Auction in BlackbyStephenThorn©
Master had called from work shortly after lunchtime and told Sasha not to prepare supper. They had other plans. She was puzzled because he hadn't mentioned anything about this earlier, but she didn't need to question. Her Master wouldn't do anything to hurt her. She knew that in her heart, but she still was on pins and needles all afternoon until his car pulled into the driveway.
She met him at the door as always to take his coat and shoes, but he told her to change into her skimpiest black bikini with a red dress over it, then to get her coat, a leash and her metal collar. Now she was really wondering. The coat and leash weren't what concerned her -- it wasn't anything new for him to take her out in public wearing a leash and collar. But the metal collar was only for certain occasions. It was a heavy stainless steel affair, mirror polished and set with semi-precious stones and it locked with a loud click. She was eaten up with questions as he snapped it around her throat tonight and attached the leash, but she didn't dare ask.
They climbed into the car and Master handed her a black eye mask. She was to be blindfolded. Something was very wrong. Her heart was thudding inside her breast but she did not speak as her shaking fingers drew the cloth across her eyes.
Master drove silently for a long time. She mentally tried to follow their path but soon lost track of the turns. They could be across town or across the county for all she knew. He had not touched her, except for attaching her collar, since getting home and this was not like him. She began to wonder if he was disappointed or angry with her. Was this some new punishment? What if he had grown tired of her and was going to dump her at the side of the road like a mongrel dog? Fear, cold like a midnight breeze off a frozen lake, swirled through her slave heart. Maybe he didn't want her anymore!
Her mind raced in circles seeking answers, but there were none. Try as she might, she couldn't think of what she'd done to displease Master. She always kept his clothes clean and neat; his house was clean and his meals as he liked them prepared. She was an enthusiastic bed partner and her joy at making love with him was sincere and loudly expressed, as he liked. She did everything she could think of to take care of him; she massaged his aches, she washed him and dried him. What had she neglected?
The car stopped at last, and Master spoke the first words since leaving home. "Don't touch your mask. Don't move. You will be assisted." His tone was hard and sharp, like the edge of a new tombstone. Suddenly her fears clotted in her gut and she knew what this was all about. Every prayer she knew came to her mind as she fought back tears. Please, God, let me be wrong, she thought as her door opened and hands helped her to her feet.
They led her, wordlessly, to an unknown and unseen destination. She heard gravel crunching underfoot and smelled honeysuckle blooming. The night was warm around her and the absence of traffic noises told her they were probably in the country. Then there was a soft clacking sound and cooler air washed over her. Faint glow filtered through the blindfold. They were going into a building.
She heard the excited voices of numerous people, mostly male, all around her. They echoed slightly, indicating a large room. Hands pulled her along through her darkness and then she smelled something delicious. Her mouth watered at the scent of roast beef and baking bread. Now she was even more confused.
She was halted and fingers touched her cheeks, slipping under the blindfold. Light washed in, making her squint in the sudden brightness, and the mask was gone. As her eyes adjusted she saw she was in an opulent ballroom, with columned walls painted stark white, a polished marble floor, a sweeping staircase to one side and an elegant chandelier overhead. She was in a crowd of maybe fifty people, many of them dressed in expensive suits or gowns. Roughly half of them wore collars of some sort, some of these in other ownership restraints. One in particular caught her notice; a pale, tall woman in a razor-creased Armani black three-piece suit. She held a chain leash in her hand, and at the end of the chain was a large heavily muscled blond man. Naked, he was on all fours and he toddled along at her side like a dog.
Sasha's eyes swept the assemblage, searching for her Master. He was not in sight and she felt cold fear wash up in her stomach. Then he was at her side, taking her arm. "Do not speak," he cautioned her in a whisper. "Not unless I tell you to."
A slender, balding man stepped partway up the staircase and turned to the room. At his raised hands the conversational buzz died. He nodded deferentially to the assemblage and spoke in a scratchy French accent. "Good evening, le Reine et le Roi, Masters and Mistresses, Doms, subs and slaves. Sic Itur ad Astra welcomes you all to the 138th Annual Slave Auction." The dominants in the room broke into applause, while the subs hung their heads and awaited their fate.
Fear now threatened to turn to weak-kneed terror within her. What was going on? This was all wrong, a nightmare happening around her. Was Master here to buy another slave? Would she have to share his favors? Or was he here -- oh, God -- to sell? She turned her head, looking to him for reassurance, but he gave no sign of noticing. "Not a word," he whispered. Tears fought to her eyes, and she quickly wiped them away. She struggled not to cry and shame her Master but inside her stomach was knotting and she hoped she wouldn't be sick.
Frenchy spoke again. "We have five subs to vend this year, Mes Amis. First vendor, please begin." Then he stepped down and another man ascended the steps. He was a living canvas in his black muscle shirt, his exposed arms crowded with vibrant tattoos. His long, red hair was tied in a ponytail, and he led a desperate-looking woman in a blue robe up the stairs by a long leather leash.
"I've had her for six weeks," he said to the crowd. "But she hasn't learned how to obey orders. I don't have time to teach her. She's headstrong, but a great piece of ass. Start the bid at $1,000."
For a moment nobody spoke. Then from the front of the group a man raised his hand. "One-thousand," he said.
Another voice: "Fifteen-hundred." The woman on the stairs began to cry softly.
The bidding quickly climbed to twenty-five hundred dollars, then stalled. One of the bidders called out, "you say she's stubborn; maybe you've marked her. Show us."
Without a word, the tattooed man snapped his fingers at his slave. Her sobs became louder as she opened her robe. The garment fell to the stairs, leaving her naked. He gestured, and she slowly turned so that all could see she was not scarred. A murmur of appreciation rose from the crowd at the sight and a voice called out "thirty-five." No competing bids appeared, and the pony-tailed man closed the sale. The buyer extended his arm, a blue check in his hand, and the seller handed over the woman's leash.
As her new Master took the leather lead, the woman turned to her tattooed former owner. "Please, Larry, don't do this. I can change, really I can!" She was almost hysterical. But her new owner yanked her back, spun her quickly and backhanded her. With a cry she fell to the floor.
"You need to learn your place, cunt," he snarled. "From now on, you will be on your hands and knees until I tell you otherwise. You will not speak until I speak to you. You will not even think unless I order you to." She was shaking as she climbed to her knees. Her new Master led her from the room. Sasha watched them go, horror at what she had just seen evident on her face. She had heard that some Doms were brutal to their subs, even beating or scarring them, but she'd never seen it before. She wanted to leave, right now. Inside she begged her Master to take her home, where she could climb into his lap and feel his strong arms around her. Where she was safe and loved; where her Master made love to her so beautifully and so perfectly. But she could not ask. And, her heart wept, it's looking like he doesn't love you anymore anyway.
The next seller climbed the staircase. He led a slender young man with blue eyes and sandy hair. The sub wore tight jeans and a thin collar that sparkled with rhinestones. The Dom addressed the crowd. "He comes with documentation of legal age, but as you can see he could pass for much younger. He is well trained and eager to please, but I am tired of him. I have a recent health certificate for him also. He has served me well for three years. Bidding starts at two-thousand."
So it went. Four subs were sold, and by then Sasha was numb inside. Her eyes kept flickering over the Doms there, wondering which she would be sold to tonight. She hoped it would be a female Dom. Sasha was not a lesbian and had never had sex with a woman but she wanted to be able to say that her beloved Master was the last man to enter her before she died.
And she would die. Sasha knew this in her heart. Without her Master's caress she would wither, without his love she would collapse and die. If he sold her he was also signing her death sentence. These were the thoughts in her heart when he tugged at her leash. "Come on," he whispered. "We're next."
Sasha followed him dutifully. She was completely numb. Her worst fear was becoming reality and she had become an automaton, obeying blindly her Master's directions as he led her up the staircase. On the fifth step he stopped, and turned her to face the crowd below her.
"This slave," he began, "washes our clothes and mends those in need of it. She cleans my house from top to bottom, but never makes it sterile and uncomfortable. She plans menus to please my tastes, shops for the fixin's, and cooks meals that are healthy, delicious and filling. She bathes me and massages me and helps me remember my daily pills. She works hard at thinking up new ways to use her talents to make me happy. When I come home at night she is waiting to welcome me and help me leave the stresses of my day behind me. In public she is a perfect lady, but always showing deference to me and acknowledging me as her Master. In private she is sweet and demure and spares no effort in making me comfortable and happy. And when it comes to sex she is willing and eager for any game, any scene, any position I can think up. She is an enthusiastic lover, and the greatest joy her body may know is to open up to me and enfold me and be the chalice for my seed.
"I'm not saying she's perfect, my friends. Nobody is perfect. But she has brought joy into my life and love into my heart like I've never known before. She is beautiful, smart, sexy, sweet, loving, talented, and she pleases me greatly." Sasha's jaw dropped and her staring eyes sought her Master's face. Were her ears deceiving her? What was he doing?
"Fellow Doms," he continued, "I present to you my slave. But don't open your purses, my friends, for none of you have enough money to buy her from me. I beg your indulgence, my friends, because I did not bring her here to sell her. Rather, I wanted you all as my witnesses for this moment." Then he removed a small key from his pocket, stepped behind Jessica, and unlocked her collar. The crowd watched intently as he placed the metal band in her trembling hands.
"Sasha, before those assembled here, both Dom and sub, I offer you your freedom from bondage. You may take it and leave here freely. But I hope instead that you will stay with me not as my sub, but as my Bond Slave. Under this title you will still be my slave, as I shall be your Master. But you will stay for love, not because you are a captive of iron chains or leather thongs. So, now I ask you, Sasha," and he reached both hands for her as though to hold her hands, "will you stay with me as my Bond Slave?"
The tears could no longer be held back. Sasha broke into sobs as the fear and tension flew from her heart. She tried to answer him but her voice was gone, so instead she ran into his strong arms, weeping with joy. She collapsed against his mighty chest, instantly aware of all of him; his masculine scent and the aura of dominance and power that he carried around him, the pulse of his brave heart beneath his chest and the love that glowed there for her. Finding her voice, Sasha wept over and over "yes, my Master."
The French fellow stepped up the staircase, smiling and clapping to signal the waves of applause as the two bonded lovers held one another. Over the tumult he addressed the crowd. "Madam et Monsuers, our auction now has ended. If you will adjourn to the banquet hall the house servants have prepared a delightful celebratory dinner for you. Congratulations to the winners of our auction, and to you all, Bon Appetite!"
The group began to drift towards the banquet room, leaving Sasha and her Master still embracing on the stairs. She was still shaking but thankful that the nightmare was ended. Then she looked up into his gray eyes. "Why did you trick me that way," she asked. "I thought you were going to...oh, God!"
"To sell you? I did it so that you would see how some subs are treated. If you consented to stay, I wanted both your eyes to be wide open. It was a risk, I know, but to do less would be dishonorable and unfair to you."
She buried her face in the soft cotton folds of his shirt. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for being honest with me. Thank you for letting me be yours." So saying she took the collar and placed it around her own throat, and the lock clicked loudly as she latched it shut. She was right where she wanted to be; in her Master's loving arms.
They stood there a long time, then he chuckled, "If we don't get there soon all the roast beef will be gone." Grinning, she kissed him and led him down the stairs towards the hall.