Her arms were tugged up over her head and locked there by manacles around her wrists. Like the others shackled beside her, she had been stripped of her clothing, leaving her exposed to the party guests who filed past her, examining her attributes closely. A collar, numbered, had been locked around her neck so that she could be identified for the auction. Her eyes, dark and beautiful, were cast down in submission.

She had the broad shoulders of a swimmer, with a well-defined waist and narrow hips, but blessed with inviting nipples and healthy curves of muscle in her thighs and belly. She exuded an almost masculine strength, tempered by the softness of her skin and the femininity of her face, accentuated by the sculpted eyebrows and expertly-applied cosmetics. Her long black hair was pulled back into a ponytail and dark tufts of fur, trimmed short, peeked from beneath the rim of her belly. Below that, her entrance was guarded by the smooth muscles of her thighs. Her legs were shapely and descended into dainty feet marred only by the metal cuffs around her ankles. Charles guessed that she would probably someday bear a son, but not for some time yet. She was still early in the bloom of her womanhood.

“You like?” Charles’ host asked.

“She interests me, yes,” he answered.

“Kristina, of strong Hungarian stock,” the man replied. “She would serve you well.”

Chains clinked as the woman shifted nervously from the attention of the two men.

Charles smiled at the thought of her writhing under his cock, her muscles twisting with exertion as he filled her belly with his seed. She would serve him well indeed. He smiled, wondering how she would feel when taken from behind like an animal. He gave his host a nod in agreement, then stepped over to the next woman chained to the wall.

“Allodia, of Ireland. She bears up well under the rigors of the lash,” the man said. “I have whipped her myself, and with each blow she becomes stronger. She lives for the whip; thrives under the energy she gets from it.”

“Hmmm,” Charles hummed in contemplation, studying the woman’s face. Jet-black hair matched her clear, dark eyes. Her nose, slightly upturned, complimented the curls at the corners of her mouth, giving her an almost perpetual smile despite her predicament. Her body, tight and well-defined, was trim and obviously fit to be pushed. Perhaps his host was right. Perhaps she lived for the whip. He gave her a quick smile before moving down the line to the next subject for his examination.

“Bara, the Czech. Very lovely and very stoic,” the host said of the slender woman chained to the wall. “She can take a lot of punishment before she breaks,” the host said, “but when she does, only then do you see that she is human. Otherwise, she is like a statue.”

“Interesting,” Charles replied, imagining a whip licking at her full, tender breasts. Delicate fuzz, barely noticeable, coated her mound of Venus. Charles, imagining how soft she would feel against him, regretted not being allowed to touch the subjects he was studying. “Has she ever been whipped?”

“No, and she won’t be tonight. I have something else planned,” the host said with a wicked grin. “Something much more sinister.”

The woman’s expression didn’t change.

“She really is stoic,” Charles noted.

“She does not understand English,” the host explained.

“Ah,” Charles answered in comprehension.

Behind him, at the end of the row of naked subjects he had just passed, Charles noticed an older woman studying Kristina, then leaning in towards her equally-aged male companion. “I’d love to see her squirm,” she whispered intimately as the couple stood in front of the Hungarian girl.

“Yes,” the man answered. “All those lovely muscles…”

“Oh, yes,” the woman cooed. “I bet she’d squirm deliciously.”

The couple’s comments had not gone unnoticed by Charles, who gave a quick glance in their direction.

“And what say you, sir?” the older man asked Charles conspiratorially as the couple drew up to him.

“You’re right. I’d like to see her squirm, too,” Charles replied as he stepped towards the next subject chained to the wall.

The next woman, also naked, was lean, but not disturbingly so. She was obviously of fine breeding and he wondered if she had been raised to be slender. Blonde hair fell naturally across her shoulders and, despite having her arms tugged up above her head, her pink-tipped breasts protruded nicely from her chest. She was clean-shaven between her thighs and the pink of her pussy was just visible between her slightly-parted lips. Her face was tight with worry as Charles and the host stood in front of her.

“Kate, of England,” the man explained. “Sent to me by another.”

The woman’s blue eyes darted from Charles to the host and back as her chest rose and fell with her nervous breathing. Long, delicate fingers extended from narrow hands pinned by the manacles holding her delicate wrists against the wall.

“She’s stronger than she looks,” the older gentlemen commented to Charles. “I’ve seen her before, at another place. She bore up well.”

Charles let out a contemplative hum to the other guest. “Well, perhaps we’ll find out later just how strong she really is.”

“You will be strong for me, won’t you, my dear?” the host asked the woman.

She answered with a slight nod as she closed her eyes in supplication.

“Good, good,” the host whispered.

Charles stepped over to the next subject.

She had Asian features, tempered slightly around the eyes and mouth. Golden skin curved softly into gentle breasts capped by brown nipples, and a thin ridge of black down hinted at the treasure between her thighs. She was petite but well-toned.

“Jade, of America,” the host explained. “She was sent to me as a gift.”

“She’s quite a gift,” Charles replied admiringly, drawing a chuckle from the host.

“No, not a gift to me. It is a gift to her,” the man explained. “Being here, tonight, is at her request.”

“Really,” Charles said, drawing out the syllables as the thought of a woman willingly submitting herself to be publicly displayed and tormented tumbled around in his brain. “Then she would make an interesting subject, indeed.”

The girl closed her eyes and exhaled softly, anticipating what might be done to her.

“Indeed,” the host, seeing her reaction to Charles’ words, answered in agreement.

“So what do you have planned for tonight?” Charles asked.

The host winked at Charles and said, “Something new. But you will have to wait, my friend.”

*

Servers, clothed in black formalwear, were carrying away the dinner’s detritus as Charles sat comfortably in his chair, chatting with the woman next to him. She was clad in a dark green form-fitting slip dress that fell to just above mid-thigh, and the darts just under her bustline accentuated the curves of her breasts nicely. Her hair was pulled back and held by a jeweled clasp, and Charles wondered how her long strands would feel unclipped and brushing against his chest as she straddled him.

“This is my first time,” she was saying through lips colored darkly with an evening shade, “and I’m not really certain what to expect. Have you done this before?”

“Dimitri and I go back aways,” Charles explained to the woman, stealing a quick glimpse of her cleavage as she leaned over towards him. “You could say that this was my idea.”

“Really?” she said quietly.

Charles let out a confirmative grunt. “He was looking for his next venture, and I suggested he follow his bliss. Apparently this is his bliss.”

She smiled demurely. “I suppose in a way, it’s mine, too.”

“Oh? Have you considered…” Charles suggested to her, nodding towards the curtained portion of the room where the evening’s entertainment would be staged.

“Me? No,” she said quickly. “I could never… well, nobody has asked… I just couldn’t…”

Charles chuckled. She could. She wanted to. She just wanted Charles to tell her she was beautiful and that he wanted to see her do it, to encourage her to try it. And she was beautiful. Dimitri would probably want to film it for production later. “Well, if you trust me,” Charles suggested, “perhaps after the other guests have left we could try something. Just between the two of us. I can put in a word with Dimitri and make it happen.”

“I… don’t…” the woman said with uncertainty.

“It would be perfectly safe, but… there is always a slight risk.”

“Really?” she said in a low voice.

“Nothing serious. You look lovely in that dress, but you’d look even lovelier out of it and in a set of manacles.”

She gave a quick laugh and looked away.

“Well, something to think about,” Charles said, smiling warmly. He extended his hand towards the woman. “Charles,” he said as an introduction.

“Jaclyn,” the woman replied, accepting his proffered handshake. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“A pleasure to meet you, too, Jaclyn.” Charles looked around. “I take it you’re here alone?”

“No, I came with a friend. I don’t have the courage to do this alone, I’m afraid.” The woman’s gaze shifted to the far end of the room. “There she is, speaking with that dark-skinned gentleman.”

Charles followed the woman’s eyes towards an auburn-haired woman with a fair complexion seated next to a coal-skinned man with prominent cheekbones. His head was shaved and his skin had a natural shine to it, accentuating the planes of his face and muscles. Charles knew him; Peter Mugabe.

“She’s done well,” Charles said. “He’s a professional warfighter, with a weapons-trade business on the side, and business has been very, very good.”

“Oh, you don’t say,” Jaclyn replied, as if wondering if she should be the one over there talking to him instead of her friend.

“Yes, but those types usually end up dead or in prison. I, on the other, am a safer bet.”

“Really? How so?” she replied, showing a renewed interest in Charles.

“I’m the type of guy that puts his type of guy in prison.”

“So you’re a cop?” the woman said with alarm.

“No, I’m a bounty hunter.”

“Ohhh,” the woman replied, intrigued by his response.

Charles studied the woman closer. She was pretty, the type of pretty woman who would know she’s pretty because she spent a lot of time at it. He wondered if she was a plant by Dimitri, one of the women hired to entertain the guests during and after the show. It had been Charles’ idea to hire such women, to keep the guest population female-rich and give the male guests plenty of options. That idea opened up another business opportunity; what starts at the show so often ends in one of Dimitri’s bedrooms. Her nervousness at the possibility of him being a cop had raised his suspicions about how she had come to be at this place, but it didn’t prove she was a whore – innocent girls in a sinful place would be equally nervous – but it certainly hadn’t disproven his conclusion. It didn’t matter. She might be worth the money and he could always charge it back to Dimitri.

“So you’re here to collect on his bounty, then,” she asked.

“No, I promised Dimitri I wouldn’t go after his guests. It wouldn’t be good for his parties and he’d stop inviting me. I enjoy these too much to get thrown out of one, so I let things slide.” Charles nodded towards the dark man. “Besides, Mugabe and I have a mutual non-aggression pact. I won’t go after him when we’re here and he doesn’t come after me. We leave business behind when we come through the gates. Some people go on vacations to Disney, but guys like us come here instead.”

“I see,” the woman said, encouraging him to continue.

“And like I said, I wait until the other guests have left before I go. I give him a head start as a professional courtesy.”

“Oh. Well that I suppose is a fair thing to do.”

“And while I’m waiting,” Charles suggested, “I can put in a word with Dimitri after the others have left, if you want to try it in private. I’ll be here anyway and I’m sure your friend wouldn’t mind if you let her go home with Mugabe. I could drop you off later. Besides, I think you would look stunning in a set of cuffs. Would you prefer black leather, chrome, or rusted iron?”

The woman gave another quick laugh. She looked away, then back at Charles, whose expression hadn’t changed. Her face softened. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

He nodded.

She curled her lips in contemplation. Did she dare say it?

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Dimitri announced before she could answer.

“I’ll think about it,” she said, patting Charles’ knee.

“I’ll be waiting,” he responded as the lights dimmed.

“If I may have your attention please,” Dimitri, standing in the beam of a spotlight, proclaimed. “Thank you for your patience. Our evening’s entertainment is ready to begin. We’ve collected your bids and have tabulated the results and you will be very pleased with your selections. May I present to you my latest creation…”

The curtain behind Dimitri spooled back, revealing a large contraption. Smiling broadly, he waved his hand towards his new toy, drawing claps and cheers from his audience.

A large rectangular metal frame, mounted on steel legs like a table, supported the nude body of Bara, the stoic Czech girl. She was bound with ropes to the mesh grill that supported her weight. Beneath her, on the underside of the frame, naked and facing the floor, was Kristina, the strong Hungarian girl Charles had admired. They each had thick ropes around their arms, just beneath their breasts, across their pelvic bones, and around their knees, holding their bodies firmly against the mesh screen. A large wheel was mounted at one end of the frame, and a single row of small heat lamps sat along a beam that ran the length of the device, just under Kristina’s dangling breasts and along the line of muscle that bisected her body.

To Charles, it looked not unlike a giant barbeque, complete with burners.

“Is he really going to roast them?” Charles’ female acquaintance whispered.

“I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Jaclyn let out a low sound of fascination and leaned forward, resting her hand on Charles’ leg.

“As you’ve probably deduced,” Dimitri said, “this table is designed to warm our subjects like a human rotisserie. The longer they’re held above the lamps, the hotter they will get.”

The two women flexed nervously against the black metal frame, obviously fighting the fear that was welling up inside of them.

“Each girl will be suspended above the lights for the duration of this hourglass. The one on the bottom will feel the heat as the one on top recovers from her ordeal. Then, when the sand in this hourglass runs out, the table is rotated and the one on top is now on the bottom, subjected to the heat of the lamps.”

To one side, on an easel, stood two bright red digital chronometers, not unlike those used at sporting events to time a game. Dimitri waved his hand towards the clocks. “The timers will start when the lamps are lit and the girl on the bottom is exposed to the heat source. When a girl is finished and quits, one clock is stopped and the frame is rotated. The other must last longer than her opponent if she is to be crowned the victor.” He paused, letting his audience absorb his explanation. “During the competition, after the girl on the bottom is rotated up, she will be brushed with oil. At first she will find it soothing as it cools the burns on her skin. But then, when she is rotated back down, the oil will heat up and cook her, much like we do when basting other meat.” Dimitri flashed a wicked smile to his guests. “As you can imagine, it will hurt very much. The one that lasts the longest will be rewarded, and the one that begs to be released first will be punished. Unless, of course, someone in the audience wishes to bid for her freedom and is not outbid by someone else wishing to continue her punishment.” The host’s eyes scanned the titillated audience. “If there are no questions, we will begin.”

Nobody spoke.

“Very good.” Dimitri stepped towards Bara, the girl on top, and cupped her chin. “I need you to be very brave now, pretty Bara,” he said in Czech, barely loud enough for Charles to hear him as he leaned down to give the girl a kiss. Despite the rope holding her head to the frame, the girl managed to tilt her chin up slightly to accept his mouth. She would be brave.

He ran his hand along the length of her body, playing with her nudity as his fingers gently stroked her sex. He patted her thigh reassuringly, then knelt down and looked under the platform to examine Kristina as she hung from the ropes beneath the frame. He cupped each of her dangling breasts, feeling their heft as they swayed above the glass of the heat lamps. The girl closed her eyes and sighed, then shifted slightly against the bonds holding her fast to the metal mesh. Dimitri, taking liberties with the captive’s body, ran his hand along her belly, his palm coming to rest against the hidden entrance of her snatch. She sighed again as his hands stroked her body, working his way back upwards towards her breasts, his fingers teasing and tugging at the exposed nipples. “You must be very strong now, pretty Kristina,” he said as he massaged her teats. She closed her eyes and exhaled nervously in abeyance. Then, after giving her tits one last gentle caress, he reached down to the lamps and turned on the first one.

Jaclyn’s grip on Charles’ leg tightened.

Dimitri lit the next lamp, and the next, each small disc adding light and heat to the girl suspended above the tiny circular glass. She exhaled, slowly, trying to absorb the burning kiss of each lamp, and her belly tightened with pain as Dimitri continued to light the procession of lamps, working his way beneath her sex, then down between her spread thighs. A wince flashed across her face as she closed her eyes and squirmed on the frame.

Charles wondered if she was as strong as she had appeared.

Finished with the lighting of the lamps, Dimitri stood up and stepped casually over to the wheel at the end of the frame. He reached for a tiny chrome pin and began to turn it, the scraping metal squealing as it was loosened. Then, the table’s frame tilted slightly as the lock was released. It was time to rotate the meat.

As Kristina was brought upright, the crowd got a good look at her body. Strapped to the table, she could only tug against her bonds and twitch from the pain, and Charles could see that her skin was slightly reddened by the heat from the row of lamps. Charles imagined her as an Amazon queen being tortured by her captors.

As the Hungarian girl was being brought upright, the other girl, the Czech, was slowly spun upside down, exposing her nude body to the heat of the lights. She closed her eyes and seemed to go into a trance-like state, distancing her mind from the sensations of her body. It didn’t work for long. Her entire body seemed to suddenly flex, every muscle tensing in unison as her twat pulsed and tried to pull itself deeper between her legs for protection.

As the Czech girl struggled under the frame, Dimitri was applying a light coat of oil with a brush to the Hungarian’s torso, starting with the belly Charles wanted to see swollen with child, then dipping his brush into the tub of oil and applying a glistening coat to her breasts, paying particular attention to her nipples. Kristina closed her eyes and exhaled. Obviously, the oil felt good against her warmed skin, but she, and the audience, knew that when she was rotated back under the frame to face the candles’ kiss, the oil would not be her friend for long.

Under the table, the Czech girl spasmed again, her twat trying to pull itself within the cleft of her thighs. Her breasts swayed with her movement, her nipples hanging mere inches from the lamps.

Dimitri now worked his way down Kristina’s body, brushing the oil along her flanks and over her pubis like a chef basting the holiday turkey. The brush’s hairs mixed with the close-cropped fur of her mound, then sped along the insides of her thighs, blending the drips of oil that had seeped from the curves of muscle in her legs. Setting the pan of oil aside, Dimitri reached for the chromed pin of the lock, gave the table a slight spin to verify it was free, then tilted the table towards him. Leaning over his victim, he whispered, “You are being so strong, pretty Kristina”, then gave her a reassuring kiss. She closed her eyes and inhaled, bracing herself for the terrible heat she knew would soon come.

The mesh grill rotated slowly, the lamps’ glow reflecting off of her oiled skin as she was lowered to face her torment.

Bara, now upright, exhaled loudly, releasing the pain of her torture.

Charles’ female friend leaned in towards him and whispered, “How will we know when one of them has had enough? Is there a signal or something?”

He tilted his head and replied, “Each of them is holding a small ball. When a girl can’t handle the pain any longer, she just opens her hand and the ball is released. She can scream and beg all she wants, but until that ball is dropped the torture will continue.”

The woman gave a small coo of understanding as the screw holding the mesh frame was loosened and Bara, the Czech, was rotated downward to face the heat of the powerful lamps. Kristina, rising up to face the audience, her body exposed to the studious gaze of the onlookers, exhaled deeply, her skin beginning to bronze from the oil.

“Notice the change in her complexion?” Charles asked his new female friend. “The oil is evaporating from the heat while being absorbed by her body. It prevents her skin from blistering while at the same time spreading the pain across a wider area. Even though the lamps are only focused down the middle, it feels as if her entire body is being cooked.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve experienced it.”

Jaclyn, intrigued, turned to face her male friend. “When?”

“I tested it with Dimitri.”

“Really?”

“Someone had to. We wanted to make sure my design would work. The pain needed to come slowly, but not too slowly. The only way to find out how long it would take was to actually do it. So I did it.”

The woman’s eyes turned back to Kristina, who was now twitching and squirming against the frame. “It looks absolutely horrible.”

“It is.”

The screw holding the frame loosened again, and once more the victims were rotated. Kristina was rotated up, bringing her momentary relief from the hot lights, as Bara was once again lowered to face her terrors. High-intensity beams reflected off of glistening skin as the victim was locked into place above the lamps.

Jaclyn’s fingers dug into Charles’ thigh. She was leaning slightly forward, paying close attention to the action on the stage. Her mouth was slightly parted with arousal and her eyes were focused and steady, like a cat stalking a mouse. Her breathing came in light, quick gasps as the victim squirmed against the frame. Charles smiled. His new friend most definitely was enjoying the show.

Sand drained out of the hourglass and, once again, the screw holding the mesh grill in place was loosened. A metallic scraping sound pierced the excitement on the stage, indicating the turning of the screw. Bara, knowing that relief was only a few seconds away, closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. Kristina, resting comfortably above her, gave a quick look of fear at her tormentor as Dimitri manipulated the device. He grinned evilly at her as the bolt pulled loose, causing the grill to waver slightly. He gave her a quick kiss good-bye, then slowly began to rotate the frame to which she was bound. Her face twisted with pain as once again she was lowered over the lamps. She shook her head, one side to the other, trying to avoid the heat of the bright lights that beamed up at her exposed body as she was rotated to face the lamps that slowly roasted her skin. The bolt slid back into the frame with a raspy metallic sound and once again she hung from the mesh grill.

“It shouldn’t be long now,” Charles whispered knowingly. “The human body can only take so much.”

The victim, the girl known as Kristina, began to tug and pull at her bonds. She turned her head from one side to the other, trying to find relief from the constant beam of the lights shining up at her. She winced and cried out but the ball remained firmly hidden in the clutch of her fist. She inhaled deeply, then blew her breath along the length of her body, trying to cool her skin as the oil warmed and evaporated, leaving behind a reddish hue. The seconds clicked away on the clock as sand drained from the hourglass. She stifled a moan, a scream buried deep in her throat. She twisted and pulled at the restraints around her wrists and ankles but still she did not surrender as the heat radiated upwards towards her body. She blew again at her chest and belly, trying to cool her tender skin as the lamps beamed up at her. It was but a momentary relief. She began to panic, her muscles rippling as she tugged furtively against the ropes. Then a scream, a gasping breath, and another scream.

Bara, resting comfortably above, turned her head slightly as if to better hear the alarming cries of the woman trapped beneath her.

Kristina, the broad-shouldered swimmer, screamed again. She pulled forcefully at the bonds holding her to the frame, suspending her over the torture of the lamps. She cried and screamed again, trying to hold on until it was her turn to be rotated upwards away from the sizzling heat of the lamps.

Another scream, and then she’d had enough.

Her hand opened and a small rubber ball fell to the floor.

Dimitri turned the screw on the rack as the top-most red digital clock stopped its count. The lower clock still ticked away the micro-seconds. The frame was rotated and Kristina, weeping and burned red by the heat, was turned to face the audience, her nude body displayed openly to the patrons in the darkened theater as tears streaked down her face.

Charles looked at Jaclyn, his female friend seated beside him. She was smiling broadly. The victim’s reaction was precisely what she had desired.

But the torture was not over.

Now it was Bara’s turn to endure the fiery lamps.

Bara, the stoic one, who had only deigned to turn her head slightly as the other victim had been roasted alive, now hung suspended above the heat lamps. Her breasts, young and firm, dangled from her body, her brownish-pink nipples pointing downward towards the lamps. She closed her eyes and seemed to go into a self-induced hypnosis, hanging calmly from the metal grillwork of the frame.

Seconds counted away on the red-numbered clock. Then her tummy flexed, her pussy seeming the jump with pain. Bara’s eyes opened and she looked down as if expecting to see her skin blistering with bubbles. She blew, like the victim before her, along the length of her body, trying to cool the warming skin exposed to the lamps’ heat. She inhaled deeply and blew again, trying to extend her torment; trying to outlast the victim who know lay comfortably above her, the defeated Kristina’s tears being wiped away by Dimitri. Bara tensed and jumped, her pussy pulsing as she drew her tummy in, trying to lift it away from the painful heat cooking her body.

Jaclyn’s fingernails dug sharply into Charles’ thigh. She was right there with the poor victim, feeling her pain, roasting as she was roasted. The two girls had drawn Jaclyn into their world of pain and she was relishing the experience. Charles wondered how much convincing it would take to get her to submit to Dimitri’s little chamber of horrors. He decided it wouldn’t take much. Perhaps in a little while he’d suggest it to her, after she had finished being tormented by Bara’s predicament.

“Go,” Jaclyn whispered, cheering the girl onward. “Go…”

The lower clock, the one that was still running, was counting down the seconds until it matched the upper clock, the one that had recorded Kristina’s time over the lamps.

Bara now twisted in her bonds, trying to slip sideways and avoid the row of high-intensity lamps strung beneath her naked body. She gasped and panted and blew against her chest and belly, trying to cool her skin. She gave a half-cry as her fists tightened against the ball clutched in her hand. Her body jumped and twitched and her face locked in a grimace of pain. A long, agonizing cry poured from her throat as every muscle in her body tightened and pulled against her bonds. Tears fell from her eyes, sizzling against the heated glass of the lamps. Then, crying and weeping, her limit was reached and the ball fell from her hand.

The pin holding the table was loosened and the mesh grill was rotated sideways as the lamps were extinguished. Both girls, bound to the metal framework, were crying. From their position on the table, neither one could see the clocks.

But the audience could.

Dimitri, like a kind old grandfather, reached out to Kristina and cupped her face in his hands, smiling at her. “Pretty Kristina…” he started.

She looked at him, her eyes wide with hope. Had she won?

“…you have lost,” he finished.

The table was rotated, turning the Hungarian beauty back towards the still-warm lamps. She let out a cry of terror and began weeping anew. She had failed and now she would be punished.

Handlers dressed in black stepped forward and began loosening the bonds holding Bara to the frame as another handler wiped medicinal cream over the girl’s wounds. The girl, exhausted by her ordeal, could not move and had to be lifted from the metal grillwork while beneath her Kristina wept at the prospects of having to endure the torturous lamps again.

“Who here wishes to bid for Kristina’s freedom?” Dimitri asked.

Charles looked around. There were private consultations amongst the audience members but no definitive offers.

“Does anything happen if we bid? Other than her being set free?” Jaclyn whispered to him.

“Yes, we get to keep her for the evening.”

“What? You mean… like… she’s our slave?”

“Something like that. But only until the conclusion of the event.”

“And what can we do with her until it is over?”

“Anything we want so long as it doesn’t cause any permanent disfigurement. Most people would fuck her, slap her around a little bit, and leave her. That’s the usual protocol.”

“Oh.” A pause. Then, “you should buy her.”

Charles looked at his new friend. “Why?”

“She’d be fun to play with.”

“For me or for you?”

“For us,” Jaclyn replied with a smile.