Page 2 of Auctioned to her Stepbrothers

I sit to reply.Yes, I type, knowing that the possibility of more time will only increase the value of the bids. I was prepared for this. The auctioneer suggested leaving it off the original bid terms to drive the price higher toward the end.

Another question appears:Would you accept a bid from three men?

Three men? I'm not prepared for a question like this. Giving myself over to one man in exchange for money is a hard enough decision to make. Three is soul-crushing. How would three men take my virginity? My mouth drops open, trying to imagine what it might be like, imagining something that feels too violent, too abusive, and too terrible.

It's not often that we're faced with questions that challenge the core of who we are and how far we're prepared to go to dig our way out of a hole and strive for impossible dreams. I never imagined that this would be my reality.

I know the auctioneer is watching. He'll see the question and expect me to respond. Before I have a chance to reply with anything, another message appears from the same username.We'd be prepared to pay more.

More.

How much more would make it worth it? How much money would I need to be able to suppress all my anxiety and deal with what comes next? Right now, the bids aren't where I need them to be, and I'll be devastated if I end up having to go through with the contract for an amount that won't settle all the debt I'm drowning in.

With trembling fingers, I type words I never thought would come from me:Yes, but the bid would need to be double the last offer from a single bidder.

My stomach roils, but what choice do I have?

What difference will two extra men make?I ask myself. I'm still losing the same thing. I'm still having to live with the memories for the rest of my life. At least, with the money, I'll have a reason to put the past behind me. I can seal it all up in a box and bury it.

I imagine the look on the auctioneer's leering face. His commission will be huge, but I can't resent him too much. I could never have gotten to this point on my own.

Double.

The bids are climbing. Higher. Higher. The current figure makes my eyes burn, but it's still not enough. Another bid.

And another.

Higher.

Higher.

Am I really worth this much?

Remember, you're the most precious thing in my life, my mom would say. We'd play a game where I'd tell her that I loved her more, but she'd always shake her head and shout 'impossible' with a bright expression that felt like a burst of sunshine on my skin.

Higher.

Higher.

And behind every bid exists a man with more money than common sense. A man who wants to buy a thing that is rarely given in exchange for money rather than love.

Higher.

A rush of breath leaves my body, like a balloon blown too big and allowed to deflate between loose fingers.

Would these three anonymous men afford to double the bid that hangs on the screen as the final seconds pass? There's a moment when I think the auction will end with boss69 as the highest bidder. Even the username he's chosen makes me cringe. Then one second before the end of the auction, the double bid lands.

Montg232527 wins.

Flopping back in the chair, I press my hot hands to my cheeks, closing my eyes and pursing my lips to narrow my swiftly inhaled and exhaled breaths.

Montg.

It has to be a sick coincidence that the winners chose that as their username when Montgomery House is where all my nightmares originated. Flinching at the memory of the sound a fist made against my mother's tender flesh, I rest my hands on the console table and drag myself to standing.

The phone rings, and I snatch it up, swiping the screen and answering with a terse 'hello.'

"Honor, I told you that you would do well. I was right, wasn't I?"

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