Ciaran
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Julina's Emancipation
"Julina! Wake up!"
Julina clenched her eyes tightly for a moment, then slowly opened them, fighting against her heavy eyelids.
She sat up in her bed, if one could call it that. Her pristine legs hung from a three-sided box of straw that was barely three feet off the ground. Her night clothes consisted of nothing more than a shirt that was far too large for her.
She glanced at the grandfather clock across the room: three in the morning. The pendulum wasn't moving.
"What time is it?" she asked her employer.
"Dawn. Now hurry up and get ready. You've got a customer." He turned and left.
Joy. Another lecher. Will he be religious this time or admit his sin?
Julina stood and took off the shirt as she walked to the closet next to the clock. She tossed it into the laundry chute and pulled open the drawer on the left, revealing a collection of knives. After sampling the sharpness of each with a perpendicular flick of the thumb, she chose the sharpest one and started shaving off the stubble that always formed overnight.
I wish I didn't have to do this every day. Just once, I'd like to have a customer that only wants to chat. Beter yet, somebody that would get me out of this enslavement.
She set the knife back in the drawer, closed it, then looked over her selection of clothes. Despite her occupation, the variety provided to her would put an English noble to shame. Realizing that her boss had failed to specify clothing, she stuck her head out the door.
"What does he want me to wear?"
"He doesn't care. Pick something."
Julina pulled her head back in, then stuck her head back out again. "What did you just say?"
Her question was met with a glare. "I said pick something. Is that too hard for you?"
"No, sir," she answered quickly and returned to the closet. I get to choose? That's rare. I've always liked this one... She reached out and took a set of clothes off its hanger and dressed.
It was actually comfortable, unlike most outfits designed for women. As she donned it, the rough feel of the fabric and the design brought back memories of years past. When she was a happy farm girl, living with her family. Julina chose to cherish these memories and not dwell on their tragic ending.
How long has it been since then? I can't even tell the day of the week anymore.
Sandals on her feet, and out she went, heading for the building's lobby.
Considering that I'm property, I've been treated very well. African slaves in England get whipped if they don't do what they're told. I've never even been struck by hands, aside from that initial training. Must be the white skin.
Doesn't mean I like it, though. Even if I can't get enough of what I do.
She opened the door to the lobby...
Wow. He's hot.
In front of her stood the most handsome man she had ever seen. Russet-colored hair ran down to the bottom of his shoulder blades in a very tight braid. His black shirt and pants acentuated his well-toned muscles. Eyes that exactly matched his hair and a warm smile wrapped up a very pleasant image indeed.
"Is this the young lady I've heard so much about?" he asked.
She almost opened her mouth to say hello but remembered her place just in time. She stepped forward to be beside the desk, letting the door swing shut.
"Yes, sir, this is the one," her master responded with a grin. "Truly, is she a beauty. Her name is Julina, and she's our most popular item. I guarantee your satisfaction."
"Reputation is nice, but how good is she in reality?" the hunk of man asked as he walked over to her. He started moving in a circle around her. Julina was used to this; he was appraising her. She wasn't used to the giddiness that nearly overtook her.
I should've worn something nicer for him. I feel so... plain.
"She's the best we have," the owner answered. "You won't find a finer time with any other business around. Not a day goes by without somebody asking for her."
The man-hunk had completed his circie, now standing directly in front of her. His chin rested on the fingers of his left hand. "Maybe that's because there aren't any other businesses like yours on this side of the great ocean."
"If you still aren't sure, I can have her–"
"No no, it's fine," the perfect man interrupted, dismissing the offer with a wave of his hand.
I would've gladly done it...
"I'll take her."
The slavemaster rubbed his hands together a few times, grinning greedily. "Excellent." He proceeded to tell the man the price.
Yes! I can't wait to–
"I'm not interested in renting."
What?
Frozen owner. "I beg your pardon?"
"I said I'm not interested in renting," the eye candy repeated. "How much do you want for her?"
He–He wants to buy me? What's going on here?
"She–She's not for sale," the owner stammered. "She brings in too much money."
The hound's expression sobered. "Then how about I pay you with something more valuable than any metal or stone?"
"I've heard that before. What do you have that's so valuable?"
Her dream man's eyes glowed blue for a moment, and a longsword appeared in his right hand, unsheathed.
"Your life."
Julina spoke before she had a chance to think. "WHAT?!" She quickly clamped her hands over her mouth afterward.
The two men on either side of the room, who had been silent and unmoving until now, raised their pistols to the sorcerer.
"A warlock, eh? I don't think you can dodge a bullet. Take him out."
Somebody screamed as the two men fired... and shot each other in the chest.
Wait, what?
Her dream customer was already at her master's back, holding the blade against his windpipe. She looked on, trembling.
"One who keeps slaves," he was saying to a white-faced slavemaster, "especially for lewd practices, is not worthy of life." His eyes... his eyes were cold... nothing at all like he had been before. "Give me three reasons why I shouldn't kill you right now."
"Look," her master pleaded desperately, "you can have her. She's yours. I'll even give you five pounds Sterling. Just don't kill me."
A spray of blood– Oh, it was horrible... and her master collapsed to the ground. His killer's eyes glowed blue again, and the sword vanished.
He–He just... Oh my, God... What's he going to do to me?
Julina felt a hand land on her shoulder, and then she was in the air. She looked around and saw that her lust buddy was holdering her effortlessly, one arm under her knees, one supporting her upper back. She opened her mouth to ask a question–
And she was elsewhere.
"You... you just..."
"Yes. You're free now, Julina."
He gently set her down, lowering her legs until they reached the floor.
"Free... from him. ...I'm yours now?"
"no," he smiled. "You're free. Period."
"And you can call me Ciarán," he added.
Julina gave her liberator a tight hug, ever so grateful to finally be free of that hellhouse. "Thank you, Ciarán."
Ciarán didn't resist the hug, instead embracing her in return. "You're more than welcome," he answered softly.
He's touching me... maybe... She stood on her tiptoes and brought her face closer to his...
He removed a hand from her and pushed her back with a finger on the lips. "Don't push it."
Damn.
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