Amora stood, feeling rather helpless in this situation. It didn't matter if she protested, begged, anything, she was going to be sold. The stories about demons were true; they were cruel, heartless brutes who only cared for themselves. And she was going to be one's pet.<br/><br/>The leather collar clasped around her throat itched terribly, but the slaver could care less about her discomfort. He was in chagrin because he wanted her to be older. Older human women were often sold for far higher prices than young girls such as she. They were far more useful, from what the slaver had said. At least the demon had no desire to test his merchandise before selling it.<br/><br/>A hand was placed under her chin, forcing her to look up into the smoky gray eyes of another demon. She shrank back as soon as she heard the seller yell at the interested buyer. Something was off about this man, err demon, but Amora couldn't put her finger on it. Perhaps it was the necklace of bones around his throat, or the vial on his waist? She watched curiously, wondering who he was to be wearing such fine clothes.<br/><br/>â€œStrip,â€ Her slightly tanned face turned red. He had compared her to a fruit, but she didn't expect him to want to see all of her! Glancing nervously over at her seller, he gave a scowl and a gruff noise of approval. Exhaling slightly, she carefully took her ragged dress off her shoulders and let it slip to her feet.<br/><br/>Though her dress was in ruins, her body could not compare. Nicely tanned, no blemishes, unmarked by anything. A supple chest, and though she was thin from lack of food, she still looked beautiful.