Sara-Anne's Story

Zack sat cross legged in his cage, feeling woozy from the drugs given to the slaves on auction day. He watched through half focused eyes, the people who walked by and stopped to look at him. Some of them looked at him in ways that made him shudder. All he was wearing was a pair of black shorts. The only things slaves were allowed to wear on auction day, females were allowed bras in addition to the shorts. It was so that potential buyers could see all that slaves had to offer. Including their marking.

A marking showed who the slave's trader was. A more known slave trader's mark, meant that the slave was more expensive, but higher quality. Zack's marking was a black butterfly, the mark of a very well known slave trader. Than coupled with his unusual hair and eye color made him an expensive slave.

A man reached through the bars of his cage to try and touch Zack. The slave cringed away from the man's touch, but his reaction was sluggish because of the drugs. The man's fingers still brushed against his face, causing the slave to shrink away. The man laughed at Zack's reaction and walked away.

The auction was beginning, each slave would be auctioned one by one, putting them on the spot. The ones who were auctioned off would become personal slaves to whoever bought them, the ones who weren't would continue their work at the brothel. It wasn't Zack's first auction, he knew the routine by now. He had just never been sold before. He guessed that people just wanted him for a night or two and didn't actually care for him at all. Zack sighed as the auction moved a little closer to him. Maybe today would be his 'lucky' day.

Sara-Anne huddled behind David as they walked through the auction house. She hated coming, but knew she had to. She needed to see the faces of the horribly mistreated to understand why she didn't just skip out and have a life- a life that had once been brutally taken away and then blissfully given back to her. Her eyes roamed over the face of the girl being auctioned off at the moment. She seemed to know what she was doing. Working the crowd, parading herself in bleak attempt to get herself sold. If she was, and she wasn't bought by David (which Sara-Anne never voiced her opinion on who needed the most help- all of the slaves did), she would become a personal slave. Which, is better than work at the brothel, at least, Sara told herself as the girl was sold and the auction moved on. The next one, a boy, seemed to not care if he was sold or not. His hair was matted and he simply cowered in the corner.

Sara only spent a few seconds looking at him. From the corner of her eye, she spotted a slave that would be up for sale soon-- he was almost next in the line. He looked... malnourished. She had seen malnourishment before, of course. It was a rare day a slave wasn't so skinny their bones were visible. But this seemed worse. Like his bones poked out a little more or his eyes were that much more sad. Sara looked at him sadly before noting his hair and eyes. He would more than likely be desirable to the crowd, in a way she never was. Even as... untouched, as she was-- she never became a personal slave. She was always either too young or too plain. In fact, her owner had often told her this, cursing her for not being born with unusual hair or eyes. He always said that was why she came so cheep-- not that she was useful for anything but cleaning and tending to wounds.

Sara looked down at her feet and shuffled them quietly before hugging herself tightly, remembering what it felt like to be in those cages, to feel like she was trapped. To feel horribly exposed. Sara was suddenly very thankful for the simple white dress she wore-- it covered her well and hid she scars on her back. It also covered the marking she had been branded with as a slave (in some of the books she had found she discovered that a tattoo in that place used to be called a 'tramp stamp'. Sara found that horribly fitting). Her's was in the shape of an flower. It was a design that marked her as middle-quality, at least going by how well people knew her previous slave trader.

The small brunette touched her shoulder almost immediately, where one of her deeper scars rested. It was the only one she couldn't hide with makeup or clothing unless she wore a coat. It ran over her shoulder blade and wrapped around her shoulder before twisting out over her arm, just poking out under the straps of her dress. She became aware that anyone behind her would be able to see even more of it, as it was only really hidden except for that one spot if someone was looking at her from the front. She shuddered and shut her eyes tightly before taking a deep breath and looking at the male currently on the selling floor.

Zack pressed his head to the bars of his cage. The cool from the metal made his mind a little less foggy. It was his turn to be sold, or not. As people actually started bidding on him his eyes grew wide. Nobody had ever done that before. He started thinking about what he would have to do as someone's personal slave. Would he be treated better than at the brothel? Or worse? Would he have to learn new things like cooking or cleaning? Or would he just be used as a toy like he was here? So many questions went through his mind.

Zack stared at the man he was sold to, he looked nice enough. But Zack had learned the hard way that looks were decieving. His back still ached from the last nice looking man who had bought him for the night. Well, it was only the night before, so it was no wonder. The man who had bought him had been rather stressed from work and being a sadist, tortured Zack for several hours. Whip scars and burn marks covered his back, all but his butterfly tattoo, which was left untouched.

Zack's slave trader opened his cage and grabbed him roughly by the arm. The slave couldn't do much but follow him, he didn't have any strength because of the drugs. He was led to the area with all the other bought slaves. Most of which were sitting there looking utterly stoned. Zack didn't have to wonder why for long. The familiar prick of a needle in his arm told the slave that they had been drugged. Again. Moments later, Zack slid to the floor, feeling the full effect of the drugs. They wanted to keep slaves completely helpless until they got to their new homes. It didn't start happening until about a year ago, slaves who were kept in brothels tended to get ideas of escape when they saw the sun for the first time in years. Drugging them to the point where they could barely remember their own names solved that.

Zack had no choice but to sit there and wait to meet his new master.

Sara-Anne nodded her head as David moved off to collect the slave he had just purchased. In fact, it was the first one Sara had ever seen really purchased by him. Normally, it was a friend or contact of his that bought them so he could avoid suspicion. Sara could remember the day he had purchased her. The contact of David's that day was a strong looking male. Sara had been terrified. She had only been thirteen, after all. Only a year ago. Thankfully, she hadn't needed to be fearful for long, as she was handed off to David soon after and offered her chance at life back. Sara watched David go for a moment before the next auction started. This one was female, with brown hair and dark brown eyes. The resemblance was too much for Sara-Anne. She couldn't force herself to stay. Sara-Anne stood up quietly and followed in the direction David went. Might as well. She could easily pass herself off as David's child or even a house-slave (which were uncommon but not unheard of. Sometimes they were brought along to assist in getting the purchased slaves to their new home).

Sara caught up with David quickly before he walked into the area reserved for the purchased slaves. She touched his shoulder lightly so he wouldn't be freaked out when she was standing right behind him. That would do no good if he was berating her while speaking with a new slave. Especially if he was on drugs. Which all the slaves were, normally.

"I couldn't stay back there alone. There was a girl that looked too much like me..." Sara weakly explained as she hung her head in mock-submission, just in case anyone were to ask why she was there. Easy enough to explain she was a slave-- she had the proof, after all.

As Sara walked closer to the male David had bid on, she realized it was the same one she had seen earlier. The one she figured would be desirable. Currently, he looked horribly drugged. Of course, so did everyone else, but still. Sara followed after David quietly, waiting for him to make the first move. She was supposed to be a slave, after all-- seen but never heard.

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Zack's mind was foggy, but the fog was already starting to clear. He guessed that they forget that he had been here for 13 years, he had started building a tolerance to the drugs. They didn't give him enough to keep him docile for more than two hours or so. In an attempt to focus his thoughts, Zack examined the man who had bought him, and what seemed to be one of his slaves. Mostly on the slave girl, because she didn't look right to be a slave. He didn't notice when the man walked away, because he was so focused on her.

Unlike every other slave that Zack had met, she looked healthy. She was well fed, well clothed, and looked almost happy. If Zack wasn't a slave himself, he wouldn't be able to tell what she was. But he was so he saw the signs. He broke his gaze when the man returned. He said something to the girl and it took Zack's brain a moment to register it. But when he did, he realized he needed to stand up. He didn't want to be a bother to his master, especially on the first day.

He didn't say anything, not wanting to make him angry. Instead Zack forced his drugged body to his feet, standing impressively stable. His stubborn nature was kicking in. He took a huge risk and decided to speak. "I think I can walk." He said softly.

The clapping made Zack jump, he wasn't used to sudden loud noises like that. But as soon as his brain registered that it wasn't a threat, in fact it was the opposite, he settled down. They seemed pleased and surprised by his quick recovery. Maybe the man was going to be a nice master after all. But Zack wasn't going to get his hopes up. At least he hadn't been hit for speaking, that was a good start.

"Come on then, the car should be waiting out front. If you feel faint you can lean on Sara or I." Zack gave the man a small nod and followed behind the man and Sara. He noticed that serveral other slaves were following too. Obviously this man was rich if he could afford multiple slaves. Again, Zack wondered what was going to happen to him now. What would he be expected to do as a personal slave? Better yet, what was a car?

Zack had only ever heard of them, the metal contraptions that let you travel faster than walking. One the nicer customers Zack had sometimes told him things about the outside world. he was always eager to learn things. It may help him now.

The first step outside was a total shock to Zack and the other slaves. They all covered their eyes from the brightness of the sun and seemed totally confused by all the new sounds and smells.

As Zack rubbed his eyes to try and get rid of the white spots, a hand was placed on his shoulder. He instinctively shrunk away from the hand, thinking something bad was going to happen. But it didn't, all that happened was Sara asked what his favorite color was. That was a good question, what was his favorite color? Zack hadn't really thought about it before, it wasn't really important. After a moment of though he said, "Purple, I guess..." He didn't really know, but he didn't want to be punished for not answering.

He picked purple because people liked him because of his odd hair color. The slaves were loaded into different cars, something that confused Zack, but he wasn't going to question his master. He, himself was put in the same car as the man and Sara. As soon as the door was closed Zack's claustrophobia started kicking in. Usually it didn't bother him when he was in a cage, because he could see outside of it, reach through it, things like that. But being trapped inside this metal contraption with three other people was very different. Zack didn't like it. Automatically he hugged his knees to his chest and got as far away from the other people as he could.

The man stuck a hand out toward him. "I'm David, what's your name?" Zack had no idea why the man was stucking his hand out, he didn't know how to respond to it. So he simply looked down at his knees and said his name, "Zack." He hoped he didn't do something wrong with the hand, he had heard about some masters who would take any excuse to punish their slaves. Zack hoped he didn't get one of those masters.