*If any of you have read my other stories, then you know that this really isn't my thing. If you haven't read any of my other stories, then if you read this, you can figure out how a fag-hag writes straight porn. ^_^
I wrote this story because a friend of mine begged me to, and I hope he enjoys this, wherever he is.
All characters are 18+*
*
The slave girl was weeping and terrified, and that's what kept my attention. What brought my attention to her was her rare coloration, but what kept it was that she was old enough to be ripe and luscious, but she was still weeping.
Slave girls were the property of their owners and whatever servants were higher up. Even other slaves could take a slave girl to their bed, and only the very kindest of masters would punish the slaves if the girl had been unwilling. Unless she was very homely, slave girls were normally bedded dozens of times.
The girl was of Northern stock, and she had the pale skin and bright hair that some men found outlandish and strange, and some men lusted over. The hair was bright gold, and hung in a heavy golden fall of curls. The eyes were red and swollen from weeping, but glinted a bright blue, like chips of the sky.
She was naked so she could be more easily looked over, and her body had none of the telltale marks that she had been used. None of the hair on or between her legs had been removed, or under her arms. She had no bite or suck marks on her pale creamy skin. The most telling sign, was that she was crying, and trying to hide her shapely breasts and cover the puff of pale pubic hair with her arms.
Slave girls were on either side of her. Before the auction, they tied the slaves by the side of the road, so potential buyers could come up, pinch their arms for muscle, ask them what skills they had, see if they were sickly or damaged. The slave girl was surrounded by two other men. A guard was nearby, making sure they didn't damage or bruise her before the auction, but he wasn't stopping the men from teasing and petting her.
She was crying and crying like she was in pain. She wept with shame and misery when one forced his hand between her legs, felling soft fuzzy skin that was undoubtably desert-dry. The other weighed those ripe breasts in his hands, tweaking and pinching sore lotus-pink nipples.
The guard interfered slightly. "Oi! Careful between the legs, this one is a virgin and she is to be sold as such!"
The man fondling the slave girl's crotch smiled greedily, and it made him look like a pig. The scrawny one fondling her breasts scowled and spat. Being a virgin would make her very expensive. It explained why she was crying, but how on earth had such a beautiful girl remained a virgin? The brand on her shoulder was old and stretched and faded, made when she was a child, so she had been a slave for many years, how had she lasted?
I had been here looking for a hardworking slave to help me in my shop. Preferably a young girl that would be able to take care of my needs as well. This girl was expensive, but I had just cured the Shah's daughter of pneumonia, and his gift to me had been large, and I held the coins in a heavy pouch inside my coat. It depended on how hard the girl could work.
I went to her, and the pig-man scowled at me reluctantly, but he took his filthy hand from between her legs and the girl moaned softly. She looked up at me timidly. One arm was crossed over those firm tits, covering up the pink nipples. The other hand cupped her crotch, trying to hide herself from the eyes of men. Her eyes were sore and swollen.
"Let me see your hands girl."
I held my hand out. She obeyed immediately and I was pleased. Even humiliated and miserable, she obeyed instinctively. She cringed as my eyes darted to the pink nubs and furred slit. She laid her small white hands on my dark hand. Her skin was like the creamy white flesh of the inside of lotus flowers, and my hand was like cinnamon. Her hands trembled like frightened birds, and were small compared to my hands, I could have closed my hand and enfolded both inside.
I felt her palms with my fingertip, and was gladdened by the light stipple of calluses. "What were your duties with your last master?"
Tears filled those blue eyes and she looked down, her pale shoulders trembling. "I...I was a caretaker for my Master, who was old and infirm. I made his meals and laundered his bedclothes and cleaned his chambers. H-He was very k-kind."
Her voice was small with fear, but low and warm and a little husky. A good voice. A good girl, used to work, beautiful, not conceited.
"Good."
---
The sun was beating down on the crowd. Buyers sat on stools of woven reeds in a semi-circle before a wooden platform. The blonde girl was lot seven. The first lot had been a very muscular young black man. The second and third had been brothers from the north, strong and deeply tanned by the sun. Fourth had been a trembling light-haired boy of about ten. The brand on his shoulder was fresh and oozing, and his skin was pale and burnt by the sun. Fifth had been a pair of matched girls from the east. They had slender bodies and coarse silky black hair and pale chestnut skin. They had slanted frightened eyes and slender bodies with small breasts and slight hips.
I waited for the girl, not even considering the sixth lot, a brown-haired girl that would have been perfectly fine, if not for the blonde.
The blonde girl was taken forward. Her slender wrists had been tied behind her back so she could no longer hide herself from the dozens of eager eyes. She trembled and her eyes were wide and scared. She reminded me of a white rabbit, shaking up there with her vulnerable legs and lightly burned shoulders and reddened eyes.
I barely heard the auctioneer, bragging about the quality of her fine creamy skin, and pretty eyes, and untouched purity. Before the man was done speaking the first bid was called out. I waited. The bids were still low but rising rapidly.
When the bidding had slowed slightly I called out a bid. Within three bids, it was just me and the piglike man voting for her. She looked at me with desperate eyes and I felt a throb of heat in my groin. She wanted me to have her!
I called out a bid, and the pig-man glared sullenly but did not match it. The auctioneer waited, and then called out that she belonged to me.
---
I had been expecting to bring a girl home, so I had brought along a loose robe of thick linen with a cord to tie it closed. I untied the rope on her wrists and slipped the robe on over her ripe young body. She tied the cord closed with shaking hands. Her face was wet with tears. I wiped her eyes and nose with a square of soft linen that I carried in my pocket. She looked at me with shy gratitude.
"My name is Ashram, you can call me Master Ashram. What is your name?"
"I was taken here when I was six years old. My mistress then named me Niobe. I do not remember my name before."
"Niobe." I tasted the name. It was a good name. "How old are you?"
"I counted the cold seasons, because I was born in the snows. I am nineteen winters old."
I marveled at that, nineteen, and still a virgin. After that we didn't speak much. I took her to a cobbler, who measured her small dusty feet and made a pair of reed sandals for her. He promised that he would make two pairs of leather shoes, sandals and closed shoes, but the reed shoes would do until they were made.
"Do you know how to make clothes?"
She shook her head, looking slightly panicked. I put my hand on her shoulder. "Calm yourself Niobe, it doesn't matter."
I took her to a stall in the market that sold clothing. I bought her three robes of sturdy undecorated fabric, a plain chador, and I had her pick out some underthings.
She looked hot and tired, but she didn't say anything. She was afraid to make me angry. I stopped at a stall that was selling cooled fruit juice. She stared thirstily at the vats of brightly-colored juice that were cooling in wooden containers of water in the shade. I asked her what she wanted, and she pointed to a pale pink juice of crushed cactus fruit and pomegranates.
The stall keeper gave her a cup of tightly woven reeds that was disposable and somewhat waterproof, and she drank the sweet sticky juice. She smiled at me with her lips stained red and sweet, and I felt a sudden strong urge to taste the juice on her lips, to pour the juice on her young sweet body and lap it up. My cock rose in my loose trousers. If we had been at my home, I would have torn her robe off then and there.
We were in a public place, and she had not caught my look of raw lust. She had been too busy petting a stray cat that had rubbed against her ankles. The stall keeper had seen it though, and he gave me a smile full of blackened teeth. As soon as she straitened I put my hand on her shoulder and led her through the crowd.
---
My shop was an apothecary. Herbs hung in bunches from the ceiling, powdered plants filled small bins. My work shelf had three different mortar and pestles, of different sizes to grind things small. I had a set of scales, several knives and hammers and scoops. I had a large fire right behind my shop, and in the shop I could boil small amounts over a pan of coals from the large fire. After I had saved the Shah's daughter, I had a lot more business, and now I could afford a girl to help me with the shop and my needs.
"I make medicine and lotions and oils to soothe aches and pains. Business has grown and now I need an assistant. I will do all of the skilled work, but you can tidy up and fetch water and wood. You will boil water, and cook my meals and launder the clothes and clean my home above the shop. You said that you took care of an old man, so you should have all of these skills already."
