Wilson Residence,
874 Maple Lane,
6:02 AM, May 8th, 2016

A couple of minutes after her cellphone alarm had woken her at the ungodly hour or six in the morning, Jane slipped quietly out of her bedroom and padded down the dim hallway and down the stairs to the kitchen. The house was still and quiet. Jane’s mother, the only other person in the house, was still asleep in the bedroom across the hall.

Jane Wilson was a pretty teenage girl, recently past her 18th birthday. She had a tall, athletic body, with long legs and a large bust that looked good, whether out on the field with the cheerleading squad pumping up the crowd or walking down the high school hallways, distracting every male student, and more than a few teachers, she passed. Her shoulder length, light blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail. This morning, she was still dressed in the clothes she’d gone to bed in last night. Since it had been a warm night, that was just an oversize t-shirt that came about halfway down her hips. Just peeking out under the hem of the t-shirt as her long legs moved, was the light green cloth of her panties.

Walking into the kitchen, Jane flicked on the lights. “Let’s see…” She said, quietly, to herself, looking around the room. “Coffee first, I guessed.” She moved over to the coffee maker and got it going. While the machine hummed and the boiling water bubbled, the teen opened the cabinets and fridge, taking out everything she needed; orange juice, eggs, bacon, butter, jelly…

While she busied herself fixing breakfast, the teen didn’t notice the quiet sound of the house’s backdoor being opened. As she cracked eggs into a bowl to scramble, she didn’t hear footsteps coming down the hallway, until the kitchen door opened.

“Mom! I told you I’d be fixing breakfast in bed for you. You don’t need to-“ Jane began, turning from the kitchen counter. The teen expected to see her mother, standing at the kitchen doorway. Her voice trailed off. Her eyes widened in shock. Instead of her mother, two strangers stood in the kitchen. They were both dressed in loose, dark jackets and jeans. Black ski masks covered their faces, obscuring their features. The one in the lead was a tall, burly man who towered over the teen girl. The one behind him was shorter, with a thinner, lighter build that made Jane think she was female.

“Mo-Mmmppphhh!” Jane started to scream. Faster than she thought possible, the male intruder crossed the kitchen floor to the teen. A gloved hand was pressed over her mouth, muffling her frightened cry. His other hand grabbed her arm, keeping her from pulling away.

“Keep quiet! Don’t struggle.” The man ordered in a threatening voice. His partner came up beside him. In one of her hands was a wadded up cloth. In the other was a roll of tape. At a nod from his partner, the man released his hand from his victim’s mouth. Jane immediately opened it to try and scream again. Before she could, the wad of cloth was stuffed between her mouth, silencing her. She heard the ripping of tape and a second later, a strip of sticky band was pressed over her lips, sealing the gag in.

“Mmmppphhh!” Jane whimpered, trembling in fear. Her fright intensified as the man grabbed her and roughly spun her around. The teen’s hands were pulled behind her back. She felt a hard, plastic zip-tie being slipped around her wrists. The captive winced, grunting into her gag as the tie was pulled tight, the edges of the plastic cutting into her soft skin.

“I’ve got her.” The man told his partner. “Why don’t you go upstairs and see to mom?” The other intruder nodded and slipped quietly out of the kitchen…

***

Katherine was sitting up in bed, waiting for her daughter to come up with her Mother’s Day Breakfast in Bed. At 43, Katherine Wilson was a close match to her daughter in looks. Her blonde hair was worn down, shoulder length, framing a tall, narrow face just starting to show the first lines of age. When she was her daughter’s age, Katherine had been a cheerleader as well playing soccer and volleyball. She’d managed to keep herself fit and trim in the years since, thanks to frequent visits to the neighborhood gym. This morning, Katherine had on a long white nightgown that complemented her figure nicely.

The older woman heard a commotion from downstairs, faint and muffled by the intervening floor. She smiled, imagining the mess her daughter must be making downstairs, preparing breakfast. A little while later, she heard footsteps coming down the hallway towards her bedroom.

“I hope you didn’t wreck the kitchen too badly…” Katherine started, as the door opened.

“Don’t worry.” A woman’s voice replied. “We haven’t broken anything.” Katherine jumped as a strange woman dressed in a concealing jacket and mask stepped through the door. In her hand was a pistol, pointed nonchalantly in the direction of the bed.

“Wh-who are you?” Katherine stammered. “Where’s my daughter? Have you hurt her?” She struggled to rise from the bed, but got tangled in the bedsheets.

“Don’t worry. Your daughter is unharmed so far.” The woman told her. “And she’ll remain unharmed if you cooperate.”

“Y-yes, p-p-please…” Katherine said. “I’ll do what you say. Just don’t hurt me or my daughter…”

The intruder crossed the room. With her free hand, she pulled the older woman up out of the bed. “Stand against the wall, over there. Place your hands behind your back, wrists touching.” Katherine did so. She whimpered as the zip cords tightened, binding her hands together.

“Please! That’s too tight.” She begged.

“Quiet.” The intruder said, sternly. “Come on. Let’s go see how you’re daughter’s doing.” Grabbing Mrs. Wilson’s upper arm, the younger woman dragged her frightened captive out of the bedroom. The housewife stumbled down the hallway and stairs to the kitchen. Katherine’s eyes widened in horror as she stepped into the room. Jane was kneeling on the floor in the center of the room. Her arms were drawn behind her back, bound the same way as her mother’s. Her ankles had been similarly secured. As Jane looked up at her mother, eyes filled with tears, Katherine saw the lower half of her face was covered by several strips of silver tape, muffling frightened sobs. Another intruder, a large burly man, dressed like the other captor, looked over the teen, keeping an eye on her.

“On your knees.” The woman holding Katherine ordered. “Right by your pretty girl.”

Katherine looked over at Jane as she sank to her knees. Mother and daughter both shared looks of fright. “It’s alright, baby…” Katherine whispered, in as reassuring a tone as she could manage under the circumstances. The female captor pulled out another zip-tie and quickly looped it around the older woman’s feet, tying them tight. “They’re just here to rob is. They’ll take whatever they want and then go. We’re going to be fine…” Saying the words, Katherine almost believed them herself.

“Get a gag on her.” The male captor growled.

“Right.” His partner said from behind Katherine. “Open up, mom.” She told her captive. The older woman felt a hand grab the back of her head and pull back. As her mouth involuntarily opened, the other hand came around and pressed a wad of cloth between her lips. Katherine groaned, fighting the urge to gag as the wad was pushed deep into her mouth, pressing against the back of her throat. She tried to force it out with her tongue, but before she could, a strip of tape was pulled across her lips, trapping it inside.

“Mmmppphhh!” Katherine mumbled into her gag. Beside her, her daughter moaned in mutual fright.

“Alright. Keep an eye on the two ladies here.” The man told his partner. “I’ll bring the van around and we’ll get these two loaded…”

***  

Martin Residence,
3529 Cook Street
1:29 PM, May 8th, 2016.

“That was a very nice Mother’s Day lunch.” Mrs. Martin said, as the car pulled around the corner. “That’s always been one of my favorite places. Mrs. Martin was a short, curvy woman in her early forties. Her long, frizzy brown hair and the glasses she wore gave the woman a somewhat bookish look. Not surprising that she was a teacher.

“Glad you liked it, mom.” Her eldest daughter, Samantha said from the passenger’s seat beside her. Her younger daughter, Heather chimed up in agreement. Samantha closely resembled her mother, though she kept her hair short. Heather was thinner, with a narrow build and a smaller bust. Her hair was a fairer then her mother or sister’s, worn long with a headband.

The three were coming back from church and were still dressed for the service. Mrs. Martin had on a blue jacket over a white blouse, a matching skirt, dark hose and heels. Samantha was wearing a light, floral dress, with thin shoulder straps and sandals. Heather had on a green dress, white stockings and black shoes.

“We have a surprise for you, at home.” Heather told Mrs. Martin as she pulled the car up into the garage. “Let us go inside and get it ready.”

“Alright…” Mrs. Martin replied with a smile. “I’ll wait out here a couple minutes and then come inside.” As she parked the car, her two girls jumped out and raced into the house. The older woman smiled, turning on the radio. She listened to the cheerful, Sunday afternoon song playing on the family station. When it finished, she shut off the car and got out. “Wonder what surprise the two have waiting for me?” She thought, heading for the door to the main house.

“Girls?”  Mrs. Martin called out, stepping through the door. “Where are yo-Mmmppphhh!” The older woman had not taken more than three or four steps through the door when a figure suddenly came up behind her as if from out of nowhere. One of his arms went around her torso, trapping her arms against her sides. His other arm clamped a gloved hand tightly over the startled woman’s mouth, muffling her cry of alarm.

“Don’t worry…” The man whispered to his captive. “They’re just in the next room.” Mrs. Martin struggled feebly in his grasp, but her squirming had no effect on the tight grip he had around her. Helplessly, she was dragged across the front hall and through the door.

As she came into the living room, Mrs. Martin’s eyes widened with horror and a whimper of fright escaped the hand covering her lips. Her two daughters knelt in the center of the room. Their hands were pulled behind their backs, bound. Tape covered the girls’ mouths, muffling their frightened sobs. They looked up, whimpering as they saw their mother being dragged into the room.

Standing over the two sisters was another intruder, a woman, judging from her build, keeping watch over their captives. Mrs. Martin went pale, seeing the gun in the other woman’s hand. As the captive woman was led over to join her daughters, the female intruder pocketed her pistol and pulled out a roll of tape.

The captor holding Mrs. Martin put pressure on his captive, forcing her to the floor, on her knees. Quickly, she found herself trussed up like the younger girls; her arms were yanked behind her back and bound with a plastic tie. A wad of cloth was forced into her mouth and sealed in with tape. Mother and her two daughters shared looks of fright as they knelt, wondering what would happen with them now.

The male captor walked out of the room and out the front door. He must have grabbed Mrs. Martin’s purse from the entry hall where she’d dropped it when she was grabbed, because a moment later, the three heard the sound of her car backing out of the driveway. A few minutes later, another vehicle was driven into the spot it had come from. It stopped, and the man returned.

“Van’s here!” He announced. “Let’s get these ladies ready to go!” Gag-muffled protests rose from the three captives. They sobbed in fright as they realized they were being kidnapped, but bound and gagged, they had no way of resisting. Helplessly, Mrs. Martin and her daughters were dragged to their feet and marched out of the room. Through the house, the kidnappers led their captives to the door to the garage.

In the short time it took for them to hustle the three bound women from the open garage door to the back door of the van waiting outside, there was little chance of anyone seeing them. The neighborhood street was deserted as Mrs. Martin stumbled out of the garage to the open door of the abductor’s van, followed closely by her two daughters. No one would see their kidnapping.

As she awkwardly climbed in, Mrs. Martin saw the van’s other occupants. Lying on the floor of the van were two other women. One appeared to be in her late teens. The other was roughly Mrs. Martin’s own age. The two bore a strong resemblance to each other; mother and daughter, she assumed, though the tape covering the two captive’s faced, a strip covering their eyes, more plastered across both women’s lips, obscured most of the facial features. They were both dressed in pajamas. Muffled whimpers came from the two as they heard more captives joining them in the van.

The captives squirmed, rolling around on the floor of the van. The newcomers could see their hands had been tied behind their backs, like them, with plastic zip-cuffs. Their feet were bound the same way and a third zip-tie threaded between the first two, linking arms and legs into a strict hogtie. The captive’s wrists and ankles were red where the plastic had rubbed into their skin as they struggled.

“What’s going on?” She wondered, shaking with fright. “Why are we being kidnapped?”

“Lie down.” The male kidnapper growled, pushing on Mrs. Martin’s back. She fell over, onto her belly, Heather and Samantha on either side of her. Their feet were bound, then pulled back, to be secured to the binding on their hands. Mrs. Martin listened to her daughters whimpering at the discomfort of the position. Helplessly, she wished she could do something to help them, but bound the same way, there was nothing she could do.

Above and behind her, the older woman heard the sound of duct tape ripping. A moment later, everything went dark for her as the strip of tape was drawn across her eyes. She listened as her two girls were also blindfolded. Below them, the three felt the van floor start to hum as the kidnappers started the engine. A moment later, it pulled out of the driveway and drove away…

***  

Jackson Residence,
1089 Buchanan Drive  
5:45 PM, May 8, 2016

“More tea, Aunt Gina?” Karen said, stepping over to the table. In her hands was a large, glass pitcher of tea. The pitcher was sweating profusely as the humid air met the chilled glass.

“Thank you, dear.” Gina Williams said, holding her glass up. Karen tipped the pitcher over, pouring the sweet brown liquid in.

“And you, mother?” Karen asked? Louise nodded, raising her own glass.

“How was the soup?” Gina’s daughter, Faith asked the two older women as she stepped forward and collected the empty bowls.

“Just delightful.” Louise replied, nodding.

“Well, the main course should be finished any second now. We’ll just go and check on it.” Faith said. The two cousins turned and walked to the backdoor, leaving their mothers sitting at the patio table.

“This is very nice…” Gina said, sipping her tea. “I could get used to this.”

“Yes. It was wonderful of the girls to put all this together.” Louise replied. The two mothers, sisters themselves, were both tall, striking African-American women. Louise, at 48 was about two and a half years older than her sister. Both were dressed semi-casually, in loose summer dresses that flattered their figures. Louise wore her dark, curly hair up, tied back with a silver band. Gina wore hers down in braids.

The two women chatted, enjoying the cool spring air as they looked out over the garden in Louise’s backyard.

Inside the house, Karen and Faith made their way to the kitchen. Karen’s sister, Bridgette, was at the stove, stirring a large metal pot from which a wonderful smelling aroma rose.

“Is it ready yet?” Karen asked.

Bridgette shook her head. “A…couple more minutes. The sauce isn’t thickening yet.” She gestured at the nearby counter. “The garlic breadsticks are ready. I took them out of the oven a second ago. You can take them out.”

“Alright.” Karen replied. She and Faith scooped the hot, buttery breadsticks off the pan and dropped them into a serving basket. “Give a shout when it’s ready.”

“Will do.” Bridgette replied as her sister and cousin headed out into the backyard. She turned her attention back to the saucepan. “Come on…” She said quietly, looking down at the steaming, bubbling mix. “This doesn’t look anything like what it’s supposed to…” She glanced over at the printed off recipe. “I’m sure I followed it correctly…”

The teen had picked up the whisk again and was about to start stirring once more when a gloved hand was suddenly clamped over her mouth…

***  

“What’s taking her so long?” Faith said, quietly, standing on the patio, anxiously.

“Don’t know.” Karen replied. She glanced over her mother and aunt. The two older women were still chatting, happily. “Let’s go check on her.”

The girls headed back inside and went to the kitchen. “Crap!” Karen cried. The pot on the stove was over boiling. She ran over to the stove and moved the pot off the heat. “This was almost ruined! Where is Bridgette! She knows better than to wonder off while something’s cooking!”

“Hang on! Quiet for a moment!” Faith told her cousin, gesturing with her hand. “Did you hear that?”

Karen listened for a second. She nodded. A soft moan, coming from somewhere nearby. The two turned, this way and that, trying to locate the source of the sound. After a while, their eyes settled on the pantry. “Bridgette?” Karen called out, nervously. The moan coming through the door seemed to answer her.

“Oh my god!” Karen cried out as she opened the pantry door. Bridgette lay on the floor of the pantry. The teen was hogtied with what appeared to be tight plastic bands, encircling her wrists and ankles. Tape was plastered over her eyes and mouth. Beneath the silvery bands, the captive’s cheeks bulged from the packing stuffed behind her lips to keep her quiet.

“Bridgette! Who did this to you?” Karen said, anxiously, kneeling down.

“That would be me.” A man said, stepping around behind the three teens. Bridgette whimpered into her gag as the other girls cried out in fright. Karen jumped to her feet, but before she could try and flee, a hand took hold of her arm with a strong grip, jerking her back. Faith felt the attacker’s hand brush against her, but she managed to pull away before he got ahold of her.

“Run Faith!” Karen screamed. The frightened teen took off running through the kitchen. Karen, meanwhile, was forced back to her knees beside her sister. She whimpered in fright as a zip-tie was slipped around her wrists…

“Mom! Aunt Louise!” Faith screamed, running for the backdoor. “Someone’s in the house! He’s got Karen and Bridgette!” The teen’s warning ended in a wordless cry as she came out onto the patio and saw the scene awaiting her. Louise and Gina were kneeling on the concrete floor of the patio. Their hands were raised, placed across the back of their heads. A woman, dressed in a dark jacket and a ski mask stood over the older women. A pistol was held, nonchalantly in her hands, keeping her prisoners covered. The two looked up at Faith, expressions of terror on their faces.

“Stay right where you are.” The stranger ordered in a stern tone. “Unless you want something unfortunate to happen to the others.”

Faith froze, shaking with fright. “Please…don’t hurt my mom!”

“Oh, I won’t. So long as you do what I say. Got it?” The women replied. Faith nodded. “Good. Come over here.” As the teen walked across the patio, her captor reached over to the table beside her. On it were several plastic zip-ties, a roll of duct tape and several bunched up white handkerchiefs. Grabbing the latter two, the woman handed them to Faith. “Stuff one in each of their mouths.”

“I’m sorry, mom.” Faith said, fighting back tears as she bundled one of the cloths up and approached her mother.

“It’s alright, baby. It’s going to be alr-Mmmppphhh!” Gina was cut off as the bunched up cloth filled her mouth. Louise numbly opened her mouth to accept the gag as well. At the captor’s order, Faith pressed several strips of tape over each of the older women’s lips, to seal the gag in.

“Now, tie their hands.” The intruder ordered, handing her the zipties. “Put your hands behind your back, wrists touching.” Trembling with fright, Faith knelt and slipped the plastic bands around their wrists. “Tighter!” The intruder ordered. Faith pulled on the plastic end, until the other captives grunted into their gags in discomfort.

“Right…now your turn!” The other woman told Faith, pulling a third cloth out of her jacket pocket. “On your knees, hands on your head! Open your mouth…”

***  

“Mmmppphhh!” Karen whimpered into her gag as the zip-tie around her ankles was yanked tight. Her hands had already been bound. The tight plastic ring around her wrists felt like it was about to slice into her hands. She’d already been gagged, with a foul tasting rag and several layers of sticky tape. Nearby, her sister sobbed quietly, struggling feebly against her own restraints.      

“I hope Faith managed to warn Mom and Aunt Gina…” She thought. She didn’t want to think about what her own predicament meant for her and her sister. Their captor finished binding Karen by slipping a third zip-tie through the two already looping around her hands and feet. He fed the free end into the lock and pulled it closed. The teen groaned as her arms and legs were pulled back into a strict hogtie.

At that moment, they heard the shuffling of feet and quiet sobbing. A moment later, Karen saw her mother and Aunt and cousin coming into view, bumping into one another as they stumbled across the room, blindfolds over their eyes. A second kidnapper walked behind them, forcing her captives forward with prodding from her pistol.

“Looks like everyone’s here.” Karen’s own captor said, tearing off another strip of tape. The teen whimpered as the band closed over her eyes, plunging the frightened girl into darkness. “Let’s get them loaded into the van and head to our last pick-up today…”

***  

Pendleton High School,
7623 Oak Ridge Road,
8:43 PM, May 8th, 2016

Soft light jazz music filled the air of the high school gymnasium. On one half of the court, dancers moved and twirled to the music. On the other half, small tables had been set up where people could rest and chat and enjoy the cookies and punch and other foods from the refreshments table set up across one wall. Over the large double doors, a banner was hung, welcoming everyone to this Mother’s-Day Dance.

“Punch, mother?” Amy said, setting two paper cups of sparkling, citrusy juice on the table before taking a seat herself. Amy Liu was a short, slender third-generation Chinese-American girl. She’d dressed for an evening of dancing, with a light blue tank top, shorts and wedge sandals. She straight, black hair was cut in a short bob.  

“Thank you, dear.” The older woman replied. Amy’s mother, Mei, was dressed more conservatively then her daughter, with a long-sleeved top and jeans. Her hair was tied up in a bun. Both were a little flustered, having just come off the dance floor. They rested a moment, sipping their punch and chatting. The current song ended. The dancers milled on the floor for a bit, a few heading to the refreshments table. After a minute, a new song began and the dancers resumed.

“Well, do you want to go out one more time?” Amy asked. “I’m sure we can find some cute guy to be your partner?” She added, winking mischievously. The two rose from the table and went out onto the floor. They danced until the song ended.

“Probably a good time to call it a night, don’t you think?” Mei said. “I’ve got to get up for work tomorrow and you’ve still got school.”

“ugh…don’t remind me.” Amy replied. “I can hardly wait for summer break to start…” The two women made their way to the gym exit and stepped out into school parking lot. The sun had set a little while ago, leaving the parking lot dark. They found their way to where they had parked the car, at the edge of the lot. Parked a few spaces in front of the car was a dark colored van. The two paid it little mind, until they were right next to the van.

Without warning, the doors of the van suddenly burst open. Two figures, indistinct shadows in their dark clothes against the dark parking lot, jumped out. Mei cried out, for a brief moment, as she was grabbed by the first figure.

“Mother!” Amy started to shout, then she was grabbed. The younger woman struggled, but found herself dragged towards the open door and pulled into the van. Behind her, the van door was slammed shut, trapping the two women inside. For a brief moment, Amy saw her mother lying on the floor of the van, and beyond her a number of other captives; women and girls bound and gagged, then Amy was thrown to the floor of the van and all she could see was the dingy gre carpet underneath her.

Before the girl could rise, her attacker pressed his weight down on her, keeping her pinned to the ground. As she struggled, her arms were yanked behind her back. She felt a plastic band encircle her hands and was pulled tight. Her head was pulled back. A wad of cloth was forced between her teeth. Amy glanced over, eyes wide with terror, at her mother. Mei looked back. Her lips were sealed with tape, muffling her frightened moans.

When Amy’s captor finished binding her ankles together, he scrambled up, crawling over the other sobbing captives to the front of the van. He started the van, pulling out the parking spot and driving away from the school. Meanwhile, the other kidnapper finished securing Amy’s mother. She tore off another strip of tape and turned towards Amy to blindfold her…

***  

Unknown Location
10:57 PM, May 8, 2016

A sizable crowd had gathered in the auditorium; a couple dozen men and women, dressed in evening finery. Domino masks kept the attendees reasonably anonymous. From time to time, they glanced at the front of the room; a large wooden stage, a dark blue curtain drawn across it, keeping whatever was being prepared on the other side hidden. From time to time, they could just barely hear quiet moans coming from the other side, muffled by the curtains and by something else. As they waited, the audience chattered quietly with one another.

“Have you been to any of these events before?”

“No. This is my first. Master Jones sponsored me last August, but it took some time for them to run the checks.”

“So, you missed their auction back in December.”

“Yes, but I heard about that. Really wish I had been able to come.”

“I almost managed to get one of them, but I was outbid at the last minute. Would have been a really nice addition…”

On stage, the curtains parted. A woman dressed in a slinky, black evening gown stepped to the front of the stage. She wore a sequined black domino mask and a cordless microphone on one ear. The chatter in the crowd slowly died down as she addressed the room, her voice amplified by speakers around the room.

“Welcome, ladies and gentleman, Masters and Mistresses!” She said, flashing a smile at the faces eagerly watching her. “I’m so glad to see so many familiar faces…and some new ones as well. We have several collections, acquired earlier today, which I am sure will please everyone here. So, without further ado, let’s start this special Mother-Daughter Slave Auction!”

The crowd applauded as the curtain rose up, revealing the dozen kidnapped mothers and daughters. The captives screamed into their gags in fright as they saw the crowd, eyeing them hungrily and realized they were about to be sold.

The prisoners had been organized by family groups, secured to five separate, raised platforms fitted with restraints. At the far left were the Wilson’s. Katherine and her daughter Jane had been dressed in matching cheerleading outfits; with short, red pleated skirts and brightly colored tops, cut low to show off their ample chests. The surface of the platform was covered with green astroturf, painted with the lines of a football field.

They were standing up against tall t-shaped frames, designed to look like the goalposts of the field. Their feet were chained to the base of the metal pole, while their arms were raised up overhead and secured to either end of the “T”. Pom Poms had been taped over their hands, giving them the look of a mock-cheer pose. Matching red ballgags filled the two captive’s mouths, silencing their whimpers as the two looked over at each other with looks of horror.

On the platform to their right was the Martin family. Mrs. Martin stood on the top of the stepped platform, dressed in a long green gown that came down to her ankles. Her hair was braided and tied back, with small flowers pleated within. Her glasses had been removed. On the step below her was her elder daughter, Samantha and on the bottom step was Heather. The girls were done up similarly to their mother. Around them, the rest of the platform was covered with a colorful display of flowers.

The three had their hands chained in front of them. They were each holding a bouquet of flowers, tape wrapping their fingers, around the stems. Chains ran from the cuffs to a ring in the base of each step. Another chain ran under the hem of their skirts, where their ankles were shackled as well. Each of the three had a green cloth tied between their lips. The two girls looked up at their mother in fright, wondering what kind of nightmare they had found themselves in.

Both halves of the Jackson family occupied the third platform. The surface had been textured and painted to resemble sandstone. It was covered with silk cushions and pillows, and shiny brass chains fitted to prominent rings to resemble something out of an orientalist’s fanciful dream of a Turkish seraglio.  

At the top, Gina and Louise reclined atop the cushions. They were dressed in typical harem-fashion, sheer cloth of purple and red and green, in a fashion designed more to show off their dark, curvy bodies then preserve any shred of modesty. Beneath the face veils, thick bit gags kept them quiet. Thick brass collars encircled their necks, connected by chains to a ring in the center of the platform. Their hands were chained in front of them, their ankles cuffed and secured to more rings in the platform.

On the steps below, the three daughters sat, Karen and Bridgette below their mother, Faith underneath hers. They were dressed in the same sort of outfits as their mothers and bronze collars and chains kept them in place as well. Karen and Faith were holding long handled fans, while Bridgette had a brass bowl of grapes in her hand, as if the three were serving their mothers.

Finally, at the far right, the Liu’s stand had been turned into a papier-mâché pagoda, decorated with paper lanterns and hangings painted in Chinese calligraphy. The two were dressed in red silk qipaos’, slit up one side almost to the waist to reveal a good deal of skin. The two were extensively bound with soft hemp rope, in a complex pattern, trapping their arms behind their backs. More rope ran from a solid metal bar hidden in the top of the pagoda down to them. Each had one leg raised up, above the waist, partially supported by the ropes as they balanced on the other, heeled foot. Colorful silk scarves, decorated with Asian symbols covered the lower halves of their faces from the nose down.

The female auctioneer stepped back across the stage, towards the assembled captives. Her partner came out, dressed in a tuxedo and domino mask to join her. “For our first display,” She said, raising a hand, “We have a mother-daughter cheerleading squad. It’s the Wilsons, Katherine and her daughter Jane.” On stage, the two in question struggled feebly against their restraints, mumbling ignored pleas into their gags. The other captives sobbed, knowing their turn would come soon enough…  

“Now what am I bid?”