There are three key aspects that make up a puppet;

Number one, vocals.

Number two, dancing ability.

Number three, an attractive appearance.

Have all of these and you’d be one of the best puppets to have, no doubt about it. As soon as you set foot onto that smooth, sleek wooden stage in the auction house all the potential masters would sit up straighter, a determined gleam in their eyes. Perhaps they’d stop to observe their opposition—the others who would surely want you to themselves just as much. In this place, everyone but the auctioneer was the enemy. No one is more important than themselves, that’s what the masters all think. As well as that, much everyone in this particular room are veterans. They can spy a good puppet from a million miles away, no doubt about it.

Only the best receive the best.

To the masters, this place is where their futures were made.

- : -

The auction house is a stifling place.

A grand building out in what seems like the middle of nowhere, lavish red seats that suit-clad men would sit in. There are a few women of course, but they much prefer to be the ones being entertained, not the ones doing the entertaining. In this place, only the entertainers are present. Only the entertainers need to be present. This is where the ‘tools of their trade’ are bought. No one is interested in the behind-the-scenes to the show after all, only the end product.

And in this place is a certain puppet. Oh Sehun is the name of this one. He leans stoically against the rough, concrete wall in what is formally known as the ‘Waiting Room’, but what all puppets know of as ‘The Future’.

This is where each ready-made puppet waits on Auction Night, a grand thing that occurs only once every six months. On this night, the puppets and puppeteers would gather and by the end, all or most puppets who were bought would never have to set foot in the place again. One by one, they would be led up the stairs and out onto that brightly lit stage, looking out into the sea of people, obediently waiting for someone to claim them as theirs. It could take minutes. It could take hours. Honestly, a puppet preferred it if things took longer—they were never quite a hundred percent sure of just how good they were until Auction Night, where the professionals would be the judges in this game.

No one wanted to think of what the consequences of not being bought were.

It is a rare thing to happen, but that isn’t to say it is impossible.

All they really need is for someone to claim them as theirs and they are good as golden. That’s what they are told, that’s what they believe. Who cares about what happens once you got out of here? As long as you do make it out you are fine to some degree.

“Oh Sehun. Number 2012.”

All heads in the Waiting Room swivel towards him. Go, they tell him. Go, so our turn may arrive.

Swallow. Blink. Wipe all expression off the face, and go. That’s what Sehun does.

Arms hanging loosely by his side, he makes his way briskly towards the staircase. It would not do to keep the masters waiting. Sehun, with his long legs reaches it in five short strides. He ignores the feeling of wanting to flee. This is what was meant to happen.

With nothing else left to do, he steps out onto the stage, bright lights instantly blinding him.

It is time for someone to take him home.

- : -

“Oh Sehun, huh?” The man circles around him like a hungry predator. Sehun automatically stands a little straighter, better posture. He knows the feeling of being evaluated all too well, and that is what’s happening right now.

An evaluation.

He had been bought. It had taken awhile, actually— a couple of hours at least, he reckons. He isn’t entirely sure how many people had wanted him, since to him, standing up on that stage looking out into the dark audience… well, all the voices sounded the same to him. But in the end, it was a younger voice that called out the final number, with way too many digits for Sehun’s mind to comprehend. Is he worth such a great amount? Well, at least it’s a good thing. It means he is considered to be worthwhile, even before he has performed for someone.

After a few, tense moments the man – Sehun’s master – smirks. It seems he has come to a conclusion.

“I reckon we’ll get along swimmingly. Call me Kai.”

A hand is raised to adjust the top hat perched on his head, and Sehun gets a better look at the man’s face. Young. Tan. What would be attractive to others, but is more like a condemnation to prison for him.

“Welcome home. You’ll be hanging with me for a while”

- : -

That was last week.

It’s not expected for puppets to perform the very week they are bought, so Sehun has two weeks to prepare. Well, being with Kai gives him two weeks to prepare. There are probably some puppets who have the first week completely to rest. Some who can take a break from all the training and just let go and chill.

Not likely though. Most masters are quite strict.

Kai isn’t an exception.

He may be young, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t brutal. The day after he brought Sehun home, he instantly began testing him. He gave him songs to sing, dances to learn, plays to act out. Nevermind that Sehun isn’t expected to be able to act, so long as it falls under the genre of performance, Sehun would be tested. One day he even led Sehun into a costume-filled room and flatly told him to go pick out three sets of clothes that both suited a formal dinner and that would also be of comfort to dance in. They had to be well-matched, with accessories to complement and hard to stain. Not to mention that each change of clothes had to be able to be changed into within a minute.

He even timed Sehun to be sure. When he wasn’t able to do it, Kai dealt him punishments.

That’s another thing. The punishments.

They’re not like the punishments he was dealt while in training. Those were simple. The occasional hit on the arm or skipped meal. Sometimes he had to practice for longer whilst everyone else got time to relax, but he didn’t mind. He is one of the few who enjoys and appreciates what they have to do, and never minded being made to dance until it felt like his legs would fall off, until he could do everything perfectly, down to the precise angle of his elbows. That isn’t to say that Sehun got into trouble often. It’s just that he was not absolutely perfect- none of them are.

If they are perfect, why would they be puppets in the first place?

In any case, Kai’s punishments...

Compared to the punishments back in training, they are oh so extremely different.

For one, they aren’t done alone.

Whatever Kai made Sehun do, he would always be there, there to smirk down at him and command him with his smooth voice to move into another position, expose a bit more skin, whatever the hell Kai desires, he has to get. He is the master after all, and no way in hell would he allow Sehun to forget it.

Sehun is Kai’s new toy, his new belonging, and as a belonging Sehun has to obey every command that is sent his way. If he does something wrong, there would definitely be a punishment headed his way, in the form of whips, water, crisp bedsheets and more often than not his body would be left with aches all over, left to lie by himself as Kai sits up smugly and walks away, left to stare at Kai’s dark skin as he swaggers off, off to go do whatever he does when he isn’t guiding, directing, punishing the younger boy.

Sehun reckons he is the only one who would ever dislike Kai’s punishments.

The thing about Kai is that he’s the big flirt type, and it seems like if he doesn’t go one night without going on some sort of rendezvous with someone—whether it be male or female—he won’t be satisfied. Despite being in a room on the complete opposite side of Kai’s house, Sehun can’t help but fancy he is able to hear the moans, the screams, the yells that seem to reverberate off the walls of the building. He ignores the way his own body responds, and trains his eyes on the ceiling instead. It’s a dove white colour, with intricate designs etched into the corners.

Sometimes, he can’t help but to think of that very same design above the heads of Kai and his lover for the night.

And then he’ll stop to think. Is he doing to them what he does to me?  Then he’ll close his eyes and allow sleep to overcome him.

Save it for another day, his brain whispers to him as he falls unconscious.

He doesn’t care anyway. He doesn’t have the right to care. Not for him, a lowly puppet.

“Welcome home”?

Yeah, right.

Author's Stage -

Hello!

Here is Part One to my story. There will likely wind up being 5 parts - this part is four pages, and I have 20 pages of writing in all. If everything adds up okay, then there I have a nice division. But of course, I shall have to see. In any case, today was the last day of the school year - I'm happy, I have a couple of months off! More writing, I suppose. ("Go update your other stories!!" readers yell.)

Well, ciao for now! Shall upload the next part when I find time to edit. Comments are welcome, as is constructive criticism.