It was a crude and arcane tradition.
And being that it was, the woman did not make a habit of visiting the square on days when the caravan came to town. She was enlightened, she was progressive. She did not partake in the barbaric rituals that the rest of the town still rejoiced in with such fervor.
"Cruel," she would whisper to those with similar sympathies to her. But such sympathies were hard to come by and precious few would indulge her protests. They came in droves, emptying houses, shops, and gathering places. Some came to gawk at the spectacle. Some came to stare and indulge the basest of human appetites. Some came to jeer. Some came to bid.
The woman peered out her second story window at the collective gathering below. She could see the square completely from this vantage point—the neatly detailed storefronts that framed a well manicured public lawn. She witnessed the caged horse-drawn cart pull away from the rest of the caravan and park next to a shoddily built platform centered upon the lawn. A weathered looking man descended from the driver's bench, a large ring of heavy metal keys raising a cacophonous and merciless alarm to the three figures sitting within the barred coach now sitting just feet from the platform.
Squinting, the woman was just able to make out the silhouettes of three shadowy figures—a woman and two men, all no older than their early twenties. As the driver stuck a key in to the rusty lock and swung the creaking door open wide, the light of the sun illuminated the detail of each of his captives.
The lone female was most unique in her shock of flame red hair, wild and unkempt, which spiraled out in tight curls from her head and gave the curious impression that flames were dancing off her skin. Her skin was ivory, speckled with orange freckles cast haphazardly across her bandy legs, arms, and chest. A pair of emerald eyes clashed dramatically with her orange visage, adding to a feral presence that was intimidating even though her wrists were shackled in chains. The only clothing she was afforded were the remnants of what must have once been a brilliant ivory dress. But now it lay draped across her body in tatters.
A tempestuous personality was quickly revealed to match her wild appearance, for when the driver beckoned her from the caged car to the platform, she immediately protested, shouting inaudible words his direction. The torn remnants of a once proud gown, which heretofore had been carefully arranged in a feeble attempt at modesty, were yanked to the side by the arch of her back as she squirmed about. Her breasts burst out in to full view of the gathering crowd. The woman instinctively clutched her own chest as she saw the woman now lewdly displayed before the eyes of a hundred strangers. The same freckled pattern spattered across a pair of small but perfectly round breasts that rose and fell dramatically with each heaving breath. Each was capped by a small but fiercely erect nipple, undoubtedly hardened by the bitter wind blowing in from the sea.
Her futile attempts at freeing herself were quickly brought to an end when the firm, unflinching grip of her captor seized the back of the neck and motioned for her to ascend the platform steps. What was it about this man, the woman wondered from her bedroom window, that could so instantly silence so fierce a personality with nothing but the grip of his palm? She surveyed him appraisingly. He was undoubtedly at least twice as old as any of those he held captive. Dressed in fitted black garments that let others appreciate the power of his physique. He had a neat frock of salt and pepper hair clipped short around a stern, foreboding face. Dark brows framed even darker eyes that set deep within a face that might have been chiseled from stone. He might have been handsome once. Perhaps he was still, but the woman would not let herself entertain such thoughts about a vile man.
Now, the lone female captive had been positioned at the center of the platform, and the bidding began. She watched as the jailer shouted and pointed at different places in the crowd. Somebody must have heckled a comment, for the jailer clapped his belly and laughed heartily in to the air, many in the crowd guffawing in harmony. The captive girl's demeanor had changed. The woman could tell she was doing her best to blank out the crowd. She stood looking beyond the masses to the horizon—her head held high, her back straight and her stomach sucked in sharply, her erect nipples pointing out, the subject of many mesmerized stares from the bidders.