This is the story from the beginning. I have written quite a lot but it is far from finished. You have to imagine the setting yourself, an ancient looking fantasy land with people and places with silly names. And yes, it is very inspired by the Gor stories by John Lange (aka John Norman). I think my world is a little less brutal, though, but we’ll see.

It was a beautiful day, the day I was taken. I had gone to the market with my friends as we often did in the morning. I knew nothing about what would occur, everything was decided without me knowing anything. It was nothing unusual in that. This kind of matters were never discussed with girls like me. Even if it would affect you profoundly.

I was together with my friends sitting by the fountain relaxing a little after having finished the shopping. As always we had lots of things to carry home and the road was long so we thought we deserved a short break with our feet in the cool water. We talked and giggled and sang as young girls always do when together. I was happy at that moment. Not a worry in the world.

I didn’t notice the men who walked up to us. I didn’t notice until I herd a harsh voice calling my name.

‘Calissa! For you are Calissa, the daughter of the blacksmith Cajol?’

I stood up as a young girl should do in the presence of men.

‘I am, master’ I answered sensing my heart beating in my chest. The fact that this man addressed me indicated something bad, I knew that. I wondered what I was accused of doing. I took for granted that there was some wrongdoing being done and that I had been accused of it. I could not imagine the real reason for this man talking to me.

I was soon to be told the grim reason for his address. He didn’t give me much time for preparations.

‘Strip!’ he ordered with his stern voice.

I was bewildered.

‘But, why, master?’ I managed to ask.

‘You are to be taken to the slave pens.’

‘No, master, that must be some mistake, I am free.’

I felt my cheeks blush.

‘You are the property of master Firul and will be taken to the slave pens on his behalf.’

‘I am not the property of master Firul, master, that is a mistake.’

‘Will you strip or shall I order my men to strip you?’

‘But, please, master, I do not understand.’

‘The papers are in order,’ he replied.

He didn’t prove it by showing me the papers. I could read, it was not that. It was, simply not done.

‘But, master, who could have…?’

‘Strip now, girl!’

‘My father can’t have. Please, master, do not tell me, my father has sold me!’

‘I think he has. Will you strip now?’

I was overwhelmed, distraught. I sat down on the fountain and covered my face in my hands, weeping. I couldn’t believe what was happening. My mind was in turmoil.

I heard the men in the company of the master who had addressed me, obviously his servants, approach me. I immediately stood up. I realised I had to comply. Nothing could be more embarrassing than having those men strip me there in the street.

‘Please, master, wait, I will do as you wish.’

The man held back his servants with a gesture of his hand.

I looked up at the man in despair. My fingers fumbled with the cord around my waist. I felt numb.

‘Please, master, can’t I take my clothes off later?’

‘It is not customary,’ he answered and I knew he was right.

I looked around and my friends watched in horror. I felt their sympathy to be another burden for me.

I untied the cord around my waist and hesitated. The man looked annoyed but he didn’t say anything.

‘Please, master.’

The man didn’t answer but gestured with his hand and his servants started to move.

‘Wait, wait, please, master, I will obey.’

He held them back.

My hands trembled as I slipped the dress from my shoulders. There was a sense of loss as I felt it slide over my body. I held it as it slipped from me and then I stepped out of it. The man held out his hand and I gave him my dress and the cord that used to hold it in place.

For a while I just stood there, feeling utterly naked, blushing, my heart pounding in my chest, full of shame and anguish.

The man didn’t say anything, he just pointed at my hip. For some reason I didn’t dare to protest. My fumbling fingers untied the knot at my hip and I slipped off my minimal breech cloth. Now I was naked.

‘Now, girl, kneel!’

I fell to my knees and hunched my back, trying to cover up, overcome with shame and embarrassment.

‘Straighten your back!’

I did as I was told. I sat up and suddenly I saw all the people who had gathered around us. It was a bit of entertainment to see a girl being enslaved like this. I wiped the tears from my eyes and tried to look calm.

‘Knees apart.’

My heart beat and extra beat at hearing this. This was the ultimate shame, having to kneel like a slave.

I obeyed him while my whole body trembled.

‘Wider!’

I cried as I obeyed him.

My head swirled and my cheeks were hot as I knelt on the cobbled street in front of the fountain, naked and with knees apart like a slave girl.

The man knelt behind me and took my arms and crossed them behind my back. He then bound me and put a rope around my neck as a leash.

‘Stand up!’

I obeyed him.

He didn’t say anything but took my leash and led me away from the market square. Everyone was watching me and I knew that this would be the topic of most conversations for a long period of time. I marched behind him, bound and naked and everyone in the square could see me in my shame and humiliation. I cried and lowered my gaze. I couldn’t bear to see them watch me.

My mind couldn’t grasp what was happening. I had been enslaved but I couldn’t believe it was true. My father had sold me to Firul. But why? Did he hate me or were we poor? I didn’t knew we were poor.

It was a long walk of shame for me, through the streets of our town. We left the square and suddenly I was not news any more. Someone looked up and saw me but there was nothing unusual in a slave girl being led through the streets like this. Some of the men looked me over and smiled at what they saw and others were not concerned at all. Some women looked with contempt and others with pity.

It felt slightly easier being unknown and not noticed but I was still crying, I was still in turmoil. At one occasion we passed some older women from my village and they looked at me intensely and pointed and I heard them talking. They would surely report this to the village. I felt even more humiliated then.

At last we came to the pens. It was a big grey building encircled by a high wall and although I had often seen it and even seen the slave girls being marched in and out of it, I had never seen it from the inside. Now I was admitted through a small door and taken across the courtyard to a flanking building. The courtyard was empty except for a long row of sturdy poles set along the wall of the main building. From the poles hung heavy chains and collars. I had heard of how the pens sometimes put slaves up for sale on this courtyard and I assumed the girls then was fastened to the poles for display.

We went into the smaller building and the darkness of the room felt cool against my hot skin. I was told to kneel in front of a pulpit like piece of furniture at one end of the room and I obeyed. I remembered to spread my knees although it made me blush again. In some ways I was more humiliated by kneeling in this room in front of the men from the pen than in the open. I felt more naked and vulnerable here alone with them than in the square.

I knelt there for a long time and the man left with one of the servants leaving the other to keep an eye on me. I shivered. I was scared that the young man would take advantage of the situation and try to touch me or even worse. He didn’t. He just sat on a bench looking bored.

For some reason I found this a bit humiliating and in my mind I wondered if there were many far more prettier girls that he thought of as he was guarding me, girls he rather fondled than me. The thought made me feel even more horrible although I was happy he didn’t touch me.

At last an old man came in and sat down behind the pulpit. He came together with the man who had taken me from the square. He handed a bunch of papers to the old man who started reading them and taking notes on another scroll. The old man looked kind.

‘What have we here, Calissa, the daughter of the blacksmith Cajol from Motilya, sold to master Firul for…’ He didn’t finish the sentence. It was not customary to tell an enslaved girl her price. The only ones who got to know their value was the ones sold at an auction or those who heard the men bargaining for her.

I froze. I realized that I might be sold at an auction. Everyone from the village would be there and they would see me in my shame and see me sold. My friends would take pity on me but most of the girls and boys would love to see me being sold. And if I brought a low price they would talk about it and say that I was not worth more. My heart started pounding again as I thought about being sold and how slave girls often were sold in the nude or even worse, were stripped in the presence of everyone.

‘You are Calissa, aren’t you?’ he said in his soft voice.

‘Yes, master,’ I answered.

‘Good,’ he said, ‘take her to pen 13!’

I was taken through a door and marched down a long corridor. I felt lonely and exposed and very scared as I hurried on bare feet behind the guard who lead me through the building.

We passed many doors, some guarded by men with whips in their belts. I shivered at the sight of those men and the thought that I was at their mercy now. I had seen slave girls being whipped and knew how they reacted. I had been young and stupid and enjoyed the sight with my friends although I had been scared and horrified by the brutality. Now I realised that it might happen to me and the thought was unbearable.

We went through doors and gates and down winding stairs and at last we came to the pens. We went through a big door and suddenly the sound of the pens assaulted my ears. I felt the presence of many people although it took a while for me to see where they were. The big room had pillars and aisles and parts of it was sealed off by iron bars. This was the pens. Behind the bars were the slaves. I saw dozens and dozens of women and girls, sitting and lying on the floors of the pens. Only a few of them had the skimpiest of clothes. Most of them were naked. They looked dirty and exhausted but I could see that many of them were beautiful. They were mostly young women, some of them just girls, some as young as ten, maybe. Some of them wore chains and some were bound but most of them were just naked.

My guard handed a note to another guard and then a door made of iron bars was opened and I was led through that door. My leash was removed and my bounds around my hands were cut. Then the door was slammed behind me. I was now confined in the pens.

The other girls looked at me. No one spoke. I shivered as I looked for a place to sit. I found an empty spot by a stone pillar that formed part of the wall and sat down. I crouched and hid my face in my arms and cried. I was a prisoner. I was a slave. I was property.

An hour ago I had been a young, happy girl sitting with her friends at the fountain after having run my errands and now I was naked and locked up in the slave pens. I couldn’t understand it. I had been sold by my father to master Firul and now I was property. I had been the daughter of a blacksmith. I had been the daughter of a honorable man, a wealthy man. Now I was nothing, an animal, someone who could be bought and sold. I was owned. I was property. I was young and now my life was destroyed, at least the life I knew. It was gone forever. There is no way back if you once have been enslaved. You can’t own anything as a slave. Everything that is yours, your clothes, your things and your body and soul belong to your owner. You are property and property may be given to someone but nothing can be given to you so you can never get your freedom back.

I thought about the fact that I hadn’t been branded yet. I wondered if that meant that I wasn’t technically a slave yet. Maybe I was still free and the process of enslaving was on its way but was not finished? Maybe I could still be freed? I felt despair since I could do nothing about it from the pens, my hopes rested with someone else. My father had sold me and if he didn’t change his mind I would become a slave for real. I wanted to bring him here and beg him to take me back. If he would see his youngest daughter naked in the pens he might change his mind and set me free. I wished for that.

My father never came, no one came for me. I was left on my own, naked and deprived of everything. I cried in misery. My heart was in despair.

I don’t know how long I sat there engulfed in my own misfortune but after a while I heard a rustling beside me and looked up. I saw the smiling face of another girl. She didn’t say anything, she just looked at me, still smiling.

‘Leave me alone!’ I said.

‘Hi, I am Miro, at least for the time being,’ she said ignoring my words.

‘What do you mean?’ I said in a very unfriendly voice.

‘You know,’ she said, ‘slaves don’t really have names, your Master may change it at any time.’

‘I am not a slave,’ I blurted out.

‘I guess you are free as a bird,’ Miro replied.

This brought some giggles from the other women and girls.

I looked at her in anger and saw her still smiling. She hadn’t meant to mock me, her smile seemed to tell me that. She looked kind.

‘Sorry, Miro,’ I said.

‘No offence taken,’ she said and looked at me.

She was shorter than me, I guessed, although we were on the floor. She was slim and delicate. She had black hair, brown eyes and her skin was a light olive, much darker than my pale being. As she leaned forward her tiny breasts tried to dangle but as she sat back I saw that they fitted her slim body very well. She was a very good looking young girl of my own age, I thought.

Miro told me she came from a village to the south and that she had been enslaved a month ago when her family had fallen in debt. She belonged to master Guur who was renowned for his riches and power. She had been in the pens for three weeks and didn’t, still, know what fate awaited her.

She seemed not to be too concerned with being enslaved which puzzled me. How could anyone not be concerned? I imagined that some of the older girls, the ones who had been slaves for a year or more, would have become used to it and accepted it but Miro was new to it, just as I was.

Miro laughed a lot and told jokes and tried her best to cheer me up. She was kind to me and stroked the hair from my forehead as I was crying and comforted me. She hugged me and held me as we slept. At first this intimacy felt strange and frightening and something that was not to be. It was a strange sensation feeling her naked body cuddling up to mine but soon I found some comfort in her presence.

I was ashamed of being naked and felt humiliated at the thought of someone touching me. I had been a free girl and I was used to keeping my body to myself. This is not allowed for a slave and soon I was shown that physical contact for a slave was not always of the soft kind that Miro provided.

In the first evening as I sat in my place, and only a couple of hours had passed since my capture, two guards came into the big room laughing and roaring. They grabbed a set of keys on the guard’s table and walked among the pens. They decided on our pen and slammed the door open. They came in and all the slaves in the pen shrunk back. One of the men grabbed a blond girl and threw her on the floor. She screamed but did not dare to fight him as he mounted her. She cried in misery as he took her as a desperate bull takes his mate. The other guard browsed the slaves and his eyes fell on Miro.

He put his arm around her waist and lifted her. He placed her on all four and knelt behind her. He grabbed her hips and took her as the dogs do.

The blond girl was some years older than me and she screamed and cried out in agony. Miro seemed calmer. She didn’t smile any longer and she bit her lip as he entered her but she didn’t scream or cry. She seemed calm up until the man started to groan and grunt, then I saw her face contort a little and she closed her eyes. She cried out a little as the man gave a low grunt and stopped pumping in her.

The men left and I was in shock. I looked at Miro who was lying panting on the floor. She was lying on her side, her body prostrated in quite an attractive way. She was affected but she looked content rather than horrified. I was amazed by that.

She scrambled to her knees after a while.

‘I am sorry, Miro,’ I said.

‘He is a brute,’ she said, ‘but some are far worse.’

‘Does he do it often to you?’ I asked staring at her.

‘Not that often, but it happens,’ she gave me a kind of smile now.

‘How horrible,’ I said.

‘You will have to get used to it,’ she said, ‘a slave’s body is for her Master.’

I shrugged in horror as I realised she was right.

I froze at the thought of what I had just witnessed could happen to me. I knew it most probably would but I was terrified. Still there were something in Miro’s expression that told me that the pleasure had not been entirely on the side of the brute. I couldn’t understand that and at that moment I almost despised her, my only friend in the pens.

Miro and the other women in the pen helped me through those first horrible days. We did nothing, just sat there and talked and waited. We were twenty three naked women and girls locked up in a cage. In the room there were seven other pens full of slaves.

My fellow captives turned out to be a good bunch of people. There was jealousy and anger between some of them but all of them took pity on me and treated me kindly. I felt a bit patronised by this but it helped me through the worst of my ordeal.

I couldn’t say I got used to sitting naked on the floor of the pen but after a while the worst of the shock settled down. I was able to forget my agony for short whiles and even laugh at some jokes and enjoy the songs we sang.

Miro took a shine to me and I enjoyed her company. She seemed amazingly content and happy although I knew she missed her family in the nights when she cuddled up to me and I put my arms around her. I started to enjoy sensing her body close to mine, it gave me comfort.

I was spared the brutes. No one had me there in the pens although some of them seemed to like Miro and the other women very much. It was obvious that they had favourites and Miro was one of the most favoured. She seemed to find their attention flattering or even pleasing and I could not understand that. I was terrified some of the guards would even touch me.

There was a bit of competition amongst the girls about the attention of the guards. The blond girl who had been screaming when she was taken was new and still in shock but most of the others seemed to accept it or even want it. Some even showed off a bit, thrusting their chest out as the guards walked by. They laughed heartily at that and mocked the girls. Miro never did that. She was just herself but still she was one of the most popular.

When the guards talked about the women, which they did quite openly, they seemed to praise the fully breasted women the most and those with flat bellies and long legs. Miro was short and very slim and had only tiny breasts. Still she was popular with the guards. I didn’t understand that.

I wondered a little why I had been spared and asked Miro if she thought it was due to me being quite small and slim and not having big breasts. Miro shook her head and said that she was convinced that I was off limit to the guards, that is, I was to be spared for my buyer. I shivered at her words and fell silent.

She thought that I was sad because I hadn’t been taken by the guards and assured me she thought me very beautiful. I didn’t believe her but her words felt good anyway.

Miro was a strange being. I came to like her more and more as the time passed. She was always by my side and she seemed to enjoy my company. I couldn’t understand that since I was mostly sour and sullen and unhappy.

I found her looking at me with a strange glimmer in her eyes at times and she seemed overly happy as we cuddled up in each others arms for sleep at night. I was a bit puzzled by this but didn’t think a lot about it.

One night as we were sleeping close to each other I was awaken. We were lying face to face and I saw that Miro was awake. She looked at me in silence. I wasn’t really awake so I looked back into her eyes.

Then she stroked my cheek and I smiled at her, still sleepy, and finding her touch quite soft and nice. I was a bit surprised as I felt her hand move down my cheek and touch my shoulder. I was still dazed and accepted her touch. It felt nice and I think I closed my eyes and smiled.

I opened my eyes as I felt her breath on my face and I saw her face very close to mine. Then she kissed me. She gave me a soft and lovely kiss.

I must have looked puzzled and about to say something because she put her finger on my lips to hush me. She kissed me again and whispered in my ear.

‘It’s ok, just relax!’

She rose to her elbow and leaned forward and kissed me again. My lips responded and I felt her softness against me. She moved her body closer and I felt her hip touch my side. She kissed me again and I kissed her back.

Then she touched me. I felt her hand on my belly and I drew my breath.

‘Hush, just relax!’ she whispered.

I started to breathe more normally again.

I felt her hand stroke my belly and the sensation scared me. It felt very good having her hand on my body.

A part of me told me it was a dream and that I could embrace what happened. I didn’t protest or move as I felt her hand move further down my body, over my lower belly and then, slowly, in between my thighs. A rush of blood to my head told me that her touch stirred up sensations in me that I thought belonged to another place and to another situation.

I was deadly scared she would touch me there, between my thighs and at the same time did my body crave it. It was very strange.

Her circling movements told me she was on her way to me and I held my breath. She kissed me again and then I felt her fingers slip into me. I froze and didn’t breathe for several seconds. I was overcome with the tingling in my sex her fingers arose. Her fingers terrified me at the same time as they made me feel blessed with something strange and very pleasant.

She moved her fingers in my sex and soon I couldn’t control the wave that threatened to carry me away. She seemed to know that it was on its way because her fingers felt more eager now and soon it happened. I dreaded it but it was a bliss. I almost cried out as my sex exploded and took my whole body with it. I can’t describe the sensation that ran through me and overwhelmed me. I had never, ever before, felt anything like it.

As I came around I saw Miro’s smiling face. She looked so tenderly at me that I almost burst out in tears. She stroked my cheek and I started to cry. She embraced me and held me close stroking my hair. It was wonderful sensing her tiny naked body against mine and at that moment I wanted to be nowhere else in the world but in her arms.

I fell asleep and as I woke up I wasn’t sure it had happened at all but the look on the face of Miro told me it was for real. I saw love in her eyes and I smiled at her. I was glad that it was a girl who did it for me the first time.

I knew that such things happened, I had sensed it in the pen at nights but I didn’t think I was like that. I longed for the night now when I would be lying in Miro’s arms. I was ashamed and thought it a wrong thing to do but I couldn’t help being aroused just looking at her. I loved her not only with my heart, now I loved her with my body as well.

I felt shame as I thought about my family and the village and wondered what they would say if they knew, but then I thought about why I was here and how my father had sold me and how I was another man’s property now. Selling your daughter into slavery meant that you knew that her body would soon serve her new owner. Maybe they didn’t think about how her body could satisfy her sisters in bondage. Maybe they would frown and be displeased but I didn’t belong to them any more, for better or for worse.

Miro taught me how to satisfy her and I was happy to oblige. She taught me how to kiss and I soon became an eager pupil. I was still shy and very much ashamed but I liked it.

Sometimes the girls in the pen started to chant and someone would get up and dance. I was shocked at first as I saw them dance. Their dance was brazen and revealing and very daring. They moved their hips and made all sorts of sensuous and embarrassing movements. Miro was a wonderful dancer. She swung her hips and shook her chest as no other girl in the pen. She was a natural talent. I blushed as I saw her because I saw in her dance her needs, her desires and vulnerability. Deep inside me I envied her that ability to express herself so openly although I was ashamed on her behalf because she seemed to show everything, her inner secrets.

I was prompted to dance as well but I was stiff as a stick compared to the other girls. I tried to move a bit but I blushed and soon I sat down.

On one of those occasions I stepped out in front of them and this time I let the song take me over. I moved a little freer and I felt a kind of elation as I swung my hips. I lost control for a second and danced. I heard the other girls cheer as I moved.

I was blushing as I sat down because I felt I had acted silly. I had moved without thinking and I was sure I had looked terrible.

Miro looked at me as I looked up after a while. She smiled but looked very sincere at the same time.

‘You have it in you,’ she said.

‘Don’t be silly,’ I said, blushing.

‘I am not,’ she said looking serious, ‘you have it in you, just let go and you will be the best.’

I didn’t answer but her words stayed with me.

I had been in the pens for three weeks and my misery still overwhelmed me although the presence of Miro and the kindness of most of the other girls made it bearable. I was happy having met Miro but I still wanted to be free and come back to my old life, although I knew it was not possible.

One day it all changed. The pens were only for safekeeping of girls waiting to be sold or transferred. There were always slaves coming and going. I was worried they would take me away or take Miro away and separate us but I tried not to think like that.

I was completely unprepared when the day, finally, came. Suddenly the guards slammed the door to our pen open and stood in the midst of us.

‘Now, my little cat, it is your turn to be sold,’ one of the guards said as he turned to Miro and held out his hand. She was immediately on her feet, an obedient slave girl. He took her by the arm and spun her round. He waved to another guard who brought a heavy iron yoke.

Miro looked miserable but determined as he put the heavy iron on her shoulders and locked it shut around her throat. She obediently held up her hands to be locked in the yoke. The man was the same brute who seemed to be most fond of Miro and I sensed a certain kindness in the way he treated her. He was very matter of factly as he fastened her to the heavy iron yoke but he showed no impatience or harshness. He even smiled at her.

There she stood in the pen locked in a heavy yoke that weighted on her shoulders and cut into her flesh. I was devastated and looked on in horror as I realized what it meant. My beloved Miro was to be taken away from me.

The brute slapped her buttocks and made her move forward. I rose to my feet and stood at the bars and watched as she was led to the big door in the big room. Just before she left she turned a little, as much as she could, and looked at me.

‘Bye, Calissa, bye my love.’

‘Don’t leave me Miro,’ I screamed as she walked out of the pens. The guards laughed at my outburst as I sank back on the floor.

I was distraught, I was devastated. I was unhappy and miserable. The only thing that made my life bearable in this hell was Miro and now she had been taken away from me. I cried in anger and frustration.

I had only to stay in the pen for three more days. Master Firul had, finally, decided what to do with me. The guards came for me one day but they did not bring a yoke or even a chain for me. They just put a rope around my throat and led me away. It was another day for them but for me it was the first time in almost a month I had set my foot outside the pens.

My body shivered as I followed on my leash. The men walked in silence. The daylight hit my eyes as we crossed a courtyard. It was lovely to see the sun again, though.

I was led to a building were water came in through a pipe in the wall and poured into a kind of pool in the corner. I was told to wash myself in the water.

In the pen we were sometimes given a little water for washing but it was too little and too seldom for a proper wash. Being able to cleanse my body was heavenly. The water was cold but I relished the opportunity to be clean again.

I felt like a new girl as I stepped out of the pool and for a second I was not aware that I was completely naked in the presence of men.

I was taken to a very light and clean room were I was ordered to kneel on the floor. Although we always greeted the guards in the pen on our knees and legs widely apart, kneeling like that in this room felt extremely embarrassing. Maybe it was because the room looked like a normal room and that I was, suddenly again, a part of the normal world, a world I had re-entered as a lowly slave exposing her body for anyone to see.

I knelt on the stone floor for a long time and at last an old man came in. He had me stand up with my hands on my head while he examined me. His hands pinched me and probed me and almost caressed me. He took my small breasts in his hands, pinched them and pulled at them, he pressed his fingers in my belly and looked in my mouth, examining my teeth. I felt like an animal at a market and in many ways I was.

Most degrading was his examination of my sex. He took his time probing my sex with his dry fingers. It felt intrusive, intimate and very humiliating. I suddenly remembered Miro’s fingers and felt tears welling up in my eyes. I suppressed them as well as I could and tried to concentrate on the strange sensation of the man’s fingers in my sex.

The thought of Miro made me almost aroused and I couldn’t get rid of that feeling as his fingers felt their way inside me.

Finally he withdrew and I was blushing. He turned to the guards.

‘She is still a virgin’

‘Good.’

That was all that was said. Then I was led away.

I was taken to a small room with no windows. Down the middle of the room run a heavy iron bar raised from the floor some twenty centimeters. I was told to lie down on my back and put my ankles on the bar. Heavy shackles were produced and I was secured to the bar. Then they left me.

I was lying on my back shackled to the bar on the hard stone floor. I was alone and miserable and realized that I was probably to be sold soon or moved to a new place were I could serve as a real slave.

I had no idea what this meant although I could imagine it meant a lot of hard work and possibly that I would have to serve some man with my body. Miro had made me think of other things but now my head was full of fear of the future. I didn’t know what would happen to me but I knew it was going to be horrible.

I spent hours at the bar and at last I fell asleep. In my troubled dreams I saw fat men who looked at me and drooled as they saw me. They told me they had bought me and I was to serve them with my body.

I woke up with my heart pounding. I knew that my nightmare may soon come true.

The guards came after a long while to get me. They were almost cheerful and tried to comfort me. That was unusual. It filled me with fear more than anything.

I was led into a room lit by candles and lamps hanging from the walls. It was a nice room with carpets on the floor and some cushions at one end around a low table. A slave girl was standing to one side carrying a tray with glasses and a tea pot. She was magnificent. She was clad only in a breech cloth that consisted of glimmering golden chain around her hips, way below her navel. From this chain hung a long thin red silken cloth at the front. It was fairly narrow and covered only her sex although I saw that it continued between her legs and hung down behind her as well. She had a golden arm ring and a thin necklace. Her hair was arranged with pearls and gold. She was blond and tall and extremely beautiful. She had round and proud breasts that were not heavy but far larger than mine. Her rosy nipples were erect and she stood as a statue.

I was placed on my knees in the middle of the room and although I spread my legs wide the guard was not satisfied until he had gently kicked them further apart. I was completely opened up as I sat and I envied the other slave her clothes.

I lowered my gaze as the guards left the room and when I was alone with the girl I dared look at her again. She ignored me but I could not stop admiring her. She was fantastic. I knew she was a slave but she looked so proud, so beautiful. Her body was perfect in every sense. Her proud breasts looked perfect on her slim and tall body.

At last two men came in. One was the old man that had received me the first day and the other was a fairly fat man that was far younger. He was 40, maybe 50, years old and had eaten too much good food. He wasn’t enormous but still you could call him fat. He was dressed in a red and golden robe and had a kind of elaborate turban on his head. He looked like a merchant or a landlord of a wealthy tavern.

He placed his body on the cushions and the old man sat down cross legged by his side. The old man signalled for the slave girl to serve the tea. She obliged with very sensuous and graceful movements. She was the perfect girl in every sense and I couldn’t understand what I was doing there. I was nothing compared to her, although, I knew I was the one they had come to discuss.

I lowered my gaze as I knew was expected of a slave girl. I knew very little about how slaves were to conduct themselves but I wanted to appear obedient knowing that I would most probably be punished if I was not. I didn’t want to be punished. I had seen slave girls taste the whip.

The two men proceeded to talk in a friendly way as I sat there. They completely ignored me as they had their tea. They talked about politics and commerce and exchanged news. I heard and understood what they were talking about but the information seemed to mean nothing to me. Four weeks ago I would have been eager to listen and learn but now I belonged to another world. The things the men talked about was for free persons not for slaves.

Suddenly the old man addressed me. He called me ‘slave’ but something in his voice told me he meant me rather than the beautiful girl standing in the corner. I felt that if he had called for her he would have said something far more delicate and soft. I was an untrained girl and needed to be addressed in a stern voice.

I looked up and saw the old man wave me forward. I rose to my feet and hurried forward. He stopped me with his hand and I stood still. I wondered if I should kneel but he seemed pleased with having there me standing.

‘So this is the slave?’ the fat man said.

‘Yes, she is the one,’ the old man answered.

‘She is very young.’

‘She is seventeen years of age.’

‘She looks younger.’

‘I can assure you,’ the old man said.

‘No need, I believe you.’

‘She is very small,’ the fat man continued.

‘Small but delicate,’ the old man said and I blushed.

‘She blushes, I like that.’

The old man looked pleased.

‘She is not trained,’ the fat man said.

‘She is not trained.’

‘What am I to say? You bring me a skinny young girl with no training. What am I to do with her?’

‘She is a gift but if you do not like her we will try to sell her and you will get the money.’

I blushed at those words. I was enslaved and got nothing in return and if they sold me someone else would take the profit.

‘No, no, I will take her.’ The fat man waved his hand. ‘She wouldn’t bring much. I will have to train her myself.’

‘Master Firul will be very happy that you accept his gift.’

‘She is a virgin?’

‘I can assure you,’ the old man said.

I blushed again.

The old man pointed to the floor and I knelt trying to spread my legs as wide as the guard had shown me before. I felt embarrassed by this and thought I saw the fat man glancing at my sex.

I felt anger well up in me at this man looking so brazenly at me and not hiding his gaze. He took the liberty of looking at my body. I was not used to men looking at me like this. The men from the village would never do that.

I felt a pang of loss at the thought of the village and then I realized how futile my anger was. If I was given to the fat man he could look at my body and at my sex as much as he wanted because I was his property now and he could do what he wanted with me. I shivered at the thought of the fat man not only wanting to look at my sex but to touch it and do other things with it.

The men finished their tea and the fat man called forward a servant that bound my hands on my back and put a leash on my throat. I was led away, the property of the fat man.

I was led to his carriage and the servant helped me climb into the back of it. The fat man sat up beside the driver and we drove off. I sat in the dark of the back of the carriage among bundles of cloth and sealed pots filled with something I couldn’t even guess what it was. I was placed there among the fat man’s other possessions.

I heard the men talking in the front and the fat man chuckled as he told the driver about his gift.

‘I really like the young ones with their perky breasts,’ he said and burst out laughing. I was a bit bewildered by this since he had seemed to be so displeased with me earlier.

I leaned back and pondered on this and to my own shame I felt a tingling of pride that this fat man, my new owner, found me attractive.

The canvas around the carriage was tied shut so I couldn’t peep through and see were I was going and being bound made it a bit scary to move around too much. I sat down among the fat man’s possessions and tried to think about my destiny. I couldn’t see the future as anything but blank. The days in the pens were awful, except for Miro, but I hadn’t really dared to think about what would happen to me. When I realized that I was a slave it filled me with horror and dread so my mind tended to move away from that.

It was different now. I was on my way to a new place and a new life and I had no idea what it was. I didn’t even know the name of the fat man or his profession. He seemed wealthy though. I didn’t doubt that he would make me work for my keep and work hard but what kind of work?

He seemed to find me, at least, a little attractive and my heart beat faster as I thought about what he might do to me. I wept as I realized that he would most likely want to use me for his pleasures at some point or let someone else do it. I had seen how the guards used the girls in the pen and I didn’t think I would be spared for too long.

Still the purpose of acquiring me might be to put me to work. He had been given me as a gift but he most probably had some business that needed laborers and I assumed he had slaves for that. Now I was one of his slaves.

He looked as if he might own a wealthy tavern or be a merchant or maybe he was the head of a circus or a traveling theater. There was an air of flamboyance around him that seemed to go together with a profession in the public eye but that was only my strange speculations. He might be anyone and do anything.

I was happy getting out of the pens though. I would get to see the light of day and I would get to move around and not be confined to one spot all the time. I knew I wasn’t free but a slave in work may move more freely than a slave in the pens.

And maybe I would get clothes. The though made me cheer up a bit. I had been naked for nearly a month and had never got used to it. Girls like Miro seemed to revel in being naked or didn’t seem to care too much but I was constantly aware of the fact that I was nude and that anyone could see me. I was more used to it now but it was still an ordeal. It was far worse here out in real life than down in the pens but I still had the hope of getting clothes.

Slaves most often wore clothes although more revealing than free women. It is true that a slave girl may be stripped naked any time and quite often were even in public places but most often she got to wear clothes.

Our journey didn’t last long so I assumed we were still in town. As I peeped out of the carriage I saw a courtyard and some buildings around it. A young man helped me out of the carriage lifting me in his strong arms and putting me on the ground. I stood shivering trying to take in as much as I could of the surroundings.

The wall around the courtyard was high but it was crowned with ivy or something similar. A big tree gave shade and flowerpots hung from chains at the wall of the big building. This was a far more welcoming courtyard than that of the pens. Still I was a slave and still I was naked and bound.

I was led into a building that looked like a stable or something similar. There were crude beds along one wall and straw mattresses along the other. Some plates were neatly piled in one corner. The small windows had bars.

There were no one there besides me and the young man who had led me there closed the door and locked me in without taking off the ropes around my arms. I was left alone in the quarters awaiting my new destiny.

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