Master and slavegirl

Lord Castellanos strode through the brightly bustling market square of the close hemmed city of Valeria. The place was a veritable **** of the senses

Rank musty and subtly pleasing odours mixed and layered to tantalise his sensitive nostrils and he held his cloved kerchief before his face in an effort to stem the parade of smells - piquant charcoal, burning flesh of a menagerie of meats, stale sweat, wild incense, acrid tanners’ chemicals, septic sewers, manged vermin, herbal perfumes, soporific opiate fumes, freshbaked sourdough, sinuous brewed hops, sharply acrid distilled spirits and a thousand other things nameable and unnamed.

And then there were the sounds. A cacophonous eddy and flow of raucous clanging smiths' hammers and panting bellows, inter mingled with a lilting chorus of hawkers, harlots and fishmongers cries, the rhythmic snaring sweeps of broom somewhere, the incessant tinkling of warding chimes, gonging and zealous acolyte deep humming and fervent chanting, laughing, screeching, giggling and siren calls of whores, maidens and minstrels, snarling dogs and yowling cats, buzzing flies and an eerie pan flute that waned and warbled with a serpentine intent to boot.

There were exotic lewd colours of dangling and fluttering and swaying wares, oiled naked limbs flashing tantalisingly, obscuring charcoal smoke, dust of feathers, alley and distant desert, weird smog of apothecary, and sizzling flames limming and licking lizard-like kabobs.

And through this stride a figure of assuming grandeur, making his way through the throng. This was Lord Castellanos, a man of significant wealth and power, his stern gaze and commanding presence causing even the most boisterous of townsfolk to part before him like waves before a ship's bow. His eyes, sharp and calculating, surveyed the array of human commodities displayed before him with the dispassionate scrutiny of a man accustomed to owning that which he desired.

He came to the **** market.

Amongst the shackled and trembling figures offered at the **** auction, one particular girl caught his eye. She was barely in her twenties and erotically petite, with a frame so delicate it seemed a strong gust of wind might blow her over, yet her posture bore a subtle yet unmistakable air of defiance. There was a haughtiness to her features, a strength in those narrow shoulders, a cast that was not cowed but proudly rigid. Her skin was a flawless ivory, unblemished by the harsh sun, and her midnight hair fell in soft, silky waves down her naked back, shimmering with an unnatural sheen that suggested the presence of enchantments. The girl was starkly unclothed, her youthful breasts and fresh shaved sex subtly rouged and pinched by her vendor to attract the buyers eye. She was contained and restrained by the leather collar that circled her neck and the short leash that connected her to the auctioneer's podium. Despite her exposed state, she did not cover herself, instead meeting Lord Castellanos' gaze with a fiery glare that seemed to dare him to bid on her.