He is my master, I am his slave, his son my lover. Set in a fictional historical world, Grand Duke of Wynthorpe, Lucian Blackwell unexpectedly purchases Sarang, a lunari slave, to serve as a companion for his son, Nathaniel. Overtime, Lucian and Nathaniel develop deep, conflicting emotions for him. While Nathaniel desires to free him, Lucian's secret attachment complicates the relationships between the three. Caught in an intense emotional triangle, Sarang is torn between his loyalty to Lucian and his romance with Nathaniel. As boundaries between servitude and freedom blur, Sarang must navigate a society where love, power, and desire clash.
View More“I need a slave.” Lord Lucian Blackwell declared, gazing at the eloquent garden through the window of his manor.
“A slave?” Trevor asked as he dropped his feet from the table in disbelief.
It was no secret the number of the things Lucian Blackwell detested–slavery being chief among them. Slaves were nothing but property: deprived of name, status, wealth, respect, and dignity. To Lucian, slaves were depreciating liabilities–they aged and got boring quickly. He believed in the principle, ‘Every man has a price’ which extended to labour. Until now.
Lucian turned away from the window and took a seat, facing his old friend. “I need a slave. Young, healthy, and smart. I don’t care the cost if it meets my requirements.”
Trevor leaned forward, “Why? You have never weened such notion… What changed?”
Lucian’s eyes flickered toward the painted portrait of his deceased wife cradling an infant swaddled in a red blanket. “For Nathaniel’s education. A slave his age to learn, rival, befriend, and serve him will be necessary.”
“You can hire a young servant or adopt a child.”
“Nathaniel is my sole heir. A servant has his years of service before he retires without lingering attachments.” Lucian’s tone brooked no argument. “Are you helping me or not?”
Trevor sighed and folded his arms. He understood Lucian to be stubborn and firm in his decision even on simple matters. Suggesting anything sensitive, like remarriage, would be equally futile.
“There is a slave caravan that comes to Linfield every six months. Their slaves are expensive, but high quality of different ages and genders. I’ve purchased two slaves from the caravan, and they are remarkable.” Trevor crossed his feet with a debauchery grin.
“When do they arrive?”
“Tonight. You are in luck my friend; I hear they have something special tonight. If it is as wonderful as rumoured, my harem is willing to welcome another.”
“Very well.”
The slave market sat on the outskirts of Linfield where the caravan camped. Lucian’s sharp gaze took in the crowd, many of whom haggled for slaves and contraband with factions that catered to their pockets. Some slaves, brazenly parading naked without handlers, latched onto potential buyers and led them to secluded corners—a thinly veiled hint that this was as much a brothel as it was a marketplace.
Lucian hadn’t expected the auction house to be a decent build that could cater for a house given its grotesque and vulgar surrounding.
“This way, my friend.” Trevor said and opened the wooden door.
They were greeted by a beautiful young woman draped in purple sheer silk. Her curly raven hair framed delicate features, and her gentle brown eyes shrouded any self-thought. She bowed. “Welcome masters.”
“We are here for the auction. We want the best seat… it is this gentleman’s first time.” Trevor said and tilted her chin to meet his eyes. “Have you missed me, my dear?”
“If it will please you, I have not.” She replied coldly, pulling her chin from his grasp.
Trevor laughed. Lucian trailing behind, scowled at his friend’s shameless flirtation. Her heart must have been made of iron and stone to resist a man as silver-tongued as Trevor.
They sat in a private room above the other guests with a clear view of the stage where each item would be presented. Lucian spotted a few faces from the ton who chattered amongst themselves, unaware of his presence. It was disappointing discreet purchase were impossible in auctions, people might misconceive his intentions with a slave and play politics with him.
“This gathering could fool the ignorant for a play.” Lucian commented.
“Of course. Owning slaves is a mark of one’s status. In their eyes, you whose power is second to the crown, owning none is… strange. Relax friend and enjoy the auction. You might find one you desire in your bed tonight.” Trevor praised with a carefree grin.
Lucian whipped his head and snorted. “Frivolous.”
The auctioneer commenced the auction with a brief remark. The first slave was ushered to the stage by two slavers with her head bowed and a chain around her neck. She stood still on a wooden platform, her arms limp at her sides for the guest to admire her fair, soft, and beautiful body. She was perhaps sixteen, if not a year older.
“An omega from the Northern Isles with rare red hair. Young and skilled in the arts of entertainment but untouched here for her master’s use.” The auctioneer touched her shaved vagina. “Suitable for labour, though such a task would mar her beauty.” His voice was impassive. “Two hundred gold coins.”
“Three hundred.”
“Three hundred and thirty.”
“Five hundred.”
The bids rose. Lucian eyed Trevor who made no bid.
“Are you not interested?” Lucian asked and Trevor shook his head.
“Too young. I prefer them older and knowledgeable about their desires instead of catering their innocence. My beloved mate is my sole exception.”
“You spoil them.”
“Which is why I am blessed with eight children. Nine by summer.”
“Sold for one thousand and sixty-seven gold coins.” The auctioneer said and the slavers ushered her away.
The auction continued, presenting slaves and selling to the highest bidder. Trevor nudged Lucian, encouraging him to make a bid, but Lucian remained indifferent, uninterested in any merchandise paraded. He wanted a closer evaluation of the slaves, they were non-refundable.
The next slave astonished the guests to silence before whispers ensued which excited the slavers. The guests’ reaction to their most precious item exceeded their expectations. Lucian observed keenly, repositioning himself upright.
The child whose feet were bound with light chain, shivered fearfully under the greedy, lustful, and amused scrutiny of the crowd. This slave was unique, a gem in the rough even among nobles.
“A lunari from a small province in Hanmin.” The auctioneer declared; his voice filled with pride.
Lunaris shared one general characteristics. They lacked colour except in their eyes. Male, female, alpha, beta, and omega, they were beautiful and rare to birth. They were considered blessings from the gods upon mankind to protect and assist mortals. Some believed lunaris to be born with unique gifts like healing, strength, and visions, a few worshiped them, and many coveted them. Although records proved enough lunaris were born with gifts, Lucian believed it to be the church’s propaganda… Nonsense.
The child had pale skin and lips without blemish or scars, silver hair, a button nose with slanted bright blue eyes that reflected innocence and the ocean
Lucian’s breath hitched as the child’s frightened eyes met his. Something stirred within him—an unfamiliar, protective instinct.
“The bid starts at five thousand gold.”
“Seven thousand!”
“Thirteen thousand!”
“Fifteen thousand!”
The guests clamoured their bids, agitating the slavers.. They never anticipated this frenzy over a lunari. A riot could happen if they were not careful.
Lucian and the child maintained unwavering eye contact as the bid reached its peak. All he saw were the child’s tear-filled eyes, trembling lips, and pitiful stance.
The impulse was overwhelming, he caved.
“A shame he’s a child, I would have bought–”
“Three hundred thousand gold coins!” Lucian shouted.
The room went deathly silent that a pin drop could be heard.
Their curious eyes searched for the madman who would spend an outrageous amount on a slave without political benefit. They were stunned by their revelation.
The Grand Duke of Wynthorpe, Lucian Blackwell.
No one dared to challenge his bid.
“T-three h-hundred thousand gold coins… sold!”
The auction ended.
Trevor chuckled in disbelief. Lucian Blackwell now owned someone.
Lucian tightened his grip on the sword. For a moment, he said nothing. Then, his stance shifted. and widened his stance. Nathaniel raised his sword, and they walked in circle, eyes locked on each other like predators. Lucian took a step and sprinted with a speed that caused Nathaniel to jerk for a second but quickly recollect himself.Nathaniel lifted his blade once more. They circled each other like predators, eyes locked, tension thick in the air. Then Lucian moved.He took a step forward and sprinted with a speed that made Nathaniel jerk in reflex. Nathaniel barely caught himself, shifting his weight just in time to meet the strike.The force of it sent a shudder up his arms.Lucian didn’t ease up. His blows came faster, heavier—so precise they left no opening to strike back. Nathaniel could barely keep up, his sword arm trembling from the impact. Every block sent sharp vibrations through his bones.He raised his sword to block another swing, but Lucian kicked the sword against his
Swords clashed, ringing through the air as sweat glistened on the bodies of the two young men locked in combat. Grunts and sharp exhales punctuated the rhythmic strikes, each movement precise yet laced with competitive banter. Sarang observed Nathaniel and his sparring partner, Gregory, with mild disinterest. To him, they looked like children playing war with sharp sticks, though he had to applaud their skill and strength in wielding such heavy weapons with such ease.Nathaniel’s sword moved with fierce precision and Gregory’s defence held for a time, but under the sheer force of Nathaniel’s strikes, it eventually crumbled. With a one final swing, Nathaniel knocked Gregory onto his ass, his sword poised at his friend’s throat.“My victory, Greg.” Nathaniel declared, lowering his sword. He extended a hand to Gregory and pulled him up.“Good match,” Gregory panted, clapping Nathaniel on the back. “Next time, the win will be mine”Nathaniel smirked, brushing damp strands of hair from his
Nathaniel arrived late to dinner. He sat in the seat across Sarang, who heeded his food, deliberately ignoring him. Nathaniel slowly picked up his spoon, casting a long, sombre gaze at Sarang before he stated eating.Sarang, unfazed, finished his portion in silence. He dabbed his mouth with a napkin, then turned to Lucian.“Thank you for the food, Master.” He said with a soft smile and stood up. He bowed politely then left the dining room.Nathaniel immediately rose to follow. “Excuse me.”“Stay.” Lucian interjected smoothly. “Let us talk, you just arrived.”“Surely, it can wait.”“It will not,” Lucian replied, spearing a piece of fish with his fork. He lifted it to his mouth, then added, “Not if you want Sarang to forgive you.”Nathaniel eyed his father suspiciously and sank back into his seat.“You should eat more.” Lucian suggested, setting his cutlery down.“I’m not hungry.” Nathaniel muttered.Silence stretched between them. It had been a long time since father and son sat togeth
A little past evening, Nathaniel returned home, his eyes drooping with exhaustion. The viscount’s hospitality had been impeccable, but his daughters were by far the most obnoxious women he had ever encountered. Their relentless fawning and desperate, simpering smiles only solidified his disinterest in them.He reached for the doorknob, twisting it open, and stepped inside. Sarang sat on his bed, arms folded, gaze sharp with anger. Nathan quietly shut the door behind him.Without a word, Sarang lifted the crumbled paper in his hand and read aloud. “It is without a doubt that this season’s finest bachelor is an enigma from the household of the Grand Duke of Eldoria, Prince Nathaniel Blackwell. A young alpha whose presence has ignited a grand stir in the ton and fervent passion in the hearts of hopeful youths. But why now, and more intriguingly, for whom? Whispers travel that this mysterious gentleman seeks one thing–a diamond. A princess, no less. Should yours truly believe his diamond
“Your name is Sarang, right?” A soft, gentle voice broke through the quiet.Sarang turned to find Lysandra standing behind him, her cheeks flushed and temper mellow.“Your–”“No need for that.” Lysandra interrupted, holding up a hand to stop him from bowing. “I’m a guest here. Please, be at ease.”Sarang hesitated, then straightened. “Is there anything you need, Your Highness? The young master isn’t home.”“I know. It is not Prince Nathaniel I’m looking for. It’s you.”“Me?” Sarang echoed, blinking in surprise.“Yes, you.” Lysandra stepped closer, her expression sincere. “I apologise for how I behaved when we first met. It was unladylike, and I hope you can forgive me so we can start anew.”“You do not have to apologise or seek my forgiveness.” Sarang replied politely. “You’ve never wronged me, Your Highness.”“I should. You are Prince Nathaniel’s childhood friend and closest companion. Uncle Lucian said you grew up together, so you’re practically family.”“I suppose so.” Sarang repli
They returned to the estate at dusk, their earlier frustrations now a distant memory. They chatted excitedly about the places they would explore in Linfield: The original churches of the two religions in Eldoria, the museums of art, and the famed Big Bell Tower.Nathaniel reached for the entrance door’s handle, only to have it open. A familiar figure emerged—a lunari woman dressed in soft pink and a chessboard in her delicate arm. Her green eyes lit up at the sight of Nathaniel, and she tucked a loose strand of silver hair behind her ear with a shy smile.“Nathaniel, welcome. I did not think I would see you before I leave.”“Your Highness.” Nathaniel said, bowing alongside Sarang.Her lips curved into a soft smile. “We’re beyond formalities now. Please, call me Lysandra. Just Lysandra.”“What brings you here?” Nathaniel asked, his voice cool and steady, and his hands clasped behind his back.Lysandra held up the chessboard. The same board he gifted her. “You mentioned you didn’t have
Nathaniel stomped down the stairs, muttering under his breath. Sarang watched cautiously before stepping closer, placing a gentle hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder.“Breathe,” Sarang murmured, his voice soft and soothing as his fingers traced slow, calming circles on Nathaniel’s back.Nathaniel exhaled sharply, then mirrored Sarang’s deep, measured breaths. He maintained eye contact as he released a louder breath, his tension easing slightly.“Better?” Sarang asked with a small smile.“I’m not fine,” Nathaniel snapped, though his tone had softened. “Father’s gone too far this time. Making such a decision without consulting me—I’m not a child.”“I know. I agree with you that Master is acting… unusual. But an aggressive confrontation won’t solve anything, it will only make him difficult. You know how stubborn he can be.”Nathaniel sank onto the stairs, intertwining his fingers in frustration. “Then what do you suggest I do? Coddle him with soft words and kindness?” His voice dripped with sar
Sarang stood by a small pond, tossing fish food to the colourful koi that swam eagerly to the surface. As the white cup in his hand emptied, he smiled in satisfaction. The fishpond was one of the most tranquil spots on the Linfield estate.The soft rustle of grass behind him caught his attention. He turned to find Nathan striding toward him, his expression taut with nerves, his fists clenching and unclenching in agitation.“We need to talk.” Nathan said, his voice sharp with urgency.Sarang set the empty cup on the pond’s edge. “Can we not talk here?” He asked, staring at Nathan. and Nathan surveyed their environment. There was no one around but he didn’t get a sense of seclusion in the open space.Nathan scanned the open space. While no one was in sight, it didn’t feel private enough. “No, we cannot. I need to speak to you in private. Come with me.” He said and grabbed his hand, leading him away.They disappeared into the shaded cover of the garden’s dense foliage. Without warning, Na
Lucian rested in bed, the soft rustle of papers filling the room when the doors creaked open. Sarang peeked in, his lips forming a cute pout.“Master, can I come in? I made you food.” Sarang said, his voice tinged with concern.Lucian glanced up and nodded.Pushing the door open with his shoulder, Sarang waltzed into the room carrying a tray. He approached the bed and presented it to Lucian, who set the papers aside.“It’s ginseng chicken noddle soup.” Sarang explained, rubbing his shoulder nervously. “I heard you weren’t feeling well. Did the doctor come?”“Yes.”Sarang fidgeted with his fingers, his brows knitting in worry. “It’s not serious, right? Are you going to get better? I’ve never seen you bedridden–not even from a fever.”Lucian chuckled, placing a warm hand on Sarang’s hair with a reassuring smile. “You have nothing to worry about, I’ll be fine. The doctor said I overexerted myself and need some rest.”Sarang relaxed, his shoulders dropping as he offered a bright smile. He
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