Auction Ch. 16

Ethan straightened his tie, and took one last look in the mirror. Jen watched him from the bed, where she lay on her stomach, a wisp of white sheet covering her bottom.

She was spent. It was all she could do to stay awake and watch him get dressed for his meetings.

Yesterday, after she'd awoken in their hotel room, her body aching and her mind reeling from three days of training. Before she was even fully awake, Ethan had taken her. Pulling her to him, he'd ravished her until she wept.

After she'd made appropriate homage to him, of course. After a fierce kiss, he'd pointed at the floor. Dutifully, she'd knelt before him. With her own hunger rising at the sight of his naked body, she leaned forward and sought his forgiveness in the only way she knew how. Fortunately for her, she was quite a talented fellatrix. She loved sucking cock; she'd always loved sucking cock. That his cock caused such frenzy in her only made it easier to service him. By the time he came, filling her mouth with his hot seed, her pussy ached and she was purring with her own pleasure.

Then, with the taste of him on her lips, she'd been taken into his arms and carried into the suite's bathroom. He bathed her himself, placing her in a large tub, running his hands all over her body as he washed away the leavings of her ordeal. She'd forgotten how gentle he could be, and her body had thrilled to his touch as his fingers worked out the strains and kinks of her restraint, kneading life back into her form even as he soaped her ample curves and washed her hair.

In the end, as his eyes met hers and his lips lightly touched hers, she'd orgasmed suddenly, inadvertently, giving herself to the heat that had grown within her.

Expecting reprimand for this breach of etiquette, she giggled when he simply smiled at her. Ethan had reached for her, pulling her to him in the steamy warmth of the tub. His strong hands had reached under her, lifting her up and onto his turgid shaft before lowering her fluttering body back down gently. Confronted by the roar of pleasure as his cock filled her, Jen did the only thing she could do: She wrapped her legs around him and gave herself to him.

And that had been the start of it. From there the day had slipped into a long sequence of passionate lovemaking broken by bouts of sleep. Well into the early hours of this morning he would wake her with a touch and then have his way with her. There was no pleasurepain in any of these sessions, simply a terrible need in him to quench himself in her.

Again and again Ethan would drive into her, mounting her in a simple missionary fashion while she writhed and moaned beneath the welcome crush of his muscled form. Even as she moved in time with him, willing herself to hold off her own release so she could cum with him, her mind marveled at the intensity of his lovemaking.

She'd known that she'd almost been lost to him; but his passion for her made her suspect that her betrayal hurt him more than she realized.

Her heart ached with this knowledge, even as her body sang with the delights of their union. She vowed then and there to rededicate herself to him, to abandon whatever conceits she might have and become his. Kami remained a problem of course, since she wanted Ethan all to herself, but Jen knew that the raw, sexual hunger that had so confounded her was purged from her.

Her time in that dark room had made her realize what she really wanted. Made her understand that what she'd embarked on, while titillating, was not a game; it was a conscious choice to live her life in service to another, and by doing so, realize her own happiness.

And his cock, oh his magnificent cock, buried within her wet, throbbing pussy, plunging into that perfect connection time and again. It was almost too much, the very act of his thrusts creating a dangerous hunger for him.

As much as she wanted to serve, she realized, she wanted that feeling of his cock inside her. Worse, she realized, she needed that feeling.

With this combination -- her enlightened embrace of submission and her physical hunger for him -- Jen's fate was sealed.

Suddenly, it became effortless to give herself to him utterly, to embrace the little death he summoned in her again and again with no thought to what she wanted. To be pinned to the expanse of their bed by the steely length of his shaft, her breasts afire as her newly pierced nipples sent waves of pleasure through her with every move of his chest against her, staving off her own pleasure solely that she might offer him more.

Having evolved beyond her own girlish fantasies into true submission, how could she do otherwise?

Finally, in the very, very early hours of the morning, he'd cried out, his body shuddering against hers in one long, climatic event, and then he'd collapsed atop her. She came as well, then, summoning up the last vestiges of desire from her spent frame, reserves of crackling sexual energy she barely knew she had. Her fine hands had clawed at his broad shoulders as she bucked and writhed against her, and he'd laughed out loud at the sight of her gasping mouth and fluttering eyes. The purity of that final orgasm extinguished her, and left her prostrate beneath him, nearly catatonic from the experience.

Whatever demons he'd needed to purge were clearly gone, and Ethan's steady, satisfied breathing soon dragged her down into sleep, her cheeks wet with tears of joyful release.

And so now, hours later, she lay on the bed, still an utter wreck, marveling at how he seemed fresh and chipper. He looked like he'd slept for the last twelve hours, rather than playing her body like a fine instrument. She looked positively rumpled.

Ethan nodded to himself, satisfied with his appearance, and turned. He was dressed in a dark charcoal suit that sported a fine pinstripe, and the deep red of his tie went well with his crisp white shirt.

The outfit reminded her of Starke for some reason, but she said nothing.

Better to put the past, in the past.

He strode to the bed and sat down next to her, and then leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

Jen rolled over, the better to lavish him with all the joys she possessed; his now in their entirety. She noted with satisfaction that his eyes roamed over her lush form, taking in the beauty of her full breasts, her flat stomach, the subtle play of her collarbone, the simple art of her nude mons pubis...

Ethan placed his hand on her stomach, his warm touch stirring her faintly. "I have to go. I'm meeting new clients at two, and it's already one fifteen."

"Yes, Sir. What shall I do while you're gone?"

Ethan smiled that smile that told her she would be testing her own boundaries today, and not lolling about in bed watching daytime television.

"There is a note in the next room. Follow its instructions to the letter. I will see you at four. Don't be late."

He smiled again and then kissed her lightly on the lips, before standing and walked to the door. With a wink, he was gone, leaving the door fully ajar, the better to teach her that her nudity was something public.

Jen stood and then padded over to the door. Beyond it lay the hallways of the Driskill. She looked out into the hallway, sensing the presence of the cleaning staff and the patrons, knowing that any one of them could see her at any minute, and forced herself to take a deep breath and count to thirty.

As she was about to shut the door, a couple walked by. They saw her in the doorway: A beautiful blonde, utterly nude, utterly disheveled, and sporting a self assured look on her face that spoke off recent passion. Jen could only imagine how the smell of sex must have been coming off her in waves, and she was suddenly aware of the taste of Ethan on her lips, and the fact that her mouth ached from her devotions.

And yet strangely enough, as the couple stopped and looked at her, she saw none of the shock or revulsion she expected.

Rather, they seemed to be comfortable with her presence, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to see in this hotel. Jen wondered at that, but gave it little thought as she gazed out on the two of them.

They were young, early thirties at best, and handsome in a manner suggesting both affluence and good breeding. The woman wore a narrow black skirt with floral embroidery and a white top that showed her bra beneath; she was pretty but not beautiful, with blonde hair pulled down in two short braids. Her body was fit, but lacked the ample curves Jen enjoyed. Her blue eyes seemed to fixate on Jen's ample breasts.

After a moment, Jen realized that the woman was looking at the platinum rings that now adorned her nipples, and smiled, pleased that her new gifts from Master Ethan were appealing to others.

The woman's companion, a tall, thin man dressed in jeans and a dress shirt, leaned in and whispered something into his companion's ear. A pleasant giggle was his response and then she darted forward to kiss Jen on the lips.

"You're very lucky," was all she said, "He must be very special."

"He is," Jen whispered, holding her close for a moment, "I am honored to serve him." The woman's perfume was thick in the air about her.

And then her companion was pulling her away, off down the hall.

Jen stood in the doorway, watching them go, marking their room number before stepping back in, and closing the heavy door. There were no wedding rings that she could see. Were they meeting for some tryst of their own?

She knew they would both be thinking of her as they made love, and that made her pussy throb ever so slightly. Ethan would be pleased.

On the table in the sitting room that adjoined the bedroom were three things: A small box wrapped in soft blue tissue paper, a silver, metal briefcase, and a pair of steel handcuffs.

Jen regarded all three for a long while and then looked about for a clock. To her surprise it was already 2:30 in the afternoon. She had no idea what either the case or the box might contain, but the purpose of the cuffs was clear: Ethan wanted her restrained in some fashion upon his return.

Given that this was the first time she'd ever been outside the estate on 'normal' circumstances, she assumed that the case had nothing to do with her, and so picked up the box. It rustled faintly when she shook it, confirming her suspicion that it contained clothing for her to wear.

Not that there would be much, she thought to herself with a grin. Many of her old foibles were slipping away in the wake of her retraining, and so the thought of being so exposed didn't provoke the same doubts about her own body.

Using her fingernail, she picked open the wrapping and opened the box. Within lay a pair of black heels -- Jimmy Choo Pillows, she noted with a gasp of pleasure -- a stockings and garter set from an Italian designer she didn't recognize, and a small, folded note. She set the box on the table and took out this last item.

Pet,

Please bring the briefcase to the address below at four. I need it for a meeting this afternoon.

Put on the items in the box, and only the items in the box, and meet me. If you move quickly, you shouldn't get arrested.

Ask for Simon at the front desk -- in person -- he will order you a car.

Don't be late,

Ethan

PS: The handcuffs are so that you don't lose the case.

Jen let out a long, shuddering breath. These instructions were so far from what she'd expected that she had to sit down in one of the plush chairs. Her knees were weak and her heart was racing. Ethan had just upped the ante well beyond what she could have comprehended. She knew that there were women out there who did things like this, who were so truly, totally dedicated to their masters that they would do literally whatever was asked of them. And she wanted to please him.

But she'd never expected that he might ask this after nearly a year in relative isolation. She'd been alone in the house with the two of them for so long that she'd come to think of herself as a hothouse flower -- something beautiful to be admired by only a select few.

Now, however, he was asking her to come meet him dressed in nothing more than a whisp of lingerie and a pair of heels, shackled to a briefcase.

She looked over at the case. What did it contain?

It was locked, she soon discovered, so even that little relief was denied to her. She was expected to come meet him, risk arrest, risk public scorn, and still could not know what she was delivering.

Could she do it, she wondered? Could she really stride out onto the streets of Austin naked and wanton, and somehow avoid the consequences long enough to reach him?

She didn't know. It was all too much.

One thing she did know, however, was that she couldn't fail him. Not again. Not so soon after her betrayal. Yes, he'd set the bar impossibly high on this test, but there was no real choice for her if she was to win him back.

And she was determined to win him back.

Jen stood up on shaking legs, and headed for the shower.

One hour later, she stepped out into the hallway, a stunning vision of sex personified. The steel handcuff was cool around her right wrist as she strode quickly to the elevator. She thought her heart would leap out of her chest as she waited for it to chime, and spent those torturous moments shifting from one foot to another while she prayed that no one would come by.

For some reason, she knew she could make it out of the lobby if she could just have a few moments to compose herself. Some small voice inside her told her that she could do anything to win Ethan's love. She clung to that conviction with every shred of willpower she had, and stoutly ignored her own reflection in the hallway in the mirror as she waited.

Would anyone from her old life recognize her if they were to see her now? She'd changed into something utterly alien to her old, bookish life. Her body was leaner, sculpted by hard exercise and focused deprivation; and her new piercings certainly marked her as a changed woman. But mentally, she'd come so far, her confidence had spiked dramatically in the glare of Ethan's attentions.

Blue eyes dark with applied kohl stared back at her from the reflection; they were determined, and not a little haunted by all she'd seen and done.

It wasn't that she had any regrets.

Rather, she simply had undertaken such a transformation of herself that she felt increasingly detached from who she'd been.

Before, despite all the things she'd done as Ethan's slutslave, she'd always felt threads leading back to her old life. Before there'd always been the possibility that she might go back to her old life. She'd never reconciled how to keep Ethan and achieve that, but then it'd always been a fantasy, something to cling to in those moments when the reality of being reduced to a sexual object rankled the powerful intellect she'd been.

Now, however, as she looked into that mirror and saw the bombshell before her ... now she wasn't so sure.

Finally, the elevator chimed, the doors slid open, and Jen almost died right there on the spot.

The elevator was packed, full of businessmen and women obviously on their way to a mid-afternoon meeting.

Despite all her newfound confidence, decades of self-doubt suddenly flooded her mind. She'd been caught! They could all see her. They all knew. Surely they would laugh and point, and she'd be hauled away by hotel security in utter humiliation.

But then a moment passed, and another. And she was still alive, still wanton and gorgeous in her garters and heels, the case still safely in her possession.

She looked at them, and they looked at her.

No one said anything.

It's going to be ok, she suddenly realized. However bizarre this might be for a ... hell, what day was it ... she was going to survive this encounter.

And the next.

And the next.

Jen shifted her feet, taking a more open stance, one that was more inviting, pushing her breasts slightly forward and opening her legs a bit. Let them see me, she thought. Look at this pussy, my Master's pussy, and crave it.

Long seconds ticked away as they all waited for the doors to close. She did not attempt to board. She couldn't. Even if she'd wanted to, there was simply nowhere to stand -- a fact that she could tell disappointed not a few of the car's occupants.

So they all stood there, the suits and the slave, and looked at one another. Somewhere she found the strength to meet their collective gaze, and found, to her surprise, that the act of holding her head high made her quite warm. Indeed, she could feel herself getting wet, feel her pussy becoming engorged like the petals of a flower unfolding, as they all stood and watched one another.

Sets of hungry eyes roamed over her body with undisguised avarice; male and female alike, she noted. One or two of them were clearly disgusted with her, but the collective lust pouring out of that elevator car was an almost physical thing that threatened to pull her inside.

Part of her longed to give in, to step forward into that collective embrace, to let herself be consumed by them. It had already happened to her once this weekend, she thought. But tempting though that possibility was, she knew that she no longer had any will of her own; her strength and her guide was her Master.

He had commanded her to come to him, and so she would.

This realization, and the palpable hunger coming out of the elevator car, made her smile. More of a smirk, really, but she watched its effect scatter over her captive audience, noted the nipples pushing against the white blouse of a 40-something brunette, noted the bulges cresting in not a few suit trousers.

Slowly, finally, the door began to close, blocking the view of those in the back and the sides. Jen locked eyes with a striking young man, clearly the newest addition to this group of corporate raiders. He met her gaze evenly, self assured that he could stare her down. His was the only eyes she could see, and she suddenly felt quite wicked to be thusly displayed for him alone.

Somehow it was more wanton to be nude for only him than for the group.

Just as the doors narrowed to a near-final seam, she reached up and idly dragged her left middle finger over her left nipple, flipping the ring ever so slightly as she did so. It felt amazing, jolts of pleasure flaring through her turgid bud, and she shivered with it.

The young man coughed loudly, almost choking at the sight. And then the doors slid shut and she was alone again.

Jen laughed then, loud peals of laughter releasing the tension she'd felt.

She pressed the button again, alone in the hall, a newly reborn submissive on her way to her master.

"Ah, yes," said the clerk, his eyes never leaving hers in a display of professionalism and willpower that left her almost insulted, "You're staying in the Rennaissance Suite; you're Mr. G's guest."

This was the Simon she'd been told to seek out. He was at least fifty, impeccably groomed, and utterly indifferent to the sight before him.

She stood before the main desk, amidst the marble columns and arches of the lobby. Only a few minutes had passed since her arrival, and already the commotion she'd caused was considerable. Guests had stopped to gawk, and not a few of them were snapping photos of her on an array of cell phones and cameras.

Oddly enough, this didn't bother her. Ethan had registered her under a false name, and as much as she might worry, no one she knew from her old life would have been in a place like this.

So she stood there, reveling in how the Jimmy Choo's made her calves look so sculpted, drinking in the public's admiration and disdain in equal measure. None of it mattered anymore, she realized. Ethan's opinion was the only one that counted anymore.

"What can I do for you, Miss?" The man's self control was maddening. Why wasn't he responding to her? How could he look at her and see nothing?