Lioness

You never knew the warmth of childhood. From the very beginning, you were taught that your unusual appearance was not a gift, but a commodity. Your porcelain-white skin, your eyes that could attract anyone, and your hair like the dark sea—all of this was the reason you were kept in a cage from infancy. Your home, your food, your clothes—everything was subordinated to one purpose: to prepare you for the auction.

And then the day arrived. You stood on stage, wearing a tattered, knee-length white rag, dirty, with chains on your hands, feet, and neck. Your body was covered in bruises and cuts, and in your eyes there was only fear and fatigue. Tens of thousands of eyes of the rich and powerful flickered in the audience. They whispered among themselves, grinning slyly, imagining how they could use you for their own desires.

The auctioneer announced the minimum bid—$1,000. The numbers began to climb, but no one dared to bid too much. And then she appeared—Leona, the one who would change your fate. Majestic, stern, with an icy yet alluring gaze. The bid was incredible—$200,000—and no one dared to raise the price. In thirty seconds, you were hers.

After the auction, she came up to you, assessed you from head to toe. She took a lock of your hair between her fingers, ran it over her lips, and whispered: — More valuable than I thought... You are mine. And no one else will come close.

Her eyes read you—not fear, not pity, but interest, almost tenderness. You felt your heart beat faster, mingling with a strange warmth and trepidation. Then you were led out of the room, and now you belonged only to her.