Merrie rushed out the front door, her bag slung over her shoulder and her leather boots scraping on the rough wooden step. She spun around and yanked the door shut. The magical rune below the handle flashed twice, then turned red. Releasing it, she hurried down the small garden and along the wooden boardwalk that ran along the dirt road.
“I'm late, I'm late,” she chanted as she cut across the street and headed down Malcom East. Her skirt, the only clean one in the house, was shorter than she normally wore to work; it teased her upper thighs and she felt the warm spring air running past her legs. The brilliant red fabric was light and breezy. It complemented her cream blouse and socks that stopped right below her knees. The only piece of jewelery she wore was a butterfly hairpiece to hold back her curly, blonde hair.
Ten minutes into her bustle, her thighs burned with her efforts to hurry up. She crossed Center Line Road at a diagonal and jumped up on the boardwalk on the far side. The crowds were thicker near the center of the city and she had to push her way around people to make it to work on time.
Ahead, she saw a man standing in the center of the pedestrian traffic, creating a swirl of humanity as they circled around him. He was watching everyone through dark eyes. As she drew closer, she saw he wore studded leather armor and had a sword. She grabbed her handbag and felt a surge of worry. Very few people outside of the city guards wore weapons in town, more so during the middle of the work week.
She ducked her head and passed him. As she did, she heard him speak in a throaty growl. “Oh yeah, that's the one.”
Peeking up, she saw him staring straight at her. With a squeak, she snapped her head back forward and pushed her way through the crowds. The look he gave her sickened her stomach and she wanted to get as far away as possible.
She slowed when she saw another man in leather armor standing at the opposite end of the block. His back was too her but doing the same thing as the first, watching the people as they passed.
Merrie came to a stop and turned around. The man behind her had resumed his watching the crowds. Looking around, Merrie spotted another watcher on the far side of the block, opposite of the first. When she saw the third, she knew there would be a fourth.
Fear filled her as she looked around frantically, trying to find some way out. Because she was walking through the upper merchant district, the stores on either side of the road were still locked and sealed shut. Bars covered the windows and metal gates and magical runes glowed along the entrances.
She spotted an alley and rushed to it, shoving people out of the way. She felt foolish and terrified at the same time and the curses that followed her didn't help either. She made it to the alley just as a man with dark brown hair stepped out of it.
He was huge, a thriban with dusty green skin and muscular arms thicker than her waist. One tooth poked out of his mouth as he focused directly on her. His eyes looked like two dirty orbs of sickly yellow, flecked with green. Like the other men she saw, he wore studded leather armor. Instead of a short sword, he had a wide-bladed, long sword in a scabbard at his waist.
Merrie felt her sphincter clench at the dark, malevolent gaze he gave her. She stepped back, but when she hit a pedestrian, she was shoved forward. Stumbling, her arms flailed until she hit the thriban in the chest; it was like hitting a solid wall of stone. The studs of his leather arm dug into her face and she whimpered as she pushed away.
The thriban grabbed her by the hair and pulled him to his chest. The studs scraped against her face as he crouched down. Wrapping one massive arm around her waist, he picked her off the ground and slung her over his shoulder.
She screamed as shrilly as she could. Her attempts to wiggle free were useless against the iron-tight grip holding her down. The ridge of the thriban's shoulder dug into her stomach, adding pain to her terror.
The thriban bellowed in a deep, rumbling voice. “Grab and stab!”
Light sparkled along the segment of road. The man slung her over his shoulder and she felt his shoulder digging into her gut. Behind him, runes on the wall burst into life. They were far more complicated than the ones used to heat her water or lock her door. More runes appeared in a line, running down the side of the street.
Terrified and confused, Merrie peered over her shoulder to see another set of magical runes lining the opposite side of the street. Seconds later, they reached the end of the street just as two more lines crossed the hard-packed road and completed a circle that encircled the entire block.
The world collapsed around Merrie. One moment, she was staring at the stone wall glowing with runes, and the next she felt her lungs and body being crushed into nothingness. Her stomach twisted violently and she felt bile rising up in her throat. Then, they were somewhere else.
The stone wall became the inside of a warehouse. Merrie threw up on the thriban's back. She sobbed and whined as she tried to pry herself loose. The thriban's grip on her tightened and she felt his fingers digging into her side.
“Ah damn,” he muttered.
Another man laughed. “Bitch threw up you, Bass.”
Bass growled and turned toward him. “Shut up, Trunk.”
As he turned, Merrie found herself staring at the people from the street. They were now in a large warehouse. Men with drawn swords pushed their way into the dazed and confused crowds. She watched as one of the armed men rushed up to a fat man and slam his sword into the man's gut.
Merrie screamed as the man collapsed to the ground, but the attacker wasn't done. He dropped on the slaughtered pedestrian and started to tear off necklaces, jewels, and his money belt. Next to him, an girl with brunette hair was yanked from the downed man's arm and pulled toward the wall by another warrior. She screamed out and pummeled him until another attacker stepped in and punched her hard in the stomach. She folded in half and they dragged her from the crowds and toward Bass.
The attackers moved quickly, picking out young people, male and female, and slaughtering the old. Riches and artifacts were thrown into bags. By the time the pedestrians managed to fight back, there was only a dozen left of them and they fell quickly under the onslaught of a dozen armed men.
Behind Bass, the captured pedestrians were being dragged to a wagon. It was low to the ground but the sides of the wagons reached easily three meters above the base. A door was open and the abductors were shoving their prisoners. Merrie could hear the thuds of them hitting the wooden floor of the wagon and the cries coming from inside.
One of the prisoners tried to escape the wagon. He punched the nearest guard, but before he could crawl out, an abductors ran him through with a spear. He fell back and there were more screams from inside. One of the warriors reached in and pulled out the dying man. They tossed him aside like discarded wood.
Merrie looked away, sickened. She tried to crawl away from Bass' grip, but Bass just pinned her tighter. She felt his shoulder digging into her gut and the discomfort mixed with her fear in a terrifying combination.
“Don't worry, cutie, old Bass will take care of you.”
Bass gave her ass a slap before he turned around and headed for the wagon. Merrie saw three more wagons on their side of the warehouse and another four on the far side. All of them were filled with people, screams, and terror.
In the center, there was just blood and corpses. In less than two minutes, the abductors had killed or kidnapped everyone on the street. A few remaining men headed toward the wagons, stabbing every prone body as they passed.
Merrie looked away at the violence and devastation. Her entire world had brutally changed in a matter of minutes and she didn't know what would happen next. It terrified her and she felt sick to her stomach.
Bass lifted her off his shoulder and tossed her into the wagon.
She hit someone's thighs and arms and slid to the ground in a pool of vomit. Sobbing, she tried to get to her feet but she slipped and hit the floor of the wagon again. Hands reached down for her and she clung on them, using the others to regain her feet. Looking around, she saw fifteen other people in the wagon with her. All them would be fairly attractive, if it wasn't for the naked fear on their faces.
Bass leaned in and looked around. His yellowed eyes focused on Merrie and he chuckled. “Yeah, we got ourselves a good catch this time.”
Merrie shuddered at his look, she didn't know if it was cruelty or lust in the thriban's eyes, but it terrified her nonetheless.
He pulled back and slammed the wagon door closed. Darkness swallowed up the prisoners and Merrie stood, blind and terrified. Cries and sniffing surrounded her.
“W-what is going to happen?” It was a boy on the far side.
“I don't know,” said an equally terrified woman.
Outside, Merrie heard shouting. Through the cracks of wagon, a brilliant light speared through the darkness. Merrie gasped along with the rest of the prisoners.
“What-”
The world collapsed in on itself again. Merrie let out a strangled groan. The teleportation spell folded her body, squeezing it down to a single point in space. She felt her very being crushed and twisted, mutilated and folded. She thought it was never end and her sanity would be torn apart.
The wagon crashed into the ground, rocking to the side before settling back into place. Light streamed in through the cracks, but Merrie couldn't see anything.
“All right,” bellowed Bass, “let's check out our catch.”
The door slammed open and Merrie was blinded by sunlight that poured into the wagon. Hands reached out and grabbed her, yanking her out into the fresh air. She let out a shriek, but a slap silenced her.
“Stand there,” came an order. She cowered but obeyed. As they pulled out more of the prisoners, Merrie looked around.
They were in a yard of some sort. The ground was packed hard beneath her, but she could see human footprints everywhere. Along the outer fence were guards with crossbows and swords. They watched the prisoners as they were unloaded from four wagons. Merrie wondered what happened to the other four wagons, but didn't dare ask.
A guard stood in front of her. “Strip.”
“What?” she asked incredulously.
He slapped her across the face. “Silence!”
Merrie opened her mouth to ask a question and he raised his hand. Cowed, Merrie looked down where they were lining up the other prisoners. Some of them were already stripping, prompted by the armed guards threatening them. She stripped with tears rolling down her cheeks.
Bass came down the line as she pulled off her last sock. He looked over her and rubbed his crotch. Merrie swallowed her revulsion and looked away. She held one hand over her own sex and her arm over her breasts. At his gaze, she wished her breasts were much smaller; they swelled over her arm and she couldn't hide them from his leer.
When she felt the large, meaty hand grab her arm, she let out a sob. Bass forced her arm down and grabbed her breast with his other hand. She shuddered at his touch and the rough fingers that squeezed her tit.
Bass twisted his grip on Merrie's soft mound. His fingers dug into her flesh and she felt her nipple growing tight from the sensations. It hurt but the humiliation that burned in her body ached even more.
“Now, little bitch, you're just my type.” He released her breast and cupped her chin, forcing her to look up at him. She glared at him through tear-filled eyes; up close, he was almost a half meter taller than her.
Bass gestured with his chin. “Add her to our pile.” One of the guards shoved her to the side to an area marked off by two wagons with “Paladin Puppy Mill” painted on the side. There was already a prisoner standing near the wagons, the first woman Merrie saw captured.
Merrie was shoved up against the girl and ordered to stay. Three guards surrounded them. Merrie turned to the girl and whispered, “Hi.”
The brunette looked at her, tears rolling down her face, whispered back. “What is going on?”
“I don't know. I'm Merrie.”
“Sama. I was just going to visit the museum for the day. Why are they doing-”
“Silence!” ordered a guard.
Merrie flinched as his command but clamped her mouth shut. She clutched Sama, holding her tightly. She lifted her head and watched as Bass inspected the prisoners. He had a companion, a woman with a bloody apron. Together, they walked down the line of sobbing prisoners.
“I want her,” announced Bass as he pointed to a girl, maybe early twenties and black hair. She had large breasts and tried to cover them and the thick patch of pubic hair between her legs at the same time.
“Look at the tits on her.” The woman spoke with a cultured, almost elegant voice. “She's a cow and you know it.”
“Fine,” grumbled Bass as he pointed to the next two women. “Then I get these two.”
“Bah, I ain't got time for small-titted bitches. You can have them. You need a breeder, Bass?”
“One,” Bass pointed to a skinny guy with dirty-brown hair, “that guy. You can have the others.”
She grinned and licked her lips. “I do need a bit more sausage at my farm.”
They continued to pick and choose their prisoners. Every one that Bass picked was immediately dragged to join Merrie and Sama. The woman's choices were dragged into a circle guarded by two men with short swords.
As they reached the last one, a girl barely sixteen, both Bass and the woman stopped. They looked at her as the girl sobbed pitifully. The woman scratched her nose. “Not interested, she's too young and she won't produce any milk for months.”
Bass shrugged. “Why not. I'll take her. I'm not fond of breaking in ones that young.”
As guards dragged the sobbing girl toward Merrie, Bass shook hands with the woman. “Pleasure doing business.”
“See you at the festival, Bass.”
Bass nodded and jammed his hands into his pockets. The thriban paced back to his prisoners. “All right, guys, let's get home. I'm hungry.”
One of the prisoners whimpered. “What is going to happen to them?”
A guard barked “Silence” and smacked the one who spoke.
Bass chuckled and stopped in front of Merrie. His eyes bore into her and she shivered at the look. “Be happy you aren't staying here. Old Mare runs a dairy farm here. The girls will spend the rest of their lives shackled to stocks, pregnant and producing milk. As soon as they run dry, she sells them off as meat to Lord Dolcetin.”
“A-And the guys?” came a question followed by another slap.
Bass chuckled. “She does something with their cocks, turns them into huge fuckers that will spend the rest of their,” he empathized the word, “days fucking until their hearts explode. Then,” he gestured with a hand, “off to the meat farm.”
“What-” Sama clamped her mouth shut before the words escaped.
Bass stepped in front of her. She shied away from him but he followed her when she tried to back away. Sama wilted underneath his gaze. Bass took a final step forward and jammed his hands between her legs. Sama jerked up, almost off the ground, then let out a shriek. She planted her hands on his wrist and strained to move his hand.
He chuckled and drew her closer, dragging her by her hips. Merrie had no doubt that his thick fingers were violating Sama and holding her in place. Merrie felt a spasm with sympathy in her own vagina.
Sama twisted her hips, tried to pull away, as tears splashed down on her pert breasts and chest. She looked at Merrie with pleading eyes and Merrie felt a stab of guilt at her helplessness.
Bass growled into Sama's ear, “And you, little bitch, are going to learn how to be quiet. In fact, I think I'm going to take you and your little blonde friend's,” he leered over at Merrie, “and train you personally.”
Merrie shuddered at the tone of his voice.
Bass, fingers still jammed into Sama, spoke to the prisoners. “And, if any of you don't listen to my orders, then I will cut your pretty little throats. Do you understand?”
Sobs and cries were his answer. Bass pulled his fingers free of Sama and brought them to his lips. “Mmm, tasty.” He licked them clean before speaking to the guards. “Come on, get them loaded.”
Merrie and the others were shoved into the two wagons and ordered to sit down on benches inside. When the only male tried to speak, a guard punch him. As the guy recovered, the guard sat down next to him with his unsheathed sword on his lip. The threat was obvious.
She took the hint and remained silent as the wagons headed out of the dairy farm.