"Ready to be sold like cattle."

You take a deep breath, the reality of the situation sinking in. You're about to be bid on like a piece of meat, but there's a strange thrill to it. The power these men hold over you is intoxicating, and you can't help but feel a little excited at the prospect of being desired so intensely.

The evening progresses, and the auction looms closer. You're paraded around the room, introduced to more of Tyson's associates, each one eyeing you up like a prize to be won. You catch snippets of their conversations, the numbers being thrown around making you dizzy. You're not just a trophy; you're an investment.

Tyson's grip on your waist tightens as the bidding begins. The room falls silent, and all eyes are on you. You stand there, feeling naked despite the dress that clings to your body. The auctioneer, a slick-looking man with a silver tongue, starts the bid at five thousand dollars.

The numbers climb rapidly; each bids a declaration of desire for you. John, Mike, and James watch you with hungry gazes, their hands moving subtly in their pockets. The tension is palpable, a silent battle of wills. You swallow hard, trying to remain composed as the price tag on your body soars higher and higher.

"Thirty-five thousand," a voice says, and the room gasps. It's a man you haven't met before; his eyes are dark and intense. He's older than the others, with a salt and pepper beard and a cold, calculating smile. You feel a chill run down your spine as you realize you could be his for the night.

His white skin stood out against the tuxedo he wore, and the diamond studs in his ears glinted in the chandelier light. His eyes bore into yours, sending a shiver down your spine. You've never seen this man before, but his wealth and power are evident in every line of his face.

Tyson body tense next to you, his eyes flicking between the bidders. "Forty," he calls out, raising the stakes. You can feel his pride in the way he holds you, as if you're a prize he's eager to flaunt. Tyson seems to only jump into the auction when looking at this newcomer.

You wonder if Tyson is truly bidding to keep you for himself or if he's just playing the game. The stranger raises his paddle again. "Fifty." His voice is smooth, like silk, and you can't tear your gaze away from him.

John and Mike exchange glances, then drop out of the bidding. It's down to Tyson and the mysterious man. The tension in the room is thick, like a fog of desire and power.

You look over at Tyson's gleaming eyes as he immediately said. "100,000 dollars," the room goes silent, except for the sound of your racing heart. You're stunned by his bid, and the stranger's eyes narrow slightly. He's not used to being outdone.

The man in the tuxedo considers for a moment before raising his paddle. "150,000." The room gasps again, and you feel a twinge of excitement. The number is unfathomable, and you're the reason for it.

Tyson's jaw clenches, his eyes never leaving the stranger's. "200,000," he declares, his voice steady. The man doesn't flinch, his gaze unwavering. Tyson's hand moves to the inside of your thigh, his thumb brushing against your skin in a silent promise. You can feel the heat of his hand through the dress, and your body responds despite the situation. Your face flush as a night with you is at stake for these rich seedy individuals.