Author's Note: This is the second chapter of my first submission to LW, which will not make a lot of sense unless you've read Chapter 1. The story follows the lives of a couple forced to make difficult decisions after their professional lives disintegrate and they are left in dire financial strife.
This is a work of fiction and the characters are figments of my devious imagination.
CHAPTER 2 -- SOLD!
The inspection, unpleasant though it was at times, passed remarkably quickly, bringing the auctioneer back to the stage to instruct the assistants to release the slaves and take them back to the waiting room.
After quickly reviewing the conditions of the auction, the auctioneer launched into his spiel.
"Lot One," he called. The house lights remained dim, several spotters had positioned themselves strategically around the room, and a single white spotlight shone on the centre of the stage.
The first slave was escorted to the stage by her assistant, and blindfolded. "This slave is offered for one week of service. She may be moved to anywhere within the USA during this time, but may not leave the country. She has been in service previously and comes with excellent references, with few limits, which are itemised in the catalogue.
"The reserve price for Number One is $15,000. We all know she's worth far more than that. Do I hear twenty?" In the uneasy silence that followed, the auctioneer addressed the slave directly. "Perhaps these good folk don't fully appreciate what they're getting here Number One. Please lift your skirt and show them your perfect body. The girl complied immediately.
She's totally uninhibited too, droned the auctioneer, urging her to spread her pussy lips open and insert a couple of fingers.
"Fifteen" came the call from the back of the room. The dam burst and bidding rapidly ran through twenty, but stalling at twenty six, offered by one of the Arabian oil sheiks.
Numbers two and three drew spirited bidding as the crowd quickly realised that their chances of success with only six slaves on offer were limited, but when bidding started on Number Four interest surged. Number Four was offered for a full month of service and could be taken anywhere in the world provided that she was returned to this hotel within the agreed time frame. The girl was pretty in a girl-next-door way, without being spectacular. Her husband, the crowd was told, was fully supportive of his wife's keen desire for this experience and was in fact mingling with the crowd to see her on stage. The embarrassed guy blushed crimson and gave a shy wave as the auctioneer continued, asking for an opening bid of $50,000.
The bid came immediately from another of the oil magnates, who then became locked in a fierce bidding war with the guy in the cowboy outfit. By the time they stopped, the oilman had picked up his prize for $130,000. In a magnanimous gesture, he offered the husband a trip to his gulf state but pointed out that he would not be able to make contact with his wife during that time.
Finally Dianne's turn came. All the signs were in her favour. She was the last slave on offer and had attracted considerable interest during the inspection. The auctioneer asked her to pirhouette for the crowd. Drawing herself up to her full height, she raised her arms above her head and crossed her wrists, twirling quickly enough to make the skirt fly open to waist level.
The auctioneer expressed his regret that this beautiful specimen would only be available for the weekend, but with the very reasonable reserve of $10,000, she was bound to draw interest. Before the auctioneer could call for an official bid, the call came from the side of the room.
"Seventy five!" from a distinctly European male voice. It drew a surprised gasp from several guests.
"Eighty". The English woman joined the fray.
There was a pause, but just as the little woman started to smile, the first bidder raised the stakes.
"One hundred."
"One hundred and one."
The tall gent paused again, guessing correctly that his female adversary was nearing her limit.
"One oh five."
Immediate female response. "One oh six"
Another pause. "One twenty five."
All eyes turned expectantly to the woman, whose blazing eyes reflected the frustration she felt, knowing that in this bidding war at least, she had lost.
The successful bidder strode up to the stage and exchanged details with the finance director to transfer the funds to both the auctioneer and to Dianne's accounts. He circled a possessive arm around Dianne's shoulder and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.
"We will have much fun this weekend. You will love it," he promised.
Within minutes, Dianne found herself covered in an elaborate Chinese themed gown and shepherded into a luxury limo, beside a gorgeous man who introduced himself as Helmut, an industrialist from Germany.
As they travelled, Dianne quickly discovered that Helmut was unmarried, having lost his wife of ten years in a motor accident several years earlier, and had no wish to try to recreate another marriage. He conceded that this was not his first auction, but Dianne was his first successful bid.
Arriving at the hotel's Royal Suite on the top floor moments later, Dianne was staggered to find the suite was larger than their entire Brisbane home. An entrance lobby, flanked by a fully stocked bar, led to a formal lounge area and dining room, which in turn led to a huge bedroom. It featured mirrored wardrobes along one wall, a floor to ceiling window opposite and behind the bed was an elevated platform encased to the ceiling by clear glass. Within the enclosure was a giant clawfoot bathtub and a shower wall. Discreetly placed in the space next to the bathtub was an ornate toilet and bidet combination.
"Inside the wardrobe you will find a few dresses and some underwear. A nice cocktail dress, I think, and then we will go to the dining room and enjoy dinner."
Opening the wardrobe, Dianne was staggered to find a range of clothing and footwear, all in exactly her size, and drawers full of lingerie to her exact specifications. This man had done his homework!
This was hardly the introduction Dianne expected into slavery, as she carefully selected a matching bra and panty set, stockings and garter belt, covered with a gorgeous LBD and heels to match. She looked around for a private place to dress, noting that her buyer was seated in an overstuffed seat by the window.
"Go ahead and dress."
She shed her travelling gown, leaving her clad in panties and heels, and facing him directly, slipped into her bra. She slipped on the little black dress and stood up straight for his approval. Helmut spoke abruptly.
"Lift you skirt to your waist."
"I beg your pardon?" she exclaimed. "Why?"
"That piece of insubordination has earned you a spanking later. Let's not start with any illusions here. You are my slave for the weekend, not a casual girlfriend. You will do as I say, when I say and without question or retort. Any failure on your part will have its consequences. Do you understand?"
"I'm sorry," she stammered. "I guess I forgot my reason for being here for a moment."
Slowly she lifted her skirt as directed and held it up under his searching eyes.
"Fine. We have dinner reservations. Let's go now."
Nervously she smoothed down the skirt and they made their way to the elevator
The maitre d' greeted them at the entrance to the great dining room.
"Welcome Mr Muller. We've been expecting you and have reserved your favourite table."
Leading the couple to a private booth and handing them each a menu, he took their drink orders. Dianne was cautious now, determined not to transgress a second time and ordered a soda water. Helmut kept his eyes on his slave until she looked up to meet his gaze.
In a voice a little above a whisper, he said: "Go now to the restrooms, remove your panties and bring them back to me."
Dianne suppressed the urge to object, paused and deliberately eased herself from her seat, returning a short time later with the panties tightly balled in her hand. She delicately handed them to her master, who silently took them from her and shaking them out, laid the garment in the centre of the table in full view. Dianne's face burned in crimson embarrassment but she knew better than to argue.
Mr Muller, how should I address you this weekend?"
"When in company, you may address me as Helmut. Privately though, you will call me either Sir or Master."
"I prefer Sir."
"Very well, Sir it is."
The meal passed in relative silence, rounded off with a snifter of the most magnificent brandy. Dianne nursed her soda water. In the absence of any instruction to the contrary, she left her panties on the table and followed her master from the dining room.
Closing the door to their suite, Helmut barked a single command.
"Strip!"