The Slave and Her Owner

New Home

Yet again, another bag was thrown over my head. All I could see was black and the sound of footsteps leaving the room we were currently in. I could still hear the masculine breath from one of the handlers.

My money is on the troll.

Seconds later I was pulled through a door and I was placed center stage once again. I could hear chatter through out the room. I felt some one walking towards me and grabbed a hold of my arm. The voices grew louder as the bag was removed and some men and women gaped at me. I looked around the room and people were wearing fancy clothes and eye masks. They always wore the same thing for all of my biddings. The announcer that I never knew the name of, also wearing a mask, came across the stage with a mic in his hand.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight we have not one, but two very special ladies to take home tonight. The first is a girl who was trapped by the Johnson family. They caught her in their home and she slit their throats. She had a sentence of one hundred and twenty-two years but made the wise decision to be put up for auction. Since no one wants a murderer in their home.....let's call it protection. For those who don't know our beautiful and lovely Hannah here, she's just been a slave her whole life with all previous owners mysteriously dead. I wonder how. The bidding will start at fifty thousand."

Hands were raised throughout the room but I was standing on stage internally laughing.

Protection? He's telling these people that taking a family of lives is supposed to be protection? I'm glad he didn't say a lot about me.

Random numbers were shouted across the room. People enjoyed looking at the tears rolling down Ashley's face.

"Do I hear a seventy-five? Seventy-five? Seventy five?" One of the smirking men raised his hand.

"One hundred thousand!" He shouted at the speaker. No one spoke up and it looked like I was going home with this freak.

"One hundred thousand going once.....twice.....and we have a-"

"One million!" A feminine voice called out. Every one stopped calling numbers and stared at the owner of the voice with astonishment.

I didn't think I was ever going to be worth a million dollars. Hell, I've never heard anyone bid that much on a slave.

The announcer closed his mouth and cleared his throat and finally spoke.
"Ahem. Umm anyone want to go higher than a million dollars?" A few people shook their heads and he spoke again. "Going once.....going twice....sold."

I saw people making a pathway for my new owner and she walked on the stage. She walked under one of the stage lights and I could make out her appearance. She was wearing a short, black dress with a slit up the leg and matching heels. Her hair wasn't very long but it still cascaded down her shoulders perfectly. Her mask was removed and she may be pretty but the only thing I was thinking was that I was thankful for her outbidding all those smirking men. She gave me smile but not a friendly one; more like 'wanting to rip my clothes off' smile. It's not the first one I was given, but I still don't appreciate it. The annoucer's eyes widened and he spoke again.

"Well well well, if it isn't Miss Grace Dennis. The winner of these two lovely ladies. Would you like to inspect them before you take them home?" The lady smirked and rubbed her hand on my arm that was facing toward her. She kept her eyes on me and replied to him.

"Not 'them'. Only this one. And yes, I would like an inspection." A couple of guys whistled and clapped hands. I never liked this part and no one had ever said 'no' to it before. The announcer walked toward me and stopped in front of me with that stupid smirk. My head was bent down a little bit so I never looked in his eyes.

"Not a problem, Miss Dennis. Knife!" He shouted and someone came running in with what he asked for. He tugged at the hem of my shirt and cut through it until he reached the top. My shirt was now torn in half and hanging on to me only by the sleeves. The lady smiled so big her straight, white teeth showed. She tugged at my ragged shirt and traced the indented lines on my stomach with her fingers delicately. She also ran them over the scars I got from whip lashes or beatings.

Why is it that we're in the twenty-first century and people still use whips?

Her fingers left my belly and went to my face. She lifted my head and forced me to look into eyes. We had the same colored eyes but mine are practically black. Her's made brown eyes look under rated though. When I look at someone, I never look them where people normally do, which is the eyes. What I look at are the hands because they make me think that they are about to be raised and land on me. Her hands were soft but I knew if she took the effort, they could hurt a lot worse.

"Aren't you a pretty little thing. What's your name?" She asked me. It took me a second to find the words and they eventually came out.

"I'm Hannah."

"Last?"

"I don't know." She let out a small laugh.

"So you're saying you don't remember your last name?"

"Yep."

"Well now it's Dennis. So get used to it, beautiful." Her smirk left her face when she turned to the announcer. She grabbed the chain to my cuffs and spoke to him.

"We'll be leaving now. Here you go." She said handing a piece of paper to him. He examined it carefully and nodded his head.

"Good deal. Have a nice life, you two." He unlocked my cuffs and the lady grabbed my hand. We walked away and out of that stupid building. The black SUV was waiting there with a man standing on the side of it. He opened the car door for us when we approached and nodded his head to us.

"Evening, ladies." He gave me a smile but I kept the frown on my face the entire time. We both entered the car and she laced her fingers in mine and I really didn't like it. I laid my head against the window and haven't given her a glance yet.

"Hey, you okay? I'm sorry about the look I was giving you in there, but I got to keep my reputation up. I would like to formally introduce my self and I would love if you looked me in the eye." I slowly raised my head and turned to her. She gave me a smile, but it was very different than the one she gave me on the stage.

"Not to be rude, but your eyes look like they belong on a corpse." She told me and I let out a small snort of a humorless laugh and kept my face on her.

"None taken." Her smile raised and her eyes now had a twinkle to them.

What is wrong with this woman? She's smiling like a maniac.

Her eyes roamed my body again and she looked surprised. "Oh my gosh. You're still kind of exposed. Not that I don't admire your body, but you have a good amount of scars on it. Uhh here you go." She said the last sentence while rummaging through the back seat and handing me a different shirt. I changed quickly and her eyes widened before me.

"Umm, you don't want me to step out?"

"Doesn't matter. Plenty of people have seen it already and it's not like I'm not wearing a bra."

"Okay, but I still want you to have your privacy so I'll turn my head." Her head turned and her hands covered her eyes. I wasn't in any rush to get her head to turn around so I slowly slipped the torn in half shirt off my shoulders. I put the new one over my head and held on to the ripped one.

"I'm done." She smiled and glanced at my belly for confirmation.

"Good. Now time to go to your new home."

What the fuck am I? Her new pet? Hell, never mind. I should be used to this kind of treatment.

"Great."