#;auction

[aviscaptum]

It doesn’t matter that I 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝒆 you                                                                          - -- --- because you have never --- -- -                                                                                                                                                 𝓝𝓔𝓥𝓔ℛ loved me!

[aviscaptum]

clopinthejester mentioned you in a post

@ aviscaptum “I think they’ll get…

Jasmine smiled at his sentiment, watching him sit up and stretch as brown eyes wandered along the flesh exposed to her. When her gaze latched on the faded scars, her smile faded and she reached for them instinctively, henna stained fingers stopping short only when he offered her a cavalier questioning of what they would do in bed all day.

Smile returning to her lips, she pushed herself to her knees and slipped behind him; arms wrapping around his torso as she let her chin rest in the crook of his neck.

"I can think of a number of things we could do..." She murmured, pressing a kiss to his jawline; of course--despite the way it sounded--she wanted more than just his touch. This was a time just for them to enjoy one another's company without the threat of discovery; she wouldn't give it up so easily.

[aviscaptum]

For it was her father whom had miscalculated not only the desperation of her need for love but this slave's ability to give it.

[aviscaptum]

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//clopinthejester so this is on the soundtrack to our ;Auction verse, I can mentally play the whole story to it!

[aviscaptum]

Go ahead and picture Clopin teaching Jasmine to dance. Like he's all begrudging about it until he realizes she's not only good at it but looks really really pretty doing it and then suddenly it's not a chore anymore. He starts to enjoy the lessons and in the end finds he can enjoy her company because suddenly she's not this standoffish aloof princess but a charming, beautiful young woman. They start to connect, to talk like they hadn't before and they both find out that neither of their lives is all roses and silk. The dark parts of his life she never thought of are brought before her and the dark parts of her life that he simply dismissed before start to hold more weight; because they're not just strangers anymore. And in some ways she's all his. He's her only friend (if you can call him that) besides Rajah. He's the only man whose company she doesn't outright reject. He's with her more than anyone else; watching and getting to know her not as her station but as a person. Then one day he catches himself staring, focused so intently on the way she moves--speaks--breathes--smiles. This beautiful creature before him couldn't possibly be the spoiled bitch brat that he'd met the very first time he'd entered her room, could it? They don't even look the same to him, she's not "the princess", she is Jasmine; proud, smart, funny, flirtatious, stubborn, determined, sarcastic, infuriating, intriguing Jasmine. And then he realizes just what has happened to him.

[aviscaptum]

Continued from this for clopinthejester

"Ah but then we'd just have to overthrow him" She teased, turning on her stool and leaning back against her vanity to watch him. "And I wouldn't say they just let it roll away into the dust, we would get a proper burial in the desert."

It usually wouldn't have been funny, talking about treason and death; but somehow he made it lighter...he made it okay. Sitting up she trailed her fingers up his sides.

"But from slave to sultan, quite a jump in rank, don't you think?" If she were honest she wouldn't have minded being saddled to him, he was honest for the most part and while they'd not gotten along very well at first they'd seemed to come to some sort of unspoken agreement.

And he'd never tried to touch her.

They touched of course, trailing fingers, playful slaps and even the occasional unworking of tensed muscles like in his back--something he'd fallen in love with the first time she'd done it--but not for the purpose he'd been purchased for. He'd never let his fingers wander her flesh, never tried to seduce her despite ample opportunity. And that was what she needed; someone to look at her and see a person rather than a prize.

But it still bore the question--

                                                                                         ...why...?

"Why don't you...touch me...?" She wasn't complaining, but part of her wanted to know...needed to know.

[beautypowerdeath-blog]

Auction | pluckofthebowstring | CLOSED

pluckofthebowstring:

Oliver growled and tugged at his bonds. They were heavy and metal, and he’d been trying all night to break them only managing to tire himself out. All his training and what could he do with it? Nothing. He’d been nursed back to health by a small villiage. One of their hunters had found him bleeding and brought him back to bring him back to his old self. However, before he’d been able to fully heal, a group of mercenaries came to their village, capturing young girls and boys to take as slaves. Oliver had tried to fight them off, to protect the people that had saved his life, but his still mending wounds had caused him to falter and lose. Not only was he not able to save the young people of his villiage, but he’d managed to get himself captured as well. He’d fought hard those first few days, so hard he’d reopened his wounds. They’d been treated, barely, and any strenuous movement felt like he was being impaled by Raz’s sword all over again. A twinge in his chest made Oliver stop struggling. He was next in this…. whatever the hell this was. He could only assume it was a human trafficking auction, and one of the guards forced him up on the makeshift stage. He moved up, lumbering onto the stage, in pain and at least a foot taller than anyone else that had been up here. The low ceiling caused him to have to duck his head, but a kick to the back of the knees had him falling down to all fours, his wound opening and bleeding weakly as he stretched to catch himself. The brunette gave a soft groan of pain, and the room laughed as the man on stage gripped his hair, pulling him back for the perusal of the audience. He said a few words that Oliver didn’t understand, and a stick poked at his wound, making him cry out harshly in pain. Hurried words were spoken above him, but he couldn’t really focus through the pain to try and decipher it. He was being sold. As a slave, and that was all he knew. When the flow of words stopped, he heard a few mumbled words, and the crowd became restless as they waited for the next bidding to start. Oliver looked up as he heard heels click across the floor as his buyer came up to pay and claim him. She was beautiful, and if Oliver were truly honest, she screamed sex in a way he’d never seen before. She was regal, and sultry, and in his younger years, she might have been in his sights as a conquest. Now he had to remind himself that she’d bought him as a slave, and now he was at her bidding. "Fuck…" Was all he muttered under his breath as the heavy metal collar was placed around his neck, and the thick chain was passed into her hands. He looked at her angrily, his eyes narrowing at her and sizing her up. Would he be able to get away? Not in his current condition no. But soon. A kick from the man on stage had him up on his feet and following behind her, down off the stage and passed the crowd to what he could only assume was going to be her private room.

Faith's original intent in this area was to take on the vampire problem, the creatures were crawling all over the place, picking off people at a rate that was alarmingly high. From what she could tell most of the population was perfectly aware of the demons of the night who fed off of the living - they were just too scared to do anything about it.  So she was battling that front, spending her nights taking down whatever she could and returning people safely to their homes, trying her best to give them whatever means they needed to survive.  And then another problem became apparent to her.  People were being sold. Men, women and children plucked off of the streets and out of their homes, forced to be put on parade before they were sold off to the highest bidder. There was no way she could turn her back on that, even if it wasn't a supernatural issue and therefore not usually something for her to involve herself in.  Already Faith had bought a couple of children, one only as young as eight years old. Stealing the money and buying them was the easy part, it was finding them somewhere safe that was harder, but she had managed.  This time around she had gone for someone else. Faith could see the defiance in his eyes, the strength and muscles beneath his wounds. This one was a fighter and she needed one of those to help her. So she bought him, putting on a show as she took the chain, showing no emotion as she gazed down at the man. They needed to believe he was nothing more than another possession to her. Guiding him into her room, Faith tugged him by the chain to follow. "Kneel." She commanded, closing the door behind them. Still, she didn't trust this place and would need to keep up the act for as long as they were inside it.