Unmasked

by Shannon Youngblood

  I continued looking down the row, evaluating every girl. All types could be found in the lineup. Short, tall, skinny, fat, busty, and flat chested. There was plenty to choose from, but one in particular caught my eye and I couldn’t seem to look away. She wasn’t what I envisioned. She stood seemingly meek against the other girls, but there was defiance in her stance.

  She wasn’t tall or short, average, and her physique was not that of a skinny girl or a chunker. She was toned, and took good care of her body, that much was for sure. Her pearilized skin was something beautiful to look at and the extreme contrast from her milky skin to her jet black hair was eye opening. She was gorgeous. I even wished I had seen her with her dress on.

  “Which one are you looking at?” Master Llewellyn whispered next to me. It was clear he didn’t know who I was, or else he wouldn’t have asked me such a ridiculous question. It was common knowledge that the High Master and any sons he might have always got first dibs so it really didn’t matter who I chose, they were guaranteed to be mine.

  “Number eight” my mouth said before my brain could register what it had said.

  “Good luck, Mate. I’m going for her, same with half the Masters in the room,” he chuckled.

  “She’ll be mine and that’s all there is to it,” I growled back at him.

  Before he could respond back to me, I turned and looked at him, taking off my mask.

  “Master Cunningham, my apologies, I didn’t recognize you,” he stammered. “I’ll make sure the others know she’s spoken for.”

  I nodded at him as he scurried off to do just as he said. There was no turning back now, girl number eight was going to be mine, and I hoped like fuck she could handle it. I glanced back at the stage just as she raised her head, her eyes locking with mine. The look in her gray eyes scorched my soul and the beast inside me pounced out, threatening to escape.

  “To start out our auction gentlemen, we have slave number one. Her given name is Candace and she is the daughter of Master Edward. She is five foot three and weighs in at one hundred and seventy-two pounds. I would suggest a diet for this little piggy slave,” he chuckled at his own cruel joke. “We’ll start the bidding at two hundred and fifty thousand.”

  I ignored the rest of her auction process as nothing else interested me but number eight. I needed to know her name, and I needed to know it now.

  Gliding through the crowd, I approached the fathers and waited for a lull in the auction process. When number one was sold, for three hundred and eighteen thousand dollars, I shook my head. That was only a small fraction of the debt she had on her head. The poor girl would be working off the rest, for the remainder of her pitiful existence.

  We all watched as her new Master climbed the stage and affixed a collar around her neck. Her first act of submission would be the same as every girl would have to endure. I watched as Master Freddy leaned in and whispered in her ear. She looked at him with a horrified stare, but eventually dropped down to her knees and crawled to the edge of the stage with her new Master guiding her down.

  This was tradition. It was not only humiliating for them to be lead around on a leash, it was the lowest form of degradation to do it in front of a room full of people. It was where you watched the last little bit of innocence and hope leave their eyes and if they were lucky, it was where they would give up what little bit of resistance they still held on to. From here on out, they were property.

  Before the next auction started, I stole a glance at number eight. She didn’t watch her friend crawl off the stage, preferring instead to keep her head down and not moving from the position I had seen her in just moments before. She was strong, and I knew if I wanted to break her, it would be difficult, but that wasn’t me anymore.

  “Master David,” I whispered to him. “A moment of your time?”

  As with most people who didn’t recognize me, I was initially ignored until they got a good look at me.

  “Master Cunningham,” he whispered back. “It’s good to see you here, and my condolences on the loss of your father.”

  “Thank you,” I rolled my eyes behind my mask. “Can you tell me who the father of number eight is?”

  Master David looked up to the stage and a wide grin formed on his face. “Oh that’s Master Ainsworth spawn. She will fetch a pretty penny I imagine. Are you finally interested in taking a slave?” He asked me.

  Ignoring his question, I made my way down the row to where Wayne Ainsworth stood, eyeing his daughter up and down, unnaturally so. He was just as disgusting as Tyler was.

  “Wayne,” I stated. There was no way I intended on calling him Master of anything. He was a vile man, and everyone in the community knew it. He lusted after every girl he could get his hands on. He was also second hand to my father and spent many dinners at my home while I had been growing up.

  I remembered many a nights when he would stay over in our guest room. Bella and Jenny would run to my room for protection. I was only ten, my sisters five and three respectively, and even at that age they knew to stay away from monsters. Wayne Ainsworth was a bigger monster than even I was, and that was saying something.

  Rumors of how cruel he was circulated around the community like wildfire, but in our community it didn’t matter your level of insanity. As a man you were above the law within the halls of The Faith. The rules only applied to slaves. Wayne had done his fair share of what would normally be deemed as illegal, and most people praised him for it. He was a true member of The Faith, and he took every word of our religion to heart. If he had his way, he would be the new High Master, but I would never let that happen.

  Wayne turned to me, irritation lacing his brow. “Can’t you see I’m watching this, and who the fuck are you to call me Wayne?”

  I took off my mask and he blanched for only a moment. “Master Cunningham, forgive me, I didn’t realize you would be in attendance.”

  “Yes, well I am. Am I to understand your daughter is number eight?” I asked him.

  “That’s right. Her name is Phoenix.”

  I nodded. “And what is the price of her?”

  “Eighteen million,” he told me, already knowing why I would ask.

  I didn’t stick around for any more conversation, but I could feel Wayne smiling at my back. I knew he still considered me a wild child and was counting on me making his little bitch fall in line, but that wasn’t going to be in the cards for her. Growing up with a father like that, I was positive she knew her place, and that would work in my favor.

  One by one, girls two thru seven were bid on and led off the stage, until the girl that would be mine was next up. Phoenix.

  “The next slave to bid on is number eight. Her given name is Phoenix and she is the daughter of Master Ainsworth. She is five foot seven and weighs one hundred and twenty-eight pounds. Shall we start the bidding at Four-Hundred thousand dollars?”

  No one spoke and I knew that Master Llewellyn had done his job. He had informed every viable Master that she was mine.

  “Eighteen Million,” I stated loudly and clearly.

  The gasp was heard around the ballroom, and for the first time since she had climbed up on stage, Phoenix’s head snapped up, her eyes meeting mine for a second time.

  Master Brutas laughed and shouted, “Sold to Master Cunningham for eighteen million dollars.”

  With my head held high as was my right of birth, I strode past a grinning Wayne and walked up the stairs to claim my prize. I didn’t want to humiliate the girl, but as was our tradition, I pulled a small collar and leash from my back pocket and I fastened it around her neck.

  “Do not fear me girl,” I whispered into her ear. “Drop to your knees.”

  With no hesitation, she did as she was told, her head bowed, and the crowd erupted into applause. I walked her to the edge of the stage and waited patiently for her to navigate her way down the stairs. I couldn’t help but admire her perfectly round ass as she did though. It was truly a sight to see.

  When we reached the bottom, I
offered her my hand to stand and she took it willingly. Her grasp was firm, and the defiance in her rolled off in waves from her body. She was holding in her disdain for me and everyone in attendance, and I almost admired her for it.

  With her hand clutched firmly in mine, my other hand still grasped firmly to her leash, I led her away to the changing rooms. The poor girl had no idea what was in store for her, and a little solitude might help her in the hours to come.

  When we entered her changing room, which took longer than necessary to get to, as every Master in attendance felt the need to congratulate me on my first auction win, I pointed towards the bed and unfastened her leash, leaving her small collar in place.

  “What is your name, girl?” I asked her.

  “Phoenix,” she replied, without a hint of fear behind her words.

  “Good girl, I praised. “Now listen to me, Phoenix. The night is still young and you have many challenges ahead of you. As long as you listen to me carefully, you will make it through with a shred of your sanity intact. Do you understand me?”

  I knew I came off harsher than I intended, but I needed her to know that she could lean on me if she wanted to, and in vain, I hoped she would.

  “I’ll be fine,” she told me, hatred and anger lacing her every word.

  “I’m your only friend here, Phoenix. It would be wise of you to show a little gratitude for what I’ve done,” I was angrier than I thought I would be. With only three words, she had managed to bring the beast within to life.

  “You’re not my friend,” she spat. “You just bought me like a piece of meat at the butcher shop. I’m nothing but property to you. Bought and paid for virgin meat!”

  “Silence, girl,” I shouted. No one had ever spoken to me like that, and the rage inside of me sprouted to life, fiercer and hotter than I had ever felt it before. “Your handmaid will be here shortly. I expect you to be ready when the ceremony starts.”

  Without waiting for a reply, I stormed out of the room. I needed to get my anger in check before the next phase of the auction process began. I needed to be strong for Phoenix. She was a resilient girl, but just like every slave before her, the next portion of the evening would break her. It always did.

  Chapter 7

  Phoenix

  “What an egotistical, dick brained, twat waffle, asshat!” I shouted as soon as the door closed. I didn’t care that my expletives didn’t make sense, I just needed to say them. I also knew he had probably heard me, but I didn’t give a shit. Who the fuck did he think he was? I had just fucking told him my name and yet he thought ‘girl’ was a suitable enough substitute. And what the fuck did he mean ‘make it through with my sanity intact?’

  I paced the floor, oblivious to my next moves. Throughout the entire auction I had been on the verge of tears. I cried inside for every girl before me, and I sobbed internally for my own humiliation. My dad had only told me a small fraction of what I was going to face, and even though I had felt ready for whatever would happen, I was truly unprepared for what went down. It was one thing to be paraded around in front of hundreds of people, waiting to bid on you like a prized calf, it was another to do it naked, with a collar and leash around your neck.

  Never in my life had I wanted the ground to swallow me up and devour me whole. Never in my life had I felt ashamed in my own body, but within minutes of being stripped of my garments, I had also been stripped of the very little dignity I had left. I felt like a shell of what I had been this morning. An empty, aching shell.

  If this man’s words were to be believed, it wasn’t over yet. Sometime this evening, I was about to be introduced and inducted into the seventh circle of hell. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but something told me to trust my new owner and be ready for anything that could possibly happen.

  I gulped and sat down on the bed. What could be so awful that girls had lost their sanity from it? What depravity would I find lurking in the shadows of the looming evening? What could honestly be that bad? A knock at the door sounded, and I had a feeling I was soon going to find out.

  “Come in,” my wobbly voice beckoned.

  “Miss Phoenix?” the girl asked, her face downtrodden.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m here to get you ready,” she said, a bundle resting graceful in her youthful hands.

  “Get me ready?” I asked, oblivious to what she was referring to.

  “Yes, Miss Phoenix,” she replied, looking up at me. “Your wedding.”

  I knew my mouth had dropped open, but it wasn’t until my chin hit the floor did I have the courage to look into the girls eyes.

  “What the fuck does that mean?” I shouted, louder than I had intended.

  She flinched, and I immediately felt bad for my poor manners.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I just don’t understand what is going on.”

  “Your new Master didn’t explain it to you?” She asked, obviously confused.

  “No, and I didn’t consent to any wedding,” I stated flatly, my arms crossing over my chest.

  “Master Zander was supposed to explain everything to you, and I might be out of line, but you need to know so you can be prepared.”

  “Be prepared for what,” I questioned, my intrigue piqued.

  “Tonight, you will marry Master Zander, and you will consummate the marriage in a large ceremony with all of the other new slaves.”

  “Bull-fucking-shit I will,” I screamed, hopping off the bed and running to the window. “I gotta get out of here! Help me with this window!” Never in my life had I cursed so much in such a short amount of time.

  I knew escaping through the window was futile. I could see the locks on the window, clear as day. But that didn’t stop the adrenaline within me from trying to pry them open anyways.

  “Miss Phoenix. Those windows are bolted shut. No one escapes The Faith.” She sounded exasperated.

  “I don’t understand,” I shouted at her. “Why me?” I could feel the unshed tears of the auction creeping up and threatening to spill over. This was not how tonight was supposed to go. I was going to dance and frolic with my friends. A young boy would come up and offer his hand in a dance. I would giggle and blush, and then at the end of the night I would go home and sleep in my bed.

  “This is tradition, Miss Phoenix, and you have to get ready. We don’t have much time left!” Her pleas turned almost worrisome and for a brief moment I forgot my own troubles. I walked over and took her hand in mine, navigating us both to sit on the bed.

  “What is your name?”

  “I am called 8S3. All unowned slaves are known by only a number unless the High Master gives them a name,” she sniffled.

  “What was your birth name?” I asked her, repulsed by the cold, harsh identifier.

  “I was born by a whore slave, number 4P9, she didn’t name me.”

  “I’m going to call you Gwen. Would that be alright?”

  “I would like that, Miss Phoenix,” she sniffled.

  “How old are you Gwen?” I asked.

  “Fourteen, I think”

  “Very good. Now, why is it so important that I get ready tonight? What happens if I choose not to participate?”

  She shook her head violently and let go of my hand. “No! You can’t Miss Phoenix. If you don’t get ready they will beat you and they will beat me.”

  “Shush, Gwen,” I tried soothing her. “Don’t you worry, alright? I will get ready, and I won’t let them hurt a single hair on your head.”

  She nodded at me like she had heard everything before. Grabbing the garment bag off the bed she handed it to me. “This is what Master Zander would like you to wear.”

  Inside, she pulled out a long white, pearl dress. The bust was covered in rhinestones, but the rest was elegantly plain, simple and sheer. It was the most beautiful dress I had ever seen. If it wasn’t for the fact that I knew what the dress symbolized, I would have worn it every chance I had gotten.

  “It’s very pretty Gwen,” I cooed.
“Can you help me put it on?”

  She nodded at me, and carefully pulled down the zipper in the back. “I think you’re going to be the prettiest bride out there,” she whispered, enamored with the feel of the fabric.

  “I think you may be right,” I said wistfully, my dreams of the perfect wedding crashing before me in a blaze of destruction and chaos. “Can you tell me what else is going to happen tonight, Gwen?’’ I asked her, as I stepped into the garment and pulled it up my body.

  She shook her head at me. “I don’t know, Miss Phoenix. I’m too young to attend.”

  I nodded at her. If this was going to be as bad as Zander said it was going to be, I was glad she wasn’t allowed in. I felt overly protective of the small girl zipping up my dress, and I didn’t know why. I had only met her fifteen minutes ago, and an instinct I didn’t recognize had kicked in. I wanted to shelter her from the world, and this horrible place.

  “You look so pretty, Miss Phoenix.”

  “Thank you Gwen. Now can you tell me what else we are supposed to do?’

  She nodded enthusiastically. “I am to wait in the hall for the all the girls to be ready. When they are, your father will come and get you. I’ll try and knock on your door to let you know when it is time. Okay?”

  “You did really good, Gwen,” I praised her. “Thank you for being brave when I was being mean.”

  She smiled, an honest to goodness grin, and walked out of the door, her hands behind her back and a small pep in her step.

  I wanted to curse, and scream and throw things. That poor child out there was nothing but a fucking number to these people. She was a slave, just like I was. I sat on the bed and considered my next move. Escape seemed unlikely at this juncture, and after the events of the alcove and my bedroom, talking to my father was out of the question at all. The only one who seemed to have even a lick of compassion was Zander, but I didn’t know him and I certainly didn’t trust him. For now, I just needed to get through this night and whatever it held in store. Tomorrow would be another day, and God willing, if I survived it, I would figure out my next move.