Auctioned Off

Closed for GirlWatch


“Are you sure you want to do this?”

A silver pen lay across the paper, waiting to be used. All it would take was a slight movement on her part; a quick flourish and it would be done. Could she really do it though? Could she really sign away her life this way?

The man seated across the table eyed her, taking in her doll-like features with a knowing look. He was aware what this would cost her, but it wasn’t his job to talk her out of it. Only to make sure she knew what she was getting into.

And she did know. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what she would be giving up. It was what she would get in return that was making this whole thing worth the cost.

One signature was all it would take to save her family from ruin. One signature and she could give them the life they had always dreamed of. No one would have to know what it was that she had done. If they had known they would have tried to stop her and she couldn’t let them do that. Someone needed to step up for the family and it was going to be her.

Reaching out she gripped the pen with trembling fingers. Resigned but frightened she pulled the contract towards her.

“Everything I asked for is in here, right?” Her melodic voice quivered as she looked at the man who nodded.

“Yes. Everything’s there.”

She bit her lip, the man’s gaze tracking the quirk, his eyes lingering on her cupid’s bow mouth longer than was professional. Blinking back the tears that burned behind her eyes, she pressed the tip of the pen against the page. A dot of blue ink swelling out from the metal point.

“You can still back out you know. Nobody will be the wiser.” The man, with his fingers steepled beneath his chin and his unwavering attention belied his blithe demeanor. He wouldn’t say it, but he wanted her to sign. If she didn’t he’d never get his pay day.

The air in the room was stifling, pressing in around her - a weight settling on her chest. Taking in a deep breath she fought the rising panic.

There was no backing out now.

Eyes pressed tightly shut she gripped the pen and moved it quickly across the page. When she opened her eyes her signature stared back at her, a bright blue flourish across the ivory paper. Her fate sealed.






He waited until the young woman left his office, leaving behind the faint scent of vanilla and jasmine, before picking up his phone.

“Tell him I just added another to tonight’s bidding.” He said, watching the door, still picturing the way the dress had clung to her curves. She was a delicious morsel, a petite thing that looked more like a porcelain doll than a real girl. “She’ll fetch the highest bid of the night, I have no doubt.” He added, wondering who would have the pleasure of breaking such a toy.

Hanging up he picked up the contract. Such a feminine signature with all those loops and swirls. He almost wished he could bid on her himself. If only it weren’t against the rules. He had half hoped she’d back out of signing, then he could have made her another offer. One that would have been beneficial for himself. But she had come into his office with her head high and resolve in those brilliant blue eyes.

Filing away the contract he sat back in his chair, spinning around to look out over the city spread out before him. Tomorrow night would prove to be quite interesting. He only hoped that she proved to be as valuable as he thought she’d be.







Upon leaving the opulent office on the fiftieth floor she was led to another room by the secretary - a steely woman with silvery hair pulled into a nonsense bun. With a stern frown on her wrinkled face the woman opened the door and ushered her inside without a word and closed the door swiftly behind her leaving the young woman all alone.

“My my my, you are a tasty treat aren’t you?” The disembodied voice sounded behind her. With a gasp she spun around, eyes wide to take in the man standing behind her with camera in hand. A flash blinded her as he snapped a photo.

“Yes, they are going to eat you up.” He smirked and gestured for her to step forward. She noticed the screen and lights set up, everything needed for a photo shoot. “We’ll make this quick sweetheart, I just need you to stand here and look gorgeous.” The man was old enough to be her father and yet his eyes raked over her body with the lustful intention of a much younger man.

He positioned her in front of the photo screen, taking a few moments to adjust her hair. He tugged at the straps of her sundress, pulling them down to show off her creamy shoulders. She resisted the urge to clutch at the fabric which now felt too loose around the soft swell of her breasts.

“Perfect. Simply perfect.” He stepped back, the flash going off quick as lightening as he moved around her, snapping photo after photo. She could barely follow him as he moved, her head swiveling, trying to keep track of his movements.

“Now, let’s lose this.” He stepped forward and had her dress down around her ankles before she could protest. Arms wrapped around herself she huddled, shyly, away from the camera. The man laughed, enjoying her embarrassment as he photographed her in bra and panties. Then, as quickly as it began it was over and he was pulling her dress back up - his hands lingering too long on her exposed flesh - and was ushering her out the door.






“Where have you been?” Her ears were assaulted by the crackling of a television turned too loud, the sound distorted and tinny. The speaker had to shout to be heard, prompting the overweight basset hound in the corner to strike up its mournful howl.

“Out.” She replied, shuffling across the trash-strewn floor. The carpet used to be white, now the pieces she could see had morphed to a dusty brown.

“Well I hope you made sure to pick up some food. We’re out. And beer, too.”

She ignored the voice, making her way down the hall to the open door of her bedroom. Nestled on the unmade bed, cocooned within a stack of pillows, lay her brother. The one and only reason she was doing this. His color was looking good, for once, and his breathing was even and steady. She allowed herself a small smile before settling down at the desk. The ancient computer whirred to life with a high-pitched whine.

He had said the profile would be up by the time she got home. She wanted to see if he was right. Typing in the address he’d given her then adding the access code, she scrolled through image after image of young women like herself. Worrying her bottom lip, her eyes scanned the pages. An alert flashed, a new sale was ready. Clicking the alert she was redirected to another page. Her own image staring back at her. They’d chosen an image of her looking over her bare shoulder (one snapped as she’d tried to keep the handsy photographer in sight). She had to admit, if she hadn’t known what was going on at that moment, if she were just a visitor to the site with no prior knowledge, the image would appear quite sensual.

Beneath the image was the listing of her sale:

http://il8.picdn.net/shutterstock/videos/7456741/thumb/1.jpg?i10c=img.resize(height:160)

Emmaline
Age: 18
Virgin
Bidding starts at $5,000.

Simon followed the shapely young woman to his booth, idly admiring the sway of her hips. The subtle green band on her collar indicated that her Master or Mistress was willing to loan her out for the night, for the appropriate consideration. He mused that should the auction not go his way that might be quite pleasant. He passed fellow members, exchanging a nod here and there. Members all wore masks here, most more elaborate than his simple domino. The others were, to some degree or another, servants and thus wore collars indicating their owners as well as whatever garments or appliances they had been assigned. There was much variety of expression, of adornment, piercing, tattooing, or scarification. Simon could respect most of it, though his tastes were simpler. It amused him to think that tomorrow all of this would be gone and in two days guests would be walking his hall to watch a theatre production that they might consider racy.

“Here you go, sir.” She indicated the solitary seat and side table in his booth. “Do you need any seats brought for others? Shall I have you brought something to eat or drink?” Her sheer black gown swayed about her with every movement of her slender body. A nice touch, he thought, compared to the more vulgar displays that had been made of others he had seen. The thin fabric tantalized more than mere nudity, while the low back displayed the stylized waterfall tattoo that coursed from shoulders to buttocks.

“No additional seats are needed, thank you. Water only.” Simon eyed the insignia at the throat of her collar. “You are Mistress Elizabeth’s, correct? Please tell her that I compliment her on her taste.”

“Thank you, sir. I will do so.” She gave a deep curtsey that allowed a glint of metal to peek from between her thighs, then closed the door to the booth behind her.

- - -

Simon was patient through the minor opening ceremonies. While some enjoyed adding mystical flavor to their shared avocation, holding the annual auction on the summer solstice was just a date to Simon. Having beautiful and graceful servants perform to mark the occasion was at best a pleasant way to sharpen his appetite. His objective for the night was clear though: he glanced back at the schedule on his phone, as if he had to remind himself that she was lot number four.

The first three lots had energetic bidding, to which Simon paid attention only to note what the night’s tempo felt like rather than for their contents. Two were previously owned servants whose contract was being resold, which Simon knew to in part be due to the diminishing fortunes of certain financial traders amongst their membership. Used goods, perhaps, but also ones that were already well trained and whose skills and attributes were a known quantity. There were only a few questions and requests needed from bidders and their auctions closed out swiftly.

The third was a very well-built young man being sold for the first time. There were appreciative calls from the bidding audience after a house fluffer brought him to his full erection by means of demonstration, driving his final price up quite impressively. While the bids were made entirely by the bidder’s assigned number, Simon was quite sure he recognized the voice that called out in triumph as she won the bid. He made a mental note to congratulate Mistress Grace later.

The fourth lot was escorted into the spotlight center stage in thin white sundress that clearly played to the virginity that her procurer claimed. Simon sat back and let his fellow bidders make the usual demands. Her height, weight, and natural hair color were verbally confirmed to match the information on the lot description as well as the numerous other bodily measurements made of her. Some of the potential bidders were very particular.

“I request her dress be removed,” called a clear woman’s voice from Simon’s left. “I wish to confirm the lack of any tattoos, piercings, or notable scars as claimed on the card.” He smiled, recognizing Mistress Elizabeth’s voice. For some present, that made her a blank slate upon which they could work their will.

Two house servants stepped into the spotlight and began to strip the young woman of her dress. She resisted only briefly before realizing the futility of it. She briefly attempted to cover herself, but her arms were pulled apart by the servants and she was paraded about on the stage before being left to stand meekly, her hands at her sides. Simon pulled out his booth’s opera glasses to better inspect her, nodding his satisfaction at what he saw. Far more difficult to observe was the claim of her virginity, and thus it was no surprise that the next challenge came from a loud voice to Simon’s right.

“Virgin? In what way would this bitch be a virgin? Or are you just trying to drive up the price?” The crassness of the voice could only be the man who named himself Master Daemon. Simon could readily guess what he would do with such a young woman. While Elizabeth would decorate the young girl’s pale flesh, Daemon would see it bruised and scarred. Both would have their pleasure from her, and Simon could respect that, though he preferred neither path for his own property.

“The house has both questioned and inspected lot number four in this regard.” The auctioneer’s voice was clear and firm. “She admits to self-pleasure and a partner exploring her body, but not penetrating her. On inspection she has been found to have a not-insubstantial intact hymen.” There were appreciative noises from many of the booths. As if anticipating a follow-up question, the announcer continued, “As per the terms of her contract, she has had a Depo-Provera injection.” Simon smiled, recognizing the frustration of a very niche group within their number.

“If there are no further questions, the bidding will begin.”

The bidding started with a flurry a small bids driving the base price over $100,000 in very short order. Simon waited to let the early interest be driven out before he first lifted his bidding paddle. Somewhere the procurer for this lot was smiling, he figured, their costs and not inconsiderable legal risks compensated for. He entered the bidding and soon found that two other members were also serious about this lot, one to his left and one to his right, their identities not hard to guess.

After a few minutes of bidding, Mistress Elizabeth’s young servant with the waterfall tattoo appeared at the door of his booth and begged entrance. “My Mistress wishes you know that should you retire from the bidding, you may have me to use as you please for the weekend to come.”

Simon smiled. “Please tell your mistress that while I respect the generosity of her offer, I must decline. Tell her that while I believe the other bidder is Master Daemon, I hope she will not make the same offer to him, as her work is too beautiful to be handled as he would.” The servant smiled grimly and departed. After another $50,000 there were no further bids from the left.

Simon considered his situation. This girl was young and her lack of experience made her hard to judge as to the uses he wished to put her to. He weighed rumors of Master Daemon’s extensive wealth with the number of servants he had to maintain already. It was also possible that Master Daemon was only bidding him up to toy with him, to mock him for being a member who preferred to retain one at a time, to imply that he was weak or less financially capable. Certainly that would be what Daemon would claim afterwards, regardless of the outcome.

Then he looked at the pale blond, alone in the spotlight, and thought of what would happen to her should Master Daemon claim her. Certainly he could not be the savior of all who of their own free will chose this road. He paused, nearly missing the call of the auctioneer as he made his decision.

- - -

A servant brought him lot four’s contract and patiently waited as Simon re-read all of the details. Being clear on the fine print was both in his nature and a requirement of his profession. He signed it with his name and number and handed it back.

“Have her brought to my booth here and instruct her that she is to stand quietly until I address her and observe the remainder of the auction and closing festivities. She is allowed to wear the dress that she wore before the auction, but is to continue to have no underclothes and is to be barefoot. Bring us a plate with bread, cheese and some fruit as well as a pitcher of water and two cups.”

The servant nodded, for a moment mistakenly thinking he was done, but Simon raised his hand and the servant froze. “When the closing festivities are over we shall immediately have two glasses of that rather nice burgundy that Richard recommended last time. In the unlikely event that she becomes a nuisance she is to be stripped, bound, and gagged but not unnecessarily harmed.”

Simon smiled at him and turned away, implicit permission for him to go. Now he would begin to find out if his money was well spent.

They were held in the theatre's basement in a room with rich, wine red walls and plush black couches. The ambient lighting from the single chandelier hanging in the center of the ceiling casting a sensual feel about the room. There were roughly twenty of them, many lounging on the opulent furniture, all in various states of dress. But for the sound of their breathing the room remained silent, each of them having been ordered not to talk.

In the far corner, Emmaline sat, her back against the wall and knees drawn up tight to her chest. She'd arrived promptly at the time given her. Upon arrival she had been pulled into a room filled with the other women up for auction, all of them in various processes of preparation for the evening. Promptly stripped of her clothing, Emmaline had been led to a chair where she had been poked and prodded by make-up artists and a hairstylist who continually popped her gum as she toyed with Emmaline's hair. The sound grated on Emmaline's already raw nerves and it took everything in her power not to scream. She forced herself to sit there, however, curled in around her nakedness and her skin flushed with the shame of being so bare. But nobody seemed to notice her nakedness, surrounded as she was by other women, each of them naked as the day they were born, and Emmaline felt herself sinking further into despair as she realized this was something she would, no doubt, need to become used to.

Finally, when she had been primped to a point where they were satisfied, Emmaline had been dressed in a simple white dress that hugged her slight curves, emphasizing her slim waist and soft swell of her breasts. Once dressed she had been ushered into the holding room and instructed to remain silent; though she had yet to utter a word.

One by one the men and women around her had been taken away, ushered out to be sold like cattle. Well dressed and pampered cattle, but cattle nonetheless. Before long it was Emmaline's turn and she was escorted to the stage. Meekly she took her spot on the stage, the lights blinding her and she hung her head, afraid to look up and see the faces of those who were about to bid on her. No, not her. On her virginity. She gulped and held back a wince as she heard the lewd comments and the mutterings coming from the theatre. Hands divested her of the thin dress, leaving her to tremble beneath the hungry stares of those she could not see. Trembling hands rose to cover her nakedness, but other hands stayed hers. The fear radiated off of her as people wanted confirmation that she was indeed a virgin. She remember too well the prodding done by the "doctor" who had examined her. He had taken his sweet time feeling his way inside her, his fat finger probing roughly but never breaking through the barrier that would bring a high price. She could still see the smirk on his pale face as he'd settled between her thighs, his fingers combing through the delicate blonde hair surrounding her sex. He had enjoyed his examination far too much.

Her creamy skin flushed a delicate pink as she recalled the questions asked regarding her sexual experience. No doubt she was the least experienced of anyone in that room. "Self-pleasure" the auctioneer claimed. Yes, there had been some of that, but never had Emmaline's fingers strayed further than the sensitive button at the apex of her thighs. Until the doctor had examined her there had never been anything inside of her. Even the few boys she had dated had gotten no further than groping her breasts and getting their clumsy hands against her panties.

A shiver coursed down her spine as the auctioneer called for the bidding to begin.

Remember why you are doing this, she kept reminding herself. Remember the reason for it all.

Cold air slid across her prone skin, causing the pink buds that tipped her breasts to stiffen. Goosebumps rose on her flesh as she stood there, the bidding raising higher and higher as she stood with eyes downcast. God was it over yet?

Before she knew what was happening, Emmaline was led from the stage. Was it over? Her mind had been elsewhere, escaping the room as the bidding had, apparently, come to an end. Silently she was led to a new room, given her dress and a few moments to compose herself. Staring at the reflection in the mirror, Emmaline forced her breathing to calm as her heart beat a rapid pace in her chest. It was done. She had been sold. She never did hear the final price, but no doubt it was an astronomical amount - at least by her standards. A knock sounded on the door and, drawing in a shaky breath, Emmaline moved to answer it. The servant on the other side nodded wordlessly, indicating that she was to follow.

Her knees shook as she moved through the theatre, following the collared servant until she was stopped just outside of a balcony. The servant pulled back the curtain, a knowing gleam in his eyes.

"Your master awaits."

Though her body trembled, Emmaline forced her chin up and walked through the curtain. Turning to the masked man she bowed her head.

"Hello....master."

”Hello … master”

"Hello.” Simon turned in his chair to face her, a pleasant but firm look on his face. “Come stand here next to me.” He gestured to a spot next to his chair and the low table bearing the food and water. “I know this is all new to you so listen carefully. You are to be still and silent and pay close attention to what you see and hear tonight. Note to yourself how people speak, act, and react to one another. If you have questions you are to remember them until I give you permission to ask them later. If you are hungry or thirsty you may eat or drink from this platter, but then you are to return to standing silently. If I instruct you to do something you are to comply immediately. The only thing I expect you shall need to say is 'Yes Sir' until I tell you otherwise. I may choose to share my observations with you, but that is not an invitation for you to speak. Do you understand?"

Simon wanted to be very clear with his new servant, so he waited until she complied to continue. He pointed to the lot currently on the stage, a crudely tattooed young man who was in the process of demonstrating his ability to deepthroat a large red dildo. “You will note that there are a variety of lots today, and each member has different things that he or she looks for in a possible purchase.” The young man held his arms out triumphantly, the dildo projecting from his upturned head, mirrored by the angle of his erection. Simon curiously observed his new servant’s reaction, expecting that her innocent demeanor might mean she would be uncomfortable with what she was seeing.

"All of the lots purchased today are under contract like yourself, but their contracts vary widely in their duration and effective terms. Do not confuse these with any employment contract you are familiar with. You may have noticed the contract you signed had the phrase ‘full and complete obedience’ as well as some other terms that leave much to interpretation. This is intentional, since we each require somewhat different things according to our tastes and natures. If you had been bought by some here those terms would remain vague and enforcement would shift according to their moods and whims. I prefer to be more precise, though I will not brook any insubordination that attempts to find loopholes or twist my intention.”

“When you address me you shall do so as ‘sir’ or more formally ‘Master.’ I will instruct you later in knowing when you are in a formal situation or an informal situation. In a formal situation a higher level of discipline is required; now is such a time so your use of ‘Master’ right now was the correct term. I see in the notes of your lot that your name was Emmaline but I have not decided yet if that will be your name for the duration of your contract. Right now you do not have need of a name, only that you are servant purchased in lot number four. You may notice that some here prefer to term their purchases as ‘slaves’ - I do not prefer that term both for historical reasons and because your contract is not indefinite in duration.”

Simon paused, watching and appreciating the auctioning of a young woman with beautifully clear light brown skin. He was not surprised that the successful bid came from Mistress Elizabeth’s booth. He turned to his new servant. “Note this lot who is being escorted off stage now. She has been purchased by a friendly acquaintance who delights in making artwork of her purchases. Perhaps you will meet her a month or two from now and find that her smooth complexion has become a canvas for her Mistress’s latest inspiration. Just because a servant's contract is finite in duration does not mean that they will not carry a reminder of it for the rest of their life.”

Her new Master was quiet again as the last lots were auctioned. Most were unremarkable to him, though he admired that the auctioneer had decided to close with a formidable amazon of a woman, curvy yet muscular, and standing at least a full six feet in height. She was not to Simon’s taste but he understood the desire the drove the bidding spiraling almost to the same level as lot number four. Applause and rowdy cheers greeted the acceptance of the winning bid as the newly purchased amazon stuck a body-builders pose. Simon shook his head in small, discrete motions. “She has been purchased by Master Daemon - it is unlikely she will feel as victorious once his collar is about her neck.”

He stood, fishing a black ribbon from the inner pocket of his tailored jacket. “Speaking of which, this is a temporary token until we have a proper collar fitted to you.” He drew close, his height all the more striking with her in bare feet, and showed her the encircled diamond pattern on the ribbon. “This tells those who should know that you are my property and under my protection. If I am not with you and anyone gives you a command or threatens to molest you, apologize to them but say that Master Simon has not given you permission to play with or be touched by anyone. I do not expect that this will happen but you should be aware of its meaning.” His long fingers reached about her, his skin warm on her neck, and deftly tied the ribbon.

“I believe we have a moment before the closing festivities begin.” He returned to his seat, but kept his eyes upon her. “Ask the one question which is uppermost on your mind.”

She listened, eyes lowered to the floor, as her new master spoke. When he instructed her to move next to him, Emmaline did so with leaden feet and knees that shook with each step. Now that her sale was done the fear nestled in the pit of her stomach, a snake coiled and ready to strike. The rapid beat of her heart echoed in her ears and she barely heard his words as he instructed her to remain still and silent.

Long fingers indicated the tray of food and water and Emmaline found herself unable to look away from those fingers or the wide, sturdy palm to which they were attached. What would those fingers, that hand, do to her? What havoc would it wreak on her body? Would he be a gentle master or twisted and sadistic? The fear struck deep in her gut, her stomach twisting with nausea. Oh god she couldn’t be sick, not now. Emmaline could only imagine what her new master would do if she was sick all over his beautiful leather shoes.

“Do you understand?”

It took a moment for the words to register through the haze of her thoughts, but slowly Emmaline nodded.

“Yes, Master.” She whispered, throat dry with fear.

Slowly she tracked the direction of his finger as he pointed at the stage. Bright blue eyes widened as she saw the man on stage, a large red…thing sliding between his lips. He was naked and his arousal was more than evident from the massive erection that brushed against his toned abs. The lewd display brought a flush to her cheeks and Emmaline wanted to look away. But the idea of what her master might say to that gave her stay and she forced her eyes to remain on the stage.

The crowd went wild as the man on stage continued to display himself and the bidding rose as he grabbed his erection. No more. She couldn’t take anymore and her eyes closed, her breathing shallow as she heard the resounding final bid. These people were animals. To bid on human beings like they were nothing more than cattle at market – it was disgusting. But what did it say about her, the one who had willingly given herself to this farce?

Her thoughts wandered to the contract she had signed, wondering what her new master would require of her. She had seen the markings on the slaves that had wandered about earlier. Would he do that to her? Would he mar her flesh for his own sadistic pleasure?

The coiled fear struck again and another wave of nausea threatened to leave her a sick and trembling mess. Her gaze slid to the pitcher of water, condensation beading on the silver pitcher. If her hands weren’t trembling so much that she had to hide them in the folds of her dress, Emmaline would have gulped down the entire contents of that pitcher. Biting her lip she listened as he went on with his instructions.

His words swept over her, making her dizzy with the thought of the unknown. Was she not even to keep her name? Was everything to change so drastically for her? And what about going home? Was she not allowed to even do that? So many thoughts rolled around in her brain that the world began to spin and Emmaline closed her eyes tightly, praying that it would all pass quickly.

She remained that way for some time, eyes screwed shut, listening as the auction continued. Finally, the sales ended and she heard her new master shifting in his seat. Eyes fluttering open she came face to face with her new master. For the first time since arriving in his private booth, Emmaline looked at him.

His dark brown hair was short and parted to the side, slicked back and polished to a shine nearly as bright as his shoes. He was tall, much taller than herself and Emmaline had to tip her head in order to see him clearly. The mask he wore obscured his face and drew attention to the hard line of his mouth and the clean shaven chiseled jawline. But it was his eyes that captured her. Deep brown with a fleck of gold nestled against the iris, he stared down at her in a way that was both aloof and fiery. How was it possible that a man could be so detached and yet still make her knees tremble with his gaze?

The ribbon he held in front of her was covered with a diamond pattern, the black a startling contrast against her creamy skin. His fingers brushed the skin of her neck as he tied the ribbon. On instinct Emmaline gathered her hair and held it up, allowing his fingers easier access. She stifled a gasp as his fingertips deftly tied the ribbon, nearly caressing the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck. Biting her lip, her gaze fluttered down, the intimacy of the moment too much. Beneath the thin material of her dress her nipples beaded. The pink tips straining against the practically sheer fabric.

“I believe we have a moment before the closing festivities begin. Ask the one question which is uppermost on your mind.”

With him returned to his seat, Emmaline felt the breath returning to her body. She remained standing, stiff and afraid. Only one question? How could she choose when there were so many fighting for dominance within her brain?

Lips parting she allowed the words to tumble forth without any thought. Her gaze remaining straight ahead as she asked: “Are you going to hurt me?”

“Are you going to hurt me?” While he had seen some of how she trembled before, now he realized she had the strength and presence to hold herself despite her fear.

“Yes.”

His gaze took in the reaction of her body and let the word hang in the air for the briefest moment before he continued.

“You have sold yourself for a dear price in large part because you are a virgin. I will take that from you and I expect there will be pain for you in that act, though I do hope that there will be pleasure for you as well. As you learn your role in serving me I expect that you will receive both instructional discipline as well as corrective punishment that may cause you pain. You can influence how much and how intense by how fast you learn and how well you serve me.”

“Do not misunderstand my intent. Unlike some here tonight, the source of my pleasure does not come from the pain of others. I do not intend to cause you pain that you cannot handle or will cause you lasting harm. In a very pragmatic sense, I have paid much for you and intend for my instruction to increase your value to me, not to damage my investment. As much as I like for things to be orderly and precise in my life, I realize that many things considered opposites, such as pain and pleasure or freedom and servitude, are often not finely separable.”

Simon poured himself a glass of water with many large cubes of ice, then took a drink as he considered her.

“Some instruction then.” He smiled, his eyes tracing up her until they dwelled on her eyes as she stared forward. “Come here.” He stood, remaining right in front of his chair. As she complied he reached forward and took her by the shoulders, moving her so that her breasts almost grazed the front of suit jacket. He swept the shoulders of the simple dress outward, letting it fall to a pool at her feet, all the while staring into her eyes with a firm intensity.

“You will become used to being nude, and when you are not nude you will be dressed to please me.” He laid his right hand along her jaw, his fingertips stroking to the nape of her neck. “You will become used to being touched by me when I choose and how I choose.” He slid his hand down over her collarbone, his palm along the outside of her left breast while his thumb brushed over her nipple before stroking down to her hip with a touch that was light and deliberate. “Ideally this will come to please you because if you find pleasure in this then you will do a better job in pleasing me, which means that in turn I will reward you and not need to discipline you.”

“This.” He reached down and gave a small, firm tug on the blond hairs that covered her sex. “Shall be removed tonight by a woman who is expert at waxing. This will cause you pain, so yes, this means I will cause you to be hurt. It is not because I want you to be hurt. It is because I require that your appearance be pleasing to me: clean, neat, feminine, and alluring to my tastes. You shall strive to make sure that this is always true.” His fingers stroked from where her hair began until his fingertip reached the hood of her clit. “It is quite possible that this is not what you prefer. It is important that you remember that your wishes are subservient to mine.”

His eyes finally turned away from hers as he glanced over at the small side table by his chair before turning back to her.

“Kneel here in front of me. Back straight. Your knees shall be separated just enough that you can fit both fists between them.”

As she knelt Simon leaned over and retrieved the glass of water. “Here, drink the rest of this water.” He sat back down on his chair, leaning forward close to her and holding the glass up to her lips. A few drips escaped the corner of her lips as he turned it up towards her, the small trails of water slid down her jaw to drip upon her chest. He withdrew the glass from her lips and held it before her. “Now take one ice cube in each hand. Rub each of them in circles over your nipples. Give it a moment now.” He paused. “Then tell me, am I hurting you? Is this pleasure or is this pain? Or is it both? You are free to speak for a moment, as long as you are concise.”

“Yes.”

One word. One simple word and Emmaline could feel the world fall out from under her feet. He hadn’t tried to sweeten his words, instead laying it out there in black and white. He was going to hurt her. One way or another she would suffer at his hand.

The knowledge left her weak-kneed and she turned to look at him with wide eyes and a slight quiver in her lower lip. Biting that lip, she forced herself to remain standing. Remembering what had brought her to this point, why she was here, gave her courage. She dipped her head as he continued to speak, her platinum hair forming a soft curtain around her face.

Her master’s voice was smooth, the deep tone seeming to caress her skin as he reassured Emmaline that he had no intention of marring her porcelain skin by leaving his mark upon her. The words were like a balm to her soul and she breathed a soft sigh of relief. A relief that was short lived when he commanded her to stand in front of him.

Oh god, now? Was it going to happen now?

Resolving herself to whatever her master commanded, Emmaline moved slowly forward, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpeting of the booth. Standing in front of him, pulse roaring in her ears, Emmaline forced herself to look up. She could not meet his gaze, though, she looked everywhere but that penetrating stare. His lips, the tip of his nose, his ear. Anywhere but that all knowing gaze. His lips quirked up into a smile and, despite herself, Emmaline could feel her body responding as he stood and pulled her towards him.

The space between them was nonexistent and Emmaline could feel practically feel his chest moving against hers as he breathed. His hands on her shoulders sent shivers down her spine. The shivers intensified, raising goosebumps on her flesh, as he slipped the straps of her dress down her arms. The thin material fell lightly to pool around her feet, leaving her bare to his gaze – which remained firmly fixated on hers. Despite the fear that twisted in her stomach, Emmaline forced herself to meet his stare unblinkingly. Something in the depths of his gaze sent a thrill through her body and her stomach twisted for an entirely different reason.

The knot tightened in her gut as his thumb passed like a breath over her left nipple, causing the hard pebble to ache with a desire that Emmaline had never felt before. His fingers were light against her skin, deliberately teasing the young woman to the point of torture. The gasp that tore from her lips as he tangled his fingers in the curls over her sex echoed in the secluded booth. And, as those devilishly skilled fingers slipped between the curls to brush against the sensitive nub of her clit. Emmaline felt her knees buckle as he touched her. The sensations coursing through her body overwhelmed her, the skin on skin contact more than she could bear. Quick, sharp breathes caused her slight breasts to rise and fall, her nipples brushing tantalizingly against the expensive material of her master’s suit coat. A dampness pooled between her legs, leaving Emmaline twitchy and longing for more.

Too soon his fingers pulled away and Emmaline couldn’t help the soft whimper that rumbled in her dry throat.

“Kneel here in front of me. Back straight. Your knees shall be separated just enough that you can fit both fists between them.”

Obediently, Emmaline knelt. Transfixed by his stare, her gaze never wavered from his. Worrying her lip, she watched as he gripped the glass of water and held it to her lips. Smooth glass pressed against her lips and her mouth parted, letting the cool water sweep across her tongue and coat her dry throat. Tipping her head back, eyes still on her master, Emmaline drank deeply, some of the water dripping from the corners of her mouth to land on her breasts. The droplets slid down her skin, teasing her nipples in a way that was wildly erotic to her virgin mind.

The glass moved from her lips as he gave his next instruction. With fingers that trembled from a heady mixture of fear and arousal, Emmaline pulled two ice cubes from the glass, the cold sending shivers through her. Water dripped between her fingers as she held the ice in her hands, hesitating. This was the final step, the moment she did as he instructed she was well and truly his. The second the ice touched her breasts she would no longer belong to herself; her body and all she was would belong to this nameless master. Blinking up at him, the mask hiding all but that steady, entrancing gaze, Emmaline slowly raised the ice to her breasts.

Gasping, the cold both painful and tantalizing on her aching nipples, Emmaline paused. Sucking in a fortifying breath, she began to run the ice in slow circles around her nipples, her eyes fluttering closed as she gave herself over to the feeling. The itch between her legs intensified as she teased her nipples with the ice that was beginning to melt between her fingers.

“It is both, Master.” She replied, her voice quaking gently. One hand, slick and numb from the ice, slipped from her breast and the cube fell from her grasp. She grabbed it quickly, before it could fall to the ground and held it against her body, just above her sex.

“Please?” She whispered, blinking up at her master as her fingers and the ice cube inched lower.

"No"

His voice was firm, but a smile played on his lips. This young thing might be virginal, but she also clearly has the desires one might expect from an eighteen year old. As enjoyable as it would be to watch her play with herself using the ice, that was not what this moment was about. She still had much to learn.

"Both ice pieces - back in this glass." He held the glass towards her. "No arguments, no need for you to speak now." He held her eyes as he waited for her to comply, then set the glass back on the side table. His eyes flicked beyond her as he saw the light begin to play upon the stage for the closing entertainment. "Place your hands on your thighs and do not move them."

He reached forward, eyes again on hers, each of her chilled nipples taken between thumb and forefinger. He applied light pressure to her stiff erect nipples as he spoke to her.

"You forget my words already. This is not about your pleasure." His fingers tensed, squeezing each nipple tighter. "Seeing you in pleasure may well please me, but you need to think first about what you are doing to increase my enjoyment." He gave one brief further clamping upon her nipple, intentionally crossing the line from what he expected she would find pleasurable into what she would find painful. Once he was sure she had received the message, then he leaned back into his chair to consider her. His cock was hard in his trimly tailored trousers. She was an impressive specimen and these early signs pointed to her being a very fortunate purchase. The real question would be how well she could be trained. It would have been tempting to bend her over the edge of his booth and take her from behind right this instant, thrusting himself into her tight virgin sex. But his whole life, his whole success in life, had come from patience and preparing for the right combination of time and place. Other Masters would certainly be claiming their new purchases at this moment, or even in the coming hours, but it was not quite the right time. Making both of them wait would make it all the more delicious.

"Our final entertainment of the night is about to begin. Turn around and face the stage. Remain kneeling as I instructed you before. You are to watch and not to move or speak until I tell you to."

If she truly was desirous of stimulation, he wanted her to continue to edge higher and more intensely. Once she had faced away from him he adjusted himself in his pants so his erection was not pinched by his shorts. As a spotlight swept the stage he leaned forward again and placed his hands on either side of her neck, pointing her head at the stage.

A lithe dancer, nude but for the tattoos that covered her pale skin, sprung upon the stage. As she spun into a tight ball, her long red hair emphasizing her motion, a second dancer followed, and then a third. Mistress Elizabeth's servants were obvious to Simon both by their grace as well as the artistry worked on their bodies. They were sensual without being explicitly sexual, even as they twined about one another. Pale skin with red hair, dusky skin with black hair, tanned skin with blond. Each were different and yet they combined so well. Their training was exquisite, Simon felt.

As the dancers moved his hands stroked along her neck and jaw, eased her hair to the side and felt the contours of her shoulders and collarbones. He very intentionally did not trace down further to the slopes of her breasts that he was sure still were roused by her earlier introduction to temperature play. Now was the time for her to feel the tension and lack of release.

As Elizabeth's servants left the stage, he heard the raucous music that Simon knew heralded the members that he considered less sophisticated. On that moment, he made a quick decision.

"Up" he instructed, his hands tapping her on the shoulders before withdrawing. "I don't expect to see anything better than that on stage tonight." As much as it might be instructional for her to see the debauchery of leather and metal that would likely follow, he had better plans for her.

"Pull on your dress again and follow me." Her nude form had been displayed to all, but now it was for him alone, so he chose not to share it. "Eyes down as you walk, and keep up."

He exited the booth and made his way towards the stairs. The slapping sound of flesh on flesh came from a neighboring booth, a cry perhaps indistinguishable between pain and pleasure from farther on. Servants both naked and nearly so passed them carrying drinks, food, or toys to the booths of their masters and mistresses. Simon pulled out a cell phone as they descended the stairs and tapped out a series of brief messages. He hesitated briefly as they reached a lower hallway, its off-white walls and tight pile carpet a very different ambiance from the dim luxury above. Turning left he peered though a door before continuing, then checked his phone as it buzzed.

"Ah yes." He proceeded two doors down to the right and then faced his promising new purchase. "If you feel any need to relieve yourself, now is the time." He nodded to a prominently marked women's restroom to the left. "Then you are to immediately come here." He pushed open the door to the right and indicated a room which was dominated by a chair that looked to be designed for gynecological examinations, though the black leather straps were certainly not something she would normally associate with that purpose. "You are to climb up there, close your eyes, and wait."

Standing at the gilded mirror, Emmaline stared at her reflection. How was it possible that in the span of but a few hours she had allowed herself to fall into this…this pit of…of whatever this was? Her cheeks burned, her reflection red faced, as she remembered the wanton way in which she’d acted only moments ago. Her skin was still damp from the ice cubes, the patch of hair between her legs wet with far more than melted ice. Ashamed to even look at herself, Emmaline turned away from the mirror and leaned against the marble countertop.

“No.”

What would she have done had he not uttered that word, if he had not stopped her from progressing further? The snake in her stomach had retreated as they’d left the booth, leaving her to feel empty and hollow. The pit of her stomach echoed with the unease of what she had been so close to doing.

Was it really such a terrible thing to pleasure herself before his gaze? After all, he was going to do far worse things to her.

Running a shaking hand through her hair, Emmaline winced as the light fabric of her dress grazed her aching nipples. The hard nubs still throbbed from her master’s rough handling. She could still feel his fingers clamping on the erect pebbles of her nipples, pinching and twisting them until it was all she could do to keep the cry of pain from slipping past her tightly clenched lips. Her hands had fisted where they rested on her thighs and her palms still held the small crescent marks where her nails had dug into the flesh.

She could only pray that he would be more gentle when he took her the first time. Though she doubted he would.

When he had instructed her to turn back around, Emmaline had feared that this was it. The moment that he would claim her. Instead, he had merely touched her. But oh the way he had touched her sent her reeling. She had felt him shifting behind her, the fabric of his neatly tailored slacks brushing against her back and then his hands were on her neck, his fingers toying just beneath her ear as he forced her gaze to the stage.

As if to match the sensual dance of the women on stage, her master’s fingers moved in time with the music, sweeping along her neck and jaw. He’d swept her hair to the side and his hand continued its exploration down her shoulders and across her collarbone. The ache in her nipples turned from one of pain to longing. His hand never strayed lower, though, and she’d whimpered with need. Her body had betrayed her. One moment reeling from the pain he’d caused and the next begging for him to continue his torture.

On stage the dancers were luring her in, their lithe bodies tangling together in a dance of flesh that made Emmaline yearn to be touched further. Her body sang out for more, for the hunger between her legs to be quenched. But there was to be no release in that moment for as soon as she could feel her body building towards something her master had pulled away and instructed her to dress.

Safely tucked away in the privacy of the bathroom, Emmaline’s mind tried to process everything she’d seen as they walked from the booth down to the lower levels of the theatre. If possible her skin flushed further as she recalled the sounds of sex coming from the curtained booths and the sight of naked servants carrying trays of…she blushed to even think of what they’d been carrying. The debauchery of it all was too much for her, it made her ashamed and aroused all at once and Emmaline didn’t know what to do.

She’d been grateful when her master had given her a chance to calm herself and had quickly fled to the restroom. But now, as she stood safely tucked away from the knowing gaze of her new master, Emmaline wondered if she’d made the right decision. In only a few moments she had seen and experienced much more than she had in eighteen years of life. And it was only just the beginning. What more could her master have in store for her? The image of the chair in the other room flashed into her mind. The leather straps standing out prominently in that vision. What fresh torture awaited her the moment she stepped from the safety of the restroom?

Fearing that he would come and drag her out if she took much longer, Emmaline splashed cool water on her face, resolving herself to her fate. She stepped from the restroom and, finding the hall deserted, made her way on quaking legs to the other room.

The room was well lit and the soft cream of the walls were a stark contrast to the chair that served as the focal point of the room. Bare feet slipped on the metal as she tried to hoist herself into the chair, causing her to stumble. She bit back a cry as the arm of the chair hit roughly against her stomach. Righting herself, Emmaline pulled herself into the chair and settled against the sparsely padded back. Her eyes fluttered closed and one solitary tear slipped down her cheek as she resigned herself to her fate.

Simon hated to wait in anticipation, but he also prided himself on patience to achieve a goal. It was a contrast within him that warred as she slipped into the women’s room. With what was coming up, he did not want her to soil herself - it would not only start her with a negative association, it offended his sense of cleanliness. Instead, he distracted himself with his iPhone, quickly putting it away as he heard her approach. When she stepped into the room, he had resumed his calm, cool demeanor.

He gave a subtle nod of approval as she immediately started to climb into the chair. As she slipped he hands reflexively shot out, catching an arm and leg but not enough to keep her from banging her stomach. A small proud smile briefly appeared on his lips as she kept herself from crying out and settled herself into the chair.

His fingers slid along the hem of the dress and laid it back upon her belly. He took firm hold of her right thigh and secured the leather strap around it, his fingers briefly stroking her inner thigh. “It appears we will have a few moments before we begin.” He took her left thigh and similarly secured it. He stepped to the side and she heard the sound of a drawer open and close. A soft cloth wiped the tear from her cheek, and then was stretched to cover her eyes. He lifted up her head, stroking her long blond hair back before tying the blindfold securely. Fingers traced down her cheek, her neck, and then along her side before his hand took her right arm and secured it with a leather strap as well. He let his hand trail across her belly, pulling the thin fabric up as he crossed in front of her to her left side, and then secured her left arm into its own strap.

He paused to admire her, bound into the chair, then took each leg at the knee and pushed outward. There was the click of metal ratchets as her legs were spread apart until her blond hairs were the only thing covering her sex, the cool air of the room settling in on her. His hands slowly slid from knee to her inner thighs, but paused just before crossing that sensitive crease. Instead he walked around to her right, hands sliding over her, the fingers teasing her through the cloth.

“I am going to enjoy getting to know your body,” he mused aloud, “and finding all of the pleasure it can offer me.” His hands traced up her torso and started to make tandem circles around the edges of her right breast, stroking the underside where it swelled up from her ribs around clockwise until again at the separation between the breasts. With each circuit his fingers traced a smaller circle until long moments later only his two forefingers traced the very edge of her areola. Then his fingers were suddenly gone from her, and his soft footsteps moved to her other side. There the pattern was repeated on the left breast except at the last moment his fingers took her nipple firmly between them. Not as hard as earlier in the night, but tight.

“I’m glad you are enjoying my equipment.” a woman’s voice came from the door, right where Emmaline’s spread legs were pointed. The voice was a husky alto.

“Ah, Josephine, so good to see you.” His fingers released her, the light fabric falling back to form a little peak over the stiffened nipple. “Yes, I was enjoying it, as well as my new purchase.”

The sound of hard soled shoes, but not heels, approached her from the door. “She was quite the selection. May I touch her?”

“Indeed you may, though I do wish to depart before the activities upstairs are fully complete. It can be such a pain to wait once everyone has called for their cars.” His hand fell upon her right shoulder, sliding to cup her neck and chin.

“Quite understandable.” New hands, softer than his, slid along her thighs. “She looks as enticing as her description from the lot.” A finger stroked up and down along the crease between thigh and belly, and then stopped. “I’ll trade you my services for free tonight in exchange for five minutes to play with her myself.”

“I’m afraid that tonight I am quite intent upon being the only one to enjoy her at some liberty. Perhaps you would be interested in paying me a visit in the future after my terrible selfishness has abated?” His voice had a playful tone that she had not heard before in his very direct instructions towards her.

The other woman laughed lightly, her hands departing from Emmaline’s skin. “I understand. A bit saddened perhaps. I will look forward to your invitation - I’ll hold you to that.” Her voice moved away from the chair as she spoke and there was the sound of drawers opening. The snap of a glove pulling tight was accompanied by Simon’s other hand coming to cup Emmaline’s neck from the left side, holding her head steady and firm.

“Here dear, I’m sure that your Master Simon did not lie to you and say that this would not hurt.” A cool sensation filtered down between her legs, shortly followed by Josephine’s hand as she rubbed something into her skin from the top of where her skin began down alongside her labia. “The truth is that of course it will.” There was a light scraping sound and then Josephine’s fingers were spreading Emmaline’s skin tight just before the hot wax was smoothed upon her mons, followed by a cooler, constant pressure. Then with a sudden ripping sound the wax was torn away, the pain roaring across her mons. As soon as the sensation started to subside hot wax was being applied lower down on even more sensitive skin, then the pressure of her hand, then an even greater pain as the hair was ripped from yet more sensitive places. The pattern was repeated as Josephine stripped away every hair that had covered Emmaline’s sex, and when that was done she pressed upon her knees and rolled her thighs up towards her chest, forcing her bottom up into the cool air. As the talcum powder coolly fell around her anus, it only provided anticipation for the last bits of hair to be torn away. All the while Simon’s fingers stroked her neck and cheeks, both gentle in their motion and firm in the sensation that her head could not escape his grasp.

A cool, numbing feeling spread over her as Josephine’s fingers worked a lotion into her skin. There was no hesitation as she stroked from Emmaline’s mons to her labia and on to around her anus. “There you go dear.”

Master Simon untied the blindfold from around her eyes. The overhead lights now seemed harsh and bright, but between blinks she could see a short, curvy, middle-aged brunette in a sleeveless black top and worn blue jeans. Her bare arms were toned and strong, her hands covered with purple nitrile gloves. She stood between Emmaline’s spread legs, smiling at her newly bare sex with perhaps more than a professional examination.

“Thank Josephine for her quick and precise work.” It was not so much a suggestion as an order, though his tone was gentler than it had been earlier in the night.

With the blindfold on, every touch was excruciating. When he’d opened the drawer Emmaline had tensed, afraid that now it was finally coming to pass. He was going to torture her there and then. Instead he had wrapped the cloth around her eyes, his touch gentle as he lifted her head and stroked her hair before firmly knotting the blindfold. Plunged into darkness and strapped to the chair with her legs spread, Emmaline was helpless and completely at the mercy of her master.

The thought terrified her and yet, strangely, aroused her at the same time.

She could feel his feather soft touch as it trailed across her stomach, pulling at her dress until her sex was laid bare. The touch disappeared, the weight of his hand lifting from her and she whimpered softly at the loss of contact that kept her grounded to this world. Then, as if he could sense how lost she felt, his hands were on her once more pushing her knees outward to open her even further. The rush of cool air against her heated sex sent shivers down her spine. Biting her lip, Emmaline tensed at the new sensation, wondering just what her master was seeing as he looked at her spread wantonly before him.

Fingers caressed up her thigh, inching painfully closer to her sex. Emmaline’s body cried out for him to touch her, to help relieve the ache that was building within her virginal body. But his touch vanished, leaving Emmaline feeling empty. Her head tilted, following the sound of his shoes against the floor. She sighed as his hand slid over her body, teasing her through the thin dress.

“I am going to enjoy getting to know your body,” he mused aloud, “and finding all of the pleasure it can offer me.”

Yes, she would like that, too, she wanted to cry out. The fear of pain silenced her though. Her back arched, her small breasts pushing forward as he teased the swell of her flesh. As he circled her nipple, Emmaline wanted to beg for more, her body screaming. The dampness pooled between her thighs as he continued his slow, erotic torture. And again the touch was gone, soon to return on her left breast where he repeated the same action with slow, agonizing circles. A small cry erupted from her lips before she could stop it as he firmly pinched her still sore nipple.

A woman’s voice sounded loudly in the quiet and Emmaline went still. What had her master dreamed up for her now? What would he make her endure? She sighed as he released the grip on her nipple, but her relief was short lived as he gave the woman leave to touch Emmaline.

Her master cupped her chin, holding Emmaline steady as soft, feminine hands slid along her thighs. The feeling, a contrast to her master’s touch, had Emmaline squirming, her body seeking more as her mind begged to be released her bonds. The conversation flowed over her, the words never truly sinking in as she was far too focused on the way those hands slid along her skin. One word in all did stand out, though: Simon. Her master had a name at last.

The snap of latex sent a shot through Emmaline. And the pleasure she’d been experiencing swiftly vanished to be replaced by a trembling fear. As if sensing the new tension within her Master Simon cupped both sides of her neck, holding her firmly in place. Fear coiled in her belly and Emmaline fought the rising panic that threatened to erupt in a scream.

Warm liquid dripped on her prone mound and, despite the initially pleasing sensation, Emmaline tensed. Though she knew the pain was forthcoming the knowledge did nothing to ease the fire the ripped through her as the woman began stripping Emmaline bare. With the blindfold on, Emmaline’s other senses were heightened and the pain that tore through her as she was waxed bare had her biting her lip to keep the screams from coming. The coopery tang of blood pooled on her tongue as she pierced her lip. Fingers clenched at the arms of the chair in vain hopes of funneling the pain into her grip. She barely felt the fingers caressing her chin and neck so focused she was on the pain of hair being yanked roughly from her tender flesh.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the blindfold was removed and Emmaline was left blinking at the sudden light. Blinking away the stars that danced in her vision, Emmaline looked down to the woman who sat between her spread legs. The smile on that face was enough for Emmaline to know that the woman had enjoyed every moment of the torture inflicted on the poor girl. Emmaline did not care for the way the woman was smiling and staring at her red and swollen sex as if it were a prize to be won.

“Thank Josephine for her quick and precise work.”

Thank her? Thank that woman for what she’d just done? A thank you was not exactly what Emmaline had in mind to tell that woman right then. For the first time that night Emmaline felt the fire rushing through her, the fighting passion that had driven her to this arrangement in the first place. Staring at the woman with a fiery eyes Emmaline’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“Thank you.” The words were rough, devoid of feeling, practically spat at the woman in Emmaline’s one small act of what could only be seen as defiance.

Josephine laughed, a throaty laugh that spoke of many cigarettes and rough nights. A worldly smile spread on her face. “She’s got some fire left in her there, Master Simon. I think she’s not actually particularly appreciative of my work.” From the play on her lips and the dance of her voice it wasn’t quite clear how serious she was.

“I do hope she keeps that spark. I prefer to channel that fire rather than try and quench it.” Simon’s voice was even and serious in tone. His fingers made the smallest little strokes on Emmaline’s neck as he spoke, his fingers applying a light pressure on the underside of her jaw. “She is also charmingly inexperienced.”

The shorter woman nodded. “That was rightly virgin hair, and that has the deepest roots. Well dear, you put that lotion on once more in the morning and I think you’ll be surprised how good it feels by tomorrow night.” She handed a small bottle to Simon, who tucked it into his jacket pocket. She looked right into Emmaline’s eyes with a wicked smile on her face. “Assuming Master Simon here doesn’t have too much pounding planned for your little pussy tonight.”

“Thank you Josephine, she will be sure to apply the lotion.” Simon’s voice cut in quickly after Josephine’s taunting words.

“If you want her to see something that will really open her eyes, Master Daemon has asked me to be ready to take care of his new purchase and one of his other slaves. He might enjoying seeing her watch as well, if you’d like me to ask.”

Simon shook his head gently. “No, thank you. I have my own instructive plans for her education.” His hands slid off of Emmaline’s neck and he began unstrapping her from the chair. His voice turned a bit colder. “And Master Daemon and I have a bit of … history, shall we say?”

He held out one hand to Emmaline as he removed the last strap and returned the stirrups to their starting position. “Take my hand, you may be a bit wobbly.” He brushed her dress down over her bared and raw sex. His other hand took her by the waist as she rose, supporting her as she returned to the floor.

“Enjoy your night, Josephine.” Simon guided Emmaline past her as he fished out his cellphone.

“Good night Simon. Have a good night, little blondie.” Josephine gave her an exaggerated wink as they walked past.

As they rounded the corner, Simon’s voice was quiet but firm, his left arm remaining on her elbow. “If we run into anyone you are to keep your eyes down and be silent, regardless of what anyone says or does.” His pace slowly quickened, his hand on her solid.

His raised his phone as he looked back over his shoulder towards the staircase they had previously descended. “Matthew, please immediately bring the car to the service exit opposite the tennis courts.” There was a brief affirmative from the other side and Simon tucked away the phone. He led her through another door and into a service corridor, lined with boxes of consumables for a kitchen somewhere above, then through swinging doors into a another anonymous corridor. There was a chirp from Simon’s phone. He smiled and turned towards her. “Ah, there is our ride.”

The next door was a heavy utility door with a push bar, and Simon leaned into it as he led he through. The summer air was warmer and heavy than indoors as it rushed past them. A short flight of concrete steps led down to the driveway where a understated gray Mercedes awaited with a uniformed driver standing at the ready.

Simon walked her down the steps. “Thank you Matthew.”

“Always glad to be of service, sir.” The broad-shouldered driver opened the door into the passenger seats, his eyes never lighting upon Emmaline, passing over her as if she wasn’t even there.

Simon paused and guided her to the door. “Climb in and buckle yourself into the back center seat.” The back felt far larger than Emmaline was used to in a sedan, the upholstery in black leather. Glass divided them from the driver. Simon stepped in behind her and belted himself alongside her, and Matthew closed the door.

“Close your eyes.” Simon instructed, then pulled out the blindfold again and wrapped it about her head. Where earlier he had felt rushed, now he returned to the poise that he had exhibited when she first was brought to him. The sedan surged beneath her, smoothly wheeling and picking up speed. She could feel Simon’s arm moving next to her, and from the small tapping sounds it seemed like he was busy on his smartphone. The sedan banked and turned a few more times, came to a pause, then surged forward again. The passenger compartment was surprisingly silent for long moments until Simon gave a small sniff of a laugh.

“Well, we’re no longer required by tradition to keep your blindfolded, but where would be the fun in changing that now.” His hands moved over her, removing the seat belt from her, then sliding the shoulders of her dress down to bare her again. “Lie down, head on my lap. You can trust Matthew’s driving.” He guided her to comply with his wishes, hands sliding over her bare skin. “Now, where was I…” His fingers once again began their dance around her breasts, teasing at the soft skin with random firmer manipulations of her nipples. He continued under he was satisfied by her responses, then assisted her back up to a sitting position.

"Let's start to see what skill you do have." He unfastened his slacks and slid then down along with his black silk boxers. His cock stood up in the dim light of the backseat, just as bare of hair as Emmaline now was. "Please me as best you can."

Emmaline did not understand the sense of urgency that kept her master’s shoulders stiff and his body rigid. His hand on her back was solid, almost reassuring in a way, as he guided her through the back halls of the theatre. She tried to keep up, but the raw feeling as her dress brushed against her newly bald skin was causing more than a bit of discomfort.

The warm evening breeze teased her flesh as Master Simon ushered her outside and down a series of concrete steps to the waiting car. A man waited for them, holding open the back door, his broad shoulders pulled back at attention. He was handsome, probably one of the most handsome men Emmaline had ever seen with thick brown hair cropped in a similar style to Simon’s, but with a light wave to the strands. His tall, muscular frame was an imposing one, and Emmaline couldn’t help but wonder what muscles resided beneath the pressed shirt and jacket. Her master had called him Matthew and he couldn’t have been much older than herself, perhaps twenty-five or a few years older. His youthful face holding the slightest trace of a five o’clock shadow.

While she watched him intently as Master Simon pushed her towards the car, Matthew never once glanced in her direction. It was as if she didn’t even exist. For some reason the thought wounded her and Emmaline bit her tongue to keep from asking why he would not look in her direction.

“Climb in and buckle yourself into the back center seat.”

She did as told and slid into the center of the seat. The inside of the sedan was plush and luxurious; so different from what it appeared on the outside. Buckling, she felt Simon slid in beside her and the door closed.

Trapped.

Staring straight ahead at the opaque glass that separated them from Matthew, Emmaline found herself the caged animal. Now, more than ever, she felt the true weight of her decision pressing down on her slight shoulders. There really was no backing out now.

“Close your eyes.”

The words were soft, but there was no mistaking the command in them. Emmaline did as she was told and the world went dark. She felt the cloth cover her eyes, felt her master tying it around the back of her head, some of her hair getting caught in the knot. She winced but did not protest as she felt the car surge beneath her. Silence permeated the closed space, the only sound the steady tapping of what Emmaline could only assume was a finger against a phone. The car twisted and turned along the road until Emmaline was well and truly lost.

Disoriented – that had been the word of the day on her calendar that morning. Never had a word been more prophetic.

“Well, we’re no longer required by tradition to keep your blindfolded, but where would be the fun in changing that now. Lie down, head on my lap. You can trust Matthew’s driving. Now, where was I…”

She felt his hands on her once more, the soft callouses on his fingers teased her skin as he slid the straps of her dress down. The cool air circulating from the vent above her teased her nipples, hardening them. Emmaline fought back a whimper as she felt Simon guide her down to his lap. It was beginning.

Her body trembled softly as she felt his hand cup her breast, his fingers teasing the hardened pebble of her nipple. She gasped as he pinched, rolling the bud between his fingers as his nail scraped delicately over the tip. Emmaline had never known that her breasts could be so sensitive, but the slightest touch was sending jolts of pleasure through her body until she was a whimpering, trembling mess and the dampness between her thighs threatened to drip onto the car seat. But as quickly as he began, her master took his hand away.

"Let's start to see what skill you do have."

Blind as she was, Emmaline trembled when she heard the unmistakable sound of a belt buckle. She’d heard that noise far too many times in her youth and the sound of it set her spine rigid. She felt a hand on her back, easing her down off the seat and onto her knees.

"Please me as best you can."

Reaching out blindly, Emmaline’s fingers brushed against hot flesh, soft yet hard at the same time. Biting her lip, she gently closed her fingers around the shaft, her fingertips barely meeting as she gripped her master in her small hand. Slowly, tentatively, she began to stroke him, her hand getting a feel for his size. If her hand barely fit around him, Emmaline feared for how he would split her in half when he decided to finally claim her in full. Her hand reached the top of his arousal, the tip wet and sticky. Gently, she eased her thumb over the tip before sliding her hand back down to the base.

Leaning in, she parted her lips, pale pink tongue flicking out to mimic the movement of her thumb. She tried not to make a face as she tasted him; the thick cream of his pre-cum not at all to her liking.

Do not disappoint. Do not give him reason to nullify your contract.

The words echoed through her head as she eased her way down the side of his shaft, feeling the veins pulsing beneath her tongue. Tracing her way along the base of his cock and then back up, tongue circling the head like an ice cream cone, Emmaline reached downward, cupping her master's balls and massaging them. The velvet skin felt strange her in hand, but she couldn't deny that it felt quite nice.

"Is...is master pleased with me?" She stuttered, sweeping her tongue up the underside of his arousal, her nose bumping against the cock head.

There was something quite delicious about her trembling under his hands, as if she truly had not experienced such before. Simon wondered at what depths her innocence might have, or if her young paramours had simply been inexperienced themselves. It had been so long since he had seen such before him. Her little gasps and tremors at such play on her breasts informed him of many games yet to come, where these little teases would seem like nothing to her. The thought of what might become made him hard and ready for more, though patience remained his watchword.

He felt her stiffen at the sound of his belt - something he might explore in the future, but she slid obediently before him in the deep well of the sedan. She took to his penis tentatively, lightly, with good instincts but without the confidence of a woman who knew her way around a cock. There was much to be said for teaching her.

"Is...is master pleased with me?"

He gave a small harrumph, and took her chin in his left hand, lifting her head up. She meant well, but she needed to learn quickly. With his right hand he reached down and pinched her left nipple between thumb and forefinger.

"I did not give you leave to speak, girl." His grip on her nipple closed hard. "There are times that I will give you leave to speak on your own, as long as you are respectful in your words in demeanor. Right now you are to please me with your hands and mouth. If I wish you to do something different, I will tell you." His fingers pulsed harder still and then released. "Or show you." His right hand slid up her jaw into her hair and closed there. Both hands pushed her down upon his length.

"Wrap your lips around me tightly. There. You were doing well with your hands, your attention with your tongue was good, but only the beginning." He began to force her head up and down on him, starting with small motions. "Learn to feel a man's reaction, hear it, taste it. Find your talent to please." He forced her deeper and deeper on him until his cock was pressing the back of her throat, then his grip pulled her head back off of him.

"Here, up on the seat next to me." He guided her to crouch next to him, his hand gliding down her back to her ass, giving it a squeeze and then sliding under to her dangling breasts as he pushed her mouth back to his cock.

"Experiment." His hand rested lightly in her now-disheveled blond waves. "If you do well, I will do this." He caressed her nipple, toying with it gently. "If you are not doing well, you will know." His fingers closed around a nipple, threatening pressure without application.