A Beautiful Slave (Open for one male) - noncon

A Beautiful Slave (Closed for LitShark) - noncon

Dargno was a beautiful city that was on the ocean shore and nestled between two large, snowcapped mountain ranges. It was a wealthy and quant town. Strangers didn’t exist here. Everyone knew the townsfolk, if not by first name then by profession. The roadways were cobble stoned, yet rarely traveled on by anything other than foot. Buildings showed exquisite masonry work.

It was a bustling port town and that was the supporting income for many families. Unless they owned a shop or were independently wealthy, they worked at the port. The large port was the envy of many surrounding cities. It wasn't simply the goods or materials entering this town that drove the attention from neighboring towns. Something much more precious was brought in as cargo. Many of the locals, especially the women, did not question these midnight shipments or the forlorn cries that pierced the silent nights.

Dargno was one of very few towns that hadn’t abolished slave markets.

Men came from lands far away to visit the market. Its concrete walls stood as an ominous beacon in the midst of the daily bustle. The only entrance into the market was an intimidating iron door that could never be found without guards. This was the one place that the town's women were not allowed to venture. Only the wealthiest of men were allowed to peer inside.

The town’s counsel often contracted a specific shipper that would ensure that their slaves arrived mostly unharmed. They also paid only for the most stunning of women. Most of the slaves came from war torn homes that were left with little choice beyond hoping to find a kind and decent owner. Some were sold by their families to pay off standing debts. Others were simply found wandering from home or were kidnapped because of their beauty.

If a man was lucky enough to enter the slave market, he would immediately notice the decrepit nature of the market. There was much left to be desired. In the middle of the market was a building that didn’t share the same whimsical and beautiful architecture that the rest of the town did. Cries could be heard filtering through the run down walls. There was a door on the building that had a small viewing window but very little could be seen. One would have to enter the building to properly choose a slave.

Slaves were chained to the walls, their tattered and filthy clothing draping over their bodies. Some had already been used by the guards during the night. Others were in shock, sitting silently by themselves and dreaming of escape from this place. The conditions inside the building had the slaves filthy from dirt, grime and whatever else lay at their feet. Some of them hadn't been bathed or sprayed with water in days. Yet, their beauty peaked through the dirt and grime.

It was a beautiful, star filled night in Dargno when she arrived, being pushed from the ship but kept away from the other women. Most of the towns folks were sleeping or preparing for tomorrow’s work, while others were at the port, trying to catch a cheating glimpse at the latest herd of slaves. It was a smidge past midnight as they were moved through the docks and towards the market. Some were in hysterics and sobbing, while others were silent to a concern degree.

And so would begin the longest night of some of their lives.

As the sun broke through the town, the night’s happenings were forgotten. Everyone went about their lives as the fresh shipment of slaves was being checked over. Already, one of the arrivals had the town’s men whispering and buzzing. An absolute gem had been caught in a town where savages had raided and killed. It was unclear how she managed to escape their assault.

She was unlike anything the men had seen; alabaster skin with golden hair and eyes that rivaled the beauty of the sea. Though she was petite in stature, the curves and lines of her body made up for that. Whichever man purchased her would be in for quite the treat. The doctor of the town had confirmed last night, during his physical, that she was a virgin. Completely untouched by another man. Such a rarity these days in the market and it came at quite the high price.

---------

My hope and idea for this thread is for it to start as non-con but to slowly shift into more of a romantic type thread. Either they fall in love or come to an agreement of sorts about their relationship. Something along those lines. Think like Khalessi and Drogo, if you’re a GoT fan. Their beginning and ending dynamic is along the lines of what I’m looking for.

I like writing non-con but the hopeless romantic in me also loves that sappy shit. Combining it doesn’t always make the most sense but fuck it, this is what I want!

The details of this aren’t set in stone, so message me! I’m totally willing to work with most requests 

If you’re interested, drop me a message before posting. Thanks!

-fingers so fucking crossed-

P.S I hate naming threads.

Nael Vostrathen sat high in the saddle on his black stallion, surrounded by five of his most trusted Lieutenants and his spiritual advisor Layla Khan. They rode at a casual pace, maintaining formation grateful to have the choice to ride at their own pace for a change—their strong but beleaguered horses were grateful too. Nael and his associates had been at war for the past twelve years without cessation, conquering, pillaging and forcibly converting three kingdoms that surrounded their ancestral homeland in the North. Now, it seemed, the fighting was finished and what awaited them was the much longer and more agonizing campaign of ruling.

“M’lord, I still don’t think that this is a good idea—I don’t even understand why you need a personal slave. What of the hundreds—nay, thousands that we’ve conquered and made captive. Any one of them could—“ Layla had been protesting for the past twenty kilometers and seemed only to be redoubling her efforts as they approached the slave-city of Dargno.

“Give it a rest, won’t you?” Nael sighed, turning in the saddle to face Layla, “we are not slavers. Those we’ve conquered will become soldiers or laborers—those unfit for manual labor shall bolster your faith as missionaries. We agreed on this, long ago. We convert infidels into believers, not free people into slaves.”

“Surely there are better ways to spend your hard-won gold than useless flesh, pleasing only to the eyes,” Layla pouted, spurring her horse to ride ahead of the formation as the Dargno city gates came into view, “you could sack the whole city and take all the slaves if you’re so desperate for something to stuff your cock inside.”

“Don’t be crude,” Nael remarked, dismissively, allowing Layla to ride to the front of the formation as the horses’ hooves met cobblestones and began to clack louder as they approached the city, “feed him plenty, bathe him cold and sleep him warm. Same for the rest.”

Nael tossed a weighty bag of gold coins into the unprepared arms of the apparently awestruck livery hand, dismounting swiftly and handing off the reigns of his sinewy mount. The rest of his entourage simply maneuvered their mounts into whatever vacant stalls were available in the already crowded livery stable. The Lieutenants tethered their own horses where they could before making their way back to Nael’s side. Layla, however, maintained her mount past the livery and through the palace gates reigning back her ebony mare, and ducking as she passed through the pedestrian-sized walkway that bypassed the massive, wooden gate into the city, that remained closed. The large gates, naturally, were reserved for sellers, not buyers.

“You’re making a fool of yourself,” Nael remarked passively to Layla, matching stride with her horse, in spite of the fact that she towered above him from her mount, “why haven’t you dismounted with your company and your liege lord?”

“You may be at your leisure, but I’m at work. Protecting your life and soul is my charge, in addition to my vain attempts to steer your fool-self away from self-sabotage,” Layla answered, her attention focused on reassembling her formidable, steel staff which doubled in her grasp as a bludgeoning weapon and magical talisman, “when you ignore my council, I need to maintain my ability to defend you, M’Lord.”

Her last reverence was dripping with sarcasm and contempt.

Nael made no reply, it was true that her value to him was halved when he refused to heed even Layla’s most adamant council—but at the same time, her rebuking of his question, which anyone else would have viewed as an indirect command, reaffirmed his need of a good slave woman. He relied very much on Layla, and because of that dependence, he could never truly force her to do anything that her will or her pride wouldn’t allow—but in his new role as Emperor over a newly forged Empire, even seeming to be subjugated to a woman—even a woman as formidable as Layla—could get a leader murdered. He needed a slave, one who could double as both public figurehead and private slave.

Nael was looking for something very special.

“You know well that I value your council and your support above all others. I have installed you atop our holy faith and continue in the expansion of our Mother Church, but in this, I cannot heed your council. I come her neither as Warlord nor as Ruler. It’s the man behind all the titles that has brought me here,” Nael said at last, passing through the clean, suburban cobbled streets with his combined vanguard and cavalry.

When the entourage came into sight of the fabled slave market, Layla’s horse made solid waste into the street in mid-stride. The Lieutenants behind had to fall back in order to avoid it. One of the purveyors of the Market ran forward, attempting to take the reigns of the mare away from Layla.

“Ohh-Oh! Oh-oh-oh! You mustn’t!” was all the portly, nervous slaver managed to sputter before reaching upward to seize the reigns from Layla—needless to say, this was insufficient explanation for the battle-hardened sorceress.

“Back away!” Layla shouted clearly, drawing her reigns back from his grasp and lashing out with her weighted leather and steel boot at the man’s chest. The kick landed squarely and the slaver stumbled backward, just as Layla’s pull on the reigns startled her horse and the mare reared back on her hind legs, kicking her own armored hooves at the spot where the man had just been.

If Layla hadn’t kicked him as hard as she did, the mare’s kick would have surely killed the man, but he didn’t seem to feel overly grateful as he lay on the ground, gasping for breath, clutching at his chest where the kick had landed, a small stain of blood seeping through where the high-heel had struck him. Naturally, several of the armed guards at the entrance to the slave market charged forward, leaning in with their tall pole-axes, all trained at the horse and her rider.

“No! No! Don’t!” Nael strode in between the guards and the horse with almost breathtaking speed, he was between them before the horse’s hooves even touched the cobbles again with his sword unsheathed and pointed, “we don’t want trouble, we’re here to buy slaves. That’s all!”

Without taking his eyes off of the armed guards, Nael reached behind himself and grabbed hold of Shadow’s reigns, snatching them pointedly out of Layla’s hands. He waited for the slaver to return to his feet, gasping to catch his breath again. Nael held the reigns out to the man, still watching the armed guards as his Lieutenants drew their weapons and assembled around him.

“No one has to die. She shouldn’t have ridden her horse up here and you shouldn’t have grabbed at her reigns—never reach for a rider’s reigns unless they’re offered. Ask your men to stand down.”

The slaver just fanned his hand in the air, signaling the guards to raise their pole-axes and come back to attention. Nael sheathed his sword and his company followed suit. Layla dismounted begrudgingly.

“Are you happy now?” Nael asked Layla bitterly as a slave raced forward to take the horse back through town to the livery, “you almost got us all killed.”

“Humph,” Layla scoffed, following Nael into the slave market, “they haven’t got enough here to kill me, much less all of us.”

*-*-*

“Look here! You see? Such eyes on her, yes?” the enthusiastic salesman was gushing, forcing the yellow-haired girl to turn toward Nael and the others, “and a maiden, she is! Yes, yes! Fresh, young flesh—still so full of potential and willing to learn, yes!”

“There is power in chastity, isn’t that so Layla?” Nael smirked over his shoulder, feeling that he’d found the ideal candidate finally, after several cages of this obnoxious salesman’s yes-yes-yes-ing.

“Power and chastity—two things utterly wasted and useless in a slave,” Layla scoffed turning her head away from the girl, “by The Shadows, doesn’t this place stink?”

“When does she go up for bids?” Nael asked, finally resolved to ignore Layla’s incessant whining.

“In but a few hours, yes—yes! If you care to have a meal, you can sit in one of our bidder’s boxes, yes? Our chef was taken as a prize from a fallen prince’s personal kitchens, yes—yes!”

“I think we will eat,” Nael nodded, taking one last look into this yellow-haired slavegirl’s piercing, light eyes, “and drink as well if you have wine.”

“Yes—yes—yes!”

“Whiskey.” Layla insisted, moving to the back of the entourage to give the blue-eyed slave a venomous glare and spit into the straw of her bed.

”Girl! Your mama didn’t raise you up to be passively weak! That family name you carry has a humbled strength to it.”

The young slave girl stirred in her slumber as the voice echoed through her head, cutting through the images of vast greenery that she had dreamt of. It was a familiar voice, one that her heart immediately leapt for.

“Papa…,” she murmured against the silence of her cell.

He was, unfortunately, a taunting trick that her mind had conjured up. There was no security to be felt in the comforts of family anymore. None were coming to save her because there were none left to do so. All of her family had been savaged. It was still quite the mystery how she survived.

Those beautiful images that had played through her mind were no longer. Not a single hour of rest passed through the night. With every closing of her eyes, the violence of her village being pillaged broke through her desperate need for escape through dreams.

It seemed as though eternity had passed before sunshine was spilling into the cell, dancing across her face. Adaline grunted and open an eye to peek at her surroundings, as if hoping that she was whisked away during the night. One couldn’t blame her for holding onto such foolish hope.

Fingers curled into the damp, rotting floor of the cell as she pushed to her knees, eyes surveying the grime amongst her nails. Aching bones and joints straightened with audible cracks when she stood, staggering towards the door of her cell. The source of the sunshine came in the way of a small, iron barred, window. Air that could hardly be considered fresh came wafting through the window and she breathed it in all the same. No matter the dingy stench to the air, it was still fairer than the sourness of the cell.

Footsteps came soon after her rousing, as if by some unearthly knowledge that she had woken. So began the display she was on. Men escorted by slavers sifted through her room at an alarming rate. Each one different than the last. Some sought only her company for the purity of it. Others for far more reprehensible needs.

She had only rested for an instant when the padlock to her cell door was rattling, giving her fair notice of another interest. The stout slaver was effusive in his descriptions of Adaline before they had even stepped foot inside. Contemplations of calculating how many times he would “yes” came to her mind but the sight of Nael had her withdrawing towards the back of the cell.

He was not nameless to the young girl. After all, he was a battle-worn Warlord and Emperor that had grown quite the character. Stories of him had riddled her township and the surrounding land.

A hand gruffly snatched her forearm to keep the retreating at a minimum. He was turning her to fully face Nael before continuing his speech about the woman’s exceptionality. Those prominent eyes fell amongst the faces that stood before her, though they always appeared to loiter on the woman. The stare was fairly vacant, even threw the offenses that were pitched at her.

Only when Nael began to leave, did her gaze catch his and embrace it.

“There are rats in the grain,” she said, flatly.

Adaline didn’t look away from Nael as he left the chamber, preparing for a banquet. If he was intelligent, he would heed the warning and avoid the grains.

It wasn’t until her bedding was spat upon by the woman that the mood shifted. Adaline’s face was steadfast in its lack of emotion but a façade of defiance would smear across her eyes as she watched Layla turn to leave the room, demanding whiskey with their meal.

Many hours later, the fair maiden was standing on the slaver’s block, dressed in a white gown to mark her pureness. Men from across the town and surrounding villages had gathered to bid on the woman. Whispers of her beauty had been resonating since her arrival and it had drawn an impressive gathering.

Today we have an exquisite beauty from a distant land! Her village was massacred, yet she remained! Untouched and unscathed,” the auctioneer began.

Men swarmed the pedestal, vying to appreciate as much of the woman as they could. Those who strained to touch her were harshly corrected before being removed from the bidding process.

Remember! No touching the slaves until you have paid! We will begin the bids at 100 gold coin!

There was a quiet storm brewing under the beauty that she bore. Most would have overlooked the rebellious spark in her eyes as she stared over the crowd.

Nael couldn’t know if the slave girl’s warning about the grain was sincere or just a ploy to undermine faith in her captors, but in either case she was successful—not only in convincing Nael to push away the bowl of bread that awaited them when the entourage took seats in the balcony, but also in undermining her own value. She was clearly untrained, and Nael didn’t intend to let that fact pass without acknowledgement.

“The girl is untrained,” Nael said to the slaver who had guided them through the cells once everyone from his group was seated, “what compensation will you make for that? You can’t expect me to pay full value for her flesh, just to mar it with the rigor of training.”

“Oh—oh—oh! But such a beauty, she is, yes? We let the market decide the prices—I’m afraid we cannot alter the value of our products once they’re sold from the block.”

“A proxy then. A young boy or girl—a pet perhaps, to punish when the girl misbehaves.”

“The stray cats that hunt the ra—er, that freeload behind our kitchens just had a litter.”

“Very well, select for us a kitten if and when we purchase the yellow haired slave.”

“Yes—yes—yes! It shall be done, m’Lord.”

“A kitten?” Layla scoffed, having remained standing behind the rows of wooden benches and managed to hunt down a bottle of mediocre moonshine whiskey that she was currently swigging from an earthen jug, “why not order a bridal gown for yourself while you’re abandoning your dignity.”

“There’s only one of us sabotaging their dignity here, Layla. Now stand silent and enjoy yourself, otherwise I’ll send you back to the livery to look after our mounts.”

“Might be less horseshit back there…” Layla muttered under her breath before tipping back the jug of liquor again.

Nael was weighing the pros and cons of responding to Layla’s muttered curse when the food arrived. In spite of the apparent infestation of the grain, the succulent meats and exotic cheeses that were brought before the hungry and travel-weary entourage smelled and looked incredible. The smell of slow-roasted pork reminded Nael how long it had been since his company had enjoyed a proper meal. The heaping fruit platter even brought Layla grudgingly to the table—though no one touched any of the offered rolls, baguettes or crackers, the group of black-clad visitors ate and drank heartily.

When at last their appetites were sated, Nael and the others turned their attention to the auction block, as the girl they’d been waiting for was marched up onto the blocks and the auctioneer gave his best sales-pitch. He started the bidding low, to entice the pretenders to drive up the price for the real buyers. Nael knew that despite her lack of training, the girl’s looks and chastity would drive her price up above a thousand gold coins—everything else was merely theater. Still, the choice to dress her in that threadbare white dress, as opposed to the others who were auctioned naked, was a smart move by the slavers—no stranger to the salesmanship that came with their profession.

—100—
—150—
—200—
—250—

The bidding went quickly at first, the auctioneer accepting silent bids and raising the price in increments of fifty gold pieces—a sum that on its own would have been a fortune to so many just outside this concrete pit. Nael raised his paddle to get his bid in at –300—

—350—
—400—
—500—

It seemed that the auctioneer was done toying around with the pretenders, four hundred being a decent threshold to assume that the dabblers were no longer involved and jumped the price by a hundred. This leap in price led to a brief dropoff in the ferocity of the bidding, Going once! the auctioneer managed to call out before Nael bought back in at –600—

—700—
Going once! Going twice!
—750—
—800—
—850—
Going once!

The bidding was slowing down and at last they seemed to be nearing a price, Nael upped his bid to —900— and silently hoped that he could close the deal at this price. Layla, on the other hand seemed aghast at the cost and drank again from her whiskey jug.

Going once! Going twice! SOLD! To the snappy dresser with blue eyes in the rear box. Please visit the Coin Master to pay and pick up your property.

“Let’s go,” Nael said sternly to his entourage, sliding the wooden chair noisily away from the table, followed closely by the rest of his vanguard Lieutenants and lastly by Layla, “Layla, why don’t you go with Mr. Yes—Yes and pick out a kitten. Take one for yourself too, if it’ll improve your mood.”

*-*-*

Nael was tapping his foot as the Coin Master counted and checked each of the 900 gold coins proffered for the purchase of his new slave. Each coin was meticulously tested and pressed between plates to confirm that it was, in fact gold all the way through and then the Coin Master used a knife to trim around the edge of the stamps, and cut away the excess gold in thin, curly shavings that he scooped into a separate bag.

“Can’t you do that once we’re gone? I’d like my property now,” Nael insisted, growing increasingly impatient, “my men and I still need to find lodging for the night.”

“Very well, everything seems to be in order,” the Coin Master responded, a jeweler’s loop still tucked into one eye as he waved his hand above his head and the girl was lead out at the end of a leash and collar, still wearing the thin, white dress she’d been sold in, “if you’d just sign here, and this is the title, sing that there, good. Now, do you have your own collar or will you be purchasing the one she has on.”

“How much for that?”

“Five gold, a bargain.”

“Five for the collar and the leash,” Nael countered, dropping five more gold pieces onto the Coin Master’s desk noisily, one at a time, his tone not inviting any more haggling—he was sick to death of this seedy brand of commerce, “come here, girl.”

Nael took hold of the girl’s leash just as Layla returned from the back of the building, her cheeks reddened from intoxication and perhaps genuine pleasure, if the smile on her face was any indication. In one arm she carried a regal-looking black cat, and in her other palm, she scarcely held a white kitten that looked almost too small to survive. Her fingers wrapped easily around its tiny torso with its legs dangling out from between her fingers.

“I got her the runt of the litter—they even look alike,” Layla smirked, handing the white cat over to Nael.

“Listen to me, girl. Do you speak the common tongue? You belong to me now, understand? You are my property, and as such, you will do as I command without hesitation or resistance. As a token of good-faith, I got you a present. This kitten is yours, you will keep it, feed it and clean up after it—you may name it if you desire. Now come, my confidants are weary, we need to secure lodging for the night.”

The bidding went much quicker and higher than she could have ever imagined. Of all worldly possessions, she only had beauty and innocence to offer. Both of which were fleeting with time. Why they were so desired was something she’d never comprehend.

As the last tender was placed, her eyes shot to the man declared as a snappy dresser but there wasn’t a look of disbelief on her features. The determination in Nael’s eyes when he had been in her cell left her knowing that he would procure her, no matter the cost.

Hastily, she was taken from the podium and lead towards the Coin Master’s office, where she paused. Gold coins could be heard clacking when dropped on the desk, as they were tallied and authenticated. It took nothing more than the movement of a hand, signatures from Nael and the acquisition of her leash to be his property.

”Come here, girl.”

Oh, the sting that moniker carried to her eyes couldn’t be secreted, no matter how desperately she tried. Seldom had she been called by her given name in the village. Those four letters, so delicately strung together, had bright memories flooding to the forefront of her mind. For the first time since being captured, she felt a real wave of panic settling over her.

Adaline sealed her eyes, trying to gather herself and focus on anything beyond those memories. It was near that time when Layla entered the room with the kittens that Nael had sent her for. Their words were muffled as she stood there but a feeble; famished meowing captured her attention and held it. The sight of the kitten was a wretched one, which she couldn’t argue.

“I got her the runt of the litter—they even look alike.”

A smirk cracked the corners of her lips as she looked at Layla, “Even the smallest of creatures can be deadly.”

Now that gaze fell to the kitten that Nael held, her fingers itching to touch it. That tiny creature would become the focus of her days to come. It was weak, there was no doubt there but it could survive. Thrive, even.

His words nearly fell on oblivious ears as she fixated on the fluff of white but “girl” had her attention snapping to him. There was a furrow of her brows as he clarified that she was to be considered property and instructions were expected to be followed. How could she argue? Escape wasn’t even a thought at this moment. “I understand.”

“May I,” she questioned, gesturing towards the haggard kitten. Nael obliged her want and plopped the creature into her hands. “Thank you.” It’s meowing was only agitated more when it switched hands. Adaline quietly shushed it before cradling it against her chest.

Fingers began plucking fleas and tossing them aside while they moved through the cobblestone streets. “You shall be called Delilah. Should our…owner feel the need to feed us, I shall get you meat and rice. That will strengthen you.” A tender kiss was placed atop the kittens head before she glanced up at Nael. “I do not need a leash. Running isn’t feasible. I lack proper shoes and clothing; I’m in an unfamiliar land and in a village where all the men know my face. I suspect that running could be slightly more dangerous than remaining in your company. At least…for a while longer.”

There would likely be a correction for speaking out of turn but that didn’t make it any less truthful.

Nael’s entourage and Adaline seemed to walk for hours, searching throughout the city for rooms to house them all. It seemed the overnight shipment of slaves had men flocking to the city. Somehow, they managed to get lucky when stumbling across a decrepit building. A lot was left to be desired with the accommodations but it could take them all in and keep them within close quarters of one another.

Layla’s brow furrowed and her lips peeled back from her teeth at the slave girl’s less than subtle threat. Of all people, Layla knew too well that even the smallest of creatures could be deadly—she herself was the deadliest of Nael’s Lieutenants, capable of leveling hundreds of men two or three times her size in open combat, but even if she knew what the girl said was true, she resented having it brought up by a newly purchased pleasure slave.

“Shut your mouth, girl. Never speak to me unless I address you first,” Layla spat, handing the white kitten over to Nael less-than-gently, “you should also address me with respect. Call me: Godlike Mistress the Merciful from now on.”

When she’d finished, Nael held up a hand to quiet her, lifting the small kitten by the scruff of her neck and handing her over to his newest slave. Truthfully, Nael had no desire to acquire any pets, least of a pair of flea-bitten strays as these apparently were, from the way the girl was picking at her pet’s fur, but it was cheaper than buying a whipping boy or girl and may prove even more effective since he could kill the cat without repercussion if the girl’s behavior warranted it.

As they were leaving the slave market, under the watchful and suspicious glare of the gate guards they’d had a brief standoff with, the girl once again spoke out of turn—declaring that she did not need a leash and once more including a thinly veiled threat, ”…for a while longer.” Nael didn’t know if the girl thought them simple-minded—that they couldn’t discern her true meaning from her words, or if she simply believed there was no consequence for making allusions to an attempted escape, but in either case, she needed to be corrected. Nael stopped abruptly in the street and used the leash to force the girl to turn and face him.

“The leash is not meant to restrain you, nor the collar for that matter. They work as reminders, both to you and anyone who might lay eyes on you what you are—a thing, not a person but a possession,” Nael instructed firmly, his piercing blue eyes penetrating her, “escape isn’t something that should even enter your mind—there is no escape for you now, nor shall there ever be such an opportunity. Never speak to me of escape—never even think it. There is nowhere for you to go, girl. There is no life for you outside of my service. You should concern yourself only with pleasing me and avoiding my displeasure.”

With the instruction finished, Nael reached down, winding one of the kitten’s long whiskers around his index finger and then abruptly pulling with his arm, yanking the sensitive, deep-rooted hair out by the root. The kitten yowled in agony, bringing both paws up to her face and desperately trying to ease the sudden agony in her face, but succeeding only in smearing the bead of blood that followed the whisker’s extraction around her muzzle. Nael just flicked the whisker and the bloody root that it brought with it into the street before tugging on the girl’s leash and leading her onward.

*-*-*

It was a hardship in and of itself to find suitable lodging for Nael’s company, as the new shipment of slaves had apparently brought many visitors in the market for flesh to the small, port city. At last, a deal was struck with the owner of a decrepit tavern, very near the docks. The constant spray from the tides had warped the wood that the tavern was built from and when the wind blew in off the water it cut right through the walls and whistled inside the building—an effect which had clearly inspired the tavern’s name “Old Whistler.” Nael and his company had rented two adjoining rooms and by agreement, the hallway in front of them. Nael and Layla would each have a bed, while the others—still carrying their bedrolls and individual tents, would camp on the floor of the hallway. Even with the wind whistling through the seaward wall, the Lieutenants would be more comfortable indoors than they had been along the road.

Old Whistler was primarily a Tavern, the rooms only rented by special arrangement at a ludicrous markup, which meant that the establishment primarily dealt in whores and liquor—the rooms upstairs typically serving as residence and workplace of the whores. With the markup, Nael convinced the owner to close the tavern to the public for the rest of the evening, shelling out a few more bits of gold to rent out the entire establishment for the night. Layla and his men were already deep in their cups, trying to collectively urge Layla’s cat to drink ale from a bowl at the center of the table with bawdy cheers and encouragement.

“Everyone!” Nael called up from the counter, turning toward the room and lifting the leash to his shoulder, “I have rented this establishment for the night, from floorboards to rafters. The drinks, the food and the whores are all at your disposal for the evening, as gratitude for your company on this journey. Enjoy yourselves!”

The men all cheered, while Layla just ignored him, remaining focused on the task of teaching her new pet to drink ale. Some of the men grabbed the few, haggard-looking whores and began to have their way on the bar, tables and floor. The whores, used to dealing with sailors and ship-hands, hardly seemed to notice that they weren’t behind closed doors, enthusiastically receiving their rough clients. Nael brought his slave to a small table at the back, where they could be alone.

“Have you thought about where you will sleep?” Nael asked, just as the serving wench brought a small bowl of steamed rice and three pickled anchovies, “I might be willing to share my bed, but you’ve done little to earn such an honor, and I have no intention of sharing my bed with that flea-bag you have there.”

The serving wench returned with a tall mug of ale for Nael and a smaller glass of rum. He kept his eyes on the girl, even as he drank, watching her over the edge of his stein. He was curious how she’d answer his question, so he allowed the relative silence to fall between them, even as one of the more vocal whores cried out enthusiastically while being fucked.