CFNM Revenge Tales

by AJ Gray

  “Turn it over,” said Christina.

  On the other side was a small excerpt. Rosie read it aloud as the limo pulled up in front of the grand entrance.

  'Club Divine welcomes you to celebrate its tenth anniversary at the stunning Mansion House, for a night of pure, unadulterated luxury. Of exquisite cuisine, first class service and wickedly fun entertainment. To mark the special occasion we are holding our very first slave auction. That’s right ladies the finest, buffest studs, will be available for purchase and yours to do with as you please, at least until sunrise. Prepare for an evening that promises to be a feast for the eyes and the senses.'

  When Rosie finished she looked at them open mouthed.

  “Sound good?” asked Christina.

  “Its definitely a few notches up on strippers,” she replied, now understanding the girls’ barely concealed excitement.

  “Maybe we’ll get you a hunk,” said Bianca.

  “Or two,” added Penelope.

  “But how did you get these invitations?” Rosie asked, still taken aback that they were about to attend one of Club Divine’s infamous parties.

  “Oh we have our connections,” said Christina tapping her nose mysteriously.

  The ladies stepped out the limousine, into a balmy, starlit night. Other women were arriving looking ravishing dressed in their finery. Rosie’s group followed the stream of women through the grand entrance and into a lobby of mansion-esque proportions. The floor was covered in black and white tiles, which led to a wide central stairwell carpeted in red, sweeping upwards to the floors above. Tonight’s main proceedings however, were to be held in the dining hall to their left, this was where they now headed.

  At its entrance a lady in a backless gown took their invitations and welcomed them through with a glint in her eye. “Oh my,” said Rosie taking in the halls splendour. It was decadence defined, with golden fixtures and fittings, and an enormous crystal chandelier hanging from the staccato ceiling. Across one wall was draped a velvet red curtain, like in a theatre, just visible jutting under its edge was the front of a mahogany stage.

  A young female waitress in a little black dress showed the women to their table, ten of which were arranged around the spacious hall. Each of the round tables were covered in spotless, white tablecloths, glinting silvery cutlery, and had as their centrepiece a delicate crystal vase containing the pinkish flower of a lotus.

  Representing sexual female power the lotus was a more than appropriate symbol for tonight’s gathering.

  Also on the table, was an array of delicate little canapés intended to whet the appetite. As the ladies took their seats the young waitress poured their drinks, before subtly stepping back to a space by the wall. Rosie noticed several other young women in the same simple black dresses, stood around the perimeter of the room, available with a simple flick of the wrist.

  As the dining hall gradually filled up, the girls tucked into the small parcels of food, giggly and high-spirited, buoyed by the fine wine, sumptuous surrounds. It didn’t take long before the room was full with the gentle murmur of laughing and chattering female voices. Glancing around, Rosie noticed that their table was by far the youngest. Many of the women were not only mature, but had the good posture, flawless grace and general ease that came with wealth and privilege.

  Just as she was making such observations she spotted a sultry woman in an off the shoulder, slinky cherry red dress, taking to the stage. It was tonight’s hostess, Amanda, a woman simply oozing class in every pore of her being. She gently tapped her wine glass with a spoon, hushing the hall and commanding the attention of the assembled women.

  “Ladies it is an honour and a privilege to welcome you on this most special of nights. You all do the setting and the occasion proud, each looking as fabulous as you do. When I was asked to host tonight’s event I cast my mind back over the last ten years and considered what the club has meant to me. Not only has it been responsible for some of my most memorably outrageous moments,” at this point she paused briefly for a moment with her red lips spread into a wicked grin, as if recalling past exploits.

  But most importantly it has provided a fun, safe, luxurious environment in which to have them. In short it has rewritten the rules for a good night out. Unshackling us from the repressive bonds that constrain our fantasies, and unapologetically plunged into some of the deepest, darkest, desires of the feminine mind. So I propose a toast, to Club Divine and another ten years of unashamedly good fun.”

  The sound of clinking glasses rang around the hall as the women toasted to the clubs past, present and future success. And so with the appetisers and formalities concluded, Amanda wasted no time announcing the first course. She swept an arm elegantly directing their attention to a set of wide, wooden, French doors.

  “Ladies in this growing age of female empowerment I think it only appropriate we even the scores a little with regards to the genders. With great pleasure, I present to you, the bunny boys.”

  At her command the doors swung open and in came twelve, slim, fresh-faced young men, each pushing decorative silver trolley’s in front of them, each wearing nothing but a black bow tie, black silky boxer shorts. On the back of them white, round, fluffy balls, were a playful twist on the bunny girls associated with the Hefner Empire. A few high-pitched giggles and, more guttural laughs, went around the hall as the waiters unloaded their trolleys, attending to each table.

  Rosie was biting her lip, trying not to laugh as Christina more or less said with a nod of the head, a purse of the lips, ‘Oooh he’s a bit tasty.’ The other girls’ expressions said all that needed to be said. Each of them was unmistakably enjoying the view of their sexy young waiter as he moved around the table, placing a selection of artfully constructed dishes onto its surface.

  As he did so Bianca couldn’t resist giving his bum a surreptitious squeeze, which the young waiter hid, apart from a slight gasp. Only when he’d finished laying out the artful looking dishes did he step back, replacing the female waitress by the wall. She gave him a smirk as they passed and took the now empty trolley away.

  The women wasted no time picking at the colourful plates before them. The nouvelle inspired food, truly was divine, Michelin starred quality. Rosie and the girls savoured every mouthful as they satiated their appetites and quenched their thirst. Calling on their semi naked waiter several times to top up their glasses. It was a reoccurring theme in the hall as each table made the most of the ‘fine’ service. Jokes about rampant rabbits did the rounds as the male waiters moved back and forth with bunny like energy.

  Before long every woman had, had her fill, and dutifully the bunny boys took away the used plates and cutlery. The young female waitresses returned to their spots next to the wall, no doubt keen not to miss what was about to come next. For it was time for the evening’s main event to commence and Rosie sensed a definite buzz of anticipation in the hall.

  Once more Amanda their hostess took to the stage, only this time as she did so, the velvet curtain opened, the lights dimmed, and some overhead spotlights focused on the wide stage that was now revealed before them.

  “Hmmm very tasty,” said Amanda, now positioned behind a silver lectern on one side of the stage. “I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did, especially those cute bunny boys.”

  Another of those wide grins creased her face.

  “I’m sure you’ll find the next course equally as scrumptious, for it’s time to begin tonight’s main proceedings. Ladies prepare yourselves, you’re about to be introduced to some of the sexiest studs on gods green earth. And remember, all money will be going to good causes, so feel free to loosen those purse strings. But without delay I declare Club Divines very first slave auction officially open.”

  The hostess and now auctioneer slammed down a wooden gavel to a smattering of applause and a few whoops, two of the loudest coming from Christina and Bianca. Rosie smiled at their exuberance. Above the din, Amanda welcomed to the stage her pretty assistant, Tiffany, and slave numero
uno, Hunky Hugo.

  Slender and graceful Tiffany appeared first, in a spangly lilac dress that sparkled in the overhead spotlights. As she strutted confidently onto the stage with a naughty smile, she pulled at a leather lead slung over one shoulder. It was soon apparent just why she looked so happy.

  The lead was connected leash like to the collar of Hugo, who followed shuffling onto the stage looking like a slave from ancient Rome. His hands were cuffed behind his back by black leather bonds, his legs shackled by chains and his modesty barely concealed by a simple pair of tight white briefs.

  He was muscular and handsome, with a mop of dark hair and his adorable smile told the ladies he was more than happy to play the slave. The women broke into a smattering of applause, signalling their approval. He certainly lived up to his name thought Rosie.

  “As you can see Mr Hunky here has a number of distinctive qualities,” said Amanda, surveying the young hunk.

  Tiffany proceeded to parade him across the stage for the perusal of the all female audience, all of whom seemed noticeably pleased with the quality of the night’s first serving. She guided him to the centre of the stage and stepped back slightly, leaving Hugo stood in the spotlight as Amanda read out his vital statistics. Not that they were necessary, his outfit left little to the imagination.

  Six foot two, hundred and seventy pound, Hugo, went on to fetch a princely sum. Although the bidding was fun, rather than fiercely competitive, the price was more than reasonable given what was to be expected of the slaves. Not much was off limits.

  With the first sale of the evening completed, Tiffany led him to the side of the stage and handed him over to a freckled young waitress. Grinning like the cat that got the cream, she placed a silver chain with key around his neck, before taking hold of his leash and leading him through the tables.

  The successful bidder was a raven-haired lady with porcelain skin, and a stylish black dress with a sweeping cut down one side. She took the key from his neck, unshackled his legs and swiftly had him kneel at her side. Like a loyal puppy dog, he did just that, much too the amusement of her table and of course to the on looking women.

  Their focus on him didn’t last long, however, as the next of the slaves was brought out, once again chained and shackled. It was a clean-shaven, blonde-haired, blue-eyed young man who looked like a model from one of those preppy clothes commercials, albeit admittedly without the clothes.

  “Say hello to Luke everybody and ladies, make sure to have a good Look,” said Amanda with a playful smile.

  They didn’t need any encouragement. His firm biceps, strong legs and tight pants were receiving plenty of attention. And just like Hugo before him, Luke fetched a worthy price. Sold to an elegant blonde with a bob cut at table one. As he was led from the stage Amanda gave him the once over clearly liking what she saw.

  And so with the champagne flowing, two slaves off the market and two very happy tables, the evening was getting into the flow of things. Rosie and the girls were more than happy to bide their time for the right guy. As it was they were loving the show. If the bunny boys had been cute, with the slim smooth features of young adults, then the slaves, though still young, had the strong muscular physiques of men.

  “These slaves certainly are dreamy,” said Amanda, looking down from the stage at Hugo and Luke with a glint her in eye. “Shall we have another?”

  The hall erupted into a cheerful chorus of ‘yes’, making it clear that was exactly what they wanted.

  I think that’s a yes,” joked Amanda with a smirk. “Please put your hands together for our next slave of the evening, our very own Italian stallion, muscular meaty, Marco.”

  It couldn’t be thought Rosie. It was. As her very own Marco appeared chained and shackled, his lean buff body fully on display in the standard small white briefs, Rosie’s eyes widened.

  “Oh my god, I know that guy,” she quietly muttered, watching transfixed as the vivacious Tiffany led Marco across the stage.

  Her four friends turned towards her in surprise. It was they now in the dark wanting answers.

  “What, how?” asked an intrigued Christina.

  Rosie looked at them with giddy disbelief in her eyes.

  “He’s my gym instructor.”

  When Rosie had explained to the girls all about Marco, including his ‘touchy, feely’ approach, they knew they had to have him. To whistles and the odd catcall Marco took up his position at the centre of the stage. Under the glare of the lights he was unable to make out any of the female faces.

  “My, my, my, you ladies are being spoilt rotten tonight, just look at those muscles.”

  Marco flexed his pecs a few times and flashed Amanda a cheeky grin that said he was more than up for the night ahead. Little did he now what lay in store.

  “Show us his bum,” came a cheeky request from the audience.

  Amanda looked at them visibly pleased. She nodded to Tiffany, who much to the delight of the woman strode forward, turned Marco around and pulled the back of his briefs down, revealing his firm, toned backside.

  “Jeez you could cut glass on that ass,” said Penelope impressed.

  "I’d like to try,” Denise added to a background of girly giggles.

  Back up on the stage, Tiffany proceeded to give his ass a gentle slap, then wince and shake her hand, playfully pretending it was hurt. Laughter filled the hall. Mercifully from Marco’s perspective she pulled up his pants allowing him to turn around without exposing anymore of himself. Despite being something of an exhibitionist, more than comfortable in his own skin, being half naked like this in front of a crowd of women was intimidating even for him.

  When he’d applied to the ad looking for men in their twenties, with good bodies, outgoing personalities, he’d not really known what to expect. He’d quickly got some idea, however, upon seeing his small outfit and then hearing the cheering, jeering crowd, as he’d waited off stage.

  What he did know was that this was a great way to make use of the sculpted body he’d carved out, make some extra cash aside from his relatively low paid gym work. He’d of course past any auditions with flying colours and immediately been pencilled in as a lot for the auction. The organisers had wanted confidant guys, verging on cocky. Knowing very well it would make it all the more fun for their guests having them following orders.

  “Well ladies I think you can see this one’s rather special,” said Amanda pausing to let them take in the third hunk of the night. “I think its time to begin the bidding.”

  The women evidently liked what they saw and bids came thick and fast from around the hall. Rosie and the girls however, determined to get him, stayed with it. A few of the other tables seeing that the young group of girls wanted him so badly, kindly dropped out of the running, for the night was young and there was plenty more thoroughbreds yet to come.

  And so, successfully pitching in together, the girls managed to secure him for a reasonable price, given what was ahead of him.

  “Going once, going twice, sold to table six,” said Amanda slamming the gavel down. “At something of a bargain price I‘d say.”

  Marco was led from the stage and like Hugo and Luke before him, handed over to the beaming young waitress who by her book had drawn the lucky straw. She placed the silver chain and key around his neck, letting her hand trail against his firm chest as she did so. Rosie meanwhile was waiting excitedly, eager to see the look on Marco’s face. Her birthday treat had suddenly taken on a whole new meaning.

  Despite being led by a leash, cuffed and chained like a dangerous convict, Marco retained his cocky smirk. As he approached table six however, his face dropped.

  “Hello stranger,” said Rosie, standing as he was led over to her.

  “Rosie,” Marco stammered, the pitch of his voice indicating his shock.

  “Looks like you’ve just become our new slave boy,” she said, flashing him a sexy smile and taking the lead from the young waitress.

  Marco didn’t know what to say, it was one thing str
ipping off like this in front of a bunch of strangers, completely another for someone such as Rosie. The strong, alpha image, he’d been rather clumsily attempting to cultivate, was shattered. The two eyed each other for a moment, both thinking back to the gym earlier in the day.

  “Well aren’t you going to introduce us?” asked Bianca, breaking the silent standoff.

  “With pleasure,” Rosie said circling the table.

  By the time the next slave appeared Marco was stood between Rosie and Christina having been introduced to everyone at the table. He’d managed a polite ‘hello’ and peck on the cheek, but was still taken aback by what had happened in the last five minutes. The girls of course hadn’t been shy in letting their hands wander, having heard all about Marco’s roaming ways. Their giggles and satisfied smiles said they were more than pleased with their purchase.

  An excited clamour was again rippling through the audience as Tristan, a tall and athletic man with a rower’s physique was led across the stage.

  “Look, I’m sorry about the misunderstanding before,” Marco whispered down to Rosie.

  “Oh you will be,” she replied, with a twinkle in her eye as bright as that of her sparkling golden dress.

  Marco let out a suffused sigh and looked up to see Tristan being positioned by Tiffany at the centre of the stage. He looked back down at Rosie, who like the other women was clearly enjoying the show. She looked sensational. It was the first time he’d seen her all done up, with her glossy hair swept down, her fabulous figure elevated by heels. He felt a dangerous thickening and immediately turned his attention back to the stage.

  “Remember all moneys going to good causes, but I know you don’t need that as an incentive,” said Amanda turning towards Tristan, eager to keep the bids ticking over.

  In the brief pause a cry rang out from an audience emboldened by alcohol, eager for more flesh.