The Premium Prize Ch. 01

When my husband Mike left his office job and went into the real estate industry, I knew there would be highs and lows. More precisely, I knew there would be plenty of lows, and I just hoped there would be enough highs to make it all worthwhile. I understood the real estate game enough to know how important the leased BMW and the expensive suits were, but I also knew that we would barely get by on my salary if he didn't start earning some commissions. Still, Mike was convinced that he would be a success, and I couldn't argue that he hadn't earned the opportunity to try.

Mike and I have been together since high school. He left school a year before me and moved to Auckland, getting himself a job with a small printing firm. I moved in with him the following year when I started at Auckland University, and he didn't complain as his low paying job supported me through six years of study. The firm that Mike worked for did a lot of printing for real estate companies, and he spent a plenty of time talking with many of the agents. Mike waited patiently until I had finished my Masters and received my first pay rise in my new job before he told me of his desire to try selling houses.

The firm that Mike applied to was Macleod Realty, a new player in the booming Auckland market. Mike was impressed by the things he heard from the Macleod agents he spoke with. The company was still actively managed by its founder and majority owner Hamish Macleod. Mike was impressed by the company culture which included social events and mysterious bonuses. The company tagline was "Everybody Wins with Macleod Realty", but I had no idea that we might win another person.

*****

After a few months toiling away for minimal financial reward, mostly just payments from other agents for helping with open homes and other tasks, Mike finally got his first lucky break. He immediately recognised Rob Hennessey, a wealthy property developer, as soon as he walked into the small branch office. Hennessey approached Mike directly and asked to be shown the Mansfield Estate, a property on the market for over six million. Mike offered to contact the agent for that property, but Hennessey declined. He was well known for avoiding the agents chosen by the vendor, choosing instead to bargain using intermediary agents. The outcome of this piece of luck was that Mike earned a share of the huge commission and an invitation to a very prestigious party - the Macleod Top Dog party for the fifty highest earning agents for the preceding two months.

According to others in Mike's office, the Top Dog parties were legendary, although the details were somewhat lacking. It seemed that others who had attended in the past had been sworn to secrecy regarding what went on. The other unusual thing that aroused my suspicions was the RSVP card that Mike had to complete. In addition to ticking boxes stating whether he was attending, and whether he was bringing a date, he also had to state whether his date was "a spouse/partner/significant other" or "a casual date". Naturally, since we had now been married for two years, Mike ticked the first option.

On the night of the party, I was nervously looking around at the other women as we climbed out of the taxi. The invitation was to a formal Friday evening party at Mr Macleod's mansion. Mike hired a tuxedo while I dug out the gown I had worn to my graduation ball, hoping it wouldn't look too cheap among the wealthy agents and their partners. I knew that many of the agents at these parties attended regularly and were not short of money. Even to my inexperienced eye, I could tell that some of the gowns, shoes and jewellery on display were worth many thousands of dollars.

We were met at the door by Mr Macleod's PA Miss Cameron, a beautiful woman in her late 50s. She asked our names and then looked us up on her guest list. "Ah, here we are. Mr Michael Irons and Mrs Jessica Irons. A warm welcome to you both, Mr and Mrs Irons."

"Please, call me Mike."

"Jess."

"Thank you," said Miss Cameron. "Please call me Heather. Now, let me find your name tags." She looked first through a tray of black name tags until she found mine, then she looked through a tray of red tags until she found Mike's. His name tag had the number 20 prominently displayed above his name. "Congratulations Mike," she said. "You've come 20th out of the agents here tonight, so you are guaranteed a premium prize if you decide to accept one. There is an excellent chance you will have a choice of prize since a few of those ahead of you are likely to decline."

"Why? What are the premium prizes?" I asked. I couldn't imagine what kind of prize would be declined.

"I'm sorry. I got ahead of myself. All will be explained later. Please feel free to leave your coats in the room on the left then go through to the party in the room on the right. I will see you both later in the evening."

As we walked into the party, the opulence of the mansion was apparent everywhere I looked. However, the decor couldn't compete with the sight of the people filling the room, from the most honoured guests through to the waitresses. Particularly the waitresses.

Circulating through the crowd were twenty young women all wearing identical white dresses. The dresses were floor-length and flowing with long sleeves, and from a distance the waitresses looked sophisticated and angelic, an impression that was enhanced by their frequent smiles and confident conversation. Up close, however, the angelic tag wasn't as easily applied. When one of them approached us with a tray of drinks, it was obvious that the material of her dress was see through. Her white panties were easy to see, and her braless breasts were only partially obscured by the word MACLEOD embroidered in silver thread across her chest.

"Welcome Michael and Jessica," she said, reading our name tags. "Champagne? It's nice to see some fresh young faces at this thing. You're definitely a young twenty, Michael. My name is Brandy, just in case you want to remember it later in the evening." With that, Brandy wandered off to talk with some other newly arrived guests, leaving Mike and I to exchange a surprised look. It was true that Mike and I were amongst the youngest guests at 24-years-old, but Brandy hadn't looked much older than a teenager. I could also see that Mike was blushing. I could tell he was embarrassed that the party had turned out to be unexpectedly sordid.

It was the kind of party where people circulated quickly. We met with a huge number of people but didn't talk with anyone for more than ten minutes. Hamish Macleod himself introduced himself to us and chatted to me about my research job. We noticed too that he greeted us as Mike and Jess rather than Michael and Jessica, demonstrating a great attention to detail. He seemed so genuine that it was difficult to believe that his name was all that was obscuring the naked breasts of his waitresses. I was already struggling to decide whether I still held to my initial reaction that the party was sleazy.

The behaviour of the waitresses was starting to intrigue me. It certainly seemed like they were an important part of the party rather than just staff. They introduced themselves to people and made conversation with them. As they did this, I started to notice that all their names sounded like 'stripper' names, such as Angel and Candy. Many of them seemed to know guests from previous parties. They seemed articulate and intelligent, and they came across as self-confident, although in some cases it seemed like bravado. As I watched them talking to other guests, I noticed that many of them would blush if they saw the person looking down at their body. In some ways they seemed genuine and likable, but I also detected an undercurrent that something else was going on. These girls didn't seem like regular waitresses who had been asked to dress in revealing clothes, nor did they seem like strippers or sex workers being asked to serve food and drinks. My hunch was that they were university students.

Another thing that I noticed was that the girls were mostly speaking with Mike, in some cases to the point where they barely acknowledged my existence. What's more, they frequently commented on the fact that he was new to them, and that he was young and handsome. Normally I would have found this offensive, seeing young women flaunting their tits and flirting with my husband while I stood beside him, but bizarrely I was feeling something else. They all seemed strangely excited by what they were doing, as if they were there on a dare. I found myself imagining being in their position, waitressing to a roomful of strangers wearing only panties under a see-thought dress. A few of them were even wearing thongs instead of panties. I think thongs are sexy, and I know that Mike does too, but I've always found them too uncomfortable. Watching these girls, I started to fantasize about various dare or lost bet scenarios that would put me in their situation. I knew I was getting turned on.

I could see that Mike, bless him, was still feeling awkward about what was happening and was making an extra effort to be attentive. Whenever he noticed me being ignored, he would often put an arm around my waist and find ways of bringing me into the conversation. At one point when we were alone, he reassured me that I shouldn't hesitate to let him know if I wanted to leave early. However, I could also tell that he was finding the evening exciting. I found myself regretting that we had lost some of the sexiness in our marriage, and that I rarely took the opportunity to be the hot wife of his dreams. I had bought a thong back when I was a teenager, and I put it on a few times at bedtime when I knew it would be taken off minutes later, but I had gone up a dress size since then and hadn't bothered to replace it. I enjoyed sex, but I had never given myself permission to be sexy or daring in public.

We had been at the party for over an hour when one of the waitresses came up and introduced herself as Sapphire. I took an immediate liking to Sapphire because, unlike all the others, she paid just as much attention to me as she did to Mike. After ascertaining that we were at our first Macleod party, she asked me how I was finding it. I gave a non-committal answer along the lines that it was proving to be an interesting experience.

"And we haven't even reached the speeches yet," said Sapphire.

Sapphire went on to compliment my dress, and I surprised myself by confessing to her how anxious I was about how cheap it was. She made me smile as she shared her opinions about how much money some of the women had wasted on looking only half as good as me. She then made me giggle when she told me, with a completely straight face, that she had been fortunate enough to borrow the dress she was wearing. I was disappointed when she excused herself and moved away through the crowd.

It wasn't long after we met Sapphire that Mr Macleod stood up to speak. As part of his introductory remarks, he asked us all to give a round of applause to the waitresses. He explained that were members of the University of Auckland 'South Island Snowsports Club' raising money for their regular ski trips to Queenstown. He then went on to present a trophy to the top selling agent. While that person gave a thank you speech, Mike turned to me and asked "Didn't some of your university friends belong to the snow sports club?"

"Yes, they did, but I don't think it was the same club. The snow sports club I know of owns a lodge on Mount Ruapehu. I don't think they ever went to the South Island. I think this is a different group."

After the winning agent completed his speech, Mr Macleod took to the stage again and presented plaques to the rest of the top ten agents and certificates to the remainer of the top fifty. Finally, he spoke about the prizes.

"I am happy to announce that every one of you wonderful agents will go home with a prize, although only twenty of you will leave with one of the premium prizes. As always, my personal assistant Miss Cameron will meet with you one by one to match you up with the best available prize. Her assistant Miss Grant will come and get you when it is your turn to see Miss Cameron." Here he pointed to a young woman dressed in normal office wear.

At the conclusion of the speech, I watched as Miss Grant approached the winning agent and took him and his wife through a door at the rear. A few minutes later they reappeared. Miss Grant then found the agent who had come second, a woman this time, and took her and her husband away to meet with Miss Cameron. This pattern repeated itself many times, although sometimes the agent went alone without their date. Finally, Miss Grant approached Mike and me.

"Good evening, Mr Irons," she said. She then consulted her clipboard again before greeting me. "Good evening, Mrs Irons. It is important that both of you come together to meet with Miss Cameron. Mr Macleod is most insistent about this. He believes that if staff are in a committed relationship, then there must be openness and honesty when it comes to discussing the prizes." While this surprised me, it certainly didn't bother me. I was desperately keen to hear all about the prizes. We followed Miss Grant through to a small office where Heather Cameron was waiting for us.

"Hello again Mike and Jess. Please sit down. Since you are the first of seven first time winners tonight, it is important that we take our time. I'm expecting this to take at least twenty minutes. The first thing that we must do is sign a confidentiality agreement. Many of the prizes are available as the result of donations, sponsorships and promotional deals that are of a sensitive nature." When Heather used the word 'sensitive' I immediately assumed that she meant 'commercially sensitive', but it seems that was only partly true.

The next thing that Heather did was show us what she called "the default prize pack", which consisted of an assortment of goods including a watch, some jewellery, perfume, and various vouchers for luxury goods and services. She explained that the default prize pack was the minimum prize that guests would leave with if they didn't leave with a premium prize. Since I already knew that Mike qualified for a premium prize, I didn't understand why Heather was showing us this other than to make me excited about how much better a premium prize must be.

Finally, and I got a sense that Heather was approaching an awkward topic, she said that she would now talk to us about the premium prizes. "This next part isn't so easy to talk about. I understand why Mr Macleod gets me to do this rather than doing it himself. Although they are increasing in popularity, I have to say that the premium prizes aren't to everyone's taste. To put this in perspective, of the nineteen people ahead of you tonight, eight have declined, so you will have the choice of nine options."

Heather took a deep breath and continued. "It may help to tell you some of the history of South Island version of the university ski club. It started naturally enough with some of the members of the original club complaining about the long drive to Mount Ruapehu and the basic accommodation on offer there. They started talking about how it would be quicker to fly to Queenstown where the slopes are world class, as are the hotels. The only problem they could see was the cost, so they started brainstorming some fundraising ideas."

"One of the ideas they went ahead with was a slave auction which they held in the student union building. Thirty-seven men and women were auctioned off for twenty-four hours of service. It was all intended to be innocent enough with the expectation they would be doing cooking, cleaning, gardening and suchlike. However, they decided it would be good for business to roleplay a bit during the auction, and it turned out that four of the women got into the role playing so much that they allowed their slavery to become quite sexual in nature. By all accounts, all four of the women enjoyed the experience so much that, once their stories had spread around the rest of the group, it was less than a month before they were having another auction. This time there were nine women and a large number of men who put themselves up for auction, and it was clearly understood that the slavery could include a certain amount of sexual contact. The auction itself included sexier clothing and flashes of underwear and skin."

"Of the men, I'm told that only six attracted bids, and of those six only two found themselves in any kind of sexual situation, and neither of them got any sexual satisfaction. However, the results for the women were much different. All nine sold, although since their bidders were other students, they still didn't make much money. However, they found enough excitement for the idea to gather momentum."

"As they planned another auction, something happened which ended up working in their favour. The Student Union found out what was going on and banned them from using their building for the auction. One of them had the idea to come into the central city office of Macleod Realty to ask about hiring our auction room. They were thinking of organising two auctions a month. Their request was passed all the way up the chain until a group of them ended up meeting with Mr Macleod himself. Hamish was intrigued, and he ended up having a long conversation with them about their auctions and their entire business model. He asked what motivated them, and he listened when they talked about their initial desire to raise money for luxury ski trips, and how that was starting to take second place to the excitement of living out sexual fantasies. He then asked about their concerns, and he listened when they talked about safety concerns, low bids, and some resentment that some of them had raised less money than others."

"Hamish arranged another meeting with them the following day, and at that meeting he put forward a proposal that he thought would meet their needs, as well as his own, since he is always looking out for creative ways to reward his staff. He proposed that every second month, instead of one of their planned auctions, that up to twenty of their group would attend these staff parties. He offered a flat rate payment for their services, both at the party and afterwards."

As I listened, I could see that Heather was blushing.

"While he couldn't do much about the safety concerns at their regular auctions, he could minimise these concerns where his own employees were involved. He also explained that they could expect some careful word-of-mouth promotion through his staff to potential bidders who had a lot more money to spend. I understand that their regular auctions are now far more successful. This has been going on for about two years now."

"Let me come right to the point now," she said. "I have here the profiles of nine of tonight's waitresses, including any limits they may have. If you wish, you may pick one to join you in your home until midday on Sunday. It is to be clearly understood by all parties that this entails sexual slavery to you both up to the limits stated in the profile. This prize also includes a small bag of other prizes, some of which can be used to enhance the experience. Naturally, you are free to decline the premium prize and take one of the default prizes instead. Would you like to look through the profiles?"

Mike and I sat in stunned silence. I was in turmoil. My head was spinning, my stomach was churning, but I also knew my panties were feeling wet. I was excited, but I had no idea how to react. I had no idea what Mike was thinking, although I presumed that most men would be turned on by what was happening. However, his reaction was exactly what any woman would want from a loving and devoted husband. "Surely you can't be serious," he said. "Surely that would only be of interest to single men."