She trembled when my fingers grazed her neck. Desire and fear warred in her gaze. A familiar expression from two years ago. She’d been afraid then too at the start.
That night, I had needed her fear to recede so we could seek pleasure together. But things had been simpler then. We hadn’t been in a BDSM club where sex was expected. I wondered what she thought of the chains and the whips and the clamps. Perhaps underneath the worry in her eyes, there was curiosity. A desire to explore. I very much hoped so.
I didn’t really care for novice submissives, but Rachel wasn’t a novice. Lori’s dominants would have evaluated her and they would have never let her participate in this auction if she didn’t have some experience.
She kept so many secrets, and I burned to uncover each and every one of them.
***
Ellie / Jenny:
He held his hand out towards me and I placed mine in his. He tugged me up and to a corner of the room. His eyes never left my face. He watched me take in the overwhelming sensation overload of the room in front of me.
“Tell me, Jenny,” he leaned against a pillar and pulled me against him so my back rested against his chest. “What do you think of this?” One hand waved languidly to the scenes of sex being played out in front of me.
I watched, part fascinated, part fearful. The open lust in the air pulled me back to the past. To the room in Nigeria where five men had crowded around one frightened girl, cocks in hand, waiting for their turn to rape her.
“I don’t know, Master.” I couldn’t hide the quiver in my voice.
“Master…” he said thoughtfully. “I think not. Let’s not fool ourselves about what we are doing here, shall we? This thing that Lori runs isn’t a slave auction. Slaves don’t have choices. Slaves don’t have safe words and sheets outlining their hard and soft limits. Slaves just do whatever their masters tell them.” His voice tickled my ear as he spoke. His hands curled around my waist, holding me close to him. “What you are, Jenny, is a submissive on a three-month contract. You can call me Sir if we are in a scene and Alexander otherwise.”
His words cut to the heart of the matter. Slaves didn’t have choices. I couldn’t have ever said no to anything Dylan had done to me. From what Alexander had just said, he recognized the difference.
His fingers were so close to the underside of my breasts. All I could feel was a yearning in my body. I wanted him. I couldn’t lie to myself. The way my * clenched, the way my nipples perked up, neither of these responses left any room for self-delusion.
“Alexander.” My voice was soft and needy.
“Jenny.” His knee nudged my legs apart, shoulder-width. “Tell me what you think of this. Do you want to be strapped on the St. Andrews Cross in the spotlight, watched by a crowd as I whip your body?”
I felt both fear and arousal. The source of the arousal was easy enough to pinpoint – I could feel Alexander’s erection against the thin robe that barely covered my ass. But the fear was more complex.
There was fear of being discovered. If this man found out what my plan really was, he would kill me. I had no doubt of that. Layered in with that was the fear that my desire would cause me to act without thinking and I’d say something that would reveal more than I should. There was an awareness that this had been the only man I’d ever wanted and that sparked its own special kind of panic.
But he’d asked me a question. Right now, I needed to stick to a story that was as close to the truth as possible. I didn’t trust that I could improvise, not when my emotions were reeling and my head spun with the events of the day. “I’ve never done something like this before.”
“Something like what, cherie?”
“I’ve never participated in an auction,” I replied. “I’ve never seen something like this.” I gestured to the orgies unfolding in front of me.
“No, you haven’t, have you?” His voice was level. “Though your questionnaire indicated that you were comfortable with public sex and exhibitionism. You said you were aroused by it.”
I lied on the questionnaire so you’d bid on me, Alexander, I wanted to snap in reply. Instead, my brain performed calculations and ran various scenarios through my head. I didn’t think I could hide my emotions from this man. I’d have to pretend instead that my worry for my sister had made me reckless. My voice trembled and the distress wasn’t an act. I was at a pivot point. He could easily decline to go through with the auction and surrender me to Anton. We would never get another chance at Dylan. “My sister…”
“… has leukemia, and you made up everything on the questionnaire. Because, Jenny from Cleveland, you’ll do anything to save her.” It was a statement, not a question. But his body stayed relaxed. His hands still held me by my waist. His grip on me had neither tightened nor loosened. If he was angry by the pretence, he didn’t reveal it.