Highest Bidder Collection

by Lauren Landish

  After I calm myself, I continue on until I make it to the bottom floor. The sounds of moans and seductive pleading filling my ears.

  It’s a place that resembles a 17th century English dungeon, with cages and racks on either side of the room, and torch lighting along the walls. The ambiance is everything that makes this room… tempting and forbidden mixed with danger and fright.

  It’s more private here, especially this early, but I’ve seen many things here that I never imagined I would. Even more, things that have turned me on. Scenes I’ve watched play out and then later been ashamed to have gotten aroused by. I’ve seen a woman beaten with a whip until tears were falling down her cheeks. Her ass bright red from the markings of the whip. But she leaned into it. She begged for more. Her master gave her what he felt she needed and the way he took her after made me desire the same ruthless touch.

  I want to feel what she feels. I want to experience it to understand why she desired it as much as she did.

  I watch, stalking along the edges of the room, as a naked, dark-haired woman is bound to a bench, the rough rope is coarse and would chafe her skin but her masked master places a thin piece of silk under it. Her lips part in a soft moan and whimper mixed as he binds her so tightly she can barely move. I can see his huge hard cock pressing against his silk slacks. It forces an intense wave of arousal through every part of me.

  The Master, or dominant, I’m not sure, is wearing the membership bracelet. Two bands of silver and in the center, red. I shiver at what the bracelet signifies. This dude is into some dark shit. Sadism and Masochism.

  I’ve seen this couple before, though I don’t know their names. I don’t know anyone’s real name, actually. It’s funny, I’ve been coming here for a while, and I don’t know anything about anyone. But it doesn’t bother me. I’m here for the experience. And names are rarely used inside Club X.

  Another couple is seated on a bench, I’ve seen them before too. The man gives me chills like no other. And not in a good way. His eyes are beady and pure black. His hand gripping his pet’s shoulder, squeezing. He’s always touching her, or pulling her collar. I’ve never seen them interact in anyway other than what they’re currently doing. With her on her knees on the ground, looking straight ahead and him behind her, whispering into her ear.

  Her hair is wispy and unkempt, which also makes them stand out. None of the others look like her. They’re taken care of in ways she’s not. Most of the women here are given looks of jealousy from me, I can’t help it. But not her, I can’t help the sympathy I feel for her.

  Of all the people here, he’s the only one that doesn’t seem to belong. And because of the way he treats her. The way she doesn’t beg him for more. The way his touch seems to wilt her spirit rather than enhance it.

  I rip my eyes away from them, hating that they’re here. I have to ignore them whenever they come. Instead I focus on the couple in the center of the room, the reason most everyone is in this room. The ideal couple. The one that exemplifies what I consider to be the fantasy of this lifestyle.

  I watch as he kisses her softly on the lips and places a blindfold over her eyes. There’s a guard to the right of them, watching vigilantly. There’s another one down at the end of the room, also watching the couple and the onlookers like me. These men observe everything and every detail. They see everything. The men in the suits are here to enforce order in case things go too far. They know the safe words ahead of time. Although everything is done discreetly. And some couples don’t use safewords at all.

  I was shocked the first time I saw one of these men disrupt a session. I could understand why though, she was screaming for her partner to stop. The very fact that the guard felt the need to step in made me fear for the submissive. The guard merely stepped forward and requested that the submissive give her safe word. The dominant stepped back immediately, lowering the paddle he was using on her, and the submissive gave it, out of breath and still writhing in the binds that held her down. She whispered the word green and then looked to her master, waiting for more. I got the feeling it wasn’t the first time a guard had interrupted them.

  The man in the suit stepped back and the scene continued. The submissive kept screaming as her master fucked her ruthlessly, using her body mercilessly, fucking her with vicious need and smacking the paddle against her skin as he took her almost like a caveman from primordial times.

  It was a rape fantasy reenacted before my very eyes. It was very difficult to watch and my eyes kept going over to the guard that was standing nearby. But he didn’t move anymore. As long as the submissive didn’t say the safe word, the dominant had complete control over her. They were free to act out whatever fantasies they shared in complete safety.

  For couples without safe words, they merely nod at the guards when asked if they’re alright. Or so I’ve been told. I’ve only seen a guard interrupt once. I’m surprised how many couples don’t have safe words. Some simply use ‘stop’. I suppose it’s different for every partnership.

  Most of the clients in here seem paired up, like these two. It makes me envy them. Especially when they’re collared. Collars are like wedding bands. My eyes fall to the floor and my heart thuds. Maybe that’s more of my romance novels slipping in. I don’t know for sure that the people here regard collars so highly.

  It’s hard not to confuse reality and fantasy. But that’s easy to do here. This place is like a fantasy come to life.

  A movement out of the corner of my eye causes me to look around. The breath stills in my throat and my heart skips a beat. There he is. Looking at him, I can hardly stand, my knees are so weak. He’s like a dark prince, dressed all in black with his pitch-black half mask, the edges of it looking torn. It serves only to enhance his chiseled features. My breath quickens as his eyes bore into me with an intensity that makes my skin prick. The room seems to bow to him. Everything urges me to bend to his will. And I want to.

  My heart pounds in my chest as I stare at the floor. A chill travels down my shoulder and through my spine. He has a power over me more intense than anyone else. A pull to him so strong I nearly give in and fall to my knees as I feel his gaze on me.

  I’ve seen this man before. In fact, I ran into him when I was new to the club. My cheeks burn at the memory, remembering his dark gaze on me, the flush of my skin as I sank to my knees and apologized for being so clumsy. He watches me sometimes when I come into the club and I’m always almost overwhelmed. At first I thought it was all in my head that he was checking me out and then I thought I was just getting carried away by my fantasies. But he followed me down here.

  He must want something from me. The thought makes my body come alive with desire.

  Or maybe it really is all in my head, I think to myself. No one knows me here. I’ve tried my best to make myself as invisible as possible.

  But as I move away and walk over to the St. Andrew’s cross that sits next to a rack of whips and rope, I can feel him following me, stalking my every move.

  My breathing quickens as I do something I’ve yet to do. I slowly fall to a kneel, trying to remember every detail the trainer showed me about proper posture. I can’t believe I’m about to do this. But my body feels compelled by a mysterious force.

  I show him submission.

  I invite him to have power over me.

  Chapter 4

  Joseph

  I can’t take my eyes off of her. It happens every time she comes in here. Lilly. I follow her, staying a safe distance, her gorgeous curves stringing me along. I’ll never admit to her how much power she has over me; I can’t help but to follow her through the club, watching her and gauging her reaction to the variety of kinks. I know she’s seen me this time.

  She’s not put off by it. She doesn’t seem frightened, although I obviously affect her. It’s as if she’s waiting for me. She’s never done this before. She’s never invited anyone into her personal space. Let alone kneel as though she’s waiting for me, offering me a chance at her submission.

/>   Seeing her kneeling there, looking vulnerable and sexy as fuck in that red nightie that makes my cock harden, my heart beats faster. I take a quick glance around the room, a possessive side of me rising from deep within my veins, but no one moves to go to her. A few eyes are on me, narrowing with questioning looks, but they fall when I look they’re way.

  I ignore them all. I always do.

  They don’t know shit about me. And I give zero fucks about what they think they know.

  These masks are good for hiding the identities of the men from the submissives. But it’s no secret who we are to one another. The tight social circles that run this city, both from the highest highs of skyscrapers and penthouses, to the dirtiest lows of the pulses that run the streets. We all know each other. We know who has business with who and what side each of us is on. Right now, I belong to neither, but I’m well known to both.

  I can tell from the way they look at me out of the corner of their eyes without moving an inch, without even breathing. By the way they stay away and avoid me at all costs. I know for a fact that they know who I am. And I sure as fuck know who they are.

  We’re all wise men here, powerful, and with too much to lose to engage in this kind of activity around people we don’t know. Even with contracts and NDA’s; we’re bred not to trust. With so far to fall and so much to lose, most of these men stay in the private rooms once they’ve found someone to pursue and indulge in.

  But me? I have nothing to lose. And I know exactly what I want. Or rather whom I want.

  I approach her slowly, almost cautiously, as if moving too quickly will frighten her away. The very notion that she’s offering this gift to me, thrills me.

  She’s been coming to the dungeon more often as if she’s looking for something, as if she needs some kind of depravity that she can only find here. But she’s yet to engage. That’s what I’ve been waiting for. For that moment when she’s ready to test how her pleasure reacts to pain and how much freedom she’d get by giving over control.

  It peaked my interest to see desire flash in her eyes when she watched the tails of the whip hit against the soft skin of a submissive. She wasn’t frightened by it. She was intrigued. She was aroused. She hasn’t experienced the pain yet. I have no idea if she’ll actually enjoy it.

  But I’m excited to find out. The anticipation clouds my judgement and makes me focus solely on her.

  The guards in the room are watching over the other couple. David and Nadine. They’re well known in the club. They have been together for over a year, but they don’t have any safe words. They take their sessions to the extremes. It’s intoxicating to watch. Just as my Lilly is drawn to them, like a moth to a flame.

  I stand next to Lilly for a moment, shifting my Barker Black shoes slightly across the cement floor. Her eyes dart towards them and her head tilts slightly. A sharp breath is pulled through my clenched teeth at the thought of my flogger smacking along her back. She should be still. Her back curved. She has so much to learn. I pivot and face her, but I don’t address her; I’m merely letting her feel my presence.

  From the way her breathing picks up, I know she’s filled with anticipation as well. She’s practically trembling beneath me.

  I already know her name, I’ve heard her tell a few others in the club. But I feel compelled to ask, as if it’s the polite thing to do. I crouched down next to her, my hand resting gently on her head. Her soft blonde hair is like silk beneath the rough pads of my fingers. The strands slide easily through my fingers and whether it’s subconscious or not, Lilly leans slightly into my touch. Her eyes close and her plump lips part. She is a woman in need of approval. And desperately in need of touch.

  I clear my throat as I take my hand away, testing her obedience and knowledge. She remains in place, her eyes secured to the floor, although her tongue darts out quickly, wetting the seam of her lips.

  I wait a moment, rising to stand, but she still doesn’t move. Good girl. It’s not until I give her permission to look, that her pale blue eyes lift to reach mine. As soon as her baby blues meet my gaze with a look of pure desire, tiny golden flecks swirling in the mist of blue and sparkling with lust, I feel a spark between us that sets my heart afire.

  This is the closest we’ve ever been, the first time I’ve ever touched her. I almost have to reach out to brace myself, surprised by the electricity flowing through me. It’s the intensity in her eyes, the vulnerability that shocks me. I hadn’t anticipated how emotional she would be so quickly, how trusting. Maybe it’s in her nature. I don’t like to think that way though. I want it to be just for me, and only me. The sight of her eyes in this moment will stay with me once we’ve parted, I know that.

  “What name do you go by?” I ask her easily, ignoring the attraction screaming at me to claim her right here, right now.

  “Lilly,” her voice is low and gentle. Lilly. It suits her. I call her by her name for the first time. Letting the soft sounds of her name fall from my lips.

  “And you?” she asks, chancing a look up at me, her doe eyes calling to me in a way where I almost feel a need to look in another direction. To break the intense contact, but I don’t. I accept the challenge.

  “You can call me Sir,” I tell her. She licks her bottom lip, her eyes darting away as her breath leaves her and then quickly back to my gaze. I smirk down at her, “Does that turn you on?”

  I already know it does, but hearing the “yes” fall from her plump lips gives me undeniable satisfaction.

  Nadine moans from across the room and then hisses in a sharp breath that echoes off the walls. It distracts us both. David has a lit candle above her, a match in his hand while keeping the fire on the wick. The wax slowly drips down onto her naked body, leaving splashes of red covering her milky white skin. She’s bound to the bench on her back, unable to move very much, but each time the wax hits her she wiggles slightly to get away.

  I faintly hear David admonishing her. “You’ll need to be still, my love.” Immediately, she stops writhing on the bench, her head falling back, and her mouth opening in a silent scream as the next drop of wax falls between her breasts. Her hands ball into fists and her feet move outward slightly, but the rest of her body remains perfectly still as she obeys her master.

  “Do you want to watch them?” I ask Lilly softly, gently lifting her chin and drawing her attention back to me.

  She starts to look up at me. But she stops herself. “I would like to. If you would allow it.” She barely whispers the second sentence. My dick hardens instantly, loving the vulnerability in her voice, loving the way she gives me power. And reveling in the fact that she’s uncertain about her behavior. It’s the uncertainty that makes me crave her as a submissive. She’s breakable. And I fucking love that about her.

  “Are you playing with me, my flower?” I ask her in a deep rough voice.

  Her eyes look up into mine widening as my words register. She stutters to answer, her breath coming in quicker. Fear flashes in her eyes, not understanding what I’m asking her. I give her a soft smile to put her at ease and say softly, yet in a stern voice, “Meaning that you want me to play the role of your Master?”

  I can practically see the relief flooding through her veins. The tension leaves her body as she looks up and answers me confidently, “I would like to play.” The strength in her voice diminishes as she adds, “I’m not sure if I need a dominant or master.”

  Submissives have more power than they realize. They truly control the relationship. They set the boundaries, they start and stop all acts with what they allow the dominant to get away with. The dominant has an illusion of control. I’m not interested in an illusion. I want absolute power. I want to be her Master.

  “I’m not looking for a submissive, my flower.” I state clearly. I don’t want her to get the wrong impression. I’ll determine her boundaries, I’ll push her much faster than she’s pushing herself.

  Her eyes quickly look beyond me, staring at the row of cages that lines the left wall as she consi
ders what I’m saying.

  “I’m willing to play with you, for now.” My body heats and adrenaline pumps through my veins with an anxiousness that I’m uncomfortable with, that I’ve not yet experienced. I don’t want her denying me.

  She nods her head slowly.

  “So would you like to play with me then?” I ask her.

  “As a slave?” She asks me, clarifying what I’ve just said.

  I tower over her small body. “In this setting it doesn’t matter. We’ll only play for a moment.”

  Her forehead pinches slightly as she considers what I’m saying. “You’ll do as I say while we’re down here. And if you don’t like it, you can simply leave.”

  She seems struck by my words at first and the connection between us wanes as something else settles in between us. Insecurity. She’s confused and uncertain not about what she should do, but about what I can give her.

  I’m quick to put her at ease, “You can always leave. Regardless of Master or Dominant. You can always leave without fear.” Her expression softens as she comprehends what I’m telling her. In a sense, I’m twisting words to put her at ease so I can keep her. But I don’t give a damn. I’ll do what I must to get what I want.

  Her voice comes in breathy, “I think I’d like to play.”

  “Good girl.” My lips curve into a noticeable smile, when she responds with a faint huff of a breath, it’s slow and easy. And sexual. Everything about her right now from her posture and dilated pupils, to the way she’s breathing and clenching her thighs depicts how turned on she is by my approval.

  I walk over to the bench while she stays kneeling. I’m highly aware of the other men in the room, but there’s no way they’d approach her. They’d be a dead man if they dared to try.