Thread: A Rare Replacement {Broken Knight and Crimson}

It wasn't as though he enjoyed the slaver's market. But, on the other hand, it was such a good source of income. Take a slave girl, break her to the point that she moans and begs each night for him, sell her back for almost twice what it had cost him. He took the 'bad' ones. The females that were gorgeous, but had personality flaws that disallowed them from making good slaves and pets. But, it was a rather simple fix. You see, he treated them like the little princesses that they are. Their beauty is a commodity worth more than gold in its weight, so why not treat them with the care that they deserved? Although he only wore a pair of heavy threaded jeans, when he moved, people got out of his way. There wasn't a person in the slaver's market, or even the Capital that didn't know exactly who he was. He was a nobleman with a wealth garnered that rivaled the king's, yet he preferred slaves over princesses. At the balls, he brought females that were more beautiful than that of the King's daughters, yet the girl or girls, as he sometimes preferred always were collared and bound to him. They wanted nothing more to make him happy, even as he sold them, since the money would bring him happiness. But, the wolf wasn't exactly young anymore, either. His days of pushing himself inside a slave girl inside the slaver's market was years behind him. He wasn't old by any means, but he wasn't brash any more either. He'd started to soften, he'd found. Slowly, he'd taken more and more time with his girls, keeping them for longer periods. It wasn't like the change bothered him, but he was quite rather aware of it. His black furr mussed by the dingyness of the market, he would have to bathe when he got home. Maybe pull one of his girls in to have her help him relax. Either way, his fur needed a cleaning and that took some time. His mind on his fur, his thoughts snapped out of his reverie when he heard the fighting. Those girls were always the best, the ones that men were willing to hurt, maim or even kill to buy. Moving through the crowd, slowly letting the men break it up, he walks up to the bars. 'Oi! A voice behind him called out. I saw 'er first, I 'id, I 'id! The accent was thick, but the tall, lean black wolf ignored it. Oi, I'm 'alkin to yah, yah limey beast! The man called out, obviously angered. He was about to step forward when another man grabbed him. That ain't someone ye want tah be messin' with, boy! That's Reis Beoluve. He'd just as soon kill ye and leave ye dead, and no one would think tah touch 'em. The younger of the two men eyed the tall wolf, slowly backing off. Reis, as the older man had pointed out his name, looked at the slaver who owned the market. The man simply nodded and scribbled into a small ledger, making a note of the debt that Reis was taking on in order to purchase the girl. He always paid full price, since he always knew he was going to make a return. Opening the cage and stepping inside, Reis knelt down before her. Come. His voice was soft and smooth, refined unlike the pesky men outside the bars. My dear, you needn't lay on the floor here and despair. Come with me, my kitten, and at least, you'll find warm food in your belly and a warm bed under you each night. I need not lie to you, though. You are mine, and I'll take you as such, your beautiful body and all. He tells her, still holding out his paw.