Sold at the Ski Resort

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Sold at the Ski Resort Page 7

by Juliana Conners


  “$425,000!” Regrettably, the cowboy is back in action with this bid. But luckily, I can hear his fatigue. He may have a lot of money, but I can tell he’s not willing to part with it for me. Good. Not for much longer.

  “$525,000,” shouts Alex, as if he’s tired of toying with the competition. Like he just wants to leave them all in the dust, which I would love.

  Thankfully, Cowboy backs out. And so do many of the others who were bidding for me.

  But there is a challenging bid. One for $50,000 more, and from a man who sounds like he just flew in from Britain.

  For a moment, Alex doesn’t speak. But that’s not because he’s scared off. He’s just taking his second drink from the waiter and sipping on it. This one looks like something I would like. It has a cherry on top.

  “$575,000,” says Alex with a grin. Now he’s just toying with the mouse or a gazelle before he swallows it whole.

  The man from Britain makes another offer. It’s a bit more than Alex’s, but not much more.

  “$799,000,” says Alex, getting to his feet and taking a big swig of whatever he’s drinking. He also takes a big swig of me. From head to toe. As he does, I read one message loud and clear: you’re mine. Money doesn’t mean shit to me. You will be mine by the end of this, I guarantee it.

  I can’t help it. I giggle seeing how much he wants me. He may have a baby face and puppy-dog eyes, but he’s a real man. He knows how to throw his weight around.

  Then go ahead and take me, I think, nodding at him to accept his bid. To accept his ownership of me. Money doesn’t matter to me either. I have enough of it. What I want is you. So come get me, big boy.

  With those thoughts, I turn my eyes back to the rest of the unworthy audience and wait for what I already know is coming. The end of my bidding war. Most men have thrown in the towel, and now are just left trying to figure out what makes me so valuable.

  “$799,000,” says the MC, as if she can’t believe that big of a number being applied to me either, “going once, going twice…” As she did with Mariah, she pauses, but not as long. There’s not as much excitement to build up this time, and she knows it. “Sold!”

  To this news, Alex doesn’t celebrate. He simply finishes his drink and sets it down on the table. All without ever breaking eye contact with me.

  I hurry off the stage before the MC even has to ask, or before I have to spend another minute being studied by other men who don’t understand what makes me worth more than seven hundred grand.

  It’s because I’m his, I think, as I get closer to his table, and feel the magnetism of his eyes practically melt my insides, I was his, before the bidding even started. All of these men don’t understand that. And never will.

  Chapter 13

  Alex

  I always knew she would be mine, but it’s a completely different experience to have her standing in front of our table. Coming over to me with this deliciously demure but feisty attitude. We didn’t break eye contact with each other once. Not once during that whole bidding war, I realize, moving to take her hand, and leave with her as fast as I can.

  Though I can’t verbalize what makes that so fucking hot, it is. Maybe it’s because I know it means she wants me. Maybe it’s because I know women don’t give you that kind of eye contact unless they mean what they say, but either way, the moment my hand intertwines with hers, my mind is alive with what exactly I’m going to do to her.

  How exactly I’m going to break and expand the definition of ‘do whatever you want’ when it comes to owning her for a night. And I’m already in love with the possibilities. Lots of toys, for sure. Toys for insertion. Toys for teasing. Ones for a restraining and leading. Especially after I’ve got her helplessly suspended in something I have back at the room.

  Something I don’t even let myself think about too much as I turn to Jordan and say, “You’re on your own, man. Find your own way back after you get your own girl, or whatever.”

  Jordan looks at me as if none of this is surprising. “Cool, dude.” He drinks a bit more of his eggnog. The most I’ve seen him drink in one go in the last hour or so. “Don’t worry about me, man. Just worry about you.” He grabs a napkin, and wipes his mouth free of the milk mustache. “I might hang around and see if something goes in my favor,” he adds. “But whatever. I’ll worry about that. You just get going.” He turns completely to face the action going down on the stage.

  I take that as my queue to take Jane out of here with me, so I do. I take her quickly and quietly through the “upstream” that is all the tables. Some have been already vacated by their guests, and others are still occupied.

  In no time at all, we reach the entrance. The double doors, which open for us the moment we come within sight of the doorman.

  From there, we make our way through the body of the basement, and back up the shadow-shrouded stairs. Out the door we came through, the night and snow immediately descend. Both are thick, and falling heavily around us.

  “My car’s just up this way,” I say, remembering that she’s only in a sweater, and that sweater is quickly going to get soaked when the snow dissolves on the warmth and sexy housed within. “Watch your step,” I add, realizing there’s a bit of fresh ice that formed near my car.

  “Watching,” replies Jane. I don’t think it’s possible for any man to love the sound of a voice more than I loved hers. In that moment. In other moments. It’s so confident, yet sweet. So able to demand, yet relent.

  “There you are,” I say. I don’t know how, but somehow, I’ve managed to unlock my car, open the passenger side door for her, and carefully guide her into the waiting seat. The cushy thing made just for her perfect, sculpted ass. I help her get her feet in, and then buckle her. “I know you can do this all yourself,” I say, into her strawberry-shortcake curls, trying not to lose my mind over them, “if I let you. But I’m not letting you. You’re mine for the whole night, and that starts now.”

  Jane trembles adorably under this. Just what I wanted. Just what I was expecting.

  I savor the click of the seatbelt in its lock. How tightly the seatbelt sits across her chest, and makes her tits look even bigger. Even more ready to be at my mercy.

  “Think of it as pre-training,” I tell her. “Practice in obeying me, though I’m sure you don’t need it.” To this, Jane smiles. It’s a little too naughty for my taste. A little too mischievous. “Although, with a smile like that, you might.”

  “Yes, sir,” she says.

  I don’t let her see it, but I’m taken aback by this as I shut the door on her and go around to my side. I don’t even have to teach her how to address me, I think, feeling my blood start pumping. It’s below the belt, despite the cold. Already speaking like a good little sub. This thought fills the cab as I climb in, shut the door, and start the ignition.

  As we start our way out of the cold and forgotten parking lot, and onto one of the main thoroughfares that will lead us back toward the resort, I say, “I assume your dad taught you manners and obedience, but don’t think I won’t train you properly if I have to.” Again, I get what I want. Jane squirming in the seat next to me, like the good-bad little girl she’s probably fantasized about being. “Did you hear me, little girl? I make my voice a little deeper for her. A little more commanding.

  “Yes, sir,” she says, turning to me. Her eyes are wide and shining. Her cheeks are such a bright, happy red that I can even see their glow in the dark, intermittently-lit cab.

  “Do you need training?” I ask her, as I merge into the lane I need to be in.

  Jane blushes more deeply, but she doesn’t look away. “That’s for you to decide, sir,” she answers quietly. It’s here that she lowers her gaze a bit. “Train me however you need to, so that I know how to behave.”

  “That’s right,” I say. I suck a breath in, trying not to show her how much her voice gets to me. How much her perfect “sub” behavior is turning me on. We haven’t even gotten back to the resort yet, and already I can feel my cock pulsing. G
rowing against the confines of my slacks. In that moment, part of me wants to unzip my pants, and ask her to start sucking on it right here and now.

  The only thing that stops me is the sound of her stomach growling. Not the fact that there are drivers on every side of us. I would have her suck me off, even if there were twice as many, and even if they could see directly into the cab. But as her Sir, I can’t let her go hungry. Particularly not when I’m going to ask so much of her the moment we arrive. Jane apologizes to me for the tummy rumble. I can tell she’s embarrassed by it, but I’m not going to let her apologize. Or hide from her embarrassment.

  “You’re going to eat,” I say.

  Jane brings her eyes up to me. I can see she wants to further apologize, but that’s not what comes out of her mouth. What comes out of her mouth is a choice to stay in the “character” of sub. “Yes, Sir,” she says. “I will eat whatever you feed me, but you don’t have to stop.” She licks her lips, and I don’t know whether it’s to subdue her stomach-hunger, or because of another hunger already building. “I know you will feed me lots and lots of yummy things, when we get back to your room, Sir,” she adds.

  “Yes, I will,” I say, rubbing my cock through my pants. Petting the head slowly and heavily, so she can see. “But I don’t want or like it when my subs faint on me, so you will eat and drink what I order for you.” On those words, I hang the car into a sharp turn, and get directly into the line for a fast food joint. A burgers-and-fries kind of joint, since I feel like that’s more her style as opposed to fried chicken.

  As I want and expect, Jane offers no rebuttal, and no suggestions of what to eat as we pull up to the menu and I order.

  I decide to order her a kiddie meal. As much for the small amount of food (I don’t want her too full), as much for the kink of further aging her down. Putting her more in my control, and more into the role of submissive.

  “What do you say to me for getting you some food, baby girl?” I’ve decided I want her calling me “daddy” from now on, not sir. It’ll be a whole lot more fun that way. She seems like a Daddy’s girl. One that would definitely get riled up that. “What do we say to Daddy for taking pity on your little tummy before he makes you do stuff for him all night?” As I’m speaking and holding the red and yellow box in my fingers, just above her head.

  “Thank you, Daddy,” she says, raising her big but mischievous eyes toward me. “Thank you for feeding me.” She takes the box I’ve offered her gingerly. Demurely. “I promise I will eat it all up, Daddy. Every last little bit,” she adds.

  “Good girl,” I say. She’s waiting to open the box. Just like she should. If I haven’t given her permission, she shouldn’t act. “Eat,” I tell her, “and let me hear you enjoy it.”

  With the sexiest, “Yes, Daddy,” Jane dives into her kiddie meal. True to her promise, she lets me hear every moment of enjoyment. Every bite, and of burger, fries and every sip chocolate shake. And I love it. I start visualizing it’s her eating my cock and balls.

  Somewhere near the end of her meal, I turn so she can see the big rod I’m massaging through my pants. “You’re going to eat this when we get back to the room,” I say, snatching away the box I gave away so freely, “so I’m not gonna let you get any fuller.”

  Jane looks far from disappointed at this prospect. Her full lips look like they’re already hungering for a big, juicy mouth full of me. Something I again think I won’t be able to wait for the hotel to have. “Yes, Daddy,” she says. “I’m definitely hungry for you when you want to feed me.”

  Damn! I think, forcing myself to stop fondling myself and focus on driving again. Pulling out of the fast food parking lot, and onto the road again.

  From there, I try to make quick work of the distance between here and the resort without getting a speeding ticket. “I’m glad you’re so obedient, baby girl,” I say. “That makes Daddy very happy.” The entrance to the resort appears on the horizon. “But Daddy cares for his baby girl, so you have to tell him right now if anything’s off the table.” I lick my lips, once again consumed with the idea that I might have her suck me off in the car. But again, I don’t allow myself to pursue that fantasy. Or reveal that she’s getting to me that badly.

  Just as I’ve mentally reminded myself that I’m the one who’s in charge and needs to stay in charge, Jane says, “Daddy is very kind, but Daddy doesn’t need to worry.” I glance over at her, just in time to see her fiddle cutely with her hair. “I said anything, and I meant anything, Daddy.” She glances at me. Just barely, I can see an ember of mischief hidden in her innocence. “You’re in charge, not me.”

  I cut the engine on the car, take my keys out of the ignition, and climb out in just such a way so that she has to see my erection through my pants before I cover it up with the ends of my suit jacket. “Then Daddy will do as he pleases.” With that, I close my door, and go around to open Jane’s.

  I instruct her to climb out herself, this time.

  She does, quickly. Efficiently.

  I then command her to walk in front of me as we enter the resort hotel. She does so expertly as we make our way past the check-in desk.

  From there, I guide her to my room. The whole time I move further through the hall, I make sure she can feel my hard dick against her apple ass.

  ***

  Once in the room, I tell her to strip. Slowly, only taking off the clothes I instruct her to.

  I have her start with the shoes and socks she’s wearing, because I know that’s not what she’s expecting. She’s expecting me to go right for the tits, ass or pussy, but I’m gonna make her wait for that.

  What I don’t make her wait for, however, is a glimpse at my plans for her. As she’s taking off her shoes and socks, I begin to take out my black bags full of toys and other bondage gear. Slowly and methodically, I begin laying each piece out —dildos, vibrators (big and small, for clits and tits), flogs, paddles, and ties — giving her a different command that she sees each one.

  During the dildos, it’s a command for her pants — her jean-like sweats — to come off. They do, before I even have to turn around, or even think about saying it a second time.

  While laying out the vibrators, it’s a call for her sweater. Like the pants, she practically melts out of it.

  I lay out my flogs and paddles, being sure she has a very good look at this side of my plans. The kinky, nonstandard side. The side she agreed to when she said “whatever.”

  I throw down the ties as well as a few pairs of nipple clamps, as I turn to look at her. Like she should be, Jane is standing demurely and obediently in nothing but her lacy bra and panties. Even from where I am, I can see her naughty pink nipples poking out against the sheer fabric. Swelling with each breath in and out, practically begging to be played with. Tickled between a tongue and pinched between a bit of metal.

  I let myself think how delicious it’s going to be to put those big, luscious berries in a set of nipple clamps, but don’t allow myself to linger. I force my eyes to comb her shapely, filled-out belly. It’s not chubby, but it’s not unbelievably skinny either. From there, I drink in the shape of her pussy from inside the panties. The lace is a little hard to see through, but I know she’s shaved. I know that by the absence of a dark patch breaking up the pattern on the fabric. I can also make out the beginnings of some cute pink lips. Things I wouldn’t be able to see if she didn’t keep herself trimmed.

  “Panties off,” I bark at her. I do so to hide my growing interest, and the fact that she’s got me feeling lightheaded already. “All the way,” I add, though I don’t need to. Again, it’s mostly to keep her from noticing the tremor I’ve got in my voice. The shake I’ve got in my hands, as I finish laying out my tools of the trade. Not much more. Just a blindfold, and some handcuffs, though I doubt I’ll be using them. Not for this session anyway.

  Jane’s done what I’ve asked, and now stands in front of me and all her glory. Shaved pussy visible. I study her mound, the little divot in it — the pink lusciousnes
s hanging down — and try not to drool. If I wasn’t required to be her master right now, I would be on my knees, sucking those lips dry.

  I lick my lips, uttering my final command. “Bra off.” My voice is husky. Deeper than usual, but that’s my cock’s fault. He’s straightening so hard against the pants I won’t unzip, he might sprain something.

  So, I decide to unzip. But for my relief, not hers.

  She watches me unzip. I see her body tense, as if she’s expecting me to order a blow job.

  “You stay where you are,” I tell her. “I’m in control of every single thing you will do, see, taste and touch tonight.” Obediently, Jane nods and plants or feet. Even when it means standing on top of her recently-shed bra and panties. “If you are allowed to do something, it will only be because I say.”

  Again, Jane nods, and I walk to her. As I do, I confidently and smoothly free my cock from not only the slacks I’ve unzipped, but my briefs. Unsurprisingly, he’s already rock hard. Big and tall, and ready for her. But I’m not ready to allow myself or her to have him. I push down on the head of my cock commandingly. I let her see the gesture, sending her a look that says, “This could be your head, if I so wanted.”

  Jane makes a gesture of understanding, but nothing more. It’s maddeningly sexy the way her cheeks and mouth have gotten brighter, pinker, the more she stares at my cock. Traces the lines of it from underneath her golden, thick eyelashes.

  Without a word, I put my mouth on her. Start to kiss her neck, chest, brass and tummy. I kiss all the way down to the place where her tummy and pussy meet, and stop. I then start working my way back up toward her neck, but with sucking and licking gestures, instead of kissing ones.

  Where my kisses brought soft moans out of her, these bring louder, heavier ones. They smoke down at me like smoke embers from horny dragon. Her radiant, warm moans and groans make me suck and lick her harder. Faster. Particularly around those gluttonous nipples of hers, that just seem to get bigger and fatter with every bit of attention I lavish on her. I alternate, loudly and fiercely sucking both nipples, growling, “Greedy nipples you have, Jane. You must be hungry. Otherwise they wouldn’t be begging for so much attention.” On “attention” I dare to give each nipple a little nip. Not hard. Just enough to let her know I’m not afraid to put some teeth in it.

 

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