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Behind Those Eyes	By : CanPsycho337 Category: G through L Series > Gor Views: 9735 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gor and I make no profit from this story.

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The Auction House

Bound by the bracelets of a slave, the raven-haired girl walked through the market place of Ko-ro-ba, one of dozens of girls being led to the auction house by a merchant’s caravan.

“Sariah,” A low velvet voice whispered from behind as they entered the large building that was the slave market. Without looking she could feel the softness of her mother’s bosom against her back.

“Mother,” She replied just as quietly. “I am frightened.”

“I know, but you must be strong. A man can hurt your body if he chooses,” Her mother said. “But he can never hurt your mind if you are strong enough. Our sisters still live and one day we will return to them.”

“No talking!” Came a disgruntled shout from one of the guards and before she even had time to think, Sariah felt the crack of the slave whip upon her back. Her breath left her as the intensity of the pain threatened to cause her to collapse.

Even as she reeled, there was another crack of the whip and she felt more than heard a similar intake of breath come from her mother. From then on, they stood in silence. Every now and again, when the guards were distracted, Sariah would lean back and take comfort in the feel of her mother’s flesh.

More than anything, she feared that after that days’ auction she would never again be in the quiet strength of her mother’s presence.

A loud bell rang, signalling the beginning of the day’s auction and one by one, the slave girls were led up onto the podium. Hours passed, beautiful and ugly girls alike were sold for various prices and set of to begin their new lives in various fashions.

Neither Sariah nor her mother risked another beating by speaking and so she stood in silence looking out over a crowd that dwindled with each passing hour.

On the march into the city the day before Sariah had heard it remarked that the worse place a kajira could be on auction day was at the end of the line. Both the buyers and sellers would be tired and the girls would be sold cheaper and often to men of less than abundant wealth.

As her amethyst eyes studied those who remained she couldn’t help but feel a knot forming deep in the pit of her stomach. Of those that remained, there were but a handful of handsome men.

Of those there were but two who captured her attention. They were both tall and made of powerful but lean muscle.

The first had long blonde hair and such green eyes that they sparkled in the light of the day. Despite herself, Sariah felt her breath catch in her throat and a blush rise in her cheeks every time he glanced in her direction. He wore a sword at his side but beyond that carried no markings of family, city or caste.

She risked a sidelong glance at her mother and was rewarded once more with a crack of the slave master’s whip. Through her sudden tears, she half expected her muffled cry to capture the attention of the man, but it did not.

It, instead, caught the attention of his companion. Though similar in size and build to the first, the second was the opposite in every way. Where as the first had long majestic blond hair, this creature was completely bald. Where the first had magnificent bronze skin, the second had a pasty white complexion that made him look as if he had never seen the sun.

The first had features of strength and elegance, a strong jaw line contrasted with a small delicate nose and ears, full lips and beautiful eyes. The second reminded Sariah of a bird’s, a pointed nose and small lips and wide eyes that was almost unnaturally crimson.

As the second man looked to her, she felt a burst of revulsion fill her as well as a knot of fear. She didn’t know why, she had no reason to suspect or prefer either man over the other, but she knew that if she came into the possession of the second, her life would be as filled with agony as it would be short.

She was torn a moment later from her thoughts as the last girl in front of her was sold and she was shoved as much as led onto the auction block.

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Daden Arun stood quietly, his arms crossed over his powerful chest and his green eyes gazing out over the scene before him. Despite all of his years in the cities of Gor he had never before stepped foot into the auction house of the city of Ko-ro-ba.

His first impression was that it smelled of fear and arousal. Women who were terrified of being sold, and those who could not wait to once more fill the bed of a man had both been auctioned here for as long as the city could remember.

In the hours since the auction had begun, he had seen girls shiver as they had been led off to serve fat and odious masters and girls that literally glowed to be purchased by strong and beautiful men of high caste. He had seen girls play to the men they wished to serve, silently offering all the boundless pleasure that their bodies and spirits could provide if only their intended would be willing to pay the price.

Success was determined as much by a woman’s beauty as by luck that the man she wanted could afford her. Sometimes there was happiness, but generally there was not.

He could feel the gaze of such a woman from almost the moment he had arrived. As his eyes had casually surveyed over the merchandise they had come upon a young girl, little over fourteen years of age who looked as if she was prepared to leap off the block and into his arms at any moment.

Beside her stood an older woman, perhaps thirty with beautiful blond hair and ample bosom. She hid any such desire with a skill of one who had been bought and sold many times over her life. The only emotion that shone through was that of concern.

“She is the mother then?” Daden asked softly, flickering his gaze to the pasty man next to him.

Nox of the dark night, or as he was sometimes called in less polite company Nox of the many voices, inclined his head slowly and replied.

“Indeed.” His voice was, as ever, completely devoid of emotion, an unnatural thing in the strong men of Gor.

“Then they are the two found and captured by Dodric’s band?” Daden inquired.

“Yes,” Came the answer at the same time as the young girl cried out from being struck with the whip. Out of the corner of his eye, Daden watch her shrink back from Nox’s interest and stifled a smile. Few and far between were women who found his companion anything short of terrifying.

“Stolas’ description of the them cements it. The mother is Myranda, formerly a pleasure slave of Ubars who took up the sword and joined the uprising in the north. The daughter’s name is Sariah, she is fourteen and her innocence was taken by Dodric himself moments before his death.”

It never failed to amaze Daden just how complete and graphic Nox’s reports could be. It was as if the other man believed that every man enjoyed the pain and suffering of others as much as he did.

The two lapsed into silence as the daughter was led onto the block by one of the guards. She tried to keep her eyes to the ground as was expected of a slave, but it was soon obvious that she was unused to the bracelets and had not worn them long. Inquisitive as a girl of her age would be, she risked several glances upward as the auction continued, catching a stern crack of the whip each time she did.
Surprisingly enough, as Daden observed, each time she cried out the prices offered for her seemed to skyrocket. And each time it did, she risked another beating to look directly at him. As he stood silently, he could see the hope in her eyes be dashed each time he failed to bid on her. Coupled with the beatings, tears of despair soon flowed from her eyes.

After a few moments longer, she simply stood there with her head bowed, more to cover her tears than out of any difference to the men whose whim she served. He could feel the defeat radiating off of her and was disappointed. He turned his head and offered only a small sigh as he prepared to leave.

He had just touched Nox on the shoulder when a voice called out to him.

“Master?” Said the small girl and as Daden looked up, he found that she was on her knees with her hands crossed at the wrists and held out to him.

He stopped and simply watched as the inevitably crack of the whip fell over her body. Angrily the guard demanded that she return to her standing position and every moment she failed to do so the beating continued.

She cried out each time the whip struck her soft skin, but she did not move. She simply spoke the words. “Master, please.” Over and over again.

Where disappointment had filled him only moments earlier, now a sense of pride overwhelmed him. He raised his hand to the guard and spoke softly but firmly.

“Enough.” He said. “I will offer one hundred tarn pieces for this girl and her mother.” He said, falling short of the last bid by over fifty pieces. “I will also challenge any man of any caste who attempts to outbid me.”

As he had expected, there were none who challenged him. Only three warriors remained in the crowd by this time of day and each knew they were no match for Daden Arun, the man who was believed to ride a tarn without the use of a goad.

From there it was a simple matter. He handed a bag containing the pieces to his companion and turned to leave the establishment for home. Nox would see to it that the girls were properly bound, collared and hooded before being led out into the streets.
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Behind Those Eyes