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.