Page 36 of Auctioned

Heels clink across the room, and Clara appears behind the two men.

“Here, Poppy.” She lowers a plastic container overflowing with cleaning supplies at her side. The silver bowl with the hot wax is placed on the table. Once she’s done, her attention is on the two men staring at me. “The wax is ready. I’ve got it from here.”

“We’ve got it.” Topher smirks, and I shiver.

Surely, he’s not planning on waxing me himself. He probably hasn’t done it in his life. There’ll be bruises on my skin. It’ll hurt so bad.

“Excuse me, Mr. Hawthorne?” This is the first sign of confusion on Clara’s face. She tugs at the collar of her uniform. “That was an accident before. I assure you it won’t happen again.”

“I know it won’t.” He smirks at me. “We’re staying here as observers. Once my sacrifice’s pussy is spotless, we’ll leave.”

He wasn’t messing around. He’s planning on humiliating me, almost as much as James had. And this time, I won’t get off on it.

The air in the room crackles. No one speaks for the longest moment. I won’t let them see they scare me. I’ll die before I do.

Topher hasn’t won. Neither of these pricks have. The monster who’ll buy me won’t, either. They can humiliate me, demean me, make me wet despite myself.

They won’t break me.

Topher quirks an eyebrow. I flip him off.

James is silent.

“All right, girls.” Clara’s voice lacks the confidence from before. It cracks, just a tiny bit. Her hand squeezes my shoulder briefly. “Let’s get to it.”

I suck in a deep breath. Go deep inside my head, digging up memories of my colleagues. My parents. The good foster homes that had taken me in. The nights I slept in a decent bed. The mornings when I had eggs and bacon for breakfast instead of someone screaming in my face.

Trying to, anyway.

Familiar faces and homey scents are there and gone.

In their place, a dark entity slips in. Icy eyes. Deft fingers.

Come all over my hand.

Black. Black. Black.

Better to think about nothing at all than have my pussy dripping in front of these people.

This cult.

“There you go, Miss Monroe.” Poppy is gentle when she pulls my other leg aside.

“Mr. Hawthorne,” Clara urges. “You really don’t have to be here.”

“Dad can go if he’s uncomfortable. I’m good exactly where I am.”

“Shut up and let them do their job.” James isn’t as composed as he’d like the room to believe. The muscles in his neck bulge. His nostrils flare. “There won’t be any more of this disrespect, do you hear?”

“Jesus, chill.” Topher laughs, and it’s a cruel one. Worse than before.

We’ll see who has the last laugh when I come back to murder you. All of you.

Both men cross their arms over their broad chests. The first swipe of hot wax is smeared on my pussy, and I gnash my teeth. Silence every possible reaction to the pain.

I’m being treated like I’m…I’m…

Nothing.

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