A Game

I stood nervously on the makeshift stage set back in the rather large field, owned by the “president” of the club, my eyes scanning the crowd before me. I was a slave; at least that was the game. They took five of us, dressed us in strips of loincloths wrapped around our chests and hips, and told us to wear no make up or hair spray. We were barefoot, and the auctioneer smiled wickedly at us, as we were up for sale.

All of the men in the audience were dressed in regular clothing, however, most of whom I knew, but a few faces I did not recognize. Occasionally, we would play these games, some were sexual, some were not; this one was a little bit of both. I knew it had to be obvious that the whole thing aroused me; my hard nipples were very clearly visible through the thin cloth, and I noticed a few men staring at my legs and breasts. It was thrilling to be on display, watched and scrutinized like a piece of property. One of the rules of this game was to play that part for at least 48 hours, or more if we wanted to, but we had to obey whoever bought us as real slaves with a real master.

And although I had never met the man who had started this “club”, I knew that everyone was carefully screened for things like diseases and such, as I had gone through the same ordeal. After being around this group for only six months I knew that the women were generally treated better than the men.

We five were the youngest looking girls in the group, two looked fifteen, and I looked 18, but we were all over 20. Even though the game was supposed to be played as in history, the man who took us home, would make us do his laundry, cook his food, and clean his modern house. It was slightly unfair, but everyone in the group was single, had no children or live-in lovers, so most of the men probably needed someone to give their house a good scrubbing.

Immediately before the auction, the auctioneer made it very clear to everyone that both the slaves and the masters must respect the code word. The word was in case of an emergency, or if something was going too far, etc. Almost immediately, he went into character, as did the crowd of about twenty men, armed with nothing but cash, ready to pay a high price for a personal two-day slave. The group was free for women, but things like this would always cost the men something; they had to make money somehow.

He started with Cassie who was one year older than me, shackled by her hands, as we all were, and had a much larger chest than I could ever dream of. Quickly, everyone started bidding, falling over themselves, out bidding so fast I could not keep up. I noticed a few holding back; their eyes on another girl next to me, but none appeared to be ogling me just yet. After paying $200 for Cassie, they moved on to Sheila, also much prettier than I, and I let my gaze drift among the crowd, when I realized there was one man staring at me. I had never seen him before; he seemed older than me by at least a few years, stood straight and tall, his hair was dark brown, long, and pulled back, and he had a very thin goatee outlining his chin. He did not smile at me, but stared possessively, as if he already owned me. I bit hard into my bottom lip and blushed under his stare, fidgeting. He seemed to mouth words that even over the cries of the other men I heard his voice whisper; “I will own you.”

“Sold!” Trevor, the auctioneer yelled as Sheila was pulled away on a leash held by two drooling men.

I was next. A lump caught in my throat as he listed off phony assets of my talents around the house, as well as my virtuous innocence. Just as many hungry men jumped in with bids, however, the man in the back stayed silent, his arms folded as he watched the others fight over me with their money. It was down to $400 and three men, when he finally raised his voice.

“Five Hundred!” he bellowed, his voice deep and commanding, sending shivers through my loins.

“Well, well!” Trevor chided, “Quite a promise! Anyone care to challenge?”

“Five Fifty!” a challenger, seemingly drunk, raised the odds.

“Ah, sir?” Trevor turned back to the strange man, “What of you?”

“Seven Hundred.” he sounded firm, as everyone turned to look at him, surprised at the jump in bidding.

The bidders were silent for a few moments, and then Trevor yelled, “Sold!” making me jump a little.

My heart was beating madly; yet I could barely breathe as he stepped up to the stage, paid Trevor the large amount in hundreds, and took hold of my leash without a glance at my face. Now closer to him, I was able to get a better look; he wore black button up shirt under a black blazer, and black pants tucked into calf-high black boots. He seemed part punk, part alternative and part “S & M”. His facial features looked as though chiseled from stone, his jaw very steady and his eyes perfectly still in hiding any emotion as he barely looked at me while he pulled me behind him. I had to jog a little to keep up with his long legs, his height almost a foot above mine, and his frame large and intimidating. His steps were heavy as he pulled me to his car, then yanked the leash, making me stumble into the side of the car.

“Damn!” I cursed, but his glare made me drop my gaze to the ground.

“Understand, you are my slave, and will not speak unless I tell you to.” he opened the passenger door of a sporty car, then pushed the seat up, “You get in the back, slave.”

Once in the back, he got in and turned to me, a black cloth in his hand. Blindfolding me, he ordered me to lie down and be quiet, before starting the car to drive, presumably, to his home. The drive seemed to take forever; I was uncomfortable, tied up, blindfolded, and I did not even know this man or his name. Suddenly, away from the group and alone, I felt terrified, wanting reassurance that it was still just a game.

“Iconoclast!” I blurted the code phrase, hating that I felt I needed to use it so soon.

“What is it, slave?” he asked, and it sounded as if he pulled into a garage.

“I – I’m just a little scared.”

“Isn’t that the point of the game?”

“I know, but I don’t feel safe.”

He did not answer me, as my blood pounded in my ears; he got out of the car and grabbed my shoulders, pulling me out roughly. I was shaking, so he took off the blindfold, and once my eyes focused to the dim light, I found out that we were in a very clean, well-organized garage. Gently, he cupped my face and pulled me into a kiss; pressing my back against the car, I yielded to him, feeling very small by comparison. His lips were very strong as they devoured mine, his goatee brushing my skin as his tongue gently invaded my willing mouth. Slipping his hands behind me, he freed my wrists from their binds and we held each other for a moment, tasting each other. Pulling away from the kiss, he looked down at me with softened eyes, and did not appear as frightening.

“It is only a game, Elysia,” he whispered, still holding my face close to his, “I know that. Do not be afraid if I play the part of master too well.”

“Can I at least know your name?”

“Not yet, pet. It adds to the drama, yes?”

“I am sorry, I have never done anything like this before.”

“I know, you are still quite young. Do not tell me how old you really are, I want you to be Seventeen, understand?”

“Okay.”

“Now, shall we continue? Do you feel a little better about this?”

“I guess.”

“Do not worry, pet. I am not some ogre out to hurt you. I like playing master and slave, but I do not want you to feel afraid of me.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Stepping back, he cleared his throat and his face changed quickly, almost like a shadow cast over him. Snatching at the leash, he pulled me to the door, then paused and turned to me.

“On your hands and knees, slave.” he ordered, “You will enter my house like the dog you are.”

I obeyed, crawling seductively behind him as he led me through the door, onto a beautiful plush green carpet. Stepping quickly down the hall, we entered the immaculate living room, decorated with a burgundy sofa, matching chairs, and a large entertainment system. Looking up at the vaulted ceilings, a simple white fan swirled above, while I still crawled following his step. Unable to take in the rest of the interior design as he led me down another hallway, I saw framed pictures above me along the walls, but was unable to determine what they were of.

“First, I suppose I should wash you. No telling where you’ve been.” releasing the leash, he knelt down to me, grasping my chin, “If I let you loose, you will not run free without my permission. If I have to tie you to the furniture, you will be punished severely.”

“Yes, master.” I answered, wanting him to kiss me again.

“Good girl.”

Crawling behind him, we went through a large bedroom with a king sized bed in the middle of the room, and a large dresser opposite it. Both were made of a dark red wood and the room was embellished with very little pictures or trinkets, the comforter on the bed a deep dark blue, accented with throw pillows. Opening two French doors, he revealed the lavish bathroom with a two-person shower and a jet-stream garden tub. The toilet was behind another door, and the mirror at the sink was shiny and clean, as was everything that sparkled and smelled of pine cleaner. It seemed to me that he needed no housekeeper.

I sat on the floor while he turned on the water in the tub, then started to strip himself as the bath filled slowly. I watched him from my place on the floor, admiring his chest and shoulders, slightly tanned and muscular, when he pulled his pants off and left his boxer shorts on. His legs and thighs were that of a runner, firm and strong; even his feet were attractive.

“Stand up, slave.” when I obeyed, he snatched off the cloth covering my breasts.

Out of reflex, I gasped and covered myself, but he did nothing, so I tried to relax while he continued to strip me naked. Sanding there in this stranger’s bathroom with the water running and his eyes roaming over my nakedness, I felt a tingle between my legs as my nipples stood on end. Once the bath was full, he gestured for me to get in, so I did, the water hot but soothing. I sat still, looking at him with unsure eyes, when I caught him smile and quickly turn away to hide it. Grabbing a bath sponge, he slipped out of his shorts, and I could not help but stare; even soft, his penis was obviously large. Nestled in a dark brown bush of pubic hair, it was wide and hung straight down, resting on soft, almost pink testicles. It was the first time I ever thought a man’s sex was beautiful. Slipping in next to me, he grabbed the soap and began washing me, but all the while, I was staring into the water at his groin.

I started to wonder who was the slave as he started with my back and arms, then slowly, carefully, soaped my breasts with his bare hands. Rubbing and caressing more than cleaning, he continued, and I sighed, loving his touch as he moved down my belly, then skipped to my toes. He rubbed every inch of my body, then concentrated between my legs, so I leaned back and closed my eyes. Grunting, he shoved two fingers inside of me and I jumped, surprised, but he grabbed my arm roughly and pulled me closer to him. Holding me to his chest, he continued to move his fingers in and out of me, and I opened my legs wide for him, my hands gripping his forearms. After only a few short moments, he ended his manipulation as quickly as he had started and leaned back into the water.

“Now it is your turn to bathe your master.”

I was stunned at the abruptness of his movements, but obeyed, using the bath sponge on his chest and arms, first. I sat on my knees while he stretched out and rested his head back on the rim of the tub, allowing me to touch him everywhere as I became even more aroused. Gently, carefully, I washed him; he had very strong legs and arms, and thick, broad shoulders that I massaged while he moaned very slightly under the caress of my fingers. Having cleaned every inch of him, I ended with his penis, which astonished me that it was still soft and relaxed.

“May I wash your lovely penis, master?” I asked him, smiling.

However, when he opened his eyes and lifted his head, he glared down his nose at me, as if I had done wrong.

“I told you to wash me, slave.” he answered angrily, “Stroke it slowly, and make sure it is clean.”

With flushed cheeks, I bowed my head and obeyed him, taking care to be soft with him; I soaped my bare hands and slipped them under the water. As his penis began to grow from my touch, he moaned slightly, so I thought to stroke a little faster. All too quickly, he pushed me off of him, causing me to splash in the water, a little puzzled that he did not wish for me to continue.

“You do not have time for that, slave. You have to make my dinner.” he sneered as his immense erection left quickly, “Dry yourself off and get to it, slave. In the bedroom there is an outfit for you to wear and instructions in the kitchen. Leave me.”

I nodded my head and stepped out of the tub, wrapping myself in a towel while he watched me. I started to leave the room, but he would not let me go.

“You stay here so I can see that you are dry before you leave this room. I can’t have you dripping water all over my house.”

His hungry eyes were glued to me as I first rubbed the towel on my shoulders and back, patting my breasts softly, moving down my belly, then to my bottom. Propping one leg on the edge of the tub, I gave him a good view as I rubbed one leg, then the other dry. I looked into his eyes for approval when he lifted his hand to my shaved pussy, cupping it while inserting his middle finger. I sighed and tilted my hips toward him, but he quickly withdrew his hand, tasting his finger before he was going to dismiss me. Once he let me leave, I slipped into the tight black latex mini-skirt, black lace bra, matching garters, and black thigh high stockings, and uncomfortable high heels before I went to find the kitchen.

Taking my time, I went from the bedroom, down the hall, through a rather large living room with a stylish entertainment system, and found the kitchen. It, too, was beautiful and immaculate; the appliances were all stainless steel, the colors were black, white, and green, and very beautiful French doors led into a very green and well-kept backyard. Nestled in a corner was the dinning room table, a rectangular oak table with four chairs and nothing on top of it but a clean surface. Forcing myself to stop being so awe-struck, I found the instructions for his meal on the stove and quickly began cooking exactly as it said to, not wanting to disappoint my master. Once everything was on the stove, it occurred to me that I did not even know his name, so I figured I had a little time to snoop a little while everything was simmering and he was safely in the bath. I opened a few kitchen drawers and cabinets looking for his mail, or any piece of paper, but found nothing.

Leaving the kitchen, I found that there was a computer desk in the living room with very little on it, so I tried the drawers. Finding them locked, I lost myself in trying to force them open when from out of nowhere my Master grabbed me from behind and pulled me down to the floor. Forcing me on my hands and knees, he lifted my skirt and smacked my cheeks hard with his hand, pausing before saying anything.

“I trust you and you go through my things?” he demanded, and I knew he was truly angry, “Tell me what you were doing!”

I could not answer, tears escaped my eyes, but he kept me still, then reached for something I quickly found out was a hard paddle. Two more smacks at my bottom made me cry out a little, and it surprised me that it was actually turning me on to be spanked. The meat on the stove started to sizzle loudly, so he stood me up, grabbing my arm to jerk me up quickly beside him. His grasp was tight and rough as his eyes glared at me and I wondered if I had gone too far.

“What were you looking for, slave?” he demanded again but I looked away.

“I wanted to know your name.” I admitted honestly, but his expression did not change.

“Did you not remember our conversation about this?”

“No, sir.” I suddenly felt like a child being scolded.

“You will know my name when I am ready to give it to you. Until then, you may call me Master and nothing else. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Now get in there before you burn my steak.”

One more smack to my red ass as I went to the kitchen and I felt chills of anticipation all over my skin as I continued my ordered task, feeling him watching me as I did. Strangely, I was even more aroused after being reprimanded, knowing that he really did not want to hurt me out of anger, and felt more like a servant to him. After the bath, he was even more handsome, wearing another black shirt and loose fitting black pants, his long hair unrestrained, playing at his neck and back. He wore no shoes, and I hated that I had to traipse around in silly high heels, but remained stepping slowly and carefully to keep my balance. Not knowing his name did make it more exciting, so I decided not to think about it for the next 48 hours, hoping that by that point, he would want me to know. Dinner was almost finished, and he grumbled as he entered the kitchen.

“Damn, slave, have you not set the table, yet?”

“I am sorry, master.”

I found two plates and set them side-by-side, but he grabbed my arm, stopping me.

“You will sit on the floor at my feet, not at my table. Do you think I would treat you like an equal?”

It was an unintentional mistake, so I nodded humbly and returned the plate to the cabinet. I set a goblet of wine by the plate as he sat down, and then turned to me, a mischievous smile on his sexy lips. Taking hold of my arm before I could walk away, he pulled me into his lap and lifted the glass to my mouth.

“Drink, slave.” he ordered, his arm holding me close to him, “Every drop of it, and fill my glass again for me.”

Biting my lip, I opened my mouth as he poured the sour liquid down my throat and I drank quickly to keep from spilling any until the glass was empty. Setting the goblet down carefully, he tilted my face toward his as if observing my features and I gave in to my desire and pressed my lips to his. Returning the kiss, his arms held me tightly, forceful, and I could feel his erection growing next to his thigh. Groaning, he released me, tugging at my hair to pull me from his mouth, and I whined, enjoying the taste of his tongue and lips.

“Do not ever do that again.” he ordered, though his tone was soft and tender, “I will be the one to kiss you, understand, slave?”

I nodded, and he motioned for me to stand and continue my task. Tingly and aroused, I spun around to bring him his dinner, an unavoidable smile on my face, my head a little light. After pouring him the wine once more, I started to think that I could not have been “bought” by a better Master. Once I had served him his food, he ordered me to my knees, so I knelt on the floor and looked up at him, feeling like a hungry dog, begging for table scraps. I had not eaten since that morning before the auction, and my stomach was being quite loud at the smell of food. After taking a few bites, he smiled down at me and patted my head.

“Good work, pet.” he spoke sweetly, then held out a piece of his steak, “You have done very well.”

He hand fed me part of his dinner while I sat on the floor, and the sun was setting, making my yawn. He smirked at me, but did not seem to mind as he got up from the table and went into the living room.

“You will wash the dishes and clean the kitchen before you are allowed in here with me, understand, pet?”

“Yes, master.”

I ate what was left and scrubbed the room spotless while he watched a dumb show on TV. It was now about nine o’clock and I was beginning to wonder where he would have me sleep, when I joined him in the other room. I stood beside him, my head bowed and my hands behind my back, waiting for him to notice me.