Miranda and Geraldine Ch. 08

byStoryTeller07©

Unable to see her husband, past the lights glaring at her, she looked worried. The expression added to the natural look of innocence she wore. Although naked, she struck a demure pose. The overall effect was of someone most would want to buy, and take home, to cherish.

Even the severe lighting, couldn't harden her soft features. The womanly curves of her body were voluptuous, promising much, once past the barrier of innocence. It left the connoisseur wanting to pluck this ripe fruit, to enjoy its delights, with the prospect of releasing a hidden passion.

The auctioneer hoped it was the wife, and not the husband, who found this a thrill, for there was far more interest that usual. If she was a voyeur or slave fantasist, she was getting her moneys worth from this audience.

The guy that previously waived his hand suddenly dropped it. Perhaps he had become wise to the fact that he need only bid at the last, before the hammer fell. The auctioneer kept his eye out for him, especially when the bidding slowed. He looked at the wife, and noted she looked even more worried than ever.

She sensed something was wrong. How long had they been married, more importantly how well did she know him? It made little difference if they were married or partners. Occasionally a woman arranged for a fantasy game player to enter her into the auction. Whoever it was, what mattered was that she could trust them.

The figure was well above estimate, and the husband had a concerned look on his face. The auctioneer again looked at the slave, noting how worried she looked. She couldn't see the bidders behind the lights, though the amount, and her value, was crystal clear. The non-bidders began to murmur, over the high value of this one petite, slave-girl.

The auctioneer began to relax, for the bidder seated near the front, was sure to be her husband. The man looked determined and was a new face. The auction travelled from place to place, changing venues, for security and privacy. Familiar faces were there every session, with the same dealers and punters. Some were just there for the thrill of watching naked slaves being auctioned.

If they hadn't entered a slave, or deposited enough for a credit rating, they didn't get in. The thrill seekers were rich enough to pay a deposit, and forget about the percentage kept back, while not intending to bid.

The hammer went down, with the usual sharp crack, of wood on wood. Both bidders looked exhausted, as though they had run a marathon. The loser looked relieved, after being given the chance to think about how much he had very nearly spent. Perhaps he hadn't thought through where he would keep a slave.

The man, he assumed was the husband, looked elated. He wouldn't be in trouble now from an irate wife. The auctioneer had no time to look at the slave, lot twenty-three, to see how she felt about it all. In any case, if she was deep into a fantasy, it would be difficult to tell how she really felt. She might be getting herself into a frame of mind, imagining a stranger had bought her; even if it was her husband.

Before he could check the paperwork, another slave was presented on stage. Good, the helpers were keeping up the momentum. That would help to keep up the excitement and the prices. They could sort out any mistakes, if he had been wrong, in the office.

Charlie looked worried when he approached the office, to collect his auction lot, numbered twenty-three. The woman paid him little attention, as she quickly processed the paperwork. His bidding number matched the auctioneer's paperwork, so she handed him the appropriately numbered token. She was feeling hassled after processing the three slaves lot. The woman collecting them was bossy and impatient, leaving her feeling stressed.

"Just drive round to the side door, where the lot will be passed to you discreetly. Make sure you park close, as it will not be given any clothing," the woman quickly told him. She firmly closed the door on him, shutting off any stupid questions he might have.

Charlie turned up at the place as directed, and just stood there, unsure of what to do.

"Just be patient, for a moment. It's no good shouting, in fact it is counterproductive. Part of your lot has been a right pain, so it's being subdued," the large man wearily stated.

"You had better not damaged her!" Jane growled at him.

Jane opened her mouth to complain yet again, over the delay. She wanted her three slaves now! Gritting her teeth, she decided to do as she had been told for once. Being told what to do didn't come easy to her.

"Ownership token?" he asked the guy, hovering close by.

"Err," Charlie murmured, while holding out the small, numbered disk.

Without the usual palaver, of a final checking of forms, the big man returned with lot twenty-three. As though rubbing it in that the woman should have been less aggressive, he escorted lot twenty-three the few paces to the guys car. This lot, as often was the case, started to kick off. He had enough of difficult slaves for one evening, so he pushed her in, and tightened the chains. She was effectively fixed tightly in place, draped over the back seat.

"Best to put a cover over you're slave. You don't want anyone seeing it," the big man suggested, and left him to it.

Charlie murmured his thanks, and just stood staring at the helpless naked woman. He roused himself to drape a blanket over her. It was a picnic blanket; a present never used before. His aunt would be surprised to find out what he was actually using it for.

Lot twenty-three, Corrine, was dumbfounded. This was not her husband's car! She had been blissfully unaware of the auction details, while lost in a deep fantasy. It had taken a great deal of gumption to register and fill out the forms. She had almost backed out several times, right up to the moment of stepping out onto the small stage.

All those strangers looking at her naked body had been a thrill of a lifetime. A favourite fantasy had come true, and it kept threatening to overtake her. She fought to keep it at bay, as she wanted to experience every detail, and every thrill of the moment.

On seeing she was being bundled into a strange car, she began to panic. The security guy knew better and re-assured her everything was alright. Her husband must have hired an expensive limousine for this moment. The unexpected, thoughtful gesture, made it all the more thrilling.

He also had the foresight to bring a blanket, to cover her. She heard him get into the driving seat without saying a word. Good! She thought, he was maintaining the mood of the moment, by not revealing it was him. She could pretend it was a complete stranger, driving her off into the night.

Corrine at last began to let go, completely subsuming herself in a favourite fantasy.

She had been enslaved and auctioned! A complete stranger had purchased her, and was taking his slave away! She was now a real slave-girl! Corrine would be this man's plaything, obediently and dutifully submitting to his whims. From now on, there would be no choices to be made, as her life would revolve around a master's desires.

Charlie kept looking over his shoulder, at the blanket draped over the back seat. He hadn't planned on buying a slave. He went there just to see what really went on. It had been so easy to become carried away with the wild spirit of the evening.

What in hell was he going to do with her? As usual, the answer like everything else could be found on the internet. He was sure of that at least. Listening to others at the auction, talking about how they kept a slave, gave him some ideas. He had wanted to ask them for details, but his ignorance would have shown.

He smiled to himself. He had a beautiful, willing young woman in the back of his car, completely helpless and ready to please him! He took note of his speed and lightened a foot on the pedal. The last thing he wanted was to be stopped for speeding.

Janet realised what the problem was now. One of the slaves had her chains tightened, into a hogtie position. She also wore a gag. The second security man to emerge was nursing an ankle.

"The bitch bit me," he complained to Jane. "No, this one on the leash," he pointed out. The older woman, on all fours, was growling and yapping. She had a basket like muzzle over her face.

Janet had help with loading them into her van after all. The security men wanted the lots quickly out of the way. Attention from anyone could mean trouble. With all three slaves tucked away in cages, Janet drove away into the night.

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