Page 34 of Frat Row
One of the guards uses a baton and holds it outward, hitting all of the metal bed frames as an alarm clock for us. Staggering awake at the loud, dull sound, I remember where I am, and fear overrides my body. I’m guessing it has to be morning because there are no windows in this shithole.
“Rise and shine, whores; it’s auction day, but first, we have to make you presentable,” Sam yells. “So we can get the most amount of money for you.” He grins deviously, probably thinking about the cash flow that is about to come in, lining his pockets with plenty, I’m sure.
We line up without a fight or a word, knowing what is expected of us and how the process works.
We are then led down a hallway and into a room that resembles a beauty salon.
I am puzzled by what a nice area this is.
They weren’t kidding when they said they wanted to get the most amount of money for us.
I feel queasy knowing that this is for a master we are going to be expected to serve in any way, relinquishing our body over, including whatever is left of our soul, too.
My thoughts wander to what kind of master will buy me. Will he be kind or cruel? I shake my head. Don’t go there, Cassidy. I can’t think about it, or I’ll shrink into myself and give up, completely surrendering to this predicament I’ve been forced into.
Much like before, there is a woman at each station, wearing a nurse’s uniform with a face mask, ready to do our hair, makeup, and nails.
I get pushed into a chair and try to whisper to her to find out what is next, but I quickly learn that she doesn’t speak English.
She begins messing around with my hair, making ‘tsking’ sounds as she goes.
She gets the hair foils out and starts putting highlights in my hair.
While my hair is sitting, she begins filing and buffing my fingernails and toes.
She picks out a light pink for the color.
Finally, my hair is ready to be washed, so we head back to the hair washing station, which looks exactly like one you would see at a real salon.
There, she not so gently shampoos and conditions my hair using cold water.
Can they not afford hot water in this place?
It doesn’t seem like they are hurting for money with how much inventory they sell.
They put a lot of that money into security, and I wonder if they pay these women.
My mind tells me they are as trapped as we are.
A shudder runs through my body thinking about being trapped in this place with Rio and the abuse I would probably endure daily if I had to stay.
Whatever is out there, whatever master buys me, it has to be better than that guy and what I’ve gone through here.
But I know better than to hope. These men buying us obviously view us as property and will treat us as such.
We head back to her station after she washes my hair and pats it dry.
Next, she begins to do my makeup, very dramatically, I might add.
She gives me cat eyes with neutral eyeshadow, heavy on the browns to match my hair, making my eyes pop, and tops it off with a very red lip to give my lips the plumpness they really don’t need.
She layers on the foundation and even inspects the rest of my body, covering up the bruises I’ve gotten here.
Knowing what it has done to me mentally will forever be worse than the physical harm I have endured.
Next, she starts blow-drying my hair with a round brush, giving me a full blowout, and to be honest, I look like a total bombshell, which I know is exactly what they want.
I saw the names of the makeup brands, and they don’t skimp on that either.
They use the best of the best, and I’m sure it pays off like they want it to.
Obviously, they have to pay more for a better foundation, as I’m sure I’m not the only one who has to have bruises covered up all over their body.
She leaves for a minute and returns with a completely sheer, white, lingerie-like dress that falls to the mid-thigh.
There are no sleeves; instead, there are spaghetti straps with a built-in, see-through push-up bra.
It looks like something you would get from Victoria’s Secret and wear on your wedding night.
It leaves nothing to the imagination. She also hands me the tiniest crotchless white thong I have ever seen.
Honestly, there's no point in even wearing it; it looks like floss.
She points to the changing curtain and hands me a pair of acrylic high-heeled shoes that are about 5 inches tall.
I put everything on quickly, embarrassed to even look in the mirror, and flush as I come out.
I look around the salon, and the other girls are wearing the same thing, with different styles of lingerie in the same sheer material.
Two guards come into the room and smack their hands together. “Alright, it’s showtime; let's make some money.” They both throw their heads back and laugh like it’s one of the most hilarious things they have ever said.
I walk shakily while thinking, Who the fuck is going to buy me?
Will it be an old fat man? Will it be a man who beats me consistently? Will it be a man who is into kinky shit and makes me walk around with things in my ass and pussy all day?
I vomit in the nearest trash bucket, and thankfully, no one sees me. I wipe the corner of my mouth, trying not to smear the red lipstick with the back of my hand.
“When does the auction begin?” I ask Zane.
“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood tonight, or I’d punch you in your stomach for even speaking to me,” he growls, making direct eye contact with me menacingly.
“It starts in one hour.”
“Time to go to the holding room, ladies,” he yells out, snapping his fingers at us.
We all get in line as we are headed to a hell we won't be able to break out of; there’s no escaping this, and my heart beats frantically in my chest. Maybe there will be a small window of escape once I get out of this warehouse; my heart sinks as I think about what I will have to go through before a chance like that opens up.
In the blacked-out room, there are folded plastic chairs, and we each take a seat.
There is so much anxiety and nervousness in the room that we can’t even speak to each other, let alone look at each other, so we just stare straight ahead or at the floor, waiting for the inevitable, trying to check out mentally before the horrors of tonight happen.
Time passes slowly, and I begin to shake my knee, which soon turns into a shaking of my entire body. It’s cold in here, and with what I’m wearing, it definitely doesn’t help in the warmth department.
We can hear people entering on the other side of the curtain, and it sounds like a large group as I hear conversations and doors being shut, with sounds like buttons being pushed.
“Please go into your designated room and have a seat so we can begin the auction promptly,” someone states robotically over a speaker.
The anxiety has taken over, and my hands are sweating profusely. If my stomach weren’t empty, I’d be spilling it all over this floor.
The sounds die down, and I hear a microphone connect. A voice says over the speaker, “We have a lovely assortment of merchandise for you gentlemen tonight.”
“Just for the first-timers or to reiterate the rules if it’s been a while since you have joined us,” he says, chuckling to himself, “you have an array of buttons in front of you. The most important one is the green one, which will place the bid for you. Remember, we go in increments of ten thousand. Every one of these girls starts out at one million dollars. You are not allowed to leave your encasement until the auction has ended and the girls have been placed in a separate room. You will be able to pick up your purchase in one week. In that one week, we will conduct our training program, and you will continue the training when you come to collect your property.”
“Let’s begin.” He claps his hands excitedly
A red-headed girl across from me is pulled and dragged toward the curtain, and all I hear is, “Starting the bid at one million dollars, two million, three million. Sold.”
Minutes that feel like hours tick by, and it’s my turn as I am pulled toward the curtain. Immediately, I shield my eyes from the bright spotlights on me. A man is holding onto my arm, guiding me across this acrylic-looking stage.
“We have a rare treat for you tonight, gentlemen. This one just so happens to be a sorority sister plucked from UM. She’s a freshman, and you know what that means—a tight pussy with an even tighter body.”
My eyes adjust to the lighting, and I see little rooms with green lights on the outside of them. I can’t see inside them, though, because they are tinted. They are stacked like a stadium, and there have to be over 100 of them.
The announcer says, “Let’s give the buyers a little taste of this special purchase.
” The guard holding me, who is wearing a mask to hide his identity, pulls me to the side of him and turns me around so my backside is facing the buyers.
He steps around and kicks my legs open wide, backing up and pushing my head down so everything is on display, hence the crotchless panties.
In a stealth-like movement, he spreads me open with his fingers and dips one inside.
After one finger is in, he shoves another finger in my ass while standing on the side of me.
“As you can see with your own eyes, each hole is intact and tight,” the announcer says giddily.
I black out what the announcer says next and tune in to the last part of it: “5 million. Wow, 10 million, gentlemen. 15 million. Sold.”
My mouth gapes open, and I shake my head. Is that how much they think a human life is worth?
Suddenly, I am pushed forward toward a catwalk off the stage.
I try not to trip over myself, and I don’t want to look down to see how high up we are.
Just put one foot in front of the other, Cassidy; keep moving forward.
I try to hold my chin high while I walk to the other side of the stage, where I see multiple bodyguards waiting there to collect me.
Two of them grab my arms and thrust me into a white room, and the door is immediately locked. I see the other girls in the room sitting on the floor with their heads down, and I am pushed down into a kneeling position.
Rio is at the head of the room, and he shouts, “Now, your training begins to become a true slave to your master.”
“Every time you enter a room, you will look down while walking and immediately get into a kneeling position with your head bowed until you are told what to do.”
He grabs the girl nearest to him by the throat, yanking her upwards. “Can you guess what the words should be that come from your mouth after assuming this position?”
He loosens up on her throat, and she croaks out, “Yes, sir.”
He throws her back onto the ground, and she catches herself on her elbow on the hard floor.
“Close, it’s yes, master,” he says, “You officially have owners now. So, you’re property.
You have no rights; you have no say in your life or body.
You are nobody now; forget your name and where you came from.
You will be known as whatever your master deems worthy of naming you.
You will do as you’re told and not bat a fucking eye,” he all but yells at us, daring us to say something against him as he paces the room.
The girl next to me is shivering violently, but like the rest of us, refuses to look up and make eye contact, afraid of any type of punishment.
“Now it’s late; you will return to your cots, and your sex training to make you good little whores starts tomorrow,” he announces. “Stand up and form a line to go back to your room.”
We stand up with our heads down, forming a line that leads out the other side, which I assume is to our part of the warehouse.
The guards leer at us, trying to instill fear.
They are doing a good job. One of them brushes the shoulder down to the breast of the girl in front of me, and I try not to gag; she flinches, and that was the wrong thing to do.
He doesn’t waste any time grabbing her by her hair and punching her in the stomach.
She goes down instantly, coughing and trying to gasp for air.
“Get back in line,” he says, and she scrambles up and gets back in line with tears running down her face.
We all but drag our feet back to our cots.
When we get there, we go to the ones we slept in the night before.
On our beds are what look like new hospital gowns.
I quickly tear off the lingerie, toss it on the floor, and secure the strings on the gown.
I get under the light sheet they have provided, which feels like sandpaper, and grab the barely fluffed pillow.
Rolling over onto my side, I let the tears silently fall down my cheeks as I pull my knees up to my chest.
What kind of hell are we supposed to endure tomorrow? What kind of training are they going to put us through?