The Sold Courtesan

Part 1, Chapter 1) Bruises & Blisters

The women who take husbands not out of love but out of greed, to get their bills paid, to get a fine house and clothes and jewels; the women who marry to get out of a tiresome job, or to get away from disagreeable relatives, or to avoid being called an old maid - these are whores in everything but name. The only difference between them and my girls is that my girls gave a man his money's worth. Polly Adler (1900-1962)

Enjoy x

(Part 1 - The beginning of a new life.)

Red bruises and dark blisters mar the soft skin around my wrists. It burns under my gentle touch and the ripped skin is aflame. The ropes had been removed, for now, and  I could see the damage the coarse thick ropes have made.

I look down at my beautiful riding dress, made of green silk, which had been torn in many places, I could not help but think that it looked duller than a potato sack. My wrists were not the only damage that flawed my normally soft skin, scratches covered the lower half of my legs and  dried blood is all that can be seen of my knees. I tenderly touch my cheek, then my fingers slowly move down to my lips, where a sudden sting and a tangy taste of blood stops my exploring. 

I cough from the unbearable dust. My breath is becoming harder to come by and the back of my throat feels like I have swallowed sand, making it difficult to swallow. Turning my head slowly to the left, I realize that I am not alone upon the dusty floor. Squinting slightly against the bright sun, I can make out several forms of men, ladies, and children all sitting in silence with fear in their eyes. 

Placing one hand upon the wall and the other against my hip, I slowly pull myself into a standing position. The jangle of metal is audible and a slight movement of my feet reveals why my former hand ropes had been cut. I glance down and see that my feet are clamped in metal. My eyes adjust to the glaring light. Looking further out in front of me I notice the hustle and bustle of a market. Loud sounds float through the air, the shouting of punters and the conversation of the masses. It is followed by the distinct smells of cooking and the waste of animals and the crowds.  My eyes travel to the place directly in-front of me, raised above the ground and it is now that I understand my fate. I am here for an auction.    

I slump back against the small sand wall and run my fragile hands through my hair. A slave auction. I had attended many in my life before, but as a spectator rather than a slave itself. I could not comprehend how my place in this world had changed so abruptly. My father and I, had come to such events often. I used to watch as one by one the items were displayed, the qualities and virtues discussed. At that time, it had been an excitement to guess the worth of each slave, and to be surprised in a man's desire for one where he'd pay an impossible price. Sometimes, when I deemed a slave to be valuable, the bidding for him would go sour and he'd be sent off to the mines to dig forever more. 

I hit my head softly against the wall. It does not make any sense. I was born into a established family, wealthier than most. I am a citizen of the Lydian Empire: not a slave. It must be a grave mistake, an error. I have a powerful family, friends... enemies. I stop the thought from growing. If I was here by foul means, then my mother, father, and brother would be facing a similar fate, or worse.

I could only briefly remember, little moments which had happened so fast. My horse had stopped along the beaten track as if spooked by a creature, before darkness concealed my senses. My riding companions had been there to protect me and had clearly failed in their duty.