Master had called from work shortly after lunchtime and told Sasha not to prepare supper. They had other plans. She was puzzled because he hadn't mentioned anything about this earlier, but she didn't need to question. Her Master wouldn't do anything to hurt her. She knew that in her heart, but she still was on pins and needles all afternoon until his car pulled into the driveway.
She met him at the door as always to take his coat and shoes, but he told her to change into her skimpiest black bikini with a red dress over it, then to get her coat, a leash and her metal collar. Now she was really wondering. The coat and leash weren't what concerned her -- it wasn't anything new for him to take her out in public wearing a leash and collar. But the metal collar was only for certain occasions. It was a heavy stainless steel affair, mirror polished and set with semi-precious stones and it locked with a loud click. She was eaten up with questions as he snapped it around her throat tonight and attached the leash, but she didn't dare ask.
They climbed into the car and Master handed her a black eye mask. She was to be blindfolded. Something was very wrong. Her heart was thudding inside her breast but she did not speak as her shaking fingers drew the cloth across her eyes.
Master drove silently for a long time. She mentally tried to follow their path but soon lost track of the turns. They could be across town or across the county for all she knew. He had not touched her, except for attaching her collar, since getting home and this was not like him. She began to wonder if he was disappointed or angry with her. Was this some new punishment? What if he had grown tired of her and was going to dump her at the side of the road like a mongrel dog? Fear, cold like a midnight breeze off a frozen lake, swirled through her slave heart. Maybe he didn't want her anymore!
Her mind raced in circles seeking answers, but there were none. Try as she might, she couldn't think of what she'd done to displease Master. She always kept his clothes clean and neat; his house was clean and his meals as he liked them prepared. She was an enthusiastic bed partner and her joy at making love with him was sincere and loudly expressed, as he liked. She did everything she could think of to take care of him; she massaged his aches, she washed him and dried him. What had she neglected?
The car stopped at last, and Master spoke the first words since leaving home. "Don't touch your mask. Don't move. You will be assisted." His tone was hard and sharp, like the edge of a new tombstone. Suddenly her fears clotted in her gut and she knew what this was all about. Every prayer she knew came to her mind as she fought back tears. Please, God, let me be wrong, she thought as her door opened and hands helped her to her feet.
They led her, wordlessly, to an unknown and unseen destination. She heard gravel crunching underfoot and smelled honeysuckle blooming. The night was warm around her and the absence of traffic noises told her they were probably in the country. Then there was a soft clacking sound and cooler air washed over her. Faint glow filtered through the blindfold. They were going into a building.
She heard the excited voices of numerous people, mostly male, all around her. They echoed slightly, indicating a large room. Hands pulled her along through her darkness and then she smelled something delicious. Her mouth watered at the scent of roast beef and baking bread. Now she was even more confused.
She was halted and fingers touched her cheeks, slipping under the blindfold. Light washed in, making her squint in the sudden brightness, and the mask was gone. As her eyes adjusted she saw she was in an opulent ballroom, with columned walls painted stark white, a polished marble floor, a sweeping staircase to one side and an elegant chandelier overhead. She was in a crowd of maybe fifty people, many of them dressed in expensive suits or gowns. Roughly half of them wore collars of some sort, some of these in other ownership restraints. One in particular caught her notice; a pale, tall woman in a razor-creased Armani black three-piece suit. She held a chain leash in her hand, and at the end of the chain was a large heavily muscled blond man. Naked, he was on all fours and he toddled along at her side like a dog.
Sasha's eyes swept the assemblage, searching for her Master. He was not in sight and she felt cold fear wash up in her stomach. Then he was at her side, taking her arm. "Do not speak," he cautioned her in a whisper. "Not unless I tell you to."
A slender, balding man stepped partway up the staircase and turned to the room. At his raised hands the conversational buzz died. He nodded deferentially to the assemblage and spoke in a scratchy French accent. "Good evening, le Reine et le Roi, Masters and Mistresses, Doms, subs and slaves. Sic Itur ad Astra welcomes you all to the 138th Annual Slave Auction." The dominants in the room broke into applause, while the subs hung their heads and awaited their fate.
