The Great Collapse and Restructuring

Decades before Lucian Dorian’s rise to power, the world was thrown into chaos during The Great Collapse. A combination of environmental disasters, resource shortages, and economic collapse dismantled the global order. As governments crumbled, extremist movements like The Order of Dominion seized the opportunity to restructure society around what they called "natural hierarchies."

The Order blamed the collapse on modern egalitarian ideals, particularly women's emancipation, which they claimed had destabilized society. To restore order, they implemented laws that stripped women of all rights, reducing them to nothing more than property—bought, sold, and used as men saw fit. Women's only purpose was now to serve their male owners.

Public auctions were established where women, treated as commodities, were traded. These auctions became spectacles of humiliation, where women were paraded before crowds, inspected, and assigned value based solely on their appearance and obedience. The wealthiest men purchased the finest women, while the poor were left to watch, powerless.

Lucian Dorian

Lucian Dorian is 190 cm tall, with broad shoulders and a muscular build that radiates power. His dark, piercing eyes and slicked-back raven-black hair, streaked with silver, give him an air of authority and control. Always dressed in impeccably tailored black suits with gold cufflinks bearing his family crest, Lucian exudes wealth and dominance.

The auction

The auctioneer stepped forward, his voice booming through the vast church. “Gentlemen, let us begin,” he declared, gesturing toward the curtain as it parted. From behind it, the first slave was led onto the stage.

She was young—her blonde hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders, and her bright blue eyes darted nervously over the crowd. A standard black leather collar sat snug around her neck, with a small tag displaying her number for auction accounting purposes. Her perky chest rose and fell as she took in the men who stared at her. She was trembling slightly, but the auctioneer played it off with ease, already spinning his practiced pitch.

“Number 213,” he began, his voice dripping with enthusiasm. “A fine specimen, gentlemen! Young, blonde, with striking blue eyes and a perfect, perky chest. Trained to be obedient—extremely obedient. A true ‘good girl,’ ready to serve her master’s every whim.”

The crowd murmured in approval, eyes fixated on the girl as the auctioneer continued. “She’s been trained well, broken in perfectly, and shows no signs of defiance. The ideal addition to any collection.”

The bidding started swiftly, prices climbing almost immediately as men eagerly waved their hands, determined to claim her. Lucian watched the scene with detached interest, his expression unreadable. Though the girl’s beauty and obedience were highly praised, she was not what he sought. He preferred something more challenging, something that required breaking. This one was already molded too perfectly for another man’s tastes.

As the numbers escalated, Lucian remained still, sitting out of the bidding war that raged around him. The price for the girl quickly soared, each bid met with a sharper counter, and the auctioneer’s voice grew more excited with each call.

Several more girls were brought out, each one displayed, appraised, and sold without Lucian so much as raising a hand. He observed the process with growing disinterest as one after another was paraded across the stage, each collared and compliant, none of them catching his eye. The routine of it, the predictability, began to wear on him, his thoughts wandering as the auction continued.

Then, a shift in the air brought his attention back to the stage.

The next girl was brought out, and immediately, Lucian could tell she was different. A young redhead, her fiery hair stark against the pale skin of her naked body, stumbled forward, arms bound tightly behind her back. A harsh red ball gag had been shoved into her mouth, muffling any sounds of resistance. The handler at her side yanked her forward with a metal chain attached to her collar, the force of the pull nearly causing her to trip.

Following closely behind her, a second handler held a cattle prod, ensuring no disobedience would go unpunished. The girl’s defiance was unmistakable, her eyes burning with anger as she strained against the restraints. The crowd murmured in response to the sight of her, some intrigued, others more hesitant.

Lucian’s interest piqued immediately. Unlike the others, this one had not been broken yet. Her fiery spirit still remained, though it was clear the handlers were here to mitigate. He leaned forward slightly in his seat, his eyes narrowing as he watched the scene unfold.

The auctioneer paused for a moment as the redhead was dragged onto the stage, sensing the shift in the crowd. He adjusted his tone, knowing he had to sell this one differently.

“Gentlemen, I present to you Number 327,” he began, eyeing the fiery redhead as she struggled in her restraints. “This one is… different from the others. A challenge, if you will.” He gave a sharp, practiced smile. “Not quite broken yet, but full of spirit, which some of you may find… entertaining.”

The auctioneer turned, gesturing to the handlers who kept her under control. “She’s been difficult, I’ll admit, but think of her as your very own punching bag. She can take it, and with the right training, she’ll learn her place soon enough.”

The crowd murmured, some laughing at the idea, others intrigued. The auctioneer leaned in, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “Imagine the satisfaction, gentlemen, of molding this one into something useful, of taking that fire and extinguishing it.”

Lucian’s eyes remained fixed on the girl, his expression unchanged, though his interest was undeniable. The auctioneer’s words rolled over him, but it wasn’t the promise of using her as a punching bag that appealed—it was the thought of breaking her in his own way.

Lucian was the first to raise his hand, his bid slicing through the murmurs of the crowd. The redhead’s eyes snapped to him, fury burning behind the gag as she realized what was happening. For a moment, the stage seemed to still as the weight of Lucian’s claim settled over her. Then, without warning, she let out a muffled scream and bolted, trying to run despite her bound arms.

The chain jerked her back almost immediately, the handler yanking hard enough to stop her in her tracks. Her body jolted backward, and before she could even find her footing, the second handler moved in. The sharp crackle of the cattle prod filled the air as it connected with her skin, sending a violent shock through her body. Her legs gave out, and she crumpled to the stage, a whimper of pain barely audible beneath the gag.

The crowd barely stirred, used to such displays of defiance being crushed in moments. Lucian remained unmoved, his eyes fixed on her as she lay trembling on the ground, defeated but still burning with that same fire. He had chosen her, and now, she was his.

With the final bid declared, Lucian had won. He had completed his goal, securing the redhead as his first slave. Without lingering to savor the moment, he rose from his seat and quietly left the auction hall, his focus now on concluding the transaction. The murmurs of the other men faded as Lucian made his way to the payment desk.

Behind the desk sat a middle-aged woman, her tall frame hunched slightly as she worked. Her brown hair hung loosely around her face, and her gentle eyes glanced up as Lucian approached. A heavy metal collar encircled her neck, its thick chain leading from her collar to the wall behind her, ensuring she remained at her station.

Her body was bare except for the collar, and the auction company’s brand had been seared into her skin—one mark on her chest, another on her ass, a permanent reminder of her status. The woman’s eyes flickered briefly with recognition of Lucian’s authority, but they held no defiance, only the quiet resignation of someone long broken by the system.

As Lucian handed over his payment, the woman spoke softly, her voice calm but hollow. “Will you be taking her with you now, sir, or would you prefer to have her delivered?”

Lucian barely glanced at her before answering. “Delivery.”

With a slight nod, she noted his request, her collar rattling faintly as she moved. The transaction was swift, and Lucian turned to leave, his steps as measured as when he arrived.

The delivery arrived late in the evening, as Lucian expected. When the door to his private quarters creaked open, two handlers entered, dragging the unconscious redhead between them. She had been heavily drugged, her body rendered completely limp and helpless. Chains wrapped around her wrists and ankles, securing her arms behind her back and her legs together in an uncomfortable position. A gag, now more forceful than the one at auction, was shoved deep into her mouth, muffling any potential sounds.

Her naked form was further humiliated by the way they had packaged her. A metal collar, far heavier than the auction tag, sat locked around her throat, with additional chains running from it to her arms and legs. One especially tight chain ran from her bound feet to the collar, forcing her body into a painfully uncomfortable arch, her back bending unnaturally. They had left no part of her unrestrained, no movement allowed. Even in her unconscious state, the way her body was contorted made it clear she had been treated as nothing more than an object to be transported.

One of the handlers smirked as he set her down on the cold stone floor at Lucian's feet, her cheek pressing against the unforgiving surface. “She was a handful,” the handler muttered, kicking at her bound form lightly. “Figured you’d want her delivered nice and quiet.”

Without a word, Lucian bent down, grabbing the chain attached to her collar, and began to drag her across the floor. Her limp form followed, scraping against the stone as he moved with deliberate purpose. When he reached the stairs, he didn’t bother to lift her. Instead, he let her body bounce and jolt with every step, her bound limbs jerking helplessly as they hit each stair in turn, each impact a degrading reminder of her powerlessness.

At the bottom of the stairs stood a heavy steel door. Lucian pressed his thumb to a fingerprint scanner built into the frame, the door unlocking with a soft click that signaled only he could access what lay beyond. The door creaked open, revealing the basement—a place specifically designed to break the spirit of even the most defiant slaves.

The room itself was her prison. Cold cement surrounded her on all sides, with no windows or access to natural light. The walls and floor were bare and unforgiving, offering no comfort, no escape from the oppressive, dehumanizing atmosphere. The air was thick with the weight of hopelessness, as if time ceased to exist within these four walls.

Lucian dragged her into the center of the room and let her crumple to the floor, her chains clinking softly as they fell around her limp form. The chain that ran from her feet to her collar ensured that her body remained in a painfully arched position, her back straining under the tension. She lay there, bound, gagged, and utterly helpless, the cold cement pressing into her skin. This room was her world now—her only reality.

Lucian stood over her for a moment, his eyes cold and calculating. Then, without a word, he turned and left her alone in the dark, letting her come out of her drug-induced unconsciousness on her own, to awaken to the full extent of her degradation.