It was late at night. Kattin, a priestess of the Holy Lady was down in the archives working. At 21 years of age, she was the youngest of the four priestess' serving at this temple, having been consecrated last spring during a double full moon, when both the Lady and her younger sister were present in the sky to witness the dedication of another servant to them.

Of course, she wasn't the youngest woman to make full priestess of the Lady. That was, of course, Saint Junia the younger, as Mother Tyrian, the high priestess Kattin and her sisters served under was fond of reminding her. "You're no Saint Junia!" The daft old woman would cackle whenever Kattin messed up a ritual or counted the local villages tithe wrong.

Which was what she was doing now, or trying to do anyway. Kattin adjusted the worn spectacles she wore whenever working in the archives. These records must have been written by sister Jiani, one of the acolytes, a quick impulsive girl. She had terrible handwriting, which wasn't helped by the flickering light from Kattin's candle.

The priestess was having trouble telling whether or not the coopers guild in the nearby town of Vorna had given twenty grona of silver or twenty-eight grona at the last sacrifice, which would, of course, make a fair amount of difference in the prayers the sisters gave for the guild and its members, invoking to Goddess to bless them with good fortune in the coming year…

Kattin was interrupted from her, almost certainly futile attempts to read the acolytes chicken-scratch writing by a loud commotion coming from outside the archives. She turned, brushing a few strands of curly blonde hair back. She stood up. Was that shouting she heard outside in the main temple area? Cautiously she opened the wooden door and peaked outside…

"Goddess above!!!" she shouted in surprise and horror. The main square of the temple was pandemonium. A small army of raiders, maybe a dozen in all, dressed in dark colored cloaks were running about, chasing the priestess and acolytes and the lay-women who served the Lady's servants. The women screamed in terror. Several were down already. Fortunately, Kattin saw, the raiders were wielding clubs and weighted nets. The captives had been knocked senseless or been wrapped up in a net.

Unfortunately, she knew the reason for the choice of weaponry. There was only one reason the raiders might have for keeping the women and girl alive, they obviously wanted captives to sell as slaves! Kattin shivered, despite the warmth of the evening.

As a girl, she'd been told horror stories by her parents, and later the priestess about what happened to girls who'd wandered too far from home and been kidnapped by the slavers. A dismal existence toiling in the fields, or trapped down in a dark mineshaft, or worse, sold to a brothel! As a young girl, Kattin had vowed to never let herself be made a slave. She was about to see how strong that vow had been.  

As Kattin watched, in horror, one of her fellow priestess, a young woman named Yetha, was brought down by a thrown pair of bolas, wrapping around her legs. Before she could get up, the slaver chasing the poor woman had reached her. He pulled a coil of rope from inside his cloak and quickly bound the priestess wrists and ankles.

As the slaver stood up, he glanced over, spotting Kattin in the doorway to the archives. Kattin flinched. Now she couldn't retreat back into the archives and hide. There was only one entrance into the archives, and the flimsy wooden door wouldn't hold off a determined person for long. It didn't even have a lock.

She had no choice. Kattin turned and took off running, the slaver in hot pursuit. She knew she couldn't try to escape out into the countryside. It was better than even odds the slavers would have allies waiting, surrounding the temple, ready to grab any frightened women who had evaded the slavers attacking the temple and tried to flee out into the fields.

The only safe place would be the temple sanctuary. In the center of the temple was a large room with sturdy stone walls and a heavy iron door. They kept their most treasured relics and texts there, for safety. It also had enough supplies to keep a dozen priestess fed for a whole month in case of attack.

Kattin ran up the stairs of the temple, towards the sanctuary. A slaver was at the top of the stairs, hogtying a young acolyte. He lunged after Kattin, but she sidestepped him. The captive girl managed to twist and kick her captor with her bound feet, sending the man rolling down the stairs.
Kattin wished she could stop and help untie the poor girl, but the first slaver was still hard on her heels. Slightly out of breath, Kattin ran on, as the acolyte squirmed, trying to get free before the slavers came back for her.

Ahead of her was the columned mass of the main temple. Kattin was maybe half a dozen yards from safety, when a slaver appeared from around one of the columns and tossed a net at Kattin. With her momentum, there was no chance of dodging it. With a cry, Kattin threw up her arms as the heavy rope of the net wrapped around her. She tripped and fell hard on the ground. Her spectacles flew off, shattering against the stone floor.  

Kattin struggled with everything she had, but she was hopelessly tangled, the weights tied to the corners dragging her to the ground. It hardly mattered anyway, in seconds her pursuer was on her. It was over. She felt rough gloved hands grab her flailing arms, twisting them behind her back. Kattin winced in pain as rough rope cut into the soft skin of her wrists as the slaver tied her hands brutally tight.

A second slaver helped untangle the woman from the net as his comrade finished binding her feet. They stood, leaving her to struggle, helplessly, on the marble floor while they chased after another screaming priestess.

Kattin groaned in pain as her bonds cut into her wrists and ankles. Despite the pain, she kept struggling, desperate to get loose and flee before the slavers returned for her and the other women…

***

Kattin glanced up mournfully as a wildly laughing raider dumped another sack full of loot taken from the temple onto the growing pile of sacred relics, beautifully and ornately crafted by generations of temple artisans, heaped contemptuously against one wall of the temple compound. The heathens would probably melt them down anyway. They cared not for the craftsmanship of the items, merely for the silver and gold they were made of.

Kattin winced as pins and needles shot through her arms and legs. Her limbs had fallen asleep what felt like an eternity ago. The priestess sat between two acolytes, like her, bound  hand and foot. Kattin could hear soft gasps of pain from the two girls. Their bonds were just as tight as her.

All the women the slavers had managed to capture had been gathered near the main temple gate, watched over by a pair of raiders, while their comrades looted the temple and it's support buildings, or just enjoyed themselves burning and desecrating the property of the goddess.

Not surprisingly, the raiders came from the large city-state of Mordina, which, along with its vassal cities, was at war with the confederacy of city-states the nearby city of Vorna belonged to. These men had obviously decided to take advantage of the conflict to fill their own greedy purses with money stolen from the Holy Lady.

Their lack of respect for the goddess was because Mordina worshipped Kreta, a rival goddess, a jealous and spiteful goddess who feared and hated the Lady and her sister, or at least that's what Kattin and the other priestess taught their students. When Kattin was a novice, she and the other girls had, whenever the priestesses weren't listening, told each other stories of the cruel and hedonistic practices the worshipers of Kreta engaged in, temple orgies where the participants whipped themselves bloody while engaging in all manner of perversions…

"HHmmmppphhh…" Kattin grunted fearfully. If such people did that to each other, what would they do to their captives? The slavers had quickly tired of their captives' frightful squeals and pleas and prayers for help and had gagged them. A leather strap had been tied like a horrid muzzle around Kattin's mouth, cutting sharply into the corners of her lips, holding in a wad of cloth torn from her robes.

There was one bright spot to her otherwise abject misery, Kattin thought, and hoped she wasn't just grasping at any hope she could find in this otherwise absolute tragedy. From glancing at who had been captured, and what information the captives had been able to share before they'd been cruelly gagged, Kattin knew the high priestess and most, if not all of the young temple wards had managed to escape to the sanctuary. Not surprising, as their quarters were in the temple, right next to safety.

In addition, two of her fellow priestess had also managed to flee there before they'd been forced to seal the doors to keep the slavers from getting in. A few of the servants might have also been able to flee into the countryside.

Sure enough, the slavers had had confederates out in the fields watching the temple. She'd seen two of them leading a long coffle of dejected women, hands bound behind their backs, heads bowed in despair, being led to join their fellow captives, but they couldn't have caught everyone, right? Kattin hoped. Their only chance was that at least one girl had managed to make it to nearby Vorna to raise the alarm. If the garrison could get here before the slavers could finish looting the temple, the women might be saved.

"You! Woman!" A slaver shouted. Kattin glanced up at the raider shouting at her. The Mordinan's had mostly spoken their own barbaric tongue, but when they'd needed to speak to one of their prisoners, or more often, shout orders at the poor girls, they'd used one of the trade languages the two city-states shared.

Two slavers walked over to Kattin and roughly hauled her to her feet. They dragged her over to the leader of the raiders, her bare feet, still tightly bound with rope, dragging on the ground. "You!" he shouted in her face. "You priestess here! You know safe room in center temple! How get in!" He pulled her gag down, letting it hand around her neck, so she could speak. They wanted to know how to get into the sanctuary, to steal the relics inside, to capture the frightened girls inside as slaves!

"I don't know!" Kattin said, lying. There was one way, an airshaft that provided air for anyone inside after the door had been sealed. It led to the roof of the temple, making it all but impossible to force the door by smoking them out. It was a tight fit, but it would be more then possible for a man to squeeze through.

"You lie!!!" The slaver shouted. "We make you talk!" He motioned to the other slavers who dragged Kattin to the temple gate, where a wooden post had been set for hitching visitor's horses. Kattin felt the cold blade of a dagger cut the rope binding her hands.  She winced as it nicked her skin in a couple places.

The slavers roughly forced her to kneel against the post, binding her hands to the wooden cross beam no less tightly than before. Kattin could hear the frightened "mmmppphhh's!" from the other captives, watching the proceeding, horrified, as she was readied for a whipping.

The slavers reached down and tore Kattin's robes open, exposing her naked backside for the torture. She winced in cruel anticipation as she heard a slaver cracking a whip a couple times for practice. The first lick of the whip hit on bare shoulder. Kattin bit her lip, trying not to cry out as pain exploded across her shoulder.

A second blow cracked across her back and she cried out in pain. A flurry of blows followed the first two, quickly leaving her covered in whip welts. Pretty soon, they'd start bleeding.  Kattin screamed as the blinding pain left her shaking as much as her bonds would allow. A cold sweat had broken out over her whole body.

"Talk, bitch-woman!" The slaver said, winding up for another round. "How we get in safe room!?!"

"Don't Know! I Don't Know! Please!" Kattin cried out, tears streaming down her face. The second whipping, following closely on the heels of the first, was a thousand times worse, as the whip hit on skin already covered in welts. She could feel a thin trickle of blood from one where the tip of the whip had cut skin. It wasn't much, but she knew pretty soon her whole back would run red.

Cruel luck intervened however. "Stop!" The slaver leader said. "We don't want ruin merchandise with scars. Besides, I have better way to make woman talk." He motioned to the slavers who walked forward and cut the ropes tying Kattin to the post and binding her feet. Weak from her whipping, Kattin couldn't resist as they bent her over the cross beam.

One of the slavers quickly retied her hands behind her back, as the other tied each foot to the two vertical posts, forcing her to bend over the horizontal bar; legs spread wide. Kattin didn't know what they were planning. Then, one slaver roughly tore the tattered remnants of her robes off, leaving Kattin naked, and their intent became all too horribly clear.

"No!" Kattin cried out, as the first slaver came up behind her, a line of men forming behind him for the coming raping. "Please! NO!!!" A slaver tired of her pleas and roughly pulled her gag back up, forcing the cruel muzzle between the screaming woman's teeth.

Kattin screamed into her gag. Tears streamed down her face. This was a thousand times worse than her whipping! As a priestess of the Lady, she was a virgin. She'd never even been touched by a man. And now she was to be gang-raped by a pack of dirty slavers!

Luck intervened, cruel, cruel luck, as a slaver ran through the gate. He was shouting something in the slaver's heathenish tongue. The slaver leader, fortunately, pulled up his pants, his intended victim still pure, and quickly barked out a couple orders. Kattin slumped down across the post still crying, not knowing what had just happened just relieved she wasn't about to be raped.  

Though Kattin didn't understand what they'd said, it was obvious to her what had happened. A lucky girl had managed to elude capture, hiding out until the slavers had moved on, then fleeing. She'd raised the alarm and soon, the garrison would be here to relieve the temple!

Hope rose in Kattin, hope all too quickly snuffed out, as the slavers went to work gathering up their ill-gotten spoils, the captives included. The bonds on the captive's ankles were cut. The women and girls were dragged to their feet and quickly tied in a coffle.

The captives struggled for all their worth. To be doomed to a life of slavery, when rescue was so close at hand was a thousand times worse than if they'd been dragged to the boats in chains the minute the slavers had arrived.

It was a futile gesture though; the slavers were in no mood to play games with their captives. Leather flogs came out, and gag-muffled cried of pain rose from the captives as they were forced into line. The temple treasure was tied into bundles, strapped to the captives, who were bent over, under the weight of their burdens.

A slaver bent down and freed Kattin's legs, taking the opportunity to pat down her naked body as he dragged her into line. A loop of rough rope was draped around her neck. A line ran to the neck of the girl in front of her, another to the woman behind her. The rope had been knotted in such a way, should Kattin being to fall behind, the girl in front of her would pull the rope taut, tightening Kattin's choke collar, forcing her to speed up, or choke. It was cruel, but effective.

Fortunately, the slavers didn't make Kattin carry anything, after her whipping, though whether it was out of concern for causing a valuable piece of merchandise harm, or simply out of fear if the weakened captive collapsed, she'd slow the column down, Kattin couldn't tell.

When the last girl was tied in place, the slavers got the line moving by going up and down with leather flogs, whipping the backsides and flanks of the helpless women. The girl in front of Kattin started forward. The rope leash pulled tight and Kattin had to hurry forward.

They passed out the gate, following an old dirt road, heading down to the coast. The rocks and sticks littering the path were hard on Kattin, who was barefoot. Here and there, along the hellish march a girl would collapse, whether under the burden the slavers had put on it, or an attempt to slow the slavers down and buy time for the town garrison to arrive, Kattin didn't know.

Either way, the slavers response was the same. Blows would rain down on the girl from the slavers leather flogs, until she somehow found the strength to stagger to her feet and continue. It was a futile gesture anyway, Kattin knew. It would take the better part of an hour for the garrison to assemble; they'd want their full strength before moving out. It'd take another half hour to get to the temple. The slavers and their captives would be long gone before then.

Whether or not it mattered, the slavers grew nervous with every delay, no matter how minor. They were cowards and scavengers, preferring to prey on helpless women and children who couldn't fight back, and flee when faced with real warriors. They lashed out more frequently in an attempt to speed their captives march. Kattin grunted into her gag in pain as leather slapped against one naked flank. "Move faster, bitch-women!" The slaver shouted, striking a young acolyte three people further down the line.

The girl in front of Kattin tripped, falling over. Kattin gagged as the rope around her neck pulled tight, choking her. She went down too, taking the women behind her. The captive behind her managed to stay up; going down to one knee to take the strain off her neck, but the line came to a halt as the captives in front were yanked off their feet.

Blows rained down on the women as they struggled to stand, no easy feat with hands bound tightly behind your back carrying a pack stuffed full of looted silver and gold. Kattin screamed into her gag as one of the blows landed on her back, already whipped raw. Somehow, she found the strength to stand.

Kattin groaned in pain as the slavers roughly hauled other fallen slaves to their feet. In addition to her back which was on fire, the skin of her neck had been rubbed raw by the rough rope collar. It was like sand paper, rubbing against her skin as the line slowly started stumbling forward again. Kattin moaned. How much worse could things become.

Earlier that night, less than four hours ago, she'd been safe in the temple archives, concerned only with deciphering an acolyte's poor hand writing, then maybe having a glass of wine before finding her bed. Now, she'd been captured by slavers, stripped naked, whipped, nearly gang raped, bound in a coffle, being led to goddess knew where, her hands bound behind her back so tight, it seemed like they might fall off, a cruel muzzle gagging her, rope leash digging into the skin of her throat. Could things get any worse? She wondered, bitterly. She knew the answer to that question.   

Soon enough however, though, they reached the beach. A trio of galleys had been pulled up onto the beach. More slavers and sailors were standing around, or on the decks of the ships, waiting for the comrades.  The lowered wide gang planks, allowing the slavers to march their captives up onto the ships as they were divided amongst the ships for transport to their new home for the rest of their lives.

Kattin's bonds were cut as she was dragged on deck. One of the sailors hauled her to one of the rowing posts. An older woman, most likely a captive from an earlier raid rather then a galley-slave, sat on the wood bench, hands chained to the oar. A younger girl who looked like the first, a daughter maybe, sat next to her, secured the same way.

The older woman glanced up at Kattin, her face speaking of the long suffering she'd experienced since her own kidnapping. She "mmmpphhh'd" sympathetically to Kattin as the slavers unchained her and her daughter. They was too exhausted after their long labor to resist as the slavers dragged them away and tossed the two down into the hold. Another slaver forced Kattin onto the wood bench and quickly locked the bronze shackles around her hands and feet. Another acolyte was chained to the place beside her.

Kattin realized what they were doing. Fresh rowers, to ensure a quick escape! The galley-slaves were tossed into the hold, muffled moans telling Kattin other captives were down there too. She glanced down into the dark depths of the ships, where two other rows of rowers were being filled. She didn't envy those poor girls, locked down in the dark, though her own position wasn't much better.

All of a sudden, she felt the ship lurch, as the slavers cast off. The boatswain walked up and down the deck of the ship, lashing out with a cat-o-nine tails. "Row, bitch-women! Row!" he shouted. Kattin had no choice. She and the girl next to her pulled their oar, trying to stay in time with the drummer beating time. The rowers who didn't quickly felt the cat, and quickly learned to row in time.

As they pulled away from shore, a wail went up from the captives, as they realized they were leaving what had been home for them for the last time. One way or another, none of them would ever return. At least the temple would survive. Kattin thought to herself. The high priestess and some other priestess had escaped, along with the younger acolytes. They'd be able to rebuild the temple. It was poor consolation to the ones who would never see it again…

Time dragged on slowly to the slaves rowing. Kattin had quickly lost all feeling in her backside after sitting on the hard wooden bench so long. The shackles seemed to chafe the skin of her hands and feet almost as much as the rope had. Her hands had blisters from pulling the oar. Her once soft hands had grown rough and calloused.

The pain in her back had dulled somewhat, only to suddenly flare up whenever the boatswain struck her with his flog like a fire stirred with a poker. As the poor captives had settled into the routine of rowing, the slaver had slowed but not stopped his lashings, seeming to strike out at the poor women, unable to fight back or defend themselves, chained to their posts, whenever he got bored.

As they got out to open sea, a new horror settled over the captives as the boat rocked around them. Though many of them had been born to the families of local fishermen, after all they had been through, many found themselves weak stomached.

The slavers were forced to ungag the slaves, lest valuable merchandise choke, and hauled a pair of captives out of the hold to carry a bucket for the unfortunate rowers. Never the less, the slaves didn't always make it in time, and quickly the ship began to smell of vomit.

Kattin felt sorry for the rowers below her, and especially the captives locked in the hold at the bottom of the ship, though she felt most sorry for herself above all else. As a priestess, she'd led a fairly comfortable existence. As a slave, she had a feeling her life would be much harder. She winced, stifling a cry of pain as the boatswain's whip hit her shoulder. It was already hard enough.

As the sun rose over the horizon, the slavers fed their captives a thin meal of gruel and stagnant, slimy water. Though Kattin's stomach revolted at the thought, she forced herself to eat and drink, though she knew it would all be wasted effort the next time they sailed into a swell. Her capture and the hours of backbreaking rowing had left her exhausted. Every inch of her ached like she'd never felt before. She needed something to replenish her strength. Every moment since her capture had been a trial and she knew it wasn't over yet…

***

Kattin looked up into the darkness of the hold. She heard excited chatter from the slavers, gag-muffled moans of terror from the rowers. They'd arrived. Only the auction block remained, before they would begin their new lives as slaves.

Luckily, if a soon-to-be-sold slave could count herself lucky, the slavers had raided another village. Another chain of weeping, moaning women and girls had been led to the waiting slave ships. They'd been put to work on the oars, while Kattin and her fellow captives had been locked in the hold to rest and recover. They'd been broken, too exhausted by their toil to even consider resisting. Broken slaves ready for the auction block.

Kattin had felt ashamed at her relief as she was unchained and another, sobbing, naked woman was put in her place, to row until her hands bled and the boson flayed her back with his flog. Her husband and sons were dead. She, her sisters, daughters ravished, and soon she'd be sold as a slave for the rest of her life.

That night, down in the hold, Kattin could hear the drunken,  horrid shouts of the slavers as they enjoyed themselves on deck with the new captives. Kattin and the other priestess and acolytes, as virgins, had been spared the horror of rape, at least until they were sold, and their new owners claimed the right of all masters…  

After the last raid, the slavers had sailed for open seas. They'd stopped twice at small islands to replenish their water. They'd also supplemented their cargo of human misery with a few native girls who'd made the mistake of coming to greet the visitors, or had gone to the river to wash clothes when the slaver parties searching for provisions had stumbled across them.

Several times, the slavers had traded out the rowers for fresh ones from the hold. Kattin had spent another day on the bench rowing. The lash had set her half-healed back on fire. Her fingers had blistered and bled, but it wasn't as bad as the first time. Her hands were beginning to harden to the life of labor awaiting her.

Kattin felt a bump rock the boat as they pulled up against a stone dock. A few minutes later, she heard the jingle of metal as the hatch to the hold was unlocked. Light streamed into the dank hold as the hatch was open. The women, naked, covered in the grime from their time in the hold, shrank back, fearfully, as the slavers shouted at them.

The slavers seized the slaves and dragged the women out of the hold, kicking and screaming. Kattin was one of the first to be dragged out. As she blinked in the sunlight, bright after the darkness below decks, slavers grabbed Kattin's hands and roughly crossed them behind her back, binding them tight with cord. A horrid leather gag was stuffed in her mouth and tied tightly, choking her.

A rope was tied around Kattin's neck as a leash, digging painfully into her skin. A slaver took the free end of the leash and roughly hauled on it, dragging Kattin across the deck to the gangplank. A crowd of slave dealers had gathered, purchasing the poor girls as they were unloaded.

As Kattin was led onto the dock, one of the slave dealers handed over some money, and motioned to two of his men. The burly thugs grabbed Kattin and dragged the woman a short distance where a line of other women sat in their bonds against a warehouse wall, while their new owner bid on more slaves.

Kattin's leash was tied off to the one on the girl next to her. She sat, watching miserable as more girls were unloaded and sold off. Finally, the slave dealer had bought enough girls or he'd run out of money. The last crying slave was tied to the end of the coffle, and the slave dealer, a fat, red faced man wearing a brightly colored robe, motioned to his men.

The women were roughly hauled to their feet and marched down the street. People going about their business stopped and stared at the line of slaves being led down the street. Kattin blushed red as people commented on her nude body.

She saw a number of nude slaves, men and women, laboring for their owners in the street. She saw a couple slaves locked in iron gibbets hanging in the air being pelted with rubbish by the angry crowd below. Nearby, a slave hung from a gallows, kicking wildly as she choked. A sign hung around her neck said "I ran away from my master." Kattin flinched, averting her gaze.  

Worst of all, at a street corner, a slave girl, maybe eighteen years old, certainly not much more than that, stood, naked save for an iron collar from which a small wooden box hung. As Kattin watched, a young laborer walked up and dropped a small silver coin in the box. The slave girl sighed, and knelt. Kattin turned away as the man hiked up his tunic. She gulped. In a short time, that could be her…   

"Auction in two weeks!" The slave dealer shouted, taking advantage of the spectacle to advertise his wares. "Come bid on these lovely things!" Kattin saw a couple men staring hungrily at her naked breasts and she recoiled as they loudly announced what they would do with her if they won her at auction. They laughed, each trying to outdo his friends, each suggestions cruder and more horrible then the last.

Some relief came when they finally reached the slave dealers market. An auction was taking place out front. As Kattin watched, a young mother was sold off, her two daughters weeping as their mother was led away by a rich man with a neatly trimmed goatee. As the two girls were dragged on stage, the mother pleaded with her new owner, to by her daughters as well.

The line of slaves were marched through a large door yawning open like the mouth of some horrendous beast ready to swallow the slaves whole. As the last girl entered, the doors slammed shut, trapping them.

As Kattin's eyes adjusted to the gloom, she could begin to make out cells and cages, slaves, both male and female of all ages, staring sadly out at the new arrivals sympathetically. The new slaves were taken to a large room, the walls and floor of which were made of cold stone. A small forge stood in the corner, casting a hellish red glow on the stone.

The center of the room was filled with a long row of wood stocks, each about waist high or higher, set on a narrow wooden post. The bottom of the post had shackles for the captive's feet. The coffle was broken up, and each girl was locked in one set of stocks. Kattin was dragged to one set of stocks and bent over, her neck and hands forced in the holes. The top half of the stock was dropped over her, locking her in place. A slaver bent down and locked her ankles into place.

Kattin briefly wondered what was going to happen to them. What new degradation were the slavers about to heap on their much abused captives? Briefly she feared rape, but a new horror came to her mind, as she heard a loud scream of pain from the girl at the end of the row and the hiss of a red hot iron. They were going to be branded like animals!

Kattin struggled as hard as she could, shaking within the stocks, but she was trapped, unable to flee. The slavers were going down the line, one girl at a time. With her head locked in place, Kattin couldn't see the slavers, but she could hear the whimpers of the other slaves as the slavers lined up the brand, then pressed the red hot metal into the vulnerable flesh of the girl in front of them. The slaves cried out in pain, the cries turning to gag-muffled sobs as they moved on to the next girl.

The anticipation of the pain to come seemed as bad as the real thing, listening to the screams of pain as one by one the girls were branded. It was made worse, as the slavers went back to the forge to grab a fresh brand after branding a few girls.

Then, Kattin heard the girl beside her scream in pain. She was next. She was already sobbing uncontrollably, knowing what was coming. She'd broken out in a cold sweat, she wanted to vomit. She tensed, she could feel the brand inches away from her backside, the heat radiating off of the red hot tip, as the slavers lined it up for a clean branding.

Then, in an instant, white hot agonizing pain shot through Kattin as the brand connected with the flesh of her backside. She shook wildly, thrashing about, shaking wildly in the stocks, howling into her gag in pain. Even after the brand was removed, it still burned, as if on fire.

Kattin slumped down in the stocks, exhausted physically and mentally. She was scarred now, forever marked out as a slave, as property, no longer a real person, but just a piece of meat to be bought and sold as used. She listened as the other slaves screamed as they were branded.

A slaver went down the line, smearing the slave's new brands with some sort of foul smelling goop, to help them heal clean. Kattin screamed as the goop burned like fire on her already branded skin, almost as bad as the branding. The slavers unlocked the girls from the stocks and began roughly hauling the much abused captives to their feet.

Kattin was unable to resist, unable to move, as the slavers dragged her and the other freshly marked slaves back to the holding pens and separated by age. Kattin and another woman were tossed in a small holding cell. The door slammed shut, and locked with a loud metallic clang. Kattin sat down against the wall and wept…

***

Kattin heard the jangle of metal and the frightened moans of girls as the slavers cleared out another cell. Another group of girls to be herded onto the auction block and sold off. The auction had been going for some time, the audience roared loudly with pleasure as each frightened girl was dragged out to be sold.

From the sound of things, it wouldn't be too long before she was sold as well. Kattin thought. The slavers were moving down the dungeon, clearing out each cell in turn. That last one was the one right across from theirs. They were next.  

Absently, Kattin's hand went to her backside. The brand had hurt for days after words, an angry livid red mark standing out amongst the pale skin around it. It had healed, slowly, leaving an ugly line of white scarring in an ornate rune, marking her as a slave, as property. She could feel the depression on one cheek left by the red hot brand.

Since Kattin had been locked in here, the cell had filled with more women, fearfully awaiting the slave auction, bought from other slave ships. In the last couple days, Kattin had gotten to know her cell mates pretty well.

One group of girls clustered together, talking nervously to each other in their own tongue. Kattin had gathered they were from one of the barbarian lands to the far north. One of them, the daughter of a merchant, knew enough of the trade languages she and Kattin could converse.

They came from a small farming village, near the coast. One day, a trader from the southern cities had arrived. He'd spoken with many of the younger, unmarried women in the village, telling them of the wonderful life in the south. He'd promised them good, rich husbands, fine clothes, servants, and eventually got about half a dozen girls; many engaged or married to local men much older than them, to sneak out of town in the dead of night.

He'd taken them to the river, to a small boat. The girls had been in high spirits, talking of their future husbands in the southern cities, one a rich merchant, another, a prince, another, a king. They reached the coast and the large vessel waiting for them there.

But once they got onboard, their excited chatter had turned to cries of shock and horror, as they found slavers waiting for them with shackles and gags, and they'd found the hold of the ship filled with other crying girls from other villages, who'd been tricked the same way, or grabbed from coastal roads or from their homes or fields from isolated farms near the sea.

Several of the girls had tried to jump overboard. Most were grabbed by the slavers before they could. Two girl made it into the water, swimming for shore. The slavers had simply tossed a large fishing net, scooping the girls up. They'd hauled the net up into  the air, laughing as the girls had kicked and struggled in their rope prison. The offending girls had been stripped and whipped for their troubles and all of them locked in the hold for the hellish journey here to be sold at auction.

Kattin felt sorry for the girls, even though her own position left her with little sympathy for anyone. She was, or rather had been a priestess of the Holy Lady. She could read and write in many of the trade languages and had a good head for numbers. If she was lucky, she'd be sold as a house slave. She could end up supervising the other slaves, in a position of some responsibility. If she had a good master, she might have the chance to save up some money and buy her freedom.

These girls, however, had no chances whatsoever. They didn't speak the local language. They were uneducated peasant girls. They were valuable only for their bodies, whether as a source of labor, or a convenient body for men to slake their lust. Most likely, they'd be sold to the mines, or the local brothel, a hellish life whose only good point was that it was all too often brutally short for those unfortunates. If they were lucky, they'd be sold as field hands, toiling on the large estates of the nobility, a life not much harder than the one they'd have had back home.  

Also with Kattin in the cell were two women who'd been born slaves whose master's had decided to sell them. One had been silent during her stay. Kattin had found out it was because she had no tongue. Her first master, who'd firmly believed slaves didn't need to talk, had had it cut out when she was younger.

The other was a concubine whose master, a young dilettante nobleman's son, had tired of her. She'd been sold several times before in the past. She'd advised Kattin and the other soon-to-be-sold slaves:

"Don't struggle, don't resist. That marks you out as a bad slave. None of the good masters will bid on a bad slave, only the cruel ones who like hurting you, or the brothel owners looking for cheap slaves to stock their houses. Just calmly walk to the block, do as the auctioneer tells you, and be sure to tell the bidders all of your skills and talents. You want to be as valuable as possible. No sane master will torture or kill an expensive, skilled slave…"

As the door opened and the slavers pulled the women out, Kattin tried to remember that advice.  Kattin was dragged out of the holding cell, her hands were crossed and bound behind her back. The frightened women were gagged, silencing their cries of terror.

The slavers made the women run down the hallway, lashing at the women's feet with short whips. The hallway led into a large room where half a dozen large wooden tubs sat on the stone floor. A dozen or so bored slave girls stood on duty beside the tubs with scrub brushes. The women would be cleaned up before the auction, to make them look better to potential bidders.  

After a hellish voyage locked in the hold of a slave ship and her time in the holding cell, Kattin was covered in dirt and grime. With little prompting, she got in one of the tubs. A slave poured a bucket of freezing cold water over her head, drenching the woman. The older slaves brusquely scrubbed her down with stiff-hair brushes and a gritty, foul smelling soup. It felt as if they were taking a layer of skin off, but quickly, she stood, shivering, wet and naked on the other side of the room, ready to be sold.

The slavers had seen all too many women break down in fear on the way to auction block to be sold, and were taking no chances of the merchandise causing trouble. Before they were led out, each girl's feet were loosely hobbled with rope, giving her enough slack to walk, but not run.

A cloth sack was pulled over each slave's head, rending her blind, helpless. Kattin wretched into her gag. It smelled like something had tied in the sack. A long rope was looped around each girl's neck, herding them into a loose coffle. Kattin felt the rope leash pull tight, as the girl in front her began walking. She had no choice but to shuffle along, dejectedly after her fellow slave.

Kattin felt warm sunshine on her bare skin as they were led out onto the auction square. A large crowd roared with approval and the naked women stumbled their way to the auction block. Kattin, unable to see with the hood on, nearly tripped over the steps. Breathlessly, she mounted the stairs. The moment had come at last. She was about to be sold!

She heard the slavers detach the first poor girl from the coffle and drag her forward. She struggled, crying into her gag in fear, but Kattin heard the auctioneer call out in a booming voice, "what am I bid for this slave! She's young, fresh. She'd make a good wife, a concubine…what am I bid!?!"

The bidding was short and fierce. Kattin heard a slaver drag the sold slave off the block to meet her new owner, as the next girl was led to the front of the stage. The audience roared their approval as she too was sold. Kattin was the fourth in the coffle. As the third slave girl was led away to her new life, Kattin felt rough hands untie her from the coffle.

A hand was placed on her shoulder. Kattin allowed herself to be led to the front of the stage, not resisting. The auctioneer reached over and yanked the hood off with a flourish, revealing her face to the crowd, who roared with excitement and lust. A few strands of blonde hair fell over Kattin's face. She chewed bitterly on her leather strap between her teeth. She was being sold! Like a jar of wine or a horse, and there was nothing she could do about it!

"What am I bid for this slave?" the auctioneer boomed. "She's a former priestess, a virgin. She can read and write in the trade languages, she can cipher numbers. But you don't care about that, yes. She's young, she's pretty!..."

The auctioneer reached over and grabbed one of Kattin's breasts, squeezing it, feeling it like a ripe melon. Kattin blushed bright red as her nude body was lewdly shown off and groped in front of the crowd.

"Spread your legs, slave." The auctioneer ordered. When Kattin was slow to comply, he flicked out with a short cord whip, leaving a welt across the inside of her legs. Kattin jumped, in pain and shock. She squealed indignantly into her gag. The audience roared with laughter.

At last, when Kattin had been abused and exposed in every shameful way to the bidders, the auctioneer began the bidding. The price quickly rose, first in silver, then in gold. A slave she might be, but at least she was an expensive one. After an eternity, the bidding slowed, and the auctioneer sang out "going once!...going twice!... Sold!!!"

A guard roughly seized Kattin and dragged her to the stairs and down amongst the crowd as the next girl was dragged forward to be sold. The crowd closed in around Kattin, rough grasping hands reaching out to grab her, feel her. As the left the crowd, Kattin strained for a glimpse of her new owner. Would he be a kind master? Would he whip her, torture her, kill her? What would he make her do?

However, the man who paid for her was an old wizened slave, wearing a worn brown cloak over a rough tunic and a wide brimmed hat. "I am Tuphec, trusted slave and steward to my master, Lord Gord'Ian. I've paid a lot of money for you, and my master doesn't like it when I waste his money. Work hard for our master, or you will feel my whip!"

He led Kattin a short way to the street where a two man chariot stood. The horses had been tied off to a nearby post, munching on their feedbags. A large, burly male slave stood guard over the chariot. He had on a white cotton kilt with a leather belt from which a short sword hung. He was also keeping watch over the two freshly purchased slaves chained at the neck to the back of the chariot, who sat on the side of the road, abjectly.

Tuphec locked another iron collar around Kattin's neck, a short chain linking her to the slave girl beside her. He spoke for a moment with the guard in their own language, then turned and headed back to the slave auction. A short while later, he returned leading a pair of freshly sold slaves, sisters. They were secured the same way as the other purchases.

Evidently, he'd spent the last of his money, or perhaps had bought enough slaves, because Tuphec spoke a command to the other male slave. The slave untied the horses and set about harnessing them to the chariot. Tuphec, meanwhile got the slave girls to their feet. He and the guard climbed into the chariot.

Tuphec flicked out with the horse-whip and the chariot clattered forward, slowly. Chained to the back of the chariot, the slaves had no choice but to trudge along behind it, hands bound behind their backs, heads bowed dejectedly.  

After half an hour of marching, the procession left the city through one of the gates, following a winding dirt road into the countryside. Though her feet had hardened somewhat since her capture, Kattin still winced every time her feet were cut on a sharp stone in the road.

The chain leash jerked her around as the slaves in front of her stumbled forward. The chariot's wheels sent of a cloud of dust, which settled on the slaves marching behind it, covering their naked skin in a fine coat of brown dust and filling their mouths with mud. The sun had climbed high into the midday sky, burning Kattin's nude body.

They marched on for hours. The sun rose overhead and began to sink off into the west. Kattin glanced off the road into the large fields of grain waving like the sea in the wind and the naked slaves toiling in the fields under the overseers lash.  

The young woman's stomach growled. She was starving. Her last meal had been a disgusting slop made of goddess-knew-what in the slaver's holding cell. She'd eaten every bite and wished for more. Since the slavers had captured her, hunger had been a constant companion for the former priestess. Tuphec and his companion, however, showed no interest in stopping.

The guard jumped out of the chariot and walked beside the women. He ungagged them, and held a water skin up to the thirty girl's lips so each one could drink a few hurried gulps. Kattin gulped down the brackish water, grateful. She was less grateful when the older man retied her gag on. He had no interest in hearing the other slaves complains as they marched.

Finally, as the sky turned a bright red, they turned off the road and came to a large, magnificent villa. A wooden wall, painted white and red, encircled the compound. Inside, Kattin could see storage buildings, a small smithy, slave quarters and of course, the master's house, towering over the other buildings in its splendor.  

As Tuphec pulled the reigns, bringing the chariot to a stop inside the walls of the estate, the exhausted slaves collapsed to the ground chains clinking as she sat, worn down by their long march. Tuphec unhooked the end of the chain from the back of the chariot, and handed the reins of the guard, who drove the chariot to a nearby stable.

"Get up, lazy slaves!" Tuphec shouted, striking at the helpless women. "Your master approaches. Stand at respect in his presence!" Kattin struggled to her feet. A small crowd had gathered around, slaves, guests, come to see the new arrivals. She glanced around, seeking her new owner, the man who now had power of life and death over her.

There! It could only be him. A young man, maybe a few years older the Kattin. He wore his brown hair down around his neck, with a short stubble of beard. He was wearing the purple robes of a nobleman, and wore a number of gold rings on his fingers. Tuphec bowed low as he approached. When the new slaves weren't quick enough, he whipped their backs, until they bent over in homage to their new owner.  

"Master, would it please you to examine the new slaves purchased today at auction?" Tuphec asked, head bowed. The master nodded his head, and walked in front of the line of chained women, eyeing each one. Kattin bowed her head. Her green eyes glanced up, watching her new owner, nervously. His hard, brown eyes met hers.

"Who is this." He said, stepping forward in front of Kattin. One hand reached up and lifted her chin. Kattin looked up, as he examined her with lean, hungry eyes. "A new house slave, master." Tuphec said, standing behind the master. "I have great hope for her. She's a former priestess, captured in a raid, not a month ago. She can read, write…"

The master cut the slave off with a wave of his hands. "Have her cleaned up and brought to my chamber. I'll see to her personally after I've dined…" he turned after sparing the other slaves, destined for the fields, a cursory glance. Tuphec motioned to two other slave girls in the crowd, a pair of red haired barbarians bought by slavers from one of the northern lands. The young women unchained Kattin from the coffle and led the nervous slave to one of the outbuildings.

It proved to be a large bath house, as well equipped as any of the public baths in Vorna or any civilized city. They unbound her hands and feet and rubbed her wrists and ankles, working life back into the limbs after so long bound.

The two slaves quickly stripped off their loose robes and gently pushed Kattin into a large marble bath, half filled with warm water. Quickly, they washed the dust of the road off of her naked skin, then began to rub smooth, sweet smelling oils into Kattin's skin. One of the girls ran a fine bone comb through Kattin's blond hair.

"Please do your best to please the master tonight." The older girl said as she cleaned Kattin's hands, gently rubbing away the callouses Kattin had got on the slave galley, so her hands would be soft. "If he makes you his mistress, please remember us. I am Linal and this is my sister Killa. We would be pleased to serve as your handmaidens."

One of the slaves ran out of the bathhouse and returned with some food. It wasn't much, some grain ground and boiled into a thin gruel, with a jug of well water, but Kattin had had nothing to eat that day. It was the most delicious meal she could remember, she ate every bite and wished for more.
Already, her memories of her old life at the temple as a priestess were fading, replaced by new ones of her new life her as a slave.  

When Kattin was cleaned, the sister clothed her in a loose, robe of fine red silk. Killa tied a silk sash around Kattin's waist, pulling the thin, almost see-through cloth tight against her round breasts. It felt almost strange wearing clothes after being nude for so long. Linal pulled Kattin's hair up into a loose bun, as was the custom amongst courtesans in the southern city-states. The two led her out of the baths and into the villa proper.

Kattin found herself in a sumptuously decorated room, with a large bed covered in silken sheets. The two sisters led her onto the bed and had her kneel on the soft sheets. "Please wait here for the master. He'll be here shortly." Linal said, gently pulled Kattin's hands in front of her and bound them with a soft silk scarf, laying them in Kattin's lap demurely.   Another silk band was tied over her eyes, blindfolding her, and a third between her lips, silencing the young woman's nervous questions.

What was the master like? Was he gentle? Was he cruel? What would he make her do? Briefly she thought back to the night the slavers had attacked, how close she'd come to being gang raped by the slavers. Was this any different? Her owner was about to take her, and nothing she could say or do would stop him if he wanted to. She was a slave; she had no say in the matter.

Kattin waited what felt like an eternity, unable to see anything. Occasionally, she could hear other servants going about their tasks outside the room, but inside, all was still. Suddenly, she heard someone enter the room. A man exhaled slowly.

"I was wrong," she heard the master say. "You're even more beautiful now then you were outside." Kattin's heart skipped a beat. She felt the bed shift as her owner sat down beside her. He ran a hand up on bare arm. Kattin felt a tingle run through her at the touch. He reached up and untied her gag. "I'm told you used to be a priestess of the Lady. That means you are a virgin, yes?" The master asked.

"Y-yes…master." Kattin said, hesitantly.

"I thought so. It would have been a shame, you growing old without ever once knowing the pleasures one can feel." The master said. "We Mordinans worship Kreta, the goddess of the night. Her priestesses are not bound to rigid chastity like you frozen servants of the Lady. They learn to find pleasure in everything, even pain." He leaned close and whispered in his slave's ear. "Let me show you."

Kattin felt her master take her bound hands in one of his. She stood and followed after him, silently, nervously. She had no choice, really. She was just a slave, and he was her master. The whip had taught her it was best to do as she was told and hope for the best.

The Master led her down a small narrow staircase, gently guiding his slave. Kattin couldn't see anything about the new room, blindfolded, but the ground beneath her was made of smooth, cold stone. From the echoes she heard, the rest of the room was also made of stone and it was just as big as the room they'd come from, maybe bigger.

The master untied Kattin's hands. A second later, she felt metal bite into her wrists as he locked a pair of shackles on her. Kattin winced and bit her lip, not wanting to cry out. The shackles proved to be connected to a long metal chain. The master turned a nearby winch, raising the chain, until Kattin hung from her hands, her toes just barely touching the stone floor. The sudden pressure on Kattin's hands caused her to cry out.

The master reached forward and unbelted Kattin's robe before quickly pulling it off, leaving the young woman nude. She felt him run a hand over her naked body, feeling her every curve. He stepped back. A second later, Kattin felt the leather straps of a flog land on her bare belly, softly, just hard enough to sting. She whimpered.

Very quickly her soft whimper turned to cries and then screams of pain…and pleasure…