Suleiman strolled down the dirt aisle between the closely packed stalls. On both sides of him, slavers hawked acres of naked flesh. It was almost a roar as they called out to Suleiman and the others looking to trade. Promises of warm holes for fucking, strong backs for labor, and even screams for torture battered him from all directions.

He wasn't interesting in the common flesh near the entrance. The slaves being sold there were plain and ordinary; those who were sold into slavery to pay for debts or family honor. He knew that he wouldn't find anyone beautiful or skilled in the first half of the market. If they were there, someone would have snatched them up in the first minutes of the market opening that morning.

Behind him, his guards marched in step. They were not trying to be subtle or even discrete. Instead, they were to remind everyone that he was the sultan and, therefore, the most important person in existence. The message was clear and Suleiman walked in an empty space about six feet in all directions. But even that clearing didn't shield him from being called out from every slavers and merchant as he passed.

“I have what you are looking for, my sultan.”

He stopped at the quiet voice that somehow cut through the din. Turning around with a frown, Suleiman looked around for the source. His eyes focused on an unkempt man watching him as he leaned against a fence penning in a large crowd of slaves.

The slaver smiled and gestured for Suleiman. “Come, come. I have what you need.”

Curious, Suleiman stepped forward. There were two buyers milling around near the stall, but as Suleiman's guards stepped up, they fled.

“And,” Suleiman started, “how do you know what I want?”

“You,” the slaver bowed, “are looking for a pretty girl. One who has large breasts, wide hips, and dances pretty, right?”

Suleiman shrugged and folded his hands in front of him. “Maybe.”

“A new slave girl. You also want someone who will give you pleasure whenever you want and scream nicely when you are tired of her, yes?”

With a nod, Suleiman walked closer.

“Bayan,” he pointed to himself, “has that girl.”

Suleiman looked over the slaves penned in Bayan's stall. They were a sorry lot, mostly fat or older folks with haunted eyes and bruises on their bodies. He guessed they were middle-class debtors, not good for labor or fucking. Some of them may have skills in accounting or finer arts, but Suleiman was looking for a girl for his harem, not an old woman with sagging tits. He shook his head and stepped back.

“No, please, my sultan. I promise, I know what you want.” Bayan reached back and snapped his fingers. When no one responded, he gave Suleiman a sigh. “Please, wait, just three seconds.” Turning on his heels, he dove into the press of naked bodies.

Suleiman considered walking away, but there was something about the way the slaver spoke that caught his attention. He turned and looked out at the press of crowds and the guards surrounding him. So far, he hadn't seen what he was looking for: a woman with large breasts, a smoldering sexuality, and skilled at dancing. He had no desire for less than perfection in his harem. There was no place for sagging breasts, backtalk, or imperfect skill. He wanted his women beautiful, silent, and sexy. And dancing was his passion, he loved to watch them sway to the music and then to bring that skill to bed.

Juliana was almost his ideal harem slave, but she spoke when she wasn't suppose to. He would have ended her life, the fate of all women who didn't meet his standards, but her talents were enough to keep her alive. He hoped that he would find the perfect woman in the market, one who was just as beautiful as Juliana but also respectful.

And then he would kill Juliana.

His lips curled with his thoughts. He looked forward to ending Juliana's life. Unlike many other sultans, he didn't cast off his former harem members to treasured followers or as political favors. Once he took on a woman, she served him until the end of her days, which usually meant a bloody end on the floor of his palace.

“My sultan,” gasped Bayan as he came back through the crowds.

Suleiman turned to watch him dragging two people behind him. One was a fat man wearing nothing but a loin cloth. His belly hung over the front of the cloth and there was a look of complete misery on his face. The other was a young woman, maybe in her early twenties, with a high-cut top and another loincloth covering her sex. Her breasts pushed up the thin fabric of her top and he could see two nipples peeking through the fabric.

His mouth opened in surprise as he took in the sight of her. She had long dark hair, covered in dust and cobwebs, but shimmering even in the dim light of the stall. Her body wasn't smooth and trim, there was no doubt she was no longer a teenager, but he could see a grace in how she kept her feet as Bayan dragged from the slaves. She had a slight pouch to her belly, but it only empathized her wide hips and large breasts.

“Here they are,” announced Bayan. “This is Lydia,” he pushed the girl up to the fence that penned in the slaves.

She hit the wood and grabbed it with her hands. Her body bent over the edge, giving Suleiman a flash of a deep cleavage and a whiff of faint perfume. Standing up, she glanced at Suleiman. Seeing him, her eyes grew wide and he saw that she had brown eyes with green flecks. She stepped back and lowered her gaze.

“And this is her father, Murhaf. They are debtors I purchased at great expense. She is pretty and I can give you both for a good price.” Bayan licked his lips as he looked beseechingly at Suleiman.

Suleiman tore his eyes away from Lydia. “I have no need for the father.”

“I must sell them together. It will be a good deal, two for one. He is a weaver of great skill. And she is trained to serve men.”

Suleiman held up his hand to silence Bayan. He addressed Lydia. “Can you dance?”

Lydia, still looking at the ground, nodded. “Yes, my sultan. I'm trained in a number of styles.”

“Dance for me.”

She peeked up and around. Her mouth opened to say something and he felt annoyance prickling. She was beautiful, but like Juliana, she didn't know when to shut up.

But, to his surprise, she nodded. Standing straight, she closed her eyes and began to sway. At first, it was a rough movement, but then she began to move smoothly as she rocked her hip back and forth. The point of her hip swirled around as she drew her hands up her body, trailing fingernails along the swell of her breasts and through her knotted, greasy hair. Letting the strands trail from her finger, she began to move her upper body in counterpoint to her hips.

Around Suleiman, the crowds grew silent as Lydia moved to hidden music. Her bare feet, streaked with mud, lifted and joined the rest of her dance.

Suleiman was impressed in how she brought each part of her body into the movement separately, it demonstrated a mastery of her own body, something that couldn't be easily taught. His cock twitched at the sight of her dancing in ragged clothes in the press of slaves and filth. Once she was cleaned up, she would be an appropriate challenge for Juliana.

Bayan slithered up to Suleiman. “Two for one. A very good deal for such a fine woman.”

Suleiman glanced at him before returning his attention to Lydia. She was spinning on one foot, moving her hip and breasts in little jerks that drew his attention and engorged his cock. He wanted to feel her breasts in his hands as she was riding his cock.

“A very fine dancer too, my sultan.”

“I don't need her father.”

“He is useless without her. I can give you a discount for him. He has skills and is very respectful. He would do anything for her.”

Suleiman sighed. “How much?”

He didn't need to look at Bayan to know the smile stretching across the slaver's face. Bayan listed a price twice as much as Suleiman was willing to pay, but then negotiations began as Lydia danced in silence. It only took a few minutes before they settled on a price.

Gesturing for one of his guards, Suleiman stepped back. The guard pulled out a purse and counted out the coins, setting each one down on a wide part of the fence used for purchasing.

Bayan rubbed his palms together as he watched the money, then swept it off. “A pleasure doing business with you, my sultan.”

Suleiman waited until both Lydia and her father were standing before him. He looked over the older man with surprise that anything like him could ever produce a beauty like Lydia. With a sigh, he gestured to Lydia and spoke to one of his guards. “Take her back to the harem and have her cleaned up. I want her presentable and,” he sniffed, “smelling better by the time I get back.”

The guard acknowledged the order and stepped forward. He rested one hand on her shoulder and turned her toward the palace.

Another guard spoke up. “And the father?”

Suleiman looked over the man for a long moment. “I have no need for him. Kill him and get rid of the body.”

“No,” screamed Lydia. She tore her body away from the guard and rushed over to her father. She stood in front of him and spread out her arms as if to protect him. There was tears in her eyes as she gave Suleiman a pleading look. “No, please, sultan, don't kill my papa!”

Suleiman took two sharp steps forward. He jammed two fingers underneath her chin and shoved her head up to expose her throat. “Listen, you have two choices right now, cunt.”

Lydia whimpered and he could feel her body trembling through his fingers.

“Either you shut up and go back to the harem, or you and your father will be sent to my dungeon. And, since I just paid a pretty coin for your body, I will make sure I get my money's worth out of both of your bodies, one drop of blood at a time.”

Her eyes flashed before she closed her eyes, sobbing.

“You may have heard about my reputation when it comes to women. But, trust me, you will not,” he jammed his fingers into her chin, forcing her head up, “enjoy it.”

He lowered his hand until she was looking into his eyes with tear-filled eyes. “Now, make a choice right now. Either you go to my harem or both of you go to my dungeon.”

The father rested his hand on Lydia's shoulder. “It's okay, baby. Just,” his voice cracked, “go.”

Lydia spun around and hugged her father. “Papa! Please, don't.”

Suleiman sighed and turned to his guard. “Take them both—”

“Sultan!” snapped the father.

Turning around, Suleiman watched as the father shoved his daughter forward. “I won't go. Please, take my daughter.”


Suleiman felt a prickle of annoyance. “You have ten seconds to decide, cunt. I don't have patience for drama from slaves. And less tolerance for it in public.”

Lydia stared at her father for a few seconds. He waved his hand and closed his eyes. Shuddering, she turned around and bowed her head. “I'm sorry, my sultan.”

Suleiman's cock stood up hard in his pants. The look of terror and grief in her eyes had brought a lust burning in his loins. “What's your choice.”

“P-Please take me to the harem.”

“Very well.” Suleiman nodded to the guards and then walked between the daughter and father. He didn't look at either as he continued down between the stalls. His footsteps were slow and measured, not because he was in a hurry, but to listen to the inevitable execution. His guards were effective at their task and none of them had the compassion for a slave.

He reached the end of the aisle when he heard Lydia's let out a loud cry brimming with pain and horror. His cock twitched at the noise.

And then there was a loud thunk and Lydia's scream rose to a high-pitch scream.

Smiling, Suleiman turned the corner.