Cave Man's Captive

by Juliana Conners

  It looks like I’ll be going with pink.

  I gulp the rest of my drink down. Suddenly the waiter is back at my side.

  “A shot, dear?” he asks, holding up a small glass full of clear liquid.

  It’s tempting. I don’t know what awaits me out there and the cocktail I just finished sure feels good swirling around inside my veins and my mind. It aids me in not thinking too much, not asking too many questions like I usually do.

  I look over at Bianca, who is waiting for me to join her as she goes out onto the stage. I’m afraid she’ll disapprove because we don’t have time, but she nods at me and winks, as if knowing how much I need this drink.

  “I don’t really do shots…” I start to say, and the waiter places the tray on the table and holds up a smaller size glass full of the cocktail I’d just finished.

  “That’s why we have this chaser,” he assures me.

  Looks like I’ll be doing a lot of things tonight that I don’t usually do.

  “Okay, thanks,” I tell him, pounding down the shot and then gulping the chaser before I can feel it hit my stomach.

  This time I can’t hide my grimace. It was rough, but I’m already grateful for it as I relax a little bit more.

  I think about the guys waiting out there to bid on the pleasure of my company, and maybe more. Are they really handsome, and rich, and enviable, like Bianca says?

  My heart skips a beat as I finish the chaser and hand it back to the waiter with another nod of thanks.

  Then I grab the pink bracelet and hurry to catch up with Bianca, anxious to see what awaits me beyond the curtain.

  Chapter 6 – Maxim

  I watch the girls file out onto the stage, but I know all of them. None of them are the new girl.

  Where is she?

  I didn’t come here tonight to be with any of the women lined up in front of me. I could take any woman I wanted to dinner on Valentine’s Day. I could have an Ivy League educated debutante with whom to discuss politics, science or literature over wine and caviar.

  I could fly her to my cabin in Aspen where we could ski all day and fuck all night. I could marry her and have three gorgeous babies and live happily ever after.

  If I were just a normal man, even a normal filthy rich man, I could do any of these things. But I’m not a normal filthy rich man. I’m Maxim Drier. I have particular predilections. And that’s why I come to this club.

  I want a woman who will let me tie her up and spank her ass until it’s red and welted. I want a woman who will moan out of both pleasure and pain while the switches hit her bare skin and then beg me for more. And then I want to walk away from that woman and never have to see her again unless I want to pay her to do it all over again.

  Just when I’m beginning to think it was a lost cause and that I should just go home, I finally see the woman I’m hoping will be all that and more for me tonight. She walks hesitantly out onto the stage, following Bianca. She looks timid, out of place, and totally fucking gorgeous.

  My cock gets half hard at the mere sight of her. She has wisps of sandy hair— a beautiful mix of brown and blonde shades— falling down over her blue eyes and I want to tug on them while I fuck her from behind.

  She has the best figure I’ve ever seen: hourglass shaped with a curvy ass and full breasts. She has pale skin with beautiful red coloring in her cheeks.

  I immediately look for her bracelet, to see what color it is, but she’s still fiddling with putting it on. It seems to take forever for me to be able to see its color, and my heart nearly pounds out of my chest when I see what it is: pink.

  I search my memory of last week, when Bianca told me about the Valentine’s Day auction. I’m almost positive she told me pink meant they were down for everything. And I do mean everything.

  White is the normal yellow— dinner only, how boring. I don’t even bid on those girls. If they’re so chaste and shy they shouldn’t be working at a place like this. I don’t want to corrupt their innocence with my dirty, filthy ways.

  Red is still the same color as it is always is, and means normal sex. I used to consider girls on this level but it was a fucking tease, and a bore. So now I only go for girls wearing orange bracelets, which I’m pretty sure are pink tonight.

  Orange means they’ll do anal sex and some BDSM. Nothing too crazy. Nothing like I like to do. But enough that it suffices. More than girls outside the club are usually willing to do— which is why I like to come here.

  And then sometimes, on special nights like tonight, they change everything around and there’s a new level. Tonight, that level is signified by the pink bracelet— or at least I hope it is.

  Pink means I can do what I want with the girl who wears it. Any kind of freaky, kinky BDSM. I could lock her in a basement and keep her as my sex slave for a week if I wanted to… not that I would.

  A girl with a pink bracelet is mine for the taking, and the keeping. I’ve not only bought her body but her soul.

  But I had been so excited to hear about the new girl coming on Valentine’s Day that the rest of what Bianca said had all mixed together in a blur. So, I could be wrong about the colors, and I’m second-guessing it now that the new girl is wearing one.

  My understanding is that she’s filling in for Rachel, who is usually a yellow- bracelet, dinner- only type of girl. It’s odd that a brand- new girl would jump to the hardcore BDSM type level of service, especially when the girl she’s replacing wasn’t one of those girls.

  I just hope I’m right that this new girl is going to give me everything I could possibly want. Because if that’s true, then I’m in for a very happy Valentine’s Day indeed.

  Chapter 7 – Maxim

  Luckily, Terri is coming my way. She’ll help clear up this mystery about the new girl.

  “Maxim, so glad you could make it,” she says, sidling up to me and whispering in my ear. “Happy Valentine’s Day. I have some good news for you.”

  “I have a question first,” I ask her.

  “Of course,” she says. “Anything you need, just ask.”

  I’m their biggest spender. I know she’ll do anything to make me happy. But only the new girl can do that tonight.

  “I’m just making sure I understand the color system tonight,” I whisper. “The bracelet color representing the level I most like to purchase on special occasions such as tonight is now… pink… correct?”

  I’m almost afraid to ask, thinking for sure that the answer is no.

  But she just nods and smiles.

  “Yes, Maxim, that’s the level you prefer. And as always we appreciate your patronage.”

  Now my cock is standing at full attention, imagining the many different ways it wants to defile and degrade the innocent- looking girl standing on stage.

  I can’t believe someone who looks like she does— and who just showed up here for her first time, ostensibly standing in for a friend— would let me do such vile acts to her. But I suppose she knows the price tag for that level of service is very high.

  Maybe she needs to pay for college. My money will pay for that and then some.

  “And Bianca shared some good news with me,” Terri continues.

  I look at her, intrigued. What other good news could there be, now that I know this girl will let me do what I want with her?

  Bianca is one of the top girls at the club and helps Terri keep things running smoothly. She gathers intelligence among the girls and passes the word on to Terri so that Terri can let clients such as me know things that are of import to us. So, I’m interested to hear what Bianca has found out about the sweet young thing waiting for me to buy her.

  Terri leans in very close and cups her hand up around my ear.

  “She’s a virgin,” she says.

  “What?”

  I say this too loud, and the man next to me clears his throat, as he’s straining to hear the announcements being made on stage. It’s all old hat to me— they’re stating the opening bid for the first girl. But I just found out
that the one I want has never been touched. I wish I could say to him, Excuse me for being just a bit excited.

  “That’s what Bianca says,” Terri repeats, with a satisfied smile on her face.

  I do my best to act restrained. I don’t want her to think I’m inclined to spend any more at her club than the outrageous amount that I already do. I know she’s about to go whisper the same “good news” into the ears of another few potential bidders and I know she knows I’ll be the one to win the bidding. So, she already knows I’ll spend a fortune tonight.

  “I’m going to be needing the Enclave tonight,” I inform her, mentioning a private room where high-paying patrons take a girl when they want to skip the pretense of dinner and get down to the important matters on the agenda for the evening.

  “I figured as much,” she says, nodding as if it was a given. “And I’d already reserved it for your use tonight. Although, being that it’s a Valentine’s Day special tonight, there are quite a few others who are wanting it as well.”

  “Thank you,” I tell her, returning my full attention to the girl on stage. “And that’s understood.”

  The new girl is lovely and innocent and she has no idea what’s in store for her tonight once I buy her time, her body, her heart and her soul. It’s Valentine’s Day and I’m going to make her mine. In every way possible.

  Chapter 8 – Celeste

  “You’re up,” Bianca says, nudging me towards the front of the stage.

  I’ve felt frozen in a mixture of fear and excitement since I got out here. But now I force my feet to walk in the direction of the “auctioneer.” I still can’t get over how crazy all of this is.

  “Next up we have Rach— wait a second,” the auctioneer says, as he reads his notes.

  Bianca walks over to him and whispers something in his ear.

  “Standing in for Rachel tonight, we have the lovely Celeste,” the auctioneer continues, after clearing his throat. “She is a nineteen- year- old university student studying political science and creative writing, who seeks a career in journalism. She enjoys playing the guitar and listening to music.”

  Rachel must have given him that bio, and it’s not exactly accurate. I haven’t played the guitar since high school. And I already have a job in journalism. I won an award from my school’s journalism department that led to a part-time gig writing for the Phoenix Independent about political ethics.

  In fact, if anyone from my job found out I was here— doing this— I might get fired. On the other hand, I think, squinting out into the audience, I’m sure there are some high- up politicians here and that this little gig could lead to a great expose.

  “She’s wearing a pink bracelet,” the auctioneer announces, which reminds me that I can’t expose them for much, since I’m only going to be having Valentine’s Day dinner with them. “This is her first time here at The Exchange. We’ll start the bidding at ten thousand dollars.”

  I look up at the auctioneer, trying hard not to let my mouth fall open in amazement.

  Ten thousand dollars?

  Someone is going to pay that much just have dinner with me?

  “Here,” someone says, and I locate the man in the audience who is holding up a heart-shaped sign, indicating that he is placing a bid.

  He’s staring right at me— as are most of the other men right now, of course, since I’m in the process of being auctioned off— but my eyes immediately lock on his. He’s so attractive.

  Rachel was right. These guys are not only rich but also hot.

  “I’ve got ten thousand dollars; can I get fifteen thousand dollars?” the auctioneer says, and someone else raises their sign.

  I look over to that man but he is short and pudgy. So, I turn my eyes back to the first bidder.

  Please, my eyes beg him. Please bid higher. Don’t make me have dinner with that guy.

  He smiles at me, his light brown eyes— the color of coffee with cream— twinkling as if he knows what I’m trying to silently convey to him.

  “Twenty- five thousand,” he says, without waiting for the auctioneer to increase the bid.

  I expect there to be gasps or shocked reactions but everyone acts as if this is normal.

  “I hear twenty- five thousand, can I get fifty thousand?” the auctioneer continues, not missing a beat and in fact doubling the price.

  Fifty thousand?

  “Fifty thousand,” says yet a third man, holding up his sign.

  No way. Is this a dream?

  I try to remember what Rachel had said about what percentage of the total amount of money bid I get. I wasn’t really listening because I’m only doing this as a favor for her— not the money— and I was more worried about the particulars of the strange arrangement to which I hesitantly agreed.

  But if I’m remembering correctly, I think she said I get fifty percent, plus tips. Twenty- five thousand? For having dinner with a stranger?

  I look back over at the first bidder and can’t help but add:

  With a rich, handsome stranger?

  Count me in.

  No wonder Rachel works here. I can’t believe she would give up all this money just for Billy. She must be really into him. I hope he’s already proposed to her by now. Or maybe he’s waiting until after dessert.

  “One hundred thousand,” says the first bidder, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

  Although he’s seated, I can tell that he’s tall. His shoulders sit high above those of the men sitting on either side of him, and he has impeccable posture. He has a full head of dark brown, wavy hair. I don’t know very much about suits but his looks very fancy and expensive.

  He looks quite a bit older than me— old enough to be my father— but there’s also something sexy about that fact. I never thought I’d be into an older man and I get annoyed by the clichéd stereotype of all the old men and young girls in this city.

  But if they’re being paid fifty percent of one hundred thousand dollars, and if the man isn’t that old, but is a sexy kind of old, then I suppose I shouldn’t have been so harsh in my judgment. Or maybe I’m just making excuses. Because I would actually like to have dinner with this mystery bidder. And maybe even more than that.

  As the bidding increases— it’s up to one hundred and fifty thousand, and now two hundred thousand!— so does my heart rate. I also notice that I’m becoming noticeably wet.

  I shift the position in which I’m standing, as if other people can see how moist my panties are. I’m a bit embarrassed that I’m so turned on by the fact that I’m being auctioned off like cattle, as I’d so sarcastically called it when I was talking to Rachel. But the first bidder continues to be the high bidder no matter who else bids, and I enjoy the fact that he wants me so badly he’s willing to pay any price.

  Finally, the bidding is up to seven hundred fifty thousand dollars. The second bidder— the short, pudgy one— seems intent on winning this bidding war.

  “Eight hundred thousand,” he calls out, rather meekly now.

  He’s holding his sign up, but a bit lower than he usually does, as if he’s getting tired.

  Come on, I will the first bidder. You’re almost there…

  Sure enough, he stands up, not even bothering to bring his sign with him.

  “One million dollars,” he shouts.

  Now the men in the audience— and the other women still left up on stage— react like I expected them to in the beginning: sighs and gasps can be heard all around.

  The second bidder lets out a flustered sigh.

  “Fine,” he says, shaking his head. “You can have her.”

  Thank goodness.

  As the winning bidder curves his full lips into a smile, his eyes tell me he plans to get every penny’s worth with me out of his million dollar price point. It’s becoming clear to me that he wants me to be more than just a dinner date this Valentine’s Day. And it’s also becoming clear to me that I’m just fine with that idea.

  Chapter 9 – Celeste

  As I step off the st
age, the handsome and mysterious and obviously filthy rich winning bidder is there to greet me.

  “Hello,” he says, holding out his arm for me to take. “I’m Maxim Drier.”

  “I’m Celeste Sheffield,” I tell him, before thinking better of it.

  I guess there’s no anonymity here at The Exchange club. And I guess there’s also no need for him to pay up front. Because he puts a strong arm around my waist and ushers me to a different room.

  It looks like a restaurant, with private booths and curtains for the patrons. I expect Maxim to signal to a waiter but instead he keeps walking and I follow him, to another room off to the side.

  The room is like an enclave, with an outer area similar to what I imagine— from watching movies— the VIP room of a strip club must look like: a round bench made of plush fabric circling an open area with a table in the middle. There is another door leading to an inner room, and this is where Maxim finally takes me.

  What the hell?

  It looks like a torture chamber in here: with chains and hooks and whips hanging on all different areas of the wall.

  He shuts the door and I feel trapped. I know this should be a bad thing but it kind of feels like a good thing. Or at least a naughty, exciting thing.

  “Take off your dress for me,” he says, as he begins removing his pants. “I want to make the most of the time we have. There are a lot of things I plan to do to you tonight.”

  I stare at him, unable to believe his audacity, but somehow still loving it.

  “Aren’t we going to eat?” I ask, stupidly.

  His eyes narrow as he glares at me.

  “Do I look like a man who spends a million dollars to order you overcooked meat from a sex club posing as a restaurant?”

  This time I can’t stop my mouth from dropping open, but I do my best to close it quickly.

  Once he’s taken off his pants, he pulls off his underwear too. He has the largest cock I’ve ever seen— not that I’ve really seen all that many. But this one seems unnaturally big. He holds it in his hand and gently strokes it until it swells up even bigger.