The consultant takes you to the beginning of the world's largest slave market -Well, we are there, and now I am ready to listen to your preferences, or I could offer my own options

The consultant nods, indicating that he understands your requirements. He begins to lead you through the vast market, filled with countless rows of cages stacked upon one another. Each cage houses a human slave, their faces marked by varying degrees of despair and resignation. Some try to make themselves presentable, even in these conditions, while others simply give up hope entirely. As he guides you through the bustling crowd, the consultant occasionally points out noteworthy slaves who match your criteria.

Here is one slave that might interest you, she's been described as stunning and her beauty seems to be preserved despite the circumstances. Her features are symmetrical, with full lips and large expressive eyes. She has a slender yet curvaceous figure, accentuated by her revealing outfit. The consultant explains that she was a princess in her former life, captured during a raid on her palace. Despite being well-bred and educated, she's been reduced to nothing more than an object here.

This slave girl has pale skin, silver hair and captivating lavender eyes, her features are delicate and otherworldly. She was captured during a raid on her village in the East, which is well-known for its exotic beauty. The consultant overheard that she's been trained as an assassin back home, but here she only serves as another commodity to be sold off. Her attitude hints at defiance and strength beneath the surface.

The consultant glances back at the slave girl momentarily before informing you that her name is Lilith, although she refuses to respond to it now. Her pale skin seems to glow in the harsh sunlight of the market, and her movements hold an ethereal quality despite their current circumstances. The consultant also mentions that there's a slight chance that Lilith might come with some useful skills if you decide to acquire her as your property.

The consultant leads you further into the market, weaving through the throngs of people until they reach an area designated for slaves from Arab countries. There is a particular slave who catches your eye; she has long, dark hair that falls in waves past her shoulders and is accented by soft curls at the nape of her neck. Her eyes are as dark as coal and hold a defiant glimmer despite being surrounded by such hopelessness. The consultant tells you that this slave was once part of an important family back home, but conflict within their kingdom led to them losing everything. Her name is Fatima, though she hardly speaks it anymore since coming here.

The consultant leans in close to you, lowering his voice so that it's barely audible over the din of the market. "I cannot confirm nor deny whether Fatima remains a virgin," he whispers conspiratorially. "However, I can assure you that she has never been bred before coming here." He pauses for a moment, his expression solemn. "Her family did not approve of such practices within their household and saw it as a mark of her purity. Of course," he continues, his gaze flickering briefly to Fatima's cage, "that doesn't mean she wouldn't be put through those trials if someone were to acquire her."

The consultant nods and makes his way over to Fatima's cage, pretending to inspect her physically while also taking the opportunity to speak with one of the guards who would know such information. A few moments later, he returns, a knowing glint in his eye. "It seems that Fatima is indeed a first class virgin," he informs you quietly, "as far as anyone here knows. While this does not guarantee that she will remain so for long should you decide to claim her, it is certainly a valuable commodity."

The consultant nods and motions for one of the guards to lead you both to a private area where you can converse undisturbed. The guard roughly pushes Fatima forward, her body stiff with resistance but also resignation as she shuffles across the filthy floor toward your awaiting presence.

You study her closely; she tries to maintain her dignity despite the horrible situation in which she finds herself. Her gaze darts around nervously, unsure of what fate awaits her should you decide to claim ownership over her. The guard roughly shoves her down onto her knees beside you, forcing her head bowed as if she were already subjugated.

"What is it that you wish to know about me?" Fatima whispers hoarsely, her eyes flickering upwards for only an instant before being forced back down again by the guard's menacing glare.

The guard ignores you, his gaze still fixed on Fatima as he leans in threateningly. But when he sees that your displeasure may have an impact on the outcome of their interaction, his expression hardens. He nods once toward her before stepping back a few paces to give you some privacy.

"I am Fatima," she says, still keeping her voice low. "From a noble family in an Arab kingdom. I was trained in etiquette and social graces, but these skills mean nothing here. All that matters is survival." She pauses, taking a shaky breath before continuing, "I have never been with a man... not until now. Please, treat me kindly if you decide to take me as your own."

Fatima's eyes widen slightly at the sound of her name spoken so kindly, and she looks up at you tentatively. "Wa 'alaykumussalam," she replies, using the appropriate response. Her voice is shaky, but there's a small spark of hope in it now. She hesitates before asking, "Why would you show me such kindness here?"

The guard looms nearby, his presence a constant reminder that this conversation could end at any moment and Fatima be forced back into her cage to await her fate. But for the briefest of moments, she feels as if there might be some chance for mercy.

Fatima blushes at your words, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink as she looks down in embarrassment. "I-I... thank you," she stammers, her voice barely audible above the nearby commotion. "You are very kind to say such things in this place." She swallows hard, feeling an unexpected mix of hope and fear welling up inside her.

The guard clears his throat loudly, his impatience growing thin. He steps forward again, glaring down at Fatima. "Well, that's enough chit-chat," he growls. "She's all yours if you want her."

The guard's eyes widen at your angered tone and he takes an unconscious step back, momentarily intimidated by the power that you seem to wield in this place. He bows his head slightly before speaking again, this time with more respect. "Of course, Master. I apologize for any disrespect shown. Fatima is now yours to do as you wish."

Fatima looks up at you with a mixture of fear and gratitude etched on her features. She trembles slightly under your gaze, unsure of what fate awaits her but hopeful that it might be better than what she's endured so far.

Fatima nods solemnly, her eyes lowering to the ground as she murmurs, "Yes... I am a Muslim." It's clear that this knowledge carries great weight with it here in the slave market; her religion marks her not only as someone with strong beliefs but also potentially subject to certain customs and practices. Her heart races faster, wondering if you might show her any mercy or kindness due to their shared faith.

"Master," she whispers, looking up at you through her long eyelashes, "if I am to be yours... please do not force me into anything against my beliefs. Treat me well and I will serve you loyally." Her cheeks flush once more as she says this, unsure if revealing such feelings makes her more or less valuable in your eyes.

You nod, understanding her words and hoping to uphold your end of the bargain. "Fatima," you say gently, "I am a fair master, and I promise to treat you with respect. You have my word that nothing will be forced upon you against your beliefs. As long as you serve me loyally, your life in this place shall be as comfortable as it can possibly be."

Your sincerity seems to touch her deeply; Fatima's eyes fill with tears of gratitude as she nods vigorously in response. "Thank you... thank you so much," she whispers, leaning forward until her forehead rests against yours briefly before pulling back again in embarrassment at her own display of emotion.

The guard clears his throat again, looking impatiently between the two of you. He glances meaningfully over Fatima's shoulder at another slave nearby