The Tiger

by C. Woodhaven


The overseer was binding them each to a post, readying them for sale.  

The girl, her dark blonde hair pulled up into some sort of twist, was wearing a short sleeved white top that came to just below her large unbound breasts, and a long white skirt made of the same synthetic material.  It seemed to both cling to her everywhere and  float about her at the same time.  The fabric had been rolled from her waist all the way down around her soft rounded belly, stopping at her hips.  She looked….lush, her owners presenting her as a strange combination of virginal bride and breeder that typically didn’t mesh, but which suited this girl well.

The boy was just as interesting, skin bronzed to a honey color and oiled, showing off muscles that had most likely been acquired by hard physical labor rather than training. His only article of clothing was a small bit of fabric fastened around his waist, which barely reached his mid-thigh, and was of the same white material that the girl was wearing.  His longish shaggy brown hair bespoke of convenience rather than style, and his face was dominated by large brown hurt-me eyes.

Spike was intrigued, and moved closer, pretending to examine some leather restraints in a stall nearby.  A malicious glare sent the salesman scuttling away, giving Spike an unobstructed view of the unfolding drama.  

The overseer had finished strapping the boy and the girl in, and was busying himself with the keypad on the terminal, presumably pricing the pair of them.  

“Riley,” the girl said softly.  She had her head down and tilted away from the street, and barely moved her lips when she spoke.  

The overseer, Riley, looked up from his typing and held her gaze as he said, “Tara, I…”

“Please,” she murmured, “I’ll do anything, anything at all.  Just don’t …”

“You know it’s not up to me,” he answered softly, his eyes still locked with hers.

“T-tell them I’ll work the tents, I really will do a-anything, please...” There was an edge of desperation in her voice.

“Tara, NO!” the boy hissed, “I won’t let you do that, not for me.” He wasn’t as good at being discreet as the girl was. A few patrons in the streets looked up at his exclamation.  He immediately clammed up.  

Riley, the overseer, glared at the boy, his face hardening.  Spike saw that the kid had the common sense to drop his gaze and bow his head.  

Tara looked at the boy, then back at Riley.  “I will work the tents,” she whispered more forcefully. “All day, all night, whenever they want, however long they want.  Just please don’t split us up.”

Riley looked at her solemnly. “Tara,” he sighed, “I don’t have a choice.  You know where they should have sent him.” He indicated the boy.  “I got them to agree to sell you both instead.  It was all I could do.”

Tara opened her mouth to reply, and then closed it again. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly.  When she opened her eyes again Spike saw that they shimmered with tears.  She glanced at the boy, and at Riley, and nodded in understanding.  “Do you think someone will buy us both?” she asked, voice wavering a bit. “Together?”

“I’m sure…” Riley started, and then shook his head, apparently unwilling to lie to the girl. “No, I’m sorry.  I’ve been ordered to discourage that if I can.”

The tears that had been welling up in the girl’s eyes silently spilled over and down her cheeks in a stream.  Spike could nearly taste her despair. It was beautiful.

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