Collateral Damage Pt. 01

She looked at me and tipped her head ever so slightly forward, signaling her assent.

I, in turn, nodded to Saad.

"Very well. We will register her tonight," he said.

"Good. We will brand her tonight, too," the banker said. "SLAVE, right on her nicely rounded bottom. "

Leia blanched, clenching and unclenching her lovely bottom cheeks in terror at the suggestion.

"I would rather my people did it," Saad said. "They will do it for free."

"The slave market charges a pittance," the banker said dismissively.

"A pittance is not free," Saad replied.

"How much does a branding cost?" I asked.

"10 Dinar," the banker replied, "maybe less."

Leia exhaled sharply and whimpered. 10 Dinar was indeed a pittance. The necklace she had bought at the street market today was 3,000 Dinar, which she considered to be quite a bargain. This afternoon she had been a well-dressed lady and the merchants had fallen over themselves fawning over her as they hawked their goods. Now she was slave girl, squatting naked on a table as the man about to take possession of her fingered her sex. Her ripe round ass could branded for a mere 10 Dinar, less than the price of a jug of milk, or a carton of eggs.

I struggled not to laugh. How often had I heard Leia sneer at the slave girls in her charge, calling them "auction meat", "hot twat", "slave pussy" and "tail-for-sale"? How often had she asked them what it felt like to be branded, and then smiled as she watched their eyes fill with tears? Her current predicament was sweet justice indeed, and a part of me enjoyed seeing her with her legs spread wide and a banker's finger twiddling her "hot slave pussy" as he discussed branding her luscious backside.

Leia's face was a study in helplessness and humiliation. As she listened to the men debate the pecuniary aspects of her branding my squatting wife endured the relentless tickling torture of the banker's busy fingers. With each tweak and finger jerk she was moving ever closer to orgasm, even as she was forced to listen to the men debate the minutia of putting her sweet round bottom under the kiss of the branding iron.

"How big of a brand will they use?" Saad asked, clearly grasping for straws as he searched for an excuse not to brand Leia. "I do not want too big of a brand."

"It is no bigger than your thumb."

"That is too small. It must be large enough to be clear."

"The craftsmanship of the branding head is impeccable," the banker replied. "They use a lovely cursive font: thick, bold and plain for the eye to see. Looking at this little slut now, you might think she is free. There will be no doubt of her status after the brand is applied."

Leia's head jerked back as her sex began to quiver like jelly in the banker's hand. I could tell she was resisting, but she could not. Her orgasm - and the tweaking of her clitoris - continued as the men, not bothering to even look at her, continued their conversation.

"Heels up!" the Steward commanded, cracking his whip in the air. Leia whimpered in shame and misery as she forced herself up on her toes. The irony was rich. Leia had often said that "all slave girls are naturally randy" and the should be "beaten like rugs" because of their "shamelessness", and "juiciness". I bit my lip to keep from laughing as she instantly responded to the ominous whip crack, struggling to keeping herself perched on her toes even as she rocked and quivered through a shattering pussy-grading inspired orgasm!

"Will she be properly secured?" Saad challenged. "She is new to her collar, and her skin is very fair. She will scream and thrash when the brand is applied."

"Do not concern yourself, " he said dismissively. "The blacksmiths at the slave trader's know their business. They have branded hundreds of bottoms, white, black and yellow, many as fair as hers. They will make a good job of it."

"Are you sure?" Saad asked. "I do not want a superficial brand, or a botched blur. The iron must be properly heated."

"They use a coal fired brazier. The brand will be heated to a perfect golden orange. It will be applied firmly. It will burn deeply." For a moment I thought Leia, despite her excitement, might vomit.

"So it comes down to the 10 Dinar," Saad said, conceding the other arguments. "A small amount to you perhaps, but my money."

"I know the blacksmith at the market. He enjoys his work, and will brand her for free, if he is not busy."

"It is a busy market," Saad replied, not ready to surrender his final argument. "It is late. He will not have time."

"Will it hurt much?" I asked.

"I hope so," the banker said with a shrug. "But that's the good of it. When a girl is registered and branded she understands she is a slave, now and forever."

At this Leia, groaned, rocked, and quivered through her second shattering orgasm.

"Heels up, slut!" the Steward barked. Again, Leia obeyed, keeping herself on her toes even as she orgasmed.

The banker retrieved his hand from between her legs, and drying it on her face and hair, picked up his ledger.

"I will bring her with me now, to the blue house," the banker said. "Did you wish to join us, or should I bring her back?"

"I will join you," Saad said. "But I am not dressed for business. I wish to change first."

"Very well," the banker said. "I will meet you there. What is the girl's asking price?"

"She is not for sale," Saad replied.

For the first time that evening the banker smiled. "Come now! This is hot slave meat. Every woman is for sale; the only question is the price. I am taking this girl to a slave market. Naturally they will make an offer."

"She is not for sale," Saad repeated. "I shall join you shortly."

I watched as the Steward grabbed Leia by the scruff of the neck. She looked back at me, but her attention was quickly refocused by three hard spanks with the Steward's open palm across her naked rump.

"Move!" he snapped. "Next time you will feel the whip."

I watched as the Steward shoved my naked wife out the front door and into the street, with the banker close behind. As Saad went to change my anxiety grew with each passing moment. It was taking him forever to get ready.

When Saad finally entered another servant pressing vital business interrupted us. I could wait no longer. Saad gave me directions to the blue house. I flew out of the house, desperate to find Leia.

In a night filled with mistakes this mistake was the worst. The streets were confusing, and the market, despite the time, crowded. I stopped at every stall but I could not find the blue house.

My panic was growing. Leia had been stripped of everything: her money, her identity, and even her clothes. The banker had spoken of Leia's branding as if it were a foregone conclusion. Naked and chained in the slave market, Leia would be entirely at his mercy. Worse, the banker would make a tidy profit selling Leia's hot slave pussy and had shown every inclination to do so.

I elbowed my way up-and-down through the eight blocks of the central market, searching in vain for the blue house. In desperation, I began going through the slave market girl-by-girl. Leia was not there. Where was she?

It took forever to realize what should have been obvious. At night, the dark blue house was now black. I bounded up the front steps, desperate to find Leia, and afraid of what I would find.