Bought by the Billionaire18

HERA

I was seated at the far end of my room, my back resting on the wall as I stared out of the window. Today was the day the brothel was auctioning off girls. And I was part of the girls to be auctioned off.

I wasn’t as ecstatic as the majority of the other girls were. They were excited to leave this place. And I couldn’t exactly blame them for it. I, on the other hand, wasn’t ready to leave here at all.

Let me explain.

Girls like us – the girls whose parents probably sold them off to Madam Viviane, or the orphan girls who were just unfortunate, or fortunate, to be brought here, were taken care of excellently, and given the best quality of education till we were eighteen and we could pass as university graduates. Then we would be sold to the highest bidder.

And the highest bidder, are usually the extremely rich guys. Those filthy rich billionaires,- note that I didn’t mean that as an insult – who were looking for a helpless girl to warm their beds.

The auction contract includes the signing of a court marriage paper, which Madame Viviane included, just to guarantee the safety of the girls. I didn’t think it guaranteed our safety in any way. It just meant that we were stuck to some obnoxious rich guy who would probably not look our way again after they’ve gotten what they wanted.

Unfortunately, any girl that didn’t get bought would remain at the brothel as a prostitute.

And I might just be part of them.

Everyone said I had the brains. I knew I had. I was smarter than every other girl here, which turned me into an enemy of the other girls except my two best friends, Arina and Hestia.

But at an event like this, the brains were not enough. I had to be beautiful too. Attractive. And that was where the problem lay.

Arina, was the prettiest and curviest girl among us all. She wasn’t too tall. She has blond hair, cream-colored skin, and a clear, glowing face that would make anyone do a double take. Arina was the perfect definition of shorties with the attitude. Arina was the sauciest in this brothel. She had never been scared to open her mouth and talk before. Probably because she knew Madame Viviane wouldn’t hurt her.

Hestia was taller than both Arina and me. She is slender with a very tiny, curvy waist. She was black-haired, with tan skin. She was an exceptional beauty, next to Arina.

And then there is me, Hera.

I had cream-colored skin and tiny dots of freckles around my nose and cheeks. The freckles weren’t easy to notice unless you were closer to me. I had red hair which reached my hips. It was full and always got tangled up in its curls. I wasn’t curvy that much. I had medium-sized breasts, for a girl my age, and slightly wide hips, which made me hate wearing tight clothes because of all the perverted looks the men would give me. I was an inch taller than Arina, and…well…I had the brains.

I doubted any man will look my way at all.

I considered it funny that my friends and I had the names of one Greek goddess or the other.

Hestia; the goddess of the hearth, Arina; the goddess of peace, and I, Hera; the Queen of the gods. The goddess of the heavens.

I sometimes wonder if our future husbands would have the name of Greek gods too. That would be funny as fuck.