It wasn't a throne he sat on, but it was near enough. Those under his control dreaded to be brought before him when he sat there.
He gazed down at the girl, no, young woman. Like all his girls, her exotic looks, golden skin, straight black hair, made even those jaded to beauty turn to look. It had no effect on him. He vaguely wondered when that had happened. No matter. He turned to the matter at hand.
She knelt before him, small and frail. She did not look up. She didn't dare. He relished the fear in her posture. Soon, soon.
"Who owns you?" he said.
"You, my lord," she said, almost too soft to be heard.
"Again," he said sternly.
"You own me, my lord," she said, a little firmer.
"Remember what will happen if you fail me."
She shuddered. She had seen the results of failure often enough.
He had expected her to fail long ago. If she continued to succeed, he would have to take measures anyway. He did not like to do that if he had a choice. If the other girls ever figured out that ultimately their success or failure didn't matter, then controlling them would be made that much harder.
Even some of his goons might rebel. Though that was less likely. He had carefully chosen men who enjoyed giving pain. Speaking of which . . .
He bade her rise and touched her damaged face with his gloved hands. "You should not have said no."
A flash of anger. "But . . ." Then she regained control. "I did not say no, my lord," she said, casting her eyes down. "He did not ask."
She was starting to think on her own. Dangerous. Almost he thought to keep her here. Never send her out again. In spite of the signed contracts. And the questions it would raise. The money was useful, and the pillage as well. But it was the connections she would make that were important.
"Do not contradict me," he said, his voice as cold as ice. "You are useless. You know that. Repeat that."
"I am useless," she said bleakly. A flash of resentment, quickly controlled.
He signaled for her to go. She bowed deeply and backed out the door.
Too much Independence in that one. He looked forward to crushing her individuality out of her, feeling her strength of spirit leaving her. He should have done so long ago.
Interesting setting. I dislike the guy sitting on the throne already.
Some comments:
1) It is always hard to know how much detail to put in, and how much mystery to leave. IMO this leaves a few too many things unsaid, and thus doesn't create enough atmosphere. We are left the first couple of sentences with a mere 'he'. Not, "The Dread Lord Arragen, his black skin smoking as rivulets of red appeared and disappeared..." And 'she, exotic looks' but not 'His recently captured slave, a former princess..."
2) "looked forward to crushing her individuality'. Meh. Who cares about that? In a dystopia there is often an all powerful state which ends up crushing individuality... but usually dictatorships are the opposite. The dictator has his 'guy who is really good at torturing' and his 'girl who is really good at capturing enemy spies'... but he tends to value individuality... as long as it is in his service. He wants loyalty, eagerness, etc... not boring un-individuality.
3"Soon, soon." what? Again, not detailed enough to raise the tension. "Soon I will feed you to my ignuanas and watch you scream' 'soon you will desire to do my will with every fibre of your being'... soon what??
3) She had seen the results of failure... yeah, but we haven't.
4) he would have to take measures anyway. wait, what, why? Are the missions he sends her on so unimportant that he doesn't really want them done???
5) "You should not have said no." To whom? What were the results. I get this is a mysterious prologue but... see (1)