It was winter, and as usual, along had come the tremendous snow blizzards that prevented the demons from leaving their homes, but of course, that didn’t stop my owner Nathanial, the most famous of all sex slave sellers, buyers and traders in the demonic realm from keeping his business running. The floor was bitter and sinister beneath us, and you can’t imagine how we felt out there. Thirty eight demon-wolf girls, stark naked, sat in the middle of a snow blizzard. It was noon now, and not one person had passed the stall. Amber, a Red Wolf, sat a few people away, had two missing fingers and a shattered femur due to the extreme conditions.

I tried desperately to shiver out the cold, but it wouldn’t work. My navy blue ears lay flat against my ashen hair, almost the same colour as the snow that was thrust ferociously down upon me. As I had said before, no one had passed that day. As soon as the first few flakes fell, shutters were slammed closed, doors were locked and smoke billowed from endless rows of blackened chimneys. So, we were all awfully startled when the Demon King himself came striding around the corner, his son in tow. Rone was rarely ever seen down these dank alleys, although he was an extravagant purchaser of some of the best, foreign sex slaves in the kingdom.

I was new to this place. I had been captured in Deadwood, Texas, and brought here. I had been locked up in an asylum because of my demonic looks (which was nothing more than a pair of wolf ears).