Property Rites: A Deed of Enslavement [Paperback]

...may be to too extreme for some, but had me enthralled. I had a hard time putting this book aside.

High-born and beautiful, Alasha Malkenstorm is heiress to her mother's lands, titles and powers - until the day she is robbed of everything by the stroke of a trickster's pen. Sold into slavery by her swindling stepfather, Alasha must find reserves of tenacity and courage she never knew she had as degradation mingles with slowly kindled lust. Collared, ringed, pierced and whipped, she is auctioned at the block and passed from man to woman and back again. For the sake of her people, Alasha knows she must find a way to reclaim her inheritance - but how can she turn her back on the man she has come to love, or her own submissive nature?

I've felt for many years that there is a shortage of erotica with strong characters and a compelling story, and that's why I wrote Property Rites. It's garnered strong sales and positive reviews and feedback during two years of ebook publication. Those two years have encouraged me to improve the work further, and I am delighted to see this revised paperback edition published by Velluminous Press.

Chapter 1: Birthday Present

The day before Alasha’s eighteenth birthday, her life changed forever.

The Matriarch was ill again. Judging by the doctor’s grave face and half-disguised warnings, she was even worse than the last time.

After a while, Alasha came to understand that her mother was dying.

It was plain that Lord Jarvin and her brother knew it too, but they didn’t speak about it, as if they thought her still too young for such things. When Alasha went to her mother’s chamber in the south tower, the guard’s words sounded kind enough, but that didn’t stop him from turning her away.

"Your father’s orders, young miss. I’m sorry."

It was one of the new men, otherwise she might have tried to wheedle her way around him. Otherwise, he’d have known her name.

It’s not fair, she thought. It’s a daughter’s right to bid her mother farewell. If anything, it’s the husband and the stepson that should be waiting out here.

Then the door opened and Jarvo was there. "It’s all right, Hap. It’s fitting that my sister should be present at the end."

"Very good, sir," said the guard, standing aside.

She went past him into the room and approached the big four-poster that had been part of her world for as long as she could remember: she’d been born in that bed, conceived in that bed.

Her father had died in that bed, twelve years before.

Alasha hardly recognized the old lady under the coverlet: her mother’s skin was parchment-thin and pale as candle-wax, the wisps of hair so translucent that it would have been flattery to call them white. The Matriarch’s eyes were closed under trembling lids, and each breath was a painful straining for air.

Alasha knelt at her mother’s bedside, next to her stepfather’s chair. The doctor stood at the foot of the bed, his face grave.

There was an invalid’s desk set across the covers, with a silver pen and an inkbottle, and a bundle of vellum that bore the Matriarch’s unsteady but distinctive signature. Now, Lord Jarvin took the topmost leaf from the bundle and set it on the side table next to Alasha.

"You must countersign this, girl, in the presence of your mother."

"What is it?"

"It appoints me as your guardian until you are of an age to assume the Matriarchy. Until then, it will be my duty to protect you, to see to the running of the Malkenstorm estates, and to make sure that your holdings prosper."

Alasha studied the deed. Its purpose was unclear: it seemed to consist mainly of a bewildering number of schedules, appendices, and codicils. "I should like to read the rest of the document first."

"It contains nothing but tedious legalities, girl, and there is little time. Your mother is satisfied with it, and our family advocates assure me that it’s been drawn up most carefully. If you fail to sign in the presence of the Matriarch, the choice of guardian reverts to the King. That is the law."

Alasha had learned nothing of this law in her studies, but then she’d never expected to be orphaned before her coming of age. The Matriarch was not yet out of her middle-years, and her illness and swift decline had seemed unthinkable when they began, less than twelve moons before.

The dying woman’s lids flickered open for an instant, and Alasha saw her mother’s dim eyes turn towards her. The Matriarch was looking at her, perhaps for the last time.

She’s telling me to sign before it’s too late, decided Alasha. Anyway, better that Lord Jarvin should have the management of the estates, rather than some stranger.

She picked up the silver pen and signed her name in the place indicated.

"Don’t date it," said Lord Jarvin quickly. "That will be done in the lawyers’ chambers."

Once more, Alasha was confused: surely, the signature should be dated when it was made? Reluctantly, she deferred to her stepfather: this wasn’t the place for argument, or the time to add to her mother’s troubles.

Later, she came to realize how foolish that had been. Her mother’s problems would soon be over forever, while her own were just beginning.