Chapter Three: The Auction


My life has always been a dance on the edge of uncertainty. I come from a modest background, where every dollar earned is a small victory, and every setback feels like a mountain too steep to climb. It was a life I shared with my parents until tragedy struck and stole them from me when I was just a child.

Their loss left me with a void that could never be filled, a darkness that hung heavy over our humble home. The world outside seemed harsh and unforgiving, and my grandparents, who became my guardians, were determined to protect me from its cruelties. I know they tried and I know they love me too but it seems this goes far beyond.

My grandparents meant well, but their over-protectiveness became a prison of its own. They kept me close, rarely allowing me to venture beyond the safety of our small house. I was home-schooled so nothing about my life was ever normal. It's a miracle I even have a boyfriend. I love him because he is a constant reminder of what a normal life should be and once all this is over he and I will leave this sorry of a town. I cherished the warmth of their love, but I couldn't help but just sit down and do nothing with my life especially when we were constantly harassed for being poor.

When I wake up, it's to a disorienting haze. My surroundings are unfamiliar, and the air smells of dampness and decay. My head throbs and I realize with a sinking feeling that I've been drugged.

As the fog in my mind clears, the reality of my situation sets in. I'm in an auction joint, a place where human lives are bought and sold. The clothes I wear are skimpy, a mockery of modesty, and I'm surrounded by others who share my fate.

We stand in a line, like cattle waiting for slaughter, as the bidders move among us, their eyes appraising, their intentions chillingly clear. I can feel their gazes on me, dissecting me, and I know that my life has taken a dark and irreversible turn.

The weight of desperation and despair bears down on me, and I can't help but wonder how I ended up here, in this nightmarish place where the price of my innocence is being determined by the highest bidder.

‘’If you want to live, be good girls. Remember many lives are in your hands. I will kill everyone you have ever met if you fuck up tonight. Do you understand?’’ Says the man I owe, he has a creepy face and a scent of fish which makes him not too appealing to think of.

His threat has me agreeing to his demands as I think about my poor grandparents who would probably die of heart attacks at the site of this man.

Standing in a line, the auction room is a chilling juxtaposition of opulence and malevolence, bathed in an eerie glow from crystal-adorned chandeliers. Its walls are adorned with dark, intricate tapestries hinting at tales of power and corruption. Rows of wealthy bidders occupy high-backed leather chairs, their faces hidden in shadow, eagerly anticipating the macabre proceedings.

Amidst the powerful and affluent attendees, one man stands out—a figure of stark contrast. He exudes an aura of coldness and dominance, his wealth so apparent it seems to radiate from him. It's as though he's untouched by the corruption that taints the room, a wealthy enigma amidst the decadence. As I look closely I realize he has grey eyes that draw you in and make it impossible to pull out. 

Chatter and whistles fill my ears, a cacophony of excitement and anticipation that seems worlds away from my bewildered existence. Dressed in nothing more than transparent garments that cling to my trembling form, I stand atop the cold, unforgiving auction stand. 

The sheer vulnerability of my situation is overwhelming, and I can't comprehend why I have become a mere commodity in this dark theater of desire.

As I hesitate, a glance at the ravenous crowd only fuels my discomfort. Their faces, obscured by masks of opulence, contorted with glee as they behold my unease. To them, I am little more than a plaything, a symbol of their twisted fantasies.

"We start at one million dollars," the host's voice, both suave and sinister, declares.

igniting the bidding war. The numbers soar into the stratosphere.

 ‘’Two million.’’

 ‘’Three million’’ Another shouts.

Each bid sliced through my composure. With every increase, my heart races, and my innocent eyes fill with tears and a hint of stoic resentment.

But it is a single utterance from the shadows that sends a shiver down my spine. I lock eyes with him. He is an embodiment of power and allure, his commanding presence emanating an unspoken dominance that demands respect. His chiseled, handsome face, framed by a cascade of black hair, is a testament to his control over not just the room but also those who dare to meet his penetrating, grey-eyed gaze. Each feature is meticulously sculpted, from his strong jawline to the enigmatic intensity that lurks behind those steel-colored, grey eyes.

"Interesting," the voice murmurs from the depths of the room. I was so focused on his eyes that I did not see his lips move. There is something dark about him and everything in me prays he isn’t the one who wins tonight.

As if sensing the turmoil within me. The mystery man takes notice of my emotions and smiles. It's not those smiles that make your stomach warm from excitement. It's those smiles that send a message from someone about to ruin you.

"She looks like a kitten who just wants to bite her lord," he remarks.

His words are laden with a chilling sense of possession. His bidding card rises, revealing the sum of his interest. 

"Fifty million," he declares, the weight of the number hanging heavy in the air.

My stomach sinks to my feet and I bite my trembling lower lip. Fifty million??

The auction grounds to a stunned silence. Fifty million dollars for a woman especially a woman like me is an exorbitant sum, even if I am deemed a virgin but I’m a virgin with a lot of debt…

Fear creeps into me as I lock eyes with the mysterious man. What is he playing at?

 No one dares to challenge him and that alone tells me he picked me for a reason and it is not because he wants to make me his wife and bear his children.

 Does he want to make me his sex slave?

The man walks out with what I assume are his men behind him. The curtain closes and I find a woman waiting for me. Handing me clothes, the woman looks at me with pity. 

“How did the worst one of them pick you? He rarely picks anyone but when he does it is hell from the first day,” she remarks and my stomach twists and turns.

“Uh… Thanks?’’ I respond, not knowing what to say at this point. Maybe it's the shock getting the better of me but I doubt it could get worse than this.

“If you think you have experienced hardships, it's nothing compared to what you are about to go through especially if you owe him,’’ her voice is just above a whisper.

“Owe him?’’ I ask, my eyes growing wide. 

I don’t even know him.


Before I can ask what she means, another man comes in with a cold face but not as cold as the man who I assume owns me now like I am some sort of stupid property. 

“Let’s go.’’

“Where are you taking me?’’ I ask with a shaky voice. 

“Listen, you don’t ask questions just obey. I don’t hit women so don’t be the first.’’

With that, I shut up and followed him to an unknown destination.

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