Shannon for Sale

[Kendall]

The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.


I knew something was wrong as soon as I woke up. I tried to open my eyes, but my lids felt heavy…so heavy. I tried to roll over, but I couldn’t. I could feel my arm was asleep, that uncomfortable ‘pins and needles’ feeling. Was I tied down? No, I had slept on it wrong.
“Carrie? Babe, turn off the lights,” I slurred. No response, no rustling on the other side of the bed. “Carrie, babe,” my voice croaked and slurred. I was finally able to open my eyes. The ceiling was unfamiliar. Confused, I turned my head to the side, to my left. Carrie wasn’t in bed, in fact there wasn’t room, for her in this strange bed in this strange room. I looked at my left wrist. It was zip tied to the headboard. I woke right up. The heavy wooden door, the windowless room was utterly white room that had a very slight smell of bleach. After checking, only my left wrist was affixed to the bedpost. I was wearing what I wore to bed last night. White panties, and a white tank top. All my jewelry was gone, including my engagement ring, and my locket my grandmother gave me when she had passed. I flopped back on the surprisingly soft bed. Immediately I heard the door unlock and two men entered my room, one f them held a clipboard with a pad of paper.
“Shannon Bell?” he asked. I sat up, staring at him.
“What’s going on here? Where am I? Who are you? Where’s Carrie?”
“I wouldn’t worry about your wife, Shannon,” he said without looking up at me. Fiancée but I didn’t correct him. The other one hadn’t taken his eyes me and had been undressing me with his eyes from the moment he’d walked into the room. Not that I was wearing enough for him to have to imagine. He walked towards me, drawing a knife, as he advanced. I began to panic.
“Wha’ no please.” I cringed and shut my eyes. He was either going to rape or kill me, possibly both. Instead, I felt the zip tie get cut away. Before I could fully process, I was flipped onto my stomach and my wrists were pulled behind me and another zip tie secured my wrists behind me. I was then, hauled to my feet and marched escorted roughly to the man with the clipboard. He looked me up and down, and without a word, he had me taken out of the room and int the hallway beyond. The carpeted floor in the ‘bedroom’ was replaced with unyielding lyonium tiles under my bare feet.
“Please, tell me what’s going on,” I pressed. My queries were silenced by a severe backhand.
“Shut it whore,” the man hissed. I whimpered as I was taken toward an unknown fate. After what felt like an eternity, though more likely two or three minutes, we arrived at a large well-lit room. It had a professional photography studio, a blank white sheet behind a small uncomfortable wooden chair. I was forced into the chair, my bound hands flung over the back, secured to the back of the chair. Another length of rope was tied around my hips securing me to the seat back and my ankles were likewise tied to the chair legs. As I sat confused and fearful, a pair of hands reached around my head, and I felt a rubber ball crammed between my teeth and the hands buckling it behind my head. I was ball gagged.

Over the next half hour or so, they took probably hundreds of photos of me, different angles, different lighting, some clothed as I was, but soon they had cut my clothes away, leaving me nude save the ball gag. Eventually, I was returned to the bedroom. The door locked behind me with a ‘ka-chunk’. I sighed and began to look around the room. It was windowless, featureless room. There was nothing of note just the bed. The ceiling had a lattice work of 4×4’s with plywood laying on it. Exactly like the room in the basement I slept in, growing up. Come to think of it, the bed was almost exactly the same as well. I flopped down onto the bed with a huff. I had no choice but to wait for whatever would happen next. I didn’t have long to wait. The lock on the door slid open and my breath hitched. The man from before entered without a word. Judging from the bulge in his pants, it was obvious his intentions for me. As I began to rise, he grasped me abut the neck and easily slammed me down onto the bed. His right hand tightened around my throat as his left hand went to my naked pussy. He shoved his finger inside of me and smirked as he began to finger fuck me.
“It’s too bad, I can’t fuck you properly,” He growled, “you’ve already been sold.” I must have paled.
“S…s…sold?” I managed in a tiny voice. He smiled.
“You’re heading to Libya,” he said with a laugh as I wept.

[Shocker]

You have a unique talent of expressing desperation and hopelessness in few words.

[leftwanting]

Nice .... I have this kind of fantasy many times well written xx

[LaLia]

I'd love a sequel here

Well written

[Claire]

I wish this was the beginning to something longer, a lot of potential here!

I changed the short tag to flash since this is shorter than 1000 words. Quick reminder:

Flash: 250 to 1000 words
Short: 1000 to 5000 words
Medium: 5000 to 15000 words
Long: 15000 words or more

[Vela Nanashi]

A good beginning, with the emotions of hope/helplessness, will go see if Precious Cargo is the continuation.