And safe? Safety wasn’t a feeling I had experienced for eight years.
“Once that’s done,” Madame Lorraine continued, “I’d like you to wait in this antechamber. We don’t conduct our bidding openly here. I don’t hold with such theatrics for something that is a serious process.” For the first time since she’d stepped into our little chamber, her expression softened and her eyes turned wistful. “The bond between a Dominant and a submissive is a beautiful one. Any other questions?”
“Madame Lorraine?” My voice was nervous, but I had to speak. My question would be expected. “Can I ask how the finances work?” I was prepared for her frown of disapproval, but I also had a cover story to protect.
However, she didn’t look displeased. “You’ll be paid a quarter of the money right away,” she clarified. “And a quarter each month. Sarit has all your banking information, does she not?” A choruses of yeses greeted her statement, and she smiled at all of us, her warm gaze almost a benediction.
“Ladies,” she said solemnly. “I hope that the next three months will be everything you hope it will be. Please follow me now. And good luck to all of you.”
My fingers bit deep into my palms as I followed Susan. We snaked out of the antechamber in one long line, like lambs being led to the slaughter.
***
There were men and women already in the main room as we walked out. No doubt that was part of the visual effect. A long line of beautiful women, all available for sale, wearing robes that could be removed by one strategic tug of a lazy finger, walking among the seated men and women as we made our way to the small area next to the makeshift stage. `
As I walked, my senses spun. Somewhere in this room was Alexander Hamilton. I wished once again that we’d been able to get a photo of him, but we’d been completely unsuccessful in finding out anything about him. We only knew that he had frequented Madame Lorraine’s auction twice before. Our informant, an unknown worker in Madame Lorraine’s auction house had assured us that he was scheduled to attend this particular auction. How reliable was our information? We had no idea, but we had run out of other options. Our plan had been hatched in desperation.
I waited. A part of me watched as each girl was called by name and went up on stage under the spotlights. Madame Lorraine would say a few things about the girl. What she wanted, what she was looking for, where she’d been trained. The girl in question always kept her eyes lowered submissively, faint colour staining her cheeks as her innermost desires were openly discussed among the waiting men and women. Then the next woman was called up.
I barely registered when it was my turn. In some sense, I’d checked out. My emotions were a swirl and I was engaged in fiercely making sure I didn’t fall apart. My entire revenge – my life goal for the last eight years – rested on my efforts today and over the next three months.
I felt the glare of the spotlights. I heard Madame Lorraine tell the assembled buyers that I was from Cleveland. I heard the murmurs of conversation when the men and women realized how intriguingly short my list of hard limits were. Hopefully I was also piquing Alexander Hamilton’s interest. He had to bid on me and win me. He had to.
Then it was time to walk to my designated area and wait for the Dominants in the room to approach me.
***
I waited in the centre of a small sitting area, on my knees, for potential buyers to approach. A couch was in front of me and a chair was on each side. It was a semi-private area, one where I could indeed conduct conversations with the people who wished to purchase me.
The other girls had their own private areas and in some of them, there were already men and women waiting for them. Mine was empty and a wave of relief went through me when I realized that. I had told myself over and over again that I was ready. But here and now, it turned out that I wasn’t as prepared as I would have liked. I wasn’t as stoic as I should have been.
Remember Dylan, I rebuked myself harshly. You managed to control yourself around him. But all that self-control had been brought about by fear. In the intervening years, as I’d learned to defend myself better, some of that fear had fallen away.
“This is her,” a voice spoke. Two large men moved in front of me and seated themselves at the couch. “Make eye contact, please.”
I obeyed, looking up at them. Trained as I was, my brain registered details, though fear was still etched in me.
Two men. Both Caucasian.
The first man. Blond, hair cropped military short. Grey eyes. Nose has been broken once. Ex-military, perhaps? Carries himself that way though his body has gone slightly to seed.
Weapon strapped to thigh. Looks like a hunting knife, from the way he moves. No body searches for the Dominants then. No gun.