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The Slave Market

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thehangingtree said:
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This is of no concern of the seller or the buyers... Get over it!
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Christie's does not sell just any naked slave woman. No, for a woman to be sold at the Christie's Slave Auction, she must be a 100% guaranteed virgin, with a DNA confirmed and laboratory certified pedigree that includes a Victoria's Secret or Sports Illustrated Swimsuit model, a Hollywood leading man or woman, and a Nobel prize winner within the last three generations.

I have bought several, and have been very satisfied.
 
connoisseurs said:
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I dunno. Do we actually expect these slave girls to do any work? I don't need a slave whose only skill is bouncing. Now if she's mainly a sex slave, fine, but I expect to see some sort of training certification and perhaps a review, unless she's a virgin, of course. I'd kind of rather she wasn't. Less training required. Even then, she should be able to do some other household duties and make coffee. It's not all pretty pussies and bouncy tits. Slavery isn't a picnic, after all. :rolleyes::cool: These buyers are clearly amateurs. They're like a car buyer checking out the pretty seat upholstery and cup holders. If the seller is going to these guys, I want to know what's wrong with these slaves - maybe they're just pretty with no stamina. I would hate to buy one and have to have her in the shop every month. :doh:

Jon Smithie said:
she must be a 100% guaranteed virgin, with a DNA confirmed and laboratory certified pedigree that includes a Victoria's Secret or Sports Illustrated Swimsuit model
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Pffftht! Victoria's Secret - overpriced cheap rubbish (or so an ex-girlfriend told me). Falls apart after a couple of washings. Mind you, they do a good line in catalogue photos. However, one can probably buy a perfectly attractive slave with real work potential from a less "high end" auction house than Christies. Pay for the girl, not the label. ;):D
 
Jollyrei said:
Pffftht! Victoria's Secret - overpriced cheap rubbish (or so an ex-girlfriend told me). Falls apart after a couple of washings. Mind you, they do a good line in catalogue photos. However, one can probably buy a perfectly attractive slave with real work potential from a less "high end" auction house than Christies.
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Of course I use my Christie's slaves strictly for display and the occasional outing. I tend to buy my work and sex slaves in bulk lots.

Jollyrei said:
Pay for the girl, not the label.
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The resale value of a slave with the Christie's brand is quite high. So though they are more expensive on the front end, I still recommend them. But you have to be careful--remember there are unethical slave traders out there. If you see a slave with a "Kristie's" or a "Christee's" brand, for instance, they're probably just cheap knock offs.
 
theseus said:
A bit of a fantasy. I might see how it develops. Your comments are welcome.

Julia wanted to cry. She wanted to curl up into a little ball and weep. Weep for her lost family, her lost dignity, her lost virginity, her lost freedom. She wanted to weep for her dead father, her grandmother, her little sister. She wanted to weep for her mother, the gracious aristocratic lady now spreading her pale, aristocratic thighs for copper coins in a barbarian brothel.

But Julia couldn’t weep. She was the daughter of an aristocrat, an Archon, one of the rulers of the lost city. Aristocrats did not show their emotions in front of the masses, in front of the barbarians, no matter how victorious they were. So Julia stood straight and proud. Proud despite the ugly iron collar she wore. Proud despite having her hands bound behind her. Proud despite her dirty, naked body. Proud despite her new status as a slave.

It was hard to believe that no more than two weeks before she had been the carefree, indulged daughter of an Archon, waiting impatiently for her birthday when she would be old enough to be betrothed to her future husband. Unlike many of her friends she was eager for the betrothal. The marriage of an aristocratic girl was always a matter of state, of alliances, a means of cementing power. Often the groom would be much, much older, decades older. Her prospective husband had been less than a decade her senior. A handsome young tribune, someone she liked, admired, perhaps would even grow to love. Like so many in the City he was now a mouldering heap of bones, picked over by crows and rats.

It had all been so sudden! She had been with her mother and sister at a street carnival, watching a little red-haired tumbler doing the most amazing stunts, when there had been a roar and the clash of arms as the barbarians burst through the lightly guarded main gate. They had fled to their house, where a few faithful slaves had tried, unsuccessfully, to barricade the doors. They were the lucky ones! They had died, swiftly and bloodily.

The barbarians had stormed into the house, a house soon filled with screams of despair and shouts of passion as the barbarians took their pleasure! She had fought, drawing blood with her nails, but it had been in vain. Her tunic was ripped from her body, strong hands spread her thighs!

The barbarian stank! He stank of sweat and the filth of the long unwashed. He stank of fresh blood and gore. The metal scales of his armour cut into her chest as he plunged himself into her. Her virginity, that precious jewel that was to be guarded until it served to seal a political alliance, was gone. That was only the first rape! There were many more! No woman was spared, not her grandmother, nor the old crone who had been her nurse, not her mother, or the young slave girls, not even her sister.

She had screamed, begged for mercy. Screamed even louder when one of them had turned her over, coarse fingers parting her cheeks, forcing himself into the narrow opening. Finally they were sated, their lust satisfied, if only temporarily.

The surviving women were bound, to be divided as part of the spoils. Iron collars were riveted around their throats. She and two others were bound to their new owner’s saddle, to run beside his horse, or be dragged to their deaths if they did not. Day after day she ran. At night the rapes were repeated. Many, many times, in every way possible. Finally the survivors had been led to this slave market.

Her mother’s new owner had soon sold her to a brothel keeper, in exchange for several jars of wine. Slaves were cheap now, a glut on the market.

Julia tried to ignore the hands that touched her, the fingers that probed her most private places. She would not give them the satisfaction of reacting. She was proud! The daughter of an aristocrat! A naked slave girl.
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young slave another_gor_sketch_by_ironhawk_r-dbckocl.jpgyoung white slaves tumblr_p0nsava3uR1wwetbco1_1280.jpg
 
Jon Smithie said:
So though they are more expensive on the front end,
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that's not the only bit you're paying for! :tits:

We may have seen this before, but Noone's idea of the 'Preparation Room'
seems to belong in the upmarket slavegirl emporium

slave_auction___preparation_room_by_noone102000-dapnclf.jpg
 
Baracus said:
FOR SALE....Assorted Brand New or Second Hand hard-working captive sluts. Could be bought seperately or as a job lot. Contact Baracus @ Caeseramogus.com.
Any refusals will end up crucified. View attachment 607393View attachment 607394View attachment 607395View attachment 607396View attachment 607398View attachment 607399View attachment 607401View attachment 607402View attachment 607403View attachment 607404
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I think #6 belongs on a cross. Without that silly loincloth.
 
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