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ordinary and insensible, I felt uneasy, surprised that they couldn’t sense what shared the room. What they were displacing.
    But when I opened my eyes wide again the details jumped out at me, details I couldn’t have imagined: the odd height of the ceiling, the vraag’s elaborate tail feathers as they whisked through the door, the solid pull of the cuffs and the smell of my fear. I could hear the auctioneer’s renewed up and down cadence. The man unfastened me from the wall. Then he was walking me toward the platform. I couldn’t remember having stood up, but I must have. My knees felt weak, and I wondered what would happen if they failed me. My cunt lips slid wetly against each other as I was walked up the steps to the platform. The steps were too high for me; I had to stretch for each one, difficult without hands to balance. A big hand steadied me on the last step. The sounds of selling stopped; the auctioneer was talking to the crowd in normal tones.
    The handler steered me through the door, and I was on the platform. The big room opened up before me, men everywhere. There was a rumble in the crowd; once again my naked body was the focus for all the eyes I could see. I could hardly breathe. I closed my eyes for a moment to slow what was accelerating toward me: a hurricane of outrageous joy and humiliation.
    When I opened my eyes again I sensed a movement in the crowd. Most of the men were focused on conversations and were no longer looking at me, but a smaller group had moved in around the platform. They were hardly speaking, their rigid tension suggesting competition rather than friendliness, and every single eye was riveted on me.
    I figured someone would want me after all.
    The men beside me rapidly moved my wrists to the front, linking them with about a foot of chain on heavy leather cuffs. Then they fastened the links to a hook they let down above my head and tightened it until I was up on my toes. The auctioneer began talking, his huge hands on my body, jiggling my breasts to show them off, drawing his fingers down my belly and squeezing my legs, tugging a little on my pubic hair. He turned me around to show me from behind, all the time taking bids, running his hands over the curve of my hips and ass. Then he turned me back again. There was so much to take in: the men’s faces so intent on me; the auctioneer’s booming voice, and his huge hands all over me; my body stretched and helpless. I couldn’t process it all. The bids were coming fast and furious. I clenched my fists above the cuffs, trying to contain the intense fear that occupied me, feeling so stupefied that I didn’t realize just how aroused I was, until I felt my cunt juices seeping down my thighs. I swayed on the chain, nudged this way and that by the man beside me.
    Then in response to voices from the crowd, the auctioneer consulted with the handler. They each took one of my ankles and pulled them up toward the crowd and wide apart. My weight was now heavily on my wrists, and I was sure it was impossible to bear so much humiliation. My naked, wet cunt was being exposed so lewdly, so publicly; there was a roaring in my ears, but I thought I heard laughter in the crowd. Suddenly rebellious, I twisted helplessly in the chains and the men’s grasp, like a scrap of silk caught in an iron gate. Hopeless. The men in front of me enjoyed it, however.
    When my feet were touching the platform again, I was panting, and scarlet. The slickness of my inner thighs reminded me – and probably told the buyers in front of me – how excited I was as well. There was another series of bids, and then things slowed down. I think the price must have been getting high; several men looked disappointed and stopped bidding.
    One man who was still involved was not seated but was standing near the platform to my left, a lean, young-looking man with black hair and a close-cropped beard, tall even in this room full of giants. His intent light green eyes were fastened on me.