Auction

She'd never meant for things to get so out of hand. But the day suddenly came when her bills were simply too far out of reach for her to pay. When the collection agency had come calling, they'd made it clear that she didn't really have any other options. Yes, it was a harsh repayment plan, but what could she do? Years as a graduate student had stripped her of any other real options.

The lights were hot on her skin and bright in her eyes. They were designed, she knew, to disguise those in the audience from her. She wasn't hear to see them, she was here to be seen.

God, she was nervous, staring at the line in front and behind her, three other women standing before her, bound by their debts as she was, awaiting their judgment. They seemed as nervous as she did, glancing nervously out into the harsh glare, straining to see those who would be judging them.

To no avail.

She watched as the woman currently at the front of the line, a petite redhead, received her judgment and was led away. The woman's head was down as she went, and she seemed to be sobbing softly with the certainty of her fate. They all knew there was no escaping this, that had been made very clear by the collection agency officers who had visited. The contracts were ironclad and their circumstances were dire.

Three years work to absolve them of their debts.

It seemed simple when she'd signed it. After nearly five years of striving for her PhD, a chance to repay such a large sum in such a short period seemed like a golden ticket to freedom. She'd read the contract and there was nothing in it to suggest any foul play. Room, board, and health care would be provided, and in turn her services would be sold at auction to the highest bidder, whereupon the collection agency would recoup the monies it had spent paying her debtors.

Simple, right?

Well, no, not now that she was standing naked on a stage in hot lights in front of an unseen group of buyers.

Now it seemed like the indentured servitude they'd told her she'd be signing up for was more like sexual servitude.

The platinum collar around her neck was hot from the lights and the heat of her body, her fear. It had been fastened to her, and then welded shut, a harsh reminder that her commitment to this new life was non-negotiable.

Still, on some level, she had to admit she was excited by all of this.

She'd always had fantasies about submission, but never really acted on them. The lovers she'd had since college had been cool to the idea of dominating her, really dominating her. Sure, there'd been some foreplay and a lot of talk, but at the end of the day, when she wanted them to consume her utterly, there'd been only a combination of rejection and apprehension on her part. The one lover who'd been open to it was gone, half a country away and long out of touch.

So to be here, to be faced with the certainty that she would soon become someone's possession and would be expected to sexually satisfy them – that much was clear by the way they'd shaved her pussy bare and placed spring clips on her nipples and clit before leading her into line – was the sudden realization of a fantasy she hadn't really ever expected to be fulfilled.

Truth be told, while she was still stunned at the reality of what was about to happen, she was really only afraid that her new master would be cruel.

Because she really wanted to be a concubine rather than a slave, to be loved such that she could satiate her sexual desires and her affections on the same man. If her master was cruel, she feared that wouldn't be possible.

When the room suddenly went quiet, the din of the last auction fading into a shuffling of papers, she snapped out of her reverie. The slave in front of her, a willowy Asian, was striding away, descending the steps into the darkness to meet her new master. She watched the woman's his sway and felt a surge of jealousy that her own weren't as shapely. A stupid conceit she knew, but the body issues she'd had for years weren't going to disappear just because she was being auctioned off tonight as a love slave.

The handlers – two blondes, nude save for black corsets, heels, and their own collars – led her to the front of the stage. They smoothed out her honeyed curls one last time, and fastened her hands behind her back with a satin sash. Kicking her legs slightly apart – the better to show her now glistening pussy she realized with a crimson burn of embarrassment – they glided off behind her.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you see before you lot number 1372. Currently a resident of the Windy City, she comes to you tonight for sale at auction. Her skills include a fluency in Russian, a masters in ..." The announcer's voice was everywhere and nowhere, the sound of his measured, calculated dissection of her life filling her ears.

Suddenly she was afraid, afraid to be stripped bare like this, her body, her soul, and indeed the very sum of her existence laid out like a math problem for those assembled before her.

She wanted to run, to flee into the night and avoid this reckoning. But she knew that she couldn't. They'd blindfolded her on the way over, so where could she run to? And besides, she was naked save for a pair of heels and her hands were bound. Who knew how far she'd get.

Moreover, she was ready to be done with the burden of all her debts. They'd loomed for years now; tonight she had a chance to end them.

Her breathing slowed, her breasts heaving slightly as the panic subsided, affording the audience a view of their loveliness. She could swear she heard one or two murmurs of appreciation from the audience, and smiled inwardly. Despite the shock of being exposed like this, her ego rallied to those sounds.

They like me! she though to herself. They're looking at me and they want me. They can see it all – they can see my curves and they want me all the more!

It was a heady thought, and it made her nipples harden, straining against the clips. The pain was a welcome counterpoint to the lust she felt rising in her.

There and then, faced with the reality that what she offered was highly desired, she resolved to embrace her fate. To not just go along with the fantasy of becoming someone's slave, but to throw herself into it with all of her being.

"Do I hear an opening bid"? Again, that droning, dispassionate voice. Couldn't he see her, she wondered? Couldn't he see what he was selling? Didn't he care? Could he really hawk such beauty and sexuality night after night and not be touched by it?

She brought her head up proudly and looked out into the audience, thrusting her hips slightly forward to say to them, yes, this is me, and you want it.

"$50,000." Came a voice from the back right corner. An old man's voice, she realized with some disappointment.

"I hear $50,000, do I hear $60,000?"

"$60,000." This from a woman in the center left!

"$75,000." A man's voice now, from the front right.

Somehow familiar.

"The bid is $75,000, do I hear $90,000?"

"$90,000." The old man in the back. This intrigued her, to know that he opened with a low offer but could rise to the challenge. It suggested he had done this before, that she would not be his first.

"$100,000." Again, the woman's voice, light and melodic, hinting at passionate embraces and light summery day.

"$125,000." A fourth voice, a younger man, seated somewhere in the middle right.

"$135,000." That strange voice again, caressing the corners of her mind. Her breathing quickened again as one of the handlers made her turn in a slow circle, bending at the waist to show them all everything.

Where had she heard that voice? Was it some celebrity? Someone she knew?

"$150,000." The older man was quite interested in her then. What would life with him be like she wondered, and then wondered about life with the younger man as he countered with $165,000.

Standing there, nude and bound before total strangers, she reveled in her status. Yes, she was being sold as sexual property to someone. But $165,000 already? That was far more than she owed – far more than she'd hoped to command when she'd realized earlier what was going to happen to her.

Her pussy throbbed with excitement. Somewhere deep inside her an orgasm was building. She had no idea how it would play itself out, she'd never cum in front of anyone except her lover, and only then from stimulation. This, this was different. This adulation was a narcotic being injected straight into her clit, making her increasingly feverish for release. To see all these people wanting her made her hungry for a cock; she wanted to find her new master and sink down on her knees before him and take him into her mouth.

To thank him for outbidding the others so that he alone could have all the glories she could offer him.

She shivered as the handler ran one light finger down her spine before drifting away again. This whole night had been such a surprise to her, to discover this wanton side of herself that was triggered by the very public aspect of her sale. She knew that she should have been ashamed or embarrassed as the redhead had been before her. But she just couldn't be. She loved this kind of attention. To know that all these men were looking at her and wanted to fuck her, to bury their cocks in her tight, sopping pussy again and again until they could spasm their hot seed all over her face and breasts was almost too much.

Her orgasm was very close now; she shook her head to try and clear the growing fugue so that she could better track the progress of her sale.

The bidding seemed to have reached something of an impasse. The woman had regained the lead, pledging $250,000 for her. Only the older man seemed interested now.

What had happened to her would be suitor with the haunting voice?

Higher and higher the pair circled, their bids dueling in smaller increments now as they sought to determine the other's threshold for pain.

Secretly she hoped the older man would buy her. Life with the woman would be good, but she craved a cock for her pleasure. To serve this man, this seasoned veteran of such bacchanalian events, would be a worthy endeavor indeed.

At last, as she stood there trembling with excitement, ready to cry out her orgasm to her victor, the bidding reached its plateau at $350,000. To her relief, the older man now owned her, or would in mere seconds.

The auctioneer's voice was a staccato burst of closing arguments. "$350,000, I have $350,000. Does anyone else have a bid?"

Silence from the audience. She smiled eagerly, ready to meet her new master. Ready to kneel and pay homage to his prowess.

"$350,000 going once."

Her nipples surged, fresh jolts of pain shooting through her from the clips.

"$350,000 going twice."

Wetness flooded her, glistening in the hot lights. Everyone could smell the sweet scent of her arousal, she was sure. Or at least she hoped they could.

"$350,000 going three times."

She held her breath. This was it.

Just as the announcer began to say 'sold' that voice appeared again, cutting out of the darkness to hit her like a dart. "$500.000."

What? Her suitor was back? And with an offer that dwarfed his rival's?

"Are you sure, sir?"

"I am."

There. That voice. She knew it. She knew it and she knew where in her life he came from. Her lusts soared as old feelings and hopes came rushing in.

"Sir, would you care to match the bid?" A murmur from the older man indicated he did not.

"SOLD! To Mr. G., for $500,000."

She was his! HIS! But how could it be? How could he know to be here?

She didn't care. She surged forward towards the stairs, heels forcing her to take mincing steps. The handlers reappeared to help her.

"I take it you'll take your purchase now, Mr. G.?" asked the announcer to the laughter of the crowd. It was rare they got to see such a willing participant.

"I will."

She tottered down the stairs into his arms, blinking to clear her vision of the bright spots from the lights.

Yes, it was him, after all these years. He'd found her somehow. Despite his travels and hers, jobs and lovers, he'd found her.

She looked up into his brown eyes and laughed. "Master."

"Slave." He smiled back as he bent to kiss her. Her body thrilled to is touch, shivering with the first touches of her orgasm.

His strong hands pulled her to him, one arm encircling her, while the other dipped to her throbbing pussy. With a deft flick of his fingers he unhinged the clamp on her clitoris.

Sensation crashed into her as she bucked and heaved against him, her orgasm consuming her. He caught her, held her, the strength of his embrace letting her know that she was his, utterly his.

Safe at last in her new bondage, she smiled and let go.