By Chance Met by Eresse Page B

that these Deira were vying not just for the privilege of deflowering him but also for the right to rape him for the length of one whole night. He cried out at last and tried to escape Davon’s surprisingly strong grip.
    “Don’t think you can back out now,” Davon growled, tightening his hold on Naeth’s arm. “You hear those bids? They’re the highest I’ve ever heard! Now behave or I’ll strip you naked right here and let them all have a go at you. After the winner’s buggered you to his satisfaction, of course,” he added with a nasty grin.
    Tears rolled down Naeth’s cheeks, and he began to sob. To no avail. It was what Davon’s clients wanted. His fear stoked their lust as much as his comeliness and his obvious innocence. He could only shake helplessly as Davon yanked his trousers back until his upper thighs and shaft were obscenely outlined beneath the soft material.
    An outrageously enormous amount was called out. “Three hundred and fifty
    sovereigns!”
    Davon shouted, “Sold!” even as protests erupted from the losing bidders.
    A Deir of middle years with thinning hair and a slight potbelly stood up and came forward to claim his prize. Davon thrust Naeth toward his buyer. Naeth flinched as the Deir crudely pinched his nipples then rubbed his crotch through his trousers. He reached behind Naeth with both hands, cupped his buttocks and squeezed them hard.
    “Saints above but you’re the most luscious thing I’ve ever come across,” the Deir muttered, his thick fingers digging painfully into the cleft of Naeth’s backside. “Where’s our room?” he hoarsely asked Davon. “I can’t wait to ream his arse!”
    “This way,” Davon said, forcibly pulling Naeth off the stage. “Enjoy yourself. He’s yours for the night. Of course, if you want to go further—and I can’t blame you if you do, he’s a right beauty—do tell me now so he can prepare himself. I’m a reasonable Deir. I’ll let you tup him all the way for a minimal addition to your bid.”
    He turned, dragging Naeth along. They walked into a Deir who did not so much as budge an inch. Naeth looked up and glimpsed a pair of steely green eyes glaring at Davon.
    “Not if you value your life,” Reijir Arthanna snarled.
    Obviously taken aback, Davon nervously gestured to two beefy Deira who lurked in the shadows, watching for trouble and prepared to eject any bothersome customers from the premises.
    The pair advanced on Reijir, wielding stout clubs warningly. But they stopped in their tracks when Keiran and Ruomi barred the way, their daggers though sheathed clearly visible on their belts.
    “This isn’t worth a knife in the gut, now is it?” Keiran coolly drawled.
    Neither doorkeeper disagreed. Ruomi relieved them of the clubs and forced them down on their knees,
    Meanwhile, Reijir’s eyes never left Davon.
    “Do your clients know that lad is three years short of thirty?” he said, his voice carrying in the close room. “Or do they think raping a youngster worth a high dance on the scaffold?”
    At once there was a mad scramble for the door. Even the winning bidder hastily departed, leaving Davon to face Reijir.
    “Nay, Your Grace,” he stuttered. “I assure you, I didn’t know. Lemael failed to inform me. Had I known, I would never have taken him in.”
    Reijir’s fist smashed into his face. Davon fell back on his arse, clapping his hand to a rapidly darkening eye.
    “Don’t play the dupe with me,” Reijir snapped. “You knew he was below age.” He looked across to the door where several of Davon’s felkar peeked in curiously. “How many more of those lads are minors?”
    Real fear showed in Davon’s eyes. “None, my lord!” he protested. “They’re all of age, I swear!”
    “ Now they are. Were they when you first whored them out?” Reijir challenged.
    When Davon gaped at him, he grimly smiled. “I thought so.”
    Grabbing the Deir by the collar, he hauled him to his feet. Davon teetered on tiptoes as