The Purchase
Part One
This is Part One of a two-part story.
Melissa looked up at the symbol hanging above the shop. It was in the form of a doll in shiny black clothing. Now, at least, she knew she had found the right type of store among the assortment of tailors, bootmakers and other clothing artisans in this place: Xerxes Street. Then the name beneath, ‘Orja Supplies’, told her that she had found the correct one among the slavewear makers.
Since the elderly Countess Sheardard had retired to her country estates with just a few of her oldest ladies-in-waiting, Melissa and the younger ladies had been rather redundant. The countess’s youngest son, Baron Hoskild, had been installed to look after the family’s residence in the capital. Unmarried, he had little need of ladies-in-waiting. However, he or perhaps someone else in the family, had insisted on him retaining a full household in Kerans. Melissa was grateful for that as it had spared her having to find another position. Without a lady to serve, Melissa and the other ladies-in-waiting were used as simply higher grade servants to the household. They acted as messengers or dealt with chores that required literacy or a good level of numeracy, just like the errand which had brought her to Xerxes Street.
Melissa was not always good at such duties as she became rather apprehensive when out in the city alone as she was today. She had hoped it would only be a short-term situation. Before she had left, the countess had suggested that it would not be long before her son found a wife and that seemed to have been one reason for bringing him to the capital. Of course, on the baron marrying, Melissa, Anneli, Jocasta and the others would be assigned to serve the new baroness. As the weeks passed, however, Melissa had become sceptical that the baron would find a wife in the near future. He appeared to relish living a debauched life in Kerans, drinking and gambling and, when not visiting brothels, delighting in the two sex-slaves he had brought with him. In fact, that pastime was the cause of Melissa’s visit today. It was rumoured that the baron was going to acquire a new sex-slave and so needed the appropriate rubber clothing for her that such slaves wore.
Sex-slaves, primarily female, though in some cases male, were not an uncommon sight in Kerans. The countess had never owned any, but many of the noble houses and rich merchants did. They were particularly popular among courtiers. Parading a clutch of the rubber-clad slaves on leashes or in cages was taken as a sign of prosperity and influence. They were apparently in high demand at parties and spectacles and especially if she was travelling at night Melissa would occasionally pass buy an owner with some. She tended to give them little thought; they were, after all, property. Occasionally she would be struck by one in particular, but no less often that she would be interested by a handsome horse or dog an owner was leading.
As she entered the Orja establishment, Melissa wondered why, though she might ask where in the country a particular dog or horse had been bred, she had never considered where these slaves came from. She guessed most in the city were purchased at the slave market, but where they originated from before ending up there, she had no idea. She guessed now that her lack of curiosity was because she viewed them rather as a race, perhaps even a species, apart from herself. She similarly gave no thought to the people of the tribes of the Plains of Voy.
While Melissa had accompanied the countess to this street before when she was seeking new cloaks or boots, this was the first time she had entered a slavewear store. The first thing that struck her was the aroma of rubber, in places mixed with that of leather. Then she saw that the shop was like a salon with carpet and large cushions on the floor and richly upholstered chairs. It contrasted between low-lit areas and those of bright light. Items of clothing were displayed on mannequins slightly raised from the floor that looked so life-like that Melissa wondered for a moment if they were real women simply holding a pose. As she looked around further Melissa made out rings set into the walls to which she guessed slaves were leashed. There was also an entrance to the street up a short flight of steps with an iron gate and she imagined this was where slaves brought in a cage would be disembarked into the shop.
“May I help you?”
Melissa was rather startled by the sound of the woman’s voice and she turned to see where she was emerging from behind the counter. The shop assistant was probably ten years older than Melissa and had flame-red hair that cascaded down one side of her face. Her clothes straddled seriousness and sensuality. She wore a tight leather corset of a russet shade. Her skirt was long but clung tightly to her body; it was slit to one knee to allow movement. As she approached Melissa realised that her skirt was of rubber. She wondered if rubber clothes were restricted to slaves or were worn more widely in certain parts of society. Melissa did not know how to respond. She fumbled in her pouch for the order that the baron’s factotum, Chapryne, had given her.
“I am Alexandrina Otass. How can I assist?” The woman persisted.
Melissa imagined she was not the first lady-in-waiting sent to order something from the store. However, she guessed that this Alexandrina was experienced in dealing with all kinds of custom, perhaps even plain sightseers.
“I am a lady-in-waiting to the Countess, sorry, messenger for the Baron Hoskild. I have an order from him.”
The folded and sealed piece of paper almost flew from Melissa’s hand as she finally freed it from her pouch. A little flustered Melissa handed it across to Alexandrina who gave a warm smile. It reassured Melissa that this woman was used to dealing with all kinds of situations and would be understanding.
Alexandrina broke the seal on the order and read it. She looked over at Melissa for some moments and she wondered if something was wrong.
“Is something the matter?” Melissa asked.
“Well, there are very few details on this order: are you in a position to provide more information?”
“I don’t know. What do you need?”
“This is the order for a tailored catsuit and boots. Usually we measure the slave. Will your master, the baron, be bringing her here? He has not said that he wants one of the pattern makers to go to his house.”
“Erm, well, I think the slave that he wants these clothes is not one he has yet. I guess he’s going to buy her from the market, maybe she’s coming from his family’s estate.”
“It appears he has a slave in mind.”
“Does it? I was not told what he wrote, I was just told to bring the message.”
“You are Syssa?”
The name sounded strange to Melissa and then she realised it must be that the baron had misheard her own name.
“Not precisely, I am Melissa Sophia de Sheardonne. His lordship is newly at the residence here in Kerans and I think he misheard my name.”
“But it was you who was specifically asked to bring this order?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, that makes things easier as it says that the slave will be your size.”
“I see.”
To Melissa it was not a surprise, from what she knew of the baron it was typical. Rather than bother to have someone work out the right measurements he simply picked a woman on his staff who looked to be on parallel with his incoming new slave. Melissa felt this was a rather foolish move as she doubted that she had the breasts or the buttocks of a slave. However, she was not keen to be the one to return to the baron saying his order could not be fulfilled.
“Shall we sit, it will be more comfortable.” Alexandrina gestured to one of the couches.
Melissa worried that this meant she was going to be questioned at length. It was not that she had anything better to do but she did worry that she would make some mistake. Increasingly she worried that she had been set this task on the assumption that she would do something wrong.
“Right, I assume he wants the rubber to be black.”
“Yes, his slaves have black and shiny.”
“What thickness of rubber is the baron seeking?”
“Erm, the usual thickness.”
“Here, have a look at these swatches, can you tell me which is closest to what he has for his other slaves.”
Alexandrina handed Melissa a wooden clip with a range of squares of rubber of different thicknesses. Most were black but there were other shades too. The touch of the rubber beneath her fingers felt strange to Melissa at first, then it made her tingle and she wondered how it must feel to have this all over your body. Melissa was hesitant again, not wanting to make a mistake. She looked around the room and her eyes caught sight of a mannequin wearing an outfit which looked identical to those she had seen the baron’s two sex-slaves wearing.
“That one, just like that one. The, the, erm, the catsuit, the boots, the gloves too. That colour, that thickness. That is precisely what he needs.” Melissa continued sounding more confident than she actually was.
Alexandrina scribbled down various words and figures. “Yes, that is the most popular design, what one would expect of a lord recently arrived in Kerans.”
That comment made Melissa feel she had made the right guess. “Yes, that sounds … that is correct.”
“Good, I will speak with my pattern makers and we will take some measurements then we can proceed with the making. If you will wait here.”
“Certainly.” Melissa responded, pleased with how she seemed to have rescued her mission from failure.
Melissa gazed idly around the room before her attention was attracted by noise from outside. It appeared as if a wagon was being backed up to the shop. Then two male servants came in followed by a woman, who, from her dress, looked to be a lower-ranked noblewoman, perhaps even a merchant’s wife. Three of the store’s assistants appeared briskly; guided the lady to a chair and fetched refreshments. Melissa seemed forgotten for the moment, but she found that she was content to spectate; this would give her a new story to share when she got back to the house.
The woman was probably little older than forty. As was the style for wealthy ladies, she wore a broad skirt reaching to the floor and a loose bodice with puffed sleeves. Her hat was large and shaded her face. The quality of the cloth, the thread and gems stitched into the dress plus items like the gloves the lady wore and pieces of jewellery were all subtle signs that could tell an astute watcher the status and wealth of the woman. Melissa had enough knowledge to have her suspicions confirmed, this was the wife of a wealthy merchant, probably with inherited funds of her own too. She sought to conceal her wealth to avoid upsetting noble clients, but it seemed that one day she hoped that a son or a daughter would marry into the class so that at least her grandchildren would be nobles.
One of the doors to the outside was opened and a burly man, from his clothing it seemed he was another of the ladies servants, led in a young woman on a chain affixed to her wrist. The woman was in a plain dress. If it had not been so well made, Melissa would have assumed that she was poor. However, given her downward gaze and how she only moved in jerks as her chain was pulled, Melissa imagined this was a prosperous woman now brought low. The lack of hat and the cut of the dress was a clear signifier of her reduction in status. It did not take much imagination to guess that she had suffered at the hands of the lady’s trading. Why had she been brought here? Melissa wondered. There was one clear explanation: that this woman was to be enslaved in order to clear her debts. For a woman young, healthy and attractive like this one, selling her body, well, in fact, having her body sold, as a slave could raise a large sum.
“More perky now, my Arletta. Remember the better slave you are the more money your sale will raise. You want to make certain that it brings in enough to entirely cover your brother’s debt don’t you? Then I’ll not have to bother selling your sister too.”
At the last statement Arletta looked up with some alarm. Clearly the message had got through and she stood more demurely, with her head lowered and her body in a more clearly submissive pose. Melissa knew that enslavement was a punishment courts could hand down, but guessed this was a private deal. She wondered if Arletta had known the terms or whether they had been between her brother and this woman. That sense that you could be swept up into slavery through the actions of someone else made Melissa shudder, but she then realised disconcertingly that it was not all in alarm.
“Is the catsuit ready? The boots?” The lady asked of one of the assistants.
“Yes Madame Dahler. Precisely to the measurements you sent us.
“Good, good. There seems no point putting this one up for sale unless she can look the part.”
“Madame, I doubt there will be much trouble with that. The slavewear we produce here at Orja as much shapes the wearer as it shapes to her.”
Madame Dahler hesitated for the moment then laughed. “Ah, yes, I see what you are saying. Well, I have heard you are good, which is why I came here. I look forward to seeing the impact on this one. She is feisty and not in the right way.”
The assistant made a small gesture for Madame Dahler to follow. They stepped closer in Melissa’s direction though neither appeared to notice her presence. Now they spoke in quieter voices and Melissa guessed this was so Arletta would not hear.
“That is less uncommon than you may think Madame Dahler. We can provide a collar to assist.”
“Before she is sold?”
“Yes, we have that right, as otherwise you can imagine the potential chaos here, especially when the end-of-year bill payments come due.”
“Yes, yes, of course, I understand. That would be wonderful if you could arrange it.”
“Of course, madame.”
The assistant hurried away back behind the counter.
“Madame, would you care for some wine while my colleagues fetch the outfit?” One of the younger assistants asked.
“Certainly, certainly.” Madame Dahler spoke ostentatiously as she was guided to a large comfortably upholstered bowl chair by another of the assistants.
Arletta was left standing. She shot a brief glance at Melissa but then kept her gaze down. She was clearly reluctant to adopt this submissive pose, but clearly knew that it was in the best interest, perhaps not of herself, but certainly her siblings, not to do anything else. As Madame Dahler made a fuss of sampling the wine, the senior assistant returned, a measure in one hand and something else in the other that Melissa could not make out.
“There is just one measure I have to check.” The assistant said, going behind Arletta. “If I may.” She said, lifting Arletta’s hair clear of the back of her neck.
Arletta grunted a reply. Then Melissa saw that the assistant had in fact put the measure down and in her hands instead was a glossy collar of the kind slaves wore. In moments it was around Arletta’s neck. She reached up to grasp it and looked to be about to make some complaint, but as it snapped locked, her hands fell and she seemed to lose all will to resist.
“It is done.” The assistant said, coming from behind Arletta.
“Thank you.” Madame Dahler responded then drunk deep from her glass.
Melissa watched curiously as Arletta moved, slowly touching her body as if discovering it anew. Her posture altered and her submissive stance now looked much more genuine. She stood with her hands grasped behind her back so her breasts were thrust out and even her waist looked more prominent as if she was offering up her sex. Slowly she lowered herself to the floor and adopted a pose that Melissa recognised from the baron’s slaves. Her head was bowed but her chest was now thrust forward as she knelt with her legs splayed and her hands resting on each thigh. Steadily a patch of moistness became apparent on the front of her dress and Melissa shuddered to see this evidence that the woman had become so easily aroused. She had heard rumours about the collars, that they were somehow enchanted to make slaves compliant; however, she had little belief in magic. Others said they were lined with some substance that allowed specific ideas to flow forcefully into the wearer. Whatever the true explanation certainly here Melissa had been given evidence of their power.
“Stand.” Madame Dahler commanded.
Arletta looked up at her, appearing confused for the moment, but her body began moving and she climbed to her feet. To Melissa it was as if this young woman’s mind was fighting with whatever the collar was trying to push into it.
“Are you enjoying getting a sense of what it is like to be a slave?”
“No ... I, I don’t know; I don’t know what ...” Arletta responded weakly.
“That is not a good answer now is it, Arletta?”
“Erm, no.”
“No, but you know you want to give me better ones. Perhaps that is the trouble, you still think too much of yourself as Arletta the citizen and not as Arletta the slave, the piece of property.”
“Free, citizen, I am ...”
“I guess it does not help that Arletta is not really a sex-slave’s name. I have been thinking of Ah-ah for you, the kind of sound you will be making a great deal. Tell me what you are going to become, tell me what you need to become, Ah-ah.”
“I am not ... I am ... I am not Arletta.”
“That is right.” Madame Dahler snapped excitedly. “You are Ah-ah.”
“I am, I am ... I am Ah-ah.” Arletta seemed to concede as if she had found the best answer, perhaps the correct answer.
“Yes, Ah-ah, of course that is right. And, Ah-ah, you are a sex-slave.”
“I am Ah-ah,” Arletta now said it with more confidence. “I, i, i am a sex-slave. i am Ah-ah, i am a sex-slave.”
Melissa could almost feel how Arletta’s identity had been stripped away. Her perceptions of herself were being steadily altered: from an independent woman into someone so much more servile; without a sense of who she was except that given her by her Owner.
“The outfit is ready.” An assistant said as she approached.
“Excellent. This is proving easier than I had thought. The sooner I get her into the rubber the sooner she will truly be what she will be sold as.” Madame Dahler spoke joyfully. “Ah-ah, go with the assistant; come back to me in your wonderful new clothes, slave.”
Arletta still looked rather bewildered but, guided by one of the assistants, headed through a doorway.
“Syssa is it?”
Melissa heard a voice next to her. It was the young assistant who had brought Madame Dahler the wine. Melissa realised that she had been so enthralled by what the merchant woman had been doing that she had not noticed the assistant’s approach.
“Yes, er, no, I am Melissa.”
“Oh, but you are the one Alexandrina said needed to be seen about the sizes.”
“Yes, yes, I am.” Melissa said with more confidence. “There’s just some confusion about my name.”
“That is not uncommon when women come here for fittings.” The young woman gave a sweet smile. “I am Julia Marralan. If you will come with me.”
“Yes, of course.”
Melissa felt she could do nothing else. She could not really tell why, but this place was still making her feel unsettled and now that the distraction of Arletta was gone the sensation returned. Melissa followed Julia through the door that Arletta had gone through shortly before, but in the corridor beyond, lined with four wooden doors down each side, there was no sign of her. Julia went to one door midway down the corridor. Confusingly it opened not into a room but into another corridor itself ending in a door. Through that the two women stepped into a small octagonal room with a door in each wall and lit by a glowing crystal set into the ceiling. Melissa was coming to understand that this shop was far larger than she had realised. Julia opened a final door revealing what looked like a wardrobe though it was stranger than that. It was filled by a human form embedded in blue velvet, with the arms and legs spread out to make a star shape. Melissa saw that the shape was repeated, though more shallowly, in the door.
“If you will step in Syssa.”
“Sorry?”
“Just step into the measuring chamber. It will all be done very quickly. There is no need to be worried.” Julia said with a reassuring smile.
“I am meant to get in there?”
“Yes, that was what I was told. You were not expecting the vacuum measure instead?”
Julia went to the door beside it and opened it to reveal a very similar closet. This however was lined with glistening black rubber and a three-dimensional shape resembling a woman stood out from the back wall with fastenings down one side.
“You need to be naked to use that.”
Now Melissa felt as if she was not in some real shop but something out of a dream or a nightmare.
“The other will be fine.” She found herself conceding though she did not mean it.
In the next couple of minutes with some difficulty, Melissa had manoeuvred her voluminous clothes and the body beneath them into the star shape made out by the form. She had made the concession of removing her hat and had even unlaced her shoes. In her stockings she had to stand on a slanted platform which Julia adjusted; it tilted her feet downwards. She felt very uncomfortable and began to think of how she could complain to Lady Octavia, Matron of Ladies, when she got back to the baron’s residence. Then the door was closed and she was plunged into darkness.
“This will take some moments.” Melissa heard Julia say from outside. “I have been advised the head too needs measurement.”
Melissa knew that she was in no position to protest. Then she was aware of things pressing towards her; she quickly realised they were coming down on her clothes all over her. She yelped as some touched her face. Though they were soft on the tips and the pressure was very light, Melissa could not get away from the sense of being pinned in place especially as they went through her hair to her scalp and even up between her legs. Then as she felt she could take this no more, all the probes dropped back and the door to the closet clicked open. Delighted, Melissa hurried out and was almost fell as the skirt of her dress became entangled in the form. Back in the octagonal room, Julia was gone but Melissa’s shoes were on the floor and her hat hung from a door knob. Melissa took her hat and opened the door to see if there was a chair beyond that she could sit on to put her shoes back on. The room revealed was long and narrow; lit by a bluish crystal. Down one side were rails and shelves. Wrapped in tissue paper were catsuits, gloves, boots and even masks of the kind worn by dominoes. On the other wall, along a pole were various chains, leashes and collars.
With curiosity Melissa went to one of the collars and picked it up. She wondered just how it had had the effect on Arletta that she had seen. The coating was slippery rubber and it felt as if there was metal inside. A metal ring hung from the front, which she knew from the baron’s slaves was where their leash was attached. At the end of the room, she could see a long mirror and a carved black wood chair stood in front of it. With her shoes in one hand and the collar in the other she went to the chair. She sat down and laced up the ribbons on her shoes. Then, mischievously, she held the collar up to her neck and felt a sudden thrill run through her. She thought back to how she had seen Arletta become aroused.
Looking at herself in the mirror with the collar at her neck Melissa spoke the way that Arletta had done. “i am Syssa.” She said.
“Well, Syssa then you are not supposed to be in here.”
Startled, Melissa looked to the sound of the voice and saw that an older woman dressed in a black apron and with her hair pinned up had come in. Presumably she had entered from a door beyond the mirror. She walked up to Melissa.
“You won’t get too far with that one; it’s broken, it won’t lock.” The woman said as she took the collar from Melissa.
Melissa did not know how to respond.
“Don’t worry, they’ll give you a proper one soon enough.” The woman continued.
“I am not here for that. I have an order for my employer, Baron Hoskild.”
“Ah, I see. Well, then, you are well off the track. The collections are back that way. That Yasemine, she needs to employ more staff. It’s useless leaving customers wandering all over this place. Come; come with me.”
Melissa followed the woman around the mirror and out through a door there. They passed through a couple more before Melissa realised they were back out in the corridor leading from the front. She looked back to thank the woman but she had gone. Melissa bustled down the corridor back into the main part of the shop. As she stepped into the showroom, she was startled as she saw a slave stood there dressed from neck to toe in glistening black rubber. Melissa chided herself for being surprised given where she was. The slave turned, running her gloved hands over her tightly held body, caressing it in a provocative way. Then Melissa saw that this was Ah-ah. That name now appeared more appropriate than Arletta. Melissa would normally never have guessed that the woman standing now on the high-heels of her thigh-length boots in a catsuit that showed every cinched-in curve of her body, could have been anything except a sex-slave. Ah-ah was clearly relishing all that she was.
“Very good, yes, very, very good. I can see what you mean about the clothes shaping the woman. Now let us try the mask. She’ll raise more as a domino. It’ll not only clear the brother’s debt but make me some profit. My father said I’d never make it as a merchant in Kerans and certainly not dealing in slaves, but I have something to show him now.”
Julia now came forward with a mask like the ones Melissa had seen in the store room. That explained why she had left Melissa in that unpleasant closet. It was clear that Madame Dahler was a woman the owner of this store wanted to impress.
“Kneel, Ah-ah.” Madame Dahler commanded.
The slave complied. Julia went behind her and with a skill Melissa could not help but admire, fed the woman’s hair through the mask and then pulled it down over her face. Now it was as if the transformation was complete. This woman bore no resemblance to Arletta. With her eyes and mouth the only uncovered parts of her, she was a domino, one of those particularly prized slaves that performed at the court or the parties of the wealthy.
“Oh yes. She could have been born to it. It’ll make it easier for me, it’ll ensure that none of her family try to come and ‘rescue’ her. Yes, I’ll take the mask too. Don’t bother removing them, she’ll wear everything as she has it. Dispose of her clothes as you see fit.”
“A leash, madame.” One of the younger assistants came forward with one.
“Thank you, just add it to the account.”
Madame Dahler now reached forward and clipped the leash to her new slave’s collar.
“Stand.”
The slave obeyed. Madame Dahler turned to one of her attendants.
“Have the wagon taken back to the cantonment, Naison. I want to parade my new acquisition.”
One of her attendants went to the senior assistant and they crossed to the counter, Melissa imagined to settle Madame Dahler’s account. Melissa turned to watch Madame Dahler and Ah-ah leave the shop. If she had not seen the slave’s face before the mask had gone on, she would not have believed the woman had been Arletta. She guessed the catsuit and the boots altered her body and the way she moved. However, there was a sensuality around the slave that had certainly not been in the woman she had been before. Melissa imagined that being collared, put into those clothes, having your identity stripped and replaced with that of a slave was going to alter your whole outlook on the world. Servility; sexuality were clearly the dominant things in Ah-ah’s life now, in sharp contrast to the resistant Arletta who had been brought into the shop. Melissa wondered if this was what would happen to the baron’s slave when she was brought here. Then again, she imagined she was already like that and this was just a case of getting her the best slavewear so that she would be suited for service here in the capital.
Once the wagon had left and the attendant had finished his business, the shop returned to a settled pattern. Melissa guessed that for the shop workers, the kind of scene she had just witnessed was not exceptional and simply marked another successful sale. Melissa was glad that the woman and her entourage were out of the way, but she found it difficult not to think of how quickly Ah-ah had become a slave and how altered she had been. Melissa went back to the counter hoping that her own business was complete.
“Julia. Is there anything else I need to do to finish the order?”
Julia smiled and looked at the paperwork on the desk.
“One catsuit, gloves, thigh boots, mask; collar and leash as standard, all ordered in grade 2 black rubber. Sizes all here. Order for Baron Hoskild. That is fine. They will be ready for fitting a week today. I am sure you will look wonderful in them Syssa and you’ll delight your Master. You saw how good Ah-ah looked, didn’t you?”
“I am not …” Melissa began again but then gave up. “Thank you. I will inform my employer.”
With that, Melissa turned and left the shop. As she went through the streets she recognised that part of her had been unnerved at what she had seen, but then again, she reminded herself, it was not as if she was naïve. Slavery was legal in Kerans and it was something the man who employed her engaged with. As she walked on she was able to begin thinking about this mission on a professional basis. She had gone to the store with insufficient information, but that was not uncommon when working for the nobility. Thus, she had to pride herself that she had resolved the situation in a way that would not mean a delay for the baron. Other thoughts about the creation of Ah-ah and her playing with the collar, she drove from her mind, feeling now she had been foolish and that such things clashed with the efficient persona she was seeking to adopt. As it was, she imagined she would not be returning to Orja Supplies for the foreseeable future.