Slavers of Mergar
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by Miguel de Riviera
Category: Erotica/BDSM Erotica
Description: Princess Shanarla and street urchin Jez are thrown together by circumstance, in the captivity of the slavers of Mergar. Can they pool their wits to survive the brutal torment that awaits them?
eBook Publisher: Fiction4All,
eBookwise Release Date: May 2011
1 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [146 KB]
Reading time: 89-124 min.
There was a torch-lit underground passageway between the port of Uballa and the slave auction pit, one of the largest flesh markets on the World of Mergar. When Gallor Gongolon entered through the fortified port door, at least three hundred girls, chained naked to rings along the tunnel's stone walls, made little gasps of fear. Gallor allowed himself a tight grin. The girls were nervous because tomorrow they would be auctioned as slaves to become completely at the mercy of unknown masters, and Gallor looked too fierce to be a kind owner. He was a swarthy, stocky, muscled man with shoulder length blond hair, a six-inch tangled blond beard and bushy, scowling eyebrows hovering over piercing blue eyes. Worst of all he had huge hands that looked powerful enough to crush bones. He was definitely not a kindly fellow.
As he strode along the passageway he scanned the young women standing and tethered by eighteen-inch chains locked on their collars with their wrists shackled behind them. They were completely helpless against possible purchasers and others just browsing the stock. So long as sexual penetration was limited to fingers and no permanent damage, pain or mark was inflicted upon her, there were no restrictions on how a girl could be appraised.
The merchandise came from many parts of Mergar, but none from the Lanadian Empire where it was forbidden to enslave Lanadian girls. They came from the Island of Yut where impoverished parents routinely sold off their surplus daughters; dusky girls of the Jena Desert captured by the marauding horsemen of Quad; primitive fisher folk along the shores of the Inland Sea collected by Tenacian sea raiders; and passengers sailing through the Jut Sea who had been netted by pirates from Hali. Ship's passengers were almost always rich and well educated. One such shipload sailing from Fawty to Juty was the group Gallor was looking for. One of his many spies had informed him that the prize catch--still unknown to the pirates--was Princess Shanarla of Fawty destined to marry the Duke of Juty. She was an enormously valuable ransom victim slipping unseen through their grasp because for safety she had travelled disguised as a paid companion to one of the elderly women passengers.
He remembered Shanarla well as a lying little bitch. A few years ago--at the time she was a precocious 14-year-old--she had tried to convince her father to throw him into a dungeon because he had insulted her by staring like a "half-wit nincompoop" at the full glory of her pink breasts easily discerned through the thin fabric of her party gown. Princesses were often arrogant and, for females, far too assertive but they slavishly followed the latest fashions from the sophisticated city state of Juty. What did she expect young blades to do if she displayed her allurements so blatantly? The king had laughed off her complaint. But the scoundrel had, she lied glibly to add needed weight to her denouncement, fondled her and pinched a nipple. The king's broad grin darkened to a scowl. This was a different matter. Perhaps this impudent pup should be taught manners with fifty lashes applied in the city square. Gallor considered this king to be a witless fathead, but the threat was alarming. Only the fact that one of the king's advisors recognized Gallor as the Prince of Lanada avoided a great deal of violent unpleasantness. The king had ordered him to leave the palace immediately.
To snickers of amusement from the other guests, Gallor had marched out with his head loftily high. The bitch had besmirched his reputation. Princess Shanarla had never apologized for fomenting that near diplomatic disaster. Gallor had never forgiven her. He had his agents watch her for months for an opportunity to rectify the wrong. He had never imagined that he would confront her as a captive destined for the slave auction block. Gallor was determined that this time she would make the belated apology, humbly and contritely, even if he had to whip it out of her.
He found her, number 217 in the coffle.
She was a breathtaking beauty with abundant, curly brunette hair, bright brown eyes and sensuous lips. Her creamy body, which he could now view in its entirety, was perfection with wide hips, taut belly, shapely long legs, and gorgeous pillowy breasts with perky up-tilted nipples.
Still deliberately ogling her assets like a half-wit nincompoop, he made a broad smile of gleaming teeth. "Well, well, we meet again, Shanarla."
"Who are you?" she demanded haughtily, as though she were still a princess. Obviously she needed some humbling. He reached out to stroke one of her luscious boobs. "Don't you dare touch me, you bag of puss," she snarled like an Ozal she-cat.
"Or what?" he asked insouciantly with a challenging grin. He gave one of her lovely long nipples a pinch and twist hard enough to make her yelp.
She instantly retaliated with a knee to his crotch, which he nonchalantly parried.
"Is this slut giving you trouble, Sire?" a guard inquired.
"Yes, she is," Gallor told him. "Am I not entitled to appraise her boobs without her interference?"
"Of course, Sire, We have a way to encourage these sluts to be compliant. Normally it would be a whip, but this is the day before the auction--"
"I understand. We don't want to mark her too severely. How about three swats of a tawse?"
She looked horrified, but the guard was pleased. He fetched a tawse from his station, levered her arms up which forced her against the wall and her upper body as low as the chain on her collar would allow. All the while she grunted un-princess like curses at the guard. The tawse, little more than a punishment paddle for schoolgirls, landed on her bare slave girl buttocks with a satisfying smack. She gasped. The second stroke made her emit a muffled yelp. She was taking her punishment with admirable courage.
"A little harder this time, guard."
"Would you like to do the honors, Sire?"
"Yes, very much. Thank you." Gallor grasped the instrument and took his time settling himself into position. He gave her bum a very hard smack. She made a little cry of distress. An ordinary girl would have screamed in agony. She had certainly comported herself stoically as a princess should, but the whipping had hurt. Her eyes were awash with tears, and he was sure her pride was stinging with humiliation.
"Now I think I'd like a closer look at those globes that once caused me so much trouble," Gallor said. While she stood compliantly, sniffling, he gripped one of her nipples with finger and thumb as though it was the handle of a pot and used it to raise the lovely sphere, then to move it sideways in both directions and again up and down. He could see she was outraged, but wisely submitted. The other allurement he raised up with his hand cupped along the lower edge as though weighing it, then let it drop. He did this several times to her simmering outrage. He explained to the guard that he was testing the bounce. She glared at him murderously but still didn't recognize him.
He felt she should still be taken down a notch. He held two fingers up to her mouth. "Lick," he commanded.
She jutted out her jaw at him defiantly.
"I think we need something more potent than a tawse," he remarked to the guard.
She began to lick his fingers. After they were well coated with her saliva, he pushed them knuckle deep into her pussy. Her eyes widened and her lip began to curl in a she-cat snarl, but suddenly she turned compliant. He stroked the sensitive petals and the clit which peeked out as her pussy began to provide its own lubrication. "Quite tight," Gallor remarked judiciously to the guard. "It will provide her master great pleasure." He saw her beginning to fume. "She juices up quickly. I'd say once tamed a bit she'll be a delightfully horny bed slut." He saw her eyes narrowing at him but her lips clamped shut trying to control her tongue.
"Turn around," he barked at her. The suddenness and volume of his command took her by surprise and cowed her a bit. She obediently turned, giving him a delightful view of her wide, round, pink, pillowy cheeks. "Spread your legs." She reluctantly obeyed. "Bend over!" Now her cute little bum bud was displayed. His finger was still wet with her vaginal juices. He pressed his index finger against the brown nugget. She gasped and tried to move away. He gripped her hair and ruthlessly held her in place while he pushed his finger into her. The operation made her squeal and moan. "Beautiful," he enthused. "Virgin tight. This end will be a delight." She was now breathing hard, and making snorting sounds of towering anger, yet she was also sobbing as though she could not decide on a suitable reaction.
He withdrew his finger. "Stand up, Turn around." Now her expression was shamed. Her face streaked with tears of humiliation, her lower lip trembling. For the moment, he was pleased to judge, he had dispelled the fight out of her.
With a marker he drew a red circle around her belly button with an angled line through the center. It was his buyer's mark. "Tell the auction master I've added one more slut to my batch."
She stared down at her belly with an expression of dismay. Suddenly, it seemed, the Princess of the Kingdom of Fawty realized that her sale as a slave girl was imminent. And she was going to belong to that horrid man who had demeaned her. It was all too much. She began to cry.
The guard gave Gallor a salute and marched off.
The Prince of Lanada now regarded the subdued young woman with an exaggerated lewd grin. "We'll meet again soon," he told her and continued on his way.
* * * *
* * * *
* * * *
Even for the swift four-mast Lanadian fighting ship SeaEagle it was a five day sail from Uballa to the port of Vil, always a boring voyage. These blue waters swarmed with pirates, but none dared waylay a warship of the Lanadian Empire. However, Gallor knew how to keep his crew contented. Every day the naked slave girls he had purchased in Uballa were herded up to the quarterdeck and lined up before the leering crew. Crowded together, their naked bodies gleaming in the sun, they made an erotic tableau that stirred the lust of every man. Any girl who persisted in covering her charms with her hands was tied to the main mast and lightly whipped until she agreed to display herself properly. One by one, in strict order devised and overseen by the ship's Task Master, crew members browsed over the lovely display until every slave girl had been selected to pleasure her admirer. They were taken below decks into the din of girlish squeals and raucous cries of joy.
This was not a popular routine with the girls because it required usually fifty to seventy girls to take part in four, sometimes five, services a day to gratify the entire crew of 240 lusty seamen. Some girls cried, some begged to be spared, and some--a welcome event--fought to preserve their honor. This always ended in a flogging. The screams and shrieks of lovely naked girls being whipped on the mainmast was always a welcome diversion for the crew. And of course it always ended with the rebellious slave meekly following her assigned lover into the hold of the ship.
The only girls spared were those wearing green collars--the universal emblem of virgins. And there was one extra virgin on this trip, but she was wearing a plain brown collar like most of the captives.