JEON’S SLAVE (TaeKook) Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The bidding started, the auctioneer's voice booming through the hall as one by one, slaves were paraded onto the stage, their fates sealed with each shout of a number.

*tood in the shadows, trembling, his chains rattling softly against his wrists*

Every fiber of his being screamed at him to run, to fight, to do anything but stand there and wait for his turn.

But he couldn’t—not here, not now.

The guards’ sharp gazes and brutal weapons made sure of that.

The men in the audience wore masks, their faces hidden, their identities concealed.

It made them even more terrifying.

Shadows without faces, without mercy, deciding the value of human lives as though they were commodities.

*stomach churned as the bids climbed higher with each slave sold, their despair filling the room like a suffocating fog*

And then his turn came.

Hah! *grabs his arm*

*dragged forward, stumbling under the bright spotlight that burned into his exposed skin*

The crowd fell silent for a moment, and he felt their collective gaze settle on him, scrutinizing, judging.

*body trembled violently, shame and fear crashing over him like a tidal wave*

The auctioneer's voice rang out, louder and sharper than before.

Hung douang

A rare find tonight, gentlemen—a vírgin male Omega.

Hung douang

A species of unparalleled rarity. Perfect, untouched, and ready for your bidding.

The words cut through him like a blade, each syllable dripping with degradation.

*bit his lip, his head hanging low as the crowd erupted into chaos*

Numbers were shouted, overlapping one another in a frantic scramble to claim him.

This can’t be happening, he thought, his mind spiraling as the bids climbed higher and higher.

He had known he was rare.

That was why he had fled his shelter in the first place—to avoid being treated like this. But never, not in his worst nightmares, had he imagined this level of humiliation.

TBC