Chapter One: The Auction
It’s the night of the Lifestyle Charity slave auction at Dante’s Inferno, a BDSM
lifestyle club not too far from Hill’s Crest Manor, my home. As this weekend is one of
my Slave Party weekends, I’ve decided to attend the auction to buy a new slave for the
weekend to enjoy personally and to perhaps join the other slaves in the kennels for the
enjoyment of my guests.
After the absolutions are finished, my jaw line beard and moustache are trimmed; I pull
on brown leather pants and ankle high suede boots that boost my near 6’ height to 6’ 2”
inches. The golden brown leather pants mold snugly to my fairly muscular and basically
hairless legs.
I’ve chosen a dark purple Egyptian cotton shirt with puffy “pirate” sleeves over my
slender, moderately muscular and hairless body to tuck it into the pants. A belt made of
gold miniature handcuffs completes how I’ll dress for the function -- well other than the
custom fitted hood I’ll wear to the auction and put on before I arrive so as not to
attract attention during the two-hour drive to the city. After all, a person of my
stature within the community and local society can’t be recognized at such a function.
Tongues have a tendency to wag and that won’t do.
For this outing I drive the Cadillac STS as it’s fast and comfortable and has heavily
tinted windows for privacy. A quilted pad with moisture proof backing is arranged on the
seat. You can’t have a slave’s juices soak into the leather.
My usual portable ‘toy bag’ is placed into the trunk in case something is needed. From
it I take two lockable leather padded wrist cuffs, a lined semi-posture lockable leather
collar with three gold colored rings for attachment points, a pair of gold cloverleaf
clamps connected by a gold chain and a five foot tan leather leash. They’re put into a
small pouch I tie onto one of the ‘cuffs’ that make up my belt.
I’m about to get into the car for the drive to the city when I decide on taking two
other things and go back inside. I pick up a wireless remote control vibrator, butt plug
and the two remote control units. I also pick up a small bottle of lubricant. All are
put into the console of the car and I begin the trip to the city wondering what quality of
slave I’ll find for my pleasure and perhaps to share with my guests over the weekend.
The trip is uneventful and I arrive at Dante’s, just outside of Alexandria, VA, in a
commercial area and park. The drive West on I-66 from Hill’s Crest Manor’s private road
off Fox Hollow Road and US Highway 522 is picturesque, as usual, and relaxing. The
setting for Hill’s Crest Manor Estate is magnificent with the Shenandoah National Forest
close by and not far from the famous Skyline Drive down the Smoky Mountains. I’ll be
happy to return to it, watching the moon shining down on the forested mountains turning
the leaves silver as they move and glitter in the breeze. Hopefully I’ll have a lovely
slave or two in the car with me to help pass the time on the way home.
I put on the leather mask in the Cadillac, as usual, so that I can’t be visually
identified. They only go by the lifestyle name they’re familiar with inside, mine is
Master Marquis. The mask laces up the back and covers all of my face except my eyes and
mouth. The hood is black, how cliché I know, but over the slit and slanted
eyeholes are dark red eyebrows and the area around the eyeholes are gold colored. There
are ‘scars’ stitched on one cheek and from the corner of one eye to the jaw line of the
mask to add a sinister aspect to it. So at least it’s a bit of a departure from the
norm and stylish.
The car’s locked and the security system armed. I pay the cover charge inside and
greet those I know as I wait for the slaves to be put on display in the play area floor
space prior to the auction.
*****
"Are you sure you`re going to be able to afford me?" I ask demurely, knowing
full well what he’ll say.
"Uh-huh," my husband Phillip nods.
"You`re sure now?"
"Yes, Audrina!" he groans at having to yet again answer the same question I`ve
been asking for weeks.
"Sorry," I said, acknowledging his annoyance, "but I have to know for
certain. I`m only doing this to please you, you know…"
I toy with the pen in my hand while glancing one last time at the official and legal
looking document in front of me on the kitchen table.
"Yes, I know," he said, his tone softening. "It really will be a lot of
fun. You`ll see."
"Fun for you, maybe!" I laugh lightly to hide the fact I am secretly more
excited than willing to admit.
"Come on now, Aud. You know it will be fun. Now, let`s see what my little slave
will be offering me."
"No! I want to surprise you!" I playfully shriek and giggle.
I throw my arms down on the document to hide it from my husband. The checklist I`ve
completed as part of the contract agreeing to take part in the Slave Auction requires me
to make quite a number of revealing and embarrassing admissions about things that I would
be prepared to do for the person who buys me.
Answering in the affirmative to bondage and spankings, even floggings won`t surprise my
husband. My inhibitions about publicly submitting to these things quickly evaporated
after we became members of Dante`s Inferno, a BDSM club we joined several months ago.
It is tasks like performing fellatio and anal sex that have me worrying. There is still
no way I want to do either of these acts publicly. Even privately
at home, I feel awkward and am reluctant to give my husband the oral pleasure he often
asks for. Anal sex has remained off limits. Until now, that is, and the guilt I feel
about admitting I might be ready to indulge the other not-so-secret wish of his is
palpable.
"Okay," he says leaning in close behind me to envelop me in a gentle embrace.
His hot breath against my ear makes me tingle all over.
"Do you love me?" I close my eyes and tilt my head slightly so he can caress
the side of my neck with light kisses.
"Yes," he whispers.
"Really? How much?" I lapse into the child-like, playful voice I always put on
whenever I asked the question.
"A lot!" My husband laughs, suddenly grabbing me tightly and plunging me
sideways in a Tango dip off my chair. "Ah! Ma Cheri!" he mugs, using a mock
French accent to mimic Gomez Addams seducing Morticia from the Adam’s Family TV show.
"That`s enough!" I suddenly squeal, laughing hysterically and uncontrollably
at the ticklish touch of his lips against the side of my neck.
He eventually releases me and together we both laugh at each other`s playful displays of
affection.
"Come on," my husband said as he stepped away, "we`re going to be late.
Have you finished filling out that form?"
"Yes," I nod, neatly folding the pages back along their creases before
pocketing them in the supplied envelope.
I lightly trace my tongue along the sweet tasting gum and moisten it. My husband,
noticing the deliberate sensuousness of what I was doing, winks lewdly at me. A moment
later, the envelope is sealed and, with an exaggerated wiggle of my hips, I toss the
envelope like a Frisbee across the table to my husband.
We chat about who might and might not attend and other things until we arrive, park and
enter the club.
"Wow, look at you!"
"Hello Daniel," I smile back at the doorman guarding the private entrance to
Dante`s Inferno. The Harem Girl costume I am wearing, made of pink chiffon with gold
braided trim matching my polished golden collar, is just like Barbara Eden’s costume in “I
Dream of Jeannie.” But, mine is completely transparent and does little to hide my body.
"Hi Dan," my husband says, following me into the foyer of the club.
"Hi Mr. P," the doorman answers, acknowledging my husband by his online
nickname.
"Big night tonight. Looks like we have a good turn out."
"Yeah, it looks like it."
"Lots of new faces by the look of it," I added, indicating the small line of
people standing ahead of us.
"Auction nights always attract a lot of people out of the woodwork. Will we be
seeing you up on the auction block, Arianna?" asks Daniel using my chosen lifestyle
name.
"You bet!" my husband says, proudly waving the envelope containing my slave
contract in the air.
"Damn! I might be tempted to make a bid for you myself! Man, to think some lucky
fella is going to have you as their personal slave for the entire weekend…"
My cheeks flush bright red as the doorman winks at me. I nervously cling to my
husband`s arm.
"Yeah, some lucky guy," my husband laughs.
The friendly banter is interrupted by the arrival of a man -- yet another stranger I`d
not seen before at the club. It is difficult not to notice him. Dressed stylishly in
golden brown leather trousers and dark plum colored, billowy shirt, he would have cut
quite a figure even without his mask. The mask is downright scary. Black leather covers
his entire face except for his eyes and mouth, both of which remain expressionless until
the doorman greets him.
"Hello Master Marquis. Long time, no see!"
The master smiles at Dan and greets him affably.
"See!" I whispered to my husband. "Why didn`t you dress up? You always
wear that when we --"
"What`s wrong with basic black?" my husband replies jovially.
The small line of people ahead of us begins moving again.
"It`s just that you always wear the same thing. I wish you`d be a little more
creative," I say, wistfully glancing back over my shoulder. My husband has spotted
two of our friends inside and is distracted so didn’t notice where I was looking.
"There`s Tom and Samantha over there. She looks nearly as hot as my slave,"
he says with a smile while ignoring my little protest and pointing generally towards the
familiar faces.
"If not hotter Master," I reply but smile at the compliment.
I didn`t have to hear the full conversation between Daniel and the masked stranger to
know they were talking about me because each time I glanced their way the stranger’s eyes
were looking at me as they talked.
A strange feeling came over me; a dread stirred by restless anxiety in the pit of my
stomach. It is like being swallowed inside an invisible bubble where all I can hear are
my deepest fears being amplified loudly in my ears. I resist the urge to look back at the
man one last time as we move on to enter the club proper.
Once my husband and I are inside, we mingle separately the way we usually do on club
nights. The compliments of friends, both submissives and dominants alike, wash over me.
I politely accept them, of course, but the fog that descends on my thoughts makes it
difficult to concentrate on anything except the man in the mask.
"Do you know him, Sam?" I ask Samantha, hushing my voice conspiratorially, and
discreetly pointing out the man in question.
"Nuh-uh."
"You sure?"
"Yep, don’t think I’ve seen him before, at least not dressed like that. Why do you
ask?"
"Oh, no reason," I lie. "There are a lot of strangers here
tonight."
"Yep. Auction nights are always like this."
Samantha doesn`t seem at all worried by the fact even though she, like me, is to be
auctioned later in the night. But then, Samantha was always like that. Her Master, Tom,
frequently made her submit to all manners of perversions in the club and she was clearly
devoted to him, so she always surrenders to his bizarre whims.
"Good evening, Arianna," Tom steps up behind Samantha and presses his empty
glass on her bare shoulder.
"Master!" Samantha suddenly shrieks and twists away from the cold touch.
"Drink, slave." Samantha clearly recognized the command and immediately went
scurrying away through the crowd to fetch Tom a refill for his glass.
In many ways, Tom and Samantha are like the King and Queen of the local BDSM scene.
Both have been active in the scene for years and are somewhat the role models for newbies
like my husband and me.
Actually, Phil more than me, because I can’t ever imagine I`ll ever submit to the same
degree as Samantha. Not publicly, anyway. Sure, I like to dress up in fetish wear and I
even find unexpected pleasure in being mildly humiliated in front of our friends.
However, this invariably happens slowly to me during the course of a night in the club.
Samantha, on the other hand, usually arrives naked and it’s not uncommon for Tom to have
her sucking and otherwise sexually satisfying whomever he chooses for her throughout the
night.
"You being sold tonight, Arianna?"
"Yes," I smile bravely at Tom.
"Hope Mr. P brought his wallet with him!"
Tom often teases me and I enjoy him doing this, but tonight his laughing at the
possibility that I could be sold to anybody but Phillip unnerves me.
"Did you bring your wallet?" I ask in return, trying to make some light
hearted conversation until Samantha returns.
"Don`t need it. Margaret and Karen have made a little deal with me." Tom was
referring to two well-known Dommes I vaguely knew but had never met.
"Really?"
Tom nodded. "But don`t tell anybody. It`s against the rules to make behind the
scenes deals."
My heart skips a beat at the thought my husband and I might be breaking a club rule with
our own deal for him to purchase me at the auction.
"It is?"
"Well, technically it is. The club will still get its money from the sale but I`ve
offered to reimburse Margaret and Karen whatever amount they pay. They`ve promised some
new experiences for Sam."
Tom emphasized the words "new experiences" with such a leering grin my body
shudders at the thought.
"How much do you think she`ll sell for?" I was asking more for the sake of
curiosity about how much I might be worth rather than wanting to know Samantha`s selling
price.
"Hard to say really. On a night like tonight, with lots of new people possibly
bidding, she might go for seventy or eighty dollars. Luckily, or unluckily, depending on
your point of view," Tom laughs again, "generally most scene people aren`t the
richest people on earth."
I was only half reassured by Tom`s statement.
"Is that all?" I ask. I didn`t mean to ask the question out loud. I envied
Samantha`s youth and beauty, as did every other woman in the club, and was surprised to
hear she`s never been sold for more.
"Yes, but the club committee was happy. As you can see the premises needs quite a
bit of refurbishing and every little bit raised, other than the 80% going to charity of
course, on a night like tonight, helps."
I nod absently. My thoughts drift to my husband and the hundred dollars cash I knew he
has to spend at the auction. ‘It should be more than enough,’ I think to myself.
"Here you are, Master," Samantha says happily on her return from the bar. She
kneels before Tom and presents him with his drink.
He thanks her just as the Dungeon Master, the club’s owner and host, appears on the
stage and calls for everybody`s attention.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Dante`s Inferno. It`s a pleasure to …"
Zelda, a cross-dressing man in his fifties who is the official "Club Slave"
presses a microphone into the Dungeon Master`s hand. The speakers around the room briefly
sound a shrill, high pitched squeal as the volume is adjusted to a comfortable level,
allowing him to again call attention.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Dante`s Inferno. It`s a pleasure to see so many
new faces here tonight. As many regulars will know the Slave Auction night is one of our
most important fund raising events, so don`t be afraid to dig deep into your
pockets."
A ripple of laughter rolls around the room.
"For those who are new tonight, I`d like to explain a few things before we start.
All of the slaves you`re about to see tonight have volunteered to be auctioned.
“Each of them has completed and signed a contract of sale. This contract, which
successful bidders will receive upon delivery of their acquisitions, includes a checklist
with such things as the limits of activities they`re prepared to do for you and any and
all hard limits. In order to meet our, and your, legal responsibilities, it’s important
that you read this contract very carefully before taking possession for your slave. Once
you`ve counter-signed the contract, you`ll…"
"And after you pay!" a raucous woman`s voice called out. The crowd, which had
been listening silently, suddenly broke into laughter.
"Okay, okay, keep it down," the Dungeon Master says, although he is smirking
as he holds up his hands for quiet.
"Once you`ve counter-signed, and paid," he continues with a grin, staring out
through the smoky darkness in the general direction of the woman`s voice, "you and
your slave will be deemed to have entered into a legally binding contract that cannot be
broken without the mutual consent of both parties who’ve signed the contracts unless a
listed hard limit is violated at which time the contract is null and void."
"Nervous?"
I jump at the sound of my Phil`s question whispering unexpectedly close behind me.
"No," I reply, clamping one of his hands tightly between both of mine.
"You`re sure you brought enough money?"
"Sure, plenty! Most people I`ve been speaking to don`t think you`ll go for more
than fifty or maybe sixty bucks."
I feel oddly offended by the implication I’m not worth more and say so to my husband.
"I`m prepared to pay a hundred for you!" He winked at me.
".... and so, without further ado, let`s get all the slaves up here," the
Dungeon Master finishes.
"This is it!" my husband says enthusiastically attaching a leash to my collar.
And, with a sudden tug that forces me to stumble after him, he pushes his way through the
crowd, leading me to the steps of the stage.
"We`re going to do the men first." Zelda corrals the small group of female
slaves within the scope of his wide spread arms and we stand together and wait while half
a dozen or so naked, chained men proceed up the stairs onto the stage.
"Lot number one tonight..." the Dungeon Master`s words gather speed until they
blur into an expert auctioneer`s patter. Everything starts to feel distant again. My
stomach is somersaulting as it churns a solid lump of nerves. I feel strangely
light-headed and dizzy, shivering with a rash of chills that seem to paralyze my limbs and
cause my feet to become rooted to the floor.
| 
