Cinder Girl Ch. 02

Gabriella sat on the couch, her hair perfectly coiffed, her cheeks and even her lips rouged. She'd caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and had hardly recognized herself. The lady's maid had even put a smudge of kohl around her eyes, and truthfully Gabriella had been so transfixed at the sight of herself that for a moment she had forgotten the horror of the auction. Now, sitting down without a strange face to admire, her mind was completely stuck on it. Her virginity. Had Madame become so desperate, or was she just being cruel? No wonder she hadn't told Gabriella where they were headed.

The other girls sat by, seeming as dumbstruck as she. Had they known before they arrived? And how could such practices still exist in a civilized country? It was no use in pretending that she was not a virgin; Madame knew that she had not been out of the manor in years, and aside from the ancient coachman who tended the horses, male visitors were few and far between.

She considered trying to escape. If ever there was a time to run away, it was now. The woman at the door seemed to stand guard, and Gabriella felt certain that if she dared make a break for it, an alarm would be raised, and she would be brought back immediately, and perhaps beaten for the attempt. So not now, she decided. She would wait until a better opportunity presented itself to make her escape, but she would attempt to make one. She'd been a loyal servant to Madame and her two daughters, but this was asking too much.

She felt a sense of betrayal at Madame's actions. For years she'd toiled, worked as hard as any servant or slave, and received not a word of thanks. Forced to serve the ersatz mistress of the manor, when by rights it should have been hers, and now this. Madame would give her virginity to the highest bidder, without so much as a by-her-leave. She had very few possessions now, and though she did not often have daydreams of the romantic nature, she'd assumed that her virtue would be given to someone she loved, if not a husband.

Now, that choice was being taken from her, Gabriella's own body left in the hands of a mistress who was at best indifferent. If she had not been so numb from shock at the whole situation, she might have cried. As it was, she only sat and stared straight ahead of her, contemplating her fate and wondering when an opportunity for escape might arise. If all else failed, she certainly was not going to part with her virtue without a fight, even if she was punished for it.

The woman at the door beckoned toward the ivory-clad girls. "Come, it is time." Wordlessly, all the girls rose and followed the woman as she led them down the hall. Gabriella too followed silently, but her eyes were darting all around, taking in the floor plan of the great house. She tried to commit every detail to memory, so when the time came for her escape she would not get lost. Where she would go or what she would do once she was free, she did not know, but it had to be better than this.

The girls were led into what must have been a ballroom under normal circumstances, though now there were chairs set across the floor in rows, and masked gentlemen filled the chairs. No dancing was taking place here tonight, thought Gabriella ruefully. From behind the identical black masks each man wore, she could feel their gazes upon her and the other girls. She might have blushed had the circumstances not been so dire. She hazarded a glance around the room.

There were a few women scattered along the outskirts of the room, but it was mostly men. There was no sign of Madame Le Turad, though with the black masks that even the women wore it was hard to say for certain. Would Madame stay and witness Gabriella's humiliation to the finish, or would she leave and return to the manor to await the money? Knowing Madame, either could be possible.

The girls were led to the front of the room, off to one side. There was a podium set up in the middle that Gabriella assumed must be for the auctioneer. How barbaric this all was! At the sight of the girls, any of the gentlemen milling about took their seats. A man approached the auctioneer's podium, and Gabriella realized it was about to begin. The auctioneer made some opening statements, but she was too nervous, the blood pounding hard in her ears, to listen.

All too soon, the first girl was brought up to the front by the podium. The door-woman held her tightly by the arm, and another unmasked man stood close by, appearing ready to pounce. That must be the guard, she thought. That would make her plans of escape more difficult. Still, things weren't over if she was 'sold', an opportunity to make a break for it might still arise before the true horror began. The girl up front sniffled and hung and her head, only to have the door-woman jerk it upright for the gentlemen to see.

"And now, the examination!" boomed the auctioneer, and Gabriella noticed for the first time a long, low table positioned near the podium. They forced the poor girl to lie down on it, and then her skirts were crudely yanked up, revealing her legs and the scrap of fabric that was serving the girls as underwear. An unmasked woman stepped forward, kneeling in front of the girl, and pulled the undergarment aside to insert her fingers inside the girl! Gabriella squirmed with discomfort for the poor girl, and dreaded her turn. The woman conducted her business quickly, turned to the auctioneer, and nodded.

"There we have it, gentlemen," said the auctioneer, "A bona fide virgin! Now, shall we start the bidding at fifty silvers?"

Fifty silvers! No wonder Madame was selling her; the money earned from this would be enough to keep the household running another year, and quite comfortably. The bidding increased, and ultimately the girl 'sold' for two hundred and ten silvers. That seemed like madness to Gabriella. How could the possibility of deflowering a virgin be so enticing to these men? No doubt they were all extremely wealthy and the money meant little to them, but it seemed such a strange thing to purchase. The girl was ushered to the other side of the room, and another ivory-clad girl was brought forth.

This girl was beautiful even before the maids had started making her up. Her golden hair hung in perfect curls, her blue eyes were large and fringed with thick lashes, and her body was ripe with curves. She sold for over three hundred silvers.

There were two girls in line ahead of Gabriella. She cast her eyes about, looking for anything that might serve as a distraction so that she might make her escape, but she could find nothing. Every door was blocked by men in uniform, probably butlers or footmen. How could they stand by and watch this? They had to know that the girls being 'sold' were closer to their own status than that of the men doing the purchasing. It seemed like a betrayal of their own people.

The blonde girl was managing a smile as she was led to the far side of the room, her tresses bouncing softly with each step. "How can she smile?" whispered Gabriella, mostly to herself, but the girl in front of her heard her and turned.

"She submitted herself," the girl said, her eyes wide.

"What?" Gabriella was so shocked she almost forgot to whisper. "Why would you do that?"

"You heard the prices we're fetching. If I could have sold my own virginity and kept the money, I would too. I'm Diane, by the way."

"Gabriella," she introduced herself.

"Your master must have brought you for this then," said Diane. "Mine too."

"Mistress," corrected Gabriella. "I had no idea what this was until that woman told me."

"Unfortunately I've known for a while. My master enjoyed hanging it over my head as a threat, and now he's finally made good on it." Diane's face twisted into a sad combination of regret and anger. The girl ahead of Diane was being brought up front now, and her shrieking cries disrupted the whispered conversation.

"Please!" the girl was crying. "Please, let me go! Master!" she called, "Please, I will behave, please anything but this!" the crowd laughed hard at the miserable girl, who had to be held down by the guard for her examination. In the end she fetched the lowest price so far, a mere eighty silvers.

"Her master will not be happy with her," observed Diane. "No doubt she'll be beaten for selling at such a low price."

Gabriella watched the crowd, laughing at the poor girl's misery, and vowed silently that she would not give them any satisfaction of enjoying hers. She would walk out with her head held high, and continue to look for escape opportunities. Then Diane was being escorted up, and she cast one last glance behind her at Gabriella, the two exchanging sad little smiles. Gabriella wanted to look away out of politeness, as her new friend was examined, but her cold horror at the whole ordeal kept her transfixed. The woman was feeling between Diane's legs. She looked at the auctioneer and shook her head.

"Damaged goods, gents!" called the auctioneer, and Diane was hauled upright and led to the doors.

"Wait, I'm not!" voiced Diane, her eyes wide with terror. "I'm a virgin, I am!" She was hustled out the door quickly, her frightened gaze meeting Gabriella's eyes briefly before she was out of sight around the corner. Gabriella felt bad for Diane, but she couldn't spare the time to be thinking about her now. The door-woman had taken her arm and was pulling her up front. She was forced to stand for a moment and let the crowd get a look at her, then she was being forced down on the long, low table and her skirts were flung upward. She could feel her cheeks burning with her embarrassment as her legs were displayed for all the room to see, then the woman was putting fingers inside her, in her most intimate place. Gabriella felt a twinge of discomfort and then it was over, the woman nodding at the auctioneer.

"Let's start the bidding at fifty silvers!" called the auctioneer, and then things moved swiftly. All the men looked alike with their masks and suits, and she could hardly tell the difference between them. There were two that seemed especially determined to have her; their paddles waved in the air often. She supposed in a certain light it was flattering, these gentlemen vying for her. Had she consensually submitted herself to make the money it might even have been considered a compliment, but as she'd had no choice in the matter, all she could think was that these men were monsters.

Number 17 waved his paddle at the two hundred mark, and Number 35, her other admirer, was right behind him with two hundred and ten. She could practically feel their gazes burning through her dress. Two hundred and twenty, now, then thirty. Should she be hoping for one to win out over the other? Knowing nothing about them or their personalities other than that they were willing to pay for virginity, she supposed it didn't matter. She hoped that if she was not able to make her escape as she planned, she would end up in the hands of a someone more kindly. It was doubtless going to be an unpleasant experience regardless, but she knew some men were cruel and liked to hit women.

Feeling like chattel, Gabriella was led to the side of the room after Number 17 closed out the bidding at two hundred and seventy silvers. So, her virginity officially belonged to someone else now. It was strange to think about. It was such an intagible thing to own. She wondered if the deed would be completed tonight or if arrangements were made for the future. If there was to be no escape for her, she would rather get it over with than wait and dread it for days. Then again, she might have more of a chance to escape if it was put off for a few days.

Another girl was up front now and the focus was off of Gabriella. She studied Number 17 from her position. He was watching the girl up front rather than her, and she wondered if he meant to purchase more than one girl's virginity tonight. Surely one was enough to satisfy any man! Perhaps he was looking at the other girls and regretting his choice. There were prettier girls here, and girls better endowed. Though Madame hadn't starved her, she'd never allowed Gabriella to eat enough to develop too many womanly curves, and her hips and thighs were slim and not so plush and inviting as the girl presently up front.

The rest of the auction went by too quickly, and before she'd had time to think more about fleeing, it was all over and the winning bidders were approaching the stand to make their payments. Number 17 seemed to have a conversation with the auctioneer before a pouch was handed over, presumably the money he owed. The auctioneer was nodding and seemed to be giving the man directions, pointing up and over his head. So, thought Gabriella, it was to be here then. Right now, in this house. Well, she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of begging for mercy. She would endure this, since she had no choice, but she would not return to Madame. Once she was finished and sent back on her way, she would run. Far, far away from Madame and the horrors of the evening. Number 17 approached her.

"Gabriella." His voice was too oily, his grin nasty, and her heart sank into her shoes. So, he was not going to be a kindly gentleman. "You should feel very honored," continued the man. "You've been chosen for something special." She stared at him, not allowing her face to betray her thoughts. Special, indeed! They could call it what they liked, but this was no honor. "Come with me," said the man. "We'll get started right away." She swallowed hard, trying to subdue her nerves. Number 17 took hold of her arm and began to pull her forward. After a second of resisting, she followed. What was the use in fighting back here? There were guards everywhere. If she was going to have any chance at it, it would be later, when it was just the two of them. Perhaps she could catch him off guard.

They moved through the corridors and up the stairs of the mansion til they came to a set of double doors. To her surprise, Number 17 knocked on the door and it was answered by another man.

"Is he ready?" asked Number 17.

"Yes. Is this her?" asked the man behind the door. Number 17 nodded, and the other man took Gabriella's arm and ushered her inside. Number 17 remained outside, and she felt even more confused about what was happening. Had Number 17 only purchased her for another? Were they taking turns? What was going on? "Sit," instructed the man, indicating a chair, and she sat. "You have been selected for a very great honor." She scoffed inwardly. Not this drivel again. "Tonight you will lay with His Royal Majesty, the crown prince." Her heart skipped a beat at his last words. The prince? What would the prince want with her? He could have any number of girls willingly throwing themselves in his bed, so why would he deign to purchase one?

"His Majesty delights in pleasing women of all classes," continued the man, as if he could read Gabriella's mind, "And particularly considers himself an expert at deflowering virgins, though he is always desirous of practicing his love-making on those girls who have no connections to make it worth his while, ordinarily. That's where you come in. Now listen carefully. The prince considers himself a master lover, and if you don't appear to be enjoying yourself, things will go very badly for you. It's important that his Highness be pleased, above all else, and that he believes he has pleasured you. Do you understand?"

Gabriella shook her head. It was all happening too fast. The Prince? And how was she to know how to please him, or give the impression that she was pleased? She'd never done this before, never even talked about it with anyone. The most she'd seen was the old stallion they used to have mounting a filly. Her head was reeling. The Prince! She had no hope of escaping now, the prince wouldn't travel without guards, who were sure to stop her, not to mention she'd be put to death if she dared attack the prince to make her escape.

The guard sighed. "Look, just toss your head about a lot, and moan, tell him how big he is and how good he feels, and you'll be fine. Don't worry," he said, seeing her frightened face, "It won't take too long, and it'll only hurt for a minute. His Majesty considers himself a master of pleasure, so at least you can rest assured he won't intentionally hurt you. You could do a lot worse." Even Gabriella could see the truth in that, and she nodded, grateful to the guard even as she hated him for being a part of this.

There was no escape now. This was going to happen. She tried to mentally prepare herself for it. How bad could it be? Couples did it for fun, repeatedly. If it was so awful, no woman would consent to it more than once, although in situations like this the woman's consent was irrelevant. The guard patted her arm in a feeble attempt to comfort her. "You'll be alright," he said. "His majesty will be along shortly, so get ready. Do you need to use the ladies' room?"

Gabriella shook her head. She'd been to nervous to eat or drink anything all evening, and in any case the door-woman had marched her down the stairs to the washroom before she'd been allowed to sit and wait on the couch.

"I'll leave you to here collect yourself, but I'll be right outside the door. Don't try to run away; there's no other door and the window is three stories up. You'd break both your legs." A glance out the window confirmed this, and Gabriella nodded sadly, acknowledging his words. She could feel the beginnings of tears springing to her eyes and blinked them back ferociously. "Look," said the guard, "Here." He extended a flask toward her. She took it cautiously, uncertain what he wanted her to do. "Take a good drink, or better yet two. It'll help make things easier."

She'd never had anything stronger than much-watered down wine as a young girl, so the stinging, burning taste of the liquor made her gasp. "Good, another one," said the guard, and tipped the mouth of the flask toward her again. Sputtering, she managed to gulp down another mouthful, surprised at the pleasant warm sensation that trickled down her throat and into her belly.

"Why are you helping me?" she asked, a little hoarse from the fiery alcohol. The guard shrugged.

"I've given my sworn word to serve the prince and be loyal to him, but that doesn't mean I have to approve of everything he does. Where I come from, a woman always has the power to say no. This isn't much, but it's all I can do."

"Thank you," said Gabriella, and meant it. If the guard truly had the morals he claimed then this must be nearly as difficult for him as it was for her. Nearly, but not quite; after all it wasn't his body being sold. The guard took his flask back and made his way to the door, turning back for a moment before he went outside.

"If you need anything, before his Majesty comes, call for me. I'm Octavius." He closed the door behind him and was gone, leaving her alone with her thoughts and fears. The alcohol did seem to be taking the edge off things, though she was still filled with dread and the urge to run away, she did feel a little bit more relaxed, and her mind was less focused. She sat on the bed, uncertain what to do. How did one prepare for such a thing? She wished fervently that she had run away from home when she had the chance. Now it was too late, and a man was coming to take her virginity from her, without her consent. That he was the prince mattered very little to her. Royalty or not he was still the man who had purchased her and intended to rape her.

Oh, she understood very well that she must pretend to like it, and not accuse the prince of such things, but rather pretend she was honored, and maybe even excited. The very idea caused her stomach to churn, and for a moment she thought she might be sick. That would serve the prince right, she thought bitterly, if he came to find her vomiting and too ill to even be considered for the activities he had planned. In a minute her stomach settled, and she stared at the doors, waiting for the prince to walk through.