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Annie and the Slavers
“Well, we don’t have to worry about money for the moment,” Annie’s mother said, with a full measure of bitter bile. “The millers have paid back your dowry.”
Annie scrubbed the cooking pot and said nothing.
“We can’t buy back any measure of respect, of course. Even here in this mudhole.”
Annie kept scrubbing. Mother had been going on about her public humiliation for days now. She’d forbidden Annie from leaving the cottage for any reason other than emptying bedpans, lest the other villagers see her.
For her part, Annie still dreamed of her walk though the middle of the square. The jeering faces, the rude words, and every eye on her—all things that made her warm inside. And wet, too. Every man (and a few of the women, which Annie had never noticed before) watched every bounce of her tits as she’d walked past, nipples hard not just from the cold, but from the forbidden thrill of it.
“Mother,” Annie said at last, “why should you hate me? I could understand if Father did, since… since I’m not of his loins, but why you?”
“You’ve been plenty ‘of his loins’ since you were old enough.”
“You knew? Is that it? You’re mad that he uses my mouth sometimes?”
“Gods, no! You’ve given me a valuable respite from that man’s incessant lusts, and for that I’m grateful. I didn’t care that you played the slut for him, or for every other boy.”
Annie gulped, thinking her secrets must be a lot less secret than she supposed. “Then why?”
Her mother grabbed Annie’s hair, and tugged painfully. “Because you’re my shame! Because your every breath reminds me of the time I’ve had to be on my knees for those bandits in the woods!” She released her grip and went back to angrily sweeping.
Tears were coming again, and Annie didn’t want them. “Bbut, Mama…”
“Don’t worry about it,” her mother spat. “The Gods provide.”
Annie was determined to stop herself from blubbering, determined to stand up to her mother, but the pain in her heart felt like a spear. She was saved from sliding deeper into a pit of her own thoughts by a commotion outside. Both of them moved over to the one tiny window that faced the village square and peeked outside.
In the ruts of the trail stood an immense wagon, pulled by four dappled brownandwhite oxen. Behind it were a whole crowd of people, strangers, and what seemed like the entire village come out to watch.
“What did I tell you,” Annie’s mother said. Leaning her twig broom aside. “Come along.”
“I can leave the house?” Annie asked.
By way of response, her mother grabbed her by the wrist and marched out the door.
The wagoners were not Woodsmen, though some of then also seemed to favor leather clothing and lots of weapons on their persons. Most of them proved to be wearing only rags and tied by their wrists to a heavy bar that dragged behind the wagon.
In a flash, Annie knew: slavers!
The wagon was completely enclosed, looking like a cottage on wheels. No one got in or out of it, and there were no openings Annie could see. The slavers seemed content to ride on the sideboards or walk alongside their charges. Only one in the entourage rode a horse. The slavers’ leader was the biggest, darkestskinned woman Annie had ever seen (or possibly heard of). Taller by head and shoulders than the largest man in the village, she had muscles that rippled on her bare arms and beneath her garishlycolored wraparound, breasts bigger than Annie’s head. She moved with an ease that belied no concern for the mass of armed men around her, much less the gaping denizens of the village.
But why were they here? No one here could afford something so outrageously expensive as a slave, no matter how well their crops came in.
“This is the one,” her mother said, and pushed Annie forward. So absorbing was the spectacle of the slaver woman goading her horse forward that Annie didn’t register what her mother had said.
The woman squinted down at Annie from a horse that looked like it could outpull the massive oxen. She lowered a short horse crop, and turned Annie’s head to one side. “Hair is good,” she said, a rich honeyed tenor voice much less frightening than her scowl. “Boobies good. Turn around,” she said. Annie, numbly, did so. “Virgin, you said?”
“Yes,” said her mother, despite several snickers from the other villagers which were quickly silenced.
“What?” Annie said.
“This one is no more a virgin than I am,” the slaver said. “But she looks the part.” The woman took a small purse from her sash and threw it to Annie’s mother. “Put her in the wagon with the other exotics.”
Rough hands grabbed her arms before she could react. Two of the slaver armsmen produced little hooked knives and with a single movement, slashed Annie’s blouse and skirt without touching her skin. Another flick of one’s wrist and her breechclout fluttered down around her ankles to join them. She was as naked as the day she’d marched through the square.
The laughing and jeering of the people she’d known all her life started, and Annie didn’t even have time to blush completely before a collar was fastened around her neck, cold metal that bit cruelly as she was pushed into the wagon.
~~***~~
Myfwyn knew she’d made a mistake before she heard the first footstep behind her. She’d pressed close to the human houses, much closer than she’d ever dared before, trying to see where the sunhair girl had gone. She’d caught glimpses, but for days the girl had hidden away in their stone piles. For some reason, she couldn’t get the girl out of her mind. It was madness to stay so close to their dwellings, risking detection and the axe.
And then the snare had closed around her neck.
Thrashing at the end of the catch pole, all her wiles and caution and knowledge of how to disappear in the woods were as nothing. The humans threw her in this hateful box, this cave made of dead trees, and hobbled her with lodestone. She lay on the stripped wood, hearing the ghostly whisper of the trees, held down by the weight around her neck. There were gaps in the top of the box that let in light, sometimes, which was good. She stayed away from her fellow captive, who stayed in their corner of the box and said little. Myfwyn attempted a greeting, but like most humans they couldn’t understand her, and eventually she gave up.
She’d never seen a twospirit human before, who despite their obvious feminine shape, definitely bore a spur like the males. For long hours they’d stared at each other, red hair versus green. The firehair twospirit also bore a loadstone around her neck, but for some reason it didn’t seem to weigh them down as much as Myfwyn’s did.
Their captors brought them disgusting food which the girl ate readily, smiling and talking with them even though they were a captive. Myfwyn watched the firehair girl’s spur carefully during this exchange and sensed that they were not feigning enjoyment, but actually was receptive to perhaps mating. None of the other humans did, though—but from the tension in the air, she could see that they all thought about it.
Not long after this the door to the box opened again and the sunhair girl was thrown in with them.
~~***~~
Star knew to expect more of a crowd—no one in these little backwoods hamlets could afford to buy, so Massha and her crew were out buying, not selling. The coffles behind the wagon lengthened as they swept up unfortunates who would be used as human beasts of burden in some mine or farm. They got to walk to the city, and any not stout enough to make the trip would be poor merchandise anyway.
More passengers for the wagon, that was unexpected, and two in two days. The dryad would probably bring good money on the exotics trade, possibly competing with Star herself. The blonde was more conventional faire, though with tits and ass like that she would do well on the auction block, too.
“Welcome aboard,” she said to the newcomer, who was staring at the dryad. “First time?”
~~***~~
“What?” Annie said, at first thinking the forest girl had spoken to her.
“First time being sold,” said the voice of the stranger in the gloom of the slavers’ wagon.
Annie nodded wordlessly, then cried out as she was pitched forward as the wagon moved beneath her. She tumbled in a pile atop the forest girl, hiding up facetoface with her astonished green eyes.
“Hello,” Annie said. “It’s you!”
“Ah, you two know each other?” The voice in the darkness said. “That’ll work out better. She hasn’t said anything but those little sighs and whispers since they brought her in yesterday. I’m Star, by the way.”
“I’m Annie. My mother sssold me…” Annie felt numb all over, except where her skin met the forest girl’s. She was warm, and soft, not barklike at all.
“Common ,” said Star.
Annie’s eyes, though blurry with tears, had adjusted to the gloom of the wagon’s interior. Star sat in a corner, as nude as Annie and the forest girl, but apparently unconcerned. Her hair was the red that women who tried henna dyes attempted to match, but never could, even though her skin was much darker than any redhead Annie had ever met. The girl shifted as the wagon bumped down the road, and when her legs moved, Annie saw between her legs and gasped.
Star followed her eyes and grinned. “Like it?” she said, flopping her cock around with a hand. “We’re all pleasure slaves here, but I’m kind of a specialty item.”
Annie disentangled herself from the forest girl and sat up. “Are you… under enchantment?”
Star snorted. “I am how the gods made me,” she said.
“Wait. ‘Pleasure slaves?'”
Star nodded. “Those poor clods walking behind us will work on their feet,” she said, pointing at the general direction of the door. “But we’ll work on our backs. Or our knees. And count ourselves lucky we aren’t going to be worked to death and discarded in a few summers, like them.”
Star said more, but Annie was sobbing anew and didn’t hear.
~~***~~
After a time, Sunhair and Firehair (Annie and Star, Myfwyn reminded herself) helped her sit up. They bore the same lodestones around their throats that she did, but mysteriously were not immobilized by them. She listened, unable to communicate, and only partly able to translate the human speech. Annie was very sad, for understandable reasons. Star seemed to be attempting to console her.
For some reason this made Myfwyn angry. Jealousy was so unknown among her people she barely understood the concept, and yet she felt the desire to possess this human girl for her own, that she should be the one to comfort her, and to feel her soft skin and divine warmth against her again.
She couldn’t do any of those things, now. And so she just stared.
~~***~~
“They don’t want our skin marked up, you see,” Star said. “That’s why they keep us in a box, instead of in manacles and chains. If we get out, we’re naked and wearing collars, so there’s not a lot of confusion about who’s a slave.”
The blonde nodded. Star thought Annie was done with crying for the moment, though her eyes were still very dewy.
Star slid up next to her—standing was tricky with the wagon in motion—and threw a companionably arm around her shoulders. “Look, I know it’s hard. I’ve seen a lot of girls come through here. Well, not here, this wagon, but through the pleasureslave process. I’ve had a lot of owners.”
Annie’s brow furrowed? “How?” she asked. “How haven’t you escaped, to something?”
“To what?” Star ran her fingers through Annie’s hair. “I was born a slave. I’ve seen a lot of the world, and slept on silk beds, and sucked the cocks of wizards and princes. There are bad masters as well as good ones, but you can get out of the places you don’t like. Just remember, you’re too valuable to treat like a peasant any more.”
“But I’m the same person I was! Just a slut from nowhere…”
“Oh, no. Sluts don’t cost anything. Hells, you have to pay someone to take you as a wife. Once some rich bastard pays real gold for you, you’re worth that much. And if he has to fight some other rich bastard at an auction to get you, you’re worth even more. You can’t think of yourself as a common whore, dear. You’re a commodity. An investment. A luxury! Once that gets in their minds, they’ll treat you better than a wife.”
With a sudden movement, Star’s hand was snatched away from Annie’s hair. Star looked into the ferocious eyes of the dryad, who had her by the wrist with a surprisingly strong grip. “I think you won over someone’s heart, already.”
Annie made placating motions with both hands. “No, no, it’s okay.” She said. “We’re all in this together.”
“That’s right,” Star said. “Sisterhood!” She hugged them both, and even though Annie could tell from her tone that she was being cynical and jokey, the three of them pressed together skin to skin comforted her.
Annie, in turn, caressed the forest girl and made the same soft noises she’d have used to calm a frightened child. After a time, everything seemed to calm down, as they rocked together, moved as the wagon moved.
“So, you think I should be content to be a slave,” Annie said, as if there’d been no interruption and pause.
It took Star a moment to catch up again. “No,” she said after some started blinks. “I’m saying you should be proficient as a slave. I’m saying you should cultivate your power, and use it.” She reached out and hefted one of Annie’s breasts. “These are treasures beyond imagining. They turn off men’s minds.” She let the tit flop heavily back. “Your golden hair is a treasure. Your cunt is the culmination of their boyhood dreams. All you have to do is remind them.”
“All they want me to do is fuck,” Annie huffed. “What is there to do after that?”
Star looked at her with what Annie was horrified to recognize as pity. “Oh, honey. Let me show you.”
~~***~~
“You’ve got her, Annie,” Star said, kneeling beside her as she worked. “Just a little more and she’ll pop.”
Annie was too busy to tell Star she was well aware of how close Muffin was to the edge; she could feel the dryad, shuddering and hear her rapid, belllike sighs that were as close to moaning as the forest girl could approach. She kept flickering her tongue over the splayed landscape of dryad vulva and hung on.
It had taken several tries to get her name out of her, what with the language barrier and all, but the tiny whispers of her voice said “Muffin,” or something very much like it while Annie and Star had strained to hear. Star had wanted her to write, but Annie had never learned to read and Muffin seemed honestly baffled at the idea of writing, or even pictures.
As Annie pleasured her friend, Star was not the only spectator. A line of the slaver guards circled them, just at the edge of the light of the campfire where the caravan had pitched to for the night. Indistinct shapes against the firelight cast moving shadows over the three women. Annie kept sneaking sidelong glances, but couldn’t tell if the men were enjoying the show, or envious, or anything. Maybe a few of them were touching themselves; Star certainly was, vigorously her own fist as she coached them both. The boss lady made it extremely clear that Star’s instruction could not include penetrating Annie in any way. The only time they’d tried, she’d appeared suddenly and popped Star right across the testicles with her riding crop, and that had been the end of lessons for a few days. She tried to put it out of her mind and focus on Muffin’s elusive little button.
The dryad gasped and stiffened, thighs suddenly clamping around Annie’s head as she spasmed. Annie held her breath and just rode out the bucking, letting Muffin get all of her release. She felt a sudden warmth on the soles of her feet and was puzzled for a moment before realization hit: Star had gone over the edge, too, and Annie had been spattered with some of it. She grinned, though Star couldn’t possibly see it. These women were not her friends, exactly, but it made her happy to see them in pleasure.
“See?” said Star, after regaining her breath. “You’re a natural.”
Annie sat up and wiped her face on her arm. “I don’t know why you think I should know how, though,” she said. “It’s not like a woman’s going to buy me.”
Star sat unsteadily, licking the remains of her spend from her hand. “One—you don’t know that. Women can have property, especially in the big cities down south, like Berilport or Caryn. A rich lady with expensive tastes might very well want to be serviced by a hot blonde slavegirl.
“Two—a man wanting you to perform a show with another girl is, to put it mildly, a common occurrence. So not only should you be good at it, you should keep practicing until you can do it without making that face like you’re licking dirt.”
The dryad made soft noises and moved closer to Annie, cuddling with her. Annie was becoming concerned; Muffin obviously liked her but kept getting more and more sluggish. Is was hard getting her to wake up each day, and she had to be helped getting in or out of the wagon.
“Three—you likely won’t be the only pleasure slave wherever you wind up. Being able to please is a handy talent for keeping up relations in the seraglio, you see?”
Annie shook her head.
Star sighed. “Look, odds are they’re going to keep any other men away from you. Girls got to take care of each other. Better pussyeating friends than enemies, right?”
Annie though about all the other girls in the village. She thought about them laughing at her disgrace. “Okay,” she finally said. “You said they wouldn’t let other men at us. Does that mean we aren’t, uh, wwhores, now?”
Star looked aghast. “No! No, no, no. If you get bought by someone who collects coin for work your pussy is doing, they can just start counting the days before the Courtesan’s Guild comes to pay them an official visit. Guild doesn’t broach any competition from unpaid sluts—slaves or free women alike. If you think you’ve been put out for public use and you don’t like it, just start mentioning that fact out loud, and I guarantee that situation will change.”
Annie held Muffin close, feeling the night air for the first time since they’d started practicing after dinner. “Star, why are you here? You said you’ve been in castles and palaces. Why are you riding in this wagon with us?”
Star looked away, past the campfires and into the night beyond. For the first time since they’d met, she didn’t look confident and cocksure. “I was in the house of Margrave Linnet. Big lord general, out west,” she added, when Annie didn’t register the name. “He died. His family disputed the division of property. All the household possessions got sold to divide coin more fairly. I was a household possession.” She rested her chin on arms folded over knees, and looked older.
“It was good there. I got along well with his wife and kids. Had a whole private garden to myself.”
“His wife knew?” Annie said. “She didn’t mind that you two were…”
Star laughed, not bitterly, but not joyfully, either. “Sucking each others’ dicks? No. She looked at it as a vacation, every time he was in my apartments. Hells, sometimes she’d come watch. Sometimes they’d both just watch me perform by myself. He was old, you see. The wood doesn’t always rise every morning, after a time. I could make him cum every time, though.” She looked up and away toward the invisible horizon.
Annie knew that Star was having a moment and she should just let her have it, and instead found herself asking, “Was it a lot? That you got sold for, I mean.”
A glimmer of Star’s usual spark came back. “Massha won’t tell me. Says it’ll go to my head.”
As if summoned by her name, the slavemonger appeared out of the night. “Are we having a fun camping trip, here? A little cuddle session?” Her hand rested on the handle of her stillcoiled whip. “Is this one ready, or not?”
Star nodded. “She’s ready enough for a podunk town like Prester.”
ero
