The Auction

My Boy

Amelia's POV:

"I need you to calm down, Ma'am. We are going to get to the bottom of things. I just need you to calm down," the officer says, trying to get Atlas's mother from yelling anymore. "Miss Amelia, or do you prefer Ms. Astor?" The officer asks, turning to me.

"Either is fine, Sir."

I'm pissed as hell for Atlas's mother coming here and making a ruckus, rousing the neighborhood to go on some ridiculous tirade on my front porch.

I'm even more pissed for snapping at Atlas. I knew damn well he was already upset about disobeying this morning, he didn't deserve to be snapped at.

Father lingers next to me quietly, blocking the front door as we remain on the front porch.

"Atlas's mother is concerned about the legitimacy of his purchase? I believe the complaint was that the paperwork for him to be sold was legitimate, but your stated intentions are not aligning with the agreement you made?" The officer says, trying to figure out the problem.

"Me and Atlas agreed that he'd finally give up on school and come home, so that he could start training again and go to a Mistress who could take care of him if he wasn't sold. This whole shenanigan is just how he is getting out of it.

"How much did he promise to pay you back if you bought him yesterday? I'll write a check now. I just want my son back," Atlas's mother insists.

"Atlas is a person, not a monetary investment. I have the paper work and I'll take this to court if I need to. I'm not going to settle ownership for him. He is my sub," I explain as politely and calmly as possible.

I'm already upset how Atlas's mother neglected his care just because she didn't support his career goals. I can't even begin to explain how angry it makes me for her to have the nerve to suggest Atlas is some type of promissory note to me.

No, Atlas isn't collared. He is still a stranger, but he's mine. I don't care if I've have him for five seconds or five years, he's mine.

"If he's your submissive, why isn't he collared?" Atlas's mother snaps, ignoring the direction we were given to not talk directly to one another.

"Atlas is in my house! I'm not walking him on the street, he's in his own house, he doesn't have to wear a collar!" I didn't want to yell, but this woman is insane.

"Ladies. Please, I know this is upsetting for you both, but we need to be civil. Ma'am, I'm sorry about your son, but unless the paperwork was forged, the sale is legitimate," the officer explains.

Me and my father nod in agreement, knowing very well how ridiculous her coming here was.

"But she isn't going to keep him. She... what about my son? Don't you care about my son? He needs an owner—"

"Ma'am, I know you're worried about your son, but unless you have proof of neglect... Would you like me to check him for signs of neglect or abuse?" The officer asks her.

She opens and closes her mouth, glancing to me and dad.

I don't want to feel bad for her. I think she is a horrible mother for throwing Atlas to the streets, but I think in her heart she really does care about him.

"I have no issue if it would make her feel better to see he is fine."

She lets out a sigh of relief and father steps inside to get Atlas as I invite the officer and Atlas's mother into the office.

I don't exactly want Atlas's mother inside, but I think Atlas would feel safer if he wasn't being questioned and prodded on the porch.

A timid Atlas appears in the door with father behind him. Atlas's eyes immediately seek me out and he shuffles over to me, glancing hesitantly at his mother as he passes her.