EXTRACT FOR
Helena
(Fiaine Cluiun)

Helena lowered her head as the soldier led Julia out of the slave stables, leaving her alone in the straw padded stall with its thin blankets, bucket, and water dipper. There'd been no sign of Ashara overnight. Nor did she know if they would ever see the dark-skinned woman again. Beyond the wooden confines of her stall, she could hear the other women speaking in low voices, or moving around. None of them left their areas, nor did they peek over the separating walls. Perhaps they knew the danger they'd be in if they attempted to reach out from beyond the areas assigned them, but even if they had spoken to her, she didn't know them, didn't trust them, and wouldn't make the mistake of speaking to them. 

They could all turn on her. If she shared anything with them who was to say it wouldn't be passed onto the Masters, then used as a reason to punish her? The danger was there, in all ways, and even with Julia she hadn't shared her story, though she had come to semi trust the other woman. The couple of days they'd traveled together had given her hope she might have a friend, despite the darkness and despair, but only time would tell if Julia could truly be trusted. 

She shuffled toward the rear of the stall until she felt the stone wall against her back, only then sinking down on the straw. Her fingers sought and found the thin blanket and tugged it around her otherwise nude form. This was to be her life now, a slave in the hands of the temples and those who worked for them. She wiped a hand over her face, finding tears she hadn't been aware of seeping down her cheeks. She'd cried far too much in the past week or more. Helena sighed and closed her eyes. There was no point in leaving the stall she'd been assigned to until she was called for. She didn't need to ask to know when it happened there would be one of the men standing there who would take her to whatever duty she was supposed to perform.

Until then she wasn't going to draw attention to herself. There'd been no food provided, but after yesterday she doubted food would be provided until the evening. Anything else she'd have to scrounge for when the opportunity appeared. If she was lucky, she'd be taken to the main hall where she'd have a better chance of snagging a scrap or two. 

Was this part of breaking her into her new position? What she'd seen of the other women didn't suggest they were being starved. Helena bit back a groan at the thought of food and wrapped her hands around her body. No, they were trying to drive home the fact that slaves relied on their master's for everything.

Control. Dominance. Rules. Customs. Laws. 

The power men held over women shouldn't surprise her considering it had always been a part of her life. Being turned into a slave had only stripped away the blinders she'd willingly worn and introduced her to the reality she'd chosen to ignore.

Just as Ashara had learned, the hard way. They'd both been stripped and reduced to property but what she'd witnessed with Ashara was a sharp lesson she'd never forget. Helena shuddered. The whipping Ashara had been subjected to had been enough to chill her to the core. If she never had to endure such a thing in her life, she would count herself fortunate. Yet the idea Ashara had believed herself above such treatment only served to remind Helena that she wasn't the only one who'd ignored the ax hanging above her neck until it was too late to do anything about it.

Had this been the life she had dreamed of?

No woman dreamed of being a slave to the temples, the priests or their soldiers, but she'd been safe as Piotr's mistress before the new lord of the estate had claimed the position. Only since then had her life changed, when she'd been stripped of her rank, clothing, position, and yes, her freedom. At least she'd been the only member of her family left living on the estate, reducing the amount of shame she'd had to endure before being taken from the estate. Now, thanks to the High Priest, she was here, among other slaves, where few if any outside of the High Priest, knew of her past.

Her body tightened at the memory of the High Priest, how he'd touched her, commanded her obedience, even having her serve him under the table during the wedding feast. She didn't want to think about it but her body and mind didn't give her a choice, this was normal, a woman serves a man, any man who had the power to control her, command her, and protect her. This was how it had always been, she'd simply been one of the lucky ones, where she'd been protected, in a position of power where she'd been safe from others. Piotr had been a kind and loving man; a decent bed partner and she'd been more than willing to exchange her body for his protection.

Her pussy rippled, clenching at the memories, the time shared with Piotr. Not the strong reaction she'd had to Wyatt, or the soldiers, even the priests when they'd taken her for their amusement. With them she'd shattered, time and again, orgasmed until she'd ached from it, her muscles sore by the time they'd done with her, and yet it didn't destroy the small voice of longing when she remembered her life with her lover.

Wyatt, the new lord of the estate, had changed all that. Not only by defeating Piotr in battle, but in turning down her offer to serve Wyatt. She still didn't understand it. With the death of her lover, it had been a natural choice to present herself to the new lord, offering herself as she had made herself do. At worse she'd expected him to say no and give her time to pack her things and find a new home. It would have been difficult, but she had a good family line and it wouldn't have been impossible to find a man willing to protect her in return for her warming his bed. She was still attractive, at least enough to catch the eye of many a man, but being reduced to slavery as he was legally allowed to do to any woman under his care, had never even occurred to her.

Until it was too late.

Until she'd lost everything she called her own.

Including her name.

Unbidden and unwanted the memories of what she'd experienced at the estate, before the High Priest had laid claim to her, returned to haunt her.