It was mid autumn, and a thin layer of frost was already covering the ground, a sure sign that the locals would be in for a cold winter. The leaves on the trees had turned vibrant shades of yellows, oranges and reds, crisp and curling they flittered and circled the roads and lanes, carried on the blustery winds that roamed the rolling valleys of the picturesque French countryside.
The rented red Ford ambled steadily along, allowing the four passengers to take in their postcard perfect surroundings; Mum, Dad, the obligatory sullen teenage boy, and Abbey, their youngest at 6 years old.
"Look Mummy", she cried with delight as she smooshed her finger against the car window, "a castle, do you think that's where the Princesses live?"
Her mother glanced in the direction Abbey was pointing in, to a fairytale French chateau, Abbey stared in awe, with its rolling lawns set well back from the main road, its turrets and flags, it would be the ideal place for a princess to live.
The rented red Ford sped on, whilst Abbey day dreamed of the Princesses in the Castle, going to balls with their Princes, huge feasts and tea parties with iced cakes and crumpets. The car gets further and further away, until it is nothing but a tiny speck in the distance, and then finally gone.
If this were a film, and we were the viewers, this would be the point where the camera starts to pan in on the fairytale castle, we would led up the winding driveway, shadowed by tall oaks, and littered with their falling autumnal leaves and split conkers, and over the gravelled area directly in the front of the building, we would be swept up the magnificent stone steps, past the giant granite pillars and through the heavy brown mahogany door and finally we would get to the real splendour. The well polished and waxed floorboards, the thick, plush ruby carpets, ornate picture frames which house oil paintings of stern looking men in white wigs, elaborate vases with wild and colourful arrays of flowers and heathers, trinket boxes, a grandfather clock which ticks rhythmically in the hallway; its pendulum never stopping.
The room smells heavily of cleaning products; furniture polish and wax; and of course the fresh flowers.
Men and woman mill around the two main reception rooms to the left and right of the entrance way, chatting in small groups as new acquaintances are made, and old friends catch up. There is a feeling of joviality and excited apprehension in the air. A portly older gentleman in a white suit with a red carnation enters the room, he claps his hands together, sharply, gaining his guests attentions. His head is shiny and balding, his eyes cold and black, his ascent is thick French.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," he addresses them, "thank you all so much for coming today, I know that some of you have travelled a great distance to be with us. I must say that it has been a long time since I last held one of our little get-togethers". The guests chuckled, many of them nodding in agreement, "so", he continued, "today's auction items are already on display for those of you hoping to make a purchase today, you will have thirty minutes to view the items before the auction begins". He glanced quickly around the room looking pointedly, "I see no need to reiterate the rule book, you all know them well enough by now. And finally, if you could all please follow me, we shall make our way through to the ball room and begin the proceedings".
Edward and Emmett Cullen were one of the last few to enter the grand ballroom, the atmosphere from within the room was already electric, and given the occasional shriek and whimper, following by hearty laughter, it was clear that the fun had already started.
Emmett scanned the room, his face breaking into a broad grin as his eyes fell upon a wriggling captive, struggling ferociously to be freed, "what about that one there?" he asked with a playful nudge in the slave's direction.
Edward turned his head to survey the struggling brunette, "too much cock for my liking I'm afraid, but don't let me stop you if you want to make a purchase of your own today", he responded slyly as he walked away from his brother.
The pair circled the room, stopping occasionally to view some of the girls, once they had viewed them all Edward turned and headed back to Lot 19. She was a petite brunette, a little on the skinny side given that he could make out her ribs. She, like all of the other captives, had been blindfolded for the event by a soft black sheepskin blindfold, her arms tied taught above her head, her ankles held wide apart by an adjustable spreader bar, however two aspects of her attire where different from all of the others, the first, she was naked apart from a simple pair of white cotton panties, the reason; it was to highlight that she was still a virgin, untouched and pure and therefore not to be poked and prodded at by any of the prospective buyers. The second, whilst all of the others were forced to wear ultra high, black patent stilettos, she was not. Edward reached out his hand, touching her torso with feather light fingers, his dark eyes remained watching her face for her reaction. She whimpered, balking back to get away from another set of probing hands, she sniffed quietly, biting her lower lip to hide the tremble.
He tilted his head to one side, "this one is quite captivating".
"Hmm...not as striking as the blond though," Emmett replied.
Edward smirked, "was she blond?" Their friendly banter was quickly silenced as the auction hammer sounded, indicating that it was now time for the sales to begin.