To the Auctions!

Another roar of raucous laughter reaches your ears from the Auction, and your curiosity piques. You dance in between the carts and traffic of the packed road on your way to the sounds. Slowly the road grows wider and wider, but the traffic only seems to increase until finally you step out into a huge open courtyard, and your ears are assailed with the brightness of the auction. There are a few vendors here and there, and on the flanks of all sides of the stands and kiosks are proud and ornate buildings. Clearly this is a wealthy district. All around are auctioneer stands. You look to the nearest and your heart skips a beat, just as its pace quickens.

You gape unabashedly, as before you, collared and bound lightly in leather straps and an ugly iron collar, is a petite pale freckled woman with hair like obsidian and the deepest blue eyes you'd yet seen. The auctioneer inspects the girl and begins to make his sale.

"Another girl trained by the Morso house, Sweet and delicate, and trained for pleasure. She's bound, but not branded, so you can mark her tight ass with your own house seal." he gives the crowd a wink, and gropes the girls plump butt cheek. She looks shy and doe eyed, but unabashed, then as if she had been watching you the entire time, her eyes meet your awkward gaze, and the sliest of smirks flashes across her face. Your heart skips another beat, and you feel your face flush bright red. The bidding begins, as the auctioneer opens the floor. He continues his upsale, while the bidders shout the price higher and higher. It was already more than you'd been given from the local Patricians charity decree for "outside visitors."

You glance around the courtyard as your mind finally realizes what it already knew, this is a **** market! You start seeing how many of the patrons are in fact chained, or bound, and standing in line to be auctioned or sold. The ornate buildings are trading centers where slaves are trained, Salesfloors filled with slaves trained for various purposes, or meeting rooms where final deals are struck.

Part of you flares up in righteous anger, and for a moment, you feel the urge to run up to the auction and stop the sales. Almost immediately after you wonder what'd it'd be like to bid on the girl, even if you know you won't win. Maybe you could just explore, or maybe you should just leave...