A novella ~ "Privateer's Desire: Stealing Romance"

[Tallcajun]

I'm caught up. The visuals really help transport the reader.
I smell movie rights.

 

[Mrtenant]

I'm caught up. The visuals really help transport the reader.
I smell movie rights.

Thank you kindly, TC. Cascadia speaks highly of you. I like seeing your frequent visits and comments. Stay tuned for todays.

The slaver captain is truly horrid. You've got the dialogue spot on for him, and his picture is equally cruel. This continues to be a compelling read .

Isn't he though? That was all Cascadia. In my experience, she is an excellent writer, full of creativity. Thank you Suss for coming and staying dialled in. It really is good to see you.

This is such a wonderful project. Great writing from you both and for what appears to be a lot of work; finding and including the rich visuals, congratulations.

I'm going to second what Cascadia said. High praise indeed. I've played many word games opposite you on the PG. I have a healthy respect for your talents. Thank you for kindly, from the both of us.

 

[Mrtenant]

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The priest is hauled into my cabin as we set out of the harbour at full sail. The ship's bell rings as I direct Antoine into handling the ship while I attend to important matters in my cabin.

I have Father Lorenzo roped to a chair in my cabin. He is a little worse for the wear after our hurried ride into the harbour and his swollen, dislocated jaw looks terrible. With a few choice pricks of my dagger, the priest, in pain and fear for his life, divulges the destination of the slaver. I am hours behind- many hours. I will hunt that ship down to the ends of the earth if need be.

Captain's cabin on The Constantine
​

As the Constantine begins to sail toward open waters, I haul the bound priest on deck as we approach the last shoal.

“You are a priest, I put your judgment and fate in God’s hands,” I tell him with a snarl as I grab the back of his collar and his britches, and promptly toss him overboard with a splash. He will live out a desperate life on the shoals if the sharks do not get him first. Even this is too good for him in my opinion.

The gulls cry overhead, as the ship cuts through the waves, the cordage and frame creak all in tandem. It's like music to my ears and with the urgency of this venture, doubly so. WOODEN SHIP SAILING ON THE OCEAN(<<<click this link)


Taking in the salt air, my chest filling, I call Antoine over and ask him what he knows of the slaver ship Tristan, its crew, and its Captain. By Antoine’s telling, they are as hard bitten a lot as any slaver in operation.

The Captain, at least, had come from aristocratic Spanish origins - a fifth son in a large family and therefore he must operate functionally in one of the family enterprises.

He is despicable, as all slavers are, but once I learned all Antoine knew of him I felt reassured he likely would not harm my beloved.

At the thought of you in their hands, my teeth are set on edge in rage at this terrible turn of events, whereby the woman I am now so strongly attached to, connected to, who I love like no other, is gone! and no longer under my protection.

There will be hell to pay for this outrage! The promises of violence I make in my heart for these vermin who have abducted you, my love, would astonish you!

The days pass by, turning into weeks and there is still no sign of the Tristan. They must be close to Cairo by now - I can feel it in my bones. We are close as well. I have sailed these seas many times in my trade. I know the route well and I have many connections at our destination.

Seemingly, it is also an eternity in frustration, my shortness of temper grows withal. My dreams, fill with visions of murderous violence to any who would stand in my way.

Alternately, I also dream of you, my dear, dancing at the Ball, our meeting, those passionate kisses, your perfect breasts, and much more torrid erotic fantasies I dare not dwell upon during my waking hours.

It is these dreams of you that tear at my heart and drive me from my sleep, awaking frustrated, disturbed, and restless beyond anything I have ever known.

The crew learns to stay out of my way, whereas before, my jovial good-nature was a welcome boon to their morale. My irritable demeanor affects everyone.

I can only imagine what you, beloved, must be enduring without your protector. My imagination does me no justice as we journey across the ocean.

The slaver ship, the Tristan, makes its way to Cairo in due time. The Captain, while a scoundrel to be sure, I pray would keep true to his upbringing and his goals. I hope he is smart enough to recognize the profit he would realize in your sale.

He would be able to buy a dozen such girls that might appear similar and satisfy his greed. The slaver has no idea I pursue him. I swear, I will make certain this oversight will cost him dearly.

And the sails stay full as we follow the trade winds, both night and day. The voyage itself, at least, has been fortunate, no doldrums or storms to hinder or trouble us. No pirates or Spaniards to contest the crossing.

As we grow closer to our destination, these have been my thoughts and dreams these many weeks. It will hearten myself and the crew to finally take some action once again. And with the destination in sight, my thoughts turn also to the city itself.

Cairo! A city I with which I am familiar. A place of remembrance for me both good and ill. A city situated on the Nile and surrounded by desert. Ancient as ancient gets. With pyramids, palms, and monuments visible in the distance.

An alien place, filled with exotic animals, people, architecture, languages, and more. Public floggings, fights, dust, and thieves are everywhere. It is here, in my nightmares, you will be sold into slavery. It is also here, that, by my sword and pistol, and the grace of God, that I will liberate you or die in the attempt!

 

[Susurration]

A very suitable way to dispose of Father Lorenzo, but I wonder whether that really will be the last that we see of him? Surely, he couldn't survive though. Great pictures to accompany the story .

 

[cascadiabound]

A very suitable way to dispose of Father Lorenzo, but I wonder whether that really will be the last that we see of him? Surely, he couldn't survive though. Great pictures to accompany the story .

Those shark infested shoals...just got another!
Only time will tell if this is the end of Father Lorenzo

Thanks for all the kudos Suss.

Happy Halloween everyone!
Cascadia

 

[cascadiabound]

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The ocean trip on the Tristan was unbearably long. At first I thought it could not possibly last more than a few days. The first night set the tone. Putting on that maroon dress (which turned out to be one of the Spanish slaver’s favorites), I discover it is no ladies gown.

The corseting cinches in my waist more than I am accustomed to, pushing my breasts up, causing them to nearly spill out of the low cut neckline.

As I tried to adjust myself into the dress, I could see in the hazy mirror that every breath caused my tremulous soft flesh to quiver slightly, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

There was no help for it. I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks with fury that this man would make me wear such a dress to keep company with him.

As I adjust the skirting around myself, what appeared at first to be a decent floor length gown, I realize that when I sit, the fabric will part along the side, showing my leg nearly halfway up my thigh.

I search the cabin for something to secure it – a hairpin or a sewing kit to reduce the length of the slit…something…but to no avail. I sigh in resignation as I hear the watch bell ring. SHIPS BELL<<<(click this link)

The door to my cabin opens suddenly and with a start, I turn to see the repulsive Captain once again. He leers at me as he takes in the look he had selected for me. The leer turns to a menacing grin.

“Yes… that dress will do very nicely. I do approve of the way it accents your charms. I believe the sheikhs will like you very much my dear. Very much indeed.” He pauses, seeming to consider me further. “Turn around, girl.”

I hesitate. And then slowly turn for him, eyes downcast in shame, that this man has dressed me as a common trollop and now wishes to inspect me as property. In shock, I realize, for the moment, I am his property – and he has every intention to sell me to the highest bidder. Bile rises in my throat. I swallow hard.

The Captain comes over to stand behind me, cupping my bottom and squeezing as he looks at my heaving chest in the mirror. I clench my fists, stifling the urge to turn and slap him hard across the face. I had brushed my hair and secured it into a single French braid down the back. He lifts the braid in hand and then frowns.

“I do not care for this hair style. Brush it out. I want it long and loose. In fact, I will watch you do it.”

Biting my lip, I nod slightly as I feel him release the ribbon from the braid, dropping it to the cabin floor. His hands touching my hair makes me feel dirty. Wistfully, I recall my love caressing my tresses, kissing my head as he carried me through the night to the chapel.

What I would give to have him touching my hair, instead… I undo the braid and comb it out. My locks fall loose and long, nearly to my waist.

Tucking a few strands behind my ears, I glance up at my captor to see if this will suit. The Captain watches in approval and then, in mock gallantry, indicates I should precede him out of the cabin. His dinner table is set for two, his cabin adjoins mine.

I will not be able to escape him on this voyage, I think to myself. He pulls out a chair for me leaning so close to me I can see every whisker on his chin. He leers with a certain amount of glee as he sees the dress part causing my leg and thigh to be exposed, even as I try futilely to cover myself.

Oddly, I find the shame of all this to be arousing and I hate myself for it. He roughly gropes one of my breasts before he leaves my side and sits down across from me.

Once again… I find I cannot meet his eye I am so infuriated. His grope to my breast had been so firm, I can see a red mark on my flesh where his fingers had just been. I grip the chair seat with both hands.

Stealing myself to bite my tongue, I paste a smile on my face,

“I thank you for this repast Captain, but I am not accustomed to such rough handling, nor have I ever been to sea. I am uncertain if I have any appetite.”

It was the first of many such meals, and they were pretty much all the same. He would select my dress, then come into the cabin to approve of my attire, often asking me to adjust the way I wore my hair; sometimes wanting to touch and brush it himself. Which disgusted me, but what could I do?

And of course, he would take indecent liberties touching, groping and leering at me. From time to time he would clumsily pull me towards him and plant a kiss, but after a while, when my lips were never pliant to his, he contented himself with grabbing and groping my flesh instead, breasts and buttocks, thighs and hips, rubbing his hands over my soft flat belly, running his hand up and down my back.

There were days, the ship was tossed so severely, I was too ill to get up and dress for a meal, throwing up until I heaved nothing but bile into my chamber pot. The days melted into weeks and I began to despair.

There was no sign of my lover’s ship… and then, one day as I sat at the table with the Spanish Captain, this time in an indigo gown with a plunging back as well as a low cut neckline, his first mate rushes into the cabin.

“The crew has sighted land, Captain – we are less than a day off.”

“Excellent. It has been a longer passage than I had hoped. How does the rest of our cargo fare below – will they fetch a good price for us?” the Captain inquired.

“Ach, they will do well enough, but not near as well as this lovely. I will miss the sight of her in your cabin, Sir,” he laughs, sounding cruel. CRUEL LAUGH(<<<click this link)


“Yes,” he responds in his thick Spanish accent, “She has been a pretty bauble to look at, but she has really not been any fun at all. I fear she may be frigid. Though, of course, we won’t tell the sheikhs that. I have no doubt they will be able to break her.” At this point he looks at me, meaningfully.

I shrink a bit in fear, thinking about what will happen when we finally arrive in port. It has taken me weeks, but I have finally stopped being seasick every other day.

I had deliberately forced myself to not think about my fate once off this terrible ship and away from this vile, bad-breathed Captain, but the fact of land in sight makes me realize I must face reality.

I will not be rescued. My love is likely not coming for me. He may have died of the poisoned wine, or if he survived that, been lost at sea in pursuit. The small hope, the recollection of that magical night, so long ago…has slowly begun to fade to a hard nugget to which I clutched late at night, alone in my cabin, wishing it were your hands on me… not the evil slaver Captain, so roughly groping and grabbing me day after day.

 

[cascadiabound]

The next hours are quite busy on the ship. The Captain locks me in my cabin, leaving me with a few quick instructions.

“Rest. Do not make trouble for me. Put on my favorite maroon dress and be ready when we arrive in harbour.”

After being on board for so many weeks, and only getting a glimpse of the sky when I was at meal with the Captain, the idea of simply getting off this terrible ship and back on land has a certain appeal. All of these Spanish slavers are so repugnant. I wonder what a Sheikh might be like. Will my life be as a slave girl? Or a courtesan? Or a second or third wife? I had heard of such things. My imagination, which I had carefully controlled during the long journey, begins to run wild.

Once the Tristan is secure in harbour, the Captain comes to retrieve me from my cabin one last time. He looks at me with approval in the obscene maroon dress, under which I have once again secured the small knife stolen so many weeks ago from the chests in the Chapel catacombs.

“Today I want your hair up. The sheikhs like to inspect necks and backs. They will take your hair down themselves if they wish to see how long it is. Put it up in an attractive style secured on your head,” he instructs, setting down a collection of powders and brushes, “And use these rouges and colors to accent your features. I want you to fetch the highest price.”

Uncertainly, I tipped out the rosy powders for my cheeks and lips and coal ash for my eyes, applying it as lightly as I can. Nodding in approval, he grasps my arm and looks down at me severely.

“Missy, you are a little foreign lass in a foreign land. There is no one to help you here. Do not struggle or try to get away. I recommend you smile as prettily as possible and I will try to sell you to someone who will treat you more like a wife and less like a slave. This is the best I can offer you.”

He laughs ironically, EVIL LAUGH(<<<click this link)
“In some ways – this is the same as you would have gotten at home – yes? Only I get to pocket the profits. A good trade don’t you think?”

He leers at me the way he often did, clearly uninterested in my answer. I look down, fearful the look in my eye might betray my hatred for this man.

He walks me down the gangplank, the rest of the crew ogles me openly, his hand firm on my elbow. The air smells strongly of spice and heat, the harbour stench, animals I do not recognize, smoke from cooking and from metal work. My eyes lift to look beyond the immediate harbour beholding a skyline unlike anything my imagination could have ever conjured.

Pyramids in the distance. Huge carvings of lion like creatures, stone buildings with towers and minarets everywhere. It is more exotic and strange, captivating and alien, than I am able to comprehend. All of the people are dark skinned – and of every shade. People as dark as the darkest night, people the color of weak tea and every shade in between. The clothing seems all strange and colorful. Men wearing long robes and head scarves. Carriages and horses, camels and goats, the streets teem with people. Urchins, barely clothed, beg on every corner, looking so dirty and hungry my heart goes out to them so.

Soon, we are in the middle of a great square, with enormous buildings on each side, temporary markets set up all around and people pressing on every side ~ such a mass of humanity I begin to feel something akin to clastrophia. On the steps of one building some poor wretch is being flogged within an inch of his life, his cries so piercing I wish to cover my ears, but I dare not.

On the steps of another building there are dozens and dozens of men, women and children in shackles, most of them barely clothed. Among them are a few white girls like myself in European garb, party dresses similar to those I have at home on the plantation. Arab men walk among all these, touching, inspecting, and groping.

I shiver in fear. This is what comes next. Impulsively, I turn to the Spanish Captain. Falling to my knees in the middle of the square, gripping his knees.

“Please, oh please – I have tried not to be any trouble. My family has money. Please just take me back to your ship and take me home! I am sure my father will pay you twice the price of any of these men for my safe return. I am engaged to be married to a wealthy man. He will pay you. I KNOW it. Please, I beg of you. I do not want to stay here!” I begin to weep against his leg.

The Captain is a bit surprised at my outburst. I had managed to remain so composed for the whole trip, excepting when I was seasick and throwing up.

He roughly pulls me to my feet.

“Too late lass. I have promised an English girl to my broker, and I am good for my word. I cannot wait another two months or more to be paid for you. Wipe your tears, missy. You must look your best. Behave, otherwise I cannot help you secure a buyer who will treat you better than average. This is what you must pin your hopes on now.”

His tone is a cruel growl in my ear. It broaches no argument. I tremble… this time uncontrollably…but do as he commands. Looking around in terror… This is my fate, I realize.

 

[Tallcajun]

I bid tree fitty!
Tree fitty!

 

[Mrtenant]

I bid tree fitty!
Tree fitty!

Lol, that'll get you a nice cold beer, my friend....here you go! Best is yet to come! Thanks for posting!

 

[Mrtenant]

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As I approach the harbour and piers of Cairo, my immediate thought is for you. Your whereabouts. Your health, your dignity, and a myriad other thoughts centered around you.

At long last, after several weeks at sea, I will finally retrieve you, my love, and once again cleave you to my breast. The recollections of our meeting, our dances, kisses, and your beauty and more all seem so fresh in my memory. I will find you if I must burn the city down and tear it apart brick by brick.

I start by seeking news of the Tristan- where she was moored, and how long she has been in port. The disposition of the Captain and crew and whether my love is still aboard or not.

The city is everything I had remembered since my last voyage here some two years ago. I had won some powerful friends when I traveled these lands at that time. If need be, I will call on their aid.

The harbour is filled with ships. There are many tall ships- European, Russian, and American throughout, though the habour is locally filled, in the main, with fishing boats, feluccas, and small trading vessels of indeterminate make.CAIRO HARBOUR (<<<click this link)

Securely tying off the Constantine, I gather the crew around me. I tell them my tale and the why-fors of our long voyage and my quest here in Cairo.

It does not take long before they are both satisfied and hungry to help their Captain in any way. They may think me a bit mad to chase across an ocean for a single girl. But my heartfelt tale speaks to the desire for romance and love which dwells in each of their souls.

They are proud to serve their Captain. I command a few of them to search the harbour for the Tristan and bring me word of its disposition.

The majority of the men, I command to make the Constantine ready for a hasty departure, and also to prepare the cannon, fire barrels and mortar for battle. Eagerly they comply with my orders.

Some few, I send out to replenish stores. The ocean crossing has depleted all of our fresh stores and most of our non-perishables. My crew need food and whiskey for the next sailing. Lastly, I bring three with me into Cairo. Antoine, I dispatch to meet with my friends outside the city.

Before leaving the ship, I also make sure to secure my arms. Going ashore this time, I would leave nothing to chance. I strap two loaded flintlocks at my waist, four more across my chest, and my sturdy officer’s sabre at my waist.

I stand out like a pirate at a wedding and I know it. I will need a good disguise if I am to pull this off. I know just what to do.

The remaining seaman with me is my cabin steward. He will stand by my side at all times. He carries six extra loaded pistols and his own sabre. Snorting as I look at him critically, I note, he will also need a disguise.

Just before heading out to the city, my men return from their reconnoiter of the Tristan. She had put into port some hours before. There were few crewmen aboard and no sign of my love or the hated Captain. That means they are still ashore!

 

[cascadiabound]

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The Spaniards chain my wrists in the lead of their chain of native and African slaves. It seems, the Captain would march to the slave market showing off his prize chattel. As he fastens my wrists, I hear him mumbling about wanting to be sure the bidding would go high, very high. Before setting off through Cairo, he gives me a drink from his flask.

“Here girl” he says gruffly, “To fortify you. It will be a long day.”

He forces the flask between my lips and commands me drink. It is harsh and bitter. Some kind of strong wine or rum. It tastes horrible and burns, but somehow it does have the effect of steadying my nerves. It is reminiscent of the tainted wine placed in the pendant around my neck.

The clinks of the heavy chains, the oppressive heat, the sights and sounds, all, are bewildering as I stumble in chains through the dusty streets of Cairo. CHAINS(<<<click this link) There are palms and reeds along the shoreline and in the distance, what I can only guess, is likely the Nile. The blocks of vegetation are the only thing adding any real color to the city.

How will this all end? As the slave Captain parades me and the other girls through the square, it becomes impossible to quell my fears. They seem to chatter endlessly now that the reality of being sold can no longer be denied.

I can feel the panic rising as I look around the strange city. Futilely, I paw through my memory, now faded by all these many weeks, for my love. The thought of an impending lifetime of slavery is now about to come to pass.

Back on the family plantation, my father had owned slaves, as had most everyone I knew. Honestly – and I can hardly believe this now from my newly acquired perspective - I had thought little of it at the time. The happiness or misery of our slave folk had caused me little thought other than news of an escape or the demand of mercy for some minor infraction. Now it is to be my turn, and the horror of it is incomprehensible.

We cross through several markets, the metal-smiths with their weapons, decorations, and all the loud clanging and bashing, the food stalls with their exotic scents and delicious looking food.

I cast about my mind trying to recall my last really good meal, my mouth watering. We walk past dozens of filthy and smelly animal pens, and then the jewelers’ quarter, with many fine arrays of earrings, headdresses, combs, and chains; adjacent to all of this, are the slave auction blocks.

CAIRO OPEN MARKET(<<<click this link)
​

In Cairo’s open market, awaiting the opening of today’s slave auction are many ornate retinues of wealthy individuals. The overt display of wealth amazes me and elaborate decorative style eye-popping. There are sheikhs along with their extended families and servants everywhere.

Men dressed in clean white desert trappings, colorful robes, fine headdresses; stately Arabian horses and palanquins – too many to count! It is as fabulous as it is terrifying. Their language is confusing and unintelligible to me. A throng of humanity all seemingly speaking and laughing, or yelling all at once.

While begging has not changed my fate… I feel ashamed of my moment of weakness. I will not beg again. The strong drink forced down my throat, though awful tasting, has calmed my nerves and provided me a certain amount of quiescence as I am shackled and marched to the auction block.

 

[cascadiabound]

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I am still fuzzy headed from the drink when the first mate runs his hand up my thigh and finds my small knife… growling in my ear,

“Oh girl… what have we here?” He takes it from me and then cuts away my long skirt to show my legs to my knees…laughing cruelly as he does so…CRUEL LAUGH(<<<click this link)


“So, you provided the implement for me to reveal your wares! All the better to tantalize the sheikhs as we ready you for the auction. Perfect!”

The Captain turns and detaches my chains from the rest. With a few words to the mate, and mutters something about the “common auction and the premium auction.”

I watch the first mate lead the dark skinned women across the square, presumably to the common slave auction.

Looking around, I find I am shackled only to the Captain now, and we are flanked by six of his crewmen. No chance to escape with all of his men around. As a group, we continue our way through the throngs, I can only guess our destination is to be the premium slave auction.

As we approach the auction square, an attendant approaches the Captain and speaks with him briefly. Taking a piece of rough charcoal, he catches up my shackled hands and marks my wrist with a black circle.

The olive skinned attendant has a surly look and while it seems I am no longer in the care of the Spanish Captain – this seems worse. I glance around furtively. Grabbing my elbow, he pulls me into a line with a few other young women who are all about my age.

Directly in front of me now is a pretty young oriental girl in a torn shift. Her tear-stained face reflects my own turbulent emotions. Soon after, we are joined by a European girl. Her lilting accent sounds possibly Dutch.

An hour passes, and one by one, we are joined by more well-dressed but distressed women, all shackled and marked on the wrist with a black circle, now all in a line, just off to the side of the auction platform.

There is a stirring in the crowd, and the Auction begins.

The Auction Block​

I cannot seem to help myself. Little by little, curiosity overcomes my fears as I watch the proceedings. One at a time, the girls are hauled onto the platform and shown off to the crowd of bidders. It is shocking how loud the crowd is. How many bids there are. How many people are looking on from the square.

The auction assistants rip the girl’s clothing from shoulder to hip baring breasts, hips, belly, everything – presumably to show off their charms to the potential new owner. I shiver with the thought. The girls are in tears mostly. In spite of protestations all find themselves stripped bare.

Stripped Slave Prepared For Auction​

One blonde woman, Russian maybe, statuesque and muscular, fights every step of the process. The auctioneers employ their crops and handle her roughly until finally, being overpowered and fully stripped, she simply stands proudly and erect on the platform.

The bids for her seem out of control until a final bid is announced. Many people applaud. From the beaming attendants, and the response of the crowd, I can only guess she has fetched a high price.

Finally, after another hour or so, the attendant prods me to begin to climb the stairs to the top of the platform. Once there, I am able, for the first time to get a really good look at the crowd of bidders.

I scan out into the square – it is a seemingly endless sea of robes, hoods, and bearded faces with dark eyes. Towards the back of the crowd it is possible to see the street leading up to the square. Something is happening.

Craning my neck – I am not able to ascertain just what the commotion is. Slowly the source of the disturbance comes closer and more visible. A largish man, robed and hooded like the rest, is parting the crowd, seemingly effortlessly.

He is easily a head, maybe two, taller than the largest of the crowd before him. His stride is long and purposeful. Until finally, he stands a few rows back from the platform.

The smaller Arabians keep their distance from this powerful interloper. He stands, legs braced and wide with a glare from his dark eyes. The rest of his face hidden by his khaffiya. Just behind, another man, nearly as tall and similarly dressed who followed him through the crowd now stands at his side.

 

[Susurration]

The Egyptian music and Cairo market sounds are wonderfully atmospheric. It feels as though I'm reading and being taken into a film scene with a score. This is wonderful. That evil laugh almost steals the show though . A mysterious stranger arriving too. There's plenty more to come in terms of twists and turns I feel.

 

[Mrtenant]

The Egyptian music and Cairo market sounds are wonderfully atmospheric. It feels as though I'm reading and being taken into a film scene with a score. This is wonderful. That evil laugh almost steals the show though . A mysterious stranger arriving too. There's plenty more to come in terms of twists and turns I feel.

Good morning Suss. Coffee or tea for you? It's always a pleasure to see you. Your words on the story mean a lot, to both of us. I want you to know that.

Thank you.

Next installment coming right up.

 

[Mrtenant]

I enter the city and stride directly for the slave market. I know it well, having once been sold there myself many years ago.

Approaching the square some time later, I enter into it. The premium auction. Where the most expensive slaves are sold.

We had secured our disguises enroute. The largish Bedouin hadn’t known what hit him as my fist dislocated his jaw and knocked him cold. His garments were the perfect size for my purpose. My steward is similarly costumed.

I stride through the crowd, parting them with ease. They are unaccustomed to a man my size around here. There are many more people here than I recall there being in the past.

A Master Inspects His Purchase​

I will have to figure another plan, and soon. Approaching near the platform, my dark eyes scan the proceedings and soon, I see you.

After so long, seeing you finally standing within reach freezes me. You are as incredible as ever. Nay, I cannot take my eyes from you as I stare and feel my heart pound so loud it feels nigh to rip right from my chest.

The clamour of the crowd fades into the background as my gaze fixes on you partway up the stairs. I am breathless, speechless, bereft of all thought save you. It is a timeless moment that holds me in thrall.

With a snap, the market noise is back. The contrast startles me at first, with the abruptness. Shaking it off, I direct my full attention to my quest- to your plight, and your liberation.

By this time, I see, you also notice me. My size sets me apart and is an immediate draw for attention. I do not even notice as my khaffiya slides away from my face slowly.

I see your eyes widen in recognition and shock, your mouth going open in astonishment and delight. You have recognized me through my disguise and I fix your gaze and slowly shake my head, raising a finger to my lips to entreat your silence.

My look across the crowd communicates volumes. Love, courage, hope, and patience. We are not out of this predicament yet. The Arabians do not like interference in their affairs. This breakout, to work, will have to be precise.

It is finally your turn at the block. They handle you as sharply as any of the others. You hear the swish of warning from their crops as you are brought to center stage. You stumble, tripping over torn fragments of your gown.

In frustration, an auction attendant plies his crop against you enough times until you jump up, crying out from the sharpness of his strikes, which glow redly on your pale sensitive skin.

Your dress is ripped completely from you, like many others before. You stand in chains, naked amongst a sea of men. A breeze wafts through, tossing a few wisps of your hair, causing goose pimples to rise on your skin, and your nipples crinkle up and stiffen.

I see the color rise in your face. Your cheeks redden with shame and I see a look of fear in your eyes. As the fabric is literally ripped from you – I hear you gasp in shock.

I grind my teeth in rage as I see you handled thusly. I start to rush towards the platform as they strike you. My Cabin Steward holds me back with all his strength.

Exasperated, I exert all my self control. Action now will ruin everything. There will be a reckoning, I promise.

Instead of displaying fear, I see your courage bolstered to soaring heights by the sight of me in the crowd. You stand proudly, your fear seems to fade away in front of the crowd as they yell in approval.

The bidding starts. In mere seconds, it stops. A bidder has bid and none will oppose him. He is towards the back of the crowd. You are removed from the stage, the crops swishing at your calves.

The attendants rush you through a flurry of people until you fall into a retinue of guards and into the care of what appears to be some sort of official. You disappear from my sight once again as they escort you, roughly, into the adjoining bathhouse.

 

[Susurration]

Good morning Suss. Coffee or tea for you? It's always a pleasure to see you. Your words on the story mean a lot, to both of us. I want you to know that.

Thank you.

Next installment coming right up.

You're welcome .

Just water for me please .

Looks as though we're heading into the rescue mission, or at least attempted rescue, as I'm sure that there will be more obstacles to be overcome.

 

[cascadiabound]

You're welcome .

Just water for me please .

Looks as though we're heading into the rescue mission, or at least attempted rescue, as I'm sure that there will be more obstacles to be overcome.

Glass of water for the gentleman.

Rescues, obstacles, adventures, all this and more, no doubt.
As always, lovely to see you Suss.
Cascadia

 

[cascadiabound]

When I see you at the edge of the crowd, tall and disguised, but still unmistakable, my heart soars! I knew instantly, that no matter what happened next, YOU are here in Cairo and you have kept your word, the words which I have held close to my heart all of these long weeks, ever since I fell into a drugged slumber by your side, your voice echoing in my mind…

“To my last dying breath I will fight for you, strive in all ways imagined or more to be with you. Even beyond death itself, should I die and you were struggling for life, I would leave the depths of hell itself to be there in your struggle. Fear not, my love, I will find you. And should they harm any part of you. They will wish they were in hell, for that would be a paradise, after I have dealt with them!”

And so, when it became my turn to be auctioned, I knew what to expect. I had seen the other white aristocratic girls in their pretty gowns stripped bare for everyone in the whole square to see; that it was worse if one struggled and made a scene, because then, typically, the slave handlers would become irritable and rough, beating the girl with floggers and crops and small whips, marking her skin and making her scream. Often it would give the handlers occasion to grope her, squeezing and touching every part of her at once which was, in my view terrifying and mortifying and awful.

So, I walked up the stairs, head held high. My love has come for me. They tear the hated maroon gown from me, cutting away the corset as well. I allow myself to feel relief I will never have to wear it again. And I simply then stood there with pride, staring straight at you, feeling the courage and strength just your presence infuses me with and tried to pretend you were the only one in the world who could see me like this. The sound of the crowd is dull in my ears, as the memory of sound of your voice replaces all else. The bidding ends suddenly.

 

[kcRollins]

The two of you are weaving words in a way to create an exciting and colorful tapestry. I am thoroughly enjoying your talents and look forward to more.

P.S. Nice butt

 

[Susurration]

As always, lovely to see you Suss.
Cascadia

Thank you . It's great to be here .

It's that last sentence 'the bidding ends suddenly that gives me the most pause for thought. I'm very intrigued to see where this leads.

 

[Tallcajun]

And she stands totally exposed. Knowing a hundred eyes are feasting on her, making her feel things she never felt in the prim a proper America.

 

[cascadiabound]

The two of you are weaving words in a way to create an exciting and colorful tapestry. I am thoroughly enjoying your talents and look forward to more.

Thank you kindly, kc. Your encouragement and complements warm us deeply.

P.S. Nice butt

*blush*

Thank you . It's great to be here .

It's that last sentence 'the bidding ends suddenly that gives me the most pause for thought. I'm very intrigued to see where this leads.

The intrigue continues... more water sweetheart?

And she stands totally exposed. Knowing a hundred eyes are feasting on her, making her feel things she never felt in the prim a proper America.

*quiver*
Indeed, I believe you are correct TC. Though, I would point out our heroine is of UK extraction, raised on the island of Barbados. Not from America. lol

As always, Mr T and I are so gratified to all of our readers. We see the view count going up so we know you are out there.
*humble bow*

 

[cascadiabound]

I am surprised at how quickly I am removed from the steps, the handlers swatting at my calves and thighs with their crops and whips, the sting sharp. Someone wraps me with a simple gown and suddenly there is a flurry of people all around me and I can no longer see you. I crane my neck trying to keep you in sight, but to no avail. Women speaking in a language I do not know bring me into an enormous and busy bathing house and therein I am greeted by servant women who join the retinue to a chamber with a large bath.

The official commands a guard to unlock my chains. The women are ordered to strip and bathe me in the small pool. The water is warm, soothing to the fresh red marks on my pale skin from the slaver's whips. The room is decorated in many frescoes along the wall and screens and plants before the windows. For the first time since my arrival on the Tristan, I am submerged in warm water. Briefly I forget the why of it all as people flutter around me… washing and scrubbing me, cleaning my hair, attending to every kind of hygiene beauty regimen. I blush to be naked in front of so many people and to be handled so intimately. The servants know their business and while I do not speak their tongue, they guide me through complex cleaning processes. Never have I had such attention paid to me even at home on the plantation with the full retinue of my own household servants.

The evening sun penetrates the chamber as the women bathe me, scrubbing every inch of me. The entire weeks long ordeal has been so much for me, I hardly notice the guards and men on the edges of the bath house who watch the entire process with interest, their eyes lingering over my body.

Once clean, I am dressed in a transparent white gown, my hair is plaited and the most beautiful head piece affixed in it. Somehow, I feel more naked in the gauzy gown than when I was in the bath, it is so different from anything I have ever worn in my life. It is thin, but not completely transparent. It seems scandalous with all the hip length cuts and open sides. A belt is placed around my waist, a headpiece affixed into my now lustrous hair, and some fine gold-threaded sandals fastened onto my feet. Over all this the women servants place a much more voluminous white robe with a hood and veil.

Suddenly, I come to my senses again. The layers of dress are all in white. I consider what all of this very fancy retinue of women and guards must mean. I have been sold and I do not know to whom. They are preparing me for my new owner. This fact is emphasized when a moment later gold chains are linked and fastened around my wrists, securing them together.

 

[AKentuckyLady]

MrT and CB - simply perfect storytelling. I know I'm completely enthralled Kudos to you both, now don't leave us hanging!

 

[AbsintheFather]

Wow - I just got caught up . . . Love all the pictures too - great stuff!