completely do not recognized. He felt he had become his father.

Breathing out, he momentarily closed his eyes. He needed to calm down, “Do you have any change of clothes? We’re going out for lunch,” he opened his eyes and looked at her once more.

She nodded at his reaction at being her first, she could feel that this pleased him and inside it gave her an eery feeling. She was pure, unused. She feared that this would be the only time in her life from now on that she would feel the same way. She hadn’t wanted to be a slave just as she was sure no others truly wanted to be slaves and yet here she was. It made her feel sick to her stomach but she remained stoic. She wouldn’t be very defiant; she’d heard that that often or not made matters worse.

When he spoke, it slightly terrified her. He addressed the rules and she grew sullen, he owned her now. She wasn’t Yana anymore, she was a slave. Her body was his just as her actions were, she seeked comfort in knowing that he could never control her thought. They were her silent diary, her silent defiance.

She shook her head slowly- looked down once at the bag beside her she had carried in with her. It contained only a few items, clothes mostly from home. She wasn’t entirely aware of what she was allowed to bring, how personal the items may be. “I have some clothing mas-Goran… but I’m not sure if they’re fit” she spoke anxiously. Her clothing were fit for a farm, long floral dresses, most used and worn. She was poor, she didn’t own the type of clothing that many in Asher wore.

She bent down in front of him, pulled a dress up from her bag to show in example. She oddly feared judgement.

"Die Master-und Slave" (Stig/Yana)

Tue, 18 Oct 2011 11:46:46 -0400

“I see you’ve been trained well,” his voice was a lot stern this time; he referred to her politeness. He heard some slaves could be defiant to their masters. “Yana is it?” Her name rolled in his tongue. “Yana, from now on you will live here with me in the penthouse. You will room with Mrs. Novac, the help. She’s got your bed all set up,” he got up from his seat, walking past her to the handsome drawer in the other side of the office. He opened one of the drawers and took out a box and walked back to where she was standing. “Wear this,” he said, now he stood in front of her for the first time. She was a lot shorter compared to him to seemed to tower everybody but she wasn’t awkwardly short next to him. He studied her face once again now that they were face to face. He opened the box and revealed a simple band- much like the ones slaves around the city wore. “You are to wear this at all times. This is to let everyone in the city know you have a master,” he took her right hand, which he found was quite soft, and slipped the ring in her ring finger. “Now,” he took a step back and sat on his table, arms folded across his chest, “tell me, who was your last master?” He didn’t know why it came out, possibly because he had been thinking about it. But he was curious and his curiosity was eating him, thinking someone owned her before him.

Yana closed the door quietly behind her with her front still turned to him, she didn’t know why but he was still a stranger and she didn’t want to have her back turned. She stayed quiet as he drank her in, she knew very little about slavery but the horror stories that surpassed her ears. She’d never heard of pleasant masters and yet her brother hadn’t spoken ill but she posed submissive. She’d be like him. Quiet, dutiful, she was here so why make it worse than it already was? She’d do most of what she was told in fear that he may turn on her as humans with control often did.

“I haven’t been trained at all” she piped, though she wondered if it was wrong to disagree with her own master, yet she was being honest. She wasn’t aware of how this worked, what to do or say. She found herself questioning every movement she made with her frail body. She nodded as he spoke her name again, it felt natural in his mouth and she wondered what his name may be. She’d been told only briefly to refer to him as master; he didn’t have a name unless he told her it. “Yes sir” she said quickly after, unsure of whether a simple nod was rude. She remained still; let her body speak no words as she stayed standing by the door. She knew it was the only place in the room that she felt safe, by an exit and yet she knew if she’d ever walked out that door without permission she’d be punished.

She stared at the velvet box he had placed in front of her, his close presence made her uneasy but she hid it will, let her increased heartbeat grow steady. She looked down at the ring, she’d heard of it and she’d seen the same type of ring on her brother’s hand as he lay dying. It was silly how much it symbolized, once it rested on her finger her freedom was all but finished. But she felt nothing as he grabbed her delicate hand, placed it there, he owned her now. “Yes- master” she tried, uneasy with the sound that trickled from her mouth.

She shook her head, “You’re my first master” she spoke again, thought of the university that she had left. She did not know how much of her past she could reveal, should reveal… She didn’t even know you could have several masters within a lifetime. It made her curious about her brother, how many he may have had. “Slavery, is in my family” she said, thinking of her older brother. “It’s in my blood” she said again.

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Tue, 18 Oct 2011 02:21:58 -0400

"Die Master-und Slave" (Stig/Yana)

Tue, 18 Oct 2011 02:02:00 -0400

Excitement crept under his skin, building up within his stomach until he was a tight ball of anxiety. He closed his eyes and rested his head back, waiting for his slave to come up and join him in his office.

This, he thought, is going to be interesting…

The night her brother died she gripped his hand at his bedside, she was not so much afraid of death because she’d seen it often. She’d held the hand of death several times, with her mother, her father and now Rafael. She let tears fall from her eyes, let them drop neatly on the cold sheets that covered her older brother. Kissed his forehead as he whispered things to her, she knew that after tonight she’d have nothing. She wouldn’t be returning to university, she wouldn’t return to the farm or even her hotel room. She was penniless and forgotten. She had nothing or no one to call her own.

He whispered a name, said to find someone in Asher city and she let her breath catch within her throat. Slavery was shameful, she didn’t mean to be but she was often ashamed of her brother for making that choice, even though at the time it had been the only option. She couldn’t imagine not having any freedom, not being in control of herself and yet she knew the task she must perform now. She knew she was no longer just Yana, she was going to be someone else’s. It was as though he was passing on a torch but her eyes grew defiant as he lay cold and breathless beneath her fingertips, she was scared.

The process took a month, a full month to be sold and for everything to be settled. She’d grown even more reclusive than she’d already been. She was innocent and intelligent, something many buyers seemed to delight in. She told no one that she was a virgin however; she wouldn’t let that be known. She kept that one to herself. It wasn’t as though she’d kept her virginity for this reason alone, like a gift for a master but because her mother was a God fearing woman. Had spoken to her of love and marriage and waiting but she justified things in her head, becoming a slave was like a marriage to her master though she believed there was no love in that.

She sat in a cold desolate room when they came for her, her window was lined with books, escapes to magical places where people were free to do what they liked. The thought of becoming someone’s slave had become overbearing, mostly because she knew nothing about it other than what they told her. That her master could do with her what he pleased. She pictured a bald fat man with a high sexual libido, a beautiful mistress who loved to address pain to her victims, perhaps someone who just wanted her to clean up after them. She was frightful but who wouldn’t be?

And then it was time. She looked up at a tall building with her magnificent dough eyes, she wore something subtle and refined though she realized now that as soon as she walked through that door she’d be nothing but. She was led through rooms and up an elevator and soon she was staring at a wooden door where her future would await her, her heart beat heavily in her chest and she thought of how she wasn’t afraid of death. She walked into the room and her eyes peered at the man before her, she wasn’t sure if she was to speak or approach but she simply stood awkwardly. After a moment of silence her voice came out slowly, “I’m Yana- sir” she said meekly.

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Tue, 18 Oct 2011 00:07:33 -0400