Auctioned Older Woman

No money, no choice

The Auction House was known as just that, as it was vital to keep its identity confidential. It handled a specialist sale, where bidders were there by invitation only. No letters, cards, or advertising was needed. Emails were sent at the last minute to discerning clients, informing them of the time and place.

Those in the know held onto the privilege, doing everything in their power to attend, even if it meant rearranging an important schedule. For some it was the wishful idea of a perfect purchase, and others just liked the vicarious thrill of being there.

A lucky few were able to purchase a valuable and rare object. Once obtained, it had to be kept in a rarefied environment, and maintained to a high standard. A slave isn't just for Christmas, it's to keep until you get bored with it.

Some slaves had to be trained, or re-trained to a master's requirements. Others came fully trained, needing nothing more than instructions on how to perform obediently to a master's particular needs.

The venue changed from place to place, with a large truck hauling the props, much like a travelling show. Moving around was a part of the strict security needed, to maintain privacy and keep a low profile. Wealthy clients could indulge themselves discreetly, while the women on sale maintained their anonymity.

Everything was ready. Front of house had been arranged, with chairs set out for bidders, and the well built security guys had set-up the small stage. The four rooms used behind the scenes were also ready, so they just had to wait for the women and an audience to arrive.

***

'Don't worry, stick close to me, you'll soon pick it up. I've worked here long enough to know what's what. It's busy this evening with so many women in the auction, though most of them are regulars, so won't need much attention,' Ceejay reassured the new girl.

'My uncle explained what happens, but I don't understand why they do it,' Jilly asked, with a look of curiosity.

'All kinds of reasons, and you'll soon find out. Don't ask them, as they can be very sensitive, especially if it's a first time. If they want to talk, try not to get involved as we are far too busy,' Ceejay warned.

'OK!' Jilly nodded her head, still looking bemused.

'Go check the stage, we don't want anything to cut the women's feet. A loose bolt under the carpet can trip them up,' Ceejay told her new assistant.

Jilly sat on a sofa in the reception room, familiarising herself with various forms. Each woman would have to complete and sign one. When first reading through it, she had been shocked over some of the options. The paper trembled, displaying her first night nerves.

In the examination room, Ceejay was laying out some peculiar looking instruments. One of them was a long bar of metal, with graduations marked along its length. The instruments were much the same as used by jewellers to measure rings. Jilly hadn't dared ask what they were for.

The holding area had been set up with sets of securing chains and cuffs. The slaves were held there after the hammer dropped, to await payment and collection by a new owner. The cuffs and chains were there to ensure the purchased slave didn't get cold feet, and try to run off.

The reception area where slaves entered, was more comfortable, with sofa's, and tables with mirror's, for the women to prepare themselves. If they had more staff, as Ceejay wanted, they could have given the women a make-over. Fixing make-up to suit the slave's specifications would increase the bidding price. This would enhance the profit, and their commission.

Just behind the small stage was a waiting area, with a toilet behind a curtain. For last minute nerves, Ceejay had explained. The last thing she wanted was a frightened woman urinating on stage.

Jilly bundled up the paperwork with a few pens. She felt nervous, and was warned not to show it. The last thing Ceejay wanted was for the women to pick up on it, and become too highly strung. Hysteria would cause havoc to a well planned evening.

***

The first to arrive looked over forty, which surprised Jilly. The woman was smartly dressed, in expensive designer clothes. Jilly introduced herself, and offered the woman a glass of wine. She was tempted to ask why the woman was there, with curiosity nearly getting the better of her.

'My name is Caprice, I believe you have documents for me to sign?' she stated.

Jilly handed her a clipboard with the pre-prepared forms, which the woman had completed online.

'Please read through this, and change anything you need to. When happy with the terms and conditions, please sign each page. Would you like some help with it?' Jilly asked.

'No! Just leave me to it,' the woman crossly spoke.

'When you're ready, let me know, and I'll take you to the examination room,' Jilly said.

She was trying not to be offended by the woman's haughty attitude, putting it down to nerves. Ceejay explained most of them would be nervous, and it was this woman's first time.

Caprice had been a fashion model, some years ago. Drink and drugs had mercifully spared her looks. The jet-set lifestyle hadn't spared her bank account, leaving the onetime wealthy woman penniless. Thinking something would turn up, she tried to maintain a large house, even when the lavish lifestyle couldn't be. A rich husband hadn't come along to the rescue, so there had been no other option.

She walked out of the repossessed house into a waiting taxi, which drove straight to the Auction House. There was nowhere else to go.

The modelling business was for young girls, not a forty-eight year old woman. Even the escort agencies weren't interested. Even if they had been, entertaining a different man every night was most unappealing, and would only just pay enough to meet the running costs of the mansion.

Learning what one man wanted could be just about tolerated, if she thought of it as a marriage. Relationships had come and gone, yet marriage had escaped her. So there she was, all alone in life. Determined not to feel sorry for herself, instead, she was feeling self-determined, and ready to face a new challenge.

A bit of a contrary attitude, she thought, and smiled. Being a self-determined person, yet readying herself as a slave for a master, revealed a twisted way of thinking. Or was it pure desperation.

Most of the items on the list couldn't possibly be ticked. Knowing they would increase her value didn't help overcome the revulsion. Her anus was NOT on the menu. It was a long time since giving deep throat, but she ticked the box anyway. Surely she was too old for some of the filthy games listed. After all, it would be someone mature who purchased her. The man would be rich, and she hoped he would be decent and respectable.

She had left this desperate plan too long, so ticked another box to increase her worth. Just one weekend wouldn't be enough. The pen hovered over a full week. In resignation she wrote a three in the box for how many months of servitude she was prepared to endure.

After signing each page, to indicate agreement to the terms and conditions of her sale, the form was complete. She looked up at the stupid young girl, who was hovering around waiting for her.

'Here! What's next?' Caprice asked.

'Come with me please,' Jilly said, trying to sound confident and professional.

A physical examination was needed to ensure she was a woman, and to list vital statistics. The medical certificate Caprice provided was matched with who she said she was.

'Remove your clothes, please,' Ceejay said.

'Is that really necessary?' Caprice haughtily spoke.

'I need to make sure your identifying marks match those on the medical form. After all, we don't know your real name, and it's not on the form either. It's to protect your identity, and the buyer,' Ceejay patiently explained.

She hadn't said it was to protect the buyer from disease, but the woman got the message.

'Well, I suppose so,' Caprice admitted.

She undressed and bent over, displaying a discreet tattoo, hidden below a cheek.

'What are those for?' Caprice nervously asked, on seeing medical instruments laid out on a table.

The rise in tone revealed the first sign of concern, after a forced casual attitude.

'They're not for you,' Ceejay reassured her.

The woman looked too old to warrant an intrusive internal examination.

'Would you like to wear a smock, while you wait?' Ceejay asked. 'You'll be naked on stage,' she added, in way of explanation.

Caprice remembered ticking that box, and asked, 'What about my clothes?'

'They will be given to your buyer, and returned after the term agreed,' Ceejay explained.

Caprice looked longingly at her clothes, knowing they were all she had left of a once elegant lifestyle. There had been expensive jewellery, gifts from lovers, yet all had dwindled away over the past few years.

During the evening women arrived and were chatting in the reception room. Two were sharing experiences and jokes about men, trying to allay their nerves. One sat by herself, looking frightened. Another sat calmly on a sofa, seemingly resigned to her fate.

Caprice re-touched her make-up. Glancing at the others, she grimaced at their lack of skill with a brush and pencil. They held the lipstick all wrong, and applied too much, especially as they had such young, fresh complexions.

With a sigh she sat on a sofa, with a magazine open in her lap. Not reading it, just flicking through the pages, remembering a time when she would have been in every magazine. They all looked like skinny brats now.

She had a full hour glass figure. Not voluptuous, which meant big tits and bum. Her breasts were large and real. They didn't sag too much, nor did her bottom. She was blessed with strong muscles, and tight, unblemished skin. Her tummy wasn't as flat as it had been, and she needed to dye her hair. Nevertheless, she avoided looking too closely in the mirror. Past glories lost were too painful to contemplate.

While Jilly fussed in the background, with forms and inexpert reassurance, Ceejay guided the woman to a curtain, separating them from the stage.

'Last minute needs?' Ceejay asked, pointing to the toilet.

The woman grimaced at her.

Caprice was too professional not to be fully prepared. She held her head up, pushing her shoulders back, showing off her naked body to its best. The ordeal was tempered by thinking of it as a catwalk. In the past she had strutted out before an audience, and she braced herself once more for the show.

Instead of a show, she was submitting to the indignity of an auction. She was regretting the idea of putting up with a few months of hardship as a slave. It would have been better to just try out the ignoble relationship for a short term. If it was bearable she would submit to a longer term, hopefully setting her life straight. She needed someone to buy her, for it would be even worse to be left on the shelf.

While waiting her turn, she wondered if it had been wise to tick some of the boxes on the entry form. She had closed her eyes to some of what had been agreed to, unable to bear reading the options. It was too late now. She had been thinking of maximising her value when completing the forms, only now she was thinking of her safety.

Damn! This is stupid! It was dangerous to place her body in the hands of a stranger.

'Good luck, and knock them dead with your beautiful body. Out you go,' Ceejay said, with a little shove to the woman's back.

Caprice strutted out onto the stage, as though fully clothed in next seasons designer outfit. The lights, stares, and being examined by strangers didn't faze her for a moment. She was once again a professional, and the centre of attention. She had often worn outrageous revealing clothes, and was proud of her toned body, so showed it off in all its naked glory.

She knew how to hold her breasts up, to suck in her tummy, and to stand to best effect. A slight bend of one leg, looking demure, through half closed eyes, was a cunning game. When the bidding slowed, she outrageously revealed everything, by standing with her legs open. She strutted imperiously around the small stage, pleased to hear the bidding increase.

She played the crowd, inciting them to bid, when they hadn't intended to take on an older woman. There were more than a few men her age and older. The box, indicating she would accept a mistress had been ticked, though she would prefer a knowledgeable, older man. He might be less demanding of her as a person, and hopefully less demanding of her body.

The bidding lessened, and stopped. Before the auctioneer could hit the gavel, she tried a desperate trick. She bent over and grabbed both ankles. It was a painful move, but it did the trick. She felt her pussy lips protruding between her slim thighs. She squeezed them. A sultry look over her shoulder at the audience, caused a stir of murmurings.

Eventually, out of tricks, she heard the gavel come down, thumping home her position as slave. The auctioneer had done his best for her. Seeing the renewed interest he'd upped the stages, to get a higher price. This was a good start to the evening. The buyers and sellers premium for that lot was more than he thought possible. She'd been accepted to make up the numbers, and turned out to be a money spinner.

In a state of exhilaration she marched off the stage, pleased with the round of applause.

'You did well,' Ceejay congratulated her. 'I thought this was your first time, yet you played them better than I've ever seen,' she smiled.

Ceejay was happy, for her commission would be higher than expected. This excellent start would lift this evenings bidding. The auctioneer might even give them both a bonus.

Jilly helped her on with the shift, and stood back with a smile on her face. This was her first experience of an auction, and she marvelled at how happy this woman was, after being sold to a stranger. Jilly was still fascinated, wanting to know why they subjected themselves to such a humiliating experience. She dare not ask, and hoped Ceejay would explain it later.

Jilly led her into the holding room, and sat her down on a sofa. The woman was trembling from excitement and fear, after appearing on stage.

'What are you doing?' Caprice exclaimed.

'It's what we have to do. Some have second thoughts after the sale. Sorry, but it has to be done,' Jilly apologised.

She fastened a pair of cuffs to the woman's wrists, which were attached to a chain. The chain ran over the back of a sofa, where it was secured to a heavy weight resting on the floor.

'I'm not going to run anywhere, young lady,' she protested.

Jilly shrugged. 'Sorry, I'll have to leave you here as another, err, is on stage,' she said.

Caprice sat on the edge of the sofa, listening to the auctioneer describing the next slave. Unable to see the darkened audience past the bright lights, she had no idea who won the bidding for her. Perhaps it was just as well. She was now a slave, waiting upon a master's summons.

She didn't have to wait long. The chain was unfastened from her cuffs, then the cuffs removed. A huge muscular man in a dark suit, took hold of her arm to lead her away. He was obviously a security man, not her master. Her tall slender frame was completely hidden by his bulk, as they stood at a back door of the building. A limousine pulled up, and he escorted her to its open door.

It had been sometime since travelling first class. In a dark interior the smell of new leather indicated this was a personal vehicle, not a well used rental. When she sank into the soft upholstery she recognised another sign of wealth. Out of the corner of an eye she could tell this was a mature man, maybe the same age or slightly older.

She dare not look at him. It was a surprise how well her emotions were under control. There was no panic, just a calm ticking over of analytical thoughts. It felt like a new project, a photo-shoot, or a cosmetic promotion. Maybe less nerve racking than that. She wouldn't speak first. Of course, she was a slave, so maybe that was the proper protocol, though for her it was a sign of defiance.

Silently the vehicle travelled away into the night, eventually arriving at a pair of wrought iron gates that swung open as they arrived. The limo hardly slowed down, when it squeezed through pillars supporting statues of winged beasts, then crunched up a long driveway to an impressive mansion.

Caprice felt as though she had found where she belonged. Despite the shapeless smock, she stepped elegantly from the limo, to walk with head held high toward the open, double doors.

She followed the stranger up a curving staircase, glancing at the paintings, recognising they were original works of art. In the better light she could see he was a year or two younger, yet well preserved. No doubt from a pampered life style. A fit man, for she had to work hard to keep up. It was a little daunting to be led upstairs to what must be a bedroom.

Would he take her to his bed without a word spoken? Perhaps he intended to try out his purchase, to see if he had value for money. He had a cute ass. She still hadn't seen his face, and anyway, she dare not look at him. She had tried to subdue a natural boisterous behaviour over the last few weeks, in an attempt to take on the demure role of slave.

He might not want that. He might just want a companion. She was taller than him, though that was nothing unusual. A shiver of anticipation ran up her spine. It had been too long without the attention of a man, and she was becoming excited at the prospect of warming his bed.

This was outrageous, but she had worked and lived in an unconventional profession for many years. It was helping her endure this tense moment.

He stopped at a door, and knocked. That threw her. He studiously ignored her. Damn! Was this some rich man's flunky, sent to fetch her? A murmured, incoherent voice answered.

He opened the door, indicating she should enter. The large room was completely different from the rest of the house. It looked more like a young boy's playroom. Modern furniture, tables and chairs, were strewn haphazardly with objects. Electronic gadgets, clothes, half eaten food and drinks, littered the place.

The man didn't walk in. He spoke from the doorway.

'Benjamin! I bought this for you. Something to play with, instead of those damn computer games,' he sighed.

Caprice felt the door close silently behind her. Hell and shit! This was unexpected! She had fantasised over being a rich man's slave during the last few weeks, while plucking up courage to go through with it.

As soon as the door closed, the boy looked up at her. He stood up, looking her over. His expression indicated she were an unwanted object, dumped on him by an indulgent father. That was it, she was just an object now! Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all. He was hardly likely to make sophisticated demands upon her.

She noticed he had a similar build to his father. He was handsome, and more of an adolescent than a boy.

'Well?' he stated, revealing nothing of his thoughts.

She didn't know what to say. Shrugging her shoulders, she stood erect and still, able to strike such a pose for as long as it took, used to long boring photo-shoots. She intended for him to make the first move, whatever that might be. She certainly wasn't going to make it easy on him. He either knew what to do with her, or he didn't.

Either way, she would find a niche, and settle into it, preferably away from him.

'I want to see what he's bought for me,' the young man stated.

He had a cultured voice, with the bored tones of an adolescent. It took a moment for the statement to sink in. The little brat wanted her to remove the shapeless shift. She was naked underneath!