Auction Ch. 01

Author's Note: This is the first chapter of my first submission to LW, so please peeps, be nice with your comments. The story follows the lives of a couple forced to make difficult decisions when their professional lives disintegrate and they are left in dire financial strife.

This is a work of fiction and the characters are figments of my devious imagination. Further chapters follow shortly.

CHAPTER 1 - BANKRUPTCY

When finances turn pear shape, the fallout can be devastating.

Dianne and Steve graduated, found good jobs in their respective fields, paid a respectable deposit on the Queenslander home they dreamed of in a great suburban setting and were starting to plan for a family. Life was great, until suddenly it wasn't.

Dianne's job as marketing director of a trendy ad agency was first to go. The global financial crisis put the agency under stress and before the directors could steady the sinking ship, the agency went bankrupt. Vacancies were limited, competition for every spot in the industry was fierce and before Dianne could find herself a new job, Steve lost his engineering job with a startup mining company when their Asian markets dried up overnight.

Their solid financial position went to hell in a handbasket, with the couple suddenly faced with high mortgage repayments, zero income and few prospects in the short term.

Steve's late model BMW was the first casualty, sold at a loss in an attempt to get the family finances under control. The prospects for keeping their new home were not looking good.

Their situation was echoed by thousands of upwardly mobile young families and the mood in the city was sombre. Dianne spent a night out with friends, which she could not really afford but the need to get out of the stifling problems closing in on them justified the expense.

The conversation she had with one of her closest friends, as it turned out, would have an impact on her life forever.

On arrival home, the look on Dianne's face instantly put Steve on full alert.

"What's wrong, Honey?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Why the glum face?"

"I can't talk about it right now."

The verbal skirmish continued for some time before Dianne broke down.

"I had a long chat with Sue tonight," she began. "Do you remember she went on an overseas holiday a couple of months ago without her husband?"

"Yeah I wondered how she was able to afford that. Financially they're no better off than we are."

"They are now Steve."

Steve arched an eyebrow. "How so, Honey?"

"She heard about an auction in Las Vegas and put her name down."

"So what did Sue send to auction that made such a difference to their finances?"

"Not what, Honey. Who. She put herself up for auction. She found this group in the States who hold an auction every month. They auction off women who agree to act as slaves for a specific period of time. Sue put herself up for a week, got selected by an old English gentleman and spent a week as his sexual servant, all expenses paid. The auction house holds 10% of each winning bid while the slave collects the remaining 90%. There were eight women auctioned in her group, some for an overnighter and one actually committed for a whole month."

Steve laughed, disbelieving that such practices continued in this day and age.

"So what Dianne. Are you seriously planning to auction yourself for a couple of hundred bucks and a free trip to the States?"

"Of course not. But you need to understand Steve that we're not talking hundreds here, but many thousands. The girl who was auctioned for a month of service took home over a quarter of a million dollars US. That's not bad for a month's work, is it?"

"So what exactly do these women have to do to earn that sort of money, and what sort of men are well heeled enough to support these auctions?"

"As I understand it from Sue, most are business people from around the globe. A fair number of oil billionaires come from the Arabian states, but their customers also include Europeans and of course Americans. The women at each auction are listed in a catalogue giving their personal details including marital status, are medically examined before the auction and are put on display for an hour before bidding begins."

"You seem to have gone into an awful lot of detail for someone who says they have no interest in the subject."

"Steve, this is about as far out of my comfort zone as I could ever imagine, but we have to do something soon, or not only will we lose the house, but we'll be bankrupt as well. Sue seems to have found a way of overcoming their problems, but I'm worried that joining an auction might solve our money troubles at the expense of our relationship."

"You're right about that, Honey. I'm not going to stand idly by while you throw our wedding vows down the drain in order to solve our money worries."

"It wouldn't be like that Steve."

"You tell me then, Dianne. How WILL it be?"

"Well for a starter, the hard limits are set beforehand and are included in the catalogue, so the bidders know what they can and cannot do with their slave. All bidders are vetted by the organisers and according to Sue, most are regulars."

"Are you saying that you could sell yourself into slavery and only have to perform non-sexual tasks like cooking, cleaning and laundry?"

Dianne smiled. "No, I'm not saying that at all. These men want a woman who will do anything they want for the period of their contract, limited only by the terms agreed to before the auction. Sex is the key driver here."

"That means the women are basically prostituting themselves. My wife is not going to do that. Not for me, not for herself and certainly not to protect our financial future. End of story."

Effectively ending the conversation, the couple headed to the bedroom, going through the motions of sex without emotion and eventually falling into a troubled sleep.

With no job to go to, it was almost inevitable that the conversation started again over breakfast, but Steve shut it down. "Not going to happen, Babe. We'll never be THAT desperate."

A letter from their bankers two weeks later added pressure to their delicate situation. The letter pointed out that for the first time since the mortgage was signed, Steve and Dianne had allowed it to slip into arrears, and asked for a commitment regarding repayment of arrears.

"Steve," Dianne began cautiously as they sat down for dinner. "I've done something you're not going to be happy about."

Steve's eyes narrowed as he surveyed his wife's features. She could not return his gaze but continued.

"I emailed the group in Las Vegas to enquire about the next auction."

"YOU DID WHAT!" Steve roared. "We talked about this. We agreed it will never happen. Why on earth would you try for more information when you have no intention of proceeding?"

"OK Mr Wise Guy. The bank is within weeks of foreclosing. I've tried to get a job at no less than fifty agencies but nobody's hiring. Every engineer worth his salt is leaving the country to go to where the work is. Steve, we have to raise some money and we have to do it fast. This is our only chance to straighten up our lives."

"Not going to happen," Steve sulked, but the venom had gone from his argument. He realised that his way was not helping to resolve their debt burden but could not contemplate the thought of his wife with another man.

An uneasy truce developed and the topic was avoided altogether for several days, until Steve collected the mail and found a letter from their local medical clinic. Curious, he opened the letter to find a detailed medical report on Dianne, including a full blood workout, STD screens and current medications.

Throwing the report on the table and already knowing the answer, he asked his wife for an explanation.

"We're not going to go broke like so many of our friends, Steve. I'm going to the next auction and have offered a Friday night to Sunday night weekend of slavery with a reserve price of $10,000 US plus all expenses and air fares. Two airline tickets are on their way here by courier and we leave for America tomorrow for the auction on Friday. Your hotel accommodation and meals in Las Vegas is covered by the auction group. We stay together until the auction takes place, but unless I fail to reach the reserve price, you will not see me again until I am released from the contract by midnight on Sunday. The limits I've insisted on are no permanent marks of any kind including breaking of skin. The weekend will be spent in Las Vegas and not elsewhere. No third party sex."

"And I'm supposed to go along with this craziness?"

"Steve, Honey, you know it's the only way out of this mess. I might endure a tough weekend, but that's a small price to pay. There is no romance involved here. It's strictly a business transaction in which a man who has more money than he needs can indulge in a fantasy of his making. When it's over, you and I will be the same as before."

Steve could not believe what he was hearing. Slamming his coffee cup hard on the table he stormed out of the house and started walking. Tears streamed from his downcast eyes as he stumbled down the street in a daze. He walked for hours, realising at one point that his cell phone was still at home and his wife might be worrying.

It was dark when he stumbled through the front door, where a frantic Dianne smothered him in a tight hug, showering kisses all over his face and neck. Both wept uncontrollably, but as they quietened, Steve came to the realisation that it was too late to stop the roller coaster his wife had started.

They packed frugally for the trip, knowing that they would be gone for just a few days, enjoyed an uneventful but long flight, made the connection to Vegas and duly settled into their luxury hotel on the day before the auction.

There was little conversation. Steve clung to Dianne as if his life depended on it. They held hands in the elevators, they held hands as they walked to the dining room. They held hands as they meandered through a large shopping mall, silently surveying the plethora of goods they neither needed nor could afford.

Surprisingly they slept well on Thursday night, spooned together, naked as they always slept, loving each other without the need for sexual expression.

The shrill ring of the hotel room phone disturbed their reverie during the afternoon of the auction, the caller alerting them to the imminent arrival of a limo in an hour or so. In accordance with her instructions, Dianne wore a simple outfit, a light sundress over a simple lace bra and panty matched set. She also wore suspenders, stockings and four inch heels to match her dress. A hairdresser at the hotel complex did wonders with her hair, and Dianne looked sensational, her five foot ten frame almost matching her husband for height.

"It's not too late to back out Honey," Steve ventured without conviction, knowing that to be a lie.

Dianne looked away, determined not to show any weakness by shedding a tear at this point. The limo's arrival a short time later heralded the beginning of Dianne's adventure. Steve led her quietly to the kerbside and helped her through the door held by a uniformed driver. Steve had barely slipped in beside his wife as the car smoothly slipped away from the grand entrance of the hotel, stopping half an hour later in front of yet another luxury hotel.

This time a concierge opened the door for them and welcomed them by name.

"Steve and Dianne," he boomed. "Welcome. My assistant will show you to the suite."

A stunning blonde appeared at their side, dressed in a conservative business suit. Taking Dianne's hand and carryall, she led them into the building and soon the elevator had them up to the 45^th floor, shown on the keypad as "private". The elevator discharged the group straight into a well appointed bar, where guests assembled in little groups, entertained by a pianist playing classics on a grand piano in the corner. The blonde took their drink orders and settled the couple into a comfortable corner lounge.

She was back moments later, and immediately tried to put the couple at ease by explaining how events were expected to unfold during the evening.

"Your details have already been distributed in tonight's catalogue, along with your photograph, so you will have been identified by most of tonight's bidders as you walked into the room. You will have noticed that the majority of folks in the room are men, but although it's rare, we have two women bidding this evening. There are six women on the auction list tonight, somewhat less than normal, so proceedings will not last long. You Dianne, are the last on the auction block. In a little while, the women being auctioned will be taken into an adjoining room, where they will prepare firstly for their display, which will last an hour and then for the auction itself. I'll leave you two for the moment and come back for you Dianne, when we need to start your preparation."

Steve and Dianne silently surveyed the people in the room. As expected, there were several men in immaculate, white flowing robes and headwear, clearly the Arabian oil merchants they had been told to expect. A flamboyant American in cowboy boots and western clothing chewed on a fat cigar, laughing loudly at his own humour. Most of the remainder could have been business people from anywhere in the world. Smart business suits were the order of the day. A few who had clearly met before were engaged in animated conversation, while others quietly stood alone, inspecting their catalogues and then trying to match descriptions with the women in the room.

All too soon the blonde returned to take Dianne away. Turning to Steve she made it clear that he was welcome to stay for the auction but would have no further contact with his wife until midnight on Sunday, in this room. Dianne stood quietly, determined to keep her innermost turmoil hidden and offered Steve a chaste peck on the cheek.

"Don't stay." She whispered. "This will be over by Sunday night and I will spend the rest of my life being the perfect wife for you. I love you."

Steve strode to the bar and ordered a double scotch, neat, downing it in a single gulp and ordering another. He savoured the second glass while he considered his options and decided that Dianne was right. He had no desire whatever to see his wife sold into slavery to another man. Turning down the offer of the limo, he sadly stumbled through the hotel lobby and started the long walk back to his hotel.

In the preparation room, the six women to be auctioned were each pampered by two assistants. Their makeup was expertly applied, their hair was teased and brushed into place and with five minutes to go before the inspection hour, the auctioneer entered the room.

"Ladies," he began. "Thank you all for being brave enough to participate in tonight's auction. Some of you have been here before and we welcome you back. For all of you, tonight will be a life-changing experience. You have all signed contractual documents which spell out in fine detail the duration of your slavery experience and the agreed limits to activities with your temporary owner. My job tonight is to make each of you attractive ladies so desirable that bidders will want to open their wallets and up their bids. This is good for you and good for me. We only have six slaves for auction, which will increase demand, for there are more than fifty bidders out there who are all here with the intent purpose of going home with their personal slave. If I ask you to do something on stage, I ask with the intention of increasing your value. Don't question me or hesitate, no matter how my instruction might offend you initially. Remember why you are here. OK now please discard your clothes and place them in the storage bins provided for each of you. They'll be here for you when you return. Your assistants will help you into the auction gowns. You'll see that they are coarse calico, with long splits on either side and scooped necklines to allow bidders access during their inspection. Some of you will find this process humiliating and objectionable but I urge you to endure it with a smile -- at the end of the day your compliance with increase your value. Any questions? No? Good. Let's get started."

The auctioneer was right about the gowns. They were so big that the wearer was on full display. There was no way the loose, plunging neckline could hide the girls' breasts, while splits from the waist down on both sides exposed their genitals with every movement.

In the main room, voices faded, the piano fell silent and the lights dimmed. A small stage in the corner suddenly appeared under a bright row of overhead spotlights. Six brightly polished brass poles rose from the stage, each with a loop at the top.

The auctioneer's voice returned to the microphone and he began the windup for his eager bidders.

"I will now bring out our six slaves for your inspection," he boomed, and introduced each woman by her first name as they were escorted to the stage by one of their assistants. On arrival, the assistant clamped padded handcuffs on their wrists and attached the cuffs to the ring atop each brass pole, displaying each slave to her best advantage.

"Your inspection time begins now and will cease in exactly one hour, when the auction will begin."

One of the two female bidders was first to climb onto the stage, stopping at the first of the slaves. The slave had obviously experienced this process before and preened herself for her bidder, thrusting out her breasts and tilting her head back slightly while licking her lips.

The bidder nodded her approval and gently pressed a finger to the girl's lips. She opened up and sucked gently, anticipating the next move correctly when the bidder thrust her hand through the slit in the side of the gown and teased her labia apart. Knowingly the older woman moved her moistened finger over the girl's clit, noting with satisfaction a slight shudder. Running her free hand over the slave's torso, she then eased open the girl's gown to expose her nipples, squeezing first one and then the other with increasing pressure until the slave whimpered in pain.

Satisfied with the reaction, the bidder moved to the second slave to repeat her examination.

The men meanwhile, had also begun to move among the six displayed slaves. Some touched with curiosity and tenderness, while others were cruel and harsh in their examination. Dianne was positioned at the end of the row and several men had already tested her before the woman bidder reached her.

"My, my, you're a tall one," she observed in a plummy English accent. In accordance with her auctioneer's advice, Dianne kept her eyes downcast and quietly responded with a polite "Yes Ma'am." The woman, who barely reached the height of Dianne's shoulders, squatted to run her hands gently along Dianne's calves, pausing at that sensitive spot behind the knees. Using the slits in the gown to her advantage, she continued her upward exploration of Dianne's thighs, running her hands along the inside until her fingers brushed very gently against Dianne's pussy lips. This woman knew what she was doing, dragging her fingernails along Dianne's labia, touching her clit suggestively and then stroking down to her inner thighs again, until Dianne was unable to stop her response and started pulsing her hips to meet the woman's teasing hand. By the time her hands had hefted Dianne's breasts and pinched her nipples, she was quivering in anticipation, and the woman knew it. "I'll have you later my lovely." And she turned to leave the stage.

Several men touched Dianne before she was confronted by a striking gentleman probably ten years her senior, dressed immaculately in a dark suit and burgundy cravat. His gaze searched her face, devouring her eyes. His manicured fingers reached out and stroked the sides of her face, pausing at the edge of her perfect lips. She was unable to prevent herself from running her tongue across the corners of her mouth where his fingers had rested moments before. Unlike so many of the bidders, he made no attempt to grope her body, but stood back to admire her spectacular body.