Sold at the Auction

by Cassandra Dee

  “Welcome,” she said chirpily. “Handlers, I can take over from here,” she nodded.

  And the two masked men stepped back, the elevators closing around them, like a nightmare departing.

  I stood stock still, unsure of where I was, what was happening. But the woman got up and bustled towards me, a chubby blonde dressed in a fitted white apron.

  “Welcome!” she said chirpily again. “Welcome to the preparation stage, or just “Prep” as we call it! I’m Melissa, your handler for the time being. Or as I like to say, I’m your ‘guide’ for this portion of the ‘tour.’”

  I almost snorted at her fake cheeriness, but the thing was she hardly seemed fake. The blonde really was smiling and bubbly, even though she must have known what I’d just been through, that I’d just been auctioned off to a man.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m a little confused. What’s going on? And what’s ‘Prep?’”

  The blonde chortled merrily.

  “It’s for you to get prepped of course! We make sure our girls are in top condition when they’re handed to buyers, so of course, we take good care of them. You must be tired and hungry,” she said, taking my elbow and guiding me down a pale blue hallway, leading me to a small, plush waiting room. “Please, have a snack.”

  I gasped. There was a cornucopia of fruit and veggies, plus little pastries, petit fours, even chocolate-covered strawberries. I looked at the spread but there was nowhere near enough, I needed real food and not dainty nothings.

  “I’m so sorry,” I hesitated, biting my lip. “But I’m really hungry. Could I get something more substantial? Maybe a burger or some pizza?”

  And Melissa’s tinkling laughter sounded again.

  “Sure, I’ll order a salmon salad for you,” she agreed. “But why don’t you make yourself comfortable for the time being, read some magazines, have some rose-infused ice water. You must be parched,” she said, picking up a crystal pitcher with pink petals floating inside. “Let me pour you a glass.”

  But when she handed me the water, I looked at it skeptically. I was afraid to put anything in my mouth in this place, honestly, look what had happened to Rachel. Melissa’s laugh just rang out again.

  “Nothing but water,” she chirped merrily. “Well that, plus a little rose.”

  And screw it, I was so thirsty that I took a sip. Ah, the cool liquid hit the spot, sliding down my throat as I drank more, letting the delicious water calm my nerves, refreshing me from the inside. I could almost feel myself decompressing, the nightmares of tonight fading somewhat.

  And Melissa nodded.

  “Isn’t it amazing what a little water will do?” she remarked with a smile. “Here, why don’t you take that off, and put this on,” she said, holding out a plush, terrycloth bathrobe. I needed no persuading for this and in an instant, was out of the midnight blue cloak, the velvet dropping in a puddle to the ground, and into the bathrobe, letting the soft material hug my curves, like a big teddy bear giving me a hug.

  “Thanks,” I said quietly. “You can’t imagine what I’ve been through, it’s been really hard.”

  Melissa laughed gently.

  “All the girls say that when they come here, but think of this as a break,” she said comfortingly. “Here’s where you’re gonna be primped and pampered, made to feel like a princess before you meet your buyer. So relax,” she said merrily. “Eat, drink, read magazines or even catnap a bit. I’ll be back once your bath is ready,” she said, letting herself out, shutting the door behind her.

  And despite the low music playing, the soothing strains of violins, I heard the lock snap shut behind her. Because this was still a prison, despite the food and drink, the rose-infused water, the luxurious spa-like atmosphere. Even if I was in for a pampering, the underlying truth of my situation still stood. I was a prisoner, I’d been sold, and after all this was over, there would be a man on the other side, ready to claim his goods, made fresh and pretty for his pleasure.

  My only consolation, as embarrassing as it was to admit, was that my buyer was the dark man. God, I hoped it was him. It had to be him. I couldn’t survive this if it wasn’t him, I couldn’t survive a week in captivity, my heart, mind, and soul would break if it wasn’t him. So getting down on my knees in the small room, I did something I hadn’t done in a long time. I prayed. I prayed, pressing my forehead to my clasped hands, eyes squeezed shut, mentally begging the gods, the spirits, the nymphs of the world to have mercy on me, to work with me, to offer a boon. And my thoughts were inarticulate, words passing through my soul soundless, more a rush of feeling, of emotion, grief and happiness mixed into one. Because I wasn’t praying for my escape, or to be free from these binds. Quite the opposite. I was praying for the dark man to be my captor, for the man with blue eyes to make me his.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Troy

  I sat on a stool in the bathroom, my big form indolent, relaxed, still dressed in a suit despite the steamy interior. Because I’d bucked all tradition. Normally, the product is prepped and primped within an inch of her life before she’s turned over to the buyer, the girl’s given the full spa treatment, all sorts of feminine fripperies, I had no idea what exactly. But I couldn’t wait. After the auction, I’d tapped my foot impatiently as the money transferred, as two million big ones were direct deposited from my account into escrow. And after the screen flashed, “Confirmed,” I let out a growl.

  “Are we done now?” I ground out to no one in particular. But this is the Billionaires Club and you’re never really alone, so of course a voice piped up from nowhere, computerized, like an android answering my question.

  “Yes, sir,” it said complacently. “Please feel free to return to your quarters, the woman will be delivered to you after Prep is over.”

  But I shook my head furiously.

  “Naw,” I ground out. “I want to see her now.”

  The voice remained unfazed.

  “If you like, there is a viewing area for buyers,” intoned the computer. “You may view your charge as she is bathed and primped, anonymously of course.”

  But I shook my head, still dissatisfied.

  “Naw, like I said, I want to see her now. I want to see her, to touch, to lay eyes on her without a wall of glass between us, see those boobies jiggle,” I said. Fuck, I shook my head. I’m an alpha male but this was getting crazy, like an obsession. And I hadn’t even met the little girl yet, not formally at least. I’d just seen that beautiful body on the dais, watched as she played with herself, and it wasn’t enough. I had to have her.

  Because fuck, I don’t pay big money to view the goods through a glass case, I wanted to touch, to fuck, to play with that little girl, feel that steaming cunt wrapped around my dick, and the sooner the better. So I grunted, speaking again.

  “Tell you what,” I ground out. “Why don’t I get her clean, it can’t be that complicated right? I shower every day, I know what to do.”

  And the voice was silent for a moment. I almost thought it was going to say no, that I was going to have to find management to complain, lodge some written statement. But instead, it spoke again, unperturbed as always.

  “Yes, of course, you may join Article Twenty-One in the bath if you wish. Please depart your booth.”

  And the door to the console whisked open, a path of lights flickering along the walkway. I stepped out of the booth and followed the guides, walking for what seemed like miles on a twisted, crooked road, even leading me up and down, climbing mountains before descending into valleys. I was going to have to get management on this, I was here to enjoy myself, not work up a sweat.

  But finally, a doorway appeared in the wall, sliding open with a hiss, leading to a gilded bathroom. The fucking place was cavernous, the size of a modest apartment, there was a spa bath, a shower, two sinks, a dressing room, a lounge, all the walls tinted a subtle gold, sprays of flowers positioned strategically. And fuck, it was steamy too, luxurious, a sweet fragrance greeting my senses.

  “Please ma
ke yourself comfortable,” the voice piped up again. “Article Twenty-One will be delivered shortly.”

  I grunted, seating myself on a stool.

  “By the way,” I called out to no one in particular. “Could you get lost for a while? I want some privacy with my new purchase.”

  Again, only silence. Did that mean the computer was off? Or was it on still, and just listening? But the voice rang out once more.

  “Certainly sir,” it said, and with a small click it was gone with an eerie silence. Or at least I hoped it was gone. You never knew with this place.

  But I sighed. Fuck, I didn’t really care if they watched as I sampled the girl, enjoyed that luscious female form. I’m ripped and toned with the body of a god, and I don’t mind performing for unseen eyes. And fuck, these girls were made for fucking, so of course I was going to fuck my charge, that’s what I wanted from the brunette, those huge tits pressed in my mouth, her cunt squeezing me tight as she bounced up and down my cock. So if they wanted to watch, that was fine by me.

  But where the hell was my charge? I looked around, rolling my eyes. Sure the bathroom was luxurious, the tub already steaming with water, but where the fuck was my girl? And suddenly, the door cracked open and my purchase stepped in. She was wearing some huge terrycloth robe, the midnight blue cloak gone, but the fuzzy fabric couldn’t hide the generous curves beneath, the luscious femaleness.

  Pausing tentatively into the tiled room, not seeing me at first, the brunette looked around wide-eyed at the bathroom, taking it all in. With small steps, she approached the tub, the warm water beckoning, small whirlpool jets causing bubbles to foam invitingly on the surface. And then she paused. It was endearing actually. A lot of women I knew would have waltzed in like a queen, upset that there weren’t servants to do their bidding. But this was new to the brunette, and it was cute how she padded over to the tub like a tip-toeing mouse.

  But once she got to the tub, all inhibitions flew away. Because the thick terrycloth bathrobe was gone in a moment, her luscious form coming into view for the first time since the auction as she stepped into the water. And oh shit, oh shit, but the girl was perfect. Sitting on the stool, I devoured her all over again, those huge, bouncy breasts with the pink nips, the tiny waist that flared into generous hips, all of it leading to the sweet vee between her legs. Because fuck yeah, that’s where the treasure lay, that was where I was going to suck, lick, and yeah, fuck, find my ending, burying myself deep as she screamed in ecstasy.

  So I made myself known then, just as the girl dipped a toe into the steaming bath, her pink cunt spreading slightly as her legs parted, getting ready to lower herself into the water.

  “How are you?” I rumbled casually, eyes glued to her slit, devouring that sweet form. “Feeling relaxed little girl?”

  And she let out a small scream then, turning swiftly, mouth dropping open, brown eyes wide with shock and surprise. But to her credit, the brunette didn’t panic although a stranger had just revealed himself in her bathroom. She merely snatched at her robe, grabbing it off the ground and wrapping it tightly around herself, the terrycloth shielding that luscious figure.

  “Who-who are you?” she stammered. “What are you doing here? They didn’t tell me someone would be in here.”

  And I chuckled then, deep in my throat.

  “What do you mean, who am I?” I rumbled. “I’m the man who bought you. And as for being here, well I won you fair and square, you belong to me now, so no place is off-limits.”

  The girl flushed upon hearing those words.

  “Bu-but what does that mean?” she asked, stammering slightly. “What does it mean, ‘I belong to you’?”

  My eyebrows went up again, and not in a good way. What the fuck, had the Club not done its job? What did we pay these lackeys for, didn’t they prep the girls on what was expected, what was to come?

  But I didn’t feel like getting into it now, the rules and regulations were boring and dry, like reading a dictionary. All I wanted was that sweet body, to taste this beautiful girl. So I looked at her speculatively once more and decided to ignore her question.

  “So baby girl, tell me what brings you here,” I said casually. “How is it that you’re at the Billionaires Club?”

  She flushed. This was a weird place to have a getting-to-know-you conversation, sure, but it seemed crass to take her without even knowing her name, a little of her background. She bit her lip before murmuring, “My friend and I were on a trip to Vegas and … we found ourselves here.”

  I nodded knowingly. It wasn’t surprising to hear that two girls on a party jaunt in Vegas had a sudden change of plans when approached by one of our procurers. Because there’s just so much fucking money, it’s hard to rip your eyes away from the prize. So I asked mildly, “Any regrets?”

  And I’m not sure what I expected to hear next. Either breathy declarations that “Yes, this was the best decision of my life,” or whining complaints about being dragged here, how it was so hard to go up on stage, how she felt like livestock.

  But the brunette took me by surprise because she didn’t go either way. Instead, the woman took a deep breath, as if summoning her courage, and looked me straight in the eye.

  “No, no regrets, not now that you’re here,” she murmured, looking into my deep blue gaze, her eyes pools of chocolate, easy to drown in.

  And fuck, but my dick stiffened immediately, becoming diamond hard. Because the brunette had just admitted that she wanted me, she wanted to explore where this would go, give herself up to a week of sensuousness, my male form dominating her, taking her, owning her, branding her as mine. And not only that, but the Girl in Gold was a virgin, someone without a clear idea of what was going to happen, and yet she’d just admitted that with me, she wanted it. She wanted to fuck me. I shouldn’t have been surprised of course, women lay themselves at me feet, begging for a taste of my cock, to feel my body hard on theirs, demanding, impaling. But with this girl it was different. Her admission was so sweet, so giving that I felt ten miles tall, like I could own the world, a warrior descending from the heavens. And fuck, but I wanted her too. If I’d lusted for her before, then I wanted the brunette ten times more now, and there was no point in waiting anymore. My dick, which had been semi-stiff for the past hour, was no longer taking no for an answer and I had to get inside asap before it burst in a sticky mess on the floor.

  “Take off your robe,” I commanded, eyes blazing all over her body. “Get in the tub.”

  She obeyed without hesitation, the white terry slipping off her narrow shoulders once more, revealing the creaminess within, the giant breasts, the sweet pooch of her tummy. But it was all hidden as she slipped into the water, gracefully descending, the steam rising to shield her face, turning her into a goddess of mystery.

  “Good,” I grunted. “Soap yourself,” I commanded, still unmoving, like a giant statue across the room. “Get those curves wet.”

  And the girl obeyed, pouring a bit of shower gel into her palm and running it over her sweet form. She was no shy pansy, her breasts were right at the water’s edge and she caressed them sensuously, rubbing circles around her nipples, stroking them, pinching the hard nubs until she gasped, throwing her head back in ecstasy, mouth parted slightly at the sensations.

  “Down below as well,” I ground out, my eyes never leaving her. “Get good and clean.” And with a shy smile, her hands descended under the water line. I couldn’t see what was happening, but the mental picture made me stiffen, heat flaring in my chest, blood rushing to my groin. Because the girl threw her head back and moaned again as waves rippled in the tub, the result of her ministrations.

  “Ohhhh, feels good,” she gasped breathily. “Feels good.”

  And maybe it was her bobbling breasts, maybe it was the heat of the room, but I couldn’t take it anymore. Getting up, I was across the bathroom in two giant strides, kneeling by the tub.

  “Up,” I commanded. And her eyes flickered open, looking at me dazed, hand still playing wit
h herself, massaging those soft folds.

  “Up,” I ground out again. “Stand up.”

  And slowly, the brunette did as told. She rose in the bath, water sluicing off those generous curves, sliding down her breasts, trailing over her tummy, a literal waterfall descending from between her legs, all of it fragrant and sensuous. I grabbed a razor from a small ledge, holding it up.

  “That’s right,” I said, reaching one big hand to stroke her cunt, to finally touch those sweet folds. “I’m gonna shave you bare down here.”

  She flushed then, gasping a bit, knees wobbling slightly, and I nodded.

  “Your landing strip is gorgeous baby girl,” I ground out, running my fingers up and down that sweet brown patch, “but I like my girls completely bare, soft and fleshy, so get ready honey, get ready to lose it all.”

  And gasping, she grabbed the ledge next to the tub, steadying herself because my hands were already beginning its magic. I softly stroked through her folds, feeling that sweetness and fuck, but she was drenched. Not a little bit damp, a little bit moist, but fucking sopping, there was shit ton of female nectar on my palm. And I loved it. I loved her slit, the way her labia grew puffy under my hands, and dropped my head for a moment, kissing the base of her slit. She gasped throatily, throwing her head back and moaning.

  “Never felt a man here before, huh?” I ground out. “Well, get ready for more.”

  And with that, I helped her lift a knee, positioning a foot on the edge of the tub so that her pussy opened on its own, the interior of that beautiful pink cunt coming into view. Holy shit, it was an untouched cunt and never had I seen anything so gorgeous. Pearl pink on the inside, her labia moist and glistening, the lips spread a bit to reveal that secret channel before joining at the top in a hard nub.

  And once more, unable to resist, I dipped my head and lapped at her clit, the small ball jumping in my mouth as I touched it.