-- Title -- Bindment

-- Author -- Last Prophet

===///

Bound to you

Taking each step steadily

I never knew what to do

When you turned out so deadly

I was the fool

To reach you in the night

Your skin was cool

You wouldn't hold me tight

I have a confinement

Chains connect you and I

You are my bindment

Without you I would die

===

~~ Chapter ~~ One

~~ Title ~~ Lordship Fraud

==--//

Sunlight shattered into sections as a group of men sauntered across the grassy plains of Fenailia, a land far from civilization and a land that held too many secrets to hold in one's mind. Their eyes were dull gray, while their hair was vibrant colors of red, orange and blonde. The clothes on their backs were pitch black with a single patch, or symbol, on their left breast pocket and at their sides were sabers. The group, only five total, headed towards a small village off the coast of Martiniqe called Bayile. Their one goal: To find a fitting young woman to be the 'dog' of their Lord and Master Ecarde. First name based is Dantelos, or just Dante.

"No, please! Don't take-"

The woman was silenced as one of the five men unsheathed his blade and swiped it across her pale throat. Blood sprayed across the man and the woman collapsed at his feet, her whole body convulsed as blood drained from the gaping slash wound in her throat. Three of the men wandered towards the back room and slayed men who slept soundly in the inn. Beyond the stairs a young woman breathed heavily, fear made her panicked and her eyes widened as the men drew nearer with each breath she took inside of her heaving chest. She screamed as hands grabbed at her body and yanked her out. The black clad men shoved her out of the inn and she dropped to the ground, tears dropped soundlessly to the dirt. "W-why are you doing this?" She asked.

"We are not to tell you anything but the lone fact you are to be the Lord's bitch," an orange haired man replied.

"I am no man's bitch!"

The man removed his glove and slapped the young woman hard, which caused blood to seep out of the small slit in the corner of her pink lips. "You will learn to obey! Just as a woman should in this world!"

He motioned forward and the four other men tied her wrists and ankles into shackles, like a criminal would be tied. The group walked with the young woman in the middle of the five of them and her head drooped in sadness as they trudged towards a large castle. The young woman sobbed silently as they entered the large castle and walked through a dozen halls until they arrived at a gigantic throne room. He sat at the top of the stairs, his navy blue eyes darkened to an almost black lustre and they whirled with order. Compassion found no home in those eyes, the young woman thought with a frown.

His hair was a fair color, almost caramel and it was cut short. Spiked near the front and his chin had a goatee, which made him look the part of a matured man, yet that alone did not lie to the eyes of the beholder. His body was well built, that of a very hard worked man and not an ounce of fat settled on his chizled body. He wore the garments of silken black tunic and undershirt, which tied but it seemed that he was too lazy or just didn't care to tie it and the shirt revealed his chest. His trousers were black and his boots were buckled, almost like the whole boot was made of buckles. His muscles rippled as he stood up from his throne and started down towards the group. He motioned for his servants to disperse and they obeyed obediently. "Your name," he said in a deep voice void of all feeling.

The young woman responded not with her voice, but with her eyes as tears streamed down her cheeks. Her eyes were filled to the brim with fear of him and the sadness of being captured brutally by these black clad death servants. The Lord frowned and rested his gloved hands on his hips. "Speak, or have you lost your damned tongue?"

"To whom do I speak of my troubles if no one shall listen?" She questioned.

The Lord gestured to the man on her right and the young woman cried out in pain as a whip contacted her leg. She gazed up at the Lord and frowned. "I am your servant, I have no name. The duty of a stray dog is to be named by her owner, this so called bitch standing before you has no name to present to her master," she muttered.

"A stray bitch? Who said I would have called you that? You are but a mindless whore who I have just picked out of the litter of stray bitches."

"I am no whore! I'd rather die then share the same bed as a scoundrel like yourself!"

The whip cracked again and the young woman collapsed to her knees in front of the Lord. He smiled. "I am Dantelos, or formally known as Dante Ecarde. You....you will be known as Deserea, my personal servant."

"I am no man's property!"

The whip cracked again and a thin trail of blood appeared on her cheek. She didn't bother to clean it and blood trickled down her neck from the wound. Dante laughed and motioned for the five men to leave the room, which they did. "Deserea, you are a powerful woman. Yet, even the most powerful women have been broken and you are but a mere child in my eyes. A child who is fit to serve a man like myself."

Deserea trembled with fury. "You are a shameless scoundrel! You are no Lord!" She growled through clenched teeth.

Dante frowned and leaned over. He snatched up a handful of her beautiful, black locks and pulled hard enough to make her cry out in pain. "I'd watch my tongue if I were you, I'd rather not cut it off and feed it to the hogs!" He exclaimed.

He pushed her to the floor and hurriedly tied the chains to small, round iron rings which attached to the floor beneath Deserea. Dante turned and stood up to his full 6'0 height before he walked back to his throne. Deserea pulled at her confinements and tears were but a faint memory as they vaporized with the growing hatred inside of her chest. "I will never obey you, Dantelos!" She yelled.

"You will, you so very much will my dear Deserea. You are my property and my property always obeys," Dante laughed.

Deserea struggled as Dante watched her with amusement and occasionally he would scan her over. His eyes lingered on some points more than the rest and he smiled at his fortune. "Such a vibrant youth," he breathed.

He had turned twenty only a week before and his young self still screamed for a woman to bed him. His bed had been filled ever since he had turned sixteen and aquired the throne from his deathly sick father who had passed away a month before his sixteenth birthday. His hand was strong in the art of ruling a small faction and he knew the women's knees buckled at the sound of his name. Yet, he thought with a sour frown, this young woman doesn't seem to know who I am and I'd better reveal to her that I am who she will see for the rest of her natural born life.

He smiled as she glared at him with vibrant baby blue eyes and he suddenly realized this was one wild mare he might have to work hard to tame.

=====

to be continued....

Ah, the act of enslaving a young woman for sexual pleasure? Or..for companionship? Who knows what's up Dantelos(or Dante) sleeve, yet can a love blossom where hate has already taken root? Hope you liked, please review.