Secret Sins Ch. 06

Moving my eyes back to the stage made the room spin slightly, and I surreptitiously grabbed the edge of the appetizer table in order to steady myself. Looking at my glass, I was surprised to find it empty. Putting it down on the table, I looked back up in time to see somebody pulling Marilyn's slacks down. He stuffed a wad of bills down her panties afterward, groping around until she made an erotic, gasping moan that filled the entire lounge via the loudspeaker.

Her accoster left the stage with a young, freckled redhead. Tall and somewhat pretty, she was trying to cover her naked chest with her forearm, and I remember snickering aloud at the thought that at least she didn't have a lot of breast meat to cover.

Marilyn, her top and panties now bursting with cash, looked out over the crowd, excitement in her eyes as she sexily shifted her hips. Having stepped out of her slacks, they were whistling and cheering for her, and I wondered if she'd make it home before ending up in the starring role of a situation like the one I'd been fantasizing about earlier. I realized that I was enjoying all this now, my pussy moist as she addressed us once again.

"With our supply of beautiful, young women almost at an end, I'd like to thank you all for once again making Funraiser the success it's been!"

The crowd cheered, some of them chanting, "Take-it-off!" as she drank in the attention.

When they quieted enough for her to continue, she announced, "As you're aware, we're open until six am, the bar is free, and the private rooms down the hall are available for anyone who's too shy to enjoy his or her purchases right here in the lounge, but you know how we all love to watch!"

After another round of cheering, whistling and catcalls, she cleared her throat, holding up her hand for silence until she received a reasonable approximation of it, fixing her audience with a wicked grin as she cast her eyes over them. She was actually quite good at this type thing, and I suddenly wished that Donna could have been there to enjoy with me what I shouldn't have been enjoying in the first place.

"And Just like Dessert," she sleazed, "we've saved the best for last. ... Lieutenant Tara Watts!"

I was surprised, even startled at the sound of my name, but didn't relate it to what it meant, why she was calling it out and suddenly pointing directly at me, for a full two seconds. Two seconds doesn't sound like a long time, but I assure you it was. In that time, I felt the blood drain from my face as every head in the room swivelled on its neck to look over at me. A thick silence fell over the lounge, my jaw once again sagged and I had to grab the edge of the appetizer table a second time. To say that I'd been put on the spot was a gargantuan understatement as the full reality of what was expected made me too lightheaded to even respond.

I looked around at the Major, his expression of expectation curiously mixed with satisfaction as he beheld me. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out as he gestured to the little stage with his head as if to say, "Go on with you, now."

That's when Marilyn filled the silence by starting a mantra, her amplified, breathy voice chanting, "Ta-ra, Ta-ra, Ta-ra, Ta-ra!"

I looked around, the rest of the lounge leering as they joined in the chant. Turning back to face Major Hurdle, I opened my mouth to stammer a protest, but was once again cut off by him before I could even get one word out.

"Wearing that uniform sometimes means sacrifice, Lieutenant. And now you have the opportunity to sacrifice yourself, and not just in the service of your community, but to save your career from the film footage of what happened in my office yesterday."

Nobody would have heard that, not above the chant of demanding encouragement that was growing ever louder as the full meaning of his words dawned on my inebriated brain. He'd actually recorded me masturbating for him. And now he intended to use that, to use me as he'd used the other girls and, if I didn't go along, he'd ruin my career. But, it wasn't only me. My parents would be devastated. Whatever friends they had left in the ranks would disassociate themselves from them faster than Peter had denied Christ.

So, there was really no choice for me, was there? Not really. Not if I wanted to protect at least my parents, if not my own career.

Slowly turning to face the crowd, I couldn't even feel my body. It was cool all over, like somebody had poured cold water over my head, continuing to pour as it ran under my clothes, slowly soaking me down to my toes as the whole lounge chanted for my sacrifice.

And, as I took my first step forward, it wasn't the worry I felt over what would happen to my body that alarmed me. It was the exhilaration, my helpless anticipation that had me so bothered. While I never would have allowed this under normal circumstances, a part of me was practically delighted at what was happening. I very suddenly had no control here, would be used by some stranger for money, essentially pimped out by my own boss, and that part of me, the part that chose my lingerie for the evening, was so excited about it that I could barely breathe.

The crowd parted for me like the Red Sea as I made my way, looking straight ahead as their chanting got rowdier with the realization that I'd agreed to it. I would willingly put myself up for auction to the highest bidder, the prim and proper Lieutenant Watts of the Salvation Army who would soon have her uniform stripped from her young and beautiful body for any perverted use her owner desired of her.

Stepping up on the little stage, the crowd was almost deafening. Marilyn beamed at me with unbridled excitement as she took my forearm, gently turning me to face the crowd, somewhere amongst them my buyer. And in that moment, I understood the stunned expressions I'd seen on the faces of the girls before me, their wide eyed, blank looks of incomprehension. Oh, they'd comprehended just fine, just as I did.

"This is going to be awesome!" Marilyn practically had to yell into my ear with her hand over the microphone. Look at them, Lieutenant! Every one of them wants you! They can't wait to tear into you! I hope to hell you're on birth control!"

I heard her as though from a different universe, like it was someone else she was talking to, staring at the faces that somehow all looked the same, blurred and indistinct as she let them rave until they started stomping their feet. Finally holding up her arms for quiet, she got it for the most part, only whistles and crude catcalls remaining as she disconnected the microphone from its tall stand to begin.

"I think you'll all understand when I say that bidding begins at five thousand Dollars..."

Ten or twelve hands shot up, along with my heartrate and a shameful pride at this starting price and it's immediate, eager reaction.

"Ten thousand Dollars..." Marilyn jumped, but not one hand went down.

"Fifteen thousand Dollars," she called out, her excitement evident as about half the raised hands in the crowd slowly dropped.

"Oh my," she enthused, glancing at me before addressing the crowd again. "More than the twins... Sixteen thousand...!"

I counted six raised hands, my entire body trembling with fear, humiliation and that exhilarating, shameful excitement, while not one dropped at the latest price for my body.

"Seventeen thousand..."

I didn't even look at the faces below the six remaining hands.

"Eighteen thousand Dollars!" Marilyn dared, her latest call dropping two hands.

"Nineteen thousand Dollars...!"

I began breathing even more heavily, barely hearing her call for twenty thousand Dollars, admonishing myself for the pride I felt when those four hands remained.

"Twenty-one thousand Dollars!" she cried, the signal for all but one hand to drop.

"Come on, gentlemen, you know she's worth it, and I have it on good authority that the pretty Lieutenant likes to suck cock!"

That almost floored me and, as much as I didn't want to, I couldn't help but look at Major Hurdle just then, the only person possibly responsible for passing that along. He stood with his arms folded, the nerve to look back at me with an expression of strange satisfaction on his face and a bulge in the front of his pants. I was so disappointed in him, feeling foolishly betrayed and even more foolish for feeling that way, but my shameful pride returned when another hand appeared.

"Twenty-two thousand...!"

This was unreal.

"Twenty-three thousand...!"

The recently raised hand went down again, but the holdout remained as I still refused to look at the face that owned it.

"Twenty-three thousand going once...!"

There were no takers, though Marilyn certainly gave them time.

"Twenty-three thousand going twice..."

The seconds ticked by like hours, the sudden sight of Sonia Grigson's smirking features as she stood there, regarding me with her boobs hanging out, barely registering in my consciousness.

Meanwhile, Marilyn had stepped behind me without my noticing. Having found it to be more than a little hot in the lounge, I'd earlier on decided to unbutton my jacket, making it easy for her to reach around me and tear my blouse wide open. I jerked, letting out a squeal as the buttons flew to the floor, the crowd suddenly roaring their approval as Marilyn grabbed my boobs for them.

I was wearing a light blue, quarter cup bra of lace and sheer with much the same type fit and semi-support that my pink with black polka dots one offered. When she'd finished teasing the crowd with my boobs, I looked down to see that, like Sonia Grigson, the tops of my areolas had escaped. But the rest of my nipples were plainly visible anyway, two fat buds that were so erected they itched. Humiliated and aroused even further, I looked back up to see two more hands raised for me.

"Twenty-four thousand...!"

Those three hands remained as I had to again remind myself that this was truly happening, and not just a very enjoyable nightmare.

"Twenty-five thousand...!"

I suddenly wondered what Donna would say if she was there. Would she put a stop to it? Would she enjoy it? Would she put herself up for auction?

"Twenty-six thousand...!"

In the crowd, Brant Schlater watched with great interest, sitting on a couch while one of the Girl Guides sucked his cock. The other Guide was also on that couch, lying on her back with her skirt hiked, his girlfriend/wife's mouth attached to her bare crotch and sucking like a vampire.

"Twenty-six thousand going once...!"

Sonia still glared at me, but now with reproachful pleasure as she knelt on a different couch, kneading her own voluminous boobs. Her thighs were spread wide so that her daughter, Natasha, could lick her surprisingly large clitoris while being screwed slowly from behind.

"Twenty-six thousand going twice...!"

This couldn't be happening. No way could this be happening...

"Sold!" Marilyn cried, one hand raised triumphantly, the other holding the microphone to her mouth as she pranced. "For twenty-six thousand Dollars!"

(Oh my heavens, please tell me this isn't happening?!)

Through the wildly applauding crowd, a thirty-something man in a pair of dark gray dress pants with a prominent bulge in the front of them and a black, button-up shirt made his way to step up on the stage. He was my height, attractive enough, balding, but with a brush cut and a five o'clock shadow. He had the look of a winner, the kind of guy who was used to getting his way, much like the Major and, as he looked at his prize, I noticed how he didn't look me in the eyes. It wasn't that he was ashamed, but only that I was nothing more than an expensive toy to him, a disposable one at that.

Maybe it shouldn't have at that point, but what surprised me was the woman who stepped up behind him, obviously his wife, and without any need for their matching matrimonial rings to tell me as much. She was a little bit taller than he was and attractive in a country club sense. Her long, dark brown, full bodied hair framed her classically elegant features as she too appraised her husband's purchase without looking me in the eye. In hers, however, I saw a carnal hunger that the rest of her fine features didn't offer, a giddy excitement that I knew came from the anticipation of doing something considered morally wrong. In her short, black dress, gathered at her narrow waist to accentuate her slim hips, she struck a classic pose in the garment that modestly covered her thighs and any cleavage her approximate B-cup boobs may have offered. It was a posture that seemed natural for her, and I remember being distracted by the contrast of her outward appearances to what was in her eyes as her husband paid Marilyn for me in the customary way.

As he stepped behind me, presumably for a further look at what his twenty-six thousand Dollars had bought, Marilyn moved close enough to speak into my ear, saying, "I told you I wouldn't sell you short, Lieutenant."

I looked at her with surprise, lips parted, remembering that she had indeed told me that. It was over in the other section, at the bar, seemingly a different reality ago, but I didn't think anything of it at the time.

The back of my skirt was heisted and I flinched, letting out a short note of alarm. I tried to look back there to see what Mr. Success was up to, but I found my face suddenly occupied with that of his wife's. She was kissing me, her tongue teasing and tasting my lips as I staggered a little. She moved in closer, slipping her hands inside my open blouse to hold me by my waist as she made out with me. The whistling and cheering crowd barely registered as my matching panties were pulled down to the tops of my thighs.

Moments later, something hot wedged between my tushie cheeks, prodding my crotch between my vaginal opening and anus. I thought it was a thumb by the feel of its padded hardness, not registering the fact that, were this the case, I'd feel his hand against my tushie as well. I suppose it was my lack of sexual experience that blinded me to the reality of what was happening as the end of whatever it was suddenly spread my pussy lips as it slipped just inside my wet fold.

"Ommm!" I sounded, my entire body stiffening as the classy brunette pressed herself close.

From behind me, I heard a short moan as what I then realized could only be his cock began slipping further and further up inside me.

"Omm! Mmm!" I desperately shrilled as he stretched my tight tunnel to the point of pain.

While I wasn't technically a virgin, thanks to my own overeager fingers a few years before, I nonetheless then realized that I was losing my virginity, and it was happening on a stage, right in front of a cheering crowd of people, perpetrated by a man who'd just bought me. It was a reality that burst upon my awareness like an incendiary bomb, my eyes wide as his wife probed the inside of my mouth with her tongue. As shocking as this understanding was, I was mentally paralyzed by the incredible pleasure his stiff member was bequeathing as it continued to fill me until I could feel his pelvis against my tushie. I tried to wiggle away, staggering and having to spread my feet in order to keep my balance, consequently allowing another inch of his invading manhood to disappear up inside me.

I shivered, tingles of pleasure breaking out on the back of my neck and falling all the way down to my inner thighs as he reached around, grabbing the lapels of my jacket to pull it back and down my arms. I won't lie; it felt good. So good, and this despite the pain. In fact, the pain sort of added to the pleasure somehow, and I vaguely wondered how big he was as my arms were forced behind me, trapped in the sleeves of my jacket as I bent at the waist a little.

"Mmmmmmmmmmm!" I hummed loudly into her mouth as he unhurriedly withdrew so he could fill me again, this time faster than the jerky progress he'd made during his initial infilling.

He began to slowly pump me, moaning as he did, enjoying my tight little beaver as much as I was helplessly enjoying his meat, but when his wife suddenly disengaged and stepped away, my humiliation was completed by the view this afforded the crowd.

"Ohhh! Ohh-uuhhh! Uhh-hh!" I groaned, watching them watch me, horrified that they could all tell how much I was enjoying this despite myself.

Making matters worse, his wife, with a Martha Stewart smile, took the hem of my skirt in her dainty little fingers to hike it clear to my waist, showing them all my narrow, red lace garter belt and straps as they held up my pure white stockings. They clapped and he pumped all the harder while I shamefully got off on my own public display, even as I tried to find some humility by turning my toes in and closing my knees to the extent that I could.

But that didn't last. With a purely evil grin, she used her finger to start stroking my hard, fully erected clitoris. It drove me wild, making my eyes flutter, my throat utter deeper, raspy notes of pleasure as my boobs jounced with every hard, slamming thrust he now gave me. Alarmingly, I could feel an orgasm building and my knees opened of their own volition as she twitched and flicked my clit. I jerked violently, feeling my bowler slip to an askew position on my head as I threw it back, mouth wide open in astounded ecstasy.

"Ahhh-ahhh-ahhhh?! Uhhh-hhhh! Fuck meee!" I cried into the microphone.

My voice cracked, turning into a mindless howl as my eyes rolled in unimaginable climax. Wave after wave of carnal pleasure marched through my senses as my body jerked and twitched uncontrollably. It was so good and, on another level, the ultimate humiliation for me as well. Maybe that was, in part, what made it so good. I certainly loved that aspect of pornography, though the poetic justice in my own forced consentual use didn't occur to me at the time.

Before I even started to recover, she had her finger in my mouth so I could taste my own dripping essence, and this was what I came around to, the swell of cotton between my ears not even cleared before I found myself being led by her from the little stage where I was sold, pulled by the gusset of my bra down to the floor where I staggered and almost fell before someone caught me. My ruined blouse was wide open, hands and forearms still tangled in my jacket behind my back, useless to stop the crowd from grabbing at me as I was shoved along through the milling crowd from behind. Somebody grabbed my hat as I fought to maintain my drunken balance, tangled panties slowly working their way lower down my thighs.

I managed to get my hands free, dropping my jacket behind me to make a grab for my panties, but was roughly shoved down on one of the couches. From my slouched position, I once again made a grab for my panties, my fumbling fingers managing to pull the fronts of them up high enough to cover my little bush before Mrs. Success grabbed at them.

"I'm afraid my husband will be using that, dearie," her cultured voice informed as she grabbed at my panties.

"Noooo," I moaned, getting into a short tug of war with her over them until my wrists were grabbed from behind the couch by a helpful onlooker.

With a gleeful grin, she jerked them down my legs and off while her leering husband came to stand beside her. Thanks to the education I had managed to gain from pornography, I knew his seven inch tool was just above average. His girth, while nothing like Darren's, was certainly respectable, and I found my eyes riveted to it with the knowledge that he wasn't finished with me yet.

Beside him, his wife jumped when a man who stood beside her slipped his hand up the back of her dress. Turning to see who it was, she smiled as he rubbed her behind. I'd stopped struggling against whoever it was who'd grabbed my wrists, the whole point of that seemingly lost with my panties, and I only put up token resistance as Mr. Success bent over to take my calves in his hands to spread my legs open and back. I moaned again as more helpful onlookers took my legs by the ankles, holding me spread wide and helpless as I noted how my boobs had somehow come mostly free of their bra cups.