"Let's see how she marks," she heard the announcer say. Two men came out onto the stage and stood on neither side of her, slightly behind her. Each one reached out and cupped the lower swells of the closest breast, lifting them slightly. The bidding had slowed and the auctioneer planned to elevate it to a new level.
The auctioneer walked to a table and picked up a thin cane which he swung through the air, making a whistling sound. He walked back to her and held the mike back up to his lips. "Only one demonstration stripe tonight. To further explore how this beauty marks, you will have to buy her."
Without any further fanfare, he raised the cane and then brought it down swiftly, striking the twin orbs across the soft, sensitive upper swells. The pain was excruciating. Tempest felt as if her breasts had just been severed from her chest. She was afraid to look down, worried that her breasts truly had been sliced off by the wicked blow. Instead, she looked back up at the monitors. Through her tear-filled eyes, she saw an angry red welt across the upper swells of each breast and felt the burning on her chest.
She looked at the statistics again and saw that her price had reached 450,000. She looked at the next statistic which said "Logged on: 373." The one below it read "Registered bidders: 401."
She just stared at the screen in disbelief. She was being auctioned off over the internet as well as to the people in the room with her. People from around the world were witnessing her nudity and her fate. She could end up being owned any place on the globe. Another chill shot down her spine.
"525," she heard. The bidding was slowing down again. She wanted to scream at the indignity that was thrust upon her but her mouth remained clamped shut. In the end, the final price was 600,000. She was released from the pole and led off the stage.
Chapter 3
"This is 0914CF," said the man who delivered her to an office down the hall from the auction room.
"Verify," said the woman behind the desk. The man accommodated by bending Tempest forward over the desk and kicking her ankles wide apart. Then he crouched down and read the newly inscribed numbers.
"Zero," he said.
"Nine."
"One."
"Four."
"Charlie."
"Frank."
Each digit in the tattoo had a precise meaning. It was a serial number that had been developed by an international slavery ring. The "09" meant that Tempest had become a slave in 2009. The "14C" meant that she was the fourteenth person to be enslaved that year in the Caribbean region. The "F" indicated that she was female. The organization maintained an extensive database on all registered slaves that assisted them in slave retrievals, if a slave were to be stolen or escaped, and in aftermarket sales, when an owner grew tired of a particular slave.
The database also contained extensive information about the owners which helped the organization notify potential buyers of the availability of slaves. Once the organization had obtained ownership of the six college friends and been able to assess them, they had used this database to notify the people who were most likely to be interested in them.
Tempest was mortified at what they did with her but now, she also felt defeated. She seemed to be able to exercise no control whatsoever over things that happened. It was just awful.
"Verified," the woman said. "Attach her there and I will complete the transaction."
Tempest was confused. Complete the transaction? Was this the woman who had bought her? The woman sat at a computer and typed out a few keystrokes and then waited.
The woman looked more like a secretary than a slave owner, although she had never met a slave owner so she was not sure what one was supposed to look like. The woman looked fiftyish with hints of gray starting to appear in her brown hair. She was a bit on the frumpy side and wore glasses that were about ten years out of style.
"Let's begin now," the frumpy secretary began after the male left. "We need to validate the database. Tempest Allegra Papadakis. Such a beautiful name. How did your parents come to name you Tempest?"
Tempest just glared at the woman.
"Oh, I forgot," said the woman. "You can't speak. Well, not to worry. The drug will wear off in the next thirty minutes. And the gag will be removed soon enough. It's such a beautiful name. Can you verify that it's your name by nodding your head?"
Tempest refused to verify anything. She was not about to play along with whatever this game was. She just stood defiantly, attached to the pole in front of the woman's desk.
The woman sighed. "Yes. Occasionally this happens. I always hate it when it does. The obstinate girls always regret their lack of cooperation but by then it's too late. The brothels are much less discriminating and don't require a pedigree. It's only the upper class owners that want their slaves to be validated."
The woman remained silent for several moments and then she spoke again. "Shall I notify your buyer that your pedigree could not be verified and that you have been shipped to Bangkok?"
Tempest trembled at the question. She always liked to have choices and prided herself on making the right decision. But these were not real choices. It was lose one way or lose the other. There was no positive outcome. She finally shook her head. She did not know what lay ahead of her when the transaction was completed but she hoped that it would be better than a Thailand brothel.
"Good girl," said the woman. "So do you verify that you are Tempest Allegra Papadakis?" Tempest nodded.
"Our records indicate that you were born February 24, 1983. Is that correct?" Again, Tempest nodded. She felt defeated.
"Okay, good. We are doing well so far. For the rest of this, I will just state a fact and you will nod if it is correct or shake your head if it is not. At the end, the drug should have worn off and we can correct the data."
"Current address is 181A Southwyck Avenue, Winnetka, Illinois." Tempest nodded.
"Previous employer: Seymour, Allison and Pease." Tempest tensed at that one. So far, they could have gotten everything from her passport. How did they learn her employer? Plus, that was her current employer; not her previous employer. She shook her head.
"Oh," said the woman. "You did not work at Seymour, Allison and Pease?" Tempest nodded.
"Does that mean that you did work there?" asked the woman. Again, Tempest nodded.
"Okay," said the woman. "Then that makes it your previous employer. You do not work there any longer." Tempest felt filled with dread at the words.
"Graduated Magna Cum Laude in 2005 from Gulf States University with a Bachelor of Arts in History." Tempest nodded again. How did they know this?
"Graduated in 2007 from Tivoli University with a Juris Doctor." Again, Tempest nodded.
"Father is Theodore Papadakis. Mother is Maria Papadakis, nee Gregorio." Tempest nodded. This was becoming too scary to her. It was like she had been captured and was being held by the CIA.
The woman went through dozens of other facts, all of which Tempest confirmed. It was unbelievable that they had so much information about her. Had she been targeted? Had she been responsible for her friends being captured and enslaved by leading them into a trap? The interview ended and the frumpy secretary thanked her for cooperating. Then she touched a button on her desk and two men entered the room. They led her to her next destination.
It was a large room. Eight poles were arranged in a circle. Four of her friends were already attached to four of the poles. She was attached to a fifth one. She looked slowly from face to face. Each of them was beautiful but each of them looked totally dejected and defeated.