The slave market, like every part of the city, is strictly divided.
There is a single building built to cater to wealthy clientele. Marble pillars flank doors broad enough to drive a carriage through, guarded by a mix of city police and private militia men. Those who shop here require no invitation. For those whose dress speaks of generations in the Upper City, none is required. For those who are only playing at wealth, who wear the latest fashions loudly, none would be enough to dissuade the armored men who bar their path. And if anyone of even less import were to so much as glance at those doors—well, once a person passes the gates of the slave holding pens in the back of the building, they are rarely seen again. It is so much more efficient to simply put a would-be criminal to work for an upright citizen than to execute them.
Inside the market building, the elite purchase slaves to see to their every whim. There are slaves to fill their homes with music, slaves to prepare their elaborate feasts, and slaves to tend to the very wardrobes that so eloquently broadcast their belonging here. But the most expensive and most widely gossiped about in both the Upper and Lower Cities are the concubines that pass through here. Women of incredible beauty and talent are scouted from every corner of the empire to be sold as concubines here in the City, and the right concubine can not only enrich her master’s life but also his family’s wealth and reputation through her talents. Some concubines are even successful enough to be gifted their freedom and enough money to establish a modest household of their own when they reach middle age.
But before that, they pass through the pens, the same as every slave. Their property, if they have any, is taken from them. They are packed together with other slaves so tightly that at times there is no space for them to lie down, kept awake at all hours by the weeping and shouting around them, fed scraps, and often groped, scratched, spat upon, and beaten by their fellow slaves and by middle- and lower-class buyers who walk the aisles between the pens in search of laborers who might be had for a bargain. Once a week, the market’s slaves pass through the pens, searching for beauty and strength that can be polished up and sold to Upper City buyers in the market building auctions. The rest of the week, the slaves rot together.
The stench of the pens is worse than the sounds of the slaves’ distress, but you don’t let that dissuade you. You’re wandering the pens for a purpose. What is it?
Perhaps you’re a wealthy resident of the Upper City searching for a truly *unique* concubine, one that will draw potential business partners to your home in droves out of pure curiosity. You’re here to make sure you find her before someone else does.
Perhaps your nouveau riche or middle class, residing in the hills between the Upper and Lower Cities. You’re looking for slaves to run your household and raise your status, but at a more affordable price than you’d find in the market building, if you could even get through the door.
Perhaps you’re just barely scraping by in the Lower City, and rather than looking to buy a slave, you’re searching for your missing sister.
Perhaps you’re a member of the city’s criminal underbelly, here to offer strong-looking slaves their freedom in exchange for joining your gang.
Whatever you are, there’s something about you. Something that calls to one of the slaves in the pen. Your eyes slide right past her, but her small hand darts through the bars of her enclosure, clutching desperately at your coat. “Please,” she says, her voice hoarse and heavily accented but simultaneously musical, almost sweet. Her eyes are huge, dark, and luminous in her face, which is surprisingly pretty beneath the dirt and bruises. “Please.”
She isn’t what you’re here for, but you find yourself drawn to her beauty, her desperation, her—something. Your hand closes over hers, and against your best judgment, you resign yourself to the knowledge that you won’t be leaving here without her.
>Hi! I’m returning to a classic here: the slave market. If it wasn’t obvious from what I wrote above, I’m looking for someone to play a dominant character who sees mine in the slave pens and decides to take her home, either by buying her or freeing her or stealing her away.
>Some of the major themes and kinks I want to include in this role play are hurt/comfort, romance/affection, Master/slave or Dom/sub dynamics, first times, training, banter, and worldbuilding. I am open to any setting, though fantasy/medieval and sci-fi/dystopian seem most likely for this setup. I’m also open to non-human characters. Maybe my character is a catgirl? Maybe yours is a demon? Take a look at my profile for a longer list of my kinks and limits.
>In your first message, please introduce yourself and share some ideas for how you’d like this to go. If you just say “hi,” I will ignore you.
>If you like my writing style but this prompt isn’t quite for you, feel free to look at my previous prompts. They’re all open.