Topaz had been brought to town, her owner, a mercenary, apparently responsible for financial resupply. She is chained now in a city she does not know, can only conclude it is a city by the voices and sounds, chained to a pole she cannot determine the purpose of. She is hooded. It’s been a chain of girls, twenty, thirty, from her home oasis. Soon she learns the purpose of the pole. It is a slave sale block. She swallows hard, how embarrassing after being paraded like this, now to be sold like cattle. Her owner, a mercenary from the black people of the jungles of Schendi, begins to auction the girls, herself chained in the shadows of the block, hidden, mostly covered by ripped sa tarna sacks for later sale. It was apparent to her that the man liked the others most, she would be sold last likely, as trash to the poor. The man calls the bystanders closer, begins to present his wares of flesh, mostly dark skinned women, black haired, from the desert Tahari.
Claudius Mercaru noticed an ongoing auction and directed his attention towards the row of chained women. The one he spotted before seemed to vanish in the crowd here and there. He, a honored warrior, highly decorated with medals and insignias of Ar, decided to participated and beat his boredom with additional glances over the wooden stage. Though he appeared like an experienced veteran of war and conflict, a look at his trained muscles and some scars on his face were a clear hint for his excellent physical condition. He kept staring at the fresh flesh, up for sale. His fingertips ran through is beard, supporting the musing about whatever. Maybe the girls, or the pricing in this kingsforsaken city.
Topaz struggles in the bonds, wanting away from this shameful situation, unable to see, she moves like in a thick liquid, slowly, gathering her strength. The other girls, chained aside of her, do partly the same, others lay resigned on the floor, having lost all hope. The owner had brought up ten girls so far, the better ones, and prices raise quickly on them, until finally he had sold them for good coin. He is not the most tricky of slave merchants, selling off the best first. Then he fetches the second lot, what he considers mediocre girls. Prices do not fly so much anymore, most coin of the wealthy has been spend. She herself lays chained now with the more poor girls, with the children, with the former beggar women. Muffled sounds come from under her slave hood, a stinking old ragged sack fastened with a leather strip around her neck and mouth to silence her as well. The slaver calls out to the more wealthy looking, to attract them the more, offering them even test usage on the slave girls on the block.
Claudius Mercaru tilted his head to the left, beholding the people around him. Traders, obviously from the slavers caste, and some other people with unfamiliar background who flocked on the curbs. They all spent money to get the best ware first, but he was calm. None of the offered girls caught his attention so far. It was all the same to him, same faces, same shapes. He had seen it all somewhere in the nowhere. Something was hidden from his eyes under the dirty cloak next to the block it, but it remained ignored and overlooked. He wasn’t really firm in slavetradig, it didnt concern him in general. Just a buyer, a reasonably interested potential client. The offered show distracted him from his thoughts about Ar, his home. One after one girl stepped on the stage, presented and sometimes humiliated in front of all people as well. It brought a grin to his face, the corner of his mouth twitched a bit. A rare sight in a long time.
Topaz hears how the mercenary slaver gets more and more angered above, stressed, as the number of sales drops. She had heard for how much the first girls went from hand to hand, it had made her jealous, hopeful, but then she was chained here with the trash, she would not bring much coin likely. The screams of the girls above, one man even accepting the offer and raping one of the girls all public – making about all the free women leave the show in fast flight. Of the second charge not even all girls get sold, and so, soon later, the slaver presses all of the remaining into a coffle again. She stands, chained by ankle and collar, the wrists chained behind her back, somewhere in the middle between the rugged looking former peasant women, the children some of which are not yet able to walk at all since long times. She moves, in resistance, where others stand bare of all hope. She is tall, and does not know that her motions, under the heat of the day, appear perhaps more sensuous than she intended or could even imagine, the slave hood and gag still on her head, only her dark hair flowing down her back. Only once she gives a muffled scream: When the slaver begins to drive them to walk, with the five bladed slave whip. Yet his journey does not last long, he gets stopped by a local tax collector, and a heated negotiation and bartering erupts between them, leaving her remaining to stand aside an unknown, unseen warrior perhaps. A kef shines from under her camisk, her left abdomen side, burned into her skin just days ago.
Claudius Mercaru groped for his gladius. It was on it’s place like he expected it to be- on his belt, swinging back and forth slowly when he altered his position and dropped his folded arms again. The train of hopeless insividuals approached and stopped right next to him. A bad scent soared in his nose and he turned it up disgusted. “Take dem…. (creatures away from meh). ” He swallowed the last words and stated in a brash tone. No this was not the company he was used to have around. The warrior decided to sort things out himself and grabbed some hood and tore it off roughly. In the same move he wanted to give a fast and hard nudge to the reachable girl, but the hood was down and he looked into her face briefly. Usually he would take off his glance from such an unworthy slut but the man was caught by her eyes and then by her flowing hair. He held his position but he didnt push her around, no, his eyes stuck on her for ihns.
Topaz yelps as the hood is so roughly opened and torn off her head, blinking at the sudden light pressing into her eyes. It makes her dizzy, though more and more she gets aware of the slowly parting bunch of people around, some dragging a freshly bought girl away. Finally her head turns, nearly as if in slowmotion, until her brown eyes land on the man aside of her, the one that took the hood, still holds it eventually. She looks down at it, then up again to his face. She had, in the desert, never learned much about castes of the north, of central Gor, and his clothing does not look all too wealthy to her, but shabby it is neither, fine fabric, yet sturdy and functional, and a weapon on his side, times of war it did not seem to be. An official so. A glitter shines in her eyes, proud, yet fragile, furious yet afraid, and with a lot of hope yet, for what though is to be determined. She stands there, in the coffle, the hands bound, the lips gagged, the chin risen, and looks at him, assesses him perhaps. The slaver
is still negotiating, yet seems to reach his goal at least in this aspect and manages to lower the toll he has to pay. Finally he comes back, gifting all slaves in his coffle a free yet hard hit with the whip – it does not break her gaze on the warrior for long for some reason – and the slaver jokes to the warrior after seeing that he had taken off a hood: “Need some food for your tarn, warrior? Maybe a dump sink cleaner? For more that slut is not suited, ugly as she is.” She stares at the warrior, even if the inner eyebrinks get wet from the bad words assigned to her.
Claudius Mercaru :” How much is that one?” He snarled at the seller, stroking his blade in evidence and pointing with his chin to the uncovered one. A high price wasn’t expected for this woman and a small amount was left in his pocket for a fun purchase. His eyes remained on her already imagining how she might would look naked and used in a simple room of a cheap inn. His leering uncovered his thoughts obviously. The girl’s blindness by the incoming light wasn’t hidden. It made him laugh how dizzy she became when that happened. His hands came out to touch her skin. Soft, but dirty and sweaty and the risen chin, a sign of how proud she was, even if the situation had not much pride to spare for her. “I dont ride tarns, man but she seems to be uo for a good ride on me! Har har har.” The deep laugher whipped around her like the snaketail of her owner did before. “Well, I wonder if I would break her on my pike when I want to show her what //fun// means. .. How much do you want for her? I wanna chance it.” He cut his eyes and looked for the voice coming from the slaver. When he spotted him his eyes were taken off the slave and a walk around the whole train was made to frame the deal- maybe.
Topaz narrows her eyes slowly and in anger, briefly though only, as the man begins to barter on her. She is a slave now, she knows that, and she knows even better that escape or release is usually out of question. She knows nothing of such as panther girls, talunas, and all that wierd female dwelling in the tree rich natures of Gor. Only the degrading talk, making her a sex tool, making her realize that the duty she was born for – to gift many children, free children, to a free man – is obviously, publicly, taken from her, replaced with the duty of gifting pleasure, to whomever desires, however he desires, without more consequence than his joy, forces her gaze to lower, in shame. Still she breathes hard, the sun glistering on her body, her body reacting with salty sweat that lets the ragged camisk clutch and glue on her much like her hair. She breathes hard from hope, and in her mind it is many coins that is paid for her. Many had called her ugly, her brothers mostly, because she is tall and very lean for
that. Unable to birth children they had taunted her with, unattractive to men – as they themselves preferred curvy girls, and she was always unable to proof opposite as her life was in the hands of her father, her body concealed – until the mercenaries had brought them up and changed it all. “Long travel, warrior, was quite an expense. It is cattle from the Tahari,” the slaver explains considering to the warrior. He knows the castes from the north, he knows that warriors are often rich, and that influences his price called. “One and a half silver tarsks for that one. Hard worker, but her long legs will surely part well with some training. She is more proud than hot, you will have joy breaking her just as you break her hymen if you aim to use her for such purposes.”
Claudius Mercaru handed the hood to the slaver and said:“This is yours, and she will be mine.” His fingertips slipped into his pocket, making some coins clatter. She sould hear it, hear the sound of another change in her life- perhaps. “I have had enough pricey women in my life, you know. Its time to try the waste.” He bared his teeth and a golden one flared up. It was only a few steps between him and the auctioneer. Claudius’ muscular chest moved up and down with every breath right in front of the trader’s face. His large frame of a body could make a civilian nervous and he counted on this benefit, when he inquired and arched his eyebrow like an arrow: “You are kidding me right? Har har… amusing but now lets be serious. Tell me a decent price and I will pay it.” He turned his head to the left and looked at the girl again. A piece of meat, without rights and only one of thousands. Her legs were undergone a short examination. But he didn’t stop at them. His glance swung up to her back, checking her positioning. “Tell me the price.” He recalled.
Topaz waits, knowing that she is not a princess, hearing the initial price – a fortune still in her mind. Not often it was that her parents had so much at free disposal. The slaver walks away from the warrior, unlocks the chain from her collar, takes her leg shackle out of the coffle and leads her to the man, facing him. With rough kicks he parts her legs, then opens the rope of her camisk, tearing the sack from her body, leaving her naked and exposed in front of him, in the public of the market where still people went about. “Look at her, she is well tanned, nicely long hair, and wonderful fists full of breasts. A well shaped ass, just a bit of having her work, feeding her, and her shape will be pleasant to the eyes as well. She is worth the price I called.” he explains to him. And as he, as to show, turns her and pulls her buttocks apart, she growls an angered moan into the gag. “But well, as it is you, a so honorable warrior: I give her to you for a silver and a fourth, for a single silver, but then I will break her hymen.”
Claudius Mercaru grunted “She is a virgin?” His jaw dropped and he rolled his eyes. He wanted to contain himself and step away without further negotiations but he failed at pretend ignorance. Another gaze wandered over her traits. His ruffled lips stated:” No, not for that price. This is way too much and you know that likewise.” He twirled back in less than an ihn, anger in his tone.” You understand my caste, merchant? Right?? My caste pays with steel, hardened steel and so do I- got that?”His right hand flickered above his weapon with a threaten gesture. The place was nearly empty again. With the setting central fire the daily light withdrew and with it the yelling party of clients.
Topaz gets scared, a lot, naturally perhaps as she stands between the angered warrior and the mercenary slaver, being only a slave, cattle, a ware, disposable likely in the eyes of men. Her neck tenses, so much that her head begins to shiver, and just slowly she manages to shake her head towards the warrior, begging, pleading for her life wordlessly. But not long she can do so. “You want her of red silk? That can be done!” She slaver means and already pushes her sidewards, pressing her front forwards just onto the nearby butcher merchant’s stand, into the meat. Lifting his tunic a bit his hand finds his cock, hardens it with a few yanks – an overly healthy man apparently, or already aroused by all the naked flesh around him. He looks over his shoulder to the warrior. “I prepare her for you, and you get her for a half silver, warrior,” he snorts, eventually more self assured than it might be healthy for him – but why not, his squad is close by and perhaps he thinks himself good enough to call them in yet in
time to be protected. His glans just hovers out front her folds now, her neck pressed against the meat by his left hand. She whimpers, desperately, afraid. Muffled sounds come from her lips, behind the gag, sounding remotely for calls for help.
Claudius Mercaru nodded. This was accoring his taste. He also took the opportunity to watch the spectacle. His lips would form a wide grin, when the other man opened her and made her body wiggle on the market stall. He heard the dull smack of sticky meat and snarled:”Feel free… but hurry up. Its getting late and I wanna head to the tavern to get a chamber for the night.” In this moment he inclined his head, enjoyed being an asshole. His gaze, cut and evil, sought eye contact to her. Nothing of her fear should be unseen, not the shame, not the pain. He wanted to be the witness of her fall, the one way ticket in real and true slavery. It was a good feeling to rule about her future. And to let her feel how it can be to please men.
Topaz stares up to the warrior, just begging with a glimpse of fading hope in her eyes, only pressing her eyes shut a moment as the pain of her virginity breaking by the man’s cock pressing hard into her slit, without any much more prior arousal than him smearing a load of spittle over her. As she opens her eyes again, looking at the warrior, her body already rocks back and forth on the meat. Roughly the other takes her, just ramming hard into her. She has had to swallow the slave wine already on the journey, for the case one of the mercenaries would have taken her, but it had not happened, not to her. It hurts, but there is something else in it too. Her gaze becomes glassy after a few thrusts, her breath going abrupt, in tune with the thrusts, gets more and more soft, groans. Yet not much pleasure is allowed to her, the man cums already deep into her, just pushes himself out of her with his hands against her buttocks and lets his tunic fall over his loin. “Half a silver tarsk, warrior.” Is the only thing he states, “I left the pleasure of making the red silk yield to you though. Shall it be your cock she feels when learning that there is nothing better than to live her body’s true destiny.”
Claudius Mercaru made the coins jingle in his pocket again. The copper was flipped out one by one and thrown to the slavers feet. It was a gesture of superiority and arrogance, so so it was the behavior of a high caste man to the lower society. ” Tarn plates from Ar, Slaver. Honor them.” He burst out laughing, earning some support from the left over bystanders. “Come here and kiss your new masters feet slave.” Was the shout at the black- haired girl. Curious about her approach, he walked across the place to the stall, dodging some odd people standing around. Every actin would be watched like a hawk from him, after she had been taken this way for the first time.
Topaz remains laying on the meat, still staring at the warrior that had not helped her while she was raped like a slave, like a nothing, like a something without dignity, honor, respect, just used for a quick release perhaps only allowed to be glad that the man did not have to take a piss instead. Her sanctum had been desecrated, and the warrior had not defended her – she knows that he only would, perhaps, defend a woman of his home stone. She is a slave, nothing more. Tears have filled her eyes, and silent sobbing presses into her gag. Naked, on a market place, used, the cum running out of her for all to see, down her thighs, pressed into meat that is likely now worth more than her life even. She does not even know if her new owner is of rank, of something special, or if his caste is alike the verr herders on the outer rims of the oases, not what her role will be, a priced slave girl in his arms and silks, or a dirty worker never to see much more than a shadow of him, raped by the local youngsters and else sleeping in the dirt of a stable pen. Hearing his words finally – the slaver had quickly gathered the coins without much response and is now on the way to lead the rest of the coffle away – She presses her eyes shut. Such it shall be so, now, disgraced even more in the public of the market. But there is no one to defend her anymore, no one to fight for her, only pain and torture, or death, to be expected should she resist. Bending a knee she pulls her upper body up from the meat again. She turns. Only her eyes’ glitter indicate the humiliation, the despair, the pain even from the prior harsh rape. She feels her virgin blood flow down her legs, together with the cum. She breathes hard through flaring nostrils. She takes a step, stands outright in front of him and stares into his eyes, for a long moment, a moment long enough to allow thoughts of her resisting, disobeying. But then, with her upper body yet straight, she bends her knees, kneels, and bends forwards. Her mouth yet gagged, her hands shackled to behind her back, she moves slow, to not allow others even the amusement of stumbling and falling. First, and to find hold, though she leans her forehead onto his sandals. Another deep inhale can be heard, her inner struggle against this raging so much that it can be seen in her body trembling. She closes her eyes a moment, another moment, then opens them again. Obediently she presses her lips onto the leather of his sandals, so much that his skin can feel them, then, likewise, onto the other.
Claudius Mercaru observed her approach precisely. He waited for her to struggle, to fall but she did it well. The slave’s mouth touched his toes and her soft lips brushed his skin. Her rage was perceived and he lifted his right foot to place it on her head, bringing her down entirely. Her cuffed wrists obviously restrained her from any rebellion but her eyes were like an open book. The slaves body was under his control. Claudius started to push her around like he did it with many other before. First it began slowly but afterwards he played around with her like a ball. It was easy for him to turn her from left to right, twist her on her back and back on her belly. It all happened with facility. No anger, just his fun and pleasure. “Did you enjoy this filthy cock inside ya? Hmmm? I saw such a strange shine in your eyes. I bet you enjoyed.. you were soaking wet? Right?” He rose his voice, everybody should hear. All those present should know about her out coming sluttyness.
Topaz feels the sole of the sandal on her head. How much more humiliation does a man need to apply to her? She is different, she is not a slave, not like a slave, can’t he see that? Can’t he have pity on her? Can’t he cover her in his mantle, for modesty, and lead her somewhere far away, where no one knows her, take the collar off and end this nightmare? Her eyes are wet from tears when he rolls her around, but there is no resistance coming from her, not under that mighty sword that hangs on his side, not without protectors close. Finally coming to lay on her belly she hears the questions, and her reply, being gagged, is that she shakes her head, slow at first, then faster and faster. She had not enjoyed it – though her body was brief before doing so, and much to her demise she knows that fact yet not the reason. She was not wet, but she has had a strange gaze in her eyes, inner conflict, fight against what did not entirely feel wrong. She does not understand that, she does not even want to understand it. It is not her world. It cannot be her world!
Claudius Mercaru drew his sword and slit the gag off her mouth. ” I didn’t hear you.” he responded sarcastic.“Say it again.” the warrior shot at her and the tone in his voice delivered already the answer. He wouldn’t accept anything but a clear and loud YES. In fact she doest know him well and he wouldn’t wonder if she wouldn’t be able to read his hints. He lowered his glance down to her, looked over the maltreated limbs, saw some bruises. His travels had been long of course and hers as well- obviously. She looked exotic to him and different from what he was used to see at his homestone. Here and there he picked up a woman from different places from the world but there had never be a woman like her. The tahari was simply too far.
Topaz takes a deep breath over his sandals as the gag finally falls. At first she had readied herself to be slain, hearing the sword leave its sheath. But the iron had not found its way into her spine. “I did… not enjoy it… my master,” she whispers, “it was brutal, it was pain…” she keeps her head lowered, just knowing that from his loud tone others would look in curiosity. Yes, she had taken beatings, mostly though by the whip, bruises from the way she had been transported, and also her feet look a bit sore from the barefooted walking, the tight shackles heating under the sun and burning against her skin, heavy as they are. “Please, my master…” she whispers finally in bold addition, “bring me away, allow me… allow me modesty… even if… if… it means I have to learn to enjoy this brutality.”
Claudius Mercaru took his foot away from her head and looked into her eyes directly.” I know you enjoyed and I also know you will enjoy anything I’m going do with you in future because you will crave for my holy presence. You will beg me not to refuse you. Well, in fact you already did. Modesty is a word which you should delete from your speech. Got that, bitch?” Flames flared in his eyes. He bent over her, grinned and clenched his fingers into her hair, wanted to wrap the black silken shawl of hair around his wrist to put the girl on her feet. The mahoosive body bent over her like a hunter who chased his prey after he played with it.
Topaz sees that fire in the man’s eyes, his rage perhaps, wondering if he is … as they call it… displeased with his slave. Such is always very bad for a slave – and in this case the slave is… herself! “Yes, my master!” She near screams so, terrified to the roots of her hair, “yes, yes, my master! I did enjoy it, I will enjoy everything! I only live for your pleasure, for your… amusement, my master! I…. I… I am a bitch, a slut, an animal or less!” There is far more terror in her voice, in the words she speaks, than any hint of true meaning, but as most Gorean women she knows that she has to follow those words, even if she cannot convince herself to trust in them yet. It is to do right that or die, and a horrible death likely at it. Another pained scream erupts from her mouth as her hair is grabbed, as she is being torn by it to her feet, and she struggles to help standing up herself, not an easy task in her pose and with chained wrists, but eventually she manages it. “A slave… a… a slave,” she stutters afraid, “a slave begs… slave… begs… slave rape… my master!” Words uttered in despair and fear and faint try to eventually please him already by that. Hence also the addition: “A slave begs to be taught, my master, to be a proper whore, the slut the master enjoys.”
Claudius Mercaru snaped her stagger and listened to what she had to say with a smirk in his face. “We have something in common.” he uttered and laughed shattering.” Rage and Fire.” His tongue slips over his lips in a greedy manner. ” You will be mine, from head to toe, especially your mind will think the way I appreciate it.” His hand shoved into her neck, rising her again with a single grab and he threw her over his shoulder to carry her away if she wouldn’t resist and try to run away and free herself by her last chance. His grip was harsh and possessive but its meaning, and she might learned that in her childhood as well, was protective also.
Topaz stares at him with huge eyes and terror showing in them as he grabs her by the neck, firm, strong outright, and licks his lips. But there is something in that way of handling her she neither understands – but likes the more. By that grip she feels that he would guide her, control her, prevent her from making mistakes, and the words had not been mean, rather appreciating as she understood them. “Rage… and Fire… my master.” She whispers, then parts her lips a moment, thinking after his lip licking he would claim a kiss from her. There is much she considers already saying, but still that glimpse of hope that all this might be a dream fights that down inside of her. No, she does not resist, her body’s strength is no match to his, and in the way he carries her away, perhaps to better place. It feels like being saved from this terrible place for her, it feels like – although uncomfortable a pose – she is being carried by a man of lot of strength – and it is her that is being carried, not another, to his lair, his den, to be claimed. Perhaps she starts to want to be his, from head to toe, to think as he appreciates it – with rage and fire? Her mind gets busy analyzing that while her body is just well exposed to people around. She has no time to think about that even anymore.
a slavers lair 