Unmasked

by Shannon Youngblood

  “Tonight, you will be chosen by an available Master, and you will become his.”

  His words were like a ten ton rock dropping down into the pit of my stomach. My mouth had dropped open, but I couldn’t physically close it. Chosen? Chosen how? A multitude of questions swirled around my foggy brain, but I couldn’t make my mouth move to utter a single one. It was as if his revelation had paralyzed me.

  “If you are not chosen tonight-- well, let’s not discuss that. I know you will be chosen by a worthy Master. I have the most beautiful daughter up for bid, and she will make him a fine bride.”

  “Bride? Up for bid?” My mouth finally spoke. “What does that mean?”

  “Every female born into The Faith has a worth, a price tag, if you will. Your job is to pay that debt to society. Tonight, your goal is to have a Master bid high enough for you that you no longer owe anything to The Faith. If you do not get enough money to pay off your debts, you will have to complete tasks over the course of the next twelve months to secure your place, otherwise--” he trailed off, not finishing his sentence.

  “Otherwise, what?” I asked in complete horror.

  “It doesn’t matter my little flame. I have zero doubts in you. You’re beautiful, gracious and kind. Any of the Masters would be lucky to have you,” he smiled.

  What in the hell was going on? One minute I was going to a ball in a beautiful dress to dance and flirt the night away, and the next I was about to be sold off like livestock. No. This wouldn’t do at all.

  “And what if I don’t want this, Daddy. What if I don’t want a Master,” I stood, releasing his hand as my voice reached a never before heard octave.

  The smack came out of nowhere, as the sound reverberated around the room. Silence followed as my mind went into a state of disbelief. My father, the light of my life had backhanded me to the ground.

  “You will have a Master child, and you will repay your debt for being born with a worthless slit. Do you understand me?” He barked, standing over my body that was now curled up in a scared ball.

  I nodded, my hand clutching my cheek. I was utterly confused and I couldn’t stop the tears as they cascaded down my face.

  “Good girl, now wipe away your tears, little flame,” his voice returning to that of my gentle father. “The hair woman should be here any moment, and by the look of the red in your cheeks, she might have her work cut out for her.”

  With that, he left the room, taking not only my innocence with him, but also my childhood and my naiveté, and leaving me with a flaming red cheek and a head full of bewilderment and shame.

  Chapter 2

  Zander

  I padded across the wood floors for the umpteenth time that week, racking my brain for a solution that didn’t involve going to tonight's event. Even at the age of thirty-three, knowing every facet of The Faith, inside and out, I still wasn’t entirely sure what I was doing. I had been to every auction since the year I had become a man in the eyes of the community, but I had no desire to be a Master.

  With my father as the High Master for the last thirty some odd years, people assumed at his death, I would take the helm, but I didn’t want it. I was a lone wolf and I preferred it that way. I didn’t want a wife or children, I just wanted to be me. Solitude was comforting to me, and it helped keep me in check.

  When I was hungry, I fed myself, when my life was in disarray, I cleaned it up, and when I needed to fuck, I went down to The Faith community building and I found a willing whore to suck my cock to help pay off her enormous debt. I didn’t need a wife to do all the things I could do myself, but I was in the minority on that thinking, and it wasn’t what we practiced; what they practiced.

  This year was different. This year I didn’t have a choice but to submit to my father’s demands and bid on a brat up for auction. Even beyond the grave he could bend me to his will, and I hated him more now than I had when he was alive. His untimely death over the summer I thought would bring me release, but instead it brought me nothing but grief and anguish. If I didn’t do as his will commanded, I was to be cut off from the Cunningham fortune, stripped of my lands, and thrown out into the world with nothing, and that included the shirt on my back. I had no choice, and my hands were tied. I was helpless to break free.

  “Mr. Cunningham,” an elderly woman’s voice sounded from outside of the study I was pacing, “Your limo should be here in thirty minutes, shall I grab your suit so you can get ready?”

  “No,” I growled, “And for the last time, my name is Zander.”

  I couldn’t stop my hands from throwing the nearest thing I could find at the closed door. Luckily for me it was just a pen. A few inches over and I would have grabbed my father’s paperweight. Mildred would have been most surprised at a golden hammer flying through the sturdy oak door.

  “Yes, Master. I apologize,” she murmured on the other side.

  Ugh. Master. I hated the title. I flopped into the lavish armchair behind me and ran my fingers through my non-existent hair, cursing the day I had cut it all off. It would have been convenient to have something to pull on whilst my frustrations ate at me.

  In an act of rebellion at the age of twenty-two I had tried to enlist in the military and get away from my harboring father. I had even gone to a barber just outside of town and had him shave off my thick head of wavy brown hair, but my father’s influences knew no bounds. The second the tip of the pen hit the paper, signing my life away to the Marines, I had been stopped and the contract ripped right in front of my eyes.

  “You have a legacy to uphold,” The recruiter in front of me whispered. “This is not the life for you,” he nodded to the shreds of my foiled plans before escorting me out of the building. My father had been waiting outside for me and for weeks I didn’t hear the end of it.

  I had kept my hair short as a reminder of who I was and who I truly wanted to be. I didn’t consider myself a bad man, but rather a man who did bad things. I fought my urges daily, and most of the times, I won out, but there were times where the beast arose from it’s sleep and hunted for its next meal.

  My dad had tried to tell me that my beast was The Faith working its way through my body and I should let it. I should take my rightful place as High Master when the time came.

  I was a man.

  I was superior.

  I was the Master.

  Women were nothing but breeders, put on this earth to do the bidding of man. A part of me, and I didn’t know how large that part of me was, cheered at my father's words, knowing the accuracy and truth in them. The other part of me cringed at his crass and ancient way of thinking. This was 2019, not the 1950’s. People in the real world didn’t follow this logic anymore.

  But that was the society I was born into. A following of people who believed that women were a made to clean our homes, cook our meals and pleasure our cocks. They had a price tag, both figuratively and literally, and they would pay for being born a cunt. There was no freedom as a woman, only servitude.

  It was something that was drilled into the heads of every male born. Before you learned your abc’s and your 123’s, you were taught about your superiority. The boys and the girls were split into separate schools, where the boys learned all of the normal things children learned, plus The Faith, and the girls were taught how to serve, although I didn’t imagine they were aware that was the goal. I never remembered my sisters questioning their lessons.

  I remembered my first lesson though, almost like it was yesterday. At the tender age of eight, I was shown the proper way to strike a lady so as not to leave a mark. I was told, “There is a time and place to leave bruises on your slave, but learning the art of beating without marking is one of a kind.”

  We all took turns on the teacher’s wife, striking her with the back of our hands. “If she isn’t crying, you aren’t hitting her hard enough,” the teacher would say. That was the first time I remembered the flame burning low in my belly, and even at such a young age, I was able to knock the teacher to the floor with a
single blow. I got an A+ for that lesson, and my father beamed at me with pride.

  The lessons only got more gruesome as my age matured, and I let the darkness inside of me take over my entire being all throughout my teenage years. I was the star pupil for my age bracket, and everyone knew they were dealing with the High Master’s son. At seventeen, they gave me my first community whore.

  “Do you see that son?” my father pointed at her, “That is YOUR pussy. That space between her legs is the disappointing emptiness where your cock should be. Take what is yours son, and teach her who is almighty.”

  I had let the blackness inside of me take over, and when the next morning's sun had risen, I was a young man lying in bed with a dead whore.

  I sighed at the memory, remembering the way my father had chuckled when he found me. “I think The Faith suits you son. Come, let’s get you cleaned up.”

  For two years, I showed my Dominance to every worthless cunt who crossed my path. I beat, fucked, and controlled any and all I could lay my hands on. My mother got the brunt end of my rage most days. The only people I spared from my young and eager ways were my sisters, Bella and Jenny.

  Everything changed two years later when my rage lashed out, inadvertently killing my mother in the process. It wasn’t something I ever wanted to think about again, and I worked hard to suppress the evil inside of me. Never again would I let that darkness out. Never again would I submit to the devil coursing through my veins.

  Looking at my watch, I realized I didn’t have long to get ready, and I had no other options. Tonight I would become a Master, I only hoped the girl I chose could handle the overwhelming darkness within me. If she couldn’t, we were both doomed to live and die by the beast that roamed the halls in my head. I hoped she was ready.

  Chapter 3

  Phoenix

  I tried to bring my excitement level back up to where it had been before, but I was having a hell of a time. I was halfway through getting ready, and the amount of tears I had already shed were becoming quite the problem for Tricia.

  “Listen sweetheart,” she said coming around to face me and bending down to eye level. “I don’t know what happened right before I arrived, but I’m guessing your father filled you in on the events of tonight. I remember having that conversation with my father years and years ago.”

  I looked up at her, using the back of my hand to wipe away any remaining moisture from my cheeks. “I don’t understand what is happening, Tricia,” I told her.

  “It’s certainly a shock,” she chuckled, “and it takes some getting used to. But as long as you are bid on today, you’re going to be just fine. I can promise you that.”

  “You know that doesn’t explain anything, Tricia,” I deadpanned. All she really had done was tell me exactly what my father had said, and in much fewer words, and less pain.

  “I know, but it isn’t my place to tell you what happens. My place is to do your hair and makeup, and make sure you are the most beautiful girl in the entire room.”

  “What happens if I don’t get bid on?” I asked her, hoping she would tell me versus skirting the issue like my father had.

  “Trust me when I tell you, you don’t want to know, and I have no desire to tell you. Let’s not worry about the things we can’t control, and instead focus on the things we can, shall we?”

  She was right, and as I nodded to her to continue, I thought about how a single conversation with a man I’d admired my entire life had changed my complete outlook on life. I didn’t feel like the adored daughter anymore. Far from it. I felt like fodder. I felt like the price tag on a really fancy hanger. Today, I was going to be bid on by a random man, and I would become his wife; his slave. Was I ready for that?

  The answer was a resounding no. Hell no. I was still a virgin, and for all intents and purposes, I was still a child. I hadn’t had a high school boyfriend or even so much as a kiss. I wasn’t ready to become a wife, and probably a mom.

  That thought lead me to thinking about my own mother. Was that why she was so bitter towards me? Was she auctioned off to my father and turned into his slave? Was she as hesitant as I was? I didn’t know for sure, but I had a sneaking suspicion that that was the case. It would explain so much. If you didn’t want to be bought, if you didn’t love your husband, how could you possibly love and care for the child of such an arrangement.

  My heart hurt for my mother and I felt something for her I had never felt before; sympathy. She had been born into this just the same as I had. She hadn’t asked for this, nor wanted it. It was the way it was in The Faith.

  “Tricia,” I asked. “Do you have a Master?” I knew I was invading her personal life, but I had no one else to talk to.

  “I do,” she sighed, “But he isn’t a rich man like your father. I’m still working on paying off my debt.”

  “How,” I asked.

  She held up the curling iron and shrugged. “I always was fascinated by the beauty world, so when I was purchased on my twenty-first birthday, my Master asked me how I wanted to pay off the rest of my debt. For me it was an obvious choice. I took a few classes and watched tutorials into the early mornings when I wasn’t required to do my household or wifely duties, and finally I became The Faiths personal stylist.”

  “I imagined you’ve paid it off by now right?” I questioned, knowing that she’d been doing my hair for at least fifteen years.

  “Not yet, Phoenix. Only ten percent of my pay goes towards my debt,” she shrugged, resigned to her unlivable wages.

  “Ten percent?!” I gasped. “That’s nothing! Where does the rest of it go?”

  “Fifty percent goes back into The Faith, and the other forty goes to my Master for allowing me to work.”

  “Allowing?” I spun in my chair and looked at her confused and bewildered. “What in the fuck does that mean?”

  She sighed again at me, and I couldn’t tell if it was in resignation or irritation. “Your one and only job as Master’s slave is to please him. You cook, clean, and produce children. If you have to do more than that, if you take away time you could be doing those things for him, he must be compensated.”

  She was definitely irritated with me. It was as if she didn’t understand my confusion or my hesitation, like she hadn’t been exactly in my shoes. I decided I would refrain from asking her anything more, instead I would silently ponder this recent development.

  An hour later, with my hair and my makeup complete, I looked at myself in my full length mirror. I looked stunning. I wasn’t tooting my own horn, it was true. I didn’t remember a time in my life where I had ever looked so sophisticated, so grown up. Glancing over to the door to make sure it was closed, I unwrapped the towel from around my body and took a good look at myself.

  Clean, shaven, smooth pearl white skin gleamed back at me. My breasts were perky, as one might expect from a twenty-one year old. My long black hair had been fishtail braided around the side of my head and fell just below my collarbone on the opposite shoulder from where the strap on my dress would sit. Loose, curled tendrils of my black hair framed my face on both sides.

  My makeup was bold, and yet understated. Tricia had given me smoky black eyes to contrast with the silver in my dress. The false lashes were heavy, but they made the gray in my eyes pop that much more. There was a soft, glowing pink in my cheeks, and my fire engine red lip stain offset the entire ensemble.

  Yesterday, I would have been ecstatic with my appearance. Today, the more knowledgeable Phoenix was less enthusiastic, and a little wearier.

  A knock sounded at my door, pulling me from the trance I was in.

  “Little flame?” My dad’s endearment rang through my room as he entered. “I’ve brought your dr--” he faltered, taking in my naked body. “You really have morphed into a young woman,” he gawked, laying my dress on the bed and walking towards me.

  I bent over to grab my towel, but I was too slow.

  “There’s no reason to cover yourself from me, Phoenix. I am your father. I created yo
u and I can feast on your beauty as much as I like. Is that a problem?” His voice held a roughness I hadn’t heard before today. It was full of lust and want, something no little girl should ever have to hear from her dad.

  “No, Daddy,” My voice quivered, my arms crossing over my chest, trying to hide my tremors and my nakedness from his watchful gaze.

  “Good girl. Now turn around and face the mirror.”

  I didn’t know what he was going to do, but I followed his commands and looked at myself again. My cheeks were a much darker shade of pink than they had been just moments ago. Most of my body was covered in a pink mist of embarrassment and sweat.

  “Close your eyes little flame,” my dad cooed, stepping closer, his hand concealing something from my view.

  I closed my eyes as my body started to shake uncontrollably.

  “There is no reason to be scared, Phoenix,” his hot breath caressed my ear and my bare neck. “I bought this for you on the day you were born.”

  Something large and cold pressed against the naked flesh of my collarbone, and a clasp sounded on the back of my neck.

  “I was so glad when you chose a silver dress, my Phoenix,” he whispered, his hands grabbing my hips and massaging them. “Open your eyes.”

  It took me a moment, scared of what I was going to see when I did. A gentle squeeze was the warning I needed to open them immediately. Around my neck sat a diamond encrusted, sapphire stone fixed to a beautiful elegant silver chain.

  “It reminded me of your eyes, little flame. The first time you looked up at me after you came out of your mother, I knew you were special, and I knew I needed to get you something that resembled your beauty, although seeing you now, nothing could ever compare.”

  I couldn’t take my eyes off of the adornment he had placed on me, and an involuntary smile crept from my lips.

  “It’s beautiful, Daddy,” I whispered, almost forgetting about my state of undress.

  “Just like you,” he mumbled back, his lips finding the dip where my neck and shoulders met and kissing it gently. His warm lips brought me back to the present.