Tributes to the Dark Elves Pt. 02

It didn't take much to strip the peasant girl naked, the daggers making short work of threadbare dress and flimsy undergarments, the girl's eyes moistening and cast down, was obscured by a hood tied around her head to conceal her shame. The dark elf noticed with satisfaction: the human girl's breasts popping out of her torn wrappings were healthy-sized, she smelled good, and her demeanor was not the "screaming and kicking" resistance some showed.

The girl even crossed her hands behind her back as it was being tied, almost helping when the ankle chains were put on her. Now nude, her skinny frame would be another addition to the dark elven slave workforce, as the dark elf led her by a rope leash to the waiting slave caravan, joined by two more of her friends leading two nude, well-built (and relatively hung) young men in chains.

"Lucky find, sister!" One dark elf waved happily and exclaimed: "These two are from good families who had a dozen kids! They look like they are fertile!"

Fertile males were a premium in the underground city: the only males in Dunia being male for 200 years (and counting), a fertile human man, young and healthy would be sold for a good sum, as well as live very comfortably if he behaved.

Sperm farms with pumps existed for those that didn't.

All three dark elves chattered happily, ignoring their leashed cargo as they talked, three youths being marched to slavery.

*-*-*-*

"We are for the Tribute...What is this?"

The armed dark elven slaver's ears perked up in interest, her purple eyes squinting in surprise.

The family had locked themselves in the bedroom, barred it with a wire, and left their daughter in the living room, waiting for the dark elven tribute collectors, wearing nothing but ragged, white underwear and chest wrap.

"Sergeant Thuli?" The tribute collector's assistant nudged her gently. "What is this? A golem?"

"No..." Thuli approached the sad-looking girl who looked at her with teary, red eyes. Then she blinked in surprise: the eyes were red, perhaps too red. She gently unsheathed her sword, and kept it ready:

"Tell me, human. What are you?"

The young girl muttered very quietly, making the Svartalf trio blink:

"Albino."

"Albino?" Thuli blinked.

The girl sitting on a small stool before her, in abject shame and sadness, had hair reaching to her hips, and was, for the lack of a better world, the whitest, palest human girl Thuli had seen. Her entire skin was alabaster white, as was her hair. Her eyes were red like a volcanic succubus, and she looked so fragile as if one slap would kill her, slender and delicate.

"So..."

"CUTE!" The third dark elf squealed, which started the poor albino peasant girl. "She'll fetch a great price in the city." Before she could step forward and rip off the girl's clothes, she shied away, pleading in tears and desperate Common:

"The sun hurts me and my eyes! My family hates me! Why must you do this?" She squealed, weakly trying to pull back. "Don't hurt me!"

Thuli chuckled, and pulled the girl's flimsy underwear aside, leaving her shivering and naked, small, young breasts so pale one could see some veins. Even her pubic hair was silvery white.

"Because we take humans as slaves. But think of the bright side: where you'll be going, we have no sun, and whatever ailment you have, we'll heal it." She started to tie the sobbing albino's hands. "You'll probably look cute and walk around in white clothes in some rich woman's mansion, amusing guests and cleaning windows."

"I always wanted to be a singer...Not a maid!" The girl sobbed. "Not even the church would take me..."

"Then ask the slaver to let someone train you; we value artistic skills." Thuli grinned, pulling the albino to her arms, shackling her delicate feet with deft hands, and feeling her slender body as she led her, very, very gently outside, naked and shackled per tradition. Thuli was having the time of her life: the poor, strange changeling that was named "Albino" was like a porcelain doll, Thuli decided to use soft leather rather than steel.

"Cute thing: K'ayra!"

"Yes, Sergeant?" Her assistant perked her ears.

"Reserve a spot in cage carts, poor thing gets hurt by the sun...And get me a sack!" And so, the slender, naked albino girl, hands tied before her in a loose knot, feet shackled, was pushed outside, was hooded, and quickly led by the arm into the slave carts, nearby dark elves gasping and staring at her silvery-white skin and hair.

*-*-*-*

The humans sighed collectively at the ring of a bell when the last poor boy in chains was dragged through the streets by another dark slut, and disappeared inside the mule cart.

After several minutes, the sounds of sighs, sobs, and chains interspersed with the sounds of cracking whips became less and less audible, the slave caravan disappearing behind the trees and into their journey under the earth. One by one, windows slowly began opening, and doors unlocked one by one by scared hands.

At least the dark elf tribute was paid this year.

The dark elven overlords (or over-ladies, considering their single-gender species) had finally left, dragging a long trail of chained, naked youths into the underworld caves; a parade of pale, bare skin in chain bondage trundling to their new lives in servitude. They had their blood tax. It was low, and the dark elves would protect the human duchy against harm, help with food, and make raising new life cheap...much like tending a garden, or chicken coop. Raising children was extremely cheap in the duchy because the Svartalvr would eventually collect the produce they cultivated:

That produce was a yearly harvest of healthy, docile youth to be used for sex and work.

Sobs, sniffles, sighs, and rattling of chains were drowned by singing in dark elven, rows of armed dark elven girls escorting mule trains full of nude human boys and girls, and chain gangs; slaves that couldn't fit the tribute carts made to walk in shameful nudity, hands and feet shackled as lusty dark elven girls licked their lips and watched the eye candy for morale on the road.

Of course, "morale" meant in this case, only for the overlord.

Young boys and girls, some still hooded, all of them nude, kept trundling forward, locked in the chain gang of naked slaves, their dark elven escorts oblivious (or uncaring) to their plight save for a warning rap on bare legs or buttocks with a crop if the slaves slowed down. Moans and gasps could be heard when those who weren't hooded or blindfolded in their cages realized the meaning of a darkening sky:

The slave caravan had passed one of the many cave entrances underground, starting its slow, chained march under the occasional crack of whip towards the gilded, purple-and-gold metropolis of Chel'drai...

Bare soles felt the cool earth warm up as they trundled, ankles chained, necks felt the warm volcanic winds warm their bodies, their minds, troubled, began relaxing. It was a trick: the dark elves knew how to plant small flowers around the cave entrances which gave a mild, fragrant soporific aroma that calmed anxious newcomers. It also helped that some of the younger, first-time surfacer dark elves couldn't keep their hands off some of the tributes' cocks, breasts, or buttocks. At least both sides had a bit of intimacy, however awkward, to be distracted during the long trek.

A few hours of marching later, when the slaves started to pant and ask in terrified voices for water (which was met with a stony response of "We are nearly there, you'll be fed and watered" by an indifferent caravan guard), the slave caravan eventually turned around a large clutch of stalagmites, and the first unfortunate tributes who were not blindfolded saw in terrified awe, the massive granite walls of Cheldrai, the circular metropolis of the dark elves, built into the underworld, and looking like a beautiful, honey-dripping blossom of black lotus. Painfully beautiful, yet lethal and dangerous, and hundreds of chained, naked young boys and girls, were being herded inside.

"Ah...Cheldrai..." Shalasi sighed, waving her torch to the massive watchtowers' guards who would signal to open the gates. "This is your new home, humans." She turned to the chained slave gang, eyeing a desperate-looking, gagged man with a painfully red erection. "Where you'll work, sleep, eat, and live, and..." She raised her finger as if to make a point. "...if you work hard and behave well, you will share our pleasures, get better lives, and gods know, see the surface again one day!"

Sighs and groans of despair came from the filled cages, and walking slaves in fetters. They had entered a beautiful, beautiful hell from which there was scant escape.

The chained march kept going, some of the dark-elven girls cracking whips around them to tease and scare the tributes, particularly blindfolded human girls, walking slowly with their wrists crossed behind their backs, arms crossed, pulled and fastened with rope harnesses in reverse prayer positions. The dark elves giggled as the poor girls flinched from the sounds, their butts, and breasts jiggling with every skipped step.

Those who weren't blindfolded started seeing wonders, large gates opening with elaborate chain mechanisms behind them.

The city's interior opened like a deadly lotus flower in bloom, amazing the slaves being taken even in the dull depression of their position as dark elves took off their hoods and blindfolds.

It was a huge metropolis, inhabited by an endless, bustling population of ebony-skinned, white-haired elves who went about their business, some turning their heads to regard the incoming slave caravan with smirks or greedy smiles. Pointy black ears wiggled, purple lips with shiny white teeth flashed big smiles, watching another fat caravan loaded with slaves to be put to work or bedrooms.

"Fresh slaves!" A happy-looking dark elven guard exclaimed, wearing a skimpy "bikini" that passed for armor and resting on her spear. She licked her lips, beautiful young men, naked and chained, marching slowly with red faces and full erections they couldn't hide. "Goddesses bless the queen, she just made the deal of the ages when she started taking human tributes!" She giggled.

"True." Her friend nodded, keeping a watch on the streets. "I'm saving for a slave, some nice young man who will give me daughters and be a good house-husband!"

The caravan and its drivers, the tribute collectors were hailed with spontaneous applause from the citizens, some tossing flowers at the guards, and to the humans' shock, slaves as well: they were happy fresh bodies from the surface would take their load off mundane work.

The humans were amazed as well: the streets were immaculate, roads paved with solid black obsidian tiles flawlessly. Many dark elves had slaves in tow, mostly naked, mostly human, though they could see a few other races leashed to the ebon elves' wrists as well. It was a macabre, erotic urban landscape, passing in a haze of purple-red lanterns, masked dark elven women, and laughter, all hidden under a haze of narcotic smoke coming from pipes, curvy, pale human women in chains serving as waitresses to cafes, following their owners like dogs, or simply cuddling and kissing dark elves.

The male members of the tribute caravan could not deny that whatever must be coming, can't be bad for them.

Passing by shops and streets with hungry gazes falling on their exposed bodies, the humans were eventually herded into a gigantic marketplace, an opening with perfectly laid out circular enclosures, circles within a fortified circle.

The dark elves' marketplace was an even more bizarre and macabre pandemonium of delights and dark pleasures.

The sections of the marketplace were reserved for specific goods. Some humans swallowed at seeing juicy, exotic fruits dangle from sales stalls, suspended over shiny fairy fires with dancing ice cubes around them. Next to the fruit stall was the section where sackfuls of weirdly colored grain were piled as high as houses, after that, the cattle market could be seen, where pigs, sheep, and cows slept in corrals. Next to them were...

Slaves. As if the dark elves wanted to flaunt supremacy and keep slaves humiliated, they put right next to cows, the minotaur, and holstaurus slave girls. Poor, naked, large-breasted, curvy, monstergirls sat or lounged in chains much like the cattle their liminal forms represented, with bored or neutral expressions.

The section for slaves and slave auctions took the lion's share in the marketplace. A circular enclosure with plenty of chains, cages, and shackles waited for the poor tributes, who had walked for hours.

"Sit down." The dark elves started pushing and ordering them, holding their naked shoulders with

*-*-*-*

Each given a piece of bread and bowls of water, the poor human tributes were given scant minutes to eat and drink before being marched across a series of water towers, forced to wash like animals, and herded to sit and huddle like sheep, necks disconnected from each other by skilled blacksmith women. They had forgotten that they were nude:

It started to come naturally, seeing the free people wandering with clothes, and every slave, even dark elven slaves, wandering fully naked, seen but not heard.

One boy, trying to hide his erection, looked at the buyers gathering to look at her poor, chained people.

Like vultures, well-dressed, masked women with black skin and white hair, beautiful bodies adorned with jewels, and ears dangling with gems, looked at the herd of naked, young, pretty human flesh before them.

Their smiles both scared and aroused him. One dark-elven noblewoman, a slender, tall, and vicious-looking lady winked at him, making his heart leap.

The crowd of wealthy dark elven ladies huddled together, whispering amongst each other in hushed voices, laughter and exclamations of wonder kept low as the new tributes were led in a long, chained coffle towards the slave market, beautiful human youths with resigned faces trundling with their wrists chained before them, necks leashed to each other in a long line.

"Plenty of males from the surface this year; healthy and fertile boys." One whispered to the other, covering her face with a mask to avoid social awkwardness: sometimes prospective buyers hid their faces from their peers to avoid derision or comparison of their tastes in slaves.

"And good, strong girls to do heavy labor."

"I need new maids: we just moved to a bigger house!" A dark elf lady commented, her naked, blonde elf slave girl quietly looking down with her hands folded before her, her leash on the lady's wrist, seen but not heard, she quietly waited for her mistress behind her with a large backpack full of money and groceries in her hands, suffering the weight of her load in quiet enjoyment of helplessness and public nudity.

"You think they have dancers?"

"I saw an albino human girl for sale! She'll look great in my collection!"

"Oh you, you can't stop buying the strangest humans in your home!" Her friend scoffed. "Midgets, hunchbacks, blind girls, might as well start a circus!"

"Listen, you! I'm giving social rejects a home!"

Faces covered with fans argued, sniped, and chuckled, seeing the hardworking, poorer dark elves lining up the poor, chained, naked human youth in rows so the wealthier citizens could browse and buy the slaves they needed, their toys, playthings, concubines, and even shaped into furniture.

And the slaves were, fresh dragged from the surface, tried to sleep and cuddle, friends, and partners hugging each other, stored next to chickens and strange animals from the underground to be sold: indeed, the slave market was next to the cattle market, the bondage-crazy dark elves blurring the distinction sometimes, particularly when it came to the minotaur, holstaur, and were-sheep slave women.

After a brief respite, someone made a mistake.

A small fanfare of quiet, strange magical flutes and almost otherworldly cymbals, followed by a banner appearing among the crowd signaled someone of importance was to visit the slave market. When the dark-elven buyers quickly started to make way and push each other away as they pulled themselves back, it became obvious who was visiting the market to watch over her subjects.

Dressed in voluminous clothes, surrounded by (skimpy, yet functional) armored dark elven spear-women with harsh expressions, the queen had decided to visit the slave market. No one asked why, no one dared. Was it because she wanted to see the process breaking them in, or was it some need to feel superior? No one knew. Yet the sea of clothes, blaring trumpets, and stern-faced dark-elven guards pushing people aside were there: The Queen wanted to visit, and her orders could not be denied.

Some of the poor humans, bare and defenseless, already dependant on their slave traders were not going to take it anymore when elderly dark elven matrons started to push the humans' heads down, hissing in broken common:

"The Queen herself is visiting! Kneel and prostrate, idiots!"

Some did. Those who expected to curry favor and land in the bed of a beautiful dark elf owner knelt and put their heads down, some of the buyers smiling at how erect the boys were as their bare buttocks and backsides, raised in prostration exposed their swollen, erect members. Even the Dark Elven Queen herself smiled slightly, observing and looking pleased at how the kingdom's new slaves were worshipping her. Some of the young girls did as well, perhaps to find joy in submission, or simply because they didn't want to be punished.

It wasn't their fault either. Melasa was an ethereal beauty, bearing her pregnancy with graceful stoicism typical of a queen, she walked barefooted amongst the crowd, her bare, delicate feet bearing toe-rings and charms to cleanse the ground with magical flashes where she trod. Her steps were watched by the slaves who prostrated out of lust, her beautiful, purple-black feet with magically painted nails shining as if they belonged to a goddess, her hands folded before her and waving to her subjects occasionally.

"They know how honored they are to serve you, my queen..." The slaver matron, ever the brown-noser, curtsied as queen Melasa slowly, ethereally drifted by.

Sounds of grunts and a brief scream attracted the queen's attention. Her ears perked up, and Melasa commanded her guards to make way for her.

It was a naked young human girl, who was slapped across her face by her captor, the market's head slaver.

"Kneel, idiot human!" Another slaver, a middle-aged dark elven matron with a cruel expression on her face. "Do you want to get yourself whipped and shaved bald? Work all your life in the quarries?!" She hissed at the human girl and pulled her hair, slapping her breasts "She is the queen!"

"I don't care!" the petulant tribute protested, hands raised to protect herself. "I'm dragged from my home to be sold like a goat for your profit! Why should I feel grateful?" Another slap landed on her face by the irate slaver, followed by a raised whip...

"I will NOT!" Yelped the girl, waiting for the blow of the whip, the slaver ready to smack her with it...

"Stop."

Melasa's soft voice made the angry dark elf freeze, quickly bowing and trying to bend the human slave girl's head down.

"Bow, idiot!"

"No!"

Melasa waved the guards aside, softly walking toward the scene to address the defiant slave girl directly. Around her, other hesitant slaves, some covering themselves, mumbled. Guards, citizens, and other non-dark elven free citizens started to gather around the defiant surface human and the motherly, pregnant dark elven queen, whose eyes glowed with a soft hint of magic, and pressured the human girl's mind as she spoke with subtle enchantments of suggestion:

Melasa gently caressed the human girl's cheek, her black nails leaving a trail of chills on the girl's soft skin. "You must understand, my dear," she began in a soft voice, "that we Svartalvar are a proud and ancient race. We have lived in these caverns for millennia, cultivating our lands and honing our magic. Our survival depends on the balance of nature, and the enslavement of others is a necessary evil to maintain that balance."