A short tale set in the elven queendom...
Zephira walked arm in arm with her slavegirl Muffin, browsing the newest acquisitions in the slave market. Naked male and female humans were chained, tied, caged, and even suspended for the viewing pleasure of elves like Zephira. She let her mind reach out, stealing inside the thoughts of these inferior beings, searching for just the right kind of boy. Zephira and Muffin could keep each other entertained, but their household just wasn't complete without a fuckslave.
The elf hadn't meant to use up her last male quite so quickly of course - a hundred years was a short life for a slave when the elves' magic could extend a human life to four times that. Still, the boy had died happy in the knowledge that he had served his buxom owner, and her buxom slavegirl, to the very best of his abilities. What more could a piece of sentient property desire than that?
Zephira scanned Muffin's mind. The curvy slavegirl had a physique just like her owner's, and a sex drive to match. Right now, she was marking all the slaveboys they passed whose erections jutted out unbidden while they stood on display. Zephira thought that was clever, for a slave - perhaps Muffin had picked up that drive was the key, not cock size itself. When any part of a slave's body could be changed by magic, it was the mind that really counted.
"Mistress," said Muffin, "how are you going to choose from all these options?"
"The same way I chose you, Muffin. I'm looking for the right mind, and we'll grow the right body around it."
"But what if we can't find one?"
"Don't worry, Muffin, I know your little slave pussy's just desperate for some cock. We'll rent a male if we don't find one I like."
"Oh I do so miss Six. He was insatiable."
"There there my girl, Six died a very happy boy. It was over quickly, he didn't suffer. In fact I was in his mind when his heart gave out - he was having the time of his life. So to speak."
Zephira missed Six too. Not for company - she had friends and lovers for that, even shapely little Muffin if a slave could be counted. But Zephira loved a good hard fucking above all other things. Her work was satisfying - she crafted many fine things in her little pottery - but nothing filled her world like a big hard cock attached to a lustful, slutty slaveboy. She had owned one male fuckslave after another for nearly a thousand years - nothing was going to make her break the chain.
Zephira made her way through the slave markets, rejecting the older slaveboys, the ones too drenched in fear to be any good to her - they needed too much mental editing - the pre-owned and the lacklustre. She caught a glimmer of what she was after, far away and weak, but even from this distance, the mental stink of lust was clear to her trained senses. Standing still, she pushed her naked slavegirl away a little and closed her eyes, letting her mind reach out to its limit. She sorted through all the human slaves in range, testing and searching, while sweat formed on her brow. There. A candidate. She snatched up Muffin's hand and pulled her along.
Tucked away in a corner of the slave market, the scrawny young male stood against a stout iron post with his arms shackled tight over his head, and his erection leering out in front of him. Zephira scanned him - naturally submissive, like so many the elves enslaved, young, untrained, bright but still in a state of disbelief about being snatched from his world and made into something to be bought and sold. She could see why so many other elves had overlooked him - the lust in his mind was overshadowed by his confusion, which was only now beginning to clear.
"This one's going cheap if you can do anything with him," said the slave trader who was selling the male.
Zephira hadn't met her before - she must be a recently converted elf. It made sense that she wouldn't have spotted the potential in this boy if she hadn't been trading long, but Zephira wasn't about to tell her. Not until she'd made the purchase at any rate.
"Tell me about him," said Zephira.
"He's twenty-three, well-educated for a human, some experience of sexual submission. Captured by an elf who lured him in by advertising for submissives. He actually arrived naked and shaved through the portal - she had two males and two females all tied up together. I sold the other male to be made into a pet, and the two females to the new spa that's opening up in the south quarter. This one's having a harder time adjusting - you're the first person to give him a second look. Not very good looking, is he?"
"He will be when I've had him changed to my liking."
"You're buying him? I guess there really is an owner for every slave. The buyout price is on his tag - four hundred."
"Here you go," said Zephira, counting out the coins.
"Deal."
"Thanks. Now he's mine - you been an elf long?"
"Just two years. Went straight into slave trading - I just love the feel of making a person become a possession, you know?"
"Of course, that's what being an elf is all about."
"Why did you ask?"
"Because he's worth more than you sold him for. Don't look like that - good slavers learn to look deeper, and you could be a really good slaver in time. I'll let you into his mind, there, now follow me down, down, deeper. There."
The slave trader gasped, and Zephira smiled kindly at her. She herself had been scarcely less clueless when she became an elf all those years ago. She had shown the slave trader the lake of lust that the slaveboy's mind was hiding behind the layers of confusion. He was worth twice what she'd paid for him - you couldn't create that kind of sexual drive with magic, it had to be naturally there. Zephira was impressed when the slave trader smiled and shrugged, then shook her hand. She had the right attitude - living and learning was the whole point of being immortal.
Zephira buckled on a collar round the slaveboy's thin neck and clipped a leash to it, binding the boy's hands behind his back with rope, cutting into his flesh so he knew who owned him now. She led him briskly away, while Muffin trailed behind, her hands on her fulsome hips and a girlish pout on her face, forever the eighteen year old she'd been when Zephira had bought her. Zephira sensed a question forming in the nymph's filthy little mind.
"What is it, slavegirl?"
"He's very ... thin, mistress. Will he be able to keep up?"
"You can't see what I see in his mind, Muffin. And he won't be thin for long."