Memories of Kar-Naggrond, part I

320 years ago.

"Indeed, processing the suffering of a **** into mana is quite a simple process. Physical pain is easier to produce, but the results are unstable and volatile. The problem is that while emotional pain creates a significantly better result, there is no reliable way to mass produce it, since each asset requires and individual treatment." Eilatra spoke with an academic tone, but there was pride in her demeanour. She had chosen the surname of Painweaver as a mark of this expertise.

"That, indeed will increase the cost of our factory." Replied Tilsa Sorrowmane, waving her steel adorned hair and amused by the younger matriarch theories as a dozen of silent blades were escorting them through the **** market.

"That's why it is in our interest to keep the assets alive, that talk about mercy-killing them is just nonsense." Said Eilatra. "By keeping them alive we could dig deeper into their trauma and extract a far better product."

"Is that why we are here?" Asked Tilsa, visibly annoyed by the uncivilised smell around her. She touched one of the hooks that hanged from her braids. There rested the ear of her last lover. "Are you looking for a new asset?"

"Maybe, maybe not. You know how I like to mix business and pleasure. This will be just a small detour."

They looked at the batch of slaves that was disposed before them. It was a pitiful spectacle. The convicts were set in pillories to **** them even more. They were dirty, unkempt and looked and smelled dreadfully. They stare at nothing, their will and personality all but lost.

"And this is the proof of my own argument!" Proclaimed Tilsa Sorrowmane. "See? When the subjects are this degraded emotionally, no good thing can come out of them, they loose the will to live, and the mana produced by their live **** degrades quickly into a slimy and unusable thing."

Eilatra hated to admit it, but her companion was right, at least with this batch of slaves. They all formed a miserable visage of forlorn and forgotten creatures.

But then she saw her.

The girl was young, pale and black haired, she was indeed beautiful, even in that deplorable state. She was set in a pillory like the others, left for public use even for those of her same status, but unlike her companions, her face did not show the slightest hint of apathy. She was furious, her eyes burned with rage and her fists were closed in a promise of ****. A muscular human male **** was fucking her in the ass, taking advantage of the natural position that the pillory **** her to be and she endured every hit with clenched teeth.

"But look at this one." Said Eilatra. "She is not meek and broken like the others. She does have a fighter's spirit."

"She must be new. They are all rebellious at the beginning."

The **** master of this particular lot, who had a keen eye and ear for any noble lady that got close to his cattle, was quick to intervine in their conversation. "Not this one, noble ladies. She is a hard one I tell you."

"Oh really?" Asked Tilsa, unconvinced by a merchant's words.

"Oh, the bitch is unsalable. She won't do any work right, not for a lack of skill, no, she just refuses to do other's biding, and she had tried to **** almost all of her trainers. She may have a fighter's spirit as you say, but she is not fit for even that. Not enough coordination and even less discipline. I keep her as an entertainment for the other slaves, the ones that behave. She takes it good in the ass" Just as he spoke, the **** that was fucking the girl make a low grunt and released a jet of his cum deep inside the elf's bowels. It was a quick and unglamorous thing. Once he got out of her, a new **** took his place, another human, dark skinned and with a prodigious member. He entered the she-elf in one move, and soon he was fucking her at a brutal pace. Moving her hips as only an animal in heat could, ramming his cock like a forge engine in a primal expression of desire. None of the three free elves paid to much attention to such an unimportant fact.

"With a few modifications I think she would be fit for minotaur breeding." Said the **** master.

"What a low creature, indeed." Exclaimed Tilsa, visually bored by the lousy fuck before her.

"May I beg you look at my better slaves... behold this one over here..." The elf kept talking, but Eilatra did not listen. She was enthralled by the young girl before her. She had such lovely eyes, so bright they seemed almost white, like reflections of the very moon, and they were filled with the pure rage of an eclipse, the same promise of doom and destruction. She looked deeper into those beautiful eyes and then the magical moment happened: the young elf dare to look back at her. Eilatra almost gasped before such a glorious image, no **** have ever dared to look back at her, they all knew that it could cost them their lives, but she did not hesitate, she did not care. She pierced her with those gorgeous orbs that screamed insolence and Eilatra felt her folds melt. Never had she met a more promising subject, nothing so pure, so lovely.

"I want her" She said out loud.

The **** master was clearly surprised, but he did not tried to disuade the woman from her madness."Well, she doesn't have a price, but the standard is 200, so..."

"I'll pay you 300... 400 if you bring her to my tower... properly cleaned."

"Are you sure Eilatra?" asked Tilsa with curiosity. "The girl is not worth even half of that"

"Well..." The sorceress smiled. she brought her hand to the girl's chin, and touched her for the first time. "I happen to be in the mood for a challenge..."