The Auction Read online

  Romance Unbound Publishing

  Presents

  The Auction

  Claire Thompson

  Edited by

  Donna Fisk

  Jae Ashley

  Cover Art by Kelly Shorten

  Ebook ISBN 9781937337391

  Copyright 2012 Claire Thompson

  All rights reserved

  Chapter 1

  “The last man who bought me kept me chained by the wrists to a bar inside a closet when he wasn’t using me. I would fall asleep on my feet, surrounded by his clothing.” Jessica, one of Carly’s fellow slaves-in-training at the auction house, closed her eyes and sighed dramatically. “He was so hot, though. The time spent in the closet was well worth the wait, let me tell you.” Jessica leaned back in the huge hot tub, sliding down until only her head showed. The tips of her white-blond hair darkened to honey as they floated on the frothing water.

  Cassandra, a redhead with breasts as round and hard as cantaloupes interjected, “Hey, at least he was good looking. The guy I had last time was at least twice my age. He must have weighed over three-hundred pounds. Even his ears were fat! The only thing tiny on that guy was his dick.”

  All five women soaking in the tub laughed at this, but beneath the laughter Carly sensed the others shared her edgy excitement. Even the women like Cassandra and Jessica who had already been successfully auctioned in the past were still required to undergo the week-long slave training, though for them it was just a refresher, while for Carly the experience had been intense and rigorous. She had managed to get into the program under somewhat false pretenses, and as she listened to the women share their prior experiences, she wondered for the hundredth time that week if she was getting in over her head.

  “Let’s go, girls. Free time is over.” Mistress Audrey entered the large communal bathroom where the young women had been given their first half hour of free time since they’d arrived for training seven days before. All conversation instantly ceased, as the slave girls were not permitted to speak in the presence of their trainers, except in answer to a direct question.

  Mistress Audrey was dressed in her usual black Spandex tank top, a riding crop tucked into the waistband of her leggings. Despite her outfit, Mistress Audrey always reminded Carly of a queen, the tilt of her chin and the toss of her head regal and utterly commanding. At the same time, she was gracious and patient, which Carly especially appreciated, being one of the new kids on the block.

  The next hour passed in a whirlwind of hair styling, makeup and last minute instructions by both Mistress Audrey and Master Franklin on auction decorum and expectations. At the stroke of eight, Master Franklin announced, “It’s time. Remember all you’ve learned. I trust you will prove yourselves worthy. Hopefully each one of you will have a new Master tonight.” If Mistress Audrey reminded Carly of a queen, Master Franklin would have been one of her knights, a guard with his sword ever at the ready, his feelings kept well in check behind a stern expression that betrayed no hint of emotion.

  The slave girls were led onto the small stage, each girl taking her place on the silk cushion placed on the side stage, back straight, head bowed. As Master Franklin greeted the gentlemen sitting at tables in front of the stage, Carly tried to remember how to breathe. Butterflies were batting wildly in the cage of her stomach. She experienced a sudden, nervous urge to giggle.

  Despite the relatively modest exterior of the building that housed Erotica Auctions, the auction room had been decorated like something out of a nineteenth century mansion, with real crystal chandeliers, Persian carpets over polished wood floors and deep wingback leather chairs. Original oil paintings of nudes reclining on silk settees or the soft moss of riverbanks hung in gilded frames on the walls, and there was a marble fireplace with a huge mirror above the mantle set in an elaborately ornate antique silver frame. The room smelled of leather, lemon oil and the lingering smoke of fine cigars.

  Though she knew better, Carly dared to turn her head slightly, giving her a view of the auction room and the ten men who made up the night’s select clientele, one of whom, she both hoped and feared, would take her home that evening.

  Her eyes lingered on a man in the center of the room. He had thick black hair that curled against his neck, clear gray eyes and a strong chin. He was dressed in the understated elegance of the truly wealthy—cashmere, finely spun cotton and loafers Carly guessed cost a month’s rent. He held a brandy snifter in one hand, the other resting lightly on the leather folder Carly knew contained all the pertinent details about the five women who were up for bid, including explicit photos in leather and rope, detailed descriptions of each woman’s health record and experience level in BDSM, and what she was seeking in a potential Master.

  As she stared at the man, he turned as if aware of her gaze and looked directly at her. Carly knew she should look away, should look down at the ground as she had been instructed to show her submission and respect, but she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes from his face. He continued to stare at her, giving her the oddest feeling that he was looking past her face and into her secrets.

  Master Franklin touched Carly’s shoulder and squeezed. She felt the warning in his fingers and, face blazing, quickly averted her gaze, focusing on the royal blue cushion beneath her knees.

  The first potential slave put up for bid was Angie, a voluptuous beauty. She was naked, as all the girls were, and boasted long black hair that cascaded down her back in shiny waves. Her skin was dark and smooth, her features exotic, with almond-shaped eyes and sensual, pouting lips. She moved gracefully, without a trace of self-consciousness as she was ordered to pose in various positions that intimately revealed her many attributes.

  As she moved with languorous ease, arching her back, spreading her legs, turning to show her ass to the men and bending forward to grasp her ankles, the auctioneer directed the bidding and the men called out their offers. After several minutes, the auctioneer hit his gavel against the podium, the sharp crack of wood on wood making Carly jump.

  “Slave Angie is awarded to Mr. Chapin for thirty-four thousand dollars.” Master Franklin approached Angie, clipped a leash to her collar, and led her off the stage.

  Oh my god, I’m next.

  “Our second lovely slave girl of the evening is slave Carly,” the auctioneer announced, punctuating his words with another sharp tap of the gavel. Carly looked at Mistress Audrey, who nodded. Her heart knocking against her ribs, Carly rose unsteadily from her kneeling position, praying no one could see that her legs were shaking. She followed the trainer, trying to walk in the swaying, lilting way she had been taught by the trainers.

  Carly came to a stop at center stage and turned to face her audience. Though they’d been kept naked or nearly so for most of the week, Carly felt more exposed at this moment than she ever had in her life. While she had grown increasingly comfortable with her constant nudity, now that she was standing naked and alone on the stage, it was all she could do to resist covering her body with her arms and turning away from the hungry gazes of the men staring up at her.

  Yet when Mistress Audrey tapped her shoulder with the end of her riding crop, the week’s constant training kicked in and Carly sank obediently into a kneeling position on the stage floor, keeping her back straight and eyes downcast.

  Another tap and Carly spread her knees to give the men a better view of her shaved pussy. She held herself still, her chin raised. She focused on the middle distance, carefully avoiding eye contact with the man with the dark hair who sat only a few feet away, brandy and cigar in hand. When she felt two taps on her shoulder she rose with as much grace as she could muster on legs that felt like rubber.

  A tap to her upper arm, and Carly placed her hands behind her head, lacing her fingers together as she displayed
her naked body for her potential Masters. A tap on her back and she turned, hands still behind her head, thrusting her ass out toward the men as she’d been taught. Finally she bent as Angie had, grasping her ankles, glad the men couldn’t see her face, which from the scalding heat on her cheeks she knew was beet red.

  Another tap, and Carly turned slowly back toward the audience while Mistress Audrey addressed the men. “You have Carly’s detailed information in your folders, but as quick recap, she is thirty-two years old, five foot six and weighs one hundred twenty-two pounds. This is Carly’s first time with Erotica Auctions, but if she pleases you, we are hopeful this won’t be her last.”

  Was Mistress Audrey really talking about her? Was Carly really up there on the stage waiting to be handed off to the highest bidder? How surreal this felt, displaying herself like a slave girl in Ancient Greece. “She is available for the standard one-month contract,” Mistress Audrey continued, “with renewal terms to be negotiated.”

  Though Carly kept her eyes down, she felt Mistress Audrey move away and her heart, which was already pounding, leaped into her throat as the auctioneer said, “The bidding begins at twenty thousand.”

  “Twenty-one,” called out a voice from a far corner of the room.

  “Twenty-two,” called out another. Carly had the odd sensation that she was standing outside of her body, watching this bizarre event unfold as if it were happening to someone else. She wanted to look up, to see who was bidding, to see if the man with the gray eyes was one of the three voices that kept calling out their bids, but she didn’t dare.

  “Thirty,” came the voice from the corner. In the silence that followed Carly bit her lip so hard she nearly broke the skin. The auctioneer hit the gavel. “Going once…”

  “Fifty thousand dollars,” said a new voice, its timbre deep and pleasing.

  There was sudden hush in the room as if everyone, Carly included, were holding their breath. Carly’s heart beat against her sternum as she stood in front of the men, feeling as if her very life hung in the balance as the auctioneer waited for another bid.

  Finally she heard the strike of the gavel. “Slave Carly is awarded to Mr. Wise for fifty thousand dollars.”

  As Mistress Audrey approached her, Carly couldn’t help it. She looked up, her heart lurching as she saw the handsome man with the gray eyes getting to his feet and moving toward the stage.

  ~*~

  Adam Wise wasn’t quite sure what had compelled him to jump in with that winning bid. The slave girl he’d just purchased wasn’t even his physical type. He favored slim, small-breasted women like slave Nina, a twenty-four-year-old beauty who seemed to have a submissive streak a mile wide. He had focused on Nina’s dossier and had planned to bid on her and only her.

  Yet when the five women had been led out, for some reason he was drawn to the woman kneeling to Nina’s left. He recognized her from the photos as Carly, with her unruly tumble of curly, golden brown hair and vivid blue eyes set in a heart-shaped face. She looked younger than her stated age of thirty-two, and where Nina exuded exotic sophistication, Carly looked more like the fresh faced girl next door, too puppy-dog eager for Adam’s tastes.

  Yet he’d been captivated when she turned her head, sneaking a glance at the men who were ready to shell out a sizable sum to take a woman home for a month as their submissive sex toy. Not that fifty thousand was all that much in the scheme of things, not when you were worth millions.

  There was something in her gaze that caught and held his attention, a kind of secret fire behind those innocent blue eyes that he wanted to explore further. After all, it wasn’t as if he were choosing a life partner, or even someone to drape on his arm at the endless events he was obliged to attend in his role as business magnate. This girl was just a toy—an amusing diversion he would use for a month and then forget. Not one to lose out on what he wanted, Adam made his bid high enough to shut out the others around him.

  Now he sat across from the woman, whose nakedness was covered by a white satin slip that clung alluringly to her curves. She kept biting her lower lip, and her hands were playing nervously with the silver pen resting on the table in front of her.

  Franklin Jasper also sat at the table. He was a tall, lean man with iron gray hair and a stern visage, his lips drawn down in a perpetual frown, deep lines bracketing his mouth. He put his hand on the papers in front of him.

  “This is the final draft of the contract, compiled based on our discussions, Mr. Wise, and on Carly’s prior agreement to the basic terms.”

  He pushed a copy toward each of them. “Please read it over. You’ve both already agreed to the basic protocol, conditions, duties and responsibilities. This just ties together the loose ends. Mr. Wise, you have the original, slave Carly, you have a copy. Mr. Wise, once you approve of the content, please sign where indicated and pass it over to the slave for her signature.”

  Adam picked up the contract and began perusing it, glancing as he did so at Carly, who was staring down at her copy. Her curls had fallen over her face so that he couldn’t see her eyes. Her mouth was slightly pursed as she concentrated, the tip of her pink tongue appearing between red lips.

  He looked again at the pages in front of him. He was already familiar with much of the content, as it had been developed and discussed with him during the week leading up to the auction, but he skipped to the page he hadn’t seen, which included Carly’s hard limits. He was pleased to see she had only one: don’t break the skin or draw blood. This made sense to Adam, and he approved.

  He picked up the pen that had been placed beside the contract, his hand hovering over the signature line as the enormity of what he was committing to sank in fully. The whole bidding idea had begun as a kind of lark when he’d first heard about the BDSM auction. “Why not?” he’d joked at the time. “Women are only after my money anyway. We might as well be upfront about it.”

  But now, sitting across from the woman who was, for all intents and purposes, entrusting her life to him for the next thirty days, it didn’t seem like a joke at all. He was going to have total control over her, and be completely responsible for her, a woman he knew next to nothing about, except that she was a submissive masochist and willing to sell her charms for a hefty fee.

  Well, this was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? A submissive sex slave to play with to his heart’s content, and then send packing before she tried to weasel her way into his heart, or far more likely, his wallet.

  Forget the romance, the wooing and the waiting games. He’d gone down that road one time too many in his forty-one years. No, this was much cleaner and more honest on both sides. A transaction between informed and willing parties. What could be simpler?

  Taking the pen, he signed the document and slid it toward the girl.

  She met his eyes for a moment, and behind the nerves he could see gritty determination and a certain strength. Seeing him regard her, she looked quickly down, reaching for the pen. Her hand shook very slightly as she signed. What was going through her head, Adam wondered. Was she as aware as he was of the import of what they were doing?

  Franklin, who had risen from his seat, was suddenly beside Carly. He took the contract and put a hand on Carly’s shoulder. “You now belong to Mr. Wise. You are his property. Kneel on the carpet at once and keep your head bowed.”

  Carly slid from her chair and knelt with her back straight, her curls again obscuring her face as she looked at the ground. Franklin continued to address the girl, “You no longer have any say over your person or your actions for the next month, except as Mr. Wise permits. While this is not, strictly speaking, an enforceable contract in a court of law, it is binding insofar as any breach of the terms of the contract during its time frame will result in forfeiture of all monies owed, and you will not be permitted to enter another auction with us ever. Your portion of the award money will be kept by Erotica Auctions for you until the successful completion of your slave term. Is that clearly understood?”

  “Yes, Master F
ranklin,” the woman said to the floor. Based on her nervous mannerisms, Adam had expected her to squeak, but her voice was sultry and sexy in a way that went directly to his cock.

  Turning to Adam, Franklin said, “I’ll make a copy of this contract for our records, and get Carly’s suitcase. I won’t be a moment.”

  Left alone, Adam regarded the kneeling girl. Her head still down, he saw that she was again worrying her lower lip and he thought of kissing that luscious mouth then and there, but controlled himself. The contract had said nothing of kissing. Whipping, binding, fucking every possible orifice, yes, but kissing—was that considered too intimate? The irony of that at once amused and irritated Adam, and to distract himself from this line of thought he barked, “Stop that.”

  The girl looked up. “I’m sorry, Sir, stop what?”

  “Stop biting your bottom lip. It’s very unattractive. I can’t believe your trainers didn’t beat that out of you on day one.”

  “Oh!” Carly touched her mouth with her hand. “Please forgive me, Master.”

  “Hands at your sides.” Adam snorted. “And don’t call me that. I’m Adam. Or Sir if you absolutely insist. You are Carly. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Mas—Sir.”

  She looked down again. Her cheeks were flushed, her nipples visible beneath the silk slip. Adam sat in silence watching her. What in the world was going through her head? Beneath her submissive façade, did she regard him with contempt, even hatred?

  What did it matter? This wasn’t a love match, nor was it permanent. Erotica Auctions had represented these slave girls as of the highest caliber in every respect. If he was unhappy, he’d been assured, he could sever the contract and get his money back, less the quite substantial nonrefundable deposit, naturally. Still, with that kind of cash changing hands, he doubted they would be offering up inferior merchandise.