The VIP chamber of the General's proxy sat high in the auction house's private wing, all black marble and red silk, lit by a hearth that burned without wood.
She walked in ahead of the guards because the marks on her neck made her legs walk, and that was the cruelest part of it. Her body obeyed before her heart finished screaming. The silk wrap they had put on her after the sale was a joke of a garment, a single draped panel that covered her front from chest to thigh and left her back, her flanks, the entire side curve of her heavy breasts bare. Her ashy tail hung limp behind her, too tired even to lash.
The auctioneer was already there, fat and jolly, bowing to the old man by the hearth.
"Ah, and here she is! The material itself, my lord proxy. Exquisite, is she not? The half breed stock. Take the whip there on the table if you wish to test her spirit. A little mark or two before the General receives her will cost you nothing, I assure you, the beast heals fast."
