Auction

The car rolled through the city streets, turn after turn, and quickly you realize that you don't know where you are or how long you've been driving.

The car turns into a driveway, you hear the crunch of the tires on gravel, and comes gently to a stop.

The door opens and you sit patiently as I get out first. You gingerly step out, very aware of the bustier squeezing you and the difficulty to walking on gravel with such high heels.

You feel the cool night air on your legs and bare thighs as you step out of the car, and stand for a moment, looking at the imposing mansion in front of you. It is stone, very large, and only dimly lit. You can tell it is well cared for, but that it is not meant to stand out.

You have no more time to look around – a leash is clipped to the D ring on your collar and you are led gently, but insistently forward.

Hands hold on to the coat on your shoulders and, as you walk forward, it is pulled off of you. You feel the cool night air now on your body – the bustier and loose skirt providing little protection from the night air.

You focus on walking, the gravel is well packed which makes it easier, but are aware of others heading into the mansion, up the wide stairs and through the large doors which open as you approach.

You are the only one not wearing formal wear – the men are in tuxedos, the women in evening gowns, elegant but not stuffy, here and there you notice a particularly beautiful woman in a strikingly revealing gown.

Later, when you think of it, you marvel at the fact that you didn't even think of how differently you were dressed, if you can call your outfit "dressed."

You enter the mansion and are led down long, curving stone stairs towards the basement. You walk gingerly, concentrating on your step, keeping your breath, holding yourself proudly, you head held up by the tall collar.

You are almost unaware of your surroundings, but not entirely. You take in the quiet elegance of your surroundings, the tapestries and art work.

At the bottom of the stairs you find what is clearly the most important room of the evening.

It is large, there are different seating areas, couches and chairs, small tables for drinks, and it is filled with well dressed, elegant people, men and women, talking and having drinks. It appears to be a cocktail party until a hush comes over the room as you enter and all eyes turn to you.

You hold your head up proudly, determined that I should be proud of you and how you conduct yourself tonight, although there is some trepidation in your heart.

As you walk forward you feel yourself being inspected by the crowd, both men and women, your every move evaluated. How you walk, the way you hold your shoulders, the sway of your hips.

In the center of the room there is a small stage. As you climb the steps up onto the stage, the lights in the room dim, except over your head, the crowd quiets and starts to gather around.

You hear me whisper,

"and now my pet, we will see what you are truly made of"

I hand your leash to a woman standing on the stage. She is dressed rather severely, her long black hair pulled back, tight black leather clothes, a whip in her hand, but it is not the clothes that catch your eye, but the demeanor.

This, you quickly realize, is a powerful woman.

She takes the leash and leads you around the round stage so that everyone can get a look at you, stopping to turn you around every now and again so that everyone can see you from all angles. She moves quickly and you struggle to keep up with out falling, start to loose your breath and get a bit light headed.

She stops in the center of the stage and turns the crowd.

"Our evenings entertainment, has arrived."

Entertainment.

Is that what I am, you think.

"Before the bidding begins, perhaps a demonstration of her skills is in order."

It is not a question.

You are pushed to your knees in front of a large chair in the center of the stage. The woman sits, spreading her legs, pulling up he short skirt for you to see her shaved pussy. You know what to do and start to crawl forward, your ass wiggling for the audience as you do.

You lick up her thigh and move quickly to her pussy.

"Hungry. That's good" she says.

You feel the heels of her boots – very pointed heels – digging into your back as she goads you on, licking her, sucking on her clit, using all of your skills to please her.

Somehow you know that pleasing her, and quickly, is important.

You feel her hands on the back of your head, pulling you harder into her as you continue to lick her, sucking her clit, feeling her juices flow over your face. You are very aware that the crowd is moving closer, you sense their focus, but you are not distracted.

You can tell you are having an effect, the heels are digging harder into your back, her thighs start to quiver, her breathing gets deeper, until she cries out as her orgasm rolls over her.

There is polite applause from the audience.

That's it you think - polite applause? What is it they expect?

Your thoughts are interrupted as you feel someone enter you from behind. You feel yourself being entered – it's an odd sensation. It's not the gently entry of a lover, seeking to please you so that you feel every centimeter of him as he fills you, nor is it the rough fucking of someone interested solely in his own pleasure, but somewhere in between – forceful, but not too forceful.

You don't have time to think about this, however, as the woman with her legs over your shoulders is driving the heels of her boots into the small of your back, goading you forward to lick her again.

You, of course, comply, the rhythm of the cock driving in and out of you forcing your face harder against her pussy. You feel him pull out of you, clearly still hard and wonder why – until you feel him press against your ass.

As he slides into your ass, you scream into the pussy you are licking and this, the screaming, is what sets the audience off. The applause begins in earnest as he fucks your ass harder and harder, slamming in and out of you, driving your face against her pussy until she cums again, her heels digging even harder into your back.

After she cums you feel the cock pulled out of your ass and your are lifted to your feet.

You are a mess, her juice all over your face, your juices dripping down your thighs. You feel your arms lifted above your head as you are pulled to your feet.

Suspension cuffs are placed around your wrists which are then clipped to the spreader bar handing from the ceiling. The bar rises, pulling you all the way to your feet. You feel the burn in your shoulders as they take your weight, then you are lowered just a bit so that, if you are careful, at least some of your weight will be borne by your feet.

You look forward and see why the man who had been fucking you had not cum – he too was a slave. He was kneeling in front of you, his arms now bound behind him, leaning back his hard cock pointing up in front of him, slick with your juice. There was a very thick collar around his neck, forcing him to hold his head up high. From the throbbing of his cock you can tell he has not been allowed to cum, perhaps for some time and the thought of this distracts you, for a moment, until the lights dim and one light is directed down towards you.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, who shall put in the first bid."

You realize you have a long night in front of you and wonder, will it be only a night?