Sex Slave at the Auction (5 page)

“Russell, she’s a good girl. She has no
intention of letting us down.” Max’s mother strides to my side and
smiles at me lovingly. “Max has told me so much about you. How
lovely you are, my dear.”

So this is our formal introduction. I had
envisioned a rather different scenario over turkey at a dinner
table.

“Hi, Mrs. Devlin,” I squeak.

I love your son. I want to marry him if
he’ll have me. And no, I’m not a gold-digger.

“I’ll see you later, my dear. And if I don’t
get to talk you again, good luck at the auction.”

Again, those beautiful red lips smile
prettily at me.

They hurry off to Alice, who is starting a
commotion over being fisted in the ass.

The man whose face was on the cover of TIME
comes over. He doesn’t say anything to me as he feels my tits,
circling my areolas with his thumbs and index fingers. His hands
are gentle . . . and
familiar
? My tits are the only erotic
parts of my anatomy that my patron from yesterday has not touched.
So is he touching them now because he didn’t touch them last
night?

Yes, yes, yes, I know. Stop obsessing.

I’m almost glad when a little bell rings –
the kind that calls delegates back to a lecture session after
cocktails.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the ringmaster
announces, “if you would just proceed to the Auditorium, we will
get the slaves ready for the auction.”

The Auction.

It’s here, and I’m scarcely prepared.

I mean, of course I know it’s coming and all
that, but I haven’t had time to say goodbye to Max. And it’s
hitting me big time now. Max! I desperately try to catch his eye as
the guests file out of the hall. My groom comes over, smirking.

“So getting panicky now, are we?”

“Max!” I cry in a strangled tone.

Max raises his head from the prayer rack
where he is being untied. His groom says harshly, “No talking.”

“That goes for you too,” my groom remarks as
he begins to lower me. He slyly slips two fingers into my
asshole.

“Shut up,” I say.

“He’s going to whip that sassy mouth of
yours soon. And fuck that ass until you won’t be able to sit down
for a month of Sundays.”

He unchains my ankles and my wrists,
pinching my nipples as he does so.

“Please,” I say as my feet touch the floor.
“Just let me say goodbye to him. It won’t take a second. I’ll . . .
I’ll suck your cock later.”

He considers this.

“OK. But just for a second.”

I’ll suck anyone’s cock just to have a few
more moments with Max.

Alice gazes scornfully at me as I run into
Max’s arms in full view of everyone. I don’t care. If I’m not going
to be seeing Max for a month, it’s worth a beating just to be in
his embrace again. I mesh my lips against his hungrily and he
responds in kind.

“I love you,” I say, my eyes shining with
tears.

“And I you,” he replies, stroking my
hair.

“OK, that’s enough,” his groom says. He
roughly yanks Max away from me by the shoulder.

My own groom seizes me by the arm. “You said
one second. That’s twenty more than you promised.”

Dickhead.

“Don’t forget me, please,” I say as a
parting shot. Very corny, I know, and Alice is rolling her eyes,
but I don’t care.

I don’t take my eyes off Max as we are
forcibly led out of the display hall. But out of the corner of my
vision, I glimpse Greg’s face. He is looking at
me
– not
Alice – with a wistful expression.

I can almost swear there’s jealousy in his
eyes.

5

The Auction is held at the very hall with
the stage that Max and I have fucked in our bizarre public display.
The ringmaster and his grooms – all our former charioteers – are
decked in togas and outfits that wouldn’t be far off from the set
of
Spartacus
. They wield cattle prods and whips.

We are kept naked at the side of the stage.
Our arms are bound behind us with frayed ropes in keeping with the
Roman slave auctions of old. Methinks we should have held this
under the hot burning sun in the amphitheater, but maybe that’s a
bit too much for most of our distinguished guests, who’d want to
work on their tans in a controlled environment and not under the
actual . . . you know, sun.

“No talking,” the grooms say roughly.

Max is five bodies away from me, his
magnificent torso bound, firmly muscled and gleaming with light
oils. He flashes me a comforting grin.

Greg notices this and looks away. A fleeting
pang shoots through my chest. It’s complicated how I feel about
Greg. I mean, I’m with Max and Greg is
engaged
to Alice.
We’re both technically taken. But these New Age relationships are
so messed up that I can’t help but feel
something
for Greg
too.

He’s the only person who has been
consistently kind to me. I can’t say that for Max.

The Auction proper starts.

We can’t see what is happening onstage but
we can certainly hear the proceedings.

“And look at this lovely twenty-six-year-old
redhead. Her name is Annalise and she’s . . . where are you from
again, Missy? Montpellier, France. An extremely exotic French miss.
And would you be able to serve as a French maid? She says ‘yes’,
ladies and gentlemen! Think of all the macarons she will serve you
with those pretty tits bared and those luscious red nipples covered
with a whisk of whipped cream.”

Oh yeah, I can let my imagination run wild
on that.

“Let’s start the bidding at fifty thousand
dollars.”

I gasp. They are starting the bids that
high?

“Fifty thousand dollars. Do I hear sixty
thousand dollars? Yes, that gentleman over there in the white
dinner jacket.”

I strain to remember who the gentleman in
the white dinner jacket is. I think he’s one of the Fortune 500
CEOs.

“Do I hear eighty thousand? Eighty thousand
from the lady in the second row.”

OK. No clue who that is. She can be a spouse
to one of the billionaires. I have no orientation to guide me
now.

“A hundred thousand! Do I hear a hundred and
fifty thousand?”

What if no one bids for me? My stomach
begins to roil at the unpleasant thought of being humiliated
onstage. After all, my patron from last night has already sampled
me. Maybe he doesn’t think I’m worth it.

Would Russell put in a pity bid for me?

“Two hundred thousand! Do I hear two hundred
and fifty thousand for this delectable French filly? Look at this
ass, ladies and gentlemen. She’s a petite European Size 6 if I have
ever seen one. Two hundred thousand from the lady in the black and
red dress!”

Breathe, I tell myself. Be calm. Focus on
Max’s beautiful face.

“Do I hear three hundred thousand? Come on,
three hundred thousand for this beautiful French lass. How many
languages do you speak,
cheri
?”

A soft “three” comes out.

“She speaks three languages!”

So she speaks three languages. My mind
whirls. How can I compete with that?

“So do I hear three hundred thousand for
this lass who will charm you with three different tongues? No?”

The grooms move to the men in the lines.
They begin to stroke and pump their cocks for maximal leverage.
Max’s cock rises at a bat with his groom’s ministrations. His
cheeks flush furiously.

“Three hundred thousand! Do I hear four
hundred thousand? Remember, all this goes to charity, ladies and
gentlemen. Everything is for a good cause.”

My groom comes up to me. He has a bucket of
ice.

“Three hundred thousand. Going once, going
twice, sold to the gentleman in the Panama hat!”

Three hundred thousand. OK, I think I’m
going woozy.

My groom takes a chip of ice in one hand and
starts to massage my nipples with it.

“To make them stand up,” he says.

My hairs are all standing up, if that’s the
effect he’s seeking.

Once he has achieved the maximal amount of
erection with my nipples, he says in a conspiratorial tone. “I
haven’t forgotten your offer.”

Oh yes. I color. I wonder if I can get out
of it.

He says, “I’m not going to be able to touch
you after this, so you’re going to do it now.”

Now?

I say desperately, “But I’m supposed to be
preparing for the auction.”

“You’re not going on until a certain
time.”

He drags me away by the arm as Max and Greg
look on in concern. But there’s nothing they can do, of course. My
groom posits me in a dark alcove that is bordered by curtains on
either side.

“Kneel,” he commands as he lifts his Roman
tunic. He is wearing nothing underneath, in keeping with the
ancient Roman tradition.

I get down on my knees. His cock is ready
and diamond hard, and he shoves it into my mouth before I can open
it fully. I gag as he thrusts it down my throat. I try to push him
away, but he grabs my hair.

“Suck it.”

The auction winds on. As I lick, suck and
let him fellate my mouth and throat – well, as deep as he can
possibly go without choking me, I keep tally of the final bids.

Four hundred and fifty thousand for a guy
with sandy hair and huge testicles. I think he’s from Laguna Beach
or something – some rich kid slumming as a slave.

“Now lick my head,” my groom says,
withdrawing his shaft to let the tip of my tongue roam all over
it.

I taste his head. He has pre-cum dripping
from his eyelet, and I lick it off and swallow it, just as he wants
me to. Out there, someone pays two hundred thousand for the thin
guy with a tight ass – his name is Steve something. Five hundred
thousand (half a million dollars!) for the girl with the huge tits
. . . and I mean watermelon huge. At the Display, the guests were
bouncing her tits up and down as though they were water
balloons.

Do these people have money to burn?

(Oh yeah, that’s right. They do.)

My groom slides his schlong in and out of my
mouth with increasing persistence.

“I’m going to come into your mouth,” he
says, breathing heavily. “And I want you to swallow every drop of
it. Understood?”

I nod, shaking his cock with my jaw.

“Faster,” he pants, fucking my mouth with
accelerated vigor.

I constrict my buccal muscles to help him
along. After a few more forceful strokes, he comes with a groan,
shooting his seed deep into the back of my throat. I swallow his
semen as soon as it splatters my pharynx. The cum is thick, hot and
sour, and I lap at it as though it’s sustenance itself.

Don’t get me wrong. I hate this guy. But I
need to finish him off so that I can get back to the auction. I
need to know what is to become of Max and Greg.

He wipes my mouth as he tucks his now
flaccid cock back in.

“OK, baby, you’ve earned it. Now let’s get
you back.”

With the taste of his semen still swirling
in my mouth, I hasten back to the side of the stage in time to see
Alice being shepherded in.

“Why am I up so early?” she demands, her
nipples all puckered by the ice and standing invitingly. “I should
be last.”

“Change of sequencing,” her groom snaps.

Good for him. He’s taking no flak from Ms.
Uptight and Prissy Ass.

Alice goes onstage, led by her groom, to
raucous applause and cheers. Seems like a lot of folks are looking
forward to her entrance. I inwardly grimace.

I catch snippets of her introduction.

“ . . . Stanford graduate . . . ”

“ . . . class valedictorian . . . ”

Oh, so she was a valedictorian. Big deal.
Education is so overrated.

“ . . . crowned prom queen . . . ”

“ . . . represented the state at the Grand
Nationals for swimming . . . ”

Really, her resume is getting longer than my
face. Why don’t they insert the bit where she seduced her
under-aged younger brother against his will (OK, that was wishful
thinking, it wasn’t exactly against his will, but I’ll bet she
started it) and permanently damaged him?

“How much do I hear for this beautiful,
voluptuous goddess, whom I daresay is Venus incarnate?”

Oh, so she’s Venus incarnate, is she now?
I’m willing to bet Venus was never this bratty, even if she was a
handful. Or maybe it’s because she never went through adolescence,
having stepped out of a seashell in full adult bloom, or
something.

Even I am not prepared for the bid that
comes in.

“One million dollars.”

Our collective jaws drop.

One million dollars? I could have sworn that
was Russell’s voice.

The ringmaster affirms it. “One million
dollars from our organizer up front. Do I hear one million one
hundred thousand?”

Dead silence. One million dollars must be
considered a big deal at an auction like this. Unless . . . . no
one else is willing to pay that much for Alice.

My inner nymph lights up with glee.

Anyway, it is just as I suspected. Russell
would never let his precious favorite offspring go to anyone else.
He put her into this to teach her a lesson, but ultimately, his
bizarre love for her bears out.

“One million dollars going once, going,
twice . . . sold to the gentleman up front!”

Cheers and applause. Russell’s gesture is
not lost on the audience. I wonder what the near future bodes for
Max. He’s looking apprehensive. Very fetching, no doubt, with his
blond curls and glistening blond pubic hair. But apprehensive. I
can only imagine what is going on inside his head. Is he wondering
the same thing I’m wondering? Will his parents bid for him or send
him to the dogs?

It seems that his entire answer to their
love and affection lies in that one upcoming bid. My poor darling
Max.

My groom hauls my arm. “You’re up next.”

I am? Wait, I’m not ready. Why am I going up
so soon after Alice when the memory of her large bid is still fresh
in everyone’s minds? How am I going to compete with that?