***** Auction
At nine PM Jane Dollard showed up at Madeline's house. She was tall and very strong through the hips and thighs and small breasted. Tonight she wore a black dress with tights, heeled boots and her black hair was Betty-Paged. Madeline smiled tentatively at her. Jane was her lover for a time, a very controlling and sadistic lover, but intimate never the less.
"Am I in trouble Jane?"
"The worst kind Maddie, this is very bad."
"Will they keep their promise?"
"About Alan? Yes. But you will pay dearly for it. You may not be around when Alan gets out."
Madeline's heart sank. But she wasn't saving Alan so he could be her dutiful son. "I'm saving him because it's my fault he's in prison. I can live with not being here when he's out."
"Ok Honey. Let's get you ready."
Jane gripped her arm and marched her upstairs to look for clothes. In sweats, gym bag in hand, Madeline followed Jane to her car and, as instructed, sat in the back seat. Jane drove her to a nail salon in the Mission. Jane had her waxed and shaved and manicured, her nails painted, her skin massaged with oil, her hair teased out and dressed her in a tight black party dress with heels. All her hair below the neck was pulled out by the roots, leaving her skin sore and tingly naked, even between her ass-cheeks. Men always seemed to want to do the forbidden and the nakedness of her anus made her nervous. Jane shepherded Madeline into an office building downtown well after one in the morning. In a conference room with a table more than twenty feet long, seven men sat in shadows, the table-top was lit by spotlights built into the surface. Jane pushed Madeline up on the table, then climbed up with her. In the center of the table was a forty-two inch paella dish of stainless steel, Maddie had three like it in her restaurant.
"This is Madeline O'Hare, age thirty four. She owns a restaurant with her husband, and is a TV chef." Jane grabbed Madeline's dress by the skirts and lifted it over her head, leaving her in black thong panties and bra, a silver crucifix hung between her white breasts. "Madeline has a son in Folsom, she has submitted for her son's safety. There is a lot to be made of this woman, but the husband is still in the way and she has no understanding of what is expected of her. "Mrs O'Hare..." Jane turned toward her former lover "you are Catholic are you not?"
Madeline nodded and touched the silver cross.
"How do you pray?"
"On my knees?"
"Yes. Now you have a new god; Irving Street. Get on your knees." Jane pointed at the paella dish.
Madeline stepped in the steel pan and knelt, the metal was hot and she guessed there was a light under it.
"Abase."
Madeline lowered her head to the steel, her hands by her face, rump now high in the air.
"Pray."
"Our Father, who art in heaven..."
"No! Madeline, pray to Irving Street."
"Oh." She said, flustered, and searched for the words. "Dear Irving... have pity..." that's not what they want to hear "Almighty Irving... use my house and business well... and me... and may I profit you and satisfy your needs, and may you keep my boy safe." Her ass was white and under-lit on the table, smooth and round and plush. It quivered. The fat pouch of her pubic mound pressed the black cotton of her panties out between the backs of her thighs.
From the shadowed men around the table came the Cook's voice; "Jane, you don't need to say anything more, we all can see."
"Hear, hear..." came another voice with a Chinese American accent. "We all know Mrs O'Hare from her show."
"Fuck yes!"
