The young man nods some, still staring at your rack, as his father secures the permimeter and eventually returns back to the house. Making sure to lock the door and set his pitchfork against the wall. Looking over you and his son, and how he is staring at you. Taking a good look at you as well as you sit there pretending to be innocent of everything ever. Smirking to himself as he pats his son on the shoulder.<br/><br/><strong>"Now then son, what we have here is a escaped pet. See the tattoo on her crotch? That elf lord is quite famous up north, and he will pay handsomely for the return of his pet. That being said, if she is a good foxy and behaves herself, then maybe we could be persuaded to not hand her in. Right foxy?"</strong>Looking down at you as his son nods over all of this, barely getting the undertones as the father waits to see if you are going to be a good slut and show your worth.