Page 73 of Tower

“If you mark me, your clients will be displeased,” Azalea snapped at her, recognizing the fight in her mother’s eyes. She’d seen it before when she’d snuck down and witnessed her dealing with her men.

“Move.” Bellatrix pushed the hairdresser away from her and snagged a pair of shears from the table. “You’re right. They won’t like if you have bruises on your delicate skin. But they won’t care about your hair like you do.” She gathered it in one hand, and no matter how much Azalea struggled and tried to smack her away, she was no match for Bellatrix.

Azalea could feel each strand being pulled away as Bellatrix cut through the mass of hair. The weight eased, and by the time Bellatrix tossed the scissors back on the table, the ends of Azalea’s hair barely reached her shoulders.

It had been chopped off.

Tears flooded her eyes. She touched the ends, the raw, jagged ends. All of it—gone.

“Clean up that mess and go with short curls,” Bellatrix ordered. “If she gives you any more trouble, strap her down and gag her. We can present her that way if she chooses. Though I’m sure any man who finds her bound and gagged attractive will probably not be kind and gentle with her once he has her.”

Azalea didn’t look up at her. She didn’t need to. The chill in her voice was clear enough.

“You’re lucky.” The hairdresser ran a comb through her short locks.

“How is that?” Azalea asked, feeling as pathetic as she probably sounded.

“Most girls Madame Gothel sells are put on display in groups of five. So, by the time the last girl is up for sale, she may not have good customers left. The men are given a bidding order, and those that are not as wealthy, not as polished, are put at the end. But you—you’re the only girl being sold tonight. You will have a better chance at getting a decent owner.”

“I don’t want an owner.” Azalea fisted her hands in her lap. She wanted Peter. With all of his arrogance, and sternness, and even his dreaded punishments, she wanted him.

“Well, it’s not up to you,” the hairdresser said, and trimmed the jaggedly cut hair. “Once we’re done with this, you’ll be ready.”

Azalea picked at the hem of the linen dress she wore. “She’s going through all this trouble with my face and hair but wants me to wear this pajama-like dress?”

The hairdresser chuckled. “You won’t be wearing anything, girl. You’re being sold. You’ll be completely nude.”

? ? ?

Azalea’s entire body felt on fire. She stood at the entrance of the showroom. That’s what they’d called it, a showroom. Like a car dealership! Once there, she was to remain silent and do exactly as she was told or there would be dire consequences. Or so she was told.

The hairdresser hadn’t been very comforting when Azalea’s tears fell. She’d slapped her naked breasts and chastised her for ruining the blush she’d applied.

Azalea had been stripped, washed, and lotioned for her showcase. Tears welled up, but she was able to keep them from falling and ruining her makeup. The hairdresser had smiled after slapping her breasts the first time—telling her the men would like to see a little blush on her tits. Azalea avoided having it done again.

“Bring her in. Gothel wants her up on the platform, under the light. Bind her hands if she resists at all.” A man appeared in the doorway and gave his instructions. Apparently, the hairdresser was also to be her escort.

“I can’t believe you help her sell women. What sort of person are you?” Azalea hissed when the hairdresser shoved her into movement.

“A very rich person. You girls fetch good money.” With a soft pat to Azalea’s bottom, she laughed.

“Ah, here she is. Azalea.” Bellatrix’s voice took on the persona of the doting, caring caretaker. Azalea was careful not to think of her in a maternal way. It would be too much, and she’d break down right there. She needed her wits about her for whatever was coming next.

How stupid and naive had she been! Her entire life, thinking her mother loved her so much she kept her hidden away from the horrible parts of the world. That her mother only wanted her safe. How stupid, stupid, stupid she’d been!

The room was cold. Instantly, Azalea felt her nipples tighten with increased chill. Bellatrix thought of everything. What better way to get the little bumps on her flesh and perk up her nipples, but to force the reaction with the temperature.

A bright light shone on her from her very first step into the room, blinding her from seeing anyone else. Her escort led her up a short set of stairs onto a platform and pointed to a small X marked off with tape on the floor. Azalea stood in the spot and squinted into the room. She needed to see the men. Was Peter there? Had he found out about the sale and gotten inside?

Still so naive!

“I like the tits on this one,” a male voice spoke up.

“Yes, nice and round. Are they as heavy as they look?” another asked.

“You may see for yourself. One at a time, please.” Bellatrix’s singsong voice turned Azalea’s stomach.

“And her pussy?” another rang out. “I see no hair there, very nice, but is she tight? A virgin maybe?”

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