The room buzzed with excited men and women, staring at the products they came to spend millions on.
The cuffs on my wrists burned into my skin. And my knees ached against the wooden floor. The realization felt as cold as a bucket of ice.
Products. It was a fitting term. That was all we were to these men. Livestock for them to use and discard.
The auctions were always the worst. Some of us lucked out and got a good owner. But most times, it was the opposite.
My past owner had suddenly decided he was into blonds, and sold me back here. Even as I'd begged him to keep me, the bitterness burned into my tongue. f*****g bastard.
We knelt on a stage in some kind of auction house. The whole place gleamed with white marble. From the tiles to the walls.
The girl next to me, also chained to the
