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But it did nothing to quell the rebellion I felt inside. Despite the horrific circumstances, I was still steaming, gritting my teeth and the invisible hands had to hold me tight.
“Good,” snarled Miles. “No marks on her, she’s going up for auction.”
I gasped, realizing that it wasn’t some sense of decency that kept them from hitting me. It was that I was up for sale, and any imperfections on my skin would detract from my price. It was money, only money, that was keeping these goons off me.
But suddenly a light came on above the entryway and I was hustled forward.
“You better cooperate,” hissed Miles, getting in my face, his expression a twisted mask of anger and greed. “Or you’ll find out what happens when there are no buyers to protect you.”
I backed away quickly, but not before I managed to spit fully in his face, a glob of saliva trickling off his chin.
“Don’t think I’m gonna cooperate,” I hissed, just as angry. “I don’t belong to you!”
The disgusting man just wiped the spittle away with a sodden handkerchief.
“Get her out of my sight,” he ground out, and with that, I was hauled into the room I’d seen on-screen.
Now that I was in the chamber itself, I could see that it was much more than a dais with a spotlight. There were windows all around the dais, about twelve of them, and they were one-way windows that could see me, but where I couldn’t see inside. Above each window was a light. All of the lights were off for the moment, but a shivery sensation crept over my body. Oh god, the bidders had to be in there, sizing up the goods, waiting patiently as I was led to the center.
And once I was positioned on the dais, the female voice chimed melodically.
“Welcome back to the auction,” she said, her tone still moderate and pleasant, like this was completely normal. “Here before us we have Article Twenty-One, an eighteen year-old girl. Handlers, please remove her robe.”
And with a swish, the midnight blue cloak was pulled from my body, the velvet caressing my shoulders as it left, leaving me chill on the dais. I didn’t know where to look, wasn’t sure how to stand, how to do anything. All I knew was that there were unknown men looking at me, sizing me up for purchase, and it made shivers run through my arms and legs. I crossed my arms over my chest instinctively, as if trying to protect myself, but immediately the voice came on again.
“Please let the viewers see all of Article Twenty-One,” the woman chimed as the men pulled my arms down to my sides. “Article Twenty-One is tonight’s highlight, a unique lot with something rare, that may only be offered once. ‘The Girl in Gold,’ as we’re calling her, is a virgin. Yes, bidders,” she continued. “The Girl in Gold has never been touched, never been handled intimately by a man, and is ready for your pleasure.”
I gasped. Oh my god, I was tonight’s “special”? And I was special because I was a virgin? Suddenly I realized how Rachel had betrayed me. It wasn’t anything purposeful, she must have been gossiping and confided that I was a stick in the mud because I was a virgin. Unfortunately, Miles and his goons had immediately picked up on it and realized they could get a higher price, thus the kidnapping. Oh my god.
And what was this “Girl in Gold” stuff? How had they come up with this name? Suddenly, I realized it was my dress. The beautiful golden slip was gorgeous under the spotlights, shimmering sensuously, caressing my curves just so, the hem fluttering despite the lack of a breeze in the closed chamber. And I realized what I must have looked like – creamy, sensuous, young and nubile, glimmering before the men’s eyes, waiting for a taker.
But before the bidding began, the woman’s voice came on once again.
“As always, we will be showing off the goods. Handlers,” came the voice. “Please help Article Twenty-One out of her clothing.”
And the two black-clad men came towards me again, their faces hidden by masks, looking like two burglars. But I didn’t want them to touch me. As degrading as this was, I wanted to be my own woman as much as I could, fierce and independent. So I held out a hand and ground out, “I’ll do it myself.”
Both men were still for a moment, tentative, unsure. But before they could swarm, I reached behind my neck and undid the string tie, letting the golden straps slither off my chest. And because it was nothing more than a slip, immediately the top began to drop off, to fall to my feet. But I wanted control. I was going to own this in whatever small way possible, so with shivering, trembling hands, I slowly lowered the cups of the dress until both my girls were bared.
And I cursed myself then. Oh god, once upon a time I’d been thin as a pencil, looking like a boy, no one would ever be aroused. But no more. Now my breasts were creamy, pendulous, huge mountains of white topped by pink areola, the nipples stiff in the cold chamber, swaying and jiggling slightly with my movements.
And immediately several lights flashed on above the booths, blinking furiously, like angry eyes. But the woman’s voice rang out once more.
“Bidding has not started yet, we are still in the viewing phase,” she said in that modulated tone. “Please refrain from bidding until the final part of our auction. Article Twenty-One,” she continued. “Please continue to disrobe.”
I almost rebelled. I’d throw their auction right off the rails, give them something to remember the “Girl in Gold” by. I’d show them how a girl with sass and spunk behaved, even in captivity. But common sense took over. If I didn’t get sold, I’d have to stay with Miles and he’d pull no punches this time around. I’d be battered, assaulted, all sorts of terrible things once there were no prospective buyers to protect my lily white skin.
So slowly, I wriggled my hips a bit, tugging the golden fabric down. Inch after inch of creamy white flesh was exposed, my tummy, my belly button, and then lower until I’d pulled the dress over my hips entirely, letting the fabric pool on the floor. And then I stood up, clad only in the tiniest pair of black lace panties, a g-string I’d bought specifically for the trip, feeling warm and tingly when I made the sensuous purchase.
But now, it was coming back to bite me because I knew how I looked in the tiny piece of lingerie. The fabric was so sheer you could see the small landing strip on my vulva, trim and beautiful. And oh god, but the lacy mesh caressed my labia, outlined by the black fabric, my nether lips swollen and engorged, dripping slightly.
Becau
se I was aroused. Despite my fear and hesitation, despite the fact that I was stripping in front of a dozen anonymous men, my body was reacting, illicitly showing its need. My nipples stiffened even more, this time begging to be touched, and my cunt moistened embarrassingly, loving the thought of male eyes on every part of my skin, every inch of my curves.
But this was still an auction, and the woman’s voice rang out once more.
“Turn,” the dulcet tone rang out. “Turn to your left and then to your right.”
