carl@fire

"Sold!" shouted Cecil. "For two point-three million coins to the lady in the second box on the left!" He stared up at the box where Symonne Wylde was no doubt gloating over her close victory in what had been a surprisingly heated battle over the nubile male long-ear.

"I hope you choke on him, Symonne!" called Benger Elyot from the opposite side of the auction hall to the amusement of many. Benger was well-known as being undignified in his losses.

"If your wife begs, I might lend him out!" Symonne countered with her usual wit, furthering the good cheer in the hall. Obviously Bengar had no wife; as everyone also knew, he preferred men. Specifically, ones with long hair.

As expected, the young male long-ear which had just been sold to Lady Wylde turned and began walking towards the curtain without being prompted.

Cecil smiled. Watching good training in action was quite a sight. When he failed to hear the signal which was his cue to begin speaking for the next auction, however, his brows furrowed. He strode out to the middle of the stage, making a spectacle of it as though this was a planned occasion while he took a bow. He took his time in returning to the staging area behind the curtain as his audience applauded. Something had gone slightly awry, but it was surely just a small mishap that would be rectified by the time he even moved past the curtain.

He loved his job. It gave him the greatest arena of the kingdom, where the squabbles and greed of the nobility and otherwise wealthy culminated. It was never boring, not even once, Cecil mused as he slipped behind the curtain into the wooden room that contained the remainder of the evening's…

He came to a stop immediately upon reentering the brightly-lit space.

Frery let out a low groan as he held the pink-haired head of their next fucking piece to his exposed crotch and groaned.

"Are you fucking serious right now?" Cecil hissed, scurrying over to the side of the man who was supposed to be working as a guard at that moment and not using the next fucking piece to—

"She's seriously fucking good with her mouth," said Yvette as she lounged against a nearby wall instead of doing what she was being paid for.

"Stop that!" Cecil called out, wanting to forcibly remove the pink-haired head from its current task but hesitant to do anything which had even the slightest risk of doing harm.

"Almost there," grunted Frery a moment before his legs wobbled and he fell over onto his backside.

The long-ear moved with him as he fell, and a series of lewd gulping sounds were distinctly audible.

Cecil was nearly wringing his hands at this point. It was far too late to make any repairs if anything untoward were to happen. Sure, this particular long-ear was unbelievably good; he'd spent an hour alone with her the previous day, one of the many perks of his position as auction manager, and she'd been insatiable to the point that he still imagined he felt a bit tired. But the guards were supposed to sign up in advance if they were interested in sampling any of the merchandise that was pending sale! There was even a designated three week period where the creatures would be held aside specifically for this! They—

"Fuck, that was amazing," Frery said, finally releasing the long-ear's head. He turned to Cecil after a moment, his eyes remaining unfocused. "I tried putting my name on the list for her a couple weeks ago, but it was already way too long."

"Should've gotten there sooner," said Jacomynus, who was at least doing his job and standing over the sheet-covered rolling table in an alert stance. "If that's all you'll be getting from of her, you've missed out on the tightest pussy in—"

Frery pushed the long-ear's head away, halting the licking sound that had permeated the room. The nearly-invisible buckle of the pink collar around her neck managed to somehow get caught on his belt, and the entire collar came loose as she moved away from him.

Everyone froze for a moment. There was no telling exactly what would happen at this point, and Cecil found himself wishing, not for the first time that night, that they'd been able to keep at least one of the trainers with them. But it was a special night, and Mister Neale had declared that the only ones permitted back here tonight were himself, the on-duty guards, and Cecil.

Cecil in particular was wary as he edged closer, hoping to re-fasten the collar before anything unexpected could occur. Some of the long-ears who had been especially devilish were known to have injured people when their collars were removed. He'd never seen it himself, but he'd heard that some ten years ago, one of the long-ear females brought in by the army had gone on a berserk rampage when her collar was accidentally removed just days prior to her auction, killing two trainers and maiming a third before she could be subdued. In addition to the obvious tragedy of lives lost, the marketplace had also been deprived of considerable coin on that long-ear, as she'd had to be returned to the underground breeding pens for future returns instead of sold for the incredibly high price her gorgeous figure and face would surely have brought in.

Or so the story went.

Thankfully, however, this one seemed fully tamed, likely from being born in those same breeding pens and raised in the adjacent dormitories under the relentless supervision and training that the marketplace provided. She tilted her head, licked her lips before opening her mouth wide and sticking out her tongue for a moment, then reached up and buckled her collar once more after detaching it from the idiot guard's belt. "Did I do good?" she asked, smiling just as she should.

The room breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Very good," said Cecil, patting her on the head. This was indeed a model specimen, exactly what the marketplace aimed to produce. She'd already been successfully bred nearly four dozen times in the twenty three years since she'd become fertile—it would have been slightly more if she'd been human, naturally, but the long-ear's ten month pregnancy duration left time for only two each year—and each of her offspring seemed to have inherited her temperament and her beauty—including the male who'd just been sold for approximately twenty five percent more than his valuation. It was somewhat sad to see her go after so many years of reliable service, but it wouldn't do to sell her once she began to look mature. He sighed again.

The moment passed, and Cecil returned to his task. "Someone get me a towel to clean her up, at least," he called. "And some sterilizer so her mouth can be washed." He shook his head. Idiots, the lot of them. Did they imagine this long-ear could be turned over to her buyer with her mouth smelling so foul?

"Right here," said Thomlin, striding over with a towel and a glass bottle with a green liquid in it.

Cecil took both items, then paused, taking in the dozen guards in the room as well as the absence of Mister Neale. "How many of you were in on this?"

Five of them raised their hands. A sixth hand went up after a moment.

Cecil let out a sigh as his suspicions were confirmed. "All of you? How long has Mister Neale been gone?!"

"Maybe ten minutes?" someone called out from behind him.

"She's incredibly good," said Jacomynus. "Quick, too."

"At least tell me you kept it to the mouth?" Cecil pleaded, looking around. "If we must restore her purity, then—"

"Of course we did," said Frery, looking and sounding indignant. "We were careful. We're not gonna do anything to mess with the auction."

"Right, of course you weren't," said Cecil as he knelt down and began to wipe off the long-ear's surprisingly clean face—surprisingly clean considering the circumstances, he acknowledged. "Clean your mouth with this," he ordered. He lowered the open end of the bottle to her lips and tilted it up, spilling some of the powerfully-minty fluid into her waiting mouth.

The long-ear made a show of swishing it around in her mouth for a moment, then swallowed and stuck her tongue out.

"Is that stuff safe to drink?" Yvette asked in a disgusted tone.

"Not for humans," Cecil said. "She'll be fine. They're much more durable than they look."

"Then why do people gotta wear gloves when they're carrying crates of that stuff?" asked another guard from behind Cecil. "I saw a guy get a hole melted—"

"What have I missed?" asked Mister Neale. He stood in the middle of the guards, just next to the covered table.

To a one, every other person in the room started.

Cecil wished Mister Neale would either stop sneaking about or teach him how to do it. "Nothing of note," he said, giving Frery a look. It was useful to be owed favors here. "Her offspring sold for—"

"Two point-three," Mister Neale said, taking a step closer. "Yes, I'm aware. Why is the merchandise still here?"

"I wanted to make sure she was cleaned according to our standards before she went out," Cecil said, making a show of styling the long-ear's pink hair.

"Ah," said Mister Neale, placing a finger under his chin.

Cecil set the bottle of cleanser down next to a nearby crate, then stood up. "Done now, though." He very specifically did not ask the marketplace's owner where he'd disappeared to.

"Good," said Mister Neale, weaving his way around to stand in front of the pink-haired, kneeling long-ear. "Stand," he said.

The long-ear stood and smiled up at him. "Can I—"

"No, that won't be necessary," said Mister Neale. He looked to Cecil. "We have late arrivals. The Queen has sent one of her agents to represent her, though he lacks some of the…refinement that her others have had." He again pressed a finger to his chin. "I witnessed a hundred thousand coins that he'd conjured by magic—or so it seemed—onto the fountain near the entrance," he said in a pensive tone. "And he caused them to vanish before my eyes as though he was sucking them directly back into his hand."

Cecil's eyebrows rose. "Strange. Perhaps a bag of holding? They've never been particularly fashionable due to the high cost of production and mana required to sustain their contents, but—"

"No," Mister Neale said slowly, shaking his head. "I don't believe so. He had nowhere he could have been carrying such a thing, and I would have detected its aura. In addition, the spear he carried was radiating enough magical energy that it caused me to feel faint when I came close enough at first without preparing myself properly. If he carries such an instrument, then…"

It was no secret that Mister Neale was quite adept with magic. He personally created the portals necessary to retrieve new acquisitions from the soldiers' barracks when the army returned from campaigns and sometimes even while they were away at great distances and were willing to sell to the marketplace at a reduced cost for the convenience of not having to transport the new wares all the way back to the city.

Cecil couldn't imagine an object with powerful enough magic to stun the man.

"No matter," Mister Neale said, his voice returning to its usual business-like tone. "It would be wise to assume he's been sent for the main attraction of the evening, but we may be able to tempt him into an additional purchase and gain some favor with this fellow. He had that look about him."

He turned his head to the long-ear. "You know which box belongs to the royal family, yes?"

She nodded eagerly. "It's the first one on the right side. Just above where I'm supposed to stand during my auction!"

Mister Neale nodded. "Yes. Take a moment—no more than that—and ensure that you appeal to the person in that box. We don't want to be crass about it."

She nodded again, smiling even wider. "I'll throw him a big kiss!" She mimed kissing her hand and gesturing with it to someone above her.

"That will do," Mister Neale said in an approving tone. He turned back to Cecil. "Keep a close watch on the box. If he bids on anything, see to it that you declare immediately."

"Of course!" Cecil said, pumping his head up and down.

"Tremendous." Mister Neale stepped closer then, clapping his left hand on Cecil's left shoulder and placing his head near the other man's ear. "And Cecil," he said very quietly, "know that if you ever lie to me about my merchandise again, I will feed you to the crabs."

Cecil gulped, knowing exactly which of the ravenous, carnivorous seadevils in the underground holding tanks were being referenced.

Mister Neale bent down and retrieved the towel from the floor, then pressed it to the auctioneer's chest. "Cecil," he said more loudly, "if you mean to clean one of our products, at least do it properly. The signs of excitement are obvious—her thighs are positively glistening."

Cecil immediately took the towel and knelt down in front of the pink-haired long-ear, his hand moving industriously to wipe away the fluids that were slowly creeping down the insides of her legs from her core.

Mister Neale looked around the room. "I'll make an exception for this time. This one time," he said in his same, normal tone of voice. "And only because you were at least able to restrain yourselves from touching the sheet on that table," he finished, nodding to the object itself. "Now, while Cecil takes care of this last regular auction, each of you will tell me how much you believe your time sullying my merchandise was worth. Based on your attitude and attentiveness during our finale, I will determine whether I feel it's a satisfactory exchange or if there is still a debt to be paid."