The morons, thought Michael again, as he patted each slave once on his way to the door. They don’t deserve these guys, even the ones who aren’t ready.
And even as the owners and their friends and loved ones piled in, fresh from their “how to bid” instructional class, he wondered why he was just so unreasonably angry and frustrated today.
I should be enjoying this. I thought I’d be having the time of my life! He plastered a big smile on his face as one of the newbies approached him, her folder of slave biographies and house rules in her hands. “Which ones did you train?” she asked him, flirting. He made his insincere smile even wider as he took in her stylishly hand-made leather minidress and patent leather heels, her perfectly colored and waved hair and her exactly lifted face. “All of them,” he said. “I helped with them all!“
Maybe that’s what I need, he realized. I’m wasted just helping out! I know when they’re ready now. I just need to prove myself! My own slave to train, my own project. I’m the one who’s finally ready! The thought flooded his mind and seemed to spill through his body, streaming through his veins like a whisky toddy, making him both exhilarated and light-headed. That’s it! he realized. That’s what I need to talk to Geoff about. My own slave, from start to finish, so I can tell when she’s ready.
Filled with relief that the mystery was solved, he returned his attention to the auction and cheerfully helped the owners and would-be owners as they examined the flesh for sale.
* * * *
“And congratulations to Mistress Heather, the new owner of Salim,” Geoff said, bringing the gavel down with a resounding crack. Mistress Heather was one of the few newbies Michael actually liked. He was pleased, both for her and for Salim, who would get a taste of real ownership now. Pity it was just a taste! If it were up to me, you’d be going for years, Michael thought, now in a more charitable state of mind. But at least you’ll have a fun weekend!
Heather was smiling proudly as she brought out a collar and locked it around Salim’s throat. The new slave was positively shaking with glee; his cheeks were wet with tears. Fellow owners applauded politely as Heather pushed the slave’s head down so he could kiss her shoes.
Nice move, Michael thought. Put him in his place right away, that’s the way to do it. Heather had a good touch, good instincts. She was one of the ones who always had fantasies about owning slaves; she wasn’t just looking for a human sex toy, but a house full of people doting on her every whim.
By cultivating her, Geoff could easily do millions of dollars of business with her over the years. Or, I could, Michael thought. If I was a full trainer. I could own a house... well, maybe not like this fucking palace, but a nice big one anyway. Full of clients and my own trainees. I’d bring them here to show them off and get them extra training, and Geoff would send some of his slaves to me from time to time, like he does with the other trainers in his network. I’d get to travel all over the world and go to all those trainer meetings and make my own money and soon, yeah, I’d have my own house of slave girls—a matching set of two at least, like kinky sisters...
The auctioneer was starting the next sale. “Now we have lot number seven, Alicia! Alicia is twenty-six years old, a versatile slave trained to provide pleasure to men and women alike. Please see her brief on page nine of your catalog. Alicia’s contract is for two weeks, starting tonight, and I see we have an opening bid already!“
Actually there were about three opening bids, and hands shot into the air almost too quickly for Michael to follow. Only Tatty was left after Alicia, so anyone who hadn’t gotten a slave seemed a little desperate right now. Douglas was in the bidding for her, and turned sharply to glare at anyone bidding against him.
Since these were micro contracts, prices rarely went very high, although someone like Douglas could always send them spiraling in a bidding war with someone else who had poor impulse control.
Won’t find me making that mistake, Michael swore to himself. And not over a stupid two-week contract, that’s for sure! They were only slaves—it wasn’t like these new owners were gonna keep them forever; and even the real contracts weren’t for that long—most of them one or two years. You can always find another blonde with big tits or a pretty black girl with a sweet ass or just about anything you wanted. No sense in going overboard.
This is why I am a trainer, he reflected as the bids started getting out of hand. A lot of these owners are just into... immediate gratification. But Geoff often taught that patience was essential to training and being trained.
And I’ve been patient! It’s just that I’m done now and ready to move on. I’ll be a trainer first, owner second. In fact, why should I ever buy a slave? I can train my own, to please me, and keep them as long as I want! Then when I get tired of them I can sell them.
Geoff was speaking, interrupting the bidding. “Remember, my friends, this is only for two weeks! There’s still one property left and we’ll have another micro auction in just two months.“
It worked enough to drop a few of the bidders out of the running; in the end, Douglas just won by sheer stubbornness. Michael could see one of the counter bidders turning away to hide his annoyance, and gave the man a little shrug as if to say, “what are ya gonna do?” The owner wannabee smiled and shrugged back, and then eyed one of the slaves waiting on her knees to answer any request from the bidders. He beckoned and Michael nodded in approval.
Douglas sprang up with a triumphant “Hah!” and pulled a gold link necklace out of his pocket, then fished around to find the lock. Alicia smiled at him and started to make a pretty curtsey, but he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her back to his chair while she was bent over. She stumbled slightly but quickly balanced herself to follow and when he sat down again, sank to her knees.
“I’ve been waiting for this all day,” Douglas said, pointing at his crotch and grinning at his fellow masters and owners. “I didn’t buy this mouth for singing, sweetheart. Suck me off, slave bitch!“
There was some general laughter, which seemed to be what he intended, and he spread his legs wide while Alicia opened his fly and carefully took the condom rushed over to them by one of the serving slaves.
“Congratulations to Douglas on acquiring Alicia!” Geoff laughed, as the slave girl went to work. “Maybe you will let her sing to you later in the week.“
“Fuck, I’m not done yet, Geoff! Get the next sweetie up and we’ll see if I can bid while this slut is distracting me. She plays the skin flute just fine!” There was more laughter in the room, although two of the would-be owners exited. Michael didn’t blame them. Douglas had pretty much announced he would just outbid anyone wanting Tatty, and he could certainly afford to.
Hell, I’d leave if it wouldn’t look bad, Michael thought. He tried to think of what else he could be doing—did one of the new owners leave, perhaps needing some help in the dungeon? Could he say he was supervising the service staff? He sighed and shifted from one foot to the other as the bidding started. Douglas didn’t seem to have any problems bidding, and this time the other bidders dropped out fast.
It was kind of a let down actually, Michael thought. Tatty went to Douglas at a price very near what he’d paid for Alicia. He almost cackled when he won, and didn’t bother to get up to collar her—he was busy! Instead, he commanded her to join Alicia on her knees and ordered them to switch off on his cock, a few pumps for each girl.
It would have been a lot hotter if I didn’t think he was such an asshole, Michael thought. But at least now he could leave.
* * * *
Perhaps inspired by Douglas, perhaps in competition with him or maybe because they were kinky fucks, most of the other new owners did take their slaves out to play right away. Geoff encouraged it; he called it a bonding period. Bonding, bondage, what was the difference, right? So Michael found himself helping Mistress Heather put a rope harness on Salim, who was still trembling and shaking even an hour after his auction. Soon, he was strung up on a huge and intricate spider web of rope pla
ced between two pillars in the main playroom. Heather had brought her own set of toys including a few beautiful floggers made of exotic leather, like sharkskin. She was damn good with them, too, able to use one in each hand if she wanted to. She showed them all to Salim as he sweated in his bondage, and then slipped a soft leather hood over his head and laced it up. He gasped through the open mouth slit and Michael winked at Heather before moving on. Clearly, she had everything under control.
One of the newbies who didn’t get a slave was consoling himself by fucking a fairly new client up the ass. The fresher clients were mostly bound or blindfolded or both, and chained to furniture with their uses listed on a poster nearby. Very little was left to chance; if a client was too new for a gang bang, they could only be fondled, spanked, or otherwise gently used. If they had some experience serving sexually but couldn’t be counted on to speak politely to anyone using them, they were gagged. If they had one or more fuckholes off limits, they were plugged. All very organized, and people generally obeyed the rules. After all, they wanted to be invited back.
Michael heard several guests discussing an infamous annual party somewhere in Colorado where over one hundred slaves were made available like that for days on end; man, what he’d give to be invited to that! He wondered if that owner had been inspired by Geoff’s style, or even trained by Geoff.
Crystal was also circulating and offering to help wherever necessary. She had changed into a latex party dress, probably not the best choice with that extra bounce in her belly, but no one seemed to mind.
Michael had dressed for the auction in his leather jeans, boots, and a black silk shirt. For the after-auction party, he took the shirt off and slipped on a leather vest, very butch! He knew his broad shoulders, straight hips and taut stomach looked good framed in black leather; one of his future purchases would be a harness to further emphasize his build. Or maybe a hat! There were two guys here, husbands, both in matching black leather master caps, and Michael thought the look was very hot. Yeah—a hat first, and then the harness. Gay guys would just cream and pretty much any girl past the most man-hating lesbian would like the look on him, too. He liked dressing up, enjoyed the way people reacted to him when he eyed them with his dark-ringed blue eyes. But in an hour, when the guests remaining would sit down for a formal dinner, he planned to strip completely down and relax in the private hot tub over by the pool house, the one set aside for household members. Every client in the house would be either used to serve or be chained by one of the new owners, and it was his free time.
I’ll use the time to think of what to say to Geoff, he thought with pleasure. I can lay it all out for him, why I’m ready, how I realized it.
He stopped by two owners preparing to share a slave between them and adjusted the spanking bench they were using to elevate the slave’s ass a little more. They thanked him and he moved on.
By this time next year, I could have my own place, he mused. Not too close to here, maybe up in LA? Or up north some? Uncle Niall will loan me money if I need it, but I can make a little here first, once I’m a real trainer. Geoff will give me a cut of the sales, then, not just my stipend. Actually, Niall said I could stay with him any time—what if I set up with him for a while? Then I can save the money for my own place! And Geoff must have some way of helping his trainers out, they all come back to him for advice and to trade clients.
“Michael? I was wondering if I could get one of the other slaves in private for a while?” The would-be master looked resigned; he had been sensible in his bidding but had been hoping for Tatty. “I’m not much into the public thing...”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Michael promised, flashing a confident smile. After all, this guy might be a future part of my owners circle. Might as well start cultivating them now.
* * * *
After dinner, some of the guests left; others congregated at the firepit for more outdoor entertainment, including a very neatly scheduled gangbang of two of the newly sold slaves. Two matching fucking chairs were brought out and Alicia was positioned on her back in one while one of the other girls was on her belly in the other. Douglas had Alicia and Tatty chained in a sixty-nine position during dinner; his generous offer of “dinner theater.” Michael was glad to have missed that show, despite enjoying lesbian sex as much as any straight guy.
I’ll be more selective with my owners circle, he promised himself as he watched one of the owner-guests shove a strap-on cock into Alicia’s pussy. Of course, I can’t control who shows up at an auction and buys, but you better believe old Doug there won’t be on my A-list for parties.
How did Geoff handle having to be so polite and patient and encouraging to such people? he wondered. Especially after watching them fuck like a bunch of horny teenagers in your backyard and throw up in the bushes?
Okay, so that only happened a few times, and it wasn’t something you could always select for. Michael knew he was drinking too much on this particular night, despite the self-lectures and repeated dips in the pool to cool down. The hot tub had helped for a while, until he had to dress up again and come out to help with the play and socializing. He was also supposed to be carefully coaching or instructing when possible or necessary, although he was shirking that as much as he could. Even understanding why he was so annoyed didn’t do much to help his overall mood. He escaped into fantasies of his eventual training house and kept that insincere smile plastered on his face whenever he bumped into someone.
Uninterested in the thrusting hips and asses outside, he returned to the cool, well lit dungeon where Geoff was demonstrating some pretty sort of play with gleaming needles. Crystal was helping him, both of them gloved-up, a circle of owners around them hungrily watching every move. Rudy was strapped to a massage chair, his back a network of angled needles as Crystal wound thin ribbons between them, gently tightening them to make a pattern resembling corset lacing across his spine. Geoff was talking about safety, cleanliness, practicing on fruit and strips of leather. It was very pretty, and strangely erotic on such a muscular back, as well.
Michael sighed; he was supposed to learn how to do that, but never got around to scheduling the time for the series of classes. But maybe I don’t need to know it, he reflected suddenly. Maybe I can just have someone else come in and teach it! It’s not like I want to do it myself, why should I learn?
His mood went up again and he let a slave bring him some of Geoff’s brandy, curling the snifter in one hand as he continued to watch. I’ll bring in a different expert every week, he thought with pleasure. I’ll be able to let my clients experience everything; my trainees learn what they wanted to. Well, of course I’ll have my own training books, too, like Geoff. I guess I can use his until I write my own. At least the parts I like and agree with. Fewer rap groups and more fuck parties!
But I’m not having fun at this fuck party, he thought with a turn into confusion. Isn’t this exactly what I want?
Geoff was stripping off his gloves and tossing them into the trash container next to the chair as he finished up his lecture. Larry was whispering to him and Geoff nodded as he listened.
“Larry will show you some of the fun things to do once the needles are in, and anyone who hasn’t used a violet wand—or simply would like to use it on this hot slaveboy tonight—will be welcome to!” He smiled and edged away as Larry gloved up and took his place, and as Geoff picked his way out of the room, he tapped Michael on one shoulder. Michael raised his eyebrows and followed.
Salim was curled on the floor sobbing; the acrid smell of piss was in the air, as he shivered in a puddle of his own making.
Mistress Heather had her arms folded across her chest, a look of distress on her face. She looked up at Geoff when he entered the private playroom and said, beseechingly, “I don’t know what went wrong! I swear... “
Geoff raised one hand gently and with the other, pointed Michael toward the slave trainee. “It’s all right, Heather, this happens with the novices! That’s why we do micro contracts. Come on,
tell me what happened. Mike will take care of Salim.“
Heather frowned, cast one worried look at her temporary slave and then went with Geoff. Michael could hear her sigh of frustration as she started to talk, but he had his own mess to deal with.
“What the fuck happened here?” he asked, stomping over to the supply cabinet for towels and wipes.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” sobbed Salim, covering his eyes with both hands.
Yeah, you are one sorry fuck, Michael thought savagely. But he didn’t say it. If anything, this was one of those times Geoff called a trauma trap; the wrong things said could put the client back weeks in their training.
He looked around briefly as he tossed the towels down to the slave. Heather’s floggers were hung up, only one was in reach—it had a carved wooden handle shaped like a cock, and the handle was covered with a condom. Hm.
“What, she fucked you and you broke?” That seemed unlikely—Salim was hardly an anal virgin!
Salim reached pathetically for the towels and shoved one between his legs. Michael sighed and dropped another one on top of the puddle of piss and dragged Salim away from the spot onto a clean blanket. Impatiently, he snapped open a box of wipes and tossed that down as well. It didn’t look like Salim was going to answer, so Michael dragged a chair over and stroked him in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “Come on, pull it together, asshole, you’re not like this. What happened?” Belatedly, he asked, “Are you hurt anywhere?”
Salim shook his head, curly locks whipping around. They were damp, and he smelled like sweat and piss and panic. “No, no, thank you sir. I—she—it was so hard!“
“What?” Michael wiped the slave’s face with a bandana and handed it to him to continue the job. It took Salim a few more minutes to compose himself.
“She... I’m so sorry, sir, I tried, I really tried, but I was so scared! Oh, my God, I was so scared!“
“Of what?” Michael snapped, losing whatever patience he had.
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