Chapter 3: The auction

7 July, 1686 Afternoon

A small platform had been set up in the port. The crowd was too big for the main square. Isabel had just been auctioned off.

The sisters, having been placed behind an improvised curtain, had not been able to see anything, but they had heard the bid—ding and the roar of the crowd.

Isabel had been sold to a Miss Bjorn, a land—owner of Scandinavian origin who possessed one of the largest plantations of sugar cane on the continental coast.

She had fetched five thousand gold dou—bloons. A man with a strong Spanish accent had bid against Miss Bjorn, pushing the price up. The sisters thought, mistakenly, that Isabel had been lucky. They thought a woman would treat her better...

Constance was next. She waited nervously, with her sister. She was dressed in a bright red, sneakily, sexy, specifically designed slave auction dress with a plunging neckline that appeared to plummet all the way down to her waistline, but had a panel of material behind its ruffled trim that kept Constance fully covered while still maintaining an alluring illusion. The overall effect of the dress with its ruffled theme was designed to give the wearer a girlish charm, while still maintaining all their flattering curves at the hips as it flared out slightly downward along its two rows of ruffles. A few carefully placed gathers at the waist easily displayed Constance's gorgeous feminine shape.

Suddenly, the auctioneer pulled back the cur—tain and caught hold of the leash that was attached to a metal band clamped around Constance's neck. He pulled her onto the podium.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, a fine specimen of pure white woman," said the auction—eer, pulling her to the center of the platform. The crowd gasped with a long, appreciative "OOOOOOH!"

Two pirates stood by, holding whips in case they were needed to control the crowd.

"Only nineteen years old. A splendid specimen of the European aristocracy! Promised in marriage to an English Governor! But wait... there's more! She's still untouched!"

"Cut your cackle, and show us the goods!"

"We want to see more!"

"Rip the clothes off 'er!"

"Strip 'er, take everything right off!"

"Aye, stark naked!"

"Show us something luv!"

A strange, rhythmic chant rose from hundreds of throats, accompanied by the clapping of hands, "Show us! Show us! Show us! Show us! Show us!"

"Be patient, ladies and gentlemen, be patient! For just a few doubloons you can do as you will! " said the auctioneer.

Constance raised her eyes and saw a thousand faces turned towards her. She felt their eyes burn—ing into her. She imagined their paws on her, and then forcing themselves on her.

Suddenly a chill ran down her spine. He was there, in the front row! Her uncle, Lucien Blanchart! She recognized the broad rim of his expensive hat. He smiled ironically at her.

"All her young life ahead of her, ladies and gentlemen! Just throw her a bit of food and don't spare the whip! She'll keep you warm in bed for a good fifteen years or more!"

"Well, let's see something! Come on then!" shouted a voice from the crowd.

"Do I hear five thousand doubloons?" the auctioneer asked, pinching her bottom.

The price seemed reasonable to quite a lot of people. But in five minutes it had risen to eight thousand and most bidders dropped out. A greasy old estate-owner with a lascivious look had offered the eight thousand.

Constance shuddered. She felt sick. She looked away and saw her uncle. He had also been bidding for her. His expression was strange and cruel. This was not the simple look of hate; it was the look of a man who wanted to break her spirit, to tame her, to make her do his every bidding.

She smiled at the old estate-owner, with tears in her eyes, hoping that he would bid higher if necessary and rescue her from her malicious uncle.

She realized that the auctioneer had put a hand on her rear, while shouting out, "Yes, this can be yours!"

Some of the men and a surprising number of women be—gan licking the air obscenely with their tongues.

"So what do I hear for this fair and beautiful young maiden?"

The bidding reached nine thousand then stopped.

Suddenly a voice rang out, "Ten thousand!"

Silence fell on the groaning crowd.

Constance dropped her head. She had just been sold to the well-known, in—deed infamous, slave trader Monsieur Lucien Blanchart. Her own uncle...