Sold Ch. 00

To say that I was nervous would be putting it as mildly as saying it is but a spring mist when the sheets of raining falling blind the eye to everything save the water from the sky. Perhaps this is not the best way to start my story, but as it is my story, I hope you'll forgive even this brief moment of procrastination, remembering the events that lead up to this extraordinary moment are hard for me to relive.

I am not some simple farmer's daughter, nor am I an Incomparable of the haut ton. I suppose, what you would call my family, is genteel poverty. We have money, but little of it and it is scrimped and saved, salvaged and stretched to make our living as comfortable as possible. You could call that the crux of the matter for it is the leading stone which brought me to be sold.

Edward was fresh from college, enjoying the summer spent with his new found friends. Unfortunately, the difference between he and his friends were that they had money where Edward had none. However, he did not let this small blemish on his lifestyle impede him from enjoying what were to be his more cyclone days. He whored, gambled, and spent more money than he had or us as a family for that matter. The whores took the immediate cash while those he gambled with accepted promissory note. He whiled away the summer in carefree abandonment then returned home to act the good son.

Unfortunately, his creditors followed him. They brought to our parents' attention the money that he owed. I must give my father credit for his restraint after having this news. We were given a month to find the money to pay off Edward's debt or far worse would be done. Quickly did the assortment of knick knacks and other extravagances of our house disappear. Then next went livestock we could live without. The weeks passed as a bit of our souls slipped away each day in some treasured heirloom or prized possession.

It tore my heart to hear my mother cry, to listen each night as her weeping echoed through the house. My father became nearly a ghost of the man he used to be. He was desperate, we all were. Our time was nearly up and still when didn't have a quarter of what my brother owed the men. I was half sure that Edward would become a sacrificial lamb for the family, but rarely would a father give up his heir, even one that has broken the family so greatly. However, it is no great heartache to lose a daughter.

While I was never the most sought after girl in the village, the men did notice me, even more so when they found out what constraints my family was in. They came with offers of marriage to my father, offers of less repute to me. My father could see how the men lusted after me, and perhaps that was what gave him the idea to take me to London. Or perhaps it was the lewd diatribe I was forced to listen to as I hung out our now bare thread laundry on the line.

He told my mother little and me even less. Packing me away into a borrowed carriage, he whisked me away to London, to the edge of where nobility wandered and the darkness of the criminal world began. I never saw the front of the house, or really the back for that matter, but merely saw an open doorway, where my father quickly bartered my life away.

I was brought in to the house where I was greeted by two maids and a man I did not know. My blue eyes took in the soiled frock the man wore, watching as his dark eyes took in the pink dress that covered me before he looked to the maids. There, in the hall, where I could see the entrance to the kitchen, and the scurry of servants was all too frequent, the maids began to unbutton my dress. My hands flew to the top of my dress, my eyes lifting to my father in a beseeching way, but he merely looked away, shame and guilt clearly written over his features.

What had he done to me? I turned in shock as the man grabbed my hands roughly, his palms hot and moist on my cool skin, his voice seeming like the crack of a whip to my now oversensitive senses. "Here now, you'll have plenty of time to be shy later." Later? What would happen later? I nearly sobbed out the question, I nearly stormed and stamped my feet, or flew out of there in a rage. But that was all in my mind. All I truly did was stand there, dry eyed as I felt the gap in the back of my dress widen and the knowing fingers unlace my corset.

The corset came off before the dress, the man finally having to release my hands to yank the material down. Using my sleeves to pin my arms to my body, he then slid the straps of my chemise away from my shoulders, his slightly calloused hands feeling abrasive to my skin as he stroked the ball of my shoulder and brought the material down further.

I stand only five foot three in bare feet, the man before me perhaps three inches above that, but he felt like a giant to me as his gaze took in my breasts as he exposed them. I was further embarrassed by the puckering of my nipples, a mixture of my fear, the cold, and the slow drag of my chemise over them. He made thoughtful sound but said nothing. There was no desire in his eyes and I felt all the more shamed. After all, the man had just stripped me before my father and more strangers than people I knew, but worse yet, he didn't seem at all impassioned by what he viewed.

He made another thoughtful sound and reached out, cupping one of my breasts. I felt the urge to vomit in my stomach, nausea rolling away inside of me. I looked away, glancing beneath my golden lashes to the maid who stood to my right. She was watching the man's fingers, a faint flush to her cheeks as her steady gaze viewed his fingers caressing down to slope of my breasts to the now rushed peak.

I nearly jumped at the touch, the strangest sensation bursting through my belly to rest at the apex of my thighs. I gave the man a startled look as he first watched his fingers pinch and tug lightly at my flesh. Each movement sent those strange jolts through me and I could feel my color heightening, traveling down to rest even in my chest.

He looked up at me when he noticed the color. A knowing look entered his face even as he smiled. His touch became less idle and a bit more rough as he pinched and rubbed at my nipple, pulling at the flesh so it stretched a bit from my breast before releasing. When he lifted his hand to touch me again, his second hand came to administer the same attention to my untouched breast. I could feel my breathing become a bit strained, a rush of feeling building up between my thighs, making me clamp them together.

The man chuckled as he watched my face, now flicking my nipples back and forth with his fingers as he turned to my father, who still watched, though he had a peculiar look to him. "She may not be much to hold in way of flesh, so she may not bring in much, but she'll be good at what she does, so we'll see."

The man's words meant little to nothing to me, especially since I couldn't pull my attention away from what he was doing to my breasts. I had the most awful need for him to touch me in other places. Especially between my thighs. Tears wetted my lashes as I felt the soft hand of a woman on my bare back. The maid who had been watching the man molest my breasts now leaned in, whispering into my ear, though it took me a minute to concentrate on what she said, my attention absorbed briefly in the warm weight of her breasts pressing into my air. "There now, love, its okay. You're new to this but it gets right easy to get used to."

Used to? I glanced to her then down to the man's hands, which now fell away from my breasts. Did she mean that this would be happening more than once? I felt the color drain from my face as the man's hands left me. "One more thing needs to be seen to. I don't like to be cheated, even if I stretch the truth a bit." He grasped my clothes and stripped them off me, leaving me in the thin cotton stockings that were tied around my thighs and the solid boots at my feet.

I stumbled as he grabbed my arm and forced me to follow him, looking back longingly at my clothes, which the more friendlier maid picked up. Bringing me into the kitchen, he brought me to a low work table, calling out for his jar then to Mickey, who stood by the spit. Mickey was a big boy, perhaps a few years younger than my brother Edward. The man told Mickey to hold me down. I wasn't sure why that would be needed, and I was rather frightened by it, but Mickey gave me no time to think about balking.

Grasping the back of my neck, the youth had me bent over the table, the side of my face pressed into the worn wood. I made sounds of distress as the man grasped my wrists in his, holding them with one hand while the other worked on twisting a thong of leather around them. I was beginning to feel like a Christmas goose as I felt my legs being stretched apart and tied to the legs of the table.

Tears now readily fell from my eyes as I closed them, sniffles coming from me as the buzz of the kitchen swarmed my senses. I knew some were watching, many with a sadistic glee. The man who had brought me in casually laid a hand on my ass, rubbing one globe with the familiarity of a man to his horse, kneading at the tense muscles there before he lifted his hand.

It was gone but a second before I felt it once more land on my ass. When it returned he slid his hand down between my thighs to where the lips of my pussy met my rear. There his fingers paused before he chuckled. His hand slid lower as he noticed the moisture that was there. Gathering it up with his fingers, he worked it into my labia and around my clit, touching the swollen and sensitive folds in a way that made me twist and jump.

"Well, she should have no problem taking a man, that's for sure." I felt so dirty from that and the man took his hand back to the base of my pussy, spreading the lips before I felt a finger coated in a thick ointment begin to press into me. I couldn't help crying out; earning me a slap on the ass from his other hand as his finger slowly began to work itself in and out of me. "Stop that." Was all that was said.

I sobbed as I felt the finger stretch me in a way I had never known possible. I breathed hard, slowly realizing that the oddity of the situation was beginning to feel good. The man removed the hand spreading me open to grasp the cheek of my rear once more, holding my hips down, the thumb of his hand pressing lightly against the puckered back entrance. It was unnerving but it somehow made what his other hand was doing all the better. I could hear him laugh as his finger wiggled teasingly inside me, finally bringing a moan to my lips.

He continued to caress me in such a way, causing me finally to try pressing back into his hands as I made other soft sounds of pleasure, before he finally pulled back. He was speaking to my father, but all I paid attention to was the burning need of the flesh he had just left. My body trembled upon the table and I cried out as I felt a cool wet cloth come press to my hot sex, moving to clean me.

I shamelessly pressed back into the hand, trying to finish whatever it was the man had started, but I received another smack on my ass. There was a flurry of words spoken around me, the accents too thick for me to understand, and then an ice cold cloth pressed up against my cunt. It shocked my senses and I tried to get away, but it would only leave for a second then come back, dripping and ice cold as ever.

I sobbed as the desire in me was banked, the ointment and my juices then deftly cleaned away before I was untied and given my chemise. I dressed quickly, my pink nipples red from being rubbed against the wood, my legs weak from my arousal. As I stood leaning against the table, another maid stepped close, quickly removing my stockings and forcing me to give up my boots. My hair was taken down from its bun, leaving the golden curls to frame my shoulders.

As only females attended me, and in the most platonic of ways I was later to find, I began to relax. They were not friends nor were they the lifelong servants I had grown with, which we had been forced to give up for Edward, but they were female just like me and that brought comfort. I realized belatedly that the man and my father had disappeared, but only as the man came back. He was portly and going slightly bald, but that didn't seem to matter.

He looked me over before speaking to what I was to assume was the chef, a large woman who looked meaner than any painting of a military general than I had ever seen. "Make up a tray of food for her. See that she's put in Mary's old room." The woman just nodded and motioned to the maid who had tried comforting me earlier. The girl stepped forward as the tray of food went to being prepared, the girl whispering to me. "This way."Nodding, I left with her, grateful for the arm she wrapped around my shoulders after we were out of sight of the kitchen and its staff.

We walked up the servants' stairs to the second floor, where she led me down the hall to a door near the main stairs themselves. The room she brought me into was small, which made me guess at one time it had been a large dressing room and closet only to be refurnished to be a bedchamber. The bed there was moderate in size, enough for two people to lie on, though close together. I noticed the windows were barred shut. Turning to question her, the girl was turning down the bed, already beating me to speech by voice an opinion. "Best you rest after you eat. You'll have a long night ahead of you, I'm sure. You'll not want to be swooning off your feet."

That silenced my question, though brought another to my mind. What was to happen that would make her think I would swoon? The question was easily forgotten as another maid appeared with a tray of rich food that I could smell even from beneath the cover of the tray. I hadn't had such rich fare since Edward's return, and even then on a rare occasion. The maid that stayed with me chuckled as she watched me dig into the meal after having me sit on the bed and then placing it on my lap. I didn't mind her amusement either, too hungry to care.

Quickly eating my fill, she took the tray away, leaving me a glass of cold water to drink. She tucked me in and patted the pillow beneath my head to fluff it after I lied down. She was right, I was tired. The maid said nothing as she collected the tray and left, my eyes already closing to sleep.

I would sleep for hours, the morning turning to day then to evening and finally to night. The next time I was to see the maid, or the man who had accepted me from my father's care, was to be when I was brought down the stairs and pressed onto a stage, auctioned away to the highest bidder with only my chemise to hide me.