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Adani -- The Arena

Of all the buildings within the Citadel's grand central district none stood as impressive or foreboding as the Iron Arena. The star-shaped structure towered the district, subject of unending growth and refinement by each generation of Lords. The kingdom's current ruler, Lord Alur, favoured lavish displays of wealth and power and so this was reflected in the gilded masterworks of its newest expansions, constructs of beauty and terror, dominance and submission. The broad hallways were decorated with rich artworks of Alur's conquests, where primal brushstrokes captured the fear in the eyes of the subdued priestesses and citizens, raped, chained and cowering from the larger, dominant oppressors. Much surrounded the canine's latest victory over much of the Proman desert, where artists and craftsman had scrambled to present their leader with trophies of his conquest. But no trophy spoke as loudly as the feline slaves that stood to attention as forced submissives, beaten and abused into their lowly places. Some no longer even needed chains, so resigned to their fates as servants to their canine overlords. Some held silver trays of food and drink, others were thrown over the nearest furniture and savagely fucked at the whim of their masters. Others danced seductively -- and fearfully -- on small platforms in the Arena's main hall. All were dressed in thin loincloths or nothing at all, eye candy for the canines to feast upon.

The scene of tonight's celebration was the upper levels of the Arena, an area reserved for only the most wealthy and influential canines. Kanza, High General of the Citadel's Acquisition Army, lounged in a broad thronehead normally reserved for the Reigning Lord. But Alur was unable to attend, and so Kanza relished the opportunity to play king. Before him, primal music drummed and blew and strummed through the dining hall as the crowd of exquisitely dressed canines feasted on the very best of Citadel dining. The platters had nearly emptied and food has stopped being carried out, signifying the feast was coming to a close, so the conversation was loud and excited as everyone waited for the evening's main event. Fiercely burning braziers cast the entire building in a bright, warm glow, spotlights of finely crafted mirrors bringing the central coliseum into focus. Finally, the High General stood, and a wave of hush and attention followed.

"My friends, welcome. I understand many are impatient for the main event to begin, so I shall not keep you long." His voice was deep, guttural, commanding. It began as a rumble in his broad lupine throat, gravelling out into a sonorous drone that carried pure, natural power. He could bring a room to silence with a whisper.

"Our recent conquest of the southern deserts proved to be the most fruitful expedition in recent history. Our city has prospered from the treasures we earned, the raw materials we acquired are being put to good use, and the felines we brought back have proved wonderful slaves."

Chuckles filled the room and he held up a paw. "And so, to celebrate, we shall give those who were unable to witness this marvellous conquest for themselves a taste of its success. An example of what is was like to take the treasures of the desert for ourselves." He curled his broad paw into a fist and cupped it with his left, resting his chin upon it. "Haras, who proved himself a fierce general during the campaign, shall fight and ultimately crush the spirit of one of our more... feisty prisoners. After this, she will no longer prove an annoyance to our guards and shall mark the final victory over these pathetic creatures -- the victory of dominance. Or at least, if Haras wants his promotion it will."

The audience laughed and Kanza stepped away from the table, holding an armoured arm to the side. The sound of chains filled the hall and a well-built feline with rough, unkempt fur and numerous scars was escorted into the room. The crowd's chuckles turned to a chorus of shouting and jeering, which only served to aggravate her. The feline hissed at them and a few snarky canines hissed back.

Kanza made his way over to the feline and examined her. Apparently she'd been a combat instructor in her previous life. He could believe it -- her stance was balanced, despite the sturdy iron chains around her wrists, ankles and neck. Her muzzle was set and her brow furrowed, and she looked ready to jump into action at any moment.

The High General turned to his guests, arms outstretched, grin fierce. "And so we begin."

The sand was rough beneath Adani's paws, which were still tender and raw after the weeks-long trek to the mountainous home of the canines. The air here was much colder than she was used to, even with the warmth from the braziers. They hadn't put her into the main arena, which was much more suited to large-scale fights, but instead an intimate structure built for private use. It was a deep pit, the outward-sloping walls too high to climb without aid of a ladder, allowing those that lounged above a perfect view of the entertainment.

Adani coughed, trying to adjust the heavy iron collar around her neck. The canines had removed her wrist and ankle bindings -- it wouldn't be much of a fight with them on -- but kept the collar. It wasn't attached to any chains, proving merely a symbol of her oppression, of her position as entertainment for the canines. They owned her, and they could make her fight. And they knew she would try her hardest to win.

Adani shivered, the cold pricking at her naked fur. In front of her, a sturdy, crested golden door opened and the canine called Haras sauntered into the circle. He wore light armour, just leather and a few steel plates, but it was certainly strong enough to absorb any unarmed blow. There was no weapon in his paw, but two thick gauntlets would serve just as well. He went without a helmet, and he flashed Adani a menacing grin that showed off a single golden tooth, before nodding up at Kanza. The High General lifted a paw, signalling his permission for the fight to begin.

Adani sprang forward, staying low and bounding toward her foe at breakneck speed. Caught off guard the canine only had time to dodge sideways, catching a few vicious swipes and grunting in annoyance. Adani cursed her blunted claws, which hadn't even drawn blood. She landed gracefully, a spray of sand misting the air behind her, but already she was moving again and Haras remained defensive. His thick gauntlets moved with adept swiftness and blocked each of the feline's strikes, until finally she slowed and he kicked her hard in the stomach. Adani flew backward, thumping into the sand and Haras leapt toward her. She rolled to the side, kicked at him as she scrambled to her feet and Haras stumbled.

The crowd of canines roared with encouragement and playful jibes at their canine comrade, but Haras waved them away with frustration. He turned back to his opponent but she was gone, and then the fur on his neck pricked and he moved with pure instinct, swiping the air to his left and meeting heavily with Adani's leg. He switched the blow to a grab with impossible deftness and swung, their combined momentum hurling the feline into the wall at the far end of the pit. She crumpled to the ground and gasped for breath, and for a moment the arena was quiet. Yet, she would not be defeated -- Adani rose, and was met with a roar from the crowd who were excited to see the fight continue. Kanza, however, bore an annoyed frown. Adani hissed, standing her ground, but her stance was weak and her body ached.

Haras began striding toward her. "You've lost, feline. Accept your fate."

He swung a fist and she ducked, delivering her own punch to the canine's gut but he turned his body to shrug off the blow and shoved her away to create space. He went for a kick but Adani twisted her hip and the kick went wide and she tackled him. Haras stumbled back but kept his footing and Adani leapt off, readjusting her footing before tackling him again. But this time the canine went down easily and Adani pushed the attack, only realising her mistake when they hit the ground. Haras had tricked her -- before she could react he'd slammed her into the ground next to him and rolled on top of her. The weight of Haras' muscle and armour kept her pinned down no matter how hard she struggled.

Kanza clapped his paws together from his regal seat as the others cheered. "Well played, Haras." He addressed the crowd. "Friends, just as we fought the flames of determination burning inside their pitiful warriors, Haras has subdued our determined slave." He nodded his congratulations to his comrade, who was pressing himself firmly against the feline. Adani hissed and spat, as Kanza continued.

"Yet, merely overpowering new slave combat isn't enough. They need more. Our victorious army sought to quench those flames of resistance forever. A good slave is a submissive slave." He stood. "Haras, continue. Show our friends here the true meaning of dominance."

Haras gladly acquiesced, leaning down to bare his teeth next to Adani's neck. The feline's struggles halted for a moment, her breathing hard and even momentarily fearful as the canine's jaws scraped the fur above her collarbone. He bit down, just enough to leave a mark. Then he loosened his belt. Adani began struggling again, desperately trying to get away. She still hadn't fully recovered from the canine who had raped her the night of the invasion, so unused to the size of a male -- and of a healthy canine, at that.

Adani yelped as his throbbing member brushed the fur of her inner thigh, leaving traces of precum soaking through her fur. Adani growled at him.

"Get your paws off--"

Haras' paw shot up to her neck and gripped it tight, preventing Adani from finish her sentence. The canine growled back, squeezing harder, feeling Adani's chest begin to shake and her struggles to increase.

A second later he released his grip, leaving her gasping on the sand. Her eyes were half closed, and before she could look up at him he thrust his cock deep into her. Adani's yelps were silenced as she was forced to take another breath, still trying to recover from his choke. Pain shot through her, grinding against the now familiar ache of her clenching walls. Haras grunted and pulled out, and Adani tried to drag herself away but his paw was at her throat again, his muzzle beside her ear.

"Don't try to escape."

He thrusted into her again, somehow even deeper than before yet still not fully inside her, and the feline's eyes watered. He thrusted twice more, each stroke harder than the previous, before pulling out and releasing his grip again. Ignoring his previous command out of primal instinct, she tried rolling away again but he was ready for her. His strong legs pinned her down and a paw slapped her hard across the cheek. She gasped, her face stinging. Haras raised his paw again and she flinched. It was the first time Adani had ever flinched.

He grunted and forced her legs apart again, pushing himself deep inside. This time it didn't hurt quite so much. He continued to thrust, grunting in pleasure, his slowly swelling knot pressing against her cunt lips with each stroke.

Then Haras pulled out once again. He looked at her. She looked at him.

He raised one side of his body and she saw the escape. Adani scrambled out from under him but he was ready and grabbed her by the scruff of the neck. Holding her up in the air, he shook her viciously and the audience howled in excitement. Kanza looked on approvingly.

"You must obey." Haras roared, forcing her against the cold stone wall of the pit. Adani cried out and her shoulders slumped, her final chance to escape gone. The canine pushed her face against the stone, using his other paw to pull apart her legs. Tilting his hips he entered her tight, unused ass. She screamed and the canines laughed and Haras thrusted hard enough to lift her higher up the wall, before she sank further onto his thick pulsing cock. Tears threatened to well up and she blinked them away but she could feel the energy seeping away from her. She tried to struggle, but the pain and humiliation at being bred in front of a crowd of canines proved more than she could handle, and so soon she hung limp. The fire was fading now, only slowly dying embers of shame and frustration and utter powerlessness.

Haras saw. Kanza saw. They all saw the moment Adani's fight left her and she hung limp atop Haras, who grunted one final time before shoving himself all the way in. His swollen knot forced its way into her tight tailhole and she cried out. The crowd cheered as Haras unleashed thick ropes of cum deep inside her ass, panting victoriously. Adani let out a quiet sob, closing her eyes and trying to ignore the feeling of the pulsing knot inside her. There was no escape. She was here, doing what she would be doing for the rest of her life.

Kanza grinned, clapping his paws as he joined the standing ovation. He always relished it -- that final sweet, sweet moment of realisation that would etch itself upon the faces of his captives. They knew they were property, living only to serve their masters. Adani had finally been broken. And to Kanza, that was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Riya -- The Ranch

The Citadel Outskirts stretches for many hundreds of miles beyond the city walls, from the Augustan highlands to the Cervian flats and Yurgen lakes beyond. To the west, at the foot of the mountains and pushing the canine borders to its limits, lies a collection of small farms. Riya had passed them as she and her people were marched up the mountain to the Citadel, and returned a day later when she was auctioned off as a work slave. Her buyer, a burly, muscled canine who owns one of those outer farms, said little as they made the half-day's journey back, except to grunt at her to hurry up when she shied away from leering onlookers. Having been marched to the canine city in chains and nothing else, Riya felt ashamed at her complete lack of clothing and the vulnerability it portrayed. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and curled her tail around her waist, but her owner soon noticed and slapped away the tail, forcing her to bear everything to the public. She felt relieved when they finally stepped onto a less populated road.

Riya had noticed that her owner was dressed in a garb much lighter than the fur-lined leather worn by citadel residents. She had soon found out why - at the foot of the mountain, far below the Citadel, the temperatures reached high enough to challenge even her desert home. If anything, it had only made her more homesick, but at least she wasn't cold.

They had arrived as the sun was beginning to sink below the mountains, and the sky turned maroon with pink and orange streaks that stretched far beyond the horizon. She was shown her new quarters in short order, a sparse barn populated by old hay and a couple of dairy cows. A pail of water sat by a post in the centre, though who it was meant for wasn't clear.

"You start work at first light." The canine had grunted as he stood by the large barn doors. Sunlight casting his broad muzzle into shadow, giving him a dominant air. "If you work hard, you'll eat. I paid good money for you, so don't let me down."

With that the door slid shut and Riya was left standing in the quiet barn, the animals regarding her from the corners with contempt.

They had indeed started early, and every day since, but Riya is a good slave. She doesn't complain or give her master difficulty, her pride long since crushed by the beatings and abuse.

Like now, as the crack of a whip sends lashings of pain across her naked back. The second time it has happened this afternoon, but they are an hour behind and she knows she deserves it. She takes the pain with a bowed head and gritted teeth, pouring more effort into her task. The plough is tremendously heavy as she pulls it through the earth, cutting deep groves into the fertile soil ready for planting. The air is hot, and paired with the beating sun high above Riya's fur is drenched with sweat and matted in dusty, unkempt clumps. The tight leather harness that binds her to the plough restricts Riya's movement, and her breathing as well, but keeps her neck and upper back exposed for the whip. She can't even move her arms; the harness binds them tight behind her like the soldiers do when they bind their victims. Arms back, elbows crossed, wrists bound around the stomach. It's meant to keep slaves from escaping, though at this point Riya doesn't think such a thing is possible. Even if she was held by nothing ropes she can't imagine running away. Her life is here now, as a slave. There isn't anything else.

"Faster!" Growls her master, holding the whip menacingly in the air. "If the field isn't done by nightfall you'll go to bed hungry. Again."

Her stomach growls at her as well so she grits her teeth and pushes harder. Her paws, uncovered by any shoe, are blistered and numb from months of gruelling work, much like her arms and waist are from the harness. Sweat pours down her forehead, obscuring her vision and trickling into her mouth, and she spits out salt-laced saliva and drool. Peering ahead through the stinging sweat, she sees the end of the field only one hundred metres away.

Of course, then they'll have to turn around and do it again, and again, and again... but she knows if she works hard and doesn't falter she can make it.

"Alright, break."

Riya digs her heels in, feels the plough push her another metre before coming to a stop. She stands there, panting hard, gasping in great gulps of air in an effort to fill her lungs. The tight harness resists, and her chest burns, and her legs ache, and her head pounds under the sun, but she is still alive. As much as she'd like to remove the harness and stretch her cramped body, she's content to just stand there, sweat trickling down her long neck, over her small breasts, down her tight stomach, and the inside of her thighs and finishing on the dusty ground beneath her.

Her master appears, an old tan waterskin in his paw. She opens her mouth, tongue out, desperate for the cooling relief but he just stands there, looking her up and down. He recalls those times he allowed her the pleasure of sleeping with him. She'd been resistant at first -- still is sometimes, when he forces himself into her whenever he so desires -- but all he has to do is hit her, push her against a wall or threaten her and she'd concede. Other times she is pathetic, lowly like a slave ought to be, willingly lifting her tail and letting him fuck her as hard as he wants. He isn't sure which he prefers.

Riya's master lifts the waterskin to her lips and tilts its bottom so the cool liquid pours into her waiting mouth. She gulps it down gratefully but can't swallow fast enough to spot some splashing her cheeks and running down her sweat-covered body. Her master watches, choosing not to berate her for wasting some of it. At least it was washing the dirt off. Instead, his gaze softens slightly and he looks at her appraisingly. She's pretty, under all that dirt. Sleek, taller than most of the other girls, with a gentle face and large yellow eyes. She'd had an air of dignity about her, before she'd been sold to him. Probably used to be a city cat, with a backing of wealth. Didn't have a hint of muscle about her until he got her into shape.

He wonders briefly why he chose her over the other, more muscled girls. Maybe he wanted to change her, abuse that soft body and make it his. Maybe he chose her because he wanted to break her spirit. Or maybe it was because he found her attractive in the most primal sense. She's barely an adult, small and sleek against his larger, more muscled body, just the way he likes it.

He notices his paw is raised, but not to hit her. Gently he touches her head, ruffles her hair. She takes it well, obediently rubbing against him as he scritches her ears. He isn't sure whether she'd doing it because he expects or to, or because she likes it.

He shakes his head and pulls his paw away, grumbling. "Get back to work."

He moves back to the plough's end and grabs his whip. But he keeps it by his side, waiting until she deserves it. Riya grunts, shaking her shoulders, digging her feet into the ground as she strains against the weight of the plough. Finally, the two large wheels begin to turn, and the rakes begin clawing the ground once again, and she sets off with great effort, determined to finish the field before dark.

Sheya -- The Manor

My back aches, a low, dull pain that's been throbbing all afternoon. But I guess that's what happens when you're stuck scrubbing floors, bent over on all fours like some feral dog. And the floors here are endless -- one hall finishes where another one starts. Just my luck I get stuck in a rich wolf's manor. Most of the time it's quiet, enough that the silence practically echoes through the rooms, drives you crazy, but at least it's better than the parties. I shudder. Those parties are living hell. My master invites his friends over and they trash the place, gorge themselves and treat us servants like they please.

I stop, paw clenching the sponge. Did I just say master?

He's getting to me... I promised myself, the first day I came here, when I was chained and bruised, barely able to hold back tears, that I'd never use that word. Vas would beat me when I didn't, so sometimes I'd have to, but as long as I never thought it, that would be enough. Because to think it would mean defeat... would mean submission. And if I'm not in control my body, I must at least be in control of my mind.

Master...

I grit my teeth, returning to scrubbing, my movement angrier, harsher. I keep scrubbing the reddish royal hardwood till I can see my own reflection, see my bruised eye, the scar on my left cheek. I watch a single drop of water splash to the ground.

Master...

I growl, pushing the bucket forward and moving further up the foyer. In front of me sits a small dresser, the same colour as the floor. I remember that dresser... I remember clutching its edges, screaming as that awful canine thrust deep into my cunt, his knot shoving apart my aching lips. I glance underneath the dresser and see the scratches marks are still there. If anyone saw those, my hide would be beaten till it was bleeding. I avert my gaze, continue scrubbing the wood until I can move another metre.

There, a dark satin lounge, meant for guests. But Vas didn't have any problem when I lay on it -- probably because my hindquarters were raised, tail pulled aside as he fucked my ass rough and hard, guests of the party laughing with drinks in their paws. He even let me stay on it when the others joined in, fucking me until they grew bored and threw me to the floor, kicked me until I curled in a ball and blacked out. It took three hours to get all the cum stains out of that thing.

I grimace again, my throat feeling tight. My head begins to ache, and I try to concentrate on something else. My gaze is drawn to the stairwell, a sweeping configuration of artisan oak and birch. At least I hadn't been raped there -- well, no, I had once. Vas' brother, some military general called Kanza, had seen me polishing the bannisters and called me over. I'd tried to ignore him, waiting for Vas to give me a signal that submission to this new canine was okay, but the signal never came. Kanza had instead grabbed me by the neck and pulled me over the railing so I was hanging there, suspended by his paws around my neck. He'd brought my muzzle close to his, his breath hot and angry.

"You will not be so insolent." He'd growled, his voice low and dangerous. He had let me hang just a moment longer before pulling me back over the side and I'd collapsed on the stairs, panting and wheezing. Then I'd felt him grab my tail, heard the clinking of metal from his belt, and then he was forcing himself into my clenching snatch. I'd tried to scream, but all I could do was cough and croak out a plead. My master didn't help.

Master.

I let out a sob but forced back the tears and steeled myself. I wouldn't let them get to me. If I cried every time I'd been raped and degraded in this foul place, I'd have drowned us all years ago.

The sound of a door opening echoes through the room and I quickly get back to work. Head down, back straight, like a good little slave. The footsteps grow louder, along with the swish of expensive fabric... Vas. My breath catches in my throat and I halter, my paw gripping the sponge harder. Had I done something wrong? Had I made him angry? I tried to determine whether his strides were longer, his footsteps heavier... but no, if anything they were lighter. Was he messing with her? Was he horny, ready to rape her again?

The footsteps stop and I can feel him behind me, watching. I force myself to polish the floor with renewed effort, and from behind Vas rumbles approvingly. A paw comes to my head and I have to stop myself from flinching away. His fingers curled through my hair, nails scratching lightly at my scalp.

"You've made good progress, well done." Vas looks behind us at the long stretch of perfectly sparkling hardwood, clearly more than he'd expected this early in the afternoon. He continues stroking my head. "You're a good slave, I did well to buy you last year. Hard working, respectful..." He kneels down, ignoring the damp floor. "And such a pretty, delicate flower." He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, looking at me approvingly. I, the submissive, keep my gaze to the floor. From the corner of my eye I see him grin.

"Well, keep up the good work. I hate to rush you, but I'll need the rest of this done by the evening. I'm having a few friends over... celebrating the anniversary of a certain successful campaign, actually." He stands, and his groin is right next to my head. I can't help but glance at it, and he presses it lightly into my cheek. "I'll have cook make you something nice when you're done. I want you out here entertaining the guests, so you'll need the energy. My brother is looking forward to seeing you again, especially since the coup."

With that he turns and strides to the grand double doors of the foyer, pushing them open and heading through into the bright midday sunlight.

I remain where I am. I can feel myself shaking. Why? Why? I'd done everything right, I'd kept my head down and been a good slave... and now I was going to be ridiculed and raped, beaten and thrown away, only to do it all over again, and again. And Kanza... he would be there. The bastard that would rape me until I bled, make me call him master and make me raise my tail for him even when I can barely hold myself up.

I wipe the angry tears from my eyes and put my paw right into the bucket of dirty water. I look down at it in despair, unable to fathom such an awful future. I keep my head down, eyes shut tight so as to stop the tears coming. It's so hard... I hate it, more than anything in the world... trapped, serving these bastards... but there's nothing I can do. I only I could steal a knife from the kitchen, ram it right into the neck of that fucker Kanza. Slice him to ribbons until he's nothing but a mess on the floor. But I know it won't work. He'd just bat the knife away and shove his cock in my ass. And then so would Vas, and all his friends.

I grit my teeth and get back to cleaning, trying not to think about the hours to come.

Veira -- The Estate

"One hour until inspection." The announcement boomed over the estate grounds, aided by numerous reflectors studded across the broad, tilted fields. Fiercely burning braziers crackled from atop their small towers in each field, warming the early evening. From covered decking at the estate's front, inspectors were gathered on comfortable chairs watching the slaves, parchment in paw. Receiving a good inspection rating was vital for a worker's continued health; those that score high ate well the next week and were left mostly untouched while they worked. But such an achievement was momentously difficult, a fact carefully engineered by the higher-ups, which meant most merely strived to 'pass' at the base requirement. And though it still left them at the mercy of a canine's whim, it was infinitely better than the consequences of failing.

The Ryusal Estate was among the oldest establishments of the Citadel, set deep in the Cervian flats east of the city centre. For centuries it had served as the region's breadbasket, growing over half its cereals and grains. The estate's age also lent it diversity; here, felines were not the only slaves. Prairie dogs, ibises, antelopes and even horses toiled under the endless sun, all remnants of older acquisitional campaigns. Though few unique species remained, most having passed away long ago without bearing children, a few intergenerational individuals continued to work. They tended to be the most respected.

Veira, one of the newer felines (though just over a year wasn't exactly 'new') worked in the central zone of the estate's six divisions. Head Governor Kaisar's district, the strictest of them all. This inspection was particularly important to her -- she'd failed last month's, and her life since then had been beyond hell. She'd been beaten, starved, raped and humiliated for days at a time. If it hadn't been for Greta, she might have died. But the old horse had kept her going with little words of encouragement, sympathetic glances and one time had even thrown Veira a portion of her own harvest. Greta had been working for nearly thirty years, longer than Veira had even been alive. In a way, Greta was proof that no one escaped. They would work here, forever, until they dropped to the ground.

But now she was gone. None of the workers were sure where she'd disappeared to -- perhaps she _had_escaped. That's what Veira told herself, anyway.

"A final reminder. One hour. Those under two-hundredweight of harvest will fail the inspection." A pause, then- "failing is not advised."

Laughter sounded from the observation decking and Veira gritted her fangs. She'd worked harder this month than she'd ever done before, having to make up for lost time when the canines took her away to have their way with her. By the gods, she wouldn't fail this time. She'd recorded well the past weeks, reaching one-hundredweight before the close of the fortnight. But during this final week the canines had taken a special interest in her, and between the 'attention' and her struggles to recover strength her production had slowed considerably. Still, she was nearly there, only fiveweight to go -- a target she was sure she could achieve.

"They're looking at you again." Murmured a voice as a feline passed by her, a yoke laden with two full sacks of grain-heads hefted over her shoulders. Veira's chest tightened and she glanced toward the decking. There, a group of canines were watching her work. She'd seen two of them before -- Jurgan and Kalistai. They'd been 'tending' to her a lot recently. But the other three she'd never seen before. Perhaps they were friends of the two. Surely they wouldn't try to take her now? One hour before the inspection? She knew they were canines, but even canines have standards... right?

"You better hurry up." Whispered an antelope she'd never seen before. "The one in the middle is Haras."

Veira frowned, cutting into the plant's thick stalk with her harpe and holding it over a sack. "The general? What's he doing here?"

"He gets a kick out of desperation. If you're not done by the time he gets to you, you won't have the strength to finish it afterwards, believe me."

Veira growled, splitting the stalk with her claw and tearing off the heads and throwing them in her sack. She discarded the empty stems and moved onto the next plant. "How do I discourage him?"

The antelope didn't answer, and when Veira looked up the antelope had gone. She gulped, hastening her work. Fiveweight... with what she'd already done, that would only be, what, four more sacks? Two, since she'd almost finished these ones. She severed two more plants, used her foot to anchor both plants down and cut into them. Letting the heads fall into the sack, she immediately grabbed another two and continued her work. Her breathing was faster, deeper, and she tried to keep her head clear. The skin beneath her fur tingled, and she knew they were still looking at her. And the harder she worked, the more they looked. Growling to herself in frustration, she grabbed one more stalk and severed its heads, throwing them in the sack and tying it closed. Hefting them onto her yoke, she picked up the solid wooden pole and pulled it onto her shoulders, stumbling a few steps as she adjusted to the weight. Finding the main causeway, she practically ran to the drop-off point, ignoring the annoyed looks other workers gave her. The very air was filled with desperation and fear, hanging between the clouds of insects that buzzed through the early night air.

She reached the tables, grimacing at the small line that had formed. Marking the sacks was usually a quick process, especially with the well-paid canines managing the process, but it seemed tonight they were relishing in taking their time.

Finally, she stood in front of an obsidian-furred canine who looked at her with an amused smile.

"Name?" he drawled.

"Veira, sir."

"Fiera?"

"V-eira"

"How do you spell that?"

She internally screamed at him as she spelt it out. A common name among felines, and one he'd doubtless written many times before.

"Mmn hm. Plot?"

"Blue."

He pulled out a wooden box of stamps, searching through them. "In a rush?"

"Yes sir."

"That's a shame. Lori, have you got a blue? I can't find mine."

"Just used it all up." The canine to his left replied.

The obsidian-furred canine gave her a look. "Darn. What are we going to do?"

Veira supressed a growl and pointed to the box. "Isn't that blue there?"

He tilted his head slowly downwards. "Where?"

"Next to the green."

He fixed her with a look, and she bowed her head. "Next to the green, sir."

"Ah yes, there it is." He stamped the front of both stacks, as then marked his parchment. Then he smiled at her, a stern look behind his eyes. "I think I'll see you later, Veira."

She bowed her head, then turned on her heel and paced quickly back down the causeway. Her throat was dry, and her eyes stung slightly. Great, another canine waiting to pounce. But that was of little concern right now. Veira broke into a jog, darting between lines of workers as she moved back to her plot, grabbing two empty sacks on the way. All she had to do was fill these up and she was done. She'd pass. And she'd--

She screeched to a halt, a little cloud of dust speckling the air behind her. There, next to her plot, a group of canines milled around. They looked almost bored, and then they hadn't seen her yet. She was about to turn around, try to bargain with another feline to share their spot, when the ornately-armoured one, Haras, spotted her.

"Someone's in a rush." He said. The other canines grinned, throwing her a few more lines. She smiled politely, head down, returning to the clump of stalks. She looked for her harpe where she'd discarded it on the ground. It wasn't there.

"You've been working hard, little slave," leered Kalistai. "Hoping to pass the inspection this time?"

"You must have reached the quota by now." Said another. "Why not take a little break?"

"She hasn't yet." Said Haras, a dark look on his face. "I've checked with her supervisors."

"Looks like someone's going to fail again."

"Maybe she likes getting fucked."

"She does look like a little slut."

Veira bit back a sob and extended a claw, trying to saw at the thick stem. It took a while but it broke off and she split it.

"Need some help?" Haras looked at her.

"N-no, master."

"You're not going to fill those sacks like that." He was playing with her, she could tell. What was he trying to do? She felt so helpless in his presence. He was a dangerous, dangerous canine.

"I lost my harpe."

"That was careless. Here, take this." He held out a small knife.

Veira focused on cutting another stem with her claw. "I don't want to inconvenience you, sir."

"Your master is offering you help, kitty." Growled one of the canines.

"You wouldn't want him to think you're refusing him, would you?" Said another.

Veira grimaced, took the knife and nodded her thanks. Holding it to the stem, she tried cutting, but the strong fibres only splintered at the edges.

"It's blunt." She said without thinking.

A paw grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around. Haras' scarred face loomed close to her, a golden tooth glinting in the light from the braziers. "This knife killed countless felines during our campaign in your desert. It enslaved your people. And it could just as easily kill you. And you're telling me... it's blunt?"

Veira stood in shocked silence for a moment, then stammered "I- I was mistaken." She shivered under Haras' strong grip. "I was just... cutting the wrong part of the stem."

"Indeed." Purred Haras. He stepped back and gestured to her. "Then continue."

She held back a sob, holding the knife to the stem. It was so much harder than using her claws because the cut was never clean, which made splitting the stem even harder. The canines watched her, amused by her attempts. Separating the heads from the stalks took double as long and she felt a flush rising in her face, a mix of frustration, humiliation and fear. But she had to make the deadline. She had to.

Pushing herself, she grabbed another stalk and hacked into it with enough force to cleave the thing in two. She wasn't using it as a knife, but instead an axe, forcing it to obey her. She gripped the edges of the stem and tore, muscles burning and chest heaving. It split and she practically punched the heads into the sack. She grabbed another, severed it and split it and threw in the heads. Bit by bit, the sack filled as the canine inspectors on the porch grew restless. Time was ticking by.

Veira closed her eyes, took in a long, deep breath. Around her, the sounds of toiling slaves and murmuring canines and rustling crops faded away. The rich smell of fertile soil and fresh-cut grain and overworked, sweaty fur was replaced with... nothing. Veira instead concentrated on herself, the way her paws gripped the stems. The feel of the knife as she hacked, and the splintering of fibres as she separated the stalk. The burning in her muscles as they told her to stop but her mind was stronger and she pulled the stem up, split it and tore off the heads. Cut, split, tear, again and again. The first sack couldn't hold anymore and she tied it up, rolled it to the side and opened the other.

Then she started again. Cut, split, tear. Cleave, halve, pull. Hack, part, throw. The deep gold of ripe cereal, honeyed leaves on the fringe of old age, the dark brown of the soil beneath her. The steel grey of the cuffs around her ankles, unchained while she worked. The smoky grey of the canine's fur as they watched her, growing progressively more agitated. A way off, she saw the first inspector stand. Her mouth twitched, grew into a horrified stare as the rest of them followed suit. Time was up? How could it already be up?

She dropped another cereal-head into the sack. It hit the pile of others and bounced off into the dirt. She looked down. It was full. The sack was full! She'd done it!

Veira let out a pleasured gasp, grabbed the fallen head and crammed it into the sack. Now all she had to do was--

"Hold it."

Veira froze, twine in paw ready to tie the sack. Haras stood up from his position leaning against a reflector and strode toward her. Veira felt her stomach go cold. "Y-yes, master?"

"Show me those top heads."

With shaking paws she opened the sack, tilted it toward the light.

"Just as I thought. What were you thinking? Those ones there are still green. Are you trying to poison us?"

They weren't green at all. Veira grabbed one, held it up for him. "They're fine."

The canine from earlier snorted. "You're arguing with your master again?"

Haras nodded. "Treason is a high crime, slave. And that's precisely what poisoning your superiors would be. Put them with the discards."

She didn't argue. The inspectors were only just entering the field, ready to consult with the tallymen. She'd still have time. Grabbing two of the heads, she threw them into the pile of rotting and unripe heads shared with her plotmates. The pile was small -- the slaves were experienced enough to know a good crop by sight and smell alone.

"And those ones as well."

She supressed a whine, took out three more. Haras gave a satisfied nod. "Good girl."

"T-thank you, sir." Veira turned back to her plot, went to grab a stalk but a heavy paw grabbed her wrist.

Haras looked at her. "You know, I think that can wait."

"But the inspectors are--"

"I said it can wait."

Another paw grabbed her arm, and two more her shoulders. They pulled her toward a thicket of unpicked grain and she cried out.

"Just three more! Please! It'll only take a second and then you can do anything you want to me!"

"You think we can't anyway, slave?" Haras growled. Around them, the workers had gone silent. The inspectors didn't even need to blow the horn -- everyone had stopped, heads down, waiting quietly for the inspection. A few stragglers ran to the tables to get their final bags tagged, but even they were quiet about it. Veira's screams rang out in the silent field but no one met her eye. No one came to her aid. It was like she wasn't even there.

Only a few metres away, the antelope that had spoken to Veira earlier let out a little sigh. She'd seen the feline around quite a bit, not that Veira had ever noticed her. She felt bad for the poor girl, would have even throw a few heads into Veira's bag if she didn't know very well the consequences. No one messed with Haras. Not even Greta, the only worker the canines respected. Perhaps she'd have gotten away with helping another when Ular was general, but ever since Kanza had dethroned him and instigated his own men, things had become even worse than before.

Veira's screams turn to angry, pleading sobs. She begged them to let her go, but the pleas turned to pained screams as the canines started raping her. The antelope was close enough to hear the slap of naked flesh and fur against canine armour. The rest cheered him on, and soon the grunts turned to a drawn-out grumble as one finished and the next began.

The inspectors arrived at their location by the time the fourth canine was enjoying himself. They looked at the antelope, looked at the roster, nodded and handed her a green slip. A perfect grade. The antelope had been at the estate all her life, from the moment she'd reached working age. She hadn't met her parents. She didn't know if she wanted to. But she had the experience to get her through the months, even if each day left her exhausted and weary. Even if the other workers resented her for it.

She heard Veira let out a scream, realised the final canine had begun. From the sound of it, that was Haras. He was a lot to handle for a first time, the antelope knew that well enough. Just because she was in the green, didn't mean she was safe.

She saw the inspectors reach Veira's plot, look at their roster. The antelope wished she could take back those grain-heads from the pile, drop them into the bag. But she stayed where she was, watched the inspectors murmur in amusement to each other, and drop a red card next to the open sack.

When Veira finally emerged, the night had begun to grow cold and the inspectors were at the final plots. The feline was practically crawling along the ground, fur was matted with sweat and other things, eyes half-closed and stained with angry tears. Fluid leaked from between her legs and clumps of fur on her back had been pulled out.

Veira reached her plot and looked down at the sack. The antelope saw the tide of horror crash into Veira as she took in the sight of that red card. Behind her, the five canines emerged, adjusting their armour. Haras had a triumphant grin on his muzzle.

The antelope saw Veira turn, a knife glinting in her paw as it caught the flickering red flames of the braziers. She let out a furious shout and charged toward Haras, thrusting the knife forward.

Haras' eyes widened slightly as the knife slipped between the plates of his armour. His paw grasped Veira's and he threw her to the side. He looked down, where a tiny trickle of blood followed the knife as it fell into the soft earth. Everyone was silent.

Then Haras smiled. "She was right. It was blunt."

The canines behind him laughed quietly and one grabbed Veira by the hair, pulling her up and holding an axe to her throat.

"Should I kill her?"

"No." Haras stepped forward, knelt down to meet Veira eye to eye. Speaking to the other canines, he said "let her stay here. But make sure she gets extra attention." He grinned at her, reaching a paw out to stroke her cheek. His front claw pierced her fur, letting out a small line of blood. "I'll see you again, slave."

He stood, kicking her aside and leaving her weeping on the ground. Picking up the dagger, he dropped it next to her. "Don't let her near a harpe, and make sure her claws are filed. We don't want her hurting anyone. At least we know the dagger will be safe." He grinned at her. Something to remind her that she was his. Like every slave here.

And he turned on his heel and left, and the inspectors continued their rounds, and Veira was left lying there, looking at the dull reflection of the red card in the blunt blade of the knife.

Milisar -- The Brothel

"Get your paws off me!"

The shout rang out from the collection of warmly-lit buildings east of the Citadel main square, but was quickly muffled by the frost-laden paths and roofs. Heavy paws crunched in the snow and iron armour clanked as two guards hauled a struggling feline between them. They ignored her shouts, gripping her arms tightly and looking straight ahead.

"Let me go!" Milisar hissed and kicked out, connecting with the padded iron greaves of the soldier on her left. He didn't even falter, just kept marching forward. She tried again, throwing herself into the other guard, digging her heels into the ground and pulling herself backward. She was met with a knee to the stomach and she doubled over, coughing between expletives. The guards adjusted their grip and practically dragged Milisar through the alleyway, her paws leaving deep grooves in the thick snow.

Finally, they reached a large square, the central plaza of the sizeable city brothel. Two more guards stationed at the entrance gates watched them closely, greataxes planted firmly in the ground, and a few more canines and felines turned to see the source of the commotion. Milisar, her breath returned, cursed them all to hell and kicked the guard on her left again. He ignored her, waiting near the raised platform in the plaza's centre. The small stage had three wide steps leading up to it, and a metal grate in its middle that could be pulled out. Milisar knew very well what it was used for. When she saw it she hesitated, her struggles momentarily forgotten.

"Why are... I haven't done anything wrong," she said, quieter now. The guards continued to hold her, and she could feel their claws prick beneath her naked fur. The air was cold, and her breath misted in front of her. She realised she was shivering, having left her meagre-yet-warm garb in the room.

"Milisar. You've gotten yourself into trouble, again," said a clear, commanding voice from behind her, and she tried to turn but the guards held her tight. But she didn't need to see the canine to know who it was - Vi Lura, the brothel mistress. The tall, hardened woman rounded Milisar and fixed her with an annoyed glance. Beside her, a short, plump canine mimicked the glare. Milisar didn't know his name; she'd only met him an hour ago, though the other slave whores knew him. A brothel regular, apparently. Just Milisar's luck that he'd picked her, right before the Brothel begun closing for the night.

"I've had a complaint, Milisar, about you. About your unwillingness to serve a valued customer. You know very well that I don't like complaints." Vi Lura walked to the side of Milisar, just out of her field of vision, leaving the larger canine standing there awkwardly. "This brothel has maintained an excellent reputation for decades as the Citadel's premier place of enjoyment and relaxation. Customers come from miles to experience the very best it has to offer." Milisar left the mistress's breath close to her ear. "And I have never,ever, had a serious complaint. Until three months ago."

The mistress stood, pacing back into Milisar's field of view. "Three months ago, you were facing imprisonment and severe punishment for continued attempts to escape the estate you were bought to work at. I saw you being marched to the Citadel Centre and beneath the grime and the dirt I saw a pretty face. A pretty body. And I thought you would be the perfect addition to our girls." Vi Lura's mouth set into a thin line. "And now I'm thinking I made a mistake. Because this is the fourth time you've caused trouble. I'd have thought last week's caning would've put you into line. It appears that wasn't enough." She turned to the large canine, looking down at him gently. "Paya has kindly offered to serve you in the meantime, Gorel. I know you are fond of her. At no cost, of course."

The canine nodded his thanks and turned to the thin, young-looking feline standing obediently nearby.

"Rest assured this whore will be reprimanded for her actions."

"I appreciate it, mistress Lura."

Around Milisar, more slave whores had gathered. A few more guards, too, as well as the last customers of the evening, who had stopped by on their way out. They showed no signs of leaving.

"Milisar, when my whores carry out their duties and do so with obedience and enthusiasm, I treat them well. But when they ignore my instructions and think they can make up their own rules I take no issue in punishing them. You will stand as a good example of what happens when you don't give a customer what they paid for."

"He paid for oral."

"Gorel is a special customer and you know that very well. Submitting to anal was not an errant request." Vi Lura responded firmly, eyes narrowing. "And you will not talk back to me." She nodded at the guards, and as one they hauled her onto the stage. Another pulled the grate away, revealing a small hole with an iron plate inside. Two more guards hauled a sizeable wooden post over and slotted it into the stage, locking it in place.

Strong iron shackles were clamped around Milisar's wrists and attached to the pole. The feline struggled, kicking her legs as the guards did the same to her ankles. One of them elbowed her side and she stumbled, and the cuffs were clamped firmly onto her and attached to the bottom of the post.

The mistress appeared again, a long black whip curled around her paws. She snapped it tight, and the sound of firm leather made Milisar flinch.

"This will hurt. A lot."

Milisar growled. She wouldn't scream, wouldn't give the mistress the pleasure of seeing her in pain. She felt Vi Lura's paw run down her naked back, brush away the specks of snow that had speckled her fur. The other slave whores watched quietly from the covered patios, and the guards had joined them to partake in the entertainment.

"You will not cross me again." The mistress said as her paw reached the firm flesh of Milisar's rump. She squeezed it light before pulling away. "Lest you taste my whip again."

Milisar was about to retort when the first strike hit her. She felt the blow before she heard the crack, and it was like a lighting strike had burnt her from neck to hindquarters. She grunted, falling against the post, head pounding and tongue hurting from where she'd bit it.

"That was for trying to leave your quarters at midnight."

The whip cracked again and Milisar grunted harder, jaw clenched and muscles tensed.

"That was for trying to deny oral."

The whip cracked and again Milisar fell against the post. Her back stung with intense fury, and the pain travelled through her entire body.

"That was for trying to coerce a customer into choosing a different whore."

And so it continued. Lash after lash, cracking through the air like tiny explosions while the bursts of pain inside Milisar continued to rack her body. But she never screamed, though her grunts became higher pitched and longer each time. She took in deep breaths, eyes squeezed shut, now leaning on the post entirely for support.

One final crack, and Milisar had to bit down hard on her tongue to stop herself screaming. Blood trickled into her mouth but she ignored it, nostrils flaring.

"And that was for denying Gorel his rightful sex. Be it anal or anything else." Vi Lura turned, walking down the steps. Milisar let out a long, slow breath. She'd done it, she hadn't screamed. She caught the eye of slave, Feya, an albino feline and the only whore that talked to her. The others avoided her for fear of her reputation. Milisar gave Feya a small smile, but it was not returned. Instead, the white cat's eyes had widened.

With an exhausted grimace Milisar turned her head. There, Vi Lura was handing a slave her black whip, and taking back a long, dark brown one. This whip was longer and had four knots at its end, larger and the base and diminishing towards the top. The mistress gave Milisar an emotionless smile. "Now, the rest of these are for disobeying me. I think fifty strokes should suffice." She ran a paw over the whip, feeling its knotted ends. Then she held out her arm and cracked it in one practiced motion. A small burst of ice puffed out from where the whip hit the snowfall, and Vi Lura nodded to herself.

Milisar's body went cold. Already, she was shivering, and her tender back stung from both the whip and each speck of snow that fell on her. She couldn't take any more.

"Please... just let me go." She croaked as Vi Lura climbed the steps. "I won't cause any more trouble."

"No more trouble."

"None... I promise." She whispered.

"Perhaps you should have told yourself that before you disobeyed me." The whip struck Milisar's back and the feline cried out, eyes watering and paws clenched into tight fists. She pushed herself against the post, keeping her head pressed firmly against it as she desperately waited for the pain to dissipate but then the whip struck again and she screamed. The other slave whores watched quietly as the feline was whipped, again and again, dark bruises already beginning to appear beneath her fur and thin lines of blood trickling from her shoulder blades. The guards chuckled to each other, making lewd remarks that Milisar couldn't make out through the cracks of the whip and explosions of pain.

Ten strokes later, Vi Lura paused to wipe the blood off the end of the whip. Milisar let out a choked sob and collapsed against the post, held up only by the chains around her wrists. "Please, just let me go."

"Not until you've learnt your lesson."

"I have!" She croaked. "I'll let them fuck me, however they want."

"That was never a decision for you to make, slut. They can anyway. What you need to learn is that you're mine. I own you, slave. You can't do what you want. You belong to this brothel, and will continue to do so until you die or I get bored of you."

"Then just kill me..." Milisar whispered, more to herself than anything.

Vi Lura struck the whip, against the back of Milisar's legs this time. The feline screamed, shaking in her chains.

"How are you going to earn me money if your dead?" The mistress growled. "I paid good money for you. You have any idea how expensive sentenced prisoners are? You have a debt to repay me, and much more beyond that. I feed you every day, keep you attractive for the clients. That's a lot more than other brothels, I can tell you that much." She struck the whip again, this time right against Milisar's rump. "Why do you think we're so popular? Because our girls are the most beautiful ones in the city. But your attitude is ugly, Milisar. And that's what we have to change."

Crack

"You have no choice in the matter."

Crack

"You are mine. And only mine."

Crack

"You belong to the brothel."

Crack

"I'm yours." Milisar whispered.

...

Vi Lura twirled the whip around one paw. With the other, she rubbed Milisar's reddened hindquarters. "You're mine?"

"I... belong to the brothel."

"Well, it's a start." She patted Milisar's butt, and the feline hissed quietly as her tender fur was struck. "This isn't the end of it, whore. But I think you've learned your lesson today. Still..." She spread the feline's cheeks with her paw and pulled the tail up, rubbing her tight tail hole with a single digit. "I want to make sure you're telling the truth." She pushed into Milisar's hole and the feline gasped, squirming against it even as her back and legs continued to sting. Vi Lura grinned, giving Milisar's ass a few thrusts with her finger. She curled it into a hook shape, feeling around the tight canal. She pulled it out, heard Milisar gasp and she pushed it back in, even deeper, stretching the tail hole wide enough to fit her knuckle.

Finally, the mistress pulled out, leaving Milisar gasping against the post. She turned to Feya and the other two felines next to her. "Take this ungrateful whore and get her ready for another client. Then chain her back up here."

Feya blinked. "Mistress, is the brothel not closing?"

"This is another special client. Lord Kanza prefers his whores chained and vulnerable. No doubt he will prove an excellent tool to drive tonight's lesson home."

Milisar let out a quiet sob, but she was ignored. Feya and the other two felines made their way towards her while Vi Lura dismounted the stage and handed away her whip. Turning back to Milisar as the feline was led away, she gave her a long look.

"Don't mess up, whore. This is your final chance."

Epilogue

The chains hung heavy on her wrists and ankles, and she struggled to keep her head up as the sturdy iron collar pulled on her neck. Her footpaws ached from the week-long trek to the hulking canine fortress they called the "Citadel," and the sores and callouses that had arisen from traversing the rough, stony trails without shoes stung on the cold stone paving of the city streets. From her position near the front of the line she could see the canine inspectors scrutinising each feline and making notes in their hardbacked parchment. The queue of her people stretched right to the citadel's gated entrance, and all looked tired and miserable. She couldn't spot any felines she knew well, just those she'd seen around the temple or had exchanged a few words with. No one talked or even acknowledged each other, merely keeping their eyes to the floor and their muzzles closed.

A paw grabbed her shoulder and pulled her around to face the side. Two tall canines looked her over, touching her and poking her and examining her fur. They exchanged a few words and made a note in their parchment, then attached a small blue ring around her collar and moved on to the next feline. She tried to turn her head to look at it, but the collar kept her facing forward.

The line began moving again and at the front a group of burly canines directed them into different groups. When she reached them, a canine grabbed her collar and wrenched her head upward, looking at the ring. Then he pushed her toward a group of felines who also had blue rings, where she was told to stand quietly and wait. The groups quickly expanded, and she was packed in tightly with barely room to breathe. For a moment, she thought she saw Milisar through the crowd of slaves, but as quickly as she appeared she was replaced by another, some teacher she'd spoken to once.

Finally, the felines finished being sorted and were marched in different directions, disappearing through large stone archways that marked the exits of the central plaza. Her group, however, remained where they were. In front of them, a huge canine mounted a sizeable wooden stage before them and surveyed the miserable crowd.

"Welcome to your new lives, slaves. Our inspectors deemed you worthy of providing personal service, to be sold as slaves for the honourable canines of our city. Whether it will be for labour, decoration, duty or... enjoyment... will be up to those that buy you. But what you should know is that those who aren't sold will be subject to fighting in our arena. And believe me when I say you don't want that." He grinned, a golden tooth glinting in the morning light. "So do your best to look presentable."

As he said that, she swore his eyes fell on her, gaze predatory and powerful. She shivered, looking at the ground as the large canine dismounted the stage. The canine slavers began barking out orders, splitting the felines into smaller groups ready for sale. Some resisted, pulling at their chains and spitting at their captors, but they were quickly beaten into submission. She, for the most part, kept her head down. She'd been beaten enough during the journey here -- she didn't think her body could handle any more.

The felines were funnelled into large cages at the back of the stage, where they watched as the central plaza slowly filled with canines. She looked at them, trying not the think about the fact that soon one of them would own her.

She felt eyes on her and scanned the crowd. An older canine, judging by the grey speckled through his fur, was looking at her. She gulped, trying not to meet his eye, but she was all too conscious of his gaze so she examined him out of the corner of her eye. He was dressed significantly more formally than most of the canines in the crowd, almost like the soldiers and guards that surrounded her or patrolled the square. He had that hardened look about him, like he'd led a rough life, especially judging by the scars that lined his broad muzzle. There was something strangely... enticing about him.

She immediately quashed the thought. He was a canine, cruel and disgusting like all canines were.

Once again paws grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her out of the cage.

"Time to go, slave."

She hissed at him, trying to pull away. The canine was having none of it, and forced her out of the cage.

"It'll be easier if you don't struggle, bitch."

"My name is Kiara."

"And I don't give a shit, slave. You won't be sold if they see you struggle."

Kiara didn't care. Better to die in an arena than live to serve one of these bastards. Another canine strode over and grabbed her other arm, and together they hauled her onto the stage. She continued to struggle and hiss until one of them kicked the back of her legs and threw her onto the ground.

A canine to her left, who held a gavel and stood behind a small wooden lectern, raised an eyebrow. Then, giving the crowd a shrug, said "So, anyone want this one?"

The was a long moment of silence. The trader grinned. "She might look feisty, but think how fun it will be beating the submission into her."

A few chuckles came from the crowd, and a paw raised in the air. Kiara saw it belonged to the canine with a golden tooth. He leered at her. "If you put it that way, I'll give you twenty for her."

The trader laughed. "I'm certain you'll have fun breaking her in. Any further bids? No? Then--"

"Forty."

From behind, the canine that had been looking at her before stepped forward. The trader smiled. "It seems we have a challenge. Any advance on forty?"

"Sixty." Growled gold tooth.

"One hundred."

"One Fifty."

"Three hundred."

Gold tooth clenched his jaw, fuming silently. But he made no further bid. The trader beamed. "Ladies and gentlemen, our highest bid today at three hundred silia. You may collect her at the conclusion of the final sale. Now, onto our next girl."

Kiara was lead back to the cage as the next slave was pulled on stage. She wondered if the canine was still watching her.

"Don't know who the hell would pay three hundred silia for you," growled one the guards as he locked the door. "But you can bet he'll make it worth it. I'd be very scared if I were you." He gave her a toothy grin, and then he was gone, leaving her shivering in the cage, alone.