You don't wish to think of making yourself so vulnerable to this man's plans. So you wave him away with dismissive gesture and turn to leave.
"John, please John you've got to help me." a sweet voice pipes out from behind you.
You turn and see a beautiful dancer, with an impressive cleavage and well-balanced ass. Her waist is petite, but she looks more than a little uncomfortable, with her situation.
Ignoring the pleading you turn to the slaver. "Is this some new sales technique, a piteous cry for help." you chuckle and make to move away.
The slaver raises his whip to punish the girl who cowers in response, terror crosses her face as she considers her choices.
"John it's me: Razoul." she cries.
You aren't convinced, but knowing that it might be your friend you give her a chance to prove herself. You have the slaver back away, which isn't too hard as he doesn't want to offend a potential customer, and you keep your hand meaningfully near the hilt of your sword.
"Go ahead, and entertain me.... like Sheherazade." you prompt her.
He quickly tells you of your first shared adventure, and knows details of the traps that you escaped, even describing in lascivious detail the barmaid you spent the night with before heading into the mountains. You feel a little torn, as you become more and more convinced that this is your friend in the direst of straits. Traditionally once somebody is enslaved or reduced to a lower status, they have lost all the rights and privileges they had.
She holds her breath as she finishes talking. You admire her body, and find it hard to deny that this is the friend with whom you shared many a woman.
"My eyes are up here." she rebukes you, drawing an angry look from her current owner.
You consider how you can help her, a place in your harem is an easy life, and you are sure that with time she would adjust and come to love it and you. However the next question follows rather naturally.
"But how did you reach this state of affairs." you indicate her slave brand, and mime a large pair of breasts with your hands.
She flushes bright red.
"Is this man responsible?" you indicate with one hand, the other grasping the hilt of your sword.
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