Sophie woke behind the peculiar darkness of shutters. It was only the bright light creeping under the door that indicated it was late morning.
She stirred, and then wriggled her body and limbs more intentionally. She was met by the luxurious feel of a deep mattress covered in crisp new sheets and a thick, but surprisingly light, duvet.
Groaning with comfort, she rolled over and almost gave into her body's desire to keep sleeping, but then the combined pressure of a full bladder and an empty stomach drew her out from under the covers.
Padding over to the shutters, she cast them open to see a beautiful view over the Limoges countryside, with the warehouse in her peripheral vision. She was on the first floor of a converted farmhouse; the auction house must be on the ground floor below her. It was all very discreet; the outside of the buildings would give no indication of what she had endured inside.
Able to resist her bladder no longer, Sophie scampered into the bathroom. Inside she was surprised to see her toothpaste of choice next to a brand new brush.
Ducking her head into the shower, she noticed that her favoured brand of shower gel and shampoo were already there.
As the daze of newly waking wore off, Sophie's mind filled with a sense of surprise, and a little trepidation. Why was she being afforded such luxury?
Still, such musings weren't going to fill her belly so, after a quick shower, Sophie hunted for something to wear. Unsurprisingly, the only item of clothing in the room was a clean version of the sheer jumper dress she had been given by the auctioneer yesterday.
Remembering how exposed she had been in it, Sophie's heart flared a little as she once again pulled it over her head and lifted the latch on the door.
The enticing smell of breakfast greeted her immediately and, following it, she found the auctioneer in a small but very luxurious kitchen diner expertly poaching a couple of eggs. With his back turned to Sophie, he laid these on top of a slice of smoked salmon on two crumpets and poured over hollandaise sauce.
'Is that for me?' Sophie asked sweetly as she plonked herself down at the table, laid out with fresh warm croissants and pain au chocolat, as well as a freshly made fruit salad.
'Of course,' the auctioneer replied gruffly, clearly embarrassed to be caught in such domestic scene. 'We need you at your very best tonight. As does George.'
The auctioneer's words brought back with full force the reality of Sophie's situation. The trepidation she had felt upon walking increased tenfold, but Sophie felt an equally strong sense of anticipation.
Tonight she had the opportunity to release George from the horrendous debts that he had incurred.
But more than that, tonight she had the potential to break all records for an auction by Pietre et Savou. The strong competitive streak in her relished the idea that her body, as a piece of property to be violated, might be worth more than any other auction item sold by the auction house.
Sophie felt her nipples stiffen at the thought of breaking records, and a glance down confirmed how prominently the front of her dress displayed those nubs. The auctioneer caught the glance and followed it, looking longingly at her breasts and nipples before serving the breakfast to her.
Sophie wolfed down the food in front of her, before being whisked off on a whirlwind day that involved a practice run-through of the auction (she was to be the final item of six), signing all sorts of legal consent forms (as if she had a choice at this stage!), and reviewing the video prospectus that would be shown just before she stepped on stage.
The prospectus, she couldn't help admitting to herself, was spectacularly depraved and hot. All of the scenes from the warehouse featured in some way, from her blindfolded blowjob through to the way she had let herself be gang raped on a table not two days before.
Sophie's pussy got wetter and wetter as she relived all that she had endured since the night of George's kidnapping.
She had been forced into acts that had only ever featured in her deepest fantasies, and the lack of choice over her actions had released her inner slut to embrace the degradation and depravity.
As the video prospectus ended and Sophie was idly dreaming ahead to the weekends of sex slavery to come, the beautiful young stylist that had trimmed her pussy yesterday reappeared at her side.
'Please come with me for your treatment,' he murmured, and Sophie felt a spark of electricity as she slipped her hand into his.
She returned to his treatment room and stood in the middle of the room, expecting to be directed straight to the bed.
Instead, the stylist came up to her and placed powerful hands either side of her hips. His hands slid up her body, drawing the floaty material of her dress up and over her shoulders.
Lifting the material over her head, the stylist looked voraciously at Sophie's naked form, before leading her to the bed.
Sophie lay down on her stomach, and felt the stylist's hands on her once again, this time covered in warm oil.
He stroked the full length of her body from shoulder to ankle, sending little bolts of electricity down her spine.
He repeated the stroke several times, not once releasing his touch on her. Sophie felt her whole body relax into the massage, and her breathing slowed.
Gradually, the stylist applied more and more pressure until he was squeezing the knots in her shoulders, and driving the tension out of her back.
Before she knew it, he was sliding down her back to her perfect ass, stroking and massaging her cheeks with warm oil in a way that caused Sophie's insides to melt.
Sophie's mind had been racing ahead to the impending auction and the delicious depravity of her situation, but the stylist's insistent, rhythmic strokes caused her thoughts to slow.
In place of those thoughts, she felt a deep well of sexual contentment spring up inside her. She felt alive as a sexual being in a way that she had never felt before, and the powerlessness that she had felt since the kidnap had built a sense of sexual freedom inside her that she relished giving in to.
She was almost in a meditative state as the stylist massaged down her thighs and calves, and her bliss was compounded as she felt him stroke and squeeze her feet, focusing on a single toe in turn and taking all of her languid awareness with it.
Sophie was in a deeply suggestive brain space, and so obeyed without question as the stylist instructed her to turn over. She hardly noticed that her taut nipples and engorged clit were obscenely on display for him. She hardly registered the feeling of disappointment when he didn't immediately reach for those parts of her.
Instead, she once again settled into a drifting reverie as he massaged her scalp and shoulders. When he did eventually glide his warm, lubricated hands over her perfect breasts, she registered the sensations but couldn't muster the will to resist.
His fingers brushed both nipples simultaneously and a jolt of electricity flew directly to her clit. The stylist gently squeezed each nipple, gradually increasing the pressure until every aspect of Sophie's awareness was drawn into the intensity.
A dull ache built in her clit, a deep need to be fucked once more was building in her pussy. Dimly, she heard the door open and another person walk in.
The stylist released the pressure on her nipples, causing her to open her eyes in vague complaint. She was a little surprised to see Marie taking over from the stylist, and even more surprised when Marie significantly upped the pressure applied by her thumbs and forefingers to each nipple.
