The Auction

Katie had settled into a routine in Houston. She worked for the Al-Assaf oil company when she wasn't on modeling jobs. When she was on modeling jobs, she continued to service Lamar. When she wasn't on jobs, she was servicing Nasir.

Nasir was ridiculously wealthy. It felt like he could solve any problem with money. But instead he leveraged influence and power and threats. He was handsome, urbane, his brown sun-kissed skin alluring to Katie. But she was under no illusion that he loved her or desired something monogamous with her. She was a tool, like many that he had.

Still, she was surprised when he summoned her to a private jet, with three other attractive white women. She was more surprised still that he doted on her more than the rest, even though she felt overmatched.

He took her thrice on the flight, burying his large brown prick into her silky pink folds, and she relished the attentions of someone so wealthy and intelligent and ... powerful. They landed what felt like an eternity, somewhere in the Middle East, being ferried by limousine and helicopter and yacht.

She was confused; all the women were. They were on some impossibly expansive yacht ... but for what?

"Kneel, pet," Nasir whispered into her ear. Katie complied, wrapping around her owner's leg. He flipped up his laptop, and there was something going on. Something very close by.

Katie listened. It sounded like an auction. She recognized the blonde on the screen as someone on the flight with them. There were no names for the men auctioning for her talents, as she stood nude, spotlights showing every crevice of her. Only countries. Troubled African countries. Middle Eastern countries. Countries were women were commodities.

Katie's eyes grew wide, realizing that this was an auction of women. Was she a prize to be withheld? Or to be on the block herself?