Auctions weren’t just for buying domestics. That was droll. Auctions were the closest thing to a social club in Skye. My wine flute was mostly empty when bidding on the first one began. Annoyed that the flute hadn’t been topped off earlier I used my Remote to get the attention of a serving girl. The silly thing almost dropped her tray when the Binds shocked her. That would have earned her punishment. Several lashes would have been doled out for dropping and damaging her owner’s property. Another few lashes for not attending to the needs of a citizen with haste would also have been added. I wanted the wine more than I wanted to see her flogged, so it was good that she kept her composure.

Since domestics were considered a social status indicator in Skye, the upper caste all showed up for these affairs. It was everyone’s business to know who had acquired another domestic. I currently owned none, a fact that had mortified my wife for the full term of our marriage contract. She’d taken solace in purchasing an additional servant in the first seven years of our merger.

The fact was that I hadn’t needed my own personal domestic. Until recently. Being somewhat of an oddity in Skye, I had a free-woman courtesan for the last two decades. When she passed, I spent a year alone without the comfort of a bed companion. My wife insisted it was time for a domestic. She illustrated the case clearly. My work had administrative tasks that were unseemly for one of my stature. Additionally, while she enjoyed my occasional couplings, it was undignified for a wife to attend all her husband’s carnal desires. She was quite content with her own two domestics fulfilling her needs. Marleana insisted I get my own. Her words still resonated, "You're a man of Skye, you have needs. And domestics are perfectly suited to satiate every need you might have. Willing or not..."

I had just drifted out of a conversation with the ka-Allins about their agri-business, and into another with the ar-Voyghts about the politics of the weekend bruncheon director election when the bidding began. Not being one to meddle in the social politics of Skye’s elites, I was quite happy to be spared all the details and gossip. I spotted Marleana happily flirting with a youngish hundred-year-old lad, it was possible she was seeking an additional suitor as a free bed companion. Marleana did love to play keeping up with the ka-Joneses.

My good friend Danyyl ar-Severns waved me over as bidding on the second domestic began. Considered a degenerate, ar-Severns was probably the only person at the auction seriously interested in purchase. He was known to go through multiple domestics a year. He came less for the community and much more to see what morsels might be on auction. The randy bastard told me all about how he'd sampled number 4 and could not wait to get her in Binds of his own. The rest of the crowd mingled, made business deals, propositioned bed companions, or just gossiped. This was the first I’d attended since my wife’s last purchase.

“Oh, now that one is quite a treat,” Danyyl commented as number three was made to disrobe. Of the hundred patrons at the auction, maybe a dozen noticed. The others were too busy, drinking, gossiping, and amusing each other to care that a little dirtsider waif was stretched completely bare on the small stage at the front of the auction house.

It had been a year since I had a companion. Less counting the occasional tryst with Mareana. I agreed with Daryyl, she was quite a treat. For a girl from Ground.

We continued chatting as the next few domestics were brought out. I was tempted to bid just to appease Marleana, but my heart wasn’t in the spirit of things. Until they brought out Number Five.