Secret Sins Ch. 06

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Ameaner
Ameaner
1,251 Followers

With the barest glance to her left, she said, "This doesn't really count."

I was about to question her as to what she meant by that when the bartender asked for her order. I watched her beside me, thinking she looked good for her age, picturing her getting screwed from behind by her husband if she had one. I smiled at this vision, allowing it to morph into a gangbang scene where five men were ejaculating into her nice hair, a large cock driving itself in and out of her pussy through a hole it had rammed through the crotch of her panties.

"Well, Lieutenant," she said once she had her drink, completely oblivious to the role she'd just been playing in my mind's eye, "I should go get ready for the main event. Enjoy yourself," she ended with a chuckle.

I'd expected more conversation and, especially with her humoured farewell taken into consideration, was disappointed that I didn't get the opportunity to find out why the lounge didn't count as a bar. I shrugged, watching her shapely little tush retreat to the other section before turning my head to face behind the bar again.

Taking another drink, I ended up with an empty glass in my hand. I ordered another, suddenly finding myself wishing Donna was there. I grinned as I imagined her walking through the door, looking around until she saw me seated there, the caring smile I knew she'd have for me.

She really was something. The first real friend I'd ever had, but more than that. It was more like she was family, like an older sister, or a mother. The feeling didn't seem so odd anymore, but the fact that I felt this way about her after having known her for less than two weeks was a bit alarming. But we'd really clicked on some level and, sitting there at the bar, I remembered the first time I saw her, the feeling I'd had that I'd met her before. Of course, that was impossible. She was born and raised in Regina and this was my first time in the city.

Remembering my other first impression of her, I grinned a little wider as I received my next drink. It was the first time I'd ever felt a real physical attraction to another woman. The surprise in feeling that attraction was disturbing, but exciting and very enjoyable just the same. I wondered how much of that was her beautiful, striking eyes.

And then my grin fell as I remembered my reaction to the forever lost picture of her, the shiver of mortal fear running up my back at the memory of those strangely blackened eyes and how they came across as being so... inhuman. So wrong.

It must have been some sort of strange digital effect. Not to mention the fact that I was under the influence at the time. In a sense, I was glad I'd ruined my phone, glad that I wouldn't have an opportunity to see that picture again, at least not until it appeared in Salvationist. It made it easier to disregard my reaction, to logically explain away the memory of what I thought I'd seen. Besides, apart from a wonky camera effect and/or too much vodka, what else could it have been? Apart from my irrational fear of unfinished basements, I'd never believed much in the supernatural and, even if I had, I had The Lord in my corner anyway. It was the kind of foolishness that I generally never thought about, and there was little point in starting, especially when it involved such a good friend (and more) as Donna was.

My thoughts soon turned from Donna's dazzlingly beautiful eyes to her perfect tush. Sometimes I just wanted to grab it, to get down on my knees and nibble at the bottoms of her cheeks. It was hard to get used to the fact that I could if I wanted, that I actually had a sex partner who would not only enjoy that kind of thing, but who had a mind as kinky as mine could be.

Recalling how she'd encouraged me to suck Joel's cock soon had me squirming in my seat, fantasizing about the kind of fun she and I could have sharing a man. We could take him, or maybe his son up to my bedroom... Maybe Darren and Haley again... A stream of lewd visuals ran across my inner vision, each one more carnally abhorrent than the last until I was squirming on my barstool with hot arousal.

The sound of a woman's amplified voice from the other section snapped me out of my buzzed, hormonal fantasies. It was Marilyn. She was introducing herself and thanking the crowd for their attention. Slipping from the tall stool, I realized my nipples and clitoris were hard and fully erected. Blushing a little, I was thankful that nobody could discern my condition as I walked on slightly unsteady legs to the other section, my drink mostly gone.

The Major was still where I'd left him, watching Marilyn with a diplomatic smile, and I took up position beside him once more. He looked down at me, noting the drink in my hand as I looked up at him with a little smile that offered apologies for speaking out of line earlier. The expression he showed me was one of approval and warmth, one I took as forgiveness as I sidled up a little closer than any woman who wasn't Alessa really should.

But he didn't seem to mind, and I smiled with that giddy, alcohol induced contentedness at the proceedings, taking another pull from my glass.

"-to thank you all once again for your participation in Funraiser," Marilyn issued, her hands occupied by a small collection of little blue cards as she practically beamed at her audience. "Over the past two years, your combined contributions have helped hundreds to a better life, better circumstances and better health. The smile on every properly fed mouth is testament to your generosity of spirit and the responsibility you take in helping to support this community.

"But, too often we think the homeless, the addicted and the poor as the recipients of our care. Let's not forget those unfortunate families, such as the Grigsons, who found themselves without a home after theirs burnt down. With no fire insurance, the Grigson family's outlook was dire but, thanks to your donations, they're back on their way, clothed, housed and nourished."

Here, she took pause, an unspoken invitation to a soft round of applause in which Marilyn took part. It wasn't completely clear as to what, or who the room was applauding, the Grigsons or themselves, but I joined in since it seemed nonetheless expected.

When the applause was finished, Marilyn looked out over the small crowd, searching the dim lit lounge for something or somebody until she stepped closer to the microphone and called, "Natasha?"

I could see somebody working their way up to the small stage where Marilyn waited with an anticipatory smile. It turned out to be one of the scantily clad server girls, a pleasantly voluptuous, busty brunette with hips and tush in pleasing proportions to her impressive chest. She was pretty enough, her full lips and fair skin quite pleasing, though I suspected that her brilliantly green eyes owed thanks to a set of coloured contacts. She wore a dark blue dress, the bodice of which only covered the front of her round orbs, the hem falling almost to her ankles but slit up the side to show off an eye opening amount of skin at her left hip. She stood with a faltering, nervous smile for the crowd as Marilyn introduced her with a bright, shiny smile.

"This is Natasha Grigson."

The crowd applauded, some adding whistles as Natasha looked like the proverbial deer in the headlights.

"Natasha," Marilyn announced, "is twenty-one years old, very thankful for what you've made possible for her and her family, and is very eager to show just how thankful she is, so without further ado... the bidding starts at one thousand Dollars."

My eyes widened as several hands went up in the crowd.

"Two thousand..." Marilyn called out.

The same hands remained lofted, some of them waving eagerly. Turning to look at the Major, my lower jaw slack in shock, he only looked back at me, the expression on his face confirming that my suspicion of what I thought was happening was really happening.

"Three thousand..."

"Major, Hurdle!" I managed.

"Keep your voice down," he warned with a smile.

I could only stare at him, completely blown away that he would sanction this kind of thing.

"Five thousand," Marilyn called, her tone becoming more excited.

A quick check of the crowd showed that only one hand remained. Looking back to the Major, I finally found my voice, though I kept my shocked tone low.

"You're prostituting girls?!"

He rolled his eyes, bending slightly to reply, "That's putting a harsh label on it, Lieutenant. We're... auctioning their company for the evening."

"Five thousand going once..."

"Major!" I hissed in total disbelief, his outrageous rationalization of the event locking my mind to any further comment at the moment.

I turned to see it, feeling like I was watching a violent robbery from across the street, powerless to help or intervene as the scene played out before my very eyes.

"Five thousand going twice..."

Natasha's eyes were wide, and it was hard to tell what she thought of this. I wondered if she'd been drugged or, like me in Hurdle's office, if she'd been somehow pressured into this.

"Sold, at five thousand Dollars to the lucky man in the hat!" Marilyn jubilantly trumpeted as a cowboy hat made its way through the cheering crowd.

The otherwise well-dressed man underneath it stepped up on the stage, thin and hawkish faced, stuffing a clutch of bills down Marilyn's top and copping a feel while his hand was there. She laughed, saying something that the microphone didn't quite catch while I came to an understanding as to why she wore that vest and low cut top.

Taking her hand, the hatted man led Natasha from the stage, her boobs bouncing enticingly as her high heeled foot stepped down to follow him into the crowd.

"Jaylyn Arthur!" Marilyn called, inviting a fresh lamb up to the slaughter as I turned once again to the Major.

"This is... outrageous!" I hissed.

And while I was understandably outraged, a part of me was quite thrilled with the idea, with watching girls being auctioned off like cattle, to be helplessly used as sheep. Perhaps it was because I was already horny, I can't say, but the fact was that it fired my curiosity, my filthy imagination. Yet, much like I'd always separated fantasy from reality, the outrage of what he was enabling was what commanded my reaction as I glared at Major Hurdle.

Bending again to speak into my ear, he explained, "Lieutenant, these girls are here of their own free will. They're benefiting from this as much as we are."

"Well, Natasha Grigson didn't exactly look eager, and-"

I interrupted myself to turn around, just in time to see a tall, thin young blonde step up on the stage wearing a schoolgirl's outfit. The red plaid skirt was indecently short, the backs of her white cotton panties visible before she turned to face the whistling, cheering crowd. Her short sleeved, white blouse was tied under her boobs, unbuttoned just far enough to see the top of a lacy white, probably A-cup bra. Her eyes were wide, lips parted in stunned reaction to what was going on.

Turning back to the Major, I continued, "-and neither does she! I'd like to know just how in hell she's benefitting from this! I'd seriously like to hear an answer to that right now!"

"Calm yourself, Lieutenant," he told me, rolling his eyes again before explaining, "Every woman who steps up on that stage is living off the Salvation Army in one way or another, or their husband or father is. If they themselves aren't in our low cost housing program, chances are, their husbands or fathers are living in our long term program at the Centre. It's possible that some of these girls can't make their rent payment to us, or would like an opportunity to live rent free for a month in order to save that money for something such as a damage deposit for a nicer apartment outside of our program. Or their husbands or fathers are no longer able, or temporarily unable to pay for their lodging for whatever reason. Maybe Social Assistance has cut them off, maybe they lost another job because they were too drunk to get out of bed, or whatever. Marilyn has offered these girls this opportunity, and they've all willingly agreed to it."

"At the option of being out on the street!" I finished for him while, behind me, Marilyn crowed for another thousand. "We are a Christian, charitable foundation! What's happening here is... is..."

"Helping the community in ways you can't imagine," he said, taking his turn in finishing for me. "Didn't you hear Marilyn before the auction began? Were it not for this past spring's Funraiser, Natasha Grigson, along with her mother, father, and both her little brothers, would be out on the street right now. She and her mother are here tonight to help Donald Grigson save two months' rent so they can afford the damage deposit on a house rental."

"Sold, at three thousand Dollars!"

Turning, I watched the crowd jostle as someone moved through its cheering mass until a portly man mounted the stage, stuffing a handful of bills down Marilyn's top as the other had. There was a leering grin on his red, beefy face as his hand also took its time inside her top before taking the stunned schoolgirl's hand to lead her down off the stage to whatever excitingly perverse plans he had in mind for her. Turning back to the Major, I went in for round two.

"They still don't seem very pleased about it, and, whether they've consented to being here or not, that doesn't change the fact that you're exploiting them! What you're doing is wrong! It's wrong on every ethical and Christian grounds that you don't have a leg to stand on!"

"Lieutenant, all of these women have been very carefully selected."

"What does that mean?!"

"It means that none of them are even Christian."

"Chloe Timmins!" Marilyn happily called from the stage.

"What?!" I responded.

"None of them are Christian," he repeated, clarifying with, "We're not exploiting them, as you so rashly put it, but utilising their... presence to do the Lord's work."

"Major, that's...!"

Shaking my head as I stared at him, I couldn't even say what that was.

"That's how God himself works and, if you've taken the time to pay attention to scripture, you'd know it. I don't have to cite examples here. By taking it upon ourselves to utilize these non-believers in a fundraising campaign that brings in approximately fifty thousand Dollars in an evening, four times annually, by then using that money to, in turn, help others in His name, we are literally doing His work."

"We're encouraging carnality," I differed. "We're encouraging-"

"I told you before," he snapped, still with that phoney grin, but his tone harsh now. He seemed to have lost patience with my verbal opposition to his idea of doing the Lord's work. "They're not Christians, and it doesn't matter for them any more than it does for these Godless heathens who are buying them! They're already going to fry in Hell; what difference do you think this makes? And if they do ever come to Christ, well none of this will matter anyway, because they'll be forgiven for it! Really, Lieutenant, do I have to school you on the mechanics of salvation now?!"

Not yet finished, I opened my mouth to debate his views, but he cut me off before I could even get one word out.

"I've said all there is to say about this, Lieutenant! The Funraiser has been our number one source of charitable donations, and that's not going to change just because you've come along, because you don't think its right! So, I suggest you go get yourself another drink, and shut up about it!"

And that pretty much ended the debate. He straightened up, focusing his smiling attention on the stage as I stared at him for a few seconds, stunned at this whole scene and the way he'd just spoken to me before wandering off to the bar for another drink, as he'd suggested.

Chloe Timmins, another brunette who looked to be in her late twenties with an average build, was auctioned off at two thousand dollars. Looking as though she only just woke up on the stage in her tight, black miniskirt and blue, strapless halter top, I watched her buyer take his turn stuffing a fistful of cash down Marilyn's blouse. However, instead of coping a feel as he did, he grabbed her crotch with his other hand, making her shriek in surprise, her amplified reaction causing a brief instant of uncomfortable feedback. Laughing afterward, it was clear that she was enjoying herself and, as I took a sip of my fresh drink, I watched her approving expression when he then hiked Chloe's skirt so everyone could see her in her little black thong.

After he led her from the stage, Sonia Grigson, assumedly Natasha's mother, was called up to take her place. She was built much like her daughter, also with brilliant green eyes that suddenly had me doubting my earlier assumption of her daughter wearing coloured contacts. She wore a shiny, emerald green tube dress, so short that I could see her black panties. The bodice was way too small for her large boobs, its little straps straining ridiculously and unable to entirely cover her nipples. She was actually quite beautiful and, like her daughter, carried her weight well, though she seemed a little unsteady on her feet. I suspected that she was drunk, possibly just to make the evening an endurable experience, but her exact feelings were hard to read by her expression.

The auction began and I made my way back to the Major, for want of anywhere better to be, to watch her get auctioned off for four thousand Dollars. Marilyn only laughed while she allowed Sonia's buyer to open up her pinstriped slacks in order to stuff his four thousand Dollars down the front of her bright red panties. Afterward, he led Sonia down off the stage, one of her big boobs bouncing right out of her dress as she stepped down. She didn't seem to notice, following her buyer into the crowd.

More girls were brought to the stage, bought and led away and, by the time a set of identical twins were showcased, both of them in Girl Guide uniforms, my outrage had staled finally giving way to my arousal. I didn't even hear their names, watching with lurid interest as they stood close together, holding hands as they looked fearfully out at the hungry crowd. They were the very picture of innocence and purity, quite pretty with shoulder length, light brown hair and very nicely developed bodies. Marilyn announced their age to be a tender eighteen years, and I wasn't surprised to watch the pair get auctioned off at fourteen thousand Dollars. Their buyer was Brant Schlater, accompanied by a young, well dressed dirty blonde who I assumed to be either his wife, or girlfriend.

Another girl was called up and, looking to my left for a sneak peek at the next victim of this meat market, I happened to see Sonia and Natasha Grigson. They were both bent over the back of one of the brown leather couches, side by side, with their dresses hiked to the small of their backs, boobs hanging out. Their panties were tangled at their knees as they were being soundly screwed by their buyers from behind. Natasha caught my eye and returned an expression that was equal parts pleasure and blame. You'd think that I'd at least have the decency to look away, but I couldn't. Not even in all the porn videos I'd watched had I ever seen anything as good as that. Perhaps it was only because of it being reality, being right there in the room with me. When the crowd closed around them, cutting off my view, I was tempted to go over there, shoulder my way through the onlookers so that I could continue to watch alongside the heathens, as the Major had called them.

Yes, I actually debated this until I decided against it for one very simple reason. It wasn't because it would have been wrong, or that I felt guilty for enjoying what was happening to them. Rather, it was because I was so aroused at that point that I was afraid I'd somehow become involved and, as exciting a prospect as that was for me just then, I still knew I couldn't allow that to happen.

Ameaner
Ameaner
1,251 Followers