A Scent of Jasmine ((Warning, mature content))

[clys]

Greedlo was happy, rubbing his hands together gleefully as he walked along. It wasn’t often that his band of renegade goblins received such a perfect young night elf female to sell. She would fetch a high price, indeed. All he had to do was get the word out to prospective buyers, and ensure that the auction was well attended.

Greedlo walked up to the back entrance as he had been instructed, and rapped his knuckles on the door in the secret rhythm. A withered undead female answered, opening the door slightly.

“What’s your business here, goblin?” she asked, her voice sounding rusty and unused.

“I have information for Mistress Clys. Some merchandise has come in that I think she will be very interested in acquiring!” Greedlo replied, apparently completely at ease talking to the undead servant.

“Very well, wait in the hallway, I will see if the Mistress wishes to speak with you.”

The servant disappeared for several minutes into the darkness of the place, and Greedlo stood alone in the barren hallway. He restrained himself from whistling, knowing that some people found it irritating, and he had no wish to bother a potential customer.

At last the servant returned, and beckoned him to follow, crooking a bony finger at him. They made their way down the hallway to a staircase, and then down the stairs and on into a small sitting room, which contained nothing but a couple of rickety wooden chairs.

Clys regarded the goblin with some disdain, but nodded at him.

“Hello Greedlo. Good to see you. What do you have for me?”

“Always right to business, Mistress!” he replied, grinning. “I do like that about you.”

Greedlo leaned closer to Clys, and lowered his voice as if someone might be listening, but it was only for the effect. He was certain that this place was secure. Clys was no fool, whatever else she might be.

“We have come into possession of a healthy, young, night elf female. She is to be auctioned tomorrow, at the usual place. This one is special, let me tell you. From what you told me of your…needs…I think she is exactly what you want. The bidding is sure to be fast and furious, so bring lots of cash!”

Greedlo’s eyes fairly glowed with anticipation.

Clys smiled, nodding her head slowly.

“She is unblemished? You are sure of this?” she asked.

“Oh yes, Mistress, she’s been fully examined. And of course you will be free to examine her yourself before the auction, if you arrive early. Believe me, this is prime merchandise, very rare!”

“Excellent. I will be there. Oh, and Greedlo?”

“Yes, Mistress?” he said, anxious to please.

“If she is as you say, I will win the auction. I don’t mind paying a fair price for the best. But if I find that you’ve placed a single ‘ringer’ in with the bidders, I will slice out your heart and feed it to the orphans. Understood?”

Clys smiled widely, her small fangs glinting in the dim light.

Greedlo swallowed before squeaking out a reply.

“I would never do such a thing, Mistress! Never! It will be a fair auction, you can count on that!”

“It better be,” said Clys, waving a hand at him in dismissal.

Greedlo followed the servant back up the stairs and down the hallway to the door, breathing a bit easier once he was outside. Creepy damn undead, he thought, but their coin spends as well as anybody’s. Well, on to the next one. The more that came to the auction, the higher the price would go. That thought put the smile back on his face, and he sauntered along to his next destination.

[Ayrn]

Ayrn wasn’t really paying attention, which was unlike him. But today his mind was on other things than where he was, and what he was doing. He was going through the motions, hunting for skins and gathering them in his pack for later use in the leather garments he was learning to make. But he was thinking about the people he had met in Stormwind the other night.

It had been by chance that he had wandered into the Mage area, looking for the druid trainer. He heard voices coming from the tavern, and went in to see what was going on. There was quite a group there, and he managed to insert himself into the conversation.

He was quite awed by many of these people, especially the one at the head of the table. She was a lovely elf, wearing a rather outlandish hat, but it was clear that everyone there looked up to and respected her. The males around the table referred to her as “Boss Lady.” Ayrn discovered that her name was Kurohane, and that she was the leader of the group known as the Swordwaltzers.

He hadn’t made a very good impression on them, coming off as rough and unrefined. It was a calculated gesture on his part. He preferred to be underestimated.

Then there were the two silly sisters, what were their names? Aleta, and Eli…something... Hmm… All they could talk about was finding boys. They were nice, though, and he enjoyed showing them his new bear-form dance.

Ayrn’s mind was on all these things so he was startled when a goblin suddenly appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and addressed him loudly.

“Hey! You looking for something really special? I got something coming up, you really oughta see it!” the goblin exclaimed in a rough but friendly-sounding voice.

“What are you talking about?” Ayrn snapped, angry with himself for allowing himself to be surprised like that.

“A girl! A girl like you’ve never seen, brother! You could be the proud owner, you know what I mean?” The goblin elbowed Ayrn, winking an eye at him.

Ayrn’s eyes narrowed a bit.

“A slave? What kind of slave?”

The goblin grinned. “Young! Female! Night elf! Need I say more?”

Ayrn smiled down at the green-skinned entrepreneur.

“Lead the way, goblin. I’m interested.”

[Jazmina]

Edit by Mortica: Warning! Mature Content!







Slavery was not something people talked openly about. It was not a politically correct thing to do. Some circles outright ostracized peers that kept slaves. Fortunately for the House of Darthirii, there was enough money and power to ignore such pressures as there were few houses that call themselves peers and equals to the House Darthirii.

Jazmina had been raised within the shadows of this large noble house that sprawled on the edge of Darnassas. She was the bastard child of a night-elf slave. Her sire was most likely one of the affluent guests the Master had passed her mother to for entertainment. Jazmina spent her childhood watching her mother grovel before that Master. She was made to watch on as her mother took more beatings. Did she feel pity? No. Nor did she pity herself at the beatings she suffered. If she felt anything other than disinterest it was a growing hatred at how her mother weakened and crawled, begging for pity and mercy. It was after one of those beatings taken by her mother that the Master took a sudden interest in Jazmina. He had paused in the hall after leaving the slave's sleeping cell when he overheard the child-slave say, rather cruelly to her mother, "If what does not kill us only makes us stronger, perhaps you should get on with dying."

The Master began watching the child from then on, seeing what he had missed. She was getting adept at skirting around the rest of the household, appearing when called for but staying hidden otherwise. It would be folly to let her outside of the household even on errand, despite his position in Darnassus, for with the onset of puberty, this child was growing to an exceptional beauty. A slave wandering the streets with her beauty would either gather the attention of other slave-holders who would want to steal her, or she could attract the attention of those do-gooders who would make her their poster child for freeing the slaves. Though his power and position were quite solid in the Darnassian community, it was never smart to make unnecessary waves, so he made it a point to command that this particular slave not be allowed outside the manor’s compounds. And so, Jazmina had never left the Master’s grounds, not on errands, not to help other slaves bring back the household purchases and groceries….and yet, where did the child get those shoes? They belonged to no one of this house. He certainly did not waste silvers on new leather for slaves. And so he continued to watch.

The quiet child grew into a quiet teenager with hair so black it glowed with a blue sheen. Unlike most other night elves, her skin was pale and white as the flower she was named for. As a slave she was given no perfumes, no lotions, only the cheapest of soaps to keep herself clean with, and yet the scent of Jasmine always seemed to waft through the air as she passed silently from room to room as she carried out her duties. The Mistress of the house finally came to notice the beautiful slave. In jealousy, she ordered the teenage slave to work from then on in the kitchens. First unable to leave the Master’s compound, and now unable to leave the manor’s kitchens but to sleep at night in her tiny cell and yet, “Where did she get that new tunic" the Master wondered.

A few years passed in those kitchens and Jazmina had learned she had an affinity with knives. Paring knives, butcher knives, cleavers, if it were sharp and pointy, she knew how to sharpen it, wield it and throw it. Anything that could be done with a knife, she learned to excel at, more out of boredom in those kitchens than anything else. That’s not to say that Jazmina strictly obeyed the command to stay in the kitchens. Jazmina was sneaking down an unused dusty turret one eve when suddenly an arm shot out from an archway, grabbing her black ponytail and yanking her hard into the little used room. She was spun around and pressed hard against the crumbling wall to meet the eyes of the Master. "I've been watching you young slave," he hissed at her.

"I know," she replied with no emotion.

He looked at her tunic, this new one, seeing her cleavage move with her breathing. "Where did you get this one, yet another new tunic?" he asked, tugging at the hem as he pulled it up to her waist.

"I stole it from your rival's daughter," she replied with half a smirk, careful not to meet his eyes.

"You left the compound?" he asked as his hands moved under the stolen tunic to encircle her ribs.

"Yes, but then you know that. I have left the compound many times." she whispered.

"To make deals with my rival?" he questioned, pushing her feet apart to stand between them.

"To find out why he is your rival... and to spy for anything useful of course." she voiced quietly.

"And what did you discover," he whispered in her ear as he bit her lobe.

"I discovered that the game of the Darnassian Houses is much like chess and the two of you are in a state of constant "check." she barely breathed as the Master kneaded her left breast.

The girl had no leggings and so he had only to tear off her loincloth. She did not cry out at her first taking; only bit her lip when he tore aside her maidenhead. To his surprise, her breathing met his and when he had finished with her, he thought she dared a smile.

"You will tell me next time you spy upon my rival," he said as he adjusted himself back into his leggings.

"Will you punish me again?" she dared to ask.

"Yes" he replied.

She took her gaze to the floor so he would not see her smile.

This was the first of many “punishments” the Master secretly inflicted upon Jazmina, not that she minded. She rather enjoyed even the more brutal possessions inflicted on her by the Master every time she’d reported that she’d left the compound yet again. She became such a good little spy for him, he began sending her on little assignments, and it was always with controlled anticipation that looked forward to surrendering herself to her Master’s whims after pleasing him with the success of her assignments. Unfortunately, it was not to last. The Mistress discovered who her husband’s special little spy was and quickly put an end to it.

Jazmina sat with the other slaves waiting to be auctioned in Booty Bay. She wondered if her Master knew his wife had taken her away while he was away in Stormhold on business. She wondered, she wondered so many things, but her thoughts went no where but in circles. The collar bearing the symbol of House Darthirii had been replaced by a rough iron one shackling her to other slaves, some of which were of races she’d never seen before. There was nothing left for her to do for now but wait.

[Lovely]

((As always, enjoyable! <3))

[Ayrn]

Ayrn walked quickly, following the goblin to the auctioning place. There was quite a crowd gathering. Apparently interest in this particular auction was quite high. He pursed his lips thoughtfully, and patted his pocket to be sure his cash was still there. Fortunately, he had quite a large amount on him. It should be enough to outbid most anyone, he figured.

He scanned the crowd, noting that there were both Horde and Alliance in attendance. One undead female in particular caught his eye. The way she held herself, it was clear that she was both powerful and used to getting her way. The air of authority about her was palpable. He took careful note of her guild crest, a two-headed serpent. It was always wise to remember such things.

The auctioneer was readying the area, and Ayrn heard the crowd suddenly inhale as one. He looked up, and saw the reason for the response. They were bringing out the girl the goblin had spoken about. He let his eyes roam freely over her. She was certainly lovely, and she carried herself proudly despite the manacles on her wrists. There was no hint of fear in her expression, just a look of understandable concern as she surveyed the mixed crowd. He saw her catch the eye of the undead female he had noticed earlier, and noted the slight widening of her eyes. It seemed that the girl understood the implications of this event, yet she still evinced no fear. He was impressed.

http://www.computer-man.us/fr/jazminaslave.jpg

The crowd pressed close around the auction box as the goblin began his spiel.

“We have here a rare and special item, indeed. This night elf female is well trained, a slave since birth, healthy and very beautiful, as you can all see. She is being sold due to a circumstance in the family for which she worked, no fault of her own. She will be a fine worker and a pleasing companion for whoever is the high bidder this evening!”

Ayrn heard a dry chuckle from behind him, and looked over his shoulder to see the undead female standing right there, a look of scorn and amusement on her face. He didn’t like to think about what would happen to the slave girl if that one bought her.

“Who will start the bidding at 500 gold?” the goblin shouted, and several hands went up immediately. The bidding continued fast and furious, but Ayrn withheld his bid, watching the process carefully.

At last it was down to two bidders. The price was now over 2000 gold, quite a fortune. The two remaining bidders were a hungry-looking troll, and the undead female. Ayrn raised his hand, calling out clearly.

“I bid 5000 gold!”

There was a stunned silence, and then a murmuring through the crowd. The goblin grinned very widely.

“We have a high bid of 5000 gold! Do I hear a higher bid?” he shouted, waving his arms about.

There was a scuffling behind Ayrn, and he glanced back to see the undead female rummaging through her packs, scowling deeply and muttering to herself.

“The gods be damned, I didn’t bring enough? What idiot would bid 5000 gold for a single female?” she muttered in a whispery voice.

Finally she threw up her hands in disgust, and Ayrn could feel her gaze boring into the back of his neck as the auctioneer shouted.

“Going once! Going twice! SOLD! To the dark haired elf in the second row, for 5000 gold! Pick up your merchandise in the back, son, and I hope you enjoy your new purchase!”

Ayrn nodded, and stepped forward. The girl turned to look over her shoulder at him as she was led to the back, and she smiled, bowing her head to him. He nodded, giving her a quick gesture of command to be silent. She cast her eyes down and walked out of the auction box, and Ayrn followed, noticing the graceful way she took each step. He wondered how much training she would really require. Looks could be so deceiving. But he was up to the task, of that much he was certain. Yes, the gods had smiled upon him today, and upon her as well. He wondered if she realized it yet.

As he entered the back area, he glanced back once more to see the undead female still standing near the auction block, glaring at him.

He turned his back on her, not allowing her to see his smile as he reached into his pocket. Funny that he had this collar with him. He had run across it earlier in the week and something had made him put it in his pocket. It bore his family crest, the symbol of the House Isto’Halrathn. It would look very nice upon the throat of his new slave girl.

http://www.computer-man.us/fr/istohalrathn.jpg

“Hmm. I wonder what her name is?” he mused.

[clys]

A page from Clys' journal:

I lost an auction today, for a young night elf girl. She would have been perfect for the next phase of my experiments, but some night elf male, druid by the look of him, actually outbid me! I had plenty of cash, but he waited until the bid was high, and then nearly doubled it. 5000 gold!

And he was just a whelp. I wonder where he got all that wealth? Something is not right, here, and I mean to find out what it is.

Maybe I can just kill the little pecker, and take the girl for free. I'll have to find out where they live.

[Jazmina]

When Jazmina was pulled forth to stand for the auction, she brought with her all she had to keep herself calm. She’d heard of slaves being sold, but she thought she’d never experience this herself. She had been happy at House Darthirii. Her Master had been very happy with her. She squinted her eyes with thoughts of returning someday to her former house to repay the Baron’s wife for stripping that life from her. So now here she stood, mostly naked to show off her attributes and fetch a better price for the goblin that held her chains.

She scanned the crowd. There were a few odd bids at first but it was narrowing down to but two who kept calling out raises in their bids. Jazmina had never seen a Forsaken before and that one stood now in a heated bidding war for her made her shiver within though she kept her practiced calm exterior in place. The ugly Forsaken had leather straps criss-crossed over her face, covering where eyes must have once been. Jazmina imagined the undead woman’s ratty hair likely reeked as much as the rotting flesh that clung to her uncovered arms. The bones of her elbows were hideously exposed.

Jazmina considered the bidder that fought with the Forsaken. He looked a bit like a very ugly night elf but he had long, ugly tusks jetting from his mouth and his ears were scandalously short compared to any respectable night elf. The bidding continued furiously until suddenly a handsome young night elf man called out a bit of 5000 gold! She wondered how such a young man could have such amounts of cash. Jazmina imagined the Forsaken would be rich, stealing from all the pitiful people that she’d likely killed with no remorse, but this night elf man…how did he have access to such funds?

Before she could consider anything further the auction was over. Jazmina was stunned but relieved that the handsome night elf had won. She looked over her shoulder as the goblin led her away to be collected later. She caught the look of hate the Forsaken gave the man Jazmina would now call Master. She looked to this new Master. She gave him a nervous smile and bowed her head to him. He gestured a command she was familiar with, the same hand signal the Baron Darthirii would give when he wanted a slave to be silent and become an unobtrusive shadow. She obeyed immediately, casting her eyes down and gracefully followed the goblin, blending herself with the shadows of the buildings as she passed and quickly became forgotten by the crowd.

[Ayrn]

((Warning Mature Content))

Ayrn stepped into the back, following the goblin as the small creature led Jazmina away from the auction block. When they reached the inner area, the goblin turned to him.

“You want the manacles left on?” he asked in his coarse voice.

“No. Remove them. And get a blanket to cover her,” said Ayrn, turning to face Jazmina who stood quietly with her eyes downcast. Lowering his voice so that only she would hear him, he spoke further. “You will never be displayed again. You are for me alone, now.”

She did not look up, but a flicker of a smile crossed her lips.

Once the manacles were off and the blanket draped over her shoulders, Ayrn beckoned her to follow him, and he led her back to his manor. Situated on the Isto’Halrathn land, his was the smaller mansion, his father and others occupying the larger one. As the oldest son, he had the privilege of his own residence. He kept his own hours, and his own council, for the most part. Father kept track, he knew, but not too closely.

Ayrn briefly considered whether he should announce his new acquisition to his father. It was considered a rite of passage, when an Isto’Halrathn gained his first personal slave. But no, it would be too much like the little child, running to show Daddy his latest drawing. Father would find out on his own. Ayrn did not care.

He brought Jazmina in by the front door, and saw by her expression that she realized the significance of it. A slave who used the main entrance was held in respect, not a common servant.

“Yes,” he said to her gently. “Your position is at my side.”

She dared a smile, meeting his eyes for just a moment. He nodded in satisfaction, and led her up the stairway into his own chambers. He waved away the housemaid who appeared silently, and then closed and latched the doors. Jazmina stood uncertainly, darting a few curious glances around the lavishly furnished room.

Ayrn stepped behind her and removed the blanket from her shoulders, and she turned to face him, going down on a knee automatically, her head bowed.

“Please stand,” he said. “And remove those auction house garments. I will furnish you will clothing suitable to your new station. I wish to examine you, also.”

She stood obediently and removed her clothing, placing it carefully on a table nearby. Ayrn walked around her slowly, nodding, pleased to see that she bore no scars save a few small ones across her back, probably from some whipping she had received. He ran a finger lightly across them, causing her to tremble. He could tell she was worried that she displeased him, but nothing could be further from the truth.

“Do not worry, these are nothing. I can heal them. You will not receive more from me, either. Any punishment you require will leave no lasting damage. You were a kitchen girl, before, were you?”

“Yes, Master,” she spoke softly, still trembling slightly, but her expression was relieved.

“You are not one anymore,” he said. “You may cook for my pleasure, perhaps, but it is not your main task here. You are to be my bondslave, you understand the term?”

“Yes, Master, I think so. It is a highly regarded personal slave, who answers only to the Master.”

“Exactly,” he nodded, smiling slightly. “I have plans for you, which include many things. You will be highly trained in combat and stealth, and I myself will teach you what I wish. You are mine, body and soul, and exclusive to myself.”

He trailed off, placing his hands upon her shoulders and turning her to face him.

“Look up at me,” he said, his fluid voice sending a chill down her spine, the feel of his fingers on her skin awakening a sweet desire. She met his gaze, noticing how deep his eyes seemed, as if some fathomless distance was encompassed within them.

“You are not to cast your eyes down from mine, except in certain formal situations. I’m sure you will recognize them as such. Otherwise, I want you to look at me, to learn my every expression, to understand fully what I communicate to you. Further, I insist that you speak to me with your questions. I do not expect you to read my mind. Yet.”

He grinned, and she grinned back, nodding in obvious pleasure and understanding. This was to be a new life for her. Her heart raced a little with the thought of it.

“Nor do I wish to read your mind. I expect you to tell me what is on it. Let’s start with…your name!” he said, an amused smile on his face.

“I am called Jazmina, Master,” she said immediately, her eyes widening a little.

“Jazmina,” he repeated. “A perfect name, as lovely and unique as you.”

She blushed furiously, unused to such compliments, and his smile widened. He took hold of both her nipples suddenly, pinching them gently, causing her to gasp in surprise and pleasure.

“Can you guess what we shall do, now?” he said softly, leaning in close to her ear.

“I await your command, Master,” she breathed.

He chuckled, pleased with her perfect response. “We’re going to get you a bath!” he said, laughingly. You smell of goblins and who knows what else. And then, then I will get on with the…closer…inspection.”

Her smile lit up the room. “Oh yes, Master. At your command!”