The market district smells like roasted meat and desperation, and I’m being paraded through it like a show horse waiting for someone to make an offer.
Meira’s grip on my wrist hasn’t loosened since we left the inn. Her fingers wrap around me with that same unyielding pressure, a constant reminder that I’m not here of my own volition. Tisha walks on my other side, her green eyes sweeping across the crowd with practiced assessment.
I watch women haggle over fruit, barter for fabric, argue about the price of leather goods. The variety is still overwhelming. Cat ears, fox tails, scales, and horns of every shape and size. My brain keeps trying to catalog them all, but there are too many, moving too fast.
“What about her?” I gesture with my free hand toward a woman with sleek black fur covering her forearms. She’s tall, maybe six feet, with curves that catch my attention.
Meira’s head turns to follow my gaze. Her silver eyes narrow.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Look at her clothes.” Meira’s voice drops to that clinical tone I’m starting to recognize. “Threadbare at the edges. Those boots have been resoled at least twice. She can’t afford you.”
I look again. The details I missed before jump out now. The faded color of the fabric. The way the woman’s shirt hangs slightly loose, like she’s lost weight recently.
“She’s pretty though,” I offer weakly.
“Pretty doesn’t pay our rent,” Meira replies without hesitation.
We keep walking. The crowd flows around us, and I feel eyes tracking me. Curious glances. Interested stares. A few women turn their heads as we pass, and I catch the flicker of desire before they look away.
Tisha’s attention locks onto a woman examining pottery at a nearby stall. This one has dog ears, brown and floppy.
“What about the dog girl?” I ask, watching her tail continue its happy movement.
Meira’s gaze follows mine, and I watch her expression shift to disdain.
“Look at how stupid she is.” Her voice carries contempt. “She’s wagging her tail while she barters. She’s literally showing all her cards to the vendor.”
I blink, processing that. The dog-eared woman’s tail keeps moving, broadcasting her interest in every piece she picks up. The vendor watches with a knowing smile.
“Wouldn’t that just make her easier to work with?”
Tisha’s head snaps toward me. “Vincent, if she has that little self-control over basic bartering, she’s probably broke.”
“Jesus Christ, you two...”
My eyes keep scanning the crowd, trying to find someone who meets their impossible standards. Rich enough to afford me but desperate enough to take a chance on an unproven stud. Pretty enough to make this bearable but not so attractive that she’d have her pick of better options.
That’s when I see her.
The woman stands near a weapons stall, examining daggers with casual interest. Black hair falls to her shoulders, and two large black rabbit ears rise from her head, twitching occasionally as she focuses on the merchandise. Her outfit catches my attention immediately, dark leather that hugs her curves, low-cut enough that her large breasts are prominently displayed. The rest of her looks human. No fur, just smooth skin and brown eyes that glint in the afternoon light.
“Okay, her?” The words come out more eager than I intend. “Please?”
Meira’s silver eyes follow my gaze, and I watch her assess the bunny woman with clinical precision.
“I don’t know.” Her voice carries doubt. “She seems like she could be broke too.”
“Let’s at least approach her,” Tisha says, and there’s curiosity in her tone.
Relief floods through me. We start moving toward the weapons stall. The bunny woman looks up as we approach, her brown eyes tracking our movement with mild interest.
Tisha steps forward slightly. “Hello.”
The bunny woman’s head tilts to the side, confusion flickering across her features. “Hi?”
I watch Tisha open her mouth, then close it. Her confidence wavers, and I can see her struggling to find the right words. The silence stretches for a beat too long.
I can’t wait anymore. If I’m going to be sold off to fuck either way, then I don’t want to blow this opportunity. I’ll do it myself.
“Hello.” My voice comes out clear, steady. “Today is my first day as a whore, and I’m looking for my first patron. Would you be able to help me with that?”
The words feel foreign in my mouth, but I don’t feel shame saying them. Just directness. Honesty about what this is.
The bunny woman’s eyes widen slightly. Her gaze moves from my face to Meira, then to Tisha, then back to me. Her ears twitch forward, focused entirely on us.
“You want me to find someone to fuck your stud for you?”
Meira’s sigh is long and annoyed, the sound carrying her frustration across the space between us. Her free hand comes up to pinch the bridge of her nose.
“What my slave here is trying to say,” Meira’s voice drops into that measured, controlled tone, “would you like to pay for an hour of his companionship?”
The bunny woman’s expression transforms. Her brown eyes light up with genuine excitement, and a smile spreads across her face that makes my chest tighten with hope.
“Can I?”
Tisha straightens, her voice taking on a confident edge. “For one silver, you can.”
The bunny woman’s smile falters. Her ears droop slightly, and she looks down at the ground for a moment before her hands move to the leather pouch at her belt.
She undoes the ties with fumbling fingers, and then she’s moving in this awkward little dance, hopping from foot to foot as she digs through the contents. Her ears bounce with each movement, and I watch with growing confusion as she pulls out a carrot.
A large orange carrot.
Then another. Smaller this time.
Then three more small ones.
She holds them out toward us with both hands, her brown eyes wide and earnest. “This is all I have.”
The expression on her face reminds me of a cat my parents had back home, the way it would bring dead mice to the door and look so damn proud of itself. Like she’s offering us the most valuable thing in the world.
I stare at the carrots. Five carrots. That’s what she’s trying to pay with.
Meira’s grip on my wrist tightens enough that I feel my bones shift. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
The bunny woman’s ears flatten against her head. “I... I thought maybe...”
“You thought carrots would be acceptable payment?” Meira’s voice rises, and I can hear the anger building underneath it. “For an hour with a stud?”
“I grow them myself,” the bunny woman says quickly. “They’re really good carrots. Very fresh. I just harvested them this morning.”
“Hold on, hold on.” The words come out of me before I can think them through. My brain latches onto a desperate lifeline. “Meira, maybe they’re worth money? Like we could sell the carrots?”
Meira’s head swivels toward a produce stall across the way. Her voice cuts through the crowd noise, sharp and commanding.
“You!” She points at the vendor, a woman with scaled hands arranging vegetables. “How much are these carrots worth?”
The vendor looks up, squinting at the carrots in the bunny woman’s hands from a distance. She shrugs, the gesture casual and disinterested.
“Maybe three copper total?”
I try to calculate what that means. Three copper for five carrots. Is that good? Bad? I have no frame of reference for currency in this world beyond knowing that one silver is worth more than fifty copper.
Beside me, Tisha makes a strangled sound. I glance over and watch her press her lips together so hard they turn white. Her shoulders shake, and her eyes water with the effort of containing laughter.
“Is that your food for the day?” I ask the woman gently.
Her ears twitch. “Breakfast.”
The word lands in my chest like a stone. Five carrots. That’s her breakfast, and she was willing to trade it for an hour with me.
“Meira, maybe we could just…”
“Absolutely fucking not!” Meira’s voice explodes out of her, loud enough that several people nearby turn to stare. Her silver eyes burn into mine with an intensity that makes me take a step back. “If I let you pity fuck every woman you want, Tisha is going to go hungry. And if that happens, I will feed you to her.”
The fear of her wife not getting what she needs. I can’t blame her for that.
“Oh.” I swallow. “That’s fair enough.”
Tisha steps forward, and the laughter has died from her expression. She looks at the bunny woman with genuine sympathy.
“How about this.” Her voice is kind, measured. “If you can save up fifty copper this week, you can have him for an hour. Okay?”
The bunny woman’s ears shoot straight up. Her whole face transforms, hope flooding back into her features. She nods enthusiastically.
“I can definitely do that.” The words tumble out excited. “I was going to go to the dungeon today anyway.”
The dungeon. Right. That’s where Tisha and Meira made their money too, apparently.
“I would’ve felt bad taking your breakfast anyway,” I say, and I mean it.
The bunny woman reaches out and pats my shoulder. The gesture is warm, friendly, and Meira’s hand immediately tightens on my wrist. She pulls me backward, creating distance between us.
“You’re a kind stud.” The bunny woman’s smile is genuine, reaching all the way to her eyes. “Where can I find you?”
Tisha points down the street toward our inn. “We’re staying there. Ask for Tisha.”
The bunny woman’s face lights up even more. “Thank you! I will!”
She turns and practically bounces away. Her footfalls are light, almost skipping, and I watch her disappear.
“Gods, Vincent!” Meira says with frustration.
A throat clears behind us.
The sound is deliberate, attention-seeking. I turn my head and my brain stutters trying to process what I’m seeing.
The woman standing there has white hair with irregular spots of black scattered through it. Her skin follows the same pattern, white with large black patches across her arms and what I can see of her collarbone. Amber eyes study us with interest, and two tiny black horns protrude from her head, barely an inch long each.
But what really captures my attention is her chest.
Her breasts are enormous, straining against the top of her white dress. The fabric dips low enough that I can see the black pattern continues down between them, and the dress itself has black coloring running down the center and sides. Behind her, she’s pulling a wooden cart loaded with glass jars filled with milk. A hand-painted sign attached to the cart reads “FRESH MILK” in blocky letters.
This cow woman looks like an actual milkmaid.
“Did you say an hour with that stud is only fifty copper?”
Her voice is smooth, carrying a note of disbelief. Those amber eyes are locked on me now, traveling down my body with open assessment.
“Yes!”
The word bursts out of me before I can stop it. My eyes find Tisha’s face, and I know I’m giving her the most desperate look I’ve ever mustered in my life.
Please. Please let this be the one.
Tisha’s lips press together for a moment, and then a chuckle escapes her. Her green eyes dance with amusement as she looks between me and the cow woman.
“Alright, alright.” She shakes her head, but she’s grinning now. Her attention shifts to the cow woman fully. “Looks like he’s very interested in you.”
The cow woman’s amber eyes go wide. Her mouth opens slightly, and I watch genuine surprise flash across her features.
“I’m interested too.” Her voice comes out breathless.
My heart hammers against my ribs. This is actually happening. My first client, and she’s absolutely stunning. Those massive breasts, the pattern of her skin, the way she’s looking at me like I’m worth more than the fifty copper price tag.
The cow woman’s hand moves to the pouch at her belt. Her fingers work the ties with practiced ease, and she pulls out a silver coin.
The metal catches the afternoon light as she holds it up between us.
“Then for two hours?”
Meira’s hand shoots out so fast I barely register the movement. Her fingers close around the silver coin, snatching it from the cow woman’s grasp with the urgency of someone grabbing a lifeline.
“Yes. That works for us.”
Relief floods across her face so obviously that I can read it even from my angle beside her. The tension that’s been sitting in her shoulders since we left the inn this morning drains away all at once.
The cow woman’s smile widens, excitement lighting up her amber eyes as they travel over me again.
“Wonderful. When can we start?”
Tisha steps forward, her grin infectious. “Right now if you’d like. We can take you back to our inn.”
“Oh.” The cow woman’s eyes dart to her cart full of milk jars. “I need to finish my route first. I have deliveries.”
“That’s fine.” Meira’s voice has softened considerably now that the silver is clutched in her palm. “How long will that take?”
“Maybe an hour?” The cow woman’s head tilts slightly, calculating. “I only have three more stops.”
“Perfect.” Tisha gestures back toward our inn. “Meet us there when you’re done. Ask the innkeeper for Tisha’s room.”
The cow woman nods enthusiastically, her black-spotted hair bouncing with the movement. “I will. Thank you.”
Bunny Woman
Cow Woman