Auction · Part 1

Auction · Part 1 (1/2)
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"CRACK!"

The whip lands again on my back, sending another sharp spear of pain into my gut, and with it another wave of agonizing, unful- filled desire crashed through me.

"Please Master… Yes, I want it, I want it now!" I moan through clenched teeth.

He steps around in front of me, smiling in mock surprise.

"My, what a lusty wench! And you've finally admitted it!

Well *now* you'll just have to wait. I'm having fun doing just what I'm doing." And with that he disappears again behind me, and I felt the whip descend once more, between my shoulder blades, with a thwack and a burn. With the rhythm of the whip, I slip into a delirium of pain and lust.

And lost in the rhythm, I find my mind wandering through the events that had led me to this delicious and frustrating predicament.

On a whim, I had offered myself up for sale at the "auction". What the hell, I thought to myself, what have I got to loose? I can explicitly eliminate sex from what I offer, and what else could there be that someone could want that I couldn't do?

[That thought makes me chuckle, even as yet another lash of the whip hits me across the back of my thighs, bringing tears to my eyes. How ignorant

I had been what seemed like so long ago…]

Besides, if things got out of hand, I could always just leave, the only drawback then being that I had wasted my time and wouldn't get paid.

Besides, I needed the money. The auctions sold time, not services.

Most "slaves" (as the people being sold were jokingly called) ended up helping people move, making dinner, giving backrubs, or serving as "ornamental slaves", where the purchaser would, say, bring them to a party on a leash, and show them off all night. All in fun, of course.

Of course, "slaves" could limit what they would do to certain things, or just say they wouldn't do certain things, as long as they made the limits clear before the bidding began. And never, ever was it allowed for sex to be offered as a service, to avoid possible charges of pimping for the auctioneers. Of course, some people hinted that sex would be a part of the package, and those people (females at least) got very high bids.

Knowing this, I very explicitly said "No sex" — loudly, and a number of times. A few people who seemed to be interested at the start were turned off by my adamant refusals. But I didn't care; I wouldn't want to have sex with them for all the money in the world anyway.

Besides, I knew that lot's of people wanted me enough to settle for just being around me for that time.

As predicted, I had a number of people bidding on me, and the bids went quite high. As was fairly typical, I was offering only four hours of my time, and when the bids hit three digits I was smug! But most of the people bidding were students, and just couldn't compete with Daniel's bids — after all, he had an *income*!

I had met Daniel a couple of times at parties. He was basically an unassuming type, blending into the background of whatever group he was in. He was the type of guy who always lusts after me, but never says anything; the type I never give a second thought. I was quite surprised at how determined he seemed to buy me…and also a bit relieved, because he seemed so meek. He would probably be in such awe of just being with me, he couldn't get up the guts to do more than ask me to cook dinner for him. [With a wry smile, I realize that he hadn't even done that! The smile brings a questioning look from my Master (he is now working on my breasts and belly), followed by a quick volley of five or six strokes across my thighs. ooooh…]

When Daniel picked me up at an arranged place and time, I was dressed to please. I figured that, even though I had specified no sex, he had bought me because he lusted after me, and I would give the guy his money's worth. Call me a tease, and I won't blush; I love the obviously desirous stares I get from men, as long as they don't touch!

I was wearing a short-short mini- skirt, and tight, low-cut tank top, and bright yellow panties that I knew could be seen whenever I leaned over.

The tank top showed my nipples off well, with the fabric stretching over the hard points. My breasts are medium sized, rounded, and firm enough that they require no bra, and they have always attracted longing looks from the men around me.

He stared at my breasts as he opened the car door for me, and I gave him my best "come hither" smile. I swear he let out a gasp!

In the car, I asked him where he was taking me, and he said "To my place."

After riding in silence for a bit, I asked, "So what do you have in mind for me?"

He looked at me with an unreadable expression and said quietly. "I want to have sex with you."

Oh God! I groaned to myself. This guy is going to be a schmuck about it, and force me to walk out on him. I started to tell him that hell would freeze over before I would sleep with him, and he said, with more force, "Don't bother saying you won't. I *will* fuck you, and you'll love it."

He said it simply, and with force, and I stared at him, open-mouthed.

Shit, I thought, he's going to rape me. My God, how am I going to get out of this?

As if in answer to my thoughts, he said, "Don't worry, I'm not going to rape you. I won't do anything to you you don't want me to do."

His words were somehow both reassuring, and ominous. They scared me but also started my curiosity churning in full force. Just how did this presumptuous little dweeb propose to make me *want* to have sex with him?

And he sounded so confident!

As we continued driving in silence, I continued watching him.

In the past, his manner had been so unassuming, I had never bothered to really look at him. He was tall and very thin, with something of a studious look about him. But looking carefully I could see that he was well-muscled, in a lean, tight sort of way, under- neath his conservative dress shirt.

[My thoughts return to the present. Confusion. The whipping has stopped. Ah, sweet relief. But only from the pain, not from this overwhelming desire. Now? I plead to myself? Oh God, oh Master, take me down, take me! Please, now…? But no, he is stopping just to change tools. Now it's the paddle, slapping my already ret-hot ass. Uhhhhh, I moan, as I remember when I first saw the tools that are now being used so effectively on me….]

The first thing Daniel did when we got to his house was to instruct me to kneel in the middle of the living room. This is silly, I thought.

This guy has some sort of dominant fantasy or something weird. He wants to play some stupid game.

Well fine, I can play along — after all, I'm being well-paid.

"For the remainder of your time with me, you are to call me 'Master'."

I almost laughed out loud! This sounded like something out of one of those disgusting magazines of my father's, that I had sneaked looks at when I was young. But I suppressed my smile and said, putting on what I imagined to be a good submissive look, and said, "Yes, Master."

"Stay here. Don't move until I tell you you can," he said, and then looked at me expectantly.

I was confused for a moment, then realized what he wanted. "Yes, Master."

Boy this guy is weird, I thought. But I was *really* curious now, anxious to see what bizarre activity was to follow. He turned and disappeared down a hall-way.

While he was gone, I sat there on my knees, wondering why I was putting up with this shit. Well, I was getting a *lot* of money for these few hours. Besides, I was just burning with curiosity. And something else? I wasn't sure. But I knew I was eager for him to return, to find out what the next move in the game was. I took advantage of his absence to study my surroundings. His living room looked pretty much like I would have expected from my earlier impression of him. Standard motel looking furniture, well-worn. Many bookcases almost overflowing with books, thought I couldn't read most of the titles from my position on the floor. In one corner was a desk with a computer (of course).

One thing that really stood out about the room was that it was amazingly neat and organized. Almost compulsively, I thought. Although he had tons of books, papers and other stuff, everything was arranged and stacked neatly, and it seemed clear that everything belonged in exactly the place it occupied.

He didn't take long, so I didn't get a chance to look around more carefully.

He came back with a collar and leash in his hand. I gasped!

He isn't going to expect me to wear *that*, is he?

Then I calmed down, and remembered that during the auction I had even been prepared to be an "ornamental slave", led around on a leash *in* *public*, and somehow this private horror seemed a blessing. What on earth had made me think I was cut out to be auctioned as a "slave" anyway?

As expected, he placed the collar around my neck. It wasn't a normal dog collar — it had metal rings on the sides and front, not just on the back. He clipped the chain leash onto the ring on the front.

"Follow me" he instructed, and I started to rise. "Not like that.

Stay on your knees."

So I followed him down the hallway he had just come out of, scurrying along the floor, on my knees. Jesus, this guy must be having a field day, I chuckled silently. How often does he get a gorgeous girl to follow him around on a leash? Well that's what he shelled out good money for, I guess. And I was just doing it for the money, right?

Wasn't I?

At the end of the hallway was a door that I figured led to his bedroom.

I was about to protest, but then he opened the door and I saw that this was most certainly not a bedroom. There was no bed in sight, but there were certainly lots of other things. The room was dimly lit, and the walls appeared to be black! Oh wow, this is too weird!

The room had chains hanging from the ceiling, various pieces of furniture, some of which the purpose was clear, the others baffled me. And hanging all around the walls were all sorts of…well, whips, it looked like.

And paddles. More chains and ropes. Strings. And lots of stuff I couldn't even name. I couldn't do anything more than gasp and stare.

I didn't get long to look around, though, before he pulled me towards a goal-posts looking thing, with a bar between two poles across the top.

He quickly hooked the leash to a hook on the top bar. It was just long enough so that if I stayed up on my knees with my back straight, the collar stayed loose around my neck.

He stepped back, and looked at me kneeling there, and I felt myself blush. Me, blush? Why, I'm always in control, I never get embarrassed.

But something about being there with the leash on made me feel so exposed.

Not exposed enough for him, it seemed though.

"Very pretty," he said, looking thoughtful, "but I think it would be better without the clothes. Don't you think so too?" He looked at meaningfully.

"No way, guy," I protested vehemently. "I said before, no sex.

This is already getting real close to getting out of hand as it is!"

He ignored my protests, and moved off to a corner of the room.

He came back, dragging a full-length mirror, the kind that pivots vertically in a frame on wheels. He put it in front of me, so that I could see myself kneeling, and asked again.

"Don't you think this would make a pretty picture without clothes?"

I kept my mouth shut, and refused to look at the mirror.

"Okay, if that's how you want it," he nodded. "In that case, there isn't much I can do here. Just this…"

He went to the wall and brought back four padded leather straps, with buckles. Oh no! Sure enough, he fastened them around my wrists and ankles deftly, and then attached each wrist to the same side ankle with a short length of chain. He moved the mirror back a few feet, so that I had a better view of the room. "I'm going to the living room to read a book. If you change your mind about taking your clothes off, call me. Otherwise, I'll be back at the end of your time with me, which by the way is about three more hours, to let you go. Have fun!" he said, chuckling, and walked out.

The first thing I did after he walked out was lean on the chain, testing it's strength. It was a light chain, and I could tell it would break under my weight. Good, I thought, I won't hang myself if I fall over.

I didn't even occur to me at the time that this was probably quite intentional on Daniel's part. I also tested the cuffs on my wrists and ankles

— there was no way I could break the chains, but I figured I could, if

I had wanted to, get out of the cuffs. Well, it seemed I was going to be in this room for a long time, alone, since I was most certainly not going to allow this weird pervert to take my clothes off. So I looked around.

Doing so gave me shivers — where did this guy get this stuff?

The implements on the wall looked like something out of a medieval torture chamber. Like the living room, everything appeared carefully arranged.

It was actually quite impressive, if I forced myself not to think about

*what* I was looking at.

Everything was within easy reach, and arranged by categories. Somehow it all seemed to fit. How careful he was about keeping every- thing neat and clean…how scrupulous he was about not doing anything I didn't want him too…how he had made sure I was safe while he was out of the room.

It all showed a careful attention to detail that even I was forced to admire.

[I am reminded again about his attention to details, as the paddling pauses again. Every single inch of my skin burns from some sort of stimulation. He had left no part of me untouched, no piece of my body escaped this desire. I had already told him I wanted it.

Now all I can do is wait till is pleases him to take me. Oh God, I hope it's soon! I am still amazed that it's me thinking these things.

As the paddling resumes, I think back to my transition from disgust to desire…]

I have no idea how long I spent on my knees in that room. I know

I was very bored, and my knees were starting to ache. I thought to myself that I could very easily get out of this mess, just get up and walk out. But I didn't! Why am I doing this?

I spent a lot of time trying to answer that question. Initially my answer was "money", but for some reason that didn't carry the conviction it had from the start. And finally it occurred to me — I was getting turned on, hanging here from my neck, hogtied. I was getting turned on being ordered around by this strange person, and even by the change that had come over him when we had come into his territory. I was even turned on looking at these bizarre devices hanging from the walls, even though they terrified me. I found my eyes continually being drawn to the mirror.

The picture it presented was disturbing to me. Surely that girl in the mirror wasn't me! She seemed so young, so vulnerable. Her brow was slightly shiny with perspiration, and her chest heaved a bit more quickly than it should have for someone resting. Her lips were slightly parted, and wet, from continually being licked. A nervous gesture?

I never even noticed I did this! I looked at her, and she looked at me, and I realized she was flushed with arousal. And looking at her was arousing to me… How could this weird shit arouse me?

Auction · Part 1 (1/2)
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