A Sex Slave To Alien Masters (Erotica)

The men were excited to go to market the next day. It wasn’t the shopping that had them all happy. It was the stealth.

I couldn’t speak around the shopkeepers, it just wasn’t done. They would have to read my signals and barter for me. It was going to be a great game for them.

We walked into the crowded street and moved slowly through the vendors. The men slowed when we passed clothing vendors, so I could examine the wares. Finally, I saw fabric I liked.

Bane noticed my attention first and that had evidently been a contest.

The thick linen looked soft and like it wouldn’t wrinkle easily. I pointed to it and Damien started to barter with the shopkeeper. I hoped he would get a good price.

The man seemed a little surprised they wanted a long shirt for me, but he just negotiated. His other Brothers came from upstairs in the little shop to watch the transaction. Only one seemed to have a look of curiosity on his face.

“Why would you dress a slave like that?” he asked.

Evan’s sharp look halted further questions, but the man still looked at me.

I watched the shopkeepers openly. In my brown outfit it didn’t really matter if I looked down or not. Nobody could see me. With the bulky fabric I was unsure if my anyone could even really tell where I was looking.

The shopkeepers were dressed differently than Damien and his Brothers. They wore loose fitting linen pants and shirts. The shop was a little stuffy, so their outfits made sense. Their clothing was suited to staying inside all day.

I liked the style of the clothing. The sleeves on their shirts weren’t long; it was a capped sleeve. I had never particularly liked sleeveless shirts, but this was a nice intermediate between a regular sleeve and a tank top.

“Three stones, then, for two of the shirts,” Damien said loudly looking over at me.

I nodded but had no idea if that was a good price.

“There are several other things I want,” Damien told the men as Kein pulled me away.

Kein retrieved a measuring tape from one of the men and motioned toward the back of the shop.This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org: ©.

“We could help you measure,” the curious man said coming closer. “Perhaps you do it wrong and then don’t pay us for the work.”

Kein explained they were honorable men. They would do no such thing.

“You have to be very exacting in the measurement,” the curious man pushed, following us.

“I’ve been measured many times,” Kein said pulling me away. “I will do it correctly.”

I was pushed into a small room and Kein pulled a curtain closed so we were hidden. He pulled off my brown garb and used the tape to measure me. He even measured my legs which I found odd. I felt him jump and heard him grumble when the curious man started talking just outside the room.

“It is just so strange that you would want clothing. We had thought the slaves don’t need clothes,” the man rambled on.

Christof was outside with the man, he explained it was none of the man’s business. Another shopkeeper came and apologized to Christof, he told him this Brother had always been curious. There was no offense intended.

The conversation continued, but Kein finished quickly and redressed me in my brown outer layer. He stepped out and relayed the information to one of the shopkeepers. The curious man still stood close, watching me, as his Brother recorded my measurements.

The mark on the men’s arms was part of the symbol outside. I recognized it from where we had come in. The curious man slid closer to me and I was able to see his mark clearly. His heritage was right in front of me, as was his mother’s designation as a human slave.

My gasp did not go unnoticed and everyone turned to silently watch me. The curious man broke the silence to ask if I had spoken.

“No,” Kein answered eyeing me critically. “It sucked in air quickly. Human slaves sometimes do that, but it will not happen again.”

We stepped out of the shop a little while later. Damien walked us to a different part of the market to look at weapons. They didn’t usually take me when they shopped like this. I was glad they did, it was interesting.

I’d seen a man making weapons once at a Renaissance fair held back on Earth. The small portable forge the man used there was nothing compared to the operation here. It was loud and hot in the large, open air work space.

The appearance of Warriors at the forge got the men’s attention. Several men approached Damien and they talked about what he wanted. The smiths had several items Damien might like and pulled them out.

The new weapon must be for Christof. Damien would check it and then hand it to Christof. They talked and discussed, weighing the benefits of one over another.

My assumption was the short sword was to be strapped to Christof’s leg the way Bane kept knives. It was much too short and thin to be strapped to Christof’s waist. He must just want an extra weapon.

“Ciara,” Damien said with authority, “reach out a hand and hold this.”

I did as I was ordered. The men all stepped back and Bane told me to swing the sword. I arced it back and forth.

“Grip lower down and use both hands,” Bane sighed.

I did as he asked and repeated the arc I had made.

“Is that how my Brothers instructed you to wield a weapon?” Bane asked sounding absolutely exasperated.

No, it wasn’t, so I shook my head.

Placing my feet shoulder width apart I swung the sword the way Christof had taught me to. Bane finally seemed pleased and smiled at me. The first sword was taken and a second put in my hand. They ordered me to do the same thing.

The smiths watched the display impassively. They didn’t even seem to find it odd Damien had just handed me a weapon. Despite the lack of interest, I found it really strange.

They bought the first sword. The second would be too cumbersome, everyone was agreed. The first sword had better weight.

The men seemed pleased with the purchase as we walked to the wall where the Warriors with slaves usually shopped. We went to the small eatery and I was taken out of my brown outfit.

Damien put us in a corner and ordered before looking down at me.

“Why did you speak in the clothing shop?” he asked. “It was very inappropriate.”

I explained very quietly it had surprised me to realize the man with all the questions was the son of a human slave. Making a sound had not been intentional, I was just surprised.

“It seems to me,” I told him, “human ancestry makes more curious men.”

Bane grunted and Kein laughed, “So that is what’s wrong with you, Brother,” Bane said addressing Christof.

The meal continued with comfortable camaraderie. I was dying to know why they had me hold the swords, but I didn’t want to ask here. My family talked about many other things, but never brought that up.

After lunch we went back into the main market. It was so busy and dusty. Men moved through the narrow streets brushing along each other. Nobody touched Damien’s family, though. The shopkeepers cut us a wide berth.

I recognized the sign on the shop Damien turned into. According to the symbol this family sold foot wear. We stepped inside and the family there grinned.

The head of the family approached Damien and greeted him warmly. Apparently my family was rough on boots and was always dropping by. He didn’t see any damaged goods today, so he assumed Damien was buying new.

“I am,” Damien said smiling, “for my slave.”

I came so close. The words to ask him why almost slipped out of my mouth. I couldn’t see why I needed boots.

“I have to measure the feet,” the shopkeeper said thoughtfully. “It must have feet, if you want boots.”

“Two,” Damien told him, “and we will measure the slave. You will tell us how. We wish the boots to be made like ours.”

I was ushered into a back room and sat down. Kein folded my brown gown over my knees and pulled off the soft leather covers and sandals I was wearing. The shopkeepers stood around staring at my bare legs in their cuffs.

“That mark is from a fleint,” one man commented picking up what he used to measure feet and handing it to Kein. “We lived across the sea and saw a man that had that mark once.”

The cobblers couldn’t have been less interested in me as Kein measured my feet. They talked about the harrowing battle the man they’d known had fought to get away from the fleint. That man and several of his Brothers now wore marks like mine.

Damien told them about their fight with the fleint. Before this moment I had never realized the danger Damien and the Brothers had put themselves in. Men did not always survive the pull of the tentacles, according to the cobblers. Damien and his Brothers were either very good or very lucky.

“Not a mark on any of us,” Evan said casually and the cobblers were impressed.

Kein put the sandals and leg covers back on me. I was pulled to stand and we moved out the door.

My family walked with assurance through the crowd. They were treated almost like royalty the way the other men cut them a path. I could tell they were used to it.

Suddenly a man called Damien’s name. The man looked like a shopkeeper, he was pointing toward Damien and talking to another man.

“It’s the man that sells instruments,” Kein said frowning. “Who is he talking to?”

Damien shrugged and I stifled a laugh. It was so funny to see him do that.

We approached the group of men and Damien greeted the shopkeeper politely.

“This is Able and his family,” the shopkeeper told Damien, “he found something with your name on it.”

Able had a box in his hand. The thing was the size of a large shoebox and looked to be made of wood. It was tied closed with a piece of twine. He gave it to Damien.

Damien took the box and I could see it more clearly now. The outside was marked with our family symbol. There was also a note on the front stating there was a stone inside to pay for the delivery.

“Able and his family travel,” the shopkeeper said, “they make music together. This box they found on the road.”

My men stood silently and stunned for a moment before the musicians spoke. “May we have the stone for delivering the box?”

Damien seemed to shake himself out of his amazement and undid the twine knot. A stone was inside, so Damien handed it to the men. They thanked Damien and told him they would pick up his boxes any time.

Christof was the one who spoke next, “Do you often find boxes on the road?” he asked.

“No, sir,” the musician said, “but if we ever do again we will bring it to you.”

The shopkeeper seemed curious and asked Damien why he had left a box in the road. He wanted to know if this was a new game the Warriors were playing. It was a strange thing to do, he said.

The men talked and it was clear they had no idea what was going on.

Suddenly I knew what the box was. It was mail. The stone was postage. Hannah was sending me a message! My heart leapt and I nearly screamed with joy. My girl was alright!

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