Hey everyone. So as promised I re-wrote this chapter to Enslavement because I wasn't entirely happy with the first outcome. I hope you're all still interested in reading and I hope you enjoy how I've tweaked it. As I said before, this story of Mistress and slave was inspired by my reading of 'Serving Mistress Santana' by lizzylizbian so please, go over to livejournal and read the story because it's fantastic.

Summary: When wealthy Santana Lopez finds an injured Brittany along the path of her stately home, she takes her in and out of pure greed and lust decides to enslave her. Is this love, and how far will Santana go to keep her? Brittana. AU!

Disclaimer: Glee and all its rights and privileges have nothing to do with me...unless Ryan Murphy turns out to be a long-lost relative. Hmm. I doubt it.

Prologue

The story began just outside the city of Mérida, Venezuela. Along the winding paths that led up from La Rosa Lake was a great extravagant house that spoke of wealth, power and honour. With large, wide towers and ancient brickwork that resembled that of a castle, the home had been dubbed (by the city folk) El Palacio, an affectionate name for such a beautiful thing.

The Lopez family had been in possession of El Palacio for as long as could be remembered. Passed on through each growing generation, the luxuries of its world were envied by many but only those of Lopez blood knew of the curse that came along with it. Each Master or Mistress of the house lived a life filled with business and solitary. It was trying and difficult but it had to be done to keep the wealth and power secured in the family line.

Love was a foreign concept to that of a Lopez. Although many married and had children it was never real or done for the right thing. Marriage was a necessity, as was procreating. The people of Mérida felt it was legend that no Lopez had ever been in love or in fact, would ever be. They were all about dominance and strength. They demanded respect and love played no part in their affairs. To summaries, love didn't exist in the Lopez world...or perhaps, it did...

...GLEE.

The world of El Palacio had been turned upside down in no more than thirty seconds flat after receiving word that the Mistress of the house would be returning from her trip to Paris in less than an hour's time. Servants darted here and there frantically, dusting, wiping and vacuuming as they tried with all their might to rectify the mess they had created over her weekly absence.

It had come as a bit of a surprise to them all that the Mistress was returning after so short a time. She could be gone weeks, even months on business without so much as a backwards glance so it was unusual and a little unnerving to hear of her sudden return to the country.

"Stop being such a coward Kurt and get on with it!" A tiny brunette clad in a white and black work dress bellowed, looking up to the gentlemen anxiously ascending a ladder to a twinkling silver chandelier.

"If you want it done quicker Rachel," he hissed venomously, "do it yourself!"

"Ha! Me! I'm a lady. I don't climb ladders," she replied indignantly, hands set firmly on her waist, looking surprised.

"You'd be up here like a shot if the Mistress demanded it," Kurt growled back.

"People, people enough of this." A blonde, dressed much the same as Rachel strolled into the grand hall where the argument was taking place. She had a defiant look about her, a strong calm in her bold green eyes and although no head servant walked amongst them she was looked upon as the leader. Her name was Quinn.

"Tell Rachel to leave me alone so I can get on with my work," Kurt asked. He had now reached the top of the ceiling and had begun to delicately dust the crystal gems that made up the opulence that was the chandelier.

"Well forgive me for wanting everything to be perfect," the diva replied, throwing her arms up in the air dramatically, "I knew we shouldn't have slacked off. I told everyone to at least clean a little a day but no, you all laughed and teased me and now we're all gonna suffer."

"Oh hush," Quinn chuckled, "Mistress Santana will understand I am sure."

"I don't think so. The whole point of our being here is to serve her," Rachel sniffled and before Quinn could seek to comfort her, the brunette was gone, darting over to the other side of the room to help a wheelchair-bound servant clean the windows.

Mistress Santana surely was a source of fear within El Palacio. Quinn and the gardener Mercedes had been the first amongst the servants to be brought to the ancient house. Santana had a thirsty enthusiasm for slave auctions and had spent the last few years of her reign collecting new servants to do her bidding. She wasn't a particularly cruel Mistress but she did demand respect from her employees. There had only been two or three incidents in which a servant had been severely punished because of their failures. These very memories wedged into the household and were dark indeed. Quinn and the others would never talk of them for they spoke of the true nature of their Mistress and how cold she really was.

"Look alive everyone," Quinn clapped her hands to get the others attention, "we have about twenty five minutes until Mistress Santana arrives. Tina align the gallery work, Kurt buff the doorknobs, Rachel, stop trying to strangle Artie and polish the floors already. This house needs to be pristine!"

...GLEE.

The jet black limousine zoomed down the twisting path that lay beyond Mérida, faster than a bullet from a gun. Its roaring engine alarmed the wildlife, sending birds and other creatures darting to their safe havens. The peace had certainly been disturbed, dust rolled up in its path, trees trembled against its swift drive and the air hissed as it sped by.

From one singular open window at the back of the vehicle, a woman sat, lapping up the light wind, breathing deep and even. Santana Lopez was rather beautiful to behold, a wanton treasure amongst the Spanish people. Her eyes were bold and defiant, as black as her hardened soul, her hair was long and dark, falling around her shoulders in lavish curls, her body was elegant and slender and her skin was fine and Hispanic, evidence of her noble heritage. She had high cheekbones and full, kissable lips. Every freckle and blemish was perfect but every faultless inch of her betrayed the hardness that lived inside the heart that beat below. She was cold...very cold.

"Turn off that radio Blaine," Santana ordered, breaking the silence by addressing the man who sat in front at the wheel, "it's giving me quite the headache."

"My apologies Miss. There are painkillers under the dashboard if it'll help," Blaine replied, twiddling with the radio switches until the contraption fell silent.

"That won't be necessary," Santana shook her head, "all I want is to retire home. Has Tina prepared dinner?"

"Yes. A spicy chicken soup for starters, roast –"

"Get rid of it all," the Latina waved her hand carelessly, "I won't dine tonight."

"But Mistress, if you are not feeling well perhaps it is best to eat," Blaine said looking nervous, obviously trying to be careful not to overstep the mark.

"It is none of your concern whether I eat," Santana spat angrily, "and you'll do better to suggest such things."

Blaine fell silent, ashamed that he had been scolded. The Mistress settled back comfortably in her seat, observing her servant as he drove, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Santana did not care that she had upset or unnerved him. Obedience had always been a quality that she prized in her slaves and those who would not submit were easily disposable. She had many useful souls to do her bidding back at her home in El Palacio. As a child, Santana had been mollycoddled by her mother's servants and blessed with many hands to assist her. When her mother had passed away a few years back the Latina had decided that it was time to replace the old servants with new ones. She wanted to run a house that was filled with fear and respect and no slave would obey her if they still saw her as the child they played with and cared for.

Quinn had been her first servant, followed by Mercedes. Kurt followed closely after that and then Tina and Blaine. Artie and Rachel came as a pair though if she could give Rachel back she most certainly would. She acquired Sam on a whim when travelling America and finally, Finn had been her last purchase and would most likely, be so permanently. All of them, as a group had special tasks to perform during the week and each fitted into El Palacio's world like a puzzle. Santana had grown used to them and what they offered her in their serving. She would never admit it but she needed them quite desperately.

"Um...Mistress," Blaine sounded hesitant, "there is somebody in the middle of the road."

Santana sighed, "then drive around them."

"I...I can't," Blaine said, "she's...she's unconscious."

"What?" Santana wasn't all that sure she had heard him correctly.

"She's lying in the middle of the road," Blaine told her.

Sticking her head out the window, Santana frowned. True to his word, there the woman lay, facing away from them, a mere mangled mess in their path.

"Stop the car," the Latina demanded and seconds later, the vehicle skidded to a halt. Unbuckling her seatbelt, Santana opened the door and stepped outside, her fine black heels scraping against the sand-like surface as she took hesitant steps towards the figure that lay before her on the ground.

"Be careful Miss Santana," Blaine warned. He was right behind her, his own movements just as timid and reserved.

A million thoughts were running through Santana's head. Who was this woman? What in the world was she doing so far out from the city? Was she dangerous? Were there others? It didn't make sense at all. Reaching the figure, Santana knelt down and looked the woman over, blinking in confusion. She was caked from head to toe in dirt, her blonde hair dishevelled and her face layered in small nicks and scratches. Her breathing was laboured and her body trembled. By the looks of her sickly complexion and bony figure, the youngster had been starved for days, maybe weeks. Santana had never seen something so vulnerable, even in such an unconscious state.

"What's the matter with her?" Blaine whispered, distressed.

"From what I can see," Santana spied the alignment of bruises that graced her neck, "she's been attacked," reaching down, she retrieved a fine gold chain that disappeared down the dip of the woman's torn shirt, revealing a pretty gold locket that spun in the light, "or worse. Call the house, tell Quinn to prepare one of the spare rooms. Contact Doctor Schuester. I'll be requiring immediate assistance."

Blaine didn't move, too stunned to obey.

"Now!" Santana hissed and the sound of footsteps retreating told her that he'd finally come to his senses. A glimmer of something caught the Latina's eyes, bringing her attention back to the matter at hand. An engraving was set into the back of the locket, deep and clear and beautifully scripted. It was but one word, one name even, that offered a little understanding of the woman who lay before her. Brittany.

...GLEE.

The Library was Santana's favourite room in El Palacio for it was quiet and humble, a place of true reflection. Sitting in her usual chair by the warm crackling fire, Santana waited, feeling slightly impatient. She had returned home with Blaine and the girl to her servants instantly swarming around her, asking what they could do and gasping at the sight of the limp body that lay uncomfortably in Blaine's arms. Santana had quickly lost her temper, screaming to be left alone and allowing only Quinn to accompany them to the spare bedroom. Now, Doctor Schuester was doing his best to look over the girl and all Santana could do was wait for a report, anxious and curious.

Reaching across to an antique table that sat beside her, the brunette retrieved a silver gilded case, feeling uneasy as she lifted it open and took out a small, thin brown cigar. She pulled from her pocket a matching silver lighter and lit the cigarette, bringing it to her lips and inhaling with an insatiable hunger. Her body immediately relaxed as the heat of the fumes filled her lungs. With a satisfied sigh, she leant on the arm of her chair and exhaled, allowing the smoky billows to dance around her precious library.

"Their bad for you Miss Lopez," a calm, manly voice said, startling Santana out of her almost peaceful reverie. Looking up, she found Will Schuester standing in the open doorway, smirking warmly as he often did, "I keep telling you but will you listen?"

"Probably not," Santana chuckled taking another casual drag. She stood and approached the older man, shaking his hand out of respect. Will was an infamous physician and though he was annoying in character, he knew what he was talking about and had proven to be a great ear of advice whenever Santana needed it, "how is my new house guest?"

"She looks like she's been run over by my Uncle Benny's monster truck but other than that, she's healthy."

"No diseases?"

"Nope."

"Nothing broken."

"Nada."

"Hmm, so what's wrong with her?" Santana queried.

"She has a few bruises here and there and she's undernourished," Will explained, shrugging his shoulders, "on further examination I found the number 2133 printedon her wrist which could indicate only one possible thing."

"She's been catalogued for a slave auction," Santana murmured, voicing her thoughts as she remembered how she'd purchased the likes of Rachel and Kurt in Mérida.

"Bingo!" Will laughed.

"Do you think she was actually sold?" Santana asked.

"I would wager my good looks that she escaped before that happened. They most likely chased her through the city but gave up when she wandered this way," Will said, looking very pleased with himself.

"Anything else?"

"Actually, yes. Little miss blonde regained consciousness during my examination. When I asked her a few basic questions she could answer only two things. Her name and her age. It would appear she is suffering amnesia, probably a result of hitting her head when falling. Whether it will be a short term or long term arrangement is beyond my understanding," the doctor said.

"Shit!" Santana hissed. She turned and began to pace back and forth, taking another two hasty drags from her cigar. This was not good.

"What will you do with her?" Will asked.

"I'm not sure," Santana answered.

"I'd like to suggest something and you have no choice but to listen," Will told her firmly, "this girl, this... Brittany or whatever the hell her name is will be in danger if she leaves here. The slave men will be out looking and if they find her, they will most likely kill her. My advice is to keep her here. Keep her as a servant; employ her into your workplace. She will be a good addition to your organisation and from what I could see, she has working hands. If you let her go, she will die."

Santana laughed, "you can't be sure of that."

"I'm as sure as I am great!" Will said, holding his arms out as though presenting himself, "she has been taken from her own country and brought here. She was bound to work as slave anyway."

"And what do you expect me to say to her? Oh I'm sorry you can't leave. I'm kidnapping you. I'll be no better than the men who took her in the first place," Santana said, shaking her head resolutely.

"We're talking about someone's life here Santana," Will retorted in desperation, "doesn't that at least mean anythingto you?"

Santana wandered over to the fireplace, feeling the heat of the flickering flames burn into her skin like a million hot kisses.

"There is little in this world Schuester that means anything to me anymore," she said darkly.

"Yes and we've discussed this," Will took a few steps forward, "if you would just allow me to set up a few counselling appointments –"

"And I have told you time and time again that I am not grieving," Santana barked.

"Of course you are Santana. You've been grieving the loss of your mother for years now and it's not okay. You need –"

"Help?" Santana laughed sarcastically. She threw her half-smoked cigar into the fireplace and turned to survey Will with dim, empty eyes, "I don't need help. What I need is for you to mind your own business and do your job. That is all I expect from you Schue."

Will cast his gaze to the ground, "I see," he knew a lost cause when he saw one. Fishing inside his pocket, he handed Santana a receipt for his services, "I've prescribed the patient with painkillers and something to help her sleep. She should be back to herself in no time at all but the best thing for her at the moment is bed rest."

"Thank you," the Latina nodded.

Will stepped back, bowing graciously, "I'll see myself out. About the girl and her staying here, consider it at least."

Santana sighed and sank back into her chair again, cupping her cheeks with trembling hands. She'd been home for no more than two hours and already her life had been spun around. No wonder she preferred to stay away.

...GLEE.

Brittany felt uneasy indeed as she surveyed the simple yet sophisticated room in which she resided. She was a little confused as to where she was and why she was here in the first place but exhaustion kept her rooted in the small double bed and she found that even if she wanted to move, she couldn't.

It had been a strange day all in all with very little to consider and at the same time, too much to take in and think of. The first thing that struck Brittany as odd was her utter lack of remembering anything. No matter how she tried, no matter how she strained to the furthest reaches of the back of her mind, she could recall nothing of her life up to this moment and what she had spent the last twenty four years doing.

Second and perhaps the most serious was the way Brittany ached whenever she moved. What had happened to make her this way? Her entire body felt as though it were about to break. Was she dying? She wasn't sure how she looked underneath the nightdress she had woken in but her exposed arms were covered in bruises and even simple things such as breathing made her feel wrong.

The only thing that remotely came to mind in this situation was her name. Brittany. I am Brittany, she thought sadly, that's all I am. It wasn't the least bit comforting.

...GLEE.

The Mistress of El Palacio paused as she stepped into the quiet and quaint spare room that contained her new sleeping house guest. It had been a busy couple of hours with servants wandering in and out, attending to the girl as she rested and so Santana had promptly stayed away until everything had once again calmed down.

Now in the silence, Santana wished for company. She hoped that Quinn or Kurt would come into the room and address her so she wasn't so alone with her thoughts, but she knew it would not happen.

Stepping around to the opposite side of the room, the Latina took a seat next to the bed. What met her gaze next was totally unexpected but welcomed nonetheless. A pair of wide sea blue eyes stared back at her, curious, deep and childlike. Santana had never seen anything more beautiful or arresting. The eyes belonged to a woman that was nimble and elegant looking with long golden locks of hair and slender in build. How had she missed these perfections before? Had she not been looking?

Leaping to her feet and feeling alarmed by these new tightened feelings in her chest, Santana moved back around the room again. She was aware of the girl watching her, most likely confused by what she was doing but she just couldn't stop herself.

As swiftly as she arrived Santana left. Her legs carried her down the hallways, her heels clinking erratically. No matter how she ran, she could not escape those open blue eyes.

She almost knocked Finn over in her haste to get back to the Library. He called out to her as she ran but she didn't answer him. She kept going until finally, she reached her destination, slamming the door behind her and sinking to the ground in shock. The brunette heaved up great mouthfuls of air, staring at the floor, gasping, burning with some unknown desire. Oh Lord...she was beautiful. Oh God.

When Schuester had first suggested her keeping Brittany, Santana had believed it to be quite ridiculous. Now, after seeing the girl...how could she possibly not? She needed her. It was an innate primal thing...instant... but Santana couldn't ignore it. She would have her, even if she were just a pretty thing to observe as she worked.

There would definitely be complications to get around. How to convince the girl to stay for instance? Maybe she could come up with some sort of trickery...create a lie that would have Brittany believe she had always worked at El Palacio. Yes. Maybe. Santana had a few days to iron out the kinks. She would get her story straight and with the girl's loss of memory, it would be easy to fabricate lies.

A terrible confusion came over Santana as she plotted. Where had this come from? She had seen Brittany for only a few seconds and yet she was already drunk on those never-ending ultramarine eyes. Could such an attraction be so immediate? Could such a thing inspire her to do these evil things? To keep someone against her will? To lie about it?

The girl's pretty face swarmed up into Santana's vision again and she forgot her inner turmoil. She's mine, the Latina thought, her body tingling in excitement, mine!

I feel a lot better about this chapter guys and I'm glad I decided to re-write it. Please review and let me know what you think.

For all you 'I See You' readers out there, yes I'll be updating soon. I've been suffering a little writers-block and decided that writing this chapter might help me work through it. Fingers crossed. Thanks again.