A/N: I do not own the Dark Series or any characters belonging to the world created by Christine Feehan or any other authors. (this is the only such note that I will post about such things)

Chapter 1

Isis laid her head lightly on the floor, only wincing slightly as the ice-cold ground touched her throbbing flesh. She tried curling into the comforting fetal position, a futile but soothing attempt to warm her freezing naked body.

The manacles around her wrists, ankles, and neck cut slightly as she changed her position, putting renewed tension on the chains that held her to the wall. Her restraints were too short and too tight, so even the slightest of movements pained her as the heavy irons cut into her skin. No one cared. Who ever cared about the pain of a slave?

The chains weren't there to make sure she didn't run away. Her owner knew that she knew the rules. He had made sure of that.

The chains had simply been put on her because—he enjoyed it. He loved to think of her, chained to the wall in his bedroom, waiting until his return.

She shuddered at the thought of her master, and instantly made her mind go blank. To think on him too long, was too frightening, and she would end up losing her careful self-control. She had to go to the bathroom really bad, but she had to wait for his permission. If she lost her control on her bladder, she would be unable to stop herself and would release everything right there on his floor. Once before when that had happened, he had beaten her so badly, she had hardly been able to move for three days, and of course no one called the doctor for a slave. Not wanting a repeat session, she instead began to think on other things.

Ignoring the pain of the countless bruises and cuts that covered her body, she retreated into herself. She was alone, always lonely, but she didn't mind. When she was alone, without a master to serve, she could think on pretty things she could barely remember. She hadn't been the outside in years, and her mind could only remember small glimpses from what she had seen outside windows. The image of the majestic purple of iris flowers…the smell of fresh rain over grassy fields…the sound of little children running and playing while their mother looked on them lovingly as she hung out the freshly washed linen to dry on the clothes line…the touch of the woman's husband as he wrapped his strong arms around her waist and then twirled her in the air with adoring flourish…her imagination worked overtime to give her the only glimpse she would ever see of life outside her prison walls. She knew this life could, would never be hers. She was a slave, and she would never deserve love or caring. It was her role in life, would always be her role in life, and she had long ago accepted that. However, when she was in her own little world, she wished that…she wished that she could just be that family's slave. She had a feeling that she wouldn't mind the cold nights and harsh punishments if only she lived there. If she could just be near that kind love, that would be enough for her, she would do anything, and suffer anything if just for that.

Sudden footsteps woke her up from her reverie, and she frowned slightly with sadness as her dream world disappeared within her. She was alone again, in that cold dead room, the chains still cutting into her nearly numb body—back to reality.

The sound of the door swinging open, told her she was no longer alone.

A feeling of dread settled over her and a sense of fresh fear. Her master was not happy; she could feel it…

The footsteps came closer until she could actually see the booted feet standing directly in front of her. She could feel his dark eyes roving over her body; it sent an almost invisible shiver down her back. However, as in most things, his sharp eyes picked up on even the most invisible of things. She sensed more than saw the smirk that came upon his face, and it only made her shiver more.

"Aren't you supposed to be kneeling?" His voice asked her, the cruel malice on his tongue bit through the air.

Totally forgetting that she was lying curled up on her side, she quickly scrambled to get into the correct position. A gasp of pain escaped her as her muscles protested to the sudden movement. Fearful that the show of soreness might entice him, she rapidly kneeled in front of her owner, pressing her forehead to the ground, hoping that he would forgive her for her stupidity.

He didn't say a word for a few seconds, and after awhile she thought maybe he had left again, but then she felt his hand move through her dirty jet black hair almost lovingly.

She shuddered visibly from his touch…

"How's my little Icy today? I hope you didn't miss me too much."

She gritted her teeth, as his pet name for her grated on her mind, annoying her to no end. He called her that exactly for that reason. But she endured it, for what could she do? A slave never talked back to her owner…

Somehow he caught her inner displeasure, as his grasp became tighter and more violent. His voice was quiet, the sting of cruelty on the edge of his tongue as he whispered into her ear. "Tell me you missed me."

She flinched as his warm breath touched her ear, her fear making her voice break up. "I-I I m-miss-sed y-you."

His hand hit her face hard, a sharp slap causing her to cut her lips on her teeth and her ears ring, knocking her to the floor with sudden force. He gritted his teeth in anger, "How many times have I told you to call me 'Master' when you're talking to me?"

He dragged her up violently by her long hair, "You worthless piece of crap!" He struck her across her other cheek in rage, sending her once again to the floor.

She knew she was in for it now. He had had a bad day, and she had set him off with her senselessness. She cursed herself for what an idiot she was.

A hard kick was delivered to her ribs, causing she bit back a scream of pain. "Well?" he yelled with livid impatience.

Isis whimpered in fear and cowered on the ground even more than before.

"I'm sorry Master," she squeaked out as she gasped for air, "P-Please forgive me."

Her owner hoisted her up by her neck, as far as the chains would allow. His cruel brown eyes burned into her cerulean ones as if feeding from the fear held within them. He loved seeing that fear…the delicious compliance and total obedience that filtered from out of her every pore. She was without a doubt, the most beautiful slave in his household, and therefore he had quickly separated her from the others and made her his bed-slave. He wanted her all to himself, and he didn't want her to pick up any kind of wrong ideas or behaviors from being around the other slaves and forming relationships. She was lusciously broken in both spirit and body, and that's how he wanted her to stay.

He let her go and watched as she tumbled to the floor. She immediately went into the standard kneeling position that all of his slaves assumed when in his presence, still shuddering, no doubt wondering what he would do next.

Quietly, he kicked off his shoes, and then cracked his neck tiredly. Taking a key from his pocket, he unlocked the shackles that were around her neck and limbs. She didn't move an inch as the heavy manacles fell off of her.

Suddenly famished from the events that had happened in the company that day, he decided to withhold his relaxation, and get something to eat. He pointed to the closet, as he headed back out the door to get some food from the kitchen. "Get some clothes on, wench, and then wait for me."

She scrambled up quickly to follow his order, and he took a second to watch as her lithe body moved sensually towards the direction he had indicated, even though that had never been her intention. Smiling with wanton lust upon his lips, he strode out of the room, many different ideas running through his head—none of them innocent.

Isis watched her owner leave from the corner of her eye. Sighing slightly in relief, she quickly did as commanded and put on one of the ensembles of clothes that he had designated were for her. The only clothes he allowed her to wear were outrageously flimsy but annoyingly complicated lingerie that left very little to the imagination. But it was better than nothing, for even though it was very transparent clothing, it gave her some semblance of warmth and protection—which in this place, with her most recent owner, was quite a rare find.

Her bladder felt like it had gone beyond the point of bursting, and it was screaming at her for relief. Now that she was free, she could use his personal bathroom. However, he had not given her permission, and if he caught her he would become angry again. But if she had an accident within his room, he would be furious and she would rather take the lesser of two evils. Besides…he had only said for her to wait for him, he didn't say where…

Hurrying over to the bathroom, she quickly did what she needed to do, sighing at the sweet relief that shifted over her. She quickly washed her hands, but stopped as she heard the door open slowly. She winced, knowing she would be in for it as she hurriedly dried her hands and waited for him to call her out.

However, when his harsh voice didn't make a sound; didn't demand that she come before him, she opened the door slightly and looked out into the room.

To her surprise, she didn't see her master in the bedroom, but a wiry young woman with long golden hair, tan and white streaks running through its wild tresses. The woman wore rags and was barefoot, an angry burn mark marred her right shoulder in the shape of two intertwining snakes, letting her and everyone else who came in contact with her, know she was a slave. Isis unconsciously touched the identical mark that had been branded into her own shoulder, flinching as though she could still feel the sting.

While she was not allowed to associate with the other slaves in her owner's mansion, she actually recognized the girl. Her name was Xyra and she was a kitchen slave. Isis had talked with her from time to time when she saw the younger woman around, and the two quickly became friends. It was a great risk, since if their master caught them, both would be punished severely, and she would probably never get to see Xyra again.

Right now, the woman was going through her owner's drawers, seemingly looking for something. Isis didn't know what she was doing, but her being her could put them both in danger. "What are you doing here, Xyra? He'll be coming back soon."

The other woman turned, only slightly surprised at seeing Isis there. "I have to find my amulet; I know he's keeping it here. It still has my father's scent on it."

Isis knew that if there was anything of worth on a slave when they came in his ownership, her master took it away since the object, like the slave, now belonged to him. "Xyra, why—?"

"I'm leaving tonight, Isis."

The raven haired woman looked at her friend in utter shock. "Xyra…how…there is no way you can escape him. He'll only catch you and drag you back here."

The blond woman flicked a hair behind her ear, her eyes sparkled with a gold that almost looked alive with magic. "There are movements about, Isis. Unnatural things are coming; I can feel the beast stir within me. I had planned on getting out a long time ago, and now is as good a time as any. I was not born a slave, and neither were you. You should come with me. No one should be subject to the wiles of a man as cruel as the one we are forced to serve."

Isis knew when she looked into those golden, enchanted eyes of her friend, there was no talking her out of escaping. Xyra was determined to leave, and believed there was a way out. She however, sadly knew the truth. No one had ever escaped her master, and she had seen many try. She had never tried herself mind you; her master was not her first owner, and the ones before him had taught her quite brutally, the cost of trying to escape her lot in life. She was a slave, and she had acknowledged that. Why try to hope for something that would never be?

"Aha! Found it!" Xyra lifted the gold and amber amulet from the drawer and quickly clasped it around her neck.

Suddenly, she turned to the doors, and Isis could have sworn that the woman's ears pricked up just like that of an animal's. Isis listened herself and suddenly blanched as she became aware of the heavy footsteps headed toward the bedroom door!

Knowing she would get in horrible trouble for this, but willing to risk it for her only friend, she quickly ran to the door and locked it; taking a chair from under the desk, she wedged it under the door handle. And it wasn't a minute too soon as the doorknob began to turn and then jiggle violently as the person on the other side realized the door was locked. She heard her master's voice yell at her through the wood, and he began banging on the door. Isis pushed against it, adding her simple weight. Looking at Xyra, she nodded toward the window, "Go."

The blonde shook her head, "I can't leave without you."

She suddenly felt added weight as her master must have called some guards to help him. "I can't leave. He'll be in here in a second and then we'll both get caught. He won't kill me—at least I don't think he will—but he doesn't hold you in the same esteem. Now go! Though I have no idea how you think to avoid the guards patrolling this place."

Xyra pushed open the window and pulled herself up onto the sill. She smiled at Isis with true comradeship, "I'll come back for you someday, I promise. And as to how I will escape the guards…humans make up a majority of the intellectual creatures on this earth. However…a majority, is a long way from all."

All of a sudden, the brilliant, mystical gold that made up Xyra's eyes, poured from out of them like metallic tears and began to consume her body! Her entire being was consumed with that gold; a dazzling light devoured her very being, shifting and changing her body into something that was most definitely not human…

After only a few seconds, the light faded, and Isis was even more astounded to see that where Xyra's body had been, now stood a female dingo, Xyra's clothes on the ground and the woman's amulet around the wild dog's neck.

If this wasn't enough for her to almost faint with shock, looking at the dingo's right shoulder blade practically sent her over the edge. There, right where Xyra's mark would have been, the identical slave symbol was also burned into the dog's flesh. This dingo—was Xyra!

The Australian wild dog seemed almost to smile at her over its shoulder, before leaping off of the windowsill and out into the night. Isis didn't know what else to think, but she for once, dared to hope that maybe—just maybe—her enchanted, shape-shifting friend would somehow escape.

Without warning, the wood behind her practically exploded, sending her flying painfully to the ground and the chair to crash against the bed footboard! A vicious hand crushed around her throat and dragged her up from the ground before throwing her against the nearby wall with jarring gusto. As she slumped to the floor, she heard one of the guards call out. "We have a runner."

They had of course seen the open window and the discarded clothes, and would have easily put two and two together. Inside, her heart cracked as she realized her only friend would in all probability be caught after all.

Her owner closed the window in anger, before shouting at his men, "You two get out there and hunt her down. Have someone take a role call and communicate with you on two-way radio to find out who's missing. When you find her, bring her to me. Now get out there…and you know what the penalty is for letting one of my slaves escape. You know I simply detest failure, and anyone who fails me, pays very, very dearly."

"Yes, sir!" The men quickly left the room to do as their employer had dictated, but of course not before they repaired his busted door, placing it back on its hinges once again. If there was one thing their employer hated more than failure, it was having an unkempt house. That was probably why none of the housekeeping slaves seemed to last very long…

A sudden hard foot kicked Isis maliciously in her ribs, causing her to yell out in pain as she heard at least one of her bones crack from the impact.

"You useless little whore! Did you think you could escape me? That you could get away from me?!" He picked Isis up by her leg and threw her against the dresser with a slam.

She hit the wood hard, blood running down from her forehead and from her mouth, her left ankle where he had grabbed her, throbbed from being twisted too far in the wrong direction. She fell to the ground and tried to crawl away; her fear of him in his rages was almost suffocating. She trembled and cried out as he pushed her on her back and straddled her sore ribs, then continuously punched her four or five times in the face and upper chest, sending her head snapping back as if through whiplash.

He was furious with her, letting out his vehemence for a few seconds before getting off of her, as to not mar her face in excess. If you damaged your slaves too much, they began losing significant value. He had plans for her, and wouldn't let her detestable behavior mess up his arrangements.

However…that didn't mean she was going to get away with trying to escape, or letting someone else escape. He had thought he had kept her away from the others, but he guessed he had taken her submissive spirit too much for granted.

Her head felt as if it had caved it, blood pouring from her nose, mouth, head, and her jaw felt as if it was swelling. She was glad for the reprieve but knew it wouldn't last long, and her fears were realized when he suddenly grabbed her wrists, dragged her towards the bed, and handcuffed her wrists to the metal footboard post.

His voice slithered angrily in her ear, "I guess I'll have to teach you all over again how to be obedient, Icy. You always have been a glutton for punishment. But don't worry, you'll be getting enough of that where you're going…"

For a minute, she struggled past her pain as her mind concentrated on his words. 'Where she was going'? Did that mean—

As if knowing her thoughts, he nodded. "Yes Icy, I am selling you, or rather giving you away as a gift. I hope you appreciate how I am with you, because the man who I'm giving you to, makes me look like a saint. He'd tear into you like a wolf into fresh meat, if he ever caught you escaping from him."

The thought of a new master was just as, or even more appalling than staying with her current one. At least with her current owner, she knew what to expect and what his moods were. But every time she got a new master, she had to start all over again; which was terrifying to say the least…

However, she didn't have much time to think about it, as a loud crack resounded through the air and fire raged through her body! She let out a scream and writhed in pain as the tail of the whip snaked around her body again, cutting into her flesh and drawing spurts of blood. Her master began to flay her body ruthlessly, her ultra-thin clothing shredded to rags by his expert hand and her skin soon following…

Tears of anguish and suffering filled her eyes, as she thought of her fate and the fate of Xyra. She had been wrong. No matter how magical her only friend was, Xyra would get caught. They could never escape being a slave; her first master had taught her that at the tender age of seven, when she was sold by her stepfather to the underground slave market after her mother died of Influenza.

She thought about the future as the rain of blows tore at her flesh, and that her new master was going be worse than her recent one. Her heart filled with a despair she had never known at the thought of the cycle beginning once again. She had thought that she had been through the worst. That men couldn't come any more ruthless than the owner she had now. But again, she had been wrong, and the thing was, that she didn't think she could live through any worse. Her body could probably withstand, but her mind was slowly dying. The day-in, day-out torture and misery that no matter what she did, her master always found something to punish her violently for. And even after the beatings, the whippings, and the broken bones…there was still something even more agonizing to look forward to, and she was sure her master would never disappoint. After all, as he told her so many times—it was what she was made for…

Isis lay on the floor next to her master's bed, her body in too much pain to move. Tears streamed silently down her face as she had tried to forget what had just happened, but her body, as it did every time he "used" her, wouldn't let her fail to remember.

After he had finished whipping her, he uncuffed her and threw her against the wall, stripping whatever remaining shreds of cloth were left on her body. Pressing against her, she could easily feel his thick arousal pressing against her naked thigh, causing her to gasp in chagrin.

Running his hand over her body, his rough fingers pressing into her stinging wounds, he whispered to her incoherent sentences of how he was going to miss enjoying her. Turning her around to face him, he pressed into her face with a bruising, rough kiss, while his hand went between her legs and cupped her ferociously. Feeling his fingers touch her she gasped in disgust, but this caused her to almost choke as his tongue worked its way between her lips, pilfering every part of her mouth heartlessly.

She became sick to her stomach and she fought to keep the nausea down, as his hand moved down from her shoulder to fondle her breast, while his fingers continued to ravage her sore opening. She drew within herself as she always did when he overtook her body…which happened to be quite often.

Her mind wandered, and she remembered the first time she was used as a bed slave at the age of ten. Ever since then, she had become quite literally a slave to her master's every desire, and it had only gotten worse with each new owner. She had been made to do many things, and every time she felt more soiled both outside on her body and inside in her spirit…and by now, it was down to the very core of her soul.

Flinching back to the present as he slapped her already bleeding and bruised face, she looked into his raging eyes as he yelled at her in anger. "You're mine you understand? Even when you're with Le Creuset, you will still belong to me."

She looked at him in question. Le Creuset? That was her new master's name? And what did he mean, she will still 'belong to him'?

He could see the query and uncertainty in her eyes and smirked at her, but didn't offer out any type of explanation. He instead kissed her ruthlessly before ordering her to crawl onto the bed on her hands and knees.

She mechanically but numbly went to obey, sinking to her knees despite the pain that lanced through her ankle and the many bleeding gashes along her legs and arms. Lying on her back on the bed, she let her true consciousness slowly drain from her body. Her eyes became open but unseeing, her ears hearing but not listening. She receded inside herself, much like she did when she daydreamed. She existed inside herself, curling up in a ball waiting for it to be over. She smiled as she curled there, imagining that her mother was running her fingers through her hair, like she used to do many, many years ago—a lifetime ago.

In some part of her mind that was the basis to answering the commands issued to a slave, she had registered that her master had undressed and was now hunched over her looking hungrily at her body. Her flesh perfunctorily answered and conformed to the way he liked her, with her naked and bleeding body twisted languidly before him like it was begging for his touch. Her body was working on automatic, her mind not paying attention to anything in the physical. It was a practice she had to do quite often in order to keep her sanity. For to her, she was now wrapped in her mother's arms as they sang songs together, and her mother told her magical stories of romances and "forever afters".

The beautiful princess waited on her windowsill, waiting day after day for her handsome prince to rescue her…

She felt him push his pulsing cock against her lips and she automatically took it into her mouth, working it as he ordered.

The princess would sing beautiful songs to guide her prince as she waited by the seashore, watching magical cats run by and enchanted dolphins splash from out of the ocean…

She felt her master grab her hips roughly and impale himself upon her womanhood, sending unparalleled anguish running through her body, even worse than the whipping she had just had. And his hard and violent thrusts into her didn't make it any better. It didn't matter how many times she had gone through this, it always hurt as it did that very first time. While she couldn't see how, he was obviously finding great pleasure in hearing her screams.

The mermaids and mermen played with the princess on the shore and told her everything was going to be okay. She was going to find her prince one day and then she would never feel alone again. They would dance on a star-lit terrace and he would sweep her off her feet, telling her how he would always protect her, and that he loved her more than life itself…

She was suddenly brought into complete consciousness when she felt him pushing her under a freezing cold, high powered shower. She sighed as her dream world disappeared and she once again became aware of reality. The water hurt as well, but it could not compare to anything else that had happened that day.

After a few minutes, her owner had pulled her from out of the shower and then chained her, cold, wet, and naked, back to her usual spot. He then went back into the bathroom and started a shower for himself.

She had then laid there on the cold floor shivering, and that's where she was now. Her body ached all over, and her insides felt as if they had been torn apart. She curled up in an attempt to get warm, but the gasping pain from her broken ribs wouldn't let her.

The door opened and two female slaves appeared. Neither of them looked at her as one quickly changed the bed linens, while another placed a platter of food onto the nearby table. Isis only glanced at them briefly, before lying back down on the floor and let the water run down her body into a small puddle. All three of them knew their roles as slaves.

The food twisted her stomach for two reasons. One, it was fish, and for some reason, ever since she could remember, seafood revolted her. Not sea creatures exactly, she absolutely loved everything that had to do with the sea; it was the fact that those magnificent creatures had become nothing more than somebody's lunch. And that human, had probably not done anything remotely honorable to justify taking the sea creature's life. She did understand the mechanics of the food chain (despite never having gone to school since she was seven), but it still seemed somehow wrong…

The other reason her stomach had contracted, was that the smell of food of any kind awakened her neglected stomach. She had not eaten anything in two days, for the only way she could get any food, was to wait for her master to notice her hunger and take pity on her. If not, she would remain unfed till she passed out. That had happened once with her third master…it was not an experience she would wish to repeat.

However, she doubted she was going to be allowed any food tonight, especially after what had occurred with Xyra. Hopefully if she pleased him tomorrow, he would give her some sort of scraps from breakfast. But as thoughts of the days to come filled her head, she remembered that she was going to get a new master soon. Someone called "Le Creuset". Her despair returned as she thought of the unknown, supposedly very cruel master she was to soon have. She needn't think of his name, after they owned her she only though of them as her "owner" or "master". If she thought of them by name, she might just slip up and say it one day, and that would bring unnecessary pain she could do without.

Still the thought of this mysterious "Le Creuset" refused to leave her. Yes, she felt absolute terror at the thought of him being even more malicious and vile than her current master. Yet, somewhere in the very depth of her, she felt a spark of interest in the true identity of this mystifying man. She had no idea where the spark had come from, but it was there all the same.

As she heard her master enter the room after his long shower, the steam wafting over the room warming her somewhat, she pushed the thought to the back of her mind and quickly assumed her standard kneeling posture. She watched as he ate in silence, drinking wine that eventually put him to sleep, and finally allowing her to sleep herself.

As Isis laid there ignoring the immense pain and cold, she made herself enter some sort of state of sleep. She thought about her friend Xyra and how close her owner's men were to recapturing her. The knowledge of what her master would do to the young magical woman when she was returned to him, greatly dismayed her. To get away from those thoughts, her mind once again shifted to thoughts of her future owner. What would Le Creuset be like? Would he be kind enough to give her food and clothes, or would he love seeing her silently suffer? If he was anything like her master now, she could expect much more of the second option than the first.

Isis fell asleep uneasily, her mind filled with terrifying uncertainty. After a few seconds, she started to relax slightly as she began to finally dream…her dreams were filled with thoughts of her mother, the beautiful ocean, wide open fields of flowers, mermaids, and of course—her very own charming prince…