Little One 2

To my dearest slinki… i heart you. here is another.

Review!!!!


Again they moved on until they came to an intersection. Down one way was, Jess was sure, the area for laborers and workmen, the other, pleasure slaves, and ahead, those who were not sufficiently trained to qualify as any of the above.

She looked down each aisle, then turned to Camion.

“Where do we go now?”

“Where do you want to go?”

She looked again. The laborers held no particular interest. They would be, as Jess’ experience told her, a continuous line of sturdily built, tanned men and women covered in the scars of their trade, looking gloomily and dimly from eyes narrowed and squinted from the sun. Laborers scared her. They were large, powerfully built, but often dim witted. Not left then. The untrained ones ahead likewise held no fascination, but rather a bit of intimidation. Would they remind her of herself, looking like the pitiful girl she had been just barely a year ago? No, decidedly not straight.

That left one direction, right, towards the pleasure slaves. She sighed, wishing there was another choice, but, resolution filling her again, she dragged him this time to the right. As they walked she kept an eye open for

Kateri, Des, or Rose. They would be milling about this area, she was sure.
The slaves here worn no sash of experience, but some you could read in their eyes, on their bodies, which stood exposed to the world. The cheaper stalls, those that didn’t hold auctions but simply had prices for their slaves, displayed their wares in cages or shackled to posts. Many of the women were rabid looking, Jess decided after a passing a few. They looked like they would bite you rather than lay back and be a good little slave. The men looked equally as fierce, she passed one large man who was trying to tug free of the shackle around his wrist. The shackle looked strong, and she heard Camion mutter something about his shoulder giving before the metal.

Passing by that booth, they came upon the next one, which had heavy curtains drawn around it. Jess scowled at it. She knew what it meant. It was a booth where they sold children, or those who weren’t actually slaves. It was not stated in any rule book that a booth had to be open to the public; any trader could have the flaps of his tent down. But it was taken as a sign here, that whatever was behind those curtains wasn’t exactly legal.

Sometimes, when a family was growing poor, they would sell off a unneeded child, a second or third daughter, or a son. These children weren’t considered actual slaves: they had not been born into the life, but now they could be bought or sold on a whim. Until the slavers guide received that first receipt of purchase from the dealer, they were considered free men, so often they were the most carefully guarded, and had the most reason to escape.

Children were often sold with a “future promise”, meaning that legally, even if they were slaves, they could not be touched until they came of age. It was a formal contract that kept the dealers free of legal ramifications, a contract saying that the slave in question would not be used for sexual practices until their fourteenth birthday, the legal age of consent for citizens and free men.

It was bullshit. Jess knew. She had been sold a number of times, and had watched each master sign that little slip of paper, only to ignore it once home. The city guards never checked, no one followed up on it.
She turned around and walked away, her resolve melting a bit. What was she going to do? She couldn’t storm in and save them all.


KaS