Property of the Elven Princesses

Before releasing the slaveboy, Lucy and Denise carefully applied powerful ointments to the brand to prevent infection and dull the pain. The sweating, panting slaveboy collapsed onto the floor at Denise's feet, which he kissed without being ordered to. He needed to show his submission, needed to worship his owner, acknowledge her brand. She smiled to herself and let him be the slave he was.

After a few minutes of foot worship, Denise had Lucy's slave Girl take her new slaveboy for a bath. Girl ran her hands into every crevice and orifice the slaveboy had to get him clean. She was hoping one of the elven women would let her sample the boy for herself, but knew better than to ask. For now, she was satisfied with complete access to his body. Under her chastity belt, her pussy was flooded with warmth. She wished she could get to it, but then, after all, it didn't really belong to her.

In the parlour, Boy served the elves drinks and gave Lucy her customary massage, which she liked to receive after being in the workshop. Lucy wondered what Denise was thinking.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"I'm trying to decide what to call him."

"What's the problem?"

"I just can't find the name that fits."

"What kinds of name are you thinking of?"

"You know. Names. Gabriel, Dominic, Ryan."

"Why not cast the net a little wider? No need to give him a name a person would have. He isn't one. There are thousands of great slave names. Star. Oak. Bear. Whisper. Cat. Rumble. Tremor."

"OK. Good point. I bought him because he's worshipful, because he's the sort of smaller male that I quite like, he has that nice thick cock, those wonderful brown eyes, he's a little shy but in a sweet way. I need something that sums up his nature."

Lucy left Denise to think about it. There was no sense offering suggestions or rushing things. A name would come to her. Denise got pencil and paper and wrote down her best suggestions. Meanwhile, Girl had finished bathing the new slaveboy, and led him back into the parlour on his leash, which she handed to his owner.

Denise cupped the kneeling slaveboy's face in her hand and tipped his jaw up so that he would have to look straight into her eyes. "Slaveboy, you need a name. You're sweet-natured, and some of your charms stay hidden most of the time. I do so like your blushes -- I hope those never go away. You need a natural, almost flowery name. You're a lovely slim thing, not a hulking oak of a slave. Your new name is Blossom."

On the floor, naked, collared, leashed and branded, the nineteen year-old slave blushed again. The elves' magic had taken away any memory of his old name when he had been enslaved, but he was quite certain it hadn't been Blossom. Still, he was a slave and slaves were named by their owners, not by themselves. He would cherish his new name. Denise smiled at Blossom's reaction. She took him by the leash and led him into her quarters. Blossom had a long night of worship ahead of him.

Chapter 2 Isaac is Bought Before the Auction

For the past week, the same elven warrioress had come every day to see Isaac on display. Isaac's buyout price was displayed on the board near where he knelt, with legs spread apart and hands on thighs. It was 550 gold pieces. The warrioress had been in service to her Queendom for many years and was well-paid for her dangerous work. She stood 6'2 tall, with the lean well-defined muscles of a dextrous fighter. Next to Isaac, a slim boy of 5'6", she was a giant.

The warrioress had Isaac stand. As usual, she looked at his face, drinking in his androgynous features. Then she fondled his penis and balls, patting them and making them rest against Isaac's perineum. She had him bend over and inspected his round bottom and slim legs, then his jaw-line. She traced a finger over every gentle curve of his face, then had him suck it in his dainty mouth.

The warrioress stood back and regarded Isaac with a critical eye. She smiled. She had decided. Beckoning the slave-keeper over, the warrioress produced a pouch of gold from a pocket in the leather harness that was all she wore. Her blonde bush was on display for the world to see, as were her marvellous breasts. A pair of short swords hung at her sides.

"I want to buy this one out," said the warrioress. "Here's the money. Deal?"

The slave-keeper wasn't surprised. The warrioress clearly had a thing for these androgynous ones. "Deal," she replied. They filled out a few scraps of paperwork and then the warrioress took Isaac's hand and led him away. Isaac was terrified and not a little turned on. His cock started to get hard, having been released from the magic the moment he was sold. The warrioress noticed and spoke a word of command, "Soft." Isaac shriveled up.

Isaac had no idea where they were going, but the warrioress knew the shop she wanted to get to, and knew it was open for two more hours. Above the door, in elven script was written, The Androgyne Emporium. The warrioress practically dragged her new slave through the door.

Inside, she was met by the proprietor and her two slaves. They were her show models, an example of what she could do. Were they boys who looked like girls, or girls who looked like boys? None could say. The proprietor knew -- they were neither. They were something in between. Something quite delectable, to connoisseurs like her and the warrioress.

"I want this one given the works. Sweet, innocent, neither one nor the other. Can you fit us in now?"

The buxom, dark-skinned proprietor elf looked Isaac over. She smiled. This was going to be fun. She nodded to the warrioress and they agreed a price. The proprietor asked the warrioress to stay and direct the works, which the warrioress had assumed she would need to do anyway. Expecting resistance from such a new slave, the proprietor had Isaac's hands cuffed behind his back and hobbled his legs. She added a ring gag for good measure. Androgynes were known to chatter.

"My name is Madam Fleur. Have you decided on a name yet?" asked the proprietor. "Mine are called Songbird and Sparrow."

"They're lovely," said the warrioress. "Mine is going to be called Poppet."

"Oh that's adorable," said Madam Fleur. "I hope you're going to take good care of them."

Isaac tried to speak through the gag, to protest that his name was not Poppet. The warrioress lifted the bound slave over her knee and spanked him, or them, several times until they were quiet.

"Your name is Poppet and you're neither a boy nor a girl. You're something in between. Be quiet. I need to focus."

The warrioress used her magic to enter her slave's mind. She found the place where Isaac's name was stored, his old name, and wiped it away. Then she pushed the new name Poppet into its place. The warrioress had found the loveliest little slave. A little editing and all would be in order.

The warrioress next went into Poppet's mind and found his gender identity. As she had suspected, Poppet was already well on the way to what the warrioress wanted. A few tweaks in their mind and Poppet now floated in a sea of ambiguity. They looked down at their penis but it didn't seem like the evidence of gender it once had.

The warrioress told Madam Fleur she was all done, and handed over Poppet's leash. The buxom woman took it and led Poppet to a wet room. She had her slaves don gloves and massage a powerful depilatory cream all over Poppet's body. They left the hair on Poppet's head and their eyebrows, but took the rest, making sure to burn away any telltale sideburns.

Poppet's alabaster skin was now as smooth as ivory. The warrioress ran her rough hands over Poppet's skin. It was delectable. As jets of water washed away the last of their hair, Madam Fleur inspected Poppet's whole body, dabbing cream here and there where a stray hair remained. Next, Madam Fleur massaged a different cream into Poppet's scalp, making sure to cover their whole head.

Poppet's lovely dark hair began to grow, fast. The magic of the cream lengthened it to below Poppet's shoulders, leaving in a tangled mess. The slaves of Madam Fleur took their time working out the knots, leaving Poppet with a head of lustrous dark hair, just like theirs. They thought Poppet would make a fine addition to their ranks.

"How do you want it?" asked Madam Fleur.

"Pigtails, as girly as you can make them," said the warrioress. Madam Fleur's slaves giggled as they took Poppet to a hairdressing chair and bound their new hair into two sweet pigtails, which they let fall across Poppet's chest. Madam Fleur felt it was missing something. She added a pink satin bow at the base of each pigtail and another at the end. Just right.

Madam Fleur had Poppet stand and present to the warrioress. She was pleased with the transformation so far. Poppet, gagged and drooling, was less sure of what was going on. Who were they now? It was hard to remember. But they knew they were Poppet, and they knew they were a slave. That would have to be enough.

Madam Fleur was an expert in body manipulation magic. She could change a slave's gender, with enough effort, or add or subtract to any part of their body. She walked up to Poppet and patted their chest. Looking at the warrioress, "Do you want anything doing here?"

"Just the slightest suggestion of breasts," she said. Poppet jumped. What was going on?

Madam Fleur focused her power and placed her hands on Poppet's chest. She drew them away from Poppet just a little. Poppet soon found their chest beginning to grow. There was a tingling sensation as small deposits of fat formed, pushing Poppet's nipples out. For a final touch, Madam Fleur made Poppet's nipples larger and had them stand out more.

"Pierce them with gold rings, please," said the warrioress. She and Madam Fleur agreed the size of the rings, then Madam Fleur pierced the slave's nipples with a special gun. Poppet shrieked through the gag, but the pain was fleeting. The new rings were threaded through their nipples, and left Poppet feeling exposed and slutty. A fine gold chain was added, putting just a little weight on Poppet's chest, to remind them of what they were now.

"Now," Madam Fleur spoke sternly, "we need to do something about that." She pointed at Poppet's penis. An androgyne didn't have their genitals on show. It was part of the allure.

"I was thinking strapping, maybe padding, and then some small white knickers over, perhaps with little flowers."

"You're having them keep the cock and balls then?"

"Oh definitely. I want them to have a sex drive, even to cum if they behave themselves. But the balls are dangling, aren't they?"

"I can change that," said Madam Fleur, "but for Poppet's cock, I was wondering if you'd considered a locking piercing to hold it down?" Poppet began to shake with fear as their new owner and Madam Fleur worked out where a pair of piercings could go. Androgynes were not known for bravery. They needed someone to take care of them. The warrioress nodded to Madam Fleur, but asked for tape over the top just to make sure.

Madam Fleur forced Poppet down into a piercing chair and locked them in place. The warrioress added her strength, pinning her new slave down with her vastly superior muscles. Madam Fleur took a piercing gun and threaded it over the end of Poppet's short penis. With a sharp crack from the gun, a hole was driven through the head of the slave's member, then a gold ring threaded through and sealed. Poppet began to sob through the ring gag. The warrioress wiped away Poppet's tears.

Madam Fleur made the second piercing, a ring through the perineum, then handed the warrioress a tiny gold lock. The warrioress locked Poppet's piercings together, making their cock rest snug against their body, held down. Then, Madam Fleur used her magic to shrink Poppet's scrotum, bringing their little balls much closer in.

"You're really looking the part now, Poppet. Good little one, you're behaving so well," said Madam Fleur, giving Poppet a pat on the head.

Madam Fleur took up a roll of tape and stuck a strip to Poppet's flaccid penis. The magic kept it unerect -- no amount of stimulation could override it. With the tape, Madam Fleur taped Poppet's penis down, anchoring it on their perineum, over the piercing. The warrioress would need to reapply tape every day. She carried some with her from then on.

Madam Fleur unshackled Poppet's legs and had the warrioress hold them in place. Poppet cried a little as a tiny, cute pair of knickers were threaded onto their legs and then up to their crotch. Madam Fleur took Poppet to a mirror. They looked like a girl, and like a boy. Definitely not a butch boy. Madam Fleur readjusted the tape a couple of times, and declared herself satisfied. Poppet showed a smooth line beneath their knickers. No one could tell what sex they were now.

"I'd like some makeup, and I don't know, maybe some more accessories. Can you suggest anything?"

Madam Fleur took Poppet back to the hairdressing chair and produced a kit of lipsticks and eyeliners. She made Poppet up to look a little sluttier, then showed Poppet how to do it themselves. Poppet had always, for as long as they could remember, wanted to try makeup. Now they had, and they liked it. Madam Fleur also shaped Poppet's eyebrows into a thin line, so as not to give them away with small details.

Madam Fleur decided to paint Poppet's nails the same red as their lipstick, then presented the androgynous slave back to their new owner. The warrioress looked Poppet over. There were still a few things missing. The warrioress had Madam Fleur give Poppet two new tattoos. One was of a rose and thorn, the other Poppet's new name in flowery script. The warrioress had Madam Fleur add a tramp stamp for good measure, then pierced Poppet's ears with studs.

There were two final touches. The warrioress decided to put Poppet into some long socks. They came up to Poppet's knees and came in a variety of styles. The warrioress decided she liked Poppet like this and that they would wear long socks often. Finally, the warrioress took a pink, glittery collar from a bag and buckled it around Poppet's neck. She clipped a pink leash to it, paid the proprietor, and was off, her bag full of Poppet's spare knickers, socks and makeup.

When they reached the warrioress's home, she carried Poppet over the threshold and introduced them to some house rules. Poppet would maintain their androgynous appearance and should wear knickers at all times unless ordered to take them off. White with flowers for the week, pink and frilly at weekends. Poppet would refer to the warrioress as "Master", not "Mistress."

Poppet's new Master relaxed on her couch. "Come here Poppet, Master needs her pussy licked."

"Yes, Master," said Poppet, too afraid to disobey. They sashayed over to Master and went to work. Master had not told Poppet her name so Poppet could only think of her as Master. Master told Poppet where to lick, how hard, when to suck, and when to speed up. Poppet tried to remember all the details as they dove their tongue into Master's blonde mound. They never even thought of disobeying.

Master regarded Poppet. As the lovely little thing sat there in their knickers, with their pigtails and their lipstick and long socks, Master knew she had made the right choice in buying her new slave. Poppet licked dutifully, not daring to stop until Master had cum hard. Poppet thought Master beautiful, handsome even. They didn't know that Master had cast a spell on Poppet to make them more amenable to their new lifestyle. It hadn't taken much magic.

As the spell worked subtly over Poppet's mind, washing away shame and bonding them to their new Master, they were taken into the bedroom and told to sit up on the bed on all-fours, facing a long mirror. Master fished around in a drawer and came out with a strapon. The strapon was made of a magically-infused polished wood, flexible and able to change size. Master put it on and made it grow long, but thin.

"Poppet," said Master, "your tender little pussy won't be able to take much width to start with, but I'm going to fuck you every day until you can take a big cock. If you're a very good little boygirl, sometimes I'll even let you cum while I fuck you. Not today though."

The strapon, once in place, connected to Master's clit with vine tendrils, so that Master could get off while she fucked Poppet. Oiling up the strapon, she had Poppet watch in the mirror as she got into position behind them and moved their knickers aside just a little. With one hand, Master clamped on to Poppet's skinny shoulder, and with the other, she moved the strapon into position.

Poppet was scared and crying again. Master ignored their tears, and pushed the strapon inside them. Poppet moaned and squealed as the cock opened up their insides. It was already much bigger than Poppet's. Master stroked Poppet's hair to calm them as she fucked, slowly and tenderly.

"Look in the mirror, Poppet," said Master.

Poppet did. They saw a warrior goddess fucking their little slave, tenderly taking their virginity in the most dominant way. Poppet looked at themselves. The pigtails suited them, but so would a braid or a long ponytail. They would have to ask Master's opinion. Master kept fucking, her gentleness so unexpected and so welcome. Poppet felt their fears melting away, and each time the strapon hit their prostate they let out a little moan.

Master came again after fifteen minutes of making love to her new little slave with the strapon. Afterward, she took her new pretty thing and drew them a bath, then bathed Poppet's body all over. Poppet slept in Master's bed, held in her arms. They slept naked, the only time when Poppet would be completely on display. Poppet slept deeply for the first time since their capture. Their dreams were peaceful. Master would look after them from now on.

Chapter 3 Auction Day

After ten days on display, Jake, Tiffany and Adam had been fingered and fondled by hundreds of elves and not a few slaves. They had been given regular meals and washed down by older, broken slaves, but were never allowed out of their shackles and hobbles. The magic of the elves stopped them from violent resistance; even the thought made them weak. Raising a fist against an elf resulted in mind-altering agony. They had learned not to try.

Adam's eyes rested on Tiffany's lithe body whenever they had the chance. He drank her in, from her exquisite feet to her perky breasts and round, pink nipples, right up to her head of golden hair. He had long harboured submissive fantasies, almost as far back as he could remember. He was torn between his longing to be in control of his own life, and his need to serve, his heartfelt desire to be yoked to the will of a dominant woman.

Jake had never entertained such notions in his life. In truth, he lacked the imagination. He was oversized, heavily built, but lacking in intellect. When she had been forced to capture him, Lucy had wondered what might become of him. She couldn't imagine that he would be much challenge to break -- the unintelligent ones never were.

Tiffany was smart and had been a lively, vivacious girl before her capture. The right mistress would bring this out from her again, turning her into a spirited slave. It could happen overnight, or take years to bring about. The wrong mistress might turn her into a domestic servant or a labour slave. Lucy, truth told, didn't care either way, so long as she got paid.

On the morning before the auction began, the new slaves were brought in lots to be bathed and oiled. It was the luck of the draw whether a male or a female slave was assigned to bathe each of them. Jake found himself being touched in the most intimate ways by an older-looking asian male. The slave massaged oil into Jake's hard stomach and all over his powerful arms, then stood back to admire his work. He wondered who would buy Jake -- perhaps an elf looking for a new horse. Then again, huge males like this one were sometimes turned into petite girls with the right magic. The slave thought such a transformation would suit Jake well.