Claiming Kenna Ch 02 1

She was somewhere hot...humid, far too muggy to open her eyes. Yet, she felt light, surrounded in some sunkissed warmth which eased the knots in her muscles.

"We're going for virginal here. I want her smooth,"

His voice was foggy...distant...and she couldn't put meaning to the words.

There was a hollow splashing as she tried to lift her hand, and it occurred to her that she was under water...at least partially submerged. Hair was sticking to her face--wet, and smelling of something light and sweet. Kenna rocked her head, trying to shake herself into awareness. It was so warm...

just so warm.

*******

"Why isn't she awake yet?"

"She got two doses. They won't fuck something that's not moving. Helps them keep it in their pants," <,I>Two women...but she thought...They weren't like her. They were part of it. Kenna decided to hate them extra hard. She could feel one of them turning her finger by a knuckle...painting her nails...

ugh.

******

"Did you need something?"

"She ready?"

Bench guy...Kenna recognized his voice. Still, she couldn't lift her head.

"Silky smooth, and baby-proof."

What did they do? She didn't remember.

"Eyes open yet?"

"You gave her too much,"

"She's fine. Just get her ready. None of that cat-eye shit,"

"I'm a fucking artist, Jarrod. Back off,"

*******

Her eyes opened enough to gather an image of the room she was in. The walls were brown stone--jagged. They were still in the cave. But everywhere around the large room there were fixtures of marble and dark wood. Her arm trailed over the side of a lounge, and in front of her, a claw-foot tub was still draining. A bathroom...a really, really nice one.

"Oh look! It's time to wake up now!" The voice was so high, so sharp. Irritation wormed its way past the past comforts of the room to birth a groan in Kenna's throat.

A second woman spoke. "You're almost done, doll. There..."

Kenna turned her head to find an image of some poor, beautiful damsel in the mirror. It was just strange enough, she didn't recognize her own reflection at first.

Her hair fell in delicate, loose curls over her shoulders, and a golden string of...leaves?...Yes...little metal leaves followed the base of her skull. Her skin seemed impossibly soft, and the light tan she had from spending her leisure hours in the park practically shimmered. As she looked closer, she realized that she

actually did

shimmer.

"Diamond dust," the second woman announced with a flare of her ebony hand. "Expensive, but apparently, you're worth it." Even the little wave of motion made Kenna's head swim.

"What?" Looking for clues in her environment, she threaded her fingers over the silk fabric wrapped around her in the form of a dress. An evening gown? It was fitting to her form, leaving little to the imagination, with a slit that reached all the way up to her hip. There was a diamond clasp between her breasts, gathering fabric in a too-low cut that was trimmed with gold. When she looked down, she could clearly see that she was wearing some white, lacy abomination underneath. "Holy shit. Where--where are my clothes?" She felt foolish clutching her arms over herself, trying to cover up where her breasts were spilling over the tops of the white brassiere.

"Burning, one can hope. You dress like a librarian. And not the sexy kind." This was the same woman who had called herself an artist, and Kenna couldn't help but look at her with a kind of abashed disgust.

God,

had they dressed her in this? Had they...?

"I'm just glad you're awake, now we can talk!" The other girl was a cheery, strawberry blonde who smiled like she had stars in her eyes.

What the fuck?

No one was

that

giddy. No one.

"Nope." A male voice sounded in the hallway. "Ten minutes."

Ten minutes? Ten minutes til what?

"Aww..." The too-happy one sported a pout. "Can't we make an exception? She

just

woke up."

"No." Before she could react though, the man moved towards her, grabbing her by the hand. Kenna had never pulled back so viciously, intending to rip his arm from its socket if he didn't let go.

"Hey! Do you want another goddamn needle in the neck? Or do I need to drag you out by your hair? Hmm?"

Kenna looked to the other two women in the room. The stylist offered nothing but to stare at her with crossed arms. The other wrinkled up her nose, then sticking out her tongue as if tasting something bitter. She shook her head, offering the answer which Kenna was supposed to give.

"What's happening in ten minutes?"

"You're going to auction."

***************

A blindfold.

Her fingers brushed the plush fabric around her eyes, and she lifted, peeking out when she guessed she wasn't supposed to.

A little, glass box.

___________________________________________

A little, glass box.

Well, a cylinder. 360 degrees of glass.

Kenna couldn't help but turn around in the tiny room, feeling much like a living Barbie on display.

The glass was dark, gleaming black, when a light came on underneath her. The floor was changing from smooth, black tile to a beaming white--lending light to her display case.

The soft sound of applause drew her eyes further out into her environment. Shadows were moving outside of the case.

People

, she realized.

Buyers.

Looking further down the line, Kenna realized that she was not the only one sealed up in what looked like an aquarium. Little lights followed the floor, terminating in hubs where other girls were removing their blindfolds as well. Three, four, five, six of them--just in this line. They weren't arranged in aisles though, and her brow furrowed a bit at the familiarity.

Were they...?

Stars.

Yes. Each of the lighted cylinders was a star in the constellation, and she was at the pinnacle of light.

Shit.

*********

Jarrod let his feet follow the patterns on the floor. The lights were kept low in the room, almost black, such as to preserve the promised anonymity, but along the tile, guiding lights hummed in sparsile patterns.

It was all black gloss and modern design, inviting the patrons to follow the arm of a star. This one was Aries, and that one Copernicus.

At the end of this branch was housed a particularly agitated male already receiving quite a bit of attention. Jarrod's company was one of the few who bothered to deal with selling men, but they almost always sold high, and this one would be no different. "You sick fucks!" He shouted--audible, but softened by the glass. Yeah, that would go over well. Before he was out of ear-shot, the electric flooring of his cell activated, giving him a few thousand volts to calm him down.

On his left, he passed a woman dressed in the style of the Roman gladiator, in a demi-corset which presented her breasts. Any time she might try to cover them, she would be given a little reminder as well. She was a product now. She had better get used to it. Not all of the pieces were so artful, there were several wearing

stripper-chique,

and a few already in bondage tight enough to be painful. What could he say? Black leather and stilettos sold.

In the crowd, he passed Mark and Bradley, leering up at a girl who'd been handcuffed to a stripper pole at the center of her cell. A past career perhaps? She had a trembling in her calves from being shocked several times, and now was putting on a half-hearted show for the crowd. Jarrod had decided to make it an open Gala, such that his own men might be able to purchase a plaything of their own. After that afternoon's tense display, each of them were in need of a release, himself not excepted.

Jarrod thought that he might pay her a visit, when the little black earpiece crackled in his ear. "Uhh, Jarrod." the earpiece buzzed "We got a problem."

"What?"

"Over in cell 22...one of the girls is...hiding."

Speak of the devil...

"Shock her."

"We did. She won't come out."

"How the fuck is she

hiding?

It's a 360 degree view."

"Well, she crawled part-way under this couch..."

"God damnit." A last-minute addition, and if she hadn't given him enough trouble for one day already, this Kenna girl was certainly pushing it. Jarrod hooked a left around the head of Aries, stepping quickly towards Lyra. She was meant to sell for a high price, and as such, she was housed in the brightest star--Vega.

It was his designer who insisted on that damn chaise lounge. It was supposed to be set high enough to be

exalting

. Apparently, it was also high enough for the girl to crawl underneath. Though he could still make out the traces of white and gold, meant for a Greek goddess, he couldn't see her face. It wasn't enough. "Watch the electricity, I'm going to pull her out."

"Roger."

Jarrod inserted his personal keycard into a slot held at the black base of the platform. The door, at the top of four stairs, cracked open about an inch, and Jarred let himself in.

***********

The moment she heard his voice--not from the speaker in her cell--but standing inside the room with her, Kenna froze.

"Kenna, come out. Now."

She couldn't manage a syllable of speech, and so stayed, firmly planted underneath the base of the couch.

"No? Shall we try that again, or is that your final answer?"

Kenna wasn't certain she could have moved even if she wanted to. Each time a new face stepped into the illumination provided by her cage, she was forced to envision what kind of life she might have with them as her...

owner.

Each of them wore a tux, but were completely at odds with the idea of refinement. One large man, barely constrained by his yellow cumberbund, was attended by two, young women already. Kenna wondered if he had bought them here...like her. Another man had tattoos across his knuckles and over the border of one cheek. She tried to name the career paths which would allow for a face tattoo

and

a tuxedo. None of the ideas were good. She didn't like the thought of any of these men.

At first, she had tried hiding behind the lounge, only to be chased with laughter to the other side. But if they couldn't see her...without a good look, who would want to buy her? She'd wedged herself underneath the lounge, not able to fully conceal herself, but enough that there hadn't been a crowd for the last few minutes. Apparently, the floors were somehow electrified, such that her captors could shock her at will. But she had learned quickly that there was a high-pitched tone a half second before the charge hit, and she'd been able to abide the last several attempts by clinging to the wooden carriage of the lounge.

"Wood doesn't conduct electricity. Thank you, 6th grade science."

Rubber would have worked too, but since her shoes were worthless, she had kicked off the too-high, white heels, throwing them at the glasswork of her cage.

Out there in the glass cell, Jarrod sighed. "Very well."

She watched his knee bend as fingers clasped her around the ankle. As he yanked her out from her hiding spot, Kenna was screaming.

Part of her wished that she had kept the heels on, so that she might do more damage as she kicked at his face with a bare foot. He only caught the foot and twisted, until she was on her stomach on the floor of the cell.

*******

It was easy to pull her off the floor and back towards the couch. She was light--small. A book nerd with zero body strength. Nevertheless, she tried to fight him. "I think It's time you learn how to play nicely."

Just a quick punishment. Enough to make her cheeks flush, and to keep her sitting demurely on her behind.

Jarrod pulled her after him, face down onto the couch, keeping her pinned with the points of his elbows in her back. "Kenna, Kenna, Kenna..." he began and she struggled. He ran a hand over her spine, resting one hand over the smooth curve of her ass. "You're not a stupid girl. You should know better than to disrupt my auction." He noticed how one bare foot trailed to the floor as she tried to anchor her weight into squirming free. He pinned her foot with his own.

"Test floor panels" he issued a quick order through the comms.

"You sure, boss?"

"Yes, go."

The soles of his shoes absorbed the shock, leaving him mostly unaffected, but she groaned in pain. "Well, it seems the flooring works fine, so how is it that you managed to stay down there for so long?"

She stayed silent a moment longer than he liked, so he called for another shock. "Test floor panels."

"No!" she cried, and he held back his confirmation. "It's the wood. I just held myself up for a second when I heard it charge. No current through wood."

"Hmm, very good. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a scholar." The crowd had gathered again, and he pulled her over his knee. They looked on eagerly, to see what he might do with her. There were several things on his mind, lending to the slight strain against his zipper, and the way she wriggled at the hips, trying to be free of him wasn't helping.

"Kenna, do you think these fine people enjoyed having their show disturbed?"

"No."

"Do you think they deserve a little apology?"

Then, she laughed, removing her hands from the cushion to shove at his wrists. "No. I think they deserve a cell with electrical flooring."

Jarrod hadn't really considered what he was doing when his hand came down in a slap against her asscheek, turning her face a delicious shade of red. He was satisfied, that is, until she formed a fist with her tiny hand and slammed it into his kneecap.

He didn't hesitate.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

"Oww--"

Well, if he was going to do this, he was going to do it right.

He slipped a hand into the georgous slit in her dress, revealing lengths of one, beautiful leg as it draped to the floor. It was a simple thing to sweep the fabric back, so that the backs of her thighs were open to him.

Now, she bucked hard, willing to hurt herself in the struggle, but he had pinned her legs using his own, and it was useless. "Kenna, stay still."

He knew, of course, that she wouldn't, and when she tried to pull herself free again, he grabbed the two pieces of fabric, ripping apart until he could see two, perfect, round globes peeking out from nothing but lace.

"What-What are you doing?!" She had turned three shades brighter, and was trying to hide her face in the couch.

"Waiting for an apology." His tone was casual, while he felt anything but. Blood was pulsing in his member as he grasped her left cheek in his hand. He knew that she felt his dick pressing against her side when she tried to pull away.

"Fine! I'm sorry."

He smacked her sharply on the ass, and she jumped in surprise. "Not very sincere."

"Fuck you!" Distress was making her voice higher and he felt her breathing increase against him. He spanked her harder this time, such that she couldn't hold back a groan.

"I'm sorry! "I'm sorry, okay?" She continued without being told, and he ran a hand down her spine. "I'm sorry for hiding under the couch, and for not coming out, and for not doing what you told me!"

"Mm, very nice." Now he was running his fingers up the insides of her thighs, feeling her tremble. "Perhaps you deserve a little reward..."

Jarrod knew he was taking it too far as he eased her pretty pantys down over her asscheeks. "No, no. Please!"

But the crotch was already soaked, and he heard her breath catch as he pulled them down. "Say: 'Thank you, Sir'"

It was half a squeak, half moan when he flicked his fingers against her clit. Wetness ran forward over her bare cunt, there were still enough juices for him to swirl a finger around her hood and listen to her beg. "Please, stop." But there was heavy arousal on her voice, and unwittingly, she'd pressed her pelvis downward into his touch.

"You're so wet, Kenna."

Her breath was coming in pants now, and she swallowed to get out her next plea. "Please, please don't so this. I'm really sorry. Really sorry."

"I still haven't heard what I asked for." Though he knew she didn't remember.

She was unable to hold back at all as he eased two fingers inside her, and her loud moan made his cock jump in his pants. "Please!"

"Please, what Kenna?"

"Please stop!"

She was already tightening around him. Pushing her body up off the lounge with the heels of her hands. He wanted so badly to hear that one little word on her tongue.

"Sir." "Master."

Even if she begged him like a proper slave, he felt too far gone to stop himself.

"Please!"

He was pulsing his fingers into her g-spot. Fast, and unrelenting. She was holding her breath, unable to beg anymore for fear of releasing a moan. Still, without her knowledge, she was spreading her legs just ever so slightly. She wanted it.

Needed it. Loved it.

She was close, even as she fought it. Seconds passed, and she lifted her face to try and breathe through the pleasure. It only revealed how badly she was losing their little battle of the wills. She hissed, and he decided to make it an order. "Cum for me."

Instantly, she released a string of moans, all in time with the clenching of her pussy. Her cum was slicking the palm of his hand, and he envisioned her at his knees, licking her dew from his fingers.

"Fuck,"

he whispered, and quickly tucking his dick up into his waistband, Jarrod shoved her off of him and onto the floor.

Shut the door. Down the stairs.

He was standing in front of her bidding book with an audience of his own now.

Shit.

He took the pen, and wrote down a number with two more zeros than the next-highest bidder. In his best calligrapher's drawl, he wrote "Bidding is closed," and marched himself from the room.