Given: Highest Bidder

by Willow Winters

  Brooks starts to speak, but I don’t give him a moment to continue. I push him backward, his chair rolling across the floor as the backs of his knees smack against it. “There are no sure bets.” I push the words through clenched teeth.

  It wouldn’t have come to this if he’d shown respect at least. It wasn’t his money to piss away.

  My grip tightens as I haul his back against the wall, slamming his spine against the drywall and denting it from the force. My teeth clench as my left hand forms a fist and I land a blow into his kidney. My muscles are taut and adrenaline is rushing through me. My head feels light; my breathing is heavy.

  A loud grunt spills from his lips until I tighten my hand around his throat, feeling his blood rushing just beneath the surface and his throat giving in to the brute force of my weight. Both of his hands instantly reach for my hand on his neck, his blunt fingernails scratching against the glove on my hand. It’s no use. I’m not letting go until he receives this message loud and clear.

  I lean in close to his ear and hiss between clenched teeth, “You’ll pay me all of it by the twenty-fifth of April. Or I’ll destroy you.” I pull away to look into his eyes. The milky whites have turned red around the edges, his face is a brighter shade of red, and his hands are still struggling at my grip. I hold his eyes, so full of sheer terror, only for a moment longer before releasing him.

  I leave him there, heaving for air in a slump on the floor as I walk quickly to the door, shaking out my hand and ignoring the force inside of me begging to unleash itself. Begging for a fight.

  “Wait. I have something you may want,” Brooks calls out in a croak. His words stop me midstep, but I continue momentarily, ignoring him and turning the doorknob.

  “I want my money, Brooks. I won’t take anything else,” I tell him firmly.

  His eyes stare back at me with a darkness as I stand in the doorway.

  “I know what you like most at the club,” he says then noticeably swallows, the soft, sick sound filling my ears as he rights himself, still slumping against the wall.

  “The club?” I ask flatly, my face devoid of emotion or interest.

  “Club X,” he says loudly and clearly. The name makes my blood run cold. I only go there to watch my investments, for appearances only. I’m not interested in anything beyond that, and I haven’t taken part in any of the… activities for a reason.

  “I know you like the Slaves.” My eyes narrow, and I have to keep my feet planted before I crush this fucker’s windpipe. Brooks continues, “But there aren’t many. Take mine… for a month.”

  My heart beats loud in my chest and blood rushes in my ears as I finally move slightly backward onto my heels and open the door wider so I can leave this prick and get on with my life.

  “You have until the twenty-fifth,” I reiterate and turn my back to him.

  “You don’t want her then?” he asks with slight disbelief, and I quickly turn to face him when I hear him take a single step toward me. The moment my eyes lock with his, he freezes.

  “No,” I tell him with a chill in my voice. “You’ll pay me what you owe me-”

  “She’ll go up for auction then.” He nods sternly, not backing down from my cold gaze. “I’ll get that money to you on time. I have three hundred thousand coming. She’s good for the rest. I know she is.”

  His admission makes rage and adrenaline pump through my blood. “That’s not your money,” I answer him.

  He shrugs slightly, seemingly more at ease now that he’s figured out a way to pay me. “She’s mine. She’ll do what she’s told.”

  “On the twenty-fifth, Brooks,” I say one last time, turning and closing the door behind me as I go.

  I’m on edge and uneasy as I slip the gloves off and shove them into my pockets. My strides are larger than normal, the outrage apparent no matter how much I’d like to hide it. As I pass the rows of desks, I know they can see me. The real me, but in this moment, I can’t suppress it. I can only move faster and leave before I turn around and do something I’ll truly regret.

  Chapter 4

  Arianna

  Whack!

  A strangled cry escapes my lips as my head falls backward, the stinging pain racing up my ass cheeks, spreading out to my lower back and traveling downward through my thighs. Fuck. It hurts.

  My breath comes out in short gasps as I try to bear the wave of stinging aftershocks, my face twisted into a tight mask of pain. I try to remember to give my worries to Danny. To relax and trust him that the pain will give me pleasure in the end. It’s all for a reason. Everything happens for a reason and I deserve this, but in the end, it'll be alright.

  That’s what I used to tell myself, and it did bring me relief in the past. At times, I even looked forward to it. I deserved this, and the end result made a weight lift from me. It was freeing. But not now. It’s only mind-numbing agony now.

  My heart skips a beat as I sense movement. And I brace for another one. But it doesn’t come right away.

  I can hear Danny behind me, his breathing deep and ragged, stalking me like I’m a wild animal that needs to be put down. But he doesn’t have to do that. I’m chained to the wall, my hands cuffed above my head, my bare ass behind me, giving him complete access. He just likes doing this. He likes building the anticipation of a hit, but never striking until I least expect it.

  I hate it. As I wait for his next blow, I can’t remember what I used to think about during these times. I don’t remember them. It wasn’t like this.

  I wait in agony, my limbs taut and sweaty, knowing the next one is coming, even if I don't know when. I hear his footsteps move to my right side and then to my left. Then I sense him directly behind me. The sound of his breathing fills my ears and my heart pounds faster. It’s coming. Everything goes silent.

  A drop of sweat runs down my forehead, down my nose, all the way down my chin and drops to the plush carpet below. I swear my heart is about to race out of my chest as I wait, thumping so loud that I know he hears it. I feel dizzy as I grip the chains, bracing myself for what’s to come.

  “You’re holding back,” his voice calls out from behind me. My body relaxes at his words. I am. He knows me so well. “You need to give in,” he tells me.

  My head hangs in shame. This is my fault. I used to be ready for this, willing to give him my pain and it would make me feel better.

  An animalistic grunt splits the air, followed by multiple lashes.

  A tortured scream tears from my throat. Agony becomes my existence, my ass, thighs and lower back radiating a pain so strong my knees buckle. The hard cast iron cuffs scrape my skin as the full weight of my body pulls down toward the floor, my hands stretching out above my head as far as they’ll go.

  I try to silence my pain as the unforgiving metal digs into my skin. Danny’s behind me, his breathing heavier and more shallow than before. I know he’s getting off on this, his cock is hard as a fucking rock. It was the tradeoff. He’d take the pain of my past away in exchange for this.

  The words are on my lips. I need to tell him, to let him know that I’m not okay and I can’t give in like I used to. I don’t want this anymore. But what about everything he’s done for you? that annoying voice at the back of my head chimes in. You wouldn’t be here if not for him. And he knows what you need. You’re only in this position because you won’t listen.

  “Listen to me,” Danny says softly, almost in a comforting voice as he cradles my chin in his hand. As if he knew exactly what I was thinking just now. “Give in to the pain, and it will set you free.”

  A feeling of guilt presses down upon my chest and I suck in a ragged breath. I hate it. I hate it even more because I know it’s true. I wouldn’t be here if Danny hadn’t saved me. For a time, he made me forget the terrible loss I suffered. He made me feel like I’d repented in a way.

  The sound of Danny moving again breaks me out of my preoccupation. I almost shake my head and tell him I can’t. No. Not again. I don’t think I can take anymore. I stay half-sl
ouched. I don’t have the energy to stand up straight. I just can’t.

  “Raise your ass,” I hear Danny’s deep voice command behind me. Goosebumps rise on my thighs as I tremble at the anger lacing his words. I want to tell him no. I want to tell him that I can’t do this anymore. But the words stick in my throat when I try to speak them. He has my best intentions at heart. He did in the beginning, and this must be my fault. I’m the one holding back. I’m not well, and he knows it.

  I try to rise and straighten my body, my legs wobbling like Jello. It’s a chore to arch my back. I manage, but it’s all I can do to keep myself in position. I weakly grip the chains that are holding me up, my limbs completely covered in sweat, my heart racing so fast that the room spins around me. He saved me. He saved me. He saved me, I chant over and over in my mind, mentally preparing myself for this. But the blow never comes. Suddenly I'm being released from the chains, Danny appearing at my side and jerking my cuffs loose. I gasp as he gently lowers me to the floor, hitting the plush carpet with a thud. My hands immediately go to my wrists. There are deep red indentations from when I strained against them, but they’re not as bad as I thought. They still hurt like hell though. I look up, taking in my surroundings, my breathing ragged. We’re in one of Club X’s private rooms, one of Danny’s favorites. It’s absolute luxury, with a king-size bed in the middle of the room adorned with grey and white silk bedding, and ultra-plush pillows. A large canopy frames the sides with gossamer white curtains tied back against each post.

  The walls match the colors of the bedding, grey and white, and have intricate designs, adding that much more luxury in the fine details. The floor is covered with thick, soft white carpet and the matching furniture is chic and contemporary, with a large loveseat at the foot of the bed and an oversized chair near the granite fireplace.

  Then there are the toys.

  A delicate glass china cabinet sits on the left side of the room, filled with whips, riding crops, and other devices. Nearby, there is a grey rack with white shackles.

  And above me is the Saint Andrew's Cross that chained me to the wall. Plus, Danny.

  His gaze holds nothing but disappointment. I look back at him, unable to control the anxiety I feel along with the pain. Although I’m naked, bared before him, he’s dressed in grey dress pants and a white dress shirt that’s unbuttoned at the chest, his dark blond hair adorned by his cold piercing hazel eyes. “What’s wrong?” I dare ask, my voice sounding like a small, scared child’s. And I truly am scared. I don’t know what to think anymore.

  “You,” he says simply. “You’re not behaving. You’re making this harder than it has to be.”

  “Sir, I-”

  “I only want to help you. I know you need this. You aren’t well, Arianna.”

  “I- I-,” I protest, trying to put some strength in my words, but failing. He's right. I’m not okay, but I just don’t know if this is the answer.

  “You don’t trust me as a Master. I’ve done so much for you.” I feel tears form in my eyes at his words. “Danny please, it’s not like that. It’s just…”

  Danny leans forward, putting his face close to mine. The hurt in his expression is nothing compared to the anger in his blazing eyes. “It’s just what?” he asks.

  Tell him. He needs to know.

  A lump forms in my throat, but I manage to mumble, “I feel like this isn’t working anymore and it hurts, but there’s no… there’s nothing but pain. I didn’t tell you because I don’t want to upset you.”

  “It’s only because you aren’t trusting me.” His voice is full of conviction. “Don’t you remember how freeing it is? Why are you hurting yourself?”

  After a moment, he takes a step back and stands up straight. “This has been coming for a long time now.” His words are terrible. Not because they're angry, but because they’re so quiet and fill me with overwhelming anxiety.

  “What do you mean-”

  Danny walks forward and unbuckles the thick leather collar from around my neck.

  “Danny, what are you doing?” I cry in panic. I reach up to try to stop him, but he swats my hand away as easily as one would swat a fly, and pulls the collar free from my neck, leaving cold air to replace its warmth. He steps back with it clenched tightly in his hand, scowling at me with a coldness I’ve never seen from him before. Unconsciously my hands fly to my neck. It feels so strange, running my fingers along the bare skin there. It feels... empty. Like he’s abandoning me.

  “I told you so long as you didn’t give up on yourself, I wouldn’t give up on you.” His words are carried with pain. He’s given up on me.

  My heart feels like it’s been pierced by a jagged spear.

  His next words turn my blood to ice. “You’re going up for auction.”

  My jaw goes slack as what he says registers, my heart skipping several beats as I’m shocked into silence.

  “You need to learn to trust me,” Danny says. “And I think handing you over to another Master is the best thing for you right now.”

  I stare at him in disbelief, hardly believing what he’s saying.

  “I want you to know what it’s like to miss me,” he says. “To realize how good you had it.”

  But it’s been so bad, I want to tell him, so bad that I want to leave you.

  For weeks I’ve thought about ending this, but the fear of losing him and having no one that truly knows me kept me from doing it. To me, being with someone who doesn’t know my history is terrifying.

  “You can come back to me after you’ve learned your lesson,” Danny says. “Maybe then you’ll truly appreciate me.”

  “Danny-” I try to say.

  He waves me silent. “I’m done. Prepare yourself for your auction.”

  With that said, he walks out, closing the door behind him.

  I sit there on the floor, my skin prickling as a torrent of emotions goes through me. Anxiety. Anger. Sadness.

  I don’t know what to do. I’m so used to leaning on Danny for support to conquer my demons that I don’t know if I can survive without him.

  Chapter 5

  Zander

  The chill of the wind whips across my face, the hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention. The thick wool overcoat I have on shields everything but my neck and cheeks. I don’t move to cover them though. The crisp morning air seems fitting as I stare down at my mother’s gravesite. I was only ten when she died. I wonder what kind of man I’d be if she’d never left.

  My heart beats slower as another gust of wind comes, harsher this time. Again, I don’t move. I stand still, my hands shoved into my coat pockets.

  I have her tombstone memorized, but my eyes still flicker over the engraved message.

  Marie Payne

  1958 - 1994

  Loving wife, doting mother.

  She will be missed.

  I do miss her, as odd as it may be. I hardly knew her, but I miss what could have been. She’s the one who taught me to smile behind the pain. She never stopped, until the last few weeks of her life. It all crumbled around her, the affair that tore them apart. People were always watching. Always judging. It was too much for her.

  I clear my throat as I straighten my stance and take in a deep breath. When I come here, the smile that’s perpetually on my face is nowhere to be found. I can’t do it; I can’t bring myself to smile when I’m around her.

  Maybe that’s why I come here so much.

  I don’t know much about her, if I’m honest with myself. There’s plenty online, so I suppose I know as much about her as a stranger would who wanted to look her up. She had no family but us. She married into wealth and gave the Payne heir a baby boy. And then she had miscarriage after miscarriage.

  Her name means misery. Marie. I remember she told me that once, and I didn’t understand what she meant at the time. It’s the Latin meaning. The sadness in her pale eyes is something that haunts me even till this day. How could my father not see it?

  He’ll never admit it, but I kno
w she killed herself. He wouldn’t let her leave. I remember the fights, the screams. That’s what I remember most, even if I always had my eyes closed tight and my small hands over my ears. I’ll never forget the way they’d raise their voices until I knew it must have hurt them.

  I’d hide in the closet of my room whenever it happened. I stare at the small crack in the marble slab of her tombstone.

  I never understood why they hated each other so much. Why they enjoyed hurting each other with their words. They must’ve; fighting was all they ever did.

  My eyes settle onto the line, “doting mother.”

  I think children have to love their mother. It’s something in them that’s biological. It must be so, because I know I love her. Even without a single memory of her gentle touch or soothing words. I haven’t a single one. The nannies were there for me when I was young. But they came and went like a merry-go-round. They got too attached.

  The only constant was the fighting between my parents, and when that came to a halt with her death, there was only silence for a short time. And then my father started with me.

  “One mistake and you’re ruined,” he’d tell me all the time. I was to be perfect. Just like my mother was supposed to be.

  I was good where my mother failed. I enjoyed charming people. I liked getting a reaction from them. I liked for them to see the boy I wanted to be, and not the hollow shell I became.

  It’s less amusing now, but it’s vital to my survival.

  Father taught me well.

  My phone pings with a message at the thought and I’m slow to pull it out, even though my fingers are already wrapped around it.

  When I finally take my eyes from the tombstone to look at it, a text from my father stares back at me.

  Dinner on the 7th for the gala. You need to be there.

  A grunt leaves me and I roll my eyes as I ignore it. I already know about the event. I’ll be there just like I always am.