Shadow Slave Author Novels & Stories

If I didn’t know any better I’d say Nora cares about her former mistress. “Why should I be kind to a slave whose father wrongfully enslaved our people and did unspeakable things to us for decades?” I question with a raised eyebrow. I don’t want to let her on to the fact I already know why. I want her to tell the story on her own. I don't want her to be influenced in any way.

She was tired of being belittled and humiliated, tired of being treated like a second-class citizen. But amidst the sadness and despair, She also felt a fierce sense of determination. She refused to let the slave pack break her spirit, refused to let them dictate her worth. She was stronger than their words, and she knew that she had the resilience to overcome the challenges that lay ahead.She was filled with a new sense of determination,ready to deal with whatever come her way and whatever Lydia and the other slaves had install for her.

Don't mess with me. "I'm sure that after hearing or seeing that... They criticized me, even if it was just in thought. Yes, I won't deny that I liked it because it was money. I also had a lot of knowledge about men who get bored of routine, those who love to betray their wives, lovers, or girlfriends. I haven't killed anyone! That's why you're here, you want to make fun of me and throw in my face that I'm an ambitious person because I worked honestly and on the phone, I worked like a money-hungry whore. What makes you different from your club or what I did?"

“Do you think you still own your life now? The moment you step into this place, Master Henderson owns your life, and you are at his mercy. Now, do what I asked you to before I will do it myself. I will never do it slowly.” “You are a doctor. You should save lives.” Her hands were on my throat. “You don’t have the right to lecture me, woman. Now, strip.” I stepped back when her hands closed on my neck. I glanced at my clothes which were coated with dried blood. “Why should you be embarrassed? Slaves don't have any dignity left.” “We still do." "If your master ordered you to eat shit, you should." "You don’t have to be this kind of bitch,” I muttered but stripped otherwise. Arguing was pointle

I said and forced myself to smile. “Let’s go home quickly, Senorita, so you can take a bath!” she held my hand and continued walking, her every step are fast. _ “Ouch! Yaya Celine, it hurts!” We are here in front of the gate. She stopped and looked at me. I can see the redness in my waist. Maybe it’s because of the tightness of Yaya Celine’s grip, I do have a sensitive skin. She bit her nail and noticed that her hands were shaking. “Senorita Kiara will kill me, I’m so sorry S-Senorita Shaira, I didn’t m-mean to!”

“I’m not saying I won’t get angry, Cazz. I’m not saying I won’t be scared. I’m not saying I won’t ask you to stop. I’m saying, I’ll stay. As long as you’ll have me—and only me—I’ll stay. The only one who’s going to walk away… is you.” His eyes darted back and forth, searching mine, his brow furrowed. He was sweating and so tense I worried his body was going to lock up. But he just stood there, gaping at me like he couldn’t quite believe any of it. So I reached for his face again, sliding my hands behind his neck and lacing my fingers there. “I’m your slave, Cazz,” I said with a wobbly smile. “Not because you made me do it. I chose that. And I’m going to keep choosing it. Every day. No matter

She went on, "I was just wondering. You said you were taken here too." Henrietta finished arranging her stuff before she turned to her. "I was indeed taken her but it wasn't against my will." She knew about it but she never really knew the whole story. And perhaps Henrietta read on her face that she wanted to hear it that she sighed and faced her fully. "Back in the human world, I was a slave, Guinevere," she started. Guinevere's brows furrowed as she looked at Henrietta.

Not until I saw a man approaching me. The man appeared disheveled and unkempt, with tattered clothing that showed signs of wear and tear. His face bore traces of dirt and grime, making me realize that I was no different from him because he was a slave too. But despite his work appearance, his eyes held a glimmer of resilience, reflecting the strength within him. His posture seemed weary, hinting at the possible hardship he must have endured in the slave establishment. "Miss, are you working here as a slave?" He asked, his voice gentle yet firm.

If this guy wants to start something, I won't back down from a fight. “Uhm, you did do something terrible to me", I scoffed. “Really? Mind jogging my memory?”, He sat back and folded his arms, paying attention to me. “Well for starters, you bought me as a slave, then you brought me to your mansion just to lock me up in a cold dark room for weeks till I almost died!!”, I angrily told him. He sat forward and his eyes darkened, it looked like it was some nuclear weapon, waiting to be tampered with. I got scared for a minute, ‘Would he hurt me?’, I asked myself.

I stepped back into the vibrant world outside, a realm that celebrated the chosen while relegating the overlooked to the shadows. In the midst of the revelry, I navigated the corridors with newfound determination. The weight of being a slave, once an anchor that threatened to drown me, now became a catalyst for resilience. The celebration continued around me, but within, a spark of defiance ignited—a resolve to redefine my worth beyond the shackles of societal labels.