“It goes inside?” I asked, my voice echoing over the auditorium as cheers and laughter picked up, the numbers going into overdrive.
“How does it fit?” The numbers continued to flick up, although they were noticeably slowing. The first Twenty staying longer, the numbers behind starting to be legible again.
That same green skinned man: Twenty-point-three million.
A man with skin like ink and a square jaw: Twenty-point-four million.
A bald man with a head tattoo and a forked tongue: Twenty-point-five million.
They continued to slow, each number and picture bringing more tension to my shoulders. That knot in my stomach had grown so large I was starting to feel like it had taken over me. I was nothing but a boulder, a boulder of confusion.
But all that confusion was cracking.
With each flick of the picture, with each tick of money that was being bid for me, it all started to slam into my head.
I always knew that my virginity, that my first night, would be auctioned off. That the first man to fuck me would be the one who bids highest.
The first to touch me. The first to hold me. The first to push himself inside of me.
But I didn’t want that. Ever since that very first day that I had been taken to Logan, since his role in my life had been made clear; I had wanted him.
And from what I had heard him say yesterday, he had wanted me.
That he was supposed to have me.
Then why wasn’t he here?
The numbers had slowed down even more, only the last two numbers moving now as three men continued to bid.
The red scaled man, the man with skin like ink and a smirk, and a young guy with a forked tongue and eyes like slits.
Forty-five
Fifty-seven
Sixty-three
The guy with the forked tongue disappeared and it was only the guy with the smirk and the scaled man left. The numbers continued, the crowd chanting now as I twisted in my chair, taking one long look for Logan, praying that he was there and I could tell him what I learned. It was just the crowd, everyone erupting in screams as the screen began to countdown, the final bid locking into place.
‘23,678,890.00’
Final bid, and right above it, the picture of the guy with the cocky grin, the smile growing more confident as they expanded the shot, the word winner right below it.
I barely got a look at it, before several of the Matrons rushed the stage, placing the collar around my neck as they led me from the stage by the chain, dragging me through the red door that would lead to the rest of my life.