Buttons and Lace (Buttons 1)

Waitresses walked around and retrieved their drinks, wearing nothing but black thongs. The men tucked cash into their G-strings and gave them a gentle pat on the ass as they walked away.

How the hell did I get here?

The other women were beautiful beyond understanding. They looked like models, the kind of people you would only see on TV. A lot of them were scared, their fingers twitching and their knees shaking. But one woman actually seemed excited, like this was the moment she spent her whole life preparing for.

There were so many degrees of sickness.

I was dressed in a short, champagne-pink dress. It had a sweetheart top and was tight around my waist. A necklace of pearls was around my neck, and my hair was done in fancy curls. The last time I got a makeover like this was for prom.

One by one, the girls were auctioned off. Each one went for a million dollars or more.

A million.

That was insane.

Slaves were worth that much?

Would someone actually pay that kind of money for me? Someone was going to pocket a million dollars off my life?

How sick was that?

When it was my turn, I walked up to the stage and awaited my fate. The emcee listed my qualities like he did with the others. I was interested to know what he would say since I didn’t have any.

I wouldn’t be submissive. I would fight every single day until I was free or dead. I would never conform to sick sexual favors. Every single day would be more work than the last. I would be the worst slave one could possibly have. Sleeping with one eye open would be the only way to survive with me in the house.

“Hostile, unbreakable, feisty.” He continued to list my imperfections. “Fight score is an even ten.”

A collective sound of acknowledgment filled the room. There were even a few whistles.

What did that mean? Was that bad? Was that good?

If no one bought me, would they let me go? Or would they just kill me?

“Two partners.” He read from the piece of paper in his hands. “Engineer. Sexual experience is limited.”

I’m not a virgin. So no, my experience was not limited. But I wasn’t going to argue because that didn’t matter.

“The bidding is now open.” He stepped back to the podium and ran the bidding. He set the price, and it slowly increased as more men bid on me. I was disgusted when I saw the same man who bought another woman bid on me as well. Did he really need two slaves?

The number kept climbing until it reached a million.

Holy shit.

Instead of slowing down, it kept going. The bid rose higher and higher, and testosterone swirled in the room. Someone in there was going to make a fortune off my suffering. He was going to have more money than any person needed—and I would be paying that debt until I died.

“You’re all sick fucks.” I couldn’t keep the disdain from leaving my lips. I didn’t care if I was slapped right then and there. I was a human being, and I was being treated like a farm animal.

One man who’d been bidding on me rose to his feet. He held up his number and said, “Three million.”

What the fuck did I just do?

All the men turned to him, yielding the floor.

No one else challenged his bet. Their markers were set down.

The man who just won smiled. “Three million dollars for the feisty cunt.”

The emcee slammed the hammer down. “Three million to the gentleman in the back. Congratulations. This beauty is yours.”

***

Like I was a suspect in a criminal investigation, I was handcuffed and placed in the back seat of a black car with tinted windows. I still wore my gown and pearls. My matching pink heels were uncomfortable on my feet, but I suspected I would be a lot more uncomfortable shortly.

The driver got behind the wheel and waited for his client to join us.

I hadn’t seen his face, but I didn’t need to. When he outbid everyone so arrogantly, I knew he was an unforgivable beast. If I begged him to let me go, he would refuse. If I pleaded for him not to hurt me, he wouldn’t listen.

Hopefully, I was wrong.

He didn’t seem like the type of man looking for a beautiful woman to spoil. He didn’t seem like someone who wanted to show me off at a dinner party, buying me expensive gowns and jewelry. I detected evil from him.

Pure evil.

He finally joined me in the back seat without putting on his safety belt. He kept his mask on, hiding most of his features.

I stared straight ahead, my hands behind my back. If I could flip my arms forward, I could choke the driver in front of me. Maybe he would crash, and we would all die. Or better yet, they would die, but I’d get out just fine.