Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.

*****

Chapter 1: Rough Beginnings

The wagon smelled of urine, feces and fear. The newly caught slaves sat huddled together, desperate for warmth. Outside the blizzard raged on, but the wagon rolled on calmly, some spell protecting it from the worst of it. Maybe they hadn't wanted to waste a spell to heat up the cargo hold, or maybe they figured it would be a first lesson in humility for the slaves. Either way it was freezing cold, and those towards the edges would need healing for the frostbites when they reached their destination - the slave hub Tyre's Port.

Adrian was lucky, he had been shackled in the middle, and while he got the worst of the excrement, at least he was warm. He was leaning against Markus, his older brother. At least they hadn't been separated yet. Maybe they would be sold together? As some sort of curio? Adrian wasn't sure how these things worked, but if he was honest with himself, it didn't seem likely - Markus was big and muscular and devilishly handsome, it was no secret that he was the prize catch. Adrian could not be described as handsome. Pretty would be more accurate. He was as tall as Markus, almost 2 meters, but sinewy instead of muscular. Their skin was pale, their hair black, his long and kept in a now sad and frizzy braid, Markus's short. With big brown eyes and pouty lips he had always been able to get his way, but he couldn't imagine that they would help him now.

"What if I'm sold to a brothel," he whispered.

"Then I'll save you," Markus answered, his voice husky from thirst.

"What if you're sold to some far off country, shipped away over the oceans. We might never see each other again." Markus's hands were shackled behind Adrian, but he reached out and placed a hand against his brothers back.

"We'll always find each other. Family finds a way. I will find a way to free us and we will head back home." Adrian felt the tears threatening to well over.

"Home to what? Mom and dad are dead, the forge burned down. What do we have left?"

"You have Callie," Adrian whispered softly. "She will wait for you, you know that." Adrian touched the rings on hisring finger with his thumb. The wedding bands he'd made for him and Callie. In the panic of the attack he'd put them on, thinking he had to save them. What did they matter, when his parents were dead, and Callie was miles away?

"I'm just scared," Adrian whispered, barely audibly.

"Me too, but we'll make it through. I promise."

The city Tyre's Port was huge, constructed mostly of stone but painted warm and vibrant colours. Ylland was mostly inhabited by humans, but this was a city of motley denizens - elves, orcs, animal folk. People from all over the world had either travelled here willingly or been brought here as slaves. If you were smart and resourceful, you could easily make a name for yourself here. As a free man, young and adventurous and somewhat bored of village life, Adrian had often dreamed of visiting. Now he was here as a slave. It did not live up to his dreams. The slavers who had caught them were bottom-rung stuff and did not have permission to sell their wares at any of the better markets. They brought them to the Waste, a market located in the Shabbles, where the house colours were faded and dirty, and the roads were as covered with excrement as the wagon had been.

The slavers brought them out of the wagon and over to a big cage behind the auction stage. There they were brought out one by one, branded, and returned to the cage. Adrian screamed through the gag as the hot iron was pressed against his throat. He thought he would pass out, the pain continuing, pulsating like a heartbeat. At least it brought his thoughts away from the nervousness whirling around his stomach - he felt like puking but there was nothing for him to puke up. He tried to breathe in the cold air slowly, enjoy the freshness of it compared to the wagon. He focused on how nice it was to stretch his legs, feel the sun on his face. Their hands were locked in front of them, but still Adrian and Markus struggled until they could hold hands, the touch re-affirming. They couldn't speak. Didn't know what to say. They just looked around wild-eyed, taking in all the different species of people - lupines were common, as were orcs. Here and there in the crowd they could see the smaller form of felines and vulpines. They didn't see many humans, and no elves whatsoever.

The slavers returned again, bringing their cargo up on the stage. The auctioneer, a big, burly lupine, started picking them out one by one, selling them to the crowd gathered below. Adrian met Markus's eyes. Please let them be sold together. The slaves gathered on the stage were quickly thinning out - it was a brisk business, and then the auctioneer pointed at Markus.

"A fine young human male, mid-twenties. Strong as an ox by the look of it. Let's start at 40 silver." An orc in the front row raised his hand. "40 silver, do I have 45?" A white tiger raised a hand. "The lady in the middle bids 45, 50?" The orc raised his hand again. "I have 50, 55." A pause. "55, any takers?" Finally a human male, his skin dark as coal, raised his hand. He did not fit in with the rest of the crowd, Adrian could see that immediately - his clothes were fine and clean, his jewellery expensive. Behind him were two orcs dressed in dark clothing, also clean and fine. Guards, maybe?

"55 to the fine gentleman, any raisers? 60 silvers? Do I have 60 silvers? Then sold for 55 silver!" A guard immediately grabbed Markus, dragging him off the stage.

"I love you!" Markus called to Adrian. "I will get back to you, I promise." Adrian couldn't respond, the words caught in his throat. He could only stare as Markus was pulled away. He was alone.

The auctioneer turned his attention to Adrian. "Another fine specimen! Roughly twenty years of age, presumably male. Would make a good attendant or prostitute. Let's start at 15. Any takers?" The crowd was silent. The city had plenty of attendants and prostitutes. Finally the orc in the front raised his hand. "We have 15! Anyone for 20? No? Then sold to Mr Laurens!" The guards grabbed Adrian's lead and pulled him off the stage, keeping him there until Mr Laurens turned up shortly after. Adrian thought he was small for an orc, not much taller than himself. The tusks sticking out of his mouth were clipped short and adorned with silver caps. His hair was cut short and he wore a threadbare blue suit. A young feline in a pencil-skirt came over, holding a scroll. She unfurled the scroll and pinned it to a writing board.

"What's your name?" she asked Adrian brusquely. When he didn't answer the guard still holding him squeezed his arm painfully.

"A-adrian! Adrian Smith." She wrote his name down on the scroll.

"If you would just sign here..." she said slowly, indicating to Mr Laurens in the scroll. He signed it with the quill and then received the rolled-up scroll from her, placing it in a pack fastened over his shoulder. He turned to Adrian.

"So! Now that business is done. You can release him," he said to the guard, glancing back at Adrian. "If he runs I will tear his throat out." He smiled, showing off a glistening row of sharp teeth. Adrian swallowed and nodded. "I'm Mr Laurens, I trade specifically in human males. We will head back to my premises and get you cleaned up a bit. Come along." With that Mr Laurens turned and walked away, tugging Adrian behind.

Mr Lauren's "premises" were an empty store front with a desk and some chairs, behind which were his apartment. He led Adrian into the bathroom. "You're filthy," he said. Adrian was. He removed the lead from Adrians collar. "Get undressed." He turned to the bathtub and turned on the faucets. Soon steam filled the room. When he turned back, and Adrian had made no move to undress, he lifted his hand and unceremoniously backhanded him. Adrian stumbled from the shock, sitting down on the toilet.

"You will do as I say when I say, understood?" Mr Laurens said, towering over him. Adrian nodded. He licked his lips, tasting the blood there. "Good. Now, get undressed." Slowly Adrian stood. He pulled his shirt up over his head and folded it, placing it on the toilet. Nervously he pulled off his trousers, and again, folded them and put them on the toilet. He paused.

"Do you usually bathe with your underwear on?" Mr Laurens asked. Adrian shook his head. "I didn't think so." Hesitantly, Adrian removed his underwear. He was naked. The only person he'd been naked in front of, at least as he could remember, was Callie, and they'd only ever had sex in the dark. It was humiliating.

"You're well-hung, that will do well in the brothels." Adrian flinched. Mr Laurens saw it, and he smirked. He was not a nice man, it seemed. "You do not want to be sold to the brothels, hm? That is unfortunate for you. Now get in the bath." The bathroom was small, and though Mr Laurens was small for an orc, he was still an orc, and thus took up most of the room. Adrian had to squeeze past him, which the trader obviously enjoyed.

The water was scalding hot. Adrian washed as quickly as he could, grateful to be rid of all of the grime that had collected during the week's travel. When he was done, Mr Laurens emptied out the bath and filled it up again, this time adding a pleasantly smelling oil to the water.

"How old are you?" he asked. He was sitting on the bathtub edge, slowly swirling his fingers in the water as Adrian washed himself.

"I'm eighteen," Adrian said softly.

"'I'm eighteen, sir,' understood?"

"I'm eighteen, sir."

Mr Laurens nodded. "Barely a man then," the orc responded. "Have you ever had sex?" Adrian gaped, taken aback. "Answer me," the orc said calmly, twisting the ring on his finger, which indentation Adrian could still feel on his cheek.

"Yes, sir."

"With a girl or a boy?" Mr Laurens was watching him intently now.

"A... A girl. Sir."

"Your girlfriend?" Adrian nodded. "Is she pretty?"

"Yes, sir."

"Can you picture her in your head for me?" Adrian frowned, confused. "Just do it." Silently, he did as he was told - he closed his eyes and pictured Callie - pale skin, auburn hair, green eyes. Freckles. Smiling. And then he heard a splash, and felt a hand wrap around his manhood. He opened his eyes. Mr Laurens had lowered himself to the floor, leaning over the edge with his arm under the water. Slowly he fondled Adrian.

"What... please, don't- please don't touch me!"

Mr Laurens placed his other hand on Adrians cheek. "This is happening, boy, whether you want it or not. Only the brothels will buy someone as lithe as you, and they will want someone who can handle being touched. You might not think so, or like it, but I am making this easier for you."

"You- ah, you don't have to sell me to the brothels! I'm trained as a smith, surely I- ah, please, I could be sold to a smithy or... or..." Mr Laurens was moving his hand deftly up and down, squeezing, twisting. He smiled. He did very much enjoy this part, breaking in a new slave.

"What smithy would buy you? You're human, and you're all limbs."

"I- I will fill out!" Adrian said, breathing heavily.

"Perhaps, but it doesn't change the present." He was moving faster now, and Adrian couldn't speak anymore. He grasped the edges of the bathtub, squeezing his eyes shut, and came. Slowly, his body relaxed. He felt Mr Laurens let go of him, heard him walk out of the room and then return.

"Dry yourself and get dressed. We'll see where we will sell you." Adrian opened his eyes. On the toilet were new clothes and a towel. He looked up at Mr Laurens.

"Please, I will do anything, sir."

Mr Laurens watched him quietly for a while. "You will do anything, hmm? You will suck me off? You will let me fuck you?"

Adrian gaped. He swallowed. If he was sold to a brothel, worse than that would be done to him. "Yes, anything sir," he said. Mr Laurens took a step towards him. Involuntarily, Adrian flinched. The orc smirked.

"There is nothing you can do for me, boy. I've invested money in you and I want that investment back, that's all. Nothing else."

Adrian dressed in his new clothes - cheap cloth dyed black. It hung badly on him, but at least it was clean. When he was done, Mr Laurens helped him dress the brand. He put the lead back on him, and led him out onto the streets. They walked in silence through the crowded streets, through the Waste and further up in the city. The houses got nicer as they walked - the paint fresher, the streets cleaner. At a large intersection they turned left. Painter's Street, it was called. It seemed to be named literally. It would be a popular job, given the houses. They followed the street for a while, passing Cobbler's Street, Tailor's Street, Armorer's Street, and then finally, Blacksmith's Street. Adrian glanced at Mr Laurens, who shrugged.

"It doesn't hurt to try," Mr Laurens said. They walked from smithy to smithy - the orc showing his goods, the smith's shaking their heads. He was too small. They didn't hire humans. Adrian was standing dejected behind Mr Laurens. It had been too much to hope for, of course. He would be sold to a brothel. Maybe he should let Mr Laurens fuck him, get his first time over with. Glancing up, he saw that someone was watching him. He looked across the street. A minotaur, his fur black as soot, with a blacksmith's apron tied around his muscular frame. He met Adrian's eyes for a second.

"Soren!" Mr Laurens exclaimed, tugging Adrian with him across the street, towards the minotaur. "How are you my old friend?" Soren watched the trader quietly. "Good, good," Mr Laurens said. Obviously the large minotaur made him nervous. "This here is Adrian Smith, and as you can guess from the name he comes from smiths. Quite talented, I'm told. I heard you just lost an apprentice, a shame, such a shame. 20 silvers and Adrian here is yours."

Soren towered over him. His big hand came to Adrians chin, pushing it up, forcing Adrian to meet his eyes again, and then turning his head this way and that. "I have no use for this one," he said, letting go of Adrian and looking to the trader. The disappointment felt heavy in Adrians stomach.

"Are you sure?" Mr Laurens asked. "As I said, his father was a blacksmith and he already has some training."

Soren shrugged. "He's weak. No muscle at all. He won't survive in my forge." Maybe Soren was right, maybe he wouldn't survive in the forge, but it was better than the brothels.

"I'm just young, I'm only eighteen, I will grow more bulk," Adrian interjected, stumbling over the words in his hurry. "But I'm excellent at the fine work, that was my specialty in my father's... my father's smithy." His father who died to save him. Soren had turned his eyes to him again. The minotaur was well over 2 and a half meters, his dark eyes unreadable.

"You would be the only human. I can't promise that my other apprentices would be kind to you." His face softened somewhat. "You would probably be better off, safer, somewhere else."

Adrian swallowed. "But if I get my hammers, I will be free, right?"

"I'll take years. A decade, maybe." A decade. In a decade, maybe Adrian would get to see Markus again. Maybe Callie would have waited for him. It was better than dying in a brothel.

"Please, I promise you won't be disappointed in me. I'm a hard worker and I have a knack for forging, my father always said so." Soren met his eyes, not saying anything. The silence stretched on. Adrian could feel his hands dripping with sweat but didn't dare wipe it off - he didn't want to show the minotaur how nervous he was. Finally, Soren broke his stare and looked to the trader again.

"I'll take him. How much?"

"Twenty silver." The deal was made, the contract signed, the silver passed, and Adrian followed his new owner into the forge.