Karim had displeased his master severely. His wife, wretched cow that the woman was, had cornered Karim in the barn, while he was forking hay for the horses.<br/><br/>Their master had fucked him many times, but to fuck his ugly wife—well, naturally Karim was caught with the woman pressing him against the wall of the barn, her skirts up above her waist, and it hadn't mattered a moment to the wealthy landowner that Karim had been unwilling and still clothed and the deed had not been completed yet. It hadn't mattered, either, that the landowner had made no secret of the use he made for Karim.<br/><br/>A man's wife is his property in the landowner's head, and the idea that the woman might have the son of a slave that he would have to raise as an heir had been enough of a threat that the man had tried to douse Karim in whiskey and light him on fire.<br/><br/>In desperation for his life, Karim struck him with a rake and tried to run for his life.<br/><br/>He had gotten almost nowhere before the provosts had caught him. To his wife's credit, she had intervened with his husband, and persuaded him to neither have Karim executed, nor slice his Achilles tendon, the usual crimes for running.<br/><br/>Karim was flogged until he was weeping and delirious, and then handed over to the procurers.<br/><br/>A half-dead slave newly-flogged was a low coin on the block, even though Karim was a rare supernatural, a fennec fox shifter, and not a human, and thus worth a little extra. The procurer had kept him and fed him well, and even paid for a healing, so Karim was not crippled, as a whipping like that might have left him, once.<br/><br/>The scars would still drive down his price considerably, but Karim was still young enough and pretty, with almond eyes framed by long, almost girlish lashes, and his curly brown hair. They'd trimmed his beard this morning for sale.<br/><br/>Like all slave sales, Karim was naked, in iron chains, despite the fact that he stood on an open rostrum waiting his turn and it was December, with a small flurry of snow making flakes dance around him, touching his body and melting on the heat of his skin in little frigid pinpricks. His teeth chattered, his whole body covered in goosebumps.<br/><br/>The wind was soft, and that was a mercy. He tried to be happy for that, despite how freezing the iron around his wrists was, and the way he had to sidle to keep his bare feet off the cold wood of the rostrum. None of the other slaves were in any better condition, shivering and teeth chattering, their breaths clouding out of their mouths like ghosts.<br/><br/>The young woman ahead of them went for far less than she was worth, the crowd small on a day like today, mostly farmers and herders who needed an extra hand around their property, not a fair young girl for a pleasure slave. The woman who'd bought her had a dress too low-cut to be anything but a brothel madame, but the girl bit the man who took her away to be prepared for sale, so Karim thought she'd be alright.<br/><br/>He sighed out a long column of steam and walked up to the front of the rostrum with barely any nudging by the guards.<br/><br/>"Will you look at this fine young man! Only eighteen years old, and fit as a fiddle."<br/><br/>Karim scowled down at his bare feet. He was twenty-five years old, certainly no teenager anymore.<br/><br/>"Take a look, ladies and gentlemen! Notice his exquisite conformation, his perfect teeth." He grabbed Karim's chin in a hand covered in wool-lined gloves, and though they were chattering, Karim still pulled back his lips and showed them. "This boy is in fine health, and a good-looking asset to any property. How much will I get for this fine young man?"<br/><br/>The bidding started more briskly this time, Karim possibly the most tempting slave on the line today, despite the whip weals that curled around his side.<br/><br/>Two farmers put down thirteen and fifteen bronze coins, respectively. The brothel madame raised that immediately to twenty. She would probably win, she was one of the most well-dressed in the meager winter crowd today. Were this summer, the bidding would have started and ended much higher, but it would still be a loss for the procurer keeping Karim until even spring, when the plantings made an extra boy more desirable. Food and board and care should he sicken made keeping a slave for a long period as a procurer a dangerous concept, and Karim had already had more spent on him than most slaves.<br/><br/>He waited to be won by the madame, a soft frown on his face. He didn't look out at the wooden benches surrounding the stage. A cowlick of his hair fell into his eyes in a sweet curl.