Falling for Sir (3 page)

She struggled again, wanting to swallow but
resisting the urge to defy the bitch Sylvie.

The man behind her suddenly smacked her hard on
the ass cheek. Marianne teetered forward on her high heels, but kept her
footing somehow. She heard his hard laughter and then he smacked her other
cheek with more force. Her ass throbbed and she stumbled again. This time his
friend stepped aside, pulling his hand out of her bra at the same moment she
toppled forward. Marianne would have gone down on her knees if not for the
hands that shot out to grip her elbows, saving her from the embarrassment of a
tumble.

He came from nowhere, it seemed. Startled, she
raised her lashes, even though it was forbidden, and looked into his eyes. They
were warm and dark velvety blue, rippling gently and full of life hidden
beneath, like a calm ocean under summer moonlight. Marianne caught her breath.
"Thank you."

Oops. Two rules broken in a matter of seconds.
She just knew she'd screw up somehow!

Hastily she returned her gaze to the carpet.
They would never invite her back for a party, if she didn't behave herself.
Earlier she wasn't sure she'd want that anyway, but perhaps this is what she'd
needed all along. Not the conventional date with boys who thought they did her
a favor—but sex with men who didn't pretend, or feel the need to lie about what
they wanted from her and the limitations of what they could offer. Men who
understood, without her having to explain, that she had desires too—not
necessarily the white-bread variety. She wouldn't be there otherwise, would
she?

The man holding her arms was a foot taller than
Marianne and he smelled delicious. There was kindness in his gesture of
catching her. She wanted to look at his face again, but resisted, remembering
Sylvie's eager wrath.

Her pulse thumped rapidly and when this
stranger's hands swept down her arms to her tied wrists she knew he would feel
that mad rhythm stirring her blood. Slowly he ran his fingers over her binding
ribbons, caressed the knots and bows at her wrist, then uncurled her hands to
feel her palms.Her panties were still lowered unevenly around her thighs and
she felt the dampness between her labia, knew that if she parted her thighs he
would see her state of arousal. But he didn't touch her there.

He raised his hands to her breasts and she held
her breath again as he moved his thumbs across her exposed nipples. A heated
jolt of need raced through her, sent like a message from his thumbs to her
pussy. His fingernails were manicured and he wore a diamond pinkie ring. There
was a little black hair on the back of his hands. Not enough to be distracting,
but just a hint. His hands were square, large. A heavy gold watch gleamed at
his wrist.

"Breathe," he whispered.

So she did, exhaling in a rush, then swallowing
the spicy scent of his cologne. His hands stroked upward to her shoulders and
then her neck. Again, he would feel her pulse skipping erratically. His caress
moved back down, over her gently heaving breasts to her stomach. Marianne
parted her legs, expecting his fingers there. Wanting them.

But he stepped back.

"Very nice," he murmured.

Turning, he walked away.

Oh, she wanted him back. Her pussy ached for his
firm fingers. Her breasts felt swollen and heavy; her nipples were rock-hard.
She wasn't sure if it was a culmination of all the fondling and petting she'd
received, or whether it was just because of him, but she was left with a
throbbing need to be held, kissed and suckled. And fucked.

Hey
,
you
,
she wanted to shout,
come back here
.

The man stopped and turned his head, glancing
back at her over his shoulder. It was almost as if she'd spoken and he heard.
He frowned and she looked quickly at her feet.
Damn girl, can't you play the part for even half an hour?

Sylvie gestured that she should step up onto the
small platform beside the fire. "Time for the auction to commence, Claudia.
We always start with the new girl in the room."

She wished she could sit, for her knees were
ready to buckle and her ankle hurt where she'd twisted it in those high heels,
but she had to stand still and wait for the bidding. With her hands tied behind
her back she couldn't pull her panties up and Sylvie didn't help her. She
struggled up onto the sales podium, completely exposed below the waist and with
her breasts poking out above her bra cups. Some men drew up chairs to sit
before her, others moved around the room, still conversing, or flirting with
the other women. Since she couldn't look up she had no idea where her blue-eyed
savior had gone or if he was even watching now.

Very
nice
? What the fuck did that
mean?

Sylvie called for silence. "We will start
the bidding at one hundred tokens. I can assure you she is a fresh piece, well
worth it. You have all seen and felt the exquisiteness of her body."

Marianne bit her tongue, feeling a slow flush
heating her face. She must be glowing as pink as her leather mask. No one had
ever called her body "exquisite" before. It was far from perfect in
her eyes.

Apparently these men thought differently.

"Five hundred tokens," a voice called
out from the chairs in front of her. "And I'll give that hungry pussy a
good serving of cream."

Someone laughed, but Sylvie called for order
again, banging a small wooden gavel against an ornately carved lectern that
ironically looked as if it belonged in a church. She didn't seem to have much
of a sense of humor.

"I'll raise that—one thousand,"
shouted another man.

"Two thousand, five hundred."

"Three thousand."

Her head spun. As the bidding continued it
occurred to her that they were enjoying the process of haggling over her, as
much as she'd enjoyed being crudely assessed. Maybe it appealed to some
primitive caveman instinct.

The bidding crept upward.

Sylvie, snapping on one surgical glove, stepped
up onto the podium with her, told her to turn around and then slipped
Marianne's panties all the way to her ankles. "Bend over and spread your
legs," she said mechanically.

Marianne, still somewhat confused by the rush of
bidding for her fairly average body, was confused. "What?"

Sylvie's face struggled to emote anger, but her
voice was flint-like enough to purvey the right impression without frown lines.
"How dare you question? Do as you're told."

Oh, yeah. She'd forgotten her role for a few
seconds. Again.

Behind her the audience was quiet, watching as
Sylvie directed her with angry commands. "Bend. Over."

"No need to get testy," Marianne
muttered, eyeing the other woman's long bony fingers in that surgical glove.
"I'm the one with her ass bare and her hands tied."

Sylvie glared at her for a moment and then
addressed the audience. "As you see, gentleman, our lovely novice Claudia
is in need of some firm handling. I hope you're up to it."

A few men laughed gruffly and someone exclaimed.
"It's good to see a new girl submissive with some spirited fire to make
her taming that much more satisfying."

"Spank her, Sylvie," another shouted.

"Oh, I will," the living corpse
replied, showing the crowd —and Marianne—a long object like a white horse's
tail. Attached to one end was something shaped like an elongated pacifier.

"Where is that going?" Marianne
demanded.

"You're about to find out. Bend over,
Claudia. The gentlemen are eager to bid."

For the second time that evening, she flirted
with the idea of making her escape, but with her panties around her ankles it
would be even more awkward. Besides, there remained the issue of her pounding
arousal that grew in faster waves as the men behind her began to chant for a
spanking. She was there now. May as well get on with it.

Finally, she obeyed Sylvie's command, bending
over at the waist and letting blood rush to her head. The audience calmed
slightly, but she could still hear their excitable rustling and fidgeting— the
occasional chink of ice in crystal, the flick of a lighter, the soft push of
expensive suits against leather chairs.

"Spread," Sylvie barked down at her
and spittle rained down on her bare spine.

Again she obeyed, parting her teetering feet as
far as she could with the lace panties still hampering her ankles. Warm air
touched her moist pussy and then she heard a clank as Sylvie moved something
closer. In the next moment she knew it was a bright lamp for its heated
spotlight shone down on her exposed ass and cunt. After a moment, she felt
something much cooler and wet oozed between her cheeks, then Sylvie's long
gloved finger working carefully into her anus. "Don't hold your breath.
You'll feel a pinch."

Just like a visit to the gynecologist. Well,
almost.

Marianne closed her eyes. The finger pushed into
her ass and then moved in and out, stretching, measuring. She tried to breathe
steadily but when a second finger was added she gasped out loud, tipping
forward, wishing she had free hands to place on the podium and steady herself.
For what seemed an endless moment, Sylvie held her two fingers inside
Marianne's ass while, with her bare hand, she rubbed and fondled her vulnerable
sex. When the waves began to pile up and Marianne's pulse reached a gallop,
Sylvie withdrew the second hand from her pussy, leaving it wet and no doubt
visibly roused. She could hear the sound of men approaching the podium and when
Marianne twisted her head and looked around her leg, she saw they came to lick
her dew from Sylvie's fingers, battling playfully with one another to sample
her taste. Just as the waves had rescinded again, Sylvie pulled her fingers
from Marianne's anus and snapped off the glove. A second later the crowd fell
silent as a cold, metallic object, about the thickness of a fountain pen lid
was forced an inch and a half inside that prepped valley. She knew what it was,
of course—the tail her commandant had shown to the audience previously. Although
she tried to relax her muscles, there was a quick burn, causing a low moan to
escape her lips. Sylvie's hands now eased her thighs further apart and she felt
the feather-like strands of the tail dangling from her ass, strands of it
sticking to her wet cunt. Sylvie jostled the tail back and forth, moving the
plug in her anus too. Marianne groaned again, her tied arms aching from the odd
angle, her entire body swaying on those impossibly high heels.

Sylvie gathered the tail and spanked it lightly
against her sex. She shivered, gasped. Sylvie repeated the motion, slapping it
harder each time, finally twisting the tail aside and using her other hand to
slowly part the teased labia, flaunting Marianne's pulsing, wide open cunt to
the entire room.

The audience broke into applause and the bidding
to enter her hot, wet haven became a tumultuous cacophony.

It only ended when one voice silenced all the
others.

"Twenty thousand tokens."

Chapter
Three

Mr.
Woody and the Perfect Angle

The deal done, he helped her step out of her
panties and down from the podium.

"Would you like a glass of champagne?"
he asked, lifting her chin with one hand.

He felt her swallow. "No. Thank you...
Sir."

Yes, those were definitely the eyes he'd seen in
his dreams. And there was a flicker of recognition in return. At least, he
thought so. The pink mask hid much of her upper face and subsequently the most
revealing expressions she might have made. "Are you ready to go
upstairs?" Because he definitely was. His hard on was raging, his cum
ready to flow, having watched her tender pussy react to all that teasing and
tormenting under the bright light. She was lovely and now she was his sub.

"Yes, sir."

Sweeping her up in his arms he carried her to
the curved staircase.

"Am I too heavy?" she whispered. It
seemed she forgot the rules about talking.

"No." He had one arm under her knees,
the other cradling her shoulders. The ponytail hung down from her ass, brushing
his knees with every step he took. He knew the plug was placed there not just
inspire the bidders, but to ready her for anal penetration, if he desired it.

And he desired it alright.

Slowly, steadily he carried her up the stairs
and they left the partiers behind. Jack could hardly believe he'd just paid
that many tokens, but it didn't feel as if he could do anything else as he
stood there watching her displayed on the podium. He was never generally the
greedy sort and had never felt this possessive. Not even with Laura.

Quickly he set those memories of his wife aside
again. It was time to get back in the saddle, as his younger brother had teased
him affectionately, and he couldn't do that if he compared every woman to
Laura. He couldn't expect to find the relationship he'd known with his wife,
and this was simply a place for fun and games. It was time to put his cock to
good use again before it seized up and fell off.