Enslaved by Anubis: Fated to the Gods of Yoria, #1

By Veronica Dean

I no longer fear death, I fear life.

 

My father sold me into slavery; my brother abandoned me.
The river of pain flowing inside me has been blocked by my hardened heart.
A slave must accept that she is just an object to be used by her masters.
We are simply commodities, traded or sold at will.
I am now the property of the Cult of the Dead.

 

This is a place of hellish nightmares.
The screams of torture and terror echo through the mighty halls of the palace.
Everywhere I look I am faced with a new, horrifying glimpse into my future.
I promise myself that they will not break me but I know that everyone breaks—It's just a matter of time.

 

In a world of unspeakable violence and horrors, I find an unlikely savior.
Anubis, lord of the underworld, has risen from the depths wielding his flaming sword of justice.
He may have slaughtered my masters, but I am far from free.
Beneath his divine, emerald eyes, I see the savage lust of a wild beast.
When he comes for me, I have no choice but to submit or suffer the gruesome fate of his other victims.
He makes me do unspeakable things, debase myself completely.
He takes me, uses me, possesses me.

 

The scary thing is—I love it.

Welcome to Yoria.

This place might seem familiar to you in some respects, but totally alien in others. On this dark, brutal world there is not much in the name of hope. Humans are the playthings of the gods—lower than animals. But, sometimes, the paths of two beings can cross and send a ripple through the universe. Love has the power to change the future of an entire planet. These are the stories of the fated mates of Yoria.

 

Drama, action, violence, sex, love.

 

Author's note: All of the books in this series contain graphic violence and dark themes, but they make the happy ending all the more satisfying. Also, I hate cliffhangers, so you definitely won't be finding any of them. I strongly recommend that the books be read in order to get the most out of this series!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Incidentally Quirky
• Release date: Jan 15, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223248170

Book preview

1

Zanika

The sting of the whip never gets less excruciating, but you can learn to live with the pain.

As the leather slices into my skin, I can’t help but curse my naive self. I thought sucking up and working for Ansapata was going to be a prosperous new chapter in my life. I had been a slave working in the fields for so long, I was ready to do anything to get out of the smoldering heat into the shade of a palace. ‘He’s one of the leading physicians in all of Thonis, after all; he has met the pharaoh himself, so it must be better working as the palace servant of a nobleman of his stature.’ Stupid girl.

The leather strikes me again and I let out an involuntary yelp. I steel myself, refusing to give Ansapata the satisfaction of knowing he is hurting me. His shit-eating grin makes me want to rip the shackles off this post and rip out his fucking teeth, but I’ve tried before, and they are just too strong. Even twenty years of forced farming doesn’t give you the strength to break iron.

Finally, the last of the ten lashes ordered to me strikes me right between the shoulder blades. An agonizing tear rolls out of my eye, but I do not cry—I never cry.

Back to your duties, Ansapata orders callously, walking away with his entourage of guards. I know that he will be back later to see me. Ever since he took me in, he has been trying to break me. I thought palace life would be cooking, cleaning, polishing ornaments. At worst, I thought I might have to scrub the floors. After a week of living in the palace, it became apparent to me that I was brought here for a very specific purpose, and that is to be Ansapata’s personal sex slave.

It started innocently enough. I was doing the duties that I had expected to be doing, but then, one night, exactly a week ago, I was summoned to his chamber by one of the guards. I rushed over and walked in. I was shocked to find him completely naked, lounging on his divan. I averted my eyes immediately as not to shame him by gazing upon his nudity.

Don’t be ashamed, child, the heavy-set, wrinkly doctor said to me. Kneel down here beside me. I felt extremely uncomfortable, but I had no choice, so I knelt down by his feet. He told me to start rubbing them, but I didn’t really understand what he meant. He snapped his fingers, and another one of his slave girls, topless with a long golden skirt, came over and started massaging his foot. After a few seconds, she placed my hands on his disgusting trotter, and I started to copy her. I was so baffled by the situation, I didn’t have time to think about what I was doing; I was just going through the motions.

You have adapted well to palace life. Are you happier here than you are in the fields? Ansapata asked before plucking a grape from a vine held by another half-naked slave girl and placing it way too slowly in his mouth.

Yes, my Lord. I am very happy here, I answered, which, until that point, had not been totally untrue.

The juices of the grape spewed from his mouth as he said, I’m always glad to hear such a pretty young thing is getting on well around here. You know, you stood out like a sore thumb in that field. In good conscience, I could not let a fine specimen like you slave away in the hot sun. Why, you would lose those looks in a matter of years. Inside the palace, you can stay beautiful for much longer.

The doctor snapped his fingers and pointed at his other foot. I hesitated for a moment, and he snapped again, pointing more aggressively at it. I let go of his left foot and switched to his right and began rubbing.

You will soon learn how things work around here. It’s okay, you’re still new, so mistakes are acceptable, Ansapata said in a fatherly tone, like he was teaching me to plow a field. I didn’t know if I should speak, but even if I should have, I would not have known what to say, so I just looked down to the floor and continued massaging his clammy sole.

I think now I would like to see just exactly what I spent all that money on. Disrobe, the doctor commanded.

I could barely believe my ears; I was not sure I even immediately registered what he had said. I had been a slave since my father sold both me and my brother, but never had anyone wanted anything but my labor from me. My cheeks grew red, and anger rose up in me. Did this disgusting pig really think that I would let him be the first man to see my naked body?

Are you deaf, slave? Stand up and disrobe, now!

I stood up slowly, still dealing with the shock of the request. I made myself as tall as I could and said, in a calm voice, I respectfully decline your request, my Lord.

The three other slave girls in the room averted their eyes immediately. I don’t think they could quite believe what they were hearing. Ansapata himself didn’t really seem to believe it either.

Excuse me? he asked, clearly offended, while rising into a sitting position from his lazy stance on the divan.

Before I could answer, he stood up completely and stepped forward. I noticed that he was a hand shorter than me. The few remaining gray hairs that lined his patchy scalp were at the level of my eyes. You dare deny me? Your master?

No, my Lord, I would never, I just⁠—

He took me by the throat and hissed, You are my property, and you will do what I say whether you like it or not. For a saggy little man, he could strangle pretty hard. Without thinking, as a reflex to being attacked, I kicked him in the groin. He growled in pain and released my throat as he fell to the ground, gasping for breath.

The three slave girls rushed over and knelt before him, feverishly asking if he was okay. I realized immediately that I had made a horrible mistake and knelt down timidly myself, feigning concern for my new master.

When he finally caught his breath, he called out, Guards! Guards! while giving me a look of pure abhorrence. Two of his burly men rushed in the door, golden-tipped spears in hand. He pointed at me, still groaning on the floor, and shrieked, Hot box!

The two guards took me by the arms and dragged me out into the fields just outside the palace. I saw the numerous slaves out plowing like I used to do for at least ten hours every day. In that instant, I truly missed the work that I had spent my whole life hating. I was taken to a half-buried copper box by the edge of the dusty field. Two large stones stood next to it, and I started to grasp what was about to happen to me. A few hundred yards in the distance I could see the Iteru river and thought how much I would love to just float away and never return. They lifted the top off the copper box that looked more like a coffin up close and threw me inside. The metal burned my skin immediately, and I screamed out in searing pain. One of the guards kicked me in the face to get me to lie down in the box. They placed the lid on top of me, ignoring my pleading for them to stop. I heard the clang of two stones being placed on top of the box, and I tried to push the lid off, but all I succeeded in doing was burning the palms of my hands. I tried to stop myself, but I couldn’t help but sob and scream out as the heat of the box scalded my skin.

I spent hours in that box. I was only let out once the sun had gone down. Luckily that meant that the box itself had also cooled and it was no longer quite so painful. Ointment was rubbed on my burns once I was dragged out of there, but some of them had already started to blister. I didn’t really remember much of the ordeal itself. I think my mind was protecting me from the horror of it. I just remember thinking about the cool river and fantasizing about swimming in it and drinking the delicious, hydrating water until I could drink no more.

After that experience, I knew that I had to escape. I had arrived in what I could only describe as hell, and I was not going to let my life slip away from me serving as a sex slave to some monster. I knew that the moment I healed Ansapata would come for me again. I knew that he would make me undress and do only Ra knows what else.

While lying in the slaves’ quarters in the little shanty village about a mile from the palace (I was not afforded the luxuries of the palace for my recovery) I formulated a plan for my escape. I wanted to get help from some of the field slaves in the village, but it was clear that they had been threatened by the doctor’s guards not to even talk to me. A slave girl from the palace would come and see me twice a day and treat my burns. After a week, only the scars remained.

I was taken back to the palace to continue on with my day-to-day duties, but I knew it was only a matter of time before I was once again summoned into Ansapata’s quarters. Every day that passed, I was jumping at every sound as I went about the palace. I knew that leaving in the night was not possible; every entrance was guarded, and the temperature in the desert plummeted at night, and I did not have the supplies to make the journey to the next city, Avaris. I would most definitely die within hours of leaving, even if I did make it out.

I knew that my only chance was to get Ansapata to declare me a free woman. The likelihood of this happening on its own was about zero, but if I could coerce him into signing the papers, I could make it out of the palace during the day, and if I was stopped by anyone, I would have the papers to prove that I had every right to be walking around alone.

I was able to smuggle a small blade from the kitchen, and I strapped it to my upper thigh with some palm leaf string. I was biding my time, waiting to be summoned. I knew that it would be a long shot—Ansapata rarely moved around alone—but I thought that maybe, for me, his new pet project, he would make an exception. Then I could hold the blade to his throat and force him to sign me over. Then I would either knock him out or just kill him. It would depend on my mood of the moment. I had certainly had fantasies of murdering the fucker already, but I would have to be smart about it. Killing him would make me a fugitive; it wouldn’t just be Ansapata’s men looking for me, but the pharaoh’s men as well. You can’t have slaves killing their masters and getting away with it.

Unfortunately, my plan was foiled within a day. The palm string securing the knife in place snapped at the worst possible moment. I was carrying water back from the river, buckets in both hands. Guards always escorted palace servants when they left the grounds. Fetching water was one of the only times I was constantly watched and, of course, right then, the string snapped. The blade fell to the ground right in front of the guards. There was no hiding it. My heart fell into my stomach as they looked at the blade and then at me.

I tried to run then and there, but they took me by the arms before the buckets had even hit the ground. They dragged me to Ansapata and told him what had happened. They shackled my wrists and tied me to a post in the courtyard. They ripped the dress from my back as one of the larger guards stepped out of the palace holding a long bullwhip. I took a deep breath as my heart raced uncontrollably.

This wasn’t the first time I had been whipped, not even the tenth, but you never get used to it.

My shackles are opened, and I am dragged inside. Two slave girls see to my bloody back and wash it off, the red mixing with the water on the white tiles. I am allowed to lie down for no more than half an hour before the guards bring me a new outfit and force me back to work.

I am put on toilet duty, which is just as disgusting as it sounds. Usually, this job would be handed to a field slave, but Ansapata is clearly making a point. The job consists of going around the dozen outhouses of the palace and shoveling the shit out of them. I load the disgusting waste into a wooden box, open on one side, with ropes tied to it. Once it is full, I carry the box on my back to the fields and spread the shit into the dirt to be used as fertilizer.

Every step I take, my back aches in pain. I feel like I am going to faint a couple of times but force myself to continue. The scorching heat makes me sweat profusely as I dig into my twenty-fifth load of the day. The sun is finally beginning to set, and I am looking forward to crashing down on my wooden bed of hay.

As I pick up the box of putrid excrement, a guard signals me to return to the palace. I have never been more relieved. I drop the box on the ground and walk over to the guard, my legs nearly buckling from the exertion of the day. I can feel the blood trickling down from the stinging wounds on my back, sweat dripping into the cuts to add to my suffering.

Master demands your presence in his quarters, the guard says with an expression of pure steel.

Oh fuck, not today. I don’t have the fight in me to deal with him right now. My body is broken both from work and torture, and all I can think about is sleep. If I had the chance, I would collapse into a corner outside and sleep until morning. I don’t have the energy to resist Ansapata, but I know that I cannot refuse. Refusal would mean more punishment.

On our walk toward his chambers, I already begin to accept that I may need to concede a little. I won’t let him have me completely, but maybe I need to allow him to see me naked. I know that he won’t take me forcibly; he is the type of man that wants his women to submit to him willingly. Ripping my clothes off and raping me won’t get him off. He will want me to follow his orders as if I can’t resist him or his power. Maybe if I give him a nibble, he will let me rest tonight and I can formulate a new plan for the next time I am summoned.

I am led around the front of the palace, through the main gates. There seems to be some sort of commotion here, though. A dozen cloaked figures stand at the door. Ansapata is talking to them, and he looks worried. The five guards standing behind Ansapata have their spears at the ready, but I can see that they are nervous as well. I am too far away to hear what they are saying, though.

My escort takes me roughly by the arm and leads me to a side entrance. I get a glimpse of some of the figures inside the dark blue robes and see that their skin is completely covered in black and white markings. It looks like every inch of their bodies has been somehow stained with images and patterns. I catch the eye of one of the figures and he looks at me with infernal, obsidian eyes and a fierce grin that reveals his sharpened teeth. He does not even look human; he looks like some kind of... demon.

Once inside the palace, I am led to the slave quarters. He uses a key to open the lock on the door