Party Time

"Believe it or not," he whispered, "I care about you, in my own way, and I've been trying to help you these past few months."

"Help me?" She shoved him away. "You're turning me over to be sexually blackmailed!"

"Yes, but I was also preparing you for it. Constantly pushing your boundaries, easing you into your new reality."

She thought back over their relationship and the many new things she'd tried, against her own better judgement, both sexually and not. He'd been playing her the entire time, plying her, molding her into someone who could be coerced.

"Why are you doing this?"

He swept a lock of hair behind her ear. "Haven't you figured it out?"

He said he'd done far worse things than her. "You're being blackmailed too? By Nathan?"

Daniel ran his hands through his hair, then loosened his tie in a gesture of pure frustration. "I did some really dumb shit when I was in college, but one thing was beyond the pale. He knew about it, had proof of it, and when he became successful and decided he wanted to start playing with people, I was one of the first ones he called."

"Is Nathan... gay?"

Daniel smiled wryly. "No, he didn't blackmail me for sex. He made me his recruiter. Always on the look out for beautiful young men and women to exploit for his parties to serve as entertainment for his wealthy, powerful guests."

"You should be ashamed of yourself. This is rape."

"Hmm, that's debatable. You do have a choice here. Turn yourself in and no one will lay a hand on you."

"You already did!" Callie snapped.

"And you let me, inviting me every time, eagerly." Daniel sighed. "We're going around in circles. What will it be, Callie? Plaything or prison?"

Callie leaned against the table, staring down at the ample proof of her crimes. If she turned herself in, she'd be going away for a long time, at least five years based on the amount of money she'd stolen from the company. She'd looked it up. Her life would be ruined, her future in tatters. What was a little unwanted sex compared to that?

She met Daniel's eye and he was already smiling. He'd known what she'd choose before she did. "Okay, I'll do it. Just for tonight though."

Daniel shook his head. "Nope, you're on call any time Nathan has a party for the next year. After that, your contract is complete and the proof will be destroyed."

"A fucking year?" Callie slapped the glass table, sending a ream of papers floating to the floor. She welcomed the sting in her palms. "That's ridiculous."

Daniel glanced at the papers. "That's the deal."

"And how do I know Nathan will honor his end of the agreement?"

"You don't. But I've been doing this for six years, and I've never seen him go back on an agreement." Daniel chuckled. "After all, there's no shortage of pretty people who've done horrible things."

Callie took a deep breath. "What do I have to do?"

"Everything."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means you can say no to anything asked of you, but if you do, the deal is off." His smile was somehow equal parts sympathetic and mocking. "You're about to get your horizons broadened, sweetie."

"Anything? I have to let these sickos hurt me, maim me, if they want? Turn me into a human centipede?"

Daniel chuckled. "Hurt yes, maim no. Will you be spanked, slapped, humiliated, tormented with toys, and fucked six ways to Sunday? Hell yes. But no permanent damage, disfiguration, or body modification is allowed, except discrete piercings, and those must be done in a sterile, professional manner. It's all in the contract."

He indicated a manilla folder on the glass table.

Feeling like she'd just been thrown off a cliff, Callie read the contract cover to cover. Then, once her nausea had passed, she dried her eyes as delicately as she could with a tissue from her purse and straightened her shoulders. "I'm not going to fucking prison."

"Atta girl. Sign on the bottom line and we'll go rejoin the party."

She picked up the pen. "Can I... negotiate?" Callie was terrified of needles.

"No."

"What? There's always room for negotiation!"

Daniel sighed. "Callie, you're a criminal. As you've seen, the contract is more than generous. Nothing you do here can be used against you in the future, and when the year is up, Nathan will replace the money you stole and cover your trail. It also states that you cannot speak of or use anything you see or do here against any individual, even after the completion of your contract term, or the agreement will be null and void and--"

"And I'll go to prison," Callie finished. "Got it." She signed with a shaking hand, feeling as if she'd gotten lost on the way to Wonderland and stumbled into Dante's eighth circle of hell. The one for thieves. You're a thief, Callie.

"Before we go out there, I have one more question for you," Daniel said, watching her intently with those caramel eyes she'd gazed into for so many hours. While they'd talked, and laughed, and eaten, and fucked.

She stared at him.

"Why'd you do it? It was pure luck I stumbled on evidence of your embezzlement. I never would've guessed you'd steal and certainly not how much."

Callie narrowed her eyes and headed for the door. "None of your business."

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her to a stop. "Fine, keep what secrets you have left. But there's something I have to do before we go out there."

"Oh, yeah?" Callie said, her chin jutting out in defiance. "What?"

He grabbed the front of her dress and yanked, tearing it clean down the front.

"Daniel, what the hell?!" Callie pulled away from him, clutching the torn fabric of her flimsy dress against her chest.

"You're not allowed clothes out there. Within these walls, you are property, and Nathan's property doesn't wear clothes."

"Fuck you!"

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Prison. I'll bake you a cake with a file inside."

She screamed in frustration, then allowed the ruined dress to fall away. Her hands immediately rose to cover her bra-clad breasts. Then she reconsidered and tried to cover her pubic mound, barely covered as it was by the silk triangle of the red g-string Daniel had made her wear.

He rolled his eyes again. "They're going to have you out of that lingerie once you go to auction. It would probably be better for your state of mind if you took it off now, when it's your choice." He pulled something from the pocket of his suit jacket and pushed her toward the glass desk. "Bend over."

"Wh-what? Why? Did you just say auction?"

Daniel didn't answer, only grabbed her by the shoulder and forced her belly against the table, then pressed between her shoulder blades until she had no choice but to bend at the waist, laying her torso and nearly bare breasts against the cold glass. "What are you doing?" She hated the raw panic in her voice, knowing he was probably getting off on it--or worse, was completely unmoved.

She heard a click, then felt the tip of something wet and cold press against her naked right butt cheek. Whatever it was slid across her skin briefly, then disappeared.

"What was that? What did you do to me?" She tried to stand up but he kept pressing her down. He was so strong.

"All Option Bs are required to be marked, as they're our highest value guests and must be easily identifiable. As I explained, these people love to play with the reluctant and unwilling most of all. Without candidates like you, Nathan's parties wouldn't be nearly so popular."

Callie looked at the floor, feeling utterly humiliated and hopeless. She'd been marked for all the sleazebags at the party to see. They were going to... play with her. Fuck her. And there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.

"I have to get something," he said. "Stay put."

Callie nodded, feeling incredibly vulnerable bent over the table in just a g-string and bra. When Daniel returned, he knelt down and ran his hand down her leg, as you would a skittish horse. She peered through the glass table and saw him fastening a leather cuff to first her right ankle, then her left. Each cuff had a silver ring attached.

"What are those for?" she asked, but he ignored her, straightening and attaching similar cuffs to both her wrists. He took a moment to tug on the cuffs, as if testing for tightness. Once he was satisfied with the fit, he stood back.

She straightened hesitantly, then turned to face him. "What did you write on me? What are these cuffs for?"

Daniel cupped her chin and tipped her face up to look at him. She met his eyes, surprised by the hint of kindness she saw there. "Callie, you should really take the underwear off here, while it's your choice. It'll be much worse when someone does it for you in front of everyone."

She glared at him. "No way in hell am I walking out of this room completely naked."

"Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you." He pointed at the loose papers she'd knocked onto the floor. "Now, clean up the mess you made."

"You've gotta be kidding me!"

His expression went cold. "Pick. Them. Up."

A wave of pure fury washed through Callie and she came very close to flipping him off and leaving. Then sanity reasserted itself and without looking at Daniel or thinking too hard about what she was doing, she went to where the papers lay scattered behind the desk, dropped to her knees, and moved to pick up the first pile.

"No," he said in a soft voice, "not with your hands."

Startled, she forgot to avoid his gaze. "What do you mean?"

He still wore that bored expression, as if he were looking at a stranger, but there was a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "Pick them up with your mouth."

She laughed nervously. "That's not funny."

"Wasn't trying to be. You no longer have the luxury of free will or making mistakes. You make a mess, you clean it up, in whatever way you're told."

It was a ridiculous, petty thing to ask of her, and Callie was pretty sure that was the point. He was testing her, playing with her while he still could.

"Fine!" she snapped, then looked down at the papers on the carpet. There were so many of them. Furious with Daniel, even more furious with herself, she went up on all fours, then lowered her upper body and face to the floor, her ass sticking up in the air. She was very aware of Daniel behind her, coming in for a closer look.

Picking the papers up with her mouth was more difficult than expected. Even with her cheek pressed against the carpet, she couldn't get the edge of the paper between her teeth. Her ass swayed in the air as she was forced to twist her body into awkward positions and lap at the papers with her tongue. When she managed to secure the first piece in her mouth, she felt a thrill of accomplishment followed by a wave of humiliation. She heard Daniel chuckle and hung her head in shame, the paper crammed between her lips.

"Hurry up," he said. "I need to get you to the auction."

Callie went up on her knees and spat the paper onto the desk, then knelt again and repeated the process. Sometimes she was able to gather multiple pieces of paper in her mouth, other times she struggled to get even one. Eventually, after what felt like hours of kneeling and licking, all the papers were off the floor.

She'd done it!

Daniel patted her head. "Good girl. It feels good to clean up your own mess, doesn't it?"

"Fuck off," she mumbled, a blush scorching her entire body.

He laughed and headed for the door. Feeling again like she'd wandered into a nightmare, Callie struggled to her feet, stiff from kneeling for so long, and followed him.

They left the safe confines of the study and continued down the blessedly empty hallway. Callie trailed behind Daniel, first covering her breasts, then her crotch, until she decided it only made her look stupid and dropped her hands to her sides. She wondered where everyone was. Probably already being entertained elsewhere or still being brought up to speed on their blackmail situation. Callie was sure she heard sobbing behind at least two of the closed doors they passed.

Finally, Daniel came to a stop outside a red door labeled Auction Room.

"No, I'm not ready," she said, just as he swung the door open. A wave of noise hit Callie from the room beyond, raucous cheers and sobbing.

Daniel seized her arm and yanked her forward. She considered fighting him--the noise was terrifying--but she'd made her decision. Anything was better than years behind bars. Anything.

The room they proceeded into looked like a swanky hotel conference room, with rows of chairs near the back and a raised platform at the front. A podium stood to the side of the platform, occupied by Nathan's personal secretary Arabella. Three women and one man stood on the illuminated stage, all fully nude but for shoes, wrists cuffed behind their backs. The sobbing came from a blonde girl on stage, who was futilely trying to cover her nudity by crouching as the crowd heckled her.

Daniel marched Callie toward the stage. She tripped on her stilettos, but he caught her and hustled her forward and up the stairs to the platform. Daniel leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"If you ever want out, just say so. I promise to visit you in prison." Then he turned and bounded back down the stairs.

"Daniel!" she shouted, but he ignored her and disappeared back through the door.

A young woman approached Callie. She appeared to be in her early twenties, pretty and slim, with huge blue eyes and dark curls. Her clothing was professional--a gray suit jacket with a crisp blue shirt beneath over a matching gray pencil skirt. "Underwear off. Now," she barked. "Keep the heels."

"Um, what?" Callie stared out at the crowd. "I'm not ready to--"

The girl's eyes hardened and she pulled a pair of scissors out of her pocket. "Stay still if you don't want to get cut."

Before Callie could react, the other woman snipped the g-string and bra free of her body and tossed them away. "You're the last one to arrive for this round. You're holding up the auction."

Callie clutched at herself, struggling to cover her mound and breasts. "How dare you! I--"

"Would you like to speak to the manager?" The girl sighed in exasperation. "Turn around and put your hands behind your back." The girl literally tapped her foot, making Callie want to slap her, but she complied. She heard a metallic snick as her wrist cuffs were locked together, making her breasts jut out lewdly.

Trying not to look at the jeering crowd, Callie walked across the stage, fully nude but for heels, cuffs, and choker, and took her place next to the sobbing blond.

"Now it's time for our latest auction round," Arabella announced, "where our newest candidates will be offered up for rental. As always, auction rentals will be honored after the candidates have paid off a portion of their debt to our host by making themselves useful around the mansion. But then, my dears, they will be available for play for the remainder of the party tonight."

Play? Callie thought. Oh god, ew.

"First, we have this voluptuous, dark-haired beauty." The spotlight focused on Callie, blinding her. She closed her eyes and turned her head, unable to raise her hands.

"This candidate is a type B and this is her first party," Arabella said, "meaning she will be a bit reluctant. A firm hand may be needed to quell any behavioral issues that may arise until she settles into her place in the mansion."

The crowd erupted in conversation, and Callie heard more than a few comments about her body and how fun it was to break in a new candidate. She shuddered, feeling goosebumps erupt all over her skin.

"Be a dear and jump up and down," Arabella said to Callie. "Show us how those titties bounce."

Callie just stared at the woman, understanding but having a hard time making her body obey.

Arabella frowned. "Don't make me ask again, hon."

Callie bounced. It wasn't easy to keep her balance in stilettos with her hands bound behind her, but she managed. Her breasts jiggled heavily, to the point of pain. The crowd loved it. Their laughter and whistles filled the room.

"Now turn around and bend over," Arabella commanded.

"W-what?"

Impatience entered Arabella's musical voice. "Turn around and bend at the waist. They want to see all of you."

Callie felt tears well in her eyes and overspill her cheeks as she slowly turned and hinged at the waist. She felt her ass cheeks and labia spread as she bent, revealing every inch of her to the appreciative crowd. Her breasts hung toward the floor, her nipples hard as tacks in the chilly air.

"And I have five hundred!" Arabella announced.

Callie began to straighten, but Arabella stopped her with a sharp, "Stay!"

"One thousand!" she called. "Two thousand! Come on, people, that looks like one tight pussy and asshole. Nice and smooth too. Twenty-five hundred!"

The bidding continued as Callie stared at the floor, exposed, a feeling of deepest dread filling her soul. What was the person who "rented" her going to do to her? What horrors would she experience tonight?

"And sold for six thousand to number 45! Sir, your rental will be available at ten o'clock outside the lounge. Now, on to this lovely, though emotional, blonde. Turn and spread em, hon!"

Rough hands seized Callie's arm and pulled her to a standing position. The girl in the gray suit hustled her off the stage and back out the door she'd entered with Daniel. Another woman waited in the hallway for her, a tall, dark-skinned black woman dressed in a severe black pantsuit and black silk shirt that failed to hide her enormous breasts. The only color in her ensemble was a slash of bright red lipstick.

The woman looked at Callie with disdain. "Follow," she said, then headed off down the hallway at a fast clip. Callie panted as she struggled to keep up in her stilettos. They stopped at a large wooden door labelled, Gentlemen's Lounge. The woman looked Callie over critically, then pulled something from the pocket of her suit. A red ball gag.

"Open," she said.

Callie clamped her mouth shut.

The woman appraised her cooly. "Have you decided to leave us?"

"No," Callie finally said, her eyes dropping to the floor in shame.

"No, what?" the woman snapped.

"No... ma'am."

"Then open."

Callie sighed and opened her mouth wide. The woman pressed the red ball between her lips and into her mouth, then fastened the black straps of the gag behind her neck. Callie closed her lips around the gag, feeling tears threaten again.

"You are to be utterly silent." The woman unclipped Callie's wrists and opened the door to the lounge. "Follow."

The room looked like an old-fashioned smoker's lounge, with dark paneled walls and brown leather furniture. Except not all the furniture was inanimate.

Nude gagged women were strategically placed all around the room. Four women knelt lengthwise on all fours in front of one of the room's leather couches--two facing one way, two the other--their bodies pressed tightly together, a thin slab of glass laid across their backs to form a tabletop. An assortment of silver serving trays and liquor glasses rested on the glass. Two men sat on the couch, engaged in animated conversation, ignoring the naked women except to occasionally help themselves to an hors d'oeuvre from one of the trays. One pale, raven-haired woman--tall and lithe with the willowy stature of a ballet dancer--stood in the corner of the room, her extended arms adorned with a variety of suit jackets. A human coatrack. Her teeth were bared in pain from holding her arms aloft.

Another sprinkling of nude women knelt around the room with what looked like cups extending from their mouths. Callie could not guess their purpose until a man leaned toward one of the women and ashed his cigar into the cup clenched between her teeth. He was careless and hot ash drifted up into the woman's face. She closed her eyes for a moment to allow the ash to settle, but did not otherwise react, not even to brush the remains off her face.