"Any Chance?" Auction Pt. 03

"Well... maybe I would have teased him... a little," I conceded.

There was a knock on the door. "Come!" Rosco replied.

I felt myself flush a little as Rosco so casually invited someone else into the office while I was kneeling on his floor, legs splayed open, totally naked. Instinctively, I immediately put my hands back on top of my head, resuming proper "expose" position.

Zach, also carrying an iPad entered.

"I'm having some problems getting ahold of a couple of our Gold Circle Buyers. I was wondering if you could help."

"Shoot!"

"Lord Kensington isn't responding to our e-mails. Jack Waller is staying at the Ritz downtown, but he's not answering his phone."

I perked up at the sound of the two names. "Lord Alfred Kensington?" I asked. "I had lunch with his daughter Elizabeth, in London, a week ago. Rita's got my phone, and Elizabeth numbers on there. Give her a call, Elizabeth can always find 'daddy'. As for Jack Waller, don't waste time with the front desk, they'll just screen you. Ask for Juan Reynolds, he's in charge of personal butlers for the penthouse suite. Explain why you're calling, and he'll get you through."

Rosco looked surprised. Zach, staring at the naked Pleasure Slut kneeling before him, looked gob smacked.

"What's she doing here?" Zach asked.

Rosco was already texting Rita. "Do what she says. I'll get the other number from my wife. Get going."

Zach gave me one more baffled look before leaving. The door closed.

"Could I have some clothes, please, Rosco?"

Up until this point, Rosco had been so busy chewing me out that I don't think he noticed my nakedness. Now, however, he looked at me, kneeling before him. As he looked me over, I instinctively found myself adjusting slightly to perfect my pose: chin up, back straight, legs spread, tits out.

He took his time, walking around me, admiring me, taking a long, appraising look.

Rosco, using a remote control on his belt, released my collar. He went into a credenza, and threw me a blanket. The throw was a little high, and my breasts bobbled as I jumped to catch it. Was it an accident? Perhaps, but he was smiling.

Once I was covered, the conversation resumed.

"It looks like your best friends are my best customers," Rosco said dryly. "How on earth do you know these people?"

"Rich people travel in the same circles. I was at Lord Kensington's estate in Dallas for a wedding last summer, when my friend Elizabeth's brother got married. Lord Kensington is her dad. Very English, old money."

"I helped float some corporate bonds for Jack Waller a few years ago. He hit on me, as did his wife. But what do they have to do with The Big D?"

Lord Kensington uses his estate for 'fox hunts', only he doesn't use foxes. He buys Prime Pleasure sluts, and paints their faces like foxes, and gives them tails. Then while his hunting party is having breakfast, he lets the girls run free, to give them a good head start. Then he hunts them down."

"Hunts them?" I said, swallowing.

"Yeah, you like dogs, Annie? Lord Kensington has 20 Great Danes in his pack. Might be great exercise, since you like to run."

My face went ashen. Elizabeth had mentioned fox hunting, and when I had told her it was cruel, she smiled, and said the point was to "tree them, or chase them to ground". I said I still felt sorry for the poor foxes, and she laughed and said, "Who said anything about foxes?"

The joke had flown entirely over my head, but now her family "hobby" was all too clear. I imagined myself, my face painted, my tail splashing in the water as I ran barefoot through some icy stream. Behind me would be Elizabeth, her father, and the rest of the wedding party on horseback, laughing as they chased me down, with the Great Danes closing in, drawn to my scent. Strangely, I imagined Buster, now restored, at the head of the pack, leading the charge, eager to teach his former Mistress a lesson.

Rosco, unfazed, continued. "Jack Waller and his wife are into lesbo stuff -- like to butter up about 20 girls, and watch 'em go at it. You know John Drummer?"

"Yes," I said, "And he knows me. I stuck him with $2 million in South American bonds, right before the market collapsed," I said, laughing. "He wasn't very happy with me."

My smile faded as Rosco continued. "He's into pony girls. Mostly he likes to take them out on buggy rides, but he races them some, too. Again, I'm glad you like running."

Running was fine, but feeling John Drummer's vengeful whip on my bare ass as I dragged a cart up a muddy hill was something entirely different.

"Have you ever been on Skipper Cary's yacht?" Rosco asked.

"A few times, when I summer at Martha's Vineyard," I replied. "Nice guy. He and I serve on the ballet board together."

"Well, he's totally gay, but won't admit it, even to himself. His 'cabin boys' are slave girls, with their hair cut short, only he uses them as 'boys', if you catch my drift."

I grimaced. "He cut their HAIR?" I said, nervously running my hands over my own long locks.

"Yes. I think you'd look cute in a nice Pixie cut. Of course, that would be the least of your problems. As part of the old-time seaman thing, he's pretty fond of using the lash, when his "boys" displease him, which is pretty much all the time. You didn't notice any of the cabin "boys" were girls, when you were onboard?"

"Well, no. I mean... I didn't think about it. They were, just servants. Who pays any attention to the help?"

"Obviously, not you. Damn it, Anne, what were you and Rita thinking? Of all the nights to put yourself up for auction, you have to pick Rich Perverts night!"

"Are poor perverts better?" I asked.

"Let's just say they have less money to be creative. And I don't think you'll be yucking it up when they are hooking you up to a milking machine, or you're dancing in a harem, or you're a human statue at a party, or you're tied down over whipping block in some Puritan village, waiting to be punished for witchcraft."

"They do that?" I asked, surprised.

"They do EVERYTHING. All the crazy shit you can imagine, and a lot you can't. The richer, the kinkier. Shit, you should know that better than anybody."

I felt myself flush as the accusation struck home. My flush deepened as I imagined meeting my peers again as a slave girl, totally at their perverted mercies.

"The Any Chance Auction was Miss Calico's idea, not Rita's."

"That's bullshit," Rosco said under his breath. "Nobody talks Rita into nothing. Did Calico give her a bunch of freebees?"

I nodded.

"Yeah. Who was conning who? Rita knew what she was doing. She knew that there was no way a Prime Slut was going on Broadway without me looking at her, and she figured I'd stop it."

"But she didn't realize how big a deal tonight was," I observed.

"Obviously. Or maybe she thought I just bullshit my way out of this."

I nodded. "Well, look, I know this is a big night for you, and I don't want to add to your stress. If you can get me some clothes, and call me a cab, I can get out of here."

Rosco looked at me in disbelief. "Do you have shit-for-brains, girl? I can't just go strolling out of here with slave pussy on my arm. Do you know what internal controls are? I can't even get that damn collar off your neck, unless Jake gives me the code."

"Can't you just override the--"

"No! This whole place is a fucking lockbox! It has 10 levels of security to prevent slave girls from strutting out of here."

"I'm not a slave girl!" I protested.

"That's not what the computer says," he said. "You're supposed to be on the auction block in 45 minutes. And the crappy part is, you're not even my biggest problem. I don't have an auctioneer."

"What do you mean you don't have an auctioneer? This is The Big D, isn't it? Isn't this what you people DO?"

"A little less attitude might be nice, given your current situation, little sister," Rosco shot back. "Yes, this is what we do, thank you, but it's Sunday night. Bill Fritz was supposed to handle tonight, but I can't put him on Broadway, because he SUCKS. Timmy's fantastic, but he's in Mexico, and Jed is in some idiot hog calling contest in Kansas City. They're due back tomorrow, but that doesn't do shit for me in the next 50 minutes."

I swallowed hard. 50 minutes! It wasn't much time to fix things.

"Have you called around?" I asked.

"What do you think I've been doing for the last hour?" he shouted at me. "Are you totally slave stupid?"

"Can you do the auction?" I asked.

"I would, but I let my license expire last year. Fucking stupid of me. This is a high-profile auction, and if we get caught using an unlicensed auctioneer, Jake could lose his license. I am SO screwed."

"What about Skeeter?"

"What about him?" Rosco mumbled, looking at his iPad.

"Let Skeeter do the auction," I said.

"Skeeter? Seriously? Is that collar too tight? Are you slave loco?"

"You said Skeeter was the best auctioneer you'd seen. His teacher said the same thing, and only marked him down because he couldn't auction someone he knew. He has a license, doesn't he?"

"A trainee license," Rosco said. "I mean, if Bill Fritz is here, it'd be legal, since he has a full license, but..."

"But nothing. I wanted him to come to work for me in Chicago, Rosco. I see the boy's potential. Maybe as his father, you can't see it, but..."

"He's a kid, Anne," he protested.

"He looks like a kid, but he's 21. People underestimated me, too, but I was already a serious trader by the time I was his age."

"There's going to be a lot of money on the table, tonight. I don't want to put the boy under that sort of pressure."

"Yes, a lot of money you're going to lose, Rosco, along with your job, if you turn it over to an auctioneer you KNOW is lousy. We've had our disagreements over the years, but this is business. I'd rather bet on a promising growth opportunity than a proven loser."

"You really think he can handle this?"

"I do. He's tough and smart, just like his mom and dad. But I'm not the one you should be asking. Ask Skeeter."

Rosco hesitated for a moment, then picked up the phone.

XXX

"Are you sure, Skeeter?" Rosco asked. "Really sure? There's a lot of money on the table, and I wouldn't blame you for backing out."

"The Big D is in trouble tonight, Dad, and it needs my help. Either you're a professional, or you're not. Let's do it."

"He can do it, Rosco," I said. "I have total faith in him."

"You really mean that, Anna-Annie," Skeeter asked.

"Absolutely," I said. "I see a lot of myself in you. I kid you a lot, but don't ever kid yourself: you can be the best. And I totally mean that."

"That means a lot, especially coming from you."

Leaning over, I kissed him on the forehead, accidentally hitting him on the side of the face with my blue animal tag.

"Could we snip off this tag, at least?" I said, flicking the tag with my finger.

"We could," Skeeter allowed, "but I like it," he added, with a grin.

Rosco refocused us on the business at hand. "Okay, you're in charge," Rosco said. "What do you need?"

Like a boss, Skeeter took command. "I want the whole coffle prepped and lined up in 30 minutes, so I can give 'em the once over. In the meantime, I'll go over the files on all the Gold Circle Customers, and the girls, and figure out what our customers are looking for, and how we get the best price for each one. And I'll need some different clothes," he said, pointing at his coveralls.

"I'll text your mom," Rosco said. "And you'll need this."

Rosco reached into his bottom desk drawer, and took out an ivory handled slave whip. It was beautiful, but wicked looking, with a long black lash, and a "cracker" on the end that turned into several smaller lashes. My bottom cheeks clenched as I looked at it.

"This was your grandfather's, and he gave it to me when he started at The Big D. I was going to give it to you when you graduated but... maybe tonight is that night."

Skeeter was quiet for a moment, then picked up the whip, admiring it. "It's beautiful, Dad. I won't let you down. I promise."

"I know you won't."

Rosco wasn't a big hugger, which is why his hug with Skeeter was so special. I actually wiped away a tear.

The moment ended, too soon, I thought, and Skeeter returned to business. "We're still screwed though. Without Anna-Annie in the picture, we only got 11 head. And there ayn't no way to find pussy as fine as her, not in 50 minutes."

Skeeter turned to me, embarrassed. "No offense, ma'am."

I smiled. "I take it as a compliment, Sir."

Rosco frowned. "You're right. Jakes going to be mad as hell, if he finds out we're one short because of this shit your mother and your aunt pulled. It will be my ass."

Skeeter nodded. "You're right. Jake is going to be pissed. You promise 12 Prime, you deliver 12 Prime. That's The Big D way."

"Then auction 12 then," I said. "I'm game."

Both of them stared at me in disbelief. "What, you don't think I can do it? I'm Prime Minus, you know. I look pretty good, under this blanket," I said, laughing nervously.

"Anne, this is a serious auction. If you step up on that block... we're going to sell you."

"It's an Any Chance auction, Rosco. That means Rita gets to turn down the winning bid."

"She does. Any Chance auctions are new. If we get some high rollers in, and they slap down the big bucks, well, they could take us to court. They'll claim it was a scam, or we weren't auctioning you in good faith, or the auction agreement was drawn up wrong. You know how rich people are with contracts."

"I've been in court before, Rosco. Lawyers don't scare me."

"This is Texas, not Chicago. And you wouldn't be going into a circuit court as a bond trader, you'd be going into a slaving court, as a slave girl. Once you're slave naked in front of a judge, who's to say how he'll rule?"

"Seriously?" I said. "I'd be going to court... naked? They do that here?"

Rosco smiled at my surprise. "Let's just say in Texas, slave girls don't get the benefit of the doubt."

"I have lawyers, too," I said, "and even in Texas, money talks. I'm a trader. I live for risk. You need a 12th girl? You're looking at her. And good luck stopping me."

"I know better than to fight with you, or with Rita," Rosco said. "You two are a pair. Thanks, Anne."

"Thanks, Anna-Annie," Skeeter said.

Skeeter thought for a moment, then furrowed his brow. "There's just one more problem... but it's a doosey! I'm going to be the auctioneer, right?"

Rosco nodded.

"And Annie is going to get auctioned, right?"

"Yeah," Rosco said.

Skeeter's face was glum. "The only way that works is, I have to auction Anna-Annie."

I watched as Skeeter and Rosco deflated in defeat.

I interjected. "Skeeter got a crappy grade because he couldn't put his former teacher through her paces, right?"

"That's right. Bill Walsh. He's actually working tonight, in accounting."

"Have him come watch the auction," I said. "He'll change Skeeters grade PDQ if he sees him auctioning his Aunt. He can't be more professional than that."

"I can't argue with that," Rosco admitted. "But..."

"But nothing. This is for you, Rosco, and you Skeeter. I'd do anything for you. Don't you know that, Squirt?"

Walking over to Skeeter I gave him a maternal peck on the cheek. "You mean the world to me, Skeeter. You know that."

Skeeter blushed. "Thanks Anna-Annie. But... but I don't... don't... I don't think I can do it," he stammered. "I can't sell you. Not you."

"Your brave enough to sell Wonder Woman, but not Anna Annie?"

"You're a bigger hero to me than she is," he said. "Hotter too," he added with a smile.

Now it was my turn to blush. I turned to Rosco, who gave me a "his choice!" shrug. "Up to you to convince him," he added.

I looked at Skeeter. He was 21 now, but in many ways, he was still the teenager I had teased in the soda shop. But this was the moment of truth. Was I aware of the risks? Absolutely. I was prepared to do whatever necessary to secure his future, and make him the man I knew he could be.

I moved closer to Skeeter, so close that we were almost touching noses. Tucking my hand under his chin, I forced him to look into my eyes. "Listen to me, young man. You need to auction 12 girls, Skeeter, and that means, like it or not, you're going to have to auction me. You need to put aside your personal feelings, and treat me like any other piece of inventory."

"I dunno if I can do it, Anna-Annie," he said.

"You have to do it. Furthermore, you're going to have to be strict with me. No, not strict, cruel. Merciless. You can't treat me like I'm your rich Aunt Annie. When I'm barefoot on the block, you need to treat me like I'm the skankiest of Pleasure Sluts."

Seeing the embarrassed look on his face, I changed tactics. I dropped my voice into my sexiest, most seductive whisper, moving close enough to brush my hair against his face as I painted the mental image in his horny little mind.

"I'll be scared, Skeeter. Petrified. Slave naked, helpless, and exposed. I've never been sold before. You'll have to dominate me, totally. You'll have to be the man. You'll have to take absolute, total control, of my hot... wet... slave pussy."

Skeeter gasped as I rubbed against him. Even through the blanket he could feel my breasts against his chest, my crotch rubbing his stiffness.

I spoke in my sad, lost, little girl voice. "Some of the men bidding on my body will know me. Maybe a lot of them. I'm friends with their rich, spoiled daughters. Their daddies knew me as the wealthy & elegant girl they wanted, the girl they lusted after. But I was untouchable... until now."

"Some of them know me as peers. They respected me, or pretended to, even as they fantasized about me. Some of them I cheated at business. Remember how I teased you, you're your friends, and made you hard, and laughed at you? I did the same to all of them. Maybe they came onto me at a party, not knowing how rich and powerful I was, and I laughed at them and shot them down. They will remember how I scorned them, and they will be angry. No... enraged."

"Now they will have all the power, and I will be naked at their feet, penniless, and helpless. They will want to see me humbled, humiliated, debased. They will want to see me punished. Give them what they want. Show no mercy, Skeeter. Shamed me, Skeeter, in every way you can. Lay it on with a trawl. The bids will pour in. Never forget: revenge is a dish best served cold."

I rubbed against his throbbing erection as I whispered in his ear.

"It'll be your job to make me disgrace myself, in front of men who've worked with me, lusted after me, despised me. Make me lather myself up in front of them, and roll in the sand like a bitch in heat, and show them all my secret little cracks and crevices. Oh, dear, how humiliating! How awful! Spare me nothing, then crack the whip on my skanky ass, not because I was disobedient, but just to make them laugh."

Panting, I rubbed myself against him, pressing hard against him through the blanket. "Can you do it Skeeter? Are you master enough to sell my stinking, tight, slave pussy, and teach me the true meaning of my eternity collar?"

Stepping back, I smiled, and slowly... slowly... slowly... drew open my blanket, exposing myself to his pie-eyed gaze. Playfully, I let the blanket slide off my shoulders and pool at my feet. Skeeter and Rosco both stared, mouth agape, as I revealed my sluttish, naked slave goods to their eager eyes.

I carefully folded the blanket and brought it to Rosco, bowing to him before neatly placing it on the desk. Then I picked up the ivory handled whip, and returned to Skeeter.

I closed my eyes, and ran the handle between my legs, humping it as I groaned with pleasure.

"Oh, yes, master! Let me scent your whip, so you can smell me, even as you sell the other little sluts."