Assess your odds

"Get ready" you whisper back and survey the bare faced mercenaries one more time. Their shields are long ovals made from thick leather, and their thrusting spears are short with long broad tips that gleam in the light. They are mostly concealed by the long shields, but as you assess how dangerous they could be you realize they are wearing almost no armor except for large shoulder plates, their thighs, shoulders and arms were completely bare ... in fact … a better look at the open faced helmets confirm your suspicions. These must be the slaver's amazons, but the longer you study them the less like warriors they look, their spears waver slightly as they stand ready and too much of their weight is on their back legs. A closer look at their feet brings a chuckle to your lips and your guard drops into a ready position. You sense Sarge's confusion at the way your body has relaxed

"Look at their sandals." you tell him. No warrior, male or female would wear four inch heels into battle.

"I think we found the missing pearls, Sarge." You say as you step into the room still warily watching the spears, you've seen a Nubian freelancer drive one of those exact spears completely through the torso of a man who insulted his dark skin and curly hair. In spite of the lack of any source of lighting, the room is well lit, not as bright as you first thought, but you can easily see the entire room. There are tables, and couches aranged in the room and small open chambers off of the central room with beds where the mercenaries slept.

“Put down your weapons girls, we don’t want to have to hurt you.” No, you can think of much better uses for these women. After a shared nod of their heads, the Amazons lay their shields and spears at their sides. They remove their pointed helms plumed with a long tassel of crimson horse hair and drop to their knees crossing their wrists and offering their arms to you in surrender.

As the women disarm you laugh at their armor. Two small triangles of copper scales over soft leather barely covered their full breasts and a third slightly larger triangle dangles between their smooth dark thighs. The effect of the armor is powerful; when the women are standing, their high heels, shoulder plates and tufted helms make them look as large as any man (larger than many) but when they kneel at your feet in surrender the armor invites a man to tear it off and see the treasures it guards.

These women look stunningly beautiful. Kneeling at your feet you can see the intricate patterns of the braid in their bowed heads and the large earrings that dance in the light with each tiny movement of their heads. The six other women who had been shielded from your sight now also all fall to their knees until all eight women are kneeling before you, heads bowed, thighs spread wide and hands offered in surrender.

“Go invite the men to come join us.” You tell the sergeant “There is more treasure here than the two of us can handle.” As he picks up the lantern and starts back through the hallway you wonder again at how much respect you have earned. The old sarge would have boxed your ears if you even made a suggestion to him, but now he seems pleased to let you take command. More time to think about that later, for now you have pearls to inspect.

“Sit up, so I can see what we have here.” And all of them put their hands on their thighs and straighten their backs. Moving among the women you smile at the slaver’s claim that these were all maids between fifteen and nineteen, the youngest among them was close to twenty and the Amazons looked closer to thirty. The pale whitehaired woman dressed in long sheer gowns must be the princess from Atlantis. The big breasted woman was easy to recognize, while her tits may not have been as large as her head, they were the largest breasts you have ever seen. The two twins are slender women dressed in identical red and gold tunics seemed as flat as boys in comparison, but peeking through the large gap in the closest one’s tunic you are able to see the soft curve of a golden breast. The woman is aware of your examination and turns her head just enough to meet your eye, smiling cautiously she asks:

“You like?” Her voice is heavily accented, but her words are easy enough to understand “You take me, yes? I very good. You feel better than wow.” She does look like she could be ‘better than wow’ and you know one of these slaves will be using her body to please you within the next few minutes. She would be an excellent choice. The final two girls are the youngest of the eight. One is dressed in diaphanous veils, it looks like about ten of them were wrapped around her body and even covering her head but her nipples and dark curls between her legs were clearly visible even through the multiple layers.

The last **** wore clothing different from any you have ever seen. She was completely covered from neck to ankle and down to her wrists in smooth black leather that fit her so tightly that every inch of her body was perfectly molded. Her body looked like it had been painted with tar that had been dried into a second skin. You could not even see any laces or buckles, and you wonder how it is removed, and what she looks like underneath the black leather. As you look over the kneeling women, a soft moan comes from the corner of the large room.

A third Nubian, this one wearing only the breifest triangle of cloth covering her sex is lying on the floor. She is clearly not well as she lies covered in sweat sprawled across the cool tiles of the floor. What was wrong with her you wonder, and why hadn't the other slaves made her more comfortable?

Your thoughts are interupted by the sounds of the remnants of your cohort coming through the cell room soon most of these slaves will be on their backs, if you want a particular **** you'd better claim her now.