Slave Maret Dream

A good wine, a beautiful view of the capital as the sun rises... And a good slave offering me her tongue, firmly gripped to my thighs. My life as a Master is fulfilled. Sitting on my seat, enjoying the mouth of this little redhead unsold on the market, I watch life slowly awakening on my domain. I can hear the stalls opening, the chains of the slaves who've spent the night cleaning the whole hall, and beyond the market walls, the sounds of the crowds swarming through the streets. Occasionally, in the distance, a cry echoes, another lambda slave being corrected.

The market is my domain. Located on the western outskirts of the Capital, this is where caravans from all over the Empire come and go. This is where citizens come and go in search of new purchases or entertainment, this is where human waste comes and goes to serve us, the Masters. And it's my job to organize this buzzing hive.

Meanwhile, my wife is enjoying life at sea. It's been a week since she left to fill the holds of our galley. When she returns, there will be treasures, food and, above all, slaves to sell... I miss my wife. The redheaded bitch at my feet is doing well, but she's nothing compared to her Mistress. I groan as I empty myself down her throat, then I push her away, pulling her by the hair.

- Thank you, Master," the slave says while licking his lips.

- Shut up! My glass is empty, end of break.

Keeping her gaze down, the slave prostrates herself before me one last time and gets up to fill my glass. Her naked back excites me, the desire to caress it with a whip titillates my mind... Maybe later. The redhead returns with my full glass. If I wanted to, I could pour it over her breasts, her face, her hair... She belongs to me, after all. But that would only be a temporary pleasure, and the boredom would soon return. Instead, I pull on her nipples to pass the time.

The hall bell rings once, the day shift takes up its post, it's time for me to go and inspect the hive. I push the redheaded whore aside and send her off to be screwed by the male kitchen slaves. She thanks me, trembling. On my way out of the villa, I step on the hand of a servant cleaning the floors. She apologizes for getting in my way. She's naked too... I'll probably fuck her tonight.

Outside, my assistants are already busy with preparations for the opening. I can see them bringing out dozens of slaves. They're tying them up on the platforms. It's magnificent, all these naked women, chained, heads bowed, still half-drowsy, hanging by their arms like pieces of meat... Meat that's going to make me a lot of money, thanks to the Imperial Guard.

Then shouts echo from the adjacent barracks, and it's the renters' turn to bring out the merchandise. To offset the heavy investment required to purchase products from the Imperial Guard's campaigns, we've set up an accommodation service for independent slave traders. Accommodation is provided for caravans wishing to sell their merchandise directly. In exchange for rent, they are entitled to a staff barracks and an allocated space in the hall. They can sell their own meat, as I've already got my hands full with mine.

On the way, I bumped into Clara, who was looking for me. No sooner had she seen me than she kneel at my feet, head down, hands to her head. Without even speaking to her, I grab her leash and force her to get up. She'll follow me around all day. Clara is my showpiece. She goes everywhere I go and serves as my model for prestigious clients. She sucks cock, and I pocket the money.

The two of us wander around the hall, in the midst of the anthill that is my domain. One stage follows another: the waste enclosure, the fallen citizens' stage, the luxury goods stage... And the Podium.

The Podium has been our star attraction since the introduction of the slavery laws. Every day, customers can watch a prisoner being punished. Yesterday's spectacle was a princess of the cave people, her carcass is shackled in a stocks. Her gray skin is streaked with whip marks. One of my men unties her and pulls her by the hair to the waste enclosure... Off to the mines with the Capital's beggars and the undesirables. A scream echoes as the new attraction arrives. Pulled on a leash, a blonde woman struggles desperately before being strapped into the stocks. Clara explains that she's a captain of the army of Hyperia, a kingdom that the Imperial Guard hasn't finished purging. For the rest of the day, this soldier-woman will offer her white ass to the crowd. And for a few coins, anyone can whip her, spit in her face, slap her, or pour their balls down her throat. Tomorrow morning, she too will be thrown away.

A new caravan arrives, thirty specimens, five of them male. I buy everything. Off to the stage. They're just farmers kidnapped from who-knows-where. I order my men to keep the couples together. Couples sell for more. Couples are more fun to subdue.

Then comes the turn of the Inquisitors, just before the market opens, as usual. The guardians of order bring me the fallen citizens, as they do every morning. Traitors, conspirators, agitators... At least on paper. As usual, some of the prisoners proclaim their innocence. Whips crack, mouths close, slaves obey. Fallen citizens are hanged by the arms on a platform at the entrance to the market. This is a direct order from the Imperial Guard : when they enter the market, citizens must first see what awaits them in case of wrongdoing, and too bad if some have been wrongly accused. The Guard wants examples, the Inquisition wants prisoners, and I want slaves... It's a win-win situation.

Once I've made sure everything's in place, I move into a tent not far from the fallen citizens' stage. My men take care of opening the market, and a new day of profit begins. While the sounds of crowds, footsteps and chains echo, I rest for a few moments. Clara pours me a glass of wine, then comes between my thighs. She smiles at me and hurries to satisfy me with her tongue. I pull on her leash, stroke her hair... I'm suddenly tempted to take her doggy-style on the floor... Maybe later.