Page 74 of Tower

“She is not a virgin, no. One man has already had his way with her, but her pussy is very tight. You may inspect her when it is your turn, though only your fingers will be allowed.”

Fingers? These men were going to be allowed to probe and prod her? They were going to touch and examine? And in the end, one would buy her.

Her mind reeling, she took a step to keep from falling.

“Oh, she’s quite innocent. I think the idea of all of us getting to finger that pussy of hers has made her light-headed. Can you tie her up so she doesn’t pass out?”

“Of course.”

Azalea froze, looking back to the stairs. She could try to run. She had no idea of the layout of the house or where they were, but maybe she could make it out?

Before she could move, a large ring was lowered from the ceiling, and the hairdresser was there again, along with a man she didn’t know. Had she really known anyone in her life? They yanked her arms up over her head.

“Don’t struggle, or they’ll want you punished,” the hairdresser warned in a whisper. Azalea had a damn good idea what the men would want to see.

She swallowed back the cry in her throat and blinked away tears. She needed to think. There had to be a way out of this.

Her wrists were bound and hooked to the ring. The new position brought her breasts higher and stretched out her torso.

“Might as well spread those thighs for us, too,” another man called out.

“Yes, bind her ankles, it will make the inspection easier anyway,” Bellatrix ordered.

More cuffs were placed on her and her legs spread out past shoulder width. She was completely on display.

There was no more fighting them; the tears rolled easily.

“So pretty,” one man called out. “A thousand to go first.”

“Fifteen hundred,” another cried.

Were they auctioning off who got to manhandle her first before the bidding began?

“Winner at three thousand. You may go up first,” Bellatrix stated.

Azalea squinted, trying to see the man headed in her direction, but the light was still too bright.

She heard footsteps on the platform and turned to see him. A dark scar ran across his chin. His hair was white as snow. She closed her eyes, trying to twist away from his touch.

“If you touch her, you die,” a dark voice boomed.

“What’s this?” the man too close for her to ignore asked.

“If you put your old wrinkled fingers on her, I’ll cut them off and feed them to you before I kill you.”

Azalea opened her eyes and tried to see. She needed to see. The voice, it had to be him.

The spotlight overhead went out. Overhead lighting went on. Still, Azalea blinked, unable to see clearly.

“What the fuck is going on?” a male voice called out in the room.

At least a dozen men rose to their feet. All facing Azalea.

In the back, at the entrance to the room, three men stood, with guns drawn.

Peter stood at the forefront, his gun trained on the man standing beside Azalea.

“The auction is over,” Peter stated in that low, controlled voice of his. Azalea knew what it meant, but the men in the room didn’t seem to understand. No one moved.

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