For the hundredth time, Alana wished that she knew what the men in front of her were talking about. The man whom she had come to think of as her 'keeper' seemed to be trying to dissuade another man from viewing her. It was strange behaviour; since she had woken up in this man's care, he had done nothing but try to sell her. The new man didn't seem too bad. For starters, he looked human. He was around six foot five, lean and had an attractive face. He carried an air of arrogance, but if that was his only bad quality, then Alana hoped he would be her buyer.
The potential purchaser ran out of patience. She watched as he barged past her keeper, coming to a halt in front of her naked form. She looked at the floor as was deemed proper. The bruises on the back of her legs reminded her of all of the times that she had forgotten this rule. He spoke, and when she didn't respond her roughly gripped her chin, forcing Alana to face him. Tearing her face free of his grip, she glared fiercely at him. She had changed her mind. She did not like this man.
Alana's skin prickled as his cool gaze studied her face and naked body. Her arms were tied to a post behind her, a position which thrust out her breasts invitingly. The man pinched a nipple. His hand trailed lazily down Alana's stomach, the pushed its way between her thighs. Clamping her legs together, Alana hoped that he wouldn't want to explore further. Her hope, as usual, was short lived.
Her keeper offered the man a pot that Alana knew contained oil. It was provided for customers to feel how tight she was without damaging the goods, so to speak. The man refused the oil and forced a finger against Alana's dry sex. His fingers were long, thick, causing her to gasp as one probed her entrance. He met her gaze then thrust his finger mercilessly into her. Alana hated herself when a whimper escaped her throat. The man left his finger inside her as he spoke to her keeper, occasionally wriggling it, hoping for a reaction. He got none. Alana had played this game several times now, enough to know that schooling her face into an expressionless mask was the safest way to avoid a beating.
When the man walked away, Alana was relieved. Her relief, like her hope, was short lived. When other keepers came to untie her, she knew that the man had purchased her. It was still the middle of the day, and the sale room was full of customers. Nausea settled into the pit of her stomach and she felt herself trembling. A grey shift was forced over her head to cover her nakedness. Alana felt dizzy, panicked. She looked around at the familiar pedestals with girls displaying themselves, looked at the familiar faces of the men who had cared for her, and beaten her when she disobeyed. After twelve days of repetition, the unexpected change was a shock.
Alana's legs gave way under her, and the keepers on either side hauled her up between them. They marched her out of the front of the building, and into the blazing sunshine. Alana blinked. It was the first time that she had been outside since she had woken up bound by the men who had sold her. The sky, whilst still blue, seemed wrong. It took her a moment to realise that the sun was a light green colour, instead of the bright yellow that she was used to. The air was hot and humid; desperately she wished to be back in the cool of the sale room. Sweat was beading on her brow, and she could already feel it trickling down her back.
The man who had purchased her was suddenly before them. He pointed to the river, to a boat that sat upon it. It was long, almost like a barge but with open sides. The roof was a fabric canopy. Guards stood along the sides of it, armed gauds with armour and swords. The world twisted and spun. Alana had known that she wasn't on Earth, but seeing the evidence with her own eyes was too shocking. Many of the women for sale had been clearly alien, but she had managed to convince herself she was fine.
A gigantic insect landed softly on her forearm as her knees gave way for the second time. Alien voices drifted across to her from a distance as blackness engulfed her. Strong arms lifted her, but she couldn't see who they belonged to. Then the world was gone.
Alana woke to the sound of female voices chattering. She strained to recognise a word, but failed. Slowly, she opened her eyes. She was laid on her back on the floor, her arms tied uncomfortably behind her. A canopy was above her, and she remembered the boat. The world was tipping gently from side to side, and she knew that they were on it, moving steadily towards wherever she would spend the rest of her days of slavery. The thought made her shudder.
A guard loomed over her. His hands wrapped around her upper arms and yanked her roughly into an upright position. The chatter had stopped.
"Drink." It was one of the few words that she knew. Gratefully, she opened her mouth as a sweet tasting liquid was poured into it. Alana swallowed, and then opened her mouth again. It was only when her thirst was quenched that Alana finally was able to look around.
The boat was wider than it had originally looked. Guards lined the sides, all in identical clothing. They seemed ridiculously tall; certainly they were all taller than the man who had purchased her, which put them at almost seven feet. Their armour was a dark bronze that gleamed in the sun. They wore a breast plate and helmets, not unlike the armour the Romans would have worn. The swords were curved however, the word scimitar filling Alana's mind. The men were broad and heavily muscled, and seemed to stand impossibly still. The skirt they wore, again similar to the Romans, was a deep blue in colour, but made them look no less masculine.
