The Weight of Her Choice

When the slavers told Sillian she could pick her own master, she'd refused to believe them.

 

In a bizarre way, though, it was true.

 

She stood barefoot on the dirty wooden floor, her hands tied behind and pulled up cruelly towards the ceiling, forcing her to bend over. As soon as the blindfold was placed, she heard the group of men , all vying to claim her body, gathering in front of her.

 

Each man held his maximum bid in a sack filled with gold coins. Each man stepped forward to place one coin in the small bucket hanging from her clamped and throbbing nipples. When all had placed one, the first man placed a second. Over and over they repeated this bizarre bidding. As men ran out of coin, they dropped out.  

The weight of the bucket had been painful from the start, but now her nipples had turned purple and burned with fiery agony. She gritted her teeth, well aware of the penalties for any kind of protest. There were only two words she was permitted to say tonight, and the longer she held them back, the better chance she had to end up someplace where she wouldn't have to cook and clean.

 

That she would be offering her body to her master for his degenerate pleasures was a given no matter where she was. 

She was lucky, in a way, to be able to endure this long. Some of the other girls had been declared less desireable, and shortly before their auction, the slavers had taken up leather straps and aimed carefully for the pink and brown nipples of the tightly restrained women. Screams of agony floated out of the large building, disappearing into cold and indifferent dark sky. Later, when buckets were hung from their bruised skin and became heavy with coins, they did not last long, and were quickly led away by rough-looking men who barked impatient orders.

 

Sillan had not been beaten, and so she was able to endure the weight of the almost-full bucket, now holding what must be a fortune in heavy coins. Still, she gritted her teeth and refused to make a sound, until at last there were only three men left, and nothing else existed but white hot agony as they tossed in coin after coin. 

 

Perhaps it was the weight of one individual piece of gold, or perhaps it was the man who bumped the bucket ever so gently, sending it swinging. Regardless of the reason, she finally broke.

 

"Master, mercy!"

 

Everything around her paused. Hands fumbled at the blindfold, and a moment later she was looking up into the cold and  glittering eyes of the man she had indeed chosen, and who now owned her body and soul.