She is sold off as a

Christina weakly shuffled forward onto the platform. “Next up we have lot #824. A young, fit human female. Slightly fucked but sturdy. Great for the breeding pens or as a camp toy, but also would been a big boon as a miner. Let’s start the bids at 500 silvers?” The warrior was barely paying attention to the auctioneer however, nor the din of the crowd. Insults and jeers filled the air as she was lead to the center of the stage, an orc pulling a heavy chain that was attached to the thick, iron collar around her neck. She was completely naked and unable to cover herself, as her hands were shackled behind her back. Not that she would bother, as she was already aware that defiance would only result in worse consequences for her.

The orcs had marched her away from the palace a few days prior, leaving her armor and equipment behind. She was **** to march naked, pulled by her leash, for hours, in till they arrived at the city of Vrashbazuz. Christina had heard about this place, the infamous slaver city, but had never thought she would ever see inside of its walls. Her eyes went wide with fear as she was lead towards the general **** pens. Naked women were being corralled through the streets, some in massive coffles, some in giant cages on carts, and some just obediently following behind their orc master. Some women were tied to posts, hanging there in silent exhaustion, their backs covered in scars. Others were locked in stocks, both their fronts and rears being used by men of various races. There were so many different atrocities being committed that Christina could not follow all of them.

Christins was finally shoved into a small pen as her orc captors exchanged some gold with another orc. It had seemed that her rapists were selling her off to a general **** pen for a flat fee; she would later learn that her new captors would hope to make a profit off her by selling her in an auction. Christina ended up in waiting in that pen for most of the rest of the day. It was cramped in there, as she was pushed up against various other women. While they all were of different races and ages, all of them were naked and chained. They barely spoke, as they knew no words would lead to their escape, nor offer any comfort to each other. The only sounds Christina heard was the sobbing of some of her cell mates and the distant cries of women being tortured throughout the city.

It was that night she was pulled out of the pens to be “processed.” Her time unsupervised caused her to have some renewed energy as she dragged her feet and protested. “Let me go, you bastards,” she cried as one orc violently tugged on her chain leash. Almost instantly a whip hit her back, causing her to scream loudly. “ARRGGGHHHH,” she bellowed in pain. “Ha, sing for me, little bird,” one orc jeered as the whip hit her again. She sobbed as she felt her new, defiant attitude deflate, and she dutifully followed the orc out of the pens and into a nearby workshop.

The shop was full of so many wicked tools and implements, various instruments of ****. She felt her knees go weak as she was bent over a table, her legs locked to the table legs and her leash clipped to its top, keeping her in place. She weakly thrashed, half-heartily testing her new bonds, which just caused an orc to chuckle. One of the orcs (Christina gave up trying to keep track of the ever-rotating abusers) walked over to a smelter and pulled out a long, metal pole. The redhead cried out in fear and pulled violently on her bonds when she saw the end of the rod: a white-hot brand that read “****”. “No no no please, spare me...” she uselessly sobbed as the orc walked behind her. Her pleads turned to cries of pain as he pressed the brand into her right asscheek, forever marking her in her new role.

The rest of that night was full of various of other tortures, all of which was a blur to the poor girl. The orcs took delight in piercing her nipples, tattooing her new **** number (#824) over her right breast, whipping her ass and back, and of course, using all of her holes. For Christina it was the single most humiliating and painful night of her life; to them it was just another routine ‘orientation’ for a new ****.

Back in the present, the glassy-eyed **** stood on the stage, barely registering the auction around her. She was numb to the humiliation around her, staring down at her feet as she whimpered pathetically. It didn’t seem possible, how she ended up in this situation. It still seemed surreal. It was only when she heard the words “SOLD” yelled out that she broke out of her daze.