The Slave Auction
I tried out a slave auction. Bound with ropes, I was dragged into a carriage by the men. The inside was like a pigsty, caged with iron bars, filled with women sitting there with dead eyes. I'd caused so much trouble with the goblins up to now that I wanted to save them if possible (and if I got punished for it, even better), but looking at them, they seemed beyond self-rescue even if I did. Selling off as sex slaves might actually give them happier lives.
Inside the rattling carriage, hands tied, I pondered. How can I get sold to the worst possible man?
What awaited me was a terribly boring wait. The carriage raced down the road for ages, slipped through the capital's back gate into dim alleys, then finally entered a crowded plaza where I could move. They hauled me to a bathhouse and ordered me to wash. Makes sense—if you're selling a slave, she needs to be clean. I was filthy anyway. I scrubbed myself down. Even with a faint tan, my sturdy, beautiful body gleamed. My face was the same: feminine yet strong, seductive and intelligent. The kind that turns heads on any street. The thieves watching couldn't hide their awe. I could see their cocks hardening, but I had no intention of demanding rape. If they wanted to, though, I wouldn't resist.
Freshly washed, I stood before the black market merchant. Hook-nosed and fat as a pig, dressed like the stereotypical trader, he eyed me up like livestock. He flicked my nipples, stroked above my womb, inspected my pussy's shape, armpits, feet, hair, toes, asshole—every inch in minute detail.
".........."
Damn, this is way more embarrassing than I thought. Thinking back, even during the goblins' violent rapes or drug-fueled sex marathons, they saw me as just a fucktoy or breeding machine. They never appraised me as a female on this level. Tits? Good if there, whatever if not. Same for ass or udders. But this guy knew my value and was measuring it precisely.
".............."
I shut my eyes and sank into meditation, trying desperately not to let my pussy get wet.
"Not a virgin... but impossibly pristine down there. No stench of wallowing in filth. Some noblewoman?"
I'm just a female pig from another world. Of course, I couldn't say that, so I kept my mouth shut.
"Not talking, huh? Fine. The asshole's a fantasy too—such an ideal shithole."
He picked up a small rod and shoved it into my ass.
"Urghk!?♡"
"Sensitivity: excellent."
Sensitivity excellent? You psycho♡ His rod was like flexible, firm jelly, probing my rectum casually.
"No diseases either. Good enough."
I stifled my quickening breath as he pulled it out with a flick.
"Anyway, what a fuckable body."
He smacked his lips but glanced at the others and cleared his throat. I twisted my body seductively, hips writhing to let him savor my beauty. I felt blood rushing to his crotch.
The slave merchant, flushed, stared at me, then shut the door and barred it.
"Uh, oof?♡"
He strapped a ball gag around my neck—no, my mouth—and grinned sleazily.
"This bitch is dead today."
"Wuuk♡♡ Wuuuuuuk♡♡♡"
Hours later, after sex laced with that twisted male possessiveness rather than outright violence, I sighed. It felt good, sure. But nothing extreme—no mind-shattering pleasure, pain, or despair. Goblin torture had me regretting my birth from the agony. This was tame. Like eating bland Pyongyang cold noodles after spicy food. Still enjoyable. And satisfying after no sex since the goblins. When did I lose my aversion to fucking? To suffering?
Murmurs of the crowd filtered in. My eyes and body were hidden behind a massive tent. The auctioneer's voice boomed.
"You'll all be stunned by this bitch we're introducing! Nameless, originless gutter slut—but her body transcends top-tier: ultra supreme! Starting bid: 1,000 gold!"
With that declaration, the tent before me flipped open. Bound spread-eagle to a pillar, I watched the world brighten around me.
"Mmph...♡"
Insane. Too many people. Nearly a thousand eyes on me. A few noblewomen among them, but mostly men, all with slaves in tow, gaping in admiration.
"..................♡♡"
Pure humiliation topped even the goblins. Not lowlife greenskins—these were higher beings, thinking, reasoning like me. A thousand humans appraising my naked body—wet pussy, gaping asshole—every inch exposed and judged.
"A bit big-boned, sure, but otherwise perfection! Massive tits with wild mare firmness! Sculpted face! Perfect for conquest, slavery, or mistress—what doesn't suit this ultimate bitch!"
"Indeed..."
"Those breasts are near-perfect."
"...Envy that skin. Want to torment her."
"Pussy's twitching—is she excited? Haha!"
Smack. A muscular male slave whipped my ass. I moaned and glared, but his hooded eyes were hidden. He struck again, harder—crack!—echoing through the underground dome, silencing the crowd.
"Puhahaha! What a juicy ass!"
Laughter erupted. It triggered real-world PTSD vibes. Mortified, I squeezed my eyes shut. This humiliation play wasn't bad. Next: whips? Squirting piss fountain? Face-fucking? I eyed the slave expectantly, but he was done. Instead, the auctioneer hyped my value: flawless figure, disease-free, docile, sturdy. Guess I am valuable. My self-esteem swelled. Yeah, this is me. Tortured toyed-with to death by goblins—pussy pierced, limbs severed, burned, hundreds of births—yet my worth held high. Grateful I'm deigning to be your whore, you lot.
His praise droned on, shifting from critique to acclaim. I nodded internally, fighting the urge. Cheers swelled, bids climbed.
"10,000 gold."
The dome hushed. A dignified mustached man gazed down. Servants flanked him; he smirked.
"I'll make you my bride too."
His words stirred mixed feelings. Power and wealth oozed from him—old money elite. Loyal slave under him? I'd live happily as one of his many wives. But I don't want happy bitch life. I crave sub-fleshlight existence... no, crave it.
Couldn't refuse, so I resigned. Bide time, escape later. My body's peak—never fought, but ropes or wooden shackles? Easy snap. Steel might be tough. Anyway, as I accepted—
The world twisted.
"..........?"
More precisely, the worldline twisted. That's what it felt like. Dizzy, I shook my head and looked up. The rich mustache was gone. A sinister noble leered instead.
"20,000 gold. Mine."
Silence, then murmurs. Beside him, limbless slaves crawled leashed like dogs.
I stared up. He didn't see me as female. Chills hit. His eyes, the worldline shift—eerie. Definitely that Goddess of Ruin's curse from our "contract." Eternal immortal bitch life. Worldline bent for it. Without the twist, I'd have been happy under that guy. But Ruin and my fleshtoy fate wouldn't allow it. So it changed.
"..........."
Spine-tingling, I swallowed. Then.......♡♡♡ Then...
Sold to him, I'd suffer goblin-level horrors.
"The winner: Duke Grisha Yura Krolsis of the South!"
Amid the auctioneer's flourish, I twisted a smile, imagining despair, pain, ecstasy ahead.