by Maya Banks
Serena grinned as a tingle of excitement fluttered around her stomach. “Thanks, Julie. I’m going to be out of the office for the next week so I’ll catch up some time after that.”
“Oh wait, fuck no, you don’t. You can’t just disappear for a week after being sold in a slave auction,” Julie sputtered. “What if he drags you off to his cave somewhere and molests and kills you?”
“Are you just trying to scare me?”
“Yes! Use your head. You’ll call me the morning after the auction or I’ll call the police and have them beat down Damon’s door. I don’t care how close he is with Faith or how gorgeous the guy is. For all you know he could be a serial killer.”
“Thank you for that,” Serena muttered.
“Sorry, hon. I don’t mean to ruin your night, but someone has to beat some sense into your pretty head.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll call you the next morning.”
“Good. Now off you go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow and you can tell me how your first night in slavery went.”
“Irreverent bitch,” Serena muttered.
“You love me.”
“Good-bye, Julie.” Serena took the phone from her ear and punched the button to end the call.
She laid the phone on her desk and glanced over at the clock. If she wanted to get home and showered and primped, she needed to leave now. She needed the downtime to collect her composure before Damon’s driver picked her up, because she was a mass of chaotic nerves.
She piled the paperwork into a bunch and shoved it all into her briefcase as her impatience to get home nipped at her. After a quick glance around her office to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything, she headed down the hall to have a quick conversation with Carrie.
Carrie had been delighted with Serena’s decision to take a week off, even if she didn’t know why. She assumed Serena was taking her first vacation in years, and in a way, it was a vacation. From reality.
After gaining Carrie’s assurances that she’d call if anything came up she couldn’t handle, Serena left the office building and headed to her apartment.
First she indulged in a long soaking bath as she tried in vain to calm her overwrought nerves. Faith had called her that morning and described her experience at The House so that Serena wasn’t walking in totally blind, and after hearing Faith’s account, she was that much closer to hyperventilating.
She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but Faith’s description of the openness of the club goers’ sexual activities made her feel like a fish out of water before she ever set foot there.
Hello, you are a fish out of water.
Fish out of water about to jump from the goldfish bowl into the freaking ocean.
Thanks to a trip to Julie’s, she was waxed and buffed from head to toe and all parts in between. She was confident in her appearance and that she wouldn’t scare anyone with her nakedness. She gulped at the mere thought of being nude in front of a roomful of men. It was just so . . . decadent. So very bad girl of her.
After a look at the clock, she put it in high gear. She didn’t worry too much about what to wear since she’d be naked for most of the night, but she took special pains with her hair. Not that she did much to it, because she knew Damon liked it long and trailing over her shoulders, but she brushed it until it shone.
As for makeup? She got the giggles as she sparingly applied foundation and left off eyeliner, mascara and lipstick. If things went according to her fantasy, eye makeup and lipstick would be rather silly. Damon probably wouldn’t appreciate bright red lipstick on his cock.
She sucked in her breath as she imagined taking him in her mouth. Would he take her e-mail literally? Would he replicate all aspects of her fantasy or would he use it for a general guideline? She didn’t know, and that uncertainty added to her breathless excitement.
How would he taste? Would he be big or small? Would he be gentle or forceful?
She didn’t want gentleness from him. She wanted to tap in to the power that she sensed was tightly held just underneath the surface. She wanted him rough and hard, demanding and forceful.
The doorbell rang just as she was reaching for her sandals. Her stomach lurched up into her throat as she thrust her feet into the shoes and nervously smoothed her hair with damp hands.
She reached for her overnight bag and headed for the door. When she swung it open, Sam stood there, his big body filling her doorway. He inclined his head.
“Miss James, are you ready?”
“Yes,” she managed to croak out.
He reached for her bag, and she relinquished it to him. She quickly locked up and followed him to the Bentley.
The drive seemed to take an eternity. With each passing mile, the tension coiled and swelled within her. By the time they pulled into the winding drive of a large estate, she felt lightheaded, and her pulse pounded loudly at her temples.
Sam parked the car, and her door opened immediately. She found herself staring into the face of a handsome man. His expression was enigmatic, and he simply held his hand out to her.
She took it with trembling fingers and allowed him to help her from the car. She started forward, but the man tugged her back with a sharp pull until she stood at his side.
“I am your keeper,” he said by way of introduction. “You will heed my instructions at all times.”
She blinked and nodded.
“Yes, Keeper,” he prompted.
“Yes, Keeper,” she stammered out.
He nodded in approval. “I’ll escort you in and prepare you for the auction.”
He took her elbow in a surprisingly gentle grip as he guided her toward the door. Silence greeted her when they stepped into the darkened foyer. Before she could look around and absorb her surroundings, her keeper hurried her down the hallway. He paused outside a door then opened it and directed her inside.
It was a small room but was lavishly decorated. The furnishings were expensive, simple, but extremely tasteful. It looked to be a sitting room, or even a changing room, as there was no bed. Just two armchairs, a full-length mirror and a vanity. To the side, there was an open doorway to a half bathroom.
As she did a small circle, taking in the room, her keeper’s hand touched her shoulder.
“It is time to prepare you,” he said.
His fingers went to her T-shirt, and she almost batted his hand away. He paused for a moment and leveled his gaze at her. He didn’t back down, but he also didn’t barge ahead. He exerted his authority even as he gave her time to adjust to his touch.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m a nervous wreck.”
He didn’t reply, though a half smile niggled at his lips.
“I can undress myself,” she offered, thinking to save him the awkward task.
He raised one brow and shook his head. “You are mine until another purchases you. It is my duty and my right to ready you as I see fit.”
Her eyes widened, and her stomach knotted and convulsed. Oh hell, this was it. She tried to relax as he slowly lifted her T-shirt over her head. He directed her to raise her arms and she did so almost mechanically.
It took every bit of her will not to fold her arms protectively over her lacy bra. Instead, she let her hands fall to her sides even as her fingers curled into tight balls.
“You will fetch a high price, indeed,” her keeper murmured.
His fingers trailed up her arms, raising goose bumps on her flesh. When they reached her shoulders, he hooked his fingertips under the straps of her bra and slowly tugged them downward.
She held her breath as the cups lowered until her breasts were free of confinement. She wanted to look at him, to get a better view of his appearance, but she was too afraid to raise her gaze so she kept her focus on his abdomen as his hands circled around to the clasp of her bra.
Deftly, he unhooked it, and he tugged until the bra fell to the floor at her feet.
Softly and sensuously, his palms grazed her waist as he moved around to the button of he
r jeans. Her nipples were puckered and hard, standing taut as though begging for attention, for his touch.
His fingers slid into the waistband of her pants as he worked the zipper down and parted the fly. And then the denim rasped along her hips and down her legs until they too fell in a heap around her ankles.
There she stood in front of this stranger, her keeper, in just her panties, a mere wisp of material, transparent and hiding nothing of her femininity. Was she crazy for the surge of excitement that cut razor sharp through her veins?
Her keeper stood back for a moment, his gaze raking up and down her body with what could only be classified as pure male appreciation. No longer did she seek to hide from him, for she felt alluring and seductive, as though she held the power and not he.
He was handsome, and appealing, but he wasn’t Damon. She nearly shook her head. Were it not for the fact that Damon had volunteered, this could well have been the man she’d give herself to for her fantasy.
Her keeper stepped forward and placed his hands at her slim hips. There was a moment’s pause and then he slipped the thin string of her underwear down. The lacy scrap fluttered down her legs, lightly brushing the insides of her knees.
He held his hand to her and she took it as she stepped free of her jeans and underwear. She was completely and utterly naked.
He moved to the vanity and rummaged in the drawer until he drew out a brush.
“Come here,” he ordered quietly.
She obeyed with no hesitation, and once she stood before him, he gestured for her to turn around.
He began brushing her hair, stroke after stroke, until the strands lay soft and wispy down her back. His fingers alternated with the brush as he worked both through her hair from scalp to the very ends.
Finally he was done, and disappointment shuddered through her body at the loss of his touch. She wondered if he’d brushed her hair to comfort her and calm her, but then he grasped her arm in his commanding grip and turned her around, all hints of gentleness gone.
He took one of her hands and pulled it behind her, and then he claimed the other one, pulling it as well until he held her wrists together at the small of her back. Rope scraped across her skin, abrading her flesh as he bound her hands.
When he was done, he left her for a moment and returned a mere second later. He carried a leather belt of sorts. It looked more like a tether or a leash, though the circlet was far too large for her neck. Her unspoken question was answered when he secured the belt around her waist.
There was a hook in the front that the lead attached to, and it was then she realized that he was going to guide her with the harness. His hand cupped her chin, and he forced her gaze upward to meet his.
“You will speak only to answer a direct question asked of you. You will respect my authority and that of the man who ultimately purchases you. There will be many men watching you, wanting to touch the flesh that they would bid on. I will be at your side to protect you, and you are to trust that I will not let anyone go too far.”
“Yes, Keeper,” she whispered.
“Good, then we are agreed.” He gave a slight tug on her leash as he started for the door. “It’s time,” he said, and she followed him with shaking knees.
CHAPTER 12
H er keeper led her down a darkened hallway lit only by sconces on the wall. There was a decidedly medieval feel to the house, and she wondered if it was always so or if Damon had arranged a more atmospheric setting for her fantasy. Surely not. He wouldn’t have had time for such a venture, nor would he waste that kind of money, would he?
A slight tug at her leash made her redirect her attention to her keeper as he mounted the wooden stairs. As they neared the top, she could hear muted sounds in the distance. The murmur of male voices.
Her breathing shallowed, and her limbs went tingly.
At the top of the stairs there was another hallway with doors on either side. At the end there was another door, this one open with light spilling into the hallway.
Her keeper walked toward that distant doorway, and she followed behind, her fingers in tight balls behind her back.
The voices grew louder as they neared the room. Her keeper paused just inside and turned back to her. He didn’t speak. He just eyed her calmly, as though he was giving her a chance to prepare for her entrance.
She glanced down self-consciously at her nudity as embarrassment crept slowly over her body.
Her head came back up as her keeper tugged, none too gently, at her chin. His eyes bore into her, his expression stern.
“Do not look shamed. You will hold your head high.”
“Yes, Keeper.”
He nodded his satisfaction and then turned, and with a slight tug on her leash, pulled her into the room.
There were at least thirty men assembled, gathered in small clumps, others standing alone. They held drinks, sipping idly as they conversed, and waiters circled the room with trays of hors d’oeuvres.
It all looked ultra-civilized.
Her keeper conveyed her farther into the room, and it was then that the men took notice of Serena. They made no effort to disguise the blatant interest in their stares.
Serena and her keeper circled in and out of the throngs of men. Hands touched and caressed, sliding over her arms, her hips and her breasts. There were murmurs of appreciation as well as more overt compliments coupled with lascivious stares.
As promised, her keeper stood solidly by her side and allowed no more than the idle touch or gentle caress. When one of the men slid his hand between her legs, her keeper was quick to pry the man’s hand away with a tersely worded warning.
Fingers touched her hair, separating the strands. It was all like a haze brought on by too much alcohol. Everything seemed in slow motion, like a dream world. She heard the men, heard their every lustful thought. Heard their promises, that if she were theirs, how they would pleasure her and take care of her every need.
As she and her keeper circled the room, lustful gazes followed in her wake. Such power made her heady when she should have already relinquished it. She had none. Or did she?
She hadn’t expected to actually feel when Damon walked into the room. It was merely a product of her fantasy, her overwrought imagination. But she did indeed feel the shift in the air, the sudden rise of tension.
She looked to the doorway and saw him standing there, his gaze arrogantly searching the room. For her.
Her breath left her, and she swayed unsteadily. Her keeper put a solicitous hand to the small of her back and murmured a command for her to stand straight.
Damon found her and their gazes locked. Smoldering awareness danced between them. It was nearly tangible in the air. The room was thick with it.
Arousal sparked in his dark eyes, and a slow smile carved his sensual mouth. He strode toward her, and the crowd parted, leaving his path to her unimpeded.
It was as if the words she’d penned had jumped from the pages. Every nuance, every detail that she’d painstakingly written had come to life at Damon’s hands. Which could only mean he’d carefully orchestrated every detail according to her e-mail. And that meant . . .
She swallowed and tried to calm her shaking nerves.
Damon stopped beside her keeper and murmured close to his ear. As she’d done in her fantasy, she strained to hear what Damon said, but her keeper pulled sharply at her leash. A reprimand.
She straightened and waited, though her entire body was strung so tight with anticipation that she feared breaking.
Damon came to stand in front of her and then reached out, cupping his hand behind her neck. The strands of her hair were wrapped around his knuckles, and he pulled her roughly to him, tilting her head so that she looked him straight in the eye.
Her neck was exposed to him, and she felt vulnerable standing there as he towered over her. There was a pleased look in his eyes, as if he found her satisfying.
Her pulse jumped and raced, for she knew what he would say as soon as his lips parted. They
were close to hers, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath, smell the crisp mint on his tongue.
“You will be mine, Serena,” he said in a silky voice.
She trembled, her body alive with need and desire. Damon stepped away and melted into the crowd, and it was all she could do not to call him back, to beg him not to leave her even for a moment.
Her keeper pulled at her bound hands and she stumbled as he led her away. She looked back over her shoulder, searching frantically for Damon, but he was lost in the crowd of men who were pressing close in anticipation of the auction’s start.
In the distance she heard a man announce that the bidding would start. Her keeper turned her around and positioned her so that her body was displayed. His hands coaxed down her sides then around her abdomen and slowly glided upward until he cupped one breast in his palm. He ran his thumb over her taut nipple as the crowd urged him on.
Slowly he circled behind her, his hand still at her breast. He pressed in close, his chest molding to her back. She began to shake in earnest when his arms enfolded her and his hands molded both breasts, plumping them to their best advantage, showing each man what could be his if he was willing to pay a high enough price.
He tweaked her nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger until they were tight and throbbing.
The bidding started and immediately, hands went up. For the first several minutes there was a flurry of bidding as the price increased. Then, as it grew higher, only a few men remained, each determined to outbid the other.
Where was Damon? She couldn’t see him even though she searched frantically among the crowd. Forgotten was her fantasy, and that she’d penned this part and knew well how it should end. Her only thought was that she couldn’t find Damon, that he’d somehow left her to the mercy of another.
Finally it was down to two men. As one raised his hand to raise the bid, the other remained silent. The announcer paused and then said, “Going once . . .”
Serena held her breath, her body rigid against her keeper.