Auction

He released her and stepped back, his surprisingly intense gaze roaming her body. Despite the release she'd just experienced, Jen felt herself growing aroused at the sight of his brown eyes roaming the length of her body. It was a practiced gaze, she saw, that of a man well versed in the pleasures that a woman's body could bring – and receive. That thrilled her, the thought that this former lover who'd once been awkward and eager might now be the master she was looking for.

His gaze locked onto hers, his brown eyes holding her blue in a fierce grip. He didn't blink, just stared at her, there in front of the crowd and the lights, with her naked before him, smelling of her own sex.

His property.

His slave.

At last she couldn't bear it anymore. Her gaze dropped to the floor and she bowed her head slightly, conceding his dominance. How could he know this was what she'd wanted? To be taken without asking? For him to just seize what was his by sheer force of will alone?

She didn't know how he knew, but it was a good sign of things to come.

He turned to one of the handlers, reaching out a strong hand to caress a full breast, kneading her nipple between his fingers as he spoke to her. The blonde shivered at his touch, her eyes fluttering with pleasure. "Bring me a leash for my purchase please, and the bill."

"Yes sir," she curtsied and left, sauntering back up toward the stage. Jen watched her go, admiring the sway of the woman's hips. After a few moments she returned bearing a silver tray. On it lay a coiled leash and a rolled piece of parchment. He took the parchment and unrolled it, read it quickly, and then signed with a flourish. The young woman nodded as he placed it back on the tray, curtsied again, and left.

Despite her eagerness to begin this new adventure, she was very aware of how loudly the snap clicked as he affixed the leash to the single ring at the front of her platinum collar. There was a finality to it all that was positively chilling, and she shivered slightly with apprehension.

Sensing her apprehension, his brown eyes met hers and twinkled a message of reassurance. It was a small comfort; after all, she'd just been sold to him, really SOLD to him. Her mind reeled. A week ago she'd been a free woman, bound only to her debts and her schedule. Now she stood here, trapped in some secretive underground human trafficking market. Only pure chance had brought her to him, as opposed to a hundred other possible fates. Even so, she was his now ... if she could be bought and sold like chattel, what else could he do to her with little or no consequences.

A soft caress at her throat brought her back from that dark place, made her look up into his eyes. "We're going now, Jen." He used her name, he alone knew it out of all these people, his advantage by virtue of their shared past.

He turned and strode toward the heavy mahogany door that sealed the auction chamber. She tottered after him, unsure in her heels and unable to use her bound hands to balance herself. He walked fast, a good three front of her, like a man walking a pet. The very visual nature of their new relationship conjured up all sorts of thoughts of submission.

It made her wet.

He opened the door for her and ushered her out into a foyer, and then through a second outer door into the humid air of the evening. It was warmer here in this unknown city than her home in the Windy City. The collection agency had chartered a private jet, but hadn't told her where she'd be going – another subtle way of reinforcing the helplessness of her predicament to force her to comply. She could tell by the way the sun was setting that they were on the East Coast, probably somewhere in the Mid-Atlantic States. But beyond that...

They stood in a courtyard while they waited for the valet to bring his car. Standing behind him, she took in the strong lines of his form, clad in a simple white dress shirt and dark slacks. He cut an impressive figure physically, and she began to wonder what he'd look like naked after these years.

She knew she'd soon find out, but still felt a bit like a schoolgirl with her first boyfriend. Which was totally at odds with the fact that she was standing in the night air clad only in a leashed collar and heels, her hands bound behind her. No one could see them; high walls and thick hedges enclosed what was obviously a very private mansion. But still, the valets stared at her, eyeing her hungrily as only the envious can do.

It should have made her uncomfortable for a group of strange young men to look at her in such a wanton way.

It should have, but it didn't.

Instead she found herself fantasizing about being on her knees before them, surrounded by a sea of throbbing cocks, taking each into her mouth in turn until they spasmed their hot cum on her face.

She must have been breathing heavily because he turned to look at her, noticed her lusty gaze, and laughed. Embarrassed, she blushed bright red and looked at him, "I...it's just ... I mean ..."

He held a hand up dismissively to silence her. "It doesn't matter. Your appetites do not bother me. They're fine, a good thing really." He reached out and grasped the thin chain that linked her nipple clamps. Twisting it slightly to take up the slack he pulled her to him.

Sharp pain flared deliciously in her nipples. She hissed in pain and excitement as he pulled. There was no choice but to comply, so she stepped into his embrace. His left hand ran down her back to cup her buttock, and he turned them away from the valets, twisting the chain even tighter as they moved.

It was amazing how the pain narrowed her focus of her entire world to her nipples. She couldn't really focus on much else, though there was a delightful throbbing in her pussy. Her body was responding in a way she'd not really thought possible, channeling the pain into raw sensation that excited her.

She heaved against his hard body, trembling with desire and the white heat of her torment. His hand ran lightly across her bare back, drifting across her smooth skin to provide yet another counterpoint.

At last the car arrived, a heavy black Mercedes, its dark glassy windows the acme of privacy. The valet opened the passenger door and he ushered her in. She noticed her leather seat was covered in velvet, rich and dark like a cabernet. Along the length of the velvet seat cover was covered column, rising some two inches higher than the rest of the seat. Confused, she looked up at her, but he simply said, "Sit."

At this command, she stepped into the car and sat down. As she'd guessed, the raised column had to be nestled exactly between her legs or it became quite uncomfortable. Properly placed it flexed slight to nestle in amongst her labia, even resting somewhat pleasantly against her asshole.

He leaned in and put on her seat belt. As he moved across her body she inhaled, drinking in the smell of him. God he smelled good, a strong scent that thrilled her senses. It made her want to touch him, to run her tongue across his bare skin. She leaned forward, leather crinkling from her movement, and kissed his neck. He lingered for a moment, letting her run her lips across his skin, and then moved back out.

She looked down and was happy to see a bulge in his pants.

Aha! He wasn't as cool and collected as he let on.

Soon he was seated beside her. He reached over and opened the glove compartment, and removed a sturdy padded blindfold. Despite a small whimper of protest – she wanted to know where she was! He placed it over her head, sealing off her vision.

He buckled his own seatbelt and started the car. The powerful engine of the Mercedes rumbled eagerly, ready to take to the road. Faint vibrations from the motion of the engine begin to filter up into her pussy through the column. Was it intended to do that? she wondered. Or was it just a byproduct of its placement?

And if she could feel it when the car was idling, what would it be like when they were racing along the highway?

Unexpectedly – for she couldn't sense yet when he was near her – he ran his hand down along her thigh to rest over her aching pussy – which was pushed up onto display by the column – and then spoke at last. "We're going home now, your servitude begins in earnest now."

"Yes, sir." She practically moaned these last words, so aroused was she from the presence of his hand on her vulva.

They sped off into the night.

By the time they finally arrived at their unseen destination, she was halfway to an orgasm, wracked with desire from the simple friction of the heavy car's movement along the rough surface of the roads. When they finally came to a halt she leaned forward, panting heavily.

He left the car and came around to her side. Without removing the blindfold he helped her from the car. She stood before him, blind but proud of her new status. He was unexpectedly gentle; she'd half expected to be mistreated – yes, even by him – simply because she was property. To the contrary he was the perfect gentleman, albeit one who controlled her every move.

They walked up a series of wide stone steps and entered what had to be a very large front hall, if the echoes of the closing door were any measure. It was warm here, comfortable for her despite her nudity.

"Kami," he said to the unseen third person, "please take her to the master bedroom and prepare her. I will be in in just a moment."

A new presence made itself known as 'Kami' moved in to take her leash. Jen could smell the soft perfume of the woman, a faint vanilla scent that clung to the soft full breasts that pressed into her own as the woman took charge of her.

The leash lost its slack and Jen found herself walking through a series of rooms and then up a long flight of stairs. Her heels clicked on the steps but were silent whisps on the plush carpets.

After some time, Kami came to a halt and moved to stand behind her. Again, Jen was very aware of the feminity of the woman next to her, and found herself responding to it on a faintly sexual level. She couldn't see the woman, hadn't heard her speak, and hadn't really touched her – and yet she wanted to touch her, to look at her, to her her speak, to kneel before her and taste her...

Jen shook her head in wonderment...was she morphing this fast to her new circumstances or were these feelings and appetites always there? She didn't know, but she knew that these new surroundings would give her ample opportunity to explore her wants and desires.

Without untying her hands, Kami placed leather bands around each of Jen's wrists. She knew they'd have rings in them to bind her, and smiled.

Kami knelt behind her to undo the tight knot of the sash that held her fast. Jen could feel her warm breath on her buttocks and thrilled to it. New feelings or old, they were good feelings, and she moved back slightly to be closer. Kami laughed softly and ran a hand up the inside of Jen's thigh, stopping just below her wet, throbbing pussy. "Patience...all will come in good time."

At last Jen's hands were free, only to have Kami pull them up above her head and bind them again to some unseen hook or chain. She stepped away from the now captive Jen and removed the blindfold.

Jen blinked in the light of the room and looked around.

Kami, whom she could see at last, stood directly in front of her, watching Jen's every move. Her captor was a curvy redhead, who wore the same corset and heels outfit that the handlers at the auction had worn. Her hair was a fiery thrush of auburn that was well matched to her pale white skin, spotted with the occasional freckle; she was the epitome of the Irish beauty. The woman wore the garb of a servant, and yet exuded the confidence of a mistress.

Jen watched her turn and stride to the far wall, where she opened a small panel and pushed a red button.

Immediately Jen felt herself being pulled upwards until she was barely in her heels. She looked up and could see that her hands were linked by a stout braided rope that ran through an eyelet to a system of pulleys in the paneled wood ceiling. The strain was intense but not uncomfortable, designed to humble her by rendering her helpless without causing too much pain.

Kami turned back to her captive and smiled mischievously, and then strode over to replace the blindfold. As darkness resumed its grip over her, Jen felt a light kiss on her lips, and then a playful tug at the chain linking her breasts.

A new heat flooded her pussy.

Jen could sense her go; more certain than ever that she wanted to taste that pale, freckled skin...

She hung there, half-suspended from the ceiling for a long moment, what seemed like an eternity really, before the blindfold was suddenly removed.

He stood there, directly in front of her, totally naked. His body was lean and hard, she noticed with a thrill, absent of any tan lines, and characterized by a few scars she didn't remember.

Being so close to him like this – utterly helpless and totally nude – was intoxicating to her. At long last her fantasies of being taken were going to be fulfilled!

"Welcome to my home, slave," he said simply. She looked up at him, but found she couldn't quite meet his gaze.

"Thank you, Master."

"Excellent. You already know your place."

"Yes, sir, they were quite clear that I was to obey you in all things. I am ready to serve you, Sir."

"So you'd serve me out of some contractual obligation?" He frowned and she was suddenly cold with the knowledge that she'd displeased him. Her mind reeled – had she screwed things up already? Some part of her was still trying to comprehend that this was not a stranger, that her master was a former lover from grad school who'd reappeared to claim her.

"No...no...sir," she stammered. "I only meant that that's what they told us."

He reached out and pulled down hard on the chain, sending twin electric jolts of pain racing up from her nipples into her brain. She cried out softly and looked up at him, her blues locked in his gaze.

"I understand. But you will learn to serve me. I will teach you to please me in all things because you want to, because you have to, not because you are bound to by some contract." She cringed as he practically spat this last word out.

He stepped back and she could see that he held a deerskin flogger in his left hand, the long, supple strands forming a larger whole designed to torment but not mark. Was that for her? Was he really going to whip her? Sexual servitude was one thing, but a whipping?!?

Then she looked down and saw the heavy weight of his cock, which jutted out before him, proud and stiff. It was long and thick, and its considerable girth conjured pleasant memories of the times they'd been together. Unconsciously she surged forward a bit to be closer to it, her pussy twinging with the memory of its hard fullness penetrating her slick folds.

He smiled at her, a cruel, thin little smile that told her in an instant that he knew what how she craved him, and that he would use that knowledge to break her. This fired a brief flare of defiance, and made her scowl at him, tossing her head haughtily to show him she didn't care.

In response, he simply ran one hand across the throbbing length of his cock, causing it to bob slightly. Jen watched in fascination...loving the way its thick shaft moved beneath his hand to culminate in the wide, round head.

Jen licked her lips hungrily.

She'd loved that cock a dozen years ago, worshipped it as only a woman could. Now she was bound to it for the next three years.

So what was she fighting?

He laughed at her. "I thought so."

Moving towards her, he set the deerskin flogger down on a nearby table – next to a riding crop she noted with apprehension – and came to stand next to her. She could smell him; smell the raw energy of his sex, and knew she would be utterly his before he was finished with her that evening.

Deftly he unclipped her nipples, sending her into a fit of convulsion as three and a half hours of torment ended in a wave of heat and pain. Watching her writhe before him, he smiled again, this time with the rapt attention of a craftsman admiring his work.

Without taking his gaze from her, he reached over and picked up the flogger. When she bobbed back towards him, her nipples on fire from their freedom, he flicked the flogger once, twice, landing soft hits on each breast.

Her head snapped up. He'd whipped her! He'd actually whipped her! Like some painslut! Anger consumed her; she was many things but she wasn't this.

"What are you doing?" She hissed at him in anger. He ignored her, and laid another two light hits across her breasts.

Whap. Whap.

The pain of the nipple clamps was gone now, replaced by the faint stinging of the flogger and the white heat of her fury at be treated like this.

"Dammit, Ethan, what do you think this ..." her protest ended in a mewl of pain as he rolled his wrist and swung upward, caressing her pussy with the flogger. She flinched back into her bondage above, too stunned to react. Her anger faded before the reality of how helpless she was.

He flogged her breasts again, once, twice, three times. Whap. Whap. Whap. A heat began to build, and to her horror she felt her nipples grow hard in response.

Whap. Whap. Whap.

It hurt, and yet...

Was this actually turning her on?

Was she really enjoying this on some level?

Whap.

Another slap of warm pleasure-pain coursed through her as he laid the flogger adroitly against her inner thighs. Her body was reacting to him, moving of its own volition to avoid the flogger, which in turn gave him new areas of her creamy skin to kiss.

Whap. Whap. Whap.

He worked for some minutes, until she lost all track of time in a haze of pleasure-pain, gently flogging the length of her body, demonstrating her desire for her curves with his whip instead of his tongue or his hands.

Whap.

A backhanded stroke against her vulva.

Whap. Whap. Whap.

Three quick hits against her inner thighs.

Whap. Whap.

One to each breast, just below her hungry nipples.

Surreal as it might seem, she found herself increasingly responding to his strokes. The heat that the flogger produced in her consumed her consciousness, leaving her wrung out, a creature of his will, her skin craving the next stroke.

Yes, she knew each new hit would hurt, would raise a field of red amidst the pale skin of her lush breasts, thighs. And yet she ached for that next hit, craving the raw energy that would flood outward from that area so lucky to receive his touch to the rest of her body.

Whap. Whap. Whap. Whap. Four hits, each dragging a short moan of pleasure from her. Despite herself, she was incredibly aroused.

His secret, she realized, as yet another wall to her sanity and her resistance collapsed, was that he was patient and persistent. He was not interested in hearing her scream. Rather, he worked the flogger across the length and breadth of her, turning her entire body into one humming instrument of sensation, and then, only then, increasing the sensation incrementally.

Whap. Whap. Whap.

She couldn't believe herself, but her nipples pulsed with pleasure and her clit was fully engorged, eager to receive the flogger's kiss to hurry it on the way to the little death. And yet he knew this, and so directed his hits only to the areas near her throbbing pussy, tormenting her with what she couldn't have.

He knew she was a slut at heart; was he punishing for that fact?

Or was he rewarding her?

Whap.

Her body was his canvas.

When she tried to twist into the flogger, to assert some control and force him into giving her her orgasm, he stepped back and smacked her sharply on each breast, using the pain to bring her back to center.

"Hmmm...we'll deal with your insolence later."