The marketplace bustled with an impossible amount of movement. An orange hue drenched each separate slab of concrete laid out throughout the busy courtyard. Booths riddled either side of the street, cotton tops ruffling in the wind. The heavy aroma of heavenly foods wafted through the narrow passageways, and every two feet forwards brought a new scent. The cloaked man shoved through hoards of ambling villagers, admiring the various trinkets and foods slowly. But the man had a mission. People grumbled as he pushed through, but quickly returned to their business, paying no mind to the awfully suspicious figure floating through the packed market.
He began to reach the end of the market and the strong aromas died down, dissipating to more a sweaty stench. The crowd grew thinner, but despite this, the air felt hotter. In front of him, beyond a few homeless stragglers that awaited meat scraps given by sympathetic villagers, was a large fountain, where the market slowly drifted to a halt. There, set up just in front of the fountain, was the booth the man had looked for. It was one of the larger booths, and a rug of some animal’s skin laid out in front of a man reclining peacefully in a wicker chair. He smoked a large pipe that caused smoke to billow beautifully from the man’s chapped, tired lips. To the left of the booth was a massive, open top wagon that blocked one half of the circular intersection. A big cloth draping was hastily thrown overtop the wagon that darkened the interior of the mysterious structure. The cloaked man approached quickly.
“You selling?” He said, flipping his hood down.
“Sure am.” The vendor replied. He had a great timbre to his voice, and it rumbled through his heavy dialect.
“Let me see your specials for the day.”
“Best sellers.” The vendor snapped his fingers in acknowledgment then stood up. He walked to the back of the tarp-covered wagon and pushed the two flaps that served as a makeshift door. He barked unintelligible orders and threw some slaps and hits, and as he exited the cart, so too did three young, naked girls, bound together with rusty, metal shackles. They were all dirty, sweaty, and clearly uncomfortable. They shambled to the rug where they promptly stopped. The vendor grabbed a flog that lay on a stand nearby and brought all three of the girls to their knees with a single swipe. The man, despite being poor with observations, noted tear marks staining their dirt-tanned cheeks.
“Ya wanna free trial with one of ‘em? Ya cen have ‘em fer the night fer 200 or ya cen own ‘em for 1,000.”
“Ya’ve got a cheap price for them. Somethin’ wrong with ‘em?”
“Just wanna provide my customers with cheap and easy fun. Not much of a money-man, myself.”
“Who’re these?” He gestured to the naked girls kneeling on the patch.
“We got Ella, Caitlyn, and Izzy. Ready to serve ya, sir.”
“And if I ain’t mistaken, you sell a wide variet-ay of… pleasurable devices too, yes?”
“You ain’t no castle guard bullshit?” The man held his arms out as if to say no. The vendor walked to the seemingly empty stand and tugged away a cloth, revealing a long, flat wooden surface. He pried at one corner, pulling up a thick wooden slab and revealing a hidden drawer of many weapons. “Keep it secret. ‘f the guards caught wind o’ this I’ be out the market fer good. Still think it’s some mighty bullshite only the state weaponry can sell weapons. Makes life tougher for simple men like me.”
“Ya gonna offer me that demo sir?” The vendor went quiet and stopped dead in his tracks.
“Gah dammit…” He uttered quietly. “Alright. But ya gotta take one from the wagon.”
“No,” said the cloaked man with dark determination, “I’ll take this... ‘Ella’ here.” Ella looked up, her almond shaped, green eyes twinkling pitifully in the setting sunlight.
“Yer makin’ an enemy here sir.”
“Is that a threat sir? I’m ‘fraid you’ve just handed me information that could, as you said, take you off this market fer good.” The vendor glanced at the weapons, a dread setting in.
“Ya bought from me yet?”
“Fine. Ya got yer free demo. Have yer fun.”
A smile crossed the man’s face and ran his hand through her silky brown hair. For a slave, she was surprisingly well kept. Her eyebrows were finely trimmed, and it was obvious this vendor had a knack for making the girls up. Her baggy eyes were smoky and thin, and the tan, though not from sun, complemented her thin pink lips beautifully. Her slim nose fit her round face perfectly. A good specimen for sure, and a good demo.
He began toying with her lips, pushing them and prodding them, moving eventually to her straight, white, surprisingly clean teeth. The seller had clearly done his best to keep his products clean.
“Say… this product is mighty fine…” Ella looked up at him with intense anger and fear, but refused to attempt escape in fear of what could happen to her. “Say, how old are these ones?”
“Oldest is 16.”
“16…” the man whistled, clearly impressed. “Mighty ripe, init? When was these-in’s caught?”
“Not too long ago. Shouldn’t be too surprised if they be givin’ you some trouble. Don’t you worry about goin’ easy on ‘em.”
“Oh don’t you worry, sir,” The man’s hand had now made it to Ella’s soft, plump cheek. “I will not.” Immediately he pulled his hand back and brought his open palm across Ella’s face. The sharp slap echoed through the courtyard, bringing all attention to the man, who responded with a hearty chuckle.
“Don’t worry folks… it only gets worse.” Despite the unsavory words, the crowd looked away, most refusing to look back. The man immediately turned his attention back to Ella, pinching her cheeks so her lips jutted out, exposing her gritted teeth. Her eyes were pulled up and to the right, trying not to sob on the spot.
“Yer a good girl, ain’t ya?” The man said, bringing his face close to hers. “I have no reason fer it, but I suppose I could take it.”
“Ya about had yer fun, mister?”
“I’m afraid not quite yet sir.” He spat in Ella’s face. She winced and pulled away slightly as the glob of saliva that splattered on her face began sliding down her glistening forehead. “My slave doesn’t flinch.” And immediately there was a foot in Ella’s stomach and she was doubling over in wrenching pain. The shackles binding her and the two other girls brought them down too, struggling and stumbling. Again a chuckle exited the man.
“Now if yer quite done--” the vendor stepped forward.
“I didn’t realize this here demo had any limits.”
“I’m not done sir. And until I say I’m done, I’m not sure yer in the place t’ be interruptin’ me.” The vendor pursed his lips and moved to his chair to sit. The cloaked man now moved his hands to the rest of her body, kneeling down so he could reach it with ease. He groped her breasts, which, despite her young age, sagged slightly. Yet that didn’t undermine their firmness. Her tits were enigmas-- strong, yet small, which shouldn’t have worked in comparison to her chubby body. Interestingly, there was a significant amount of meat on her body, but it didn’t taper to rolls, rather a large stomach and girthy midsection with small breasts.
“Could be better…” the man muttered. “But I can still have fun with it.” He stood and untied the knot keeping his robe on and parted either side. The cloth dropped from his shoulders, exposing an entirely nude body. The vendor, leaning back in his chair, let out a muffled sigh and sunk deeper, averting his attention from the man who had now pried Ella’s mouth open. He pleasured himself with the slaves tongue and cheeks, pressing either side of her mouth in to press against his hard cock. He slid in and out and Ella leaned forward submissively, closing her eyes in disgust but refusing to struggle. His cock, though rather small and still slightly soft, tickled the back of her throat. He thrust forward, jabbing his head into the open hole leading to her throat and she gagged, pulling back slightly. The man brought a fist down on top of her head in an attempt to discipline, and for a second the world faded to black before Ella came back to. As he raped her mouth he grew harder, and rather than just poking her throat, he began penetrating it. He filled her mouth, but her meaty neck didn’t bulge anywhere but the front.
He continued to rape her throat until the moment of completion, at which point he threw his head back and slammed her head against his body, finishing in her throat. Her face contorted, brows furrowed and cheeks bright red as sperm flushed down her slimy throat. She was choking on his cock and semen, and she struggled gently.
“She’s struggling,” the man said to the vendor, a chuckle in his voice. Then he pushed her away, his shaft sliding out of her throat, dripping with her saliva. “Now let’s see…” he continued, “how her pain tolerance is.” He approached the shelf of weapons. The vendor sat up quickly in brief anger, then grew calm and reluctantly sank into his chair again. The man picked up a butcher’s knife and observed the shimmering blade. It was great condition. He then grabbed a smaller blade-- a simple knife-- and with the same hand grabbed a large bludgeon. The handle of the large weapon was firm, and the edge tapered to a deadly sphere, lined with spikes and blades. Once more he wandered to Ella, who was heaving with her heavy breaths and occasional coughing and sputtering. She blinked tears away from her bloodshot eyes and bit her bottom lip to keep from crying. With metallic clatters on the hard stones, the man dropped the weapons in front of Ella. He grabbed her hands, which were shackled together in front of her, resting on her lap, and raised them up.
“Don’t scream,” he said mockingly, “Or I’ll be forced to kill ya.” He then proceeded to bite her right index finger clean off. Ella’s eyes popped but she heeded the man’s word and bit her lip harder to keep from wailing out loud. Blood spurted from the small stump and the man spat the severed finger out, where it bounced off of Ella’s knee. The two slaves beside her watched in a glazed terror as Ella bled out. Then he bit off her middle finger. Then her ring finger. In no time the man had torn off all of Ella’s fingers with his strong teeth, and blood dribbled down her hands as salty tears rolled down her cheeks. She looked upwards as if to keep herself from screaming out. The man harrumphed at her tolerance then stepped back, wiping the blood from his chin. He then bent down and grabbed the cleaver, stopping only to feel the weight of it. Ella, still reeling in silent pain, didn’t notice the man grab the sharp weapon.
And in an instant Ella’s hands were severed from her body. The two lifeless, fingerless hands tumbled onto the stone below, followed by the clanking of the metallic chains. Immediately, instinctually, she let out a high pitched shriek, her eyes focused on the stump of flesh and bone and blood where her hands used to sit. The man tssked three times, pacing around her to assert dominance.
“That’s a shame,” the cleaver in his hand dropped to the ground, “I told ya not to scream.”
Suddenly the small knife was in his hand, and with a smooth movement he hovered before her. Tears dribbled out of her eyes as the non-stop screaming faded to heavy, frequent sobs. He grabbed her silky brown hair and yanked her head up, facing her bright red, contorted face towards his. In an instant the knife was buried into the side of Ella’s neck, and blood spurted heavily out of the wound. Ella’s eyes bulged and the screaming turned to choking and gasping. The blade went in smoothly and was now blocking part of her throat.
Of course, though it went through the flesh easily, the next part was not going to be simple for this knife.
The man, face twisted, pushed and wrenched his hand in every direction, struggling to rip the meat. Blood flowed out of the wound messily, splashing against the stone with a fierce velocity. Her face twitched in immense pain as awkwardly light red blood burst in an unending river. The cracks between the stones filled with red. When the blade finally reached the point just beneath her chin, he released, leaving it jammed in her throat. With her now unbound hand stumps, she attempted to claw at the gaping hole, but only successfully sprayed more blood on her face.
The man now held the bludgeon firmly in his hand. A joyful glimmer in his eye, he watched happily as Ella slowly bled out. Then, with all his strength, he brought the bludgeon down on Ella’s head.
Bone shattered and brain and flesh sprayed in all directions. The heavy weapon, resting in the center of her dented head, forced her eyes half out of her head. Her tongue draped out of her gaping mouth, and somehow her bleeding throat was no longer her bigger issue. Consciousness began to slip, and her vision, despite her eyeballs bulging from her head, started fading. She barely even felt as the club was lifted from the dent in her skull, taking brains and meat with it. The gasping and stuttering no longer crippled Ella, and now she simply wobbled upright. The man raised his arms.
Ella was dead. Her head above the jaw was smashed to smithereens, and now the bludgeon sat on the mess of bone, brain, and flesh that covered her tongue. Blood filled the bottom of her mouth and every tiny hole and dripped out the side. In front of her laid her two green eyes, disconnected from her head. The pink flesh that surrounded half of each trailed gently behind each eye. To Ella’s right side, the two other slaves stared in horror. After just a few moments of the club being yanked from her bloodied, smashed head, her body churned and flopped. The fat of her stomach rippled as it slapped against the stone. Blood poured from the bottom half of her head. Her handless arms splayed out in either direction. The man frowned at the pitiful display of death and gore that laid helplessly in front of him.
“Shame,” he muttered. He then turned his attention to the vendor, who had been watching the incident out of the side of his eye. “I’ll take this here… Izzy.”