Page 2 of Bought By the Ruthless Pakhan

But more than that—some had nipple clamps biting into their breasts, metal chains dangling and swaying with every movement. One girl bent over, working a silver plug into her ass, smooth as applying lipstick.

Bile rose in my throat. Were they insane? What the hell were they doing?

Then a woman emerged from the shadows.

She wore nothing but a sheer shawl draped over her shoulders. When she moved, you could see her nipples standing proud beneath it. She looked like a worshipped statue, beautiful enough to make you stare.

For a split second, I thought, if I had enough money, I'd probably pay a fortune for her too. Then I killed that thought.

"You the new treasure?" She stopped in front of me, eyes sliding from my face down to my feet.

I answered quietly. "Yes, ma'am."

She jerked her chin toward the closet in the corner. "Don't waste time. Pick something and put it on. You'll go on stage with them in a minute."

She looked me up and down again, a cold smirk on her lips. "My advice? Get over yourself. You came here to sell. Don't play innocent. Put on some toys—the bosses like that."

I froze, thinking I'd misheard. I didn't understand why this woman, meeting me for the first time, would have so much venom for me.

"I don't know how." The words scraped out through my teeth. Humiliation I'd never felt before flooded my throat like water. I was drowning.

Her smile got sharper. "Virgins aren't precious here. If you don't behave, the boss has plenty of ways to make you bend."

Her eyes stabbed into me like needles. My spine went cold.

There were no good people in this club.

I gave up and picked out a dress that barely covered what needed covering. Changed into it, defeated.

"She's wearing that?"

"God, she has no clue. Coming here and still playing innocent."

Mockery crashed over me from all sides like waves trying to pull me under. My face burned, but I couldn't argue back. Even though I'd been forced, I was still standing here. I'd still put on this dress.

Outside, a bell rang. Like a slaughterhouse clock. The arrogant woman led the way, head held high like a peacock spreading its feathers. Her voice was electric with excitement. "Remember, keep your mouths shut down there. All you need to do is present your tits and your cunts."

Present. Like we were coats. Tablecloths.

The crowd pushed me forward, herding me up the steps covered in dark velvet.

The steps were soft, feet sinking in like cotton. Wall sconces glowed amber. The air was thick with perfume, alcohol, and the choking smell of makeup. This filthy flesh trade dressed up like a goddamn gala.

Below the stage, the room was packed with men in suits. Smoke curled up from their fingers, hazy and thick, like steam rising from a cage of beasts. Eyes glinted through the smoke, bright and hungry as wolves.

Some whistled. Some muttered crude remarks and threw out bids. Vulgar words floated up through the smoke and stuck in my ears.

I clenched my fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms until I tasted blood. Only then could I stop my legs from shaking.

"30 thousand."

"50 thousand."

"Oh, very nice! Our Lily just went for 50!"

I watched the girl in front of me wiggle her bunny tail as she walked toward a thick-necked thug. She was even smiling, like she was on a runway.

But the man didn't even look at her. Just reached over and yanked the tail out—