Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 74765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
The auction begins. I know from the sound of the man running it. It’s so strange, it could be an auction for a piece of art or for a container on those TV shows or for a freaking cow. Nothing differentiates it from those things. The fact that there’s a human being, a girl out there being held against her will, being sold, it doesn’t matter to these men.
I know that, though, don’t I? Haven’t I lived with monsters all my life?
We’re not human to them. And if we were, we wouldn’t hold any more value than a cow. Maybe less.
The gavel comes down, someone hoots, and there’s the sound of clapping. So civilized.
The door opens and the woman with the clipboard gestures for the soldier to hurry the next girl out. We all shuffle forward.
The girl in front of me pulls back but it doesn’t matter. These men holding us, they’re so much stronger than us and there’s too many of them.
No gong this time but I hear a joint sound of male appreciation.
One of the girls starts to cry and another joins in. The hammer comes down marking the end of the auction and again the door opens, the next girl taken out.
This time, though, the woman returns before the end of the auction followed by another woman, the same one who greeted us in the kitchen. Their drab suits match, I realize, and they both look less than pleased.
“Which one started the crying fest here?” she asks, eyes on the girls.
The guard who is responsible for the guilty one, pushes his charge forward.
The woman steps toward her, cocks her head to look at her then touches her face, wiping away a tear. “Look what you’ve done to your face. Your makeup will have to be fixed. The others too.”
The girl swallows standing suddenly, very straight. I realize why when I see how the woman with the clipboard is holding her chin, nails digging into skin.
“But there’s always one example to be made,” the woman says and gestures to the other woman to step forward. “I’m going to give you a choice. Each of you sobbing will have the same choice to make if you’re still crying like babies when I’m finished with this one.”
The one from the kitchen steps forward and raises her hand to show what she’s holding. It’s a large wooden paddle that I imagine can do real damage.
“We’ll need to make sure our customers understand there’s a reason you’re crying. Six strokes of the paddle will do it. Or.”
She gestures to the other woman again who raises the other hand. This one is gloved and holding a long, bulbous item. It takes me a minute to register.
“We can let them know we’re stretching a tighter than usual anal passage for their pleasure.”
The girl tenses her buttocks and I realize no one is making a sound now. Not a single one of them. Not even me.
“You have until I finish my sentence to choose your punishment or you’ll get both.”
“Please—”
“Both it is then.”
“Paddle!”
The woman with the clipboard smiles at her, almost kindly. I swear she’s the devil. She releases her and nods to the kitchen woman.
“Turn around and touch your toes. If you rise before you’re given permission, she’ll begin all over again.”
The way we’re all bound, I realize it still allows them access to us in any position they need us.
The girl nods, starting to cry again.
“Don’t ugly cry. That won’t sell.”
The girl turns, bends and touches her toes. I get the feeling this isn’t the first time they’ve done this but there’s still a collective gasp at the sound of the first paddle stroke. The girl, to her credit, doesn’t make a sound though. She jumps with each stroke, the soldier having to hold onto her before she falls over.
When it’s over, she is allowed to straighten, her face red as she faces us, eyes watery, knees wobbly.
“Anyone else?” the woman asks.
They all shake their heads.
“Didn’t think so.” She turns to the soldier. “Get her cleaned up.”
He nods and the punished girl is whisked away. I don’t miss the erection in the man’s pants as he passes me.
Perv.
The gavel comes down then and everyone’s attention returns to the door. It all goes much more quickly than I expect. One after another is taken through that door. The girl who received the punishment is the last to go before me, her makeup righted but not completely. Her bottom bright red for the marks.
When it’s her turn, she disappears. I hear a howl from the men. I guess she’ll bring in more with, than without, the marks. Felix will be pleased.
The woman with the clipboard returns before the gavel comes down and looks me over. She’s unimpressed. But so am I.
“They’re just girls,” I say to her. I know it won’t make a difference.