Sure, why not?

"Well, if it's not an imposition..." Lord Marshal Rastus dismisses you with a flick of his fingers and you follow Rastus' aide out of the command tent. The young officer, Theo, you remember the Lord Marshal calling him, leads you to a large pen covered with large sailcloth tarps held high in the air on poles and tied to stakes with coils of rough twisted cordage. Close to one hundred young women and teenaged girls are huddled together in groups under the sunscreen. Unlike most of the other captives you have seen in the United Armies camp, these women are still partially clothed although none are wearing the concealing robes of a modest freewoman. The assembled beauties have been stripped of all of their outer garments wearing instead short tunics, silk blouses, or similar undergarments that reveal most of their bare legs and that drape softly over their feminine curves.

There are five or six other officers of the victorious army walking among the captives occasionally pulling one or more of the trembling young women to their feet and running their hands over the curves of the scantily clad females as they make their choices. The laughing men are all older than you and judging by the quality of their uniforms, clearly wealthy noblemen.

You feel a surge of desire when you see one of the officers pull a willowy maiden from the arms of her pleading friends and lead her to a yellow-robed clerk sitting at a table near the gate. That will be you, as soon as you make your selection. By now you are close enough to see the transaction taking place as a brass circlet is twisted around the young woman's arm just above her elbow next to a ribbon of white silk.

The slender, pale-skinned woman being led from the pen by this grinning officer is wearing a short sleeveless tunic that has an open slit at her breasts and hangs just low enough to reach the top of her thighs. You wonder if she was wearing this sexy garment when she was first taken, or if she was given this tiny scrap of clothing when she got to the holding pen. You wish you had gotten to these holding pens just a little earlier so it could be you, not that balding officer, leading away this beauty.

It takes almost no time for the bored clerk to verify the credentials provided by the Lord Marshal's aide-de-camp and the pair of you are ushered through the gate with a few simple instructions.

"Don't panic the girls, Sir." The gold-robed slaver doesn't seem to like letting a low-ranking Rider like you into this garden of delights, but he has not real choice. "Remember most of these are raw captives and aren't used to their new roles." You are distracted by the multitude of females, some of whom are watching you and the good-looking young officer by your side with poorly disguised interest. You smile as you realize that, compared to the grey-haired, potbellied officers examining the collection of available captive women, you are a good-looking young man who these pretty young captives might hope to be selected by. You become aware that the clerk is explaining more details about the women.

" ... wearing white arm-bands have intact maidenheads, you may choose one of them if you like, but they must be returned in pristine condition or you are responsible for the depreciation in the value, plus a sizeable fee." A quick look around the holding pen confirms that, like the slender blonde woman you saw being led away, roughly one in three of the pretty women assembled for the pleasure of the Untied Army is wearing a white band around their left arms.

"What in Hades are they doing here if they can't be fucked?" You see Theo stare at you in disapproval when he hears your coarse language, but the slaver chuckles easily.

"Well, most of the officers who are allowed in here have the resources to do as they like." The clerk's grin is calculating as he looks you up and down. "I only mention it to you, Rider, because I'm afraid I'd have to insist on a deposit from you if you plan to play with one of the virgins." With a bow the man slips away leaving you and Theo to wander among the scantily clad women like gentlemen wandering through a garden admiring the cultivated blooms.

"What a jerk!" Your companion mutters as the clerk returned to his post. "The damn slaver's guild gonna take their cut out of every piece of Athenapolis ass that is captured, sold and collared during this campaign." You were familiar with the process, having turned over more than two dozen captured women to the guild over the years. It was one of the best things about being a Rider as far as you were concerned; a few weeks later you received a bag with the proceeds from the auction to pay for the expense of feeding a drake. It was all very civilized for everyone involved (except the hapless captive) and you didn't even usually mind the one part in five that the slaver's took as their share. It does bother you, however when the guildsman decides on little more than a cursory appraisal that you are no more than a poorly paid mercenary who flies from conflict to conflict just so you could take part in the plunder.

As you continue making your selection you wonder if many of these pretty things were taken by Riders and how much their sale would raise for the men who risked so much to fly deep behind the enemy front to grab these women from the false safety of their walled gardens and tall towers.

For the most part, the assembled women refuse to meet your gaze or acknowledge your presence in any way, but several of the group are clearly pleasure-slaves used to being assessed by men. A flaxen-haired woman almost a hand taller than you and with breasts that are nearly bursting from her lacey ****-tunic even blows you a kiss. A matched pair of brunettes, possibly sisters, drop their eyes as you approach and Theo smiles broadly as you stop in front of the pair.

These two were wearing simple cotton tunics whose necklines had been crudely cut with deep 'V's to reveal a glimpse of their small round breasts and again high on their thighs exposing almost every bit of their sculpted legs. Only one of the pair, you notice with interest, has the white armband and you pause to motion the pair to their feet. They obey meekly and you gently lift their chins curious to see if you could detect evidence of this difference in the faces of the two.

"Leave them alone!" You are startled by the defiant tone and turn to look at the flaxen-haired young woman who is challenging you from less than ten paces away where she stands chained to a post. Unlike the other captives in this pen who (other than streaks of dried tears) look almost pristine, this young woman's face has a bruise on her left cheek and a tunic that has been torn from her shoulders exposing a lovely pair of firm breasts. In spite of her exposed figure and chained wrists, the captive meets your eyes boldly and spits onto the ground in an attempt to show her contempt for you and the young officer at your side.

"Hades, what is a hellion like that doing in here with all these sweet angels?" You ask and like always Theo has the answer.

"Must be one of the Amazons Athenapolis got their hands on a couple years ago." He looks the woman up and down with interest, "doesn't look like they had any luck breaking this one in. Frankly from what I've heard, it takes a rare man to tame one of those fierce warrior-women."

"I thought the Sisters of Accor were allied with the United Armies." You ask, intrigued by the presence of this wolf among sheep. Theo shrugs his shoulders carelessly.

"They are, but this one must have been captured well before they joined the alliance." He is apparently not overly concerned that one of his allies is chained here for the pleasure of the high officers. "As far-reaching as the slavers of Athenapolis cast their net, I wouldn't be surprised if there were pretty slaves from every city in the alliance, even one or two of those spirited women from Kalion who don't believe in slavery of any kind." You look around the tarp-covered pen with renewed interest and appreciation; all of the young maidens with the white silk markers appear to be daughters of the besieged city, but others have been chosen because of their beauty and training. The variety of skin tone and hair color of these pleasure slaves confirm Theo's claim.

"I've made my choice." You tell the Lord Marshal's aide, "If I can't have Lady Relia to play with, I know exactly how I plan to spend my afternoon."