Tales of Decadence - Dark Elf Town Ch. 08

All three were terrified, whimpering as they heard whipping, screams, and sounds of mining outside. All three hugged each other for comfort.

The dark elven woman, apparently their leader with a snappy uniform, stood in high-heeled boots, a whip on her belt, and wicked-looking medical supplies on her table.

Without even regarding them, a dark elf woman clicked her high heels, inspecting and scribbling a ledger. Before she stood a brown-skinned slave woman, her round, human ear had been tagged like cattle. She was shockingly fit and completely naked; her posture was looking straight, her legs spread, her hands locked behind her head which was shaven bald as was the rest of her body, armpits, and pubis. She was perfectly broken and dehumanized.

The spectacle was bizarre as well as...sexy.

The dark elf inspected her slave woman like machinery as she stood perfectly still, taking notes of her body.

"Open your mouth." The dark elf spoke in a stern tone, the mining slave obeying in a split-second. Inserting a delicate hand in her mouth, the dark elf checked her tongue, teeth, and probed for cavities, apparently satisfied, finishing with a medication drop on her tongue from a small tubular device none of the girls made sense of it: a glass tube with a leather, inflatable top, and a pointy tip.

"Very good, #465. Oral health is optimal. Your breasts and buttocks have shrunk a bit." The dark elf tapped her chin and took a small, pink syringe. "I'll fix that: the Mining Guild maintains its property."

#465 shivered, closing her eyes for the imminent correction. Smiling at her, the dark elf tapped the needle, and gently pushed the formula directly into the woman's nipples, who, although standing perfectly still, whimpered at the pain, her eyes tearing. Another needle into her buttocks and #465 was quietly weeping, biting her lips. Her owner gave a little pause and took a small ice cube to rub the punctures, and gave her a small pill to swallow, as well as gently wiping her tears.

"Painkiller. I'm not a monster."

None of the three girls even -dared- to ask why she didn't give the pill -before- she injected her slave to improve her figure...

"Bend over and relax your ass now..."

The naked slave immediately held her ankles and looked down, exhaling as the Mine Mistress knelt, and took out an oblong red pill. Dipping it in colorless gel, she smiled at her new prisoners and inserted it into the mine slave's puckered asshole with a careful eye, the pill sliding in gently through the woman's pink, twitching anus.

"Clench and take it in." She slapped #465's muscular ass, who obliged and sighed in pleasure. All three captives could not help but notice that the slave woman's physique was amazing.

The dark elf had inserted a suppository, obviously.

"Dismissed. Return to your cage for sleep..." The naked girl relaxed, exhaled and without a word, docilely walked out of the infirmary, and did not resist as another dark elf stuffed her inside a cage right outside the door and locked it. Her black beady eyes looked at the new prisoners before closing to sleep curled like a cat.

When the Quarry Mistress turned to the now-alone prisoners, their faces paled. Noticing their fear, the dark elf started to smile, not to terrify them, but to calm them.

"You girls. Forewoman Sna'i told me we have three new slaves. Now now..." She "tsk" ed at the prisoner girls, her purple lips curling in an arrogant smirk. "Killed someone in the skirmishes or are you runaways? You don't strike me as the type sent here: that cute redhead could do better in the city..."

All three shook their heads, tears flying from the blonde's eyes. That just made the Quarry Mistress sigh:

"Really? I guess my sisters were a bit angry at the pain you gave them at the caravan raid. Very well...Listen once, I will not repeat myself."

The Quarry Mistress was a very tall and elegant dark elf, obviously, someone who was a mother, perhaps several times grandmother of her species. Dark elves capable of being centuries old, her face was one of indeterminate age and long life of experienced slaving.

"I am Quarry Mistress Zuya. You are now slaves of the mining guild and our property. My job is to train and improve your body, and make your I squeeze as much profit from it as possible before selling you to a better mistress if you behave yourself and obey every command without reservation." The dark elf's beauty added to the haunting declaration of their fate. "You are just another machinery for me to work here. Obey to the letter, and you will be treated decently, an occasional day of rest, maybe better food, sex with a male stud, and a chance to be sold to a better owner in the cities. As much as you may not like it, this is your life now. Disobedience will hurt you badly, and I will not hesitate to whip you until your beauty is marred. But obedience will guarantee good healthcare and as you have seen, alchemical treatments to improve your physique for comfortable and easier work; and of course, more profits for me when you work, and perhaps are sold away to better owners."

All three girls quietly listened, slowly digesting the information. Zuya waited until their eyes re-focused.

"There will be no privacy, not even in bathroom breaks. Your cages are observed at all times, cavity searches daily before and after work. Showers are communal, and my cousins, the guards, can do anything they want with total authority, so don't get on their bad sides. If you like women, you can enjoy yourselves with each other or other slaves in the off-duty hour, we don't care. Do NOT start a fight. You will regret it."

"Strip naked. You are from now on without clothes until the day you leave this place, if ever."

When the girls hesitated, Zuya began uncoiling her whip, her grin turning into a wicked one. That made them start removing their grimy clothes, and she, smile.

"All of it!" Zuya shouted when the girls stopped at their underwear. "Naked. And stop covering themselves, there is no shame here. Stand under the shower."

And so, all three girls had the most humiliating shower of their lives, complete with dark elf forewomen with yellow hard hats forcibly shaving their heads, armpits, and amongst great whimpering and fear, between their legs, including the hair around the anus. When the humiliation party was done, all three had to lie still as a bespectacled succubus took some ink and needle, tattooing their buttocks with numbers and a pickaxe insignia, with a stamp on their backs as well that read "Property of Mining Guild"

All three were more alike now, completely shaven bald for hygiene.

"They have such pretty butts and feet!" The succubus smiled at Zuya, who shrugged and took her ledger.

"Stand up, present your arms and feet apart. Names."

"Karin." The (former) redhead spoke, her voice quiet but resigned, sighing when dark elves fit her ankles and wrists with heavy iron cuffs and added chains to her ankles for hobbling.

"You are Slave 493. You!"

"R-R-rosa." Her once blonde compatriot whimpered through tears and humiliation, trying hard not to cover her body as she was fitted with chains as well.

"494. You?"

"Ramona." The brunette spoke calm, in the perfect display position. Zuya noticed her nipples were erect, and her cheeks were blushing. Quickly she noted her docility down, raising her brows when she smiled at her, if barely, as her restraints were added, even leaning to her captors' hands to help. This one was taking it very well: either a faker or a keeper.

"495. All three, follow the Forewoman. You dig until you hear a whistle. That will be all."

*-*-*-*

And so, three more helpless, chained women were added to the mines. Following each other in a helpless, terrified look in Rosa's eyes who was supported by her two friends, the forewoman, a smaller dark elf guided them to a rock formation with greenish veins.

"Here. Just dig." The overseer pulling their chains pointed to a rocky outcropping.

Watching hundreds of resigned, naked women working like them, all three sighed and started, Ramona, now 495, starting earliest. She found a spot to strike and accepting her helpless nudity, focused on digging.

Karin, now #493, walked with a great feeling of exposure and humiliation, yelping when a young dark elf female struck her buttocks with a whip. Finally, #493 found a good spot to mine. Gathering her mental energy to ignore her nudity and submitting to her situation, Karin started striking the earth, cracking the veins of earth laced with colorful ores, Rosa joining her slowly, still scared and ashamed. The air filling her mask was cool and relaxing: dark elves knew the slaves' health was important, partly to avoid the Empress' wrath, and part to squeeze as much profit as possible from their human slaves, each of whom was an investment.

Naked, helpless, and wearing heavy chains, #493, and soon, #494 was getting better over time, their mind finally accepting her situation. Bit by bit, colorful malachite rocks poured from her blows where similar, resigned-looking naked women shoveled the ore into wooden carts. The carts, to no one's surprise, were pulled by slaves: strong, naked orcish, and human women who were wearing leather harnesses hugging their chests stood chained to the cart, mouths in gags and eyes in blinders. Their hands were behind them in leather cuffs, rattling with small chains as they moaned, pulling the carts like ponies when the driving dark elf bellowed and order and swung her whip to strike the pony slaves' asses with a loud crack.

Sleeping cages were dug inside the mountain, long lines of communal cages with mattresses, sprayed with gleaming, magical water cleaning them every morning it seemed.

The new slaves eventually accepted that they would be naked throughout their slavery, and started working like the rest, a sea of naked women working as mine slaves.

Ramona, now 495#, felt strangely calm, almost not needing clothes, and feeling strange. This was wild, dehumanizing, and somewhere hidden inside her, just somehow pleasant. She felt a flush of tingly feeling when the girl next to her yelped in pain, her plump buttocks struck by the swing of a whip. Poor, confused Ramona could not help but feel curious: how would it feel?

With a smile under her mask, she pretended to tire and huffed, resting her pickaxe even as the mine slaves next to her, sweaty breasts dangling with every swing of the pick, tried to nudge her.

"Psst! She is staring at you!"

Ramona coughed, pretending to hold her back as footsteps clicked behind her.

"Hey!" A feminine elven voice roared, the naked women around Ramona redoubling their efforts. And the almost pleasurable blow landing on her ass made her grin, and return to work. Apparently, the overseer behind her was satisfied.

"Your first day, bitch, and you are slowing down! Do. NOT. Understood?"

Ramona did not want to push her luck.

"Yes, Mistress. Sorry, Mistress..." She mumbled under her mask, apparently satisfying her.

So began the routine, dehumanizing labor of submission for three more unfortunate humans. What they didn't know that the anal-retentive Zuya would keep files on the smallest miner slave and constantly control their quotas and behavior, in her extremely expansive office with mechanical writing and reading aids. Her job was to squeeze every bit of value and give the mining slaves discipline and body mass so they would serve new mistresses in several years with a higher value. Smiling, Zuya noted the three girls down, adding a "masochist" tag to Ramona, "broken bird" to Rosa, and noting her for lighter, gentler water-carrying business next week, and "docile" tag to Karin. Looking at the endless naked bodies digging through the ore and gem veins, Zuya kept scribbling and observing with her binoculars.

"I think I'll keep Ramona here for a long time, she enjoys it...sell Rosa to a nice Kitsune lady as a room cleaner...hmm..." She waved her delicate elven hands and muttered a rune to a floating quill after she looked at the naked Karin digging dutifully, her naked ass contracting with every swing and yielding glittering ores with her arms. Zuya, the forever Panopticon in her tower, focused the binoculars, enjoying hundreds of helpless naked human women working under her. Even so, she noticed the newcomers' personalities, from their shyness to nudity to their work.

"Karin goes to a blacksmith, come five years..." She scribbled. "Has a good eye for malachite. Ramona...maybe until she is too old to work if she enjoys the other women in the mines."

*-*-*-*

After the outlying farms and mines, the city's crafts districts followed the waking rituals of life. These were more cheerful, slaves who were promoted from mines and farms to work inside the city were quite happy with the change in their fortunes. Better food, better clothing, and peculium paid in kind: farm slaves technically had peculium. However, those born in the slave farms were often content to spend their lives working until retirement age, or until Fraterni Caritas, the human religious-charity organization bought the captive ones out. Then there were the very few voluntary slaves surrendering to a life of bondage, escaping human persecution. Religious nudists, lesbian couples, the rare submissive adventurous humans, "disgraced" peasant women and girls always trickled into the farm overseer's office throughout the border, who welcomed them cautiously and politely. Treated as decently as possible, they were the backbone of the Reik's agriculture alongside Holstaurus, Minotaurus, and Pan Faun girls whose lives revolved around pastoral exhibitionist pleasures.

A more advanced/trustworthy slave class manned the crafts district.

Mills, bakeries, laundries, workshops, blacksmiths, baths, tailors, and glassblowers. Butcher shops, papermakers, and vineries. Cart makers, furniture shops, and many others were here, endless naked female bodies stretching and heaving, working, having sex, and being fucked, used in every way a delightful human body was meant to be used. Rickshaw puller girls carried lazy monstergirls around the city, their nipples adorned with bells to warn pedestrians.

Work was, under the dark elven overseer women, strict: Food was brought in wooden boxes to the craft sheds at lunch. Bathing was in full view of the public under steel showers, and slackers were spanked and their buttocks whipped in full public. Bathrooms were at least, where privacy could be had, but on limited time.

The lowest craft district work was reserved for strong human, orcish, and oni women. Ozcuras' crafts district did not receive wind due to geography. Whether the dark elves' setting up slave-driven grain mills, away from farms and in the windless crafts district was due to a love of bondage or careless city planning, no one dared to ask.

A rare male visitor or captive being led by chains could not help but feel aroused at the sight.

A human woman, wearing a leather collar, and a simple gray tunic, her skin tanned and hair unkept sighed, pulling a lever. Amber waves of grain poured from the cart into the endless bamboo funnel and the slave mills, and tired groans filled the air around the millstone. Four crossed wooden beams, padded with leather stuck inside were pushed by a throng of nude slave women, naked, with well-defined musculature, some of them with rippling green bodies being orcs. To some of the slaves' surprise, at least one dark elf female was amongst the mill slaves. Her coal-black elven body was very muscular, her neck fitted with a locked steel collar, her ankles and wrists cuffed, her buttock not tattooed, but branded with a hot iron, which she wore with pride alongside her long, white, single braid hair. The brand read: "Bitch."

Some dark elves took the other side of life, it seemed.

The overseer, an old dark elven woman appraised their bodies and took notes, satisfied with the grain pouting in the middle of the mill. When the hissing flow of grain took a certain pitch, she nodded, slapping the dark elf slave's ass as hard as she could. The woman bit her lips in return.

"Get going, time to earn your food!"

Sighing and groaning, slave women started pushing the beams, the slave mill rumbling and expelling the fine floor to another funnel, their nude, healthy bodies contorting and flexing. No one could say the Mill Overseer didn't feed or take care of their health. She placidly watched dozens of naked slave women grind the season's harvest, which would be carried to the bakeries.

It was not the only slave mill at the district, visitors would eventually be inured to seeing the misery of naked women pushing mill yokes under whiplashes lining up near bakeries, ankles, and wrists chained to the poles. Hundreds of naked feet stamped around the mills, sweaty bodies groaned and pushed the grindstones under the lash, and hundreds more carried grain and floor, chains clinking around their ankles and naked breasts.

Passing this naked industry, there were rows of work sheds would house enormous lines of human women weaving and crafting simple goods, working naked, or with simple loincloths, arriving from numerous slave dormitories nearby, a step above farm slave bunks and mining cages, staffed with creches for children that were born in captivity. More delicate crafts would be, of course, done by dark elves who prided themselves on arts and precision work. By the eighth hour, all the textile mills were buzzing with activity, human women wearing leather collars, and simple or no clothing working in endless monotony, weaving, washing, cutting, and sewing textiles. Other workshops were busy with the manufacture of furniture, and utensils by human women wearing overalls for protection. The crafts slaves wore light leather collars, but still heavy ankle cuffs, and were often chained to their posts by their feet during work.

The street's dirt, dust, cum, and other waste were periodically cleaned by slave girls wearing leather boots, mops, and brooms, careful not to interrupt work.

The city's Glassblower Guild, famed for its beautiful artwork and solid products was alive with activity, heat, and the occasional panting where naked human women melted sand and minerals to produce glassware with wild colors, nude more out of necessity than slave poverty. In front of the furnace, a naked, sweating human woman toiled to shape the glass into valuable artifacts and ornaments, draped in heavy chains to deter escape since skilled slaves such as she were valuable.

She was a strong, young woman in her thirties, with a tomboyish, cute face, short, spiky red hair, glistening green eyes, and a lovely pair of luscious red lips who kept blowing on a pipe to make her next bottle, her naked slave body glistening with sweat, nipples erect on her ample chest heaving with every strong breath she took. The way she breathed into her blowtube was obscene, much like fellating a penis to the point of moaning, for even her mind was molded, her lips were made sensitive with pleasure training courtesy of dark elf slavers, monstergirls with no shame and reservations. Her ankle chains, connected from her heavy steel ankle cuffs, went tastefully behind her sweaty, round asscheeks to her thick, steel neck collar behind her back, rattling with every move as she adjusted the pressure of the pumps with her chained feet, her naked, round ass contracted with youthful vigor and holding the glassblower's pipe in her muscular arms like a perfect sculpture of a Titaness draped in chains.

She sighed, chuckled, and shook her head when a male slave carrying sand barrels slapped and squeezed her slave-tattooed ass, even fondling her breasts as he passed by, luckily after setting down the barrel. The tomboy frowned and shook her head with sweat drops flying, chiding him for sloppiness.