Page 4 of Crushing Clover

They had hosed us off, but between one building and the next, we splashed barefoot through torrential rain and mud, undoing their attempt to get us mostly clean.

My curls were now snarled knots, but who cared?

It didn’t matter to me what kind of price I brought them, after all.

Wearing nothing but our grease paint numbers, like Scarlet Letters on our chests, some of the women walked shamefaced, head low.

Others did their best to look attractive—maybe hoping to catch the eye of a rich man shopping for a pretty companion.

As for me, I’d never been good at schooling my expression when I was angry, and this whole situation enraged me.

Disgusting pigs. Every man here.

Head high, my disdain plain to see, I made eye contact with slimeballs in the room, not caring if they were sellers or buyers. I had chosen this, even though the choice had felt like no choice at all, but that didn’t mean I approved of what they were doing.

Maybe someone would kill me. I was almost hoping they would. Living in fear and not knowing what would happen—having no control—was a brutal feeling.

With so many bodies, the room was overly warm, and it was satisfying to know the men were suffering in their layers of clothing.

The number emblazoned on my chest kept catching my attention. I was never going to look at the number 127 the same way again.

They put us in rows that were long strings of misery.

The girl two down from me sobbed as yet another group of men moved through the line, ‘inspecting’ her the same way as the other men, by grabbing and slapping, poking and groping her flesh, as though assessing the quality of cattle.

We were all tired of it, but I refused to be cowed.

There would be time for real fear later, when I ended up wherever I was going.

Three men stopped in front of the girl next to me, checking her over with more thoroughness than they had the few women before her. One marked her number on a scrap of paper before they moved on to me.

The shortest one picked up a lock of my hair, rubbing it between his fingers.

“Real red?” he asked, the word heavily accented.

Was he looking for verification or merely making a comment? All he needed to do was look at the patch of hair between my legs.

“Red is ugly.” One of the others grimaced.

“Many men like red,” the first man disagreed. He felt between my legs and prodded a rude finger into me that made me gasp in protest. I managed not to tell him off. I’d seen the beating one of the other girls had gotten when she was uncooperative.

He held his glistening finger up to his nose and nodded, before gesturing to his friend to write down my number, too.

127

He wiped his hand on his shirt. How many other women had that finger been inside of today? They’d done exams, blood work, and swabs on us, but I’d recently gone through the same type of processing before going to work at the resort, so I wasn’t scandalized.

“Arabella?” A man with dark hair, greying at the temples, was directly behind them in the steady stream of inspecting buyers.

I glanced at him then decided I should mind my business.

He said the name again, but this time he was in front of me, trying to catch my attention. When I met his gaze, his eyes were dark and full of what looked like malicious glee.

“Pardon?”

“Arabella?”

I raised my brows, wondering if this was some sort of game.

“No. My name is Clover.”

He chuckled. “No reason for lies. We’ve known each other long enough to be honest.”

I shook my head. “Sorry, but I’m not the woman you’re looking for.”

He gave a short laugh. Rather than walking off, he pushed my tangled hair back from my shoulders. “No tattoos?”

“No.”

He grunted, but I wasn’t sure if it was approval.

“Tell me I’m a pompous ass.”

Hesitantly, I parted my lips, darting a glance up and down the row to make sure there were no guards around.

“You’re a pompous ass?” I hazarded. Was he the kind of guy who liked to be dominated or were we reenacting something?

“Hmm. Your voice is similar enough, I think.”

What the fuck was this guy talking about?

Chuckling, he jotted down my number on his scrap of paper. I hadn’t seen anyone with a phone since we’d come in, so I assumed they’d been taken away at the door.

“Turn around and touch your toes.”

I blinked at him, wishing I hadn’t caught this man’s attention. Most of the other girls were being poked and prodded, sure, but I hadn’t seen anyone else being made to do something so embarrassing.

Wanting to shrivel up and die, I did as I was told.

His hands made contact with my bottom, and I did my best not to gasp.

He grabbed me by a hip and thrust two fingers into me, forcing them in, even though it hurt.

His impatient jerking motions eventually went deep, rough enough to satisfy him, and he continued to move them in and out for a few moments before withdrawing.

“Good.”

My insides burned from this handling, but I’d dealt with worse. I tried to stand, but one of his hands made contact with my lower back, staying me.

“Stay down.”

With one of his still-slick fingers, he prodded at my bottom hole, and I bit my lips together gripping my ankles to keep myself from falling or running. I wouldn’t get far, but even the beating it would earn me might be worth getting away from this.

He poked his way in maybe half an inch, and I gritted my teeth and held my breath.

Somewhere, a bell rang, interrupting. He stopped trying to force his way in and patted my back.

“Stand and turn around.”

I stood and turned back to him, my cheeks burning and murder in my heart.

“I think you’ll do just fine.”

Gee thanks. I’m flattered.

“See you soon.” He walked away, and I grimaced as the next man stopped in front of me, writing my number down before hurrying to where the bidding would take place.

The actual auction was exactly what I’d imagined.

Fast, insulting. We were urged up onto a block, raising us above the onlookers, and ordered to turn.

Age and educational background were announced, as though any man here was looking for the accounting skills of the woman in front of me, or the nursing expertise of the woman two behind me.

How much did these horrid men think I was worth? But rather than bidding money, everything was in a type of crypto I’d never heard of. There was no guessing how much we were worth in regular dollars.

When it was over, we were issued tunic-style dresses. Mine was a garish yellow.

I’d had difficulty following the actual auction, between the number of people buying, and the quick flicks of hands. There was no keeping track of who had won me. When I was taken outside and pushed into the back of an SUV, the new bindings on my wrists were already chafing.

As the door closed behind me, I tried to right myself on the seat without the use of my bound arms.

“You cost me a lot more than I was intending to pay.”

I glanced over, as the SUV pulled away from the curb. The older man who’d told me to touch my toes was in the back seat with me, and his driver was taking us out of the parking lot.

I had the urge to apologize, but really, I’d had no control over how much he’d paid. It was a him problem.

He grabbed the back of my knees and dragged me toward him, my dress riding up, and my bound arms twisting up behind my back.

“You’re going to be a gift, but he won’t miss a few slices off a cut loaf.” His chuckle was cold. “Was getting pawed at by so many men arousing?”

“No,” I murmured.

He licked two fingers and jammed them into my pussy yet again, not caring that I was at an awkward angle, or that he was hurting me.

I grunted, turning my face away from him only to discover the driver watching in the rearview mirror.

He fingerfucked me for a few moments, and I winced through it, hoping he would lose interest soon.

I’d signed up for this, the same as I had with the island. Unfortunately, this time there was no end date. This was going to be my life, maybe forever.

He pulled me into his lap, facing him, and I realized he’d already unzipped his pants and freed his erection.

Without further warning, he jammed his dick into me in a series of agonizing jerks, not making any attempt to make it comfortable for me, let alone good.

He grabbed my face, his fingers and thumb digging into my cheeks, mashing them into my teeth as he watched my expression, grinning at the pain he was inflicting.

“That’s right, you snobby little bitch. There’s no turning me down now, is there? Your ass is bought and paid for.”

What the fuck was he talking about? I’d never refused him.

Or maybe Ariella had.

No.

Arabella?

I couldn’t remember the name he’d called me.

Grunting under me, his grip on my thighs was unrelenting as he slammed himself up into my unwilling body. The pain seemed to go on for hours.

When he gave a final upward jerk and a small sigh of release, I had to do my best not to scramble away, my body protesting and my heart filled with loathing.

He was well-dressed and well-groomed, but there was something about this man that felt slimy.

Maybe it was that he’d been at a flesh auction in the first place, or whatever they were called, but there was something.

..inhuman about him. Like he’d been built all wrong behind those hard eyes.

He pushed me off his lap, not caring that I fell half between the seats, unable to catch myself with my arms bound. He chuckled and yanked me up by the back of the dress, choking me with the neckline before settling me back on the seat.

“Maybe I’ll keep you for an extra day or two. It would be too rich if you were half in love with me before I handed you over to him.”

Fat chance, creep.

I curled my legs underneath me, trying to stem the flow of cum from my body. I wished I could hold my sore pussy, which was aching and stinging after his invasion.

The driver’s eyes crinkled in the rearview, as though the whole thing had amused him.

The SUV stank like sex, but I didn’t have a free hand to open the window.