Auction challenge

Chapter 8: The Challenge – A Duel of Flesh and Will

The Geneva Auction – A Gathering of Shadows

The underground auction hall beneath Geneva’s financial district was a cathedral of sin—a place where power, flesh, and gold changed hands beneath the veneer of high society.

Crystal chandeliers cast fractured light over the assembled elite—men in tailored suits, women in couture gowns, all sipping champagne while slaves knelt at their feet, collared and silent. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, cigar smoke, and something darker—hunger.

At the center of it all, seated in a gilded booth reserved for the most influential buyers, stood Guru Vasudeva Mahayana.

His platinum hair shimmered like liquid silver beneath the chandeliers, his crimson eyes half-lidded in serene detachment. He wore robes of midnight silk, embroidered with golden serpents—symbols of rebirth, of dominion. Beside him, Rebecca reclined on a divan, her pregnant belly draped in translucent veils, her emerald eyes scanning the crowd with quiet amusement.

The auctioneer, a gaunt man with a voice like velvet, raised his hands.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he purred, "our next offering is a rare treasure—a virgin trained in the arts of sacred pleasure by none other than the Osiris Temple."

A hush fell as a young woman was led onto the stage—Lucia, one of Vasudeva’s newest disciples. Her body was a masterpiece of submission, her movements fluid, her eyes glazed with devotion.

Bidding began at once.

Then—

A laugh cut through the murmurs.

"Sacred pleasure?"

The voice was rich, mocking.

All eyes turned to the opposite booth, where Zeno Meyer lounged like a king.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with the sharp features of old Milanese aristocracy, Zeno was a man who wore his cruelty like cologne. His dark hair was slicked back, his suit tailored to perfection, his lips curled in a smirk.

Beside him stood his champion—Valentina, a gladiator **** of sculpted muscle and cold fury, her body crisscrossed with scars, her eyes burning with barely restrained ****.

Zeno flicked his fingers dismissively. "Your girls are pretty, Vasudeva, but they lack fire."

A ripple of tension passed through the crowd.

Vasudeva did not react.

Rebecca, however, arched a brow. "Jealousy is unbecoming, Signore Meyer."

Zeno’s smirk widened. "I challenge you," he said, his voice carrying. "A duel of masters. Let’s see whose slaves are truly worthy."

The auction hall erupted in murmurs.

Vasudeva finally turned his head, his crimson eyes locking onto Zeno’s.

"Very well."

The Arena – A Battle of Wills

The auction hall’s center was cleared, transforming into an impromptu arena. The elite pressed closer, their faces alight with anticipation.

Zeno’s champion, Valentina, stepped forward, her muscles coiled like a predator’s. She wore nothing but a leather harness, her body oiled to highlight every sinew, every scar.

Vasudeva’s chosen, Lucia, glided to meet her. Where Valentina was fire, Lucia was water—soft, yielding, inevitable.

The rules were simple:

• The masters would command from the sidelines, weaving hypnotic enhancements into their champions.

• No direct interference—only suggestion, illusion, subliminal command.

• The first **** to break, to surrender, would lose.

Zeno cracked his knuckles. "Let’s begin."

The Duel – Hypnotic Warfare

The air thrummed with unseen energy as the two masters locked wills.

Zeno struck first—his fingers flicked in a sharp gesture, his voice a low, guttural command.

"Burn."

Valentina’s eyes flared, her muscles swelling with unnatural strength. She lunged, her fist slammed into Lucia’s ribs—

CRACK.

Lucia staggered, gasping—

But Vasudeva was already moving.

His hands flowed like water, his voice a whisper only Lucia could hear.

"You feel no pain."

Lucia’s breathing steadied.

"You are limitless."

Her body relaxed, her stance shifting, her movements becoming fluid, unpredictable.

Valentina snarled, striking again—

But Lucia danced aside, her fingers brushing

Valentina’s wrist in a seemingly casual touch.

Zeno growled, his fingers twisting—

"Break her."

Valentina’s next punch was a blur—

But Vasudeva was faster.

His hands flickered in an intricate pattern, his voice a song in Lucia’s mind.

"She is weak."

Valentina’s fist faltered.

"She fears you."

Valentina’s breath hitched—

And Lucia struck.

Her palm slammed into Valentina’s sternum—not with ****, but with precision, her fingers pressing into a nerve cluster.

Valentina gasped, her knees buckling—

Zeno roared, his hands clenching—

"NO!"

But it was too late.

Lucia’s lips brushed Valentina’s ear.

"You want to kneel."

Valentina’s body shuddered—

And then she collapsed, her face pressed to the floor, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Silence.

Then—

The crowd erupted in applause.