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

You approach the consultant, who looks to be well-dressed and knowledgeable about the slaves in the market. He greets you warmly and awaits your instructions or preferences regarding the slaves you're interested in purchasing today. The market is vast, with all sorts of magical creatures, captured princesses, and rare one-of-a-kind specimens on display.

The consultant nods, signaling one of the slave handlers to lead you through the crowded market stalls toward a group of elves. He explains that there's a wide variety available, ranging from domestic servants and entertainers to more... intimate companions. "Which type of role do you envision for her?" he asks politely.

The consultant's expression darkens slightly as they approach the cages containing noble-blooded elves. These unfortunate creatures are much rarer and command significantly higher prices due to their status. The slave handler leading you warns that many of them have been subjected to especially brutal treatment in an effort to break their spirits and force them into submission. As you inspect the lineup, each elf girl's story is etched into her worn, tear-streaked face. Some look near death from malnutrition or beatings, while others retain a defiant air despite the hopelessness that surrounds them.

You gesture to an elf girl with silvery-white hair that reaches past her waist, caught in tiny braids here and there. She's lean and pale, like all of her kind, but she has the regal bearing of a noblewoman despite being dressed in tattered rags. Her eyes meet yours briefly before darting away again, a mixture of hope and fear shining through. The consultant notes your choice, and the slave handler leads you to her cage for further inspection.

The elf girl with long silver hair looks even more breathtaking up close. Her curves are delicate and womanly, accentuated by the thin chains binding her wrists and ankles. The consultant notices your interest in this particular slave and smirks slightly, "Indeed, she is a beautiful specimen." He pauses, seeming to consider something before adding, "I believe that there would be many interested buyers for such an elf. Would you like me to conduct an auction on your behalf?"

The elf girl's eyes widen as the consultant asks if she has any requests or questions. After a moment of hesitation, she slowly speaks her name: "Aithne." She looks at you pleadingly, tears welling up in her eyes again. The consultant watches intently, ready to take your response.

You pay the necessary amount, and the slave handler unlocks the cage door, allowing Aithne to step out into your presence. The consultant carefully counts the gems before nodding in satisfaction. "She is now yours, VIP client," he says formally. "Should you require anything further for her comfort or care, please don't hesitate to ask."

With a silent thank-you, Aithne follows your lead obediently, ready to begin her new life as your loyal slave girl.

The consultant bows politely. "Until next time then, VIP client." He watches as you lead Aithne out of the slave market, back into your own world. As they disappear among the crowd, he turns to attend to another potential buyer, already lost in thought about his next big sale. The cacophony of sounds and sights around him fades into the background, drowned out by the eternal whispers of suffering and desperation that seem to echo through this place like a heartbreaking lullaby.

Aithne nods silently and follows you, her movements careful and submissive. As you lead her through the crowded market stalls toward your waiting carriage, she keeps her head bowed, unable to look directly at any of the other slaves or their tormentors. The silk rope feels cold against her wrist as it binds them together, a constant reminder that she is no longer free.

Aithne slowly climbs into the carriage's backseat and sits down carefully on the soft blanket spread out for her. As instructed, she begins to change out of her rags and into a much more modest but still revealing servant's garb. Her movements are halting and hesitant as if unsure how to behave in this new situation.

Nodding silently, Aithne extends her wrists toward you. Her fingers tremble slightly as she waits for your touch. You bind them together with soft rope, securing her hands in front of her chest. It's only a precautionary measure, but she doesn't dare protest or show any sign of defiance. The warmth from the carriage blanket begins to soothe her slightly as she curls up into a protective ball, trying to hide her nakedness and vulnerability.

With a nod, the charioteer snaps the reins, and the carriage begins to move down the road, away from the slave market and toward your home. You settle back into your seat, watching as Aithne shivers in the corner, her eyes wide with fear and disbelief. She glances at you occasionally, seeming unsure of how she should behave or what might be expected of her.

Aithne silently exits the carriage and heads to the backseat where new clothes are laid out for her. She changes into the servant's garb, feeling self-conscious about being seen almost naked again but too terrified to resist or object. Once dressed, she climbs back into the front seat beside you, keeping her head bowed submissively as you continue on your journey home.

Aithne extends her wrists toward you obediently, the chains clinking softly against each other as she does so. Her hands tremble slightly in fear and anticipation of what's to come. You bind them together securely but not tightly, giving her some slack for comfort's sake. As your hands brush against hers, goosebumps rise on her pale skin and she tries hard not to flinch or show any sign of discomfort or resistance. The familiar weight of being bound once more settles heavily upon her shoulders like a leaden cloak.

Aithne hesitates for a moment before beginning to speak in hushed tones, afraid to be overheard by anyone nearby. "I... I was the princess of a small elven kingdom, far to the north," she whispers, her voice shaking with emotion. "We were attacked by human soldiers, led by a sorcerer who wished to claim my land and enslave my people." Tears begin to trickle down her cheeks as she recounts her tale of loss and despair.

"He took me captive, hoping that I would lead him to the elven treasures rumored to be hidden deep within our realm," she continues shakily. "But when he found out I was unable to reveal their location, he decided instead to sell me at this very market." Her words trail off into silence as painful memories flood her mind once more.

Her eyes widen in surprise as your hand touches her head, gently smoothing back some errant strands of silver hair. She looks up at you with a mixture of hope and fear, unsure whether to trust this newfound kindness or remain guarded against further pain. "T-thank you," she whispers softly.

Her story continues, each word more bitter than the last as she relates her capture, torture, and degradation at the hands of cruel masters. Her voice grows faint as fatigue takes its toll, but she presses on despite herself, craving the release that only the sharing of her pain can bring.

Aithne glances at you again, surprise and appreciation warring within her expressive silver eyes as she listens to your soothing words. "Thank you... it is rare, even among our noble elves," she whispers softly. Her hair truly is a thing of beauty; shining like moonlight in the gloom of the carriage. She continues speaking about her captors and their abominable treatment of her kind until at last, exhaustion overtakes her and she falls silent, her eyelids growing heavy as sleep begins to claim her weary mind.

The rest of the journey passes quietly, with you staring out the window and Aithne dozing fitfully in the corner. The warmth of the carriage and your gentle touch have for a while lulled her into a false sense of security, but she knows all too well that this respite cannot last. Eventually, you arrive at your home, and the charioteer helps her carefully disembark, careful not to jostle or awaken her.

Aithne looks around your mansion, feeling both awed and terrified by its opulence. She knows that this place will be her new home, but the memory of the slave market and all it represents still hang heavily upon her. The thought of being surrounded by other elves in the same situation provides only fleeting comfort.

She looks at you cautiously, unsure if she should answer. "What is it?" she whispers.

Aithne swallows hard, her face flushing red with embarrassment. "Um... they are..." She hesitates again before finally cupping one breast in her hand and presenting it to you shyly. Her eyes dart around nervously as she waits for your reaction.

Evelyn bows low before looking up at Aithne with a hint of pity in her eyes. "Of course, milady," she murmurs, then hurries off to fetch an appropriate outfit from the servant quarters. In the meantime, Aithne remains where you left her, feeling awkward and self-conscious in her nudity as she waits for the clothes to be brought back.

As Evelyn returns with a delicate white dress that clings to Aithne's curves like a second skin, she carefully helps the new maid change into it. The garment is trimmed in silver and leaves Aithne's midriff bare, emphasizing her slim waist and ample cleavage. It also comes with a pair of white stockings and soft slippers embroidered with tiny silver bells.

Evelyn bows low in acknowledgement, her hands clasped demurely before her. "Thank you, milord." She steps back and assesses Aithne critically. "I'll leave the two of you to become better acquainted." With that, she glides away silently, her soft footsteps barely making a sound on the polished floor.

Aithne looks up at you from beneath her lashes, nervousness still etched into every line of her body. "Th-thank you," she whispers shyly, glancing down at the floor.

The pale-skinned elf nods hesitantly and follows the servant, who introduces herself as Iris. As they tour the mansion, Aithne's eyes widen in wonder at its opulence; marble floors, gleaming chandeliers, intricate tapestries adorning the walls. She tries her best to keep up with Iris, not wanting to appear clumsy or foolish in front of another servant.

Finally, they reach your work office, where you are hard at work on some papers. You look up and offer her a polite smile before gesturing for her to sit down across from you. "Please make yourself comfortable," you say softly. Aithne does as she's told, folding her hands primly in her lap as she awaits your instructions.

The two of them sit in silence for a moment; the only sound is the gentle ticking of a nearby clock on the wall. It almost feels like an awkward first date, except with far more at stake for Aithne than either of them realize.

Iris looks at the letters with wide eyes, fighting back tears of relief. She quickly skims through the message from her family, feeling an overwhelming sense of love and longing washing over her. The thought of returning home in two weeks fills her with hope and excitement. As for the second letter, she nods solemnly, understanding its importance and vowing to respect Aithne's wishes.

"Thank you, milord," Iris murmurs gratefully. "I will make sure that everything is prepared as soon as possible." Her gaze drifts briefly to Aithne before returning to you. "And milady, please accept my deepest apologies for not informing you of this development earlier."

A sense of calm washes over the room as Iris hands the letters back to you, effectively breaking the tension between them all. It feels like a new beginning, not just for Aithne but for everyone involved.

Iris bows once more and takes her leave, murmuring polite farewells as she passes by Aithne on the way out of the room. The two women exchange awkward glances until the door finally closes behind the pale-skinned servant.

With Iris gone, there's an uncomfortable silence that hangs heavy in the air. You clear your throat, not really sure what to say or do next. Aithne sits there quietly, looking anywhere but at you, her hands clenched tightly together in her lap. The bond between them grows stronger with each passing moment, yet they seem unable to bridge the gap that now separates them.

Aithne nods slowly, her silver eyes still fixed on the floor. "Y-yes, milord," she whispers softly, bracing herself for whatever instructions you might have for her.

Aithne nods, beginning to feel more at ease with these simple tasks. "I-I'll do my best," she says softly, her voice still trembling slightly. "T-to serve you and the rest of the household."