Buying Trouble, PT 3: A Hard Slave To Sell

Eris stared up at the man who held her. The rest of the patrons had moved away from him the moment he caught her, as if his personal space was a tangible force field.

He wore the low, circular black broad brimmed hat of a mercenary and blue robes edged with black silk tied tightly across his chest and flaring out to his feet. Those robes hid a multitude of sins, Eris was sure of that. His hands were wrapped in synthetic leather coverings designed to protect a clenched fist. Of all the people she could have run into, this was the worst. Mercenaries ranked somewhere below slave traders in the hierarchy of scum.

Behind her, the trader came pushing through the crowd. Eris was gratified to see his nose bloodied where the flying table had hit it. It was the very least he deserved.

“That is mine,” the trader said, pointing at her. “That little bitch.”

The brim of the hat lifted as the mercenary looked at the merchant. Eris saw his face then, strong chin and jaw, hard, high cheekbones, dark eyes set in an angular way which gave him a perpetual squinting appearance.

“Yours?”
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Buying Trouble, PT 1: A Stolen Slave Is Spanked

“I don’t need an examination, I’m not sick! OW!” Eris grasped her hot, stinging backside and scowled at the man who had dealt her the slap. He was a big, burly bearded creature who stank of beer and she hated him more than she hated anything in the world. He was everything she was not. He was tall and she was short, he was fat and she was slim. He was old and ugly, and she was young and cute – a twenty year old snub-nosed blonde with a big mouth and a bigger attitude.

“Silence, girl,” the trader growled. Three days earlier he’d snatched her from the fields where she was scavenging crops to feed herself. He’d been so pleased with himself in the beginning, figuring he could take her to the trade city of Solaris and sell her at one of the alien markets. He wasn’t pleased now.

“I’m healthy,” she insisted. “Look at me. I don’t have any pock marks. There’s no rot on me, and I have all my hair.” She plucked at the strands of her blonde locks just in case he’d missed them.

“The doctor’s not checking your hair, girl,” he guffawed, as if he’d made a joke. If he had, Eris didn’t get it.
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