Dystopia Pt. 03

'What is with her and floors. Every time she's in the same room as me, she's looking at the damn floor,' he thought.

Her face reddened, and without looking up she said, "There are a few things I would like Master. Some...women things."

Terror shot through Emil. He hadn't even considered her unique biological needs. 'Way to go! You drag her all the way up here, and didn't even make sure she had the proper equipment to deal with her...time. Stupid stupid stupid!'

Clearing his throat he tried to cover up his mistake. "Does my mother's things not have the proper supplies?"

"No sir. I looked while we moved the chests and it appears that she was beyond the need for such items. At least I couldn't find any."

Emil nodded as if listening to a Lord ask his advice on trade routes. "Very well, I'll get what you need from market tomorrow."

Isla bowed her red face. "Thank you master," then returned to continue scrubbing whatever it was in the other room.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and mentally kicked himself for screwing up so bad. She obviously didn't like the bed, and she was understandably upset that he had completely forgotten female biology.

'If there was an award to dumbass of the year, you'd be a shoe in.'

To distract himself, Emil began putting the room back together. As he filled the chests with spare blankets, bits of lace and his mother's sewing kits, he paused to fondle each one. Most of the items had some pretty powerful memories associated with them. They even had stored several bits of paper that he had drawn on as a child, pictures of flowers and the house...and what looked like a drunk ant the size of a uhaul. 'Well it's cute, even if it's not artistic.'

With the room back in some semblance of living condition, with the exception of the wall nearest the door, he gathered his tools and nail bucket. It only took a few minutes to bundle up, drop the equipment back in the barn and scurry back inside. He checked on the rabbits in the mudroom on his way back in. They had shit everywhere, but other than that they were doing fine. Perfectly content to just eat the last of the hay left for them and fuck each other.

He walked back inside to a spotless kitchen, and a small saucepan of earlier's stew bubbling away. Isla stood from putting some large wooden bowls away in a lower cabinet to face him.

"Perfect timing sir, soup is ready. Please sit down and I'll dish some up."

Emil dropped into his chair and tried not to smile. 'Ok, so having a slave is a little cool.'

Isla set a piping hot bowl in front of him and waited next to his chair as he sipped it. "It's perfect temperature. Thank you Isla."

"Of course master."

She retreated to fill her own bowl and join him at the table, bringing two cups of water as well. They ate quickly, with Isla asking if he wanted more just as the last spoon was empty. He declined and thanked her again.

"The room is as good as it's going to get right now, and it'll be dark in about two hours. I'm gonna take another bath and then hit the sack. I'm going to enjoy the extra sleep while I can, I'm sure this storm is causing havoc all over my ranch."

Emil retreated to his bath, and after waiting for the bath to fill, sunk into the steamy liquid and closed his eyes. It was rare for him to get two baths a week. Two in one day? Never. Why not though? He had nothing to do, nowhere to go, and an adorable girl to get out of his thoughts.

Of course trying not to think about her, just made it worse. Now that's all he could think about. He remembered seeing her naked, and at the time it was just the reality of the situation, and he was far more concerned with getting her warmed up. Now that things had settled a little bit, he was thinking about what lay beneath those clothes in a way that was far from proper.

Peeking one eye towards the door to make sure it was closed, his hand drifted south to his hardening cock. Sensation shot through him as his hand wrapped around his pulsing member, gentle strokes in the warm water easy to imagine as the inviting wetness of Isla's pussy. It didn't take him long to get lost in the fantasy, picturing her hair as a halo around her as she lay on his bed. Legs open and inviting. Mouth quivering, just on the verge of begging for it. Her chocolate eyes looked up at him with lust and she bit her lower lip.

Knock knock knock

"Sir? Are you nearly done? I've brought a towel that I've warmed near the stove." Isla called through the door, clearing the lusty air like a bucket of ice water in winter.

Water sloshed everywhere as Emil jumped, failing in the tub grabbing onto anything that wasn't himself.

"Yeah I'm almost done. Just leave the towel by the door and I'll grab it thanks" his voice shrieked. 'Way to play it cool man.'

Emil laid back in the tub and felt his heart pounding against his chest. Good thing was, he no longer needed a distraction from the thoughts rampaging inside his head. Panic, as it turns out, is an excellent mood killer.

As soon as he was calmed enough, Emil got out of the bath and stopped himself from draining it; remembering that Isla hadn't taken one yet. Walking over to the door he opened it, expecting to see the towel on the floor, but instead she was standing there holding it out for him.

Emil had no idea what to do. Here he was naked as the day he was hatched, fresh from the tub where he had been fantasizing about the woman in front of him. Water dripped onto the floor as Isla and Emil just looked at each other. He quickly snatched the towel out of her hands and started drying off.

He wasn't ashamed of being naked. In a house as small as this nudity was just a part of life. He'd lost count of how many times he'd seen his parents naked over the course of his life. This was different though. He'd never had feelings about his parents. Even when she saw him naked earlier it was after he'd been able to relax.

Emil quickly turned his back to her as he dried off, lest she see his growing problem. He had finally been able to calm down, and then, bam, there she was in the doorway with him buck naked.

He finished drying and wrapped the towel around his waist. "Thank you Isla. The bath is still pretty warm, I wasn't in for too long. "

Isla nodded not saying anything, and entered the bathroom to feel the water. A small callous free hand dipped in, and tested the surface of the water. Apparently satisfied, Isla reached down to the hem of her shirt and started pulling it upwards.

Emil turned and quickly bolted from the room, closing the door behind him and practically leaped across the hallway to his new room. It looked like Isla hadn't had a chance to finish moving all his clothes to the new room yet, but he found a pair of his dad's old pants that were a little short but fit ok.

'Well, my pants now I guess' he thought somberly.

After his mother died, Emil had just kind of...continued. He'd cleaned up his parent's room and put everything away, but beyond that his day to day routine had never changed. It was a lot quieter, but really that was the only difference.

Now with Isla here, he had to face the fact that things were going to change. This wasn't his mom and dad's house; it was his. These weren't his mother's sewing supplies; they was his.

It was going to take some getting used to.

Rummaging through the clothes, Emil found an old shirt and sweater as well as socks. The sweater was a bit tight on him, but it was just sleepwear so no big deal. He bent to start the fire in the potbellied stove in the corner of the room and fed several logs and ceramic briquettes into it. He'd retrieve the ones currently in use from his old bedroom tomorrow morning.

Emil picked a book from the bookcase. It was one of his favorites, it chronicled the story of a girl who used a ship to find a dragon that destroyed her life, but became embroiled in a war with beings from another dimension. He wasn't sure if the "Empire of Ashes" was an accurate diary, or just a fun story. It didn't really matter.

He had just gotten into the part of the book where Archer was getting yelled at by her superior, when Isla stepped into the room, wrapped in a towel and soaking wet hair down her back. She rifled through the clothes in the closet and selected several garments. Letting the towel fall, she began to dress.

Emil tried to keep his eyes on his book, but it was futile. This time when he took in her shape, it wasn't just because he was checking for chilblains. Her skin was dusky, like a cup of thin whiskey. Her black hair came down to her shoulder blades and pooled in the dent where her back met her spine. The long curve of her spine waved back and forth as she pulled on her pants, like a snake hypnotizing its prey. Where it met her ass though, that's where magic happened.

She was perfection of flawless tanned skin, plump cheeks, and dimples. Each firm globe was more than would fit in his hand, and begging to be bitten. If time stopped and Emil was frozen for all existence staring at that ass, he would consider it time well spent. Sadly her pants covered the heavenly posterior much too quickly, and she never turned to give him a peek at her chest.

He shifted in bed adjusting his dick, which was paying just as much attention as he was. It fed him images of her bent over the bed and being rammed from behind, bouncing over his cock like a slow motion jello mold of pure lust.

Isla turned and Emil glued his eyes back to his book, trying to give off no indication that he'd just been eye fucking her so hard that they should both be panting.

"Did you need anything else master?"

Clearing his throat he met her gaze, "No. I'm going to read for a bit, and then go to sleep. There are candles in the box on the bookcase if you'd like to read. Sorry about the cot, I just figured you'd want your own space. I'll think of something else if you want."

She shook her head at him, "No sir, the cot is fine, thank you." She then bent to the shelf and after a few minutes of looking, picked out a book and a candle. She crawled into her cot, where she had placed a small pillow and several blankets and began to read. The book was too far away for Emil to see the cover but it was a large book and he could see drawings on some of the pages.

'Probably a book about flowers. Girls like flowers. Jasmine is a flower. No! Stop it! Shut up you stupid penis. Go to sleep while I read my book.'

Emil dove back into the novel and read until his eyes grew heavy. He didn't even notice when he fell asleep and the book fell to the side. He slept deeply, dreaming of running his hands along a tan back, and knotting his hands into black hair.

Chapter 16

Isla read by candle light until she heard the snores from Emil's bed. She was beyond confused by today's events and was having a hard time keeping her mind in "Agricultural Mechanics: Fundamentals and Applications." As fascinating as the concept of using large machines to aid in planting and harvesting was, it couldn't hold a candle to the storm of thoughts running through her mind.

'Ok, so let's try and figure this out. So he didn't jump you this morning, and that's when a lot of guys "wake up" in more way than one. He didn't ask you to join him in the bath...either time. Then he made you a separate bed, instead of making you share his. The question is: why does a man buy a woman at a slave auction, take her home, and then NOT fuck her.'

The question rattled ran around and around her brain. She came up with dozens of theories, and discarded each of them. The only thing that made any sort of sense was that he didn't want to sleep with her.

She knew there were men who preferred the company of other men to women; but she had never heard of a man like that who lived so far from a proper city.

'This far away from everything, he must really be turned off by women to not take advantage of one who couldn't say no.'

At first she was a little creeped out by a man whose lifestyle was so completely foreign to hers; but as she laid there for a while, she began to like the idea more and more. A man who so far, hadn't hit her, yelled at her, degraded her...and didn't want her body.

'It most certainly be worse. Perhaps I'm was the luckiest woman on the planet to come across the only man in the northern hemisphere who won't abuse a slave. It's actually kind of perfect.'

And just like that the bubble burst.

Her father had told her when she was a child learning how a laundry worked, to beware the deal that was too good. Nobody in the history of the world ever did anything that didn't benefit them in some way. Oh sure, Emil said he needed a ranch hand; but from what she had seen the ranch was in good condition and the chores hadn't taken him that long to finish.

No there was something else he wanted, she was sure of it. What though? She had no idea how to milk a goat, or shave a sheep. She couldn't ride a horse, and he had none. She'd never even held a hammer, and couldn't begin to fathom where to start with fixing a truck.

Even though she only cost a measly five gold, there was no way that he bought her just to cook and clean. No, there was something else. For the life of her she couldn't figure it out. The candle burned low as she thought in circles until eventually, exhausted from worry, she snuffed it out and went to sleep.

She woke in the morning with her arm numb from having slept on it all night and a crick in her back from the hard rail on the cot. She moaned and rolled over, trying to work some feeling back into her arm. She looked over to the bed and saw Emil sprawled out across it and a large wet spot next to his mouth.

She snickered at him drooling and got up to attend nature. She saw light streaming in through the windows in the kitchen and saw the storm was still in full fury. She started a pot of water for tea and a second for breakfast, and searched through the barrels in the kitchen for some kind of fruit.

She found a small bucket of apples had seen better days, their skin a little shriveled and flesh beginning to dry out. She chopped a couple up and added them to the grits, hoping the water would help reconstitute them a bit.

She heard Emil slam the door to the bathroom and was able to get the grits, tea, and sweet syrup on the table by the time he stumbled into the kitchen. He blinked stupidly at the meal already set and mumbled his thanks as he sat down.

Isla waited for him to sit and take a bite of breakfast to make sure there wasn't anything else he needed before she took her seat opposite him and ate her own meal. She watched carefully, and refilled his tea as soon as it was empty, and though she offered to make him second helpings he declined.

He stumbled off to the room to put get ready for his day, as she washed and put away the dishes and hurried to get herself ready. She quickly threw on several of the thickest sweaters she could find, and topped it off with a heavy coat. Five pairs of socks later and she was ready to follow Emil around for the morning chores.

While he was checking on the sheep, 'are there more of them than yesterday?' she filled the troughs with the feed from the small shack. The sheep were still terrifying, but she forced herself to stand still, gritting her teeth, when they rushed the food.

She handed Emil his weapon as he clambered over and into the goat pen, and began swinging the shovel around even though there were no goats even near him. He was able to start checking the herd when, with a mangled yelp, he disappeared. Isla panicked, and climbed over the fencing to go help him.

'Maybe he fell in a pothole and twisted his ankle, or got bit by something in the ground.'

She had barely made it a few yards inside the pen, when Emil surged to his feet holding a goat by its feet. He spun in a small circle and threw the goat back into the herd like a sack of grain, shouting expletives at the top of his lungs.

Convinced that the goats would survive another day, they both retreated back behind the safety of the fence and headed back towards the barn.

"Do you have a complete list of everything you need from market," he asked her as they both grabbed armfuls of the moldy hay.

"Yes sir. I can write it down for you if you wish."

Shaking his head, "No it'll be simpler if you just come with me. It's not like you don't fit in the truck, and this way you can make sure you get the right stuff."

She missed a step as she nodded at his words. Going into a town as a slave was a dangerous prospect. Laws didn't apply to her, and if she was killed by a runaway carriage or a drunk, they would only be required to pay for or replace her.

They dumped the hay and she went back for seconds, while Emil headed over to the truck to warm it up for the drive. Satisfied that the rabbits were settled in, she joined him in the cabin of the truck and they roared off down the road.

The gentle swaying of the truck was nice, and for the first hour or so Isla just stared out the window and tried to catch glimpses of the countryside through the whiteness of the storm. She was very glad that they had the truck and were protected from the elements as they journeyed. She couldn't imagine doing this in a horse and buggy.

As the time passed, Isla thought about the items she would need. Some chest wraps if they have them, some undergarments, menstrual rags, and proper shoes. She couldn't think of much else she would need, as the ranch had a good stock of basic necessities. Obtaining those necessities was another matter.

As a slave she couldn't buy or sell anything without proper permission from her master, and she wasn't sure what the rural market would be like. She knew the auction house was fairly nearby, but it looked like it mainly serviced the work farms and brothels to the south. So they might not be used to dealing with a slave. That could be good or bad.

Hopefully they would just treat her like a normal person, but she had talked to some girls from other areas who said slaves weren't allowed in shops. Sometimes they could just wait outside, but they mentioned that some larger towns had posts outside certain buildings where slaves were chained up like horses to wait for their master to return. There was nothing to stop a passerby from stopping and trying to cop a feel or worse.

As terrifying as being chained out in the cold was, it was still better than being snatched up in the street by someone. One of the male slaves had told her about a time when a man kidnapped him when he was out of sight of his master. He wasn't sure if the man knew he was a slave or was just a rapist, but the man was a monster.

He had taken off his shirt and shown the girls the scars where the man had cut his chest and stomach as he held him down and raped him. The only thing that saved him was that his master had come looking for him and he was not far from where he had been taken. When his master found him, he had been furious, but not because he had been hurt or raped.

No, he was mad that the rapist had stolen his property without permission. Before even taking him to the healer to be looked at, his master drug him to the nearest blacksmith and had a heavy iron collar around his neck, marking him as property. The sheriff had been called and his attacker was ordered to pay twelve gold for the damage to his body, and sent on his way. The slave's master was so disgusted with him, that he sold him the next day to the auction house.

She later found out that if the man raped a free woman, it was the woman's responsibility to prove it, and the maximum penalty was ten gold. Disgusting that "theft of property" carried a heavier penalty than rape.