Slaves of Love

“I been wantin’ a piece o’ that for a longen now.” His hand rested on her thigh and slowly slid upward.

She scrambled up the bed, leaving his hand behind. He grabbed her ankles and dragged her back down, then flung his arms wide, opening her legs. The feral gleam in his eyes jabbed at the deepest fears squirming inside her.

“What do you mean, I’m an orphan?”

“What do ye think I mean, girl? Yer father is dead. Killed by one of them Herringtons. But not afore he killed the one he was after, I’d wager.”

Shock pummeled through her. Her father was dead.

Was Keern dead, too? Her heart constricted, and sharp pain lanced through her.

Bahrd’s grunt dragged her back to her current situation. With her father gone, she would be at the mercy of the soldiers. Legally, she now owned her father’s holdings, but she knew as soon as her father’s soldiers heard of his death, they’d strip the property bare and take off. She was sure they wouldn’t hesitate to take their pleasure from her before they left.

Bahrd released one of her ankles, then tugged his belt strap and released it from the buckle.

Her heart hammered wildly in her chest. Her only chance was to appeal to Bahrd’s greed.

“Do you really want to do this?”

“Oh, yeah.” He tugged the zipper down on his pants. “I want to do it every way possible, then watch while the others do it.”

“You know, the slavers will pay a lot more for me as a virgin. My father always told me so.” She made her voice as persuasive as she could.

“Eh?” He paused and rubbed his chin. “The slavers?”

“You are going to sell me, right? I mean, if you don’t, one of the others will, but you’re here first. If you can sell me as a virgin ...”

“You’re just sayin’ this ’cause you don’t want to get fucked.”

“Of course.” A tinge of anger colored her voice, hard as she tried to conceal it. “But it’s also true. You and I will both do better if you leave me untouched and take me to the slavers.”

Never in her wildest dreams had she ever thought she’d be begging to be taken to the slavers, but right now, that threat was a lot more distant than the leering Bahrd and the prospect of her father’s men climbing on top of her one after another.

Bahrd grunted, staring at her, his gaze sliding up her legs and pinning on the crotch of her white panties, fully exposed. She held her breath, watching him.

“You know, with the money you get for me, you can enjoy a lot of women at the brothel.”

Finally, he grunted and grabbed her wrist, then dragged her through the house, out the back door to the closed wagon. He pushed aside the tarp covering the door and shoved her through, then bound her wrists and ankles. He wrapped a gag around her mouth.

He disappeared back into the house and reappeared about a half-hour later to fling a large cloth bag beside her. It made a loud clunk when it hit the wagon floor. Probably filled with all kinds of treasures and whatever money he’d found in her father’s office. She heard him attaching the horse to the wagon, and a few moments later, the wagon jerked forward.

Hours passed and she must have dozed off, but a sudden lurch of the wagon jolted her wide awake. Nightmares of men pawing at her, their large, rough hands touching every intimate part of her, left her in a sweat. The rope around her wrists and ankles cut into her skin. The gag was damp with saliva.

Outside, the throng of a city market sounded around them. Vendors calling out to attract buyers, carts rumbling past the main road, horses snorting. The smells of fruits, spices, and cooked meat assailed her.

They were close. She cringed, her whole body rigid with fear. Her shaky stomach quaked, almost to the point of vomiting.

The noise reached a crescendo, then slowly diminished as the cart continued and finally stopped. They would be at the back corner of the market, away from the buyers. Her father had pointed out the place to her many times. This was where the slavers made their deals for new stock. It was illegal on Turan to buy or sell slaves, but the authorities looked the other way as long as the dealings were discreet and the right people were paid off.

Moonlight glinted in her face as Bahrd slung back the tarp over the back of the wagon. His knife blade flashed, grazing her skin as he sliced through the ropes around her ankles. Blood oozed from the small nick he’d made on her foot, and it stung sharply, but she hardly noticed as he hauled her to her feet and out of the cart. Her legs ached from lying immobile on the wagon floor for so many hours, but she hobbled to keep up with him as he dragged her forward, his meaty hand tightly wrapped around her forearm.

The sky was black and studded with stars, but unnatural light shone all around them. They approached a large metallic wag

on, rounded and shiny, the likes of which Shena had never seen before. By rights, it should not be allowed here, nor should their artificial lights, given that technology was banned from Tarun, but the slavers took a great many liberties with the law.

Several hooded figures stood outside the wagon, interacting with locals. All the slavers wore long, tan, hooded cloaks. Sometimes a flash of rust-colored leather clothing and dark brown boots and gloves could be seen as they moved. One of the slavers glanced toward them as they approached.

“I’m bringin’ this lass to ye for sale. She’s Wakefield’s daughter. A virgin. He’s talked to ye about price before.”