Kidnapped Kristin Ch. 06

Kristin was still curled up on the cot hours later when the door opened again. A thin man with a goatee and ponytail, wearing the same black military pants and black t-shirt as the other guard, opened it.

"Let's go, princess."

He waited at the door for her to get up instead of grabbing her like the other guard had, and Kristin hesitated for a moment, considering defiance and trying to find the words for exactly how she'd tell him off. Of course, it was stupid. Her hands were bound, she was naked, and it wasn't like he couldn't just drag her out if she struggled. Or go get the woman guard. Kristin got on her feet and looked at him uncertainly.

The guard blindfolded her, clipped her hands behind her back (Kristin saw now they were just using a carabiner to connect the D-rings of the cuffs), leashed her, and led her through the gray-carpeted and fluorescent-lit hallways. If it hadn't been for the fact she was naked and on a leash, Kristin would have felt like she was in a suburban office park. Their route then led her down several flights of a fire staircase and into a green-painted basement level.

"Okay, now stop here. Hang on a minute. You're going to feel something on your skin. Don't flinch, it won't hurt."

Despite his instructions, Kristin flinched when something cold and wet touched her. Something like a marker? It felt like it wrote something just above her left breast and below her right hip.

"Okay, princess. Now just wait here for a bit. You know to be quiet for me."

Kristin heard the man walk away, but was sure she hadn't been left alone. She heard voices directly in front of her, muffled as if coming from the next room. After a few minutes, she heard the door open and the voices become more distinct. Someone from the door shouted "Five two eight!" Kristin wasn't sure what to do, but wound up not having to do anything, as she heard someone else go in and the door shut. Another fifteen minutes, and it opened again. "Seven one six!" A hand tugged Kristin's leash and she was led through.

Inside the room, Kristin was poked and tugged into position, then halted. Her blindfold was removed and her hands uncuffed. She was looking at a long folding table inside a bare basement room. Sitting behind the table were five people looking at folders, with stacks of more folders on either side of them.

A skinny and worn-looking middle-aged blond woman, a tall man around thirty with dirty blond hair, a stocky black man with a white beard, a hugely muscular bald man, and a man in his forties with wire-rimmed glasses who looked like an accountant sat in judgment of Kristin.

"So what have we got here?" asked the bearded man.

The woman was ready. "Seven one six. Eighteen, American, apparently a virgin. Grabbed with that blond number that came through earlier, zero two six."

"Oh, her. Nice piece of property. Ms. O'Connor got her, right?"

The blond woman confirmed.

"You want the other one?"

"I don't think so. I've never had much luck with girls who knew each other, and they're obviously not sisters or anything."

The bearded man chuckled. "Now that's a racist assumption. But they're not a matched pair either way. Mr. Warren?"

The man in glasses looked her up and down. "Not a bad body. How's her behavior been?"

The guard behind her spoke up. "Didn't give me any trouble. Just meekly followed like a good girl. That might have been because it was Alice who put her away, though."

The bearded man laughed again. He had laugh wrinkles around the corners of his eyes, never stopped smiling, and appeared to find everything hugely funny. For some reason seeing a man who looked like her jolly uncle sitting in judgment of her, whatever this panel was, made her feel safer.

"I bet that educated her. Didn't it, seven one six?"

Kristin was confused. The man had apparently addressed her, but she didn't know what to say.

"Sir?" was all she managed.

The accountant smiled thinly. "She's young, a sweetheart, and a virgin. I know that's money, but I prefer breaking whores to pretending it's junior prom. Pass."

"Mr. White?"

The bald man stared at her intensely. "How many more have we got in this lot?" He had a British accent of the sort associated with chimney sweeps and football hooligans.

"Just four. You should have their pictures and basics on the datasheet." There was a rustling of papers as the bald man looked for it in his pile of folders.

"This is the pick of the litter, I think. I'll take it, if no one has any objections."

The bearded man looked her up and down, still smiling in his friendly way. "I have one more opening too. We all should, except for Mr. Chase."

"Didn't think she was your style."

"Well, she isn't, but I have a good feeling about this one."

Kristin's stomach knotted. Something about the bald man Mr. White terrified her. It wasn't just the fact that he looked like a prison gang leader with his mass of steroid muscle and tattoos. Something about the way he looked at her chilled her. The glasses man was the only one of the group that didn't look like a criminal of some kind, but he apparently like "breaking whores". Still, she hoped the bearded man "got her", whatever that meant. Anything was better than the bald man's cold stare.

"You going to guarantee me one of the other picks?"

The bearded man looked at his paper. "No, probably not. If no one else objects, you can have her."

The bald man didn't smile, just continued to look Kristin up and down. "Any objections? Ms. O'Connor? Mr. Warren? Mr. Chase?"

Mr. Chase hadn't spoken up to this point or really looked directly at Kristin. He'd mostly confined his attention to the arguing between the others. He now looked at her with a sort of conspiratorial smirk that confused her. Something in the back of her brain noticed that he was quite handsome, with high cheekbones and gray eyes, and he filled out his shirt in a nice way, not the creepy bulging way Mr. White did.

"Well, I might have one. Mr. White, what sort of counter-offer are you willing to entertain?"

Mr. White looked at him with a bit of confusion. "You don't have any picks left..Chase." There was an odd sort of hesitation before he said the name. "What would you be willing to give me? First pick next time? Not interested. We conclude business tonight and that's it."

Mr. Chase's smirk didn't fade. Kristin imagined that it could get annoying after awhile. What game was he trying to play? Mr. White clearly had her, so why was this man dragging it out?

"Eight four four."

Mr. White was obviously annoyed at this point. "I know. You got her. I wanted her. You convinced them you should get her. Now I'm taking this one instead."

"Well, I'm thinking you could have her."

Mr. White switched from annoyed to angry, shaking a little bit trying to keep it in. "We don't really have time for your games."

"No games. I think I like this one better, and I think eight four four is better suited for you. How would that be for a trade?"

Mr. White went back to confused suddenly. It sort of deflated him. "I suppose I could do that. Mr. Marshall?"

The bearded man appeared even more amused by this exchange than he had been by anything previous, though he appeared to be trying to contain his smiling now. "It's irregular, but I don't see an issue. Objections?"

Ms. O'Connor and Mr. Warren shook their heads.

"All right, then, seven one six goes to Mr. Chase. Get her out of here and get the next one in."

Kristin had no idea what had just happened, but she had apparently just been traded like a baseball card on a playground, and she was now apparently under the control of "Mr. Chase." Her speculation ran rampant as her guard returned and once again led her away.