The River Faerie

The sound of faint sobs echoing from a nearby cell prompts you to peer through the iron bars. You see the naked form of a petite young woman kneels on the floor, tears leaking from her downcast eyes and onto the pale skin of her naked body. You bet it was not an uncommon sight to see many slaves, regardless of stock, to weep at their fate.

As you examine her more closely, you note that though her form was tiny and delicate, it was pleasing enough to the eye. Her hips were just curvy enough to accentuate her narrow waist, and her supple breasts were of a modest enough size that your mind was already thinking up several different ways to use them as entertainment. And yet, you found your eyes being drawn upwards until you glimpse hair the color of a vibrant summer sky.

By the gods; never before in my life have I seen such vibrant colored hair! You think. Where in the world did Garmen find her?

It was then that you noticed a second oddity: no chains or manacles were bound around the girl's limbs, even though the dark iron of her **** collar stood out against her ice-tinted skin. In their place, small, round weights were attached to the poor ****'s wrists and ankles.

Why would such a delicate flower such as you require weights? You wonder. She doesn't look dangerous?

Curious as to how this strange girl would react, you slowly approach the door and lower yourself down to her eye level.

"Hello there," you murmur.

At the sound of your voice, the girl's eyes snap open. Desperately, she propels herself away from the door in a burst of seemingly inhuman speed. She presses her body against the rear wall, her chest heaving, and her violet eyes wide with terror.

"Easy, young master," Garmen said. "Just look at her wings! You just about gave the poor thing a heart attack."

Sure enough, you are able to make out the faint outline of two sets of wings, buzzing in time to her panicked breath.

Ah, a faerie. You muse. The weights must keep her grounded.

"Shhh... It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you," You coax, trying to get her to calm down.

Slowly, the faerie's wings stop fluttering and her body relaxes.

"Who are you?" You ask.

"I... I am no one," the faerie weakly responds.

"I mean, what's your name?"

"Willow, my lord," she stutters, a faint blush coming to her cheeks as the girl's violet eyes meet your gaze.

Willow's pale face continues to darken in embarrassment as she remains transfixed by her gaze. Then slowly, as your eyes slide down to her chest, the girl begins to quiver as her own eyes follow your gaze. Then suddenly, the faerie lets out a little squeal and tries to cover herself with the ragged remnants of a blanket from the wooden cot in the corner of the cell. She turns her head away, blushing furiously.

"Please, don't look at me," She whimpers, turning her back to you.

"She's a shy one, isn't she?" Garmen chuckles. "Even for a river faerie. But ain't she a beauty? My boys got lucky to find and capture a Faerie! If it weren't for her potential to fly away or use magic without special precautions, I'd say that Willow might be a good choice for you, my young master. That is, if she doesn't die of shock or embarrassment first. Now then... may I suggest that we examine a few other specimens?"