For those of you who are newer here, this story is another installment of my ‘Lola’ series which has its birth in a FWF from Kellie Elmore. The installments are below in reverse order if you care to read or reread them.
Lola nearly laughed at the absurdity of this next chapter in her captivity. Yet she knew all three of them would need to play along if they were to survive. Adrienne and her companions were leading them in rapid fashion through a white-washed maze of hallways. The only sounds were the rustle of the white habits against their legs. Lola, Tess and Grace were dressed in flowing but modest gowns and Lola bristled at the confines of it. She was used to more rugged and useful clothing that allowed for freedom of movement.
Abruptly, the maze ended. The long wall parted and the women entered a cavernous room that exuded masculinity. Fine wood grained walls and floors, heavy leather furniture. At its center was a long, dark table with seven armed and throne-like chairs around it. Art objects depicted hunting, war and other forms of conquest. A concrete representation of power and control.
A wooshing sound startled Lola out of her observation. Six dark suited and well groomed men emerged from six side doors disguised in the walls. Slick and Smarmy thought Lola. They glided to the chairs at the side of the table. Then another WOOSH. At the center panel stood a man of great height and strength. Dashingly handsome and with eyes the color of turquoise. A face of forcefulness. He ignored the escorts (who by then were on their knees) and strode over to the trio. He had no compunction whatsoever as he removed their gowns one by one and closely examined their bodies using more than his eyes. The experience left Lola with a urgent need to violently lash out against the degradation. But she knew it meant punishment or death if she moved an inch or showed any emotion. Then the Master spoke. “Councilmen. You may examine them as well.” Then we will decide who is best suited to marry my eldest son and provide us with the progeny for our new nation.”
The procedure was wretched in its ritual. With each stroke, pat and rub, the women felt less and less human and more like goods to be sold to the highest bidder. When it was finally done, the men moved to the table to cast their votes. “Well, gentlemen. We certainly have found ourselves a treasure trove of perfect helpmates. I see we all agree on the two that will go to my second and third sons.” The Master then rose from his seat and strode over to Lola. “But you, my lovely, are the perfect match for Gabriel.”