Vika's Lessons - a Gorean short story by Wyvern

Vika's Lessons

by Wyvern

Introduction by Emma: So, here's another in the occasional series of Gorean short stories written by people other than myself that I come across and (if I like them) offer to give a home of sorts on this Blog. Vika's Lessons is written by Wyvern who I came across on the Tavern Keeper RPG site where he roleplays in the same Tales of Gor game as me.

The picture is a training picture that ChloeK supplied recently which goes perfectly with what is essentially a story of one hundred and seven days in the capture, training and sale of a coffle of Earth barbarian girls. Thank you, Wyvern for allowing me to publish this. :)

- Emma

DAY ONE ~ ARRIVALS

Vika heeled closely behind the guardsman as she was led down to the cells holding the latest shipment of captives. She knew plenty of women who'd been caught by slavers and several girls from the barbarian lands where these women had been captured, but she was justifiably nervous to be the first to introduce them to their new life. She spoke the language more or less, and had tried to learn about their culture, but comprehension had eluded her. This was her first time orienting barbarian girls to civilisation

They descended the last flight of stairs and stopped at the metal-banded door while her escort found the proper key on his ring, which he used.

"You'll have to teach them everything. Make the master proud," he said, his hand stroking her bare back. He pulled open the door.

Inside a dozen women watched the doorway from cells that would have held many more. Several tried to speak or plead with the guardsman as soon as the door opened but he barked them into silence. He did not speak their tongue anyway. At his gesture Vika stepped forward into the stuffy underground holding chamber, prompting a quiet murmur from the other women. Had they never seen a woman in chains before, or on a leash? Perhaps not; the barbarian countries had strange customs.

The guardsman tipped up her chin and unclipped the leash.

"Someone will come for you later," he said.

"Yes, Master."

Vika settled herself onto the hard floor as the door closed and locked behind her, her chains pooling between her thighs.

From both sides the barbarian women looked at her, two to a cell, not yet understanding. Vika was probably the first woman they'd seen here. She returned the examination briefly, seeing pretty much what she'd expected to. None of them held themselves well or had tried to make themselves attractive for the guard. They all appeared healthy. All were beautiful. All were naked.

"Welcome to the House of Tormus," she said in their barbarian native tongue.

Once again they started crying out and all speaking at once; Vika waited until most of them had settled down.

"I am called Vika," she said clearly, as she had been taught. "I have been chosen to teach you about this land and your new lives."

"Where are we?", asked one. "What's happening to us?"

"We are in the House of Tormus, Mistress, in the city of Venna. And isn't it obvious why you're here?"

"I want to go home!", cried another.

"Men have worked very hard to bring you here, Mistress. None of you will ever see your old homes again. And none of you will leave here until you are ready."

"What do you mean, ready?"

"You must be taught to speak the language, Mistress. Then you will learn to move, and dance, and cook, and many other things. Most of all you will learn to please men."

"Please...men?", whispered a bronze-skinned woman with hair as long and black as Vika's.

"Yes, Mistress," Vika said with a smile. That one already showed promise.

The barbarians around her murmured. Was it really a new idea to them, that they could make men happy? Perhaps; their lands were strange. They would learn.

"You will all do many things, but the most important will always be bringing pleasure to men," she said. "With our words, and our actions, and the way we move and dress. Everything is to make us more wonderful for men. Some women think it's only sex, but laying with men is only part of what we do, even though it's a very fun part. Everything we do should make us more desirable, more perfect for men. Men have desires, and we fulfil them. It's what we're for."

Silence filled the room. Vika noticed the brightly blushing redhead, and the way one of the blondes squirmed in her cage, and the hard nipples on one long-haired girl who had spoken earlier. Many of the girls were obviously fascinated, though some were also afraid or shocked. This group was well chosen; once they were taught what was expected of them they would train as well as any women from civilised countries.

"M-men?", said the redhead in a quavering voice. "I don't want to be... for men..."

"Do you think I am dressed this way for women?" Vika indicated herself with a graceful motion of one chained arm; she wore a transparent silk strip crossed over her breasts, a single shorter strip hanging from a waist chain, and a five-point chain connecting her limbs. She was the only woman in the room wearing anything at all. "This is for men, because they like looking at us!"

"No," whispered the redhead.

"Will we be dressed like that?"

"Oh, no, Mistress, it will be weeks before you are allowed clothing! You will all have to show that you are learning your lessons and are eager to serve. When your teachers are ready, then you'll be given things to wear."

"I can't wear that!", said a blonde. "It shows everything!"

"You are no longer women who may hide things from men." Vika knew they were too new to really understand yet, but they might suspect what was in store for them, however dimly. Maybe they would feel it instinctively. The barbarian lands never taught women the things Vika thought were important.

"Men wear clothes as they wish, whatever is proper for them, as it should be. We wear what we are given, when we are given anything. Sometimes we aren't allowed clothes and are kept naked. And that's the way it should be, too!"

All of the barbarian women looked unsettled and several of them were crying but Vika's words had made their point. None of them were protesting their nudity or the cages any more. They would look at men differently, too, when the guardsmen next came into the room. They were learning.

Vika wondered which of them would be the first to discover how wonderful their new life really was.

"Mistresses, you are still legally free. But not for very much longer. You have been caught, you are legally the captives of the House of Tormus, and tomorrow you will be put in collars. You are going to be enslaved, and you will not be free women again."

DAY TWO ~ ENSLAVEMENT

The morning was bright and clear, the weather a little chilly. The noises and smells of the city outside spilled into the House of Tormus. It would be a memorable day for the barbarian girls.

Several guardsmen dragged a line of chained women into the courtyard where Vika was waiting. The men locked the chain to the holding rings on the walls while the barbarians stumbled in disorder, unused to their situation and clumsy.

Vika might have been in the courtyard by pure chance; this was not at all the case, but the barbarians didn't need to know that. She knelt in the hard-packed dirt near a watering trough, pretending not to hear the girls speaking. She was out of the way, beside the wide-open doors of the smithy, and could see through the arched tunnel into the street yard and out past the gate. Occasionally she would spy a passing wagon. The smells of fire and hot metal and other things wafted out of the smithy and into Vika's attention, impossible for her to ignore because she knew what would be done there today.

The barbarians were made to kneel. The guardsmen had a harder time with them than with other women, even recently free ones, since none of the captives spoke the language. Soon enough they understood what was required and went to their knees, without coordination or grace.

"Slave girl," said the head guard, Gordon, addressing her at last.

"Yes, Master?", she said eagerly.

"You may approach now and talk to the girls."

"Thank you, Master!" She rose and walked over to the line of captives, kneeling again at his feet. "Is there anything new I must tell them?"

"No; just stand up and tell them what will be done to them."

Vika rose and told the barbarian girls, "I am allowed to talk to you now, Mistresses."

They all tried to talk at once and she raised her voice to say, "Please, listen to me." They quieted.

"This will not be an easy day for you," she told them honestly, more quietly, "but it is one that you will never forget. Today you will become slaves, legally and for everyone to see.

"When you are collared and marked there will be no doubt about you; everyone who sees you will know what you are. Please understand that you were brought here for this and that there is no escape. You will all be enslaved today.

"You will be marked as property, and will bear that mark the rest of your lives.

"You will be collared." Vika touched the steel collar around her own throat. "This will tell anyone who can read the name of your master. You will all wear one from now on."

The barbarian girls shook in terror. Vika understood their fear, somewhat, for she knew many former free women and had been sold herself. It was always frightening to have a new master; it must be much worse for a free woman to lose her freedom and become a slave.

Vika wouldn't know; she had never been free.

"Slave collars," breathed one girl and her voice set off the other captives.

"I'm afraid!"

"No, no..."

"I can't be a slave!"

"Please, let us go; I'll do anything!"

"Make them stop looking at me!" This from the redhead, blushing furiously and trying to make herself small.

Vika listened to them with sympathy but knew it was pointless.

"Do they understand?", asked Gordon.

"No, Master, but they've been told. A few of them can understand that they will be slaves, but some are still panicked. They were never told that they could be enslaved."

Gordon laughed at that, shortly. "They're about to learn!"

"I'm sure they will, Master," said Vika, feeling very small compared to the man.

"Hey, Gordon!", called a male voice. Vika looked around to see the chief blacksmith in the doorway of the smithy and dropped her gaze. She stood obediently where she was in front of Gordon while they talked.

"Good morning, Ramm!", Gordon answered.

"Are these the girls?"

"Aye, there's twelve barbarian women for you, none trained."

"They don't need training for what I'll do with them," Ramm said dismissively. "They look healthy enough. Normal collar sizes, too. Pretty little things."

"Yeah, we're getting good women from the barbarian lands these days. They make excellent slaves. If they weren't so totally useless when they first arrive I'd say clean out the place and put all of them into collars."

"Have they been fed or watered?", Ramm asked, stroking his short beard contemplatively.

"Not today."

"Good," he said. "Vika?"

"Yes, Master?", she answered promptly.

"Go up to the infirmary and tell Lady Midite that the new slaves will be ready for her inspection in, oh, two hours."

"Y-yes, Master." She shivered; Lady Midite was not gentle with slave girls. Vika went to her knees and kissed Ramm's heavy boots. It wasn't strictly required but she felt better making a gesture of submission to the man. "This girl will return soon."

Vika rose and hurried to the infirmary.

Vika heard a woman's scream as she walked through the halls of the House of Tormus. She trembled a moment, knowing what had happened. Another barbarian woman had been branded. Another girl was now marked forever as a slave.

All of the captives were natural slaves, she was sure, but they had been allowed to run loose as free women for many years. It would take some time to undo the damage.

She emerged into the smithy courtyard and blinked in the bright sunlight. The women who she'd last seen chained against the near wall were now for the most part restrained at rings elsewhere. They wore unyielding metal collars from which chain leashes connected them to the wall rings. They also knelt with better discipline than before, knees apart and hands behind their back.

The buxom blonde one hung limply on the branding rack, sobbing.

"There you are, Vika," said Henrick, one of the junior guardsmen. "Where have you been?"

"This girl was feeding the sick slaves for the mistress Lady Midite, Master, and..."

"Never mind!", he interrupted. "I won't second guess Lady Midite. The important thing is you're back now. Ramm just finished another one. We'll be ready for you soon."

"Yes, Master. What should I do now?"

"Wait out of the way somewhere. We'll need you to talk to them soon."

"Yes, Master."

Vika waited in a corner of the yard for only a few minutes while the blonde girl was unstrapped and half-dragged to a place at the wall. A few physical corrections of position had her kneeling as the others were, and Gordon slipped a pair of shackles around her wrists.

The last captive left on the old chain watched with an expression of horror and terror, shaking in her chains and almost crying. Vika pitied her having to watch all the others go first.

Henrick and a guardsman whose name Vika didn't know approached and the girl shrank back as far as her bonds would allow. It did no good; she was quickly trussed up with cord and unlocked. The two guardsmen carried the captive into the smithy, ignoring her squirming and her pleas for mercy. The words of the latter they couldn't understand and as for the former...she was still technically a free woman, for the moment, and could be allowed some leniency. She would learn her new place soon enough.

Only sound emerged for several minutes. Vika followed the metal on metal sound of a hammer driving a rivet in, no doubt to hold in place the ends of a simple collar like the others wore. Men talking. Minutes passed with only background noise. Then the girl's voice came out carrying tones of fear, and went into a wordless cry of pain. She ran out of breath soon, but she sobbed thereafter. Vika could hear Ramm and the other men talking, too faintly to follow their conversation. The girl, now marked, was ignored.

Eventually Henrick emerged with the new slave in his arms, holding her more tenderly than she should have expected, and added her to the collection at the wall. He dabbed her face with a sleeve and pushed her thighs apart so that she was kneeling properly. Before he stood up he fondled her lightly and turned her head up so that her face could be seen. He left the girl kneeling in the dirt and walked over to talk with Gordon and Ramm in the doorway.

All twelve girls had been processed; they were no longer merely captives.

They made a good collection of women, Vika thought, and if they took their training well would bring a fine price on the market. Loralius Tormus would be pleased.

"Vika," Gordon said, "come here."

"Master?", she asked as she approached.

"Have them acknowledge their enslavement."

Vika nodded. She turned and addressed the barbarian girls in their language, told them the proper words for 'I am a slave girl' and one by one had them repeat it back by rote to the men.

"Good girl," Gordon said with an affectionate pat. "You can talk with them as you like, one slave girl among others. I'm sure they have much to learn."

The men talked among themselves, relaxing in the sunlight and sharing a bottle of something that Ramm had brought out. It was probably not water.

Vika slowly walked along the line of newly collared women trying to learn them as individuals and guess how they would best train.

The black haired girl who'd spoken up yesterday met Vika's eyes as she went by. "They branded us," sobbed the new girl.

"I know," Vika said. "You are now the property of the House of Tormus."

"It's true? We're slaves?"

"Oh, yes!" Impulsively Vika knelt and hugged her. "Don't worry, we will train you and teach you what you need to know. You will bring a good price!"

The new slave leaned against Vika. "Price... We're going to be sold?"

"Later, yes. For now, we will train you to serve men."

Vika stood and said loudly, "Girls, listen to me!" The females looked toward her.

"This is the start of your new lives. You have been brought here to serve the pleasures of men. You are now the property of the House of Tormus, one of the best slave houses in the world.

"You are going to be taught how to please men in every way they desire." She smiled and added, "We will also show you how nice that can be."

"You are all beautiful. I hope you are all smart. You are also all slaves, the most desirable and available of all women; you will learn to be obedient and eager to serve all the men who command you."

"Easy for you to say!", interrupted one. "We're the ones who got branded!"

Vika lifted her hand to the single bow on her garment, pulled, and let the thin silk slip off her body onto the ground. Nude except for a steel collar, she turned so that all of the others could see that her own thigh was clearly marked with the same sign that they now bore.

"I am also a slave. I also exist for men. I must obey and serve them. Do you think any of these men would hesitate a moment to take me in their arms if they felt like it? Do you think any of them would not rape me right here and right now, if they wished?

"We are not free women. We are slave girls. We are for making men happy, always, in everything.

"You do not know it yet, but we are very lucky."

"These are the barbarians?" asked a feminine voice behind Vika. She had not noticed Lady Midite arrive but everyone in the House of Tormus knew that voice.

She quickly fell her knees and pressed her head against the ground, hoping to avoid the free woman's attention. Even if she did not she might have no trouble. Rendering proper obeisance was necessary, of course; Lady Midite was very strict with girls like Vika.

"Yes, ma'am," Ramm said. "And good morning. Twelve barbarian girls, as expected."

“I'm glad that you already have them collared and marked, Ramm. Did you have any problems with them?"

"They don't know anything about how to be slaves. Past that? No." He paused, probably scratching his beard, and added, "I don't know what their land could be like, ma'am. You'd think none of them had ever seen a collar before. I hope they take training well. It would be a waste if they couldn't be sold."

"It certainly would. I'm sure you heard that Loralius has found connections to deliver barbarians in volume. The House of Tormus will make a lot of money if we can bring them to market."

"Yes, ma'am. I did. I heard how many barbarian girls the House of Chang has been selling, too," Ramm said. Vika had not; she knew of the House of Chang as another trader in pleasure slaves, far off, but she hadn't been told that they were getting many barbarians. "Are we working with the same supplier?"

"I have no idea", answered Lady Midite. "But if they can bring us quality merchandise in volume, the House of Tormus can dominate the local market for such girls. Tell me, Ramm, as a man, do you think these slaves are worth buying?"

The blacksmith chuckled and said, "Oh, yes! I've seen civilised women who were much worse. For freshly collared wenches, they're excellent."

"Good, then we have gotten our money's worth so far. I still need to give them a proper examination upstairs and get them some decent medical attention, of course."

"Whenever you're ready, Lady Midite. I'm done with them."

"After lunch, I think. I want to look at them now, though."

"Of course, Lady."

Vika heard the free woman approach, and could just see the bottom of Lady Midite's robes as she stood in front of the line of new slaves. The heavy layers of those embroidered robes were a far cry from the half transparent wisp of silk Vika had been wearing; she hoped the new girls were wise enough to know the difference between Lady Midite and the rest of them.

Lady Midite moved from girl to girl, pausing occasionally. Vika could imagine her emotionless appraisal as she examined the barbarians. More than once Vika had been the naked slave girl chained and at the mercy of the heavily dressed and formidable free woman; she had found little sympathy in the cold brown eyes above Lady Midite's veil.

"I agree, Ramm," Lady Midite said finally, "we have acquired some promising merchandise. Your work is up to its usual quality as well; all their brands are clear and clean."

Ramm chuckled. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Gordon, please see that the animals are properly identified for reference. I will need their house numbers for my records. Then around noon deliver them to the infirmary."

"Yes, ma'am," said Gordon.

"Do not feed them beforehand," she added. "They may eat this evening, however, after I am done with them."

"As you wish, Lady."

Lady Midite turned and swept past Vika without stopping. Vika heard the rustle of her robes as she went by, and wished she could press herself lower against the earth.

"Good day, gentlemen."

Even the free men seemed more relaxed when she was gone. Vika rose to a kneeling position so she could better see the men and the barbarian girls. She shuddered a little; Lady Midite always unsettled her.

Gordon slowly moved down the line of chained women, a grease pencil in his hand, at each one taking her left breast in his hand and writing a number there.

"Who was that?", asked one of the barbarians.

Vika said quietly to the girls, "The House doctor. She is a free woman. She is not like us. Fear her."

DAY THREE ~ PAPERS

"Hold still, Slave Three," Vika said.

The redhead trembled under the man's touch anyhow, not yet used to being handled so authoritatively. Seneca, a scribe of the House of Tormus, checked the measuring tape he was using and read a number out loud; the boy who was assisting him repeated it and wrote it down on the papers before him.

Vika knew that they were creating slave identification papers for the barbarian girls, even if she couldn't read them herself, but had not bothered to explain this. The girls could figure that out on their own, and should, or ask. Each girl in turn was being carefully measured in many ways, and fingerprinted; it should be obvious that they were being described even without reading the many other things written on the papers.

Seneca had started with the girl in the group who'd been given the number one and was working through them in numerical order. He was like that.

When Seneca had put his hands on One's breasts to measure them, she had stepped back and tried to cover herself with her hands -- and Seneca had thrown her to the floor and whipped her, then had Vika tell One to stand again to be measured, which he did with no further emotional exhibition as he touched the crying trembling girl's nude body. Vika felt sorry for the poor girl but knew it was a good lesson; even as dry and intellectual a man as Seneca was a man who would be obeyed. Slave One had given him no more trouble, even when he verified that she was not a virgin.

Vika had little to do except translate, but it would have taken much longer without her telling the new girls what to do.

"He's touching me!", the redhead moaned.

"Yes. He is touching you," Vika agreed. Then in her language she said it again. “He is touching you. Can you say that?"

“He is touching you?"

"Yes. But you are being touched, so you say 'He is touching me'. Say that."

“He is touching me,'" said the girl. Vika didn't know if it was good that she was distracted from the handling by a language lesson or not. It was an opportunity to teach, though, and Vika wasn't going to waste it.

Seneca chuckled quietly at the slave's words.

"Can you say, 'You are touching me, Master'?", Vika asked.

"'You are touching me, Master.'"

"Yes I am!", Seneca agreed, gratuitously patting her belly.

"Did you understand that, Slave Three?"

"He said yes, and, um..."

"The master said 'I am.' He agreed that he was doing that."

Vika looked at the other girls, all of them except for Three kneeling in their cages. She caught the eye of the black haired girl who'd spoken up on the first day.

"Slave Eight, how much did you understand?"

"Most of it, I think. Why is what he said not the same as what you said? Not 'I am'?"

"He is a man. He says 'I am,' and we say 'I am'," Vika explained, pleased that the girl not only noticed the difference between masculine and feminine speech but asked about it. Slave Eight was the obvious leader of the group and Vika planned to use her influence on the others frequently.

"She is done," Seneca announced. He swatted her rump, eliciting a indignant squeal, and said, "Back to the cell, girl. Get me Number Four."

The redhead stood briefly in front of him, then understood his pointing finger. She fled into the open cell and knelt on the straw, blushing and trembling.

"Four," he stated, looking at the curly-haired blonde that shared the space. Less reluctantly than her companion the girl emerged and stood where Three had been before, blushing and shifting her weight nervously.

"Slave One-Four-Eight-Delta-Sixteen, Zero-Four," Seneca dictated. "Female, barbarian, standard slave girl brand, not virginal..."

DAY TEN ~ LORALIUS

The master of the House of Tormus worked in an airy office filled with late afternoon sunlight. In a chamber several floors below a dozen barbarian girls were learning simple commands by rote, but he would not see them today.

Loralius Tormus put aside his latest paperwork and looked up at the waiting woman.

"Come, girl."

The slave approached and knelt on the richly carpeted floor in front of her master. For a moment he admired her there, graceful and awaiting his attention.

"Talk to me, Vika. Tell me about the barbarians."

"They are learning well, Master. None of them can speak properly yet, but they know more words every day.

"It was only a few days ago that they were collared, so they still think like free women not like slave girls." She gave him a tiny smile and added, "I can see them realising that they are slaves, Master. They don't know it yet, but they are all becoming slave girls."

"Have you had any problems?"

"Oh, yes, Master, many little ones. Not many big ones."

He nodded, listening. "What still needs fixing?"

"They still need to learn to speak, of course.

"Some of them want to use the names they had as free women, but I don't let them." The girl paused and Loralius nodded. He had expected these little things. Vika looked concerned as she continued, clearly approaching a bigger problem.

"They don't know very much about men, Master, and a few are even virgins. One of them is very afraid of men and her sexuality, some of them have been with men, and others are just confused. But many of them are resisting their training, as if they were still free women. And, and..." She struggled with words, then they spilled out in a rush.

"Master, it's as if they know nothing of slavery! Their world is bizarre! Some of them told me they have no slaves at all there!

"I have seen new girls, Master, I know how long it can take a woman to get used to being owned by men, but these barbarians don't even know what slaves ARE! It's unnatural!"

She ceased her outburst suddenly and looked down in embarrassment, her long black hair falling forward over her face.

"I'm sorry, Master," she said softly. "Please punish me if I have displeased you."

"No, you haven't annoyed me, Vika. You're a good girl, you just don't know how to turn uncollared barbarians into civilised slave girls."

"Th-thank you, Master," she said quietly.

"Vika, you know many slave girls. Do you think these barbarians should have been left free? Or are they natural slaves?"

"They...they are natural slaves, Master, I think. They would have made good slaves if they had been raised in any civilised land. Every one of them would be ready for a master now if they'd been raised properly."

Loralius Tormus smiled. "I'm confident that they can learn. What do they need that they aren't getting, Vika?"

"They should be around more men, Master, and more often," she answered confidently. "I can teach them to speak, but only masters can teach them that they are slave girls."

"Naturally," Loralius agreed. "I'll ask around and see who is interested in them. If the girls don't have regular contact with men they'll never get used to obeying masters, and they'll learn better if they have familiar faces around. The barbarians will need to be able to speak the language properly if they're to serve well, though."

"Of course, Master. I will work hard to teach them!"

"They should be used soon, too, all of them. I will talk to the guards this evening and see who is available in the next few nights. Some women bring a better price as virgins, but it's not worth the bother for barbarian girls."

"That's good, Master," Vika said. "The sooner they learn what we are for, the better."

"Do you really think that all of them are natural slaves, Vika?"

“I think so, Master, yes. They all have good instincts, and some of them... Did you know that some arrived here with pierced ears?"

"Really?", he prompted. He knew that this was a barbarian custom, though it was clearly a surprise to Vika.

"Yes, Master! They say they had it done to themselves!"

"I have heard they do that in their land," he agreed with a nod, drawing her out.

"It's a good thing they were brought here, then. They will be happier with masters."

"In their country, sometimes free women have pierced ears." He could see that this hadn't occurred to the poor girl. He told her, "Perhaps I will have them all put in earrings."

"I think that would be good, Master. It will help men see them as pleasure slaves. And..."

"And?"

"And if men see them as pleasure slaves, Master, that will help them see themselves that way, too."

Loralius smiled; he couldn't disagree with that. He picked up his preferred silver stylus and made a few notes on the wax tablet on his desk, to remind himself later that his barbarian acquisitions needed male attention, sexual use, and pierced ears. He looked at Vika again.

"What about their teacher?", he asked.

"Me, Master?"

"How are you seen?"

"Oh, everybody knows I am a pleasure slave, Master! It's obvious! Even the poor barbarian girls know what I am, and their lands don't have slave girls."

He nodded; that, too, was true. He made another note on his tablet that Vika should be used along with the barbarian girls, thinking it would be good for the barbarians to see that Vika was no different from them. Loralius decided not to mention this; she would find out soon enough, when she was taken.

"I'm glad you're doing well with them, Vika. Tell me, who is with the barbarians now?"

"The guard Henrick, Master."

"Good, he'll see they're put away when it's time." He made another note.

"You can get back to them tomorrow, Vika; I'm going to need you elsewhere this evening. We're having a banquet for the River League merchants in the grand hall and you will be one of the serving girls."

"Yes, Master. I thought I might be."

"Go down to the baths when you leave here and make yourself clean and beautiful. Then when you're ready, report to Lana in the kitchens."

"Lana, Master?" It didn't quite come out as a protest.

"Yes, Lana. She will be first girl for the serving slaves tonight. I know about you two, but you can work together for one evening." He gave the girl a serious look. "And, Vika? If there's a problem tonight I'll have both of you whipped."

"Yes, Master, of course."

"Good girl. Do you or your students need anything else immediately?"

"I don't think so, Master."

"Okay, then. You're dismissed, girl."

"Thank you, my master." She touched her head to the carpet and departed.

Loralius watched her go, then returned to his paperwork.

DAY 11 ~ RAPE

Vika made her way down toward the lower kennels without hurry. However the barbarians were doing this morning, she was later than usual and a few more minutes would make no difference. Last night she had been kept awake much later than she usually had been since she started training these girls. Vika hadn't expected quite so many of the visiting men to want her. They had kept her awake and busy long past midnight and she was still feeling thoroughly used. And, honestly, a little sore.

She sighed happily. Her life was a good one; she hoped she could show the barbarian girls how nice it could be.

Kostas was standing at the door to the stairway, one of the newer House guardsmen, a swarthy man of small stature but remarkable strength, and according to rumour very popular with women. Vika knelt at his feet.

"Good morning, Vika. Are you here for your barbarians?"

"Good morning, Master. Yes, I am."

"It's about time," he said with a slight smile. "I hear you were busy last night."

"For a long time, Master."

"Henrick and I were busy, too, but at least we've got our clothes on this morning."

"I came directly from the visitors' quarters, Master," she said, smiling coyly. "I haven't had a chance to put anything on."

"I don't mind, girl; we've all seen naked women before." He gestured, bidding her to her feet. "Who would object, here?"

When she stood Kostas stroked her hair and kissed her lightly, reasonably chastely under the circumstances. "You're clearly not sneaking anything in to the barbarians. Let's go see how your students are doing."

"Of course, Master."

Kostas unlocked the door and guided Vika through it. She preceded him down the stairs to the barbarians' kennel and was halfway down before she noticed that she was wiggling her rear for him more than she usually would. Vika smiled behind her flowing hair; she'd needed men's attention for days.

"You may find them stirred up," Kostas said from behind her.

"Stirred up? Why, Master?"

"You'll see."

Vika worried a little at that. Her students were strange girls with barbaric ideas, but they didn't deserve anything unpleasant happening to them. She didn't think there was trouble, though. The man had sounded light and even a bit amused, not unhappy or angry, so it shouldn't be bad.

"Did Loralius tell you about the training room?", Kostas added.

"No, Master, not a word!"

"It's not a secret, girl. Your barbarians have mouldered in one place long enough. You're going to get the yellow training room after lunch, so have them ready to go by the tenth hour bell."

"Oh, yes, Master!", she cooed. "Thank you, Master; they have been in there for too long and need stimulation."

"Huh. They need some stimulation, all right. They're a poor bunch as it is."

"I know, Master. They are barbarians and new to their collars. They don't know anything about pleasing men yet."

"You'd better teach them quickly." Kostas definitely sounded amused now for some reason.

“I will teach them everything I can, Master," she assured him. She stopped beside the kennel door. Kostas stepped forward to peer through the observation slot and unlocked the door. She could hear a quiet murmur from the girls inside.

“I'm sure you will, pretty slave." He laid his hand in the small of her back and guided her through the door. "I'll see you again at noon."

"Yes, Master!"

Vika heard the door close behind her, and the lock set, before she really saw the barbarian girls in the room. It was obvious something had happened. Her students were agitated, almost as badly as they had been when they first arrived at the House of Tormus.

She looked from one to another, walking down the aisle, and wondered, "What happened?"

"Vika, Vika!" Eight was standing at the bars of the middle left cage. She pointed. "Look at Three!"

Vika looked at the far kennel on the right and saw Slave Three curled up in Twelve's arms, with blood on her inner thighs, and realised what had happened.

"Oh. It was her first time!"

"Men came in last night," Eight said. "They chose three of us and..."

"Yes, I can see... Poor girl, she wasn't ready, was she?"

"They pulled her out and raped her on the floor in front of all of us! Of course she wasn't ready!"

"No, she should have been used on a soft couch," Vika said, knowing that wasn't what Eight had meant.

"She shouldn't have been 'used' like that at all," One said angrily. "Neither should Two or I, but we were!"

Two nodded. Beside her Slave Five said, "She fought them, too. She saw what they'd done to One and was scared."

"Oh, no! I hope they weren't angry!"

"They let her struggle for a while, for all the good it did," Five said.

"She had never even been naked around men before she was brought here," Eight told her sadly. "She wasn't ready to lose her virginity like this."

"Men have always raped slave women," One said, standing at the bars of her cage. Ten fidgeted, kneeling on the floor of the same kennel that held One, but said nothing. "All through history, men have taken advantage of having women in their power."

"So why do you act surprised?", Vika asked.

"I'm not!"

"No?"

"No! This is exactly the kind of thing men have always done to women in slavery!"

"You expected it? So why are you angry?"

One sputtered.

"It's going to happen to all of us," Ten said quietly.

The standing girl glared down at her cellmate.

"What do you know about slavery?", One demanded. The other girl didn't say anything and would not meet her companion's eyes.

Spitting a curse in her own language, One turned and went to the back of the cell where she curled up to sulk in the far corner.

"Men are allowed to treat us like this here. You were just the first," Eight said. Next to her Eleven stroked the metal collar around her neck nervously.

Vika nodded at the other girl's words.

"We are for the pleasures of men," she said. "Being commanded and used is something a slave girl must expect. If you were not experienced in serving men you would not be nearly as valuable."

"What are you going to do about Three?", Eight asked.

"There's not much I can do. We should all help her understand that this is part of her life now. She is a slave girl and available for the pleasure of free men. But until she accepts that she is not a virgin or a free woman any more it will be harder."

Slave Twelve held Three in her arms as the red haired girl trembled. Vika could see the slave girl symbol drawn in virgin's blood on the girl's belly, the same cursive K of their brands. Across the aisle Eight fidgeted at the bars of her cell.

"Poor Three. How are the rest of you? Did the men hurt anyone?"

"I think One is bruised a little," Two said. "When I saw it didn't help her, I didn't struggle when they came for me. Well, much..." Five put an arm around the taller girl, and Two hugged her close.

"They didn't even open half the cages," Twelve said. "I was right here but they didn't touch me. The men could have taken me out with Three and had their way with me, but they didn't."

"Me, neither," said Five.

"You will be used next time," Vika told her.

"What?", she cried, blushing furiously.

"Yes, I think so." Vika held up her fingers, counting aloud. "One, two, three, last night. Four, five, six, tonight. Then seven, eight, and nine..."

"Numbers?", One exploded from her corner cell. "We're answering to numbers?" Vika nodded. One said something unpleasant in her native language and pounded on the straw, grumbling. Ten shied away as the other girl worked off her anger and indignation.

Four reached through the bars between their cells and took Five's hand. "Our turn tonight," she said, and the other girl nodded.

Slave Eleven raised her head to look out at Vika through the bars. "We really are slaves."

Vika nodded.

"Men are going to have all of us, aren't they?" Eleven hugged herself, her legs curled up tightly as she leaned against the bars of the cell. "We're all going to be used for sex?"

Vika nodded again.

"I thought so."

DAY SIXTEEN ~ PROSPECTS

"Vika?"

She looked up from the bowl of porridge that she had taken for herself after feeding the barbarian girls. Privately, Vika was looking forward to the day her students would learn enough civilised language to earn better food; she didn't like this unappetising glop any more than they did, but it would be weeks before they were fluent. She had told them that they would not get better food or any clothing until they could speak well, and it was proving gratifying effective motivation. At least she got to eat a normal breakfast.

"Yes, Eight?"

"What's going to happen to us?", she asked in her native language, which Vika allowed the girls to speak in the evenings if they didn't abuse the privilege.

“You will be trained, then sold," Vika told her in the same tongue. "Were you not told?"

"That's not what I meant. I mean...what are people going to do with us? Afterwards."

"That depends on your master. I don't know who will buy you."

"What...what usually happens to women, here?"

"Women like us must expect to be bought and sold; it's part of belonging to men." Vika moved over to the cell that held Eight and Eleven tonight and settled onto the floor outside.

"When you speak the language well and are ready to serve men you will all be put up for auction. The House of Tormus will be having a big sale later in the summer, and you barbarian girls should be fully ready then.

"Do you know what an auction is like?"

Eight shook her head. In the next cell One had stopped eating and had her face close to the bars, listening.

"The House of Tormus has an indoor theatre that holds hundreds of people; you will see it later. The night of the auction it will be full of people -- mostly men, of course -- come to watch and bid. You will be kept below until it is your turn to be sold. One by one you will be brought onto the stage and displayed to the bidders.

"The auctioneer will tell everyone about you, and show you off to the crowd. We are always sold naked, of course, as you are now; bidders must see what they are buying. The men of the House of Tormus know how to handle women, so expect to be shown off well.

"It's important to be obedient and beautiful when you are on the block; otherwise you will not bring as high a price as you should. Always do everything you can to show the audience that you are a wonderful and eager slave girl who deserves to be expensive."

All around the room girls had stopped eating to listen to Vika describe their future.

"Men will bid on you, and someone will buy you.

"A few days ago One talked about slaves used on farms, but you won't be sold for that. You will be trained for men's pleasures and advertised that way. We aren't any good for heavy labor, and farmers usually can't afford girls like us anyway. Some girls do cleaning and laundry and things for whole groups of citizens or for, um, 'government' -- is that the right word? If any of you find yourselves doing that, you should be able to meet many free men; try to interest one of them so that he will buy you.

"A master, if he only owns one girl, will give her many tasks. You will cook his food and warm his bed and make his life nicer in many ways. Since you are all new girls, some of you will probably be bought by men looking for general use girls, and for less than you will bring later.

"Don't think that's bad," she added. "Most women would like to belong to just one man and to be his only girl. I am not my master's only slave, but I do love him very much."

One of the girls mumbled something and Vika asked, "What did you say, Ten?"

"Just, um, a quote from something," Ten said, caught touching one of the tiny loops in her ears, newly pierced a few days before. "'I love my master...I will not go out free...'"

"Yes, exactly!" Vika beamed happily.

"We're not just going to be bought by rich men and tossed into their harems?"

"That could happen, of course. Some men own many beautiful women and keep us just to have a large collection. I think that's to make other men jealous. Most men really care about their women, though, and keep us for other reasons. Our owner, Loralius Tormus, keeps women he likes but also makes sure we do other things, like cooking and cleaning and serving the men of the House. And training new slaves, of course!

"Barbarian girls like you are rare but aren't exotic enough to be bought just for that.

"You could always be bought by a free lady, of course. Many rich women own a personal maid. We will train you to care for free women later. But don't worry, I don't think any of you will be bought for that; all of you are too tempting to men."

"Worry? We should want to be bought by a man?"

Vika smiled. "Don't you?"

She saw several of the girls blush or look nervous, but none of them were ready to admit that yet.

"You met a free woman the day after you arrived, the doctor who saw you when you were collared and branded," she reminded them. Vika was sure they all remembered the Physician Lady Midite very clearly. Her students had seen only a few other free women since then and none of them would stand out so clearly in their minds or carry such an emotional weight with the girls. "Would you want to belong to her? Or would you rather be owned by a man?"

"I'm scared, Vika," Six said quietly.

"Of course. We are completely in the power of our masters, and you used to be a free woman. You're not used to belonging to men."

"How can you be so calm about it?", asked Eight.

"Because I know what I am. I am a slave girl, and have been all my life. It is my proper place. I would never want to be a free woman!"

"I'd rather be free..."

"You have not been enslaved even a month yet. You've never had a private owner. Wait and see."

"What?"

"You may change your mind," Vika told her with a private smile. "See what you think in a year or two. There is an old saying that not every slave is happy in her collar. But it's also true that some of us are. Many girls have good masters and are well used and are very happy to be owned by men. I am."

DAY THIRTY-EIGHT ~ GIVING SERVICE

"Not so fast," Vika said gently. "You aren't washing clothes."

"Yes, ma'am," said Six, slowing her strokes along the wooden phallus on which she was practicing.

Vika looked around the training room at the twelve women practicing arts they had never formally studied in their previous lives. She'd tried splitting them into groups for this, but it just didn't work. Unlike sewing or cooking or dinner service, which they would ignore others doing, one girl with a man would hold the attention of all the others. So now she worked with them all together, even if it meant getting more tools and stretching herself thin.

She hoped the day would be a good one for the trainees. The guards had delivered three male slaves this morning, who were now hooded and chained in place. Yesterday Vika had begged for her students to be allowed to try their new skills with men again and Loralius Tormus had sent her slaves, saying the girls could have a chance to show themselves worth the attention of free men.

It was too bad, she thought, that she shouldn't touch them herself except to demonstrate techniques, but she was the trainer and had better leave the males to the other girls. Several times Vika had had to tell girls not to gawk at them, and hoped that none of them had caught her glancing over at their bare muscular forms. Her eyes drifted back to the powerful naked bodies by the far wall again, of their own accord.

She saw that the sand had all run to the bottom of the small glass beside Slave One and the male she'd been practicing with. Vika touched the girl's shoulder and said, "Good enough. Rest a little."

"Already?" One rested back on her heels. She looked disappointed.

"You're doing well. See how he pulls at his chain? He wants to seize you and have you. See the way he breathes, and how he sweats in his arousal." Vika smiled and touched the male, making him jump in his bonds. "And, of course, he is very hard."

One nodded.

"Let him subside for now," Vika advised. "Rest a little, then another girl can try him."

"Okay."

Vika knelt down with One along the mirrored wall of the training room, away from the males, leaving the middle one to rest. From here she could see Eleven and Five working on their own men, and the others practicing in other ways.

"You do pretty well for someone who used to be a free woman."

"I did this all the time back in Sacramento. You mean women don't do this here?"

"You mean free women. Well, some of them, probably. But they don't admit it. And they don't get training, unlike us."

"What do they do with their men?"

"It's hard to say. Raise children. Have sex badly, I think." Vika looked out at the room full of barely dressed women practicing erotic arts and diverse ways of giving pleasure to men. "They don't admit knowing about things like this."

"And their men stand for that?"

"It's why their men have women like us." Vika smiled proudly.

"Oh," said One thoughtfully.

Vika primped, fiddling with her hair and studying her reflection in the tall mirror, to let One have some time to think about that. She hadn't told the barbarian girls that it was a window on the other side and probably wouldn't, though she did wonder if anyone was watching them at the moment. If so, some of the girls would likely find themselves using what they were practicing later in the day. She hoped some men would exercise their privileges with her class tonight; frequent use made women better pleasure slaves.

In the mirror she could see that the class needed her attention, too.

"Slave Three, no, your floor motions need to be more graceful. Eight, help her; pretend to be a master." The wiry black-haired girl went to speak to the redhead, and they were quickly whispering to each other intently. Vika knew the redhead was frightened of men, and had been a virgin when brought in, yet she was very responsive when touched; if only she could learn what to do when men took her...

"Five, let your male rest. Come on over by the mirror and rest yourself a little.

"Nine, the middle slave is soft again. Go to him, turn the timer, and make him hard for as long as the sand pours." This was their usual task. "This time, try only touching him on his arms and legs. Use your hair as Five showed us; you can do that as well."

The girl called Nine paced over to her assigned man and began kissing at his thigh. Five, a short cuddly girl, lay herself on the floor gracefully, more attractively than she would have a few weeks before.

"Vika?"

"Yes, Slave Five?"

"I...I never saw men in collars before." She looked over at the chained men pensively. None of the three wore anything but chains, a hood, and a metal collar.

"Yes, they are collared. They are branded, too, just like us. They are slaves."

"I didn't know there were male slaves here... I guess I thought the slave traders just took women."

"We are more expensive."

"More what?", One asked.

"We cost more money. Men will pay more to buy us."

"Oh," said Five, blushing.

"Don't men get enslaved, for heavy work?" One asked.

"Yes, sometimes. But most slaves are taken by men, and men choose slaves they would like to own. They may need labourers, but they want women like us. Pleasure slaves are much nicer, and we are what masters want to own." Vika shrugged dismissively. "Men are sometimes taken captive, but we make better slaves."

"Are many women here are slaves?"

"Hardly any. Maybe one in twenty or thirty? But we are loved very much!"

"Loved? Slaves?"

"Oh, yes! Men want us very much! It would be a sad and poor world if there were no pleasure slaves and no masters. Don't you think so?"

One was silent, a nervous expression on her face.

"You never thought of it that way, did you?", Five said.

"How can you joke about it?"

"Why not? I wouldn't have chosen to be taken away and enslaved, but now that it's happened I can live with it. We're here, and we're slave girls, and we're not going home. Can't you be happy where you are?"

"As a slave? As somebody's property?", One demanded.

"We are already somebody's property. Right, Vika?"

"Yes. You are owned by the House of Tormus."

"See? I have an owner. I am property. Right now I'm being trained as a sex slave and later on I'm going to be put on an auction block and sold. Just like you."

"People should be free!", One shot back.

"Some people are free. We aren't. Right, Vika?"

"She is right," Vika agreed. "None of us in this room are free. We probably never will be, either; we are expensive and delightful women. Men rarely free their slave girls."

Five looked at the other girls and said softly, "If I were a man, I wouldn't."

DAY FIFTY ~ DISCIPLINE

"Good morning, Loralius."

Loralius Tormus looked up from his desk and smiled as the green robed Physician entered his office. He stood. Few free women moved around the House of Tormus unescorted - what with one thing and another, few ladies visited Houses like his of their own free will at all - but everyone in the House of Tormus knew Lady Midite.

"Lady Midite, it's good to see you. Welcome. Please make yourself comfortable."

She settled herself onto the offered cushions with a swirl of green robes and said, "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Loralius. I hadn't expected to be in at all today."

"It's always a pleasure, Lady. What brings you in, that you didn't know about yesterday?"

"It's the botanical lecture series that's coming up next week. Did you remember that I was going to be there?"

"I remember you were going to be away from the House next week, yes," Loralius said; his knowledge of and interest in botany was roughly as shallow as the ocean was deep. He shrugged.

"Yes, I'm giving a talk on common plant derived toxins and antidotes. But that's not important.

"We were going to meet at the old public amphitheater, as you may have heard, but the city militia has rescheduled some archery practice exercise and canceled our reservation. Their range abuts the amphitheater, you know, and military needs trump medical lectures.

"Anyway, our misfortune may be good luck for you, Loralius, and I hope it is. If the auction hall here at the House of Tormus is available six days from now, we will happily rent it for the day."

"Ah," he said, understanding perfectly. The auction hall of the House was a large enclosed space which was actually only occasionally used for its intended purpose of selling slave girls. In between the House made a tidy amount of money renting it out for other events. Loralius looked across the room to the calendar and schedule board hung on the wall, just to be sure, and nodded.

"Yes, no problem, Lady. You can have the whole day."

"Good!"

"Renting the hall will be a little more expensive than the old amphitheater, though."

"I know," she agreed, "but we need somewhere to meet and I'd rather the House of Tormus get the money than any of the alternatives. I showed your price list to the organising committee and they've already authorised renting the hall for the entire day."

"Very well, then," Loralius answered, imagining the lump of unexpected coinage coming his way with satisfaction. The hall in use cost him little more than the hall empty. "The House of Tormus will be happy to host your lectures, Lady Midite."

"Thank you, Loralius. I'm glad you could help us."

"It's my pleasure, Lady."

"The pleasure is ours. It's a relief to know that we found a new location so easily. But now that we have, who should I talk to about the setup details?"

"Go find Gordon; he's around here somewhere, probably down in the training pens. He'll handle everything for you."

Lady Midite smiled, her eyes warm behind her veils and said again, "Thank you, Loralius."

The door to the training room opened and a free woman entered.

Vika dropped to her knees immediately, years of training and practice sending her to the proper respectful position without thought. Around her barbarian girls were slower to notice and assume deferential poses. It was Lady Midite, of course.

The free woman swept into the room paying little attention to the slave girls who fell into respectful positions around her and stopped near Vika.

"Is Gordon here?", she asked.

"Mistress, he is in the next room!", Vika answered quickly.

Lady Midite walked past the barbarian slaves without another word, to the door dividing this training room from the one next to it, and Vika noticed how different the free woman's steps sounded on the mat covered floor. She wore low heeled slippers; the slaves were barefoot.

When Lady Midite pulled open the heavy door Vika could see everything past the free woman's robes. Gordon was holding Eight's head in front of himself, his hands in her hair, the naked girl bent over at a harsh angle as Henrick, from behind, was having his own way with her.

A moment too late Vika thought that it might have been wise to tell Lady Midite what the guardsmen were doing.

"Oh!", lady Midite gasped. "My apologies, gentlemen. I didn't know you were...busy."

The free woman quickly turned to face into the room, her back to the surprised guardsmen and the ravished barbarian girl.

"When you are done, Gordon, I would like to speak with you."

"Just a moment, Lady!", Gordon called.

"Sorry, ma'am," said Henrick.

Eight said nothing. But then, her mouth was full.

Gordon pulled Eight's head back, let her go, and adjusted his clothing. With a glance in the room's mirror he checked his appearance and left Eight to Henrick.

"Go on without me," he said to one or both of them, and closed the dividing door behind him. "I am at your service, Lady."

"Thank you, Gordon. I'm sorry to have interrupted you."

"It's no problem, ma'am; there's always a girl around."

"Nevertheless, Gordon. I just need to co-ordinate with out about using the theatre next week for my lecture group. Once we get that out of the way you'll be able to get back to your slut."

"She is not a slut!", cried Three suddenly. Everyone in the room looked at her, even the free people. Lady Midite looked down at the slave by her feet for the first time; Three looked up at the House Physician with tear filled eyes.

"She's a good woman! She doesn't deserve--" Lady Midite's hand lashed out, smacking the red haired slave across the face. Vika winced at the sound. Three fell to the floor and Vika saw blood at her lip.

Lady Midite looked down at the barbarian coldly a moment. She turned to Gordon and said, "Whip her."

Three screamed as the leather whip sliced through the air and landed with a crack against her bare flesh. She shook again in her bonds but the wrist cuffs that suspended her almost off the floor kept her in place, unable to escape the whip. She cried again

"No, no, please! No more!", she blubbered. The girl had forgotten the language of her masters and was crying out in the barbarians' tongue.

The other barbarian girls cowered against one wall, along with Vika, watching Three's beating. None dared object. Eight had been brought back in by Henrick and bound to one of the restraining rings; tears ran down her face freely as she cried for her friend as much as Three did under the whip.

Gordon regarded the stripes laid across Three's pale skin, selecting his next target. He let the trembling girl anticipate the leather a few heartbeats and laid another stripe on her. She screamed again, jerking and swinging. The other slaves flinched in sympathy.

Lady Midite watched in silence, her thoughts unreadable behind her veil.

Gordon stepped back and looked over to Henrick, who stood by the line of slaves.

"Henrick, before this started the Lady Midite wanted a few moments of my time. Would you take over?"

"Of course." He came over to the dangling redhead, unclipping his own whip from his belt. He reached out and stroked her body lightly with his free hand to feel her condition; Three jerked and moaned.

"She's going to be feeling this a while," he remarked.

"Good. Maybe she'll learn from it." Gordon turned away from the naked girl. "Lady Midite, let us step outside."

"Certainly, guardsman."

Vika watched the two of them depart. A part of her was relieved that she wasn't the slave being whipped, and a part of her felt guilty about feeling relieved.

Henrick addressed Three. "Slave girl."

She looked at him wordlessly.

"Answer me, slave girl."

"Y-yes?", she answered weakly.

He touched her tear stained cheek. "You must call me 'Master'."

Three's mouth worked briefly, and she whispered, "Yes, Master?"

"Have you learned your lesson? Will you be a good and obedient slave?"

"...yes. Yes, Master, I will be good."

"Do you beg not to be whipped any more?"

"Yes, Master! Please don't whip me any more!"

"Sometimes slave girls do not get their own way. Prepare to be whipped again."

Henrick stepped back and raised his whip.

Vika looked away but she heard the supple leather smack against soft skin and the slave girl cry out.

He only laid a few new stripes on the girl, though, before he stopped. He coiled his slave whip slowly, considering the girl hanging bound before him, and put it back on his belt.

"You must never be disrespectful to free people, Three," he said. "You were whipped because you spoke harshly to a free woman. Will you remember this whipping?"

"Y-yes! Yes, M-master," Three sobbed.

"I hope you do." Henrick took her head in his hands and turned her face towards him, then kissed her with unusual tenderness. "I don't want to have to whip you again for this. Show me that you are an obedient and well trained slave girl. Show me that you have learned respect and obedience. Show me that you don't need to be punished again."

"Y-yes, Master!"

"Good. I don't want to whip you again for this. Be a good girl."

Henrick released her head and addressed the other girls.

"Leave her there for now. The rest of you can carry on as you were." He went out into the hall and left the girls alone.

As soon as he was out of the room Eight spoke up.

"Somebody untie me! I want to see how she is."

"You were tied by men," Vika told her. "You must stay there until a free person releases you. I'm sorry, but we are only slaves."

Eight pulled against her bonds, uselessly, and moaned in frustration. She was exactly as she'd been left, belly down on the floor and tied hand and foot, just as Henrick had left her.

"Can someone go help her? Please!"

"May we, Vika? Is it okay to talk to her?"

"Yes, go ahead." Vika knew they'd be distracted anyway.

The barbarian girls gathered around Three, talking quietly and hugging her - gently, of course, to avoid her tender and painful whip marks.

"Do you think she'll be okay?"

Vika looked over at the barbarian girl just now kneeling beside her and nodded.

"Yes, Five. She is unhappy now, of course, but she will get better." Vika looked over at Three briefly and continued, "No man at the House of Tormus would intentionally scar a slave girl. That whip is for discipline; it hurts us but it doesn't break the skin. You know that, since you've been whipped, too."

"Yes," Five said quietly, remembering. "We all have. I just hope Three is okay."

"She shouldn't have spoken up like that."

Vika looked up at One, who shrugged and knelt on the mat beside them.

"Well, she shouldn't have."

"No, she shouldn't," Vika admitted, "but I'm surprised you said that."

"Why?"

"Well..."

"She means she didn't expect you to admit it," Five said. "You haven't exactly been happy about being a slave."

"So? What's that got to do with it? That's not the point."

"What is the point?"

"She shouldn't have spoken like that to a free person. That's just going to get her punished."

“It sure did. Poor Three."

"See? We don't have to like it - and I don't like it - but we've got to learn how to get along here. Isn't that what Vika's teaching us?"

"Yes," Vika said; it was, close enough. She was surprised to hear her troublesome student speak like this, and to Five of all the girls, but she welcomed whatever progress the girl made.

"Yeah," Five agreed softly. "It looks like I'm going to be wearing chains a lot in the future, so I really want to be chained at the foot of a man's bed, not to his whipping post."

"Smart girl," One said.

DAY FIFTY EIGHT ~ THE BANQUET

It was a fine summer evening and Loralius Tormus was enjoying a quiet dinner with a colleague from out of town. Sorel Kulan, a fellow slave trader, had come to Venna on business several days ago and Loralius wasn't going to let his opportunity slip by.

With part of his attention he watched the barbarian girls coming and going, seeing that their training was coming along acceptably. They were not as good as they should be in presenting themselves or predicting the needs of the diners, but he could see that they understood the basics of dinner service. Vika moved quietly at the back of the room, out of the way, watching and guiding her students.

In one corner musicians played quietly, free men from the House. He had no idea if any of the barbarian girls knew music and doubted it would be worth teaching them.

Sorel waved away a slave carrying a platter of glazed meat and spoke under the sound of the music.

"I'm glad you invited us to dinner, Loralius. I've been hoping to talk to you privately while I was here."

"It's my pleasure," Loralius answered, not quietly but without the carrying quality he usually used. "My new barbarians need practice in banquet service, so I have a good excuse to entertain my friends."

"Yes, and I'd like to buy some barbarians of my own if they aren't expensive. The market is underdeveloped."

"I'll give you a good price, more or less. This group will be ready for sale soon, if any of them interest you. Take your pick of any of them for the evening."

"Thank you, that's very gentlemanly of you; I may take you up on that. But never mind barbarians, we can talk about them later."

"What are you thinking?"

"I may want to sell you a slave, Loralius."

He grinned. "I've got plenty. One slave? What's so special about this one?"

"Well, there's the thing... Have you heard of a woman named Mellipola Saleria?"

"Oh, by the gods," Loralius said, filling in quite a lot of untold story very quickly. "Am I going to get in trouble for this?"

"No, no. It's all perfectly legal. But people could get upset; you know how it is."

"I know of the Saleria merchant family, but I don't remember meeting any Mellipola. Is she related to them?"

"Oh, yes."

“What's the situation, then? Is she already a slave or just a candidate?"

"She's a slave now - I call her Bana."

"So she's a slave and you've got her. Does her family know?"

"Yes, that's the problem. They want to buy her back."

"They should be willing to give you a better price than most customers. You should be able to make gold on this; her family is motivated and rich."

"They aren't as wealthy as you might think, actually."

"One slave girl isn't all that expensive. What's going on, Sorel?"

"Okay, okay. I don't want to sell. Happy?"

"You'd better tell me the rest of the story."

"It's not a long one. Who's that?"

Loralius blinked in momentary confusion and turned to see a familiar free woman in Physician's robes approaching. Serving slaves hurried out of her way.

"Lady Midite!", he said, rising. "Welcome."

"Good evening, Loralius," she said when she drew near.

"Sorel, this is Lady Midite Callicenta, our house physician; Lady Midite, may I present Sorel Kulan of Ar?"

"Good evening, Lady," Sorel said, bowing.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I hope this is not an intrusion, Sorel, but I need a brief word with Loralius."

"Of course not, Lady." Sorel nodded politely and sat down again.

"I have been looking at the inventory for the upcoming auction and there's something you should know about," she told him quietly. "Do you recall Lot Number Six, the pleasure slave called Yata?"

"Vaguely. What about her?"

"She used to be named Melpomene. She was a scribe for the Builders' Guild before she disappeared. You should know that she used to be a high caste woman of Venna."

"It wasn't in her papers?"

"No, they are incomplete. There's nothing at all until the House of Kliomenes documented her training in erotic dance a few years ago. What I need to know is if you want to change the auction plans."

Loralius thought only briefly. The extra money he might get wouldn't cover the cost of changing plans at this point. "No, I don't think so."

"Thank you, Loralius," she said with apparent satisfaction. "That is all I needed."

"Lady Midite?"

"Yes?"

"Did you know this woman?" She didn't answer immediately, returning his gaze noncommittally, and he saw he had guessed correctly.

"Yes," she said. "Yes I did. Now if there is nothing else, I have some letters to write."

"Certainly, Lady Midite. Have a nice evening." Loralius could tell that there was a story here and doubted he'd ever hear all of it.

"I think I will, Loralius. I wish you well."

Lady Midite departed, sweeping regally past a guardsman standing by the doorway with a pair of male slaves. The guard, Kostas, bowed politely as she passed; Midite returned the greeting with a microscopic nod.

"Kostas," Loralius called, "send them out when they're ready." The wrestlers would keep people looking at the action and not listening to Sorel. Kostas nodded and in a few moments the loincloth clad men faced off between the tables.

Loralius returned to his meal. He caught Vika's eye and lifted his glass. Two nicely contrasting barbarians, a black girl and a redhead, had the wine service but he wanted Vika.

"She has a lovely voice," Sorel observed.

"Yes, she does. I don't know if she sings, but she would be good at it. She's good at lots of things."

"Have you...?"

"What?" Loralius held his glass in place as Vika knelt and refilled it.

Sorel shrugged. "Considered enslaving her?"

"No!", he exclaimed. Vika gasped in horror.

"No?"

"Not at all! Some women make good slaves, and some women make excellent slaves. Like Vika, here." Loralius reached out to stroke Vika tenderly and she smiled at his touch and compliment. "But some women aren't suited to collars. Lady Midite is very properly a free woman."

"I'd think you'd at least consider her."

"People say slavers measure every women we meet for a collar, but we both know better than that."

"You don't?"

"Not EVERY woman. Most women, yes, of course. We all do. But I wouldn't try anything with Midite, ever."

Sorel thought about it for a while, watching the oiled male slaves wrestle in the centre of the room, and asked, "Is she ugly?"

"What makes you think I know?"

"Because we're in the same business." Sorel grinned knowingly.

"She's pretty enough," Loralius admitted. "No better than many of the girls in my pens, but nice to look at. You'd be a fool to try to take her, though."

“Really?"

"Oh, yes. For one thing, Lady Midite is one of the better experts on poisons in Venna; the man who tried to make her a kitchen wench wouldn't live very long."

"Has she ever killed anybody?"

"Only one that I know of." Loralius noticed Vika kneeling between them and motioned her to depart. She pressed her forehead to the floor and retreated.

"One is enough..." Sorel said.

Applause rose around them from the other diners as the guardsman Kostas called, "Pin!" One of the wrestlers had caught the other in an inescapable grip, the dark one clearly victorious over the hairy fellow. Kostas separated the two and let the winner take his applause, then sent him off to a corner where a slave girl waited as his reward. Loralius saw she was not the girl who had been chained there earlier. He thought he recognised Yata and suspected Lady Midite's hand, but he would have to wonder later.

"Tell me more about this merchant woman," Loralius said.

DAY ~SIXTY-EIGHT ~ A CHANGE OF PLANS

Vika arrived in the kitchens of the House of Tormus well after the barbarian girls had been delivered there for another day of cooking, unintentionally but unavoidably. She entered to find them kneeling out of the way near the pantries awaiting instructions, precisely as they should be.

"Good morning, girls," she said breathlessly, slipping to the floor near them. "Today we will do bread and pastries again, as I told you yesterday. Remember, 'If you keep your master well fed, he will keep you well.' We should start with...making flour..."

Vika trailed off, looking over the other girls.

"Where is Slave Eight?"

A wave of tiny twitches and shiftings moved through the group. Three glanced at an open doorway, blushing furiously again, and said very quietly, "In there..."

Vika rose curiously and peeked in.

Inside Eight was writhing naked in the arms of the guardsman Henrick. He had stripped her of the house tunic she'd been wearing, then tied her hands with the belt thong and gagged her with the wadded fabric, and laid her down atop a bin of vegetables. Eight wiggled helplessly under his touch, trying to rub her naked body against him as Henrick had his way with her; Vika could hear her muffled moans from the doorway.

Clearly he was not going to release her soon, nor did she want him to. Vika returned to the other girls with a bright smile on her face.

"Okay! Yes. Eight will be joining us later. We will start without her..."

DAY SEVENTY FIVE ~ BANA'S STORY

The guardsman Kostas led a line of nude slave girls through the House, with Vika at the end. The girls were well behaved though they were unused to this part of the House, keeping most of their gawking to themselves. He had put them only on a single chain that held them together in line, without even putting them in cuffs; Vika guessed that this was a subtle test of the barbarians.

In a sunlit hallway knelt another slave girl, a zaftig brunette chained naked to a wall ring beside a doorway. Kostas unlocked the door and said, "Go inside and kneel."

They filed into the apartment as told, Three squeaking with surprise when Kostas touched her as she passed, and settled onto a richly carpeted floor. It was a pleasant and open room, much brighter and more airy than the slave kennels, with a wide barred window overlooking the city streets. A large bed was against one wall, a vanity against another, and several chests were scattered about. Three fidgeted, blushing.

Kostas did not enter immediately, but unchained the other woman and brought her in with him. Vika knew the new girl spoke with an upper class accent, had arrived at the House of Tormus a few days ago, and was being kept in the upper kennels. She only knew her through the gossip of other slaves so far, though; training the barbarians had kept her too busy to meet the girl. Early this morning Lana, another one of the House girls, had said that Vika would be getting help for today's lesson; it seemed Lana had told the truth this time.

"Kneel, girl," Kostas told the brunette, and she obeyed. He bent over and tipped back her head by the hair. "Vika is in charge. Understand?"

"Yes, Master. This girl will obey!"

He nodded and stood up. He freed the end of the chain that clipped to Vika's collar and the whole length slithered loose to let him gather the thing into his hands.

"You girls will be here alone until noon. Someone will come when it's lunchtime. Behave yourselves, check?"

"Yes, Master," they chorused.

He turned and departed. They could hear the door click as they were locked in.

"You may break position now, girls," Vika said. "We're going to be here all day, and you'll get plenty of practice behaving yourselves."

As the barbarians relaxed a little Vika smiled at the new girl.

"Hello. I'm Vika. Who are you?"

"This girl is called Bana, Mistress," she answered, her eyes downcast.

"It's okay to relax, Bana. I'm the first girl, I'm not a master."

Bana smiled a little.

"I heard you were going to help me teach the barbarian girls today. You know how to handle free woman's robes, yes?"

"Yes, of course."

"Okay, then. We'll talk more during the day." She called, "Girls?"

The barbarians looked to Vika and she continued, "Today we will be learning about how to be a lady's maid.

"I said last night that it is different from serving a man, and it is. Proper deportment for a lady's maid, or even an ordinary slave serving a lady, is not like it is when we are with men. Mistresses are very different from masters, just as free women are very different from us.

"You will see what I mean. Let's get started.

"This room is a special one. It looks like a normal bedroom where a free person might live, but there are things here that most rooms don't have. One of them is a supply of slave tunics. Slave Six, go over to that chest and get fourteen of them, one for everybody. We are going to be demure and proper lady's maids today, not the wanton sluts men make us!" Some of the barbarians laughed along with her at that.

"We're going to start with getting your mistress ready to face the world. A free woman's day is not like ours at all. Bana will help me show you how to arrange free women's hair and clothes.

“We won't bother with the bath. You already know how to bathe free men, and women aren't very different except that we don't get ravished beside the tub.

"Thank you, Six," she said as the girl came around and handed her a plain tunic like all the others. "Okay, everybody but Bana pair off with the girl next to you. One of you put on the maid's tunic, and the other will pretend to be the free woman. You'll swap roles later."

Most of the barbarians formed pairs according to convenience; Three and Eight had managed to get next to each other again.

"It's a sundress!", Vika heard Three say breathlessly, holding the tunic up to her body. "After months of wearing lingerie!"

"Just remember, that's considered modest around here!", Eight whispered back, grinning.

"I'll take it!"

"You would. Me, I kind of like what we've had!"

Three erupted in a poorly stifled squeal and both of them fell to giggling.

"You'd dress for Zuma Beach every day?"

"Around here, we're lucky to get that much!"

Ignoring the byplay, Vika slipped into the modest tunic, sorted out a few disagreements between girls over which would play the mistress first, and showed the girls where to find toiletries and clothes.

None of the barbarians showed any surprise to see a large selection of free women's clothing in many different styles and sizes, unlike the matching slave tunics. Vika was not; she had a very good idea how a Slaver's house came to have the clothing of free women.

As they practiced, they talked.

"How did you learn to do this?", one of the barbarians asked. "Were you a lady's maid?"

"Oh, no!", Bana laughed. "I was a lady!"

"What?"

"Well, where do you think slave girls come from?"

"California!", Four said.

"Ow! Watch it with that brush!" Nine, sitting at the vanity bundled up as a free woman from the neck down, glared at Four in the mirror.

"Sorry, 'Mistress'!"

"Where is that?", asked Bana.

"That's where we're from," Four explained as she worked on Nine's hair. "Most of us, anyway."

"I've never heard of it."

"It's not around here," Eight told her.

"We were captured and brought here to be slaves," Four explained unnecessarily, arranging Nine's long hair into a free women's style.

"You were free women in Kalifra?"

"California. Yes."

"I wouldn't have thought so. Not all of you, anyway."

"What? Why not?"

"You obviously make good slave girls. If I didn't know better I would have expected at least a few of you to have had masters."

Eight grinned at Three and stage-whispered, "Yeah, why didn't you have a master?" The redhead blushed furiously.

"No," said Five, "not until we were brought here. Some of us took to having masters more easily than others." She glanced at One but the dark girl didn't rise to the bait.

"So how did you become a slave, Bana?"

"It isn't important." She looked embarrassed. "I was free, but I'm not anymore."

"Bana, I was born a slave," Vika said. "These girls were captured. How did you get a collar?"

She said softly, "I sold myself."

The girls around her gasped in surprise or shock. Vika hugged Bana and said, "Oh, good for you!"

"What?"

"Men may pay more for you because of that. Many masters think it is a demonstration that you are a natural slave and know it; what man would not rather own a woman who wanted to be a slave? But it takes great courage for a woman to choose slavery instead of freedom, even when it is right for her."

"Why did you do it?", demanded One. "Why would you intentionally sell yourself into slavery?"

"It's a long story," Bana prevaricated.

"We have all morning," one of the barbarians pointed out.

"Okay, okay." She took a breath, gathering her thoughts. "I don't know if you know a slave trader named Sorel Kulan..."

Vika nodded; as it happened she did. The Slaver from Ar had visited the House of Tormus several times on business. Vika had been sent to him twice and gotten very thoroughly ravished both times, by Sorel and his men, leaving her overwhelmed and exhausted. By her standards he was a good master, although Merchants would care about other things such as his profits.

"I come from a Merchant family, the Saleria line; I knew him for years, since we were children. Not like I do now, of course!

"My family wanted him to invest in a caravan we were organising for the spring fair at the Sardar Mountains, but he wasn't sure. There are always plenty of women for sale at the fairs, you know, and some years the business is slow. There's a lot of money to be made, though, even with the cost of travel and the losses to bandits. But bigger caravans are safer and we were really hoping that he would join ours.

"One day I told him that if he was that worried about losing his investment he should claim me as collateral." Several of the barbarian girls made noises of shock or titillation. "He said it shouldn't come to that. He signed up for the caravan, though.

"A month after the Spring Equinox we got word. Bandits had hit the caravan on the way home." Bana trailed off, but after a few moments she took a deep breath and continued.

"Well. My family was going to buy him off and repay him over a year or two," she continued. "It would have strained the family's accounts for months. He must have lost twenty girls or more. I couldn't let that happen.

"I made an appointment with Sorel, to meet him at his House. I told him I was ready to fulfil my part of the bargain.

"He made me take my clothes off and kneel like a slave before he would talk to me. He said was willing to let my family repay the money we owed instead of taking his privilege to enslave me. He was willing to allow me to remain a free woman. I...didn't ask for that.

"He had slave papers waiting for me already, blank identification papers and a writ of enslavement. It said I gave up my freedom and became his property in exchange for a cancellation of all our family debts to him." Bana crossed her arms over her chest, trembling.

"I wouldn't have believed how humiliating and final it is to read your own slave papers, to have a certificate of ownership and be publicly registered as a man's property! I could have spent a whole day just reading them over and over.

"I signed. Then I belonged to him. You know what happens to new slaves. He put me in a collar, used me, and sent me away to be branded and taught to obey."

"Were you difficult?", asked Vika.

"Oh, no, no! I knew better, even then! But I was whipped anyway, so that I would fear the whip and know my place. For weeks he kept me naked, and nameless, and available to all the men of his House, just so I could never forget that I was a slave.

"It wasn't easy at first, but Slavers know how to teach a woman the difference between freedom and bondage. I learned very quickly that I was no longer free. They taught me to be a slave, to obey and serve men."

"You sound like you approve," Five said. Bana just shrugged.

"I chose enslavement and he treated me as a slave. How could I object?"

"I didn't say you should..."

"He treated her the same way the House of Tormus handles us," Eight said.

"I think he did the right thing," said Eleven. "Like she said, she chose to become his slave and he used her exactly the way he wanted to. Good for him." Ten giggled and flashed Eleven a timid smile.

"What happened then?"

"He kept me a secret for a while, but about a month ago my family found out where I was. It couldn't have been hard, they knew about what I'd said to him and it was a scandal inside the family; Master Sorel's kennels should have been the first place they looked.

"They tried to buy me. He wouldn't sell, I'm happy to say; I'm sure they offered more than the usual price for a new girl. But he couldn't keep me in Ar, so he sold me to Loralius Tormus and I was shipped to Venna. And here I am, one more girl in the House of Tormus."

"You poor thing..."

"Oh, it isn't so bad!"

"What?"

"If I hadn't been willing to become a slave I wouldn't have gone to his House. Even though I made my offer on an impulse I suppose I half hoped that he would take me." She hesitated and continued, "I knew what I was getting into, as much as any free woman can know what it's like to belong to men. Sorel did nothing improper when he enslaved me or when he treated me like any other girl. And it was very good of him to sell me to the House of Tormus.

"My family would either have freed me or killed me, and I'm not sure which. Either way I'm better off here. I belong to, I mean I belonged to Sorel, I'm away from my boring husband, and I'm seeing a lot more of the world than I did before."

"You're married?", asked a girl.

"I was, yes. It was an arranged marriage; neither one of us was ever very close to the other. Then I was enslaved, of course."

"Slaves aren't allowed to marry?", Five asked.

"Oh, you are barbarians! No, of course not, only free people can be married. As soon as I became a slave I lost my status and rights as a free woman, and my marriage was ended. People can marry, but we are domestic animals."

Vika nodded. It was true.

“Right. Of course we are," Five said awkwardly.

One frowned. "You're a 'domestic animal,'" she said unhappily.

"Yes, we all are. But I had a good owner in Sorel Kulan, and the men of the House of Tormus are good masters, too. I have no complaints."

"We've never had any other owners," Five told her. "I think the House of Tormus has treated us well, but how can we know?"

"Many men are good masters," Vika assured her. "Especially when they have good slave girls."

"Welcome to the House of Tormus, Bana," Eleven said. "Even if we are only domestic animals, we can still be happy. Good masters help, like Vika says; the ones here seem pretty good, however long it is they keep you."

"I don't know how long I'll be here. I hope Sorel can buy me back soon."

"I hope so, too," Eight said. "You're incredibly lucky; I wish there was a man I knew who was trying to buy me."

"Even if he wanted to keep you?", Three giggled.

"I expect that whoever gets me is going to keep me. For a while, anyway; why else would he buy me? I hope he's going to be a good man... but it would be nice to know."

Many of the girls nodded. Once they had learned that they were slaves they had begun to wonder what would happen after they had been sold, and speculated about the nature of their future masters.

"It sure would," Four agreed.

"We aren't going to get anywhere wondering about it, though," Five said. "We won't know who buys us until we're actually sold."

"I guess that's one advantage of selling yourself," said One. "You get to choose your owner."

"I think she was very brave," Eleven said. "Not everyone could voluntarily become a slave, really and truly belonging to someone else, no matter how right it was for her or how much she wanted to be his."

"Thank you. I always knew I might be a slave someday, but the reality is...very different."

"I never thought I would be legally a slave girl, but here I am," Eleven said, going to the window overlooking the street and gripping one of the bars. "This is a strange place for us and we haven't seen very much of it yet. I just wish we could go out and see more of the people here."

She gestured out the window at the cityscape beyond. "Look at it out there. There's a whole city right outside, full of people. Men, women, children - and other slaves, too, like us. I don't know about you guys but I can't wait to get out of here! The House of Tormus is nice but I want to go outside. I want to see Venna. I want to see the whole world."

"It's one thing to be indoors with only a few men around. Can you imagine being out in public like this?"

"I'd be scared to go outside this way."

"I've been thinking about it a long time," Eleven said, "and I don't want to be a slave girl in secret, hidden away in a harem or a prison or anything. I want to be out where everyone can see me, where everyone knows what I am."

"That you're a slave?"

"What else could I be? What else could any of us be, here? You heard Bana call us domestic animals, and it's true. We're nothing but property here, in a world where there are real slaves. If I'm going to be a slave girl, I want the whole world to know what I am and who I belong to."

"Wouldn't you rather be free?"

Eleven thought about it, then smiled and shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. Ask me after I'm sold; I sure hope I get a good master! But so far being a slave girl is pretty nice."

DAY NINETY-TWO ~ NIGHT WHISPERS

It was dark in the kennels, as it was every night; there was a lamp out in the hall and a trace of light leaked in under the door, but it didn't do much even for dark adapted eyes. The House of Tormus didn't bother illuminating sleeping slaves. Once put into their cells the barbarian girls were meant to stay put, but they'd found that nobody cared if they talked before they slept.

Vika had surprised the barbarian girls with the news of the upcoming auction that evening; it had turned a normal dinner of bread and vegetables in something memorable and triggered a whole evening of speculation and chatter among the girls. They'd known it was coming but for the first time they had a solid date and two weeks to count the days and hours until they were sold.

In cell just to the right of the door, Slave Three put her arms around her best friend and said, "I need to talk."

"Mm?"

"I don't want to be sold. I don't want some strange man to buy me and take me away."

Eight rolled over and hugged Three in return.

"I don't, either, but we don't have a choice. We've got two weeks yet, though."

"This...place! These people! And the way they treat us! It's making me such a slut! Oh..." Three squeezed, uncomfortably tightly.

"It's okay, there's nobody here but us tonight."

"The things they make us do here!"

"I know, Three, I know."

"How do you stand it? You were more, you know, active back home; is it any easier for you?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe. I don't think so, but I never bought that a woman had to be frigid; I didn't grow up with the idea that it was wrong to feel things. So it's not as if the sex is something I can't do, though I wouldn't have asked to become a slave."

"The men here make me into such a, a whore!"

"No, whores get paid; slave girls just obey. We don't get paid for being their sex toys."

"That doesn't help!"

"No, I guess it doesn't." Eight patted her friend, trying to comfort the poor girl. "This isn't much like LA, is it?"

The redhead didn't say anything for a while.

"Dominique..."

"Shh." Eight put a finger over Three's mouth and reminded her, "Remember, I'm Slave Eight now, not Dominique. And you aren't named Rachel anymore. You're called Three. Right?"

"...right."

"Now what were you saying?"

"The things we do here... I don't think I know how to be a slave!"

"Vika's teaching us pretty well, isn't she?"

"That's not what I mean! We all know HOW now, but..."

"Oh. Yeah, the whole acceptance thing."

"How do you do it?"

"Not too well, sometimes," Eight admitted. "I keep wanting to be free again. But I'm not going to get anywhere making a fuss about it. Even One doesn't do that any more. Maybe I'll find out how to get back home later, after we get out of the House of Tormus, maybe not. Either way, right now we're all slave girls and we might as well get used to it."

"Even when they, you know, touch us?"

"Especially then. But I don't think just putting up with it will do. I've seen you when men are around, and when they touch you or use you. You like sex more than I do! You just feel guilty about it afterwards."

"I never-"

"I know. But we sure do here. Can you try accepting that it's okay to enjoy sex?

"I don't know..."

Eight hugged her friend lovingly. "It really is. And not just because we're sex toys for men here, because it's natural and nice."

"Every time they touch me I turn into a total slut"

"It's okay to be an slut. It's okay to do what comes naturally."

Three didn't speak for a while.

“Do you remember the things Vika taught us to tell ourselves? All those sayings that are supposed to make us feel the right way? 'I love to serve men,' and 'I am a beautiful woman and I love to be seen by men,' and all the others?"

"Yes," Eight said.

"I'm actually believing it sometimes."

"Sure. Me, too. It's an old psychology trick. The only strange thing would be if you didn't."

"I never wanted this back home!"

"Look, we've been here for, I don't know, months now, and we're surrounded by people and a culture that sees us as slave girls. Everything that's happened to us since we came here is telling us we're slaves. They're training us to be pleasure slaves like Vika - not just to be captives, but eager slave girls; they want us to want to serve our masters.

"So we aren't just learning their language and how to cook the local foods and stuff. We have to learn to think like pleasure slaves."

"You, too?"

"All of us. It would be weird if it didn't get to you."

"It does!", Three breathed. "Before I came here I'd never even been naked in front of a man and now I'm parading around like that all the time - and I think I'm lucky if I'm wearing anything at all."

"I don't mind being naked some of the time, but it's a lot sexier to have some clothes than none at all."

"Vika says we're not allowed to be modest, but it's not always easy."

"No, not all the time," Eight admitted. "Most of the time I like it, but sometimes I wish I could be fully dressed for once."

“You like our clothes?"

"Are you kidding? I love them! You've seen how the men look at us, too. Someone could make a fortune exporting this stuff to LA; they sure know how dress women and make us look sexy."

"Sexy slave girls!"

"Yeah. I guess it's what we can expect when men are allowed to pick our clothes. But I remember One saying that historically there were almost always ways to tell the difference between slaves and free people, and it's really obvious here."

"No kidding."

"That's probably a good thing. Can you imagine if someone mistook Lady Midite for a slave girl?"

"No!" Three shuddered. "She scares me."

"Me, too, a little. I don't think she has anything against me, but she's a free woman."

"She makes me wish I were dressed."

"You, too?" Eight smiled at her friend, unseen in the darkness. "But then Henrick or Kostas or someone shows up and I'm glad I'm not."

Three squealed softly. "Eight..."

"And you aren't?"

"They're both very nice."

"No kidding." Eight sighed. "There are a lot of nice men here. Strict, yeah, but...okay. Weird, that we should meet decent guys in a place like this, huh? But there's hardly anyone here who's a jerk. I don't know if it's part of our training or just luck or what."

“Henrick really likes you."

"Yeah, he's one of the good ones."

"No, I mean he likes you. He's not just doing a job," Three said. "We've all noticed how often he takes you off alone. He's only had me once after the week we were all used."

"Really?"

"M-hmm. Only once. And we aren't allowed to say no."

"I wouldn't dare say no to a man here. But Henrick..."

"You don't want to say no. You want to say 'Yes, Master.' We've all noticed."

“Well, 'yes,' anyway," she admitted. "I wish I'd met him in LA."

"Back in LA you would have let him take you out on dates a few times and gotten bored with him."

"Maybe not. He's nice. Besides, I like tall men."

"Come on, I've seen you with guys. He's lucky we're here. He just calls you over and puts a leash on you."

"Yeah, this place is great for the men. I wish I knew where we were going, though.

"To an auction block!"

"You know what I mean!"

"Yes, I do." Three hugged her friend and asked, "Eight? Do you think guards here make enough to buy slave girls?"

"Um..." Eight had no idea and couldn't think of a thing to say.

In the next cell Three and Eight could easily be overheard.

"Did you hear that?", One whispered. "I didn't know Three's name used to be Rachel."

"I didn't, either," Six said. "For that matter, I'm surprised you let them call you 'One.'"

"No, there's no way I'd start a fight about that. I remember the Kunta Kinte scene in Roots! I've been whipped here already, I know they'll do it again if they aren't happy with me. It's just a number, anyway; I'll get a new name after I'm sold."

"You say that so easily. 'Sold.' I would've thought you'd be furious and yelling about it."

"Back home I would have been. We've had months to learn that we're slaves, and nobody ever hid that we were headed for an auction block. I don't have to like being a slave, but that doesn't mean that I can pretend I'm not one."

“Yeah, that was really obvious right away. The men here don't leave any doubt at all about that!"

"No kidding. So, yeah, I know I'm getting out of the House of Tormus the same way we all are, when they put me up on the auction block and sell me."

"Are you as nervous about that as I am?"

One thought about it and admitted, "No, not really. I mean, I'd rather not do it, I really don't want to be sold like an animal...but what can I do about it?"

"It's the idea of being shown off on stage in front of all those people...it makes me feel so naked."

"You are naked," One pointed out. "We're all going to be naked on the block."

"I know, I know!"

"Besides, it's not as if you haven't had time to get used to it. We aren't exactly given too much clothing here."

"Easy for you to say, you've got a great figure. I'm a stick."

"Me? Have you looked in a mirror? You're tall and skinny and look like Barbie; you're telling me that I have a great figure?"

"You do. Haven't you noticed how the guards look at you?"

"All the time! Men back home, too. I don't mind, it's nice to be looked at. I could use some more support, though; I'm always jiggling when I walk."

"You're not the only one," Six giggled softly. "Have you ever watched Seven move around?"

"If you really want to know what men think, pay attention during the auction and find out which one of us brings in the most money."

"Oh, God, you had say that! One, I'm terrified! I don't know how I'm going to be able to go up on stage stark naked with hundreds of men looking at me, much less perform for the auctioneer and try to get men to bid on me. I was a nervous wreck just seeing the auction block today."

"You'll do fine. Remember, it's not for weeks yet, and we're going to rehearse the whole thing before the real sale. We'll all be fine."

"I hope I can see you being sold. You'll be great. Magnificent. Men will love seeing you up for sale, naked and beautiful and proud, like some African princess. I bet you'll bring a wonderful price and go to some rich man's harem or something."

"Or a tavern brothel."

"Either way. One, can I tell you something without you getting mad?"

"I guess so."

"You may not like this, but I think you're going to be a wonderful slave girl."

One was silent a moment, and Six worried that she'd offended the other girl, but then she said, "Yeah, I'm afraid I will, too."

"The people here are right, you know," Eleven whispered in Four's ear, one cell away. "Women do make wonderful pleasure slaves. If I were a free woman I'd like to own one."

"Own?"

"Yeah, own. Why not? Slave girls are property, and people own us."

"I know. Our collars even say, 'Property of the House of Tormus' according to the people who can read. But you'd want to own somebody?"

"Oh, yes; I'd love to have a slave of my own, some nice girl trained to please her owner. Or a man, for that matter. But Vika says that women are much more often found on the market. It's pretty obvious why, isn't it?" Eleven reached out beneath their single blanket and touched Four tenderly, eliciting a high pitched squeal, quickly stifled.

"Eleven!"

"Don't you like it? Really object, I mean?"

"We were taught 'slave girls aren't permitted inhibitions.' Remember when Three had to learn that?"

"How could I forget?" Four found Eleven's throat in the darkness and stroked the collar there. "But you're a slave, too."

"Yes, I know," Eleven said. "I've known I could be a slave since I knew what it meant, before I even came here. Some people like being in charge and some people like serving."

"I don't think you ever had any inhibitions, Eleven. The man who buys you is going to be very lucky; you never needed to be made a slave, just shown how to be one."

"I could be a mistress or a slave and be happy either way. Here there's no choice: I'm a slave."

"No, no choice at all." She felt the metal collar around her own throat. "Eleven, I want to tell you a secret."

"Mm?"

"Don't tell One, okay?"

"Sure."

"My family's always had money. A long time ago...we owned slaves." Eleven let out a long breath in wonder. Four continued, "And now I am one. What goes around really does come around."

"Your ancestors owned her ancestors?"

"Maybe. Who can know now?"

"If One knew she'd shit."

Four giggled. "She sure would."

"So what do you think of your new life, Miss Slave Owner?" Eleven's hands moved over Four's body.

"I think I never owned any slaves, and now I am one. I'm just going to have to get used to serving, right?"

"You sure are." Eleven's hands moved downward and stroked the design on Four's thigh where she had been branded, marked as a piece of property. "You're going to be treated just like your great-grandfathers treated their poor slave girls."

"I can only hope so..." Four wiggled a bit closer to Eleven and whispered in the other girl's ear, "Eleven?"

"Yes?"

"You said you could be a mistress as well as a slave?"

"Yeah."

"...please?" After a seeming long pause Eleven's lips brushed hers in the darkness.

"Beg for it."

"Please, Mistress... Make love to this slave girl?"

Eleven snuggled up very close indeed. "Okay."

"Hey, Eleven's at it again," Two whispered. "And I think Four likes it."

"She might as well enjoy it while she can," Nine answered quietly.

"Do you think she wants to be in a harem or have one?"

"Eleven, you mean? Either way! How many other girls has she done it with, anyway?"

"Oh, wow... Eight at least once, when I was close enough to hear. Not me or Twelve. Ten practically rolls over and begs for the men, and she's almost as eager for Eleven. Um..."

"Even One rolls over and begs when she's told to, but you're right; Ten loves it."

"Oh, yeah. She wouldn't go home if she could."

"Who else?", Nine asked.

"Hm, I don't know. Probably at least a few more, knowing Eleven."

"You're right. But it's more than once with Eight."

"Really?" Two sounded hopeful.

"Really. I'm in the next cell any time Eight and Eleven are together and believe me, it's been more than once."

"Mm..." Two sounded thoughtful. "And you know who's Eight's best friend..."

"Three, duh. You think they're doing it?"

"I haven't caught them at it. You?"

"No, me neither. If they haven't yet, they'd better soon. The auction is coming up fast."

"Yeah. Eight had better make her move soon." Two paused and added, "I hope she does. They're both nice girls."

Ten rolled over restlessly next to Five, pulling their single blanket off of her for the second or third time that night.

"Give it back," Five told her sleepily. Ten returned some covering.

Ten fidgeted.

"What's wrong?", Five asked. "You haven't settled down all evening."

"I can't sleep. I can't stop thinking about the auction."

"Oh. Yeah."

"Vika said it's in fifteen days. Only two weeks!"

"I know, I was there. We all were." Many of the girls had talked about their thoughts, but Ten had been quiet most of the evening. She usually was.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. I've been thinking about it too. We all have."

"I know, I'm not the only one. It's just..." Ten trailed off.

"You're scared?"

"No! Well, yes, I am; who wouldn't be? I'm going to be sold off to a stranger! But, still..."

"Oh," Five said, understanding. "You mean you're excited by it."

"God, yes!", she breathed fervently. "Who wouldn't be? I can't wait, Five; we've been here for months learning to be pleasure slaves, and in just a few weeks we're going to be sold! We're going to have real masters!"

Five put her arms around Ten, and the other girl hugged back tightly. She could feel Ten trembling next to her. After a while she asked quietly, "Do you think you'll get a good master?"

"I hope so! If he gives me any chance at all I'll be a very good slave for him. I've been learning a lot here in our training, and a man will be nice to a girl who's trying to please him, right?"

"Like the men here in the House of Tormus?"

"Oh, yes! Don't you think they're good masters?"

"Yes," Five admitted after a moment. "They are. Nobody ever treated me like that back home, but here..."

"You weren't a slave there."

"No, of course not. That sure changed, though! So you're right, things are different here, and the men we've seen so far have been good masters. They don't treat us the way they treat free women, but why would they?"

"Do you think that's right? I mean, that they treat us as slave girls, Five?"

"Well, we are slaves, so yes, I suppose it is. Nobody's treated me like a free woman since I got here, but by now I don't really miss it. I don't want anybody to pretend I'm free, I want the men to be good masters and treat me fairly and let me be a good slave for them in return."

Ten squeezed her tightly and said, "Me, too! I never thought I'd really find a man who'd want me like that, who would want to be my master and who would make me serve him. But then I came here, and men like that are all around! At first I was as least as scared that it wasn't real as I was scared that it was..."

"I always believed it was real."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. I didn't like it at first, of course, and I didn't know where we were, but I never doubted that we were really slaves. Remember Vika coming to us the day we got here, and telling us what we were here for?"

"I remember. I was amazed that she could walk around looking like that. She was almost naked. And so beautiful!"

"Yeah, that, too. But the next day, when they took us out to the blacksmith..." Five took a deep breath, remembering that day very well. "After that I knew we were really slaves. Everything was too well set up for me to doubt that there was real slavery here. And, and..."

"And?" Ten prompted after a moment.

"And they branded me," Five breathed softly, shivered, then continued, "We aren't just collared, we aren't just naked, we're branded, like animals. Any woman can take her clothes off, and I'm sure metal collars aren't that expensive, but this is different. Our bodies are marked forever, and not because we wanted it but because the people who own us chose to mark us.

"That's the point of it, Ten. People aren't branded. Animals are branded, to show that they're somebody's property. Anyone who sees our brands will know what we are, and it's legal here to own women like us. We really, truly are slaves and we really are owned and we're really going to be sold.

"And we'll belong to whoever buys us, just like we belong to the House of Tormus now."

"I can't wait," Ten said, clinging to Five, her head on the other girl's shoulder.

"I...I know what you mean. It scares me to know I'm going to be sold, but I can't pretend it isn't real or isn't right. The House of Tormus buys and sells slaves, and we're their merchandise. We were brought here to be sold."

"I want to be sold, Five. I want to go up naked on the auction block. I want men to see me there and want me. I don't know who will buy me, but I'm going to try to be a very good slave girl for him."

"Men will love you, with that attitude."

"I hope so! Oh, Five, I want a master so much! The House of Tormus is great and all, but I want a master! A man who will hold me and keep me and let me serve him and make him happy. I've learned so much since I got here, things I didn't dare even imagine at home; I know I can be a pleasure slave for real if I only have a real master to keep me! Oh, listen to me, I'm babbling..."

"It's okay, Ten, I don't mind. Besides, you're usually quiet so it's good to hear you open up."

"Thanks," she said softly. "What about you, Five? What do you think of this place?"

"I would never have wanted to come here, even if I'd known about it, but now that I'm here... I honestly don't know if I'd go back to San Jose if I could. Probably, just because going up on the auction block scares me, but it would feel weird to get dressed up in my old clothes and try to be a free person again."

"I wouldn't. If I'd known about this place before they caught me, I'd have wanted to come here."

"Really? Would you have sold yourself like Bana did?"

"No," Ten admitted with a sigh. "I never could have worked up the nerve. I'd have been too scared to ever, ever go to a slave trader and turn myself in.

"But I would have thought about it my whole life."

DAY ONE HUNDRED SEVEN ~ AUCTION

Above and behind the auction block in the House of Tormus is a suite that most visitors never see and are unaware even exists. The wall behind the proscenium is ornate, lavishly decorated, and when the audience is present brightly lit; most never notice the narrow windows looking down over the stage and audience. It's called the Turian Room and the House uses it for important visitors.

One warm evening, on the first of Sekara, it was occupied for other reasons.

Loralius Tormus, head of the House of Tormus, had an excellent view of the evening's events.

"Wine," he said casually. In a few moments a metal goblet was placed in his outstretched hand, filled with an acceptable vintage red wine. One of the perks of his trade was a ready supply of excellent service.

He looked out at the audience below and was pleased at the numbers and affluence he saw. As a merchant he always hoped to sell his merchandise for a good price, and these people looked as if they'd yield their money freely. Almost directly below an auctioneer was addressing the crowd, his words background noise to Loralius.

He passed the drink to his other hand and reached down to stroke the soft hair of the slave girl kneeling on the floor beside his chair. The girl nuzzled his thigh fondly.

"How are you feeling, dear?", he asked.

"Excited and hopeful, Master," Vika replied after a moment. "And nervous."

"If any of them aren't ready, it's too late now."

"I know, Master. I only worry because none of them have been sold before. They are good girls, really."

"It's normal to be nervous now. Imagine how they feel!"

“Terrified, Master!"

"No doubt," he agreed. He looked down at the raven-haired beauty beside him, his gaze meeting adoring brown eyes in an open and trusting Asian face. Few knew how fond he was of this girl.

He lowered the wine to Vika and she sipped from his cup.

A nearly solid wave of applause exploded up from the crowd below and Loralius looked out to see the attention of all below focused on the stage. The auctioneer had retreated out of sight and two guards in elaborate and impractical uniforms were scattering ceremonial handfuls of sawdust over the block. The auction was beginning.

The first sale of the evening was a woman from Venna itself, enslaved in a legal judgment and acquired cheaply by his agents only a few days before. He didn't expect her to bring a very high price, and she did not.

"Can you see the auction block?", he asked, knowing that one of her students would be sold next.

"Yes, Master."

"Good."

"Thank you for letting me watch, Master," she said softly.

"I think it's good for you to see the barbarian girls all the way through to their sale. "

"My master is wise, and kind."

Next to go up on the block was the barbarian that had been called Slave Five - nobody was going to say her house number of 148D16-05 often, least of all Vika or the other new slaves - and if the pale black haired girl might be among the plainest of the barbarian girls the crowd liked her much better than the freshly collared local woman who had preceded her.

"If you have anything to say, dear, you may speak freely."

"She is bright and imaginative, Master. She might only be bought as a kettle and mat girl, but she will bring her owner much joy. I like her."

After several minutes of bidding the barbarian went to a local soldier for several times what the previous woman had brought. The man had to wade through the congratulations and jests of his fellows as he left his seat to pay and collect his purchase, and clearly did not mind the attention or the price he was paying.

"That's not bad," Loralius commented. "If the rest do as well the House will make a tidy profit."

"I hope so, Master."

"Would you like to train more barbarians?"

"Yes, Master, I would. I hadn't thought I would be a good teacher, or that barbarians would be good students, but I enjoyed training them to be good slaves."

"I would have to use either you or Lana, since nobody else knows their language."

"Hmph! I can serve you better."

"Really?", he asked, amused.

"Really, Master. Vika is a much better slave girl than Lana."

"I will remember that," he chuckled, looking out at the auctioneer dramatically describing the charms of the two girls who would be offered next. Privately he agreed, but would not interfere in the petty rivalries of slave girls by saying so.

His opinion could be guessed, of course. Lana wore a collar typical of the House, which carried the legend 'Property of the House of Tormus.' Locked around Vika's throat was one of only a few collars that read 'Property of Loralius Tormus.' The difference might have incited violence if either of them could read.

"Vika hopes so, Master," purred the girl at his knee, and together they watched the auction below.

The matched pair, identical twins and trained dancers, delighted the crowd; bids mounted quickly until almost all private bidders had fallen away. Several tavern owners traded bids to have the girls for the entertainment of their customers. In the end the pair was bought for a spectacular price by a lanky man in an ostentatious gold necklace when Cernus Metrios, the owner of the Silver Chain, dropped out of the bidding.

Cernus Metrios bid as well on Four when she followed the twins onto the block, but she went to a plump and over-dressed merchant from out of town despite his offers; she would doubtless be one of many girls the man owned.

One girl followed another, none displeasing the bidders, for the better part of the evening. Vika cooed with satisfaction when Eleven was sold to a man working for Sorel Kulan, who she'd heard was expanding his share of the market in pleasure slaves. Eight went to a shaven-headed Scribe Vika had seen around but did not know. As the auctioneer touched Ten during her sale she orgasmed loudly; Vika could feel the girl's shame and embarrassment but it did wonders for her price.

In time the last girl was led away to be given over to her new owner. The sales were over, and the closing rituals of the auction took little time.

Loralius smiled as he watched the crowds slowly filing out of the auction hall, clustering in the aisles and conversing in groups that clogged the floor of the hall. Free men and slave girls all looked happy tonight. Above them in the ladies' balcony free women exited unseen by those on the floor below; predictably, no sales had been made to the balcony tonight. Loralius might get a report later; men of the House watched the free women during auctions and made notes on women who were particularly interested or frequently seen. As a Slaver Loralius knew well that auctions drew female spectators, and some of them might find themselves more intimately involved in a sale someday.

"Master? I didn't see Slave One sold..."

"Which one was she?"

“The curvy black one, Master."

"Oh, yes! She didn't go up on the block because Cernus wanted her for his flock. He was so impressed with her that he offered me eight gold pieces for her."

"Cernus Metrios, Master? The tavern owner?"

"Yes, him. It seems Lady Midite sent him a letter before the last auction pointing out a particular dancer, and he was so happy with her that he came back for some more girls. Your friend will be serving at the Silver Chain tomorrow night."

"Oh." Vika thought about this. "I think his customers will like her, Master."

"What about the girl herself?" He was honestly curious to hear what she thought. He wouldn't normally suggest a raw and inexperienced girl for a tavern, since being so wholly at the mercy of many customers would be hard on a girl recently free; Cernus had been very interested in the exotic beauty, though. Loralius hoped the girl could adapt to being the plaything of whoever laid down a coin for her.

"It's going to be difficult for her at first, Master. I think she will do well, though. Many of the barbarians could be tavern girls."

"I expect so. But you taught your students well. She should be able to adapt."

"And she brought you a good price, Master."

"Yes she did, a very good one. You get the credit for training her well enough to be a tavern girl only a few weeks after she was collared. You've done very well, my dear." He stroked her tenderly, then stood. "For now, Vika, put the wine away and make sure the room is tidy."

"Yes, Master," she acknowledged.

"I'll be downstairs talking to Seneca for a while. When everything is wrapped up from the auction I'll be going to bed. When I return be kneeling at the foot of my bed, naked and ready."

Vika beamed up at her beloved master. "Oh, yes, my Master! Happily!"