Auctioned Housewife Ch.

01
byStoryTeller07©

It's just a game for Barbara

Barbara and her husband, Jack, enjoyed a little exhibitionism, which had
grown ever more adventurous, to the point where they were caught
making out in a park. At least they hadn't been prosecuted. Though from
then on the adventures, as they called them, were toned down. In turn
their sex life returned to the boring duty it had been. They both agreed to
join a club with like minded people, where they could indulge their
fantasies.

Jack suggested she enter an auction at the club, to be held in a few

weeks time. Barbara giggled thinking he was joking.

'Look, it's right here in this forum. It would be a good way to introduce
ourselves,' Roger suggested.

She read through the blurb establishing it wasn't a joke, or just a fantasy
evening.

'Jack! This is a serious auction, not just a game,' she scolded him. 'It's
not even at the club, they're just mentioning it,' she added.

'If you bothered to look, there's a safe way to go about it, for fun,' he
enthused.

'Well, I'm not so sure,' she hesitantly replied.

'Read that bit there. Some of the club members join in,' he encouraged.
'Besides, how can anyone really be a slave today. If you didn't like your
master, you'd just get a taxi home,' he said.

'Oh! Right! So you do intend auctioning me off to a stranger,' she teased.

He just sighed and stood up from the computer.

'All I ask is that you give me the taxi fare. Just don't expect me home for
a few days. I'll need to give the guy a chance to satisfy me,' she smirked.

Barbara sat at the screen to read through the details.

True enough, it was possible to enter the auction safely. An option on the
conditions specified the male or female slave could be reserved
exclusively for a certain buyer. They would be entered in the auction,
bided upon by anyone, only to be finally purchased by the seller. Probably
a husband, lover, or friend.

'Besides, it doesn't matter how high the bidding goes, we'll get the money
back from the sale,' he pointed out.

Less the commission she thought. Not believing he would bother with all
the planning this involved, she agreed to consider it.

***

While he was at work Barbara looked through the rules, and figured it was
a possibility. Although anyone could and would be biding, only the
nominated person could ultimately win. She liked the idea of experiencing
a no risk thrill. The men bidding on her wouldn't know it was her husband
taking her home as his slave.

She imagined parading around, scantily clad, with strangers lusting after
her. The thought of men bidding on her, wanting her as their sex slave,
was thrilling. Jack would be taking her home, but she would tell him to
pretend to be her new master. He'd like that, her serving him as a sex
slave for a whole weekend.

At the club there was a painting set in Roman times, of a girl being
auctioned. The image made her hot. What in hell would she feel like
parading her near naked body before strangers? She'd have to be careful
or she might orgasm in front of them all.

An overactive imagination spurred her on to consider the idea. The men

wouldn't just be ogling her body, like those times in the park. They would
be bidding upon her, with the lucky one able to take her. Oh! God! A
master could do whatever he liked with her.

Barbara doubted she would look so demure and downtrodden as the

Roman slave-girl. She was more likely to be excited and lead them on.
That might spoil the atmosphere for her, so maybe she should try to act
the part, by thinking of herself as a poor slave-girl. What would it be like
to lose her freedom, and have to pander to a man's whims?

Sitting before the computer screen she burst out laughing. 'I hope the
man that wins me has plenty of whims, or he'll be in trouble.'

A hand dropped between her legs as she imagined the moment on stage.
Being put up for auction by her husband, for a stranger to purchase and
use. It was a humiliating notion. Experiencing it would be electrifying, and
so very stimulating, as she was already finding. She was lost in a fantasy,
unable to fathom whether it was the humiliation, or exhibitionism that
was the most enthralling.

It was her husband's idea, so she let him work hard at persuading her
over the next few weeks. A weekend away at a health spa, gold jewellery,
and the extra pampering, were a delight. While he was at the office she
worked out hard at the gym, with an added incentive to tone her body.

It wasn't just her improved shape that invigorated their romantic

evenings. They were both fantasising excitedly, over the prospect of
entering a real slave auction.

Jack was proud of his wife. She had an hour-glass figure and a pretty
face. At thirty-five he was lucky to have such a young attractive wife. He
thought it was his idea to try exhibitionist adventures, and was pleased
that she agreed. It gave him a thrill to see other men lust over her.

She was already getting into the spirit of things, by calling him, Sir, then
recently she called him master. A new demure attitude was quite a
surprise to him, as she was usually so independent and assured.

The day before applications had to be in, Barbara agreed to fill in the on-
line forms, knowing he hated details. She was now officially an object,
ready for auction! The thought of it left her a little frightened, yet
energized with anticipation.

There were three days before the auction, and each one of the nights
since filling in the application, had been terrifically passionate. From just
thinking about it Barbara became worked up. Once purchased, she would
be his slave, having to obey his every command. At least until the novelty
wore off, or he pushed her too far.

That was the deal, and they both knew she would honour it. Barbara had
a fixation about honouring a commitment, though it was more than that.
She had been willingly playing at being his slave girl, since before
completing the registration document. When purchased, after parading
before bidding strangers, she would become so worked up, their weekend
would be the sexiest ever.

Jack couldn't wait. She was already doing a good job, tiring him out from
an over excited libido.

Two days to go, and she was nervous as hell.

Hearing the car pull into the drive, she shrugged off the respectable
housecoat, to greet him wearing a new set of underwear. She wore a tiny
bra and panty set, together with a suspender belt, holding sheer
stockings. Her slim figure, with long limbs suited the set. She looked like
Bambi, the way she was squatting on her knees, looking up at him with
large expectant eyes.

'My master is home, how may your slave serve her master,' Barbara
beamed up at him.

For just a second the weariness of work, meant it caught him off balance.
About to smile with pleasure at such a sexy greeting, he instead
grimaced. A few days ago he would have jumped the beautiful woman,
wife or not. Over the past few days she had been so demanding, he was
flagging.

'Is there something wrong, master? Is your slave unsatisfactory?' she

asked, looking concerned.

She had certainly practised the role, as she had all day to think of nothing
else, while he juggled boring figures all day. Although worn out, he was
quick to think of a ploy that would suit them both. He needed to slow her
down, as well as exorcise bad feelings brought home from work.
'Bad slave-girl!' he angrily spoke.

He surprised them both, with the sharpness of tone. He watched his wife
hang her head in confusion, and with disappointment.

'Crawl over here,' he firmly demanded, not giving her a chance to get out
of character.

'You've been a bad slave-girl, and need to be punished,' he teased.

He was calming down, so had to bring a pretended anger to his voice. At

least she wasn't looking at him, otherwise he might have burst out
laughing.

'Over your master's knee,' he directed.

The back of the panties were see through, showing off a well rounded
bottom. He had thought of tanning her backside before, only he knew full
well she would refuse such an indignity. He watched her reluctantly
assume the position, slowly manoeuvring into place.

Barbara was fighting the urge to submit, and losing. It was a surprise to
find she was reacting to his anger, even if it was put on. She just couldn't
help doing as she was told, from being so worked up. All day she had
fantasised about the auction, inflaming her passion, until it was out of
control.

Jack bared her bottom, was tempted by it, and wanted to drag out the
scintillating moment.

'Your master might have brought someone home, and there his slave
was, half naked, showing off her ass to anyone walking in. Can you
imagine that, slave-girl?' he asked, with a grin on his face.

Barbara could see a close up of the carpet, only it was out of focus as she
imagined the scene he had conjured up. They had played naughty games,
showing off her body while away from home, and even in their back yard.
She imagined one of his co-workers walking in, seeing her half naked,
and prostrate at her husband's feet.

A shudder of passion ran through her tummy. She was already wet, had
been all day; so much so it forced her to change panties a couple of
times. Now she was flowing, anticipating being spanked, imagining
someone was there witnessing her disgrace.

Jack slapped his wife's bottom, with a sound far louder than expected,
despite it being just a tease. Seeing how wet she was, and receiving an
obvious moan of pleasure, meant he wasn't going to stop now.

'Anyone would think you're a cheap slut, slave-girl,' he admonished her,

and slapped her ass less gently.

'Sorry, master,' she spluttered.

The only way she could accept the indignity of being over his knee, was
by burying herself in the role of slave. Having practised it so often she
could switch off her usual moral code, to become an obedient slave-girl.
She had a fierce determination, and a stubborn streak, that combined to
keep her believing it was true.

'You will be sorry, bad slave-girl,' he said, with another slap.

He enjoyed the way her bottom wobbled, and how she pressed against
him, trying to avoid the stinging touch.
She murmured incoherently every time he stroked her bottom,
encouraging him to carry on, despite the pain in his palm. Her cheeks
were stinging red, heated up as much as his hand was. Knowing her so
well, he could see she was vibrant with sexual tension, flexing her thighs,
and badly needing him.

It had been the same when coming home after a game in the park, or a
mall. Sometimes they couldn't wait to get home, so they just parked up
and jumped onto the back seat. Recently she had been more out of
control, less able to hold back. He soon found he could push her into
more adventurous sexual acts, while she was so heated up.

Jack guided her off his lap, not daring to push her, as she was in a world
of her own, and might have hurt herself when falling in a lump at his feet.

Barbara pushed up on all fours, feeling animal like, lustful, needing a

male to mount her. Her eyes were glazed over, but she could smell him.
Her face was inches from his crotch. She leaned forward, pushing at his
hard cock, to nuzzle it, suggestively opening her mouth and licking her
lips.

Jack was surprised she had allowed him to spank her, and now she
wanted to suck him off! He had never pushed it, though even a light
hearted suggestion had been refused in the past. In the last few days she
had reluctantly agreed, while playing at being his slave, so now,
surprisingly, she was initiating the act. He was ready, and wanted the
pleasure of it. Recently he felt the pressure was on him to perform, and
he was exhausted. Besides, he wanted to take advantage while she was
so malleable.

'Stand up, bad slave-girl. What have you to say to your master,' he
fiercely demanded.

'Sorry, master. Your bad slave-girl deserved a spanking. Can your slave-
girl pleasure her master now? Please!' she whined.

He had never seen her so flagrantly flaunting her sexuality. He was ready
now, only just able to hold back from grabbing her to wildly fuck her. It
wouldn't be a nice gentle love making, it would be pure animal lust that
drove them. It was so tempting to let go, but the moment demanded his
attention.

'Are you a wanton slut, slave-girl?' he asked.

'Sorry, master. Your slave-girl can't help being a dirty little wanton slut.
Your slave-girl needs master's cock, please! Oh! Please, master,' she
moaned.

'No! Slave-girl doesn't deserve her master's cock, yet! Go stand in the
corner like a naughty slut of a girl,' he sternly commanded.

She hesitated. She turned around and pulled up the panties from around
her knees. She pulled them half way up, twisting her hips as though
wriggling into them. She looked around at him, with pouting lips, and an
obvious look of desire on her face.

The expression told him she was desperate for a good fucking. His cock
twitched in the suit trousers, yet he sat there, slumped in his favourite
chair. It would never be the same again, as he savoured this moment for
ever. He would remind her of it, whenever he wanted to tease her.

'Leave them, you've soaked them with your sex juices, little sexed-up
slut,' he said. 'Go stand in the corner, until your master demands his
slave girl's presence,' he told her.

Kicking them off she sauntered to a corner of the room, wiggling her red
ass at him. The effect wasn't lost on him. He rubbed the hardness in his
trousers, suddenly stopping, knowing he would have to cool down if he
was to make it a good session.

What helped cool him down was the uncharacteristic reaction. Speaking
to her in such a demeaning way should have had her demanding an
apology. Instead she was taking it all, and wanting more.

'Hands on your head, little slutty slave-girl,' he firmly ordered.

He was so very pleased with his own performance, he nearly laughed out
loud. Spoiling the effect now would ruin all that had been gained so far.

He quietly walked up to her and whispered in her ear. 'Stay where you
are, until your master is ready to fuck his dirty little slave-girl. Don't
move or fidget. Keep your hands on your head, away from that fat
swollen cunt,' he warned her.

'Yes, master, sorry master. Your naughty little slut-slave will be a good
girl and do as she is told, master, promise!' she cooed.

She normally hated being called anything pathetic sounding, like girl, or a
slave-girl. It was out of the question to refer to her pussy as a cunt, yet
she stood there taking it. Behind her he smiled, while stroking her
spanked ass. He had never seen her so worked up, and knew it would last
until he deigned to satisfy her need. He would have to be good though.

He showered then quietly padded back to the lounge.

'I'm keeping an eye on you, dirty little slave-girl,' he quietly spoke.

Hearing her breathless murmuring response, told him she was still
fantasising, keeping herself ready for him. His rock hard cock nudged her
sensitised ass, and she started to turn around.

'No! Stay where you are, you wanton hussy!' he harshly ordered. 'When
your master is ready he will use his slave-girl, as he sees fit. Until then,
slave will stand with hands on head, well away from slave's cunt. Does
little pathetic slave-girl understand?' he demanded.

'Yes, master! Sorry, master,' his wife quickly replied.

It was obvious she was gagging for it. He had heard the expression, but
hadn't thought a woman could become so excited. Having his wife so
worked up, she was willing to obey him, was beyond anything ever
expected. He left her standing in the corner of the room, wearing just
stockings and suspenders, with hands on her head.

Trying to find the silk dressing gown, added weight to her often repeated
words, about husbands unable find something right under their nose. It
was her favourite dressing gown, and it was delightful keeping her waiting
while trying to find it. After awhile he discovered it hanging in his closet.
He went back into the lounge, ready for an interesting evening.

Sitting in his favourite easy chair, he stared at her. If anything, she was
more worked up from being kept waiting. She was trembling with
anticipation, knowing he was examining her.

Her hands were still on her head, though she was rubbing her thighs
together, trying not to be too obvious about it. Her pussy lips were
swollen. They were always big and puffy, which she hated to be remarked
upon. At twenty-nine she should have outgrown the bloom of youth, yet
her skin looked young and vital. He was lucky to have such a beautiful
woman as his wife. Even more so, to have her wanting him so much.

'Over here little slutty slave-girl,' he demanded.

He didn't need to put on a gruff voice, it was deeper from arousal, and
stronger from self-assurance.

Barbara didn't think she could move. Turning around she saw he had on
the silk dressing gown she liked him to wear. Her legs were weak, yet she
managed to stand there simmering with heat. As ordered, she got on
hands and knees, to crawl to her master. Her arms were aching, though
not as much as her pussy ached for his cock.

'Are you going to be an obedient little slave-girl?' he demanded.

'Yes, master! I'm your spanked slutty slave, ready to pleasure her
master, please!' she begged him, with a light girly voice.

This wasn't the playful voice used recently. She sounded like a silly dumb
blond. She was beseeching him to satisfy her, and couldn't help it. As
much as the sound of her voice embarrassed her, the fire in her belly
drove her onward. She intensely stared at his cock, revealed where the
dressing gown parted.

'You know what sluts do. You know how they pleasure their master? Then
get to it, and don't swallow, show me when you're done,' he warned her.

Feigning indifference, he sat back to let her work on him. Damn! She was
looking so hot! The sexy underwear would have been enough of a thrill,
but it was almost forgotten. Jack had never seen her so excited and
enthusiastic. She couldn't wait to get at him, pulling his cock, grasping it
tight, he thought she might rip it off.

She had played with him before, under the covers, but never like this. In
their lounge, on her knees with her eyes sparkling, she was kissing the
end of his cock. It was something never expected, until now. The
strangeness of it, was all that kept him from shooting his load over her
face.

He glanced at the window, realising he had forgotten to draw the curtains.

His wife was oblivious of everything from being so worked up, that she
focused on the one thing important to her. His cock!

He watched her draw it into her mouth, savouring the sight, and the feel
of her tongue. She was working him hard. After all these years he was
discovering she had a talent, never before guessed at. She gripped the
base of his cock, helping him to hold back.

As much as he wanted to, he dare not cum, as she would be revolted and
may never do this again. His mind flipped over to the opposite idea, that
she wouldn't anyway, so why not take advantage of the one-off
experience. She wanted to be his slave for the evening and he had played
the game, so now it was his right to reap the rewards.

His muscles flexed, he was more than ready. He desperately needed to

cum. He tried to think of something else, something neutral, a football
game. Instead he thought of entering her properly, of returning this
pleasure, with a building need to fuck her pussy.

He was about to push her away, and started to tell her, only the words
became a blurted grunt. The image of her sucking his cock down her
throat didn't change his thinking, it wiped all thought away. She had
choked, but his wife managed to swallow his cock!

His eyes were wide with wonder. Again her head pushed down, with
distorted lips extended over his fat cock. It was no mistake, her lips
kissed his hairy flesh, with his cock tightly gripped down her throat. Her
lips pulled up its length, sucking greedily, until only the head of his cock
was in her warm wet mouth. She sucked in air, flicking its tip with a
powerful tongue.

Nothing was held back. She was devoting all her energy to worshiping his
cock. This usually modest housewife, living in a middle class suburb, was
completely carried away in a fantasy. She was his slave-girl, with nothing
more important in the world than her master's cock. She was trying her
hardest to pleasure a master, and succeeding.

Jack watched her head gradually work down his shaft, feeling on top of
the world, every nerve in his body on high alert, aware of every sensation
as though electrified. Her head began to bob more rapidly, as she became
confident. She worked out how to swallowing his cock, and time her
breathing. Soon she was no longer choking on it.

The intensity of sensations were so great he was past being ready, he

was on a wave of pleasure, sure that he could ride the wave of ecstasy
forever.

She loosed the grip on the base of his cock, to fondle his balls. She looked
up at him with imploring eyes. She caught the wild look in his eyes, and
tried to smile. Her face was distorted with his fat cock. A message was
transmitted, despite his expression not changing from wonder, shock, and
pure pleasure.
Unable to hold back, he cum. His cock was buried deep in her throat as he
spurted his load, directly into her belly. It had never felt like this on the
best of nights in bed. Sometimes it had felt as though he was shooting his
sperm deep into her belly only from the other end, up into her, with his
cock deep in her vagina.

Now, he was deep into her body, shooting thick streams of cum down her
throat. She held him there, milking his balls, flexing her mouth, sucking
hard, whacking his eye with her tongue.

He felt every drop forcing its way from the tiny eye of his penis. He didn't
need to hold onto her head, she was doing all the work, sucking every
drop from his body. He began to deflate, not just his cock, his whole
being felt exhausted. From around his flaccid cock, she smiled up at him,
still licking and sucking, enjoying his pleasure.

Jack wanted to sleep, to hold her, to tell her how much he loved her. He
wanted her to share his joy. He felt masterful, yet weak from a deep
satisfaction.

Barbara felt it was her rightful place, to be on the end of her master's
cock. She was his humble slave-girl. This was no demeaning position, this
was where she belonged.

After awhile he regained enough composure to croak his appreciation. He

just managed to retain the fantasy, when all he wanted was to worship
her in return.

'Well done,' he sighed. 'You have satisfied your master, wonderful slave-
girl,' he whispered.

The smile of pleasure on her face let him know he had said the right
thing.

He realised she was sitting back on her haunches, with mouth open,
displaying the last of his seed on her tongue, just as instructed. He
grinned at her. This new woman was a marvel. He knew she had become
fascinated with the idea of showing herself off in the auction, but this was
unexpected. She had thoroughly immersed herself in the role of slave.

What in hell would she be like after the auction? The thought gave him a
burst of energy. He struggled up from the sofa, to tower over his
prostrate wife. She was looking up at him, full of expectation.

'Slave may now swallow her master's cum,' he intoned, as though he was
granting a great gift.

***

The day of the auction an email was received with the venue address. She
quickly phoned her husband giving him the address, in a breathless,
excited voice. She made him repeat it back, to ensure he had it right. She
had to leave immediately to be there on time, and would see him there.
The instructions said she would need time to prepare before the auction,
whereas her husband, just needed to turn up.

The preparation procedure was explained on the WEB site. She had the
blood test certificate, and completed the application forms on line. She
wanted a thrill, but it had to be safe. The forms clearly stated she was
reserved for her husband. To ensure this, his buyers number was on
every page.

Barbara set her mind to it, and was ready. She was an obedient slave,
readying herself to be sold in a slave auction. She must be obedient,
dutiful and present herself in the best possible way.

On the drive she had nothing to do but concentrate on the role of slave,
wanting to make this an experience of a lifetime.

Her husband hadn't been able to keep up with her demands over the last
two weeks. The last few days had been so frustrating, she was forced to
use the slave role to bring herself under control. She iterated the idea of
being obedient, and to think of her master's satisfaction rather than her
own.

On the journey to the auction she dwelled upon the new feelings, of being
just an object for sale. When purchased she would have a master, and
would have to obey him. She would be his slave, no longer a wife, just a
good little slave-girl. She giggled and laughed out loud.

Barbara concentrated on the idea, for she wanted this to work. She must
not think of her needs, only those of her master's, whatever they were.
She wouldn't try to push him into anything. She would be demure and
dutiful, holding back her own desire, ready to pleasure him.

A hand automatically went between her legs, just holding it, pressing
gently. 'I mustn't wear it out,' she mischievously laughed.

***

The guides had worked on all of them, helping to sooth last minute
nerves. The idea had been to help them relax, to enjoy the experience
more, but of course there was more to it than that. The organisers didn't
want one of them to become hysterical, and for it to spread to them all.

Barbara and a couple of others were new to this scene, and so had
flattering attention from the guides. They were called guides because they
guided the women through the process.

Other women for sale tried to relax her, by recounting their experiences.
For two of them it was just a game with their partners, just like her.
Some were there for the money, actually prepared to be bought by a
stranger. This revelation was exciting. How could they do that? It made it
all the more real for her, feeding her imagination with naughty thoughts.

A young girl, around nineteen, was nonchalantly chewing gum, seemingly

not worried at all. Barbara found out she was a regular. It seemed to her
the girl was nothing more than a whore, selling herself to the highest
bidder on a regular basis.

She advised Barbara to keep her savings in a private, numbered account,

so no one could get their hands on it. She didn't explain why, and Barbara
didn't explain it was her husband buying her. She didn't want to seem
weak before the hardened young girl, as she was trying to get into the
spirit of the game.

Barbara kept telling herself she was a slave, up for sale to the highest
bidder. She was just a slave-girl ready to obey a master. It was calming
and exciting all at the same time.

A tall impressive woman was sitting alone. She was older than the others,
and Jilly, one of the guides, said she had been a model in her younger
days. Sitting before a mirror Barbara tried to apply her make-up with an
unsteady hand.

'Here, let me help,' Caprice offered.

'Thanks, I need it. This is your first time too?' Barbara asked.
'Yes. Now keep still,' Caprice told her, while wiping off the poor attempt.

'That's great, thanks, thanks very much. I hardly recognise myself,'

Barbara gushed.

'Calm down. Walk on stage looking cool and serene, and you'll get a good
price. You look young and attractive. Just think of yourself as the most
attractive woman in the world, and that you deserve all the attention,'
Caprice advised.

She then turned away, to study a magazine.

Before Barbara could make a fool of herself, her name was called. She
stood beside another slave, with Jilly hovering before them. Jilly held
silver numbered plates with an attached chain. She was about to hand the
one marked with a number two to the girl standing next to Barbara, only
she was interrupted.

Caprice demanded an explanation of something. The woman was certainly

confident and demanding.

Jilly soon came back to stand behind them. 'Here, put these numbers on,'
she breathlessly directed, and hurried off on another errand.

Barbara noticed she now had the number two slot, rather than number
thirty-six. About to point out the error, she instead kept quiet. The sooner
she was out there, the better, as she was becoming worked up from
anticipation. The girl, Celina, didn't seem bothered, so she held back from
commenting.

Barbara watched Celina slip the chain over her head, letting it dangle
between her small breasts. She followed the action, letting the cold metal
rest in her ample cleavage. As advised by Caprice, she held herself erect,
with shoulders back, pushing out her ample chest.

She was a beautiful slave-girl, ready to face an admiring audience. She

watched Jilly lead the girl off to another room, wondering what was next.
The paperwork had been signed, and she was ready, but it didn't seem as
though the auction had started yet.

Soon it was her turn to follow Jilly. In the next room it was obvious this
wasn't the expected stage with an audience.

'Papers signed, and medical certificate all checked. Now the vital
statistics,' Ceejay announced to Barbara. 'We'll have to be quick, the
auction starts soon and I've a lot to get through,' Ceejay cajoled her.

It was a quick measurement of her body, with the usual statistics noted
down.

'Bend over the couch,' Ceejay ordered.

Like a good slave-girl, Barbara obeyed. She felt a warm metal object
inserted into her vagina, seemingly taking her completely. A number was
read out, and noted by Jilly. It was so unexpected, she hadn't a chance to
complain over such a personal intrusion.

When she felt a gloved hand rubbing grease into her asshole, she turned
her head.

'Yes, it's necessary. Don't worry I know what I'm doing, I've done it a
thousand times before,' Ceejay reassured her, cutting off the protest.
While talking to the woman, the instrument was in and out of her anus.

Barbara nearly burst into tears at the outrage. Her poor virgin bottom had
been violated, and not only that, it had been measured! She was turned
around, and saw the vile thing that had been up her anus. It was spring
loaded, with a scale up the side, and a gauge on the end.

'It measures depth, and strength of grip of inner muscles. Like this other
one, for your vagina,' Ceejay explained. 'I guessed right, and used the
smallest instrument,' she smiled and winked at Barbara, hoping to calm
the sensitive woman.

'Open wide, no, your mouth,' Ceejay laughed. At least the woman saw the
funny side, though there were still tears in her eyes. 'Can you swallow
this one?'

Wanting to seem brave, she swallowed the instrument, choking a little.

'Well done! That's it, you can go back to the lounge,' Ceejay said,
dismissing her.

'Are you going to wear them in the auction, or will you remove the
clothes,' Jilly asked.

'What's best?' Barbara asked.

She felt foolish asking a young girl for advice, but she was all a flutter
after the unexpected measuring session.

'It's up to you. Ask around, you might get some good advice,' Jilly
suggested.
She didn't want to admit it was her first auction.

One of the women was dressed as an Eastern Harem girl, another in a

Little Missy outfit. Barbara was dressed in her husband's favourite outfit,
not that she doubted his eagerness to buy her. She wore a pair of see-
through panties over suspenders and stockings. Her top half was bare,
except for the medallion with the number dangling between her breasts.

She glanced at a woman wearing a tight corset with stockings, a G-string,

and high heels. Her large breasts were pushed up to sit exposed on top of
a very tight corset. Her bottom was bare, with just a sliver of silk holding
her pussy. The outfit was more tantalising than if she had been naked.

'Her figure wouldn't stand up to scrutiny, if she were naked,' Caprice

explained.

'Is this all right, what do you think?' Barbara asked.

'Simple is always better than over elaborate, trust me. Your make-up is
light and discreet. Best go naked,' Caprice suggested.

She turned back to another magazine, flicking through the pages,

studying the models, sometimes with a sneer.

Barbara walked over to the changing area, and shoved what little clothing
she wore into a locker. 'Naked it is then,' she whispered.

She thought over the times playing games with her husband. Where they
had contrived losing a dress or top, to reveal her underwear to a
stranger. The exciting games they had played were nothing compared to
what she was about to experience. It was becoming easy to think of
herself as nothing more than a slave-girl, up for grabs by the highest
bidder.

She sat on a sofa, apart from the others, readying herself. 'I'm just a
slave, nothing more. I must obey my new master, with all my heart and
soul. I will devote my life to his every wish, and become adept at pleasing
him,' Barbara whispered.

This was the worst moment, waiting to go on stage. Her makeup had
been checked and re-checked, so all there was to do was wait. It was a
wonder she was there at all, and now it was too late to back out.

She was startled, as though from a trance. 'Come on, ready or not,' Jilly
smiled, trying to be reassuring.

'Remember, no looking at the bidders, keep your eyes averted. Do not

display your body blatantly to any one bidder. I expect you to behave
with decorum out there,' Jilly reminded her.

How decorum was to be maintained while naked, was a mystery to

Barbara. However, all that was forgotten. She hid in a world of her own,
as she recalled a slave fantasy.

Caprice came swanking in from the stage, with a satisfied smile on her
face.

The moment had arrived! It felt like a raging inferno of sexual desire was
gripping her spine, making her thrust out a pair of ample breasts, pushing
her forward ready to stride on stage with swaying hips. She was ready to
show off her body to all those males, letting them know she was
available, by displaying what she had to offer.

From behind a curtain, she heard the auctioneer, announcing her as

number two. Jilly gave her a gentle shove, and she was out on a small
stage. The lights were bright, so she couldn't see the audience.
Somewhere out there was her husband. Only she didn't think of that, for
she wanted to experience it for real.

Barbara was a slave-girl, being auctioned to a new master.

The game goes wrong

Barbara paraded around on stage as an item for sale. A tinge of fear and
humiliation worked upon her emotions, sending a thrill of chemicals to her
brain. Hormones were flooding her mind, arousing her, flushing the last of
the reservations away.

The auctioneer's description of the goods for sale was complete and
detailed. Not just her vital statistics were listed. Private internal
measurements were given. He told everyone how deep and tight her
vagina was. A figure was given for how tight she could grip a penis, or
dildo, in her vagina, and up her bottom.

Next was her mouth and throat statistics. From the measurements he
concluded she was an accomplished cock sucker. He made a point,
emphasising that her ass was virginal, with a tight grip. The
measurements taken earlier by Ceejay were announced to the bidders.

The personal and private statistics were demeaning and should have
brought her down, but they fired her up. She hadn't expected an intimate
description of her body, as she'd not filled in that section. There must be
a mistake, they were going too far.

Jilly had been in front of her, ready to drape the auction number thirty-six
around her neck, when she was called away. Coming back to the two
women she stood behind her, and gave number two to Barbara, and
thirty-six to the other woman. So now Barbara was being sold under the
wrong paperwork.

Barbara felt all the more like an object for sale. Like a common kitchen
appliance her measurements were listed, for all to assess whether she
would suit them or not. Uncomfortably, she was ecstatic from a mixture
of blatant exhibitionism, and the dire humiliation. If she wasn't sold
quickly, she might orgasm before all these strangers ogling her fabulous
body.

A bid was made! She was being sold! It shook her from a fantasy, enough
to take a grip, and perform the rehearsed pantomime. She had been told
to walk around the stage, for all the bidders to get a good look at her.

She wanted to flaunt her body, letting them know she was available, and
that they could have her. The presentation of her naked body on the
small stage, meant she could be bought, and used by a stranger. A
stranger wouldn't care for her needs, he would just use her satisfy his
lust.

The demure attitude, looking down, looking submissive, showed she

would submit to whatever a master desired. She wanted the men to
desire her, and for them to bid for her. A high price would prove how
desirable she was.

A sexual high gripped her mind filling it with fantasies. She was an
innocent slave-girl being auctioned to an unknown master. It could be
anyone of these men taking her from here, to use for his pleasure. As her
eyes became accustomed to the light, she began to see arms raising
numbered paddles. Women too were bidding for her!
It might be a young man buying her. He would be a vigorous, rampant
male, using her body in a constant round of inventive sexual acts. Every
day he would demand more challenging positions, and make her play
more outrageous sexual games.

If an older man bought her, what would be expected? Would she have to
learn about his lurid whims, and perform obscene acts to his satisfaction?
If he didn't look rich or sophisticated, he didn't want her for himself.
Rather, he would be an agent, buying her for an unknown wealthy man,
or maybe to work in a brothel. She would end up working hard to please
wealthy customers, pandering to a different man's whims every night.

For whom was he buying her? Was it a mysterious stranger. Perhaps a

rich Arab, or maybe someone more salubrious? Would she be briefed to
indulge paying customer's fantasies? She might be pimped out to men,
maybe several every night, never seeing a penny of the fee, for she was a
mere slave.

As a compliant slave she would be popular, and earn her pimp a fortune.
Being so valuable to him, he would never set her free, and she wouldn't
have a penny to buy her freedom. She would be a slave whore, forever
learning to dutifully submit to men's demands.

Her mind was spinning with indulgent fantasies. She felt safe to let go,
because her husband was buying her. She allowed the idea to grow in her
mind that she was an object for sale, and a stranger was about to
purchase her. She set her mind to accepting a state of slavery, and was
determined to accept the new owner would have to be obeyed, whoever
he was.

***
With large breasts, long legs, and long blonde hair, she was a stunning
image of femininity. Jack watched the reaction around him as his wife
paraded around the stage. He hadn't expected her to be naked. What or
who convinced her to strip off for everyone to see her body?

He'd missed her entrance and her description by the auctioneer. He'd
been caught in traffic, and only just got there.

A keen interest was evident from the craned necks, and the crowd was
leaning forward for a closer look. She looked radiant, and he was proud of
her.

Jack too leant forward, wanting to take back possession of his wife. A
moment of jealousy hit him, and he became afraid for her. He wanted to
whisk her away somewhere safe, away from these vultures ogling her
naked body. He calmed down by taking deep breaths. These strangers
were vying for her charms, yet it was him taking her home for an exciting
weekend.

Like everyone else, he too was impressed. She looked luscious, ripe,
ready for anything. They had made her up to look her best. She was
twenty-nine, and though more rounded than muscular, her body was
firm. He knew her large breasts stood out, but she was obviously posing
to show them off.

Although he stood at the back, he could see her pubis had been shaved
bare. He watched her strut around the stage while the figure went up and
up. She dropped her number and bent to pick it up. It was a straight leg
bend, showing off her peachy ass and everything between her legs. A
frenzy of bidding followed. Had she done that on purpose?

The bidding was still vigorous, and so he hadn't raised the paddle with his
bidder's number yet. There was no need until the bidding slowed down,
but his intention was to keep her guessing. He could imagine her worrying
if he was there, or becoming afraid he decided to let someone else win
her.

Watching her closely he realised she hadn't looked around for him, and
she didn't seem perturbed at all. Rather, she was getting carried away,
showing off, playing up to the crowd. The men weren't baying for her, but
she was definitely reacting to comments from the front row of bidders.

For no apparent reason, while right at the front of the stage, she bent
over and grabbed both ankles. A pair of juicy lips flowered between her
thighs. It looked so delicious, even the auctioneer paused, bringing a
silent moment to the room.

Again a flurry of bids kept the auctioneer busy. Jack listened to the
figures rolling upward. It didn't matter how much he had to pay to retain
his wife, for he was selling her, so the price would be passed back to him.
The commission was a large percentage, but that was worth every penny
to watch her out there.

A flicker of worry made him edgy. He wished he'd checked on his credit
rating, as the price for his wife was sky rocketing. It was well past the
expected figure. One more trick like the last might push her price beyond
his credit limit. He could have arranged a higher one, but this was
unexpected.

A dreadful feeling gripped his stomach. He had filled out the initial forms
on the internet as a bidder, and on arriving he'd lodged a hefty deposit in
cash. Was it enough? Her contract ran for a whole weekend, and there
were restrictions to her use as a slave. However, that was no consolation.
He began to experience the auction as fearfully as she had. Only he
wasn't becoming excited over the prospect of a stranger buying his wife.

The more he thought about it, the more he began to sweat. He was
selling his wife, for a stranger to use as a sex slave. Damn! He cursed
under his breath, but no one could hear with the noise of excited chatter
filling the room.

The bidding war was unexpectedly high. The usual estimate for a
weekend slave had been a fraction of the figure reached so far, and it was
still rising. From what he had seen on the web site, the amount was
nearing that of a permanent slave.

If the price went much higher, the auctioneer might not accept his bid.
The auctioneer was concentrating on two men, one young, the other old.
He watched the figure winding upward ever higher, getting closer to his
limit. It was no good raising his number until one of them dropped out,
when the auctioneer would look around for a fresh bidder to join the
action.

If that young man won her, what would happen then? The auction house
wouldn't give him an address, so she would be spirited away to some
unknown destination. The young man would get to use his wife for the
whole weekend! A young guy would be fertile and energetic. She would
be kept sexed up every moment, working as his sex slave.

The old guy might not use her so much, yet the thought was just as bad.
An older man would have kinky demands to keep him going. His wife
might be tied up, and forced to succumb to whatever demands he made
upon her.

Then the question he had been avoiding snapped into focus. What would
she do? If given the choice she would walk away, and the money would
have to be refunded. That wasn't a problem, as he would just give back
what had been paid for her. What if she didn't have the choice? She might
be kept locked up, or kept naked, so she couldn't just run back home.

Shit! He was being stupid. Barbara had explained it all to him and
reminded him of the process yesterday. He was getting carried away with
the high emotions of the crowd. Of course it didn't matter, even if he
didn't bid on her. Whatever the bids were in the room, at the end she
would be sold to a commission bid, a bid on the books, his bid.

He would get to take her home, and she had promised to be his obedient
slave for the weekend. Knowing her so well, she would honour the
promise, and had thrown herself into practicing being a slave-girl.

***

The very idea that these men wanted her so much, heated her up until
she was in danger of losing control. Barbara was trying hard not to
shamefully orgasm before everyone. These strangers were bidding an
enormous amount to have her, and the compliment was overwhelming.
Even a wealthy looking young woman had bid, only to drop out as the
figure erupted off the scale.

Her head spun from a surge of emotional arousal. She was in such a
state, whatever was demanded of her, however humiliating and debased,
she would submit to it. The bidding slowed down and halted.

'I'll remind you, this lot, two, is for permanent possession, without
restrictions. Such an opportunity does not arise often. Don't let such a
desirable lot pass,' the auctioneer reminded them.

Barbara didn't hear what was said, or she might have become fearful.
A new bidder raised his number, but he too was outbid.

'No more interest, I mean bids,' the auctioneer announced, and received
the laugh he expected.

'Going once,' the auctioneer recited.

Before the second recital could be completed, the man raised a numbered
paddle straight and high in the knot of men at the front. Everyone heard
the figure that would buy a brace of brand new sports cars, and gave a
group sighed, then applauded.

'Going once, twice, no more bids? Selling this one outright, without
restrictions, if you're sure? Third time,' he recited, and banged the gavel
onto the podium.

***

Jack watched his wife being led off stage. She looked excited and in a
world of her own. It was obvious she was in a fantasy world. She had
been auctioned off to the highest bidder, and sold as a sex slave. Again
his imagination began working overtime.

If she were cuffed and gagged, there would be no chance for her to
protest at anything an owner wished to inflict upon her. She could be
forced to perform the most dreadful perversions. What if she were
shipped off in a private jet, to a rich Arab, or to the Far East. She might
end up entertaining foreign businessmen, working as an exclusive
prostitute.

As a slave there would be nothing she could refuse. She would become
skilled in all the perversions devised by man. Her entire body would
become a tool for sex. The owner might modify her body, exaggerating
her large breasts. It wouldn't take long to completely subjugate her. In
the meantime those that favoured resistance, wanting a woman to fight
against them, would take pleasurable advantage.

Jack shook his head, wishing he hadn't had a drink before the auction. He
was unsure if he had won the bidding. In his fluster of nerves he might
have missed the moment. Threading his way through the throng of
punters he made his way to the pay desk. A big beefy man looked him up
and down.

'I've come to pay,' he said, just stopping himself saying it was for his
wife.

'You'll have to wait for the interval, or the end of the auction,' he clearly
stated.

Seeing the man hesitating, ready to make an argument, he stepped

closer, emphasising his huge build.

'Those are the rules. Bidders are admitted to the pay desk, when the
auctioneer is ready to take the cash. Yea, cash only,' he stated.

'Shit!' was all Jack could say.

Then he remembered, it was just the commission he had to pay. His

deposit would only just cover it. He ran through the figures again, used to
such mundane tasks, and breathed a sigh of relief. Still, it would be a
hefty sum. Why they had bid so much on her for just a weekend, was a
mystery. He better not say that to Barbara, for she was of course worth
every penny.
Then it came to him what the auctioneer had said. She'd been sold as a
permanent slave, without restrictions. That didn't sound right. Barbara
had become excited and drawn in to the game over the last few days, so
maybe she changed the specifications.

'I wish she'd told me,' he murmured to himself.

He went to get a drink to steady his nerves. It would be all right. It had to
be, or his wife would give him hell. He could just see her now, storming
out of the auction house, blaming him for spoiling the moment. They
wouldn't get their money back either.

Jack joined a queue, waiting to pay up and collect their goods. He wasn't
the only one looking impatient, though the others looked pleased with
themselves. He had a worried frown on his face. Having had a couple of
drinks, he needed the restroom, and ended up last in the queue.

Once inside the small room he presented the numbered paddle, and the
confirmation slip with his number printed on it. The auctioneer asked him
which lot he had purchased, then the name. Although the names were
false, they were registered with the number as a safeguard.

'Wait a moment, I'll just check if the lot is ready,' he said, and left the
room.

Jack sat on a hard backed chair, tapping his foot, without rhyme, reason,
or rhythm.

'Where's lot two?' Bernard asked.

'In the dungeon, probably. What's up?' Ceejay asked.

'Another bidder came in to pay for her. He gave a different name to the
lot,' Bernard quietly said.

'I take it you don't think he's trying it on?' Ceejay asked.

'No. I remember the name, Barbara. The paperwork says she's reserved
for a husband, and his paddle number matches. The problem is, Barbara
had the wrong number. She's been sold under someone else's number
and conditions. How did that happen?' he pointedly asked.

Ceejay looked across the room at Jilly. She looked flustered while
hurriedly getting the rest of the women ready for the second half of the
auction. Instead of blaming the new girl, she diverted his attention.

'No time for that now, I'll sort it out. You're due to start the next session.
I'll see to him,' Ceejay helpfully suggested.

When Bernard was out of the way, she let out a heavy hiss, 'Shit!'

Ceejay hurried from the dungeon with a worried look on her face. Barbara
had been taken away by security and bundled into a limo. It was good
when the bidder quickly paid up, as it was so awkward when they didn't.
As luck would have it, that was bad news this time.

A successful bidder had already collected that man's wife. What to do

now? She walked back to the examination room, and grabbed a list of
names and numbers.

Ceejay noted the number Barbara should have worn was thirty-six. She
looked down the list, and found Celina had that number instead. Luckily
the young woman hadn't been sold yet, she was still in the waiting area.
'Hi Celina, how are you?' Ceejay asked.

'Okay, I guess,' the young woman shrugged.

Ceejay knew what men liked, and Celina had it all. Big breasts, rosebud
lips, long legs, flawless young skin, a pretty face, big innocent eyes, and
no brain. She could go on listing the girls currency, but couldn't be
bothered. She was thoroughly jealous.

Marching with a look of determination, over to Jilly, she ordered, 'Jilly!

Remove thirty-six from the line-up and take her to the dungeon. Now!'

Ceejay sternly spoke to the stupid girl, and gave her a shove in the right
direction. She hesitated for a moment, to make sure the girl picked the
right woman. Between them they had enough brain cells to get it right,
but not work out what were Ceejay's intentions.

Ceejay marched into the pay office and smiled at the waiting bidder.

'Sorry to keep you waiting, we're running a bit late. The auctioneer needs
to start the next session, so I'm here to satisfy you. In compensation,
we'll refund the auction fees,' she smiled.

Jack looked relieved. It would have been a disaster if he hadn't won the
bid. The fees were a lot higher than expected, making it an expensive
weekend. He was very pleased with not having to pay. He didn't have to
tell his wife that, which made him even happier.

The way she looked on stage it was obvious how carried away she had
become, so probably didn't realise how high the bidding had been. Why it
was so much for just a weekend, he still puzzled over. Barbara would be
pleased when he told her how much they had bid on her, for just a
weekend of sex. Though, perhaps he had better think of a better way of
phrasing it.

'Thanks. When do I collect my, err, slave?' he asked.

'Just drive up to the collection point at the back of the building. Here's the
paperwork. You show this to the man at the gate, and this to the
doorman. You will probably be last, that's why the fee's have been waved.
Is that OK?' she asked.

'Yea, sure, no problem,' he smiled back.

Ceejay had him pegged right. He was more pleased with saving money
than collecting his wife. Now it was just a matter of timing. She just
hoped he lived a long way from the auction.

Jack bought another drink, to celebrate saving the auction fee, and
looking forward to the weekend fun.

***

When the auction security man took hold of her arm, she quivered with a
near orgasm. He took her out to a limo, explaining she was to be
delivered to the successful bidder. She couldn't see the delivery guy, as
she was bundled onto back seat, and the dividing glass closed.

He just drove off into the night with an object to be delivered.

Barbara was impressed that her husband had gone to the expense of
hiring a limo and driver. It looked as though he was going to make her
dream come true. She really needed him to be firm with her, and spank
her if she stepped out of line.

Barbara was on the back of the limo, wearing nothing but a sirik! The
auction house clamped them on everyone, in case they changed their
minds. She sat on the soft seats, worrying about leaking onto the new
smelling leather. She contemplated being a man's sex slave, for a whole
weekend. Still hot up from the auction she was ready to explode.

She was now an object, auctioned off to a stranger. Every time she
thought it, the excitement escalated. She recited to herself, that she was
just a slave-girl, ready to obey a new master. Another tremor from a
mini-orgasm tingled her tummy

'I am so ready, so very ready. I need a master to take me, and make me
his,' she moaned.

***

Jack waited outside the rear of the warehouse. A large truck was backed
up against a loading bay, with boxes and chairs being loaded. Only one
bidder was allowed at a time, so as to maintain anonymity. The gates
opened, his paper work was checked, and he drove in. A van had been
hired for the special occasion. He drove it, as he could hardly let a
delivery driver see his wife wearing nothing but cuffs.

Judging by the last few days at home, he figured she would be in such a
state, she wouldn't care how he collected her. He again worried if he
could perform to her expectations. She had promised not to be too
demanding. Before they left the house this morning, she promised to be
his sex slave. She would be his to command, and she would obey his
every whim.
He opened the door as the security guy approached. Jack creased his
brow wondering what was going on.

'The cage is the slave's request,' the big guy stated.

'Oh!' was all Jack could say.

This was unexpected. Barbara had always been a determined and self
willed person, so being delivered in a small cage was strange. The humble
beginning to their weekend must be her idea of committing to it. She was
always one to throw herself into a project, so maybe this was a gesture,
to show she really was his sex pet.

It was a long drive home, and she wouldn't see the luxury van. He
wondered if he should get her out now, as it would be a waste of the
rental if she didn't get to ride in comfort. Inside it was discreetly
decorated as a passion wagon. He shrugged his shoulders. If this is what
she wanted, so be it.

***

'You did what?' Bernard exclaimed.

'He seemed happy enough. It was a fair swop,' Ceejay stated, without
much conviction.

'So why did you start packing up so quickly?' he asked.

'If he changes his mind, it might be better to be away from here,' Ceejay
pointed out.

'It's too late now, we're stuck with the decision. Thankfully we'll be out of
the country in a few days. If there's trouble we'll be well out of the way,'
he sighed.

'The chairs are in the truck, and the stage is ready to haul into it. We'll be
away in half an hour,' Ceejay told him.

***

Helped from the limo by an older man, calmed Barbara, a little. He guided
her into a large mansion house. It had age to it, though it was kept up-to-
date, if the kitchen was anything to go by. It was unlike her husband to
spend unnecessarily, yet it must have cost him something to rent this
place. Then she realised, it must be the BDSM club he was keen on
visiting.

It promised to be an exceptional weekend, though all she really needed

was to be mastered. She guessed it was cheap to rent a room here for
the weekend.

What had been servants stairs led from the kitchen down to a basement.
This too was fitted out in a modern style. One end of the huge area was a
playroom. A naughty boys playroom, with all kinds of gadgets. Racks of
vibrators, whips, kinky clothing on rails, and all sorts of devilish
instruments. It was much like the sex store she had visited recently.

Then it dawned on her. All this could be used on her! It confirmed this
was the sex club he had told her about. She hoped he knew what he was
doing, though a naughty part of her hoped it got out of hand, with others
joining in.

Not that she wanted to have sex with anyone other than her husband. It
was just the idea of others watching them, and having sex alongside
them. That would be thrilling. She tried to tell herself not to be so wicked,
but arousal was damaging her moral reticence.

The sooner this man left, and her master arrived, the sooner she could
receive what she craved. It was becoming difficult holding back, and she
didn't want to orgasm in front of a stranger. Especially without her
husband there to help her along, or protect her.

'Bend your head,' he ordered.

The firm hard tone of voice made her quiver with excitement. It was
thrilling realising she was ready to be taken, even in front of strangers.
The man was watching her, and she couldn't help putting on a show for
him. She kept her legs apart, showing him everything. It wasn't as
thrilling as being on stage at the auction, but served to keep her excited.

She stood still, with head bent forward, awaiting further instructions. He
was examining her, and seemed satisfied with what he saw. Examine and
crave my body, she thought. It was her master that was going to take
her, no-one else, not even this strong imposing stranger.

'Stand still!' he ordered.

She felt a leather collar fitted around her neck. It was disappointing not
having her husband do it with a dramatic ceremony. The man wrapped a
leather belt around her waist, then clasped matching ones around wrists,
ankles, and thighs. In her fantasy it would have been a serving girl
preparing her for her master.

Brendan clipped a leash to the back of the collar. He tightened the sirik
around her body. He ran a strand of chain from the new collar to the sirik
and locked it with a small padlock. He did the same to the chains at her
wrists, locking them to the leather straps. The ankles were next, so that
her movements became limited.

Movement could be restricted even more, by tightening the chains.

She stepped into high heels, and he snapped little locks onto the back
straps. Her feet were now trapped into the shiny six-inch high heels.

He guided her to a mirror, and watched the look of amazement on her

face turn to satisfaction. Already sexed up, she became even more stoked
from looking at the lascivious image.

'What do you have to say for yourself, Slave?' he demanded.

Barbara just stood there, wondering what was required of her. He pointed
to the floor at his feet, and pushed her into a kneeling position. She
hoped she wasn't expected to crawl upstairs. It was a big house, and the
lounge was probably a long way off.

She didn't need preparing for her master, she was more than ready for a
good session, and was in a hurry to meet him.

'Open up!' he demanded.

Barbara didn't like this at all. Nevertheless she opened her mouth, hoping
he wasn't going to gag her. She closed her eyes, and counted to ten to
regain some calm. This was probably the moment he walked away, and
for her husband to appear in his place.

Brendan lifted her chin and shoved his cock into her mouth.

She choked, from it being so unexpected. The moment from him leaving
to her husband taking his place was too quick. She opened her eyes to
see a stranger's belly filling her vision. A stranger's penis was invading
her body! He had a strong hold on the back of her head, and was
pumping her mouth over his hard cock.

She still felt hot as hell, but this was all wrong! Where was her husband?
He had better not be watching, while a stranger did this dreadful thing to
her. The chains and his hands held her in place, otherwise she would have
run away. If that were possible in such high heels.

'A good silent slave-girl, though not so much a girl. You seem well
trained. Now you will learn to please your new master,' he heavily stated.

He pushed her head back, releasing his cock, which bounced up and hit
her nose.

She was thankful he didn't cum in her mouth, though it was still upsetting
that he dared to use her. Nevertheless, there was a sexual thrill over
being used by a stranger, which she didn't want to recognise. She tried
not to think about it, but the arousal wouldn't subside.

She opened her mouth wide, needing to shake out the cramp. A gag was
adroitly shoved into her mouth.

She yelled a single word, 'No!'

It sounded to her own ears garbled and meaningless. In the dungeon the
sound was absorbed by thick stone walls. He led her to a cage, and she
quickly crawled in, glad to escape temptation. It wouldn't take much
encouragement and she would have let him fuck her. Sitting looking up at
the stranger, she figured this is where her husband came to release her.
Would he know the man had abused her, or should she say nothing.
Spoiling all his efforts to make this a special weekend, wasn't on. She
would keep quiet, and let him take the lead. It was a strategy she took
with almost everything.

The day had been exciting, and tiring. Scrunching up in the rags that
made a bed, she lay down for a moment. Not planning too, she
nevertheless quickly fell asleep. It was late and under the circumstances,
she awoke early.

Annoyance spread across her face. Where was her husband? If he'd been
playing around with a some floozy, a young slave-girl, she would scream
blue murder. Why had he left her in this damn cage all night?

'Good morning, slave,' Brendan smiled.

The gag prevented her from asking the obvious. Perhaps she needed to
sleep and the rest meant they would play better. No! Excuses weren't
going to be made for this stupid blunder.

Hesitating from crawling from the cage, she suddenly relented. The toilet
and breakfast were needed. In that order, as she was desperate. He
attached a leash to the collar, and guided her with tugs across the
dungeon floor. Stopped in the middle of the dungeon, she wondered why.

Oh! God! Barbara cringed. He'd parked her over a grill, which she was
supposed to use. He used the leash to casually whip her bottom. The
message was understood. Too desperate to wait it out, she had to pee
just where she was. At least there was nothing else needed. That
humiliation had to be ignored for now.

He wiped her with a tissue, then pulled on the leash. Stopping again, this
time it was obvious, as she was in front of two dog bowls. One was filled
with water, the other with something she didn't like the look of.

'Eat!' he said, and pushed her face into the meaty food.

Hunger overtook her better feelings. It didn't smell so bad as it looked.

Finding it was chilli, she sped up. Her tongue and teeth were used to eat
up the badly needed meal.

'Promise to be a good slave-girl, and I'll take you upstairs,' he said.

His attitude toward her was demeaning, yet she kept her temper. Not
wanting to be punished, and needing to join her husband, she nodded her
head. Jack meant this as a thrill for her, but the guy was going too far. It
was arousing to be in a dungeon, and subject to a stranger as his slave,
but this was no fun.

It would have been impossible to be naked before a stranger, yet since

the auction that moral obstacle had been surmounted. He removed the
gag, allowing her to speak.

'I, err, I promise to be a good slave-girl, master,' she reluctantly said.

Crawling upstairs wasn't difficult, but it gave her a thrill to be released

from the dungeon. The house was sumptuously decorated. Whoever
owned the large house had taste, and lots of money. It must cost a
fortune to heat, and keeping it clean would be a full time job, for more
than one person. The club fees must be enormous.

'Follow me. No! Crawl,' Brendan ordered.

At last she was being led to her husband, so the fun could begin. With
every crawling step, the arousal was building. Led naked, to her master
by a stranger, was working after all. Crawling into a large library, she
kept her head down. Obviously her husband was keeping quiet, dragging
out the anticipation especially for her.

The floor was polished oak, with a large Persian rug in the centre. The
smell of leather, and books, made this a man's den. A big leather topped
desk stood in her way. The man walked around it, and sat down, for she
could see his slipper shod feet.

Dare she look up, and hurriedly glance around the room. Just a quick look
to glimpse her husband would be reassuring. Her breathing was
quickening, not panting yet. The state of arousal was clouding her mind.
He was badly needed. Her husband had to reassert his rights, after this
stranger had made use of her.

In a strange way, she thought because this man used her, she was now
his. She needed Jack to recover her from this man by fucking her, and
she really did need it.

This was not something she would have thought of before the auction. It
was a totally alien idea, yet very true in this circumstance. A man had
used her, and she needed her husband to make her his once more. She
needed him to take her before she could feel safe again.

'Crawl around the desk, slave,' Brendan ordered.

Feeling weak and vulnerable, she did as ordered. His hands cupped her
face, and stroked her hair.

'You are a precious slave-girl, my slave-girl,' he warmly spoke.

'Yes, master, thank you, master,' she answered, as she had so often
practiced.

It didn't need to be thought about, she was on automatic, being a slave-

girl to a strong and powerful master. Her head was in total confusion
when he guided her under the desk. He pulled his cock from his pants,
and it bounced up alert and ready.

It was too much for Barbara. All the pent up emotion of anticipating the
moment of enslavement drove everything out of her mind. This was all
wrong, but she didn't care. She wrapped her arms around his legs and
sucked his cock into her mouth. His cock quickly grew harder and longer.

After practicing with a banana all week, she was able to swallow it down
her throat. For a moment she felt guilty that her husband had never
experienced this. All that effort and practice, and this man was benefiting.

She sucked for dear life, hoping his orgasm would release hers. Her head
bobbed up and down in a steady rhythm. Her tongue licked and teased.
Her lips kissed and sucked on its head each time it surfaced.

She screeched like a stage witch, when he pulled his cock away from her.
She tried to grasp it, only he grabbed both her wrists. He may be old, but
he was strong. He pulled her from under the desk, dragging her over the
smooth floor, onto the carpet, to the centre of the room.

Her chains rattled against the hardwood floor, until they came to a rest on
the carpet.

While she was confused in shock, he tightened the chains. They pulled her
legs sideways, spreading her thighs. Both arms were behind her back.
There had been no time to mount a defence, as it happened so quickly. In
no time at all she was helplessly spread on the floor, at his feet.

'You will learn to obey me,' he intoned, and got to his knees, between her
legs.

Knowing what was to come, she struggled. It was no good. He was

obviously an expert, and had her powerless to resist in seconds flat. His
cock was still poking from his trousers. He slowly rested upon her, with
the obvious intent of poking her. Her breathing was rapid, not just from
panic, but from excitement too.

Damn! Her husband had somehow found out she wanted a stranger to
subdue her, and roughly take her. How did he find that out? If he had
mentioned it, she would have explained it was just a fantasy, and she
didn't want it to really happen. He'd gone to the expense of arranging
this, and it was all terribly wrong!

Of course! He didn't need to pay someone to take her. This would all be
free of charge, which would suit him. Shit! Her husband had arranged for
a stranger to fuck her! How wrong could he be! The stupid bastard had
gone for the cheap option in the most dangerous way possible. Why didn't
men listen properly!

'No! Please!' she wailed. 'Please, master!' she tried to get him to listen.

Watching his face come closer, he stopped over her breasts. He lifted one
hand off the floor and reached back for something. With nothing held
after all, the hand swung, and slapped her face. The hard blow stopped
her wailing. He leant forward and bit a nipple.

'You will learn to obey me,' he heavily spoke.

'Yes, sir,' she hesitantly replied.

'I bought you, and that makes me your master. Say it!' he demanded

He lifted a hand off the floor again, ready to slap her, so she quickly
responded, 'Yes, master. Your slave will obey, her master,' Barbara
conceded.

'Say it fully!' he demanded.

For a moment she was confused, but quickly figured out what he wanted
to hear. After all she didn't want to be slapped, as her face was still
stinging.

'My master bought this undeserving slave. Buying this humble slave,
makes her his to command. This humble slave will obey her master in all
things,' Barbara chanted, hoping it was right.

Her new position in life settled upon her as though this were real.

Feeling his hardness settle into her crotch was thrilling. The excitement
hit her harder than his hand. It was just as unexpected. His cock
smoothed its way up her slit, then down again. The excitement had been
building all day, since driving to the auction house. She had been open
and gasping for sex. It was wrong to give in to a stranger, but she
desperately needed completing.

Having been stoked a day, was enough of an excuse to give in to her

base desires. After all she had been through, who could blame her for
giving in. Stretching disbelief to breaking point, she figured her husband
had arranged this, so he couldn't complain if she capitulated.
This time she really wanted a good fucking. Only so much teasing could
be taken without demanding satisfaction. Maybe her husband had got a
good deal after all, for this man was an expert. He was teasing her over
and over again, until she was ready to submit to whatever he wanted.
Just so long as he made her orgasm, she would be happy.

His hardness rubbed between her lips, and over her clit.

'Please, master, please!' she begged.

'Tell your master what you want, slave,' he calmly spoke.

He was good, she had to admit. Her own breathing was ragged and
heavy. So very nearly out of control, she was be ready to beg if he didn't
take her.

'Please, fuck me, master. Fuck your slave, master,' she begged.

Her words shook her. Surely he hadn't worked her up so much, as to lose
control so abjectly. The sound of her voice was pathetic.

'Oh! Yes! Oh! Master, yes!' she exhaled.

His cock found its way into her. After years of marriage she still had to
direct her husband with a gentle hand. This stranger was, oh, yes, he was
fucking her slow and easy. He was long and thick. His cock was filling her
up!

'Oh! My! God!' Barbara yelled.

At the right moment he began to slam into her. All the way in, stretching
her vagina, he pummelled her hips with his. He pounded away at her with
long piston like strokes, again and again. In an out, his penis fucked her
hard. It seemed to go so deep she would gag.

'I'm there! Please don't stop, master, please,' she begged.

'Oh! My! God! Yes!' she whimpered.

An orgasm exploded from her tummy, shooting out through her limbs.
Her head was full of stars, flashing and dying. Her heels drummed on the
floor. Eventually she lay there whimpering little sounds of satisfaction.

'Well, slave, what do you say to your master?' he demanded of her.

'Thank you, master. Thank you, master, for the wonderful orgasm. Oh!
Thank you, master,' she sighed.

A dreamy smile lit her face. Feeling his cum dribbling from between her
lips, she wanted to pull her thighs together. Still chained, she lay there, in
the centre of the room, helpless, at her master's mercy.

He ran a finger over sensitised lips and delved into her pussy. He pushed
his fingers into her mouth, and she dutifully licked them clean, without
question, obeying her master. Again the same action commenced, and
again she obeyed her master without question.

In the warm embrace of an afterglow, she smiled in the heavenly bliss of

being mastered. A stranger had mastered her, and made her his sex
slave. There was no question about it. He bought her at a slave auction
and chained her tight. She was naked on his library floor, dripping his
cum from her cunt.

That was what it was now, a cunt. For she was a sex slave, and that is
what it now was. Her master's cunt, to do with as he pleased. That
thought pleased her almost as much as he had. A little giggle escaped her
lips.

Chained naked in a stranger's home, it was impossible to get away. Too

carried away to resist, she gave in to him, and let him have his way with
her again. Acting as his sex slave had become such a turn on, she
couldn't resist anything he wanted.

As Sunday evening approached Barbara wondered when he was going to

give her some clothes, and drive her home. Maybe she would be sent
home in the limo. She doesn't work, and the house can wait a few days,
but if she isn't sent on her way soon, it would mean she has been bought
for more than just the weekend.

Was that why her price had been so high? Had she been auctioned off for
a longer period than just a weekend? The auctioneer had said, forever,
and without restrictions. Surely that couldn't be right, could it? Of course
not, she'd completed the forms and was very specific that it was for a
weekend, and that there were restrictions to her use.

Her use! Her master was making use of her! The phrase was so real now,
full of meaning, as this stranger had been making use of her body!

Maybe he bought her for a whole week? That would be the absolute limit,
but she couldn't help thinking what might happen if it were a whole
month. Being his sex slave for four weeks would bring her to such a state,
it would take a long time to recover.

She would be reduced to a whimpering sex toy, driven past the point of
caring about being returned to her husband.
***

Jack arrived home and braced himself for a torrent of abuse. If there had
been some mistake, and she didn't want to be caged, he was in trouble.
He pulled the cage from the van, onto a trolley, and wheeled his wife into
the house. In the middle of the lounge he opened the cage for her to
crawl out.

'Thank you, Master, for purchasing this unworthy slave-girl,' the young
woman said.

As she crawled out of the cage, Jack cringed back in the arm chair, as
though trying to escape the apparition. This was most definitely not his
wife!

'Who are you?' he asked.

'My name was Celina, but now I am, Slave-Girl, until my master gives me
a slave name,' she said.

There was silence in the room except for the loud ticking of a clock. It
wasn't clockwork, the noise was generated to simulate a real old
fashioned clock. He didn't know what to say. Questions came to mind, but
all he could do was ogle the sexy young woman.

'Your slave is here to serve her master, for as long as slave can amuse
her master. The slave contract is permanent, and there are no
restrictions. Your slave is here to be used, Master,' she said.

Having spoken her rehearsed speech, she bent her head to the floor, and
waited. If he was a good master, she would be grateful and really fulfil
the contract in every way possible.

'Please, get up from the floor, and sit next to me. You are so beautiful I
can't think straight while looking at you,' Jack said.

'Thank you, Master, for complimenting your slave. Your slave is here to
be used, please make your slave yours by using it,' she said, and looked
up at him with imploring eyes.

The woman was younger than his wife, and very attractive. She was slim,
nubile, and so very sexy. Her whole body exuded sex appeal. It was going
to be difficult keeping his hands off her. If she looked at him with those
imploring eyes for much longer, he would master her by taking her, just
as she wanted.

***

'Master, may slave speak?' Barbara asked in a dutiful and humble

manner.

'You may, slave,' he said, in the usual deep voice that thrilled her.

'Your obedient slave would like to know, master, how long will master
keep his slave, please, master?' she asked.

'Slave needs training to fulfil its duties. After that, so long as slave is
obedient and satisfactory, slave will be kept forever,' Brendon seriously
spoke.

Barbara didn't know what to say. Was this a part of the game? Would he
play his part right up until the last moment. In the next hours would she
be packed off, back to her husband? A feeling overcame her that this was
permanent.

Her husband had said it was impossible to keep a slave in this century. It
was illegal, and wrong. He'd added flippantly that she could always get a
taxi home. Neither of them had thought it through. It wasn't because she
was naked, and in chains that she didn't leave.

There was no phone to call a taxi, she didn't have the fare, but most of
all, she had lost the will to leave. It wasn't because he was wealthy, and
his home was luxurious, it was because his willpower had overcome her.
She was in thrall of his masterful presence.

He hadn't hypnotised her, or influenced her in that way, he was fulfilling

her fantasy, making it come true. All her dreams had come true because
he wanted what she wanted too. He wanted an obedient slave-girl, and
she wanted a strong master to control her.

The second week passed and there was no sign of him winding down the
game. She had to think hard about leaving before it was too late. It was
already difficult to think of another life, away from her master. After only
two weeks, she was settling into the routine of serving a master, so what
would she be like after four weeks?

Perhaps she should do something, but what? Most of the time she was so
sexed up all she wanted was to serve her master. When tired all she
wanted was to curl up at her master's feet, to fall sleep.

***

'Master, your slave is here to serve you,' she sincerely spoke.

'Have you completed all your chores, Toy?' Brendon asked.

'Yes, master,' Barbara answered with a bow.

'Then you can amuse your master. Practice your slave positions, Toy,' he
ordered.

Barbara was keeping herself subtle for her master. For the last six months
she had learned all the positions he liked, and practiced them as often as
she could. Standing on the carpet in his study, she began the routine. She
bowed her head in acknowledgement of his order, stood to attention, then
went into the first position.

With hands clasped in the middle of her back, she bowed as low as she
could. Sitting on her haunches, she continued with a presentation of her
breasts.

At the end she lay prostrate on the floor, waiting for her master to take
notice of her. Her thoughts wandered over all the things Master had
taught her. Her body had been re-shaped for him, with exercise not with
surgery. She had been nearly right for him when she walked into his
house.

Trained to be absolutely obedient, and taught to satisfy his whims, she

was now a perfect slave.

After being his slave for six months, she worshiped his cock, and loved to
have it inside her, anywhere he wanted it to be. Barbara the Toy was
proud of her new name, and lay on the floor face down, kowtowing to her
master.

***
Jack smiled at his slave, Lovely. He'd told her so often over the last six
months that she was lovely, it had stuck as her name. It was a private
name between them. He'd almost forgotten he was married, and stopped
wondering what had happened to her. He'd tried contacting the auction
house, but they had moved on. In any case, privacy and security was
paramount, so they wouldn't tell him anything, even if he found their new
location.

No money, no choice

The Auction House was known as just that, as it was vital to keep its
identity confidential. It handled a specialist sale, where bidders were
there by invitation only. No letters, cards, or advertising was needed.
Emails were sent at the last minute to discerning clients, informing them
of the time and place.

Those in the know held onto the privilege, doing everything in their power
to attend, even if it meant rearranging an important schedule. For some it
was the wishful idea of a perfect purchase, and others just liked the
vicarious thrill of being there.

A lucky few were able to purchase a valuable and rare object. Once
obtained, it had to be kept in a rarefied environment, and maintained to a
high standard. A slave isn't just for Christmas, it's to keep until you get
bored with it.

Some slaves had to be trained, or re-trained to a master's requirements.

Others came fully trained, needing nothing more than instructions on how
to perform obediently to a master's particular needs.

The venue changed from place to place, with a large truck hauling the
props, much like a travelling show. Moving around was a part of the strict
security needed, to maintain privacy and keep a low profile. Wealthy
clients could indulge themselves discreetly, while the women on sale
maintained their anonymity.

Everything was ready. Front of house had been arranged, with chairs set
out for bidders, and the well built security guys had set-up the small
stage. The four rooms used behind the scenes were also ready, so they
just had to wait for the women and an audience to arrive.

***

'Don't worry, stick close to me, you'll soon pick it up. I've worked here
long enough to know what's what. It's busy this evening with so many
women in the auction, though most of them are regulars, so won't need
much attention,' Ceejay reassured the new girl.

'My uncle explained what happens, but I don't understand why they do it,'
Jilly asked, with a look of curiosity.

'All kinds of reasons, and you'll soon find out. Don't ask them, as they can
be very sensitive, especially if it's a first time. If they want to talk, try not
to get involved as we are far too busy,' Ceejay warned.

'OK!' Jilly nodded her head, still looking bemused.

'Go check the stage, we don't want anything to cut the women's feet. A
loose bolt under the carpet can trip them up,' Ceejay told her new
assistant.

Jilly sat on a sofa in the reception room, familiarising herself with various
forms. Each woman would have to complete and sign one. When first
reading through it, she had been shocked over some of the options. The
paper trembled, displaying her first night nerves.

In the examination room, Ceejay was laying out some peculiar looking
instruments. One of them was a long bar of metal, with graduations
marked along its length. The instruments were much the same as used by
jewellers to measure rings. Jilly hadn't dared ask what they were for.

The holding area had been set up with sets of securing chains and cuffs.
The slaves were held there after the hammer dropped, to await payment
and collection by a new owner. The cuffs and chains were there to ensure
the purchased slave didn't get cold feet, and try to run off.

The reception area where slaves entered, was more comfortable, with
sofa's, and tables with mirror's, for the women to prepare themselves. If
they had more staff, as Ceejay wanted, they could have given the women
a make-over. Fixing make-up to suit the slave's specifications would
increase the bidding price. This would enhance the profit, and their
commission.

Just behind the small stage was a waiting area, with a toilet behind a
curtain. For last minute nerves, Ceejay had explained. The last thing she
wanted was a frightened woman urinating on stage.

Jilly bundled up the paperwork with a few pens. She felt nervous, and was
warned not to show it. The last thing Ceejay wanted was for the women
to pick up on it, and become too highly strung. Hysteria would cause
havoc to a well planned evening.

***

The first to arrive looked over forty, which surprised Jilly. The woman was
smartly dressed, in expensive designer clothes. Jilly introduced herself,
and offered the woman a glass of wine. She was tempted to ask why the
woman was there, with curiosity nearly getting the better of her.

'My name is Caprice, I believe you have documents for me to sign?' she
stated.

Jilly handed her a clipboard with the pre-prepared forms, which the
woman had completed online.

'Please read through this, and change anything you need to. When happy
with the terms and conditions, please sign each page. Would you like
some help with it?' Jilly asked.

'No! Just leave me to it,' the woman crossly spoke.

'When you're ready, let me know, and I'll take you to the examination
room,' Jilly said.

She was trying not to be offended by the woman's haughty attitude,

putting it down to nerves. Ceejay explained most of them would be
nervous, and it was this woman's first time.

Caprice had been a fashion model, some years ago. Drink and drugs had
mercifully spared her looks. The jet-set lifestyle hadn't spared her bank
account, leaving the onetime wealthy woman penniless. Thinking
something would turn up, she tried to maintain a large house, even when
the lavish lifestyle couldn't be. A rich husband hadn't come along to the
rescue, so there had been no other option.

She walked out of the repossessed house into a waiting taxi, which drove
straight to the Auction House. There was nowhere else to go.
The modelling business was for young girls, not a forty-eight year old
woman. Even the escort agencies weren't interested. Even if they had
been, entertaining a different man every night was most unappealing, and
would only just pay enough to meet the running costs of the mansion.

Learning what one man wanted could be just about tolerated, if she
thought of it as a marriage. Relationships had come and gone, yet
marriage had escaped her. So there she was, all alone in life. Determined
not to feel sorry for herself, instead, she was feeling self-determined, and
ready to face a new challenge.

A bit of a contrary attitude, she thought, and smiled. Being a self-

determined person, yet readying herself as a slave for a master, revealed
a twisted way of thinking. Or was it pure desperation.

Most of the items on the list couldn't possibly be ticked. Knowing they
would increase her value didn't help overcome the revulsion. Her anus
was NOT on the menu. It was a long time since giving deep throat, but
she ticked the box anyway. Surely she was too old for some of the filthy
games listed. After all, it would be someone mature who purchased her.
The man would be rich, and she hoped he would be decent and
respectable.

She had left this desperate plan too long, so ticked another box to
increase her worth. Just one weekend wouldn't be enough. The pen
hovered over a full week. In resignation she wrote a three in the box for
how many months of servitude she was prepared to endure.

After signing each page, to indicate agreement to the terms and

conditions of her sale, the form was complete. She looked up at the
stupid young girl, who was hovering around waiting for her.
'Here! What's next?' Caprice asked.

'Come with me please,' Jilly said, trying to sound confident and

professional.

A physical examination was needed to ensure she was a woman, and to

list vital statistics. The medical certificate Caprice provided was matched
with who she said she was.

'Remove your clothes, please,' Ceejay said.

'Is that really necessary?' Caprice haughtily spoke.

'I need to make sure your identifying marks match those on the medical
form. After all, we don't know your real name, and it's not on the form
either. It's to protect your identity, and the buyer,' Ceejay patiently
explained.

She hadn't said it was to protect the buyer from disease, but the woman
got the message.

'Well, I suppose so,' Caprice admitted.

She undressed and bent over, displaying a discreet tattoo, hidden below a
cheek.

'What are those for?' Caprice nervously asked, on seeing medical

instruments laid out on a table.

The rise in tone revealed the first sign of concern, after a forced casual
attitude.
'They're not for you,' Ceejay reassured her.

The woman looked too old to warrant an intrusive internal examination.

'Would you like to wear a smock, while you wait?' Ceejay asked. 'You'll be
naked on stage,' she added, in way of explanation.

Caprice remembered ticking that box, and asked, 'What about my

clothes?'

'They will be given to your buyer, and returned after the term agreed,'
Ceejay explained.

Caprice looked longingly at her clothes, knowing they were all she had left
of a once elegant lifestyle. There had been expensive jewellery, gifts from
lovers, yet all had dwindled away over the past few years.

During the evening women arrived and were chatting in the reception
room. Two were sharing experiences and jokes about men, trying to allay
their nerves. One sat by herself, looking frightened. Another sat calmly on
a sofa, seemingly resigned to her fate.

Caprice re-touched her make-up. Glancing at the others, she grimaced at

their lack of skill with a brush and pencil. They held the lipstick all wrong,
and applied too much, especially as they had such young, fresh
complexions.

With a sigh she sat on a sofa, with a magazine open in her lap. Not
reading it, just flicking through the pages, remembering a time when she
would have been in every magazine. They all looked like skinny brats
now.
She had a full hour glass figure. Not voluptuous, which meant big tits and
bum. Her breasts were large and real. They didn't sag too much, nor did
her bottom. She was blessed with strong muscles, and tight, unblemished
skin. Her tummy wasn't as flat as it had been, and she needed to dye her
hair. Nevertheless, she avoided looking too closely in the mirror. Past
glories lost were too painful to contemplate.

While Jilly fussed in the background, with forms and inexpert reassurance,
Ceejay guided the woman to a curtain, separating them from the stage.

'Last minute needs?' Ceejay asked, pointing to the toilet.

The woman grimaced at her.

Caprice was too professional not to be fully prepared. She held her head
up, pushing her shoulders back, showing off her naked body to its best.
The ordeal was tempered by thinking of it as a catwalk. In the past she
had strutted out before an audience, and she braced herself once more
for the show.

Instead of a show, she was submitting to the indignity of an auction. She

was regretting the idea of putting up with a few months of hardship as a
slave. It would have been better to just try out the ignoble relationship
for a short term. If it was bearable she would submit to a longer term,
hopefully setting her life straight. She needed someone to buy her, for it
would be even worse to be left on the shelf.

While waiting her turn, she wondered if it had been wise to tick some of
the boxes on the entry form. She had closed her eyes to some of what
had been agreed to, unable to bear reading the options. It was too late
now. She had been thinking of maximising her value when completing the
forms, only now she was thinking of her safety.
Damn! This is stupid! It was dangerous to place her body in the hands of
a stranger.

'Good luck, and knock them dead with your beautiful body. Out you go,'
Ceejay said, with a little shove to the woman's back.

Caprice strutted out onto the stage, as though fully clothed in next
seasons designer outfit. The lights, stares, and being examined by
strangers didn't faze her for a moment. She was once again a
professional, and the centre of attention. She had often worn outrageous
revealing clothes, and was proud of her toned body, so showed it off in all
its naked glory.

She knew how to hold her breasts up, to suck in her tummy, and to stand
to best effect. A slight bend of one leg, looking demure, through half
closed eyes, was a cunning game. When the bidding slowed, she
outrageously revealed everything, by standing with her legs open. She
strutted imperiously around the small stage, pleased to hear the bidding
increase.

She played the crowd, inciting them to bid, when they hadn't intended to
take on an older woman. There were more than a few men her age and
older. The box, indicating she would accept a mistress had been ticked,
though she would prefer a knowledgeable, older man. He might be less
demanding of her as a person, and hopefully less demanding of her body.

The bidding lessened, and stopped. Before the auctioneer could hit the
gavel, she tried a desperate trick. She bent over and grabbed both
ankles. It was a painful move, but it did the trick. She felt her pussy lips
protruding between her slim thighs. She squeezed them. A sultry look
over her shoulder at the audience, caused a stir of murmurings.
Eventually, out of tricks, she heard the gavel come down, thumping home
her position as slave. The auctioneer had done his best for her. Seeing
the renewed interest he'd upped the stages, to get a higher price. This
was a good start to the evening. The buyers and sellers premium for that
lot was more than he thought possible. She'd been accepted to make up
the numbers, and turned out to be a money spinner.

In a state of exhilaration she marched off the stage, pleased with the
round of applause.

'You did well,' Ceejay congratulated her. 'I thought this was your first
time, yet you played them better than I've ever seen,' she smiled.

Ceejay was happy, for her commission would be higher than expected.
This excellent start would lift this evenings bidding. The auctioneer might
even give them both a bonus.

Jilly helped her on with the shift, and stood back with a smile on her face.
This was her first experience of an auction, and she marvelled at how
happy this woman was, after being sold to a stranger. Jilly was still
fascinated, wanting to know why they subjected themselves to such a
humiliating experience. She dare not ask, and hoped Ceejay would
explain it later.

Jilly led her into the holding room, and sat her down on a sofa. The
woman was trembling from excitement and fear, after appearing on
stage.

'What are you doing?' Caprice exclaimed.

'It's what we have to do. Some have second thoughts after the sale.
Sorry, but it has to be done,' Jilly apologised.

She fastened a pair of cuffs to the woman's wrists, which were attached
to a chain. The chain ran over the back of a sofa, where it was secured to
a heavy weight resting on the floor.

'I'm not going to run anywhere, young lady,' she protested.

Jilly shrugged. 'Sorry, I'll have to leave you here as another, err, is on
stage,' she said.

Caprice sat on the edge of the sofa, listening to the auctioneer describing
the next slave. Unable to see the darkened audience past the bright
lights, she had no idea who won the bidding for her. Perhaps it was just
as well. She was now a slave, waiting upon a master's summons.

She didn't have to wait long. The chain was unfastened from her cuffs,
then the cuffs removed. A huge muscular man in a dark suit, took hold of
her arm to lead her away. He was obviously a security man, not her
master. Her tall slender frame was completely hidden by his bulk, as they
stood at a back door of the building. A limousine pulled up, and he
escorted her to its open door.

It had been sometime since travelling first class. In a dark interior the
smell of new leather indicated this was a personal vehicle, not a well used
rental. When she sank into the soft upholstery she recognised another
sign of wealth. Out of the corner of an eye she could tell this was a
mature man, maybe the same age or slightly older.

She dare not look at him. It was a surprise how well her emotions were
under control. There was no panic, just a calm ticking over of analytical
thoughts. It felt like a new project, a photo-shoot, or a cosmetic
promotion. Maybe less nerve racking than that. She wouldn't speak first.
Of course, she was a slave, so maybe that was the proper protocol,
though for her it was a sign of defiance.

Silently the vehicle travelled away into the night, eventually arriving at a
pair of wrought iron gates that swung open as they arrived. The limo
hardly slowed down, when it squeezed through pillars supporting statues
of winged beasts, then crunched up a long driveway to an impressive
mansion.

Caprice felt as though she had found where she belonged. Despite the
shapeless smock, she stepped elegantly from the limo, to walk with head
held high toward the open, double doors.

She followed the stranger up a curving staircase, glancing at the

paintings, recognising they were original works of art. In the better light
she could see he was a year or two younger, yet well preserved. No doubt
from a pampered life style. A fit man, for she had to work hard to keep
up. It was a little daunting to be led upstairs to what must be a bedroom.

Would he take her to his bed without a word spoken? Perhaps he intended
to try out his purchase, to see if he had value for money. He had a cute
ass. She still hadn't seen his face, and anyway, she dare not look at him.
She had tried to subdue a natural boisterous behaviour over the last few
weeks, in an attempt to take on the demure role of slave.

He might not want that. He might just want a companion. She was taller
than him, though that was nothing unusual. A shiver of anticipation ran
up her spine. It had been too long without the attention of a man, and
she was becoming excited at the prospect of warming his bed.

This was outrageous, but she had worked and lived in an unconventional
profession for many years. It was helping her endure this tense moment.

He stopped at a door, and knocked. That threw her. He studiously ignored

her. Damn! Was this some rich man's flunky, sent to fetch her? A
murmured, incoherent voice answered.

He opened the door, indicating she should enter. The large room was
completely different from the rest of the house. It looked more like a
young boy's playroom. Modern furniture, tables and chairs, were strewn
haphazardly with objects. Electronic gadgets, clothes, half eaten food and
drinks, littered the place.

The man didn't walk in. He spoke from the doorway.

'Benjamin! I bought this for you. Something to play with, instead of those
damn computer games,' he sighed.

Caprice felt the door close silently behind her. Hell and shit! This was
unexpected! She had fantasised over being a rich man's slave during the
last few weeks, while plucking up courage to go through with it.

As soon as the door closed, the boy looked up at her. He stood up,
looking her over. His expression indicated she were an unwanted object,
dumped on him by an indulgent father. That was it, she was just an
object now! Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all. He was hardly likely to
make sophisticated demands upon her.

She noticed he had a similar build to his father. He was handsome, and
more of an adolescent than a boy.

'Well?' he stated, revealing nothing of his thoughts.

She didn't know what to say. Shrugging her shoulders, she stood erect
and still, able to strike such a pose for as long as it took, used to long
boring photo-shoots. She intended for him to make the first move,
whatever that might be. She certainly wasn't going to make it easy on
him. He either knew what to do with her, or he didn't.

Either way, she would find a niche, and settle into it, preferably away
from him.

'I want to see what he's bought for me,' the young man stated.

He had a cultured voice, with the bored tones of an adolescent. It took a

moment for the statement to sink in. The little brat wanted her to remove
the shapeless shift. She was naked underneath!

'How old are you?' she asked.

'Eighteen, yesterday. How old are you?' Benjamin asked.

'It's rude to ask a lady,' she imperiously stated.

'You're not a lady, YOU, are a slave,' he pointed out. 'My father bought
you for me, to get me interested in women. Take that off, I want to see
my birthday present,' he callously stated.

She swallowed loudly. While he stared at her, she stared back, only
breaking the contact while pulling the shift over her head. She dropped it
on the floor and stood to attention. She scrunched her thighs together,
trying to hide her sex. Nevertheless she couldn't help pushing her breasts
out at him.
'How old are you?' he asked, looking un-impressed with her naked body.

'I'm thirty-eight,' she blatantly lied.

'Turn around,' he told her.

Caprice gritted her teeth. The damn kid was trying her temper. She slowly
rotated on the spot, careful not to squish a dead pizza.

'What kind of shoes are those?' he asked.

The question threw her. She looked down at them, to be reminded she
wore flats issued at the auction house.

'Cheap!' she stated, with a sneer.

'I take it you're used to better,' he returned.

She shrugged. She was used to better treatment from males of all ages.
Even women had looked upon her with awe, some grudgingly, others with
desire. This callous youth didn't know her, and didn't care what she felt.
He was a self-centred brat, made so by an overindulgent father. She bet
his mother had died young, or in childbirth. She wished it had been the
other way around.

'So what do you want me to do?' she asked.

He shrugged. 'Tidy up the room, that's what slaves do, isn't it?'

'I suppose they do,' she murmured.

Housework hadn't been a habit acquired, though she had plenty of bad
ones. When she thought about it, the room looked like hers, after a
weekend partying. In those days there had always been staff to clean up,
while she went shopping.

'No. Leave the rag,' he said, when she made to pick up the smock.

Bastard! Did he mean to humiliate her? Well she wouldn't worry about
being naked. It had been necessary to change from one outfit to another
in public places. Outfits were usually too closely fitting for underwear,
where a camera would show up unsightly lines. On a beach, or in a
foreign market square, wherever they were, she would quickly slip from
one outfit to another.

She picked up the nearest item of food, that was still recognisable. He
was studying her, she could feel it. Shoving the plate and all into an open
box, she moved around the room, not bothering to bend demurely. If she
was here to get the son interested in women, then so be it.

It was demeaning, yet she did feel a certain pleasure from his interest. He
was less than half her age, even less than the admitted age. She
supposed he thought her ancient at whatever age admitted to. It was a
mystery why the father had bought her for him. She was trying to work it
out. What was it about the terms and conditions that made her right for
this job?

About to pick up a half-eaten pizza, she realised she was standing over
him. The computer game had been forgotten. He was looking at her, right
between the legs, with his face inches from her thighs.

'Well?' she asked.

The tone of voice was much the same as his had been. A disinterest
bound with, 'what now?', and 'what's your problem', all rolled into one.

'Nice,' he off handily stated.

She noticed a spark of interest in his eyes. She was prepared to kick start
his curiosity, but that was all.

'What is?' she asked, trying for a neutral tone, ready to put him down.

'Your legs,' he said, with a raised eyebrow, showing amusement.

'You're not looking at my legs. How can you comment, when you haven't
seen a cunt before,' she challenged.

'You've got a good figure, for an old woman,' Benjamin rebutted.

That hurt. She had a better figure than most women half her age. Of
course, she would still be old to him. She was an ancient relic, older than
his mother. She was about to ask him for some clothes, even if it looked
as though she was giving in.

He cleared a patch of the carpet with a wave of his hand, scraping rubbish
away.

'Sit!' he demanded.

Was he treating her like an old dog, an old bitch? With mounting anger
she sat. It was better than standing naked before him. She looked across
the room, wondering why in hell she was there. She had been bought and
paid for, so what else was she to do, but obey him as a slave must. The
anger increased another notch.
'Have you ever played a computer game?' he asked.

'I've played all sorts of games, ones that would curl your hair, young
man,' she aggressively reacted, without thinking.

'You need to remain calm, otherwise your reactions slow up, and you fire
at the wrong time,' he informed her.

'A lot of men I've known have that problem,' she said, and bit her tongue.

'Here, hold this,' he said.

'I've been told that a few times,' she said, then laughed.

'When I tell you to fire, press that button,' he told her.

'Men usually press my button, not theirs,' she laughed again.

The nervousness was showing this time.

She repeatedly missed. A competitive streak pushed her into being

interested. She'd thought of killing more than one man before, and right
now the rough characters on screen were perfect targets. She started to
take out her anger on the screen images. It was difficult to manoeuvre,
aim, and shoot, with too many buttons to co-ordinate.

'Yes!' they both yelled with pleasure, when she happened to hit a target.

'It's very good, it looks like a movie. I can almost imagine being in it. I
was given a part once, only a one liner,' she admitted.

'Was that because you're beautiful, or can act?' he asked.

'Neither. The producer wanted to get into my panties,' she laughed.

'Imagine the bad guy is that producer,' he laughed with her.

She realised he hadn't asked the usual question men asked, did he get
into them. Her aim improved, but was still poor.

'Here, let me help,' he suggested, and put his arms around her to steady
her hands.

Her body stiffened, having had such offers from too many coaches. From
golf to tennis, men wanted to get close. When trying to learn to play a
piano, it ended up as a skirmish, fending off an old man. Nothing had
kept her interest, including the coach or teacher. She reminded herself he
was just a boy, forgetting for a moment that she was naked.

It genuinely helped, and he let her get on with it. One after another she
shot the bad guys, though she suspected some of them were innocent
bystanders.

The game was still a mystery to her, though it was amusing to learn
something new. She had always shunned new technology, thinking she
was useless at it, maybe too old to learn. She was forgetting her age,
feeling young next to this disarming adolescent boy.

'We'll play each other now. A forfeit,' Benjamin suggested.

'Like what?' Caprice warily asked.

'Truth, or dare?' he challenged.

'A dangerous game,' Caprice warned.

'I'll buy you a new pair of shoes. Ones you like,' he said, as an
encouragement.

After awhile they forgot about the computer game, instead, they just
asked each other seemingly harmless questions.

'So why didn't you marry?' he asked, after she explained the reason for
entering the auction.

'Never met the right man. Tried a woman once,' she laughed, with
embracement. 'I spent the weekend smoking dope,' she tried excusing
herself.

'It doesn't matter, if you enjoyed it. Would you try it again?' he asked.

She was forgetting his age, and hers, as he seemed so calm and
collected.

'I like men, and they like me,' she replied. 'Why is it that men are so
interested in seeing two women together?' she mused.

The suggestion always came up at wild parties. The tipsy men wanted to
watch two of the models having sex. Some of the models didn't need
much persuading. She avoided it, as it made the women more desirable
by the onlookers. She would try to gain the interest and protection of
someone she liked.

'I guess a man wouldn't want to see another man. Doing it with a woman
he fancied I mean. Also, I don't like the idea of doing it with a man, so
can't really feel how a woman would want to. Does that make sense?' he
asked.

'Not sure it does. So, you're not gay then,' she bluntly stated.

'No, just not met the right woman,' he laughed.

'Sorry, I guess I'm not exactly what you would want for a birthday
present,' she mused.

'Why do you say that?' he innocently asked.

'Come on. I'm far too old,' she admitted. 'I can't understand why your
father bought me,' she said, and suddenly felt old and dirty.

He wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her cheek. Caprice felt
worse.

'Why did he buy you for me,' he pondered. 'I guess because you have
experience, and could cope with my awkwardness,' he shrugged.

'You mean because he thought I was an old whore?' Caprice angrily

stated.

'No. He wouldn't do that to his son, would he. You're not that. You're
attractive, sexy, and understand awkward me,' he firmly stated.

'I've been bought and paid for, or will be at the end of the contract. I've
been around, and I guess it shows. An old experienced whore then,' she
bitterly told him.

'You have experience of life,' he kindly added.

The jibe was too subtle for him.

'It means I've been with a lot of men. Sometimes slept with them for
what I could get. Slept with that producer,' she nastily said, knowing it
put men off to mention previous lovers.

'I think it was your confidence. The way you walked in here, you weren't
afraid of being bought. You stood your ground, looked proud, despite the
awkward circumstances. I don't think someone my age could do that,' he
told her.

'I'm too old, even for a confident, bought woman,' she firmly told him.
'That still makes me an old whore,' she said, sounding less angry, more
sorry for herself.

'You'll do, with the lights out,' he arrogantly spoke.

Caprice bared her long nails, ready to dig them into his face. She felt hurt
and painful enough to strike out. She caught sight of the gentle smile on
his face, and saw it was full of compassion. It melt the anger in a trice.
She sat there looking at him, with a soppy look on her face.

'You impressed me, the way you played the game. Very competitive,
aren't you. You're a beautiful woman. A very desirable woman. I like
talking to you, and like you being close to me. This is obviously difficult
for you. I want to cuddle you, will you let me?' he softly spoke, meaning
every word.

'I'm supposed to seduce you, not the other way around,' she weakly
smiled.

'Maybe that wouldn't have worked,' he said. 'Does that mean I'm
seducing you?' he asked, looking surprised.

'Yes. You're doing a good job of it too,' she smiled.

'Good. I want to seduce you,' he said, looking at her intently.

'Don't look at me like that. I might give in,' she sighed.

He put his hand under her chin, forcing her to look at him. 'We've been
thrown together, does it matter how, or why?' he asked.

'You're too clever. Wait until the right girl comes along, it will be so much
better, honestly,' she assured him.

He only just refrained from telling her she belonged to him, so had to do
as she was told. Instinctively he knew it was the wrong thing to say, and
didn't want to spoil the moment.

He tightened his arms around her, and kissed her lips.

'That's not a kiss,' she said.

She almost said it wasn't a lover's kiss, which meant he was getting to
her, breaking down a natural resistance. This was ridiculous, did his
father want to punish them both? A wife for leaving him, and a son for
killing her in childbirth. She pushed him away.

'You'll have to do better than that. I mean, with a girlfriend your own
age,' she said, reminding him of the situation.

'Teach me then,' he suggested.

The eager look on his face caught her off guard. 'Let go of me then,' she
told him.

She wanted to take charge, and keep it safe. With him it was easy to
forget she was naked and in a vulnerable situation. He was relaxed and
didn't make her feel bad. With mere words and will power, she had often
handled experienced men, calming them down, guiding them to a safe
distance.

She pulled his head forward with both hands. She kissed his eyes, gently
sucked a lip between hers, and opened up his mouth. She delved in with
a tongue, exploring his mouth, wrapping her tongue around his.

They began a duel, breathing heavily through flared nostrils. Arms

wrapped around each other, holding on tight. She hadn't meant to make
it a marathon, just a quick demonstration had been planned, to keep him
quiet. When his hands began to explore her body, she found herself
responding.

Damn! This wasn't supposed to happen!

A gentle shove to push him away didn't dislodge him. It had been too
ineffectual, not intended to stop him. It was just a token, something that
should be done, though not really wanting it to stop. She wanted to be
reassured, needed to know she was attractive, still desirable. The feelings
turned to simply wanting him.

Without knowing what he was doing, Benjamin instinctively found himself

between her legs. Still kissing her fervently, he became aware that he
should do something. He felt her pull his cock out. It was electrifying
feeling a hand, other than his own, wrapped around it.
Already hard, it became solid. No wonder it was referred to as a woody,
he thought. He felt her rub it against her softness. It felt wet and slippery.
She was breathing with little gasps, whispering something to him. The
half whispered sounds were aimed at him.

'Don't let me down now,' she pleaded.

On feeling the head of his cock enter her body, his worries over what to
do evaporated. He thrust in, and stopped. She had wailed out, as though
in pain. She dug her sharp nails into his buttocks, pulling at him.

'Fuck me, fuck me hard,' she urged.

Without thought he pushed with strong leg muscles. He began pounding

at her with youthful hips, releasing a strength unfelt before. He was no
sportsman, but had the athletic frame to maintain a steady, relentless
rhythm. He pounded away at her without a destination, a journey without
end.

'Cum now, my lover,' she cooed. 'Fill me, Ben, fill me to bursting. I'm
there,' she wailed.

Half hearing, half understanding, the sound of his name emanating from
her luscious lips was enough. One last deep penetration, pushing home,
arriving at the destination all his efforts had strived for. Holding fast, he
tied up in port, with strings of sperm, linking them both together in
passions embrace.

Their bodies were sweat soaked, gluing them closer than weakened arms
could. She heaved him from her chest, breathing deeply. Shoving her
long hair to one side, she sought his lips. While he sucked deeply at much
needed air, she briefly pecked at his lips, and penetrated his mouth with a
darting tongue.

Her finger tips danced over his chest. Palms smoothed a path over taught
stomach muscles, with fingers outstretched, scratching and teasing
sensitive flesh. She moved with them, guiding with her eyes a spider like
dance of sensations. Enjoying his taught young body, she smothered it
with her breasts, feeling every touch through smouldering nipples.

The fire in her veins was waning, not yet releasing her from a yearning
desire to be his, and to please her lover. She fondled his softening cock.
She delicately played with his still stretched sack, as though it were a
purse of gold.

She couldn't refrain from helping herself to her lovers juices. Their
melded wetness tasted of oysters and caviar, yet it was sweet to her. He
was a sweet young man, murmuring boyish love notes. She licked and
lapped at her lovers cock, savouring a submission born of longing and
satisfaction.

Holding back for a moment, she breathed in the heady aroma of the
conquering male. Kissing the head of his penis, wasn't enough, she pulled
it into her mouth, sucking it in, drawing it once more into her body. A
different satisfaction fulfilled her. A less frantic passion consumed her.
She wanted nothing more than to be his, and so at last found a belonging
she craved.

They fell asleep with her comforted in his arms, and by soft gentle words.
His thoughts were simple, full of the comforting delight from having a
woman.

Sometime during the night they roused themselves, to stumble to his

bed. He wrapped her in his arms, and she nestled him to her bosom. They
slept together, sometimes spooning, otherwise pressed face to face,
breathing softly into an ear, sleepy lovers declarations.