'A Cunning Plan'
The fierce heat could be felt in waves on the Princess' skin as the branding iron came towards her, but fear had rendered her mute. The 'S' brand glowed a mesmerising bright white now and made the prettiest patterns as it travelled forth in the Priestess' hands.
Rosalind's eyes followed its slow progress almost in a trance. The air around them felt hot and humid, causing beads of sweat to trickle down her neck. One last try was attempted to howl, to scream; to SHRIEK, but all that emitted from frozen lips was an unfamiliar gurgling sound as her tongue lolled on the back of her throat.
Without warning one of the slave traders stuck a firm piece of wood between her stiff lips.
'Bite,' he ordered, 'or risk biting your tongue off.'
There was no energy left inside to spit it out, to disobey. Her body shook in uncontrollable tremors as she hung there, unsupported from her slack wrists high above.
Due to the fact the Princess was highborn, her brand would be embedded on the inner thigh; unlike the common slaves who wore their 'S' mark on the wrist, visible for all to see. In so far as the privileges of rank went, that meant a degree of privacy and a whole world of pain.
The Priestess arm shot forward to end the suspense, amidst her now loud, wailing chants and the iron struck home. For a mere second, utter silence reigned in the spell bound room.
Then Rosalind found her voice.
The high pitched screaming sound that ricocheted of the walls set nearly every man's teeth on edge and fingers could be seen everywhere gripping into tight fists. Lucius was one of the few who remained unscathed by the vicious screeching noise.
'She's got a remarkably fine pair of lungs on her,' he commented, to no-one in particular as a glance at Byron found him with his eyes tightly closed and his hands over his ears.
'Honestly, you're worse than a girl,' Lucius muttered to himself. His dark eyes once more found themselves on the Princess. 'I give you five seconds,' he thought, counting back softly in his head.
Rosalind could hear screaming, but wasn't at all sure where it was coming from. Then there was sizzling, burning flesh; the stench of which filled her nostrils and nearly made her choke. There was also pain, her whole body was alight with the awful grip of blinding agony and finally... there was a blissful appearance of dizzying blackness.
'3, 2, 1. Bingo.' Lucius smiled to himself, as the Princess' unconcious head rolled forward.
'We'll have to work on that pain tolerance,' he added as an afterthought.
There was a collective sigh of relief around the room as the screaming ceased. Lucius gave his valet a nudge in the ribs to wake him, then another much sharper one when that didn't work.
Byron, groaning, tentatively opened his eyes and pried a careful finger from his ear. He sighed in appreciation as the room was once again relatively quiet (as quiet as lecherously growling, beer swilling buyers of naked Princesses ever got anyhow). The Priestess was just then making her exit as one of the traders stepped forward, clapping his hands for attention.
'Gentlemen,' he began, 'due to our new slave's unconscious state, the thrashing you've all been waiting for will, unfortunately, have to be cancelled.'
This was met with collective roar of discontent and much groaning from all parties concerned.
'Damn thoughtless, these goody two shoes Princesses' remarked Lucius.
Byron grinned as he replied, 'Yes, and I'll bet she was looking forward to a damn good whipping too.'
The trader continued, virtually yelling amongst the chorus of unhappy protests.
'MAY THE BIDDING BEGIN!'
Then all hell let loose.
'10 Gold pieces,' was heard from the back.
'20,' sounded from the large merchant at the front.
'30,' a wealthy noble.
'60,' had it back with the merchant again.
