I don't think it is. My only problem with Shirow Masamune's work is that his style differs a lot in the same picture for the same subject. Not to sound insulting, because he is very talented, but his work sometimes looks like someone too a Boris Vallejo painting an stuck a face from Ranma 1/2 then matched the colors. Just look at all the different characters in this one. The Audience doesn't match the girls or the "Captors" and they most certainly doesn't match the girls themselves. Really only the eyes seem to match with styles.
The vag is more than likely a shop, every other image of Shirow's I've seen it's either smoothed over or conveniently censored. Japanese law and all that jazz.
When I was placed on the auction platform, the bidders all went quiet and looked towards the higher-up seating for distinguished guests. Behind the covers were the filthy sons of Nergitas. I later learned that they had arranged for me to be bought legitimately as a servant girl, taken home and degraded for a long time, after they had thoroughly exposed me and humiliated me. The Baron must have known about this.Most of the bidders were probably innkeepers, butlers, or bosses, but they all seemed to have cursed, curious looks in their eyes.
The day before, the men had come out of the hut muttering something like, "The Baron would kill me if I tasted her, so it can't be helped". After they left, some elderly women bathed my body and carefully examined the alignment of my teeth and the secret places of my flesh; I realized then that they were "valuation old women". It seems that even these kinds of people have something called "business credibility".Now, isn't there anyone who wants to thrust a spear into this bare bud that has yet to experience a man?It's certainly a fine piece, but how do you know it's untouched?Our price-hunter gave us the highest bid [...]For a while, vulgar and incomprehensible slang was exchanged between the barbaric and shameless slave trader and the auctioneers, but perhaps because the auction had cooled down, the slave trader, without understanding Nergius's instructions, began to tear my pajamas and wind the chains around me. I still remember how rough the slave trader's hands were when they touched my skin.
I had thought I was asking a god for salvation, but I don't know what I'd done wrong... or maybe I'd been right... The cheers of the auctioneers soon died down.
