The Amazon Ch. 04: The Slave Auction

The ship heeled in a strong offshore breeze, and Kussara's ears were filled with the jangling of chains. Yet she did not despair, for her nightmarish journey about Last Wish was nearly at an end. Whatever horrors awaited her onshore, at least she would be free of this ship and its crew.

"Make ready to march!" called Razir as he descended the ship's steps. "We're coming into port within the hour, and then you'll all be marching to auction." He chuckled as he looked them over, forty naked Amazons, stained with sweat, spittle, and cum from him and his crew, all chained to the timbers in his hold. "Sorry that our time together has to come to such an early end."

He caught Kussara by her chin and blew her a kiss. She stared murder back at him, but the ship's master was unfazed. "Once we are moored, I'll expect you all to get moving without any bitching and moaning. I have silver to earn, understood?"

No reply was forthcoming, nor did Razir wait for any as he turned and marched himself back up to the deck. Kussara and her fellow prisoners were left waiting while the ship crawled its way into harbor and secured itself to the quay. The ship gently thudded to a halt and then moved no more.

Yet it was still some time before the crew gathered them for their march. For perhaps another hour, Kussara and her Amazons were left waiting while activity continued above them. Shouts went back and forth, some in the Common tongue that ruled the world of trade in the Devouring Sea, and which Kussara understood to some small extent, but she could not make out what the delay was.

At last, Razir descended into the hold again with much of his crew in tow, and the unshackling began. Kussara welcomed her release from the chains, even if she was immediately chained again to her sisters. They were formed into a long coffle, wrapping around the hold in its length, with Kussara at the head. At the all-too-familiar crack of a whip, she began to march.

Her naked feet trod the steps, then the deck planks, and in the bright sun she squinted as she looked around. The harbor was as busy as any she had ever seen, with ships from near and far packed against the wharf and anchored in the open water. Small boats rowed between the great hulls, carrying cargo and crew to and fro. Great galleons were moored across from small luggers while steep-sided fluyts bobbed on anchor chains.

Ashore, a long, wide street curved from one harbor tower to the other, its landward face studded with warehouses, taverns, brothels, and inns. Longshoremen were hard at work, carrying crates from a three-masted barque into a brick warehouse directly across from Last Wish's gangplank. The crew stopped her there, led by the hulking minotaur who leered at her from under shaggy brows.

He was naked, still, as he always seemed to be, and the sight of Kussara and her naked sisters was hardening his cock. Gaulrus laid a huge hand on her breast again, squeezing her for what she hoped was one last time as he stroked his cock.

"They are sad to see you go," called Razir, marshaling his slaves on the main deck. "Many of my men did not get to fuck all the women they wanted while you were aboard. No matter, they will soon have coin to spend on the city's whores, and then we will sail for the Amazon Isles again for more slaves."

Kussara gritted her teeth, trying not to think of other Amazons who might fall into the same predicament. She endured the minotaur's hairy groping as her sisters slowly assembled for the march. Other crewmen were taking their last chances, and she heard the familiar clapping of flesh on flesh as one of them took an unfortunate Amazon from behind against the main mast. Gaulrus moved on, finding another Amazon to satisfy him, and Kussara gritted her teeth against the stares.

She stood waiting at the gangplank, feeling the eyes of both the crew and those working on the wharf. A crowd was beginning to gather to ogle her, and she imagined that it would only grow when they realized she was just the first of many. Razir formed his crew at the base of the gangplank in a protective wedge, all of them armed with spears and clubs to keep back the overeager.

At last, he gave the signal for them to move, and Kussara led their march. She marched gingerly down the gangplank, all too aware that one wrong step on her shaky legs would send her into the harbor, with all her sisters chained to her as well.

Yet she reached the cobblestone of the wharf without falling, and there fell in behind two crewmen with spears crossed over their chests. The ogling crowd pressed in closer, some no doubt angling to grab at a naked warrior, but the stern faces and bared blades served to keep them back, for now.

Despite her peril, Kussara could not help but marvel at the city around her. It was ten times the size of any city she had been in, surpassing even the great Amazon city of Skyrra. Over the rooftops of brick and tile, she spied golden domes rising beneath high, pointed spires.

This could only be Jalara, city of Zahir's great sultan. She wondered if they were bound for the sultan's harem, for rumors told of the mighty potentate's vast collection of concubines gathered from all corners of the world and the luxury they enjoyed while serving his pleasure.

The coffle turned up a wide street lined with coffeehouses and lounges where men smoked pipes. The crowd that followed them from Last Wish dogged their every step, catcalling and whistling, but now they were joined by men who could not raise themselves from their seats to leer at the procession of naked women marching by.

Kussara felt tears sting her eyes again and turned her gaze to the street. She prayed their walk was short, wherever it was taking them. It seemed the whole city was turning out to torment them, for a growing crowd ran alongside the coffle, hurling taunts and refuse at them. Her guards did nothing to stop it, keeping their steely gaze fixed straight ahead.

They turned again, and now ahead of them stood a tall, wide building with an archway in its center. Kussara's escorts silently led her under the archway, her sisters trailing in tow. They filed into a courtyard and waited, their coffle snaking back and forth between them as they waited in rows, like warriors before an expedition, but also not like that at all. A tall, thin man with a hawk-like nose emerged from the shadowed depths of the building and exchanged words with Razir. The ship's master showed his goods, and the newcomer stroked his chin in thought.

The pair of them moved along the coffle, inspecting each naked woman as Razir had done on the beach outside Arzogh. Kussara endured yet another humiliation silently, and at last the pair agreed on a price. Silver was carried forth in sacks and set before the ship's master, who weighed it briefly, and then shook hands with the other man. Razir and his men strode away, hopefully to never be seen again, and the newcomer turned to address his new slaves.

"I am Hassan, and you will obey me now. I am master of this auction house. In the morning, you will be sold, but until then you will treat me as your master. If I must deal out pain, I will not leave a mark for your new masters to see, but rest assured that you will feel pain nonetheless. But now, to the baths, for you all look filthy and hardly worth a dirham at auction."

An army of servants emerged and gently but firmly guided Kussara and her sisters into the building. They were led down a wide stairwell and emerged into a subterranean bathhouse. Their chains were undone, and they were ushered into the bath.

At once, Kussara felt days of filth and abuse wash away. She had not enjoyed a bath since leaving Amra, and even after ravishment and a prolonged stay in shackles, she felt the bath soothing her worst pains. They lingered as long in the baths as they were allowed. It was not as long as she would have liked, but still longer than expected. When they were at last rousted from the baths, they were fed a meal of bread, meat, and thin wine, then led into a barracks and given bunks of thin sheets and straw--far more luxury than the slavers' ship had provided.

In these conditions, she was not surprised to fall asleep at once.

---

The following morning, they were herded again into the barracks courtyard and shackled together. Hassan appeared when all was ready, garishly costumed as he ascended to the howdah of his camel. The beast then plodded out the archway with the naked Amazons following behind.

The walk to the slave market was thankfully short, and the crowds mostly too busy to harass them on their way. Yet some enterprising men still dogged their course, and one young man who got too close was beaten by the guards.

With the camel still in the lead, the coffle debouched into the market. It was a wide-open space filled with many brightly colored stalls of cotton or even silk, all within sight of the sultan's golden domes. On the near side of the market was a raised platform of brick, beside which Hassan halted his camel. The slaves were driven onto the platform as he dismounted, and a crowd began to gather. He dispatched hawkers throughout the crowd, calling out in many tongues to those who might be interested.

The first of her warriors to reach her spot under the platform's awning, Kussara stopped to consider the crowd as it gathered. They were a varied lot, and while most looked Zahiri, nearly half were from far off lands that she did not all recognize. There were dwarves with gold and jewels woven into their beards, dark-skinned men in many-colored kaftans, pirate lords of all colors and sizes, Qanghi horselords of the desert, a veiled Zahiri woman seated on a camel and shaded by a silk canopy, and even a handful of elves--a people she had never seen before and knew only through legends.

Yet she saw no Aurians. Though that great empire was distant, there were few places in the Devouring Sea that were not within its reach. She wondered whether she would still end up a slave in Auria, for she did not dare to hope that this would be here final destination. She had sold prisoners into slavery before and knew that a slave was often sold many times before reaching a master who put them to work.

The woman raised her curiosity. As much as she dreaded being a man's slave, she wondered whether a woman would be worse. By her estimation, her situation would be either much better or much worse, and she reckoned it was an even chance which was which.

Still, she could not choose, and her fate was out of her hands at this point. She could only pray to the gods for mercy. The Amazons were made to kneel, looking out over the gathering crowd that ogled them with lustful gazes. She shuddered under their gaze.

Kussara had thought herself inured to her nakedness, after the orcs had marched her and ravished her, after the slavers had inspected her like cattle, then chained her naked to the ship's timbers and ravished her for six days, and then after being made to march nude through the streets of Jalara. But now, as she faced the prospect of being sold to a master who might keep her as a prized pleasure slave or else turn her out to the patrons of their brothel, she felt her nakedness more keenly than ever.

The crowd seemed to take notice. As the square filled, they pressed toward the platform in numbers so great that even Hassan's guards strained to keep them back. Grasping hands reached for them, wet tongues licked hungry lips, and they called out in tongues that Kussara considered herself fortunate to not understand.

While all this happened, Hassan stood on the platform, watching and smiling. At last, he decided that it was time to begin. He called to his guards, who made a renewed push to drive back the overeager crowd, then made his way to the center of the platform. A single guard climbed the platform beside him, a key in hand. Hassan stopped at the platform edge and held up his hands.

The crowd quieted, though their energy remained. Hassan spoke.

"Let us begin," he called in the Common tongue, and the crowd cheered. At once, they were pushing and shoving their way forward again. Like a pack of hungry dogs, they slobbered at the sight of meat before them. Kussara shrank at the sight of them, wishing she could melt into the platform and fall to the center of the world.

She felt a shadow fall over her and found the courage to look up. The guard with the key was unlocking Nesa's collar. Kussara felt the color drain from her face. The fate she knew was coming had at long last arrived; she and her warriors were going to be separated, scattered to the four winds. Even if she escaped, she would surely spend years tracking them all down.

"No, wait," she managed to plead in weak protest. The guard ignored her. Holding Nesa by her shackles, he led her to Hassan at the front. He pointed to a short block in front of him and commanded her to stand on it. Nesa hesitated, and he grabbed her by her arm and repeated the command. She quivered as if silently sobbing, then stepped onto the block where she was displayed to all in the crowd.

"For our first item," he called in a powerful voice that cut through the crowd's clamor, "A fire-haired Amazon warrior. All these Amazons are from a war party that came to raid the Broken Chain, only to fall victim to the orcs' cunning. They were once mighty warrior women, but the orcs have reduced them to meek cock slaves through a strict discipline of savage fucking. Now, this one can be yours! Your very own Amazon to fuck, to display in your homes, to impress your guests.

"Look at her!" He bid her turn around, and Nesa slowly obeyed. Kussara felt a tear in her eye at the sight. Nesa could not resist, could not protest. She only shuffled a rotation in place so that the baying crowd could see every inch of her bare body. Nesa, who had been so fiery in arguing for death over surrender. Nesa who had been right. "Look at that hair, those toned muscles... those breasts! Think of cupping those with your hands, of mounting that pink cunt whenever you please...

"A fine whore. Let us start the bidding at three hundred dirhams. Do I see three hundred?"

Kussara distantly wondered how many of those in the crowd could afford such a price. Passing her glassy-eyed gaze over the throng, she saw that most of those here were far too poor. They had just come to watch. There were only a handful who displayed both money and interest in the slaves.

The first of them was the veiled Zahiri woman, seated in the howdah of a richly decorated camel. She raised an olive-skinned hand to signal she would pay three hundred dirhams for Nesa.

"I see three hundred dirhams, do I see four hundred dirhams? I do, I see four hundred dirhams from the man in the green robe. What about five hundred? Five hundred dirhams for the fire-haired Amazonian beauty. Five hundred dirhams, I see five hundred from the dwarf with the long beard. Six hundred, can I get six hundred? Yes, I can. I've got six hundred dirhams from the esteemed captain with the jeweled necklace over there. Now, what about seven hundred? Seven hundred dirhams? Thank you, master elf. Eight hundred? Can I get eight hundred dirhams? There, eight hundred dirhams to the man in the dark blue. Nine hundred? What about nine hundred? Yes! I have nine hundred from madame again. One thousand? Is anyone willing to pay one thousand dirhams for this big-breasted, fire-haired Amazon? No one? Going once, going twice? Sold! One fire-haired Amazonian beauty to the esteemed madame for nine hundred dirhams!"

The guard caught hold of Nesa's chains and marched and pulled her to the edge of the platform, where he handed her over to a servant of the woman on the camel. Hassan laughed as Nesa was escorted naked through the crowd, hands grabbing at her bare flesh.

"No need to get too excited," he called at them, "I'm sure Madame Zubaida will soon have her available for rent at her pillow house. If you cannot afford to buy, why not make your way over there and rent once this auction is over, hm?"

With a wave of his hand Hassan summoned another of Kussara's warriors and quickly sold her to a pirate lord for six hundred dirhams. Kussara wept as her former sister-in-arms was also marched down the stairs and handed over to her new owner, whose broad, lascivious smile told clearly the tale of what was soon to happen once they were away from the square.

The sales went quickly now, the crowd cheering each slave brought to the auction block and each sale. Slowly, Kussara saw her defeated company dwindle. Another to the madame of the pillow house, then Kussara's lodgemate to a Qanghi horseman, one to the dark-skinned man in the kaftan, her former shieldbearer to an elf... it went on and on until there were only a few left, and Hassan summoned Dazida.

"Farewell, strategissa," Dazida whispered as the guard pulled her to her feet.

"Do not lose hope!" Kussara sobbed as her lieutenant was marched away.

"Pray for me," was all that Dazida could say in reply.

"Here we have one of their leaders," called Hassan, "Though she doesn't look like much of a leader now, does she?" The crowd laughed with him, and Dazida hung her head. "Chin up, girl. You might make a better whore than warrior. Not much of a warrior, but at least she's got a pretty face!

"I'll start the bidding at one hundred dirhams. I see one hundred dirhams from the dwarf back there. Do I see two hundred? Yes I do, two hundred dirhams from the elf. Three hundred, I see three hundred dirhams from my friend the Qanghi horselord. Four--four hundred there from master dwarf. He's taken a liking to this one, haven't you? Oh, yes you have! But I see a bid there for five hundred dirhams! Five hundred dirhams from the man in the dark blue robe and turban. Thank you, sir, but I see another bid from master dwarf for six hundred. Do I see seven hundred? Seven hundred? No? Going once, going twice... Sold! To master dwarf for six hundred dirhams. Thank you, sir for attending our auction today, I hope you and your new slut are very happy together."

Dazida staggered off the platform in a daze, right into the arms of her dwarf master. He threw his arms around her and buried his face between her breasts right in front of everyone, eliciting a great cheer. When he pulled back, Kussara could see that his hard cock stood out under his clothes. He grabbed Dazida by the arm and pulled her toward an alley.

"Wait, my good man!" Hassan called. "Surely, you want my men to unlock her shackles first!"

The dwarf considered a moment, then shrugged. His arms crossed, he tapped his fingers on his elbows impatiently while Dazida's chains were removed, then dragged her into an alley with his cock already hanging out of his trousers. Hassan chuckled, then turned and laid his eyes on Kussara. He pointed, and Kussara felt about to throw up.

Her time had come at last.

The guard undid her collar, though it hardly mattered for there were so few left in the coffle. Kussara could not bring herself to stand, but the rough hands on her shoulder hauled her to her feet anyway and, in a daze, she made her way to the auction block beside Hassan.

He smiled proudly at she planted her feet on the block, trying desperately to cover her breasts and sex with her shackled arms. The chain between her wrists hung before her, knocking gently against her knees as she hunched forward and kept her gaze downcast.

Yet she could still feel their eyes. They watched from the market itself, from the windows and balconies of the buildings overlooking the market, and from perches on the pillars and lampposts that were spread throughout the square. She felt hundreds, even thousands, of pairs of eyes upon her, boring even deeper into her body than her nakedness allowed. She was nothing before them, nothing but a thing to be sold for coin.

Some of the faces she had already recognized from the sailors of Last Wish, come to watch her further humiliation. Others were men she had taken note of during the auction of her sisters-in-arms. They had stood out for their rudeness, drunkenness, and cruel jeering or taunting of the slaves. Some watched while stroking their cocks, clearly imagining having these women in their power.

Kussara prayed that none of them could afford her.

"I was saving the best nearly for last," Hassan called over the crowd. "This one was the leader of our little whore party. They made her strategissa--war leader, and you can see what a fine job of it she did. But she's been broken now. She understands her purpose is to please her master, and that master could be you! Look at that golden mane, those big, full breasts. It makes me want to suck on them. I've half a mind to keep her to myself and to the depths with your coin! But no, this one should fetch me a good price.

"I'll start the bidding on this one at four hundred dirhams. Ah, there I see a bid for four hundred dirhams from the man in the dark blue robe! Five? Five hundred dirhams from the dwarf!"

Kussara raised her eyes and saw that the dwarf who had just bid on her was seated with the same group as the man who had bought Dazida. Hope flared in her that she might join her companion after all.

"Six hundred dirhams from the man in the kaftan, thank you, sir. Seven hundred? There, I see seven hundred from my friend the horselord. Eight hundred from Madame Zubaida. Oh, I hope this one ends up in her pillow house, for I'd love to fuck her myself. What about nine hundred? Can I get nine hundred dirhams? The dwarf again! Can we get to one thousand? One thousand dirhams? No?"

"One thousand dirhams!" cried one of the drunken sailors in the front of the crowd. His companions cheered, clay bottles clinking together as they congratulated each other.

"One thousand dirhams!" Hassan cried. "I hope you're good for that money, sir!"

The sailor laughed, and then his face turned dark. He furrowed his brow, and took a step forward. Uncaring, Hassan continued.

"I have a bid for one thousand dirhams, but what about eleven hundred? Do I see eleven hundred? Yes, I do! I see eleven hundred from Madame Zubaida! Oh, what a pillow house she runs! Ever willing to spend, she is, and I commend her for it. But can I get twelve hundred? Twelve hundred dirhams? Yes! There! I see twelve hundred dirhams from the man in blue! Thank you, sir! Is that as high as I will get today? Can I get thirteen hundred? Thirteen hundred dirhams? No? Going once... going twice... Sold! To the man in dark blue for twelve hundred dirhams!"

Kussara stepped off the block. As her sisters had done before her, she made to march sadly down the steps to meet her new master. Yet in her fugue state, she carelessly stepped forward, bringing her to the edge of the platform, and into the reach of those drunken, grasping hands.

They caught her by her ankles and pulled. Kussara heard herself scream, then fell to the brick. The drunks cheered, guards shouted a warning, and Hassan cried out. But still the hands pulled. Kussara grabbed for the block, but it was not heavy enough to hold her back.

She was dragged toward the crowd, her bare flesh scraping on the platform's brick. Hands clutched at her legs. She kicked, but did not repel them. Her bare foot connected with someone's head, and she felt the jolt through her whole body. It felt like fighting.

A hand groped between her legs. She cried out as she felt two fingers penetrate her sex, then a third. A thumb slid its way between her ass cheeks, caressing her hole to persuade her to open for it. Kussara screamed, a primal cry of disgust and terror. She kicked again, her effort futile against the strength of the crowd.

An arquebus cracked. Kussara heard the shot whip by, then the unmistakable sound of it piercing flesh. Blood sprayed on the brick in front of her, and the crowd gasped. Turning her head, she saw Hassan's guards raise their swords overhead. Flashing in the late morning sun, they came down on a few drunks too slow to flee. More blood wetted the square's earth, and the crowd fled in terror. Kussara crawled free of their grasp and lay panting on the brick.

Hassan pulled her to her feet. He looked back at the four bodies that lay in the dirt and shook his head.

"An ugly business," he muttered. "Now, where is your master?"

Kussara rose to her knees and looked around. Her heart was pounding, and despite herself, she felt a sense of safety with Hassan. It was better than being in the crowd.

The man in the dark blue robe appeared out of the chaos and dust, striding calmly toward the platform with purpose. Hassan nodded at him, then pulled Kussara to her feet.

"Go," he commanded, and turned his attention to selling her remaining sisters. The man in blue took her from the guard, handed over his money, and waited while her shackles were unlocked. He nodded to dismiss the guard, then looked Kussara up and down. He nodded.

"I am Ali," he said tersely. "Servant to Nizam al-Bairuni, who is grand vizier to the Sultan."

Kussara nodded stiffly.

"Do not be sad," he chided. "You are most fortunate. Of all the harems in the realm, only the sultan's surpasses my master. You will live in the lap of luxury, pleasing only one man."

Kussara nodded again. She was not sure what to make of it. She thought of Nesa, who would soon be in a pillow house, serving any number of men who made their way through the doors and paid a few coins. While her own position was surely preferable, she was still a slave to a man who only wanted her to fuck.

"Come," said Ali. "My master's home is not far. He will be waiting to see you."