The Auction (8 page)

He leaned over me, his tongue flicking out in that threatening, predatory way, as if he were a snake sniffing his prey. He lapped up the tears and demanded more, which I gave him. He slid inside me then, so hard and engorged that I wasn’t sure if the burn was him tearing me or the normal burn from his body heat. Either way, I absorbed the pleasure-pain with a profane sort of gratitude, my hips arching up to meet his rough thrusts.

“She’s my toy, as you are Sir’s toy. But you are
mine
.” The word
mine
sent a bolt of desire straight to my pussy, sending me into an orgasm that had me shuddering helplessly against him.

I liked the idea of Lily being his toy. Of me being Sir’s toy, but of both of us having something deeper as well. Everyone knowing their place in the hierarchy. No one abandoned or discarded. A family unit.

“Master?”

“Yes, Annabelle?”

“Why didn’t you give me the drink Sir gave Lily? When you first brought me here, I mean.”

“I didn’t want to.” The answer was dark and wrapped around me like I’d fallen again in his shadow.

“Can I have it sometime . . . just to see what it’s like?”

He smiled. “Sometime, perhaps.”

***

That night I woke to a whisper from out in the hallway. “Belle.”

I looked up to see Lily motioning for me to join her. The herbs had worn off. She was wearing my slip because hers was still on Master’s floor along with her dress. Master was in a deep sleep, so I crawled out of the nest of blankets.

“You’re not supposed to be wearing that,” I whispered when I joined her in the hallway, knowing that the nudity rule was in effect for both of us. I immediately felt bad for saying it. She looked like she could break apart at any moment. “Did he hurt you?” I didn’t really think Sir would ever hurt her, which was why I felt I had to talk with Lily. If she fought him, I wasn’t sure he could bring himself to punish her, not like Master did me. Then he’d be so unhappy. And so would she. I wanted this crazy fucked-up thing to work with all of us.

“No, but . . .”

I knew what she was feeling, what she was struggling with.

“I can’t believe I . . . that I let them . . . both of them . . . and then you . . .” She worried her lower lip with her teeth, her eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears.

I could see her blush even in the semi-darkness. She looked away and then whispered, “We have to get away.”

Standing so close to Master’s door for this conversation was going to get my ass strapped if he woke up. I took her hand and led her to the kitchen where I made us both tea. My nudity didn’t faze me anymore, but Lily was trying not to look, as if she didn’t want to shame me and thought I needed the privacy. I didn’t, but the thought was so sweet I wanted to hug her.

“Lily, what do you really want?”

“What do you mean?” The look of almost-guilt on her face—as if she’d been caught doing something naughty—made the discussion a mere formality. She just needed someone to back her up and tell her she was okay, that it was really all right to just let go, to fall backward.

“Sir said that herb he gave you just lowers inhibitions. It brings out the primal self. That’s you . . . underneath the artifice.”

“No . . . that can’t be me.”

“Why not?”

“It’s dirty.”

“According to who? I don’t think you’re dirty. They don’t think you’re dirty. Let’s just
be
. Okay?”

She sipped the hot tea and seemed to be turning it over in her mind. It seemed an exciting and untamed idea, as if she hadn’t considered the option of just accepting the situation, that she had the choice to not fight. I could see how much she wanted to surrender and give in, but how a part of her still railed against it all.

“Do you think badly of me?” I asked her.

“Of course not! I mean, it’s not your fault they . . . You couldn’t help . . . ”

I rested my hand on hers. “Exactly. So let’s just
be
for awhile. Just flow with it. See what happens. We’ll take care of each other.”

“But if it gets bad . . .”

“We’ll run away,” I said.

She nodded, her face relaxing. Lily finished her tea and set it on the counter, then went back to Sir’s room, peeling the white sheath off on her way. I picked up the slip and folded it as I went back to Master’s room. Neither of us were going anywhere.

About the Author

Kitty Thomas writes dark literary erotica. Her stories explore the psychology of ownership. This work is fiction and meant for an adult audience. The author does not endorse or condone any of the behavior carried out by characters in her stories.

Inspiration for Kitty’s work comes from many sources including Story of O, Nine and a Half Weeks, and the work of Claudia D. Christian.

For updates on new releases, please subscribe to Kitty's newsletter via the contact form at her site: www.kittythomas.com