The sounds coming from the great room were loud and raucous-a large group of rich men relaxing from making deals or whatever it was that they did when they were back home-though Tara couldn't make out what they were saying. Tonight, the Personal Companions were relegated to eating in a small alcove off the kitchen, where they watched the servers-local girls whom they imagined were being pinched and prodded at every opportunity-bring out tray after tray of food to the hungry guests.

There had been little conversation. Tara assumed at least some of the others had been made to serve as toys for other guests and had suffered something like what she and Dee had with the "Principal", but no one seemed eager to talk about those moments. She certainly wasn't.

Tara had heard the helicopter landing and taking off on the island a few times that afternoon, after she and Delia were recuperating from their encounter with the "Principal", so, judging by that and the voices out there, it was a good bet that there were close to twenty or so guests there. And, knowing how things worked on Pirate Cay, they would all want to be "entertained" by the eight Personal Companions, so Tara anticipated a busy night.

When Kelly came in, accompanied by Robert and a couple of the groundskeepers, dressed up in costumes resembling those worn in earlier times by lion tamers at the circus, with short leather whips tucked into their belts, Tara surmised that the entertainment part of the evening was about to begin.

The men were carrying lengths of heavy looking steel chains, which they set on the floor. Kelly clapped her hands. "Listen up, ladies!" she announced. "We've got a very special evening ahead of us. Does anyone know what a charity slave auction is?"

Tara's heart sunk. 'A slave auction?' she thought, 'Where we'll be sold to those men for them to do God knows what with us? If we're lucky it'll be sex, if we're unlucky it could be something worse, much worse.'

When no one answered, Kelly decided to continue. "Out there, volunteers pretend to be slaves and are sold to the highest bidder, for whom they have to do chores like grocery shopping or lawn mowing. Really lame! Here, we'll do something a little more serious. The guys can buy you and have your sexual services, whatever they wish, for the evening. How does that sound?"

The women all looked down at the floor. "Well, it doesn't matter what you guys think about it. The money goes to a good cause, his foundation, which does all kinds of great stuff all over the world. He's really a generous man. Anyway, this is his show and you guys are in it, right?"

There was a chorus of "Sure" and "whatever".

"Good, I'm glad you're all going to participate." Kelly didn't say what the consequences would be for anyone who refused-she didn't have to. "Alright, everyone on your feet!" she ordered. Tara got slowly to her feet as did the others.

"Ok, guys, let's get those clothes off," Kelly commanded. Tara stood there glancing over at Delia. The others were looking around, trying to guess if she was serious. "Are you bitches deaf?" she shouted, angered by their non-compliance. "You're slaves! Captured for auction! Slaves are naked, and either you guys get naked now or these gentlemen will help you." Tara noticed Robert and his assistants staring at the women with undisguised lust.

Tara saw the other women pulling their shirts over their heads and decided that solitary resistance would be futile. She reached down for the hem of her top.

Once the Companions were naked, Robert and his men put an iron collar around the neck of each woman and secured each one shut with a small padlock. The collar was heavy and somewhat rusted, perhaps to simulate the ones used in the Atlantic Slave Trade that had brought their forefathers from Africa to Providencia.

The men knelt and affixed iron shackles, each pair connected by a heavy iron chain, around the ankles of each slave. "Form a line, all facing the door," Kelly ordered.

The slaves moved slowly, unused to walking in shackles, eventually forming a line. The men attached more chains to their neck collars so that they were all linked together in a single coffle, with Pam at the front.

Tara was in the middle with Delia behind her and Amanda in front. She noticed that the welts and cuts on Amanda's back had more or less healed and wondered if any of them would be getting new ones.

"Alright, Robert," Kelly said, "Let's move these bitches out!" Robert took the whip out of his belt and slashed it across Pam's shoulders.

"Fuck!" Pam screamed. Tara saw a red line developing across Pam's back.

"You heard the lady," Robert added. "Move your damn asses!" He slashed the whip across the back of the second girl in line, Stephanie, who shrieked in pain and shock and stumbled forward into Pam who jolted ahead. The rest were pulled along. After a few steps, the slaves fell into line, shuffling forward towards the door that led to the waiting men.

As soon as Pam pushed through the swinging door, the noise grew louder; catcalls resounded that only grew in intensity as the entire coffle of naked slave girls shuffled into the space. Tara could see that approximately two dozen men were seated in folding chairs along three sides of a square. The fourth side, occupied only by him standing at a small podium, was open towards the procession of captured slave girls.

He turned, and, seeing them, turned back to his guests. "Gentlemen!" he announced loudly. The hoots and catcalls died down, in deference to their host and the business of the evening.

"May I present to you, eight lovely pieces of female flesh, gathered from the best colleges in America, an ethnic melting pot of beauties-Africa, China, Mexico, Ireland, all are represented-ready to please your every desire. For the right price, of course, all proceeds going to the Pirate Cay Foundation and its mission to help our young people and future leaders."

Tara wondered whether this help included enslaving some of those future leaders.

By now, the slave coffle had reached the podium. He smiled at them all, then began moving them into a line beside his podium, facing the audience. "As you can see, these are fine, grade 'A' specimens of the human female college student between the ages of 18 and 23. Gentlemen, form an orderly line and you may inspect the merchandise more closely. Please, no pushing, everyone will get a turn, I promise."