Chapter 6

Declan looked at the time – 5.30am; it is time to wake up, not that he had much sleep anyway. His mind is excited, the world around him is finally changing, he can… ascend.

Life as he knew it, was one that is bounded to the family; he knows not how it is outside, nor does he understand how to detach himself from the family that bought him. Yes, bought – sounding like much slavery, he was a slave.

Of course, to call someone a slave would be an insult, if he was a slave, he would have no rights. He has them however, so to upgrade from that particular rank would be a servant. A person of servitude and of high skill in manual labor, and the kind that requires extra special attention, they call these servants butlers. He was the best from the batch chosen. Declan thought back on those days, when he was a mere child of 9 or 10. He knows for sure he needs to have a life, and life in the orphanage was no way for him, eventually like the others, they must depart from there and carve a life of painful suffering for themselves. They must work day and night, hour after hour to earn enough to feed and clothe themselves from the wintry cold. That year, a mighty winter was coming from the North, the cold icy winds that blew it here took the lives of many of ‘his people’ – the poor, the underprivileged and the destined to die.

How does one even cope with such a life, when one is born to die, everything of color will only fade. To have hope is life’s essence, but how does one retain hope when all around one is the fruitlessness, the terrible realization of that no matter how hard one tries to rise above the swelling sea of poverty and being trampled on as one struggles so very hard to live each day worrying about the next meal… Declan thought of how he came from that life.

They say, the orphanage that took him as a child into their care – that he was found on the steps of the building, covered in newspaper and left in the cold. Had the wind been any crueler that night, they would have ended him there and then. It should have been that way but fate wills it that the old caretaker was there to take out the trash, narrowly avoiding stepping on the bundle with a crying child inside, or rather, sniffing…as each breath drawn was a labor in the intense cold, that each tear was turned to ice crystals before they could even flow down the baby smooth skin, already blue from the frigid weather.

Quickly they warmed the child, and with it, the name given the next day as the child survived the worst. Declan, it was the name of the caretaker’s deceased son, and the caretaker took care of him as his substitute. He would raise him well, but constantly he would remind him as he grows that they are both from the lowest rank of society and that each and every moment let there be a reminder that to go anywhere above, would require the strength of several lifetimes. Declan would recall those talks they had, whether it is by the church or the haystack bed they have in the barn house. Indeed, those days when he was only a child of 6 or 7, he would tend to the animals that are also kept to produce the food for the other orphans. His solid determination to become strong, that was what separates his other ‘brothers and sisters’ from the orphanage.

At the age of 9 or 10, that year, in the cold winter once more – the weather he hated most, a strange couple consisting of a tender-faced old man, withering away clearly but still clear minded from the looks of his eyes which are filled with deep-set wisdom, and a woman, quite clearly the daughter of the old man with intelligent eyes. They looked around the orphanage, and from their attire, little Declan could tell that these people are from the ‘above’, and the reason they came here was to mock him and his brothers and sisters of their social status; of that, Declan had little doubt until they started signing papers.

All in all, by the next dawn, despite the caretaker’s reluctance ; a total of 20 children at once were sent away, or picked up, however one views it. Like items in a grocery store, the couple had taken the custody of the children and sent them to a lavish mansion away from the bustle of life in the city, secluded in a mountainside with lakes and rivers, forests and animals only the wild would have.

They are to become the servants. Little Master Albert, then only a child like himself, only younger by about 3 or so years, looked well decked in a nice little blazer. His innocent eyes looked at the toiling children or rather, some of them were already young men several years senior to Declan - in their own little servant costumes, serving him hand and foot.

It was only one year, a turbulent one when the place they served in took a nightmarish turn. The family fortunes were quick being eaten away but a plague known as the current Master of the house, the husband of that woman they call Lady Evita. The Master was a keen gambler, gambling day and night the fortunes accumulated over years of hardship and most of all, the gifts from others and those that were stalled away from public view of the family. Some were priceless, yet to the Master, it is but a defined digit to feed his endless desire to bet them away. Indeed, he was at once proud and stupid, how could such a poor fool have been able to make this fortune? Declan knew he didn’t and despised him, in his mind he plotted the way that could have been spent, or the various charities like the orphanage he came from could be helped by a mere vase he gambled away… of how many mouths that can have oh so many months of decent meals if only he would not sit with his meddlesome friends from god-knows-where parts of the world eager to make him lose his wagers.

The rest was quite a turn of events, he was sure his brothers and sisters who are from the same orphanage began to dwindle, one by one they left fearing the security of the family fortunes, and most of all fearful of the job coming to a dead end with the family becoming bankrupt soon. Declan stayed on, until he was the last of the remaining, and it was then another 2 years have passed with the passing of the Master. They say he was dead by disease, but Declan knew that some fools are too healthy for their own good, the Master was one of those healthy jumping people. They have so much energy and they don’t know where to spend it, or how to. At length, he came to a private conclusion, that the Master was murdered by the Lady Evita everyone feared. Lady Evita used to be kind, but she is now cold as ice, and stern as a matron as she could be, for every word she says, in it hints the repercussions should one be found guilty of wrongdoing.

In this fearful situation, one day young Master Albert, in a twist of fate, has turned into a lady!

Indeed, o it was sudden, for one day when Declan was preparing the meals of the evening in the kitchen with the chefs who are also lowborn, but has valuable skills to share and therefore occupies a permanent post in the household as well as job security; he saw in the hallway the most dashing little lady.

However, he was quick to discern the facial features, and most of all, the green satin cloth that covered ‘her’ eyes. One look and he could tell that she was Master Albert.

It was the servant’s duty to not pry into their master’s likes or dislikes, hobbies or whatever else that fancies them at that one moment. Declan declined to follow that law and asked the young master why he dressed up as a girl when he is a boy. The boy did not speak at all, only nodded, a faint smile that decorated his face hid away some degree of sadness that Declan felt familiar too. All too soon he recognized that look, it was a look he has always carried with him, and it is always the painful smile that the caretaker of the orphan carried whenever he told him the way of the world and how money makes the world go round.

He then discovered, that even in the upper echelons of society, that even amongst those that him of the lowborn cannot hope to ever reach or understand… that those highborn like the young master himself, have their own kind of sorrows.

Lady Evita was quick to follow, announcing the renunciation of the gender that the young master was born with, and with it the young master a quiet but subtle nod to indicate his acceptance to be addressed as ‘her’ and ‘she’.

Declan knew then, that in order to rise, he needs to change his sights, expand his horizons…this, the young master, who is now the Mistress, or the Lady, shall be his new horizon. To sail into the new horizon, he requires a boat to carry him there, he knew the metaphor of his boat must be his skill, he must make himself indispensable at every situation, until the very thought of expendability of his presence by the family is completely smothered shut. Then, and only then can he rise to become more than what he is or what he came from.

Only then, can he finally sing his own song.


+++++

Six hours, that was how long Albertina waited, she observed the ring in the privacy of her attached studio in her massive room. The studio was double locked, and with soundproof walls and double steel plated doors that intricately lock in a system that has to be accessed by three passwords which only she knew – her privacy was ensured.

It just had to be it, the throbbing feeling of frustration… that familiar but long distanced idea… she felt it, it was so strong…

The tingling feeling in her crotch, for the first time in over nine years since she has sworn her oath to her mother, the strong-headed lady of the mansion, Lady Evita to become a woman instead of retaining as a man due to her mother’s hate for the gender that is associated with her husband, the gambler.

Gambling, it was a kind of personality trait, for men with pride tend to gamble, and men with too much in their hands, will gamble more. In such situations her husband, whom his name she even renounce and will not even mention if at all possible… He was the king of gamblers, his bets massive, and his losses can buy small countries if only by exaggeration.

This night, Albertina tussled the sheets in her main bedroom, for two maybe three hours she laid there, unable to sleep, and the hours crept by slowly as if deliberately tormenting her. The ring on her finger throbbed harder, stronger, the aura of the ring becoming a dense drumbeat that synchronized to her being. Her heart pounded, and her blood rushed, up then down to her crotch.

Despite the hormones doing their best to change her gender into that of a girl at that tender sweet age that all the boys will drool for, when beauty is most fleeting and pretty girls will be most enduring in that one season of image that will set hearts aflutter… she was feeling all the heat and frustration that she felt before she took the regular doses of the hormone changing drugs that were given to her all those years.

It took all those years and all that effort to turn her into another gender, and yet, those drugs now seem to calm nothing and count for nothing; the raging burning sensation of her erection now rubbed against the studio’s sofa set. A change of scenery…that was what she thought when she jumped up and ran to lock herself in the security and privacy of the windowless studio, hoping that whatever gods may be or man will not see such an ugly sight. What is she now…if not a half-something that words cannot begin to describe…perhaps she should have done so earlier and chop the damn thing off…but something held her back all these years even with her sworn oath and her determination…and she left it there.

Now she has every reason to regret… as the throbbing thing in between her legs once more rubbed hard against the velvet clad pillows of the sofa set. It was already 3am in the morning and everyone outside must be asleep and having the sweetest dreams, and yet here she is, struggling to keep her mind clear of the horrible images of her long exorcised lust.

Images of ladies phased through her mind, they are all in their birthday suits, sometimes deliberately in as little cloth as possible, sometimes worse still, already ravaged by an unknown hand in her mind, they lay spread-legged, ravished as their entire being crumpled like that of a ragged doll on the floor…

These images were not foreign to her, she has seen them all in the private parties that was held by others, the other aristocrats far away from her family but does business with them have… enjoyments which they must provide. More than once in the urge to convince Albertina that she was meant to be a boy, they would entertain her in such lavish parties, and there would be ‘desserts’ being served after, and so far, no matter how they tried, Lady Albertina stayed stoic, unmoved by the parade of absolute moral depravity. Sometimes, it would last till the wee hours of the morning like now, tools of various kinds will be used and sometimes those that Albertina saw…were mere children like herself, and it pains her that she has no power to stop the host without offending their mother’s goodwill to send her as an envoy to these horrible men with power and influence in order to maintain good relations with their family.

Sometimes, they would cry and scream and lose control of their body functions, feces and urine and saliva would coat the stone cold walls or sometimes that of a ward like place, resembling a hospital’s operating theatre where the carnage of lust and absolute moral degradation, the trampling of the human spirit will occur. Sometimes, Albertina would just pull herself away, bowing gently before leaving the room disinterested, many more times she would end up in the lavatories of lavish marble and other exotic settings, and puke herself till she could puke no more having witnessed the atrocities capable of the sex slaves’ masters.

These men…they disgust her, yet, in every fiber of her being, she yearns that they will switch their ways.

However, as she rolls again in the velvet sofa, her hands reached down to her crotch, and touched the thing standing as hard as steel there…and a moment of electric rushed from her spine up her head…

What is she going to do…

She can’t…

She knew the answer to what she must do…

Yet…

No…

Yes…yes…she must…