“I don’t understand.” Her master looked around the room with a disgusted expression. “This is Solitude. The capital of this stupid little province. Look at all the people here!” He swept an arm, taking in the large and very busy inn. “I was sure we’d make a killing. This is your fault. Look more enticing.”
Aithne nodded, though she had been doing her best for the better part of three hours, and stretched her naked body, then started to dance as gracefully as she could.
“It’s very simple,” a new voice interjected. Aithne glanced over her shoulder as she continued to gyrate. An older man sat at the next table, cup in one hand. He watched her through slitted eyes and she beamed her most encouraging smile at him. “You aren’t displaying your wares in a way that makes them stand out.”
Her master frowned. “She is beautiful, naked, and dancing. How much more can she stand out?”
“In this room?” The man laughed and took a drink. “A lot. Look around. This inn already has whores, all of whom, by the way, are much better dancers than your slave.” Atihne felt a pang of shame at the words and her dance slowed to an embarrassed halt. “She is naked, which does stand out a little, but sometimes dressed but hinting at what they’re covering is sexier.” The man motioned at a nearby table where a woman in a thin gossamer dress leaned over while talking intently to the seated men. The hem of her short skirt brushed her upper thighs just enough to hint at the round ass it hid. “Finally, this is Solitude. It is, as you say, the capital and the biggest city in Skyrim. No doubt you have made quite the impression at the smaller inns around Skyrim, because you were something different. Most of those places have maybe two whores, three tops. It doesn’t take long to become tired of routine and to jump at something different when it comes along. But here…well, it’s different every night. There are several inns in this city and every night in every one of them, a completely new story is told. In short, my friend, you just do not stand out at all.”
Aithne could feel her master’s anger rise as the stranger spoke and felt a moment of panic as a scowl formed on his face and his muscles tightened. She knew, whether through instinct or familiarity, that he was on the verge of an explosion that would likely result in a lot of violence, which could only lead to very bad things in a city this size. Without thinking, she placed one gentle hand on his shoulder. She felt a twitch run through him and braced herself for the blow she was sure would come for having the audacity to touch him. She was surprised when, instead, she felt his muscles relax as his anger faded. When she moved to remove her hand, he reached up and placed one of his over hers, keeping it in place.
“I see.” There was no trace of anger in her master’s voice when he replied. “Then what would you suggest in order to stand out?”
“As it happens, I know the very thing. But, of course, I’m not in the business of giving things away for free.”
Her master laughed. “Of course. What do you want?”
“Not much. Just thirty percent of what she makes the rest of her time here.”
“Ridiculous. I don’t even know if it will work.”
“Then you won’t owe me anything. Thirty percent of nothing is also nothing.”
“True. But thirty percent it too much. Twenty.”
“Agreed.” The stranger put down his cup and grabbed a sack next to his chair. “Your problem is that you are trying to make your slave act like a whore instead of a slave. Most people don’t realize how difficult whoring is when it’s done right. They go through a lot of training to learn how to please their clients. The best ones are worth a lot of money because they are artists – they are able to size up a client in an instant and make subtle changes to themselves. They walk and talk completely differently to fit whatever their client is looking for. Even the regular whores, though, like the ones that work here, know how to move and speak seductively, know how to make a man laugh and feel at ease and as if he is the most important person in the world.”
The man stood, sack still in hand, and moved behind Aithne. She heard a jingling sound as he set the bag on the floor.
“Slaves, on the other hand, are just warm bodies with convenient holes. This one was a sailor of some sort, I am guessing, based on how she walks. She hasn’t had even the first lesson in seduction.” The felt a tap on her shoulder. “Get on your hands and knees and spread your legs.”
She glanced at her master and he nodded as he released her hand, so she lowered herself to the floor and spread her legs as far as she could.
She heard a rummaging sound and more clinks, then bit back a gasp as a cold slippery substance was spread on and then inside her ass. She braced herself for the familiar feel of his cock, though she wondered how this was going to attract any more attention. But instead of the smooth warmth she expected, something larger, colder, and metallic was pushed into her. She couldn’t contain the gasp as the unexpected intruder shoved its way further into her than any cock ever had. After a moment, she felt it turn and heard a click, and then felt even more pressure as the thing inside her expanded.
“There. It’s locked into place. Just twist this part to release it when you want to take it back out. Now, for the finishing touch.”
Aithne heard more metallic rustling, the familiar sound of chains, a dull clank. She felt weight added to the thing as her master began to laugh.
The man’s voice again: “Now stand up.”
She stood, wincing a little as the thing in her ass shifted, and heard a metallic clank. The thing sat uncomfortably inside her, a constant pressure that made her feel like she needed to use the chamber pot and shoved at her insides at every movement.
“That’s it. Now moo for me, cow.”
She looked at her master with concern and he nodded, so she let out an obedient, “Moo!”
Laughter erupted around the room – whatever the man had done, it had achieved the effect of gaining people’s attention.
“Try it out! Walk around!”
Another glance, another amused nod from her master, so she began walking. Whatever it was swung and clanked with each step, and she felt cold metal tap against her thighs with each step. She turned as she reached a pillar, taking the opportunity to glance down.
A worn metal cowbell swung from a short piece of chain that hung from her ass. She could feel whatever held it in place shift in uncomfortable increments from side to side as she walked. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it hadn’t been that. By the time she had finished her circuit, a small but growing circle of people, both men and women, had gathered. The stranger smirked. “You see? I have more ideas, if you wish to hear them. For a cost, of course.”
“Of course,” her master agreed. He smiled broadly as he eyed the growing crowd, which made her smile as well. Though her new accoutrement was uncomfortable and the eyes of the crowd had turned voracious and she understood that an entirely new path of pain and humiliation had just opened like a chasm in front of her, she was happy. She had not failed him after all.