A Princess For Auction: Chapter 3, The Open Auction
"Next lot is our prime stock of able men! Humans from Salia, built for the fields, or for tending the stables on your farm!" A hefty, human man with a neatly trimmed, gray beard pronounced loudly for the mass of spectators that I suddenly found myself within. If I had been a larger girl I might have made more progress. But being so lithe and small made it hard to even see where I was going, much less push people out of my way. Instead I stayed put, watching the wooden stage while I waited for an opening. "Brought in from the province wars and trade with the southern kingdoms, these men have been housebroken and trained. Bidding starts at the regulated price of five-hundred and fifty silver!"
Several hands, and a few wooden canes, raised up above the crowd, followed by shouts of prices that only seemed to go up and up, faster than I was able to keep count. Four men, in various hues of light and dark skin, stood with slumped shoulders and manacles, waiting to be bought like chattel.
My heart felt like it was breaking, seeing those dejected souls getting bartered like common goods.
Anyone could have ended up there, and these people don't even care... I had to push back against the tears.
"And now, as I know many of you have been waiting for, we have fairer goods than these crude tools." The slave merchant did a small wave to someone off-stage, and a few moments later two young women were led up by a man holding a single connected chain going to thick, iron collars around their necks.
My stomach dropped into an icy chill.
Both looked only a couple of years older than myself, with young, feminine features. They were both clad in the same blue, translucent garments, obviously put on them to show off their figures.
I shivered. But even though I wanted to I couldn't look away.
"This brown-haired beauty, with fair skin and firm forms, is surely a good addition to any lounge or soap house. Perhaps even for the distinguished tavern that wishes to extend their services. Or for bringing back across the greats sands. Pure-blooded Asterdalian and with a meek persuasion, captured by raiding mercenaries outside of her village in the far west. This one starts at twenty-three-hundred silver coins!" The girl bit her lip as she started to cry, hiccuping slightly as she held her freckled face in her hands, shielding herself from the competing shouts of customers clamoring to buy her.
I couldn't hold back my own tears anymore. It was simply too heartbreaking to watch. And I did a little start as the bidding stopped.
"Sold! For three thousand six hundred silver to the buyer from The Foamy Patron Inn. As if you lot don't have enough Asterdalian girls." The merchant drew a laugh from the crowd with his cheerful comment as the crying girl got her collar detached from the chain and was led down a small wooden stairs and into one of the many white tents that stood erected on the premises. Some of the few women in the crowd seemed as sad for the girl as I was. "Who now would wish to learn of our next, arguably greater, prize?"
A murmur of interest went through the crowd as all eyes sought out the last of the two girls. Her hair was a glistening black, with a near sheen of blue as the setting sun caught it. And she was far more pretty and finely shaped than the other. Were the brown-haired one had been a typical farm girl, with the slender body of youth, the raven-locked girl was both well-endowed with large breasts and a tiny waist that accentuated them.
She wasn't crying. Even though her misty eyes looked uncertain and afraid, going back and forth between looking at the crowd and the merchant.
"This rare specimen, is a woman born and bred in this very city. I tell you now, masters, that this sort of beauty is not even found in the closed auctions. And my prices are better than they would be there, I can tell you that for certain." He took a small pause to gather his voice and build tension. "This woman is selling herself. Willingly giving away parts of her freedom, to work off the burden of debt, and so comes with a stipulated contract signed by her own delicate hand."
Several parts of the crowd immediately lost interest as the merchant made it clear that the woman wasn't to be sold under the same terms as the other one. Disgruntled comments were made as people started milling about, leaving behind a smaller gathering of more professional-looking buyers at the front of the stage.
Even though I could have started walking again, I stood as rooted to the ground. Watching the auction in shock.
She's selling herself? Why in the gods names would anyone do that? I had never even heard of anyone willingly giving away their freedom to be a worker before.
The captive brunette apparently had no freedoms or rights beyond what anyone who bought her would give. Whereas this girl had requirements, which the merchant promptly started to read from a crisp piece of parchment.
"I, Alessa Gillhearth, hereby concede to the following; To be sold to any well reputed establishment or gentleman, wishing my companionship for a minimum of five years, or until my debt is cleared, whichever comes to fruition last. I shall reside in my owner's home or establishment, with suitable living conditions. I must have three warm meals a day. Any other hours during the day I will be at my owner's disposal, serving meals, having conversation, massages, or performing as they require, with the following exemptions."
"Sexual penetration and insertions." As the merchant listed off the girl's first restriction, five potential buyers left the crowd.
"Ejaculation into openings, also known as a creampie service." Four more buyers left, some shaking their heads.
"And services in bonds, such as painful positions enforced through ropes or chains." One more person left.
"The cost of these terms is set at four thousand silver, with an additional thirty five percent of each earning."
The few remaining people discussed quietly amongst each other, nodding and gesturing towards the young woman. From this distance, and with the amount of shoppers still talking and hawking their wares, it was impossible to hear what they said. They all seemed to come to some sort of agreement and moved as a group closer to the edge of the wooden stage to talk directly with the silk-clothed merchant.
I walked after them, painful curiosity driving me to find out more about this absurd arrangement.
What are you doing, Kess? Why aren't you leaving? Though bewildered by my own foolishness, I carefully kept my distance, so that I could overhear them without being accused of being too nosy. Fortunately there were still a few other people around the stage as well.
One of the buyers stepped forward. The dark-haired, strict-looking man in his early forties seemed like the leader. He looked striking in a clean, crisp, white shirt of linen and green trousers above tan, leather boots. His body angled in a way that shifted the weight of a long, slender blade that hung off his hip, richly decorated in silver.
