10 comments/ 29560 views/ 2 favorites A Gentleman's Bargain By: ButtNastyTodd 1. Hello Master Maria and Tom had been together for the better part of a decade. While their excursions into darker sexual pleasures were a fairly new trend, they both quickly found liberating release from restrictions on flesh placed by societal norms. What started out cautiously optimistic had quickly turned to a passion greater than the two of them. It was an entire new layer to their love; a freedom to feel, to experience, without limit. Maria felt as if a second half of herself took over on their "nights out." She wasn't absent, or out of control, she was a giddy spectator, watching her braver side loose the flood. Tom instead seemed to become a magnified version of who he really was, shedding any inhibition, and becoming wildly more outspoken than he already was known to be. They both enjoyed plumbing the depths of their sexuality together, looking for new and interesting kinks to taste with one another. They made their best effort to get a night out once every month, and this time, Tom seemed more excited than usual. He always handled the planning, because when the night would come around, he wouldn't be Tom anymore than she would still be MariaÉ come the night of his plans, he was always Master, and she was always His slut. Couldn't well be planned the other way around, and His slut trusted her Master entirely. He was always sober as a judge, and she was always encouraged to be as wild as she felt. He was Intensity, and she was Liquidity. Maria had been gone dropping the kids at the sitter's for almost 45 minutes by the time His slut came in the door. "Hello, Master. Your children arrived at the sitters safely. I am here now. You look fantastic. May I prepare now?" she looked up at him and smiled with her eyes. Master nodded toward the bathroom, where he always had her outfit chosen and waiting. As soon as she saw what he had chosen for her to wear, His slut knew right away that she had guessed right; tonight she'd be submissive. Those were secretly her favorite nights out. She showered and dressed, and they left together. He opened the house and car doors for her, as he always did. 2. The Gentleman's Club Master held open the passenger door as the engine made ticking cooling noises, which echoed in the parking garage. Time slowed to half pace while a long, tanned leg wrapped in fishnet stretched out of the open car door. Shiny black open-toed heels tipped both, and quickly came back together on the pavement. Her outstretched hand was punctuated by nails painted the same red gloss that appeared on her toes. With his free hand, Master took His slut's, and helped her from the car. Still in slow motion, and rather cautiously, she slithered out of her seat without her tiny skirt exposing more than just a hint of her ass. Little. Black. Dress. Little, indeed, and tight everywhere. Her creamy smooth thighs and her round, full tits played tug-of-war battling to be the first to escape. Completing her minimalist ensemble, she accessorized with only diamond studs, and a delicate (yet somewhat disposable) silver chain draped loosely around her throat. She carried no handbag. Her hair was down, long and curly, and in the low-intensity parking garage lights, it shimmered blackly like the full moon. Her lipstick was almost as bold as her nails, but a shade darker. Her dark eyes were always Master's weakness, and he required too much mascara and eye-liner, to exaggerate their intensity. The finishing touch was her wedding set, glistening proudly on her left hand. Master was in full formal regalia tonight. Three pieces, he was all in black, less his white shirt - and his tie, which matched the red in His slut's nail polish. They swirled in black beauty, with fuck-me-red racing stripes. It was a short walk, as far as Manhattan foot-travel goes, but in heels, His slut was glad he had chosen to walk slowly. They didn't speak while they walked, and the anticipation had her just slightly moist already. She was never allowed to know anything about Master's plans in advance, and he knew that it drove His slut crazy. He led them around a corner and abruptly into a stairwell leading downward. The dark got darker fast, but apparently they had arrived, as Master pounded loudly three times on the heavy, non-descript door at the bottom of the stairs. After the sound of a lock releasing, the door swung in, revealing a gigantic bouncer dressed in a tuxedo. "Name please, sir?" he asked with a surprisingly soft-spoken, gentle air. "Tom Jacobs, plus one," was Master's reply. He was using the name on his fake ID, and produced same, something he reserved for special, dangerous occasions. "Yes, I see you have a reservation. Welcome to The Gentleman's Club! You've chosen an exciting night to join us, and your timing is impeccable - you'll have just enough time to browse before we start." "Now, the formalities, sir," the giant continued. "From this point forward, your plus one will have to wear this," as he held out a black, silken blindfold. "Certainly," Master said as he slid it over His slut's eyes. She could make out only light around its edges, she could not see out. "Very good, sir," the bouncer responded. "And the matter of a marker? How much would you like to buy in tonight?" "Five thousand," Master replied, while counting out a huge sum of cash. "Excellent, we thank you, sir. And the minimum you'll allow bidding?" "Two thousand," Master answered. "Appropriate, and still generous, sir. Well done." In her newfound darkness, she heard footsteps approaching - two women walking quite deliberately, and in heels. 'Click. Clack. Click. Clack.' "And sir and his plus one are available for delivery tomorrow night?" "Yes, we're confirmed," Master answered. "Very good," the giant summarized. 'Click. Clack. Click. Clack.' growing louder until stopping directly to His slut's side. "Alright, this is Madeline, who will escort you to your seat, sir. And this little one is Raquel. She'll show your plus one to her seat, sir." Polite introductions went around those who weren't blindfolded, then ended with Raquel asking, "And what will we call you, beautiful?" She dare not speak. "Answer her," Master purred. "His slut," she replied proudly. "Excellent, come with me," and Raquel took her hand. She dare not move. "Go with her, I'll be very nearby," Master reassured. "Do as instructed, they speak for me tonight." His slut took the woman's hand, and was led away through a door halfway down a long hallway. Walking in heels blindfolded should have been tricky, but with Raquel's help, His slut made her way gracefully. Through the door, she followed down another hallway, and through another door, again walking in silence. Raquel directed softly, "OK, His slut, wait here. You have to leave the blindfold on, and be sure you do, or the bouncers will handcuff you after they put it back on. Have a seat, and follow any instructions you hear from Matthew over the speaker." With that, she was guided to a velvet-covered bar stool, on top of which she perched, seated as ladylike as she could be, given the circumstances. Raquel closed the door behind her with a gentle 'Snap' and suddenly the sound of His slut's own breath, and the crush of the velvet on her thighs were the sum of her sensory input. She sensed that she was in a tiny room (a closet?) by the quick reverberations of her own breath. After what must have been ten minutes of wondering what would happen next, an intercom crackled subtly, and a mildly effeminate voice began speaking over it. "Hello, ladies. My name is Matthew, and I'll be giving you some basic instructions along the way tonight. First and foremost, leave the blindfolds on until you are otherwise instructed. You must never move around the facility alone, or without being blindfolded." "Next," Matthew continued, "please ensure that you sit as still as stone. Do not move even a little." "We'll be starting soon, and it is very important to the gentlemen that you arrived with, that you do follow all of my instructions very carefully tonight. This first session is 45 minutes, in which you will simply sit still. The second session is 15 minutes, in which you will again sit very still, but this time, you won't be allowed the blindfold. Don't worry, there still won't be much to see. After that we will take a 30 minute break, in which you will be guided to a restroom, again blindfolded. Once in the restroom, you may remove your blindfold, use the toilet, get refreshments from the mini bar, wash up, smoke, relax, whatever you like. Each of you has your own restroom, so please make yourselves at home. When 30 minutes break have ended, you'll be brought - blindfolded of course - to the main gallery. While you are all being staged, you'll continue to wear your blindfolds. Just before the third, final session, you'll again remove your blindfolds. You won't have to try to remember any of that, you'll always have your current instruction, and certainly you'll be given corrective instruction if you still don't understand. Try to relax, you'll be much more effective if you appear pleasant and comfortable." The intercom crackled back off to silence. So far, so good, but this seemed exceedingly elaborate, and darker than usual. Truth told, what little bit of Maria was even present was terrified, or would have been if Master and His slut weren't so confident and bold. Whatever balance of state-persona she was she couldn't be sure, but she was sure of two related things: she had overwhelming goosebumps, and she was now officially slippery soaking wet. She was fairly sure that more of her ass had escaped between her short dress and the velvet barstool, but she wasn't sure if she was willing to move enough to adjust it. Master had taken her to elaborate nights out in the city before, but this wasn't just some one-night-pass in a swinger's club, watching and being watched. This had purpose, whatever this was. After a few minutes, she briefly heard muffled sounds of voices to her left, then silence again. Shortly after, Matthew crackled in overhead again. "Room number twelve, you are called 'His slut' and you arrived with a mister Tom Jacobs, correct?" "Correct," she spoke out, hoping she'd be heard. "Good, sweetie. Now for the rest of tonight, you'll answer to 'Number Twelve,' got that? Pay attention for it, ok?" he finished. "Yes, Twelve," she answered. "Great, sit still now, you look pretty as hell, girl." Then silence, then muffled voices from the closet to her right. Some additional minutes later, Matthew crackled briefly into her ear, "OK ladies, be still now. We're starting." She heard a sort of swooshing sound, and at the same time, muffled conversation, men's laughter, and music. Then, tick tock, began the waiting. She grew stiff fairly quickly, and before long she regretted her initial poise on this barstool. Her legs started to ache, but she'd held poses before. Her back stiffened, but she'd learned patience. A single drop of sweat formed on her throat, beaded and rolled down her cleavage - did she actually hear a muffled reaction from outside this closet? She'd learned to love to sweat. She tried to gauge the time by the diminishing of each ending song, fading into another from outside. She waited. She tried not to think of the strain of sitting so still on the barstool. She thought of Master, where he might be, and what he might be doing. Was he here with her somehow? How far away is "very near," anyway? She tried to test her terror, and found that deep down, she was actually quite content. The goosebumps spawning from the unknown were physical evidence of the intensity she was feeling, but regardless, she felt like she had quite a bit of reserve left before she'd start wondering if anyone could even hear her safe word. Liberation, distilled. She grinned slyly, and willed another drop of sweat. When it joined the one she'd lost earlier between her tits, she was certain this time there was a gasp from outside her little dark closet world. 3. Lights Out "OK ladies, get ready," Matthew's voice crackled in, and broke an eternity of silence. "In a moment I'll start counting down from ten to zero. When I hit zero, you'll all reach up with your right hands, and remove your blindfolds. Drop them directly under your seat, then get back in your sitting still position. On zero. Right hand. One quick, graceful movement. Drop it below you. Be still again. Be ready in about 30 seconds." Her confidence wilted. She got cold. Her nipples poked up, hard and sensitive. She realized she had gone soft, but couldn't do more than fake confidence. "Get ready, girls." Then after substantial crackling from the intercom system, "Number Twelve, you're starting to look a little faint. Are you alright?" Cold sweat. Holy shit, not now, she thought. "Yes, I'm outstanding, sir." "OK, then. ÔCrackle' In ten..." Fuck! What was even going on here? She couldn't understand how she'd gotten so shook ,so fast, but she absolutely was. "...nine..." What had she gotten herself into? What was going to happen next? What would she see after she took off her blindfold? What the fuck possessed her to be so wild, anyway? Why in the world was she sitting here in a cold sweat, and drooling wet between the lips of her pussy? "...eight..." She scrambled for composure, realizing that must look a mess of nerves. What did Matthew mean by Ôfaint' exactly? "...seven..." Was she some teenage virgin all of a sudden? Master told her she had huge brass balls, but where were they now? "...six..." Imminent. Unavoidable. Whatever it was, it was going to happen. And it was going to happen in- "...five..." - Matthew was purring now, and at this pace, he'd be whispering by Ôtwo'. "...four...three...two..." And he was, quite literally now, whispering. "...one..." Like the intensity of a roller coaster under the full force of free fall. OK, showtime. Her nerve rushed back in full force. She steeled herself for the unknown. "...zero." She felt her right hand reach smoothly up, peel the blindfold off, and slip it down onto the floor. She smiled soundly as her right hand returned to its place in her lap with the left. She was an observer of herself, feeling the motions happening to her, rather than actually performing them. She was floating on a cloud. She was drifting on hormones, and raging with lust. Her eyelids raised as her blindfold fell. Her smile escaped from her lips, snuck into her eyes, and she beamed. She was stunning. And she was disappointed. She was in a tiny room, four feet square, perched on a beautifully upholstered brass bar stool. The closet was wallpapered with wide vertical striped black and beige velvet. The light was dim, and the sounds were still muffled. Before her was a mirror, framed also in brass. She saw herself in the reflection, and fluttered a bit - tonight she looked freaking hot. She felt a little embarrassed that she'd been getting so wound up just moments ago. She was inspecting herself as best she could, without moving that is, when she caught a bit of movement in her reflection that wasn't her own. She studied the glass, and tried to focus past her own image. Soon she saw faint silhouettes moving about, and gesturing. His slut realized she was on display through a one-way mirror. "I see," she whispered between her smiling teeth. There's been a party going on, just on the other side of this thick glass, and she's been one of the (apparently at least 12 or 13) pieces of art on the walls. "OK, ladies, that's break," Matthew broke the long contemplative silence over the intercom. "Continue to sit still until your escort knocks on your door." Just then the dim lights in her closet faded to blackness, and at the same time, the mirror "closed" from top to bottom with a swooshing sound. It immediately became clear to her: She hadn't been in a closet, she had been in a booth. 4. Intermission Raquel left her alone again in her restroom, which was more like a private lounge a celebrity might frequent. She found the mini bar to be completely stocked - with just enough alcohol to max one stiff drink, which she went about promptly. She laid back on a plush love seat, stretching her back, calves and arms out, trying not to spill her drink. In some ways, the fifteen minute session was more painful than the longer one previous to it. While being entirely clueless was difficult, and sitting posed as she was so still for so long was excruciating, the fatigue and realization had really stirred up some anxiety. Even though she felt herself swinging wildly from terror to confidence, then back to stress, she was having the time of her life. It was only difficult because she knew she was being observed, like artwork, but she couldn't see anything herself. Her imagination kept teasing her with thoughts that were probably far from reality - even she knew that men wouldn't be judging her near nudity with malice, but she needed some sort of visual feedback to know for sure how she had been received on the opposite side of that sliding mirror. She washed the thought down with the last sip of her drink, used the toilet quickly, and was just finishing primping in front of (another) mirror, when Raquel returned, knocking softly on the door. "His slut? Are you ready? Let me know when you've got your blindfold set." As they walked back, Raquel finally broke some of the mystery along with the silence of their walk. "You were quite the favorite of the first two sessions. Such a buzz around Number Twelve. I shouldn't say anything, but I'm very proud for your Master. You should be too - you've done a smashing job so far. Six was scolded twice and wound up handcuffed. Needless to say, the gentleman she arrived with is quite shamed by her insolence. They left in voluntary disgrace, and are banned from ever joining us here again. Forfeited his marker, and all. I can only imagine her spankings tonight." Whatever in the world this woman was saying, she couldn't be sure, but His slut was solidly in agreement, that whatever Number Six had coming tonight might set a new record. If you fucked something as extravagant as this up, you really were an asshole. She didn't need to fully grasp everything yet to know that she was part of something big tonight, and the intensity of the ride so far had wound up her wet pussy worse than maybe ever before in her life. She couldn't wait to be fucked tonight. Hard. Repeatedly. Suddenly she was "in on it," armed with her much-needed feedback. And even as much as she was still in the dark, she felt unstoppable. Raquel stopped walking, and His slut stopped at her side, holding her hand. She could feel Raquel looking at her. "On the other side of this door is a backstage area. It will be a bit hectic beyond that, so we'll talk here first. Keep following the instructions you're given carefully. This is not a good opportunity for a rebellious submissive, don't test your Master's will tonight. He is waiting for you in the gallery, along with the other gentlemen. You'll be seated with the other women on stage. You'll all be instructed when to remove your blindfolds. You'll all do so together as a group. Don't be first. Don't be last. Be fluid." "You'll all take center stage one at a time, in order of starting bid from smallest to largest. Your Master has placed a beautifully fair, yet still flattering two thousand dollar minimum starting bid, which will certainly get hands in the air quickly. You'll almost certainly be instructed to remove your dress. Leave everything else on, do what you're told exactly, and without apprehension or hesitation. You will almost certainly not be asked to strip further, but if you are, you must, and with style. The men standing up front during your Lot are the men actively interested in placing bids. They will almost certainly touch you. A lot. They will be gentlemen, but they will definitely be men. Enjoy it." A Gentleman's Bargain "Tonight will be a long night, I think the first Lot opens at four hundred dollars or something equally pathetic. There are a handful of regulars on both sides of the gallery, and they are all high-dollar players. I think there are only five Lots starting higher than yours tonight. How exciting!" "OK, you look great. Since you clearly have no questions, let's go on in." His slut felt brazen, sure, but clearly she had questions. She assumed she'd be getting answers rapidly, and soon. Raquel opened the door, and the noise of a cocktail party washed over her as she entered. She felt a row of (bar stools?) brushing her left hip as she walked. Soon Raquel stopped her, turned her to her right, and put a hand on her shoulder, guiding her to sit. Yes, another velvet bar stool. This called for a new pose, canted opposite the side she'd favored the previous hour. As she settled, there was a spattering of applause mixed with thick muttering. Was she the latest convert into some cult? Was this her graduation class just before the cool-aid? Was she on some weird reality tv show? Six left in disgrace. Was she wet enough that people around her could see it? 5. A Gentleman's Bargain His slut listened to the sound of other women gathering and murmuring behind her, and was convinced that there were at least three rows of bar stools, hers being in the front. She was sure she had brushed past at least six or eight stools, possibly more. Familiar sounds of bits of instruction bled into her head from three sides, lacking only the glowing excitement of being any type of "favorite" as Raquel had been so happy to share. His slut was sure she was on a stage with maybe twenty voices, had heard maybe forty pairs of heels click into the room. Although nobody had come out and admitted anything of the sort, all the pieces had come together. Exactly how far this would go was still mystery enough, but she couldn't think of anything else that fit better than... ÔDrip' she felt a single drop of her wetness succumb to gravity, and escape her innermost thigh. Suddenly the ambient light creeping in around the edges of her blindfold faded entirely away, and as it did, the murmuring from dozens of other women's escorts hushed. His slut could feel Raquel adjust herself. "OK, here we go. Get ready, hold still, and be ravishing. You're perfect. Smile," Raquel whispered through obviously smiling sounding teeth. The throbbing dance music faded to a background buzz, and applause roared. "Gentlemen, welcome! Yes - thank you very much!" Matthew's familiar voice sang over a new, higher quality audio system. "Please, have a seat." "In a moment, we will begin our evening's primary event. Before we do, I'd like to personally thank you all for coming, and insist that you have been a most admirable audience. We have many gorgeous Lots tonight, and many quite flattering minimum bids. We hope that you will enjoy an exhilarating contest, and we ask that you all return very soon and join us again." "And now I'd like to introduce our many breath taking Lots. Gentlemen... behold!" The pulsating music roared back up, very loud, and played right into the moment. Suddenly she felt a draft, and sensed the ambient light creep back in. The booming applause filled back in, between the bouncing of the bass line in the music. Wild cheers and whistling popped staccato, between the symbol crashes and high hats tapping. The ovation carried on for some time, without showing signs of waning, before Matthew continued, fairly well shouting over the raucous, "Ladies and escorts!? Blindfolds in three... two..." "Are you ready!? Right hand! Smile!" Raquel hissed. "...one... ZERO!" Again, as if she were watching a home movie, she observed herself reach up obediently and peel off her blindfold. She had guessed correctly. Three rows of women - many of them beautiful, and their escorts. "We're all dressed alike," His slut mused. The gallery was a gigantic round theater, with seats raising up into the darkness all around her. She and the other Lots sat in rows in a semi-circle together, just on the floor of the stage. One hallway made of stage curtains led backstage, which was also a makeshift semi-circular area simply cordoned off by more large curtains. Lining the room in a ring, were fifty or sixty windows, all adorned with ornate frames - their booths. At her feet was a simple sign that bore the number "12" and just beyond that were a row of low stage lights. Beyond THEM were men. Dozens of men. Some older, but most Master's age, give or take. Detail was impossible in the low stage lighting, and try as she might, Her slut couldn't find Master in the sea of cheering testosterone. "Maybe exactly one for every one of us numbered Lots on stage?" she wondered. "They are all dressed alike as well," her thoughts continued. They were notably less than gentlemanly, no matter how well they dressed, but they didn't seem drunk or even as wild as the men His slut saw when Master took her to a strip club once, early in their careers as hedonists. She was seriously struggling to contain her excitement, and continuously had to remind herself to smile, yes, but not to grin like an idiot from ear to ear. Two escorts were walking along the row, one carrying a stack of small signs, and the other placing one sign at a time next to the numbered signs already at each Lot's feet. "All the escorts match too," she marvelled, thinking back to Madeline, wishing she could see Master in the crowd. The escorts laid a sign next to His slut's "12" that read simply "$3,000". Raquel hissed, "AMAZING! The house has confidence in you! They've raised your starting bid a thousand goddamn dollars! Girl, you're going to be popular!" Matthew proceeded to calm the crowd back to their seats. He introduced a stunningly beautiful blond as Ariana, and informed us that she would handle the bids. Matthew handed Ariana the microphone, and turned the night's events over to her. When she spoke, she had a thick German accent, which gave her immediate authority over the proceedings, much more so than Matthew's dramatic introduction ever could have. Instantly, she began her work. "Good evenink, gentlemen. Thank you Matthew, zat is correct, my name is Ariana, and I will be your Mistress of Ceremonies tonight. We will start with Lot Number Four, Suzanna, would you bring Lot Number Four forward, pleese?" Immediately, an escort took the hand of the Lot numbered Four, and the two of them strutted from their bar stool position far to His slut's right, to center stage. His slut looked on the floor in front of the empty bar stool, and saw that Four's starting bid was $1,000. His slut looked back at Four and realized that she agreed with their appraisal - Four wasn't half as hot as His slut felt right then. "Four is a beautiful Lot, which any man would find pleasurable. We will start the bidding at one sousand dollars," Ariana stated quite matter-of-factly. Five men wandered forward from their seats, and stood around the rounded stage in front of Four and her escort. "OK, I think you're up!" Raquel hissed through her smile. It had been at least another two hours of posing on a bar stool, but she could have stayed for two more, she was sure, if only she hadn't been so sexually overloaded. She had watched for two hours while men rated - sometimes surprisingly - scantily clad women by bidding on their cash value. She watched for two hours while men - occasionally Master included - came forward, asked the Lots' escorts questions, fondled the women, and sometimes stripped them. All of the Lots were groped, and all of them sat patiently, and encouraged the bidders with enthusiastic smiles. Some were penetrated with fingers. Many were pinched, some had their nipples exposed and tugged on, and almost all had their asses slapped repeatedly, until they were pink by the end. She watched for two hours, one by one, bidders win Lots, and new Lots take center stage. Master won a bid on Lot Twenty-Six, an attractive blond with tight, gymnast's thighs, and a wiggly backside that matched her wobbly bubble boobs. She seemed a nice blend of all the traits both Master and His slut appreciated in female playmates. He had bluffed his way directly to his five thousand dollar maximum, and ran off the other bidders by inspecting the woman's teeth and gums, peeling back her lips, and drawing a bit of surprise from her escort. He didn't touch her anywhere else, and he didn't ask her depraved questions - he freaked everyone out a little, everyone except His slut. He stopped freaking her out a long time ago. Instead, she found him endlessly - if often awkwardly - fascinating. His dirty side was a mile wide, and he never ceased to impress her with his originality. "The four others that remain are all regulars. These Lots sell for hundreds of thousands of dollars sometimes, and if you look at them, you'll know why," Raquel finished as she fidgeted in her seat a bit. His slut looked around, and she agreed - these other four Lots were incredible; they were living works of art. "Now gentlemen, ve have a real treat," Ariana began anew. As the Lots grew in price, Ariana's tone gained enthusiasm and her pace gained momentum. The men were also building a head of steam, and were clearly in a similar froth His slut found herself in. "Lot Number Tvelve is a newcomer to The Gentleman's Club. Vile she may seem too extraordinary, too alluring, I assure you, she is very real, and very innocent." Raquel had His slut in motion before Ariana finished the word "Tvelve," and they arrived, smiling to center stage to an uproarious applause. The men did not wait to be invited any more formally than they were already - they flooded forward, almost all of them, barring a few that had spent what they brought already. "Vould mister Tom Jacobs pleese stand?" His slut saw Master rise to his feet, grinning slyly out of one half of his mouth, and raising his left hand to the crowd. He allowed it for only a moment, then sat back down, after blowing His slut a kiss, his wedding band glistening in the dramatic stage lights. "Tom brings us the lovely Lot Tvelve, and has set a flattering, yet absolutely fair opening bid at sree sousand dollars." At first there were many men, with many fast hands. She could only assume that they were mildly more polite with her than they had been with the earlier Lots, simply because she was introduced as such as special guest. Her House Favorite status kept the smaller bidders a little more tame. The many hands raced over her flesh. One of them ripped a small hole in her fishnets, at the sensitive part of her inner thigh. Another reached inside the top of her dress with both hands and squeezed her breasts solidly, twisting them inward slightly. The many men fell on her like wolves on raw meat, and the many hands drove her mad. She writhed around under their many fingers and thought many filthy things. She wanted them in both her hands, thick and hard, aroused for her, aroused at the thought of having her. She wanted them in her mouth. She wanted them in her wet slit. She wanted all of them, inside her, straining and throbbing to spray their seeds, right then. She wanted them deep in her guts, pounding away. She wanted them to grunt and to sweat, and to squirt their hot sticky slop all over her overcharged flesh. "Four thousand," dared the first bidder, who was interrupted by another, "Five thousand!" One of them groped after His slut's wet crotch, but Raquel only allowed it for a moment before brushing his hand away, and gesturing toward His slut's chest. Immediately he dove in and grabbed them both, shaking them, alternating one up while the other down. This immediately had her heavy, round tits flopping out of her dress, exposing her near-black nipples, hard as small thumbs. He was a little rough with her tits, and His slut threw her head back briefly, and moaned, agonizing for release. She couldn't imagine how hard she was going to cum once she finally was allowed. "Six thousand," barked another - cut off by "Ten thousand!" from a fourth. The bidding escalated to twenty thousand dollars within the first few minutes, after which some of the lower bidders returned to their seats, disappointed to be retired so quickly. Every man standing bid eventually, and all of the active bidders fondled and explored her with their hands. As the bids increased in price, the pace mellowed, and the tension thickened. Soon the bidding had raised to thirty thousand dollars, and only three bidders remained. Raquel was ecstatic, and lost all her earlier professional composure, often giggling, and occasionally giving His slut little pecks on her cheek - which sparked bidding frenzies every time she did it. Her short skirt wound up hiked up over her hips, her thong roughly pulled aside. Her fishnets were tattered. The many men had been more intense than Raquel had suggested they'd be, but His slut wasn't put off at all. She was enjoying it immensely, far more than she'd imagined she would. His slut had finally found Master in the audience, and was sharing a proud, broad smile with him. He clearly approved of her performance so far, and seemed to be enjoying the show, which at that point had simmered from a boiling, fleshy feeding frenzy to a steaming game of chicken between three high rollers, all intent on outbidding the others, all escalating well beyond groping at her tits with each bid. "Mister Sullivan, zat's thirty sousand to you, sir." Ariana sold it like a champion. "He's handsome," His slut thought. "If he wins me, he can have anything Master wishes, and gladly." His body was fairly average, but he was attractive, and now that she was fully aware that she'd be purchased by one of these three specific remaining men "for delivery tomorrow night," the excitement of it all made the prospect even more appealing. "Thirty three thousand. May I?" he asked Raquel, gesturing palm-up from his side toward His slut's tingling crotch. Raquel looked as though she might fuck Mr Sullivan herself, right there on the floor. Her excitement not contained, Raquel shook her head eagerly up and down, smiled with all her teeth, and bounced a little in place, hands clasped at her breast. His slut spread her legs eagerly. Mr Sullivan reached out the same hand and cupped it, up against her wet, swollen labia. He held her firmly from her clit in the heel of his hand, to her asshole at the tip of his middle finger, and squeezed her beautiful pussy, as if to juice it. His palm sealed against her wet, shaven mound, and His slut moaned, and ground her crotch into Mr Sullivan's palm, but only ever so subtly - after all, he was feeling her up, she wasn't fucking his hand. He shook her side to side using the suction of her wetness to rock her body back & forth, and made her tits jiggle. Once he had satisfied his curiosity, he withdrew his hand, smiling, and as he did, she noticed that his palm was slickly soaking wet. As Mr Sullivan stepped back grinning, His slut writhed in heat a moment on a borrowed bar stool. Raquel put her hand on His slut's shoulder, and quietly warned, smiling, "Number Twelve, keep your composure. Don't just fucking give it away!" His slut gracefully downshifted, and slithered back to a proper standing position, and like a good slut, she turned her gaze toward the next bidder, just as Ariana chimed in. "Zat is sirty sree sousand to you, Mister Metriov." No one dared notice the insane German tongue twister haiku. Mr Metriov was a bit older, maybe fifty. He was probably balding, which would explain his extremely tight, military style buzz cut. He was just shorter than Master, by maybe an inch, but he was broad through the shoulders, and deep in the chest. He wasn't pretty, but he looked strong and virile. He walked with long deliberate strides directly toward Raquel, and as he approached he drew gasps from audience and escorts alike, "Fourty thousand dollars." He leaned in close to Raquel's ear, and whispered something, then leaned back. Raquel fained a pout, and shook her head side to side, "No. You may not do that, nor try any variant of anal, nor excrete any semen above her neck. I'm sorry to deny you, but it's all in the program, Mister Metriov." "Fine, fine, yes. I thought I would deserve an exception, but I understand," He conceded begrudgingly. He turned to face His slut. He unzipped the front of his pants, and deftly unrolled his cock from the fly of his trousers. His slut cast her eyes down to it. He was big, like impressive big. Big, and half hard already, swinging out in front of everyone. "What do you think of this cock, Number Twelve?" he asked her directly. She looked innocently into his eyes, blinked once with all of her eyelashes flashing, and then turned demurely toward Raquel. "Freedom to answer frankly, Mistress Raquel?" "Granted," Raquel permitted. His slut turned back toward Mr Metriov and, demurely again, answered, "Frankly Mister Metriov - may I call you Mister Metriov?" "No, slut. You will call me only Sir!" he barked back. "Frankly Sir," she continued, "it's so huge, it will probably hurt me. I can't be completely sure though, because it's not entirely hard. May I?" His slut asked, gesturing toward his big and still growing meat. "You may. Would it make you happy to know that I would enjoy your pain? That plundering you painfully would make me cum like a waterfall?" His slut sat down on the edge of the stage, and slid off gracefully, eventually coming to rest directly in front of Mr Metriov. As she repositioned herself onto her knees in front of him, she purred, "As long as that's what my Master wants, then your cum is all I need to make me happy, painful or not. Sir." She curled both of her hands around Mr Metriov's thick hog, and hefted it up toward her face. She parted her lips slightly, licked them, and touched them to the tip of Mr Metriov's thickening cock. She pecked a little kiss on it, letting her tongue touch the tip at the same time. She brushed it over her lips, and as she passed the head of it over her cheek, she closed her eyes and moaned. His slut began tugging at the length of it, as she washed it over her face, across her lips again, then finally plunged it straight into her mouth, the head clogging her throat as she made wet, rhythmic noises around it, sometimes moaning, other times slurping. She suck-started his cock in under a minute. It stood straight out, hard and proud. It was easily the biggest she'd ever seen. She let him fuck her throat for another twenty or thirty seconds without her hands, which were both busy groping at her own chest, squeezing her tits and plucking at her nipples. He took her head in both his hands, tangled his fingers in her curly hair, and used her hair as a pair of hand grips, and her mouth as a wet, willing pussy. The crowd was silent as everyone listened to the luscious, wet fucking noises she made, and the purring yummy noises she sang around his now hardened cock. Once he was fully erect, she stood up again, and brushed herself off delicately. She hopped, gracefully bouncing her bottom up onto the stage, then stood back up next to Raquel. She spoke again only briefly, "Yes, that will certainly hurt if you fuck me properly with it, Sir. It's quite honestly the biggest cock I've ever had the pleasure to see in person. Thank you, Sir." "Thank you for the sample, Number Twelve. You have a most talented tongue, you've had practice," he replied, and stepped back smiling. The audience roared, the music throbbed up, and Ariana nearly sang, smiling from ear to ear, "Amazing enthusiasm, and an amazing newcomer!" The audience cheered on while His slut suddenly thought about what she had just done. It was amazing, but it was so absolutely dirty. Was she sure she was enjoying this - and only enjoying this? Master looked proud as he always did during the wilder nights out. She decided that the only thing she wanted to keep in check was her own intensity. She couldn't let herself get too far out of control. As for the events that had transpired so far, she decided that she hadn't done anything she'd regret, and was truly enjoying the liberating freedom of having almost no enforced boundaries. A Gentleman's Bargain The music and cheering were subdued by Ariana, and the bidding continued. "Ze bid is forty sousand to you, Mister Conroy." Mr Conroy was young - lucky to have a 21 ID, His slut surmised. He had all the signs of new money, probably owned an Internet company, or worked as some Wall Street hotshot. Whatever it was, he was cocky, and pretty, and swaggered like his balls were full. His tie was flashy silk, patterned with a shiny checkered nap, though it was still red, like all the others. "Fifty thousand," he shouted as he leaped from his seat. He marched directly up to her, and spoke, gesturing toward the program he held, "Number Twelve... it says you like other women, is that true?" "Yes, Sir." "You can call me Rick." "Thank you. Yes, Rick, that's right. I do like sex with women, as long as that's what makes Master hot." "Wow, that's incredible," he mused grinning, as he reached into his pocket. "I have three girls something like you at home. They are all very beautiful, very good girls. they are all very obedient, and we are all very happy. Sometimes - now hear me out - sometimes, we like to troll for even more friendly gals who might like to join us. We have lots of naked fun in my pool, and if you need help getting out of your clothes, I'm really good at getting girls naked." She returned his grin, thinking, "I bet you are." Mr Conroy pulled his phone out of his pocket, found a specific picture, and continued, "Look, here's a pic of us. That's my cock, and the two kissing it are Briana and Lynn, and the one showing her pussy in the back is Anna. She's shy about her little titties, so all the pix are always doggie-style sorta over-the-shoulder like that. I think she's dead sexy, but she's frail." With that he leaned in close to His slut's ear and whispered, "She's frail, so I fuck her the hardest." He stepped back and asked, "So what did you think of that picture? How well do you think you'd fit in at such a moment?" His slut replied, "I thought that all of you look very sexy. You all seem to be having a wonderful fuck, and I can totally see me enjoying myself with such beautiful playmates. I'd lick all four of you, and swallow all of your cum. I'd be a toy you could all pass around and play with. We could have a fantastic time together. All of course if that will please Master." She wondered if Master's "no loose pix" rule was in the Program - he wouldn't let her be in pix on that guy's phone, for sure. She decided to let Master sort it out, but would mention it to him to make sure. That may give her a way to introduce the idea of her getting a peek at that Program - or it may give her some rope to hang herself with. She had earned a little rebellion, and certainly wouldn't turn down a good spanking at this point. "Excellent answer, Twelve! Bravo. Any questions you'd like to ask me?" "May I? Certainly, Sir. Who took the picture?" "Ha! My fiance did. We broke up, no big deal. Good catch, Twelve. Make my bid sixty thousand," he concluded, shoved his phone back into his pocket, swaggered back to his seat, and plopped down roughly into it. Like a man who's blood pressure has suddenly risen. Ariana drove the three men to race to break a record. In the end, Mr Metriov outlasted the others, knocking them both out at $110,000. This set a new house record for a newcomer Lot's first night take. His slut retained enough composure to be obedient, without giving it away, and without losing control. She hoped beyond hope that Master would grant her an orgasm tonight. She must have earned it. 6. The Hotel She was shocked to find that Master intended to take her to bed alone. She was sure he'd find her some playmate in that den of debauchery if anywhere. He informed her that his intention was to preserve most of her energy for tomorrow night. "Most," he repeated, as he pushed her by her hips down on their rented bed. "Did you have a nice evening? So far?" he added. "So far it's been mind-blowing. Thank you again for such a marvellous night out!" He got in the way of most of her words, his lips pressing into hers. "You were fantastic out there. You ruined the bidding pool for the regulars, and one of them went home pissed off and broke," Master laughed. He was kissing her wetly, and deeply, and decidedly firmly. His tongue was an invader in her mouth that pinned hers down. "Are you excited about tomorrow night?" he panted. "You'll be there, won't you?" she answered with a question of her own. A violation. "Do you have to ask?" he shot back. Her punishment. He let her off easy. "Of course not, Master, but, I don't understand," she gasped, from around his tongue, and from between his lips. "Won't you be taking a delivery tomorrow night? You joust marvellously at auction, if I may be so bold. Beautifully executed, she could have gotten twice that." "She's hot, right!? She could have gotten ten K from someone else, maybe," he grinned, maneuvering to nibble at her earlobe. "You saw my buy in, I had exactly five K. I had to play rough right away, and it worked. One bid. I win. Shut those assholes out before it even began. Ha! Nobody knew us. Now everybody there knows us," his emphasis on "everybody." "Regardless, you and I, Twenty Six and her Master, and of course, the astoundingly wealthy Russian, Mister Metriov will all be receiving delivery in this very bed, tomorrow night, 11 PM. Mister Metriov will be bringing his Number Eighteen home with him sadly unsold. She isn't attractive at all, and will be a charity fuck that we'll let dutifully drain our cum along with the rest of you." "Now," he said, as he pushed her back onto the bed, and slid his tongue down her neck, "before I turn you loose to that pack of wolves, for them to dirty, I want to taste you." He paused to suck on her right nipple, then continued to her navel. He let his tongue dart into it briefly, then abruptly yanked her thighs up into the air. He had required she remove her thong and her ripped fishnets in the parking garage, before getting into the car, so with her knees pointed skyward, her perfect shaved pussy stared him right in the face. As he plunged his mouth into her, His slut moaned deeply and ground herself into his face. Just as she knew he liked.