A Satyr's Mate Ch. 01-02

Author's Note:

Dear cherished Lit readers, this is a 56k word novella that will be released in installments. It is completed, so I am submitting all the chapters at once.

As the length would suggest, it is a complete story, which basically means there is going to be some build-up to the steamy parts. This is my writing debut in the Non-Human category so I am really interested in feedback from the regulars here.

I do hope you enjoy reading this tale as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

Dakota Lynn

A Satyr's Mate

by Dakota Lynn

CHAPTER ONE

Auction Day

The day of Grachhus, as it had come to be known, came far too quickly this quarter annum. Once regarded as a celebration of freedom, it had evolved into nothing more than a gross display of the corrupt underpinning that supported the city of Sibiu. It was the one day that all lifeforms were allowed to roam the streets so they may bid on the slaves that Grachhus offered. This quarter, I was to be auctioned with the rest.

It would be difficult for me to identify the exact event that led to my indenture to Grachhus. I wasn't born a slave to him. No one was, in fact. That would violate common law. It was, however, perfectly legal to gamble the freedom of your only daughter in a game of Tesserae, which is precisely what my father did. But while that was the circumstance, it was far from the beginning. Or the end.

It was no coincidence that I'd just seen my thirty-sixth season. Eighteen full planet cycles since parturition. My Givea. I was free to seek a partner and have babies, and all that went with that, whatever that was. I had some idea what that entailed, and there were rumors, but no direct experience with such things. Having been born in Sibiu, where such matters were taught to only the boys in their last month before maturation, I was to remain ignorant of this natural part of a Sibiu woman's life. Forever, maybe.

Keeping people ignorant was one very effective technique the directorate used to control the general masses. I didn't realize this growing up. That's the beauty of ignorance, it truly is bliss. Until you know the truth, of course. But I digress.

A warm bhakri was shoved into my palm by the corner bread maker near my father's domicile. I'd passed that shop a hundred times with a stomach half as full without notice. Every Sibiu citizen was aware of the auction docket, though, and so suddenly I was worthy of attention. And pity. And charity. While the community may not embrace diversity, they are sympathetic to those about to lose their freedom forever. For this one day, I was one of them. They would embrace me for the hour leading up to my sale, and then let me go forever in a river of insincere tears.

I studied the faces passing me on the street. Their eyes held genuine pity for my situation but that was most certainly because any one of them, or someone they truly cared about, might be next. It was impossible to get to any reasonable age of awareness and not know at least one person to walk the stage. And there were no fairy tale endings. No wealthy businessmen looking for suitable wives, no rich relatives coming to the rescue at the last moment. Grachhus made certain of that. It wouldn't be good for business.

Grachhus wanted to get paid. If there was a relative with money, he extorted their riches before the auction. The auction block was for last chances only. It was a gamble. Sometimes the gamble paid off, bringing the payday that Grachhus wanted, while other times it did not. And then there were the runners.

I can't pretend that it didn't cross my mind. It did. But it was suicide, plain and simple.

If I would've somehow managed to evade Grachhus' goons, and every citizen that owed him something, or felt they might better their standing with him by ratting me out, there were still other dangers outside our village. To the east, the thick forest guarded many creatures that would've hunted me down for dinner. While I was tall, standing a full six feet in height, and quite capable of outrunning the shorter legged forest carnivores, I was no match for the ogres. At eight, and sometimes twelve feet in height, they possessed uncanny speed in a chase and were not above ripping trees out by their roots so they could swipe your feet from beneath you as you ran. They were a despicable species in every sense. Fowl-smelling, lewd, and cruel. I'd only ever seen them on auction days as they sometimes emerged from their forest dwelling to bid on slaves. I was locked in a stare with one such creature when the warm bread touched my palm.

For reasons I couldn't fathom, he was following me through the streets. Ogres weren't typically interested in female slaves. Then again, I was anything but typical.

Even though I'd been born in Sibiu, to a Sibian mother, my father was not. He was a fourth generation Isle of Baltia native, and I inherited every physical characteristic from him. Standing a full two inches taller than the average Sibian man, and eight inches over the women, I tended to stand out in crowds. But that wasn't the only reason. I also lacked the darker skin tone of the native Sibiites as well as their bleached, wispy straight hair. Their features were designed to handle the unforgiving rays of the noon day sun on the valley while my fair skin and thick, dark wavy hair were not. It seriously limited my options for employment, not that any of that mattered now.

Skirting down an alleyway too narrow for ogres, I managed to ditch my new admirer. My minutes of freely roaming the streets of the city were rapidly dwindling and I wasn't about to spend them beneath the watchful eye of a twelve foot beast that smelled a lot like aged cheese.

I twisted my torso as I dashed down the alley, making sure that he wasn't able to follow me and just as I was righting myself again, I was abruptly stopped in my tracks. Standing directly before me and filling the entire opening of my escape route was a rather large being. Its height alone suggested that it wasn't Sibian, and it was too fit for an ogre.

Standing on two legs, it appeared to be humanoid. The sun behind it kept me from clearly making out facial features, but I could tell it had horns. A satyr?

It wasn't usual to see satyrs in the village, auction day or not. They had little use for Sibian slaves, in fact little use for Sibians, in general. They occupied the mountainous region to the west of the city, known as the Saia Heights by the locals. They were a self-sufficient species, but that was the extent of my knowledge about them. We were not taught anything about the satyr culture in school, except that we should never attempt to enter their domain. Those that did had not returned.

The distinct odor of cheese wafted over me, making me aware of the ogre waiting at the other end of the alleyway. He could no doubt see that I was trapped and would be waiting for my retreat in his direction. I didn't know what he wanted from me but I was also pretty sure it wasn't good, whatever it was. I decided to take my chances with the stranger.

"I'm ... excuse me."

The creature didn't move a muscle.

"Um, do you speak?"

The creature tilted his head to one side. "Of course I speak."

The deep timbre of its voice indicated that it was male. My cheeks suddenly heated in embarrassment. "I didn't mean to offend. I didn't know...I wasn't sure..."

"You have not met a satyr before?"

I quickly shook my head. I had only ever seen a few of them in my lifetime, and even then it was from a distance.

"Are you frightened of me?"

"No." I answered a tad too quickly to be convincing. I followed it up with a lift of my chin and straightening of my spine.

He emitted a low chuckle that sounded more nervous than condescending. I was clearly confusing him. Straining my eyes as I looked up at him, the features of his face became clearer.

While he was obviously not fully human, his facial features were more anthropomorphic than his ram-like horns would suggest. He didn't possess the snout of the satyrs I'd seen previously. His face was flatter. And his eyes...they weren't brown. They were green.

I locked onto his gaze for several silent seconds before realizing how rude I was being. I quickly averted my stare. "I'm sorry."

"For what are you sorry?"

"I didn't mean to stare. It's just that I've never been this close..." I wasn't sure where I was going with my reasoning, or why I was suddenly so curious about this creature. It didn't matter. I would likely never see a satyr again as I was fairly certain that I was going to be sent to the mines. It was the most likely situation given that I was half Baltian. "I'm sorry to keep you from...from...whatever it is you're here to do. I'll be on my way if you'll kindly let me past you."

Without another word, the satyr turned sideways and pressed his back against the wall, clearing just enough space for me to squeeze through.

I paused for a moment before approaching him. With great effort, I slowly and carefully side stepped through the narrow opening. I felt his hot breath on the top of my head in that moment when I was closest to him. He was sniffing me, I could tell. Goosebumps littered my flesh and my heart rate tripped a beat at the thought. I'd somehow forgotten that he was half animal. He was so civilized.

Once out in the open, I stood for a moment trying to regain my composure. Resisting the urge to turn and check if he was watching me, I sucked in a breath and resumed my rapid pace toward the square.

It was even more crowded than usual. Looking over the heads of the townspeople, I could clearly see the stage and suddenly it felt like my heart had dropped into my stomach. I released the bread I was holding and clutched my abdomen. I was dangerously close to vomiting again, although there could be nothing left in my stomach, I was absolutely sure. A sudden wave of shame hit me as I imagined myself dry heaving on the stage at the start of bidding.

"There you are. Vishnu has been looking for you. The odds on you running is up to four-to-one."

It was disgusting how Sibians never missed an opportunity to gamble. I ignored the underlying insult in the odds, obviously suggesting that I was a coward. It wasn't like it was based on anything personal about me. No one knew me. They were basing it on what little they knew of my father's ancestry.

His fingers closed around my elbow before shoving me forward. It was a bold move for someone so slight. He was easily a full 4 inches shorter than I, and as thin as I was, he was even smaller. It would've been no trouble at all for me to slip his grasp and get away.

But it just wasn't in my nature to run. Besides, how far could I reasonably get in these crowded streets? Grachhus' supporters were everywhere.

My feet shuffled to keep up with my escort. He was obviously due some reward for finding me. That would be on top of whatever bet was made. Maybe the very hour I would arrive, or the person who found me first, or the order in which the slaves arrived to the stage. I wondered if I was the last and what the odds were for that.

The slavekeeper they called Vishnu smiled when he saw me. His skin tone was a shade darker than the average Sibian, making the flash of ivory in his toothy grin positively blinding.

"You've made me a rich man today, cupcake."

My skin crawled at his condescending tone. Up until the week previous, my very youth had saved me from exposure to such vile men. Like all Sibians, much of my pre-adulthood was spent locked away under strict supervision. It was the most abhorrent of crimes to corrupt the youth in any way. The first eighteen years of life were experienced largely in isolation from adults. Even our own parents were practically strangers to us. We only knew our teachers and caregivers. And each other, of course. It promoted closeness amongst people of our own age, and kept us appropriately ignorant of political issues, violence, crime, sex and gambling.

"On your knees, slave."

"Why?"

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Are you going to be trouble? Do as I say. And no more questions."

I sighed and nodded. Although I was new to slavery, I wasn't a stranger to being treated like a second-class citizen. I'd been one my entire life and I knew how little good it did to fight the oppression. I lowered myself onto my knees and waited for whatever came next.

"Mighty Osmos, that's a load of hair. How am I ...?" He buried his hand in my thick mane and tried to part it, unsuccessfully. "Get this mess off your neck so I can slap this collar on you."

I hesitated before doing as he asked. The reality of my situation suddenly hit me with the mention of a collar. I was about to be sold into slavery for the remainder of my life unless my father could somehow miraculously win me back. And given his bad decision making and luck, that wasn't likely to happen.

"I can always take a knife to it."

I gasped as I quickly scooped the unruly mass in my hands, pinning it to the top of my head.

A thick leather strap closed around my neck, a tad tighter than I was expecting. I fought to swallow comfortably.

Taking out a large chunk of charcoal from his pocket, he scribbled on my cheek. "You are slave number four. From now on, that's your name. Got it?"

I nodded once that I understood.

"You will be blindfolded during the bidding process. That is to prevent any silent deals between you and them. There's been some interest in you, so expect some back and forth before it's settled."

I considered breaking the no question rule to ask who'd shown interest, but decided that I didn't want to know. Whatever happened was out of my control. It was probably a blessing that I'd be blindfolded.

"You'll be allowed to watch the slaves before you, so you know what to expect. It's simple enough for even you to understand, Number Four. You'll be led center stage to stand still until it's over. Then you'll be led to the other side. Tilt your head back, mouth open."

He examined my mouth and tongue, running his finger over all sides of my teeth to check for sharp points. Then he checked my eyes and ears.

"Age?"

"Eighteen."

"Are you untouched?"

I wasn't sure what he meant at first. "Y-yes. Of course."

"You've been legal for a couple of weeks. Plenty of time."

Plenty of time for what? It was difficult to engage in an activity that no one had ever discussed with you. Most of my friends had been briefed by their mothers after their 18th birthday. Since I was already slated to be auctioned off, there was no point in my father trying to find someone to take on the job in place of my dead mother.

"It won't affect your bidding price, I'm afraid. No one will buy you for that."

That was the other challenge to becoming a woman. There were no Baltians my age, and it would be beneath any Sibian man to bed a Baltian woman, even if by some miracle they found her attractive.

"You'll be led across the square to await your new master. He will retrieve you once payment is made. Expect him to replace this collar with his own so he can lead you from the crowd. There are no tearful goodbyes, no last stop off at your previous home to get your favorite sandals. Your old life no longer exists. The sooner you grasp that concept, the better. Your new owner will assign you a name and inform you of your new responsibilities."

He paused to ascertain if I was comprehending my situation. I nodded.

Vishnu lifted me to my feet by my collar and then shoved me toward a pair of men. "Tie her hands behind her back before you put her in with the others. I don't want to take any chances."

The two men froze in what appeared to be a mixture of shock and confusion. A silent question was raised and then answered with a sneer by Vishnu. Apparently, this was not a standard procedure. Grunting their disapproval of the order, the men did as they were told and proceeded to bind my wrists together behind my back. Once secured, they unlocked the metal door to the cage and shoved me through the opening.

For several minutes, I fought through the unfocused panic that consumed me. My pupils dilated making it painful to keep them open in the unforgiving sunlight. I tried to shade them with my hair as my hands were not free to do so, but it was difficult with the thick collar holding my neck rigid. Attempting to drop my chin only left me gasping for air as the leather constricted around my wind pipe. A rage I'd scarcely felt before bubbled up inside me. I'd learned at an early age to keep it under control. It was easier to submit than to fight. But this time I'd been pushed too far and my instincts were taking over.

In all honesty, I don't know how long I paced the perimeter of that cage in a crazed state before slave number two stopped me.

"Take it down a notch, Number Four."

I forced my eyes to focus on the bare chest pressing me against the side of the cage. Large hands gripped the bars on either side of my frame locking me in place. It was a large Sibian man. Not quite as tall as me, but at least three times my weight in muscle mass.

His breath was moist and stifling on my face as he spoke. "You are drawing attention."

I forced myself to look him in the eye. He glanced through the bars and then back at me again, prompting me to seek out where he'd looked. It was the ogre that had been following me in the streets. A trickle of slimy drool slithered down his chin as he met my stare.

My stomach involuntarily lurched, causing the Sibian man, slave number two, to loosen his hold on me.

In a strangled voice I managed to speak. "Why?"

Number two shrugged. "Sport."

"I thought...I'd heard that they only bought man slaves."

He dropped his arms, satisfied that I'd regained my senses. "Ordinarily, yes. That one tracked me first thing this morning."

"He followed me, too."

"Good. I'd rather he buy you than me. I can tolerate the mines."

He sauntered away without further explanation. I wondered what was so dreadful about ogres that made the mines seem like a better option. Working in the mines was not an easy life. No one volunteered for that job unless they could find no other work. Being Baltian, I was prepared for such a fate. I'd been told my entire life that I should expect nothing more.

I glanced over my shoulder at the ogre. He was following Number Two with his eyes. I silently prayed that he would lose interest in both of us but if it came down to a choice, I fervently hoped he would choose the Sibian man over me.

My gaze swept over the crowd that was now growing more dense as the top of the hour approached. Many pairs of curious eyes studied me. Partly because I was Baltian, partly because I was the only one with my wrists bound behind my back. I wasn't sure what it was about me that intimidated the Sibians, but it wasn't my first experience with it. Now that I was bound and in a cage, all citizens of Sibiu could feel safe staring at me.

It was comical in a way, although I was far from laughing. I'd never once attacked a soul. Ever. If anyone had ever gotten to know me, they would realize that I was the least threatening individual of the village.

A tall figure at the back of the crowd caught my attention. Green eyes bore into me from the shade of the building he was leaning against. I felt suddenly chilled and hot at the same time and had to look away for fear of what might happen next. I didn't know what to make of the mysterious satyr, whether he was sizing me up for his next meal, or merely fascinated by how different I appeared than every other human in this village. Did he need a housemaid? Or was his purpose far more sinister? Perhaps he wasn't interested in me at all and our meeting was coincidence. That last thought was disappointing in a way I couldn't fathom.