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"We'll start the bidding at $200! Do I hear 200?"
"200! Do I hear 300?"
"500! Do I hear 550. . ."
I desperately tried to ignore the calls of money going throughout the crowd. This wasn't the first time I had been here, the run down house in the back of an alley in god know what state. Guess what the sleazebags are bidding on. Go ahead guess. Give up? It's me. They're bidding on me. The slave girl. I know, I know slavery is illegal. Well guess what, they don't give a crap.
"$2,000!" That caught my attention. $2,000? Nobody had ever bid that high for me before, sure there was the bastard that gave $1,000, but $2,000? This guy must some real good things in store for me.
The wooden mallet slammed on the table and I was hauled off the stage to meet my new captor. The man pulling me was my previous owner. Why did he sell me, you ask. Simple, he got bored of me. After being a slave for overweight, forty-year-old guys for ten years you tend to end up quiet, obedient and agreeable. Everything they should want, but don't. They want a girl who greets their guests warmly, does exactly what he tells you and always says he's right. That's what I do, right? Yes, but one thing they don't like, the quietness. . . in bed.
Yes, I know, that's illegal too, but once again they don't care. In fact I think that makes it all the more enjoyable for them.
Anyway, back to my current problem, my new owner. I was shocked at what I saw. It was a man, yes, but he was different from the rest. He was tall, I noted, the top of my head only reached his shoulders, and thin. He had short, spiked, blond hair and deep green eyes. What was even more shocking than the fact that he was attractive was that he had to only be twenty-five, if that old. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad this time.
You're probably wondering why I don't just run away. That would be easy, except for one teeny tiny complication. My first owner implanted a tracking chip in my left hand. Not only could it locate me anywhere on the planet and let him know, it could also knock me out. My owner would wear a thin gold bracelet on their right wrist and if I got farther than two miles away from them I would be forced unconscious until they touched the top of my left hand with their right.
High-tech slavery, humanity really has come far. I was pulled from my happy thoughts by the man roughly shoving me forward. Bastard.
"This is Ariana. Girl, this I your new master, Ben." Bill introduced. I bowed lowly to the man in front of me. Since my hands were bound behind my back, Ben grabbed my arm, gently, and led me out of the shack.
Outside he guided me into the passenger seat of a black Jaguar. Ok, so the guy's rich. Still not speaking, he climbed into the driver's seat and drove for twenty minutes before stopping outside a large house. Alright, screw that, it was a freaking mansion! This guy was loaded!
As we walked up the front steps I was half expecting to see a butler open the door and greet us. He opened the door and I was amazed yet again. The foyer alone was magnificent.
It had a high, dome shaped ceiling with a huge gold chandelier hanging from the center. There was a marble staircase the right with a sparkling gold rug leading all the way up. The floor was made of polished cherry wood.
I looked at Ben to see him removing his suit jacket and shoes. I would have removed my own shoes, but I didn't have any. Occasionally I would be given a pair for the winter months, but as it was summer there wasn't a chance of me covering my feet.
He once again took my arm and started leading me down the front hall and into a large black marble themed kitchen. Cooking in here wouldn't be so bad at all.
He pulled a large knife out of a drawer and grabbed my hands.
"Don't move." They were the first words he had spoken to me as he cut off the ropes binding my wrists. When they came off I dropped my arms to my sides and bowed.
"Thank you, Master." He shot me a glare and I couldn't figure out what I had done wrong.
"I am not your master, so don't call me that." Now I was very confused.
"But you bought me, you are my master."
He shook he head.
"I hate slave traders. I did not buy you to have you become my slave; I bought you to save you. You may leave at any time." He started to walk out of the kitchen.
He turned back to face me.
"The chip in my hand and the bracelet on you wrist forbid it."
"Did Bill not explain it?"
He shook his head.
"If I set foot farther than two miles away for the bracelet's wearer then I am knocked unconscious until they touch my left hand with their right."
"Then why do you not just wear the bracelet yourself?" He started to unclasp the chain, but found he couldn't.
"That is why. It does not come off until I am sold again or I am set free."
He looked confused.
"I just said you were free."
I shook my head.
"I have to be set free by the law of the slave trade."
"And how would. . ." He was cut off by the doorbell ringing. I automatically started to move toward it, but he held up a hand and told me to stay where I was while he answered it.
I heard him talking to another man before the talking became yelling. The door slammed shut and Ben stalked back into the kitchen.
"Alright, Ariana, as I was saying. How can you be set free?" He asked as he sat at the island in the middle of the kitchen, patting the stool next to him. I hesitated for a moment before sitting next to him.
"I have to marry to be set free."
"That's easy. Just marry someone and get a divorce if it doesn't work out.
I shook my head sadly. If only it was that easy.
"No. If I marry it must be out of love from both sides. And if I divorce or my husband dies I am immediately sold back into slavery."
His eyes were wide when I finished explaining. This is why I never bothered to hope for freedom, it was too hard to reach.
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