Red Scarf

Red Scarf

Kara slouched against the side of the carriage, her wrists and ankles in shackles and heavy chains. The shackles weren't really necessary. Even if she could escape, where would she go? As they carried her out in a cage, she watched her city burn in the distance.

She always told herself that if she was ever captured by an enemy force, she'd take the dignified way out and choose death over slavery. It was an easy choice to make in the hypothetical. But after her city fell and that cold blade was against her neck, she realized she valued life over dignity.

They threw her up on an auction block, all those strange foreign faces discussing her in a tongue that she couldn't speak. It was terrible. The man that purchased her wore the robes of a servant, so she had no idea who her master would be or what role she'd play in his or her household. Maybe she'd be in the kitchen, cooking or washing pots. Maybe she'd have other responsibilities.

She shivered at the thought. Her father didn't push her to get married because he wanted her to be fully blossomed before having children of her own so she was still a maiden. She'd only seen eighteen summers and now she was owned and subject to any desire that might please the one that owned her. Desires she couldn't possibly imagine having such limited experience.

The carriage came to a stop and Kara sat up painfully aware of her chains. The door opened and a gruff man with a thick nose and a scar across his right eyes pulled her out of the carriage. The same man who'd tossed her into it in the first place. Her jaw dropped as she stared at the estate in front of her. "Is this it? Am I to live here?"

Her handler didn't seem particularly interested in answering her. She wasn't even sure he spoke her language. He grunted as he grabbed her arms and unlocked the shackles.

They hadn't given her any clothing, not even shoes. She'd been naked for days, but had started to get used to it. After all, she'd been one of many equally naked and chained up women. But now she stood alone with her binds gone and for the first time she felt the full weight of her nudity. She folded her arms trying to cover up as best she could, but her handler pushed her forward.

The handler knocked on the thick wooden door and a few minutes later an old woman opened the door and exchanged a few words with the handler that Kara couldn't understand. The handler left and the old woman grabbed Kara's arm and guided her into the estate. While the woman wore a wool dress with several layers to her skirt, she seemed nonplussed by Kara's nudity.

Kara on the other hand wished the old woman would loan her even one layer of that woolen skirt.

She followed the old woman through a maze of hallways, past bright decorative furniture and rich lavish tapestries to a room far from the front of the house. In the center of the room was a pool of water filled with scented petals. In the back was a large gold trimmed bed. There was also a vanity and more clothes than Kara had ever seen.


  • Glamour
  • Boudoir
  • Implied Nude

"Wash," the woman ordered in Kara's language, though her pronunciation left much to be desired. Then she departed.

Looking around the room, there was little question as to what her function would be. Kara gulped them plunged herself into the scented pool, thrilled at the chance to be clean again. After she had washed and dried, she examined her new clothes. She wouldn't have dared to wear any of them in her old life. Most of them were barely wisps of fabric, but after spending days without any clothing at all, she was happy for even that much.

She picked up a sheer red piece of fabric. She didn't know if it was a scarf or meant to be worn in a different way, but it was beautiful. She draped it over her arm and twirled, admiring how it fluttered in the wind. As she turned, she caught a figure in the corner of her eye.

She turned to find the most handsome man she'd ever seen watching her. She oogled his blue eyes, dark hair and square jaw for several long seconds before it hit her who he must be. She fell to her knees and bowed her head, her breath caught as she said, "Master."

"Don't let me interrupt. Please continue."

He spoke her language and relatively well. At the very least she'd have someone to talk to, someone she could understand. She thanked the the gods for that. She peeked up from the floor. He walked over to a cabinet and poured himself a goblet of wine.

Unsure of what to do, she raised herself back up and started to dance using the scarf to accentuate her movements. She could feel his eyes on her. Hungry, lustful, this amplified the intensity of her movements. She wanted to please him. She wanted him to desire her.

Maybe it was his handsomeness. Maybe it was her instinct for survival, but when he pulled her into his arms, she wasn't afraid. Quite the opposite, she felt as though she belonged there.

He cupped her cheeks and lifted her head, kissing her softly on the lips. She moaned against his mouth letting the scarf flutter to the floor. He lifted her up and carried her over to the bed. Her fingers fumbled with the clasps of his shirt. He pulled them away and kissed them before removing his clothes himself. He nestled himself between her soft thighs and entered her slowly, never breaking eye contact with her.

She gasped as he pushed inside her. Opening her up for the first time. She felt open to him in so many ways. As if he could see inside her head and know everything she was feeling and thinking. A tear ran down her cheek. He kissed it away as he slowly made love to her. And as she came for the first time beneath his thick, beautiful body, she thought only one thing...I am his.




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