TO BELONG TO CEASER

—Agnes— Cold. That was the first thing I felt when my eyes fluttered open. Cold metal pressed into my wrists and ankles, biting into skin that already burned with ache. My throat was dry, my chest tight, my heart pounding so violently I swore the whole world could hear it. I tried to move, but the sharp clink of chains froze me. Not a dream. Not a nightmare. Real. My lashes fluttered against the dim light. A single bulb dangled overhead, swaying slightly, throwing twisted shadows across concrete walls and a floor so filthy it reeked of rot. I tried to scream, but it came out muffled, gagged by the thick tape sealing my lips. Panic rushed through me like fire in my veins. What happened? The last thing I remembered was the cool night air brushing against my cheeks as I hurried home from work. The street had been too quiet. My instincts screamed at me to run. Then footsteps. Heavy. Following. A rough hand clamped over my mouth. A sharp, chemical-soaked cloth smothered my face. Darkness had swallowed me whole. Now I was here. Shackled. Helpless. Trapped. The door creaked. My breath caught, eyes snapping toward the sound. A tall man slipped inside, his shadow spilling across the floor like a predator closing in. Black clothes, hood up, face hidden. “Well, well.” His voice was thick, oily, like cold steel. “Sleeping beauty’s awake.” My muffled cry came out frantic, desperate. He crouched in front of me and ripped the tape off in one swift tug. Pain seared across my lips and I gasped, dragging air into my burning lungs. “Where am I?” My voice shook. “What do you want from me?” His grin spread, cruel, amused. “Where are you? Doesn’t matter. What do I want?” He leaned closer, his breath brushing my ear, making bile rise in my throat. “To make a profit.” The words lodged in me like a knife. “You’re being prepared for auction.” I shook my head so hard my hair whipped around me. “No. Please—” “Oh, you will be.” His tone cut like glass. He pulled out a clipboard, flipping it open. “Now, let’s make this quick. Name.” I pressed my lips shut. “Don’t bother.” He tapped the paper. “Agnes. Age twenty two. Parents? Dead. No siblings. No guardian. No one who will come looking.” My stomach knotted, cold sweat dripping down my spine. “But the real question,” he crouched lower, eyes glittering like a snake, “is what the bidders will pay for you.” His gaze dragged over me, slow and filthy. “Pretty face. Fragile little body. Men like that. But the biggest question…” His grin widened. “Are you experienced?” My lips parted, but no words came. My silence was louder than a confession. His chuckle slithered through me. “Ah. Untouched. That’ll fetch a fortune.” He snapped the clipboard shut and stood. “Tonight, you’ll make me rich.” “No!” I thrashed against the chains, voice raw. “Please, I’m not something to be sold!” The door slammed, lock clicking into place. Silence swallowed me, and all I could hear was my own heartbeat trying to escape my chest. Smoke curled thick in the air, burning my throat. Music pounded through the underground hall, dark and heavy, blending with the raucous laughter of men sprawled in leather seats. Half-naked women weaved through them with trays of drinks, their faces hollow, their eyes dead. And then I saw it — the stage. A wide platform, stark under the lights. The place where flesh was bartered like weapons. My stomach lurched. Chains dug into my wrists as two guards dragged me forward. I stumbled, shoved under the harsh glow. Blinded. Exposed. Every monster in the room turned hungry eyes on me. I lifted my chin anyway, even as my body shook. Somewhere in the shadows, someone was watching. I felt it before I saw him. A man. Masked. Hood drawn low. He sat in the darkness like he belonged there, yet didn’t. His presence was wrong, sharp, magnetic, as if the whole room tilted toward him. Even hidden, I could feel his gaze on me, burning through my skin. The auctioneer strutted to the edge of the stage, grinning wide. “Gentlemen! Tonight, we present a rare treasure. Young. Beautiful. And…” He paused, milking the silence, letting anticipation drip heavy. Then the blade came. “Untouched. A virgin.” The room erupted. Men shouted, voices snarling over each other, throwing numbers into the air. The frenzy was violent, animalistic. Every bid was another claw tearing into me. I flinched at each cry, my chest heaving, my eyes darting wildly. Their grins, their eyes, their hunger, they were wolves in human skin. Except him. The masked man hadn’t moved. He hadn’t spoken. But the longer his silence stretched, the heavier it pressed into me. My skin prickled. Something about him was different. Wrong. Powerful. Inside me, instinct screamed. Predator. The auctioneer called out the climbing numbers. My vision blurred. My knees weakened. Then one voice cut through all the rest — guttural, cruel, triumphant. An older man, his smile pure filth, shouted a bid so high it silenced the hall. My lips parted in horror. And then, he rose. The masked man. His voice rolled through the room, deep, commanding, like thunder. “Double.” The hall froze. Silence smothered everything. Heads turned, all eyes narrowing toward the shadows he stood in. Murmurs rippled, uncertain, afraid. No one dared to outbid him. The auctioneer, stunned for a moment, recovered with a smirk. He slammed the gavel down. “Sold!” The word slammed into me like a blow. My heart pounded, my breath coming too fast. The masked man didn’t cheer, didn’t gloat. He only stepped forward, every movement predatory, deliberate. The guards unlocked my chains and shoved me toward him. I stumbled, catching myself on shaky feet. My eyes lifted to his mask, to the dark abyss behind it. A shiver raced down my spine. He wasn’t just a man. He was danger. And now… I belonged to him.