by Brynley Bush
“Turn around.” It’s not a suggestion, and I reluctantly turn, conscious of his appraising gaze as it travels over my body, which is now completely naked except for the thin scrap of black lace panties. He circles me like a lion assessing its prey, and I school myself to stand still beneath his scrutinizing gaze.
“Good girl,” he says, coming back to stand in front of me. “Stand just like that during the auction. And just as silent. Slaves aren’t allowed to speak.”
Slave? The word makes me shudder. This is suddenly very real, and I tamp down a flicker of terror. I look at Master Collin and nod. I doubt I’d be able to string two coherent words together right now anyway.
He abruptly takes both of my hands firmly in his and pulls them behind me, pinning my wrists together at the small of my back. I gasp.
I can feel the scrape of rope as he binds my hands together behind my back, tugging until the rope is taut and my arms are completely immobilized. Oh, God. I can’t do this. I…
“You okay, sweetheart?” Master Collin is standing in front of me, his eyes searching mine.
I take a deep, steadying breath, willing myself to be okay. This is just a TV show; it’s not real. “Yes. I’m fine.”
He studies me a moment longer and then nods. He walks over to the large closet and returns with what looks like a thick dark-brown leather belt that he fastens around my waist, cinching it tightly. He clips a leash onto the D-ring attached to the front of the belt and tugs. “Let’s go, then. It’s showtime.”
I walk obediently down the hallway behind Master Collin, praying we don’t run into anyone. Not that it matters since I’m about to be on a stage in front of a dozen men and a camera. But still…
He leads me through a side door into what looks like a regular bar, except for the fact that Tessa, who is similarly bound and half-naked, is standing on the stage next to us. Her nipples are hardened points, and her chest and face are flushed with arousal as a man strides onto the stage. The short but muscular man standing next her, whom I assume is her Master Collin, hands the leash tethered to her waist to the man who has just joined her on the stage. With the leash in his hand, he gives it a sharp downward tug, forcing her to her knees. He steps forward until he’s standing over her and lifts her chin with his finger, leveraging his thumb against her chin to force her mouth open. He sweeps two fingers into her open mouth, and her lips close around them. It’s oddly erotic, and I subconsciously press my thighs together as I watch them. After a moment, the man helps her to her feet, and I can see his face. It’s Luke!
I’m so happy for Tessa that Luke bought her, and so mesmerized by their interaction that I don’t realize it’s my turn until Master Collin is pulling me onto the stage. I feel my stomach clench as I look out into the darkened room. There are way more than fourteen men assembled, sitting together at tables or standing near the bar, drinks in hand as a waitress circles the room with a tray of hors d’oeuvres. I can feel the gazes of the men as I take the stage. My heart lurches into my throat in a moment of panic, and I search for Emmett. I finally find him sitting at a table near the front, a glass of Scotch in his hand. He tilts his head toward the door with raised eyebrows, silently asking if I want him to leave, but I shake my head slightly. He’s still my rock, even if he isn’t my partner in the games. Besides, his presence is a much-needed reminder of exactly why I’m here.
I stand up straighter, tilting my chin up defiantly. If there’s anything I learned from Anthony Sanderson, it’s to never let them see you scared and never show your weakness. I focus on stanching the flow of my emotions and pasting an indifferent expression on my face even though I feel like I might snap in half, my body is strung so tight with anticipation.
“I present Avalon Summers,” Master Collin says. His hands grip my hips, and he turns me toward the room so that my body is fully displayed. He tugs gently on the rope that binds my wrists behind me so my breasts are forced upward. A tremor of awareness judders through me. It’s unnerving standing half-naked in front of a room full of men, but it’s also slightly heady. What the hell is wrong with me?
Master Collin smiles. “This little slave girl is a bit shy.” His palms graze my breasts, and I blush as I feel my nipples stiffen beneath his callused hands. There are a few wolf whistles from the crowd when his thumbs brush across the hardened peaks, and then he pinches them, making me jump and blush even deeper as the traitorous tips throb, sending an odd yearning shooting through me. “But as you can see, she’s also incredibly responsive,” he adds with a grin. “Can I get a starting bid?”
The bidding starts, and there’s a burst of activity as the men call out their bids, one on top of another until the price reaches seven hundred points. I try to ignore what’s happening and instead count how many men are drinking Scotch and how many are drinking beer, determined to be nothing more than a bystander at my own auction. It’s a coping mechanism that’s gotten me through the past two years. Don’t think and don’t feel. If I focus on something else, maybe I can ignore the fact that I’m standing naked on a stage about to be purchased for God knows what by a stranger. At least I know there won’t be sex. Thank God I checked no in that box.
I’m pulled back into the moment by the sound of Emmett’s voice. “Eight hundred points,” he calls out.
“No!” I don’t realize I’ve said it out loud until Master Collin pinches my nipple hard, making me gasp.
“Be quiet,” he growls into my ear. “Or I’ll gag you.”
The look on his face indicates he’ll do exactly what he says, so I bite my tongue, although it takes some considerable effort. Damn Emmett and his chivalrous attempt to save me yet again, even though it means sacrificing his chance to win since he’s specifically defying the show host’s wishes by bidding for me.
I watch miserably as the older man Tessa had eyed at the rooftop bar makes one more bid and then holds up his hands, conceding defeat when Emmett counters.
“Going once, going twice…”
“Twelve hundred points.” I can’t see the mystery bidder, but the rasp in his voice seems disquietingly familiar.
Master Collins waits several minutes, but it’s obvious that no one, not even Emmett, can top the unexpected final bid.
“Going once, going twice, sold to the gentleman in the back.”
Thank God. I let out a sigh of relief. Emmett didn’t win me. He’s safe.
Then the man steps out of the shadows, and I can feel the blood drain from my face.
“Oh, shit,” I breathe.
THE LITTLE SUB’S eyes widen as she sees me. She mutters something, but I can’t hear what she says. I’m inordinately pleased that she recognizes me from the pool, almost as pleased as I am that she seems a bit terrified of me as well. A degree of healthy fear in a sub, particularly a new one, is always good. With this one, it’s downright intoxicating.
When she’d come onto the stage, I’d watched the range of emotions play across her beautiful face—discomfiture, fear, mortification, and even arousal—before she’d slipped that careful mask back into place and tilted that little chin up in defiance. I find I can’t wait to destroy that proud composure and reduce her to a girl who simply feels.
I walk onto the stage and take the leash that Collin hands me. He’s a dungeon monitor at Logan’s club in San Francisco and one of Logan’s most trusted Doms, and I know he’s taken care of Avalon while making sure she understands her place.
She’s looking at me with trepidation in those unfathomable green eyes, and I decide to let her worry a little more. I simply turn and tug, forcing her to follow behind me a few paces as I lead her back to my table. Most subs would kneel unless instructed otherwise, but she just stands next to the table uncertainly, her face impassive, although the way her body is fairly vibrating with tension gives her away.
Although the other two subs who’ve already been bought are kneeling at their new Doms’ feet, watching the remaining subs being auctioned off, I think Avalon needs the comfort of strong arms
around her. Since she seems a bit skittish, I also want her to become accustomed to the idea that she’s mine to touch how and when I want. I pat my lap.
She stares at me disbelievingly.
With a sigh, I tug sharply on the leash, and she stumbles. Unable to catch herself with her wrists bound behind her, she falls into me, and I catch her in my arms, settling her in my lap.
“First lesson,” I murmur in her ear. “I will have my way, whether you cooperate or not.”
She stiffens slightly but nods.
“Good girl. Would you like a drink?” Although there’s a strict no-alcohol policy during scenes, she looks like she could use one, and this isn’t officially a scene. She nods again, and I gesture to the waitress, who immediately comes and asks what I’d like. I raise my eyebrow questioningly at my new little sub.
“A shot of tequila, please,” she says, completely serious.
I frown at her. “Bring her a glass of champagne,” I say to the waitress. To Avalon, I say, “I want you relaxed, not comatose.”
She turns her face away from me. I decide to let her insolence slide for the time being, and we watch as the voluptuous woman on the stage is auctioned off to one of the older Doms competing in the games. When the waitress returns with the champagne, I take the glass from her and hold it to Avalon’s lips.
“Drink,” I command.
“You aren’t going to untie my hands?” she demands incredulously.
“Not yet.”
She presses her lips together tightly in stubborn protest, but when I don’t make a move to untie her, she finally parts her lips and takes a small sip.
I set the glass down on the table so I can run a hand possessively across her taut abdomen. It quivers beneath my touch. “I want to inspect what’s mine first.”
I trail my fingers up her torso and lazily circle one breast and then the other as the next submissive is brought onto the stage. I lightly pinch my little submissive’s nipple, and she gasps, struggling to get out of my arms. “You can’t do this!” she hisses under her breath.
“Oh, I can and I will,” I assure her, holding her immobile against me. “I bought you. You’re mine.”
By the time the Dom comes onto the stage to claim his submissive, Avalon is squirming delightfully in my lap.
As the next two subs are auctioned off, I alternate between exploring her smooth, flawless skin and pressing the glass of champagne to her lips, my cock hardening when her tongue darts out to lick a stray drop of champagne from her sensuously full upper lip. I suddenly want nothing more than to bite that lip as I press myself into her, fucking her mercilessly until that cool exterior cracks and I make her scream.
The champagne and the slow, rhythmic touch of my hands on her body are having the desired effect, and I can feel her relaxing into me as the next three subs are presented and bought. As the bidding for the next sub—an icy blonde with an air of arrogance—ends, Avalon struggles to sit up. I pull her back against my chest as I glance across the room, trying to see what’s caused her distress. Ah. My little sub’s friend, Emmett, has just won the bidding and is claiming his sub.
I cup her left breast with my right hand, holding her still. “I know he’s your friend, but remember, you are mine,” I remind her, my lips near her ear. I take the nipple between my forefinger and thumb and roll it. I hear the sharp intake of her breath, but she doesn’t say anything. I twist harder. “Do you understand?”
She nods.
I increase the pressure on the hardened bud as she wriggles deliciously against my now throbbing cock. “Say it!” I demand.
“Fine. I’m yours,” she says breathlessly.
And I feel like I’ve won the fucking lottery.
Chapter Four
Ava
I’m not sure how I’m going to survive a night, much less an entire week with the heart-stoppingly gorgeous but terrifying man with the dark hair and intense blue eyes who has bought me and who’s supposed to be my partner for the games. Although partner is a bit of misnomer; he seems to think of it more as a dictatorship, with me doing whatever he says.
Sitting half-naked in his lap during the auction was bad enough, especially given the way he kept running his hands over my body like he owned me. Which I suppose he does. That thought doesn’t make me feel any better! Neither does the fact that he’s currently leading me back to his suite on a leash, still bound and wearing nothing but my panties and what amounts to a collar around my waist.
He wordlessly guides me into the elevator and then back out of it when we reach the top floor of the hotel, finally stopping in front of a door where he inserts his key card, opens the door, and tugs me inside. I stand motionless in the middle of the elegant room, watching as he shrugs out of his suit jacket and pulls off his tie. He glances at me, his eyes unreadable.
“Come here,” he rasps.
I slowly walk to him, and he turns me around gently. With patient fingers, he unties the ropes that bind my wrists. My arms and shoulders are tight from being forced into the same position for so long, and his strong fingers massage out the kinks until I feel my sore muscles soften like putty beneath his hands.
He rotates me so I’m facing him again and rubs his thumb across the marks the soft rope has left on the tender skin of my wrists.
“You have exquisite skin,” he marvels. “It marks beautifully.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I simply stand there, waiting to see what he’s going to do next.
He circles me much like Master Collin did, removes the harness from my waist, and then takes my hand, pulling me over to one of the elegant sofas.
“Sit. We should get to know each other.”
I lower myself gingerly until I’m perched on the edge of the sofa. “Can I, um, put some clothes on?”
“No,” he answers matter-of-factly.
Okay, then. I cross my arms protectively over my chest.
“Put your arms down,” he says softly, “or I’ll tie them behind you again.”
I swallow hard as something unfamiliar clenches in my core, and I slowly lower my arms, feeling my face flame. He sits down next to me and lifts my chin with his finger in a gesture that reminds me achingly of Emmett. Sweet, safe Emmett, who’s somewhere in this hotel but might as well be on the other side of the universe for all the good he’s doing me now.
“Your body is beautiful. I won’t allow you to be ashamed or self-conscious of it.”
“You won’t allow it?” I say incredulously. The man is unbelievable! “And how exactly do you plan to control how I think about my body?”
“By requiring you to remain naked—whether you’re here in the suite or out in the hotel—until you feel comfortable with your femininity,” he states bluntly. “If that doesn’t work, I have other ways of helping you overcome your insecurities.”
I give an involuntary little shudder. I have a feeling I don’t want to know what his “other ways” involve.
“I’m not insecure,” I protest. “I’m just not used to sitting around half-naked, carrying on a conversation with a man whose name I don’t even know.”
“It’s Roman,” he says, leaning back comfortably against the couch. “Roman Castile. But you will address me as Sir.”
I stare at him in disbelief. Is he serious? Apparently, he is.
“Aw, fuck me!” I swear softly.
Something almost like humor flares in his eyes, but he doesn’t crack a smile. “That’s fuck me please, Sir,” he corrects. “And I’d be happy to, but perhaps we’ll wait until we know each other a little better.” He quirks an eyebrow at me sardonically.
I feel my face flush again. This is worse than anything I could have imagined. When I see Emmett again, I’m going to sucker punch him in the stomach for ever suggesting this.
“It’s a hard limit,” I mumble.
“So, Avalon, tell me about yourself.”
I bristle at the sound of my given name. “It’s Ava.”
“Ava.” He repeats it
, my name rolling seductively off his tongue. “It’s a beautiful name, but I like Avalon better. It suits you.”
“I don’t answer to Avalon,” I say firmly.
“You’ll answer to whatever I tell you to,” he says softly, but there’s no mistaking the steely authority in his voice.
“Oh, really? I’d like to see you make me.”
To my surprise, he laughs, a rich, hearty sound that comes from deep in his chest and makes him almost seem approachable. Almost, but not quite. He has an uncanny way of keeping me constantly off balance around him.
“Oh, I assure you I will make you do whatever pleases me,” he says with a gleam in his eyes. “But for now, Ava, tell me why you don’t like to be called Avalon.”
I’m silent. He may have bought my body and I may be his for the duration of the games, but he didn’t buy my soul, and I certainly don’t owe him any explanations.
He sighs and stands up abruptly, grabbing my arm and roughly pulling me to my feet.
I tremble slightly, afraid he’s going to punish or hurt me, but instead he grasps my chin, holding me still as he looks into my eyes. Time stands still as we stare at each other, and something inexplicable passes between us. He’s close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in his eyes, which I realize are actually more gray than blue. His lips are full, and I stare at them, wondering briefly what they would feel like on mine. I’ve never wanted anyone to kiss me before, but I suddenly want nothing more than to know if his mouth is as soft as it looks.
As if reading my mind, he leans forward and presses his lips to mine. They are everything I’d imagined, velvet with an underlying edge of steel, and after a moment he gently but insistently pushes his tongue against the seam of my lips until I open them, granting him access. My stomach flutters as he slips inside my mouth, exploring the taste of me. I touch his tongue tentatively with mine, and with a groan he plunges deeper. His teeth nip my lower lip as he pulls back slowly, and he feathers tiny kisses along my jawline.