Highest Bidder Collection

by Lauren Landish

  I know what I want from my partner is fucked up. I want her devotion, and her only desire to be to please me. I want more than I deserve, but I’ll provide every want, every wish, every need. In exchange for her worshiping obedience, I'll give her the same in return.

  I don’t want a safe word, I don’t want negotiation and compromise. I demand complete submission, and nothing less.

  It’s fucked up, but I want it. And I’m tired of waiting.

  It’s Lucian’s fault. Him wanting a Submissive and buying one on the spot is what’s fueling this need. I know it is. I’m pissed. I’m jealous. It was so fucking easy for him.

  I’ll never have that.

  What I crave is too rare. Too depraved to be so easily found and taken.

  I don’t know why, and I don’t give a fuck. But I’m ready and tired of waiting.

  Chapter 4

  Katia

  I hum a Katy Perry song playing through my radio speakers as I pull into my designated parking spot of Pine Brook Apartments, my spirits high. Today was an awesome day, and it was something I desperately needed after a week of night terrors.

  An older couple who were leaving for vacation boarded their Miniature Schnoodle, Mr. Higgins, for the week. He has to be the most adorable dog I’ve ever seen with his tiny, bearded face. He looks like an old man and my heart just melted whenever I laid eyes on him. The day got even better when three eager high school kids, bless their hearts, dropped in to volunteer. I had a blast working with the kids, and they absolutely fell in love with Mr. Higgins and his puppy dog antics. It was so cute to watch. It’s not uncommon for kids to volunteer. I have a program set up with a local school, but it makes it that much better when the kids obviously enjoy themselves.

  Since the kids had so much fun I’m hoping they’ll go tell all their friends about the dog shelter so more of them will come play with the pups. That’s all I ask them to do. Just give the dogs some attention.

  I love each and every one of the dogs, but there’s not enough time in the day for me to give all of them the attention they deserve. That’s not to say I and my other four employees don’t do enough for them, but these dogs deserve more than what we can give.

  Stretching as I go, I climb out of the car and make my way to my apartment. I wince as I make it to the paved walkway that leads to the stairs, a sharp pain spiking up my back. I’m totally sore from hauling bags of dog food.

  I take the stairs slowly, feeling the strain of the day on my muscles. I don’t mind it, though. It feels good to just feel; even if it is because I’m sore. It lets me know I’ve had a productive day. Even if all I did was lift dog food all day, it makes me happy. Helping the dogs gives my life special meaning.

  I take in a deep breath, still clinging to that happy feeling, but at the same time I feel a sadness trying to creep in. A sadness that is trying to remind me of what my life could be. I hate it.

  I reach the door of my apartment and try to push that unwelcome feeling away, taking out my keys. I’m about to unlock the door when I look up to see the mailman coming my way with a small box in his hand, along with an electronic signature pad in the other.

  I furrow my brow as he approaches, wondering what’s in the box. I’m absolutely certain that I haven’t ordered anything in the past few days.

  “Miss Herrington?” he asks me, stopping right in front of me and giving me a friendly smile. He’s an energetic young man, with blond hair and bushy eyebrows.

  “Yes?” I say, flashing a friendly smile back.

  He hands me the electronic device, along with a stylus. “If you could just sign for me here, please?”

  I take both and quickly scribble my name and hand it back over to him.

  He smiles at me again as he hands me the box. “Thank you Miss Herrington, have a wonderful day.”

  “Thank you,” I reply absently, my eyes still on the box in my hands. “You, too.”

  With the box tucked under my arm, I open the door and kick it shut behind me. I turn it in my hands, the keys jingling as I toss them onto the kitchen table and look for the address label. There’s no return address listed, but I recognize the sender's name. Kiersten. A smile graces my lips as I plop down into my seat. She’s such a freaking sweetheart. She knows this past week has been rough, and it’s not unusual that we give each other a little gift here and there when we’re going through something hard.

  I instinctively look past my kitchen and into the cozy living room at the wooden owl on the bottom of my end table. It was a gift from Kiersten. She knows I love owls. I think it’s a door stopper, but it looks just right where I put it.

  My place is a nice, one-bedroom apartment with a spacious, open floor plan. It’s not cheap, but it’s not too expensive either, considering it’s in the city. The kitchen and living room join seamlessly with one another. There’s a large sliding glass door at the end of the living room that leads to a small patio. There are two windows with sheer curtains on either side of the couch. I always keep the curtains open because I like the sunlight. It helps keep the darkness away. I went a long time without sunshine, and I’ll never take such a simple thing for granted again.

  There’s not much to the rest of my apartment, just a small hallway and then my bedroom and an adjoining bathroom. But I love it. It has a cozy vibe, and I’ve surrounded myself with little things that help keep my mood upbeat, like the stone bunny bookends on the shelf next to the couch, owl pillows, and beautiful glazed ceramic planters by the large windows filled with succulents. I forget to water the plants often, so they have to be succulents. And I filled this place with warm yellows that seem to pop out at you. I use yellow because I’ve always heard that it helps with depression. Just seeing the color stimulates endorphins that make you happy. And I want to be happy. More than anything; it’s all I want.

  My eyes stray back to the box and I wonder again what it is. Deep down, I know this is something different. Something… special.

  There’s only one way to find out.

  I walk over to the cabinet and retrieve a letter opener and then come back to the box. My heart racing in my chest, I pry it open.

  My breath catches in my throat when I see what’s inside. A fancy golden envelope sits on a bed of purple plush velvet fabric. Holy shit, this is fancy. I pick it up, marveling at the soft feel of the parchment. It’s unlike any paper I’ve ever felt before. It's thick and luxurious. After a moment of staring at it, I carefully open it to reveal a golden card with tassels on the side. There’s a simple message inscribed inside.

  You’ve been invited to Club X.

  Madam Lynn

  Club X. The words run over and over in my mind. I can’t for the life of me figure out what it is. It sounds like some sort of secret underground club, yet I can’t make any sense of it. Why send me an invitation without any information about what I would be joining? And who the hell is Madam Lynn? It’s just strange. I check the box again, and there’s Kiersten’s name. I can’t get the scrunched expression off my face.

  I turn the invitation over in my hand, examining it several times, looking for any clues of what this club is about. There aren't any.

  Shrugging off my coat, I walk over to my desk in the corner of my living room, thrumming with excitement, sit down and open my laptop. When the screen lights up, I quickly type in my password and bring up the web browser. I type in Club X in the search bar and then hit enter. Kiersten won’t be on till tonight. And I’m too impatient to wait to ask her.

  My heart drops in my chest at the results that pop up. Nothing with “Club X” per se. But a bunch of porn websites and pornographic pictures are the first things listed. Some information about ecstasy. Certainly not what I expected. I click through a couple of them, but the sites are all set up to get you to put in your credit card. Screw that. I click through a bunch more websites, trying to find any information that links to the invitation, but I come up short. There’s absolutely nothing here. After clicking through a couple more, I shut down the
browser, a feeling of disappointment running through me.

  I’m about to close down my laptop when an email notification pops up in the lower right corner of my screen. The title of the subject makes my heart jump in my chest, and I almost click on it immediately.

  Your invitation awaits

  I sit there for a moment before clicking, my heart pounding in my chest as my skin pricks from a sudden chill. How eerie.

  From: Madam Lynn

  To: Katia Herrington

  Katia, I’ve been notified that you’ve received my invitation, and I’m attaching information for your consideration before we move forward. I feel it’s in your best interest as well as Club X’s for you to consider enrollment. I personally invite you to check us out. I know you’ll enjoy it. A bracelet is included in the package. Please bring it with you. I’ll see you soon.

  Yours truly,

  Madam Lynn

  My heart is nearly beating out of my chest as I quickly download the forms, open them and begin reading. My eyes go wide as I skim through pages and pages of what essentially amounts to a non-disclosure agreement. If I want to be a part of the club, I have to sign it and adhere to the rules listed. There are four other downloads, one with a list of themed nights. Another with rules for the club. And there are a lot of them.

  Another download with testimonies.

  And the last one, pictures of a gorgeous building. It looks almost like a mansion. But the inside is what steals my breath away.

  I sit there for I don’t know how long, greedily devouring every word that scrolls across the page. It takes a while, but when I finally reach the end, my mind is reeling from the wealth of information. A lot of what I read was legal jargon, but there are three words that stick out in my mind.

  Auction.

  Submissive.

  Master.

  Club X is an exclusive BDSM club.

  I suck in a heavy breath as I stare at the screen, excitement coursing through my limbs, but at the same time feeling slightly sick to my stomach. Am I really going to do this? It could be a way to confront that part of me that isn’t fully healed, the part of me that’s still dark and twisted.

  I mentioned it to Kiersten, but I didn’t expect this.

  I have fantasies. I have cravings. I don’t want normal. I tried to have a sexual relationship with someone who doesn’t want complete control. But I want to give someone my everything. I want the fantasy that I found sanctuary in. I survived because of it. It’s so deeply ingrained in me, and I don’t want it to leave.

  I don’t know if I was always like this. But there’s a power in submitting wholly to someone. To giving them everything and trusting them. I want to do it again.

  It feels wrong. But I know deep down that it’s what I want. It’s what I’m missing.

  I know people live with the illusion I created for myself. It’s their life. I want that. I want to trust someone to take me as their Slave, and cherish me like I made myself believe my Master did.

  I try to push this feeling and dark thoughts away, but they remain.

  I pick up the letter again, letting the tips of my fingers trail over the engraved “X.” I want it, but I’m terrified to let go. In a place like this though… Maybe this is exactly what I need.

  Chapter 5

  Isaac

  I’m two whiskeys in, and I can’t help myself.

  I’ve read her files over and over. My poor Katia. Kidnapped at sixteen years old while walking home from school. It was a nice neighborhood, low crime. No reason to worry. But one day she just vanished. Marcio Matias kidnapped her and three other women that day. He was well known in the sex slave traffic industry, and is currently incarcerated and on death row. Which only makes me angrier that I can’t get my hands on him myself.

  Katia is only one of hundreds of women who Marcio kidnapped over a decade.

  She was a virgin, and traded to a drug lord and head of a cartel in Colombia, Carver Dario. He went by Master C, and had many slaves and shared them freely. From what I can tell, Katia was no exception and her police reports go into detail about what a man named Javier Pinzan, second-in-command of the cartel did to her. Her life was hell. She was surrounded by abusive men who took pleasure from her pain. Her arm and jaw were both broken while she was held prisoner.

  Her arm more than once.

  In her psych transcripts I read about how she murdered him. How she broke a liquor bottle and stabbed Dario repeatedly, running away in the middle of the night wearing nothing but a large man’s dress shirt. She was filthy when they found her in a village on the outskirts of the tourist areas. She was bruised and scarred, and almost died of malnutrition and infections.

  A group of tourists just happened to be in the area. Without them, I’m not certain what would have happened to her. My heart clenches in my chest, and I take another swig of the whiskey.

  She saved herself.

  It’s been four years since she’s been home. She spent a good amount of time in protective custody, adjusting to life again. She was in and out of therapy for the first few months until she started seeing a young woman named Meredith Beck. She stayed with her for two years, attending regular sessions that eventually dwindled. She hasn’t been to her in over eight months and the last time she went, Dr. Beck prescribed Katia sleeping aids, a prescription that Katia never filled.

  I’ve hacked into the support group that I know Katia is an active member in. Extremely active. She comes on daily, and is one of only a handful of users in here. This seems to be the only social interaction she has.

  At first it was just to find out more about how she's healing. Just to read her messages and figure out if she still has problems sleeping. I’ve learned a lot about my Katia since logging in. She’s a kind girl with a beautiful heart. She wants to be happy.

  I take another sip of whiskey, ignoring the papers on the desk detailing her dark past, and focus on how she is now, in the present. How much better she is. How healthy and happy she is. Although there’s still pain. Still a void in her life… for now.

  I’ve created my own account and made a false identity. I didn’t provide any major details, but most of the profiles here are lacking.

  I know it’s wrong, but I want to get to know her.

  Madam Lynn would be pissed if she found out, but I’m curious. I have to know more about her. Katia Herrington. Her information was easily accessible, and I’ve been through all of it. All her background, multiple times.

  Curious doesn’t even begin to describe it. I know what she’s been through, what she’s survived. Even more, I know what she’s looking for. I know what she needs. At first, when I read her transcripts from the protective unit, I was horrified. She endured abuse in every possible way for years, along with malnutrition, and constant violence. The poor girl has survived too much.

  She’s strong. She’s fierce. But she’s in need.

  And I desperately want to fulfill that void for her.

  I already know my ways are twisted, so something like this is just a drop in the bucket.

  I check the blank screen again. She should be on soon. She’s a creature of habit. Her login info has her on here almost every night. It’s something I’ll have to give her if I decide she’s a good match. And if she agrees to be mine.

  Her paperwork sits in front me on the kitchen table, just to the right of the laptop. I know everything that happened to her after she was taken. Everything she’s done for the last four years. She’s such a strong, brave woman. And lucky. So fucking lucky that it was a group of tourists who found her on the outskirts of the city. If it’d been anyone else, who knows where my kitten would have wound up.

  She spent four years locked in a cell and treated like shit. Constant abuse and neglect until she caved to what Carver Dario wanted. She did what she had to do to survive. He wasn’t a master. He was an abuser who deserved to die a painful death.

  GROUPCHAT

  Katty93 has logged in.

  My heart races as I w
atch the blip appear on the screen. I’ve been waiting for her. It’s wrong. I know it is. I’m not disillusioned into thinking this isn’t fucked up. I just don’t care.

  Catlvr89: Hello Kat!

  Katty93: Oh hi there!

  Are you new here? Welcome!

  A smile slips across my face at her willingness to please. Her happiness that’s apparent on the screen.

  Catlvr89: I am. Today is my first day.

  Katty93: It’s a nice place here. I think you’ll find it really supportive.

  Catlvr89: So far I have!

  Katty93: …

  The dots signifying Katia is typing a response appear on the screen, but then vanish. I consider typing something, but then I wait a few more seconds.

  Katty93: How are you doing today?

  Catlvr89: Today is good. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a rough day.

  I type in the answer before I have a moment to think. I’m not blind to the fact that this is a support group and there are more people here than just Katia. I’m not interested in taking advantage of Katia or anyone else. I just need answers to make sure she’s the one I’ve been waiting for. I know she’s usually on late, and I’m only here for her. But I’ll do my best to blend in and be discreet.

  I may not have gone through what some of the people on here have. But others here are coping with death. I can relate to that.

  Katty93: Oh! That’s really good! What brings you here?

  Catlvr89: Could we message in private?

  GROUPCHAT

  Darlinggirl86 has logged in.

  Katty93: Of course Cat! And hi Darling!

  Darlinggirl86: Hi all! Welcome Cat!

  I don’t respond to Darling. I don’t want to create an illusion that I’ll be staying here. I just wanted a taste of Katia. I wanted to see what she was like. To see if she’s the woman I think she is. Strong and vibrant, but tainted by a sinful darkness that makes her perfect for me.