Tearing Off My Face

Mia was still groggy as she was led onto the catwalk. Bright lights shone in her eyes, leaving the audience shrouded in darkness. She shaded her eyes and blink, revealing a sea of male faces leering up at her. She was chilly and was dressed in a sheer chiffon tunic that clings to her body and provides no warmth.

Conscious of the effect of your erect nipples poking through the diaphanous fabric, you raise an arm to cover your chest. A man beside you quickly grabs your wrist and pulls it back down to your side. You look at him fearfully. He’s bald, broad, and powerful, his muscles barely contained under his Italian suit. She decided not to antagonize him because she didn't know what was going to happen to her.

This is bad, very bad. It’s hard to think of a positive way to spin the fact that you weren’t abducted from the street, drugged, stripped, and washed, but you were thrown in front of a crowd of evil men because your father allowed it because he didnt care. This is awful—really awful. You’re supposed to be an Alpha’s daughterbut right now you're nothing but a pet, an item, a slave. You wondered if they would fear of they found out that you but you doubt it. You're the daughter, the human he didn't care about but still didn't want to let you go to be with your mother. Isn't that cruel? The room were filled with hungry men and werewolves and you thought to yourself if the werewolves cared about the mate bond…… There’s a slender man in a tuxedo. He speaks into a microphone with the smooth tones “Okay gentlemen, as you can see, we’ve saved the best till last.” He consults his clipboard. “It says here her name’s Mary, but if you are the winning bidder you can call her whatever you like!”

 You tremble as your worst fear is confirmed. They mean to sell you at auction! Your mind races, wondering what your new owner will expect of you. “Beautiful, isn’t she? Do a little spin for us, darling.” You hesitate, partly out of defiance, but mostly because you are not yet recovered enough to think clearly. You can still feel the needle sting in your bicep where they injected you. The immediate effect of the cocktail of drugs was to render you unconscious, but the lingering effect seems to be one of ensuring your compliance, or at least suppressing resistance. The man beside you grabs your shoulders and twists you around so that your back is to the audience. Then you feel the skirt of your tunic lifted, exposing your bare ass for all to see. There are appreciative murmurs from the crowd.

The auctioneer steps over and gives you a sharp smack on your left buttock, causing you to jump. There’s laughter, but with a sinister undertone. “Nice huh?” he asks. “Imagine that ass jiggling as you give it to her from behind! Remember, we supply you with enough drugs to keep her willing. Of course, you don’t need to use them if you enjoy a challenge…” Oh shit. You’re going to be a sex slave. Hopefully this means you won’t have to vacuum and clean toilets, but still, there’s an obvious downside here. “Five thousand!” shouts out someone eagerly. The auctioneer shakes his head. “Turn her around again, Ivan,” he instructs your guard.

 You are roughly twisted to face the crowd again, your eyes downcast, feeling a blush on your face. The auctioneer runs his fingertips down your cheek and neck and you turn your head away from him in revulsion. His fingers trace lower, then he gently cups your breast. “Look at her.

She’s something special, this one. Starting bids at twenty thousand, I’m afraid. You know she’ll be worth it!” “Twenty thousand!” He grins and steps back from you, but not before giving your tit a firm squeeze. “And we’re off, gentlemen! Do I hear higher?” “Twenty-five!”

 “Thirty!”

 You seem to have stimulated quite the bidding frenzy. It’s flattering if you think about it. As the bids climb higher and higher you look around the room nervously, trying to identify your potential owners. You hope at least that the winner is good looking.

 “Fifty thousand!” shouts someone, and there’s a loud cheer from around the room. The bidding stops. “Ah yes,” says the auctioneer.