Commodity

Chapter 01

Authoress' Notes: Okay, so this is another one of those randomly thought up things ^^; I will eventually write something—more substantial. Maybe. Anyway, I hope you all like. I like playing around with Hitomi and Van.

Big thanks goes out to my beta who was kind enough to actually volunteer for the job of putting up with my raw writing and editing it into something legible. Give a round of applause to *Rad!

The merchant mentally groaned as the blonde heiress came to a slow stop in front of his merchandise.

Though the woman was rich and could pay upfront for any goods she desired, it was also a well known she was a hard-nosed business woman who would do her best to dwindle down any price a trader gave.

Milernia Sarah Aston was not a woman to be dealt with lightly. It was rumored she learned her cut-throat technique of dealing with merchants from the living legend of trade, Drydan Fassa. So it was no surprise when she chose to pick out a new slave that she would come armed with nothing but her wit, sharp tongue, and heavy money bag.

The cages reached to the woman's waist and appeared to be as wide as they were tall. The selection had a small variety of races, both male and female, in the cramped cages. To keep breeding or bloodshed to a minimum, the trader kept each potential purchase in their own cage. This also allowed the slaves a bit of freedom in their movement, but not much.

The rusted, thick bars were etched with ancient runes to prevent any rebellious slave from daring to reach for a customer or attempting escape. None of the creatures risked making a sound as the female inspected them with a critical eye. The undernourished, old, or injured were pushed to the far back of the set up, so she felt no need to pry further than the first two rows.

"What might her ladyship be interested in today?"the grey haired man questioned politely. Even if she was frugal, a sale was a sale and that meant it was one less mouth he had to feed that night.

For her part, Milernia glanced over her shoulder at the salesman and shrugged lightly. She kept her hands neatly folded in front of her skirts as she continued to move through his merchandise. Although she did have a certain type of slave in mind, there was no reason to make the trader feel as if he should push her to one of these. She wanted the best; after all, it was to be a birthday gift to a dearly beloved friend.

"Are these all the males you have?" the woman asked at length. There were a few that would meet the age requirement but as for visually appealing—she was far from impressed.

"Yes, ma'am, I just got this lot a fortnight prior to coming to Palas."

"I see," the pretty woman frowned. She had hoped her favorite seller, one who she knew took some pride in presentation of slaves and actually hosed them down before dragging them to market, would have what she was seeking. "Pity."

As she turned to leave and search out another vendor, the man tapped his hand restlessly on his leg before he called after her.

"Yes?" Milernia pulled on the edges of her white lace glove in a bored manner.

"There is one other, my lady," he confessed, "If it is a male you seek."

The weight of the dagger secured at her hip supplied a small measure of security as the slave keeper led her further down the alley. Under normal circumstances she would have backhanded any one fool enough to go, unescorted, to an unknown place with an almost complete stranger. However, she reminded herself to steel her nerves; this was not a normal situation.

"I warn you though," the keeper muttered, inspecting the ring of keys he had strapped to his belt, "He is a bit of a wild thing."

"Wild? Don't tell me he is some kind of Neanderthal," though said in a teasing tone, there was an edge of warning. She was not one who liked to waste her time on goose chases and rabbit trails.

"Nope, in fact, I think he is probably one of the best stallions I have had come through this place," he said encouragingly as he unlocked the door that led into the warehouse he kept the slaves when they were not at market.

Stallions? Milernia echoed questioningly in her thoughts. Though she never owned one, she was of the world enough to know what that label referred.

In the society where Others, creatures of magick or beastlike, were shunned and enslaved, it was considered acceptable to own a few of the poor, dimwitted creatures. For a man to own a female pleasure slave was expected, the richer the man was, the more females he'd burn through in his life. However, it was only the most well-to-do ladies whoever shared their beds with a male Other. Most of the male slaves in circulation were either aesthetically unpleasing or the age was wrong.

They passed some of the more unrefined breeds he had to offer, some screaming, a number of them crying, and a handful were simply decaying. Wrinkling her aristocratic nose at the smell and conditions, she was relieved when he stopped in front of another door. Unlike the others, this one had several locks thrown in place and was reinforced with several bands of thick metal with dimly glowing runes etched into them.

"He had to be put in isolation the last few days, thought if I starved him he'd be in a better temper for market," the man explained, methodically unlatching each of the locks with a twist of a different key.

"He's not loose in there, is he?"

"No, ma'am, he's in a cage, but I warn you, if you want him, you'll have to figure out a way to have him delivered." He waved one hand toward his scabbed face, "I've enough of him."

"I see," the woman replied primly. "I might as well look then."

Escorting her in, since she refused to go alone, the shopkeeper muttered under his breath a simple lighting spell. The magic caused several torches to flicker to life with fire throughout the smaller holding area.

Milernia's breathe caught in her throat at the sight in the middle of the room. Though the cage was only a couple of inches larger than those on the street, the male within it seemed at ease, as if he were sitting on a throne.

What remained of his tattered tan pants hugged his body in a way that made the rags appealing rather than appalling. Honey-tanned skin covered relaxed, smooth muscle. His hair was black as a starless sky and had a windblown style to it. The longish bangs that fell against his forehead and into his eyes gave the male a definite and delicious air of mystery.

It was the eyes, however, that sealed the deal for Milernia.

They were the color of a brown skipping stone with darker streaks in them. He was studying her as she was him, but as he moved from the reclining position into a crouch, she realized her mistake. The male wasn't evaluating her for her beauty or physic, the glint in his expression was the same a dragon gave to something he was going to devour or destroy.

"I told you he was a remarkable specimen," the old salesmen preened upon the lady's reaction.

"Indeed," she replied airily and bravely drew closer to the cage. The runes on the bars lit up with warning as she approached. The blonde bent at her knees until she was eye level with the slave. "Do you understand me?"

His head tilted back, as he looked down his nose at her before cocking his head to the side and giving her a curt nod.

"Great, then I have a few questions," Milernia stated, standing to her full height.

His eyebrows perked in mild interest.

"Have you been a—a stallion long?"

He shook his head.

"Is this your first time then?"

Another short nod and a faint twinge of one side of his mouth was his answer.

"Do you—I mean to say is, are you aware of, well, what to do with a woman?"

The corner of his mouth deepened and kicked up into a smirk, eyes closing partly, he nodded.

"In the ways of pleasure?"

His tongue poked out just enough to languidly trace his upper lip, his eyes darkening, never breaking gaze with the woman. Such a simple act had the woman's knees weak and her cheeks heating up. Though she was no innocent, the look he was giving her made her feel like she was going to be missing out on something.

Ah, the sacrifices one made for a friend.

Swallowing the newly developed lump in her throat, the heiress turned to the all but forgotten keeper.

"How much?"