The fair

From our cage, we were herded into a big tent, where a couple of women were waiting for us. It was the first time, I had ever seen human slaves, but I didn’t get the chance to think much about it. Immediately after we arrived, I was taken away by one of the enslaved women. I had to sit down on a simple stool in front of a mirror. Without even talking to me, the woman proceeded to groom my hair as well as the fur on my tail and ears.

First, she combed my hair, before brushing it out and then arranging it into some kind of braid, all while drying it gradually. When she was done, she applied some mascara and eyeshadow to my eyes as well as other kinds of make-up I didn’t know. I had only been taught the very basics of makeup, but even with my limited knowledge I could see that she was going for a very simple look, probably not to waste money on me. Finally, she applied some sweet perfume to my neck, my wrists, and between my breasts. To me, it smelled like a very heavy dose, but I suppose to a human it would be no more than a faint, pleasant odour.

Pleased with her work, she shooed me over to a man I recognized as one of the breeders. He examined me for a little while before writing something on a small tag which was then clipped to my collar. Prepared in this manner, I was dragged out of the room by a guard.

The main part of the tent was characterized by a few dozen low posts which were anchored into the ground, a big entrance on one and a small desk on the opposite side. Unsurprisingly, I was swiftly dragged to one of the posts and **** onto my knees. A chain was padlocked to my collar and the post, just long enough to allow me to stand up. My hands were locked in leather cuffs as well, apparently to keep me from attacking customers. Not that I would. All cats knew what happened to those that didn’t get bought.

One by one, my sisters were dragged in, pushed onto their knees, and padlocked to a post in the same manner as me. They all had a tag clipped to their collars, like mine, but with different symbols on it. I couldn’t read, neither letters nor numbers, but I guessed that they were price tags. And by comparing the symbols on my tag to those on the tags of my more beautiful sisters, I got the feeling that I was being sold very, very cheap.