Hoops and hollers and whistles from the men around me tell me I’m not the only one infatuated with her—she has the entire room under her spell. I don’t doubt if she started ordering men around, they would do as she asked. Several of the men are clearly submissives, looking for a strong woman to tell them what to do.
But those aren’t the men that scare me. It’s the other men. The men who haven’t bid on a single woman yet. Who have lifted their gaze from their phones to look at her now. And they are looking at her like they want to devour her. Like they can’t wait to break her. They see her as a game they plan on winning.
“I told you I saved the best for last. Who wants to start the bidding on our wild stallion here?” Oscar says.
“I’m not a fucking stallion. I’m a woman!” Siren shouts at him.
He just grins—loving her performance, knowing it’s going to get him more money.
I smell sex and money in the air—a battle is about to happen.
I tear my gaze from Siren to look at the men who are pining to win her. So many fucking erections fill the darkened room.
Fucking disgusting.
I close my eyes, trying to break the image from my head. I take a sip of the scotch, washing the repugnant feeling down.
And then I open my eyes, looking up at Siren, who is now stripping out of her robe and throwing it angrily into the crowd.
She’s not dressed as an angel, like most of the women. Or black like the last third. She’s in a red, fiery number. One that matches her red lips, but shows more of her skin than I want any man to see. Because it doesn’t cover any of the important parts of her. It’s just a sea of red straps twisting across her body. Her beautiful tits are on full display—the perfect size for her frame, curvy but not fake.
Her nipples are pointed in the chill air, and I pretend they are that way just for me. I’d love to lick and taste them and listen to the purrs and moans leave her lips as I tease them. My eyes travel down her firm stomach, complete with the light outline of her strong abs. And her bare pussy is highlighted with two red straps on either side hiding nothing. If she’s going to be sold, she’s going to do it on her terms.
I feel my body responding to her, giving her all the control. My cock pushes against the zipper of my slacks.
My cock is a fucking asshole.
I’m turned on by a woman about to be sold. A woman defying us all by giving away the goods before she is even sold. I wouldn’t doubt that she would drag a random man on stage and fuck him just to prove that she is in control—not us.
It’s true. She wins this round. But what about the next?
What about when she isn’t on stage?
What about when she’s one-on-one with a man stronger than her?
A man who has a gun?
And a team of men working for him?
Will she always win?
Men start throwing their numbers up, pushing the bidding higher and higher, faster than they did for any of the other women as she continues to curse and spit into the audience.
Her outrage only drives the energy and bidding higher. The men all think they will be the one to break her. To control her.
And I’m just as sick as they are because I want to control her too. I want to mark that beautiful skin of hers. I want to claim that mouth and stop her from cursing anything except my name. I want to spread her legs wide and lick every drop of sweetness spreading between them.
I want her.
I want her to be mine.
I want to fight for control.
Suddenly, my hand goes up, indicating I want to bid.
“Five million, to number fifteen,” Oscar says, grinning at me like we just agreed to do business together.
What am I doing?
I’m disgusting.
No, I’m saving her.
This is the only way. I have to buy her. Take her as my slave. Then I can find a way to set her free.
“Five point five million, to number twelve,” Oscar says.
I grind my teeth together and then drink the rest of my scotch. The bidding has only started, and already it’s higher than any of the other women’s final total.
Siren is worth it. It’s clear she is stronger than the other women. Her spirit is unbroken. Her desire is insatiable. Her body is flawless. She deserves to be worshipped by a king, not sold to a monster.
Her eyes track from the man who just bid on her back to me. And I swear she can see me. Not just see me, but see through me. She knows even though I claim to be bidding to save her, I’m just like every other man in this room. I’m disgusting. I’m sick. I’m a fucking bastard who doesn’t deserve her.
If I win her, she will be my ultimate test. I always knew I was going to hell. I knew I was a sinner. But she would be my ultimate sin. She would confirm the darkness in my heart. Because I’m not sure I could resist her. And she knows it.
It doesn’t stop my hand from raising again.
“Six million, to number fifteen.”
I stare at my opponent across the room, but I can’t make out his face in the darkness. I don’t know how high he’s willing to go. I don’t know how much money he has or is willing to spend on Siren.
But I’m determined to win. She’s mine, not his. I’m willing to bid everything I have on her; I just hope it’s enough to win her.
7
Siren
“Seven million. Really? You bastards think that’s all I’m worth?” I shout out at their disgusting faces.
I hear chuckles and whistles as I reveal more of my body to them. But I don’t care. I want whoever buys me to know he doesn’t own my body. I’ve already shown myself to every man in the room. If I could have every man touch me, fuck me, ruin me for my new owner, I would. But Oscar would never allow that to happen, so I don’t try.
I just strut around the stage, acting like I own it, cursing, and flipping them off every chance I get. Which only makes the crowd cheer more.
What am I doing? Why am I making more money for these assholes?
Because it hides my fear, it makes me feel powerful—in control. And it’s the only thing I have left right now that’s mine.
My dignity is gone.
Soon my strength, my choices, and my body will be too.
This moment is the last of any control. So I’m going to make it my most powerful.
There are only two men left bidding on me.
My fate will soon be decided.
And I don’t know which man to cheer for. I don’t even know who the two men are. The darkness covers their faces from me. The candlelight on the table is barely enough to make out the light of the men’s eyes.
But even if I could see their faces, they are both monsters. One might be less evil than the other, but that is the best I can hope for. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be here.
“Eight million.”
Holy fuck.
My mouth drops open. The last woman went for five million. They are bidding eight on me and don’t show any signs of slowing down.
What will be expected of me for eight million dollars?
What sexual acts will be required of me?
Will I have to fuck other men? Or will I be the buyer’s prized possession?
Will he keep me alive longer because he paid more, or will he enjoy ruining me faster because he thinks I can’t be broken?