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The tall man, with a dark chiseled face, in a blue neon uniform, flashed a red light in the eyes of the young boy, and then turned to his right and flashed the father.
They both squinted when the light struck their reddened eyes. Lips down in sad frowns. Hands to their sides trembling. Ashen faces fought to hold back tears, a sure sign of weakness.
The highest prices always belonged to the strongest. Weak families were discarded, and sent to the camp, a place no one wanted to end up.
“Are there anymore bids for the Quentin family? Look how strong and attractive they are. You won’t find any better.”
The auctioneer was ready to slam the wood gavel down hard on the podium, when a wealthy investor stepped up close to the stage, so he could get a closer look at the mother. She was a rare beauty from Spain, an exotic dark haired woman in her late twenties.
Just what he’d been waiting for. They would make a good replacement for the Keller family. After seven years he had become bored with them. He was ready to send them on their way to the retirement camp.
‘Sold! For three hundred thousand Giblets to Master Torrance.
Thank You sir.” He raised his hand, motioning for the security guards to escort the Quentin family off stage, and return them to their cubicle.
Two gorilla sized oriental men with black slicked back hair, wearing militaristic red uniforms, led them down off the gray cement stage with a large screen at the rear, used to show the good looking family living their daily lives. As normal, all of them were naked. Who wants to watch families wearing clothing? What a boring hobby that would be.
The voyeuristic society of the wealthy had become much more demanding over time. Now only the most perfect families were wanted by the Masters.
Only society's’ richest could afford the costly hobby of family watching. Master Torrance gulped down a bottle of his favorite beer, rubbed his pot belly with his chubby pale fingers, and belched loudly. His coal black eyes opened wide as he walked up to the naked, raven haired mother, after she had stepped down from the stage.
Mrs. Arabella Quentin was the most beautiful mother he had ever seen. He moved his palm across her velvety smooth shoulder and down her back. She was trembling, and he liked it.
The third richest man in the world was a pervert. No surprise this was his favorite hobby.
Why have a dog or a cat, when you can have your very own human family. Dozens of surveillance cameras were scattered throughout their living quarters. Privacy was non existent.
As a gesture of kindness the Quentins would be allowed to wear clothing three days a week. He didn’t want them to think he was taking advantage of them. Afterall, they were his pets. Spoiling them would always bring him extreme pleasure.
He slowly sauntered around her, looking up and down as he went. Before he walked away he leaned up next to the soft nakedness of the mother’s flesh, and whispered in her ear.
“Goodbye my dear young girl. Now you are mine.” He looked deep into her alluring, blue eyes. Her slender body visibly shaking, she was trying hard as humanly possible, to hold back rising tears.
The Master kissed her on the cheek, his large nostrils inhaling the sweet lilac aroma from her bath water. The auction always made sure the beautiful young ladies smelled wonderful, to help entice a prospective buyer.
The husband glanced sideways at the Master, for a quick moment, gritting his teeth, hands tightly fisted against his bare thighs. He then turned his glazed grey eyes forward, and stared straight ahead, without saying a word. The game had begun.
