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Auction Ch. 00

By: O Rang



She held the notice in her hands, still wet with soapy water from the kitchen sink, and sobbed. The paper, a noisome shade of dill, began to fold, back down over itself like a broken leaf.

Great shuddering sobs wracked her frame as Jen put her head in her hands and let her anguish flow out of her. This was the third time she'd received one of these -- these green notes announcing her insolvency and forecasting the end of her professional career. 

For if she could not make the payments on her student loans, then how was she to finish her doctoral thesis? 

And if she couldn't finish her doctoral thesis, then her only means of escaping the crushing debt of her student loans would evaporate as well, leaving her in the No-Man's-Land of being All But Dissertation. Her fellow students laughed about this pariah status, conflating it to the cruel acronym 'ABD'. But to folks like her, struggling to write and research fast enough to stay one step ahead of the mounting bills that accrued to those doctoral candidates unlucky enough to be denied university funding was a terrible struggle.

And Jen was most certainly one of those unfortunates; she'd gotten enough teaching jobs to pay some of her bills, but by some misfortune the University hadn't seen fit to fund her any further. This had meant that she was on her own. Sufficient supplemental income hadn't been forthcoming, not even from the temp agencies she'd visited. She simply couldn't study and work ... one or the other, but not both.

Within two months the past due notices had started to flood in. Her trips to the Bursar had proved futile. Nothing, she had decided, was as cold as a bureaucrat backed by policy. 

Jen wiped her eyes with one hand, flinching a bit as the soap stung her eyes a bit. Oddly enough, the sting seemed to help a bit, piercing the sorrow that was threatening to engulf her. It was as if the pain helped focus her.

She didn't think much of it at the time.

Jen padded over to her desk, a cluttered affair of photocopied Soviet documents and heavy works by other scholars. Atop it all was the small shoebox she used to organize her growing financial disaster. She began to rummage through the bills, looking for her tattered checkbook, her momentary gust of calm rapidly dissolving into frustration as it eluded her.

The sharp rap on her door made her jump. Her gaze leapt to the door, a sudden pounding in her heart. 

No one ever came to visit her apartment; it was a studio, and hadn't seen guests in a long time. Indeed, she hadn't even had a lover in her worn little nest in ages; her bed lay unused in the corner, all tangled sheets and unmet desires.

The rap came again, three quick knocks in succession. 

"Just a moment," she called out, suddenly apprehensive. 

Who could it be, she wondered as she pulled on a pair of shorts over her panties. There was a large blue stain on her tank top, something from the past week's baking; probably blueberries, but she wasn't sure. 

She stepped over piles of books and clothes and leaned over to the peephole. Willing herself not to breathe, she looked out to see her visitor.

Before her, warped by the walleye of the peephole, stood a man and a woman. Both were very well dressed, and looked terribly busy. 

"We can see you, you know. Please open the door." The woman's voice had just a hint of mirth in it. 

"One second, please," she replied, her mind awhirl until she realized that she'd blocked the sunlight behind her when she'd leaned in to look.

Taking one last attempt to pull her unruly blonde curls into a workable ponytail, she began to undo the latch and chain. Finally, she opened the door a bit and leaned around to look upon her visitors.

He was dressed in a black Armani suit, with a dark red tie that looked almost like blood against his crisp white shirt. She knew at a glance that his shoes cost more than her rent. Fine wire glasses perched on a face that was pleasant, if not especially handsome, framing ice blue eyes that stabbed out at her. The man was blond, and perhaps twenty four years old.

Despite herself, she found him unexpectedly attractive, almost likable, without any real reason. 

By contrast, the woman beside him immediately put her on edge. 

She was a striking Asian beauty -- Thai, Jen thought to herself. Unlike the man, who looked like he was supposed to be there, the Thai's very presence seemed extraneous, as if she was something the blond man brought with him out of convenience, rather than necessity. Still, the woman looked almost predatory as she stood there, coolly observing Jen's every detail. 

What arrangement lay between these two, she wondered? 

And why did she dislike this complete stranger so?

The Asian woman was wrapped in a light blue silk blouse that emphasized the fact that she wore no brassiere over her small but decidedly pert breasts; it was cut very low, exposing a great V of her toffee skin. A short black skirt and high, pointed heels made Jen burn with envy at her ability to wear such clothing. Her legs were lean and toned, and long for her frame, clad in stockings whose lace tops were just barely visible. 

Jen felt a surge of shame at the way her own full figure couldn't hope to aspire to such willowy contours. Her legs were fairly toned from her long walks to and from class, but this creature before her was obviously the product of hours of training and exercise, and Jen's generous curves owed as much to genetics as they did to her vices. 

Expensive jewelry adorned her frame, including, Jen noted, what could only be a platinum choker inset with a large sapphire. Her earlobes sported multiple rings, however, which suggested something darker about her character.

The woman's hair was cropped very short, and feathered forward in a style that was at once very retro and very cutting edge; it reminded Jen of a Chinese actress she'd one seen, but whose name she couldn't recall. Nonetheless, it was the very antithesis of her unruly curved, and only served to reinforce the gulf between the elegant, well-appointed stranger and her, the disheveled, impoverish student.

Her almond-shaped eyes were bright hazel in color, but completely disinterested in tone, in keeping with her look of disdain. This led Jen to the unexpected conclusion that the woman knew the entire outcome of this interchange before it had even begun, as if what was about to happen was something strictly pro forma, a ritual that had to be conducted for its own sake.

The man cleared his throat. "Are you Jennifer McIntyre?" His tone was warm, but businesslike, and yet she found herself relaxing. 

"Yes, can I help you?"

"Ms. McIntyre, my name is Mr. Starke; this is my associate Suchin." Only one name, she thought to herself? He smiled at her; at what must have been the expression on her face. "We are representatives of a firm that has taken a, shall we say ... special ... interest in your predicament."

"My predicament?"

The woman stepped forward, "Please don't waste our time, Ms. McIntyre, we both know you're in debts beyond your abilities." Her voice was high, almost lyrical. 

To Jen's surprise, this bold if truthful assertion elicited a sharp glance from Starke at his companion. Sunchin quailed, the affected disdain suddenly gone from her face as she stepped back into her former spot. 

If she hadn't had just seen it, she wouldn't have believed it. 

What was going on here? 

How could one glance completely upend such arrogance?

Starke smiled, "Please excuse my associate. She is new to this, and sometimes speaks when she should listen." Jen nodded, her eyes still on the Asian, whose eyes were now downcast.

"To continue, please," his voice drew her back, the other woman's predicament suddenly forgotten once her eyes met his, "my firm is aware of the nature of your not inconsiderable debts, and we have come to work with you to reach an amicable resolution to your situation."

"I don't understand." 

"Ms. McIntyre, we work for a consortium called the Lenox Group. We have business interests and holdings across the globe. Those holdings and interest serve a select client base, and we guard them fiercely."

"Yes, but what does that have to do with me?" She gripped the door a little more tightly.

"Your debts have begun to touch on one of our interests. One of our subsidiary corporations purchased a block of student loan debt from several universities and, in the process of reviewing the files of our newest acquisition, your account was flagged for review and resolution."

"Resolution?" She tried not to let her voice quaver.

He smiled again, this time a genuine smile, one that made her smile.

"No, no, nothing so sinister as what you're obviously thinking. We are not a debt collection agency. Our interest in you is more ... complicated than that."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Complicated how?"

"We will pay all of your debts, in exchange for your entering into a contract for your services with our firm."

"Excuse me?" It seemed like time had stopped. He'd said something, but it sounded to her like gibberish. 

Something about paying her debts?!?

She felt dizzy ... like someone had told her Santa Claus was real.

He gave her a warm smile. "Yes, I usually get that reaction."

Starke took a moment to remove his glasses and run a sham over them. Jen knew he was pausing for dramatic effect, even as her brain cannibalized itself with the unbearable wait. After a torturous thirty seconds, he put his glasses back on and looked at her. "I said, we would like to resolve this situation to our mutual benefit by relieving you of your debts."

"Why?" 

"Ah, yes, the 'why' of it. Most of your kind don't ask that question."

My kind, she wondered? What did that mean? 

"Well, we run a business venture. So naturally our offer would be in exchange for your entering into a service contract with our firm."

Jen shook her head, conscious of the way her hair bounced; she was in desperate need of a shower. A long morning's preparation for her afternoon class had left her positively rumpled.

"All of my debts?" She said it slowly, deliberately.

He nodded, smiling at her single mindedness. 

And she swore she heard a suppressed giggle from Suchin.

"All of them."

"But why?" she asked again, "what do I have to offer your firm that could possibly be of such value? I owe quite a lot of money." She couldn't even bring herself to admit it to her mother, let alone two total strangers.

"We know. One hundred forty two thousand dollars is not a trivial sum, so please do consider our offer." A smug look stole across his face. 

Her temper, so rare these days, flared. 

How dare he! 

If he saw her irritation, Starke gave no notice, as if her offended ego was of no consequence. "Remember, we've purchased your debt." 

She held up a hand, confused. "You didn't answer my question. What do I have that is worth one hundred forty thousand dollars?"

He stepped in then, until he stood so close to her she thought he was going to kiss her. She could smell him, a strong, masculine scent, with just a trace of some very expensive cologne. 

Jen found herself responding to him, parts of body awakening at his closeness to generate a slow heat that filled her with some very peculiar urges.

It was totally unexpected. 

Totally irrational. 

But it was there ... a deep throb within her. 

Some connection between them. 

Something that made her hunger for him. 

She swallowed as his blue eyes met hers, fighting to stay focused. 

His icy gaze didn't help, telling her that he'd sooner see her on her knees before him.

Starke's answer, almost a whisper, rocked her to her very core:

"You." 

She gasped, understanding flooding in. 

Suddenly it all made sense ... 

"No," she breathed, not wanting to believe.

"Yes," again, the sibilant whisper, "you could be quite valuable to us."

That shocked her. Years of being single, of spending her nights with books instead of a lover had left her ego decidedly muted. To have this inexplicably attractive stranger tell her that she was valuable -- in a purely sexual sense -- was surreal.

And yet ... 

Could she be what they so clearly wanted? 

Her body ached with the possibility. 

To be appreciated as a woman rather than a scholar; to be appreciated only as a woman. 

Her good-girl upbringing reasserted itself for a moment. She'd always liked sex, but this was ridiculous.

"But I couldn't possibly ... I mean ... it's ... it's just not done."

"More than you think," this from Suchin, delivered with a wry smile that told Jen in an instant that the Asian beauty belonged to Mr. Starke. Jen tore her gaze from the man before her and looked at the Asian beauty, her mind almost unable to process what was being discussed.

Bright almond eyes met hers with a look that spoke of fulfillment.

Jen's mind burned with images of the slender, haughty woman on her knees servicing Starke ... being taken by him in a public park ... riding him in a bed of crisp white sheets ... the possibilities she conjured up for Suchin seemed endless. 

And she found herself wishing that she had such opportunities. 

"But ..." she lost her voice.

Starke's hand on her chin was warm, but firm as he turned her head away from Suchin. "Don't look at her. Look at me." 

There was power in his voice, and despite the shock of what they were discussing -- despite the fact that this stranger had been standing on her doorstep for less than ten minutes -- Jen found herself thrilling to his commands.

She looked at him, meeting his gaze. 

Jen could barely breathe. 

"How long," she croaked.

"Three years," he replied, with a tone that made her think that time was too short for his liking. His touch burned as he stepped in even closer, until the front of his suit jacket brushed against her breast.

Her nipples ached as they strained against the rough cotton of her tank top, and she marveled at how wet she suddenly was.

Who was this man?!?

"Don't say no, just yet, Ms. McIntyre. Think it through. There are tremendous benefits to this arrangement. Simply for having this discussion, we've erase twenty thousand dollars of your debt, with a credit card, I believe. Right, Suchin?"

"Yes, sir, with her card through the First Pioneers Bank of San Antonio."

Jen's started; they were that far into her accounts?

"What's more," he continued, reaching out to take her hands in his," the benefits to this arrangement aren't purely financial. We've been informed of your particular, shall we say, appetites, and we're prepared to indulge them as a part of your contract." 

"My appetites?" Her mouth was dry, and the words croaked out.

Starke's smile told her that he knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Yes, that singular activity we both know you crave."

Somehow they knew she loved to suck cock. 

How, she didn't know. It wasn't something she broadcast. 

Did it mean they'd contacted her former lovers?

Had they surveiled her at some point?

Jen's pussy suddenly burned white hot, and she shivered with desire.

Did it matter? Starke seemed to be promising her everything her long denied libido cried out for. 

Jen pursed her lips, considering the wonderful possibilities.

"Precisely," Starke said, releasing her hands.

He stepped back, and straightened his coat. She could barely breathe, and stood in the doorway, her chest heaving as she tried to comprehend what she'd just been asked to do. 

Starke snapped his fingers, and Suchin stepped forward, reaching into a heavy leather shoulder bag, and withdrew a heavy white envelope. She stepped forward and knelt, and then held the packet out to Jen with both hands out in front of her, her eyes downcast. 

Jen looked at the packet, letting a long moment pass. She looked at Starke, who met her gaze calmly, and then looked down at the woman kneeling before her. From this angle, she could see well into the top of Suchin's silk blouse, and unexpectedly found herself hoping for more than a glimpse of the woman's pert breasts.

At last, she shook of her delirium and took the packet. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

As the Thai beauty stood and stepped back behind him, Starke smiled again, "Read it tonight, and then call me tomorrow morning." 

A card appeared in his hand as if from nowhere, heavy crimson cardstock graced by the outline of a white crane. She took it and looked at it, noting that its three lines said simply: Starke, Acquisitions, and a phone number for whose area code she didn't recognize.

Acquisitions ... 

Would she be someone's plaything? Someone's property?

He turned on his heel and was gone, striding down the hall. Suchin glanced at him quickly, and seeing her moment, tottered over to Jen on her high heels. She leaned in and kissed Jen on the mouth, a soft full kiss that sent an electric shock through her body.

Bright hazel eyes, no longer disinterested in the least, beamed at her. 

"Say yes," she said. "You won't regret it."

"Suchin!" Starke's voice rebounded off the walls from around the corner. The Asian beauty smiled and leaned in for another quick kiss. Jen could do nothing, rooted to the floor by the absurdity of it all. 

"You won't regret it," she said again, her breath warm on Jen's lips, "I didn't."

Jen said nothing.

Starke called again, his voice flat now with displeasure. Suchin turned and tottered down the hall, and Jen could only watch the glory that was her finely toned body move in decidedly sexual rhythms as she went. 

She stood there for a long while, the envelope in her hand, her body aflame with desire, her mind crippled by the sudden chance at salvation offered to her, and the extreme cost to obtain it.

But was it really even a cost?

She'd been questioning her goals already ... 

At last she turned, and stepped back into her apartment. 

Jen shut the door, and sank onto her bed, and lay there for some time, her thoughts askew as her hands gave release to her passions, moving in time to tease her aching pussy into orgasm after orgasm in a vain attempt to purge the offer from her mind, from her soul. 

But she couldn't. 

Simple physical release proved no boon, she realized, after some time, as she lay on the bed, naked and sweating from her torments. Her breasts throbbed as never before, and the heady smell of sex that filled her small apartment was false evidence of sexual release.

Jen sat up and tore open the envelope, noting the first class ticket that was clipped to the thick legal document. 

She wanted this, she realized. 

She wanted this very badly. 

The dark, hungry side of her surged to the fore ...

She would have to pack quickly if she was going to make that evening's flight. 

Auction Ch. 01



You hear the door open and, as instructed, wait at your computer. You hear the heels of my boots click on your floor as I enter. You feel me approach from behind you, feel my leather encased hand rest on your right shoulder. I lean down, you feel my hair brush the back of your neck and feel the warmth of my breath on your left ear. As I whisper:

Are you ready?

You draw in a breath.

Yes, Mistress. I am ready.

And you remember what this means my pet?

Yes, Mistress. I remember.

And you will submit?

Yes, Mistress, I will submit.

To whatever is asked, whether by me or another?

Yes, Mistress, I will submit.

I lift you to your feet, pulling the chair back away from you. Quickly, you are stripped -- it happens so fast you almost don't notice it happening. As instructed, you have shaved. I pat you on the hip, pleased that you have followed my instructions.

You feel the collar wrap around your neck. It is tall forcing you to hold your head up high. You feel the cold steel of the large metal D ring that hangs from the front of the collar on your chest.

The bustier wraps around you and is pulled tight, forcing your breasts up. You feel me pull the laces tighter and tighter, holding them until you draw in a breath and pulling them tighter still. Your hair is pulled back, tight, into a long pony tail, wrapped in silk to give it body. Garters are attached to the bustier and hose rolled up your legs to mid-thigh. 

Then the shoes, black and impossibly high. You wonder how you can walk in them and realize that is part of the point, to make you feel even more vulnerable.

You look in the mirror and are surprised by what you see.

You think of yourself as proper, not stuffy but certain not a wanton woman.

The woman looking back at you is not you, at least not how your normally view yourself.

You stare at yourself and marvel and the dichotomy, the frailty that the tight bustier and impossibly high heels seem to convey and the power that the same items provide. You are powerful, yet submissive, intense but serene.

You are snapped out of your reverie by the feeling of you long coat being placed over your shoulders.

I walk to the door and you follow, carefully, making your way across the slick floor trying not to fall. You are so focused on walking that you don't think about the fact that you are walking out of your apartment without a key, any ID, cell phone -- you aren't even wearing panties, simply following your Mistress.

Later, as you think back, you realize that was intentional, that the clothing and the rituals associated with dressing were part of the package designed to set the mood of submission.

You carefully make your way down the stairs and the walk to the street where you slide into the limo behind me, careful to slide the long coat off of you as you slide into the seat.

You feel the cold leather of the car seat on your bare ass as you lean back into the seat, spreading your legs as you have been instructed.

I sit facing you, casually taping my thigh with the crop that I seem to be carrying more and more these days.

As you think of the crop, of it caressing your thighs, sliding up towards your pussy, the sting of it on your ass, your breasts, your pussy, you feel yourself getting excited, feel yourself starting to get wet.

I smile.

Patience my pet, patience, as the car rolls through the streets.

End of Part 1



Auction Ch. 02



He released her and stepped back, his surprisingly intense gaze roaming her body. Despite the release she'd just experienced, Jen felt herself growing aroused at the sight of his brown eyes roaming the length of her body. It was a practiced gaze, she saw, that of a man well versed in the pleasures that a woman's body could bring – and receive. That thrilled her, the thought that this former lover who'd once been awkward and eager might now be the master she was looking for. 

His gaze locked onto hers, his brown eyes holding her blue in a fierce grip. He didn't blink, just stared at her, there in front of the crowd and the lights, with her naked before him, smelling of her own sex. 

His property. 

His slave. 

At last she couldn't bear it anymore. Her gaze dropped to the floor and she bowed her head slightly, conceding his dominance. How could he know this was what she'd wanted? To be taken without asking? For him to just seize what was his by sheer force of will alone?

She didn't know how he knew, but it was a good sign of things to come. 

He turned to one of the handlers, reaching out a strong hand to caress a full breast, kneading her nipple between his fingers as he spoke to her. The blonde shivered at his touch, her eyes fluttering with pleasure. "Bring me a leash for my purchase please, and the bill."

"Yes sir," she curtsied and left, sauntering back up toward the stage. Jen watched her go, admiring the sway of the woman's hips. After a few moments she returned bearing a silver tray. On it lay a coiled leash and a rolled piece of parchment. He took the parchment and unrolled it, read it quickly, and then signed with a flourish. The young woman nodded as he placed it back on the tray, curtsied again, and left. 

Despite her eagerness to begin this new adventure, she was very aware of how loudly the snap clicked as he affixed the leash to the single ring at the front of her platinum collar. There was a finality to it all that was positively chilling, and she shivered slightly with apprehension. 

Sensing her apprehension, his brown eyes met hers and twinkled a message of reassurance. It was a small comfort; after all, she'd just been sold to him, really SOLD to him. Her mind reeled. A week ago she'd been a free woman, bound only to her debts and her schedule. Now she stood here, trapped in some secretive underground human trafficking market. Only pure chance had brought her to him, as opposed to a hundred other possible fates. Even so, she was his now ... if she could be bought and sold like chattel, what else could he do to her with little or no consequences.

A soft caress at her throat brought her back from that dark place, made her look up into his eyes. "We're going now, Jen." He used her name, he alone knew it out of all these people, his advantage by virtue of their shared past. 

He turned and strode toward the heavy mahogany door that sealed the auction chamber. She tottered after him, unsure in her heels and unable to use her bound hands to balance herself. He walked fast, a good three front of her, like a man walking a pet. The very visual nature of their new relationship conjured up all sorts of thoughts of submission. 

It made her wet. 

He opened the door for her and ushered her out into a foyer, and then through a second outer door into the humid air of the evening. It was warmer here in this unknown city than her home in the Windy City. The collection agency had chartered a private jet, but hadn't told her where she'd be going – another subtle way of reinforcing the helplessness of her predicament to force her to comply. She could tell by the way the sun was setting that they were on the East Coast, probably somewhere in the Mid-Atlantic States. But beyond that...

They stood in a courtyard while they waited for the valet to bring his car. Standing behind him, she took in the strong lines of his form, clad in a simple white dress shirt and dark slacks. He cut an impressive figure physically, and she began to wonder what he'd look like naked after these years. 

She knew she'd soon find out, but still felt a bit like a schoolgirl with her first boyfriend. Which was totally at odds with the fact that she was standing in the night air clad only in a leashed collar and heels, her hands bound behind her. No one could see them; high walls and thick hedges enclosed what was obviously a very private mansion. But still, the valets stared at her, eyeing her hungrily as only the envious can do. 

It should have made her uncomfortable for a group of strange young men to look at her in such a wanton way. 

It should have, but it didn't.

Instead she found herself fantasizing about being on her knees before them, surrounded by a sea of throbbing cocks, taking each into her mouth in turn until they spasmed their hot cum on her face. 

She must have been breathing heavily because he turned to look at her, noticed her lusty gaze, and laughed. Embarrassed, she blushed bright red and looked at him, "I...it's just ... I mean ..."

He held a hand up dismissively to silence her. "It doesn't matter. Your appetites do not bother me. They're fine, a good thing really." He reached out and grasped the thin chain that linked her nipple clamps. Twisting it slightly to take up the slack he pulled her to him.

Sharp pain flared deliciously in her nipples. She hissed in pain and excitement as he pulled. There was no choice but to comply, so she stepped into his embrace. His left hand ran down her back to cup her buttock, and he turned them away from the valets, twisting the chain even tighter as they moved. 

It was amazing how the pain narrowed her focus of her entire world to her nipples. She couldn't really focus on much else, though there was a delightful throbbing in her pussy. Her body was responding in a way she'd not really thought possible, channeling the pain into raw sensation that excited her. 

She heaved against his hard body, trembling with desire and the white heat of her torment. His hand ran lightly across her bare back, drifting across her smooth skin to provide yet another counterpoint.

At last the car arrived, a heavy black Mercedes, its dark glassy windows the acme of privacy. The valet opened the passenger door and he ushered her in. She noticed her leather seat was covered in velvet, rich and dark like a cabernet. Along the length of the velvet seat cover was covered column, rising some two inches higher than the rest of the seat. Confused, she looked up at her, but he simply said, "Sit." 

At this command, she stepped into the car and sat down. As she'd guessed, the raised column had to be nestled exactly between her legs or it became quite uncomfortable. Properly placed it flexed slight to nestle in amongst her labia, even resting somewhat pleasantly against her asshole. 

He leaned in and put on her seat belt. As he moved across her body she inhaled, drinking in the smell of him. God he smelled good, a strong scent that thrilled her senses. It made her want to touch him, to run her tongue across his bare skin. She leaned forward, leather crinkling from her movement, and kissed his neck. He lingered for a moment, letting her run her lips across his skin, and then moved back out. 

She looked down and was happy to see a bulge in his pants. 

Aha! He wasn't as cool and collected as he let on. 

Soon he was seated beside her. He reached over and opened the glove compartment, and removed a sturdy padded blindfold. Despite a small whimper of protest – she wanted to know where she was! He placed it over her head, sealing off her vision. 

He buckled his own seatbelt and started the car. The powerful engine of the Mercedes rumbled eagerly, ready to take to the road. Faint vibrations from the motion of the engine begin to filter up into her pussy through the column. Was it intended to do that? she wondered. Or was it just a byproduct of its placement? 

And if she could feel it when the car was idling, what would it be like when they were racing along the highway?

Unexpectedly – for she couldn't sense yet when he was near her – he ran his hand down along her thigh to rest over her aching pussy – which was pushed up onto display by the column – and then spoke at last. "We're going home now, your servitude begins in earnest now."

"Yes, sir." She practically moaned these last words, so aroused was she from the presence of his hand on her vulva. 

They sped off into the night. 

By the time they finally arrived at their unseen destination, she was halfway to an orgasm, wracked with desire from the simple friction of the heavy car's movement along the rough surface of the roads. When they finally came to a halt she leaned forward, panting heavily. 

He left the car and came around to her side. Without removing the blindfold he helped her from the car. She stood before him, blind but proud of her new status. He was unexpectedly gentle; she'd half expected to be mistreated – yes, even by him – simply because she was property. To the contrary he was the perfect gentleman, albeit one who controlled her every move. 

They walked up a series of wide stone steps and entered what had to be a very large front hall, if the echoes of the closing door were any measure. It was warm here, comfortable for her despite her nudity. 

"Kami," he said to the unseen third person, "please take her to the master bedroom and prepare her. I will be in in just a moment."

A new presence made itself known as 'Kami' moved in to take her leash. Jen could smell the soft perfume of the woman, a faint vanilla scent that clung to the soft full breasts that pressed into her own as the woman took charge of her. 

The leash lost its slack and Jen found herself walking through a series of rooms and then up a long flight of stairs. Her heels clicked on the steps but were silent whisps on the plush carpets. 

After some time, Kami came to a halt and moved to stand behind her. Again, Jen was very aware of the feminity of the woman next to her, and found herself responding to it on a faintly sexual level. She couldn't see the woman, hadn't heard her speak, and hadn't really touched her – and yet she wanted to touch her, to look at her, to her her speak, to kneel before her and taste her...

Jen shook her head in wonderment...was she morphing this fast to her new circumstances or were these feelings and appetites always there? She didn't know, but she knew that these new surroundings would give her ample opportunity to explore her wants and desires.

Without untying her hands, Kami placed leather bands around each of Jen's wrists. She knew they'd have rings in them to bind her, and smiled. 

Kami knelt behind her to undo the tight knot of the sash that held her fast. Jen could feel her warm breath on her buttocks and thrilled to it. New feelings or old, they were good feelings, and she moved back slightly to be closer. Kami laughed softly and ran a hand up the inside of Jen's thigh, stopping just below her wet, throbbing pussy. "Patience...all will come in good time."

At last Jen's hands were free, only to have Kami pull them up above her head and bind them again to some unseen hook or chain. She stepped away from the now captive Jen and removed the blindfold. 

Jen blinked in the light of the room and looked around. 

Kami, whom she could see at last, stood directly in front of her, watching Jen's every move. Her captor was a curvy redhead, who wore the same corset and heels outfit that the handlers at the auction had worn. Her hair was a fiery thrush of auburn that was well matched to her pale white skin, spotted with the occasional freckle; she was the epitome of the Irish beauty. The woman wore the garb of a servant, and yet exuded the confidence of a mistress. 

Jen watched her turn and stride to the far wall, where she opened a small panel and pushed a red button. 

Immediately Jen felt herself being pulled upwards until she was barely in her heels. She looked up and could see that her hands were linked by a stout braided rope that ran through an eyelet to a system of pulleys in the paneled wood ceiling. The strain was intense but not uncomfortable, designed to humble her by rendering her helpless without causing too much pain. 

Kami turned back to her captive and smiled mischievously, and then strode over to replace the blindfold. As darkness resumed its grip over her, Jen felt a light kiss on her lips, and then a playful tug at the chain linking her breasts.

A new heat flooded her pussy. 

Jen could sense her go; more certain than ever that she wanted to taste that pale, freckled skin... 

She hung there, half-suspended from the ceiling for a long moment, what seemed like an eternity really, before the blindfold was suddenly removed. 

He stood there, directly in front of her, totally naked. His body was lean and hard, she noticed with a thrill, absent of any tan lines, and characterized by a few scars she didn't remember. 

Being so close to him like this – utterly helpless and totally nude – was intoxicating to her. At long last her fantasies of being taken were going to be fulfilled!

"Welcome to my home, slave," he said simply. She looked up at him, but found she couldn't quite meet his gaze.

"Thank you, Master."

"Excellent. You already know your place."

"Yes, sir, they were quite clear that I was to obey you in all things. I am ready to serve you, Sir." 

"So you'd serve me out of some contractual obligation?" He frowned and she was suddenly cold with the knowledge that she'd displeased him. Her mind reeled – had she screwed things up already? Some part of her was still trying to comprehend that this was not a stranger, that her master was a former lover from grad school who'd reappeared to claim her. 

"No...no...sir," she stammered. "I only meant that that's what they told us."

He reached out and pulled down hard on the chain, sending twin electric jolts of pain racing up from her nipples into her brain. She cried out softly and looked up at him, her blues locked in his gaze.

"I understand. But you will learn to serve me. I will teach you to please me in all things because you want to, because you have to, not because you are bound to by some contract." She cringed as he practically spat this last word out. 

He stepped back and she could see that he held a deerskin flogger in his left hand, the long, supple strands forming a larger whole designed to torment but not mark. Was that for her? Was he really going to whip her? Sexual servitude was one thing, but a whipping?!?

Then she looked down and saw the heavy weight of his cock, which jutted out before him, proud and stiff. It was long and thick, and its considerable girth conjured pleasant memories of the times they'd been together. Unconsciously she surged forward a bit to be closer to it, her pussy twinging with the memory of its hard fullness penetrating her slick folds. 

He smiled at her, a cruel, thin little smile that told her in an instant that he knew what how she craved him, and that he would use that knowledge to break her. This fired a brief flare of defiance, and made her scowl at him, tossing her head haughtily to show him she didn't care.

In response, he simply ran one hand across the throbbing length of his cock, causing it to bob slightly. Jen watched in fascination...loving the way its thick shaft moved beneath his hand to culminate in the wide, round head. 

Jen licked her lips hungrily. 

She'd loved that cock a dozen years ago, worshipped it as only a woman could. Now she was bound to it for the next three years. 

So what was she fighting? 

He laughed at her. "I thought so."

Moving towards her, he set the deerskin flogger down on a nearby table – next to a riding crop she noted with apprehension – and came to stand next to her. She could smell him; smell the raw energy of his sex, and knew she would be utterly his before he was finished with her that evening.

Deftly he unclipped her nipples, sending her into a fit of convulsion as three and a half hours of torment ended in a wave of heat and pain. Watching her writhe before him, he smiled again, this time with the rapt attention of a craftsman admiring his work. 

Without taking his gaze from her, he reached over and picked up the flogger. When she bobbed back towards him, her nipples on fire from their freedom, he flicked the flogger once, twice, landing soft hits on each breast. 

Her head snapped up. He'd whipped her! He'd actually whipped her! Like some painslut! Anger consumed her; she was many things but she wasn't this. 

"What are you doing?" She hissed at him in anger. He ignored her, and laid another two light hits across her breasts. 

Whap. Whap. 

The pain of the nipple clamps was gone now, replaced by the faint stinging of the flogger and the white heat of her fury at be treated like this.

"Dammit, Ethan, what do you think this ..." her protest ended in a mewl of pain as he rolled his wrist and swung upward, caressing her pussy with the flogger. She flinched back into her bondage above, too stunned to react. Her anger faded before the reality of how helpless she was.

He flogged her breasts again, once, twice, three times. Whap. Whap. Whap. A heat began to build, and to her horror she felt her nipples grow hard in response. 

Whap. Whap. Whap.

It hurt, and yet...

Was this actually turning her on? 

Was she really enjoying this on some level? 

Whap. 

Another slap of warm pleasure-pain coursed through her as he laid the flogger adroitly against her inner thighs. Her body was reacting to him, moving of its own volition to avoid the flogger, which in turn gave him new areas of her creamy skin to kiss. 

Whap. Whap. Whap.

He worked for some minutes, until she lost all track of time in a haze of pleasure-pain, gently flogging the length of her body, demonstrating her desire for her curves with his whip instead of his tongue or his hands. 

Whap. 

A backhanded stroke against her vulva.

Whap. Whap. Whap. 

Three quick hits against her inner thighs.

Whap. Whap. 

One to each breast, just below her hungry nipples. 

Surreal as it might seem, she found herself increasingly responding to his strokes. The heat that the flogger produced in her consumed her consciousness, leaving her wrung out, a creature of his will, her skin craving the next stroke. 

Yes, she knew each new hit would hurt, would raise a field of red amidst the pale skin of her lush breasts, thighs. And yet she ached for that next hit, craving the raw energy that would flood outward from that area so lucky to receive his touch to the rest of her body.

Whap. Whap. Whap. Whap. Four hits, each dragging a short moan of pleasure from her. Despite herself, she was incredibly aroused. 

His secret, she realized, as yet another wall to her sanity and her resistance collapsed, was that he was patient and persistent. He was not interested in hearing her scream. Rather, he worked the flogger across the length and breadth of her, turning her entire body into one humming instrument of sensation, and then, only then, increasing the sensation incrementally. 

Whap. Whap. Whap.

She couldn't believe herself, but her nipples pulsed with pleasure and her clit was fully engorged, eager to receive the flogger's kiss to hurry it on the way to the little death. And yet he knew this, and so directed his hits only to the areas near her throbbing pussy, tormenting her with what she couldn't have. 

He knew she was a slut at heart; was he punishing for that fact?

Or was he rewarding her?

Whap. 

Her body was his canvas.

When she tried to twist into the flogger, to assert some control and force him into giving her her orgasm, he stepped back and smacked her sharply on each breast, using the pain to bring her back to center.

"Hmmm...we'll deal with your insolence later." 




Auction Ch. 02



All the while, the soft 'whap, whap, whap' of the flogger continued, burning itself into her consciousness, scoring that soft noise into her memory so that in the coming weeks the simple sound of it would make her wet. 

Her mind whirled with the new reality that was unfolding before her. She'd been spanked before; and she'd enjoyed it. Now that she thought about it – Ethan had been the one lover who'd spanked her before – the only lover to do so in any kind of dedicated fashion, feeding her appetite for contrasting sensations. 

But that had been in the throws of passion, as he'd fucked her from behind, one hand on her hip, the other smacking her round bottom to goad her. Filled with that wonderful cock of his, his stinging slaps had helped focus her orgasm into something transcendent.

Now, however, she felt her orgasm coming despite the fact that he had yet to take her as she wanted. All she had was the mental arousal that came from her new state. Could he really have turned her pain into such pleasure? 

"Please...Ethan...sir...Master...I need you...please..."

Jen opened her mouth again, to speak, to beg him to bury that big cock in her pussy, to put away this charade and culminate their sex in the only way she new how. 

Another swat against her pussy stopped her mid-sentence, forcing a low ragged moan of pleasure instead. It wasn't the light touch of a lover's tongue, to be sure, but hot and raw, sending jolts of pain and pleasure throughout her body.

"If you talk again, I will have you gagged. And I know you don't like that." His voice was iron, and she knew with a certainty that he would keep his promise – despite the fact that he knew being gagged held a particular horror for her. 

She nodded in response, and pushed her breasts forward in an attempt to show she would behave. She was so close now...maybe...just maybe he'd grant her release?

Damn him for twisting her desires so!

There, she wasn't imagining things...it did feel good in a perverse 'this is so wrong but I like it' kind of way. 

And she did have a dark appetite for enjoying the forbidden...

Her clit sang with joy, jolts of sexual energy reverberating throughout her body. 

Painful as it might be, the flogger felt wonderful; the entire front of her body burned with sensation, aching for release. 

She shuddered and looked down again.

He smiled and flogged her breasts again. 

How could he have known? It didn't really matter, she suddenly realized, he was going to give her exactly what she'd always said she'd wanted: complete and utter submission to the will of another.

Whether she wanted it or not.

He swung the flogger upwards, hard, wrapping the leather tassels fully against her clit. Pleasure-pain flooded her, battering down the last walls of her resistance, her old life. 

Jen exploded, singing out her release as her body trembled and swayed beneath the restraints above. 

As promised, he'd broken her, made her crave what she'd feared, burned the desire to serve into her with pain and release, erasing any thoughts of serving her time as anything but his slave. 

Shuddering with the remnants of her orgasm, she looked up at him, her body covered in a sheen sweat, her long, blonde curls limp around her face. "Thank you, Master."

He kissed her lightly, before stepping back to take up the riding crop. 

She smiled to herself as he resumed his ministrations.



Auction Ch. 02



The car rolled through the city streets, turn after turn, and quickly you realize that you don't know where you are or how long you've been driving.

The car turns into a driveway, you hear the crunch of the tires on gravel, and comes gently to a stop.

The door opens and you sit patiently as I get out first. You gingerly step out, very aware of the bustier squeezing you and the difficulty to walking on gravel with such high heels.

You feel the cool night air on your legs and bare thighs as you step out of the car, and stand for a moment, looking at the imposing mansion in front of you. It is stone, very large, and only dimly lit. You can tell it is well cared for, but that it is not meant to stand out.

You have no more time to look around – a leash is clipped to the D ring on your collar and you are led gently, but insistently forward. 

Hands hold on to the coat on your shoulders and, as you walk forward, it is pulled off of you. You feel the cool night air now on your body – the bustier and loose skirt providing little protection from the night air.

You focus on walking, the gravel is well packed which makes it easier, but are aware of others heading into the mansion, up the wide stairs and through the large doors which open as you approach.

You are the only one not wearing formal wear – the men are in tuxedos, the women in evening gowns, elegant but not stuffy, here and there you notice a particularly beautiful woman in a strikingly revealing gown. 

Later, when you think of it, you marvel at the fact that you didn't even think of how differently you were dressed, if you can call your outfit "dressed."

You enter the mansion and are led down long, curving stone stairs towards the basement. You walk gingerly, concentrating on your step, keeping your breath, holding yourself proudly, you head held up by the tall collar. 

You are almost unaware of your surroundings, but not entirely. You take in the quiet elegance of your surroundings, the tapestries and art work.

At the bottom of the stairs you find what is clearly the most important room of the evening.

It is large, there are different seating areas, couches and chairs, small tables for drinks, and it is filled with well dressed, elegant people, men and women, talking and having drinks. It appears to be a cocktail party until a hush comes over the room as you enter and all eyes turn to you.

You hold your head up proudly, determined that I should be proud of you and how you conduct yourself tonight, although there is some trepidation in your heart. 

As you walk forward you feel yourself being inspected by the crowd, both men and women, your every move evaluated. How you walk, the way you hold your shoulders, the sway of your hips.

In the center of the room there is a small stage. As you climb the steps up onto the stage, the lights in the room dim, except over your head, the crowd quiets and starts to gather around.

You hear me whisper, 

"and now my pet, we will see what you are truly made of"

I hand your leash to a woman standing on the stage. She is dressed rather severely, her long black hair pulled back, tight black leather clothes, a whip in her hand, but it is not the clothes that catch your eye, but the demeanor.

This, you quickly realize, is a powerful woman.

She takes the leash and leads you around the round stage so that everyone can get a look at you, stopping to turn you around every now and again so that everyone can see you from all angles. She moves quickly and you struggle to keep up with out falling, start to loose your breath and get a bit light headed.

She stops in the center of the stage and turns the crowd.

"Our evenings entertainment, has arrived."

Entertainment.

Is that what I am, you think.

"Before the bidding begins, perhaps a demonstration of her skills is in order."

It is not a question.

You are pushed to your knees in front of a large chair in the center of the stage. The woman sits, spreading her legs, pulling up he short skirt for you to see her shaved pussy. You know what to do and start to crawl forward, your ass wiggling for the audience as you do.

You lick up her thigh and move quickly to her pussy.

"Hungry. That's good" she says.

You feel the heels of her boots – very pointed heels – digging into your back as she goads you on, licking her, sucking on her clit, using all of your skills to please her.

Somehow you know that pleasing her, and quickly, is important.

You feel her hands on the back of your head, pulling you harder into her as you continue to lick her, sucking her clit, feeling her juices flow over your face. You are very aware that the crowd is moving closer, you sense their focus, but you are not distracted.

You can tell you are having an effect, the heels are digging harder into your back, her thighs start to quiver, her breathing gets deeper, until she cries out as her orgasm rolls over her.

There is polite applause from the audience.

That's it you think - polite applause? What is it they expect?

Your thoughts are interrupted as you feel someone enter you from behind. You feel yourself being entered – it's an odd sensation. It's not the gently entry of a lover, seeking to please you so that you feel every centimeter of him as he fills you, nor is it the rough fucking of someone interested solely in his own pleasure, but somewhere in between – forceful, but not too forceful.

You don't have time to think about this, however, as the woman with her legs over your shoulders is driving the heels of her boots into the small of your back, goading you forward to lick her again.

You, of course, comply, the rhythm of the cock driving in and out of you forcing your face harder against her pussy. You feel him pull out of you, clearly still hard and wonder why – until you feel him press against your ass. 

As he slides into your ass, you scream into the pussy you are licking and this, the screaming, is what sets the audience off. The applause begins in earnest as he fucks your ass harder and harder, slamming in and out of you, driving your face against her pussy until she cums again, her heels digging even harder into your back.

After she cums you feel the cock pulled out of your ass and your are lifted to your feet. 

You are a mess, her juice all over your face, your juices dripping down your thighs. You feel your arms lifted above your head as you are pulled to your feet.

Suspension cuffs are placed around your wrists which are then clipped to the spreader bar handing from the ceiling. The bar rises, pulling you all the way to your feet. You feel the burn in your shoulders as they take your weight, then you are lowered just a bit so that, if you are careful, at least some of your weight will be borne by your feet.

You look forward and see why the man who had been fucking you had not cum – he too was a slave. He was kneeling in front of you, his arms now bound behind him, leaning back his hard cock pointing up in front of him, slick with your juice. There was a very thick collar around his neck, forcing him to hold his head up high. From the throbbing of his cock you can tell he has not been allowed to cum, perhaps for some time and the thought of this distracts you, for a moment, until the lights dim and one light is directed down towards you.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, who shall put in the first bid."

You realize you have a long night in front of you and wonder, will it be only a night?



Auction Ch. 03



PART THE THIRD

Sunlight clawed its way into her consciousness, forcing her out of a deep slumber. She'd been dreaming, entranced with a misty set of scenarios that saw her bound and on her knees, servicing a large cock for what seemed like hours before it finally erupted, drenching her in cum. Jen smiled into her pillow…it had been a very good dream.

She sighed and rolled over, reveling in the feel of the cool air on her skin, stirred up by the ceiling fan. 

Wait a minute…she didn't own a ceiling fan!

Her eyes snapped open and the realities of her new life came rushing back. The enormity of the previous night roared into her mind …

… the bright lights of the sales stage 

… her old lover was her new owner 

… and he was very skilled with the flogger and the crop 

… the body-draining orgasms until she'd begged him to stop.

Jen looked up at the ceiling and wondered again what she'd landed herself in. Her whole body ached; her front still bore a faint pink hue from the flogger and her backside had several welts from the riding crop he'd used. Faint burning pain began to cover her body. Her backside stung and her breasts were warm and tingling. The sensation was so strong she wondered how she'd even managed to sleep. But the ache in her pussy reminded her of an orgasm so intense he'd had to carry her to bed. 

She sat up, gathering a sheet about her to cover herself; ashamed of the way she'd been marked. It had been a very full day yesterday; a mere twenty-four hours earlier she'd been a free woman, free from bondage and free from these strange cravings for the whip. Her body was her own twenty-four hours ago; and her mind was clearer it seemed, free from the seemingly insane thoughts that raced through her now-fully awake mind.

Now, a day later, she was a bound slave, owned by a man she thought she'd known, bound by his collar and marked by his whip.

Where was she, anyway? she wondered, looking around. She could see from the large window that she was on the second floor of some large, wooded estate. The far edge of the grounds ended in a high stone wall, before yielding to a thick forest. In the distance, she could see mountains. Which told her nothing, since she already knew she was somewhere on the East Coast. 

The bedroom itself was well appointed in a very Elizabethan style, with large wooden furniture to complement the white walls and heavy curtains. 

Finally, she stood up, slightly unsteady and suddenly aware that she was famished. Unconsciously her hand strayed to the platinum collar around her neck, toying with it as she wrapped herself in the sheet and walked out into the hall, searching for some sign that she wasn't the only one in the house. 

She came at last to a large study, its walls crammed with books – two floors of books in fact! – complete with a ladder and an upper entrance. In the center of the room was a heavy desk, laden with a series of computer monitors and hardware. Stacks of folders lay to one side of a leather blotter. Despite its lavish style, this was clearly a working office. 

And yet there was no phone…

Ever the bookworm, she tiptoed into the office, perusing the shelves. She had to admit, she was surprised. Whoever had put this library together had done so with a practiced eye for some of the best tracts of a startling variety of subjects – choices that spoke to a keen mind with many facets. It was a library she could get lost in. 

Working her way at last to the desk itself, she leaned over to examine on of the folders and was shocked to see a stout steel ring set into the edge of the desk. What was that there for?

"I see you've found my study." His voice, though soft, made her jump with fright. He'd startled her quite badly, and the added quandary of whether she was supposed to be in her at all had her a little panicked. 

Jen wrapped the sheet tightly around her lush frame and waited as he strode over. He was dressed only in a pair of dark pajamas bottoms, which afforded her a lovely view of his well-defined chest and abdomen. Despite herself, despite the little stirrings of fear and regret at her current servitude, she felt her body stir to his presence. 

"Yes… Sir… I did. I hope it's not wrong that I … I mean, I woke up and there was no one there…" She cursed herself for stammering like this in front of him. Dammit, she might be his slave but she wanted to show her strength.

Ethan smiled. "It's perfectly fine. After all you'll be spending a lot of time here." He ignored her quizzical look and moved in close to her. Pushing her hands down to her sides, he drew the sheet away from her and tossed it to one side. She felt her body burn with desire as that intense gaze swept the length of her, taking it all in. His brown eyes roamed over her marked form as surely as his hands would have; she could practically feel his touch.

"Yes," he mused, one hand on his chin "you did quite well last night. Quite well for an initiate."

Deftly he reached up and snapped a short leather leash onto the ring set into her collar. He turned and strode out, forcing her to follow, speaking as he walked. 

"Now that you've had some rest, we'll get you settled in. Kami will handle all of that of course. Simply draw up a list of the things you need and she will get them for you." He moved quickly, and it was all she could do to keep up so that the collar didn't pull.

"You won't be leaving the estate for quite some time, so don't be afraid to make the list long. I've arranged for all of your personal effects to be put in storage here on the grounds."

He stopped and pulled her to him with the leash until her face was inches from his. She could smell him, smell how clean and … male … he was.

Ethan looked at her for one long moment and then smirked. "Except your clothes, of course. Those have all been given away."

"All of them?" she gasped. 

He frowned at this outburst and she knew she'd made a mistake. But he simply nodded. "Yes, all of them." 

"After all," he said as he strode off once more, "You won't be needing them for the next three years." 

She tottered after him as they left the study. He led her down a long hallway into a bedroom. It was sparsely decorated, with only a dressing chair, armoire, and oversized king-sized four-poster bed. A stone fireplace was set to one side; otherwise the room was bare. 

He strode over to the bed. As she approached, she saw the recumbent form of Kami, sleeping on her stomach, blissfully unaware. Her back was lean and well-defined, giving way to a pair of very pert buttocks. As much as she tried, however, Jen could not see any marks on that beautiful back. Apparently Kami had never felt the lash the way she had. 

She did, however, notice a rather prominent tattoo of a lily, situated just above the tailbone in the small of her back. Something tugged at the corner of her mind, she was sure she'd seen that lily elsewhere. 

Her scrutiny was interrupted by a loud 'click' as Ethan snapped her leash to a steel ring set into one of the posts at the foot of the bed. He cinched it tight, forcing Jen to straddle the heavy wooden column. When this was finished, he produced a short length of rope and lashed her forearms to the pole, leaving her hands free, palms together pointing upward. 

Thusly bound, she couldn't really move below her waist. 

He walked around the bed to the sleeping woman and bent over and began to kiss the length of her back. 

After some minutes she awoke with a dreamy smile of her face. She rolled onto her back, the sheet slipping away to reveal her full breasts, resplendent with their freckles. Ethan continued his kisses, working his way down to her stomach, lingering for just a moment at the border of the sheet where it covered the woman's vulva. There he stopped, eliciting a small groan from his lover. Placing one hand on her right breast, he began to idly fondle her breast. 

She had eyes only for him, Jen saw. Her green eyes were watching every move he made; it was clear this woman worshipped Ethan, wanted only to please him. Jen hadn't thought that kind of devotion was possible, even if she'd secretly longed to experience it someday for herself.

"Did you sleep well, my pet?" His tone of voice made it clear that he didn't even think Jen was in the room; truly, she was just property!

"Mmm…yes, I was dreaming, dreaming of that time we went to the beachhouse."

"Oh, yes, I remember that weekend!" he chuckled softly. 

"Can we go again sometime?"

"Certainly, check my calendar and find out when I am not on travel next. Schedule it for that weekend, and then upload it into my Palm." She squealed in delight and sat up to cover his face in kisses.

Jen groaned silently. She'd hoped to be HIS slave – not the slave to a man who obviously already had a woman of his own. How could she be utterly his if she had to share him? She twisted against the post in frustration. Think of your debts, she murmured to herself, think of your debts. This will be over soon and then I am free. 

The movement must have caught his attention. "Kami, I need you to do a favor for me. I need to go into the city on business, and won't be back until late. I'd planned to spend the day breaking the new slave in, but other, more pressing business must be attended to. Can you take charge of my newest acquisition and prepare her? I've got quite a lot planned for her, and I wanted her to be ready."

"Of course," her eyes twinkled mischievously, "anything else?"

"See that she's been bathed, perfumed and fed. You know what to do. And then please bring her to my study this afternoon." And with that he got up and left the room. 

An hour and a half later, bathed, fed, and perfumed, she stood behind Ethan in his study, watching as he explained the task at hand. It was very complicated, and yet it wasn't anything like what she'd been expecting. After the very deliberate emphasis Kami had placed on her physical appearance while she'd bathed and gotten ready, Ethan's whims suddenly seemed comical. 

She looked at the stack of research files and laughed. "This is what you bought me for? To sit around naked and do research?"

The flare in his eyes told her immediately that she'd erred. He strode to her in three quick steps and grabbed her roughly, one hand taking a mass of her curls to pulled her head back so he could look down into her eyes. The other slid down to cup her pussy, his strong fingers sliding in between her labia. She was suddenly terrified and horny all at the same time. 

"Slave, what is your task here? Your duty?"

"To serve you Master in all things."

"Precisely. In all things. So why would I limit your service to me? Why would I simply resign your fate to being some fucktoy when you are capable of so much more?" His finger twitched slightly against her clitoris, making her shiver.

"Tell me, do you think a bound slut like yourself should question my whims? Do you think you're qualified to do that?"

"No, Master. Of course not."

He tightened his grip on her curls, making tears well in her eyes from the pain of it – even as he lightly tapped her clitoris.

"Then why would you question me, Whore?" 

Her mind raced. Whatever vestiges of her old lover she thought she might find seemed to have vanished entirely, replaced by this newer, darker version of Ethan. "I just thought that after that first night…I mean…the auction…those women…"

"What? You think a slave cannot be more than just a plaything? No. I bought you, I own you. Whether it is to suck my cock or scrub my floors or this task, you will serve me in all things, or I will have you flogged from my house into the street like a common whore." 

He leaned in even closer so she could feel his breath on her ear. "I want to love you," he whispered, "don't disappoint me."

Love her! 

"Yes, Master. In all things I will serve you."

He smiled, the hard look fading from his face so rapidly it was if it had never been there. "Good, now let's go have some lunch before we discuss your project, shall we?"

And without another word, he spun on his heel and strode out of the study; she followed, tottering after him as fast as her heels and the leash would allow.

For a solid week thereafter she conducted research for him. From eight in the morning until well after dark she slaved away, preparing detailed investment summaries for him. Occasionally, he would wander in to review her work; he was surprisingly insightful, catching errors in her logic or pressing her research into new arenas she hadn't seen. In the end, the fruits of her labor were tight and crisp, and laid out a series of solid, cogent investment arguments for him.

He finished reading the last of them around midday. She knelt next to him, her collar chained to the desk beside him. One of his hands idly stroked her hair, toying with her curls as he reviewed some random appendix. Frankly, she was very impressed with the level of detail he demanded of her; it was some of her best work to date.

Placing the report back in its binder, he leaned forward and pressed the intercom, "Kami, please come to my office."

"Yes, Ethan, I'll be right up." The response was prompt, but the redhead's voice was languid; she certainly hadn't been toiling away for the last week! 

Oh, how she hated that woman's ability to call him 'Ethan'. Why couldn't she call him by his name?

Jen frowned slightly.

"Don't pout, it doesn't become you." He reached down and ran his fingers across her left nipple and smirked as she shivered in delight. "This is excellent work. You deserve to be rewarded."

She beamed at this, surprising herself with how happy she was that she had pleased him.

Kami strode into the room, instantly capturing Jen's attention. The redhead wore a dark blue dressing gown, tied at the waist with a white sash. 

Ethan looked up at her as she entered. "Strip," he said perfunctorily. She complied instantly, doffing the robe to expose her lean body, finely toned and only slightly tanned from the sun. Her breasts were full, yet pert, with jutting pink nipples. Jen could see that wild strip of fiery red hair that marked her neatly trimmed pussy; unlike Jen, Kami had not been shaved bare like a slave. Nor did she wear any sort of collar or choker. No, she was a free woman. 

Jen watched her with a mix of envy and desire, her eyes drinking in the sight of the woman's form, so unlike her own and yet so desirable. 

Kami strode over to Ethan and bent at the waist to plant a kiss on his lips. "Yes, my love, what is it you wish of me?"

"Jennifer has done some excellent analysis for me. And I promised her a reward."

He paused to unclip Jen's leash and passed it to Kami. 

"Please flog her."

Jen jerked her head up sharply. What? All that work and she was to be whipped for it? That was no reward!

Kami continued as if neither had noticed Jen's gaff. "Of course, Love. What shall I use to flog her?" 

"Hmm…and excellent question. It's up to you. Just be sure to blindfold her, but no gags of any kind. And do remember to record this all; I might want to watch it later."

"Very good. Maybe I'll use a switch…haven't had one of those in this house in quite some time. Do you want her to cum?"

Ethan lapsed into silence as he thought about that. Kami waited dutifully for an answer, occasionally shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"But I was good," Jen sputtered, looking up at him. "I did what you asked and I did it well! Why am I to be whipped?"

He frowned, and she withered under that look. "You're new to this so I will forgive you this indiscretion. But if speak without being spoken to again I will have you in irons for a week."

She looked at him in horror; this would be a real punishment, she realized. The tone in his voice made it very clear that she would NOT enjoy such a fate. 

His hand reached out to grasp the leader from her collar and then pulled it down, forcing her to look down. "To answer your question, however, you will be flogged because it is the reward you deserve. I knew you could do this, there was no real test in it, just an application of your considerable academic skills. When you've really proven yourself to me, you will receive other rewards. Until then, there is nothing for you but the whip."

Jen stared hard at the floor, utterly humiliated. 

And yet, there it was again. The realization that she was kneeling on the floor of a house she didn't know, the bonded property of a man she barely knew anymore … and with that realization, a new heat flooding into her pussy.

As much as she wanted to deny it, she knew why such talk aroused her.

To hear them talk about her like this – like some plaything…like a mere painslut bound to their whims – was to realize that she'd given up everything, that she'd achieved a state of total freedom because she no longer was responsible for anything. 

No more concerns about incompetent lovers or insecurities.

If Master wanted her to cum, she would.

Because she couldn't do otherwise.

It was just that simple.

Total freedom.

Just what she'd always wanted.

"I think," Ethan said at last, breaking the silence, "yes, I think she should cum just once, but I'd like you to really drag it out. I would have said twice but her impertinence must come with a price. Normally, I would say that she shouldn't cum at all, but these are some damned fine reports. Really good stuff." 

He pulled Kami to her and kissed her with a tenderness that made Jen burn with envy. 

"Take her and flog her, but make her earn it. It's up to you, however, how many times she almost cums. Have fun with that one."

Kami leaned in again and kissed him lightly on the mouth. "As you wish." She took the leash in her fine hands and released Jen from her bindings. 

"Come with me, Slut, time for your reward."

Her smile made Jen flinch. 

Kami watched him go, looked at her for a long moment, and then led her from the study into a nearby bedroom. It was the same room she'd been whipped in the day before. Her body instantly thrilled to this environment, phantom memories of pleasure-pain surging through her.

As before, Kami bound her wrists to the hook from the ceiling and raised her arms until she was standing on tiptoe. 

Next, she padded over to an armoire and opened it. After a minute she bent over to retrieve something from a lower drawer. Jen found herself watching that perfect form, drinking in the way her hips curved down to long lean legs. She noted with more than a little interest that from behind Kami's pussy appeared to be bald, smoothly shaven (or waxed? she wondered) as her own was.

Her own experience before the auction had been an order to shave herself right before she went onstage. She'd never really done it before, but had managed with the help of a mirror. Jen wasn't sure what the redhead's status was in this place; it was clear that she was Ethan's woman, but did that mean she was his concubine or his girlfriend or something else?

Finally, Kami returned, and Jen could see the thin strip of red hair framed the top of her pussy. That was interesting, she thought, as she watched her new captor walk towards her, Kami at least had the freedom to choose her own style of grooming.

Would she ever earn such a right in her time here? 

Somehow she doubted it.

"Do you like my pussy, slut?" There was a hint of amusement in the girlish tones. 

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do. You're just not comfortable saying it." 

Had she been that obvious? 

"You're still living in your old life where you think you can keep secrets." She frowned at this, but then brightened. "That's ok; we'll sort that out later. You'll learn quickly enough that you no longer have any secrets from him, or from me. For now, I've got something for you, a test of sorts."




Auction Ch. 03



She stood next to Jen, placing the unseen object out of sight on the nearby bed. The redhead ran her hands down the length of her captive. Jen shivered with delight as the fingers drifted in tandem down across her breasts and her back, and then rose again, ever so gently to caress the length of her. 

Jen could smell her, a heady mix of sex … and vanilla.

One finger came to rest on her clitoris, even as the other came to rest between her buttocks. Deftly, she slid her left hand down towards Jen's asshole, pressing in suggestively as it went, until it came to rest on her now wet slit. This produced a small giggle of amusement. "I see someone is happy to see me."

"Yes…" she gasped, surprised at how aroused she was. In all her fantasies, she'd never imagined being this turned on by a woman. Suddenly she heard herself babbling out her once secretive fantasy of going down on a woman, but even then she'd always hoped to be taken from behind. 

Kami's fingered moved back and forth slightly, running the length of er slit, even as her other hand kneaded Jen's clitoris. She shuddered beneath that touch, praying it would never stop.

This was something more, a deeper connection, a guilty delight that another woman was touching her, teasing her, as only a man had. 

"And why is that a fantasy of yours, slut?"

Her fingers moved faster against Jen's clitoris.

"Uhhn … I love it when … mmm mmm … I love the way a cock feels in my mouth. I always have…and I just wanted to be fucked while tasting what a woman feels like."

Kami looked at her then, a strange heat in her eyes. Jen suddenly wondered if they were going to make love then. 

She moved her hips to try and produce some friction against Kami's hand. The redhead giggled again, breaking her reverie, and pinched Jen's clitoris hard. Jolts of pleasure and pain shot through her, pulling out a rasping moan as she bucked from the sensation. 

"You are a naughty little slut, aren't you?" 

Jen could only nod in response. She could feel a fugue coming, feel that rationale part of her that the whip had destroyed collapsing again.

And, besides, she was a slut. 

Kami knelt down before her. The sight of that gorgeous redhead sinking down onto her knees sent a fresh wave of heat flooding through her body. She pushed her hips forward, proffering herself to Kami.

The redhead pressed her palm against Jen's vulva, and used her other hand to lightly slap her inner thighs until she caught on and spread her legs. Kami looked up and her and grinned, "Ready for your test?"

"Yes." Jen licked her lips, nervous now. What sort of test could this be? She was finding it hard to concentrate; she wanted Kami to touch her, to run her tongue across her clitoris, to press that beautiful face against her pussy until she exploded with release. 

Reaching up onto the bed beside her, Kami produced a large dildo, shaped to look like a man's penis. It had to be at least nine inches in length, and was quite thick. "I see you're already nice and wet, so we'll dispense with any lubrication. Your test is to keep this in until I take it out. "

She'd never done something like this before. "What happens if I can't?" 

"If you fail I will whip you – and not in a fun way." The mirth was gone from her eyes, replaced by a deadly seriousness. 

Jen closed her eyes and hung her head, nodding her assent to the challenge. How could she do otherwise? To refuse would be to disappoint me – the one thing she was determined not to do.

Then, all at once, she could feel the head of the pseudo-cock pressing into her. She hadn't had a lover for almost a year now – the demands of school and her shy tendencies combining to leave her bed quite empty. Her pussy was quite tight, and the sensation of this thick head pushing into her was intense, a heady combination of pleasure and pain as her walls stretched to accommodate. 

Suddenly, just when she thought she'd tear in half, her body yielded, and the dildo plunged in, filling her. She'd never felt so full, ever inch of her pussy could feel the pseudo-skin of the shaft, replete with veins and ridges and bumps. 

Frankly, it felt amazing.

Kami watched her intently, a small smile on her face. Clearly she understood exactly what Jen was feeling right now. "That's his, you know. We had it made last year."

Jen looked at her in amazement. This was his?!? It had been so long since they'd been together that she couldn't exactly remember him. She remembered being quite happy with him, but certainly not nine inches!

"So you're ready for your test, right?" 

Ready for her test? What else could there be? 

Seeing the puzzlement, Kami laughed, rocking back on her heels to stand up. She leaned in and kissed Jen lightly on the lips, "Such an innocent. He is going to have so much fun with you."

And then she was gone, striding back to her armoire. She opened it again and began to look for something else. Out came a small remote and a long leather paddle, some four inches wide. 

Jen's eyes widened in surprise; no, she couldn't really …

Buried within her, the pseudo-cock began to pulse and vibrate. 

The effect was instantaneous. Wetness flooded her pussy as the vibrations hit every part of her pussy at once. Within seconds she was aching with need, so thoroughly aroused that it was hard to concentrate. Her nipples were rock hard, eager to be suckled or tweaked or… anything, just something to provide a counterpoint to the wonders spreading outward from the dildo. 

"See, that is the test," giggle Kami, "any slut could hold a cock in. I've set the bar a little higher for you. And to make it really hard, you're not going to be able to cum with the setting I've chosen."

"No!"

"Oh yes, you little whore. He said I was to prepare you. And that's just what I am doing. I am preparing you for your coming years of servitude. It's not all going to be like last night; you were lucky to receive such attention from him so soon."

Without warning she snapped her wrist out, lashing the long, supple paddle against Jen's full breasts. It was very flexible, and bent to mold to the curves of her body. 

Stars exploded in her eyes and she moaned in pain. This was not the supple ministrations of Ethan the night before; this was a punishment.

Kami slapped her breasts with the paddle once, twice, three times more. By the second stroke her nipples were burning and she had tears in her eyes from the pain. Trembling, she looked at Kami, begging for some relief.

The redhead came to stand before her, so close that her own nipples brushed against the fiery heat of her own. Her green eyes bored into Jen's very soul, and there was a surprising anger in her voice. "You exist to serve him in all things. Remember that, you whore. This is not some fantasy camp like you think. You are his bound slut, his slave. You exist to please him first and me second."

Kami stepped back and lashed the paddle upwards, letting its flat expanse mash into Jen's pussy. Bound by the ropes, she jumped back, hissing from the pain through clenched teeth. Smirking, the redhead stepped in again, and pulled her head back by her hair. Again, the penetrating, angry stare: "The sooner you learn that there is no you, that there is only his will, the happier you'll be."

The redhead leaned back, running a manicured hand down across her vulva. "Until then, it's my job to disabuse you of your fantasies."

Jen writhed against the pole, her body on fire from the pulses within and th stinging slaps of the paddle. To her horror she realized that the combination of the two was going to take her body to a new place. It hurt like hell, but the pulses in her pussy simply could not be ignored. Rather, they were merging into the larger sensations of the paddle to form something newer. This pleasure-pain was more savage than Ethan's touch with the flogger, but it was intoxicating. 

And yet, she knew wouldn't be able to cum like this. It was wonderful, but it wasn't enough to send her any higher – she needed more stimulation to achieve orgasm. 

Kami toyed with one finger in her mouth for a moment, holding the paddle out to one side, her other hand resting lightly atop her own clitoris. She giggled merrily as she watched Jen writhe, like a child who's found the cookie jar. 

When it became clear, however, that the vibrations from the dildo were too gentle to let Jen climax, she placed the controller next to Jen, and then lay down on the bed. She watched Jen buck and twitch from the pleasant sensations for a few minutes, savoring the way the captive blonde's eyes would stray to the little plastic box before her every time the sensations would build and then suddenly fade. 

Clearly, Kami was pleased with herself. 

"Happy now, slut?"

"Yes…Mistress…thank you for teaching me." 

What was she supposed to say? Of course she wasn't happy! Her body craved the release that could only be had through the kiss of the whip. There was no way she would cum like this…so how long would she be bound her? 

"Oh, but there's so much more to learn." Paddle in hand, Kami rose and came to her, that same cruel little smile on her face.

Hours later, her nipples throbbing from the clamps, her backside a bright crimson from the paddle, her pussy aching from the strain of the dildo, Jen collapsed at last into bed, a weary smile on her face. 

She fell asleep quickly, not caring that she smelled of sex, that her makeup had been set askew by her tears, or that she had screamed herself hoarse begging for hours for those final precious moments when Kami had finally flogged her aching clitoris into a blinding orgasm, leaving her to buck and writhe as she continued to slap her breasts and thighs and ass to enhance the experience. Jen realized that she'd actually black out for a moment, and had only come to when Kami had lowered the ropes, allowing her to collapse on the floor.

Utterly spent, having survived Kami's capricious whims, she'd looked up and noted with no small satisfaction that that beautiful bald pussy that lay beneath that thatch of auburn hair was wet and glistening with desire. Whatever she'd endured, it had cleared stirred Kami into a frenzy, for the redhead kissed her fiercely and then practically ran from the room. 

Not long after, just before she passed out, she swore she heard the sound of a woman nearby mewling out her own orgasm. Ethan hadn't yet returned, so she could only imagine with a little smile that Kami was somewhere nearby, her hungry fingers drumming out a tattoo of pleasure on her own clit until she came herself. 

Knowing that she'd driven her supposed 'mistress' to that – that she'd made her tormentor feverish with desire – Jen slept like a baby. 

It had been a most satisfying reward after all.



Auction Ch. 03



You are standing before the crowd, your arms spread and pulled above your head, lifting you almost off your feet. You know your are a mess, having just licked a woman to orgasm, you feel her juice on your face, and feel your own juice dripping down your thighs. You look forward and see the male slave, the one who moments ago was in your ass, kneeling, his arms bound behind him, his cock slick with your juice jutting forward, throbbing.

'Our pet seems to be dreaming, let's see if this brings her back to reality'

You hear the lash before you feel it, striking your back just to the right side your neck, and feel the burning down your back. The force of the blow causes you to move forward, trying to lessen the sting. Too late you remember your arms are stretched above you, loose your balance and hang by your wrists until you can regain your footing.

You feel the sweat running down your face and, curiously, realize you are getting wetter.

'That seems to have gotten her attention'

You can't see whose talking, he – from the voice you can tell it's a man – is behind you, moving back and forth.

The bidding begins and you can tell that the auctioneer is not satisfied.

'$10,000? For that, I will play with her myself!'

Again, you hear the lash before you feel it. It strikes your right side, just above the hip, the lash wrapping around you. You feel the burn around your waist and on to your belly and writhe at the pain which, of course, causes more burning in your shoulders. A second blow from the lash lands on your ass, almost directly across your ass so you feel it on both cheeks. You do not cry out, but twist, hanging by your wrists, as the audience gathers closer.

The lights are hot, but the room is not completely dark and you can see a bit of the audience. There is an even mix of men and women, most in formal attire, beginning to show some interest.

The bidding begins again, and this time the auctioneer is pleased. You see the lash laid on the floor in front of you, curled, waiting.

'$50,000"'

'$75,000'

You are half in a daze, from the lashing and from the fucking, but it slowly creeps into your consciousness that the bidding is for you, and it is what you consider a great deal of money – what does the bidding purchase you wonder?

The bidding slows and finally ends.

$200,000.

$200,000? Slowly your mind wraps itself around this number, the amount of money for which you have just been purchased. Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, there is a thought, very small, a grain of sand, that says 'what the hell have I done?' You know that it's too late and push it aside in favor of 'what is next.' It is not a question out of fear or trepidation, but anticipation. 

You are brought back from your reverie by the sensation of being lowered, feeling your feet squarely on the floor, the weight taken off your shoulders. Your wrists are unclasped and you drop your arms to your side, enjoying the sensation – your shoulders are very sore.

The male slave who was kneeling before you now holds the leash that is attacked to your collar and, without saying anything, leads your through the crowd. As you pass through the crowd you feel hands stroking you, some gently, others not, feeling the mark from the lashes as you head out of the room, back down the long hallway leading to the front door you entered. How long ago you entered you have no idea.

You are lead outside into to cool night air – at least, you assume it's night as it's very dark but it could be early morning. The fact that you are naked, being led by a naked man does not register on your consciousness. 

He leads you to a waiting car, a limo with darkened windows, opens the door and enters pulling your leash to follow him. Inside he sits facing you and directs you to the rear bench facing forward. As the door closes, the car drives off, and the man speaks.

'This is the only time I am allowed to speak to you, and you are not permitted to speak. You are now owned by my Mistress and you must obey her every command. I too am owned and, it is my Mistresses pleasure to deny me – you saw that I am not allowed to cum. Our Mistress will find ways for you to please her, and I am to instruct you on the rules. You are not allowed to speak without express permission from the Mistress our one of her servants – not a slave, but a servant, they are different. You may be asked a question requiring an answer – that is the only time you are permitted to speak. Answer questions directly – evasion is punished severely, and deception more so. Do not attempt deception. Now, sit quietly.'

With that he sat back, directed his eyes to the floor, and spoke no more.

Presently the car turned off the road, up a driveway, and stops. He gets out first and you follow. He leads you into the house and hands the leash to a woman dressed – if that is the word – in a loose, flowing gown, off white, that barely covered her. Her breasts were exposed by the loose fabric of the top and there was a slit down the front of the dress exposing her pussy. She took the leash and walked down a short hallway and upstairs, leading you.

Upstairs she turned to the right into a bedroom suite, led you through the suite to a bathroom where there was a large sunken tub. Without speaking she leads you into the tub and begins to wash you, starting with your hair. You feel the warm water caressing your body, washing away the remains of the evening, revel in the hands that stroke you, cleaning you. You soak, and don't know for how long – you realize your sense of time is completely gone, and are lifted out of the bath, dried and your hair brushed after which you are lead, still naked, back into the bedroom where you find a meal waiting.

The women silently leaves after directing you to the food. You sit, conscious that you are likely being watched, and eat, timidly at first but realizing quickly how hungry your are, devour the food. As you finish you realize how tired you are, turn to the bed and with your last ounce of energy, crawl under the covers falling fast asleep as your head hits the pillow.



Auction Ch. 04



He came to her in the darkest hours of the night, sliding into the bed beside her where she lay sleeping, exhausted from Kami's cruel appetites. She awoke in a panic at the sudden presence of another next to her, startled that she was no longer alone. When she tried to move, she found her hands had been tied together at the wrist and pulled above her head, likely tied to some ring or another she'd never thought to look for. 

She cursed herself silently for not locking her door, and then wondered what punishments she would have earned if she had. 

This bedroom had seemed her one place of sanctuary, and to suddenly have even that stripped away was, for the briefest of moments, utterly terrifying. Somehow, knowing that she would never be truly alone in this house was almost too much to bear, for it meant that she would have no respite from his whims, no place where she could go to gather her reserves for the coming day. 

And then, as her heart raced and goose bumps appeared on her skin at the stranger's touch, she realized: She wasn't supposed to have a place of her own, she wasn't supposed to gather her reserves for the coming day. 

The purpose of her being her was to submit, to embrace what was coming, not prepare herself to fight it.

She lay very still on her right side, every fiber of her being straining to fake slumber in the hope that he – she could definitely tell it was a he – would leave her alone. His body lay against hers, the hard muscles of his form pressing into her soft curves. She could feel one of his hands draped casually over her hip, resting lightly on her stomach; the other had burrowed under her curls to caresses her neck. It moved slowly, back and forth across her skin, and she could feel his warm breath on her ear, it smelled faintly of coffee. 

It wasn't an unwelcome smell, and in a lover she would have welcomed it. But now, with him so close, so unexpected, she couldn't relax, couldn't see anything pleasant in it.

His left hand began to move up her torso, one finger moving slowly across her skin, barely there at all. She held herself stiffly, determined to endure this latest test. For it surely had to be a test, some means by which to see if she'd respond to anyone but him. 

And this man did not smell like Ethan. From those few moments when they'd been close, when he'd stepped in to break her will to his own, she felt she'd come to know his scent. This man smelled clean and fresh, not unpleasant at all, but nothing like her Master. 

In the total blackness of her room, however, she had nothing to guide her save her hearing and her sense of smell. His body was too close to hers for her hands to explore, and moreover, he'd bound them to the bedpost above her. 

And he made no noise, save for the gentle intake and exhalations of his breath. Silent and still as she was, that left only her sense of smell. And that told her that this was some new entrant to her bed. She surmised that she wasn't supposed to resist, that her duty as a slave was to please; perhaps this was some friend or client's of Ethan's, someone she was supposed to service.

That was, after all, what a bound slut like herself did, right? 

Strangely, despite the fear, the light touch of the finger felt wonderful. It barely touched her skin at all, so softly she wasn't even sure that he was actually touching her. It moved in slow circles, to the bottom of her breasts, and then began to move south again, in those same phantom patterns until she could feel the faintest trace atop the bald expanse of her vulva, just millimeters above the cleft that marked the start of her labia. 

She felt her nipples grow hard.

Jen opened her eyes, but couldn't see anything. No light came in from under the door, and the window, while open, offered little ambient light beyond the stars themselves. It was the kind of darkness, she realized, you could only have away from the city, away from other people. Here she was, shrouded in darkness in a strange mansion, a mere eight days into her servitude and she'd already been flogged, paddled, and whipped – and now given to a stranger.

Was her Ethan entirely gone? Was the man she'd known all those years ago simply a ghostly memory? She hadn't thought so when she'd collapsed into his arms at the auction; she'd seen traces of her old lover that night, she was sure of it.

Thinking about him like that, trying to recall the man she'd once craved, something stirred in her mind. There was something familiar about this.

His fingers danced across her nipples, causing them to suddenly ache from the pleasure pain of his touch and Kami's cruel lashes with the paddle. 

Her body thrilled to that touch, wetness flooding her suddenly despite herself.

She realized that she was incredibly turned on by him, by the situation she now found herself in. Eight days into her servitude and she was lying in the dark with a naked stranger pressed against her, a naked stranger who was clearly going to fuck her until he was satisfied, and then probably leave her, bound, in the dark, to wait until her master found her the next morning. 

It was exactly what she wanted, she realized.

She'd been at the house for eight days and hadn't once actually had sex. She'd been flogged and lashed with the riding crop on her first night, and then given over after a week of research to Kami's 'lessons' on the second night. But nowhere in that week had she actually had his cock as she'd intended. Part of the allure of the servitude to him was her fantasy that she'd be called on to pleasure him often. 

Even Kami's paddle couldn't disabuse her of her cravings for cock.

So to finally be here, in the dark, being taken by this man, actually thrilled her. Jen could feel her body responding, moving in time to his touch, her clitoris beginning to ache. 

He cupped her head with his right hand and tilted her face to the left so that he could kiss her. It was a deep passionate kiss, and it made her whole body tingle with pleasure. Yes, whomever, this was, she was going to fuck him for all she was worth.

So she smiled then, when she felt a thick, warm shaft press itself between her thighs. She lifted her left leg, allowing him to push his cock down in between her folds, moving easily amidst the wetness he found there. 

Without pretext, he pushed into her, his girth filling her entirely. She shuddered and moaned out her pleasure as he did so. He felt amazing. She knew it was a cliché, but he just seemed to 'fit' her. 

Shuddering with pleasure at the sudden sensation, she pushed back into him, craving more. He responded in kind, beginning to push into her and then withdraw … slowly. 

It was maddening, but every time she tried to push against him to increase her stimulation, he'd place his hand on her hip, stilling her, stilling himself too.

She whimpered each time he did this, needing him so much.

This went on for some time until finally he slid his right hand down to rest on her pussy. Deftly, he located her clitoris, and then began to knead it with his thumb and forefinger, using her own labia against her to stimulate her further.

Jen began to gasp, her breath coming in short heaves as she tried to retain some degree of control over her body.

It was useless, she realized. He simply knew her too well, knew what she was capable of; knew how to take her to the ragged edge of her orgasm and then leave her at that edge, pausing to let her calm herself, only to resume again without warning so that she was surprised by her own pleasure each time. 

But how did he know such things?

Her mind raced, trying to stay ahead of the delirious sensations of his finger drifting over her skin. Her pussy throbbed as he continued moving in and out of her, the fullness of his member filling her and then receding with maddening slowness. 

He was making love to her, she realized, taking his time to pace himself and immerse her in her own pleasure. Jen shuddered as he pushed into her again, gradually filling her with his hot shaft. 

It seemed to take hours.

She was so wet, and yet their embrace remained utterly silent. Not like the dirty, noisy sex she'd expected. No, he was utterly silent, just the sound of his breathing in her ear. The warmth and the touch of it against her ear and her neck added to the overall stimulation of his fingers, one of which was caressing her full right breast, while his left hand kept its firm friction on her clitoris.

In … and out again…and then in slowly…lingering, just for a moment while her clitoris throbbed and pulsed beneath his touch…and then pulling out, his cock filling her even as it withdrew…until she was devoid of him, feeling empty for his absence…yet gasping from the pleasure that was flooding through her from her breasts … and then mewling out in joy as that marvelous cockhead pressed again into her, one long, slow, smooth motion as it slid back into her … his shape melding into hers … the contours of his penis seeming to fit naturally against the sensitive pleasurable spots within her.

Why was this so familiar? 

Why did her body thrill to this even as her mind screamed out 'Resist!'?

Because it was right, she realized, because it was what she was meant to do. She wasn't supposed to fight; she was supposed to submit, to do exactly what she'd said she'd wanted – to abandon herself to the pleasure and enjoy.

Jen could feel the fugue coming, knew that her body was building and surging towards this orgasm. She could tell that the old pattern was setting in; the rational parts of her brain, those parts that had been at first terrified that she was being taken by a stranger, and then thrilled by it, were shutting off, driven under by the surging passions within her. She'd always been passionate, a creature of her appetites.

Who, then, who was this stranger that knew her body so well? Or did he not know it at all, and was just that adept a lover?

It didn't matter, she was here, now, bound to her own bed, being fucked slowly and thoroughly by a man she could not see, probably would never see. 

She felt every bit the part of a whore, existing only to provide pleasure with her body, taken without permission by this strange man.

It was wicked.

Sinful.

Surely she had betrayed him, surely she would be flogged for this.

But now, in this bed, covered in the sweat of her own passion, the smell of her own sex thick in her nostrils as her pussy grasped again and again at this magnificent cock that filled her so, she didn't care. 

She only wanted to be fucked. To drown herself in that sensation of being filled by that pulsing shaft; to feel her body move in time against this man regardless of whatever shreds of willpower she had left. 

Time seemed to fade; she gave herself to the sensations, drinking in the pleasure until she lost all sense of herself.

She felt impaled on his shaft, pinned to his body, unable to escape.

Not wanting to. 

Distantly she could hear a woman moaning out her pleasure, promising a whole host of depraved promises if only he would fuck her, fuck her like she needed, fuck her like she deserved, fuck her like the whore she was.

On some level of her brain that hadn't surrendered to the fugue, she recognized that voice as her own. 

He was marvelous, he consumed her. Betray her master or no, it didn't matter, so long as she could have this sensation again.

And yet…she had to know…it just couldn't be coincidence.

Determined to gain some small measure of knowledge, she ground her rear into his groin – and smiled as he moved in time against her, his thick cock pressing into her, parting the shivering lips of her sopping pussy, held fast in the embrace of her womanhood.. 

She smiled to herself in the darkness, suddenly happy beyond words, savoring the sudden knowledge that he next to her, his naked body cleaving to her shape, embracing that 'fit' that they'd always had.

And finally, in the darkness, she surrendered all resistance, and let go. 

Her fear was gone, faint whisps of smoke in a stiff breeze.

It had been some forty minutes in the making, forty delicious minutes of his hands on her body, playing her most sensitive areas like an instrument. Forty minutes of his thick cock within her, driving her onward to her pleasure. 

Within her, she could feel his cock throb suddenly and then spasm out its seed into her, pulsing with life and pleasure as he spent his lust for her. And then, just as he came, he whispered into her ear, "Now."

Her body bucked and writhed against the twin restraints of her ties and his arms as she exploded into an orgasm. Stars exploded in front of her eyes in the darkness as she let out a long, loud shuddering cry. 

Jennifer did not sing out to any god or call out his name; rather she sang out her simple joy to have been taken in this manner, to have been taken as slave should be by her master – without regard to her fears or her petty hesitancies. 

And as she came, she realized that while she had much to learn, he would be there to teach her.

At last she collapsed in his arms, her breasts heaving in time with her hurried gasps. He nuzzled into her, holding her tight; she felt loved and secure and glorified as a woman all at the same time.

He felt wonderful against her, she could feel him now, really feel his whole body now that she was paying attention – the warmth of his skin, the brush of his stubble against her neck, the sweat from their lovemaking slick between them. He still smelled completely different than before, but her body memory was quite certain it was Ethan. 

Her mind suddenly whirled with memories of her bed in a studio apartment in Chicago, the half-light and the sound of the street below as they would lay like this. For the first time since coming to this place, she felt home.

And then for three days, nothing. 

Not a word. 

She had the run of the house and nothing to do. She roamed the corridors, reading books, watching movies, and taking long naps in the sunroom. She explored the grounds, swimming in the pond at the base of the hill, marveling at the wide expanses of beech and ash forest that surrounded the estate; at one point she finally came to what she believed was the edge of the estate – a high stone wall – perhaps twelve feet. Without being told she turned and trudged back up the hill, the well-manicured lawn soft against her bare feet.

On the fourth day after that night of pleasure, she was blindfolded again and taken to room in the east wing of the house. 

There, chained to a pillar, the blindfold was removed and she was forced to watch as Ethan made love to Kami on a large sleigh bed amidst the light of a warm afternoon sun. 

And it was just that, that was what made her heart ache – they made love. 

Just as she and Ethan had done. 

He didn't fuck her; there was no savage passion. Rather, they made love slowly, gently, exploring each other; there was no teasing, no tormenting, just the gradual culmination of a shared passion between lovers. 

Just as she and Ethan had done.

At first she was slightly embarrassed to be watching them, feeling almost as if she'd intruded on a sight she wasn't meant to see. 

But as she hung there for what seemed like hours, watching the pair moving in time with one another, exploring each other's bodies as only lovers could but, she found herself increasingly drawn into it. This was not the cruel kiss of the lash, this was not submission. This was the total fusion of two beings into something more, something deeper, something purer. 

And yet, even as her heart ached at the sight of another woman sharing him in this way, her body began to feel electric from the sights before her. 

Ethan and Kami displayed a startling stamina, making love again and again that afternoon, pausing only to laugh and caress one another before resuming to their passion. 

Through it all, the sights and sounds of their passion wormed their way into her brain like a narcotic. She had come to that room eager ready for anything but this. Not this. Better that she be whipped, that she be destroyed and rebuilt by his lash than have to suffer through this spectacle of intimate pleasure

She found herself ashamed that she craved the lash. Only weeks before the sight before her would have been her wildest fantasy. Now she hung there, her pussy throbbing from the imagined caresses of the pair before her. 

She realized suddenly that she wanted that passion, that intimacy, that she'd shared with him just days before in their quiet darkness.

And yet she still craved the cruel kiss of the whip from her first afternoon!

Could she ever have both? 

Could she truly be his lover? 

Would she only ever be his slut?

By the end – as Kami cried out her final orgasm atop Ethan, her jade-green eyes fluttering from the intensity of it all – Jen was writhing against the pillar, gripped by her own orgasm. The sight of them had been too much; she found herself clenching her legs together, pulsing her muscles in a desperate homage to Kegel. 

It proved to be enough, allowing her to explode silently, biting her lip to keep this shared release secret. She knew they would never have allowed her to orgasm so freely.

As that orgasm faded, however, she realized it had not been enough; her body craved more. She watched Kami dismount, sliding up slowly off his thick shaft, looking down at him with a sly smile on her face. 

Now that they'd had their release, would they come use her?

No! 

She was to be left like this … wracked with the feverish need for further release, even as they kissed gently as only two people who had a life together before this place could, and then drifted off to sleep!

Jen sagged back against the stone pillar; her body was soaked with sweat and her pussy ached so fiercely it actually hurt. She would have collapsed had it not been for the restraints holding her upright. 

This was cruelty in a way she hadn't thought possible. First he'd broken her with the flogger and the crop, reshaping her appetites so they were fierce and sharp, lurking just below the surface of her consciousness. Then he'd taken her, showing her that the past intimacies they'd shared all those years ago could still be had, even in this new setting of servitude. 

And then he'd starved those same appetites and intimacies with days of solitude and a healthy demonstration of all that she'd been forced to abandon. 

Her body became feverish from a lack of further stimulation as she watched them descend into a peaceful slumber. 

Just after Kami drifted off, however, he looked up at her, and smiled.

It wasn't necessarily a cruel smile, per se, but it was one that told her he understood her needs and desires all too well – and that he intended to use that knowledge against her to the fullest extent again and again until she was utterly and completely his. 

Was this the lesson, then, to show her that what she'd left behind still resonated, that she was going to be a slave to the entire range of her appetites? Fervently she hoped not as she hung from the pillar, hungry and aching from the strain of what had been denied. 

Jen figured she could stand becoming his toy, giving her body to him was something she was prepared to do. 

But would he really take her heart too with these cruel displays? Was this some hint at what she could have? She had no idea how long Kami had been with Ethan – she'd been too long out of touch with him. Was the intimacy that those two shared something she could achieve with him? She doubted it; Kami clearly occupied that role of lover and confidant. 

Torn between the physical desires that still wracked her and the deeper need to be loved, to be cherished for all of her, not just her body, she hung her head in despair. 

It was clear he was already creating an addiction in her. One that would erode her moral resolve even as it enslaved her flesh.




Auction Ch. 04



She sobbed with longing.

How did he know?

The cost of her debts suddenly seemed greater than she'd ever imagined.



Auction Ch. 05



PART THE FIFTH – A SHORT, INTROSPECTIVE INTERLUDE

As he pushed inward, his cock filling her mouth, her mind whirled with the new reality she'd come to know.

WHAP!

She couldn't see anything, not even light creeping in from the edges of the blindfold. Wherever he'd gotten it, it was certainly well made.

WHAP!

So soon! Her ass was already alive with sensation, red from the flogger's fiery kiss. 

WHAP! WHAP!

She'd been bent over the horse for what seemed like hours … only she was really sure it had actually been far less than that. For all she knew, she could have been here only a few minutes. Once Ethan had put the blindfold over her, she'd immediately lost all sense of time. She'd tried counting, but once she got to two thousand six hundred and nine (or was it ten?), she'd abandoned the idea. It would only drag out her torment, she realized, to measure it.

WHAP!

How her ass burned!

Deprived of her sight, her body bound to this angular T-shaped structure by four padded cuffs around her wrists and ankles, every sensation felt all the more intense. 

She was naked, bent at the waist, her arms bound to each arm of the T, and her legs spread wide. Her head faced forward; hanging down unless she raised her head, ready to receive him should he so choose. 

As he did now, watching her suckling him, she knew, listening to her small moans of pleasure. 

God, she loved to suck cock. Even before coming to this new, strange house of his, she'd loved to suck cock. She'd always been a cockwhore. Something about the feel of a warm, thick shaft in her mouth, pulsing with life and pleasure simply made her wet. It made her crazy just to think about it; made her do wicked, foolish things. He knew that; and he'd been smart enough to realize that and exploit it. 

Like now, binding her to his wooden horse, every part of her was exposed, just so he could fuck her mouth. 

Her pussy, wet and hungry, was proffered by virtue of her current position to anyone. The pair of ruby red five-inch stilettos didn't help; their height and pitch forced her to angle her bottom into a more appealing, open position.

He growled with pleasure, running his hands through her curls to push them back up and out of her face. 

He still knew her! 

WHAP!

Even the sudden, stinging kiss against her clit couldn't take the smile off her face. (Unseen, of course, because it was hard to smile with a cock in your mouth.)

She'd always been bothered by the heat she produced from giving head, and the way her hair trapped it and made her face warm could be terribly distracting, almost to the point of taking the fun out of it. Of her past lovers, only a few astute ones had understood that she wanted them to hold her hair back and away from her face; that he remembered that after all this time spoke volumes to her. It told her he remembered her as an individual, and that despite all the hoops he was making her jump through, that he still could cater to her appetites. 

She responded in kind, flicking her tongue against the underside of his thick member. He groaned in pleasure, pulsing his excitement against her tongue.

WHAP!

Her ass recoiled from Kami's latest effort, sparks of pleasure-pain flowed through her. She realized she was very wet, far more than she'd expected this early into her torment. But there was just something about her circumstances that she found at once embarrassing and yet incredibly hot. 

With a simple set of cuffs and Kami's penchant for pain, he'd once again reduced her to a whimpering slut, hungry for the thick cock stuffed in her mouth, happy that her Master was slowly bucking his hips against her face, fucking her mouth like some cocktoy, and savoring the pain of Kami's 'kisses'. 

It was only the T-bar that she could do without.

Bound to it, she felt like some cheap whore, and not the concubine she imagined herself on her way to becoming. Jen was surprised at how much that feeling actually embarrassed her. For some reason she was fine with being HIS slut, but to be displayed like this, to be reduced to a simple organic construct designed solely to be fucked, that she had a problem with. 

Concubines were supposed to be graceful; creatures kept and nurtured so that they might please in turn. They were NOT bound to structures and flogged.

Not that she could do anything about it. 

Her breasts, full and throbbing with need, were bound as well, linked by a thin chain that ran under the central bar to connect to the steel clamps on both nipples. It was ingenious really, for the clamps did little more than make her taut nipples ache to be suckled … unless she flinched from the paddle. Then the slack in the chain disappeared, leaving her gasping in pain. This forced her to press her breasts into the bar even more, which pushed her ass out and up…making it a more attractive target for Kami. 

Who was only too happy to oblige.

WHAP!

Kami was on a tear today, though Jen had no way of knowing why.

WHAP!

Was she jealous? Did she feel threatened by Jen's preexisting relationship with their Master?

WHAP!

WHAP!

She choked back tears and tried to focus on how good he tasted. Better, perhaps, to lie here, embracing this latest test of her submissive appetites, oblivious to the passing of time, and focus instead on other things.

Like the flogger that even now was tormenting her thighs, raising a heat throughout her body that made her shiver. He'd shown it to her before placing her here, standing before her, dressed only in a park of dark boxers. She could see he was already aroused by the time he brought out the flogger, and what pleased with that.

It was made of dark, soft leather, a mass of thin strands. It would sting but it would not raise any marks. Its handle was made of black rubber, shaped in the form of a phallus. Looking at it made her think of that first night, when he'd flogged her into an orgasm she didn't think she could have.

Would this evening be similar?

Would she be whipped again, dragged mentally over the edge once more into her sexual hunger by the pleasure-pain he knew how to give her?

Would he use that handle to fuck her? Or would he take her himself?

She'd hoped so. 

But then he'd handed the flogger to Kami.

Cruel, whimsical Kami.

And yet, here in the darkness of her blindfold, as her breasts began to burn from a series of surprisingly gentle hits, as her body stretched to accommodate the restraints of his rack, she found herself wondering how she had come to be here in circumstances that few, if any, would choose.

Could it have been Fate? She didn't really believe in Fate. And yet, here she was, bound to the one man she'd wanted to be with, being taken as a slave in the very manner she'd always fantasized about. 

To be sure, she'd been foolish to think that working with that collection agency would prove a quick fix to her financial woes. In retrospect, it was most certainly too good to be sure. 

The flogger kissed her pussy once, twice, three times, sending her shivering upwards, held fast by the restraints. Her nipples sang in agony.

She couldn't see Kami of course, never knew where and when she was going to place the next hit. That uncertainty was a little scary, even though she enjoyed the feel of the flogger.

But why did she enjoy the flogger? A month ago she'd never done more than be spanked; now her body craved pleasure-pain? 

It couldn't be Fate. It had to be something resident in her.

But how to explain the subsequent events? 

How to explain the joy she'd found in realizing he'd bought her, even as she hoped that the older buy might have had her? 

How to explain the way her body responded to his every torment with a surge of sexual energy, converting what otherwise could have been very unpleasant feelings into passionate sessions so intense they left her wrung out? 

How to explain her attraction to Kami, who proved a harsher mistress than Ethan was a master, and yet reduced her to trembling desires?

How to explain her aching need to kneel before him and suck him off?

She flexed her arms, testing the restraints. There were no easy answers to be found here, only the pseudo-solitude of her current circumstances and the darker corners of her psyche to explore.

WHAP!

Maybe it all came down to a matter of shame. On her own, she was riven by insecurities, insecurities about her body, her career, and her confidence with men. But here, bound by his will and this contract, there was no place for those insecurities. He simply wouldn't tolerate anything but compliance, and how could her insecurities compete with that?

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

When he summoned her to him, she came – regardless of the fact that she was extremely self-conscious about how she looked naked. She might hate the way her hips looked compared to Kami's more athletic form, or be embarrassed at the way her breasts were so much fuller than those of the women she saw in magazines. But he made it clear that he didn't care what she thought about her body. He made it clear that he found her attractive, and that his was the only opinion that mattered.

WHAP!

Jen smiled to herself, gasping slightly as the flogger flicked out against her collarbone, one to either side, before working its way back down to her breasts.

Frankly, being stripped of her will, being forced to concede that he saw her as an attractive female on a purely sexual level, made her feel desirable in a way she hadn't thought possible. For those few brief moments on the auction stage, with all those hungry eyes roaming over her, she'd had a taste of what it meant to be truly desirable, to know one was beautiful without the hobgoblins that so often plagued her. To know what those women she'd always envied already knew – the power and affirmation that came from being coveted. With each day that she was here, she had to admit, that sense of desire was increasing. 

To know that this man that she thought was highly attractive, that she craved, desired her in equal measure was quite liberating. And, to be fair, in this new home, there were no competitors to counter this growing sense of sexuality. There was only Kami, who resonated with her own sexuality in the most peculiar and titillating way. For Jen, Kami wasn't competition for Ethan's affections; she was a conquest to be had, even if Kami was her mistress for the present.

He made her feel beautiful, and in turn this drove her sexual appetites to new places. And, since she was held within the privacy of his home, she was free to do whatever he asked of her without fear of ridicule. 

The same truth held for when he spanked her, forced her to submit to him, to bend her will to his in direct contravention to everything she'd been taught. She knew that much of what she did would not be considered acceptable behavior in the mainstream.

'Good' girls, after all, didn't crave the whip. 

But when he forced her to submit, she wasn't culpable. And when she wasn't culpable for her own actions, she could do anything; she could be anything. She could be the lover she'd always fantasized about; she could plunge into the depths of her sexual appetites without fear.

No one could call her a whore when she did the things he told her to do – because she didn't have a choice. He made her do those things. 

And the absence of shame made Jen a very happy girl.



Auction Ch. 06



PART THE SIXTH – LESSONS

Jen knelt on the carpet, her head down, her hands crossed behind her back. She could sense Kami kneeling next to her, and was a little surprised at that. What event could be in store that the usually dominant Kami was relegated to the role of submissive? All he'd said was that they were going to be taught a lesson. But lacking any further information, she could only puzzle over whether she would be taught the lesson – though for what she couldn't imagine, she'd been very good lately – or whether Kami would be taught a lesson.

Her thighs ached a bit from the position, but it was one she'd gotten used to: Feet beneath her, crossed slightly so that her hands could reach the bottom of each heel. As usual, she was completely nude save for her collar, though she did steal an envious glance at the dark green satin choker that Kami wore. Some day, she thought to herself…some day I'll be free enough to wear such beautiful things.

The two women knelt together on a large, soft Persian rug, waiting in silence in the middle hours of the afternoon. Sunlight streamed through a large window, it's heavy lead and glass panes ajar to let in the warm breeze of early fall. The room was quite still, empty save for a table against the far wall, covered by a navy-colored satin cloth. Jen knew from experience that this room was fitted with a ring and hook arrangement designed to immobilize recalcitrant slaves who deserved a whipping, even if she couldn't see it with her gaze currently locked on the mesmerizing patterns of the rug beneath her.

She kept her gaze fixed there as she listened to the sound of a woman being brought into the room, and then affixed to the hoist. Based on her own experiences, she could feel an ache of empathy of her shoulders as the woman's arms were raised above her head, and then pulled upwards by the slender cord that ran from the far wall to the ring, and then down to the cuffs binding her hands. The sound of that winch slowly pulling the newest addition upwards was actually quite arousing, and Jen found herself growing wet with envy. 

But she even kept her gaze fixed on the patterns of the rug beneath her as that woman's legs were forced open and then bound to the floor in a wide, spread-legged stance by ankle-cuffs affixed to rings in the floor. That Master Ethan had seen fit to take this extra measure was unusual; it signaled that this slave needed extra attention of some kind. 

"All right, my pets, you may look." At the sound of his voice, Jen raised her gaze from the floor and looked at the subject of their instruction.

The woman bound before them was a beauty of approximately thirty years, with pale skin freckled by the sun and long dark brown hair. She looked to be about 5'9, and had a woman's frame, with ample curves inviting to the eye. Her breasts were generous without being particularly large, and Jen's eyes went immediately to the nipple clips that had been attached to each pink nipple. Like the two of them, this woman was completely nude, though she did wear a pair of dark fishnet stockings and shiny black heels. She'd been shaved, but not nude, and still sported a neatly trimmed wedge above her pussy. An unusual concession, Jen noted, since Ethan demanded she be utterly bald. 

Most noticeably, the newcomer wore no collar. 

Her bright green eyes were wild with excitement and fear, which told Jen that she'd gotten exactly what she'd asked for, even if she didn't realize just how overwhelming that experience could be. It was a heady mix of emotions, one that made your pussy ache even as your stomach churned. 

Jen understood it all too well. 

The woman looked at them and tried to smile, but couldn't, for her mouth was stopped with the bright red ball gag. Jen looked back at her, meeting the woman's gaze, but didn't dare smile. 

Beside her, she could hear Kami snicker. Jen's mind whirled…what did her redheaded tormentor know?

Long moments passed. Master Ethan was nowhere to be seen, so there they sat, three of them, those bound by rope and those bound by will, contemplating one another. 

At last Ethan strode into the room, instantly capturing Jen's attention with the lean, animal movements of his well-muscled body. He too was utterly nude, apparently having spurned his usual black silk pajama bottoms. She watched his cock in rapt fascination, craving it even as she blushed from such an obvious reaction. 

Ethan came to stand before the woman, a flicker whip head in one hand, and a vibrating egg in the other. He spent long moments looking at his captive, which Jen used in turn to drink in the sight of his taut buttocks. 

Finally he turned to them. "Does either of you know why you are here?"

The pair shook their heads in silence.

"Hmm…that is disappointing. I expect better of you." He looked darkly at them, which stirred a tiny sliver of fear in Jen. She could hear a slight murmur from Kami, and took a little comfort in the knowledge that the redhead was off balance as well.

Without a word, he flicked the whip out, once, twice, striking each of then on their right breasts. Both women hissed in pain and fought to maintain their composure. "You are here to learn, just as she is. But since neither of you can think beyond my cock, I guess I will just have to show you her lesson, and then see if you understand it by the time I am finished."

"Now then, to our lesson. Please pay attention." 

Ethan spun on his heel. "Erin, do you know why you are here?"

The brunette nodded eagerly, Jen noted, which made her think that perhaps this latest addition to the mansion didn't quite understand.

As if to confirm her suspicions, Ethan flicked the whip in a suddenly flurry of strikes across the woman's torso and breasts. It was perhaps the fastest Jen had seen him move; scoring a dozen hits in as many seconds. The woman moaned with pain and tried to flinch back out of the way, but couldn't, trapped as she was by her ankle restraints. 

Ethan flicked the whip against her exposed pussy once, just to punish her for moving. "You understand nothing, you little whore. The sooner you accept that and open your mind to what I have to teach, the better it will be for you."

He whipped her three move times, each time, setting the end of the flicker savagely against the now-obviously wet folds of the woman. "Do you understand me?" The bound brunette nodded vigorously; Ethan obviously had her attention.

Jen noted with satisfaction that this woman enjoyed the whip. 

Just as she did.

Ethan walked to his captive and knelt before her. He set the whip on the floor and leaned forward until his face was almost touching her vulva. The captive, named Erin, apparently, squirmed visibly in the face of his closeness. Jen heard him breathe out slowly, a long gently breath against Erin's pussy. It was something he'd never done to her personally, and she found herself imagining what it must be like to feel his touch like that. 

Erin writhed from the pleasure of that breath; that much was clear. She groaned loudly and pushed her pussy toward his face. Ethan pulled back just out of reach and continued to breathe out slowly and deliberately. 

Jen watched in fascination as the woman squirmed in pleasure. Ethan never let her touch him, no matter how she contorted herself. Beside her, she could feel Kami becoming excited, could hear her shifting in her seat and beginning to breathe more rapidly from the excitement. She resisted the urge to turn and look at the beautiful redhead, to touch her.

After a few more minutes of this, when the bound slave was positively frenzied from the torment he was inflicting on her, Ethan reached out and placed one hand on her vulva. Erin whimpered in response, tears of desire in her eyes.

Ethan reached up with his other hand and slowly pushed the white vibrating egg up and into the woman's obviously aroused pussy, stopping his movements as she bucked with pleasure until she stilled, and then continuing. 

This process took almost two full minutes. Jen was certain she didn't even blink the entire time. 

He leaned forward and lightly licked the bound slave's engorged clit, which sent the woman into a moaning fit of need. And then, utterly indifferent to how positively edible the woman looked at that moment, thrashing about in pleasure, her pussy wet and hungry, her nipples throbbing beneath the clips, and her green eyes lidded with need, Ethan picked up the flicker whip, stood, and walked over to the table. He pulled back the velvet cloth, revealing a series of floggers, crops, vibrators, and plugs, and picked up a blindfold. 

Jen watched him, but only barely; she wanted so badly to kneel before that gorgeous pussy and taste her. To feel her warm folds move beneath her tongue, to drive the beautiful newcomer over the edge into the little death.

But the sight of the blindfold held her attention; she knew it well. Unlike hers, which was black, this was scarlet, but would deprive Erin of her sight as surely as if it were as dark as midnight.

In a moment, Ethan had walked back to her and placed it over her eyes. This seemed to calm the woman; it seemed she hadn't expected to be deprived like this. Jen smiled to herself; this woman didn't understand that here, in this place, especially in this particular room, a slave's needs didn't matter, only Ethan's whims and desires counted.

Deftly he removed the ball-gag, and then gave her a moment to adjust. Ethan kissed her lightly on the lips, held her as she shivered with feverish need, and then stepped away. 

"Erin, why are you here?" His voice was soft but firm.

The woman cast about briefly before realizing she really couldn't see him, and then hung her head. After a moment, when she hadn't responded, he reached out and pulled the silver chain that connected her nipples toward him. The brunette hissed with pain, and looked up sharply – a reaction Jen herself had had many times.

"Erin, don't make me ask again." His voice was still kind, but there was hardness in it. Apparently the newcomer wasn't too overwhelmed to notice this, because she swallowed him and answered. "Because I needed this."

"What do you mean? Needed what?" Ethan turned his head and looked pointedly at Kami. Jen's head filled with questions at this, but she held her tongue. Best to be silent and learn…if only to avoid the whip later.

"I needed to be taken, to be dominated, to have a man make me utterly his creature." She licked her lips hungrily … even the simple act of stating her need to be dominated turned her on. 

What a magnificent slaveslut she would become!

"And why do you need this?" Ethan hadn't moved, and it was clear that the woman was feverish to be touched again, fidgeting against her restraints. He absently stroked his cock, which was quite hard, more for their sake than his own. Kami moaned softly, which made him smile.

"Because I am so in charge of my own life. I need to be absolved of that. I need to be released from who I must be so I can be who I want to be. Who I am." Her voice was soft, and she hung her head at this.

"Are you ashamed of this, slut?" He walked softly to the table and picked up a small white remote; the twin to the egg, Jen realized. Inner heat flooded her. She'd been subjected to this treatment before, and was hungry for it again.

"Yes…no…I don't know."

"What are you ashamed of?"

Erin was silent for a moment. "I am ashamed that I need to be out of control. I am ashamed that I need to fail my husband and my family like this." 

Ethan pressed the button on the remote, and Jen watched the vibrations hit the woman like a bolt from the heavens. She cried out her joy and thrashed her head from side to side. The sensations within her built and built, but just as she was approaching the cusp of her orgasm, he took his finger off the button.

Jen knew from wonderful, agonizing experience just how good he was at gauging just went to stop.

"Tell me why you think it's failure."

"I don't know…"

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't." She was going to be a tough one, Jen realized, likely a result of her normal, dominant life. No matter, Ethan would break her. 

Sure enough, he stepped forward and twisted the chain again, even as he tapped the button repeatedly. Erin danced like a marionette within her restraints, whimpering with pleasure pain.

Finally, he stepped back – God, his ass was a thing to watch when he moved, thought Jen – and let her go limp. 

This time, when he spoke, his voice was hard and flat. "Erin, this arrangement is a simple one. You will tell me what I want to know, or I will reduce you to a quivering wretch begging for an orgasm. And then I will walk away and leave you to your withdrawal. It will not be pleasant. Ask either of the two whores kneeling behind me. They've both received such punishment before, and I can guarantee you that neither is eager to repeat it."

"But…but…I'm only here for the weekend…" she gasped out these words, fighting her way up through the powerful stimulants flooding her system. 

"Are you? Or did I call your husband and receive his permission to keep you here until I'm satisfied? Do you think that you have any control in what happens to you now? You surrendered that the moment my people handed you your plane ticket."

The brunette's mouth fell open in surprise. Clearly she had expected to retain some measure of control, had seen her time her as more of a sabbatical than as a transformation. Interesting, thought Jen, that she should come into a place such as this with such hubris.

"Jennifer," Ethan's voice jerked her attention him, "how long have you been here now?"

"Four months, Master. I think…" 

"You think?"

"I am sorry, Master, but this slaveslut does not really know how much time has passed. It could be three months, I am not sure."

He smiled at her, telling her she'd answered correctly. "And why aren't you sure?"

"Because I am here only for you, Sir. Days and nights pass, but I don't concern myself with such trivia as dates anymore."

"But you did when you first came here, did you not?"

"I did, Master. That was the world I'd been living in."

"What changed?"

"You broke me with a flogger on my first night. After that, after I found release in submission, after I found the freedom of the whip, I stopped caring and focused on what was really important."

"Thank you, slut." Jen smiled as he stroked his cock for her. She knew he would reward her this evening, that he would come to her later and let her take his beautiful shaft for her own. That she wouldn't have to share him with Kami was the best part of it.

He turned back to Erin. "Hear that? What makes you think you'll be any different? What makes you think you can resist the kiss of the whip? She didn't even like it when she arrived … you were craving it when you walked through the front door."

Erin hung her head. "But I can't…this can't be a permanent thing…I can't fail my husband like this…he needs me."

Ethan slapped her hard, once on each breast. "Releasing your passions is NOT failure, whore!"

The bound brunette sobbed softly. "It is. I have to be strong for him."

"And explain to me how being strong for him precludes you from being yourself, from letting yourself become the whore you are."

She couldn't answer this, didn't answer this, so he set her thrashing again from the pulsing egg deep within her pussy. 

"You're caught in bind, my dear. You're caught in the bind of being too proud – or too scared to submit – and yet being incredibly aroused by it."

"I am going to help you with that bind. In this house, you will become who you truly are. I will make you into who you truly are. I am going to strip away your layers of inhibition and control, and release you, with the whip if I have to. And when I am finished, you will see who you are in the bedroom is not the entirety of who you are. You will see that you are more than your need for control."

Erin only nodded, exhausted by her desire and the admissions she'd been forced to make.

Then, surprisingly, Ethan turned to Kami, and nodded. Without a word, the redhead rose to her feet and moved behind Jen. Kami's sweet scent moved about her in a cloud as her often-tormentor leaned down and placed a blindfold over Jen's eyes.

Why was she being blindfolded? She wanted to watch!

Kami moved away, and she could hear them leave the room.

After some time, she no idea, how long, she could hear them come back into the room. Kami settled back down beside her, and a long moment passed. Ethan, she imagined, was standing before his latest acquisition, who was whimpering with the need to cum, and yet knew enough not to.

Then suddenly, the noise of the paddle exploded in her ears.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Erin sobbed with pleasure-pain. 

The egg buzzed loudly in Jen's ears.

She knew that sound well, that paddle that was ten inches long and four inches wide, made of soft, supple black leather, designed to flex around the curves of a woman so as to inflict the maximum sting possible. 

Her favorite paddle, in fact. He'd used on her just two days ago; her ass was still sore from it, in fact. 

"Do you like my paddle, Erin?"

"Yes…"

CRACK!

"Yes, what?" 

"Yes, Master."

CRACK! 

The tinkling of chains told Jen he'd laid the paddle across the woman's breasts; the clips would transmit that kinetic energy into a pleasure-pain that often made Jen delirious.

"So easily, you call me Master? I thought you didn't want to lose control? I thought you didn't want to fail?"

"Uhhnn…" Erin's voice was ragged, and Jen knew that her brain probably wasn't really functioning all that much anymore. The sensations were simply too intense at this point.

CRACK!

The pitch of the buzzing increased.

CRACK!

A droning, rhythmic tone appeared in the buzzing.

CRACK!

Faster…

CRACK!

Faster, louder, the buzzing roared in Jen's ears. She could only imagine how it must feel to have that egg inside her, even as her body burned from the paddle.

"What was that? I didn't hear you correctly."

"Please…let me cum! I need it!"

CRACK!

"Please!"

CRACK!

Jen was wet, close to an orgasm herself; she wanted to leap to her feet, to beg Ethan to paddle her too.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

"But if I do, if I let you cum, won't you have failed?"

"Uhh…uhnn…I need it…"

CRACK!

"Are you saying that need is failure?"

CRACK!

"No!" She wailed at last. Jen was amazed she'd lasted this long. Her appetite for pleasure pain must be incredible.

CRACK!

"Then what is it?"

"It's…it's…" the woman trailed off into hungry moaning as a particularly intense vibration took her.

CRACK! 

"Focus. Answer my question." Ethan's paddle brought her back.

CRACK!

"It's who I am. My need is me."

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

She moaned loudly beneath this latest flurry.

"Do you understand now? Your need is you. And that is good. That is who you are. Embrace it."

"Yes…yes, Master."

"Excellent. Now, would you like release? We've much still to teach you, but that can wait for tomorrow."

"Please."

The pulsating buzzing ebbed slightly, changing its frequency to something slower, but more intense. 

CRACK!

Wet sounds, the sounds of a hand touching the soft, throbbing folds of a woman's inner treasures.

The sound of chains hitting the floor – he'd removed her clips.

Her moans turned into a high keening wail. 

She was ready. 

CRACK! 

One final blow to send her over. 

Erin howled out an orgasm, her mewling cries of pleasure filling the room. 

A quiet moment passed, broken only by the slaveslut's gasping. 

Jen heard him approach the bound slave and pull her blindfold off, heard her gasp in surprise, and then purr with hunger.

What had happened, she wondered? She understood the mewling desire to be close to her master after such a session, but the gasp of surprise?




Auction Ch. 06



And then, as if in answer to her unspoken query, her own blindfold was removed. Ethan stood before her, his full, heavy cock, filling most of her vision.

Jen leaned to one side and looked in amazement at the sight before her. 

Erin hung there, panting with exhaustion and release. Her lush body was red from the paddle and covered in a sheen of perspiration from her release. Her legs trembled against their bonds, which were all that held her upright.

But the most amazing thing about it was not Erin. 

It was her husband, standing before her, the paddle held in one hand and the egg's control in the other. His handsome features were triumphant.

Ethan looked down at her. "Understand the lesson?"



Auction Ch. 07



Part The Seventh – Shower

She really couldn't believe it. After all this time – after nearly four months here at Ethan's home – she was still nervous at the thought of him coming to see her. Was that how it was supposed to be? Was it natural for her to have a serious case of butterflies? To be both giddy and fearful with the knowledge that he was coming to see her?

As she walked along the richly decorated hallway to her room, Jen wasn't sure. All she knew was that at the end of Erin's first lesson, Ethan had dismissed his two slutslaves from their kneeling observations, and, as she'd stood to leave, he'd had caught her arm to hold her there. Idly reaching out to roll one of her pert nipples between his fingers, he'd leaned in and whispered "I'll see you shortly." before letting her go with a gentle smack on the ass.

His remark hadn't gone unnoticed. 

Jen had seen the look on Kami's face as the redhead closed the door to her own quarters, a mixture of envy and hurt made all the more striking by the narrow frame of her closing door. She knew that her answers had been the ones Master Ethan had sought, that she'd pleased him with her candor in response to his lesson. It wasn't her fault he hadn't called on Kami. 

At to Erin, the little brunette was nowhere to be seen, though she was probably still in the teaching cell behind her. Jen assumed her husband was probably having his way with her even now. The couple had a suite on the eastern wing on the mansion, one that gave them a measure of privacy. It was only right, she thought, he'd be so instrumental in driving home Ethan's teachings; surely he must want to take what was his. She smiled to herself, imaging the man moving against the exhausted form of his wife, wracked with his own lusts, driving out his need into her lovely frame, until he too collapsed, spent. 

But would Master Ethan also take Erin, she wondered as she strode into her own chamber. Checking to see that her bed was made, she headed for the bathroom. Would he assume that her body was his by right of dominion? Was that part of the conditions her husband had set; that he alone would have mastery of his wife's body? 

Or would Ethan's will eclipse the sanctity of their union? His beautiful cock had certainly told of his desire for the newest pupil, but Jen didn't know how that desire would translate into action. Everything in this house was his, why should this newcomer be any different? Had she come alone, she certainly would have become his slutslave. The presence of her husband was an unknown factor. 

Maybe, she thought as she set out a fresh towel, her husband would present his wife to Master Ethan as a gift, as thanks for helping to begin her reorientation toward a more genuinely submissive path.

She stepped into the glass shower and under the hot spray, reveling in the sheets of warm water that coursed down her skin. 

In any event, it was not for her to know. She had her own training to attend to, and years of bound servitude left to fulfill. Better to concentrate on being the best slutslave she could than to worry about this latest addition to the household. 

Jen let the water wash over her face, pondering her servitude, marveling as she did every now and again these days, how her whole life had changed, how she'd come to find fulfillment not through professional achievement or material gain, but by surrendering everything to another. She understood now that she cared deeply about him, that she always had, but it was more than that. Their shared history was an added bonus, but she was certain that she could have achieved this release with another master, were he as skilled as Ethan. 

Reaching out, she began to wash her hair, working the shampoo into a rich, foamy lather amidst her curls. She closed her eyes and began to hum to herself, an old tune she'd had stuck in her head since she was in college. It helped her to lose herself, to just relax and let go. Here, now, it was just her and the water, nothing more. 

The freedom he gave her was what amazed her so. After years of frustrated relationships, to have exactly what she'd always wanted suddenly thrust upon her was a terrible and wonderful thing. It scared her at first – scared her a lot – but as the weeks had settled into a routine marked by periods of both dizzying passion and quiet reflection, she'd come to realize that she was actually happy to be here. 

It made her wonder whether she'd known on some level that the debt relief agency had involved something more sinister than a simple contract. Whether she'd know what this would entail and so had deliberately set herself on that path. 

Long minutes passed as she stood under the spray, her fair skin growing red from the heat. She rinsed her hair and washed herself, carefully cleaning every part of her body. It was his now, of course, and he insisted that she treat his property with the utmost care. 

The noise of the shower was loud in her ears. So loud she almost missed the sound of the bathroom door opening. 

Almost, but not quite.

She kept her eyes closed. Who would it be? Would it be Kami, come to punish her for the opportunities she'd been given? Or would it be Ethan, come to treat her to his favors?

Jen leaned forward and placed one hand against the wall. She spread her legs slightly, the better to parade her treasures for her unseen admirer.

The glass door swung open with the smallest click, and then closed again. Strong hands began to caress her body, rubbing scented moisturizing body lotion across the length and breadth of her shape. Every part of her was suddenly afire in the wake of his roving hands. 

Instantly she was wet, a heat wholly unrelated to the water flooding into her loins.

It was him! she realized. 

She knew his touch.

She craved it.

Jen pushed her ass back slightly, and was rewarded – much to her titillating surprise – by a light stroke of his tongue against her tight bud. She shuddered with delight; he had to be kneeling behind her. 

"I've missed you," she murmured into the spray. From behind and below, he chuckled softly, making light of her yearnings.

But it was true; since arriving at this place, she'd come to hunger for those quiet moments when it was just the two of them, when their bodies merged into one passionate form, moving against each other until they achieved the sweet release of the little death. 

The whip and the restraints were all well and fine, but it was moments like this, moments of actual, genuine intimacy, that pleased her most. 

These were the moments when she truly reveled in her status as his slutslave, secure in the knowledge that her body pleased him so, that its delights captivated him.

And she might have been wrong, but it seemed that these occasions were occurring with greater frequency of late. Jen wondered on some level how Kami must feel about this, but not too much. She was greedy for the attention, just as she was greedy for the feeling of his tongue working itself against her anus. 

She moaned with pleasure as he ran one strong hand up her thigh to rest on her vulva, his thumb firmly ensconced between her labia. Like every part of her pussy, her labia were bald, utterly devoid of hair thanks to her daily ministrations. She'd offered to wax, but he'd declined, telling her that he preferred her to shave; waxing, he said was reserved for special occasions. Frankly, she thought he made her shave because the very act of grooming herself like this reinforced her status as his slave.

Jen placed both hands against the wall and spread her legs further apart, the better to give him access to her inner treasures. His tongue never ceased its slow torment, pressing in against her sphincter, seeking entry, only to pull back with a series of light licks.

Her nipples were rock hard, a sure sign that an orgasm was coming. Wet curls hung down around her face, moving in exaggerated time to the way she tossed her head with pleasure. 

His thumb never moved, so she began to move against it, working in time with this tongue, savoring the way his digit grazed against her swelling clitoris. 

She was getting close.

Her breath began to come in ragged pants, and her lovely hips began to buck of their own volition. Her moans were loud now, unrestrained by any need to behave herself for him, by any need to perform so that she might be rewarded with the kiss of the whip. Now she was simply need, a creature of pure desire. 

Somehow, he knew that, because suddenly he stood and pushed into her, the hard, thick length of him filling her so abruptly that she cried out with pleasure as an orgasm was torn from her body. As he filled her, she smiled at how well his cock fit her pussy.

Jen leaned against the wet tiled wall for support, her knees weak from the sensation. Her body heaved with pleasure. 

It wasn't his size; she'd come to realize that. Truth be told, she'd been with enough men that she'd had others who could match his considerable girth and length. No, it was more like an eerie, if wonderful, sense of symmetry between their bodies. 

Simply put, he fit her.

Every whorl, every fold, every groove of her seemed to have it corresponding part of him. The effect, when he was fully inside her, enveloped in her hot fastness to his utmost extent, was simply delirious. It made her body sing with pleasure each time he hit that final point of entry, like tumblers in a lock falling into place.

Ethan began to move in and out of her, purposefully denying her any relief from the powerful sensations coursing through her through his own actions. Time and again those corresponding pieces met, locked, and then parted, driving her ever back upwards towards a new orgasm. 

The worst – and best – part of it all was that he seemed totally immune to this intoxicating coupling that they achieved. She'd tried to outlast him but never even came close. By the time he so much as broke a sweat she was usually begging for her orgasm ... for the third or fourth time. 

As she clutched the tiled wall, her pussy throbbing with need and pleasure, the smell of their sex mingling with the hot mist of the shower, she wondered how did he knew how to manipulate her body like this? Where had he learned such things? 

She didn't really care, not so long as she enjoyed his talents.

He moved within her slowly, deliberately, using his cock to stoke her inner fires, skirting the limits of her receding orgasm, denying her a break in the sensation whilst avoiding over stimulation.

She needed release again, but it was clear he wasn't going to give it to her. With one hand still on her vulva, his index finger now firmly atop her clit, and his other on her hip for support, he was well positioned to torment her like this for hours. And she knew he would, such activities delighted him. She knew that regardless of what her body craved, he would be perfectly happy to keep her in this post-orgasmic half-light for another hour, until she'd been reduced to a whimpering wreck, shivering with need. 

Jen pushed back into him, shuddering and moaning as her pussy gripped his shaft. God, he felt wonderful. His finger tapped her clit three times, which made her see stars.

After the lesson – after seeing that woman stripped of her self-imposed pretensions and exposed as the sensual creature she really was – Jen needed to cum again. She needed to be stripped of her own will, to satiate her own terrible sexual hunger by exhausting herself on his cock. She needed to find her fugue, to find that state where her conscious mind collapsed and there was only need and desire; that state where her true hunger came free.

But here, now, with his cock buried to its hilt in her wet, throbbing pussy, her ears full of the sound of her own gasps and moans, his hands on her, guiding her around the sweet release of her own pleasure rather than to it, she knew that she could not achieve that fugue. 

She knew, as her nipples ached and her body shivered with delight, that he was deliberately denying her her release. 

That in this small way, without the whip and without the restraints, he showing her again that to live under his rule was to be her utterly his, that she had truly surrendered herself to him. 

That he controlled her body in every way.

That even his rewards for good behavior would be used to further craft her into the slutslave he envisioned her becoming. 

Jen smiled in relief, her body afire, resting her face against the cool tile. 

There was only one thing left to do:

Beg.



Auction Ch. 08



Chapter 8: Status

Jen knelt next to Ethan, waiting in silence while he inspected her work. This latest project had revolved around media markets in Singapore, and while Asia wasn't her expertise by training, she felt she'd risen to the task with aplomb.

Ethan hummed with satisfaction; a good sign. 

She kept her gaze on the floor, picking apart the intricate patterns of the Persian rug beneath her. He often did this, reading her work in absolute silence, only to then drill her for hours with a series of pointed questions about her product. In the end, the piece was always better for it (after all, who knew his interests better than he?) but the process was grueling, for it combined her fear of displeasing him with memories of the University's dissertation board. 

At last he pushed his chair back. 

"Come sit in my lap, pet."

Sit in his lap? He never asked for that. Usually he walked about the room while she sat at the desk and took notes about his comments and questions. Jen rose to her feet, careful to keep her gaze lowered, and turned to him. 

He was dressed, unlike most days, in a silk robe of dark green, nothing more. She could see the tanned expanse of his broad chest beneath it, and permitted herself a fleeting glance to his groin. 

Nothing. Not even the faintest stirring from that lovely cock of his. He must be serious today.

Fear spiked into her brain – was her product that bad? 

She trembled at the thought of it as she climbed into his lap. He pulled her close, letting her sit back against him, her nude body reclining slightly. One strong hand held her around the waist, while the other played idly with her curls. 

"Pet..." he began, but she interrupted him, her training to be silent broken by the fear of having failed him so badly. 

Had it only been five months and she felt so driven to please?

"Sir, I am so sorry. I know this isn't my best work. But if you will only give me more time I am sure that I can –"

A sharp pinch on her right nipple brought her rambling apology to a halt.

"Did you just speak without permission, Slave?"

She nodded tearfully, trembling. No more use of the nickname 'Pet', she was back to being called Slave. Jen sighed; it was no more than she deserved. 

"Well, that is something we will table for another day. You haven't been here that long, so I will forgive your impertinence for now." He rolled her nipple between his fingers, and pleasant sensations began to pulse outward.

"If you hadn't spoken out of turn, if you hadn't forgotten yourself, you would have heard me say that this project is your best work to date." 

She sat up abruptly, her mouth agape. 

He nodded, smiling. "Yes, you heard me, it's concise and it's very thorough. I am convinced I can sell my partners on the business expansion ideas laid out in Chapter Six."

"Your impertinence aside, you deserve a reward." He turned her in his lap so that she straddled him, and then pulled her into a passionate kiss. 

He kissed her – really kissed her – and her appetites came roaring to the fore, demanding satisfaction.

Her pussy was suddenly alive with the electricity of that kiss. 

Of all the things he did to her, all the instruments of pleasure and pain he used on her body and her mind, none got her in the mood as readily or as completely as his kisses. There was just something about the feel of his lips on hers that drove her wild. 

He knew this of course. 

As best she could recall, she'd told him this when they'd been lovers in college all those years before. How he remembered, she wasn't sure, but he obviously did, because it was a button he rarely pushed. 

She moaned into their kiss, writhing in his grip. He held her to him, his body a wonderful combination of hard muscle and smooth silk. Her nipples grew painfully hard as they mashed against him, tortured by the fabric of his robe.

Jen could feel him growing hard; felt his thick cock engorging into the space between her legs. As yet there was still a layer of silk between them, but she could feel him throbbing his way up and against her. 

His hands seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once, roaming the length and breadth of her back, tangling themselves in her curls, sliding across her breastbone up onto her neck, touching her face...everywhere and nowhere. Her skin burned from his touch and her breathing became ragged.

At last she pulled away, gasping for air, her full breasts heaving with desire. "Please, Master," she panted, "I need you to fuck me."

"You do, eh?"

"Yes, Sir, I need you, I need you inside me. I need your cock inside me." She ground her hips against him wantonly, and noted with some satisfaction that he shivered as she moved the silk against his shaft. Sometimes he forgot that she was more than a plaything to be trained, that she was a formidable lover in her own right, possessed of skills that had driven many a many wild in her day.

That she'd come to be here, come to be his whore, simply meant that all of those skills were now entirely at his disposal.

Ethan reached beneath them and pulled his robe to either side. Freed, his turgid cock pushed up and into her pussy, not entering her, but rather nestling amidst her folds. She could feel the heat of him, feel him grow slick from her wetness as she began to move her hips back and forth, teasing him with the promise of her most intimate grip.

He kissed her breasts, suckling her throbbing nipples whilst his hands pinned her arms behind her.

Jen mewed loudly, so utterly happy with her world at that moment. All she wanted she had right then, and her body was singing out its hunger in great shudders, building its excitement as she moved against him.

"Please," she moaned into his ear, pulling herself tight against him.

He obliged, pushing up into her, filling her every curve and whorl with his hard member. She bucked against him, held tight in his encircled arms. The fugue was coming, that moment when she'd lose all sense of reason and surrender entirely to her appetites. 

Ethan let her lift her hips up to piston against her, let her fuck him with her body, driving herself further and further into a frenzy – only to stop her with a firm hand on her shoulder. 

"Wait. Before we proceed, I haven't told you what your reward is it."

"Uhh...mmmm...I thought...I thought this was my reward?" She was feverish with desire, and had trouble focusing on him. 

He laughed. "No, Jen, this is for me. Your reward is something else altogether."

Jen, he'd called her Jen, said a faint voice at the back of her mind, shouting to be heard through the roaring of her pussy's cravings. 

He never called her Jen. She could count on one hand the number of times he'd called her by her first name in the past five months. 

"Whah...what is it?" She could taste the salt of his skin as she buried her face in his chest. Her pussy throbbed, gripping his shaft as it pulsed out her need. He smiled, accustomed by now to this sort of reaction.

"Your reward is that you may ask me one question of your choosing and I will answer it truthfully. No pretense of master or slave, just you and I, two lovers with no secrets. One question, about anything you desire."

And like that the rising fugue was gone, blown away by his offer like smoke before a strong wind. Normally she would have craved the physical release – and indeed her body was still wracked with a very real hunger for it – but in this instance her mind's addiction to information trumped all else. 

She grew still against him and sat upright, suddenly very calm.

"Wait. Anything?"

He laughed. "I thought that might get your attention."

She giggled and kissed his forehead. 

"Well, it does. I mean, anything?"

He cupped her face with one hand and locked his gaze onto hers. "Yes, anything. Now, what is your question?"

It surprised her that she didn't need to think about it. No sooner had he asked, than the words were coming out of her mouth. 

"Tell me why Kami doesn't have to wear a collar, but never wears clothes. Tell me why you two make love but I've never seen you flog her? Who is she? Where did she come from? Is she a slave like me or something more?"

He laughed as he playfully tweaked her nipples. "That's not one question, and you know that."

She giggled again. "Yes, I suppose it's not. Sorry. But you know what I am driving at. I want to know about her and how she relates to you ... me ... us."

Jen grew silent at this last part, unsure how it would be received. Ethan also grew still, which made her worry. Had she overstepped her bounds? Was Kami some great love of his and she'd just insulted that?

"What, Sir? What's wrong? What did I say?"

He looked up at her again and smiled. "Nothing. Your question is a good one. It's just not the question I expected you to ask."

His cock pulsed within her, reminding her that she sat atop him, the very acme of a wanton slut seeking release. Her curls were wildly askew and her body glowed with a sheen of sweat. 

"Really? What question did you expect me to ask?"

"Well, I thought you would have asked how I found you."

And suddenly, there it was. He was right – that would have been the better question, one that spoke to their relationship, and one that would have offered greater insight into their relationship. 

Instead, she realized, she'd asked a question that was appropriate to her station; a question that only a second-tier slutslave would ask about her first-tier rival. 

Why had she asked that question? 

There were so many things about him that she wondered about on a daily basis – not least of which how her college lover had come into such money and standing that he kept two women as bound concubines in a vast, seemingly anonymous estate in the country.

Or how a man she hadn't seen for eight years had come to buy her at an underground auction. How without any real contact he'd found her and made her his own. Or even why he'd done that, why if he had access to all those women he hadn't purchased another. Had it been simple chance or design?

And yet, she hadn't asked those questions. 

She'd asked about Kami; she'd asked to know more about the woman who took such cruel pleasure in flogging her to orgasm, in forcing her to submit. Her question laid bare her own feelings towards Kami – jealousy; envy; desire.

What did that say about her, she wondered. Was the Jen of five months ago so totally gone? Did she only care about this world now? Did that mean she'd embraced her new life as a slutslave some completely?

Yes, she realized, it did. 

Somehow knowing everything about her rival, mistress, and tormenter meant more to her. Somehow she just had to know who this woman was that made love to her Master while she herself had to make do with the whip. 

For her cravings for him ruled all. She was consumed by the freedom of being herself that he granted her through his dominance over her. 

And if that made her a slutslave, she could live with that. 

"Very well, I will tell you. But I must say that you must use this knowledge carefully. I understand why you're asking me this, even if I don't really approve. But if you use it to upset the order of my household, I will cast you out." 

His voice was hard now, serious and sobering with the threat of exile should she displease him. 

Jen nodded solemnly. "Understood, Sir. I just want to know more about you. About how this new life of mine works. And Kami is a huge part of that."

Ethan looked at her for one long moment and then relaxed. "Fine, then you use that lovely body of yours to bring me to climax, and I will tell you."

She nodded enthusiastically as she began to clench his shaft, slowly moving her hips against him in a rhythmic, back-and-forth motion. He leaned back again, a smile of satisfaction on his face. Ethan placed one hand between her full breasts, and the other on her left hip. 

After a long moment, she looked down at him. His eyes were open, just watching her. She could feel her fugue returning; this wasn't a position she could hold for long, it simply produced too much friction against her clitoris. And, when combined with that magnificent cock fitted to her every contour, the pleasure was just too much.

He let her move against him for a good ten minutes like that, until she grew feverish again with her lusts. 

At last, when she could feel her orgasm rising, he reached out and slapped her hard on each breast. 

Once ... twice ... three times... 

He kept at it, using the pain to turn her fugue into something purer, something more primal, more intense than a simple orgasm, even as she ground herself against him, working with him to recast her pleasure into pleasurepain. Soon her breasts were red and throbbing, even as her pussy began to really throb with need.

An ache was building in her. 

She was so wet, pinned like some wanton butterfly to his shaft.

She needed release, and began to beg for it, falling forward against his chest to whimper out her request into his ear in short, gasping cries. 

In response he wrapped one arm around her and began to fuck her, rolling his hips upwards and into her.

Jen moaned loudly...it was close now...

At last the fugue took her ...washing out noise and light...she couldn't see, she couldn't hear...her whole consciousness narrowed to one long shaft of tumid flesh buried within her.

He let her writhe like that for some time, as she moaned out her need to cum, begging him, offering him anything if only he would grant her her release.

Jen wasn't even sure what she offered him in the end, what promised iniquity finally convinced him to release her.

She didn't care...all she knew was that finally he let her cum, pushing his index finger into her asshole as he murmured "Now." into her ear.

Her body exploded in a frenzy of motion, rocking violently from side to side as the pain of her throbbing breasts and aching nipples melded finally and completely with the waves of pleasure emanating from his shaft pistoning inside her. Jen screamed out her orgasm and collapsed against him, shivering with release and panting "ohmigod" over and over as she fought to recover some semblance of herself. 

All the while, he remained in motion, fucking her with a maddening slowness that frustrated her efforts to restore her composure.

She began to move again as well, working her inner muscles to give him his release.

Jen bit her lip against the powerful, almost painful, sensations coursing through her, and resolved to just endure, to be there for his needs. 

After all, that's why she was there. She was his whore.

Finally, he came, exploding his seed into her, making her dizzy from the feeling of his cock spasming inside her. 

A long moment passed as he caught his breath, and then he spoke.

"I bought Kami in March of 2002." 

He said this simply; as if purchasing a woman was something you did everyday, like buying shoes or a new television. 

Jen's mind whirled at this matter-of-factness, but then paused as she recalled that that same system had brought her to Ethan.

He kissed each of her throbbing nipples in turn. 

She was totally wrung out, exhausted from the violent release of her orgasm. Her body was drained, and it was all she could do to hang onto him as he thrust his hips up and into her. 

"I bought Kami in Los Angeles. I was there on business, and some friends brought me to a club after I closed a big deal with a firm from Japan. We hit a few bars, which turned into a strip club or three, and then, about four o'clock in the morning, my friends took me to the House of The Red Crane in Chinatown."

"The what?" 

"The House of The Red Crane. It's an establishment known only to a select few. Some would call it a bordello. But it's better described as a school where young women are trained to be concubines."

"Really? Such places actually exist?"

He stopped thrusting for a moment. "Jennifer. I bought you at an auction. There were over thirty people in that room. There were nine girls for sale that night. Yes, such places exist. If you know how to find them."

Point taken. She shook her head in wonderment as he began to thrust again. She could see from the look in his eyes that it was best to let him finish his story. "Please go on, Sir."

"Right. So we went to the Red Crane, and had a few drinks while the owner showed us her wares."

Her wares, Jen noted with interest.

"There were three women I was interested in that night. But of the three, I chose Kami. There was something about her that just clicked when I saw her. I must admit at the time I thought I was simply buying her for the night, but it turned out that that fee was only to sample the wares."

"When we'd finished, the owner approached me and offered me the contract for her. I accepted, and we left, with the understanding that I would release her in two years' time."

"Release her?"

"Yes, the Red Crane trains concubines. Not slaves. Each woman is contracted out to the buyer for a set period of time. After that, they are released with a hefty sum from the House, and are free to do what they will."

"But if the girls are released after that period, if they aren't slaves, how does the House get them?"

He laughed, that hearty laugh he had when she clearly didn't understand.

"Jen, do you know how long the waiting list is to be a student at the House of The Red Crane. Two and a half years. They have no shortages."

Women did this voluntarily? 

She supposed she could see that. After all, the experience of actually being sold, being coveted by so many, had been quite exciting, to say nothing of the subsequent joys of being Ethan's slutslave.

"So, I took her home with me when I left Los Angeles, and over the next two years, she and I learned together. She's quite submissive you know, and has a hunger for pleasure that matches yours."

He had a wistful smile on his face that spoke of nostalgia.

She hated that smile right then.

"In March, 2004, I released her. Per the terms of the contract, we flew to Los Angeles and I took her home. It wasn't an easy thing to part, but it wasn't my choice. I didn't own her anymore."

"But she's here now."

"Yes. To my utter joy, my doorbell rang a week later and there she was, begging me to take her back. I did, of course, after the requisite rituals of obeisance." 

"And I've been here ever since," said Kami's voice from the doorway. 

Jen looked up in surprise, suddenly conscious of her nudity, of being seen like this, straddling her Master, impaled on his cock. 

The redhead stood there, watching them. 

She'd heard everything.

Kami's nipples were hard; she was clearly aroused at the sight before her.

"Go on," she said with a wicked grin, "ask the next question, whore."

"Yes," said Ethan, "do ask the next question, lest it drive you mad."

So she did. 

She had to.

"So then why doesn't Kami wear a slave collar?"

The redhead strode over to them and kissed Ethan on the mouth, before turning Jen.

"Because I am not a slave, you little slut. Unlike you, I am here of my own free will. I choose this life with Ethan; I choose to be here, to be the instrument of his pleasure and your torment."

Kami reached out and traced one finger across Jen's lips.

"And the tattoo?"

"That," said Ethan, "is a symbol that she has given herself to me. And I say that word deliberately. The auctioneer gave you to me, you had no choice in that matter. Kami gave herself to me of her own free will. So we celebrate that, just the two of us. That lily tells the world that she is mine."

"Will I ever get a lily?" 

The question was spontaneous and took her by surprise. 

Kami smiled down at her. "In time, when you understand what choice really is, I may teach you the skills necessary to win your own lily." 




Auction Ch. 08



Jen nodded slowly, caught up in the idea that she could transcend this existence into something more meaningful; to be more than just a slutslave, to truly become the concubine she'd always wanted to be for Ethan. 

"For now," Kami continued, "you're just a whore. You're a creature of your own appetites. I can see it every time I flog you, every time you suck Ethan's cock. You don't understand yourself; you only understand your need. And until you learn to rise above the level of your base appetites, you cannot be anything other than a slutslave, anything other than an instrument of pleasure."

She felt she'd come so far these past months, worked hard to become the submissive Ethan wanted, and now Kami was telling her that there was more?

The redhead smiled again and turned to go. Ethan ran a hand down her thigh, "I'll be up in a minute, Love. We need to discuss my travel plans for the coming week."

Kami nodded and looked at Ethan fondly, and then again at Jen. 

"For now, you belong to Ethan. Someday, however, I may teach you how to simply be with Ethan, and with me. To join us, instead of serving us."

And then she left, Ethan beaming at her as she went, obviously pleased that his first acquisition was accepting his newest. 

The redhead strode away, the very sight of her body's almost liquid motion stirring a strange hunger in Jen. The stylized lily on her back atop her pert buttocks suddenly a symbol of everything she could have.

But then, in the far doorway, unseen by Master Ethan, she stopped, and looked back. Their eyes met, and then the Irish beauty grinned, and that cruel grin sent a shiver of fear coursing through Jen. 

Kami knew. 

She knew what Jen wanted; knew that Jen wanted to become Ethan's lover, to rise above her station as a bonded slutslave. 

And regardless of what the redhead might have said in front of Ethan, Jen suddenly realized that Kami would never facilitate Jen's elevation, would never take any actions that might jeopardize her own status as Ethan's lover. 

Suddenly the redhead's cruelty with the flogger made much more sense. She was threatened by Jen, and while she would carry out Ethan's wishes, it was also clear that she would advance her own agenda as well. And if that meant transforming Jen into a simpering creature of her own appetites so as to render her forever subordinate to her, Kami was going to do exactly that. 

"I'll be waiting," Kami mouthed, and then disappeared around the corner. 

And she would be waiting, Jen knew, not to teach, but to punish.

In that moment, Jen resolved to prevail.

She would endure Kami's torments and learn from them. Then, when the moment was right, she would seize control and make Kami her creature. Jen clung to Ethan, smiling to herself as she buried her face in his neck.

Status was not a thing to be taken for granted.



Auction Ch. 09



PART THE NINTH – DISCRETION

Two days later, as the afternoon faded slowly into dusk, Jen found herself busily at work in the study when Kami sashayed into the room. The redhead wore a sheer robe made of foam green micro-lace, which hid nothing, and a matching pair of mules. 

Without a word she walked over to the desk where Jen was seated and grabbed a great handful of her curls. Pulling her head back, she leaned forward and clipped a leash to the steel ring affixed to Jen's collar. 

"Assume the position, please. "

Jen immediately pushed her chair back and sank to her knees on the floor before Kami. Legs spread wide to show her pussy, her hands clasped together atop her firm buttocks, and her gaze was on the floor, where Kami had told her it should be. The leash tugged at the collar a little, but nothing serious. 

She could smell her mistress' perfume; it filled her nostrils and made them itch slightly. Kami's sex was wet; she knew that by smell too. Ordinarily she would have guess that Kami had been fucking the Master, but she looked too composed for that.

"We're going on a field trip today, Slut. Do you think you're up to that?"

"Yes, Mistress." Her mind was racing as fast as her heart. A field trip? Where? Would they be leaving the compound? How would she dress? Would people see her?

Kami hauled upwards on the leash, pulling Jen's head back with a snap that brought tears to her eyes. "Stop thinking about all those questions, slut. We will think for you."

How did she know? How did she always know? It made her so frustrated that she wanted to scream: the one woman who most wanted to see her fail was the one woman who seemed to know her every thought in situations like these.

"Now. I am going to have the car downstairs in ten minutes. At that time, you will be downstairs by the front door. I expect you to dress appropriately."

She dropped the leash and sauntered towards the door. 

"But I leave it up to you to decide what is appropriate."

Jen nodded, and her gaze on the floor beneath Kami's mules. 

"Don't disappoint me." 

With that the lithe redhead left, leaving Jen kneeling there on the floor, paralyzed with the sudden discretion she'd been granted. 

What to wear? 

Exactly nine minutes later, she descended the stairs on shaky legs, the sound of her high heels clicking on the steps loud in her ears. 

No one waited for her, so after casting a furtive glance around for either Master Ethan or for Kami, she knelt on the fine oriental runner that graced the interior of the foyer, and assumed the position again. 

Long moments passed; the sound of her breathing was all she could hear. 

Had she done too much? Kami had told her to dress appropriately for an appointment about which she knew nothing. The reference to the car told her that they were going out, that they were leaving the grounds of the estate. That in and of itself was heady stuff. 

It could mean that they were going out in public, which would, of course, require some form of clothing that covered all of her. 

Or, they could be going out for some form of drive, in which case, assuming they took Ethan's Mercedes, she might be supposed to present herself totally nude for the trip, the better to please Master. 

The only thing she knew she was supposed to wear, for some reason, were the cloverleaf nipple clamps. She didn't know why, but as she raced through her closet, taking in the toys and bits of lace and leather, they'd practically jumped off the table into her hands.

To be sure, she'd hissed with pain as she affixed each to her nipples; they hurt so much more when her pussy wasn't already aching with desire. And she felt no desire in those moments, only the trepidation of what would happen if she didn't meet her deadline – and the deeper fear of disappoint them both with her clothing selection.

Kami's hand snaked around beneath her curls and took hold of the leash once more. The redhead said nothing, and simply pulled her to her feet. 

A furtive glance told her that she'd chosen poorly. Ethan's favorite wore a short micro-fiber mini-dress, one that accentuated her legs by flaring out well above mid-thighs, even as it pushed her full breasts upwards and outwards. 

As she was led away, she could see it was backless, and that Kami's pale Irish skin stood in delicious contrast to the dress' royal blue. 

It was a dress one wore to a club, or possibly to a romantic dinner when the night's passion was already a foregone conclusion. 

The micro-fiber looked like it had been poured over Kami's skin, and even then it didn't do her curves justice.

Jen felt her mouth go dry with desire. 

When she walked, her hips moved back and forth like water, and evoked equal measures of envy and desire in Jen. Envy that she would never be able to move with such grace, and desire that she might someday caress those hips with impunity.

A sharp tug of the leash told her Kami knew she was daydreaming. She lowered her eyes again, noting with some inner satisfaction that her mistress, so often cruel in her jealousy towards Jen, had a little grin of satisfaction on her face.

They descended the long steps at the front of the house. Ethan was waiting below, standing beside a black Mercedes limousine. Like the car behind him, Ethan's eyes were hidden behind dark glass. He was dressed comfortably in slacks and a white linen shirt. 

Would he let her suck his cock in the car, she wondered suddenly to her own surprise?

Kami pulled her to a halt, and handed him the leash. She leaned in and gave him a light kiss on the lips. He growled with pleasure, and ran one hand down her back to rest lightly on her ass.

"As requested, my love, one slut, ready for a night's entertainment."

"Why is she dressed like this?"

Kami seemed momentarily taken aback by this, but recovered quickly. "I told her we were taking a trip and to dress appropriately."

"Is this true, Jen?"

She kept her eyes lowered and nodded. 

"Hmmm...well, I can't say I don't like it."

Jen's heart sang. She'd chosen well!

"Even if the panties are a little presumptuous. Did you tell her she could wear them?"

"No, Ethan. I told her not to disappoint me."

He was quiet for a moment.

"So you mean to tell me that you left it up to her discretion?"

"Yes, Ethan."

He lashed out suddenly, laying a stinging slap across Kami's face. The redhead took a step back; her pale skin scarlet where he'd struck her. 

"You gave her choice."

"Yes."

"Her."

"Yes." 

Jen could hear just the faintest quaver in Kami's voice. 

It made her smile. 

"A slave. You told a slave...a trainee...that she could have discretion."

"Well...umm...I just thought that the..."

"Did Lorelei ever give you discretion when you were a slave?"

"No."

"So what made you think you should alter my training regimen?"

Kami was silent as only those caught in an obvious error can be.

"She is a slave," he said at last, when she refused to speak, "a instrument of pleasure – my pleasure, I might add, not yours – to be trained. She is not allowed discretion. Slutslaves are not given that right until they earn it."

"I'm sorry, Sir." 

Sir, she called him Sir now. Kami obviously realized what a grave error she'd committed. 

"You disappoint me, Kami." 

His silence was palpable; Jen watched with amazement as Kami simply dropped her gaze and assumed a submissive stance, hands clasped together in front of her, legs slightly askew, her red hair hanging down over her face. 

"Ok, I'll deal with you later." Ethan turned back to Jen, who quickly dropped her glance again, "Slave, place your hands on the hood of the car and present for me."

Jen quickly moved to comply, the weight of the chain between her nipple clamps sending faint waves of pleasurepain through her. She pushed her ass out for display and took a wide stance. 

And was rewarded as he ran one hand up her inner thigh to rest lightly on her pussy. 

Her totally exposed pussy.

Ethan rumbled his satisfaction. "I like this. Well done."

Her breath returned to normal at this pronouncement. She'd chosen well, a Lola Luna g-string that left everything below her bald vulva completely exposed, save for the two thing strands of lace that connected to the back. The panties were lavender, and were marked by a single strand of pearls that dangled from the front – enough to tickle her clitoris if circumstances were right, but never enough to satisfy. 

They were a fine complement to the black lace-up demi-corset that even now slimmed her waist and pushed her naked breasts up and out for all to see. 

Ethan let his hand linger on her exposed pussy for a moment, just long enough for her to wiggle her hips slightly to move against his touch. Then, with a smack on the ass, he told her to stand, and then opened the car door for them to enter. Kami stepped in first, and settled herself in the backseat, looking faintly nauseous as she smoothed out her dress.

Jen moved to follow her, but he caught her arm. 

"Well done, indeed," he murmured as she passed. "You're learning quickly."

It came as little surprise that she was suddenly wet. 

After an hour's ride of complete silence, Ethan removed her blindfold. She had expected to hear the wet sounds of a blowjob, and had even hoped to be called upon to perform that treasured task. 

But no, Ethan's face still showed signs of his displeasure, and Kami looked positively miserable. The three of them sat in the back, the two women facing him, while an unseen driver guided them toward their unknown destination. 

Within minutes the highway gave way to a wooded street, which in turn transitioned into a long driveway. They had to pass through wrought-iron gates, but only after showing their credentials to the guards.

After a few moments the limousine's tires rolled to a halt in front of a large mansion. Corm smiled at her, "You might remember this place."

But she didn't. Not until they were inside, through those same doors all those months ago that had led her to this. Strangely, she felt nothing beyond a slight sense of awe at being back at this place. 

As with that night, she was soon on stage again, in front of a crowd, kneeling before Ethan. Kami stood behind him, and beyond her Jen could see a large wooden X-form.

"My friends," he began to the unseen crowd in the darkness below the stage, "first, let me thank you all for coming. I see some new faces amongst you, and to you I say welcome. I am quite sure you will enjoy tonight's treat."

He clasped his hands together as he made his pitch. This must be what he's like in the office, she thought, gifted with ample charm and the mental firepower to back up his arguments. 

"Tonight I had intended to talk to you about the course of my training program. As you know, I recently acquired a new slutslave, Jennifer. She is here before you on the dais tonight."

Jen's heart leapt into her throat. He'd named her in front of all these people? 

Wait, she thought, did that even matter? So what if her identity was exposed? She was here now before them as an instrument of pleasure, nude save for a demi-corset, a racy thong, heels, and her collar. They all knew what she was, so why did she care if they knew her first name?

She didn't, she realized. 

And in that moment, in that realization, she began to relax and enjoy herself. 

"Tonight," Ethan continued, "I am going to talk to you about one of the most important aspects of training: Discretion." 

The sharp intake of breath from Kami was the first clue that this evening was going to go freestyle in very short order. 

"As you know, the currency of any dominant – submissive relationship is trust. And trust is predicated on the understanding that whatever I as a dominant do, it will advance your pleasure as a submissive. This understanding, this trust in my discretion to select the most appropriate course of pleasure is the very core of any good relationship between a master and his slave."

Ethan turned to face Kami. 

"If however, that trust is broken, if that trust in the master's discretion, his will, is interrupted or offset in any way, a slave can become willful. And once that happens, in many cases, true submission becomes unachievable."

Jen could hear whisperings in the crowd; they didn't understand.

"Kami," he said suddenly, "look at me."

She should have been looking at the floor as instructed, but this was simply too good to miss. Jen looked up, watching the uncertainty in those green eyes turn to fear.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Today you undermined that discretion. That is inexcusable."

Kami took a step back. "Sir, I told you, I didn't mean to..."

Ethan raised a hand, cutting her off in mid-excuse. He looked beyond her, to the two nude slavegirls who'd come up onto the stage.

"Take her."

Without a word, they seized the redhead by either arm and began to pull her to the X-form. She fought them, though Jen did not know why, as that would only make things worse. But in the end they prevailed, and soon lashed her against the tall wooden structure. The redhead was standing; her legs and arms splayed wide, her breasts crushed against the hard wood. 

Without another word, Ethan strode to the X-form and tore the back of Kami's dress in two, leaving her body utterly exposed from behind. She wore a white thong, but was soon stripped of this as well. 

"Crop," was all he said, and a third slavegirl placed one in his hand.

And as the symphony began, as the whimpers of pain soon turned to whimpers of pleasure, and then to throaty cries of need, Jen knelt there, drinking it all in, her own body singing with each hit. 

"Now then," he turned to her, giving Kami a brief respite, "I have punished her as I see fit. It's your turn. She has disturbed your training. What punishment would you see dealt to her."

What punishment did she want?!?

She wanted that whore expelled from the mansion altogether, leaving Ethan all to her. Or at the very least, put back into a collar. 

But no, she must be good, she had to fight the wicked urges surging to the fore. This was not really a question, this was a test. She knew that much. She just didn't really know what the test was.

"Choose."

Jen knelt before him, wracked with uncertainty. He clearly wanted an answer, and the longer she waited, the more he would continue to flog Kami. 

"Choose. Anything you want."

Each stroke was harder than the last, and the redhead's ragged moans spoke a rising pleasurepain that would soon drive her mad. 

Ethan was clearly flogging her to punish, but Jen knew there was some darker lesson here for her as well. 

WHAP! 

Ethan's crop left a long, red weal across the tops of Jen's breasts. She whimpered from its sting but didn't move from her spot on the dais. Kami's body hung there above her, bound to the X-form, feverish with desire and coated in a sheen of sweat from the hot lights above.

"Choose."

She said nothing. He turned and laid a series of hits across Kami's backside. The redhead gasped with pleasurepain and strained against her bonds, pressing her body forward against the polished wood in a futile effort to seek her release. 

Jen had never seen Kami like this – not even on the night that she'd been bound and forced to watch them make love. Her oft-time tormenter was positively frenzied with desire and hunger, and yet clearly had no hope of achieving orgasm. Ethan's strikes were designed to stimulate for brief moments, nothing more. The second the crop stopped kissing her skin, her body returned to its calmer state, denying her that which she most craved.

"Choose." 

His voice was hard and brooked no disobedience.

Again, she said nothing, her gazed fixed to the floor.

"I won't ask again, Slave. Choose or I'll send you away." 

Send her away?!? He couldn't do that! 

Could he?

Her stomach in knots, she looked up at him, unsure of what he wanted from her. She was a slave, dedicated to his pleasure, not her own. And choosing what punishment would best suit Kami would be an act of her pleasure 

He struck her breasts again, once, twice, three times. She hissed with pain but forced herself to remain still. 

"CHOOSE!"

WHAP! 

The crop's flat leather head snapped against her clitoris, tearing a howl of pain from her. 

"I can't!" she exploded at last, looking up at him with angry defiance through eyes that watered from the pain. 

He stopped and looked down at her, a wry smile on his face. "And why not? Why can't you choose?"

"It's...it's just ... it's just not my place."

"It's not your place? Why not?"

"Because it would please me to see that whore whipped until she can't come anymore, but I am not here for my pleasure. I am here for your pleasure."

An explosion of approving murmurs from the crowd beyond the lights.

He smiled then, a warm smile that made her soul tingle. Ethan took her hands and pulled her to her feet, and kissed her lightly on the lips. He turned to the audience, still invisible behind the bright lights. "And that, my friends, is the discretion I had hoped to show you tonight. Thank you for indulging me, and I hope to see you all again soon."

A hush fell over the crowd for a moment, before they exploded in applause. Jen wasn't quite sure what they were clapping for, but the murmurs of "well done, young lady" and "what a performance!" she knew that she must have done something right.

They walked slowly to the exit, taking in the admiration of the crowd and exchanging pleasantries with Ethan's friends. Jen didn't recognize any of them, but it didn't matter. The way they were all beaming at her told her all she need to know. 

As they reached the door, a blonde slave girl stepped forward and curtsied. "Master Ethan, what shall we do with your other slave?"

Jen looked back in surprise, having forgotten in those heady moments of adulation that Kami was still bound to the X-form.

Ethan paused, taking in the beauty before him. He reached out and caressed her pussy, his brown eyes fixed on the blonde's, watching as she shivered beneath his touch. 

"You liked what you saw tonight?"

"Yes, Master Ethan, very much."

He withdrew his hand, producing a small 'ooh' of disappointment from the girl. "Perhaps I should have you over to the house sometime."

"This slave would like that very much, Sir."

Ethan chuckled. "I'll bet you would. Very well, what was the question again?"

"What should we do with your slavegirl, Sir?"

"Ah yes, well, I will let Jennifer answer." He turned to her and stood there waiting. Jen swallowed hard at the sudden responsibility.

A moment passed before she spoke. She licked her lips and then looked Ethan right in the eyes, her blue eyes holding his, even as her heart quailed with the weight of what she was about to say. 

"Leave her there for another hour. Bring her to orgasm three times with a deerskin flogger and an anal plug. Then cut her down, oil her, and have her delivered to the house in the morning."

She forced herself not to blink or to stammer as she said this. And held her trembling body utterly still while she waited for Ethan's response to her desires. 

And then, just when she thought she would break, he winked, and looked back to the blonde slave before them. 

"As she says," he intoned, before guiding her out into the warm night. 

How things had suddenly changed.



Auction Ch. 10



PART THE TENTH – PERFORMANCE

Once they exited the building, Ethan turned and took her in his arms. He kissed her fiercely, pulling her body against his. The force of it made her nipples ache as the clamps were crushed against his hard chest. 

She purred with delight, savoring the combination of the pleasurepain and that most intimate of his torments, his kisses. 

Jen could feel herself grow wet all over again, and she trembled at the thought of a night of unrestricted passion with him. Let him do with her as he willed – let him whip her, let him bind her, let him treat her like a whore – she didn't care. She was utterly his tonight, with no fears of further interruption by Kami. At last, they would be together as she'd always intended. 

Ethan broke his embrace and stepped back. He took the fine chain that linked her breasts and twisted it slightly, wrenching a small gasp of pain from her. Her eyes watered but it felt so good, so right to be here with him like this.

He smiled at her reaction and let go, only to take up the leash. With a flourish he threaded it down underneath the chain, a diabolical arrangement that would send jolts of pleasurepain through her if she fell to far behind. Then, spinning on his heel he began to walk down the long driveway into the night.

Where were they going, she wondered?

She tottered behind him, straining to maintain her balance in heels on crushed gravel. At length, they passed out of the light from the house, underneath a long row of old trees, and onto the thick green lawn before the house. She still couldn't see the front gate, but knew they'd moved at least a half-mile towards it by the time they stopped. 

Her breasts were afire from the occasional misstep, and her body was covered in a sheen of moisture, part perspiration, and part damp night air. 

Ethan turned to her and kissed her lightly. 

"I want to apologize to you, Pet."

She frowned, confused by this. "Sir?"

"I want to apologize for what happened back there at the house. It shouldn't have gone like that. That wasn't the way the evening was planned."

"I don't understand." She ground one foot into the lawn, nervous at the sudden upset to what she'd expected. 

What had happened to their night? 

Did his apology mean that they weren't going to be together?

Ethan smiled. "Don't fret so. You're still going to get your night with me." 

Mind whirling, she smiled back. "Really, Sir?"

"Yes, really. Surely you don't doubt me, do you?"

"No...no...of course not, it's just that I don't understand why you're apologizing."

He laughed and ran his hand lightly down her stomach, sending shivers coursing through her. "Of course. Let me explain."

"I took you here tonight to show you off to my friends. Kami's indiscretions upset that whole plan. And, as a result, I had to put you in that position onstage – that position of having to choose her punishment. It's not a position I wanted to put you in."

Jen nodded, her fears subsiding a bit. She was beginning to understand.

Or at least she thought she was.

Ethan pulled her to him again, kissing her neck, his hands roaming down her back to cup her ass lightly. She sighed and pressed herself against him, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders and leaning her head back to give him more access. 

He obliged, nibbling gently on her collarbone, and then working his way up her neck. His breath was hot on her skin, and his touch made her body burn. His hands seemed to be everywhere, caressing her back, tangling themselves in her hair, pressing her body to his; Jen began to moan from the intensity of it.

She was so wet, so ready for him. 

She wanted nothing more than for him to throw her down and fuck her, here, here in the soft light of the night, surrounded by the sounds of the night, his body crushing hers into the soft earth. 

But then he stopped, leaving her there, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tried to climb up out of the passion he'd evoked.

He took a deep breath, calming himself; "I didn't want to put you in that position because I know it's not something you're ready for."

"But I am..." 

The words were out of her mouth before she was even aware she'd said them. And no sooner had she said them then her hand flew to her mouth as she gasped in horror. 

What had she just said? 

That she was capable of choice? 

After all that had transpired earlier that night?!?

He frowned. Even in the half-light she could see how disappointed he was.

"Hmm...Kami has been a very bad influence on you." 

Jen suddenly felt very cold. 

The rising tension in her was swept away in a burst of fear. Even though some small part of her brain reveled in the fact that he attributed her catastrophic display of will to her contact with her rival, the simple fact that he was so very disappointed in her filled her with a peculiar sense of horror. 

"Please sir, I didn't mean to ..."

Her plea was cut off abruptly as he gripped her chain and pulled her to him. Searing bursts of pain radiated up through her nipples, spiking into her brain as she found herself dragged forward. When she was pressed against him, he twisted the chain, and the pain nearly made her faint from its intensity.

She shuddered, her body flailing against his as her mind struggled to ride out the waves of torment. But she forced herself to remain silent; knowing that to speak again would only worsen things. 

Her hands were at her sides, clasped tightly against her thighs, fingers digging into her own soft flesh in an effort not to scream. 

He said nothing; just stood there and looked at her, his disapproving gaze boring into her, demanding to know the reason for such a grievous breach of etiquette. 

She had no answer. 

But he obviously wasn't going to stop his torment, and she simply didn't know how much longer she could endure such agony. It was one thing to layer pain over a torrent of sexual hunger, but this was nothing like that, this was simply designed to punish her for her actions. 

As her body began to tremble, an idea sprung into her mind.

With a tremendous force of will Jen removed her right hand and reached between them to place it on his cock. She could feel its fullness through his slacks, feel it throb in response.

Slowly, fighting for focus as he increased the pressure on the chain, she began to stroke him. Her breasts were white hot, but she forced herself to ignore it; forced herself to concentrate on his cock.

After a few minutes, his eyes took on a strange heat.

After five minutes he dropped the chain.

She would have fallen then, but he caught her in his arms and held her tight. She could feel the thick fullness of his cock pulsing against her body.

He produced a silk blindfold from his pocket and placed it over her eyes. "Fortunately, if you actions just now are anything to judge by, you're not as far along as she is; you can still be redeemed."

And when he kissed her lightly on the lips, her mind sang out its triumph as wetness flooded her pussy once more. To be sure, her nipples ached like nothing she'd ever experienced, but to know that she'd saved herself in some small way was simply intoxicating. 

Ethan smiled, and took the leash once more and started off again, leading her deeper into the night.

Finally, they stopped, and he led her up a short flight of stairs...wooden, if the clicks of her heels were anything to judge by. 

Quickly, he bound her hands, securing each with a pair of padded cuffs to thin chains, which, judging by the spread-eagled pose she was forced to adopt, must have been set into twin pillars to either side of her. 

Ethan knelt and pulled off her panties, planting a light kiss on her shaven vulva as he did so. "We're going to have to pay more attention to this, you know," he said, "it's really quite lovely." 

Jen purred with satisfaction. 

She felt her legs being pushed apart, and a second pair of cuffs being secured to them. When she tried to move, however, she found that she really couldn't move at all. Something now connected her two ankles, a steel spreader bar, she surmised.

Finally, he unfastened the corset, leaving her totally nude save for her heels, chain, clamps, and collar. The night air was warm on her skin; it would be a perfect night to make love to him. 

He stepped away, and she let out a small 'ooh' of disappointment.

"Now then," he breathed into her ear from behind, "I am going to have my way with you. Would you like that?"

"Oh, yes, Sir, very much so." 

And she did. She really did. All she wanted in this moment was to be taken by him, and the thought that he would have her here, in this public place like this, chained up like some slave girl from a story was terribly arousing. 

Oh, to be held there, immobile while he fucked her from behind.

The very thought of it made her tremble with desire.

"Good. Now then, let's begin."

She heard him step back, and almost instantly a searing strip scored its away across her right buttock. 

A flicker whip, she wondered? 

No ... a flogger. 

His tool of choice.

"Mmm...my love..." she moaned, pushing her ass out, eager for more. 

Sometime later, after her first orgasm had shattered the night's stillness with throaty cries of desire, he offered her a moment's respite, setting the flogger to one side on some nearby table – or so she surmised from the sounds of his movement. 

She heard him return to her, heard him move behind her, and then felt him press himself against her. He was standing at an angle, one hand on her vulva, pressing down so she was forced to push her ass out. 

This she did willingly, fervently hoping that now he'd be satiated enough to take her, to enter her, to push into to her, filling her every inch with his steely shaft. It was all she wanted, all she could think about. 

Tonight's fugue was going to be a strong one, she knew.

To her surprise, however, she felt a broad pressure against her tight brown bud. Not his finger...she'd have readily welcomed that.

No, this was something more, harder than his digit, well lubed but broader, more expansive. 

A plug of some kind, wide, ribbed, designed to torment even as it pleased. 

His fingers stroked her clit as he pushed it slowly into her ass. Jen hissed as her body stretched to accommodate it...it was a good feeling, but not one she'd ever experienced before.

Ethan's breath was hot on her skin, and the drumming of his fingers made the process easier, distracting her from the pressure filling her ass with the intense bursts of pleasure coursing through her. 

At last he stopped, having apparently reached the limit of the vibe. 

She wiggled her ass for him, to show him she was still eager and willing. 

He laughed and lightly stroked her clit, and then reached around with his other hand to affix a butterfly clip to it. 

She hissed in pain, her focus narrowing to that small expanse of skin that now meant everything, that suddenly was forced into intense pleasurepain.

Ethan ran his hands across her body, kissing her lips.

"Ready?" he asked.

Lost in her own sensual darkness, she could only nod.

Vibration erupted from the vibe, instantly turning her body into a sexual tuning fork. 

Much later, after her second orgasm left her gasping for air, her full breasts heaving, her curls wildly askew from her passion, he stepped to her, holding her as her body trembled with aftershocks. He kissed her fiercely, roaming his hands over her body once again. 

She couldn't believe he'd been able to make her cum again. After that first orgasm, she'd felt utterly spent. And yet...here she was again, driven back into a third hungry state by his adroit use of the flogger to complement the vibrating plug and the clit clip. 

At the end, when she'd been tipping over the edge into her orgasm, he'd removed the clips, shattering her conscious mind with a thousands splinters of pleasurepain that left her ragged with heat and hunger. 

And aching for more. 

His talents amazed her ... scared her a little too. How did he know her body better than she did?

"Remember," he said, "this is what you asked for."

She felt the first hit from the flogger's latest kiss lash across her breasts and moaned in pleasurepain. 

"Sir?"

"Your command was to 'Bring her to orgasm three times with a deerskin flogger and an anal plug.' So that's what we're going to do."

What?!?

Her delirium broke a bit as she struggled to grasp what had just happened. How had her instructions come to be her own sentence? 

"Ethan ... Master ... what... I don't understand?"

"Of course you don't. That's why you're here. I told you that you weren't ready for choice. And yet when it was offered – not demanded, but offered – you took the opportunity to exert your will. You decreed that Kami should be punished for her transgression – even though you'd told me not ten minutes prior that it wasn't your decision to make." 

She'd failed him! There'd been a test within the test and she'd failed!

The flogger lashed her inner thighs ... once ... twice ... three times, before leaping up against her clit, wrenching a keening wail out of her.

That meant that she deserved whatever he was going to do to her; her only salvation lay in compliance, in demonstrating her submission to her.

Again, the leather strands placed a fiery kiss on her clit, sending shivers of heat throughout her body. Her wetness grew even more intense at this, and she could feel her pussy stirring again, gasping as it awoke her inner hunger once more. 

God, she wanted him. Wanted him to cut her loose so she could sink down on her knees and take that lovely cock of his in her mouth, take him in and suck him off until he came, until he spasmed out his seed in her mouth, understanding at last through her oral devotions how very much she wanted to please him.

But that was not to be. 

"So instead, we're going to watch you endure what you would have inflicted on her." 

We?

Long moments passed...she hung there, feverish with desire but fearful at the implications of what he'd just said. 

And with that, a hand wrenched off her blindfold.

Light flooded in, soft flickering light that emanated from a circle of torches planted along the walls of what appeared to be an outdoor stage. She stood on a wide wooden stage, facing a crowd of some forty people. Men and women alike were seated in plush chairs; dining; drinking; chatting; watching her. Slutslaves moved throughout the crowd, refilling drinks here, attending to ... other ... needs as well. It was just like the arrangement the night she'd been sold, save that there were no bright lights, only the night sky.

Jen blushed bright crimson, suddenly very embarrassed at the knowledge that all these people – for they certainly had been there for some time, if the state of their drinks and their clothes were anything to judge by – had seen her through her first two orgasms. 

To know that they'd heard her beg for release – to have heard the wicked promises she'd made – filled her with shame. 

What must they think of her? 

Surely they thought she was an unredeemable slut, a creature wholly consumed by her lusts.

But wasn't she?

As she hung there, waiting for the next trial to begin, she realized that, much like her place on the other stage earlier that night, that this was the right place for her. Granted, she would not have preferred to have her unquenchable hunger made so public, but in the end what did she really care?

She belonged to Ethan; he along could sit in judgment over her not inconsiderable appetites for the pleasures of the flesh. If something she did met with his disapproval, she thought to herself, then she would pay heed.

But for these strangers, she would not care. 

She would be his canvas; she would be his prize; she would use this night and her lusts to win him away from Kami, to show Ethan that she could be all he desired and more. 

Yes, she resolved, her rational mind working to harness her inner sexual chaos, she would do all this so that by morning, she alone would possess her lover, her master. 

Except that Ethan was gone; in his place stood the blonde slutslave from earlier that night, the one who'd made it obvious she wanted to come under Ethan's tutelage. 

Like all the others, she was nude save for a collar, heels, and corset. 

In her fine hands, however, she held a flogger. Its handle was slim, made of lacquered wood; its numerous tails made of soft deerskin dyed bright red. It was a fine tool, one made for a woman's hand, she realized. 

Did that mean that Ethan had planned this all in advance?

Even as Jen looked at her, the blonde lunged forward, whipping her lean arm downward in a long arc that lashed the length of Jen's torso.

Jen hissed with pleasure, arching her body against the streak of fire. 

It was magnificently done; this girl obviously knew her way around a whip.

Jen scanned the crowd, her focus sputtering with each flick of the deerskin flogger, her eyes came upon the most terrible sight of all: Seated in Ethan's lap, looked utterly exhausted but most decidedly content, was Kami!

The lithe little redhead was dressed in a sea foam green kimono, and was sipping a glass of what appeared to be champagne. Her body was nestled in against Ethan's bare chest, and Jen wasn't entirely certain that her left hand wasn't strategically placed on her Master's cock. 

Yes...she could see it now...even from this distance...Kami's hand was moving slowly, rhythmically, stroking the very cock she'd hoped to be riding right now. The smile on her face was the worst part, a thin, cruel arrogant smile that said that she knew Jen could see her, and that she was stroking him not for his pleasure, but for her own.

Her mind screamed at this most grievous infraction of the submissive-dominant contract, even as her body involuntarily spasmed with pleasurepain.

She'd only done what Ethan had asked; she'd only made the choice because he'd offered to her. And yet here she was, being flogged while Kami flaunted her position to the crowd. 

To know that she'd succeeded only to fail was heartrending, and to see her rival – for that was increasingly how she was coming to think of Kami – claim the prize she'd expected was humiliating and infuriating all at the same time.

Still the strokes of the flogger continued, driving her body back into its own insistent, organic appetites, scoring away the weariness of her first two orgasms with its simple persistence. 

WHAP!

Within, the plug continued buzzing, sending its vibrations out and into her body – not least her swollen, aching pussy. 

For once she was grateful for the restraints, for they held her upright when she would have otherwise collapsed. After two very intense orgasms she was trembling with fatigue; only the resurgent hunger building within her gave her the energy to continue.

WHAP!

But she wanted this, she realized to her own surprise. 

WHAP!

In fact she craved this.

WHAP!

Somehow, somewhere, in all these months as Ethan's slutslave, a good deal of her inhibitions and insecurities had resolved themselves. Mere months ago, as she'd stood on that stage, being sold like the property she now was, Jen had been at once embarrassed and titillated at the thought of so many strangers seeing her nude. 

Now, her arms bound to the pillars on either side of her by thin lengths of chain, her ankles spread far apart by a steel bar, and her clit throbbing from the clip tightly affixed to it, she considered herself a model of raw sexuality. 

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

With the blindfold removed, Jen could see the effect she was having: 

She could see the older man in the first row stroking himself through his pleated trousers; 




Auction Ch. 10



WHAP!

She reveled in the way that a striking brunette, dressed in a cream suit, was being serviced by the tongue of her lover, her long legs wildly askew to grant him better access; 

WHAP! WHAP!

She knew that the soft sucking sounds to her right, though visually masked by the darkness, spoke to a man being treated as she would treat him were she in that woman's place; 

WHAP!

She watched another slutslave, a lithe little Filipina marked by a number of tattoos across her thighs, move throughout the crowd, serving drinks absentmindedly as she focused more on Jen's ordeal than her own duties. Jen smiled when her laxity was rewarded as a large man pulled her down for a rigorous spanking. The woman's cries only subsided when another man stepped forward and offered her his cock, which she began sucking with an eagerness Jen knew all too well;

WHAP! WHAP!

She saw another older woman, a South American beauty in her early fifties, on her knees, sucking the cock of a much younger man; he was reclined, sighing, watching her, even as he pushed two fingers in and out of his kneeling sub's taut ass;

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! 

She saw all of it; saw all of it and knew it was hers. 

Even as her body strained against its restrains, fervent in its desire to rush down from the stage and engulf Ethan's cock, her mind reveled in what she had managed to evoke the in audience. 

WHAP!

They were all here for her.

WHAP! 

Ethan might get the credit, would certainly bask in the accolades of his fellow dominants, but she knew that each and every person out there wanted to either be her or be with her right now. The submissives craved what she was enduring, and looked to forge themselves anew in the fire of the whip; and the dominants wanted nothing more than to use her body like the canvas it was. 

Still the relentless lash of the flogger, driving her further and further. 

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

Her body ached – not from pain, she realized – but from a profound need to cum. Every part of her was on fire, pulsing with desire and need and a hunger that simple could not be fulfilled. 

"Please..." she moaned out at last...

"Please what?" called a voice from the crowd.

"Please...I need...I need..." Her throat was dry, spent from the night's exertions. As she built to her second orgasm, which now seemed years ago, she'd wondered how she'd ever be able to achieve it. But now here she was, her body coated in her own sweat, smelling of sex, strung up like the slut she was before this crowd of strangers. 

"What do you need?" called out another voice from the darkness?

"Looks like she needs to be fucked." This comment to raucous laughter. 

She knew there'd be no pity. Not from them. Not when she'd culled such passion from them; they might make need of her need for release, but they'd never grant it – they'd be too greedy for more to let her off with anything other than total immolation. 

If only to use her release to unlock their own. 

Jen moaned loudly, pushing forward against her restraints, pulling down in a vain attempt to break free. Her ass was twitching now, spasming of its own accord as the vibrations continued to eat at her sanity.

A woman approached her ... no ... it was no stranger ... it was Kami. Standing before her, her body still wreathed in silk, her rival began to kiss her, nibbling on her lips before working her way down to plant a series of butterfly kisses across her aching breasts.

Jen thrashed in her bonds, gripped by the fugue. She could hear the approving murmurs of the crowd, and knew that this night her body was truly theirs. All her insecurities were gone; there was no room for anything other than her pride in serving Ethan and her terrible, dark hunger. 

After a delirious few moments of savoring the wet friction of Kami's agile tongue, Jen's breasts were pulsing with desire, her nipples erect and heavy, ripe for the taking. 

Naturally, it was at precisely this moment, that Kami stepped back, wrenching a frustrated moan from Jen. 

The redhead signaled to one of the slutslaves standing nearby. Instructions were exchanged, and the blonde sub curtsied, before coming to kneel before her.

"No," she gasped, unable to imagine how she'd possibly survive this latest assault on her senses. The blonde ignored her, and bent to her task.

As Kami returned to kiss her breasts again, the blonde slutslave leaned in and began to lightly lick her swollen, throbbing clitoris. Jen began to cry out, her hoarse cries filling the warm night with their aching need. 

Again, the crowd clapped; delighted at this latest development, pleased that she was to be pushed even farther. 

And all the while, the other slutslave continued her task, flogging Jen's body rhythmically, careful to avoid her two companions, yet skillful enough to land the occasional kiss on Jen's most delicate parts.

"Bravo, Kami, bravo," called out a woman from the crowd. 

"Not too fast though, Dear. Make her work for it." Was that Ethan's voice? She didn't think so, but the sporadic clapping to this remark made her wonder. 

Clearly they were enjoying her torment. 

But wasn't that why she was there, she wondered as she gasped her way deeper and deeper into her dark hunger? She was Ethan's creature after all, an instrument dedicated to his pleasure. And if this was what he'd chosen, if he'd decided that she should serve him by this public display, then she would. Her body, her heart, her mind, and her very soul were his. 

At the moment, however, the center of her universe seemed terribly indifferent to her devotion, reclined as he was in his chair, sipping his wine and chatting with an attractive Asian woman to his right, even as that woman's hand continued what Kami had started.

Only the crowd seemed to really pay her any mind. 

But were they all going to dictate the terms of her release? 

Frankly, she was beholden only to Master Ethan. But she dared not embarrass him in front of all these people by cuming without permission.

The only question was, if he was indifferent but they were willing, whose permission should she seek?

Jen writhed against her bonds, shaking with unsatiated need. Her pussy was receiving excellent attention, so much so that she wasn't even really conscious of the fact that her tormenter was a woman – something she'd never experienced before. 

Frankly, she just had to ignore that for now...it was too much. Between the tongue below, the talents Kami was applying, the clit clip, the vibrating plug, and the flogger, the fugue was deep and strong, and had essentially robbed her of any semblance of reason. 

She could focus on how good that tongue felt; she could focus on the stinging joy of the flogger against her ass; she could focus on how Kami's scent made her slightly dizzy; or she could focus on the pulses coursing throughout her body; she could even focus on the crowd, the restraints, and her exposed stance.

Beyond that however... 

Kami's sudden withdrawal made her thrash in despair, furious that her breasts had been robbed of such stimulation. 

She looked up at last to see the redhead striding away, descending back into the crowd, opening her kimono as she went. Upon arriving at Ethan's chair, she gave the Asian beauty a light slap on the wrist and sat back down on her lover's lap, positioning herself so that his throbbing shaft was positioned beneath her. Ethan smiled as she began to grind against him, the pleasure of it obvious for all to see.

Unable to deal with that sight, Jen gave herself over to oblivion, falling into the eddies and whirls of her rising lust with abandon.

Long, shuddering moments passed, her body twitching out its own passionate rhythm.

Finally, Jen lifted her gaze, shaking her head to try and clear her mind. She looked out on the crowd, savoring their admiration. Finally, bolstered by their obvious hunger for her, she looked once more at her Master. 

Master Ethan was still seated, but the redhead was now completely nude, straddling his body, her pussy hovering over Ethan's erect cock as she faced the stage. She could just make out its throbbing head nestled amidst Kami's wet folds. 

How she hated Kami in that moment. 

The redhead leaned back against him, tilting her head back so she could whisper in his ear.

There was a moment of silence – even the crowd seemed to know what was coming, even if she didn't – and then Ethan nodded. 

"Whenever you say, Kami, the decision is yours." Ethan's voice came to her through the fog. 

"Really, Love, I can decide?" 

She wiggled her hips, and Jen watched with envy as Ethan was forced to swallow hard. He held her by the hips, supporting her as she hovered over him.

"Yes. The choice is yours."

Everything had stopped...Jen was there, on the ragged edge of reason...ready, so ready...pinned by the twin restraints of her bonds and that wonderful tongue resting lightly atop her clit. 

"Excellent...then I choose...NOW." And with that she sank down onto him, crying out in a long shuddering sigh as he filled her. 

Simultaneously, as Jen salivated at the sight of Ethan's magnificent cock pushing into Kami's wet folds, that maddening light touch against her own pussy disappeared. 

Its sudden absence almost made her cry. 

Jen looked down to see the slutslave looking at Ethan. He nodded, and she returned to her duties. The flogger had stopped, and somehow this was both better and worse.

Stroke ... stroke ... pause ... warm breath ... stroke ...

It was maddening.

"Finish her. No more games, or you'll be up there next." Ethan's voice was hard, and the blonde flinched at the tone. 

"Yes, Master Ethan," came her small voice from below. 

And with that, the blonde gave her one final lick, pushing her right to the edge of her orgasm, and then reached out and deftly plucked off the clip.

She bucked and writhed as the sudden release drove an intense bolt of pleasurepain up from her clit into her consciousness and blasted away all vestiges of reason and restraint; coupled with the insistent vibrations emanating from her ass, it was simply too much. 

White-hot passion exploded, drowning out all else.

She couldn't say for certain, but she was pretty sure she blacked out. When she came to, Ethan was there, holding her up, his body hard against her, harder than the restraints that still held her. 

A woman stood next to him; the brunette in the cream suit. She was looking at Jen with a mixture of lust and admiration.

"My God, Ethan, I've never seen a slave go so long." The woman's hand was cool against her skin, idly teasing her right nipple. Jen looked at her, some of her fever falling away, taking in the brunette's beauty, wanting it for her own, wanting to take this woman and make her her own. 

"I know...and I know she hasn't even reached her full potential yet." The simple confidence of his statement made her mind whirl. If what she had just experienced wasn't the limit, then what was?

Ethan nodded to the woman. "If you'll excuse me." 

He stepped behind her, knelt, and turned off the plug. The sudden stillness in her body hit her as violently as the flogger. 

Jen shivered at the sudden lack of sensation ... and then purred as he slowly pulled it out. He deliberately took his time, teasing her with his delays...

She began to gasp again, and even heard herself start to beg a little. 

Naturally, he ignored all this. 

He always did. 

Then he stood, placed one hand on each hip, and pushed into her hungry, gasping ass, filling her in that way that only he could, sending her off into another spasming encounter with the little death.

Her reward, she wondered? Or his?

She collapsed, dimly aware that the moaning she could hear was coming from her. Still he continued to fuck her, letting the restraints hold her upright as he had his way with her. Time seemed to slow as she lost herself in the sensation of having him inside her. In all her time with him, he'd rarely fucked her in the ass, preferring instead to use his hands to ply her forbidden erogenous zone to enhance his other efforts. 

It felt wonderful; she could feel him moving inside her, and the friction of his cock pressing against the inner walls of her pussy was simply delightful. But mostly it was a new sensation, pleasant to be sure, but not one that would bring her to orgasm; certainly not are being so utterly quenched just moments before. 

That didn't matter, she thought to herself as she hung there, taking him in, relishing how his hands felt on her body, how good he smelled, how wonderful it was to be fucked by him here and now in front of all these people. 

The brunette was still there, she realized, and smiled to herself. Let that woman wonder what it was like; what it felt like to be so totally devoted to another to give one's entire self over to pleasure.

After some time, she could tell by his pace and breathing that he was growing close. So she began to clench her ass, gripping him as best she could, despite that feeling of being utterly stretched from the anal plug. 

He leaned forward into her, cupping her breasts and growling out his satisfaction into her ear as he began to fuck her harder. 

Summoning up the last vestiges of her strength – for how could she refuse him his pleasure now? – she began to grind her ass in a circular motion, moving in time with his thrusts. 

It worked. He gasped, bucked against her twice...three times...and then spasmed as he exploded inside her.

Ethan collapsed against her, the quiet sound of the crowd clapping around them at such a lovely conclusion to the evening's performance. 

Jen smiled weakly at the crowd ... she was spent. 

But she was triumphant. 

Finally, after what seemed to be a pleasant eternity of him sagging against her in an exhausted embraced, he stood, and slowly withdrew. 

Immediately the two slutslaves who'd done so much to torment her came to kneel before him. They began to gently wash his cock, first with warm, wet towels, and then with their tongues, eager to drink in the last of him. 

Jen could see all this by straining her neck, and it was only now, that the test ... performance ... whathaveyou was well and truly over that all the aches and strains of her evening seemed to return. 

Robbed of the adrenaline, the endorphins, and the simple excitement of such a public display, she was once again but a woman, a poor, fragile creature utterly shattered by a night's gift to her master. 

Ethan kissed her lightly and murmured in her ear. 

Jen smiled to herself, thrilled at what he'd said. 

He kissed her again, and then turned to his attendants. 

"Cut her down, oil her, and have her delivered to the house in the morning." Her words...so absurd last night, so natural now when repeated by a true dominant. 

In the morning, when the limousine dropped her off at the front door to Ethan's house, Kami was there to greet her.

What made Jen smile, however, as she forced herself to stand with poise despite the aches and strains of the night before, was not the fact that she was returning to her master. Nor was it the knowledge that she'd taken the very best they could throw at her and still triumphed, wowing the crowd with her performance.

No, it was the simple things in life, she decided, as she took Kami's outstretched hand and allowed herself to be led back up the steps and inside.

The simple things.

Like the platinum choker the redhead was now wearing.



Auction Ch. 11



"The question before me," said Ethan as he strode back and forth in front of them, "is what am I going to do with you two?"

Ethan turned to them, seated at the table in the kitchen; his handsome face marred by a glower. She could tell by looking at him that considerable anger lay just below the surface. The only question was whether that anger would engulf them. 

They had pushed things too far, she realized. They had let their own rivalry upset the larger order, and by doing so, they had challenged his authority.

Jen and Kami sat in silence, their legs touching one another underneath the heavy wooden table. Neither woman said a word; the ticking of the clock on the far wall filled the room with ample sound. 

Things had reached a crossroads of sorts; their months-long unspoken war for dominance had finally surface to the detriment of all three. What was supposed to have been a night's pleasure had turned into hours of torment for both women, and a not inconsiderable amount of embarrassment for Ethan. 

Not that he hadn't recovered handily, Jen thought, as she sifted in her seat to ease the burning welts on her buttocks and thighs. The blonde who'd flogged her the night before certainly knew her way around a whip. 

But the simple fact that the seeming perfection of Ethan's household had been so publicly exposed as a façade had caused quite a stir. For all the accolades his performance that previous night had won him, there would be talk. 

Even Jen, in her relative naiveté as the newest addition to the household, knew that. 

Jen sat there, her body gripped by anxiety, waiting to hear his judgment. 

He'd ordered them both to put on clothes – real clothes – and that command alone had put them on edge. 

Not that either of them really owned any 'real' clothes. For Jen at least, all of her original garments had long since been destroyed or given away; she could only imagine how little Kami owned after years of submission to Ethan. Everything they had – from the gowns they wore to events to the t-shirts they h sometimes let them wear around the house if they were cold – he'd picked out. To a garment, the governing logic behind every purchase he'd made was the drive to wantonly expose their bodies in a public setting or to emphasize some particular aspect of their bodies, thereby reminding them of their highly sexualized roles in his life. 

She had to admit it worked; since coming to his house, her self-esteem as a woman had risen. To be so constantly reminded that she was there to pleasure him had the secondary effect of making her feel that desirable, the more so since she was desperately attracted to him as a man, not simply as her Master. 

So, for the moment, they simply sat next to one another, each wearing a long terrycloth robe, their hands resting on the table as they watched him. Her curls were pulled back and bound with a sky blue satin ribbon, while Kami's auburn locks hung loose. Kami had a mug of coffee in front of her, and Jen watched the steam drift lazily up toward the kitchen's ceiling. 

For a long moment he said nothing, then he turned away and resumed his pacing again, only to pull up short after a half circuit.

"I want you both to understand one thing: This rivalry must stop. I simply will not have this kind of disorder and competition in my household."

His face was deadly serious, which made the anxiety that the pacing suggested slightly comical. Jen realized that while he knew that there was a problem, he didn't necessarily know how to fix it.

A sign that her Master was fallible?

Surely not.

"Kami, you are the first in this household. You have been with me for years, and you gave yourself willingly to me even after I granted you freedom."

The redhead nodded, a faint smile appearing on her lovely face.

"And yet, when I take a new slutslave, you become jealous of her and actively work to undermine her training. Why? Did you think you would be displaced? Have I given you some indication of this? Or are you simply that insecure, that petty, that you would seek to wreck what I have created here for us?"

Kami lowered her head in shame, her fair skin coloring with embarrassment.

"And now, look at yourself. I've had to put you back in a collar. Your own actions have forced me to demote you from concubine to a mere slutslave. Your own insecurities have cost you all those rights and privileges. Not least the exclusivity of my bed."


Jen winced at this, knowing how much Kami valued that. To think of it, Ethan had never taken her in his bed; it was a purview he'd granted entirely to Kami. She smiled with the knowledge that that had changed. 

The little redhead snapped her head up in indignation, her fiery pageboy haircut whirling around her face, "But, Master, I was only ..."

"No buts, Slave," his voice was sharp, and the redhead flinched before it, "No buts and no more talking. Your actions have done terrible things to the equilibrium of this household. You can either submit to my judgment in this matter, or you may leave."

Jen reeled at the thought of this stark choice. Ethan may not have known an exact solution to his quandary, but it was clear he was going to brook no dissent. That much was clear from his face.

Kami lowered her head again, tears welling in her green eyes. 

Jen watched her in silence, unable even to feel any sense of guilty pleasure at what her Mistress was experiencing. To have one's life so totally upset by the introduction of rival, and then be totally overturned in your actions to restore your standing must be a terrible thing, she realized. 

It was not a predicament she ever wanted to be in. At least as the apprentice submissive her she had no substantive standing to lose; she had no rights or privileges, not even any real sense of pride, and so only her deep yearning for Ethan could be injured by his judgments. 

"Well," he asked, the hard edge to his voice cutting into the silence, "what shall it be? My judgment or your freedom?"

A long moment passed as her companion choked back a sob. When she looked up, her eyes were bright with tears, but she forced a smile.

"I choose you, Sir. How could I choose otherwise?"

He smiled, and the tension faded suddenly. 

Jen marveled at how mercurial he could be sometimes; so terribly consuming in his anger, and yet so easily moved back to the warmth and joy that she found so addicting. 

"Come here."

Kami stood slowly and pushed her chair away from the table. She walked over to him, into his waiting arms. He kissed her lightly on the lips, one hand on the small of her back, the other cradling her neck. 

After a moment, he released her. 

"Excellent. You will wear that collar for one year. When that time is completed, we shall revisit the question of your status. In the meantime, however, you are no longer my lover. You are simply my slutslave."

Kami nodded meekly.

"Now that that is settled, strip."

Without a word, Kami doffed her robe. 

"Now suck my cock."

Jen watched her sink to her knees without a word, kneeling before him to unzip his pants, and then reach within to pull out the heavy length of his penis. 

Jen was duly impressed at how smoothly she did this. Either she'd known this moment was coming or she was that highly skilled as a submissive. In the span of 30 seconds he'd demoted her and then ordered her to service him. And she did it without so much as a murmur, without even a break in the smile on her face. 

What power did he have over Kami? 

Was it the same power he had over her? 

The though suddenly struck her – did he 'fit' Kami in the same way that he 'fit' her? She'd always assumed that that union that they enjoyed was unique to them, but something in the way Kami so readily acquiesced suggested that her rival was every bit as addicted to Master Ethan's pleasures as she was.

If her rival was addicted, then she could certainly understand, for the simple thought of thinking about his cock inside her had her heart racing and her pussy throbbing. 

She licked her lips at the sight of it, momentarily losing her focus as the mass of auburn began to bob back and forth with that most intimate rhythm. 

"Jen." Ethan's voice snapped her focus back to him.

"Master?"

"You have also brought discord to this house through your own actions."

She had? When all she had done was to acquiesce to his every whim? To endure the cruelties of the same slut who even know was sucking on his cock? 

"Sir?"

"Don't play coy with me. You and I both know that you long to be more than simply a slutslave. That you hunger for me; that you hunger to have me all to yourself."

"Yes, Sir, I do." Her voice was barely a whisper.

He took a moment to run a fingertip lightly across Kami's cheek, hollowed as it was by the excellent suction she was applying. She purred, and he shuddered suddenly, leaving Jen to wonder what oral talents her rival could truly bring to bear.

"Ah, so you admit it."

"I do, Sir." 

It was so strange to be sitting in a bathrobe at a kitchen table having this conversation. She was admitting to her master that she had actively sought to push out her mistress; shouldn't she have been bound to the X-form and whipped for such an admission? 

For that matter, wasn't the proper setting for this conversation one that required a flogger, and not a kitchen?

More importantly, had she reached a point in her submission where she wanted to be treated like a slutslave? Seven months ago she'd been a professional student, preparing to defend her thesis before a panel of judges. Now she was defending her actions before just one judge, the only judge in her life. 

"And why is that?"

Was he really asking her? Did he not know?

But before she began to speak, he held his hand up for silence.

He knew.

Even as Kami filled the room with the wet noises of her devotion, he knew. 

"I understand, your concerns, Jennifer. But there are certain realities to this household that you must come to accept."

"First, I am your Master. You exist to serve me; that is the terms of your contract. Your own signature legally binds you to serve me as I see fit, not as you see fit. You have no discretion in this matter. However, should you wish another arrangement, then I am sure we can reach some form of financial settlement to free you from your contract."

Was she being offered her freedom too? 

After a mere seven months?

Did she even want her freedom?

"Well?" he asked, his gaze unnaturally focused for a man who was receiving the attentions of a talented fellatrix, "is that what you want? To break the contract?"

"No, Sir, no," the words were out of her mouth before she really had time to think about it. Setting aside the fact that her debts were so crippling that they'd led her to this lifestyle, Jen found herself very much at home in Ethan's house, and the prospect of removing herself from this rather unique-yet-liberating environment was not something she wanted.

She lowered her head, trying to mimic the submissive pose Kami had just adopted. A moment passed, and then, apparently mollified, he continued. 

"Second, despite her demotion, Kami remains senior to you in all things. She is stripped of her power to order you about for her own pleasure, but she remains empowered to act on my behalf. Should she tell you to do something, you will do it. Understood?"


"Yes, Master."

"Finally, in light of your demonstrated devotion to me, as well as a mark of your progress from novice, we will have you tattooed with my symbol."

The Lily! She was getting her Lily!

Jen knew that lily, had watched it sway its way into her fantasies every time Kami left the room. It lay there before her now, deftly placed atop the redhead's pert buttocks as she knelt before him, hungrily running her tongue along the length of him. Jen could just see the glistening lips of Kami's labia as she knelt before their master; the sight was stirring in ways she hadn't expected.

The lily's design was simple and elegant, and told any observer that she was truly his. And to her pleasant surprise, that possession was something she wanted very much to convey to all observers. 

He smiled, "I think that if you want to be bound to me so badly you'll cause this much trouble, then that's a clear sign you're ready."

She smiled back at him, giddy with her newfound status, an entirely different woman from the overly self-conscious academic of her past.

"Of course, should you wish it removed when your time here is finished, we will have that done."

"No," she murmured, "no." Even now, this early into her time here, she knew that she would never have his mark removed. 

He smiled, obviously pleased at her immediate decision in his favor.

She'd resolved early one that if she ever managed to win it, that the lily would be something she'd carry with her for the rest of her life. Right or wrong, stay or leave, she'd grown into a very important part of herself in her time here in his house. 

"Now, finally, I want to tell you that should you cause any further disruptions, I will expel you from this house with no further chance at redemption. Furthermore, should you force me to expel you, I will not relieve you of your contractual obligations. I will simply sell you to someone more inclined to break you in the manner you would then deserve."

A chill swept through Jen as his mood shifted again from pleasant to hard in an instant. It struck her then, as she sat at the kitchen table in a robe, watching another woman suck the cock of the man she was bound to serve, that this was all very real, even if it was something you only read about in trashy novels. He did have total control over her life; he had all of her identification and financial papers, he had her clothes and possessions, and she didn't even know where she was. 

It was sobering to realize that he could deliver on his threat – and that no one would ever know. 

She hadn't suspected Ethan had such iron in him; he hadn't been like this when they were lovers in college. But then, much time had passed. 

"Still," he continued, "that isn't something I think I shall have to concern myself with, is it?"

Jen shook her head, happy to be given an opportunity to break the tension. He was deadly serious, she knew, but only to the point of conveying his displeasure at her misdeeds. 

And then, with a wave of his hand, all was forgotten and she was striding over to him, her step light with relief and slightly dizzy with that hunger that he'd unleashed in her. The sounds of Kami sucking his cock had begun to resonate with her; worming their way into her mind. 

Ethan cupped her chin and kissed her lightly. "Your place is here. Never doubt that."

"Yes, Master."

"Now strip, and help your slutsister."

Jen slipped out of her robe, the terrycloth rubbing deliriously against her nipples as she did so. The air in the kitchen was cool, yet her body was warm with anticipation. 

His command was a bit of a shock, even if she expected it. The way he transitioned between intimate and dominant often caught her off guard.

Still, he was giving her exactly what she wanted. 

Jen knelt beside Kami and reached up for Ethan's cock. It was warm and throbbing, wet from Kami's tongue and pulsing with desire. Just the sight of it made her wet, to say nothing of how good it felt to hold it in her hand, feel its heft and weight, and know that it was hers for the moment. 

She leaned forward and kissed the head of Ethan's cock, noting with some pleasure that her action forced Kami to pause in her own efforts.

She felt right, like her place in Life had been reaffirmed. It was a strange feeling, entirely at odds with who she thought she was, and yet so overwhelming. 

Jen swirled her tongue around the tip, applying an even pressure against the sensitive top; he growled with pleasure, and she gripped him with one hand in response and began to stroke him gently.

He felt amazing, like that old cliché she'd read about in romance novels, like steel wrapped in silk. The skin of his cock moved with her touch, even as its throbbing core remained firm.

She lost herself in the taste of him; he was freshly showered and the scent of his body-wash mingled with the rich smell of his sexual arousal; it was a taste she never got tired of, and she savored it, letting her tongue linger for just a moment on the thin slit at the head of his throbbing member. 

Her reverie only broke when Kami's hand enfolded hers.

As the redhead's soft touch electrified her skin, Jen knew that she wanted to be here, like this, bound to him, a willing captive of her own will. 

She couldn't explain the hows and whys of it; she just knew at the core of her being that she wanted only to please him. And that desire, so strong in her for so long, was fused with a deep and abiding sexual hunger, one she had been wrestling with her whole life. 

Before it had caused heartache.

Only now, here, in this place, that hunger was given all the lead it wanted, it was encouraged and molded, sculpted into the service of the more general appetites of her psyche.

She sighed with desire and took the length of him into her mouth, reveling in the way that he filled her. His shaft was hot against her tongue, and she had to relax her throat as she took in more and more of him.

As she was approaching a total focus on his cock, a sudden, pleasant warmth enveloped her left nipple. She opened her eyes and released a little of him, gasping a bit as he came free of her throat. Jen held him in her mouth, savoring his weight against her tongue. 

Kami's talented mouth was now affixed to her left nipple, lightly bruising it with nibbling bites. 

She'd never experienced that kind of attention from a woman before. 

It felt amazing.

Ethan reached down and swatted Kami.

"Leave her be, Slut. You're here to suck my cock, not play with her. That can come later if you're good."

"Yes, Master, it's just that she wasn't sharing."

"Then here, lest you two start squabbling again."

Ethan took his cock with his right hand and withdrew from her slowly, leaving Jen aching at the sudden emptiness she felt. 

Without so much as a glance at her for her talents, he guided his thick shaft towards Kami's waiting mouth, holding the back of her head with his left hand. Without a word, the redhead let him push into her wet mouth, purring her pleasure at being so chosen.

That she was truly going to have to share him grated her, to be sure, but it was quite reassuring to know that Kami had been demoted. It gave her hope, and told her that her position here wasn't entirely immutable, that she could rise and fall with the conduct of her service to Ethan 

And she intended to rise. 



Auction Ch. 12



She awoke as she did every day, alone in the solitude of her bed, swaddled in Egyptian cotton and a duvet of silk and down. 

Ethan, of course, was nowhere to be found. 

He never spent the night. 

Warm light streamed in through the heavy linen draperies; her room, a large affair punctuated only by a bed, was situated on the third floor of the eastern side of the house. 

Jen stretched and yawned, trying to will her body into getting out of bed. She glanced over at the clock and smiled dreamily; it was only nine thirty. Technically she didn't have to be anywhere until eleven. 

Technically.

For some reason, however, she found herself lying there, ready to get out of bed. Setting her feet on the floor, Jen stood and stretched again, leaning back with her arms arched above her head. Her long blonde curls brushed against the small of her back; after all this time, her hair had grown quite long. She was enjoying its length, however, and had no plans to ask for a haircut anytime soon. 

Next she began to stretch out her whole body, the better to prepare her for the day. She wasn't sure what the afternoon would bring, but a painful experience early only with a pulled muscle in her calf had taught her to be ready for anything. 

At length, she stood, and padded into the bathroom. Following her toilet, she took a moment to admire herself in the large framed mirror. She had to admit that seven months of servitude had done good things for her physique. Though she'd never been slender like Kami, the combination of regular exercise, rest, and a demanding sexual regimen had done wonders. Her legs were leaner and more toned, and her stomach was flatter; her breasts remained full and heavy, but were much more pert. Her skin positively glowed -- not least from tanning in the afternoons -- and best of all, as she turned around, she saw that her ass was firm and tight.

A small detail, to be sure, but for a girl who'd always been plagued with body issues, to see her body taking on a more toned, lean look thrilled her. She might not ever achieve the willowy frame of the women she saw on television, but her figure had trimmed down in some key areas, which only served to emphasize the full swell of her heavy breasts and rolling arc of her hips. 

Still, she frowned as she looked at herself, the promised lily tattoo had yet to appear in the small of her lower back. Jen knew Ethan to be a man of his word, but found herself eager to gain the status that marking conveyed; its inscription on her body, she believed, would elevate to a much more equal position with Kami.

The better to replace her. 

But that wasn't going to happen, she thought, as she padded down the hall to the exercise room. Located on the second floor, it was a large, well-lit expanse replete with the other instruments of Ethan's capricious whims. Here there were no whips or plugs or clamps -- here there was only the dread domain of sustain aerobic exercise. Jen had always been a bookworm, more given to staying in and baking for friends while they watched Battlestar Galatica reruns than she was inclined to exercise. Not least because her breasts were so full, she tended to limit her exertions to brisk walks and whatever adventures she could get into in the bedroom.

Ethan had changed all that, of course. 

As with the rest of her life, his will had made itself known in short order, and so each day, barring some unforeseen event, she found herself in the gym, working her way through a robust regimen he'd aid out for her. 

Kami would often join her, and Jen could compete with the lithe redhead even as she admired her lean body in motion, but Ethan never appeared. She didn't know when he worked out, but she was sure he had to, as his physique was never less than stunning.  

She took the time to stretch again briefly, working out the last kinks; her buttocks were still sore from the night before, but no amount of stretching could help that. Only time could remove the welts.

She selected a machine and began her routine. The elliptical was his instrument of choice; it allowed her to move quickly and aerobically without too much lateral movement that would cause discomfort in her breasts. She found his concern in this regard oddly touching; he'd said that the only discomfort she would suffer would be by his hand as punishment for her indiscretions. 

Nearly an hour and a half later, Ethan swept into the room, a sheaf of papers in one hand, and a leash in the other. As she moved, Jen looked on in amazement at the sight of Kami mincing along behind her master. The redhead was blindfolded and gagged, and had her hands bound in front of her, pulled forward by the leash. Her legs were encased in black latex that ran from high mid-thigh down to a pair of five-inch stilettos, and Jen could see a clipped chain of finely fashioned silver running up from between her legs to a ring clip affixed to the platinum collar at her neck. 

Kami's hair was disheveled and her body shone with sweat. 

She looked exhausted, spent from whatever he'd done to her.

Most disturbing -- and interesting -- of all was the hash of welts across her backside, a sure sign that Ethan had used a willow switch on her bottom. 

What had the redhead done?

What hadn't she done?

Jen smiled to herself, her pussy throbbing suddenly with possible answers. She wanted so very much to know, if only so that she might receive a similar admonishment at Ethan's hands. 

As if he could sense her thoughts, Master whipped his head abruptly around to look at her, to take in the sight of his voluptuous slutslave churning away on the machine.

He stopped and looked at her, a hungry intensity in his gaze that suddenly made Jen glad that her former mistress was bound by that leash.

She kept moving, fighting the fatigue as the elliptical machine approached the end of its cycle. Her eyes down, Jen hoped he would move on and take his storm cloud with him. 

"Slut," his voice was flat and hard. She shivered in fear at the sound of it. He was clearly angry, but she couldn't see why.

"Yes, Master," she panted as she ran forward over and over.

"Do another hour." 

"Yes, Master," she nodded. 

Jen's legs ached and her lungs burned; he'd caught her near the end of a high-aerobic workout, one designed to really burn calories. The whisper of the elliptical machine was the only noise in the room; she preferred to be alone with her thoughts these days, and hadn't touched her IPod in months, even though he had given her one. 

A long moment passed, punctuated only by the sound of the machine.

Finally he spoke.

"When you're finished here, shower and then come to the study."

She nodded, eyes down, legs churning.

With that, he walked behind her, dragging the leash, forcing Kami to stumble forward on her heels as they moved. And then he was gone, the clicking of Kami's heels fading quickly as they left. 

An hour later, she was near collapse. Her body had survived the additional hour through sheer willpower; her legs burned and her lungs rasped for air. Sweat covered her supple frame, and her once luxurious curls were matted and tangled. 

Finally, the machine beeped as it began its cool-down cycle. Jen nearly sobbed with relief. The desire to please Ethan having been met, she now craved rest. Still, as much as she wanted to collapse, she knew that he would expect her shortly. The beep was loud enough that he'd be able to hear it in most of the other rooms in the house. 

She had an inkling of which room he might have gone to; the second floor had a large playroom for just such occasions as this. 

Weakly, slowly, she headed off in that direction. Her legs burned with each step, and the fatigue gripped her so that she felt like she was moving underwater. The air in the house was cool on her skin, but not entirely unwelcome given her waves of heat radiating from her spent form. 

The stairs were murder, and her thighs roared out their protest as she ascended to the second floor. 

Finally, she tottered into the playroom, physically shattered in a way usually generated only by a long night's entertainment. 

The room was bight with the midday sun pouring in from large windows. In many ways the room resembled a traditional martial arts dojo: plain white walls, hardwood flooring, and mats on the floor. There, however, the similarities stopped. One wall held a large wooden H-frame with several stout poles intersecting one another, the better to bind a willing (or unwilling) slave; and several hooks hung from the ceiling, their purpose obvious to all but the most obvious observer. Lastly, a table set by the door held an array of tools and toys, a display that was never disguised no matter who the guest might be. 

She could see Ethan as she entered. He was nude, standing with his back to her. Jen found herself admiring his form until his words broke her reverie.

"Did you do as I asked?" He didn't even look at her at first. 

"Of course, Master," she responded, hurt that he even thought she might do otherwise. Once, maybe, she might have been lazy or impertinent, but now, now she was unable to deny him most anything. 

Her lungs still burned from the recent exercise, and he turned slightly, and gestured for her to kneel. 

Gratefully she came to his side and sank down beside him. The smell of her sex mingled with sweat filled her nostrils as her legs parted. 

If he noticed, he said nothing, only turn and stared at her with his fierce brown eyes. She was reminded suddenly of a bird of prey, so intently did he watch her. 

It was some time before he released her, and only then when the sheer intensity of his scrutiny made her tremble. He knew then, she realized, as she forced herself to endure his gaze and yet not look him directly in the eyes -- that was forbidden under most circumstances -- that he was pleased with her. 

She could see him trying to suppress a smirk. Saw him try and fail, and felt herself grin slightly, suddenly giddy that she pleased him.

Finally, though, he nodded slightly, and turned away. Release from his hold, she looked down. 

And gasped with delight. 

The very sight before her made her weak with desire.

And dizzy with fear.

Kami lay prostrate before, trussed and bound like a plaything, every part of her supple body presented for display and enjoyment. 

After months of seeing the redhead only in positions of indulgence and power, to see her presented so was delightfully unexpected. 

It was so wicked Jen felt a new heat surge into her despite the terrible fatigue that gripped her.

The redhead lay on her back, spread across a short half-bench made of leather and dark wood. Her feet were up in the air, spread wide to give Ethan all the access he could want. Thick bands of leather bound them to two stout steel poles that arched out and away from one another to form a crude 'V'. 

Ethan stood between her legs, the hard length of his shaft buried in the steamy silk of her pussy. He had one hand on her vulva, as if to steady himself, and was slowly fucking her, clearly taking his time to savor the long bliss of withdrawal and renewal. 

Jen watched the flex of his buttocks with a very hungry gaze.

Kami's arms were also bound, stretched out wide to either side, her small wrists tightly locked in bands of steel and leather as well. 

Best of all, there were thin cords of stout nylon running from her ankles to each of her nipples, affixed to clover-leafed clips that held turgid punished buds in their steely grip. The cords were taut with the tension of her bonds, and even the slightest movement on Kami's part produced wonderful torment.

Kami moaned out her pleasurepain from beneath a bright red ballgag, and her green eyes were bright with pain, even as they glazed over with her delirium every time Ethan slid his thick cock into her.

Jen could see the redhead's pale thighs tremble with the strain of the forced pose ... the hashes of welts across her inner thighs, ample evidence of Ethan's displeasure. 

Or perhaps they were marks of his pleasure? 

She still wasn't sure.

Even after all this time.

Jen found her gaze drawn to the thin lines of raised flesh, each one a brilliant testament of Ethan's will, the redhead's pale skin was puffed and agitated from what could only have been Master Ethan's rattan cane. She knew it well, had felt the caress of it on more than one occasion, as its dark length flexed along her curves in a searing geometry of punishment and delight. 

She knew some masters preferred nylon, but Ethan was more traditional in his appetites; his philosophy, he'd told her on one particularly terrifying Thursday evening, was that if the cane broke, then so be it.

He hadn't broken the cane on her that night.

But by the end she'd wished he had. 

She'd begged him by the end. 

Oh how she'd begged, keening out her desperation as he denied her everything. 

So experience told her how very much those welts burned; the more so for their placement all along Kami's most delicate flesh. She knew well how the heat would be rising in each one, ranging from the searing sting of the newly adorned 

Kami must have done something of some magnitude to warrant such attention.

Ethan stirred beside her, snapping her out of her reverie. His touch was light on her cheek as he turned to her. She could see his cock just out of reach, covered in the glistening joy of Kami's pleasure. Even thusly anointed in the scent of her rival, she wanted him, wanted to run her tongue over the length of him. To ask for it, to give in to her desire and move toward him without invitation would be the height of impertinence. 

It wasn't hers. 

She belonged to it.

Still, it was so close it made her mouth dry. 

Jen could feel the fatigue fading as her hunger began to build, all the stronger from the heady smell of her own wet sex, exposed beneath her by the open kneeling stance he'd trained her to assume. 

Ethan cupped her chin, and gently guided her to her feet. She stood, her hands clasped behind her back, awaiting his pleasure. 

He let her wait, and kept at his measured thrusts, seemingly oblivious to the hearty moans emanating from the captive redhead beneath him. Jen marveled at how calm he looked; as if he hadn't a care in the world; as if his shaft wasn't gripped by a pussy she knew was even more talented than her own.

But there he was, serene, almost distant. 

He smiled at her.

"You're wondering how I am this calm." Not a question; a statement.

It was uncanny how he knew how to read her like this.

Jen nodded, smiling a little. Ethan winked at her and suddenly surged forward, impaling the full length of himself into the prostrate slutslave before him. Kami wailed through her gag as the nipple clips suddenly went limp and then snapped back as he withdrew.

Ethan stepped away and turned to Jen. "It's simple, really."

And without any further explanation, he reached out and took her heavy breasts in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over her taut nipples. Jen didn't have time to ponder his non-explanation; the sensation was too strong. She sagged into his embrace, thrilling to the feel of his hard shaft sliding in between her own wet labia as he pulled her to him.

Without further pretext he pushed her down onto the floor and thrust into her. She screamed out in delight as he began to fuck her in earnest. Ethan had none of the pretext or restraint she'd just seen with Kami. This was raw, animalistic in its intensity. He was already aroused, and she devoted those parts of her mind that weren't succumbing to the fugue to watching his resolve erode in the face of their mutual pleasure. 

He didn't kiss her and he didn't speak, save once to growl out how much he liked the way she smelled. 

Her mind thrilled to that, happy to be his instrument of pleasure. 

Encouraged, she called out his name and pushed back against him.

Of course, he ignored her.

He just fucked her well and true.

Ethan's shaft filled her, and the sweat of his body mingled with her own. She clenched his shaft with her inner muscles, grasping him rhythmically each time he withdrew, clutching at his cockhead just because she could.

He growled with pleasure as he realized what she was doing and attacked her with renewed fury, pulling her arms around him as he began to really pound into her. 

She was grateful for the thick matting beneath them; the force of his thrusts would have been painful had she been against the hard wood.

His body crushed against hers with such force, her breasts pressed painfully between them as he clove to her in his ferocity. 

Distantly, some part of her could hear a series of whimpers and moans coming from the bound redhead; with a start she realized that every time Ethan thrust into her, his frame pushed against the half-bench. And, with her nipples so deftly poised to broadcast any vibrations, their lovemaking must have been hell for Kami, a rhythmic series of painful shocks that brought no concurrent pleasure.

To say nothing of the fact that it was Ethan's roughshod entrée into her rival's sopping pussy that was the cause of such torment.

Jen smiled to herself and hung on, drinking in the thought of Kami's mental and physical discomfort, letting the sound of the gurgling wails of aggravation swirl in her mind, an acoustic accoutrement to the waves of pleasure coursing through her with each thrust.

Her pussy was so wet, its silken confines gripping him with every heave of his body. He was so deep inside her she hoped they might fuse together into one being. Jen's mind reeled with that possibility, even as she knew it to be mere fiction brought on by her own sexual frenzy.

The fugue was very strong now; the little death was approaching.

Jen wrapped her legs around him, clutching at his hard buttocks and lower back with her calves and thighs, savoring the simplicity of this intercourse. Though the experience of being his sub thrilled her, there were times she simply wanted to be fucked and fucked well, without all the ceremony of domination and submission. 

This exchange was a welcome change, nothing more than a simple union between two lovers. She'd needed this; she hadn't been fucked like this in a long, long time.

It was all so normal that she found the whole experience surreal.

Suddenly, as if sensing her own growing joy, his began to reach a new pitch, pulsing into her forcefully at the apex of each thrust, and then withdrawing out and up, the better to drag the entirety of his swollen shaft across her throbbing clitoris.

Jen found herself struggling to sustain her own crumbling resolve, thrashing and keening in her determination to deny her own release until he came. 

But of course she couldn't, and soon collapsed into her own orgasm, succumbing to her release with a long, low moan as spots formed in front of her eyes and her whole body spasmed in his embrace. 

He held her fast, pushing her onward and further into delight as he continued to fuck her. His pace slowed a bit, his intent to prolong her pleasure without overloading her capacity to absorb it clear in the way he clung to her.

Some part of her mind distantly wondered if she was allowed to cum without permission, but it was too late; she was already sobbing out her release, her manicured nails clawing at the hard muscles of his back. The feel of his broad frame against her, the heady scent of him, both heightened her senses even further, and she felt herself wracked by a series of trembling aftershocks.

He moved in time with her, riding out her secondary orgasms and enhancing them with well-placed thrusts. 

Finally, when she'd grown still beneath him, he released her and withdrew. He stood, and looked down at her; his satisfaction was obvious, so too was his throbbing need for his own release. 




Auction Ch. 12



Without needing to be told Jen sat up and took Ethan's wet shaft in her mouth. 

How could she do otherwise?

As she took him in, she could still taste Kami after all this time. 

This would have bothered her, save for the fact that it was her kneeling before him in worship, while her former mistress lay bound nearby, and not, as it had been so often, the reverse.

Ethan was already very close, warm and throbbing against her hungry tongue; in short order her talents proved true as he abruptly pulled out of her mouth with loud POP!

Eager for his gift, she closed her eyes and nipped at the tip of his shaft with her lips. Surprised at the sudden sensation, Ethan let out a loud groan and exploded. Hot, thick ropes of his semen coursed across her cheeks, brow, and lips. He went on for some time, even going so far as to shower her collarbone and breasts generously.

One heavy gob of semen landed in her open mouth, and she shuddered with the sudden pleasure of his taste.

Jen purred with delight; happy to honored thusly. This was the gift she'd always craved from her lovers; to receive it from him for the first time since coming to his house was glorious.

Ethan suddenly knelt and pushed her back down. She lay back, ready for him even as her body cried out in protest against any further exertion. 

But she could deny him nothing. 

He leaned in and his tongue flicked out, scoring the cleft of her labia, running delicately over the ruddy flesh of her shaven skin for just a moment, and then withdrawing. She shivered and moaned at this, suddenly hungry once more for his touch.

He stood, and handed her the rattan cane, the dark promise of its pale wooden shaft seemingly incongruous with the intimate union they'd just shared.

Jen struggled to her feet and took the instrument from him, confused at the abrupt ending to their intimacy.

"You asked how I could be so calm? Simple, I was waiting for you. Kami was just foreplay. A punishment for her and a diversion for me until you'd finished."

Such a gift!

Jen turned to look, unable to believe him.

Kami looked up at her, tears of rage streaming down her face. 

It was true!

Jen looked down at her, acutely conscious of Ethan's seed winding its way down her own face in a mockery of the other woman's tears.

"She's yours. She's been waiting for you. Enjoy."

And then he was gone. 

Jen stared at the crop in her hand. 

She'd never been given responsibility or power like this before.

Kami's gasping pussy hove into her view, its glorious petals still desperate for release. 

Green eyes glared up at her.

A wicked thought formed in her mind.

It was going to be a very pleasant afternoon. 



Auction Ch. 13



With one final bump to indicate that the pilot didn't really know what he was doing, the Airbus came to a stop at their gate. After some moments, the tired voice of the flight attendant came over the intercom and informed them that they could unfasten their seatbelts. 

It had been a very long flight. 

Ethan stood, smoothed his shirt, gathered up his book and jacket, and stepped out into the aisle. Beside him, Jen rose to her feet, careful to move slowly lest the tiny swatch of black cloth ride up and expose her nude form beneath. Running to just high mid-thigh, the mini skirt hugged every inch of her, its snug fit quite translucent in certain select places as its micromesh fabric stretched to accommodate her form. 

Of course, those most intimate of places the mini skirt barely covered were those most often ogled by passerbys. 

Panties were so long gone from her world that she'd never even though to ask, despite the knowledge that they were going to be traveling.

Whether hungrily surveyed by men, or scornfully dismissed by women, since her ascension into Master Ethan's house Jen's lush body -- in this case, her taut, if well-rounded, ass -- was now on permanent display. 

Master Ethan had made a point to deny her even the barest whisp of underwear. He'd made it known to her, by word and by riding crop, that he expected she be ready for him at all times; thus, no panties. This demand that she be able accommodate his hungry, seeking shaft at a moment's notice left her in a semi-perpetual state of self-conscious arousal. It was easier when they were at his estate, since she knew then that no outside party could interrupt his desires, whereas in theory even Master Ethan had to adhere to some social norms regarding modesty, nudity, and sexuality whenever they went anywhere outside the grounds of his estate. 

And yet his behavior to date told her that he would readily spurn those social mores if it meant pushing her training a little farther. The memory of an afternoon's drive through the country on his motorcycle came to mind, not least for the way that the wind had felt on her nude body. Two citations later he'd finally let her put on a pair of cut offs and tiny bikini top, but by then she learned to extent to which he was willing to go. 

Ethan believed that if she had to wear clothing then she would wear only what was required to pass a casual inspection. Should some more observant person really look, Jen's body was to be readily observable. 

She'd never dared to ask him what drove this requirement; he'd simply told her that as a slutslave, her body was to serve as an instrument of pleasure at all times, hence the display. Frankly, if it weren't for airport security, she was sure he would have made her wear some sort of vibrator, the better to constantly remind her of her sexual status.

Even so, the wide-eyed look the security worker had given her platinum collar was enough to start their trip out in the right context and remind her that her true place in Ethan's life was on her knees.

Not that that self-awareness of her status didn't fill her every waking moment.

She knew what she was, what she'd become.

She'd been a lady once, someone who'd hosted dinner parties where learned minds mulled over the nuances of Soviet foreign policy over glasses of fine wine; who'd given lectures to undergraduates on the particulars of human rights; who'd read Kierkegaard and Schopenhauer; who'd written books. 

Now she spent her days and nights moaning out her lusts beneath the crop, seeking only to please so that she might taste the cock of her master.

She had been a lady; now she was a whore, a slut, and a slave.

All by her own hand.

Times had certainly changed for the bookworm from southern Texas.

As she stood there in the small space between their seats and the next, contorted backwards by the pressure of the cushion against the backs of her knees, Jen could feel herself being scrutinized by everyone around her. 

She endured the withering glare of the heavyset businesswoman opposite them, she could feel her pussy throb with the sheer sin of being out in public thusly displayed for public consumption, of being everything that the businesswoman, in her off the rack grey suit and matronly heels, was not - wanton, open, available ... utterly sexual.

The woman removed her belongings and, with one final, matronly look of disapproval, moved off towards the exit, hissing with disdain at the way Jen presented herself. 

A group of three young men, probably college students, followed her, their eyes roaming freely over her body, and not without approval. They left, murmuring to each other, likely boasting at the sexual prowess they would possess, at the things they would do to her.

Jen smiled, drinking in their lust like fine champagne. Being so openly admired was new to her; she knew Ethan wanted her, but a small part of her still wondered whether some of that was driven by their past association in graduate school. 

Was his desire driven by a hidden affection for her? 

Or did he simply revel in controlling her because he'd known her in their other life, because they'd once just been two lovers in grad school?

She couldn't tell. He rarely gave her any clues. It wasn't that he wouldn't talk to her -- since Kami's fall from grace, Jen often found herself his conversation companion -- it was that there were aspects of his life that he wouldn't discuss with her. She assumed this meant that he didn't trust her enough to let her into those places of his heart yet, although the fear that she simply wouldn't ever be worthy of such trust clawed at her. 

Did he use her simply because she was there, and not because he wanted her?

She didn't know.

She couldn't know. 

All evidence, however, pointed to the fact that he craved her. Kami still occupied his bed, but he came to her often. His attentions to her were frequent, and seemed, though she had little sense of time, to be more frequent of late.

And yet somehow, despite her total devotion to him, which was as genuine as anything she'd ever given to any man, knowing other men found her attractive pleased her in a way no amount of his attentions could.

Sometimes in the quiet of her days, when he was absent, she wondered what it would be like to have another man touch her.

Did that make her wicked?

Did it make her a bad slutslave?

She knew it did.

And yet ... 

Ethan turned to her, his brown eyes locking hers, and looked at her for a moment. She shivered, wondering if he somehow knew she was at that very moment mulling over the peculiarities of her imagined infidelities. 

He held her gaze just long enough to completely unsettle her -- just long enough to convince her that yes, he did know that she craved the touch of others, if only affirm her sense of self-worth -- and then smiled to show her all was well. 

She raged inside at the thought that his mere gaze could have such an effect on her. Then, with a light kiss on the tip of her nose, he stepped out and walked down the aisle, leaving for the jetway, throwing a "get our bag, please" over his shoulder as he left. 

Another passerby hissed with disdain, though this time Jen knew it was for the way he'd ordered her about. The woman simply didn't understand, she thought to herself as she smoothed her skirt once more. 

It wasn't an issue of male versus female roles. Ethan didn't command her because he was a man; he simply owned her every moment because he was Ethan. 

Not everyone could be so enlightened, she realized. 

What that woman didn't understand -- couldn't understand -- was the sense of freedom that Jen enjoyed. Prior to coming to Ethan's house, she'd been adrift, trapped by her financial obligations, starved for affection, and overwhelmed at the circumstances of her career. He'd changed all that, setting her right in a way she hadn't dreamed possible. Prior to becoming his, she'd only ever considered submission as a purely sexual thing, something for the bedroom only. 

He'd taught her that total submission was just that: Total. 

Once she'd come to accept that, once she'd gotten over first the thrill of being his sexual plaything and then the sobering reality of her servitude to Ethan and Kami, everything had clicked. Since she had no choice, her life was utterly devoid of responsibilities. If he wanted her to get his bag, then she would get his bag, safe in the knowledge that he would deal with whatever consequences.

Even if those consequences meant she got arrested for indecent exposure. 

He had such faith in her that she wondered at it. 

Without being there, he knew she would obey him, even to the point of putting her body on display for the entire plane. He knew she wouldn't think to ask another passenger for help. 

Knew she wouldn't defy his wishes.

Knew she wouldn't defy his wishes even as her own insecurities about her body clawed at this wanton display in such a public forum.

Granted, seven months of servitude had physically transformed her body into something far more desirable than she'd ever known, but her inner demons still insisted that her body couldn't be a thing of desire.

She fought those demons everyday. 

And, with his typical disdain, Ethan refused all her entreaties to accommodate her insecurities; to the contrary, Jen was quite certain that he went out of his way to overexpose her.

She'd even gone so far as to tell him once about her discomfort at being thusly displayed, but that episode had only ended in heartache. He'd become quite angry at her, and shunned for a week. The result was devastating; his absence was more painful than anything else she could have imagined.

Blushing bright red, she turned and reached up to open the overhead bin, acutely conscious of the fact that the bottom of the skirt was rising rapidly. Another half inch and her shaved pussy lips would be on display. 

Her pert buttocks were already half exposed, and she hadn't even reached up any great deal yet. 

She sighed. She simply wasn't tall enough. 

So she either had to ask for help -- which wasn't really the point of Ethan's command -- or she had to completely expose herself in order to get their bags. The dilemma hadn't even occurred to her when they'd boarded; Ethan had simply put their bags up in the storage bin and then sat down. 

She put her arms back down and smoothed out the mini skirt, blushing furiously as the other passengers filed past. Tears of frustration crept into her eyes -- not from the prospect of her public nudity, but from the idea that she was failing him. Ethan would be so disappointed if she didn't bring the bags out soon, and since he couldn't get back onto the airplane, she had to solve this problem herself. And soon. 

Truth be told, Jen's ability to truly revel in the elevation of her body to such a design was still evolving. It was one thing for him to forcibly reveal her form to others; she had no say in that. it was something altogether different for him to leave and ask her to do the same without him there to bolster her resolve. At the end of the day, no matter what manner of public displays she might have indulged in with Ethan at the Auction House, she was still a shy bookworm.

Her insecurities gnawed at her as the other passengers filed by. 

A long moment passed as she stood there, trying to control herself, and weighing the decision before her. 

After a moment, it came to her. 

Disappointing Ethan wasn't an option. If her fellow passengers were shocked by her display, then that would be their problem. She didn't belong to any of them, she belonged to Ethan.

Jen turned back to her task. Hitching the micro-skirt down one last time, she reached up and opened the bin. She could feel the sudden kiss of fabric as the material rode up and over her buttocks, exposing her taut behind. 

Too late now, she thought, conscious of the way her breasts strained against the buttons of her starched white shirt. He'd deliberately chosen a cut that was tight on her, thereby forcing gaps between the button that left her flesh exposed anyone to see from the side. The only pretense at lingerie he'd allowed her was a demi-cup, selected by him because it forced her full breasts up and together, even as it left her nipples exposed.

Those same nipples were now painfully erect.

Their carry-on was quite heavy, and she wrestled with it for a moment as she tried to bring it to the front of the bin without pulling it out and down onto herself.

Her ass was now fully exposed; the appreciative murmurs let her know that. She could tell by sound that the rate at which the passengers were filing out had slowed, and more than one stray hand had brushed against her. One person, she assumed it was a man, had even gone so far as to take the time to caress her ass. Her body had thrilled to the touch -- what more proof did she need that she was desirable? -- even as she burned with the shame of knowing such contact was unauthorized. 

Or was it? Jen knew that if her ass was exposed, then her pussy, currently facing towards the window, was also revealed, and would be on display for all to see when she inevitably turned around. 

Ethan would have known that. 

So did he want her on display like this? Was the real test whether she could be wanton and do his bidding in even public, away from the understand audiences of the Lifestyle? 

Somehow the thought of that, however, didn't bother her. 

Quite the contrary. 

She couldn't explain it, but whereas her rear was a source of embarrassment, her pussy's display titillated her because she took it as his desire. Her ass might be exposed by circumstance, but she could only reveal her most precious secret, now beginning to throb with desire, if she so choose.

And she would do so, she knew in that moment, she would do so for him. 

Just as she thought she was going to lose the fight with the suitcase and earn herself a concussion, a soft voice behind her said "Here, let me help you." 

Jen felt a warm lush body press against her, full breasts crushing into her in a most delightful fashion as the woman reached over her to help bring down the carry-on. 

Jen turned to thank her savior.

Wedged into the small gap between the seats beside her stood a young woman of about twenty three, long dark hair pulled back in a sporty, if functional pony tail. The woman wore jeans and a tight-fitting white tank top; her large breasts strained against the ribbed cotton, and the black lace of her bra was clearly visible beneath. Warm brown eyes met hers and the woman smiled. "Hi," she said in a tiny voice.

"Hi back," stammered Jen, surprised at the sudden surge of emotion between them. 

"You looked like you needed a hand there."

"I did," she admitted, blushing a bit. The woman stood very close to her, as she must given the seats, and smelled faintly of jasmine. "That suitcase can be awkward."

"Mmm hmm," the woman agreed, her eyes saying that she didn't believe a word of it. Jen met her gaze for a moment, conscious of the way the other passengers watched them as they shuffled out. The newcomer held it for a moment, and then dropped her eyes. 

A strange thrill ran through Jen. 

Had she just been a dominant? 

If only for a moment.

The woman's full breasts were still pressed into her, bound as they were by the weight of the suitcase. Jen could feel their soft crush against her own, felt the strangers nipples grow hard at the sustained contact. 

Heard the tiny intake of breath.

"Here," she said quietly, taking the suitcase and placing it on the seat. "This isn't the place for this."

Somehow she knew to say those words, knew that the newcomer needed to be released from their seemingly random but now electrifying contact. 

Besides, she couldn't resist the urge to press her dominance a bit more. After so many months as Ethan's slutslave, bound to his every whim, the possibility of controlling this stranger, if only for a few moments more, was intoxicating. It made her heart race. It made her clit ache.

It would be worth the whipping he would give her for being late. 

And not the good kind of whipping. 

Without a sound, the woman nodded and stepped back, shouldering her own bag and making ready to enter the aisle. Jen hoisted the suitcase off the seat and handed it to her. The brunette took it without a word, still not meeting her gaze.

"What is your name, Miss?" she asked, reaching out one hand to touch the woman's arm.

"Heather," this came out as a squeak. "My name is Heather."

"Well, thank you, Heather, for the help with my luggage. I'm Jen. Please follow me."

And with that, she stepped forward into the aisle, deliberately sliding her own full curves across the newcomer's body. Jen paused then, her pussy wet with the knowledge that every remaining passenger on the plane was looking at her, and reached down to adjust her skirt. 

She could smell her own throbbing sex as she adjusted the micromesh. It barely covered her, but she wouldn't embarrass Ethan by causing a scene in the airport. He'd made it clear that this weekend was special, and that he expected nothing less than utter obedience.

Well, she'd already violated that command with her interlude with Heather; it would have to be her last mistake for the weekend. 

Adjusted at last, she strode down the aisle, smiling to herself at the way the newcomer followed. 

Her smirk lasted exactly twelve seconds. In those twelve seconds, she was regal, a creature of such appeal that others did her bidding.

And then she turned onto the jet way, a submissive once more, her face proper and her eyes downcast as she moved to stand before the man who owned her. 

Heather appeared a moment later, immediately eliciting Ethan's full attention.

"And who might you be?" He asked in a tone that immediately told Jen that she should have carried her own luggage. She turned to look, her curiosity overcoming her propriety. 

"Hi, I'm Heather." The brunette's tone was bubbly and cheerful. Eager almost. None of the unexpected sexual energy between the two of them remained.

Ethan put out his hand and took the suitcase. He set it beside Jen and then turned back to Heather. "Was she unable to get that down herself? She never really dresses appropriately when we travel. Such a naughty girl."

Jen watched those words, carried in a playful tone, score hits on the brunette. Some strange light came into her eyes, and the newcomer swallowed, and then said softly, "I think she's dressed just right."

Ethan nodded. "Indeed."

He took the brunette's hand in his, using that fire that Jen knew so well from his touch, and applying it to the woman. Almost immediately, Jen could see the woman shiver, despite the Texas heat. "Are you here on business or for pleasure, my dear?"

"Business." the woman squeaked, clearly unable to breathe. Jen knew the force of those brown eyes must be eating at her soul, commanding her to throw away her inhibitions and become his.

"I live in Texas," she managed at last, "but I'm here in Austin on business."

"And what business would that be?" 

Soon, little fly, she thought to herself at this exchange, Soon Mr. Spider will be along for you.

The brunette continued on, unaware. "I'm a pastry chef. Based out of the Dallas area, but we travel a lot for weddings."

"And you're in town for a special wedding then, I gather?" 

"Oh yes, a large private party. Unusual for us in the discretion required, but the client was willing to pay extra. So my boss sent me in advance to prepare the wedding cake."

Ethan nodded knowingly, and began to ask her all sorts of questions about her craft, with a level of knowledge that suggested he himself routinely made wedding cakes. 

This provoked a twinge in Jen. Of the three members of their household -- if in fact that is what you called a man living with two nude slutslaves -- she did all the baking. And she was damned good at it. But he'd never once shown even a little interest in how she worked her magic, preferring instead to simply eat what she made. To show interest in a total stranger's work upset her.




Auction Ch. 13



Naturally, the brunette warmed to him immensely and soon was telling him about her work in detail. Jen watched as Ethan moved in to stand very close to her without appearing to do so, and she watched as it had the intended effect. Under his intense scrutiny, the woman soon began to resume her submissive aspect, even unconsciously throwing in the occasional 'sir' without realizing it.

Jen smiled and shifted her luggage from one hand to the other. The woman was obviously a submissive, but one untamed and likely unaware of it. 

Had she ever been so transparent? 

"Very good," he said at last, his voice measured, yet insidious, "we're new to the city. Just in town for a wedding." 

"Excellent! Where are you staying?"

"The Driskill. We're with the Crane Party."

"You are?" the brunette's surprise was obvious, and endearing. She had a warm, beautiful smile. "I think that's the wedding I'm working this weekend. Only it's not being held at the Driskill, right?"

"Precisely. It's being held at a more ... private ... residence." Again, the measured tone, the deliberate pause. Jen knew he was playing out his line, setting the hook for this apparent newcomer. 

She could see it was working on the brunette.

She just didn't know why Ethan was doing it. 

Before Heather could ask any further questions, Ethan took her arm in his and began to walk up the jet way. They chatted as they went, Ethan deftly changing the subject away from the wedding, and soon had the young woman telling him her life story.

Jen tottered after them on her heels, wheeling her luggage as they headed toward baggage claim. 

She was thoroughly confused.

But as they exited into the larger assembly areas, and as her outfit began to have its effect on the crowd around them, Jen felt the inner heat from the plane returning. Men stopped and stared; women slapped their spouses, and then stared themselves. They either wanted her or were appalled by her. 

She was unadulterated sex. A fantasy made real in too high heels, blonde curls, and a miniskirt that was utterly impractical.

Truth be told, Jen loved the attention, and began to strut again, like she had on the plane, drinking in the adoration and revulsion in equal measure. 

Ethan turned and frowned, then leaned in for a private joke with Heather. 

Her stride quickly became submissive again, her ego abruptly checked by his disapproval.

Would she ever win his lasting acclaim? 

Jen was afraid she'd displeased him. 

When she left him, would she even be able to self-validate again? 

Or was her soul already so thoroughly attuned to his that he'd always be her North Star? That life without him would lack real meaning?

In those hidden parts of her she didn't like to see, she already knew the answer.

When, they finally reached the baggage claim, Ethan made her retrieve their luggage while he and Heather looked on. As she bent over, her pussy and ass were once more on display. Ordinarily, exposing herself for a stranger and her Master would have driven her to new heights, but the sight of the two of them together trumped any feelings the public setting might have provoked.

She noted his arm around her waist as they talked, and felt a red hot spike of jealousy.

If this woman was a total stranger, then what was going on?

And if not, then who was she?

"Master," she began, as their car pulled away from the curb. 

She had so many questions. 

Did Ethan know her? 

His strong hand cupped the back of her head, entangling itself in her curls until tears welled in her eyes. He pulled her down, away from gazing out the window at Heather's receding form and toward his cock. She saw that he'd already freed it; its heavy weight bobbed before her. 

"No questions," he said, pushing her down past the steering wheel onto his swelling shaft.

Ethan took her almost immediately upon arriving at their hotel room. No sooner had the bellman closed the door, their luggage neatly arranged by the large closet of their suite, than he pushed her forcefully onto the large California King bed. She stumbled and fell backwards onto to rich scarlet duvet, the buttons of her shirt popping open as her full breasts surged outward with the soft impact. 

He was in a mood, she thought, as he grasped her about the waist and flipped her onto her stomach. A tiny sliver of fear stabbed at her, as much from the unexpected fall -- her preternatural clumsiness always made a loss of balance scary for her -- as from his abrupt manner. 

Was she being punished? 

Was he going to whip her?

She knew she had it coming, but was hoping that he might spare her at least a few moments to compose herself. 

To be taken like this, caught totally off guard, thrilled and alarmed her all at the same time. 

To her pleasant surprise, strong hands pulled the mini skirt upwards in one quick motion, and then he was between her legs, forcing them apart roughly, his hot shaft pushing into her in one long hard push. 

Her pussy ached with the sudden pleasurepain of being so abused.

Jen rasped out her pleasure -- the experience in the airport had left her wet and eager for his touch -- and wrapped her legs around him, clutching at the duvet to steady herself so he could thrust all the deeper.

He smacked her legs aside, deliberately denying her purchase, the better to push down and into her from above. She sobbed loudly, her entire body spasming from the cruel twist of his thrusts, every part of her inner reaches suddenly alight with this unexpected angle.

If he took the time to slow down, she was sure he would bring her to a staggering climax, for the friction was delirious. But he gave her no such thought, pounding into her roughly, one hand on the back of her head, pushing her face into the crisp clean bed linens while he fucked her.

She had no idea how he'd gotten his pants off so quickly, and it was only after several long sloppy moments that she realized that he hadn't taken his pants off at all. The fabric of his trousers scored against the backs of her thighs, rubbing and burning her delicate skin.

Was he angry with her, she wondered, as her body contorted to meet his stabbing shaft. Had she displeased him?

Her body cried out for air, the combination of his hand on her head and the weight of him atop her crushing every ounce of oxygen from her body. Soon her lungs burned, screaming for air, but still he drove on, drowning her in. 

The bed linens, smooth at first, soon began to chafe her breasts, tormenting her nipples until they stung and pulsed with an aroused agony. 

How she wanted him to bite her nipples then! To give her that pleasurepain she so longed for.

If he knew this, he certainly didn't care, driving into her with such force that the mattress began to shift away. Small spurts of oxygen stole into her lungs, sustaining her for microseconds more as he pushed her into a frenzy. 

Her fugue became total. Her very being aflame with desire and a terrible need for the little death.

She was so close, the sounds of their wet sex roared in her ears and the musky scent of her own arousal filled her nostrils, replacing much needed oxygen with the evidence of her abasement to him.

Jen tried to cry out, to beg him to carry her into the little death, but his hold on her curls was iron, and her moans and sobs consumed what little sound she could manage to gasp out.

Suddenly ... he was cumming, spasming his seed into her gasping pussy. He thrust very hard against her, once ... twice ... his hard form bruising her lush body ... and then he became very still. 

How she loved moments like this, to be blessed with the very essence of him. She could feel his seed within her, a spreading warmth.

Jen lay there, feverish with desire -- her own orgasm so close! -- waiting for him to begin again. 

But then he was withdrawing, pulling out of her even as he twisted his hands into her curls once more and hauled her off the bed and onto the floor before him. She scrambled to move with him, her scalp afire and tears in her eyes as she sobbed and gasped. 

Jen stumbled down before him, her inflamed breasts heaving as she tried to take full breaths and restore her sense of equilibrium. But as she opened her mouth to take another breath his cock, wet with her fluids and his, filled her mouth, probing and urgent. 

Obedience and training kicked in, and she lavished him with her tongue, ignoring the bruised ache of the car ride to clean his shaft. 

For the second time that day, she fulfilled her most basic role. The one that she celebrated even as it made her question her own worth. 

Ethan's hand never released her curls, not even a little, and so tears coursed her cheeks as she serviced him, her eyes stinging.

She ached inside, not just from the rough manner in which he'd taken her, but from his obvious displeasure. 

At last he shoved her away, releasing her curls so that she spun back and collapsed against the side of the bed. Ethan reached down to place his cock back in his trousers, and then zipped up his fly. 

Through her tears she saw him adjust his shirt and inspect his pants. Satisfied that there were no stains -- a minor miracle considering how wet her pussy was -- he turned and strode from the room.

"Two hours," he said, throwing open the door. 

And then he was gone. 

Jen lay against the bed for a long time, her body wracked by desire she couldn't release.



Auction Ch. 14



The corset was very tight, almost too small for her frame. 

Ethan laced her up all the same, using his strong arms to haul the laces taut; by the time he'd finished, she could barely breathe from the constriction. 

He seemed not to care. 

Jennifer's breasts were totally exposed; the garment offered no coverage or support of any kind, its whalebone and wire serving only to accentuate. It punctuated the space between her full breasts with a spike of satin and whalebone, with a small silver ring set atop this spike. Ethan threaded a chain through the ring, its ends affixed to cloverleaf clips clutching her swollen nipples. 

She hissed at this painful pressure. 

He rarely used clips on her, oddly enough they seemed most prevalent when they were likely to be in public settings, but she'd come to adore them. Somehow they made her feel raw and utterly sexual, something to be admired from afar. It felt right for him to adorn her so, with satin and silver, like some raw work of art, stripped of her value save as a canvas for his talents. Jen knew that Kami didn't care for them as much as she did, which was why Ethan used them to punish the redhead, rather than to please. 

For her, though, they were clearly an indication of his interest. 

Other than her platinum collar and the corset, she wore nothing save a pair Wolford thigh highs; the Vichy stockings were graced with slender sating strings that affected a means of staying up. Jen had seen them in her old life, had coveted them but never had a pair; when she'd come to Ethan's house, she'd made a point to acquire a pair. 

Kami had asked much of her to get them. 

But Ethan loved them, so the price hadn't been anything at all. 

Her pussy was utterly exposed, and throbbed with the need for his caress. She'd waited for him to set clips on her there as well, hoping with held breath that he might adorn her with another clip. He seemed content, however, to leave her pussy in its more natural state of torment, simply tapping her erect clit a few times for effect, and then stepping away 

This practice of tormenting her without granting her any satisfaction, however, seemed like it was going to be the norm for the length of their stay in Austin. It was a state she'd learned to endure. Before coming into her Master's service, she might have thrashed and wailed with the denied release, but his patience and his whips had taught her that she had no will of her own in these matters. If he wanted her to remain unfulfilled, then that was his decision, and her continued duty to please him was thusly best expressed by her maintaining that hunger at a near peak.

Jen watched him select her dress for the evening, searching his face for signs of the stormy passion she'd seen earlier. 

As far as she could tell, his displeasure was gone, though she didn't know why. Some dark part of her that she wouldn't admit to knew exactly why he wasn't displeased any more, and she wondered if the woman from the airport wasn't lying in a hotel room somewhere, spent from her Master's efforts. Was that busty brunette even now running her hands over the red heat of her ass, savoring the spanking he'd surely have given her? Was her pussy sloppy with the leavings of his lust, slowly leaking out onto starched sheets as she lay there, spent from their passion?

He tugged at the ring on her collar gently. "Where were you just now?"

Jen marveled at his ability to see into her; she met his gaze for a moment, if only to show some spirit, and then lowered her eyes. "Thinking, my love."

"Of what, pet?"

"I was just wondering whether you'd been with that woman from the airport, whether she was the reason you're no longer angry with me."

He laughed, warming her with his obvious mirth. "Jennifer, off all the submissives I've trained, I must admit you alone have continued to display a profound sense of candor. Most other girls lose that over time."

Ethan stepped in close to her, so close she could feel his breath on her skin. His voice was a whisper. "You have not."

She shivered, "Is that a bad thing, Master?"

"I haven't decided yet." 

His hand twined in the silver chain, briefly sending sheets of pain racing through her. Jen moaned and forced herself to remain still. She couldn't tell whether he was punishing her or rewarding her with this attention, only that the pleasurepain was making her very, very wet. 

How funny that a mere second's worth of his idle twining could leave her so aroused! It meant nothing to him, and yet she was suddenly a wreckage of insatiable desire.

His wrist rotated farther, the aching song in her nipples began to drown out everything else.

She whimpered, not from the pain, but from the building delirium. 

Seeing this, he twined the chain another half twist, and then, after a moment, stepped back, apparently satisfied that she'd been chastised / rewarded for her honesty. He turned back to the closet and took out a pair of dark heels, four inches high and opened toed. 

"Put these on and then we can go."

As she took the shoes, Jen willed her mind not to fall into the trap of questioning whether he expected her to be seen in the public spaces of the Driskill in just a corset and stockings. And yet, as he returned an obviously elegant gown to the closet, she couldn't help herself.

"Am I not to wear a dress, Master?" She slipped into the heels knowing it was a terrible question to ask, that it would surely displease him, but she felt it needed asking all the same. They were not on his estate; this was the real world, where the state of her clothes could have real consequences. 

Ethan frowned. "Turn around and put your hands on the dresser, Jennifer." His voice was very quiet in the evening's stillness. 

Numbly she obeyed, wondering what he would do. 

She heard the soft slippery sound of his belt being removed, and smiled to herself. She loved his belt, loved the way he often worked her breasts with it. 

On some level she wondered if she provoked him on purpose. 

And yet the first hit surprised her with its intensity, making her cry out in pain – real pain – as the stout leather wrapped itself around the curve of her ass. 

This was not a toying hit, this was a real hit, an expression of anger. 

He thrashed her quickly, scoring half a dozen hits on her in seconds. Speed was a specialty of his, she'd come to realize. Her knees buckled from the pain and she collapsed, tears running down her cheeks.

Ethan's breath was suddenly warm in her ear, "I don't know what it is about this trip that makes you especially determined to anger me. But rest assured it hasn't gone unnoticed."

Jen stifled a sob and turned to look at him. He grabbed a handful of her curls and pulled her head back sharply, "I have half a mind to sell you to my associates this weekend. Kami said I shouldn't take you, that you weren't ready. I told her she was being foolish. It seems she was right."

Kami had said what?!? That she wasn't ready?

The fact that he mentioned selling her didn't even really register at all. That would come later, much later, when it was too late. 

She sobbed, "Please, Master, I meant no disrespect..."

"I wonder sometimes." His hand released her hair, fresh spikes of pain shooting down into her eyes; and with that, he stood. Jen shook her head to clear it, and struggled to her feet. 

"Now bend over and grasp your ankles." 

Jen could only comply, the ache from the whipping nothing compared with the realization that he thought so little of her behavior on this trip. It was a thing she still marveled at, how the desire to throw off her old life and become a sexual plaything had intersected with her unresolved feelings for Ethan. The two had smashed into one another, leaving her with a burning desire to win him for herself – and a sexual hunger for him that overwhelmed her. 

To learn that he was unhappy with her made her want to cry. 

She craved him so very much. 

She loved him, really.

As he'd known she would, she realized with a start. He'd known what would happen when he forced her sexual hunger into the same space as her desire for him.

Jen bent at the waist, ignoring the way the corset constricted and pinched her, and grasped her ankles. She straightened herself, forcing her body to conform despite the discomfort, and looked straight ahead.

He knelt behind her, examining his work, his strong hands rubbing away the hurt in a matter of minutes, transforming the pain into a delightfully warm heat that soon restored her equilibrium.

"Don't you want to please me, Jen?"

How could he ask such a thing? 

"Of course, Master, all I want to do is please you."

His breath was warm on the backs of her thighs, and she heard him inhale with satisfaction, breathing in the heady smell of her wet sex.

"So then why do you suddenly seem to crave the attentions of other men?"

He knew! Somehow he knew she craved the attention.

"No, Master, no, I don't, I swear." The words seemed false even as they left her mouth. She was so desperate to prove herself to him; she would have said anything to him at that point.

"You're lying to me," he said with a chuckle. She shivered and waited for the inevitable punishment to begin. 

Ethan's tongue was suddenly warm and wet against her asshole, probing gently as it scored its way around the ripples of her bud. Jen mewled and pushed her ass back towards him, savoring the feeling.

He lapped at her, his palms on the descending sides of her pelvis, his fingers resting lightly atop her pubis, terribly close to her throbbing clit, but so very, very far away, pulling her closer to him. She wriggled with pleasure, confused at this sudden favor quickly losing herself in his touch. She wanted him so badly right then, could feel her pussy spasm with need every time his tongue flicked its way across the top of her bud. He chuckled at this and moved his index fingers up against her swollen labia, wrenching a whimper out of her as new sensations erupted from her pussy. 

The contrast between the two was incredible, different sensations, equally staggering, yet varied in their intensity, complementing one another to drive her quickly into a minor frenzy.

"Fuck me," she grunted, surprising herself. She didn't usually ask such things, preferring to trust in his pacing. But the encounter at the airport and afterwards had left her so desperately hungry for fulfillment. 

He laughed and pinched her swollen clit with his left hand, sending a spike of pleasurepain through her that made her see stars.

"You belong to me, only to me."

She almost let go from the intensity of that spike, but weeks of training had told her not to let go until he said so. Her curls thrashed about as her head expressed the distress the rest of her body felt.

Unexpectedly, he withdrew his hands and his tongue and sat back, apparently satisfied with himself. She remained as she was, and soon enough received her answer – a slender plug pressing into her ass, stretching and filling her. In a few moments, he'd pushed it in up to the hilt, and gave her time to adjust to it before pressing a large dildo into her wet folds. 

She shivered, knowing this was cast in his image. 

 "Ok, let's go."

She stood, loving the way the two probes moved inside her, and waited for him to place a blindfold of black crape over her eyes. The smell of him was positively maddening. The feeling of his strong hands on her face was positively sublime. 

Made of crape, the blindfold's thin, silky material allowed her to see quite a bit, enough to know that there were people in the hall as he led her out of the room and to the elevator. 

His hand was warm in hers, as they walked in silence, her earlier question unanswered save for the throbbing warmth of the welt on her ass. The murmurs of those around her serving only to make her curious, rather than embarrassed. 

Her heels made no sound on the lush carpets in the hallway, and the lights cast a golden light that filtered through the crepe just enough to let her see figures to either side of her. Some were dressed in finery; some appeared simply to be staff of some kind.

Hotel staff, she wondered absently? Really? 

Male and female alike, Jen could feel their gazes lock on to her as they walked. She held her head up, trying to take in as much as she could, trying to be what she thought Ethan would want her to be. And yet ... she couldn't help taking satisfaction from the fact that they were admiring her. 

That most cardinal of sins to Ethan – pride – came creeping back into her consciousness. 

Ethan would surely notice, would surely whip her again, but she could accept that punishment if it made him jealous.

His jealousy meant she'd stolen back some measure of control in their relationship. And that was a powerful thing to achieve; a first step on what promised to be a very long road back to making him see her as an equal.

Her mind skipped a beat ... did she really want that? 

Did she want to be his equal?

Or did she simply want to be recognized by others? 

Was his lust for her not enough?

She wasn't sure ... until this moment, she'd been certain that she wanted nothing more than to be his bound concubine. Kami was certainly a rival she intended to eliminate, Ethan's mandate or no, but she'd never before wanted anything but to submit herself to him. 

What was happening? 

Jen walked in silence, her thoughts heavy, even as she savored the way he shifted his right hand to the small of her back. There was the slightest twinge of air conditioned chill in the hallway, and the warmth of his light touch against her smooth skin was most welcome.

At length he stopped and she checked her stride to stand next to him; the smell of her own wet sex was heavy about them. The truth of it was that she was no longer really that put off by such displays. Jen had finally come to accept that she was utterly his to do with as he pleased, and had, after all that time, given herself over to that reality.

She did wonder that no one had confronted him about her state, but decided not to ask. It felt better to just be there at his side, naked and proud.

Alone with the weight of her thoughts. 

The soft ding of the elevator roused her from the noise of her inner debate, and she followed him onto the car. Several couples were already aboard, and no sooner had she turned to face the door than an idle hand began to caress her ass, moving in slow circles around her taut cheeks. 

Coming from her right, it most certainly wasn't Ethan. 

Her pussy flooded with warmth at the illicit touch, and a new and dark hunger woke inside her. 

She wanted more than Ethan. 

She wanted to be ravaged, to be adored, and to be taken for the wanton woman she was. 

She wanted to be recognized as the object of beauty that she knew she had become.

She wanted to be coveted. 

And she wanted all those things from more than just her master. 

She blushed with the realization of her wickedness, from knowing that her inner hunger would lead her to betray Ethan if she ever got the chance, if only to experience another's touch.

Jen let out a long sigh and pushed her ass every so slightly into that hand. 

It responded by moving to slide one strong finger down between her cheeks, coming to rest lightly just above her asshole. She knew the stranger caressing her could surely feel the base of the plug inside her.

As if answering her thoughts, the strange fingers began to pluck at the base of the plug, not so much as pulling it out as making it move within her.

Jen bit her lip to keep from mewling with pleasure. 

She wasn't meant to be used like this, she knew. Her role, her duty was to serve Ethan. And only Ethan. 

But as a slave she was not to refuse the overtures of others unless directed by her Master; Kami had taught her that. 

Slowly, deliberately, two strong fingers began to flex against the plug, pushing it up into her. 

Madness!

She loved to be touched, to be validated, and had been having these cravings of another man for some time. 

This hand, even if just a hand ....

"She's quite wonderful, Ethan."

The voice was dry in the close confines of the elevator, and it surprised her with its suddenness after so many had seen her but said nothing. 

Jen's head snapped to her right ... blindfold or no, she knew that voice. 

It was Starke! 

All this time later, having never really thought of him in the whirlwind of her supplication to Ethan, and then suddenly, there he was. He'd never touched her once in all the time she'd been in processed, but she'd found herself wanting him all the same.  

Of course that had been before Ethan ... she didn't want Starke now.

Did she?

"Thank you, Jonathan, I've put a good deal of effort into bringing her up to my standards." Ethan seemed very pleased with himself as he said this. 

"Which are quite high, Master," Suchin said quietly from the far side of the elevator. Jen blushed to hear that voice, to know that a mere five minutes in the Asian beauty's presence had sent her running to this lifestyle, had led her to kiss a strange woman in a hallway ... 

"You would know, my dear." Ethan chuckled. 

Had Master Ethan trained Suchin, she wondered? When would he have had time? Kami had been with him since 2004, but he'd never said that she was the only slave he'd trained. 

"Please take your hand off my slave, Jonathan," said Ethan, his voice even and calm in the silence. "She's being punished and doesn't deserve your attentions. 

"Of course, my friend." With a final tap that made her jump, the hand was gone. Jen craved it, found herself fixating on the throbbing in her ass until Ethan's voice broke the silence once more.

"Yours either, Suchin."

"Yes, Sir." The Asian beauty's voice was almost a purr and Jen could hear her move slightly. What had she been about to do? Her mind burned with the possibilities. 

With a soft ding, the elevator doors opened, and Ethan stepped off, taking her by the hand again to lead her into what must have been a loading dock of some kind. Jen smiled at the realization that there were limits to his powers of skirting decent society. 

The night was warm, not yet an oppressive heat, but humid none the less. It felt delightful to be outside, to feel the night air on her naked body, to know that somewhere, someone could surely see her, and would be there, in the dark, wondering who she was, and why she was dressed like a slave. 

"Is the car ready?" Ethan called out to some unseen servant, breaking her reverie.

She couldn't hear the muffled reply, but knew all was in order by the way he guided her down a short set of stairs and then helped her into the back of a large limousine. Starke and Suchin followed, and as the Asian beauty entered, Jen could see through her crape that Starke's slutslave was wearing a short chemise made of some metallic material. It glimmered in the halogen lights of the loading dock, and was visible even in the darkness of the car.

"This should be fun, don't you think, Jon?"

"Yes, I suspect Dash will make a beautiful bride tonight, and I know Matthew is eager to make her his own. Are you standing up for them?"

"No, not tonight. He did ask though."

Jen listened to the two men discuss the ceremony, trying to get a sense of her bearings as the car sped down the darkened streets of Austin. She'd been to the city before, of course, being a Texas girl. But it'd been years, and although she knew they were traveling south, she couldn't gain any real insight.

At length, hearing that the two men had stopped talking, she turned her head back to Ethan. Unable to see him in the dark, she simply waited.

"I believe your little project is trying to figure out where we're going." Starke's voice was light and amused, as if it were no great transgression. 




Auction Ch. 14



"I think you're right. We'll have to fix that." 

Ethan reached over and pulled her down across his lap, her ass up in the air, her head hanging down towards the floor.

By the time they did reach their destination, she was moaning with the intensity of it all, her fine buttocks red and heated from his efforts to distract her.

When Ethan finally did remove the blindfold, she gasped at the sight before her. They stood at the entranceway to what could only be a large hall of some kind; she would have thought they'd be in a church, but knew that Ethan would never participate in something so profane. 

The room was swaddled in darkness, punctuated by dim lighting above them, save for a lone dais at the far end of the room, which was well lit so as to capture one's attention. Bars were set against either wall to her right and her left, and banks of low couches occupied a series of alcoves along the far wall.

 In the center of the room, bodies moved in time to a throbbing beat, dancing with abandon. There must have been a hundred dancers on the floor, some nude, some clad in submissive garb, and some simply dressed in suits or gowns. Twice their number stood along the walls and by the bars, talking and drinking in small groups. 

Despite the presence of so many nude forms, the room had a decidedly formal air to it, which she thought only appropriate given that this was a wedding. 

Jen looked at the alcoves more closely, and was pleased to see figures moving within them, bodies writhing against one another. Nothing could be heard over the music, but she could imagine the rest.

She smiled and looked at Ethan. "This is a wedding, Master?"

He smiled back, "Yes. We do like to have our fun." 

Ethan took a drink from a passing waiter, and Jen noted with pleasure that the slave was a man for a change, a young handsome fellow whose lean body made her hunger stir within her. 

She looked at Ethan again, and he nodded, "This party is for Matthew and Dash, and they have a lot of friends. So Jonathan and I called in some favors to staff the event properly."

He took a sip of his drink. "Besides, you didn't really think the Red Crane only trained women, did you?"

Jen laughed at her own naiveté. For some reason she had. 

"No, it trains both. It all depends on what the customer wants. Not my cup of tea, of course, but I do know they consider it a very profitable product line."

She nodded, wondering just how many slaves the Red Crane produced; there must have been at least thirty wait staff working the room.

For the next hour they worked the room, Ethan greeting a number of guests. To Jen, it seemed an endless progression of dominant men paired with younger submissive beauties, though they did meet the occasional woman accompanied by a submissive man. They even met several lesbian couples, who eyed Jen with a barely concealed hunger that made her shrink behind Ethan, afraid of their attentions. 

At length, she saw an older man in a dark pinstripe suit approach them, a blonde on his arm whose naked breasts were a testament to the powers of plastic surgery. The older man was very striking, and she realized with a start that she knew him. 

"Isn't that ..." she began, before Ethan stilled her with a gentle pressure on her lower back. She looked at him, and he nodded ever so slightly.

"Yes, it is. But it's impolitic to point that out. Our group can be very ... private at these events. 

"Now go play," Ethan kissed her lightly on the nose. "I have business to discuss. Take Suchin and enjoy the party. The DJ is quite good"

"Yes, Master." She turned to go, only to stop as he caught her arm tightly.

"But behave yourself; remember what happened at the airport." His brown eyes met hers, the gravity of his command clear. 

Jen nodded, "Yes, Master. I'll behave." She turned away and strode off into the crowd with her new companion, knowing she couldn't promise anything.

She heard him greet the new arrival and his slave, heard him address the man as Senator, and then shook her head, choosing instead to focus on the fun before her. Still ... Ethan appeared to have powerful friends. 

"Enough talk! Let's dance." Suchin's hand was light and warm in hers, and she let herself be led to the dance floor. 

The music throbbed in the near darkness, a pulsing beat that suited the crowd and its blatant excesses. 

"Do you like this song?"

She could barely hear her fellow slutslave over the noise, but nodded her affirmation. Suchin smiled and reached behind her head and untied the thin straps that held her shimmering shift. In one flow of liquid metal, it slid down her frame and onto the floor. The Asian caught her eye and winked, and then began to move her body in time with the beat.

Jen watched with a practiced eye as the Asian moved with the music, her naked form almost serpentine in the low light. Strange sigils adorned her small, pert breasts, arcing darts that served to emphasize the curves of her breasts. In this light, she couldn't tell if they were tattoos or not.

Unexpectedly, she found herself enjoying the sight for its own aesthetics, no longer wracked by her own insecurities. 

Her time with Ethan seemed to be curing her of her longstanding dislike of her own body. Now, finally, it was possible to enjoy the way her body moved, was seen, and felt as she danced,

"It's Rachid Taha," shouted Suchin in her ear. 

She knew the artist, his work was full of Eastern influences and the throaty inflections of Arabic, yet laced with rasping electronic snarls and snare drums. Jen decided almost immediately she liked it, and began to sway her body in time with the music, letting herself really relax for the first time in months. 

Snatching a drink from a passing servant, she threw it back in one motion, and then placed it on the next tray she saw, ignoring the frown that the bound slave gave her as she tipped the empty glass onto a plate of food. She never stopped moving, moving in to grind her body against Suchin, her full breast crushed against the lean, muscled back of her companion.

Her nipples ached from the constant movement, and her hands tingled as they held her companion's hips, but the pull of the music was too strong. She wasn't a slave, wasn't nude save for a corset in a room full of strangers, wasn't property. For now, for this moment, lost in the crowd of dancers, her curls whirling about her as she danced, she was just a woman.

She gave herself entirely to the music.

The vodka was so cold the glass burned her hand, and the shot poured down the length of her throat with a sensation akin to burning. It was expensive and clearly imported – that much she remembered from her life before this place. 

On her empty stomach the effects were immediate; a pleasant warmth spread out through her body, and she relaxed into the plush cushions of the booth, crossing her legs and placing her hands out to either side for support.

Her chest heaved as she caught her breath. Hours of dancing had left her spent in a way she hadn't felt in a long time. She felt lean and hungry, ready for something, though she didn't know what.

"I know ... I know." The Asian slutslave gave her a knowing look. "Be patient. Your present is on the way."

Her present?



Suchin smiled and snapped her fingers. A bound slave appeared, proffering his tray to them. Jen stared unabashedly at the man's cock, fascinated by the way it moved as the slave bent to give them their drinks. 

"You have a problem, girl," Suchin's voice was hot in her ear as her fellow slutslave snuggled up against Jen, her small pert breasts pressing into Jen in a most delightful way. "If you're not careful, you'll go too far."

Jen scooped up another shot from the table, ignoring the cold burn of it, and up ended its contents, savoring the taste more carefully this time, before the intensity of its chill forced her to swallow it. Her belly burned with it, and the hungry feeling of disconnection increased. 

"Go too far? How can I go too far? I don't even belong to me. Nothing I do is my own. I'm Ethan's plaything."

She looked over at Suchin with a sad smile, her tongue freed by the strong effects of the liquor. "Hell, I'm not even his favorite plaything. That bitch Kami is. I love him so much and he doesn't seem to care."

Suchin placed a finger over Jen's lips, stilling her. "Hush, before you say something you'll really regret."

Jen nodded, knowing she was going too far. But her, just the two of them in this isolated booth, she wanted to say more, to state her case, to see if all the jealousies and desires she felt were unique to her.

Before she knew it, she was spilling it all to Suchin, the hunger she felt for Ethan, the sorrow of not being exclusively his, the odd tension between her dislike and her desire for Kami, all of it.

Suchin listened, sipping her drink, stopping only to ask the occasional question. Her almond eyes were sharp and knowing, which told Jen that her feelings weren't unique, even if the Asian beauty said nothing. 

At last, she paused, wrung out from revealing so much of herself. "So, am I crazy? Is it just me?"

With a smile, her companion leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips, sparking a small flare within Jen. She leaned back and finished her own shot. "No, of course not. It's a difficult life you've chosen. Some of us get lucky. Master Jonathan keeps only me, so except for the occasional guest, it's just us."

Jen nodded, and reached for a third shot. Suchin frowned at this, she noted, but with a smirk she doffed the drink.

"Is it true that my master trained you?"

The Asian beauty nodded, blushing slightly, which provoked faint feelings of jealousy in her. That her companion shared something so precious that the simple mention of it made her blush only served to underscore what she lacked.

"I came to his service in Kami's second year. I was a special project of his." One delicate hand came to rest on Jen's thigh, its unstated intentions clear amidst the throb of the music around them.

Forcing herself to ignore it, yet opening her legs ever so slightly, Jen looked at her companion, "A special project?"

"Yes. I'd had another master, but was proving too willful, I wasn't responding to training. Master Ethan ... fixed ... that problem."

Again the blush ... again the spike of jealousy.

Jen leaned forward, "Does he do that often? Fix willful slaves?"

"More than you think," Starke said with a laugh as he slid into the booth next to her from the left, his body crushing against hers. As always, he was impeccably dressed, Armani at the very least. 

She was instantly wet and ready, hungry for him.

His eyes fixed on hers, the incredible blue apparent even in the low light of the booth. She could see the faintest halo of his contacts, and found the vanity of that affectation endearing, though she couldn't say why. 

Starke held her gaze as no man ever had, save for Ethan. It must have been something that Dominants learned, she thought to herself as she fought against the powerful hunger those eyes possessed. 

"Hello, Jennifer," he said quietly, leaning in toward her. She could smell him at this distance, and found herself responding to it. His scent was very different from Ethan's, sharper and headier, less confidence to it, even if it was hungrier. It suited him, she decided, taking a long, deep breath through her nose, it was a scent for a younger man, one less sure of his position and yet more ambitious than an older man like Ethan. 

Starke leaned in a little further and kissed her lightly on the lips. 

She started backwards a little, her nipples throbbing painfully against the clips as her body reacted to his touch. 

His intentions toward her were plain, and given that she was thirty one, incredibly flattering.

"Can ... can you do this?"

The ice blue eyes flashed, "Call me 'Sir', I've certainly earned it."

"Yes, Sir," she nodded, clutching her seat, willing herself to be still, to fight the growing heat inside her. Jen could feel the fugue coming. 

It felt wrong, though, the fugue was reserved for her master.

Wasn't it?

Was the fugue something for Ethan? 

Or was the fugue simply something Ethan exploited to his own benefit?

And yet, as Starke traced one finger over her left nipple, barely grazing the swollen, tortured flesh, dragging her fugue ever closer to the surface, Jen realized that she wasn't sure she even cared.

"Can you do this, Sir? My Master ..."

Starke flicked the clamped bud, making her moan and fall back against the plush couch. "I can. I am."

Suchin's hand was suddenly very hot against her right thigh, her fingertips moving in slow circles along the length of her most sensitive skin, whirling close to her aching pussy, only to slide away again. The effect was maddening, though Jen knew full well that the Asian slutslave was only playing her part, giving her Master this gift of seducing his latest appetite. 

And she was that appetite, she realized with delight. Not that it wasn't evident before, not that she couldn't still feel his touch on her body from those stolen moments in the elevator. 

But this, this rather blatant overture was captivating.

Starke looked down at her body, then back at her. "I see you've been dancing, you have a rather healthy glow."

She nodded. "Yes, Sir, Suchin took me dancing. I haven't been dancing in quite some time."

"I'm sure." Starke ran his hand over her nipple again, and then suddenly released the clip. Jolts of searing pleasurepain surged through her, making her cry out as the fugue surged to the fore. Her pussy began to ache, the dildo heavy inside her, filling her with its echo of her most treasured cock. 

It wasn't enough ... she needed the real thing.

Jen thrashed forward, into Starke's waiting arms, bucking and moving against him as her orgasm began to take shape. 

"Not yet," he hissed in her ear, the sibilant tone of his words dragging her back from the precipice. "Not until I say so."

She could only nod, straining to hear his words over the roaring in her ears. She was so wet, so ready, uncaring that this was not her Master. 

"Now, I want to fuck your mouth."

She nodded, desperately hungry for satisfaction, hungry for the man who'd found her that day. She'd felt an instant attraction to Starke that day, and had thought about him since. Now, confronted by the reality of him and beset by her own inner cravings, her reserve crumbled. 

Starke leaned back and Jen saw his cock there waiting for her, held by one of his hands. She could see the beginnings of his release there atop his swollen head, could see with terrible clarity the pulse of veins along his thick shaft. She could see it before her, and she wanted it with every fiber of her being. 

It was a magnificent sight, one that made her sigh with hunger. 

All those old feelings – from the pride of being put on display while he flogged her, to those initial moments in the courtyard when she'd savored the open longing of the valets – had brought her to this moment. 

Whatever dreams she had of becoming a concubine, of serving just one man, she knew what she truly was.

And so did Starke. 

Jen leaned forward, her mouth dry with anticipation, her mind giddy with the thrill of being so desired by another, all her old inner demons blown away by the force of this man's lust. 

Just as her lips graced the head of his cock, so deliriously close, she was hauled to her feet, Ethan's strong hand using the mass of her curls to pull her up and away from the object of her desire. 

He pulled her head around to face him and slapped her hard with the back of his hand, almost knocking her from her feet.

She whimpered, suddenly reminded that she belonged to this man, had sworn to serve him, and then did the only thing she could: Knelt and assumed a submissive position. Her feet tucked under her, her breasts thrust outward, hands held behind her, and her head down, she waited.

"Ethan, old chap, where have you been?" Starke seemed entirely unconcerned at having been caught. 

"Shut it, Jon. What the hell do you think you're doing?" Her Master's voice was cold fury, enough to make Jen flinch.

"Frankly, I was going to fuck her mouth. It's something I've wanted to do since the day you sent me to find her."

Sent him to find her?!?

"And what made you think that I'd allow that?"

"I don't know. I do know that she was a willing participant."

"Yes," he said, as his hand clamped down on a handful of her curls again, "she was."

Jen struggled to her feet, tears welling from the pain of his grip. He released her, and deftly replaced the clip on her nipple. 

"We're done here for now."

"There will be consequences for this, Jonathan." Ethan snapped his leash onto her collar and pulled her to him. Jen could see Starke step away, his hands held up in front of him, and then bow and leave. 

Suchin cast her one last glance as she left, a wicked smile that left her wondering who the Asian beauty really served. 

Ethan pulled her against him.

"I know what you're doing, Jennifer. I've seen it before." He was so close to her, the fabric of his dark suit scoring itself against her swollen nipples. "All slutslaves go through this."

She looked up sharply at him, "They do?"

He smiled, "They do. It's only natural. I've been training you for months to be perfect slut, to surrender yourself to your sexuality. And now it's running its natural course. You're at that critical moment where you must choose."

Choose, she wondered? Choose what?

Seeing her confusion, he kissed her lightly on the mouth. She responded hungrily, her body afire from what she'd just experienced, still feverish with need. "You have to choose which path you'll choose next, whether you're truly going to become the concubine you say you want to be, or whether you're going to become something darker, a creature of your own desires."

She looked at him as he nodded towards a pair of slaves, clad only in what she'd come to view as the standard slave uniform – black corsets, black heels, and slave collars. They were a matched pair of brunettes, one with a pageboy haircut, the other with her hair pulled into twin braids, and the two were serving drinks to the crowd. As she watched a man nearby signaled to the woman with the pageboy, and then pulled his cock from his pants. The slutslave promptly passed her tray to her fellow slave, and then sank to her knees and began to suckle the man's turgid shaft. 

"These two have been at every function I've been to like this in the past three years. Persephone, the one with the shorter hair, is from Seattle, I'm told. An intellectual property rights lawyer whose job simply became too stressful one day; her friend, Daphne is the one with the braids and the two trays. Daphne was already on the waiting list for the Red Crane, and managed to get her friend added. What she did to pull that off I have no idea. But both women have served out their contracts in full, and chosen to renew."

Seeing her confusion, he smiled. "They renewed with the House, not any particular master, the better to indulge their insatiable sexual hunger. When they did so they received new names, the better to renounce their old lives. Both women have gone too far down the path of a slave to ever come back – no one man can satisfy them. So they became what they are."

Jen stared at the pair, Daphne stood patiently with the two trays, while her sister slave bobbed up and down on the cock of a complete stranger. A strange light filled Persephone's eyes as her ruby lips moved over the shaft. It was a sight both profoundly arousing and incredibly disturbing. 

And yet, she could see the appeal ... to give oneself over entirely to lust. To enter the fugue and never return to the banalities of a normal life. She'd thought she'd done that by entering Ethan's service, but this ... this was something else entirely. 




Auction Ch. 14



Something rawer, something purer. Something dangerously appealing. 

Ethan held her tight. "I understand how the accolades drive you, how all the attentions you've been denied by others all these years are suddenly yours in such abundance. How my affections seem so meager besides the crowd calling out for you. How you crave the touch of other men, how you think that having all those pretty boys you've never had will somehow satisfy you."

There it was, the ugly truth of it. 

She marveled at how well he understood her: all those years of being a bookworm, going unnoticed in frumpy sundresses and unkempt curls, pining after handsome men who didn't know she even existed. And now she was admired by men and envied and scorned by women. 

For years she'd been a shadow in the social scene, a cute friend at best, pushed to the side as her more attractive friends had been eagerly pursued by the very same men she'd desired. But now ... now she was the center stage, the object of those affections. 

An utterly sexual object, something that begged to be consumed, like a rare confection at a dinner party.

"But you must choose," he continued, running his hands through her curls, as he nibbled on her neck, "I brought you into my home, and made you into this. But I did it knowing that your inner hunger might one day consume you."

Her body burned from his kisses, and her pussy was suddenly very wet again. She was ready to be taken by him ...by anyone ... she couldn't shake Starke from her mind ... she was too consumed by her fugue.

"I took that risk because I want you for myself."

She kissed him on the lips again, her eyes bright with tears to hear his affections so plainly stated, "Master, I ..."

He stilled her with a hungry kiss, pulling her tight against him. Her chain caught on the buttons of his shirt, sending jolts of pleasure pain through her tortured nipples, making her whimper with lust.

After a long moment he released her a little, "I won't suffer you to be both. Either you will leave here with me tonight and become my concubine in earnest, truly dedicating yourself to me, or I will make arrangements to give you the life you need, to make you one of these masterless slutslaves, bound to nothing by your own hunger."

Jen stiffened in his arms to hear it stated so plainly. She glanced over at Persephone, saw that the kneeling slave's face was coated with hot discharge, and noted the look of utter normalcy on the man's face as the brunette, now joined by her sister slave, cleaned his shaft with her tongue. The two women lapped hungrily at the semen, cleaning the spent penis with skill she envied, and then rose to their feet and resumed serving drinks. 

She watched the man fix his pants and take a drink from one of their tray, and then stride off into the crowd, utterly oblivious to the talents of the two magnificent women before him. Persephone dabbed lightly at the discharge on her face, before reapplying lipstick. Then she too strode off, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. 

Jen considered this, seeing the objectification of the two women taken to an extreme. They were so far removed from even the status of a bound submissive that they lacked even a presence in the room. The man had used them as he would have used a hand towel, and thought nothing of it at all. And yet, they both looked satisfied with that. It was as if they took power from their anonymity.

Was that the life she wanted? Was there no middle path between the two? One that would leave her free to pursue her ever increasing sexual appetite and yet find the fulfillment that only a dedicated partner could bring?

She asked Ethan, and was rewarded with a sad smile. "No, I don't think there can be a middle path. None that I've seen. Your need to please is at odds with your need for external validation – you cannot be a concubine like you want if you only take joy in the attentions of others. And you know this."

"What then?" she asked, breathless with the realization of her predicament. 

Ethan ran his hands lightly over her ass, cupping her cheeks, warming the stinging welts he'd put there. "If you were a capable of it, I'd advise you to try becoming a dominant. But you're not. You're a submissive. More importantly, you're my submissive. So for the remainder of your contract, you really have no choice. What happens after that, however, is much harder to answer."

He stepped back, the leash in his hand once more. 

"You crave the attention of others because they make you feel desirable."

Ethan picked up a martini from a passing tray – the brunette slave Daphne, she noted with something akin to jealousy – and took a sip. "And yet you forget that my desire for you has always been constant. That you think so little of that does me a great disservice."

He took another long sip, watching her. Jen's mind reeled from what he'd just said. 

He was right.

Ethan had always had faith in her charms. 

When she'd thought she was unworthy, his lust for her had been constant. 

He'd taken her into his house, made her into something beautiful, into the archetype she'd wanted to be: The ingénue, the whore, the concubine. 

And she'd forgotten that in the heady excesses of the celebrations before the wedding.

Had she betrayed that faith so quickly? And for such a cheap price?

He frowned again. "The thing is, I've never told you that you wouldn't be with other men. That I wouldn't indulge your appetites, which I've known of for quite some time. But you felt that you couldn't trust me to satisfy that, and so you've taken it on yourself to break that trust between us." 

She swallowed hard. "I've taken you for granted, Master." 

"Indeed you have," he said quietly, a wry, almost pained smile on his handsome face. Ethan snapped his fingers and Persephone appeared at his side, tray proffered that he might dispose of his drink. He placed the empty martini glass lightly on the tray, and reached out to caress the whore's nipple, and smiled at the hungry shiver his touch produced.

Jen could have died on the spot from the agony of that smile. 

Ethan looked back at her. "I guess Kami was right about you after all." 

And then he spun on his heel and led her away into the crowd. 

She could only follow, hot tears in her eyes.



Auction Ch. 15



Ethan led her away from the booth, away from the temptation of Suchin and Starke. She said nothing, the strain of her leash enough to tell her that his displeasure would be lasting. They worked their way across the dance floor, the crowd parting for them as they went.

Jen couldn't decide whether it was a mark of Ethan's standing in this community or some unspoken signal of what was to come – not until she saw the look of trepidation on the face of a young slutslave as she walked past. The woman was on her knees, her cheeks hollow from the effort she was putting into her felatio. As they moved past her, however, she stopped, midstroke, and her eyes followed Jen as she moved past. The sharp crack of a paddle hitting what must have been the slaves proffered ass told Jen that she'd resumed her focus, but the idea that someone would break their concentration to track her progress worried her.

At length they reached a large door set in the far corner of the room. As doors went, it was fairly unassuming, save that it was made of brushed steel, like a door to a kitchen or a boiler room – a door that spoke of function, rather than appearances. It gleamed in the half light of the great hall. 

Something about its very function nature made her very uneasy. 

Ethan turned to her, his face impassive. "Strip."

Confused, she could only comply. It was surreal to finally remove her own nipple clamps; they'd only ever been taken off by others. 

 Still, the pain made her knees weak as she fumbled with first one, then the second cloverleaf, their grip on her tormented nipples finally released. Waves of pleasurepain coursed through her, and she fought off a small orgasm, knowing it would displease him. Knowing that whatever lesson this was supposed to be, it wasn't one to reward her most recent behavior. 

 Her Master held his hand for the clips and chain, and she fought back the spots in her eyes as she threaded them out through the hook atop her corset and handed them to him. He nodded and then put them inside his suit jacket. 

 She nodded and reached behind herself, grasping at the laces that held her fast. After a moment's searching she found them and began to pull them out, gradually releasing the comforting pressure of the whalebone around her torso. Ethan said nothing, and after what seemed to Jen to be an unbearably long time, she was at last free of the garment, its halves peeling away from her heated skin. She carefully shimmied it down over her hips and stepped out of it, and then handed it to Ethan as well. 

 He took it, folded it neatly, and then pointed at her shoes and snapped his fingers. Jen complied, her confusion now overpowering. Ethan never made her remove her shoes when he ordered her to strip; they were as much a symbol of her slutslave status as the platinum band around her neck.

 Still, she doffed the heels and handed them to him. He turned and gave the corset and her heels to the waiting slavegirl, who curtsied and then disappeared. 

 Ethan looked at her for one long hard moment. 

"I'd ask you for your collar if I could. But I can't; that's a part of the contract. But know that I would."

Jen quailed before that statement. Was he releasing her? 

A selfish part of her mind, one she'd long thought destroyed by her experiences with him, grew nauseous at the thought of resuming all her debt. 

"Now bend over and grab your ankles." She complied, her hands taking a firm grip on her lower calves, the polished marble of the floor casting only the faintest reflection of a very confused slutslave. 

Ethan placed a hand on the small of her back, and then slowly withdrew the dildo from her. Jen gasped at the sudden removal, not least because the cast shape of his cock fit her so well. But before she'd even had time to recover, her ass was stretched as the plug within it was removed as well. 

Tears sprang to her eyes; she felt so empty without them, something she'd never have imagined possible. 

He thrust into her then, making her smile at the sudden feel of him inside her. A new flood of heat and wetness surged through her, but before he'd begun, he was withdrawing.

"Stand up."

She did, and turned to see him snap his fingers at a waiting slave. This one, a striking ebony beauty with springy curls, immediately sank to her knees and began cleaning his cock. 

Jealousy snarled within her. 

That was her cock to possess. No one elses.

Still, that reaction made her doubt her earlier hunger. Jen knew he wouldn't allow her both ... did she really want all that attention if it meant losing what was rightfully hers? 

She'd decided almost from the minute she'd entered his service that she'd win him for herself. Was she willing to forgo that for the delights she'd seen this evening?

After a moment of silence, with their eyes locked and the wet noises of the slave performing her duty between them, Jen dropped her gaze. She couldn't endure that intensity for long. 

Ethan placed one hand atop the slavegirl's head, who immediately stopped, and backed away. He placed his cock back inside his pants, and took her in his arms. 

"Remember what that felt like over the next few hours. Hold that feeling to you, and you may endure this and come back to me. 

What?!? 

Her mind screamed as he dropped his arms. 

Endure what?

She forced herself to remain calm and said nothing as he took her by the hand and led her to the door. With his right hand he reached up and slid back the deadbolt that fastened it shut. It opened with a sharp crack that brought a palpable stillness to the entire room.

It had to be some signal, she knew, some terrible knell that everyone but her recognized. 

Ethan opened the door. 

It was even darker inside than in the main hall, but she could see what lay in store for her. 

She whirled on him, struggling to break his grip, but he held her fast. 

"No, Master, please. I don't want this. I don't want this. I want to be with you." The words came in a rush, driven by the reality of what lay in that room. 

Ethan's grip, however, could not be broken, and with a nod, two female slaves came to hold her fast, one locking her arms behind her, and the other holding her head up so she was forced to look into the fate that lay behind that steel door. 

"You wanted this," his breath was hot in her ear. 

"No no no no no no ..." Her mind was locking up, the dread of what she was about to endure was too much to comprehend. All that she'd envisioned when she'd taken this contract seemed gone, the joys of becoming his bound submission suddenly ash before her. 

"Yes, you did. That was your mouth reaching for Starke's cock, wasn't it?"

Ethan stepped back, and moved to stand before her. Jen couldn't really even look at him, so transfixed on the room behind him. 

He slapped her, once, hard. 

Jen tore her eyes away, and forced herself to look at him. "What is that?" 

He smiled, a cruel smile that reminded her of her place in the world, and how much she must have wronged him with her own vanity. 

"That, my dear, is a special place. Sometimes, when a slave becomes too willful, or loses herself in her own appetites, we send her in there. Daphne survived it, so did Persephone. Didn't you, Dear?"

"Yes Sir." The brunette's voice sounded behind her; the woman who held her face in such a rigid pose. In her struggles, Jen hadn't even realized that they were the ones holding her. 

"Your actions tonight have proven to me that you don't want to be my bound slave. That you want to be something more ... shall we say ... primal. I can accept that, even if I don't like it."

He leaned in, his brown eyes locking on her with a raptor's stare. 

"So we will put you in there, and we shall see what you become."

With that, he took a great handful of her curls and dragged her forward. The two slutslaves released her almost immediately, and with one shove Ethan thrust her across the threshold. 

Jen stumbled and fell, onto a floor that was padded. 

She turned with a wail to see the door close behind her, Ethan's stare piercing her right until the final sliver of light disappeared as the chamber was sealed. 

Hands reached for her in the darkness. 

Jen awoke, much later. Her body ached and her mind felt full of ashes. Though she opened her eyes, she could see nothing. 

Nor could she move. She'd been bound, hand and foot, her voluptuous form stretched to its limits and then lashed to a St. Andrew's cross. 

It was warm in the darkness, and still. The simple silence of it all was in its own way very loud. 

She licked her lips, uncertain of what she was supposed to do now. 

Images came rushing back to her, and she shuddered at the thought of them. Had those things really happened?

Had they really done such things to her?

Had Ethan knowingly given her to him?

She tried to clear her throat, but found it very dry. Jen licked her lips, trying to clear the taste from her mouth. 

Time had no meaning for her. She could have been on the cross for a day or an hour. It was anyone's guess. 

Jen didn't even know how long it had been before she'd blacked out. The sheer intensity of what had happened to her had robbed her of perspective; it all appeared to have happened at once.

Strangely, though, she wasn't all that scared by what had happened, now that she was able to take the time to reflect on it. 

Her nipples throbbed suddenly, as if parts of her body were coming back to life on their own. She looked down seeking the source of her pain, but could, of course, see nothing. Still, they ached, and carried a weight to them that she'd never felt before.  

Had she been pierced? 

A sense of horror swept through her. 

Piercing, for all its charms on others, was never something she'd thought of for herself. 

But now, hanging there in the darkness, unable to move, trying to intuit the state of her own body by sheer willpower alone, her mind began to conclude that perhaps she had been, that perhaps Ethan had let her be so marked. 

Jen didn't know what to think at this realization.

He must have known. He'd told her in no uncertain terms that this room was reserved for the willful and the recalcitrant, so he must have known exactly what that program of rehabilitation would have entailed.

But the idea that he would let them do that to her. 

She wanted to be angry, she wanted to cry out that it was all so unfair. 

But she couldn't. 

She was too weary. Every part of her was sore and it seemed even to take energy she didn't have just to hang there in the darkness.

Besides, in her heart, she knew she'd wronged him.

She'd broken the contract. 

Tears ran down her cheeks as she let her head fall, losing herself in the stillness to escape the remorse she felt.

It wasn't long before she sank back into darkness.

Sometime later, she didn't know when, Jen woke to the touch of soft hands, washing her face with a cool, damp cloth. She knew at once that this was a woman; the faint scent of lavender told her as much. 

She licked her lips hungrily, seeking to quench the terrible thirst that gripped her, and, after a moment was rewarded with the taste of wine against her lips. Just a few drops at first, but then, as she could take more, Jen was given all she could drink. 

In her depleted state, she felt the effects quickly, and soon forgot herself. She began to ask questions, calling out, seeking some shred of human contact, some explanation for where she was and what had been done to her.

Silence was her only response. 

After a long time, when she'd begun to imagine that there'd been no one else in the room with her, that she'd become so delirious that she'd imagined the entire exchange, she felt the touch again. 

In the darkness, as she hung there, aching and abuzz from the wine, she felt a warm breath on her vulva. It was so faint at first that she almost thought it part of her hallucination. But then there it was again, a faint exhaled heat against her all-too-sensitive skin.

She was instantly wet, her body responding to unseen person before her.

A long fingernail scored its way across her clit, sending shivers through her body as it touched her. There was no pressure to that touch, only the slightest trace along her skin.

A ragged moan escaped her, and a very feminine chuckle sounded beneath her.

"Good," said a voice honeyed by a French accent, "you are not so far gone yet, Oui?"

"What?" she gasped, utterly confused. Her arousal was peaked by the woman's accent, and by the certainty that there was a woman kneeling before her, so close to her body that she could surely smell how wet she was.

That thought spurred her on even further, and she could feel her lips engorge themselves with desire, like the slow unfolding of a flower's petals. 

Her new companion chuckled, "Yes, I think you will be fine." 

Jen heard her stand. 

And then she was gone. 

It was a long time before Jen's desire subsided. 

By the time her second visitor left her, she'd almost broken her contract. The safeword she'd agreed on, the one written into her contractor, the one whose use instantly restored all of her debts, was nearly torn from her lips. 

But she endured. 

Though she couldn't see so much as a foot in front of her in the total blackness of the room, Jen knew her eyes must be glazed from what she'd experienced. 

Her initial levity had been replaced by a profound sense of dread. These people were skilled in manipulating her body in ways she'd not imagined, and they'd shown her that what she thought she'd wanted wasn't necessarily so. 

She hung there, murmuring Ethan's name, holding fast to that sliver of sanity that was her devotion him. 

Then and there, as her wrists sagged against the leather cuffs that bound her, as her thighs burned and shuddered from the weight of her own exhaustion, Jen vowed to rededicate herself to him.

The feel of his lips on hers startled her. 

"Master!" she cried out, surging forward in vain against her bonds. She could smell him, knew he was before her in the quiet darkness. 

He said nothing of course, but she thrilled to the touch of his hand on her stomach. It was a supremely intimate gesture, one utterly devoid of any overtones of sexuality or submission. 

It was a lover's gesture, the way a man might touch his wife. 

She sobbed at this, knowing that he was more disappointed with her than angry. That he still believed in their relationship, even if she apparently didn't. 

Somewhere inside her she knew that he'd trained slaves more troublesome than her, that everything she was enduring right now – and had endured – was simply a program designed to forge her into what she wanted to become. But living with that reality was another thing entirely. 

He kissed her again gently, his hands on her face.

"Shhh," he said quietly, "don't cry. You're doing wonderfully. I hadn't dared to hope for you, but to know you've made it this far makes me proud."

"Master?" Her voice seemed so faint, little more than a parched squeak.

"Yes, Jennifer?"

She was quiet for a moment, her breaths coming long and slow as she considered what she was about to say. Jen knew it'd be a gamble, a longshot, and that he might become angry at what he took to be a ploy to set her free from this place. 

But she had to try. 

This place had taken its toll on her, had stripped her of any appetites she'd thought she'd had. It was as if they'd leached the joy of it all out of her, robbed her of the power of her carnal self. 

She felt profoundly empty. 

Even at the depths of her graduate funding woes she hadn't felt like this. It was if they'd stripped away every part of her she held dear, and crunched it all down into powerful, but fleeting carnal sensations. 

Frankly, if this was what Persephone and Daphne had embraced, then she pitied them. 

She'd learned in the depths of the agonies they'd given her that she didn't want their fate; she'd come to understand as her body burned with pleasures she couldn't stand that her joy, her true joy, lay in making others happy. Ethan was the fulcrum of her existence because she wanted only to please him. 

To do that, though, she had to get out of here and back to him.

She cleared her throat, and then made her play. 

"I want to come home. I want to be with you and with Kami in our house. I've wronged you, I know that now, and I'm so sorry. But this, this has shown me what I want. What I really want. And all I really want is to devote myself to you."

There, she'd said it. All in a rush, all at once, probably babbling, but she'd said it all nonetheless. 

"I know," he said. "Now prove it."

And then he was gone.

 She went through six more training cycles before she finally broke ... three sessions more than any previous slutslave sent to that room. 

 It was the smell of coffee that finally dragged her back to consciousness. Jen opened one eye and then promptly snapped it shut again, hissing at the sting of bright sunlight after such a long ordeal. 

 Slowly, gingerly, she opened her eyes and let them adjust. 

 To her surprise, Jen realized she was back in their room at the Driskill. She lay sprawled in the vast white expanse of the bed, a tangle of sheets and the duvet. She was nude, as she should be, but a quick check confirmed that her collar was still firmly in place. 

 With some trepidation she sat up and looked at her breasts. 

 It was true, both nipples had been pierced, and were now adorned by small platinum rings. Like the collar before them, these rings also lacked any kind of lock or seam, though how they'd gotten there she couldn't really.

 Jen shook her head; there was so much of that night she couldn't recall.

 She rose from the bed and strode to the balcony, moving slowly as her aching frame sought out the wonderful scent of French Roast. 

 "Nice to see you're awake." Ethan's voice from behind her startled her, and she whirled to meet him, immediately dropping her gaze to the floor as she knelt in submission.

 He strode to her, his powerful frame also nude, and still graced by droplets of water from the shower. She felt a faint stirring within her, that persistent hunger for him that she never quite seemed able to quench.

 "Did I miss the wedding last night, Master?"

 "Last night? That was three days ago, little one."

 Three days?!? Her mind reeled at the thought of it.

 He placed one hand on her chin, and lifted her face until her eyes were level with the heavy length of him.

She smiled, and licked her lips. 



Auction Ch. 16



Ethan straightened his tie, and took one last look in the mirror. Jen watched him from the bed, where she lay on her stomach, a wisp of white sheet covering her bottom. 

She was spent. It was all she could do to stay awake and watch him get dressed for his meetings.

Yesterday, after she'd awoken in their hotel room, her body aching and her mind reeling from three days of training. Before she was even fully awake, Ethan had taken her. Pulling her to him, he'd ravished her until she wept. 

After she'd made appropriate homage to him, of course. After a fierce kiss, he'd pointed at the floor. Dutifully, she'd knelt before him. With her own hunger rising at the sight of his naked body, she leaned forward and sought his forgiveness in the only way she knew how. Fortunately for her, she was quite a talented fellatrix. She loved sucking cock; she'd always loved sucking cock. That his cock caused such frenzy in her only made it easier to service him. By the time he came, filling her mouth with his hot seed, her pussy ached and she was purring with her own pleasure. 

Then, with the taste of him on her lips, she'd been taken into his arms and carried into the suite's bathroom. He bathed her himself, placing her in a large tub, running his hands all over her body as he washed away the leavings of her ordeal. She'd forgotten how gentle he could be, and her body had thrilled to his touch as his fingers worked out the strains and kinks of her restraint, kneading life back into her form even as he soaped her ample curves and washed her hair. 

In the end, as his eyes met hers and his lips lightly touched hers, she'd orgasmed suddenly, inadvertently, giving herself to the heat that had grown within her.

Expecting reprimand for this breach of etiquette, she giggled when he simply smiled at her. Ethan had reached for her, pulling her to him in the steamy warmth of the tub. His strong hands had reached under her, lifting her up and onto his turgid shaft before lowering her fluttering body back down gently. Confronted by the roar of pleasure as his cock filled her, Jen did the only thing she could do: She wrapped her legs around him and gave herself to him. 

And that had been the start of it. From there the day had slipped into a long sequence of passionate lovemaking broken by bouts of sleep. Well into the early hours of this morning he would wake her with a touch and then have his way with her. There was no pleasurepain in any of these sessions, simply a terrible need in him to quench himself in her. 

Again and again Ethan would drive into her, mounting her in a simple missionary fashion while she writhed and moaned beneath the welcome crush of his muscled form. Even as she moved in time with him, willing herself to hold off her own release so she could cum with him, her mind marveled at the intensity of his lovemaking. 

She'd known that she'd almost been lost to him; but his passion for her made her suspect that her betrayal hurt him more than she realized. 

Her heart ached with this knowledge, even as her body sang with the delights of their union. She vowed then and there to rededicate herself to him, to abandon whatever conceits she might have and become his. Kami remained a problem of course, since she wanted Ethan all to herself, but Jen knew that the raw, sexual hunger that had so confounded her was purged from her. 

Her time in that dark room had made her realize what she really wanted. Made her understand that what she'd embarked on, while titillating, was not a game; it was a conscious choice to live her life in service to another, and by doing so, realize her own happiness. 

And his cock, oh his magnificent cock, buried within her wet, throbbing pussy, plunging into that perfect connection time and again. It was almost too much, the very act of his thrusts creating a dangerous hunger for him.

As much as she wanted to serve, she realized, she wanted that feeling of his cock inside her. Worse, she realized, she needed that feeling. 

With this combination -- her enlightened embrace of submission and her physical hunger for him -- Jen's fate was sealed. 

Suddenly, it became effortless to give herself to him utterly, to embrace the little death he summoned in her again and again with no thought to what she wanted. To be pinned to the expanse of their bed by the steely length of his shaft, her breasts afire as her newly pierced nipples sent waves of pleasure through her with every move of his chest against her, staving off her own pleasure solely that she might offer him more.

Having evolved beyond her own girlish fantasies into true submission, how could she do otherwise? 

Finally, in the very, very early hours of the morning, he'd cried out, his body shuddering against hers in one long, climatic event, and then he'd collapsed atop her. She came as well, then, summoning up the last vestiges of desire from her spent frame, reserves of crackling sexual energy she barely knew she had. Her fine hands had clawed at his broad shoulders as she bucked and writhed against her, and he'd laughed out loud at the sight of her gasping mouth and fluttering eyes. The purity of that final orgasm extinguished her, and left her prostrate beneath him, nearly catatonic from the experience. 

Whatever demons he'd needed to purge were clearly gone, and Ethan's steady, satisfied breathing soon dragged her down into sleep, her cheeks wet with tears of joyful release. 

And so now, hours later, she lay on the bed, still an utter wreck, marveling at how he seemed fresh and chipper. He looked like he'd slept for the last twelve hours, rather than playing her body like a fine instrument. She looked positively rumpled. 

Ethan nodded to himself, satisfied with his appearance, and turned. He was dressed in a dark charcoal suit that sported a fine pinstripe, and the deep red of his tie went well with his crisp white shirt. 

The outfit reminded her of Starke for some reason, but she said nothing. 

Better to put the past, in the past. 

He strode to the bed and sat down next to her, and then leaned down and kissed the top of her head. 

Jen rolled over, the better to lavish him with all the joys she possessed; his now in their entirety. She noted with satisfaction that his eyes roamed over her lush form, taking in the beauty of her full breasts, her flat stomach, the subtle play of her collarbone, the simple art of her nude mons pubis...

Ethan placed his hand on her stomach, his warm touch stirring her faintly. "I have to go. I'm meeting new clients at two, and it's already one fifteen."

"Yes, Sir. What shall I do while you're gone?"

Ethan smiled that smile that told her she would be testing her own boundaries today, and not lolling about in bed watching daytime television. 

"There is a note in the next room. Follow its instructions to the letter. I will see you at four. Don't be late."

He smiled again and then kissed her lightly on the lips, before standing and walked to the door. With a wink, he was gone, leaving the door fully ajar, the better to teach her that her nudity was something public. 

Jen stood and then padded over to the door. Beyond it lay the hallways of the Driskill. She looked out into the hallway, sensing the presence of the cleaning staff and the patrons, knowing that any one of them could see her at any minute, and forced herself to take a deep breath and count to thirty. 

As she was about to shut the door, a couple walked by. They saw her in the doorway: A beautiful blonde, utterly nude, utterly disheveled, and sporting a self assured look on her face that spoke off recent passion. Jen could only imagine how the smell of sex must have been coming off her in waves, and she was suddenly aware of the taste of Ethan on her lips, and the fact that her mouth ached from her devotions.

And yet strangely enough, as the couple stopped and looked at her, she saw none of the shock or revulsion she expected. 

Rather, they seemed to be comfortable with her presence, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to see in this hotel. Jen wondered at that, but gave it little thought as she gazed out on the two of them.

They were young, early thirties at best, and handsome in a manner suggesting both affluence and good breeding. The woman wore a narrow black skirt with floral embroidery and a white top that showed her bra beneath; she was pretty but not beautiful, with blonde hair pulled down in two short braids. Her body was fit, but lacked the ample curves Jen enjoyed. Her blue eyes seemed to fixate on Jen's ample breasts. 

After a moment, Jen realized that the woman was looking at the platinum rings that now adorned her nipples, and smiled, pleased that her new gifts from Master Ethan were appealing to others. 

The woman's companion, a tall, thin man dressed in jeans and a dress shirt, leaned in and whispered something into his companion's ear. A pleasant giggle was his response and then she darted forward to kiss Jen on the lips.

"You're very lucky," was all she said, "He must be very special."

"He is," Jen whispered, holding her close for a moment, "I am honored to serve him." The woman's perfume was thick in the air about her. 

And then her companion was pulling her away, off down the hall.

Jen stood in the doorway, watching them go, marking their room number before stepping back in, and closing the heavy door. There were no wedding rings that she could see. Were they meeting for some tryst of their own?

She knew they would both be thinking of her as they made love, and that made her pussy throb ever so slightly. Ethan would be pleased. 

On the table in the sitting room that adjoined the bedroom were three things: A small box wrapped in soft blue tissue paper, a silver, metal briefcase, and a pair of steel handcuffs. 

Jen regarded all three for a long while and then looked about for a clock. To her surprise it was already 2:30 in the afternoon. She had no idea what either the case or the box might contain, but the purpose of the cuffs was clear: Ethan wanted her restrained in some fashion upon his return. 

Given that this was the first time she'd ever been outside the estate on 'normal' circumstances, she assumed that the case had nothing to do with her, and so picked up the box. It rustled faintly when she shook it, confirming her suspicion that it contained clothing for her to wear. 

Not that there would be much, she thought to herself with a grin. Many of her old foibles were slipping away in the wake of her retraining, and so the thought of being so exposed didn't provoke the same doubts about her own body. 

Using her fingernail, she picked open the wrapping and opened the box. Within lay a pair of black heels -- Jimmy Choo Pillows, she noted with a gasp of pleasure -- a stockings and garter set from an Italian designer she didn't recognize, and a small, folded note. She set the box on the table and took out this last item. 

Pet, 

Please bring the briefcase to the address below at four. I need it for a meeting this afternoon. 

Put on the items in the box, and only the items in the box, and meet me. If you move quickly, you shouldn't get arrested. 

Ask for Simon at the front desk -- in person -- he will order you a car.

Don't be late, 

Ethan

PS: The handcuffs are so that you don't lose the case. 

Jen let out a long, shuddering breath. These instructions were so far from what she'd expected that she had to sit down in one of the plush chairs. Her knees were weak and her heart was racing. Ethan had just upped the ante well beyond what she could have comprehended. She knew that there were women out there who did things like this, who were so truly, totally dedicated to their masters that they would do literally whatever was asked of them. And she wanted to please him. 

But she'd never expected that he might ask this after nearly a year in relative isolation. She'd been alone in the house with the two of them for so long that she'd come to think of herself as a hothouse flower -- something beautiful to be admired by only a select few. 

Now, however, he was asking her to come meet him dressed in nothing more than a whisp of lingerie and a pair of heels, shackled to a briefcase. 

She looked over at the case. What did it contain?

It was locked, she soon discovered, so even that little relief was denied to her. She was expected to come meet him, risk arrest, risk public scorn, and still could not know what she was delivering. 

Could she do it, she wondered? Could she really stride out onto the streets of Austin naked and wanton, and somehow avoid the consequences long enough to reach him? 

She didn't know. It was all too much. 

One thing she did know, however, was that she couldn't fail him. Not again. Not so soon after her betrayal. Yes, he'd set the bar impossibly high on this test, but there was no real choice for her if she was to win him back.

And she was determined to win him back. 

Jen stood up on shaking legs, and headed for the shower. 

One hour later, she stepped out into the hallway, a stunning vision of sex personified. The steel handcuff was cool around her right wrist as she strode quickly to the elevator. She thought her heart would leap out of her chest as she waited for it to chime, and spent those torturous moments shifting from one foot to another while she prayed that no one would come by. 

For some reason, she knew she could make it out of the lobby if she could just have a few moments to compose herself. Some small voice inside her told her that she could do anything to win Ethan's love. She clung to that conviction with every shred of willpower she had, and stoutly ignored her own reflection in the hallway in the mirror as she waited.

Would anyone from her old life recognize her if they were to see her now? She'd changed into something utterly alien to her old, bookish life. Her body was leaner, sculpted by hard exercise and focused deprivation; and her new piercings certainly marked her as a changed woman. But mentally, she'd come so far, her confidence had spiked dramatically in the glare of Ethan's attentions. 

Blue eyes dark with applied kohl stared back at her from the reflection; they were determined, and not a little haunted by all she'd seen and done. 

It wasn't that she had any regrets. 

Rather, she simply had undertaken such a transformation of herself that she felt increasingly detached from who she'd been. 

Before, despite all the things she'd done as Ethan's slutslave, she'd always felt threads leading back to her old life. Before there'd always been the possibility that she might go back to her old life. She'd never reconciled how to keep Ethan and achieve that, but then it'd always been a fantasy, something to cling to in those moments when the reality of being reduced to a sexual object rankled the powerful intellect she'd been.

Now, however, as she looked into that mirror and saw the bombshell before her ... now she wasn't so sure. 

Finally, the elevator chimed, the doors slid open, and Jen almost died right there on the spot.

The elevator was packed, full of businessmen and women obviously on their way to a mid-afternoon meeting. 

Despite all her newfound confidence, decades of self-doubt suddenly flooded her mind. She'd been caught! They could all see her. They all knew. Surely they would laugh and point, and she'd be hauled away by hotel security in utter humiliation. 

But then a moment passed, and another. And she was still alive, still wanton and gorgeous in her garters and heels, the case still safely in her possession. 

She looked at them, and they looked at her. 

No one said anything.

It's going to be ok, she suddenly realized. However bizarre this might be for a ... hell, what day was it ... she was going to survive this encounter. 

And the next. 

And the next.

Jen shifted her feet, taking a more open stance, one that was more inviting, pushing her breasts slightly forward and opening her legs a bit. Let them see me, she thought. Look at this pussy, my Master's pussy, and crave it. 

Long seconds ticked away as they all waited for the doors to close. She did not attempt to board. She couldn't. Even if she'd wanted to, there was simply nowhere to stand -- a fact that she could tell disappointed not a few of the car's occupants. 

So they all stood there, the suits and the slave, and looked at one another. Somewhere she found the strength to meet their collective gaze, and found, to her surprise, that the act of holding her head high made her quite warm. Indeed, she could feel herself getting wet, feel her pussy becoming engorged like the petals of a flower unfolding, as they all stood and watched one another. 

Sets of hungry eyes roamed over her body with undisguised avarice; male and female alike, she noted. One or two of them were clearly disgusted with her, but the collective lust pouring out of that elevator car was an almost physical thing that threatened to pull her inside. 

Part of her longed to give in, to step forward into that collective embrace, to let herself be consumed by them. It had already happened to her once this weekend, she thought. But tempting though that possibility was, she knew that she no longer had any will of her own; her strength and her guide was her Master. 

He had commanded her to come to him, and so she would. 

This realization, and the palpable hunger coming out of the elevator car, made her smile. More of a smirk, really, but she watched its effect scatter over her captive audience, noted the nipples pushing against the white blouse of a 40-something brunette, noted the bulges cresting in not a few suit trousers.

Slowly, finally, the door began to close, blocking the view of those in the back and the sides. Jen locked eyes with a striking young man, clearly the newest addition to this group of corporate raiders. He met her gaze evenly, self assured that he could stare her down. His was the only eyes she could see, and she suddenly felt quite wicked to be thusly displayed for him alone. 

Somehow it was more wanton to be nude for only him than for the group.

Just as the doors narrowed to a near-final seam, she reached up and idly dragged her left middle finger over her left nipple, flipping the ring ever so slightly as she did so. It felt amazing, jolts of pleasure flaring through her turgid bud, and she shivered with it. 

The young man coughed loudly, almost choking at the sight. And then the doors slid shut and she was alone again.

Jen laughed then, loud peals of laughter releasing the tension she'd felt. 

She pressed the button again, alone in the hall, a newly reborn submissive on her way to her master. 

"Ah, yes," said the clerk, his eyes never leaving hers in a display of professionalism and willpower that left her almost insulted, "You're staying in the Rennaissance Suite; you're Mr. G's guest."

This was the Simon she'd been told to seek out. He was at least fifty, impeccably groomed, and utterly indifferent to the sight before him.

She stood before the main desk, amidst the marble columns and arches of the lobby. Only a few minutes had passed since her arrival, and already the commotion she'd caused was considerable. Guests had stopped to gawk, and not a few of them were snapping photos of her on an array of cell phones and cameras. 

Oddly enough, this didn't bother her. Ethan had registered her under a false name, and as much as she might worry, no one she knew from her old life would have been in a place like this. 

So she stood there, reveling in how the Jimmy Choo's made her calves look so sculpted, drinking in the public's admiration and disdain in equal measure. None of it mattered anymore, she realized. Ethan's opinion was the only one that counted anymore. 

"What can I do for you, Miss?" The man's self control was maddening. Why wasn't he responding to her? How could he look at her and see nothing?




Auction Ch. 16



Still, there was something about standing there on display that made her body flush with a mild sense of shame. This was different from the elevator ... she was the only one on display here, there was no captive audience like there had been on the floor above. 

"I presume you're not here simply to bother my customers, Miss ..." Simon's voice trailed off, awaiting her response.

Jen nodded, her body still flush with the thought of standing before him. Her embarrassment, if you could call it that, derived less from the fact that she wore nothing more than a pair of garters and stockings, as it did from the case shackled to her wrist. It should have made her feel like a spy, and would have, had she been dressed, but instead, it made her feel like an object, like she belonged to it. 

"Miss Adrienne, Sir," she responded, instinctively according him that title. "And no, Sir, I am not here to cause a scene. Master Ethan told me you would call a car for me."

Simon nodded knowingly, and smiled, the first sign that he wasn't quite the reptile she'd first thought.

"Well, Ms. Adrienne," he said, deliberately emphasizing her name to demonstrate that he knew she was lying, "if you'll go wait outside, I will call you a car." 

"Outside?" she asked weakly. Ethan continued to surprise her. Surely he knew she'd be arrested? 

A cold smile this time, knowing in an entirely different way. "Yes. Your Master's instructions are quite specific. Now, if you please." He held his arm up, pointed at the door, indicating that he wanted her to leave.

Jen swallowed thickly, and found her courage again. She fixed Simon with her very fiercest stare and said, "Very well. I expect that car in ten minutes or Master Ethan will hear about it." 

And with that she turned and strode towards the exit, knowing that every pair of eyes in the room was watching the wonder that was her hips in motion. Soon she was standing in the hot sun of a Texas afternoon, watching as her presence caused a terrible commotion.

She smiled at this, noting who was appalled and who was enthralled, seeing how many people stopped to take her photo, and how many would cling to one another, pointing at her and talking in low whispers. Some clearly thought they must have been seeing a movie being filmed, because they began looking for the camera crew that wasn't there. 

Long minutes passed. Jen had no watch of course, Ethan hadn't deigned to give her one in the box. And she wore only what was in the box like the good slutslave she was trying so hard to be. 

She didn't mind, the sun was very pleasant on her body, and her efforts at tanning back at his estate gave her a nice base. 

Slowly, though, it began to dawn on her that the car promised by Simon might not actually be coming. She turned to go back inside, and was confronted by the sight of him standing in the doorway behind her. He saw her notice him and gave her another cruel smile, one that confirmed her suspicions that there would be no car.

So the test is more than just a simple willingness to expose myself, she thought, frowning in consternation.

Think, she willed herself, you're not helpless. 

You're just totally naked on a busy street in a major urban area. You have an address ... all you have to do is get there. 

But I have no money, she thought to herself. How will I pay for the ride?

Jen chewed her lip, now oblivious to all the passerbys. She knew it was only a matter of time until she was arrested. So she had to get out of there quickly. She looked in each direction, silently praying for an empty cab to come by. 

Of course none did. 

Then it happened ... she looked to her right, and saw the police cruiser coming. It was still two blocks away, but there was no way it wasn't coming for her. There were office buildings to either side of her, perhaps she could find an alley. She clutched the case to her body and darted off down 6th Street.

Sure enough, the siren squawked behind her. 

Throwing caution to the wind -- Ethan would brook no failure -- Jen ran, tottering along until she came to a sidestreet on her right. She ran for all she was worth, despite the heels, charging back away from the street, hoping against hope that she could somehow evade the police and sneak back into the hotel. 

There was a door to what was probably the hotel kitchen, and she ran for it, somehow managing to ascend the steps without falling or damaging her shoes. Jen lunged for the open door ...

... and smashed headlong into someone. 

They went down in a heap, her nude frame landing atop the stranger. She looked down and laughed out loud. For there, pinned beneath her, covered in a smashed cake, was the woman from the airport.

Heather looked up at her and laughed as well. "I guess you're having a big day, aren't you?" 

"Help me." Jen clambered to her feet, adjusting the handcuff on her right wrist, and then helped pull the brunette up as well. "There's a police cruiser out there, and I have to meet Master Ethan by four."

"You'd better hurry," her erstwhile companion said with a smile, " that was five minutes ago."

Jen's heart sank, and she felt tears well up in her eyes. She'd failed him! The case was the most important thing at the moment. He needed it for his meeting, and until she delivered it to Ethan her value was subordinate to that of the briefcase. 

Instinctively, the brunette hugged her, and Jen could feel the ruined cake crush against her carefully oiled skin. Still, it felt reassuring, and she stifled a sniffle and smiled at her.

"Hide in here," said the young woman, pointing at the nearby pantry, "and I'll be back for you in five minutes. We'll figure this out."

Jen nodded and stepped into the small room. The door clicked shut behind her, and she was alone with her thoughts. 

Absently, she plucked a piece of cake off of her breast and ate it. 

It was very good cake, she thought to herself as she set about cleaning off as much as she could. After a few moments she realized she'd cleaned off as much as she could, and started to think about her next move. Ethan would be angry with her for being late, but she had to deliver the case to him. 

With another click, the door swung open and Heather appeared in the doorway. "I told them I saw a crazy naked woman run past me. They think you're somewhere upstairs."

"Thank you." Not surprisingly, the jealousy she'd felt toward the woman was gone, burned away by the assistance she'd just received. "I have to meet Master Ethan; I have to bring him this case."

"Hmm ... my car is parked outside. I can take you there. But we need to find you some clothes first, or they'll be after you again."

Jen shook her head. "No, this is all Master Ethan permitted me to wear. I cannot violate his command."

The brunette shook her head in wonderment, but Jen could see a strange heat in her eyes, one that told her that her new companion understood exactly why she was so adamant about remaining so brazenly exposed.

Exposed like the whore she was. 

Interesting, she thought to herself. She recalled that fleeting moment on the airplane when she'd imposed her will on the woman, forcing her to avert her eyes. Perhaps she could use this again. Jen cleared her throat.

"Go get your car. Bring it to this door way. Honk three times, and then I will come outside."

"I don't know, the cop car is right outside."

Jen placed her left hand on Heather's chest, against the V of bare skin exposed by her chef's coat. "You can do this. You will do this. You will do this for me. Now go." She traced her finger down into the folds on the coat, running her fingertip lightly across the top of Heather's breast.

Jen pursed her lips in satisfaction as the woman shivered with pleasure. "Are you that happy like this," she asked, her eyes bright with sudden desire. "Is this life what you wanted?" 

Oh yes, Jen thought, this little one bears more attention later. 

"Yes," she answered earnestly, confident in her renewed pledge to Ethan, "this life is what I was meant to be. I am so honored to serve my Master. I can't imagine my life without him."

Heather let out a long shuddering sigh. Then, with a whisper Jen didn't quite hear, the brunette curtseyed and left. Jen watched her go, not a little interested in the way she moved. 

Jen smiled to herself and began to look for a towel. She would have to finish cleaning herself off before she arrived at Ethan's location. 

At precisely 4:55, Heather's car rolled to a stop in front of the address Ethan had given her. It was a nondescript office building fronted by glass doors. 

"Well, you're here. Good luck. I have to go back and clean up all that mess. I don't know what I am going to say to my boss about that cake."

Jen leaned over and kissed the brunette lightly on the lips, savoring the faintest taste of chocolate. "Thank you."

She got out of the car and walked towards the entryway. Pulling open the glass door, she strode into the lobby. Not surprisingly, the receptionist, a woman in her late fifties, didn't seem the least bit shocked to see a nude slutslave standing before her. 

"Yes?" She asked Jen in a bored voice. 

"Master Ethan asked me to deliver this case to him. I believe he's in room 712."

"You were supposed to be here an hour ago." Hard eyes fixed her; clearly this woman had little tolerance for errant deliveries.

"Yes, Ma'am, I was. I got held up by the police."

"I don't care. The elevator is over there. You can go make your excuses to them." Jen followed her finger, and headed for the elevator.

As the car ascended, she felt a knot of tension building in her. Ethan would be angry with her, but surely he'd understand that she'd prevailed, that she'd met his challenge and brought him the case.

Right?

With a soft chime, the doors slid open and she stepped out into what looked for all intents and purposes to be a law office. Shining letters were affixed to one wall, stating 'Red Crane, Limited'.

Red Crane, she wondered? It couldn't be a coincidence.

But the House of the Red Crane was in Los Angeles, not Texas. 

Jen shook her head, it wasn't her place to question coincidences. Her job was to deliver this case. She strode over to the receptionist, a trim young Asian woman of perhaps nineteen.

"Good afternoon, I am here to deliver this case to Master Ethan." Jen held up her right arm to prove her sincerity. By now she'd been naked in public so much that it didn't even occur to her that the sight of her might be odd to some. 

If the sight of her was peculiar, however, then the young secretary was clearly unaffected. She nodded politely, and then picked up her phone, and spoke into it quietly. After a moment, she replaced the handset and stood up, smoothing the black, leather skirt she wore with a pale jade top.

"Follow me, please." 

As soon as the secretary stepped out from behind the desk, Jen understood everything. The young woman wasn't wearing a leather skirt at all. Rather, she was wearing a leather spanking skirt, which hugged her lithe curves but left her pert buttocks utterly exposed. Jen smiled at the honeyed color of the secretary's skin.

After a moment, the woman stopped and opened a door and gestured for Jen to enter. Despite her trepidations, she did. She belonged to Ethan after all, and had no choice in the matter.

"Ah," his voice boomed from within, as he stood from behind a desk and walked over to her. "Here's my package now, right on time."

Right on time, she thought? She was an hour late. 

A couple was sitting within, a couple she recognized. It was the couple from the hotel, the ones who'd been so amused by her in the hallway. The woman, however, was totally nude, and was kneeling on the floor beside her lover, who sat in a proper chair. The stranger had a look of anxiety on her face that told Jen that she'd made promises she wasn't sure she was ready fulfill. 

Jen immediately kneeled and presented the case, holding it out and up in front of her. "Your case, Master." 

She knew without being told what she must do for her Master then.

With a flourish, Ethan unlocked the cuff and took the case from her. He set it to one side of his desk and beckoned to her. Suspecting she might escape punishment for being late, she crawled to him and eagerly assumed a submissive pose, legs spread to proffer her pussy, head down, arms pulled behind her.

"Stand up and face me and put your hands on the desk. Now bend over and show them your pussy." Jen complied immediately, shifting up and into a wide legged stance. She bent over at the waist, pushing her ass out and towards them. With her hands stretched out before her, her breasts were pressed against the cool desktop. 

She was very wet by now, the simple act of complying with his command creating a familiar heat in her. There was only one reason a woman ever assumed a stance such as this: to be fucked. 

"So you see, Francisco," he pointed at Jen, "this is what the Red Crane can do for you. This is the kind of submissive we will help Cailey become." Ethan's voice was warm and confident, and the hand he placed atop her head told her that she was being cited as an example to this newcomer. 

"Jen?"

"Yes, Master?"

"Tell Mr. Delgado what you did this afternoon."

"I brought your case from our hotel room, Sir. Even though this slave was nude and had no money or phone, I brought it to you because you commanded me to do so." Just for effect, she clenched her buttocks, the better to torment this Mr. Delgado. That Delgado even doubted the wonders her master could achieve made her angry. 

Months ago, Jen had been a frumpy bookwarm. Now she was a wanton goddess of lust, bound to one man's will. 

Ethan had done that. 

Judging by the effect on his breathing, her display did not go unnoticed. Perhaps, she thought, this man wasn't so obtuse as to ignore her.

"And how far would you say our hotel room is? How long did it take you to get here?" Ethan's voice was calm. Obviously, he'd held these kinds of negotiations before. 

"It took me 35 minutes to get here, Sir, but this slave was fortunate to arrive by car. I couldn't say how long it might have taken on foot." 

"And did you encounter any problems on your way here?" She could feel the smile on his face, even though her eyes were focused on the whorls of the wooden desktop.

"Yes, Sir. This slave was almost arrested by the police. And she knows she was photographed by a number of strangers."

"And yet you did this for me, Jennifer. Even though strangers have your photograph and the police almost took you away. Why is that?" This question, deliberately asked to impress the customer, still made her shiver with pleasure. She loved the answer she knew she must give. 

"Because I am yours, Sir."

Ethan sat up in his chair. He stroked her cheek, letting her know that she had done well. But he did not tell her to move, so she remained as she was, proudly displaying her bald, throbbing pussy to these strangers she'd only just met. It felt good to stand there, to know that her presence alone impressed these two. That the woman kneeling behind her would take courage from the example she was giving, and embrace her own role as a submissive. 

"That's all we have to say, Mr. Delgado. I think the choice is yours now. I know this is new to you two, that it represents a huge step in your relationship. But as you can see, I think you'll be pleased with what we can offer you. "

"No, you're right, Ethan." The man stammered in his haste, eager to capture this opportunity lest it be taken from him, "This is all very impressive. Where do I sign?"

The two men talked business for another twenty minutes or so, negotiating the terms of the contract. Cailey, however, was to be taken and trained for a period of three months. The fee cited -- and accepted without question -- was considerable, and told Jen much about how Ethan lived the lifestyle he did. 

At last they left, with Francisco exiting through the door with a copy of his contract in hand, and with a newly-leashed Cailey being led away by the pretty, young Asian secretary. Jen smiled to herself at the look of confidence that now graced the initiate's face. 

Jen was confused. If it was all done, then what was in the case?

"Master," she began, waiting for his permission to speak. 

"Yes, Pet." He smiled at her and her heart sang with joy. There would be no punishments for being late. Whatever it was she'd done, she'd pleased him.

"Master, I failed to deliver you your case by four. Didn't you need it for this meeting?"

Ethan laughed and pulled her up and into his lap. He kissed her, running his hands across her bare bottom before playfully snapping one garter strap.

"There was nothing in the case. You were the item to be delivered."

She giggled. 

Of course. 

He pulled her closer to him and kissed her again for a few moments before pulling back. 

"Why do you smell like cake?"



Auction Ch. 17



Jen nestled against Ethan's chest as she sat in his lap, reveling in how good he smelled. It had been a trying day, and she was ready to go back to the hotel and grab a shower, a nap, and her lover. 

He held tight, his broad arms encircling her. At the moment he was idly nibbling on her neck, which was making her giggle. 

"Master," she said in a small voice, surprised at what she was about to ask.

"Yes?" 

"Master, I have one more question to ask of you." 

"Yes, my pet?" One hand grazed her buttock, sending a delightful shiver running through her. She wanted him so very badly, but somewhere over the last week she'd come to realize that she wanted the pleasurepain too. 

Jen kept her eyes lowered as she climbed out of his lap and knelt before him. She put her hands behind her back and spread her legs wide; a traditional stance he often made her assume. "This slave would ask a favor of her Master, Sir."

Ethan regarded her for a minute. She couldn't tell whether he was actually surprised by this or simply playing out the time to torment her. Either way, the effect was there ... she began to tremble, anxious that she'd overstepped some boundary.

Jen forced herself to be still. She could steal feel the presence of the newly inducted Cailey in the room. If that woman could be brave enough to willingly enter service for her lover, she could be brave enough to ask Ethan for what she needed.

After all, she'd been in Ethan's service for months now, almost a year. The favor she sought was nothing new ... it was just that she'd never really asked for it before. 

At last he spoke, breaking the silence of the office. "Yes?"

Barely a whisper from him, and yet it made her wet just to hear his voice. Sometimes she marveled at the way he'd taken over her psyche. Somewhere over the past ten months she'd lost herself in him; the recent three-day training session had only served to cement that hold.

Jen licked her lips and steeled herself. With a deep breath, she asked her favor, all in a rush. "This slave asks her master to please spank her. She has not been spanked in some time and needs to be."

"What was that, my little slut?"

"Spank me, Sir. Whip me. Flog me. Use me. Please, Sir, I need it. I need you to whip me." 

Ethan was silent again for a moment, and then leaned forward in the heavy leather chair. "No, I don't think so. It's been only a day since you came out of training. Your body doesn't need it again so soon."

Jen fell forward with a wail. He'd rejected her!

Truth be told, the nature of his denial startled her. On some level she'd expected him to simply acquiesce. To command her to stand and assume a position. That he might question her readiness, however, hadn't even occurred to her as a possibility. To date he'd pushed her so far beyond her comfort zones, that she'd simply assumed she was ready for anything.

Ethan leaned forward and twined his fingers in her long, blonde curls, and then tightened his grip until she had tears in her eyes. He pulled back, dragging her up until his arm was level with the desk and she was forced back into a more traditional kneeling submissive pose.

She knew he favored using her hair to move her about, not least for the sheets of pain - simple pain - it produced. Gasping from the agony, she tried to control her breathing and assume the proper form. After a long minute of struggling she managed to spread her legs wide once more and lean back, her hands placed beside her.

He released his grip almost immediately and then leaned back in his chair. She kept her eyes on the floor, but could feel his terrible gaze on her. 

Had it been such a sin for her to ask to be spanked? Apparently so, for she could feel his displeasure every bit as much as the points of her heels pressing into her toned buttocks.

"You do not tell me what you need, Slut. I am not interested in it." His voice was ice, and it made her mouth dry with fear to hear him talk to her in this tone. "You belong to me. When I want to spank you, I will spank you. Whether you 'need' it or not." 

"Yes, Sir," she whispered, wringing her hands in despair behind her back. Why did she keep making these mistakes? She'd been with him long enough to know better. And yet she still didn't entirely understand her place in this strange world she'd entered.

"So when I tell you you're not ready, that you need to rest, then that is final. My word is law to you. You are mine until you use your safeword. After you use it, you're free to seek out your needs. Until then, you are to conduct yourself in a manner befitting your station."

"Yes, Sir." She kept her head bowed, he kept quiet, and a terrible tension began to seep into the room. 

After a moment, he turned away; she could hear the leather chair creak as he moved. 

How then to convince him? Despite herself, she really wanted to be spanked. Something about the trip from the Driskill to his office had left her aching to be treated like a slutslave. The passionate bouts of lovemaking from the night before had been beautiful, but Jen realized that she'd truly embraced her new status. 

His word was law in his household. She could accept that. She'd lived with it all these months, after all. 

She was Ethan's concubine. His bound submissive. His whore. Truly, she had become his slutslave, fulfilling every aspect of that title.

Jen had long since realized that she wanted to be treated like that. The freedom of living as an extension of his will had proved immensely liberating for her; those years of self-doubt and insecurity seemed like a hazy bad dream these days. And the sex ... even thinking about the way he played her body to orgasm after orgasm just made her wet. 

But she wanted him to fulfill this growing hunger in her, no matter the cost. Her body positively ached for the whip, the crop, the flogger, the paddle ... all the more so because he'd made it clear she couldn't have any of them. 

"Master," she said again, surprising herself, "I simply must be spanked. I've been so bad to you, I need to be punished."

She was awash in sexual heat, a raw hunger rising in her that drowned out any sense of reason or propriety. 

His hand lashed out so hard she fell out of her pose and onto the room's hardwood floor. Starburst appeared in her eyes and her head throbbed from the sudden collision with the polished wood.

Ethan sat back in his chair. "What did I just tell you? I decide what you need, Slut. I decide when you will be punished."

Jen nodded, hot tears in her eyes. She'd been so foolish to think that she could direct him to satisfy her by provoking him. But she was so hot, so ready, that she couldn't think clearly. 

She needed to be spanked. 

"Stand up." At the sound of his voice, she practically sprang from the floor, eager to show him that she was his good girl. Ethan stood and strode over to her. 

Twin jolts of pleasurepain rocketed through her body as he swiftly reached up and grasped both of her nipple rings. Jen thrashed in silent agony, the spikes of pain matched only by the sudden throbbing of her clitoris. Suddenly, the fugue was just behind her eyes, ready to consume her. 

"You don't listen."

He twisted the rings, rolling his hands outward slowly but deliberately until she thought he would tear the rings from her body. She whimpered at this deliberate torture, but reveled in the way it summoned the fugue in her. Jen could feel her clitoris within her, burning brightly as her body struggled to process the sensations of his touch.

"I wonder if those three days weren't enough for you." He looked her over in a very clinical manner. As her mind began to collapse beneath the creeping fugue, Jen wondered what more his trainers might do to her. She couldn't remember it all, but she did recall that much of it had been quite unpleasant. 

"I wonder whether they taught you to control your hunger, or just to control your hunger for others."

His grip on her nipples was so very tight; she almost couldn't breathe from the desire building in her. 

"I think that even if you used your safeword today, I'd simply ignore it. I think you're that far gone."

Frankly, when he talked like this she wanted to throw herself against him and beg him to fuck her. 

Like a bitch in heat.

But she couldn't. As if sensing her evaporating self control, he lifted his hands up, pulling her up onto her tip toes by her nipples. Jen let out a long ragged moan as he did this, and began to pant.

She'd come so far with him. Her old self was truly gone. 

"Now, let's see if we can't make you understand my point." 

Ethan led her around to the front of the desk, walking slowly backwards as she tottered forward, dragged by the firm grip he had on her. The pain of it was so intense she thought she might pass out, but the raw hunger for him kept her upright and compliant. 

"As you were before. Assume the position." She could only comply, so driven as she was to have him fuck her. Quickly she spread her legs wide and bent at the waist, reaching for the far corners of the desk with her arms. The cool wood helped salve her tortured buds, even if it crushed her full breasts against her. 

Within seconds, the sharp spikes turned into a deep ache. 

She smiled at this, happy that he had blessed her with such lingering pleasurepain.

As she stood there in silence, thinking of an argument that would convince him to satisfy her craving, rather than simply punish her she could feel her pert buttocks tingling in anticipation. 

Would he use an actual paddle? They had several at the house that he'd taught her to adore. Perhaps a flogger? He often did; she'd come to think of it as his favorite. Or perhaps his hand? 

Surely in an office like this he had to have some instrument available to him.

Mmm, she thought to herself, his hand would be lovely. That blessed sharp kiss of his skin against hers as he spanked her would be the purest fulfillment of her need.

WHAP!!!

The force of his first slap nearly sent her over the desk.

She purred with satisfaction at the stinging heat radiating from what could only be a red handprint on her right buttock.

"Now, if you move, if you cum, I will release you from my service immediately. You are here to serve me. Not to question me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," she said, struggling to stave off her orgasm, to hear him clearly and respond.

She heard him step back, and then move back to his chair. After a moment he sat down again. Her head was mere inches from him, but he ignored her completely. Instead, he picked up a sheaf of papers and began to read.

Was this all, she wondered? Was he really going to sit there and read? 

But she was so ready for him ... so willing ... so wet.

But as the moments passed and he remained seated reading quietly, Jen began to grow feverish from her denied release. She'd worked herself into such frenzy thinking about him spanking her. To be forced to stay still now was a form of torture for her.

Her legs trembled as her pussy spasmed with need. Her shaved sex was wet and ready, thrust out for him, and yet he scorned it. 

Jen could still feel the handprint of that one delicious slap on her right buttock, knew that its red was fading with time, and whimpered. There would be no more ... her need would consume her.

And such a terrible punishment for her if she moved, if she so much as shifted her legs to ease the strain of her stance or accommodate her cravings. 

She kept her head pressed to the desk, hiding in the wonderful mass of her curls.

Ethan reached over her for the phone. For one moment, as his arm brushed her shoulder, she thought he was going to release her from the pose; that he would tell her she'd suffered long enough.

That he would take her from behind.

That he would fuck her until people in the streets below could hear her screams.

But he did none of this. Instead, he lifted the receiver and pressed a button. "Miyu, please bring me a cup of coffee ... yes, one sugar cube and a little cream. Thank you."

He placed the receiver back in the set and resumed his reading.

Jen waited, savoring the cruel joy of her body slowly releasing its passion. It would be hours yet before she truly found her center. 

Would he leave her like this until then?

She hoped so.

An hour passed, and still she burned with desire. He said nothing.

By the end of the second hour, however, she managed to calm herself, slowing her breathing somewhat.

Sensing this he spanked her three more times, and then ran his finger along the length of her sex, making her whimper as she held herself still. He lingered briefly on her asshole, pushing in on her tight bud slightly until she began to pant again. 

Then he resumed his reading.

With just a touch he'd destroyed her all over again.

After a moment, the door to the office opened. She heard someone enter, and then Ethan placed his papers on the desk beside her head. "Move," he said, in a voice that brooked no argument. She shuffled back and knelt down.

Even with her eyes downcast in an appropriate pose, she could see that 'Miyu' was the young Asian woman who'd led her into the office just a short time ago. She could see the dark seam of her stockings and the shiny black mules the woman wore, and envied her for her lithe figure.

But only a little ... she was fiercely proud of the sexual goddess she'd become under Master Ethan's care.

Jen heard the woman set a tray on the desk, and then prepare her Master's coffee. After a moment, she heard Ethan take and sip, and then thank the secretary.

"You're most welcome, Sir. May I be of any further service?" No willful submissive here, Jen though to herself as her body shivered with the aftershocks of her denied release. Miyu appeared to be a model slutslave; the archetypical Asian submissive. 

That status, however, Jen could hate her for. 

Ethan rose from his chair. "Yes, Miyu. I have one more task for you. Please assume the position ... yes ... there will do nicely."

Jen's mind screamed with indignation at what was about to occur. The one thing she desired the most, he would not give her. Instead, this ... this ... plaything would get his talents instead.

"Would you prefer the crop or the paddle, Miyu?"

"The paddle, Sir." The woman's voice was soft and honeyed. It was hard to hate anyone with a voice that wonderful, and yet, as she heard Ethan open a draw and take out a paddle, she did. 

But she remained silent, kneeling in continued supplication as bitter jealousy coursed through her. Her body burned with desire, and she wondered if she would be able to endure the sound of another submissive being spanked without orgasming herself. 

And he'd made it very clear that she mustn't orgasm. 

Suddenly, Ethan was behind her. His hands reached around and grasped her nipples again. As before, he pulled her to her feet with sheets of pleasurepain.

Though his touch was lighter this time, the effect was just as terrible. She grew wet and achy again, a moan torn from her as she struggled to her feet. 

"You're going to watch me paddle this slave, and by the time I am done you're going to beg me to take her place. She won't make a sound, but everyone in this office will hear you beg for me." His voice was hot in her ear, and then he moved away from her. 

He was right, she realized. The sight before her told her as much. Somehow he knew what she was thinking, what she would feel as he took 

Jen panted with her renewed fugue as she looked on at the event that was about to occur: The trim, young Asian secretary standing at the desk, her body bent slightly so that her pert ass stood out for Master Ethan. The leather spanking skirt framed her ass perfectly; it presented a ripe target for Master Ethan. One that was as pleasing to the eye as it would be to his paddle. Miyu had removed the pale jade blouse, and her small breasts stood out proudly, with dark nipples hungry and ready for his touch. Her body was lean and trim, with long legs for her frame. And her hair poured down before her like liquid midnight, utterly black despite the bright lights. 

The look on the woman's face was relaxed, as if this was a normal part of her duties; and yet hungry. Clearly, Miyu was as eager to be spanked as she was. The woman's lips were pursed in anticipation.

Ethan stepped between them, and began to remove his suit. His movements were slow and deliberate, and Jen knew he was only undressing himself only for her. That he was teaching her that denial was every bit as much a training tool for him as was the whips she so loved and feared. That his will would never be broken by her. 

When he finally removed his boxers and she could see the full length of his cock standing fully erect, she knew then how cruel he could be.

He smiled at her as he picked up a heavy leather paddle. Her eyes locked onto it, and seeing this, he moved it back and forth for a moment, watching her gaze track it. 

"Hands up, Slut. I have a gift for you." She raised her hands from her sides and held them out in front of her. Jen knew what was coming, knew that it would make the coming ordeal even worse. She knew that he was taking this extra measure simply because she needed it. 

Ethan placed the wonderful instrument on her upturned palms. He stepped to her and leaned in until she could smell his skin. Jen shivered as her sex gasped. 

"If you drop this paddle," he said, "I won't punish you. I won't do anything to you for a whole month. You'll burn for a whole month."

She nodded, a spike of horror at being thusly denied stabbing through the rising fugue. She resolved not to fail him for her own sake. 

Ethan turned and walked back to the desk. He ran his hands over the rounded beauty of Miyu's ass, but kept his gaze fixed on her. Jen saw the woman shiver, knowing that she was about to be driven to heights of pleasure unattainable by most.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

His open hand moved back around to caress the small breasts, playing with one nipple as the Asian beauty's ass grew red. Jen saw the woman bite her lip; but not a sound came from her.

Ethan stepped behind the waiting submissive, and raised his hand slowly for her to see. 

Jen moaned at what was coming.

"Now pay attention. I want you see all of this." 

When it was over, she collapsed into his arms. 

But she hadn't cum.

And she hadn't dropped the paddle.



Auction Ch. 18



Miyu finished with the final button of her blouse, which still hinted generously at her nude breasts beneath, and turned to Ethan. "Will there be anything else, Sir? Or may I return to my seat?"

Ethan waved Jen over to his seat behind the desk, and had her sit in his lap, her hands placed on the desktop. He turned from the feverish slut in his arms, his strong, nude body pressed against hers, the smell of him filling her nostrils. "No, Miyu, thank you. You may go."   The slender young woman gave a very Japanese bow and turned and left. Jen would learn much later that she was actually from Pittsburgh, and not Japan, that her affections were just an act; but for the moment, despite her fugue, she was struck by the image of a Geisha the young woman projected. It made her jealous that she could not simply slip into some predefined role of submission; that she had to constantly work to refine her status as a submissive. As Miyu left, Jen licked her lips with a hungry envy at the sight of those pert buttocks, aflame from Ethan's spanking. 

The longer she was in his service, the more she found herself craving other women.

She didn't know why, since she'd never been even remotely attracted to them before. But she suspected that the constant emphasis on the female form and its sexual applications was taking its toll on her heterosexuality.

Jen knew that she'd always crave men first and foremost, of course. That wasn't even a question. She was addicted to cock, to the feel of them in her mouth, her cunt, her ass ... she always had been. It wasn't something she could escape. It was who she was. 

Sex just wasn't sex without a cock. 

Without her Master's cock.

Nevertheless, she found herself increasingly aroused by other women; found herself regarding them with a hungry eye rather than a critical one. Found herself looking at women like Miyu with something more than a professional interest, as something more than a competitor for Master Ethan's affections.

Jen shivered and looked away, forcing wicked thoughts out of her head. She leaned back and turned to plant a hungry kiss on her Master's lips. Ethan's cock lay between them, its burning length against the small of her back reminding her how badly she needed him. She squirmed with a small sigh, and then purred as Ethan moved his hand between them to move his thick shaft down beneath her. He often did this, using his length to part her wet labia whilst denying her any penetration. Positioned as he was behind her, he could torment her with just a little movement, sliding between her wet folds to drive her deeper into her obvious fugue.

Best of all, she knew that this meant he was going to fuck her.

As if he could read her thoughts, Ethan began to run his hands across her back, tracing his fingertips down her spine. He did this slowly, deliberately, savoring the way she shivered as he touched her. She was so wet already, but this whispering touch down the entirely of her back made her flush with renewed heat and pleasure. 

He breathed out against the nape of her neck and pulled her to him. His cock felt amazing, full and throbbing beneath her, its thick head nestled against her hood. She tried to remain still, knowing that he wanted to torment her. But the certainty that she could just slide back and up and catch the fullness of him inside her tormented her. Her world had narrowed to a tight white ball of desire, one buried deep inside her pussy. 

Ethan could unlock that desire, could grant her the release that she needed. 

But only if he wanted to. 

His fingertips danced across her nipples, stopping every so briefly to caress her swollen buds. 

She moaned and pushed back into him, shuddering as the head of his cock dragged its way across her aching clit and then out between her legs. Jen's breathing was shallow and rapid ... little mewling gasps that sent her breasts pulsing into his cupped hands. 

Ethan growled in her ear and slid his right hand up to her cheek, turning her head to catch her in a fierce kiss. She savored the taste of them, greedily drinking in the wonderful feeling of his naked body against hers. 

To beg him to fuck her now would only lead him to deny her further, so Jen willed herself to be silent, to focus on the sensations coursing through her body. 

***

To her surprise, he hadn't fucked Miyu. 

She'd expected him to, because she'd come to the conclusion that Ethan lived in a world where he could have almost any woman he wanted. And seeing him there behind her, his cock jutting proudly as the young woman moved before him, it seemed only logical to her that Ethan would have his way with Miyu. 

After all, it was clear that the beautiful secretary belonged to Ethan every bit as much as she herself did.

Indeed, the experiences of the last few days had made her aware both of her status as property, and of the full extent of his social circle. Jen realized that Ethan's network of friends and business associates involved in the Lifestyle was quite large -- and that he resided near the top of whatever social strata comprised that world. And so she'd begun to assume that he would simply take Miyu as a matter of course. 

As much because he could as anything else. 

But he hadn't. He'd simply given the young woman a good, hard spanking. 

And Jen felt every minute of it. 

By the end, Jen couldn't even really hear the slaps over the roaring in her ears; but he still hadn't moved from his stance behind the young slutslave. Jen had been forced to watch, her arms aching with the need to touch her own body, to draw out her own pleasure from the scene before her. But she'd held the paddle out in front of her as instructed, and watched the growing passion on Miyu's face with envy so powerful she had to bite her lip to remain still. 

As the steady sound of Ethan's hand smacking against the Asian beauty's pert flesh wormed its way into her mind, Jen had lost herself in the sights and sounds of her ordeal. The sight of Miyu's body moving beneath the drumbeat of Ethan's attention seemed to detach itself from the delicious sound of the slaps. The secretary's almond eyes would flutter with each smack, but every now and then their eyes would lock and Miyu would favor her with a small smile. 

Jen found this incredibly arousing, since it held none of the overtones of possession and denial that Kami would have shown. When their eyes met, Miyu's expression was one of bliss, of being so consumed by pleasures that she could only rejoice, could only offer Jen the gift of a shared experience. Jen saw nothing in the woman's eyes save for joy, and a willingness to share that joy. 

And so she found herself simply watching the sight before her, drinking it in as a voyeur, rather than as a penitent. She didn't know if this was Ethan's intent, but Miyu's unabashed generosity took the experience to a whole new level for Jen. She could watch the spanking and feel its effects on her - Ethan didn't actually spank her that often, but it was quite intense when he did - and she could watch the spanking for the pleasure the young woman was taking in her own right. 

Her Master had started slowly, warming those lovely little buttocks with light slaps intended to create flush and a heat, rather than any actual pain. Jen watched the growing pleasure on Miyu's face turn into a genuine fugue, even as his strokes became harder and more intense. By the end, the woman's face was flushed and there were tears in her eyes. 

Jen's cunt ached with hunger. 

***

She moved back and forth atop him, rolling her hips to slide his shaft between her swollen labia. Ethan growled again and reached between her legs. He took two fingers and began to lightly tap her clit, sending electric shocks through her. 

The smell of her own wet sex was almost too much.

Finally, after several minutes of this, he stilled her with a hand on her stomach. She quivered with a barely contained orgasm, but focused what little of her sanity remained on remaining still. She focused on not rising up, only to then suddenly plunge down on that lovely hard shaft of his until she came, whether he gave her leave or not.

On not falling to her knees before him to beg and plead for her release. 

Not that he would give it to her.

Ethan murmured something in her ear, but she couldn't hear him over the roaring in her own ears. So she simply murmured her assent, leaning back against him for support. Her whole body was afire, even her hair seemed to tingle with denied release.

To her utter joy, he reached beneath her, and lifted her up, only to lower her back down again, slowly, onto his waiting shaft. 

Jen moaned and pushed her body down onto his, sucking in the burning steely length of him. Her body began to thrash with the barely denied orgasm. She'd endured too much today not to cum soon. And so the knowledge that he might not grant her any release tortured her.

Ethan was still for a moment, letting her move atop him. She knew the simple motion of her own torment was surely grinding him in the most delightful ways. She could feel him pulse within her, despite the intensity of her fugue, and rolled her hips in a counterclockwise fashion. Her aching pussy gripped his shaft, pulled at it ... embraced it.

She knew that she could make him cum soon ... that his heat for her must be strong if he was pulsing so soon. 

Jen even suspected she could hold off her own orgasm until he came. 

She could do that for her Master. 

Summoning her failing reserves of willpower, she clasped him tightly with her pussy, and began to grasp at him rhythmically with her inner walls.

Ethan gasped in her ear and slid his hand down to fondle her clit.

Jen bit her lip until it almost bled to keep from cumming, and began to rock back and forth against him, pushing her ass into his hard stomach as she grasped at his shaft.

He responded by rolling her left nipple between his thumb and forefinger, which elicited a long shuddering cry. She was determined to do this for him though, and held on, soaking in the wonderful sensations coursing through her body even as she began to move faster against him. 

This contest continued for some minutes, the stillness of the office broken only by the occasional grasp or moan, and the constancy of her. The smell of sex filled her nostrils.

Finally, Ethan let out a long gasp and came with her. Jen smiled to herself as his hot shaft spasmed out his seed into her. The feeling was amazing; it made her want to climb off so she could take him in her mouth. He bucked against her for a few moments, holding her to him before growing still.

Now he would let her cum, she knew. 

She'd proven herself. He would reward her.

He leaned forward, pulling her back against him so that he could whisper into her ear. Jen licked her lips, gasping at the pain of her denied orgasm.

And then the intercom buzzed and Miyu's voice filled the room. "Sir, you have a visitor."

Ethan reached around her shivering body and pressed the intercom button. "I'm busy, Miyu. Have them wait."

"But, Sir. It's her. She says she's here for her appointment with you. For the interview."

Interview, she wondered? 

Jen bit her lip and tried not to scream from the waiting.

Ethan sighed, "Very well. Send her in in five minutes." He then placed his hands beneath her and lifted her up and forward, off of his cock. Jen whimpered as she put her hands on the desk once again to support her wait She felt the chair pull back from behind her, and then his heat was gone. 

The sudden emptiness made her sob.

He smiled and kissed her. "I have to take this meeting, Little One. You will stay and attend me. But do not speak unless I tell you to." 

She nodded, unable to see him, but confident he saw her assent. Who could this visitor be that she could force him to break off their lovemaking? 

Briefly she wondered if it was someone else in the House of the White Crane ... someone even more powerful than Ethan. 

Was it Lorelei? She wanted very much to meet the woman who'd had such an impact on her Master. 

No, she dismissed that possibility. Someone from Ethan's organization would have just entered the room.

She felt her cunt spasm again at the emptiness and shuddered. 

Ethan moved to the office's small bathroom, and closed the door behind him. Jen remained where she was, her legs spread wide, leaning forward over the desk, her ass pushed out in offering. After a few minutes he came out again, fully dressed in khakis and a white shirt. 

She saw him cross the room and pick up the receiver. "Ok, Miyu, please send her in in just a minute."

Ethan moved behind her, and she purred with joy as she felt him push a fat plug into her waiting ass. Next he filled her wet pussy with a large dildo. He cupped her head and turned her to look at him. "Stand behind my chair, head held high, arms clasped behind your back." She nodded again and moved to assume that position; the roaring in her ears from her fugue was almost gone now, but these instruments within her would ensure that she remained very excited.

He sat then, in front of her, in the heavy chair, and waited.

A moment later, Miyu appeared in the door. She curtsied and then held out her arm to instruct Ethan's guest to enter. Jen saw a striking woman dressed in a rather severe pantsuit enter the room. Her chestnut brown hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and her glasses were dangerously close to boring, but framed lively brown eyes. 

The woman struck Jen as someone who deliberately downplayed her good looks. 

From what she could see, the woman had a good figure, but it was obscured by the navy suit and cream colored blouse beneath. Even her shoes were unremarkable, black flats that were slightly scuffed. 

Jen started, however, at the bulge beneath the woman's left arm. Was she armed?

"Agent Sommersby," Ethan said warmly as he stood and went over to greet her. "How good of you to come today. I've been looking forward to finally meeting you."

Sommersby moved into the room, taking in all of her surroundings slowly, cautiously. Only after she seemed satisfied with who and what she saw in the office did she turn and nod to Miyu. The young woman looked at Ethan, who nodded as well, and then disappeared. 

"Nice secretary, Mr. ..."

"Please, Agent Sommersby, call me Ethan." He gestured for her to take a seat, and then returned to his own. "May I offer you some refreshment? Coffee? Water?"

"Water would be fine." Sommersby sat down, and crossed her legs, bringing her terribly boring flats into full display. Jen almost flinched at how poor the woman's choice in footwear was. Did she pick it herself, she wondered, or was it some kind of issued outfit? 

She shook off the thoughts and tried to focus on the scene before her. Ethan ordered the drinks, and the two sat in silence until Miyu brought in a large pitcher and two glasses on a silver tray. The young woman poured each a glass, and then retired, leaving the tray on the edge of the desk. 

After a moment, Sommersby took a sip. Jen was intrigued by her caution.

"Now, what can I do for you?" Ethan leaned back in his chair and toyed with his glass.

"I am investigating the Red Crane. We believe you are trafficking in sex slaves." Sommersby was cool and collected ... confident and deliberate with her words.

Ethan laughed and leaned forward, placing the glass down on the desk. "Based on what?"

"Well, the naked woman in the corner behind you, for one." Sommersby looked at her and gave her a thin smile. She clearly disapproved. 

But then who wouldn't, Jen thought to herself. It wasn't everyday one saw a naked woman standing behind her master in an office. 

"That's your evidence? Her? She proves nothing. For all you know, she's simply some woman I met in a bar, a submissive girlfriend and nothing more." Ethan's voice was light, almost mirthful, as if he'd already dismissed the agent's comment. Given that her pussy ached so much she could barely breathe from the lack of him, Jen could only manage a weak smile. 

"You mean you can explain her?" Sommersby's voice was low, almost husky, "Because we both know she's not simply some girlfriend."

Ethan picked up his glass of water and took a long sip. "I don't have to explain. Jen, tell the good Agent what she wants to know. Tell her what you really are."

Jen licked her lips, nervous to be saying it out loud at last, to finally proclaim what she'd come to embrace: "I am his slutslave, Miss. His toy. His whore. His submissive. I am bound to Master Ethan, Miss. My body and my soul are his to do with as he pleases."

To her surprise, Agent Sommersby did not look shocked, though her brown eyes twinkled with some imagined gain. "Exactly what I expected. And you do this for money, to fulfill some part of your contract."

"No, Miss. Master Ethan has never paid me for my services. I do this because he frees me to be myself." Because he alone has the right to fill my pussy with his toys. He alone may command me to walk naked in public. 

She couldn't say these things, of course. But they were true, she realized, so utterly true. 

"Bullshit ... I don't believe that." The woman stood and strode over to Jen. Their eyes met and locked. Clearly the newcomer wanted to provoke a reaction, to prompt some admission on her part that she was under duress. Jen knew that Sommersby was trying to plumb the depths of her soul for some shred of doubt. 

But the intensity of Sommersby's gaze was nothing compared to Ethan's and Jen met the stranger's piercing stare quite easily. 

She knew the woman could smell her wet sex.

Ethan said nothing, and Jen thrilled inside at the unstated confidence of his silence. 

After a full minute of this, the brunette returned to her seat. Sommersby leveled an accusing finger at Ethan. "You've brainwashed her somehow. Made her think this was her choice."

"No, I haven't," Ethan replied, his voice calm, "We sent a team to her apartment, then talked, and then they left. After that, she came to us willingly. We made her an offer, and she accepted."

"What ... you made her an offer? For what?"

"We offered her the opportunity to escape the drudgeries of her life, to become something more than a sexually frustrated graduate student. To see the world in all its colors, not simply the grays most people know. 

"It's true, Miss. They came to my apartment and told me about this opportunity. I accepted the next day. Three weeks later, I entered Master Ethan's household."

Student loans or no, Jen was still surprised at how quickly she'd made the decision to sign that contract. It had seemed like forever at the time, but it really only had taken three weeks to see her standing on that stage, the hot lights boring down on her as the unseen patrons bid for her.

Ethan took another sip of his water. 

Sommersby frowned and reached into her coat; she produced a small notebook, and began flipping through it until she reached the page she wanted. "Jennifer McIntyre ... promising PhD candidate in Soviet History ... one year away from her thesis defense ... and then last spring ... nothing ... you drop off the map. What did they offer you?"

"Freedom, Miss. They offered me my freedom."

"Freedom from what? From your student loans? We're aware they were quite substantial."

"It's true, we did settle all of her debts. But that's to free her to enter our service, not to purchase her services. After all, we would be remiss to leave all sorts of financial loose ends around when our applicants are asked to sign on for three years." Jen couldn't help but grin at the sincerity on Ethan's handsome face. She knew he was toying with Sommersby, drawing out the interview to see how she would react. 

Judging by the look of incredulity on the woman's face, things were going quite well. "But look at you ... you look like a whore for God's sake!" Sommersby's voice was becoming quite shrill with exasperation. "Was all that money worth this?"




Auction Ch. 18



Jen laughed, "I didn't do it for the money, Miss." This wasn't entirely true at the time, Jen conceded, but her addiction to Ethan certainly made it so now.

Sommersby snorted in disgust. "And so that's the freedom? Becoming someone's whore?"

Jen looked at her for a long moment, studying the woman's face. She could see a fascinating mix of professional acumen, disdain, and ... something else ... something darker there, just below the surface. 

"I am a whore, Miss." Even saying it made her pussy throb, "I'm Master Ethan's whore. And being Master Ethan's whore makes me more than a simple prostitute. I do not serve any man, I serve one man. My Master. That makes me so much more than you can understand.

"Master Ethan simply gave me the freedom to be myself. To be what I've always known I was meant to be."

"Yourself?" Sommersby's voice cracked unexpectedly, and she hurriedly took another sip of water. 

Jen smiled. Yes, there it was ... beneath all the bad cop bravado ... Sommersby had a marked personal interest in what she was saying.

How interesting!

And if she saw it, then Master Ethan certainly did.

Time to push her limits, Jen thought to herself. Time to make Master Ethan proud.

She pushed her breasts out slightly by clasping her arms tighter behind her back. She smiled knowingly as the woman's eyes followed her chest. "All my life I've been a woman wracked by my sexual appetites. I like sex. Frankly, I love sex. I've lived with a deep and abiding hunger for years, and I've never been quite able to satisfy it. And society would have be ashamed of my hunger. Proper people would tell me what I feel is wrong. I've even had boyfriends fuck me, and then tell me I'm too wild, call me a slut, and then break up with me for being too easy."

The stricken look on Sommersby's face told her all she need to know. Jen pressed home the attack.

"Have you ever been with a lover who doesn't question who you really are? No, I can see by the look on your face you haven't. Neither had I until I met Ethan in a class in graduate school. I didn't know then, couldn't know then, that what was just a few weeks' dalliance would turn into my salvation."

Sommersby's gaze was hungry now, and bored into her, willing her to tell her more. 

"Master Ethan, however, accepted me for who I was from the moment we met, almost ten years ago. When we were lovers then, he never called me any of those things. Our time together was short, but memorable. And so when we were reunited, he simply unlocked my true nature to its fullest."

Sommersby looked at Ethan, who arched an eyebrow but said nothing. She saw that the brunette's chest was rising and falling rapidly – a sure sign of excitement. Jen knew that if she were to check, Sommersby was probably quite wet at the moment, even if the agent wouldn't know why. She scribbled in her notebook, as if that could somehow refute what Jen had just said. As if she needed a moment's distraction to regain some sense of composure.

Finally, with a long, deep breath, Sommersby returned the notebook to the pocket of her suit jacket, and looked at Jen once more. "So you're happy like this? You're happy to be this ... this ... plaything?"

"I am." She said it without reservation, knowing it was true in a way she wouldn't have imagined possible. "I wasn't raised to accept who I am. Ethan helped me understand that there's nothing wrong with me. I have no shame now about who I am."

The woman grew very quiet for a moment, and then seemed to shake it off. She turned back to Ethan. "Ok, but setting her aside, what about the other girls that work for the House of the Red Crane? What about the ones that aren't the personal 'whores' of the company's owner? What about them?

"You must understand, Agent Sommersby ... may I call you April?"" Jen watched as the woman nodded, almost without even really thinking about it. Ethan's voice was calm and reasonable, warm without seeming so. Jen knew this was the beginning of his approach. Sommersby nodded again; she seemed slightly dazed. "We don't have any whores, as you put it, at the Red Crane. No money exchanges hands at all. None of these women you speak of work for me in any way. The Red Crane employs exactly ten people. Two of whom you've already met."

"That's simply not true. Our investigations lead us to believe that somewhere in excess of three hundred women pass through the Red Crane annually." Sommersby smiled at this, confident in her point.

"Three hundred and nineteen in the past fiscal year, if you want to be precise." Ethan took another sip of his water. "We don't employ them though. We are more like a dating service for a select clientele. Some men - some women - simply want a different kind of girl. Ones with the appetites Jen just described. We help our clients find those women."

"Think of us as a dating service." 

Jen snorted with laughter at that thought, but went still again as Ethan turned and looked at her with a frown. He would punish her later for that remark, she knew. 

He leaned forward again. "Think of it this way: Some people, men and women, prefer a certain lifestyle, one that centers on sexual gratification and the expression of their dominant or submissive sides. But they may not know how to unlock that aspect of their personality. We find these people and help them do that. And in return, yes, we take a small finder's fee, and a small fee for training them to a certain ... shall we say ... acceptable standard for the community they'll be entering. But they are not slaves. Their freedom is just a word away."

"A word away?" Sommersby's breathing had sped up ... she was clearly excited by what Master Ethan had just said. 

Ethan's voice brought her out of her reverie. "Please, April, you and I both know you're familiar with the concept of a safeword. Each trainee, each woman we send out is equipped with that. If it becomes too much, she simply executes that escape clause in her contract and is absolved of any further obligations."

Did he know this beforehand, Jen wondered? Did he know Sommersby clearly had more than a professional interest in their lifestyle?

Was this all just a ploy to recruit another slutslave?

Her body was becoming calmer as the conversation dragged on. The ache in her wet pussy had subsided to a pleasant throb, and while she still felt a profound craving for the orgasm he'd almost given her, the back and forth of Ethan's exchange with April fascinated her. 

She'd never really thought about her submission in a larger context, only that she'd given herself to Ethan. That he'd paid her debts had become totally irrelevant ... she was bound to him now, unable to imagine any life but one with her Master. 

Just as the thought of ever leaving him chilled her, so too did the thought of her life with him bring tingling of pleasure coursing through her. 

Sommersby's eyes were wide ... Jen could tell she wanted to believe in this, but was struggling with the professional ramifications of accepting Ethan at his word. Finally, she swallowed and pressed on. "Even accepting this dating service you seem to be running could be legal, how do you even find applicants?"

"Well, April, first please understand that the Red Crane only accepts women. This is my preference; I have no interest in training submissive men. But they are out there. More than you'd think." Ethan steepled his hands, as if readying himself for the next question. When Sommersby said nothing, he continued. "As to how we find them, I think it's more appropriate to say that they find us."

"I don't understand." 

"It's simple, really. We advertise on certain websites and in certain publications, and would be applicants come looking. Add in a little data mining of shopping preferences and you've got a waiting list for our academy that is quite significant."

Sommersby reached for the notebook again, but thought better of it, and reached for her glass of water instead. Jen could practically smell the woman's interest in the Lifestyle, and her pussy throbbed at the idea of this officer of the law entering her world.

"Explain what you mean by data mining of shopping preferences."

Jen could see that heat in her eyes. The agent's interest in this was no longer purely professional.

Ethan smiled, and opened a desk drawer to his left. He removed a thin folder, placed it on the desk and opened it. With Somersby watching his every move, he leafed through a few pages until he found the one he wanted. "Well, for example, according to our records, in August of last year, you purchased a vibrating anal plug from Stockroom.com. Quite a good diameter too. As far as we can tell, it's your third purchase with them; you could, of course, have purchased other toys in person using cash that we don't know about. But we make this your third plug."

Sommersby blushed, but didn't look away as Ethan continued. Jen felt herself grow wet at what was transpiring before her; at the way her Master was stripping this woman's defenses to reveal the would-be submissive within. 

"According to our records, Ms. Sommersby, with each successive purchase you've made, the diameter of the plug you choose has gotten bigger. That tells me that you like anal play. A lot. "

"That is what I mean by dating mining."

Sommersby's blush spread down across her collarbone and onto the tops of her breasts. But she didn't move.

Jen could tell she couldn't. She could see Sommersby's eyes dilate and flood with raw sexual heat. She'd been called out by Ethan's statement, but was clearly, and unexpectedly, not embarrassed by what he'd revealed.

Quite the contrary, apparently. To Jen's practiced eye, the brunette looked like she was ready to come across the table for Ethan. It was a look she knew well, one she'd had many times herself.

"Oh yes, we know all about you, April Sommersby. We know you're an outstanding agent with a bright career ahead of you. We also know that you and Agent Winthrop ended your relationship. We know he described your sexual appetite as 'dark' and 'excessive'. " 

Sommersby said nothing, but crossed and uncrossed her legs. 

Ethan continued, his voice taking on subtle tones of dominance Jen knew well," So let's be frank, shall we. Are you here to investigate us because you actually suspect malfeasance? Or are you here to investigate us because you're interested in this lifestyle and just stumbled across us in the course of your normal duties?"

The brunette was silent, almost as if thinking, until Ethan spoke again. "You may speak."

Jen smiled at this. Twenty minutes ago, this woman had been so cocksure, so certain of her authority. 

Ethan had taken that authority from her without her even noticing.

After a long moment, Sommersby cleared her throat and found the power to speak. "I was assigned this case. It was just chance, really. I'd finished up on a money laundering case and joined a team of three for this issue. But after a month of no leads, the other two agents were reassigned. So I've been working it on my own for five months now."

Jen watched her Master nod, as he jotted down a few notes on his Sommersby folder.  April cleared her throat, and went on.

"I've seen things though ... things that make me wonder about your lifestyle ... things that make me question ..."

"Such as?" Jen was surprised to hear herself speak, but Ethan took no note of it. Sommersby shifted her gaze to look at Jen, still nude with her arms clasped behind her in a brazen pose. When she spoke, however, she still spoke to Ethan – a sure sign that she knew who to talk to. 

"Well, I've interviewed over sixty submissives, active and retired, and hey all say the same thing as your plaything in the corner there."

"Her name is Jennifer, April. Please Use it." Just a hint of steel in Master Ethan's voice. 

Sommersby nodded, "Yes, Sir."

This formal address sent thrills coursing through Jen's body. Her clit throbbed to the sound of it. She began to clench the plug in her ass rhythmically. 

It made sense for April to acquiesce to an authority figure, given her job. But it was also a clear indication this newcomer wanted to see the Lifestyle for herself very badly. 

She was so close, Jen realized. So very close. 

"What did they say, April?" Ethan pushed his chair back and stood up. Sommersby stood up too.

"They all speak of the fulfillment in serving another; of the freedom that comes with living by another's will; of the incredible sexual pleasure they experience."

Ethan approached her and took her hands in his. "And so what is it you're really investigating then? What is it you've found that leads you to believe that the Red Crane holds submissives in slavery?"

"That's just it," April's beautiful face was marked by confusion," after all these months of looking, I can't find anything but consensual submission. I can't see anything but willing participants. And happy ones at that."

Jen watched her Master, marveling in the way he gently held April's trembling hands. She'd been at this moment herself, when she stood with the other would be slutslaves, waiting to be presented to the audience. She knew the strange, excited fear of being in that place where you were forced to choose whether you could accept everything you secretly wanted.

Ethan leaned in very close to Sommersby, and for one jealous moment, Jen thought he might kiss her. He didn't, of course, but she envied his touch on April's skin all the same. "April, is that willing submission something you're interested in?"

Sommersby nodded, almost shyly. 

Ethan smiled; a warm, accepting smile that telegraphed his dominance without flaunting it. "Good. It feels good to admit that, doesn't it? 

The brunette nodded, and looked relieved to do so. 

"I can arrange for you to see this lifestyle. Would you like that?"

"Yes." April's voice was a whisper.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Sir. I would like very much to see that."

"Very good. I will make that happen. But first you must do something for me, April Sommersby."

She looked up at him, puzzlement in her brown eyes. "What, Sir?"

"I want you to remove your panties and give them to me. Then you may go. Miyu will give you the information you need for our next meeting."

Though she looked surprised at the request, Sommersby nodded. There was a strange heat in her eyes, as if this immediate request for submission from Master Ethan was already giving her pleasure; 

Jen found herself beginning to ache again at the thought of the effect Ethan was having on the so recently assertive woman. To take a would be accuser and recast her as an applicant ... Jen's pussy throbbed with the raw display of her Master's will. 

April looked about, "Where shall I change?

"Right here, right now, in front of me and in front of my slutslave. Right now so that we can see that you're serious. That this isn't some ploy of yours."

The brunette looked aggrieved at this last remark. "No, Sir, this is no plot. I want this. I want to see this for myself."

Oh, you don't know what Master Ethan can do to a woman, Jen thought to herself, as she savored the powerful ache emanating from her clit.

"Now, please. Don't make me ask again." said Master Ethan, holding out his hand. Sommersby stared at it, and then nodded again. She kicked off her flats and then undid the clasp on her navy suit pants.

On some level, Jen couldn't actually believe that this was actually happening ... not when she could see the glint of Sommersby's firearm beneath her suit jacket as she moved. But it was ... Sommersby shimmed the dark pants down off her hips and let them drop to the floor. As Jen had suspected, she had long, toned legs. 

Sommersby reached up under her suit jacket and hooked her hands into her panties -- black, lacey boy shorts, Jen noted -- and then slid them down until she could step out of them. She picked them up off the floor and placed the panties in Ethan's upturned palm, her eyes cast downward.

Jen's mind was awhirl. Had this really just happened? Had he really just completed turned a federal officer into a potential conquest? She couldn't believe it, but the neatly trimmed V of public hair between Sommersby's lovely legs told her otherwise. 

Ethan kissed Sommersby lightly on the lips. Jen watched in dark fascination as he reached out to place his fingertips on her mons pubis. Sommersby shivered and let out a low moan, but didn't flinch. 

After a moment, Ethan removed his hand, "Thank you. You may get dressed. Miyu will see you out."

***

When she was gone, Ethan closed the door and resumed his seat. He picked up the phone on his desk and dialed an extension. After a moment, he began to speak. "Ted? Yeah, it's Ethan ... right ... again ... but there's been a very interesting development with our good Agent Sommersby. What? Yeah ... exactly ... just as you predicted. But it was way too easy. We need to look into it more."

Master Ethan looked at her and snapped his fingers. Knowing what he wanted, she knelt before him and reached for his zipper. 

"For now, I'll be leaving tonight. I'll need you tear down this office. We're burned in this location. 

Soon enough the heavy length of his cock was in her hands, and then her mouth. Jen was surprised to find how excited he was. 



Auction Ch. 19



The door chimed softly, breaking her reverie. 

It was around 10:30 in the morning. She'd risen, worked out for two hours as her Master instructed her, and then showered. Now she was reclining in the sunroom, reading through the stack of national newspapers as part of her daily duties. 

Ethan had been quite determined that all of her skills would be put to use during her service to him, and so the past year had seen her become intimately involved in his investments and holdings. To her surprise, the Red Crane, despite its preeminence from a social standpoint, was but one of many businesses he'd bought up. Part of her job, then, was to use her skills as an academic to glean what information she could from the news and prepare summaries for him. 

At the moment she was working her way through the New York Times. A cooling mug of herbal tea sat on the kitchen table, next to the Blackberry he'd given her. 

As always, she was nude save for her collar and the two rings he'd placed in her nipples. Lately, Ethan had taken to linking them with a fine platinum chain, the better to torment her, he said. 

Sometimes it still amused her to no end that she was made to dress like a whore, but act as his analyst. That he valued her as much for her gift for statistics as he did for her pussy.

But he'd told her that her insights and advice had pleased him, had made his investments grow. And since she existed now only to please him, she had made her daily research a priority.

The door chimed again, and she looked up, brushing one stray blonde curl out of her face. 

She wasn't allowed to get the door. She was, after all, a bound slutslave.

Answering the door on her own initiative constituted an act of will; and was thusly strictly forbidden. Usually, when the door chimed, Kami or Ethan would instruct her what to do, and then go and answer it

Neither, however, was anywhere to be seen. Jen could guess what they were up to, but it was possible that they'd gone out. 

Normally they didn't receive visitors. No deliveryman or courier was allowed past the secured gate at the end of the road leading up to the main house. So whoever it was must have known how to get past it. 

That means it's someone we know, Jen thought to herself as she idly twirled her curls. But we're not expecting anyone today, not until Thursday. 

The door chimed again.

Almost immediately, the intercom set into the wall near the refrigerator crackled to life. "Jen, get the door. I'm busy."

Well, that answered that question. Her Master was home. 

She rose from her chair and quickly padded over to the intercom and pressed the 'transmit' button. "Yes, Sir. What shall I tell them if they ask for you?"

"Handle it. I'm busy." His end clicked off, but not before she heard a faint gasp from the other end. So he was working, after a fashion. It wasn't unknown for him to take trainees into the house, those cases that required his special attention.

But there hadn't been one since they'd hosted Erin and her husband all those months ago. She'd hoped on some secret, selfish level that he'd abandoned those pursuits. She'd hoped that her total submission following her betrayal in Texas would have served to convince him that she was all he needed. 

Apparently, she was mistaken.

She knew on some level that it was simply business. That his talents as a dominant, as a trainer, were simply in demand, and that he needed to take an active role on occasion. 

That didn't mean she had to like the realities of his profession, however. 

She might be a submissive, might have conquered her raw sexual hunger, but that inner yearning to have him all to herself hadn't abated in the least. 

Was he training Kami, she wondered? It was possible, but the redhead was such a paragon of submissive virtue these days that she didn't think it was possible. No matter what he seemed to ask of her, the redhead did eagerly. 

When the door chimed again, she jumped. She'd been so busy thinking that she'd neglected to answer it.

The silence from the intercom told her that he was displeased. She would be punished later, she realized. And not in a fun way.

As she reached the main hall, Jen briefly considered putting on some clothing. A sheer baby doll of the palest green was kept near the door for her, on the odd chance that she ever needed to be presentable. Jen shook her head and reached for the door. Wearing the baby doll actually made her feel more exposed than when she was totally nude. She didn't understand why, but putting it on made her feel vulnerable in front of others.

Of course, Ethan knew that. Which was why he'd placed it by the door. He knew it would torment her to constantly wonder whether she was supposed to wear it or not.

For the moment, however, the answer to that question was no. 

With a twist, she opened the door and looked around. She almost didn't spot the woman until she was turning to go back inside, half convinced the door was malfunctioning.

But there she was, a supplicant kneeling on the doorstep, awaiting an audience with her master. A small suitcase sat off to one side; the kind large enough to hold one change of clothing at best.

"Look, Miss," she began, having been briefed once by Kami on what to do in these occasions, "Master Ethan doesn't take applicants like this. You need to apply directly to the Red Crane. Wait here and I'll call you a car. You can get dressed. 

Jen stood at the doorway and stared in amazement. She'd reached a point where very little surprised her, but the sight before her was simply so unexpected that she let out a loud gasp as her pussy flooded with heat. 

Suchin knelt before the door, her head pressed to the stone terrace. She was utterly nude, not even a collar adorned her lean body, though much of her back was inscribed with the whorls and sigils she'd seen that evening in Texas.

Those must be new, she thought. I don't remember them from the dance floor.

Sensing her presence, the prostrate woman began to speak in a voice marked by the faintest accent of her native Thai. Her tone was loud and clear, despite its obvious sadness. "Master Ethan, I ask that you accept this offering as a sign of my contrition. I have always ..."

"Wait, Suchin," she said quickly, embarrassed to be hearing this obviously prepared statement. Jen knelt down and cupped the beautiful face in her hands, oblivious to any breach of protocol that might be. "Let me get Master Ethan before you say anything more."

The Asian beauty looked up at her, tears in those beautiful almond eyes, and nodded once before lowering her head back to the floor. Jen rose and turned on her heel and went back into the house. Stepping over to the intercom in the foyer, she pressed the button once more. 

A moment passed and then Ethan's voice sounded out from the wall. "Yes? What is it? I told you not to bother me with this."

Keening wails poured out of the speaker box, making Jen's mouth dry with desire.

"Master," she began, unsure how to frame her statement. "You need to come up here. There's a gift for you."

There was another long moment of silence and then the intercom went live again on his end. Jen could hear those ragged moans ... she knew the person by the particular tone of those cries ... and frowned. She'd disturbed a training session; someone else was receiving the gift of her her master's attentions.

Secretly, she wished it was her on the other end of that microphone, that her body was afire from the crop and the flogger, that her pussy might be aching from the denial only he could extract from her. Since that afternoon in the Red Crane in Texas, she'd come to realize that she had developed a real craving for the whip. Ethan was quite generous in indulging that appetite, but only to the extent that it left her constantly yearning for more. 

"Fine," came the reply at last. She knew he'd deliberately let her hear what he'd been doing, but she wasn't sure whether this was to titillate or to punish. After what only seemed like a few moments, Ethan strode into the foyer. His strong frame gleamed with a sheen of perspiration, and he was nude. Ethan held a length of leather cord in one hand, wrapped around his fist. More importantly, she saw that the heavy length of his cock glistened with another's wetness, and felt her mouth go dry with hunger for the taste of it.

He was upon her before she was ready, taking her by the thin chain that ran from one nipple ring to the other. She hissed as his grip tightened, standing up on her tip toes with the intense current of pleasurepain that flowed through her breasts and down into her body, stopping only at the hard bud of her clitoris.

Suddenly she was impossibly wet, her clit ached and her mind fled down a dark corridor to the place she wanted to be. As she wrestled to regain her composure, to fight off the fugue, she dreamed of riding him, of digging her nails into his back as he filled her.

Ethan slapped her across the face to bring her back to a measure of rational thought. 

"What is so important you called me away?"

Still, Jen couldn't speak, so hard was her heart beating with the sensations coursing through her. Summoning all her willpower, she pointed to Suchin. Ethan looked past her finger, and smiled, and then stepped around her, releasing his tight grip but leaving his index finger hooked around the chain. She tottered after him, trying to keep up ... but not too much.

What had they done to her in that room that she'd developed a genuine hunger for pleasurepain, she wondered. Jen wasn't sure she'd been conscious for all of it, and the intensity of her training still eluded clear recall.

Ethan walked out onto the terrace before the main door, his blonde slut in tow, and let out a sharp laugh. She saw his smile widen. He snapped his fingers without looking at her and she quickly knelt before him, leaning in to take his shaft in her mouth. 

Jen purred with satisfaction at the taste of Kami on his cock. 

She began to lavish her affections on the hard length of his shaft with her tongue, the better to taste her slutslave sister.

"Speak, Slave." This was for Suchin, not for her.

Once again, the clear, sad voice: "Master Ethan, I ask that you accept this offering as a sign of my contrition. I have always held you as a friend, and so ask that you forgive me."

Suchin paused, obviously waiting.

Ethan sighed. "This is from your master?"

"Yes, Master," she said, "I was sent her as atonement for his sin. To repay you for the offense given when he took what was not his."

"And how long are you to be with me, Suchin? How long before your master considers his debt repaid?"

"Forever, Sir. I am yours now." And with that the beautiful slave at Ethan's feet began to sob. 

Despite the warm joy of Ethan's cock in her mouth, Jen felt her entire body go cold. Suchin had just been given to Ethan by Starke to atone for his actions at the party. She understood it, but the reality of seeing a fellow submissive dismissed from her master's service still chilled her to the bone. Could that happen to her? Would Ethan ever be in such dire straights that he'd send her away as payment.

She relaxed the muscles on her throat and leaned in, straining to take in more of his shaft, as if that would relieve her anxiety. That cruel fate would never happen to her, she resolved as the smell of her Master's body filled her nostrils. 

She would only know his service. 

Ethan grunted with pleasure at this and placed one hand atop her head. He began to move in and out of her mouth, fucking her slowly with his cock. She purred with satisfaction, the taste of him running down her chin.

After a few moments, the wet sounds of her devotion filling the afternoon, he stopped moving. "Suchin, did your Master say why you were given to me? Anything other than that message you'd memorized?"

"No, Sir," came her little voice. Some of the sadness was gone, Jen noticed. She wondered if the wet sounds of her blowjob were having an effect on the prostrate sub. No slutslave could hear such adoration and not feel her own cravings. 

"Fine. I accept you in my house. I owe you that much at least, even if Starke doesn't understand his obligations."

"Thank you, Sir," said the beautiful Asian, stifling a snob. 

Ethan stepped back, pulling his lovely cock from Jen's mouth. He reached down and cupped her chin, catching her blue eyes with his brown eyes. 

"Master," she asked, her body aflame with desire. Her pussy gasped with hunger as he looked down at her. Sucking his cock always made her so wet ... to be doing it on the front steps of their house, in broad daylight, was positively wicked. Never mind that it was a private estate; good girls didn't do things like that.

But then again, she hadn't been a good girl for some months now. She was a bound slutslave now.

Ethan smiled. "Take Suchin inside, show her to your room. You two will share a bed until I sort this out. Put away her things and then take her to the playroom and flog her."

The request sent unexpected chills arcing through her body. 

"Flog her, Sir? Me?"

"Yes. You. Don't make me ask Kami to do it. She's ... busy." His wry smile told her exactly how busy Kami was ... and Jen felt a stab of jealousy. 

He pulled her to her feet, holding both her arms as he looked at her. "You've been her long enough that you can do this for me. You know what you're doing. So do this for me."

"I can't, Sir. I've never done anything like this."

"Can't?" His tone told her she'd overstepped her bounds, as did the speed with which he unfurled the leather cord from around his fist. Without another word he whipped her across her breasts, scoring a half dozen hits in just a few seconds that tore a ragged moan from her despite herself. Right then and there she wanted him, wanted him to whip her more. Jen found herself leaning in for another taste of his cock. But he simply stepped back and lashed her again. 

She purred with pleasure, her desire realized. 

"You will do this because I command you to." His voice was steel, and the leather cord kissed her thighs this time. She trembled and weathered his punishment, cursing herself for doubting his judgment even as her body sang from the painful marks that he put on her.

After a moment, he stopped and simply handed her the cord. It was looped through one end, almost like a belt. 

"Now, please do as I ask."

He walked away. She watched him go, drinking in the movements of his powerful frame. At the doorway to the main hall, he stopped and turned back with a smirk. "She's all yours, Jen. Enjoy your new plaything."

Overwhelmed with the responsibility he'd just given her, Jen could only nod. After all this time, Ethan was trusting her to whip a submissive for him. 

Could she overcome her own submissive tendencies enough to do this? Could she temper her own craving for the flogger? Her body was trembling with desire at the mere thought of what was going to happen. Yet to be the giver and not the receiver somehow seemed terribly unfair to her.

Unfair, and yet exciting.

Was she ready for this, she wondered? 

She had no choice, she realized. Ethan had commanded her to do this, and so she must succeed. 

Jen watched him walk to the door, and then turned back to Suchin.

"Stand up," she said, her voice barely a whisper. All of the confidence she'd known when she'd commanded the baker in Texas was gone. This was so much more intense. 

Suchin complied, unfolding from her prostrate pose like a flower. She was long and lovely, lean and fit with small, pert breasts. As before, her dark hair was cut in a very short pageboy. Her body was adorned with tattoos, swirling sigils and runes that seemed to accentuate her lithe form. Jen noted with satisfaction that her newest project was shaved bald, save for the tiniest strip of pubic hair. 

That she would fix, she decided. Slutslaves should be bald, utterly bald, the better to broadcast their bound status to onlookers.

But not now. For now, she had a task to fulfill.

"Where is your collar?"

Suchin thought for a moment before answering. "Master Jonathan dissolved our contract when he sent me here. So the collar was removed."

"So you're a free woman now?"

"Yes and No. I am free from Master Starke. But I hope Master Ethan will have me, that I will become his bound slave. Just as you are." Jen could see how much it hurt her to say those words. She patted her new companion awkwardly on the arm; how odd it was that she'd soon be flogging this woman.

"Well, you were here before, Little Miss Special Project. I'm sure Ethan will be happy to make you part of his household again."

Suddenly, so suddenly she even surprised herself, Jen reached out and took hold of both of Suchin's small brown nipples. She gave them a strong twist, savoring the electricity that crackled through the Asian beauty's eyes. Jen didn't know why she'd done that, only that it seemed right.

Stepping back without letting go, she smiled as the woman was pulled forward, small gasps coming from her beautiful mouth as they walked together. 

This was different than that day she'd tormented Kami with the riding crop. 

This wasn't competition, she realized, as her pussy began to throb.

This wasn't willful on her part. 

This wasn't disobedience.

This was his will, acting through her.

This was empowerment.

This was dominance.

Her mouth began to water at the thought of the afternoon ahead of her.

She stopped and released her new playmate. Suchin shivered with pleasure as Jen walked around her, circling her body, taking in the sight of her. 

For a moment, Jen fancied that she could smell the sex of her new charge. She ran a hand down across the woman's back, relishing the silken touch of her skin. 

Wicked thoughts began to form. 

Suchin had betrayed her after all. Had helped lead her astray from Master Ethan. Had willingly delivered her into a situation she knew Jen couldn't resist. That she'd indulged her own feelings and was at fault was irrelevant. Those days in the darkness had, in part, been a result of Suchin's efforts to please Starke at Jen's expense. 

Was the new slave culpable for her own actions, Jen wondered. Could any submissive be held responsible for her own actions? Was free will possible when you were bound body and soul to another? 

She didn't know. 

She didn't really care at the moment, with her cunt aching for her Master's cock, with the taste an sounds of Kami's devotion lingering in her fugue, and with the delicious sight before her. 

Free will might or might not exist for slutslaves. 

Either way, Suchin belonged to her for the rest of the afternoon.

Jen stepped in behind her, crushing her full breasts into the whorls and runes of Suchin's back. The woman smelled wonderful ... but she would soon change that ... would soon strip away the perfume and smell of soft skin and replace it with sex and leather. 

She snaked one hand down and placed it atop the finely trimmed hair between Suchin's legs. First one, then a second finger slid down to seek out the swollen bud from beneath her plaything's wet lips. 

There it was ... 

Jen pinched Suchin hard, spiking her clitoris with jolts of pain that made the woman cry out with pleasure.

Jen looked around, taking in the vast expanse of the estate, imagining that they were being watched. That though made her hungry to be seen, and she pinched Suchin's clit again.

She was going to have so much fun. 

Again and again she needed the turgid bud, rolling it between her finger and the pad of her thumb with steady pressure. 

She wanted to push the new arrival ... to see what she was capable of.

So far she wasn't impressed. Jen wasn't sure what training Master Starke had done, but Suchin was becoming very aroused very quickly. Jen even wondered if she would be able to restrain her orgasm when it came. Given the mewling noises coming from the Asian beauty, she was pretty sure that restraint was lacking in her new charge.




Auction Ch. 19



That simply would not do in Master Ethan's house. 

"Don't you cum, Slut," she hissed in the slutslave's ear as the Asian beauty thrashed and moaned beneath her touch. "I own this pussy now. You belong to me."

Despite this warning, or perhaps because of it, Suchin exploded almost at once with a loud scream, her body going quite rigid for one long moment before sagging back against her. 

Jen let her go and stepped back content to let the woman fall. Suchin didn't, but she did stagger a bit. When she did manage to regain her composure, she turned to face her tormentor, her toffee colored skin flushed and red.

Jen slapped her across the face for her disobedience ... once ... twice ... three times. Then she lashed out with her right arm, sending the leather cord whisking out to land on the slave's toffee skin. Again and again she whipped her new charge, landing hit after hit in a sudden spate of cruelty. 

It made her feel hungry to strike the own woman, each hit given for one she herself wanted.

Suchin hissed with pleasure, and Jen noted with an artistic eye the way the red stripes had a beauty all their own. 

She had much to teach her new charge, she decided.

She would make Ethan proud.

"Never cum again without my permission." She willed her own voice to be steel as she laid another series of hits on Suchin, scoring those wonderful pert little breasts with a series of marks. 

"Ever."

The other woman could only nod. 

Finally, satisfied, her own body heaving with desire from the sheer sadism of her exertions, Jen reached forward and looped the leather cord around the willowy beauty's neck. Savagely, she pulled it tight, almost jerking the other woman off her feet. 

"I'll take you to your room now. But first, let's get you a proper collar."

"Yes, Mistress," Suchin's voice was a whisper, and tinged with respect now.

Jen smiled to herself as she led her plaything away.