Warning: sexually explicit scenes, language, mental instability, physical torture, hierarchy, derogatory behaviour, abuse of power, suicidal thoughts, self-harm

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Sans sat amidst the others, appearing to be the picture of tranquility. His composure contrasted from the rest of his peers, who were all doing something: casting glares, making boasts, and whatnot.

Sans and the thirty-ish so other monsters around him had been chosen for a very special honour. They had passed many trials to get where they were now. Not many like them could say that.

Now, they all were being put to the ultimate test. The final honour, held above all others. Only one would win.
Today, they would perform for royalty. 

The monsters around Sans were hyped, chattering excitedly and pushing and shoving each other in rough playfulness. They were all so excited, so proud to be where they were now. The adrenaline coursing through them was tangible in the air.

Sans would be last. He always was, ever since his first time doing something like this. It wasn't like he ever had a choice though. They never did. No matter what stage, what new master he was under, he had always stood out to them. And that was why he was here today, scheduled to be presented last.

"Don't do anything stupid." His current master had hissed out in his harsh tone. "This is a very important occasion. If you embarrass me, I'll have yer head." He glared at Sans with his vertical slitted pupil.

"I wouldn't dare, master." Sans had said quietly, skull lowered respectively as he knelt in front of him. Despite his current master's harsh disposition, Sans knew that he actually liked him.

Sans's master was very wealthy, and had to have owned at least a few hundred concubines. But out of all of them, he had chosen Sans to represent him in the royal selection. It was supposed to be a great honour, difficult to achieve. But the task before him would be even harder.

Sans's violet heart-shaped eyelights swept the cramped room, observing his surroundings. They were in a pretty nice building, but where they were trapped, there were only rows and rows of hard benches for the chosen to sit.

The others were whooping and hollering, arm wrestling each other, showing off muscles. Being idiotic pretty much. But it wasn't like any of them had an education. They were all raised to be what they were from the day they were born.

Sans was different though. He was much smarter than the rest of them, since he had come from a different background. A brief memory flashed through his mind. A large, skeletal hand with a hole through it calmly pushing him away. His stern, cold voice echoing through Sans's young and impressionable mind. "Go on, Sans."

Sans shook the memory out of his head. It wouldn't do to dwell on his painful past when today was such a momentous day. He took in a deep breath, steeling his composure again. He couldn't let anyone else see what he really thought. How he really felt about all of this.

He watched the room slowly began to empty as each monster was called out to make their impression on the Queen in hopes that she would choose them to be hers.

Sans swallowed. He didn't want to be hers. He didn't want to be anyone's. But he had learned a long time ago that his word meant nothing in this world.

His violet eyelights tracked the path of a whimsun outside the window. It was well-known throughout the Underground of the Queen's notorious preferences. She loved to practice BDSM on the few courtesans that she had. But they never lasted long.

It wasn't that she played with them too roughly. They were all used to rough treatment, as everyone this high up had gone through multiple masters and mistresses. Most even enjoyed it.

The Queen was also well-known for her indecisiveness, never keeping any of the courtesans that she happened to choose.

Every year, the royal selection was held, with the finest selection from the top contributors to offer to the Queen. Whoever the Queen chose, their previous master would be handsomely paid in full, as those in the royal selection were of the highest "quality". Deals ranged from 10,000 to 40,000 gold, more than even some of the wealthiest aristocratics would deem to pay for a single concubine.

However, there was one thing all concubines looked forward to if they were chosen by the Queen. Once the Queen tired of her possessions, she would pass them down to one of the higher nobles. The others wanted it for the fame, money, and luxury that was sure to come with it.

Sans though, only wanted one thing. It was the only reason he hadn't given up yet. The only reason he played along with all of this, the fallacies behind their society.