All For What?

[Writers_Bloque]

Teaser: Life always has other plans when the ones you think are solid fall apart easily.
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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.

The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. All sexual acts depicted in this story take place between consenting adults. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely coincidental.
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Title: All for What?
Author: Writer's Bloque and His wife: Lillian Décolleté
Content Warnings: An odd blend of sex slavery and a true love born from it.
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They say it is always darkest before dawn, which is wholly untrue. It is darkest when you give up hope.
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All for What?


It starts.

It always does, and in the way it almost never does.

The storm raged outside, the newly formed coastal kingdom had shuttered against the seasonal storm raging outside. Water flowed along the sides of the cobbled street. It was mid afternoon, as the covered wagon, flanked by armored men galloped along side. Inside was the freshest stock, untouched by man or whip. The rumor among the neighboring kingdoms was that the young king, a stern, almost heartless man was bedding women then killing them before they could betray him.

But failure after failure left the single noble women and single women in general so uneasy to approach the king, that they all given up even attempting to secure the queen's throne. So the flesh peddler decided he could earn a kings ransom for his wares in the back of the wagon. The sky was grey, streaked with lightning, which spooked the wagon's horses, but not the well trained war horses the escorts rode.

"But...but I am not a slave! I was stolen from my village!" The young blonde woman cried out. Her beautiful ringlets looking shabby at the last two weeks of mistreatment.

"Shut the fuck up whore! You are property now, deal with it, slut!" The man hissed over the sound of rain hitting the tarp covering them.

"But..." She muttered once, before the peddler reached through the bars and grabbed her throat and spat in her face.

She stopped sobbing as she was tossed back among the other malnourished, barely clothed women who long accepted their fate. The massive portcullis opened to admit the wagon and soldiers. The steward allowed the peddler a space in the more out of the way part of the covered entry, so that he may prepare his wares for sale. A larger, gruff woman with three others had set about preparing a small hidden bathing area, as a bored mage heated up the water in the copper tub with magic. The tub could hold the five women in chains, as the peddler's workers scrubbed weeks of grime and filth off of half starved women. Then the lotions and fragrances were applied with little care, as almost nice clothes were chosen, and the merchandise was given a crash course on court courtesy, right after the chains were removed.

The blonde only followed along, the collar on her neck would not let her do much else. She followed last in the line of broken women, dolled up hopefully for a quick sale. The palace was large, but not opulent, more function than form. It was sparsely decorated, not because of lack of care, but this new kingdom has not produced anything of value or note worth displaying. The king could buy art and commission statues, but the general feeling was that the king was also frugal.

Seated on the throne, in the main hall, the young king sat looking both bored and disinterested at the same time, as court was being held. Nobles and vassals were giving status reports, but the king yawned, not out of the lack of decorum, but because the kingdom was doing well, growing nicely as expansions into the free lands were going well, the economy was growing and his neighbors were not breathing down his neck. The meeting was drawing to a close, as the king rose and dismissed the court after he spotted the peddler leading a line of women in collars. He raised his hand to summon his seneschal while the lords and merchants filed out.

"Sire?" The wiry man spoke in a whisper to the king who sat back down on the throne to cradle his head from the headache inducing boredom of these weekly court sessions.

"Is that man a slaver?" The King spoke in a low tone that did not carry to the very back of the audience chamber the peddler was forced to wait in before being allowed within distance of the king.

"It appears so, Sire, the fifth one this month." The man spoke earnestly.

"Do not the rumors spread anymore? This Kingdom, the Kingdom of Vesaria has fully abolished slavery, and made it a capital crime. When will they learn?" The King said apathetically to the soon to be plight of the flesh monger.

"It appears they do not." The man replied.

"This will cure my boredom then. Let us play a game of cat and mouse. Have him approach" The King spoke as a wicked grin formed on his pained face.

"Yes, Sire!" The man spoke before moving to stand next to the Lord General behind the throne. Both men exchanged glances, knowing that this could be the bright spot of entertainment in the otherwise dreary day.

The head guard called out to the guards who had the peddler at spear point to allow him and his goods through. The peddler found his nervousness as all eyes on the room were fixed solely on him. He nervously walked forward, with the guards close behind him.

The king motioned for the peddler to stop, just short of the third row of seats, the common distance allowed by those unrecognized by the throne. The head guard approached the throne, knowing exactly how this would possibly go down. He knelt, head bowed.

"He came with six others not present." The head guard reported quietly.

"Round them up and quietly dispose of them. No one shall engage in slavery in my kingdom. Burn the carriage." The King spoke softly.

"Yes, Sire." The head guard spoke before moving to the group of guards at the eastern door. He spoke softly to them and they departed. The peddler could not take his eyes off the king, as he waited his chance to speak.

"Peddler, what business do you wish to occupy my time with today?' The King's voice resounded with unbridled strength and authority over the room.

"Your highness, I bring some ladies whom have begged me for the chance to meet you, a popular king, even among other courts elsewhere." The peddler tried to sweeten what he was really doing, but it did not have the same effect.

"So they came of their own free will?" The King boomed.

"Yes sir! They practically paid me for the chance to meet you, of course. But there were some matters that they had to settle before arriving, and sadly the trip was long. It took a severe toll on my money and resources, so all I ask is recompense for the trip, in the way of maybe...fifty silver a head, or four gold for them all." The peddler pushed, trying to squeeze more out than they were actually sold for in other slave friendly markets. With that much gold, he could retire somewhere and not have to travel so much, while having an actual slave market of his own.

The King smiled at the peddlers words, almost sympathetic. Almost.

"So if they came here willingly, and are so eager to see me, then why do they not bare their chests for me, as custom when Ladies meet Royalty in other kingdoms?" The King lied, setting the trap. He hoped the peddler would take the bait.

The collars made the collared have to obey all orders. But in order form, not a friendly request, but a stern order.

"Ladies, please show the King the goods you bear." The peddler asked.

Not a single one of them did as asked. The Ladies remaining in the court whispered among themselves.

"So, they are not as eager to meet me as you claimed?" The King asked as he sounded sad.

"They are! They are!" The peddler pleaded, seeing the chance at profit almost evaporate before his eyes.

He fumbled in his pouch, and pulled out an ivory and crystal rod.

"Ladies! Show the King the goods!" He ordered, trying to sound like he was not ordering them. This sealed his fate.

"A slaver rod? Seriously? You know it is a crime here, right?" The Kings tone shifted from slight amusement to cold hard seriousness.

"A crime? Why was I not informed? You tricked me, you wicked King!" The peddler gasped as he backed up into the waiting arms of the guards.

His face grew pale as a guard dumped a bloody bag on the floor. Six heads fell out with a wet plop onto the stone. His six partners and workers with pain etched on their detached heads. The man almost threw up on the spot as the guards held him fast.

"It should be noted that any wise merchant would at least have the common respect for the country they wish to operate in to learn and know its laws. Ignorance is no defense for high crime. Please, take him, and hang him above the border wall, as an example to those who wish to enslave and sell flesh in my country." The King raised his hand and ordered. The guards carried him away, but not before removing the rod from his possession.

The whole room cheered, as the peddler was escorted out. Later, his body would rot away, and his skeleton fed to the war dogs. The court mage waved his hand over the rod, and all the collars on the necks of the slaves fell in unison. The small group sighed in shock, and blushed as no jeers, or scornful eyes fell on them. In this room, everyone was equal before the King, and he, they would learn, enforced that lesson harshly. In fact, several of the higher ranking noble ladies raised their hands, with offers of employment and wages to help the former slaves establish themselves in the kingdom. The King silenced them with the gentle raise.

"First, before we crush them with kindness, let us ask them what they truly wanted to do?" The King spoke gently, happily even, as he can tell the status of the kingdom, by the kindness and unforced Noblesse Oblige. His nobles wanted to be kind, even if there were not laws in place to strictly punish those who thought they were better. The kingdom was young and through hard work and some suffering, the doctrine of "We survive together, or not at all." was born. Social classes existed, but not in the hostility of inequality or injustice, but because people needed leadership, and structure. The poor or common folks could drink their wines and ales with the royalty or nobility, if the king was inclined to go to the near by tavern.

"Sire, I am not sure about serving the nobility, as we were just goods to be used. We do not want to appear to be overstepping our bounds or spitting on the kindness of the court. Maybe you can find us four work more suited to our skills." The taller of the four worn down women spoke up for the group, as the other three nodded in agreement.

The King pondered this thoughtfully. He motioned to the Head General.

"Sire?" He spoke respectfully

"Are all the needs of the soldiers met?" The King suggested.

"Of course, they are fed well." The General replied.

"I do not mean being fed. I mean the other thing?" The King chuckled as more nobles joined in, the dirty little joke drawing some nobles to return to the chamber, suddenly very interested in this show.

Realization lit up the older man's face, as he placed his hand unconsciously on the golden ring on a leather string around his neck.

"Well no sire. The local brothels are always at max capacity at critical times, some soldiers waiting until almost curfew to take care of certain needs."

"That is a major issue. Is Lady Madame Guiwere still in court?" The King announced.

The Lady is the reason that prostitution was not outlawed as she strictly enforced the rules and laws she painstakingly drafted, that held no benefit to herself. The major law she drafted was "No woman whom is a prostitute will be mistreated, unless she is willing to accept it." The harshest violation of that law had seen a man lose the most valuable thing he possessed. With a rusty and obscenely dull knife. In Public and on the spot.

The Elegant woman stepped forward, bowing with the grace and dignity a woman of her status does.

"Yes your highness?" She smiled politely.

"That proposal you made last month. I have considered it. You have the throne's blessing. Use the unused storehouse, I will have the Builders Guild remodel it for your needs."

The Lady bowed. Then gathered the four women, and left the chambers to begin their new lives and educations.

The proposal was to build a soldiers brothel, to exclusively serve the men willing to fight and die to protect them.

Once they left, the King returned his attention to the blond woman. He was fixated on her. Familiar, but the memory was distant, not easily remembered. She had an air about her that spoke volumes. She was not a slave, one could tell that at a glance of her eyes. She had the fire of will in them. He took interest in her fully now.......
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