Marketplaces are all the same. Wafai thought to himself as he strolled past the stands, trucks full of wares, and cages. The scenery around him was one great exhibition, with each seller advertising with the very best images they could offer. One merchant had a large box of soil out of which five-foot tall stalks of wheat grew. They were selling banned, genetically modified crop seeds. Others had cannabis and poppy growing, feeding the eternal demand for drugs.Then of course, there was slaves, arguably one of the oldest and most influential trading goods in history. It was very good business too; there was always a demand, and there was always a supply. You just needed to be willing to get your hands dirty. He had purchased many, and eventually sold most of them. There were three however, that he planned on keeping for some time; in the wagon behind him, there were three large cages containing three slaves he'd taken in about a week ago. They'd lived together in some pitiful wooden settlement. To the wealthy merchant's eyes, it had been a hooverville, covered with tin roofs and powered by a badly outdated gasoline generator. Nevertheless, slaves will always miss their home, no matter how pathetic it may have been. After three decades of war, there were many little refugee camps that had it even worse. There was an enormous class inequality now; by contrast, there was nothing you could not buy if you were wealthy.
His first day at the market, Wafai had noticed a sign that took up nearly twenty square feet, and it said the same thing in English, Chinese, Russian, and Spanish. "Carefully bred slaves. Witness the wonders of artificial selection!" The slaves he saw there lived up to this promise. They were wonderful and diverse, as diverse as the many breeds of dogs. Each buyer could find one that was perfect for him, whether he liked a certain body type, or a certain eye color, or even a certain temperament. The merchant gave a crooked grin as a crowd gathered around this wagon. He rarely sold slaves himself, but he made a killing in other wares, especially weapons. He easily charmed the customers with his charisma, often deducing from their appearance and conversation what sort of person they were. His wavy dark Mediterranean hair and olivine-green eyes made him stand out in the crowd, and his smooth, flattering voice made them listen to his words. When he was satisfied that he had sold all he could sell, he went to the back of his wagon and examined his three new prizes.
First there was the pale one, Yuriy. He had an angelic look to him that would go well with either a male or a female slave, depending on which he conceived during breeding. He had a narrow waist, with prominent hip bones that formed two converging diagonal lines just above his crotch. He was slender but fit. The Yuriy's eyes were cold and emotionless as they regarded him, but his will was not as broken as his expression might have suggested. Chocolat, was a swarthy young man. Wafai had a faint olive tint to his skin, but Chocolat was truly dark. He was boyish and slender-looking, like Yuriy, but with broader shoulders, and slightly less skinny. He glowered openly at the slave master, and his rage increased tenfold when it was met with an amused smirk. Then of course there was the girl. She was the jewel of his collection right now. She'd mix admirably with either male. He hoped that in time, she would give birth to a child from both males. If he wasn't convinced of her value as a breeding slave, he probably would have screwed her long ago. Then again, what was the old saying? It's fine to take on a passenger if the cargo's already full? Maybe he'd sample her once she was already with child.
He casually rang a brass bell at them, and readied his hose. If they didn't obey him, he'd drench them and leave them to shiver for half an hour. It was very effective without damaging their bodies. "Get started, now. You'll have to put on a show for some customers tomorrow, so take advantage of your privacy while you can." He said with a touch of good humor. Obviously, there wasn't much privacy with him here, but it was the closest they'd ever get. Yuriy's blue eyes widened, and he was visibly flustered by this demand. He glanced at the other two, wondering if they'd even let him near her. To his further embarrassment, he was visibly excited by the idea. His male member stiffened. It was far from the first time it had betrayed him, but this was decidedly the worst. Chocolat looked to his old friend apologetically. "Sorry. He's going to breed you no matter what. If I refuse, someone else will get you." He muttered. Though he didn't say it, the idea of someone else breeding with her pained him. He grabbed her and let his hands wander over her. He could see the merchant eying her rear hungrily, and forced himself to ignore the spectator.
His first day at the market, Wafai had noticed a sign that took up nearly twenty square feet, and it said the same thing in English, Chinese, Russian, and Spanish. "Carefully bred slaves. Witness the wonders of artificial selection!" The slaves he saw there lived up to this promise. They were wonderful and diverse, as diverse as the many breeds of dogs. Each buyer could find one that was perfect for him, whether he liked a certain body type, or a certain eye color, or even a certain temperament. The merchant gave a crooked grin as a crowd gathered around this wagon. He rarely sold slaves himself, but he made a killing in other wares, especially weapons. He easily charmed the customers with his charisma, often deducing from their appearance and conversation what sort of person they were. His wavy dark Mediterranean hair and olivine-green eyes made him stand out in the crowd, and his smooth, flattering voice made them listen to his words. When he was satisfied that he had sold all he could sell, he went to the back of his wagon and examined his three new prizes.
First there was the pale one, Yuriy. He had an angelic look to him that would go well with either a male or a female slave, depending on which he conceived during breeding. He had a narrow waist, with prominent hip bones that formed two converging diagonal lines just above his crotch. He was slender but fit. The Yuriy's eyes were cold and emotionless as they regarded him, but his will was not as broken as his expression might have suggested. Chocolat, was a swarthy young man. Wafai had a faint olive tint to his skin, but Chocolat was truly dark. He was boyish and slender-looking, like Yuriy, but with broader shoulders, and slightly less skinny. He glowered openly at the slave master, and his rage increased tenfold when it was met with an amused smirk. Then of course there was the girl. She was the jewel of his collection right now. She'd mix admirably with either male. He hoped that in time, she would give birth to a child from both males. If he wasn't convinced of her value as a breeding slave, he probably would have screwed her long ago. Then again, what was the old saying? It's fine to take on a passenger if the cargo's already full? Maybe he'd sample her once she was already with child.
He casually rang a brass bell at them, and readied his hose. If they didn't obey him, he'd drench them and leave them to shiver for half an hour. It was very effective without damaging their bodies. "Get started, now. You'll have to put on a show for some customers tomorrow, so take advantage of your privacy while you can." He said with a touch of good humor. Obviously, there wasn't much privacy with him here, but it was the closest they'd ever get. Yuriy's blue eyes widened, and he was visibly flustered by this demand. He glanced at the other two, wondering if they'd even let him near her. To his further embarrassment, he was visibly excited by the idea. His male member stiffened. It was far from the first time it had betrayed him, but this was decidedly the worst. Chocolat looked to his old friend apologetically. "Sorry. He's going to breed you no matter what. If I refuse, someone else will get you." He muttered. Though he didn't say it, the idea of someone else breeding with her pained him. He grabbed her and let his hands wander over her. He could see the merchant eying her rear hungrily, and forced himself to ignore the spectator.