She heard yelling, a sudden loud sound, and her body bounced off of another's like a rag doll. Wait. She was out side of her cage, in the display room. She lifted her heavy head and blinked the blurriness from her eyes. She missed the part where she was dragged from her cell to the suspension cage.
She was spinning around until forced to a stop and a familiar face was yelling something at her. Oh yeah, she had to perk up. Look good for the customers. She remember the punishment for weary slaves. She took a deep breath and felt for the floor with her feet. Now she stood straight, up on her toes with her arms above her head. Her outfit was a two piece black bathing suit.
Her body showed old scars from when she was being broken by the guards. Her black-brown hair had been washed a few days before as to get the stink of the musty cells down stairs out. Her eyes, a dark chocolate, contrasted against an unbelievably pale skin tone. Medium breasts and a small back side didn't make for good selling, but they would rather get rid of her then spill her blood and have to clean that up later.
Slaves were popular nowadays. They were used for what ever their owners demanded. Who wouldn't want to come home after a bad day at work and do to their slave what they wanted to do to anyone that pissed them off? If the slave had the skills, a traveler had a companion and a protector. And pleasure? Well, that was obvious.
But what good was Chloe for? She had a thin frame and no sex appeal. Fighting was as foreign to her as air was to a fish. She was immune to almost any pain someone could inflict on her. She could cook and clean, since she was forced to do that anyways. But what use could this lanky young girl be to anyone?
So she watched as more eye catching women were taken away. They played their parts well, whistling, calling out, and doing everything in their power to attract a wealthy man to free them from their shackles. Chloe had only one thing that they didn't.
She remembered dignity, pride, independence. Through the years she knew how to disguise them, knew when it was safe to show what part of her she had left. She had been bought for her traits, but when the new owner tried to break them of her she would lock them away again, and leave only disappointment in her wake. She wasn't going to die in the shackles that bound her. A few men took interest in her petite figure, asking the same questions that had been asked before.
Guards encouraged her sale, but Chloe seemed to ooze distaste by the end of it. Dirty looks and stinging insults was all they would receive from this skinny little girl. Sometimes a face full of saliva if they were close enough. Chloe was waiting for a challenge. Some one was sure to come along that was different. Would the stranger see the fire burning inside? Through the matting hair and scars, would they see the girl struggling to stay alive?
"Her name is Chloe Clements. Nineteen years old, five foot exactly, she's got spunk and a vipers mouth. Good if you like rebellious girls." Chloe had glanced up when she heard her name. There was a man there, different from the customs the week before. He was tall, broad shoulders, dark hair, light skin. A traveler by the looks of it. Around this area there weren't many, but he wasn't foreign to her. She glared defensively as he approached her and did her best to turn her body away from him.