The Captive Read Online Free PDF

sighed. It was all so different to the tranquil existence she had led before.
    “What are you waiting for, stuck up bitch?” hissed a voice behind her.
    She looked round. One of the other girls, small, dark and scowling with venom, was glaring up at her. “Suppose you think you’re something because you fetched a big price.”
    Zacora shrugged miserably, her eyes lowered.
    “Well, you’re not, see.” The girl, quick and lithe, slipped her hands, manacled with the links of chain, around Zacora’s slender body, catching the nipples in the links. The pain made tears glaze the sapphire eyes, but Zacora kicked backwards, feeling her toes sink into moist sex flesh.
    “Stop that, you hellcats!” boomed the slave master. A whip snaked around the two struggling young naked bodies. “Get down to the cells to await transport.” The whip lashed again as the two girls disentangled themselves, catching Zacora across the softness of her breasts and the other girl across her small pert buttocks. The lash struck again, not for any other reason than to give the slave master pleasure.
    The cells were dark and cavernous. A jailer greeted the group of girls as the slave master ushered them into the rank filth of the cells.
    “Auction finished?” The jailer, wearing only a scrap of worn leather, gathered to a pouch, looked up smiling. He scratched at his groin with a huge key hanging from a bunch on his wrist.
    “Get this place cleaned up,” ordered the slave master. “It stinks.”
    The jailer, a huge man, shrugged, using the key to scratch his long, thick greasy hair. “Don’t matter. Slaves don’t matter.”
    “They matter a great deal!” yelled the slave master, so loudly that the noise, echoing through the stone cells, made Zacora’s ears ring. “They are sold goods. They have to stay in good condition.”
    Zacora felt a rough hand close upon her upper arm. She flinched, looking up into the grinning dark face of the jailer.
    “This is an unusual one,” the big man hissed. “All these golden curls and this…” He caressed the fluff of her pubic bush.
    Zacora stiffened, but the soft silver curls of her mound were automatically thrust forward. Her long legs, muscles tense and nervous, were splayed as far apart as her ankle manacles allowed.
    The jailer cupped Zacora’s sex, stroking the valleys where her thighs met the silver fronded lips. “Nice and full,” he remarked, “for such a slender girl.” He slid the flat of his palm along the lips, so delicately sprinkled with fine silver curls. “A virgin, I suppose?” He consulted a list given to him by the slave master. “Must be at this price. Thirty-five thousand! A record, isn’t it?”
    The slave master nodded. “It’s a record to be sure, but she isn’t a virgin.”
    “She isn’t?” A heavy sheen of perspiration broke out on the jailer’s face and body and his rough fingers prised open the fullness of Zacora’s sex lips, feeling the slippery coating of sex sap oozing along her folds.
    “Lost her virginity to a noble’s son, stupid wench!” sneered the slave master. “So she ended up here. Told some lies about being betrothed to him.” But Zacora looked back at the slave master proudly, knowing the truth of her terrible betrayal.
    “The Meleagan sedan will pick her up first thing in the morning,” the slave master advised the jailer, who was licking his lips with eagerness.
    The other bought slaves slumped down against old walls, slimy with oozing damp and green with a heavy growth of algae. Some settled down to sleep as they waited to be taken to their new owner’s homes and some sobbed quietly, making the chains which held them captive rattle metallically. Only Zacora stood proudly, as still as a statue.
    The jailer circled round her, his rough, gnarled hands reaching out to touch when he noticed a part of her body which interested him. The smooth under swell of her breasts attracted him first and she tried very hard not to flinch when a