The Ultimate Lot
Mike and Sarah were rich. Their wealth was largely inherited, but their business was also successful, and with wealth and success came social responsibility. Mike and Sarah were good people, and had always contributed to good causes, however they were now part of the 'business community' and keen to establish their names. The best way to do this, they felt, was to be proactive about social responsibility, to not only contribute, but to use their profile to actively raise money. So it was that they decided to hold their charity auction night.
The premise was simple. Business colleagues were asked to donate goods and services which would be auctioned off to invited guests at an exclusive party at their vast home.
Their house was, quite simply, enormous. As well as a swimming pool and home cinema, it featured three enormous reception rooms, eight bedrooms and four bathrooms. It had a study, a sauna/steam room and a 'man-cave'. There was more, much more, but this gives a general idea. Their home was vast and they were vastly wealthy.
Mike and Sarah were known as the perfect couple. They had everything, seemed very much in love and needed no-one else. Add to this the fact that they were beautiful. Mike was tall, handsome and athletic. His photography business featured many A-listers in its portfolio, and he had a reputation for getting the shots no-one else could. For some reason, megastars would happily undress for him, and he had produced some of the best known images of naked film stars, pop divas and sports superheroes in the world.
It was in part because he was handsome, but also because Sarah would always be present at his shoots, and while she herself had never been naked for the camera (except for their private collection, of course) she would make these household names feel so relaxed and comfortable that being naked became the most natural thing in the world.
Sarah could, in truth, have been a model herself, had she been a little taller. Her face had delicate, almost symmetrical features, perfectly proportioned, framed by her black hair. Her skin was the colour of coffee, a result of a father from Barbados, who she had never met, and a mother from Ireland -- the original Irish rose.
She was slim, athletic and toned, with firm breasts and buttocks which curved out sufficiently to catch the eye, but not sufficiently to make eyes pop. To all, apart from those closest to her (personally and professionally), her body was a mystery. Despite looks which many might have been tempted to share, she kept herself covered, saving her delights for Mike,
Not that she was a prude, as her willingness to encourage celebrities to disrobe for the camera demonstrated. She wore flattering clothing, tailored to her shape which highlighted her curves, but did not expose flesh. Even on the beach, she had a preference for one-piece swimming costumes and a sarong over her legs. However, when working with Mike, she could approach the latest Oscar winner, eyes gleaming and say:
'Oh, you should try it. Being naked with the camera is the greatest thrill ever. Mike will make you the most beautiful person in the world and... well...' here she would blush, darkening her natural skin tone, and look down as if slightly embarrassed, 'it feels so sexy. Perhaps just a tiny bit of mystery left. You'll have more fans than ever.'
It was an act, of course, designed to get Mike the greatest shots, but her appeal to their natural vanity, their most basic urges and their desperation for fame rarely, if ever, failed. As a result, she saw more celebrity nipples, world-famous vaginas and infamous penises than anyone else in the world, except, of course, her husband.
Often, the exposure was a consequence of a hope that photographer and wife might want to indulge in a threesome -- or more sometimes -- but it never happened, and the couple remained monogamous and revered for their ability to stay chaste in the face of temptation.
Yet there was no real temptation. Sarah looked as good as any movie startlet and Mike was as athletic as any Olympic medal winner. He was also better endowed than most and incredibly creative in bed.
After a shoot, the couple would leave the celebrity, often desperate to get home and fuck their partner(s) till they could barely walk, and rush to their own bedroom. Here they would strip naked and suck and fuck each other until they collapsed exhausted. Then Mike would grab his camera, and Sarah would pose -- not the modest glamour shots of the celebrities, but hard core, pornographic poses.
She would pull her vulva wide, insert sex toys and objects, stick her buttocks in the air and insert toys and objects into her anus, She would masturbate wantonly and love every second of Mike's eyes on her and the clicking camera. Then he would join in, having recovered from their initial coupling, and the camera would click automatically as he fucked her in every position in the Karma Sutra (yes, they had a copy and had worked through it), they sucked and licked every part of each other's bodies (yes -- EVERY part) before the money shot, captured in graphic detail wherever it fell in, on or near her body.
The demure wife and staid husband were, indeed whores in the bedroom, unknown to anyone but each other, and they loved it.
However, their business was essential, and part of their appeal was contributing to their community and the less well off. It was a major part of their appeal, and often, with more reticent celebrities, a promise to donate half of the profits from naked images to charity was the persuasion which tipped the balance and saw the panties final come off.
And so it was, that at 8pm on the 18
th
August, they were dressed in all their finery, ready for the 'Giant Charity Auction' held in the theatre at their home.
Mike wore the requisite dress suit and bow tie, perfectly fitted by his personal tailor, but uncomfortable for him, given his preference for t-shirts with band logos or slogans, and jeans from the local supermarket. Sarah, however, felt magnificent in her designer gown, perfectly fitted and demure, yet sufficiently figure hugging to draw admiring and lascivious stares from men as they arrived and jealous (maybe also lascivious) glances from their partners. She had accessorised her look with black opera gloves up to her elbow, and a black feather boa -- the latter partly for effect, but also because it would hang over her breasts and mask her figure.
The bidders at the auction (and also the contributors) were the totally rich. Businessmen and aristocrats, some public faces known to the world, others utterly unknown, hiding behind their wealth, yet the puppeteers who pulled strings and could manipulate entire countries with one stroke of a pen or a casual word in the right ear.
Mike and Sarah loathed them. They despised their arrogance, hated their self-importance and utterly reviled the sense of personal dominion which these autocrats held over people and possessions alike. Most of all, they hated the fact that if each of these people donated ten percent of their wealth, or forewent one parachute jump from space or a balloon trip around the world, they could alleviate the suffering of millions. As the guests arrived, Mike and Sarah stood on the steps of their home and listened.
Inevitably, one of the main sounds was the voices of the self-important. It was something they had noted before -- when successful people gather, they seem driven to compete. Many are arrogant, and many seem to assume that they should be pandered to and have their every whim catered for.
Sarah, especially disliked being in the company of these people. They would openly gaze at her body, mentally undressing her, making her feel naked and vulnerable -- not as Mike did, when she stripped for him. Then she felt sexy, horny as hell and wanted to used, fucked till she was sore. Being naked then was good, and she often dreamed of being naked for a group of men who could fantasize over her and wank themselves blind, while she simply walked to Mike and went somewhere private with him for the fucking of a lifetime.
Not only did these people gaze, but they would touch -- not sexually, but controllingly -- on her shoulder, her arm, her waist. In crowds, she had felt her breasts and buttocks jostled in a way which was anything but accidental. She had also been fondled and groped in situations where the perpetrator could remain anonymous. Only once had she caught the person responsible and told Mike. Mike had used the crowded room to sneak up behind the man and grab his hand before breaking three of his fingers. The man had squealed like a stuck pig, and while he could never openly accuse Mike, he knew who was responsible and why.
One might have thought that after this, word would spread and Sarah would be left alone, but no. These people thought it was funny, and seemed to take every opportunity to taunt her and Mike. Her greatest fear was that one day they would find a way to get her alone, and then the gropes and touches would turn to something much, much worse.
As they walked down the steps it was notable that groups of men were nudging one another and heads turned. One moron even shouted: 'Give us a twirl, Sarah.' She ignored them and took Mike's arm, avoiding eye contact. What irritated Sarah even more, I think, was that all this happened in the presence of their wives, many of whom looked openly embarrassed.
The weather being warm and sunny, Mike and Sarah had opted to set up tables outside and serve drinks to their guests, giving time for the staff inside to set up the auction room as the wanted. The guests had been asked to contribute lots, and while some had donated goods, others provided services which could be bid for in the form of vouchers. Mike had donated a half day photoshoot.
