At the auction
1121 Words
Anna
The words hit like ice water.
I wanted to tell her she was insane, that things like that didn’t happen outside of bad TV shows and nightmares,but the knowing looks from the other women killed the denial before it could take root.
Somewhere beyond the curtained walls, muffled music swelled, accompanied by the low rumble of voices. The air seemed to thicken with anticipation.
And for the first time in my life, I truly understood what it meant to be prey.
“I’m not prey,” I snapped, yanking my hair free from her grip. My voice came out sharper than I intended, but the fire in my chest was the only thing keeping me standing. “I was taken against my will. This is illegal. You can’t just—”
The door swung open with a creak that sliced through my protest.
Every single woman in the room straightened instantly, adjusting straps, smoothing skirts, fixing painted smiles like masks. The change was so sudden it made my skin prickle.
Two women stepped inside, both wearing tight black dresses and matching scowls. Their heels clicked sharply against the floor as their eyes swept over the group,until they landed on me.
“Come,” one said flatly.
I didn’t move. “Where are you taking me?”
The other didn’t bother answering. She crossed the space in three strides, grabbed my arm, and jerked me forward. The first woman took my other arm, their fingers digging into my skin like iron clamps. My shoes scraped against the rug as they dragged me toward the door.
I twisted in their grip, heart pounding. “I’m not going anywhere with you—”
“Quiet,” one hissed. “Or we’ll make sure you regret it.”
They didn’t have to specify how.
The hallway outside was narrow, lined with more of those crimson curtains and flickering wall sconces. Somewhere down the corridor, I heard faint applause and a man’s deep voice announcing something over a microphone.
We stopped at a door carved with ornate patterns. The women shoved me inside.
It was… nice. Too nice. Cream-colored walls, gold accents, plush carpets, a crystal chandelier dripping light onto an oversized bed.
They didn’t give me time to breathe. One of them marched me toward a door on the far wall and pushed me through.
A bathroom. Marble counters. A glass-walled shower.
“You have five minutes,” the taller one barked. “Make it count.”
I stared at them. “To do what?”
“To get clean,” the other replied, her tone bored. “The bidders like their prizes… polished.”
My stomach turned.
They stepped out, shutting the door behind them.
I stripped quickly, the hot water pelting my skin like tiny needles. My hands shook so badly I dropped the soap twice. I didn’t waste time,just scrubbed off the grime and blood, ignoring the bruises blooming on my arms.
I was toweling off when I stepped back into the bedroom.
And froze.
Laid out neatly on the bed was a flimsy scrap of black lace,if it could even be called lingerie,alongside a leather mouth gag, a black blindfold, and a short riding whip.
I stared at them, my throat tightening.
Whoever had planned this hadn’t left room for dignity.
The door swung open again, the two women returning like a storm.
“Put it on,” one ordered.
I didn’t move. “I’m not wearing that.”
The other’s eyes narrowed. “Do it, or we’ll drag you out there naked. And trust me, the crowd will enjoy it even more.”
I swallowed hard, my nails digging into my palms. Every instinct screamed to fight,but logic hissed at me to pick my battles. If I resisted here, in this small room with no weapons and no exits, I’d lose.
So I dressed.
The lace clung uncomfortably, more revealing than anything I’d ever worn. My shoulders hunched automatically as if I could make myself smaller.
The taller woman stepped forward, fitting the gag over my mouth before I could speak. Then came the blindfold,soft silk over my eyes, plunging me into darkness.
My breath quickened.
“Perfect,” one of them said, satisfied.
They each took an arm again, guiding me,no, parading me out of the room and down another hall. The murmur of voices grew louder, a low hum like an approaching storm.
The air cooled, scented faintly of cigar smoke and expensive cologne.
Somewhere ahead, a door creaked open.
And then I heard it,the deep commanding voice of the man on the microphone:
“Lot number seven. A rare find, gentlemen.”
A ripple of excitement passed through the crowd.
And I realized with icy clarity… I was lot number seven.
The air in the room thickened as the whispers bounced off the damp walls.
“Lot number two is hot,” one man muttered under his breath. Another, gruff and impatient, said something similar about lot three. They had different statements for each lot, but the tone was always the same,hunger, greed, possession.
I kept my head down, my wrists aching from the cold bite of the cuffs. The stench of sweat and cigar smoke clung to my nose, making me feel like I was choking. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure everyone could hear it.
Lot number five was called. A girl no older than me, maybe younger, was dragged forward, trembling. Her eyes met mine for the briefest moment before she was yanked toward the man who had just bought her. My stomach twisted. One by one, they were taken. Sold.
Soon, the event was winding down. I knew what that meant,if no one picked me, they’d throw me back into whatever dark hole they had pulled me from until the next auction.
I almost wished for it. At least I wouldn’t belong to someone yet.
The auctioneer cleared his throat, about to close the session. That’s when it happened.
An icy voice cut through the murmurs. “I’ll pay one thousand million dollars for her.”
The words were so sharp and deliberate they seemed to freeze the air mid-breath.
The room went dead silent. Even the auctioneer stared, his gavel hovering in the air. I could feel every gaze shift toward me. The number was outrageous,impossible. Whoever he was, he had just made me the most expensive purchase of the night… maybe of all time.
I didn’t look up. I didn’t want to see his face.
But I could feel him. That cold, dominating presence,like the weight of a predator’s gaze on its prey.
The auctioneer stammered, “S–sold!”
My fate was sealed with one word.
- Writer
