The Auction-Goer's Bride

[Snowy]

Sometimes you come home from work with a fic idea and just have to do it. Inspired by The Ancient Magus' Bride, although I don't know how much I'll end up taking from it. This first part is mainly just me having fun with characters, some sneezing towards the end, but much more will be in the next part. Let me know what you guys think!

CW: people being auctioned off into servitude, but played lightly (like Magus' Bride)

 

 

In the middle of the vast French countryside sits an old, gated mansion, entirely empty save two nights of the year. Tonight was one of those nights. The basement parlor housed a sea of candlelit tables with masked patrons around them. Before them were drinks and numbered paddles. You see, this mansion held an auction, secretive and illegal, attended by unknown elite. Despite the dingy room, the parlor was full of flowers. Daisies decorated the tables, wildflowers hung from the walls, and the biggest and brightest display sat at the front. Atop a wooden stage were tall yellow flowers, loops of rose vines, sprays of hyacinths, and two small cedars flanking a single chair.

At one table in the audience sat two of the most seasoned auctioneers: a woman and a man. The woman went by the pseudonym Madame Parfum and always dressed in a pink ensemble. The scent of her old perfume betrayed the age behind her mask. The man was known as Mr. Crow. He attended in a jet black suit and feathered mask in front of graying hair. They chatted over glasses of scotch.

“And I tell my husband to just buy the place—you know, while he can enjoy it—but he just won’t budge!” she remarked between puffs of her cigarette. “He keeps saying it’s not what his father would have done.”

Mr. Crow snorted into his drink. “Isn’t that his usual response?”

“Oh yes, and I keep saying his old man can’t judge him anymore.”

The pair chuckled and Mr. Crow flagged down a waiter, who was masked like the rest of the staff, to order more drinks. After the waiter departed he said, “You know, Madam Petunia penned me that she would miss this auction.”

“Oh really? She hasn’t missed one in years!”

“Yes, apparently she fell ill.”

Madame Parfum laughed and opened her arms. “Well I don’t see the problem, just put her on stage with the rest!” They laughed as they accepted their new drinks and toasted. Madame Parfum took a sip and lowered her glass, motioning warmly towards the entrance. “Ah, it’s the Tigers!”

So named for the tiger-print attire the couple always showed up in. A waiter escorted them to the table. He removed Mrs. Tiger’s mink coat and pulled out her seat for her before helping her husband. He stood through several excited greetings from Mrs. Tiger before interjecting, “Would you care for anything to drink?”

Mr. Tiger nodded. “I’ll have a gin and tonic.”

“And for the madam?”

“Oh, and I’ll have the same, except I’ll take a lime in mine!” Mrs. Tiger replied while nabbing daisies from the centerpiece to push into her hair.

“Of course.” He bowed and walked off, letting Mrs. Tiger resume her chatter.

“Oh, it’s so nice to be back here together again! Oh kitten,” she said towards her husband. “Last time we had the most stiff man seated with us.”

“I believe he went by ‘The Stallion.’” Mr. Crow added.

Mrs. Tiger flung a hand towards Mr. Crow, hair bouncing as she nodded. Several daisies fell back to the table. “Yes, yes, that was it! Oh goodness, the whole trip here I just kept worrying we’d get saddled with that horse!” She paused for laughter and received little. “But it’s lovely that this didn’t fall during another one of his business trips.”

“Ah yes, Mr. Tiger,” Madame Parfum said. “How is the company doing?”

“The ships are sailing,” He laughed. “I get nice imports and sell them for a nice profit; not much more to ask for.” Madame Parfum and Mr. Crow gave quiet agreements.

“So, so!” Mrs. Tiger jumped at the silence. “Are you two here tonight looking to buy, or just for the show? I’m not planning on buying, but-” She took her husband’s arm. “Kitten here is looking for a new chambermaid!”

Mr. Tiger flinched and cleared his throat and Mr. Crow swiftly came to his aid. “I’m looking for a new maid as well, actually. I’ve been spending an awful amount of time in my library, lately and, well, the shelves are quite dusty.” He winked beneath his mask.

“Dear, you know I stopped bidding ages ago,” continued Madame Parfum, punctuating her sentence with a smoke ring. “My husband never liked me coming home with a new lady each time, even though the other ladies loved it.”

“Oh yes, I’m just lucky mine likes them too!” Mrs. Tiger exclaimed, finally getting the table to laugh.

This was interrupted by a knocking sound from the stage. The auctioneer stood atop it. “Ten minutes until we begin! Ten minutes!” he announced, and then jumped down once more.

Mr. Tiger pulled a case of cigars from his breast pocket, handed one to his wife, then held it out. “Mr. Crow?”

“Yes, thank you.” The table passed around lighters, the Tigers’ drinks arrived, and soon the four were chatting like old times. That is, until a waiter brought a patron to the last seat at their table. She was young, visibly young, with blond curls sprouting from a wreath of white flowers.

“Excuse me, garçon, I think you brought this one to the wrong side of the curtain!” Madame Parfum laughed.

“Very funny, madam,” she responded coolly.

“No madam, I assure you she is a guest.” The waiter turned his attention to the new table member. “And would the lady like anything to drink?”

“Is there any champagne?”

“Yes there is, madam.”

“Then I’ll take a glass, please.” Again, the waiter bowed and left. The newcomer looked around and her table-mates and they mutually eyed her.

“Well darling,” Mrs. Tiger said. “What is your name?”

“Lily.”

“Hmm, Lady Lily?” Madame Parfum proposed.

“No, just Lily is fine.”

The table fell silent once more. “Do you agree,” Mr. Crow commented, “that the floral display is even finer than last year’s?” It was enough to revive conversation, and the arrival of her champagne flute relieved Lily from participating in any of it.

Finally, the auctioneer hopped back onto the stage and tapped his cane for attention. He addressed the crowd with a booming voice. “Ladies and gentlemen! It is now 9 o’clock, which means it is time! To begin! The night’s bidding!” The crowd clapped and a few cheered. “Bring out the first girl!”

From behind the stage, a young woman emerged. She was blindfolded, dressed in a simple gown, and bore both a collar and chains around her ankles. The collar was nearly hidden in her curtain of black hair, save for the rope that connected to the back of it. An auction assistant held the other end and guided her to the chair. More cheers erupted. The girl walked forward in slow, careful steps. The chains clinked and her feet stirred up the yellow powder on the floor. Her thin gown betrayed her breathing growing irregular. Her nose recognized her surroundings even if her eyes couldn’t. The hitching became louder and the steps slower as she near the chair and the cedar trees beside it. A flush bloomed across her nose and cheeks. “W-where is it?”

“A few more steps forward and it will be at your knees,” said the assistant.

She nodded, trying to take the paces quickly but- “Ghaah!” Whacking herself into a tree branch instead. Pollen burst from the branch as it bounced back and the girl’s yelp melted to a desperate gasp. “Ah… hah! Ah-CHIEW! Hah-CHOO! Et’CHEW! Heh! Heh!” Her hand clamped around her nose, rubbing at it. The auctioneer steeped forward and led her the rest of the way.

“Perhaps they're starting with the best,” Madame Parfum commented to Mr. Crow.

The woman thankfully sat in the chair and dug her fingers into its sides. Her nose twitched and flared. She shifted uncomfortably, panting and groaning. Clearly she couldn’t hold out much longer.

“Why don’t you tell our guests about yourself?”

“M-my name is Gene… vieve and I’m… I-…. Ih... esshEW! I’m aller-… huh… huh! Hit’CHEWW! Allergic to… heh-SHOO! Het’CHOOO!”

“Allergic to most pollens and felines.” The auctioneer finished over Genevieve’s worsening fit. “Bidding starts at 500, do I hear 500?”

[Snowy]

(I'm now realizing I didn't add tags and I can't edit that because I'm unvalidated... If any admin is seeing this and can edit it, the tags I meant to add are Female and Various Causes)

[queenie]

Mmmmmmm yes okay I am intrigued.  

[Via]

Oooh, this is super promising so far! I'm always into novel settings that somehow directly incorporate sneezing, so you definitely have my interest. Keep up the fantastic work!

[Pearlised]

I definitely need more of this!

Loving it so far!

[M214186]

Continue this please 

[NickG1998]

Please continue this amazing story 

[peonyandoleander]

ooh, i really love this concept. i hope you continue it!

[Snowy]

Aww, I'm so touched by all your responses! Here is part two, with much more sneezing! A bit rushed, but I'm bored with my readings and needed a break  Hope you all enjoy!

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Throughout the room paddles flung up and and voices called out numbers that spiraled at an alarming rate. The naming of thousands and tens of thousands drowned out most of Genevieve’s misery. Only the table of auction veterans didn’t move.

Lily watched her tablemates sip their drinks casually through this chaos before leaned forward and asking, “Is she not to your liking?”

Those closest to her shot her amused glances and chuckled. “Oh I assure you she’s too my husband’s liking,” replied Mrs. Tiger.

“Let us enjoy the view, miss,” added Mr. Crow.

And there was plenty of view to enjoy. Madam Parfum always arranged front row seats from which every crease on Genevieve contorted face and jerk of her chest was visible. Even with most of the sound lost to the shouting, the sights were plentiful. Her mouth would fall agape, jaw trembling. Her chest would heave in ragged breaths, in, out, in, out, and then some switch flipped and her head snapped forward with sneeze after sneeze. Each outburst came with a cloud of droplets that sparkled in the lamplight, only visible to the lucky front-row patrons. Mucus flowed along her upper lip and her occasional attempts to wipe it away spread the glistening mess across her cheeks and chin. All of these sights came without the accompanying sound, save the occasional, “ISHEWWW! EeeSHEW!”

“Seventy thousand! Do I hear seventy thousand?” The auctioneer’s cry was met by the usual array of paddles, but one raised that suddenly quieted the entire auction hall. Even the auctioneer swallowed his next sentence.

In the front, the tiger-print sleeve of Mr. Tiger held aloft a wooden auction paddle. “One hundred thousand!”

For once, Genevieve fit rang clearly through the hall. “Heh… hah! He’etCHEW! ISHEW! ESHEWWW! Ih… Heh...” With the skyrocketed price, she seemed to lose all interest in performance and hiked her bound ankles onto the chair, now sneezing into her gown over her knees. She rubbed at her nose when she could. “Het’CHOO! HeshhhIEW!”

“I hear one hundred thousand! Do I hear one hundred and five thousand?”

There was more silence, and then from the back came, “One hundred and five thousand!”

“One hundred and ten thousand, do I hear on-”

“One hundred and fifteen thousand,” Mr. Tiger cut in, his voice echoing off the walls.

“One hundred and twenty thousand, do I hear one hundred and twenty thousand?”

This time, nothing but the sound of Genevieve’s hitching and soaking of her gown filled the air.

“One hundred and fifteen thousand going once.”

Nothing.

“One hundred and fifteen thousand going twice!”

“Hih-hiSSHHHEw!”

“Sold! To the tiger gentleman in the front.” The auctioneer said, but he knew that his pseudonym was “Mr. Tiger.” Everyone in the room knew Mr. Tiger and all the other patrons at that table. All save the newcomer, dressed in white, who watched eye narrowed behind her mask as Mrs. Tiger squealed in delight and snatched up her husband’s hand. Lily watched Genevieve get helped up by the stage assistant, given a handkerchief, and led off the stage in her dress patched with moisture, sneezing every few steps.

“Well, do not worry, ladies and gentlemen!” exclaimed the auctioneer. “We have plenty of beauties here tonight.” He paced the stage while waiters dashed in, cleared cups, and took orders. “Up next we have a lovely dear who is, oh, not affected by the plant life we have with us tonight!” Several in the audience made disappointed sounds. “Buuut you know what we like to do to those who arrive without pollen allergies!” More of the crowd responded, cheering and whistling. “Ah yes! Bring out the next girl!”

[NickG1998]

Please continue this amazing story and keep up the good work 

[peonyandoleander]

i really hope we get to see all of the auctioned folks after they've been bought! i'm liking this a lot so far

[Sneezingnonstop]

 Very interested this story so far, cant wait to see what happens next!

[Sierra]

love the concept and the tease at the end, this has such potential- how open/diverse direction you've given this

can't wait to see where you take it!

[Snowy]

I'm not dead! Back with more. Hope you all enjoy.

 

The assistant emerged again from off stage, rope in hand and woman in tow. This time it was a tall girl with a dark skin tone that betrayed the true thinness of her gown. It vaguely looked like they’d dressed her in a garment that was too small with how it clung to her. Unlike Genevieve, she took confident strides towards the chair.

Madame Parfume raised her fan to cover her face. “My, my, isn’t that quite the specimen.”

“Ooh! Ooh!” Mrs. Tiger squealed and tugged at her husband’s sleeves. He stopped her with a firm hand on his shoulder.

Whatever this “special” treatment was, it required binding her wrists to the chair. One stagehand did this while another wheeled out a cart with a large, silver cover. And the whole time the woman wore a small, sly smile.

“Thank you,” the auctioneer said and dismissed the assistants with a wave. “Alright,” he continued, now speaking to the crowd. “Shall we all get acquainted before we begin our dear tradition?” He drummed up enthusiasm with a few mock listening motions and then tapped the chair.

The tap clearly startled the woman, but she cleared her throat and regained her demeanor. “My name is Celeste. I’m allergic to dust, perfumes, well, really anything with a scent.” She flashed a wider grin that the last. “So I’m pretty crap at housework.”

Laughs and whistles rippled around the audience and Mr. Tiger jabbed Mr. Crow in the ribs. “Rather nice new maid for your library, eh?” Mr. Crow replied with a flick of his eyebrows and a pleased puff of his cigar.

“Quite nice,” Lily remarked into her champagne flute. “That one should have all the money to buy a room of books, and people to maintain it, and then hire another to destroy it while he watches.” She raised her gaze, meeting her table’s stares with cold eyes. Any rebuffs they would’ve liked to make were cut off by the auctioneer.

“Now, all of our fine, seasoned guests know what we’re about to do. Yes, at this auction we have a tradition to welcome newcomers. And it just so happens that we have three, yes three, new guests here tonight. Can I see a raise of hands? New guests?” Lily’s icy expression gave way to confusion as her hand went up. Two other hands were raised further back in the room. “Ah yes! Welcome, welcome! In fact we have three,” he gestured to Celeste, “Lovely ladies, including Celeste here, to give you a warm and wet welcome.”

“Mademoiselle, please come with me.” A waiter had approached the five’s table and was standing behind Lily, arm outstretched. Her table looked less than thrilled as she was helped up and led away.

“Surely this will put her into the mood,” Madame Parfume hummed, dumping the last of her cigarette into the table’s ash tray.

Lily’s pure white ensemble was brightened to an angelic glow as she was led up some stairs and onto the stage. She peered nervously into the crowd. The auctioneer walked over and took her hand. “Do not worry, mademoiselle. Their eyes will be on her, not you.” He led her to the cart and, in a flourish, removed the cover. Underneath sat a feather duster, several expensive perfume bottles, and a jar of a dark-colored powder. Curiosity and lust swam in her eyes as she looked up at the auctioneer. He smiled. “You are to stand to her side, never in front of her, and the only contact you may make is your hand, or something here, to her nose. Overstep that and you will be escorted out of the establishment. Otherwise, put on a show.” He winked and returned to the front of the stage to rally more cheers.

Lily looked over the items at her disposal, then to Celeste. She sat waiting, calmly. “Hey,” Lily whispered. “What should I start with?”

Celeste’s eyebrows furrowed. It took her a moment to turn towards Lily and respond. “… What?”

“What item should I start with?”

“Oh, uh… something dusty or… powdery?” Lily looked over the table and honed in on the feather duster at Celeste’s suggestion. “Strong scents set me off too quickly”

“Hmm...” Lily plucked a brown-turned-gray feather from the duster and batted it across Celeste’s nostrils. Instantly, she gasped and stiffened in her chair. As it flicked across her nose, the feather launched its coating into the air. Celeste’s nose began to visibly twitch and a smile eased back into her lips. “H-heh huh hu… Hih!” She sniffled in more of the dusty air and hitched violently, ankle chains clicking as she braced her feet against the chair legs.

Lily was transfixed. The auction bidding had already begun but she heard absolutely none of it. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever been this close to such a beautiful and… well, sneezy woman. The gown Celeste was wearing strained against her with each inhale, and Lily could barely take her eyes off the girl’s lovely, twitching nose.

“C...C’mon...” Celeste begged.

Impulse replacing plan, Lily shoved the whole feather into her nose. “HAH! HASSSHHHHhhhhhhh!” Celeste’s body snapped forward. “Heh! HAAh! HASSHHHHHew!” The sodden feather dropped uselessly to the ground and dragged a dribble of mucus down Celeste’s face.

The spray was so violent that Lily’s hands and arms were coated with droplets. Her skin felt electrified and her face flushed as Celeste’s fit calmed.

“HEESHHhhh! Hih-heh-HEH! … ISHHHH! Huh… Huh...” As the tickle died down, Celeste turned towards Lily, as if asking for more. Lily’s blush deepened and she fumbled for the container of powder. She dipped her fingers in and began to trace the circles of Celeste’s nostrils. Celeste laughed and coughed. “That just burns.”

“O-oh...”

“Hey sweetie,” Celeste cooed. “Lean down. You smell nice.” Without thinking, Lily complied. The next moment, something wet was on her neck. Celeste had pressed her nose against it. She sniffed and snorted along Lily’s skin, leaking mucus the whole way.

“Ah!” Lily yelped. The crowd was awash in objections but Lily was frozen. Finally, Celeste found what she was looking for. The spot right below her ear, right where she had dabbed her perfume.

Celeste inhaled, whipped her head towards the crowd, and let loose. “HESHHHH! ESSHH! ESHHHHHH! HASHHHew! Ih-ASHHHew! Heh-t’CHOO!” With each sneeze, she misted more and more of her body. Her curly hair stuck to her face as she built a clear, sticky web over her chest and lap. The shouts in the audience returned to numbers, and Lily finally registered that the bids had reached upwards of three hundred thousand.

That is, just before she was rushed offstage by an assistant. As soon as she was behind a curtain, two more people dove on her with towels. “I am so, so sorry, Mademoiselle,” one said. “The girls know they aren’t supposed to do that.”

“No, it’s… it’s fine.”

After another minute of cleaning and powdering, Lily was delivered back to her table and received with amused smiles by the others. “Well then,” Mr. Tiger chuckled. “Wasn’t that quite a show?”

“I… y-yes.” Lily took a wobbly sip of her drink. “Um, who won her?”

“Why, Mr. Crow of course,” Madame Parfume answered. Mr. Crow tipped his cat. “For a meager four hundred and ten thousand.”

“Oh...”

Mr. Tiger produced his cigar case again. “Come now, miss, have a cigar.” Lily stiffened. “It’s nice on the nerves. Finest Cuba has to offer.” The whole table watched her reach a slow, shaky hand out and remove a cigar. “Ada girl, someone get her a lighter”

“Thank you...” Lily said as her cigar was lit. She raised it to her lips and turned her eyes back to the auctioneer, who was again motioning for attention.

[Via]

oh wow, I'm so happy to see this continued! It's fantastic as ever, and I'm really excited to see where the auction will take things next. Keep up the phenomenal job!!

[Sneezingnonstop]

Glad to see you’re still continuing this, thank you! Can’t wait to see what happens next!

[alicex]

so good! i love this please continue