An Auction ... of Course
The ride to the small city was without incident. I rode Folgers .. the silken black kaiila given to me by Jerus. A beautiful and strong beast who had given me excellent service as well as sired several foals. I rode with my shield and lance .. with my quiva ready to hand ... but there was no resistance.
The city was small and the people were a little nervous to see Beo and I ride in .. not to mention the two Ubar's guards I was not able to shake off. They know what a Tuchuk is and hustled their women off out of our sight much like Turia only without all the fanfare ... smaller city. Beo caused a stir himself for though he is not scarred as we were ... he is obviously the warrior and a strong man with enough battle scars to rival our own.
Our reception was much different though as we approached the block. The merchant saw a chance to make coin .. for everyone knows we think nothing of it and will throw it away and pay much more in coin for something simply because we do not value it.
So the whip danced and snaked and the women could feel his energy and responded well before us as we sat on our kaiila with the other men and watched.
The first was a red silk kajira. Her mouth was not soft nor were her eyes. She was a challenge all wrapped up in the package of a woman and she strained against her chains. Her submission was aggressive .. she would make a man work for it .. make him turn her submission on by his actions. Shove it in his face and wait for the dominance to respond. There would be only two ways to deal with this slave ... submit to the demand for dominance .... or ignore her. I do not submit well ... she would get a lot of ignoring from me. Though it was tempting ... to see if I could break her of it. If I could show her a different way to get what it was she wanted. She was a sexual package. She moved within it .. flaunted it. Knew it was her best feature and exploited it. Every male fiber in me responded to her .. but like I said ... I do not submit well. I bid for her. It amused me to see the glow of her skin as her heart quickened. Was she afraid I would win? Or was she desperate for it? It was hard to tell. Though her eyes would glance back to me when I let another win and the merchant drug her from the block to the man's feet. She got a smirk in return. I knew she was not the one .. if for no other reason than I forgot why I was there the entire time she was on the block.
The next was a dancer. Allowed a bit of silk while on the block to show off the grace and beauty of her moves. Each gesture .. each time she shifted or turned to the direction of the whip was exquisite in perfection. There was not a piece of her that was not part of the movement. Like the wind against the grass .. each extended piece was part of the whole. Every fingertip was precise. She flowed through my brain like the warmth of a spring day. Lulled my senses ... enough I did not even bid on her. Completely lost in the beauty of it. I even forgot she was a woman ... for me she was simply movement that took my mind to other places ... and oddly enough .... other women. I missed her when she was gone .. I came back to the reality of where I was reluctantly.
The third woman to be brought to the block was beautiful .. as most slaves are ... but it was a very quiet beauty. She was submissiveness in raw form. Not a bit of her entered anyone's personal space. They could have left her on the block for hours and she would not have been shoved out of peace for it. She bent to every will .. every demand. Every look that was cast on her was rippled back with reaction. I almost took her .. though I knew she was not the woman I was there to find. I almost took her because she was a clean slate .. a beautiful bit of submissive nature that had yet to have the fingerprints of any man upon it. She reacted to everything and everyone. I would think that would exhaust any human .. but she seemed to be inspired by it ... energized by it. Given reason to blossom simply because of a look or a presence. Ah what things I could do with this woman. I felt myself reaching for her .. my desire spurred for such a thing. But like lightning I was reminded of all the women that have failed under my harsh hand. Would she dim also? Would she suffer in her bruising and lose that which had drawn me to her in the first place? I would not take that chance .. and so my urge was repressed and I let her go to a scribe. What a waste.
The fourth was a fighting slave. Instantly I knew she was or had been a woman of the plains. It was all over her features .. the way she moved. She was beautiful even with the small scars she had earned in her service. she was drug fighting up on the block. I am sure it was staged .. it usually is. But when the merchant had her forced to her knees and they ripped her hood off .. her eyes connected with my own gaze and she started screaming words no one could understand .. not even me. I glanced sideways at Beo and he shrugged .. we both glanced back and the merchant was confused and beside himself. He used the whip on her and this time .. it was not for show. It took the merchant and another man to get her down and they bound her wrists and ankles .. replacing her hood. Only then did she calm down. The merchant was obviously embarrassed and shook up. This made it obvious to the buyers that something was wrong. She was the last slave to be sold that day ... so I bought her. Beo smirked at me .. I shrugged. The merchant was only too pleased to have the coin and I gave him the entire bag of them .. what else did I need it for?
So we left the city .. and the auction ... with a fighting slave trussed up like a virgin captive over my saddle. I was pleased. I had the woman. Now all I needed was the larl and the tem.
The city was small and the people were a little nervous to see Beo and I ride in .. not to mention the two Ubar's guards I was not able to shake off. They know what a Tuchuk is and hustled their women off out of our sight much like Turia only without all the fanfare ... smaller city. Beo caused a stir himself for though he is not scarred as we were ... he is obviously the warrior and a strong man with enough battle scars to rival our own.
Our reception was much different though as we approached the block. The merchant saw a chance to make coin .. for everyone knows we think nothing of it and will throw it away and pay much more in coin for something simply because we do not value it.
So the whip danced and snaked and the women could feel his energy and responded well before us as we sat on our kaiila with the other men and watched.
The first was a red silk kajira. Her mouth was not soft nor were her eyes. She was a challenge all wrapped up in the package of a woman and she strained against her chains. Her submission was aggressive .. she would make a man work for it .. make him turn her submission on by his actions. Shove it in his face and wait for the dominance to respond. There would be only two ways to deal with this slave ... submit to the demand for dominance .... or ignore her. I do not submit well ... she would get a lot of ignoring from me. Though it was tempting ... to see if I could break her of it. If I could show her a different way to get what it was she wanted. She was a sexual package. She moved within it .. flaunted it. Knew it was her best feature and exploited it. Every male fiber in me responded to her .. but like I said ... I do not submit well. I bid for her. It amused me to see the glow of her skin as her heart quickened. Was she afraid I would win? Or was she desperate for it? It was hard to tell. Though her eyes would glance back to me when I let another win and the merchant drug her from the block to the man's feet. She got a smirk in return. I knew she was not the one .. if for no other reason than I forgot why I was there the entire time she was on the block.
The next was a dancer. Allowed a bit of silk while on the block to show off the grace and beauty of her moves. Each gesture .. each time she shifted or turned to the direction of the whip was exquisite in perfection. There was not a piece of her that was not part of the movement. Like the wind against the grass .. each extended piece was part of the whole. Every fingertip was precise. She flowed through my brain like the warmth of a spring day. Lulled my senses ... enough I did not even bid on her. Completely lost in the beauty of it. I even forgot she was a woman ... for me she was simply movement that took my mind to other places ... and oddly enough .... other women. I missed her when she was gone .. I came back to the reality of where I was reluctantly.
The third woman to be brought to the block was beautiful .. as most slaves are ... but it was a very quiet beauty. She was submissiveness in raw form. Not a bit of her entered anyone's personal space. They could have left her on the block for hours and she would not have been shoved out of peace for it. She bent to every will .. every demand. Every look that was cast on her was rippled back with reaction. I almost took her .. though I knew she was not the woman I was there to find. I almost took her because she was a clean slate .. a beautiful bit of submissive nature that had yet to have the fingerprints of any man upon it. She reacted to everything and everyone. I would think that would exhaust any human .. but she seemed to be inspired by it ... energized by it. Given reason to blossom simply because of a look or a presence. Ah what things I could do with this woman. I felt myself reaching for her .. my desire spurred for such a thing. But like lightning I was reminded of all the women that have failed under my harsh hand. Would she dim also? Would she suffer in her bruising and lose that which had drawn me to her in the first place? I would not take that chance .. and so my urge was repressed and I let her go to a scribe. What a waste.
The fourth was a fighting slave. Instantly I knew she was or had been a woman of the plains. It was all over her features .. the way she moved. She was beautiful even with the small scars she had earned in her service. she was drug fighting up on the block. I am sure it was staged .. it usually is. But when the merchant had her forced to her knees and they ripped her hood off .. her eyes connected with my own gaze and she started screaming words no one could understand .. not even me. I glanced sideways at Beo and he shrugged .. we both glanced back and the merchant was confused and beside himself. He used the whip on her and this time .. it was not for show. It took the merchant and another man to get her down and they bound her wrists and ankles .. replacing her hood. Only then did she calm down. The merchant was obviously embarrassed and shook up. This made it obvious to the buyers that something was wrong. She was the last slave to be sold that day ... so I bought her. Beo smirked at me .. I shrugged. The merchant was only too pleased to have the coin and I gave him the entire bag of them .. what else did I need it for?
So we left the city .. and the auction ... with a fighting slave trussed up like a virgin captive over my saddle. I was pleased. I had the woman. Now all I needed was the larl and the tem.
posted by Fonce of the Tuchuk at
6:51 AM
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