Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns their names…all the rest of this mess is mine.

Everything I post under this penname is un-beta'd. Sorry for the errors.


"Next item up for auction: a "Girl Next Door," completely washed. Status: 'blank slate.' Features include: seventeen years old, certified pure, trained to lactate, gag reflex removed, awareness began less than five minutes ago.

"Starting bid: 500. Do I have 500?"

I looked around at the sea of faces in front of me. I felt chilled. Looking down I realized that, while the bodies of the people I was seeing sitting in front of the platform I was currently standing on were clothed, I was not. Probably the reason I was cold.

I turned my head to look around more and became aware of things around me and things that I found I knew.

I had no recollection of anything at all before I opened my eyes at the sound of the voice I'd just heard.

All of the faces in front of me belonged to men.

Turning my head I felt my hair on my back. It must be quite long as I felt it brush the top curve of my ass.

Also, it appeared the voice was speaking about me because all of the faces were looking at me, including the man holding the microphone behind the podium to my left.

Turning to look at him I felt something around my neck. I started to reach up and touch it but was suddenly overcome with a deep fear and I knew instantly that touching whatever it was wasn't allowed. The feeling was so overwhelming that the prospect of touching it halted the movement of my hand before it strayed an inch from my side.

The man behind the podium was still speaking and carried the microphone as he stepped closer to me. A thin stick about eighteen inches long was held in his right hand and he used it to touch me, pointing out things on my body as he spoke.

"Take note of breast size – last measured at 38C – and a complete and permanent removal of all body hair. Also," here he used the stick to direct me to turn around. I was looking at the curtain that had been behind me. I heard a fast swishing noise then felt the sting of his stick across my ass. "As you can see nearly all vocalizations have also been deleted." He directed me to turn around again. "But not all. Answers are given when questions are asked." The man looked at me then. "What is your purpose?"

"To serve my Master in all things and in all ways. To please him only and obey always." The words tumbled from my mouth before I needed to consider the question. Mostly I was surprised at the sound of my voice. I didn't think I had ever heard it before. It sounded soft to my ears and I felt a heat burn my face and chest when I considered that it was pleasant.

"Ahh, yes! A delightful feature of this particular model! As you can tell the blush covers quite well." He looked to his notes on the podium again. "Trainers say the effect is frequent and easily induced." Looking up again into the crowd he continued the bidding by saying "We stand at 900. Do I hear 950?"

I followed his gaze into the crowd again and scanned the faces. There were about 30 or so men sitting in leather, high backed arm chairs. I saw an olive skinned man in a dark green, almost black suit, his hair in dreadlocks, raise his hand.

"950 is bid. Do I hear one?"

A man with long blond hair pulled into a greasy pony tail, wearing a blue, pin striped suit waved his fingers slightly and the man behind the podium pointed at him in acknowledgement.

"One is bid. Sir?" He gestured back to the first man and raised his brows in question.

A shock of reddish hair moved on the other side of the room and caught my attention. I turned to find its owner and met beautiful green eyes. The eyebrow above one rose as he looked back into my eyes. He gestured lightly to a man standing beside him. The man leaned over to hear what was being said. The seated man never broke eye contact with me as he whispered something to the standing man. He stood erect again and spoke clearly to the man at the podium.

"The gentleman wishes to know why this model lacks visual submission."

The man to my left adjusted his glasses and looked to his notes again. "It appears trainers were taken with the eyes and wished for this not to be a constant feature. Notes indicate that all of the proper responses have been programmed and compliance is easily gained with a simple command." He approached me again and spoke softly but into the microphone so that he could be heard by his audience. "Eyes down."

Immediately I was looking at the tops of my feet.

I heard the man return to his place. "Did the gentleman wish to bid?"

A moment of quiet passed and the man from the audience spoke again. "The gentleman wishes for the command to be rescinded."

"Eyes up." I looked again into the crowd and shifted my gaze to meet the green eyes as before. His lips crooked up at one side and the corners of his eyes crinkled as if he found something amusing. I cocked my head to the side as I looked at him and he raised his eyebrows at my movement.

He gestured lightly again and again the standing man leaned down to hear what he spoke. As he stood again he said "The gentleman wishes to bid one five."

The man at the podium sounded like he swallowed air for just a brief second before he spoke again. "One five it is." Gesturing to the greasy haired man he said, "Sir?"

The man in question rubbed his hands together in a way that made him look angry, like he was itching to hit something or someone. He waved his fingers in the air while he looked at me. He looked hungry.

"One six to you, sir," the man with the microphone gestured to the handsome man with burning green eyes.

I watched him raise two fingers briefly and heard the man behind the podium flap his bottom jaw in a way that made me think of fish.

Clearing his throat he spoke again. "Two to you."

The greasy headed man creased his eyebrows together and shook his head.

"Two going once, twice…SOLD to the gentleman," the man gestured with his stick to the copper-headed man who stood and was followed out the back door by several of the men who had been standing around him. Only the one who had spoken for him came toward the platform. He was handed the end of a metal chain that I realized was attached to the thing around my neck. He took it and descended the stairs to my right. I followed him out the same back doors, down a hallway and into a room where the copper-headed man stood alone. The metal chain was handed off to him and the other man retreated out the door again.

"What is your designation?" he asked.

"Bella, sir." I said. The answer came to me without my consciously knowing it.

"I am your Master, Bella."

Instantly I found myself on my knees in front of him, hands on either side of his shoes. I bent to kiss the toes of them then sat back again on the heels of my feet.

The words flowed freely from my lips and a sense of overwhelming calm and contentment flooded me as I said them. "I am yours to command, Master," the truth of the words washed over me completely. I belonged to this man, body and soul.