Master Tomlinson

1- The Auction

"HARRY STYLES, 18, HOLMES Chapel." The auctioneer presented into the microphone that stood on the platform beside me.

"Twenty thousand!" A withered old man shouted with his number in the air. I whimpered at his smirk, silence dawning upon the room when nobody spoke up. Soon enough someone shouted a higher price. My greens flicked towards the other man; tall, pale, in a suit, in his mid 40's. I couldn't see his face because it was hidden by a hat. His silhouette looked familiar. My head ducked lower as a woman called out, "Fifty thousand!" When I took a bigger glance at her, I noticed that her brief case had a little logo that read her trading company name, S.L.V. INC. I've heard that she takes care of slaves for a while, brainwashes, or—"trains"— them, and then she trades them for a bigger profit. It seemed unsettling to be passed up like that, but when you're as poor as I am you really don't have a choice.

Around the age of 12 was when I was scouted by a tall man in black, but my father wouldn't let him take me. I'll let you figure out who won that battle eventually.

The bidding escalated to 75,000, which was offered by the same withered old man that had began the bidding. That familiar fear crept back in; the kind you feel when you're about to be sold, not knowing what you'll be going into next. My hearing began to fade as I heard the auctioneer speak loudly, knowing what came next.
"Going once, going twice—"
"500,000!" a young, smooth voice shouted up from the back doors. My scared greens opened at the sudden silence after his bid. Way at the back stood a tall young man, his suit was a deep navy colour and his chestnut hair was slicked up into a quiff. Two men were beside him in uniform; a chauffeur and a guard, who held the door for him.

All eyes were on him. Scoffs and noises of awe came from both sides as he made his way down the middle. As he got closer, the color of his eyes seemed to hit me harder than any of the painful blows that connected with my adolescent-like face.

Sea blue, almond shaped eyes. I could see that they held some excitement because they held a twinkle. Maybe he was just proud of his purchase. The echo of his steps stopped at the front of the platform in front of me.

"Tomlinson. Call me Master." He whispered to me with a hand extended to help me down. My face held fear but also relief, my greens as round as granny smith apples. A grin spread across Mr. Tomlinson's lips due to my slow reaction, making me duck my head down shamefully and take his hand. "Harry." I whispered back, glancing at his sharp jaw and cheekbones before looking at his grin and the thin contour of his pink lips. He nodded towards his guard, who handed the auctioneer a brief case that was filled with, I'm assuming, the money. Before we could exit, the man stopped him. I kept my head ducked down as the auctioneer sent a disgusted glare my way, I assumed for looking at him. Master made a confused hum under his breath, that I heard, but signed the form. When he was done signing, he held his arm out for me. That's weird. Normally Master's don't make contact with their slaves like this— or make any sort of nice gestures. When I decided that he didn't seem to care, I slid my arm around his.

He led me out, my arm clung to his for safety as we passed the three who faught over the auction; old man, suit man and woman. I kept my eyes low, but I could tell that Master was looking at me.

When we got outside, There was a long, black car waiting at the front. The chauffeur opened the back door for us and I thanked him silently. My eyes caught an imprint on the door that had the abbreviation, H.O.B. , on it in navy and white. I kept my questions to myself and got in the car.

The beginning of the ride was silent, but halfway through I felt Master lean forward and pour himself a shot of what smelled like bourbon. "Would you like some, handsome?" He asked after he took a swig. I gulped and shook my head, watching him devour it. My gaze was now on my lap, his words ringing in my head. Handsome. I've never been called that before.

Again I felt him stare at me. His blues went down my face, scanned down my small torso that was covered by a tattered shirt, to my hands that had cuts and a bruise on one that was just healing.

He made a pained noise in response to this examination. Despite this, there was a blank expression on his face. It was like he was attempting to block out any emotion to seem stronger. My hands were lifted with his careful ones, I whimpered from the sudden contact and it made him stop so I could register his actions. My slender fingers were folded into my palms as he pressed gentle kisses to my bruises and cuts. My breath hitched, and eventually my muscles relaxed. This man just paid half a million euros for me and he's making me feel better than my previous Master did in the whole two years I was his.

"M-Master," I mumbled in a stutter as he reached my wrist, making him look up at me with softer eyes. It had me at a loss for words. Silence took over once more as our eyes stayed locked together. I could see him slowly gather his thoughts and I got a bit uneasy as he glanced down at my hand again.

Minutes after, the car stopped and Mr. Tomlinson climbed out. I saw him duck down and hold his hand out to assist me. I took it hesitantly after a second or two and shimmied out of the long vehicle.

My shoes made a small trotting sound as they landed on a large walkway of gray and white stones, all leading up to a white mansion. The window casings and blinds were the same navy color as his suit and the logo on the car. Acres and acres of fresh cut green grass spread out around until it was cut off by a white picket fence, to which the large dark forest began outside of it. It was a fairytale setting. When you turned around, you saw a gate with a guard that made sure nobody without access entered the private residence, along with the loop of gravel that made a driveway for cars. In the middle of that was a low fenced sitting area, the sides overflowing with roses and shrubs that seemed to be purposely overgrown. You could even see a small spurt of water that was from a fountain in the middle of the garden.

"Welcome to the House of Boys." Master whispered with a smug grin as he noticed me taking my time to look around. A blush swept across my cheeks, gaining a squeeze of the hand from him. "Lets get you settled."