Some words will be spoken in French. I'll put translations next to the word/phrase.
Kirstin Maldanado let out a small murmur of pain as she was pushed down onto the hardwood floor of a small bathroom.
She sighed as a young woman led her to the shower, her eyes shining apologetically. Kirstin knew why. She did look very young, considering she had only just turned eighteen.
"Alright, honey. Have you done this before?" The woman questioned. The girl nodded sadly, three years.
Her father tried so hard to keep her at home, but times were tough, and he couldn't keep up with his minimum wage paycheck. Raising two children alone, even with two jobs, he couldn't support his two daughters.
At least this way, Gracie was safe.
The woman waited outside as Kirstin quickly showered, rubbing her skin raw. She often did this, feeling like maybe if she was clean, it would cleanse her of all the pain. It never did. It felt strange without the usual layer of dirt that coated her skin.
Quickly, she got out and dressed in the skimpy, white tank top and shorts provided. Looking in the mirror, she frowned at herself. She hadn't seen herself in a mirror for how long? One, maybe two years? Her dark hair was much longer than she remembered, and her chocolate brown eyes were missing the glimpse of wonder they once held.
"Ready, hun?" The red-head turned to the shorter, smaller woman.
Kirstin nodded slowly.
Ready as I'll ever be.
She was then led out of the room, where a man roughly grabbed her arm, his tight grip leaving a finger-shaped bruise.
Finally, she was pulled out under the sun and placed in a line behind other men and women, most older than her.
"Alright," a buff man approached her.
" You should know the rules. We introduce you, read your information. Only speak when asked a question, and don't reject any physical contact." He recited the familiar rules. She nodded, biting her lip in nervous habit. About twenty minutes later three or four others had been sold. Finally, it was her turn and she was pushed up to block A.
A few 'hoots' and profanities were shouted at the petite girl. The humiliation seeping onto her skin, creating a deep blush.
"Alright ladies and gentleman, this is 18-year-old Kirstin Maldonado. She is 5'4, 130 pounds, and of Latina origin," he announced. A few comments were made at certain facts that amused the audience.
"The bidding will start at $500," Immediately several people raised their hands, Kirstin was shocked, not believing she was worth a buck over 200.
"Do I have $600?" He asked as the hands began to dwindle down.
"$800?" The man called. "Going once, going to-"
"2,000." Someone called. He was of average height, brown hair matching eyes.
$5,000" a deep voice rumbled. A few gasps were heard.
"Going once, going twice. Sold to Mr. Kaplan!" He called out to the crowd of awed people. Kirstin was pushed off to the side, where a bearded man came up to her.
"Come on, noisette (Hazel)" He said in a soft, smooth voice. His eyes softened in an attempt to rid her of any fear. Kirstin had identified the last word as French but wasn't sure the meaning. "I'm not going to hurt you. Follow me," he instructed. Kirstin let out an inaudible whimper at his deep voice and nodded, obediently follow the tall man. He had a large limousine, the fanciest thing she had ever seen. 'I must be been riding in a separate carriage', she thought. She was pleasantly surprised when her new master accompanied her into the car.
Kirstin slides in the seat across from him as instructed, her head down. She often found most master's liked the simple sign of submission.
"Look up, please." The deep voice commands, causing the woman to shake slightly. She slowly looked up at him, finally able to get a good look at the man.
He had dark hair, similar to her own, pulled back into a neat bun, a beard matching in color. His pale, creamy skin contrasted so well, with bright green eyes trying his facial features together. On top of that, he was much taller, maybe a little under six foot, and muscular than her. He could easily subdue her.
"M-master?" She whispered quietly.
The man looked up at her. "Yes, little one?" He replied, his eyes raking over her body. Kirstie blushed at the nickname.
"What is my purpose, sir? What is expected of me?" She asked shyly. Everyone had different rules, and she didn't want to be punished.
"You're my personal slave, des Yeux noisette. (Hazel eyes) You just stick to my side and do what I ask, okay?" He instructed. Kirstin nodded at first before her eyes widened. What if he wanted verbal answers?
"Y-yes, sir," she replied, looking down into her lap once again.
She gasped as his fingers slid under her chin, lifting her head up. His sharp viridescent eyes scanning her face before he locked onto her beautiful, Hazel colored eyes.
" please don't hide from me, petit. (Little one)"
Kirstin bit her lip, and it was enough for the man to want to pounce on her right there. He was much different than any owner she had ever had. He seemed to actually care for her.
Kirstin had never been one to have special attention given to her. All of her past owners treated her like every other piece of dirt they had, so why did this man act so different around her.
The man, Mr. Kaplan had mumbled something else that she couldn't understand.
"Tu es à Moi maintenant, Princesse"
(You're mine now, Princess.)
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