“Nothing else, except that I’d like at least eight people in the winning bid.”
The groupies count their numbers around various tables, seeing if they meet the cut.
“I’ll settle for six, of course,” she says, almost as if she’s zeroing in on one particular table, “but the more the merrier for this type of thing, you know?”
“Of course,” Tory agrees, and again I can’t help but hear another layer to that. Something outside of her job as MC. She takes the mic back from Evangeline and says, “Okay, ladies and gents! You heard her. At least eight people in the winning bid. Let’s go, folks. It really isn’t every night that we get a gang bang request. Let’s get those numbers going for her, shall we?”
Shouts of excitement and agreement follow, and Tory has to raise her voice to add, “Everyone elect a speaker for your table, please. I don’t want to have to keep track of individual voices if you’re all bidding as a group.”
With that out of the way, the bidding commences. And it’s a lot wilder, hotter action than I was expecting.
The first table comes out with the bid of $250,000. I guess not that impressive when you consider several individuals are pooling their money, but still shocking since most other bids started in the couple of thousands, not the hundreds of thousands.
But that bid doesn’t stay for long. It’s quickly replaced by nearly double. And delivered by someone who reminds me too much of Greaser Boy. He isn’t, but his Italian-mob vibe is a cousin to Greaser Boy.
“$422,000 over here,” he says, annunciating the “four” like anything less than that is a limp dick.
Evangeline nods to this bid but doesn’t look overly impressed. That table is made of only guys. Probably a real gang made up of the speaker’s friends.
“$635,000,” shouts the speaker of another table. It’s a woman this time. Her table, from what I can make out, is an equal split of four men and four women, including herself.
Evangeline smiles at this, at the speaker, taking time to make sure Tory sees her nod.
“$783,000,” shouts Italian Mob, not to be bested by a woman.
After some furious discussion, the woman at the table with the gender split right down the middle fires right back with, “$833,000.”
For a moment, the room is silent. In that silence, Tory says, “$833,000 for my friend here with the gang bang.” She scans the cluster tables. “Anyone else got anything better than that between them?”
Silence persists. Hangs there like a bouquet of black and white roses with a few pink ones snuck in.
Tory takes this moment to prowl the stage. After a moment she growls, “All right then. If there are no more takers, $833,000 going once, going twice.” She pauses. I don’t know why, but that pause seems particularly heavy. Laden with something I can’t quite put my finger on. But it quickly dissolves. Disappears with her next words. “Sold! A gang bang with very little rules, to the table with the very lovely lady at its helm!” I hear that “lovely lady” celebrate as loudly as a man. “Off you go,” Tory says to Evangeline.
Evangeline doesn’t need to be told twice. She hops off the front of the stage, not even bothering with the stairs. In what seems like a matter of seconds, she and her groupies are pouring through the establishment and out the doors like a school of sexy, well-dressed fish.
“Well, that was exciting,” Tory says when Evangeline and her club are gone. The other groups, disappointed at their loss, split back into individuals or pairs.
Tory saunters up to me, beckoning me forward. As she does, I move to pick up my bag and move it to my side. I let the people watch me as I walk forward, pink companion swinging seductively at my hips.
“And it looks like it’s about to continue being interesting,” she adds, handing me the microphone. “What’ve you got for us tonight? What lovely secrets do you have for us in that pink bag of yours?”
I smile, curling my fingers around the body of the mic like I'm curling them around a hard cock. Bringing the head up to my mouth, I catch Jordan’s eye. It seems like an eternity since I last looked at him though I know it can only be about fifteen minutes or so. Either way, it’s a welcome reprieve.
Just as I get my first shot of sexy from Jordan, I answer, “I’m offering something a little different,” I say, keeping my eyes locked with his. “To get with me you gotta be brave. Be different than what’s around you."
A shiver of self-satisfaction washes through me when I see how Jordan trembles. He’s not showing his friends. He’s showing me and only me. That’s it, baby boy. I don’t care what any man thinks of me for offering what I’m about to offer. If it’ll give you a chance to bid on me, Jordan, I think resolutely, I’ll do it. Whatever it takes to make you mine, I’ll do.
Chapter 10
Jordan
I’m dreaming! I must be! I have to be! For the millionth time in a minute, I check to see that I am, indeed, awake. To see Bianca standing there in her red and black corset, matching thick-heeled high heels, and in classy, yet understated makeup, is a dream come true. It’s like she’s stepped out of my fantasies and into real life.
When Alex dragged me down here, I thought tonight would be nothing short of a nightmare. Unfulfilled desires. But, as I watch Bianca swagger forward, a mysterious pink bag in tow, I don’t have those worries anymore. My impossible dream, my far-flying fantasy, is reality.
As Bianca locks eyes with me and takes the microphone in her hand. I breathe in deeply. I do so, feeling alive for the first time in a long time. Tuned in and invested in my surroundings. Like I might actually get something worthwhile out of being present — in the here and now — not always preparing to leave. To disconnect.
But it’s when she speaks that I feel this deeply. “I’m offering something a bit different,” she says softly. Her voice may be soft, but it’s strong. Resolute. Her eyes back this up, grabbing me and only me. “To get with me you gotta be brave. Be different than what’s around you."
I’m shaking. From excitement. From something I’ve never experienced with any woman. Desire. Want. Need. And not just in terms of physical release. Need as in she’s become like a drug; like a heartbeat — a light in my soul. Something I could enjoy being addicted to. Chained and made a slave to.
Bianca smiles at me then, and I don’t care if she sees me trembling. What else she may see. My sensitivity. My desire to be under her thumb, even with Alex and his brother here. I know she’s talking to me when she says to be brave. To be “more than what’s around me” to get what I’ll truly love. To be with her.”
The MC seems intrigued by this statement of hers, but not nearly to the level I am. But she puts on a smile. A performance, nonetheless. It’s all about the audience, anyway. “Oooh,” she says. “Mysterious. Just like that little pink bag of yours.” The MC grins and winks. “Is that going to come into the offer at all, miss?”
Bianca doesn’t lose a beat or play to the theatrics. “It might,” she answers simply.
The MC hums, fiddling nervously with her fedora. “Okay. So, what are you offering us tonight, Madame?”
“I’m offering a night of domination to the man who wins my auction.” I notice she emphasizes the word man. Briefly, I wonder if that’s because she’s had people assume certain things about her, or if she’s been hit on one too many times by women. Either way, she also emphasizes the word domination.
That has my attention and the attentions of every other man in the room.
Alex nudges me, giving me a thumbs-up. “Looks like a good option,” he whispers. He looks at me a little more closely. “You like her already, don’t you?”
I take a sip of my overly lovey-dovey drink, wondering why the hell I ordered it. It’s too sweet and fruity for my tastes. “You have no idea,” I mutter. But I’m quick to shut up.
The MC asks a clarifying question. “Are you offering sex to go along with that domination as well?”
I lean forward. Alex and Paul do too, though only halfheartedly compared
to me.
Again, though, Bianca doesn’t mince words. She doesn’t play up her offer as many of the other girls have. “No,” she says, making my heart and dick sag simultaneously. At the mention of “sex” both had had their interests peaked, but they’ve completely lost it. Even more so as she continues with, “only my skills as a domme are up for auction. I don’t do sex for sale.”
Paul makes a pained noise as if he just had to watch me get punched in the gut.
I can’t help it. I frown. Deeply. And I let Bianca see it even if I’m planning to bid on her, anyway.
Sex or no sex, I want more time with her. And I’ll pay for it. But I was really hoping for sex with her. She seems like she’d be amazing all the same. My mouth turns down even more, and part of me feels like my dream still might not come true.
But Bianca seems determined to not let that happen. She locks eyes with me adding, “However” — my heart seizes at the pause she takes — “a really good boy might be able to persuade me into sex.” A heavy, hot pause. “I’ve never had a really good boy before.” In both instances “good boy” is heavily emphasized and bleeds into me like a quiet plea. Her eyes push the heart of these words into me, bringing back visions of our first encounter. Of me promising to be at her service.
Without knowing how I know, I know Bianca’s thinking of that encounter too. Pleading for me to embrace it. To follow through on it. To be a man of my word, even if I am her good boy.
Alex leans toward Paul. “What does she mean ‘good boy’? Is that like, her way of saying she’s not found the right guy? That she’s a virgin? Or that she wants a virgin?”
Paul shrugs. “Hell if I know,” he says. “Probably all of the above.”
I chuckle bubbles out of me. You guys don’t know of a fucking thing, do you? For all your bragging about how irresistible you are to women, you don’t understand them at all, do you? I smile, bathing Bianca in my gaze the way a devotee would with a deity. I know what you need, Bianca. And I’m ready to be your good boy, even if macho man over there makes fun of me. I’ll make you mine so you can make me into your perfect gentleman.
The MC comes forward again, taking the mic. “All right, then. Interesting.” She points her dress shoe toward the back. “So, how does that bag play in? Do they get that along with you?”
Bianca glances seriously into the audience. “Yes. They are the tools of my trade. Tools that the man who wins my bed will experience if he’s man enough to hand all control to me.”
The MC whistles, fanning herself. I think it’s more for real than for show. “Got it.” She turns to the audience a moment later, smiling. “Well, shall we start the bidding for her then, gentleman?”
“Yes,” I whisper, thinking I’m the only one who’s ready and raring to go.
Unfortunately for me, though, it seems I’m not the only guy interested in being dominated by Bianca or seeing what’s in her bag. Experiencing the tools of her trade.
“Let’s start, then!” The MC steps back, bringing the rim of the fedora over her eyes.
Surprised that I’m not to be the only guy interested in Bianca, I make sure I’m first to bid. “$20,000,” I say, eager to put the competition at a disadvantage as soon as I can. The steeper the initial climb, the more likely the posers — the not-so-serious ones — will drop out. Which is exactly what I want to do.
Watching Bianca nod to my offer, I think, A lotta you guys like the idea of Bianca, of what she has to offer, but I bet few of you actually have the balls to go through with it. To go as high as I’m gonna go.
For a good solid minute, it seems my thoughts are accurate. My bid isn’t immediately met with a counter offer. But I’m glad when it is because Bianca’s is absolutely worth more than $20,000.
“$38,999,” comes the second offer. From the sound of the voice, it sounds like this guy is younger than me. Eager. Single, perhaps.
Even so, I don’t think about it, I counter his counter. “$50,000,” I say, over a sip of my strawberry-flavored regret.
“$55,000,” comes another offer. Not from the same guy. A different one. He sounds Latin. Bianca nods to him.
Another number pops out of the darkness before I can even get a word in. “$75,000!”
“$125,000!” This number comes in before Bianca, or I register it.
Alex shakes me. “Get in there, Jordan! Go! Rapidfire, rapidfire!” With each of these, he snaps his fingers, imitating shots fired.
“$445,000,” I shout, hoping to get some distance between me and any quicker bids.
Surprisingly, though, it doesn’t work. “$600,000,” comes in directly after mine. The speaker sounds around Paul’s age, but with an edge of kindness he’ll never possess.
“$889,900,” I say, happy to scare the guy with a bigger number.
“1 million!” some guy shouts from the opposite corner of the room. He has a slightly British accent, making me picture how much of a royal pain in the ass he probably is.
“1.5 million,” I bark, standing from my seat. I look Bianca in the eyes, smiling.
She smiles back, her green eyes smoldering with sexy shadows. Unlike Mariah or Jane during their auctions, she hasn’t gotten nervous once. She’s confidently stood there as if she knows what I know: that I’ll be the one to win her, no matter if I’m up against one bid or fifty.
And not once have we broken eye contact, I think, sucking down my sugary drink. There’s a little window of tense silence now. One filled with English Gentleman’s nerves about countering that offer.
But to my surprise, he dares to come back with one. It’s not much, but it’s a valiant effort. “2.5 million,” he says. As he speaks, his throat hums with confidence and desperation equally.
In that moment I decide I’ll end his bidding right here and now. I suck down the rest of my strawberry swirl and triumphantly shout, “$3 million!”
In the muddled silence — caught in Bianca’s bold and laughing eyes — I hear both Paul and Alex balk. “Holy shit,” they say. Oddly, it’s in unison.
The other gentleman around me voice similar sentiments. But I don’t care about any of that. I care about the MC, and when she’s gonna say what she needs to say to release Bianca to me. As far as I’m concerned, the battle is over, and the war is won.
After about a minute of silence, with no counter bid, it’s mine for the taking.
“$3 million,” says the MC, walking like she might faint from that high of a bid on one woman, a dominant woman at that. “Do I have any other takers?” She gasps a little almost as if even that amount of money takes her breath away. “Going once, going twice…” Another dip of silence follows, but Bianca and I are already intertwined. Speaking a language that needs no words. “Sold!” Weakly, the MC gestures for my mistress to leave the stage and go to me.
Bianca does just that, coming within arm’s reach quickly. When my hand comes to hers, I have a sensation that we’ve never parted. Never left each other’s embrace. I kiss her hand, bowing before her. In one hand, she still has her bag. “Lead the way, my lady,” I murmur. I make sure it’s loud enough for Paul and Alex to hear. “I am yours to command,” I add, hearing Paul mutter incredulously. He says something like, “Oh my God, I can’t believe he’s really into that shit.”
“Good boy,” she says lifting me from my bow. “Come with me.” Briefly, I catch her scowling at my company.
“As you wish,” I say, and let her lead me through the tables and toward the door. As we move together, I hold my head high. I put some swagger in my step, more than happy to shake my good fortune in my competition’s collective faces.
That’s right, bitches, I think as we get closer to the doors, for this kind of thing you have to pay to play! And not with just a few hundred thousand dollars! From behind Bianca, I admire her perfect back swishing in its corset. A woman like her is worth so much more than money, but I’m the only one who understands that. And that’s the way it should be.
Chapter 11
Bianca
>
Leading Jordan through the other tables in the Exchange Club, I allow myself to feel triumphant. Powerful.
I purposely take my time going through the room and passing by tables, showing off my choice for a man. I hope everyone here is green with envy. Jordan seems to feel the way I do. There’s a delicious arrogance about him. A haughtiness in his chin and mouth I can’t wait to subdue. Dominate. Control.
As Jordan and I leave the confines of the Club, after taking a tour through the last few tables, my phone buzzes. I don’t bother to look at it. I know it’s the Uber ride I've booked for my lucky man and me.
With that knowledge, I make quicker work of the steps that’ll lead us out of the basement. I climb the stairs quickly, happy to find Jordan following eagerly. Matching my pace step by step but hanging back some. Probably as a show of obedience; tenderness to his soon-to-be mistress.
Oh, Jordan, you’re already trying to behave for me, aren’t you? Already trying to be my best boy? I blush. Smile to myself. My incredibly wet underwear clings to my folds and massages my swollen and aching clit. Tonight, will be a night to remember for the both of us.
I step out into the night with him in hand. My heart thunders and my entire body begins to hum but I don’t show my excitement. I force my grip to remain steady, and my steps predictable. It’s not as easy as it seems when my legs are threatening to turn to liquid.
As we near the hired ride, Jordan asks, “May I open your door for you, miss?”
“You may, Jordan,” I say, just as the driver looks like he’s going to get out of the car and do it for me. Sensing the same thing I do, Jordan wastes no time. He releases my hand, jogs over to the passenger side door and opens it. As if he took tips from the doorman, he bows. In a flourish, he holds out a hand and grabs my fingers.
“May I see you to your seat, Miss Bianca?” he asks, his mouth twisting into a lightly mischievous grin. A beautiful contrast to his noble-looking eyes and nose. His swept-back blond hair comes slightly undone as if anticipating what awaits us back at the hotel.
Sold as a Domme on Valentine's Day Page 6