The Playboy's Proposition (18 page)

A voice boomed out over the PA system. “The display for the
female newbie sub auction begins now! Go check them out, everybody. And bid big
-- it’s all for charity, you know.”

Michael whispered in my ear. “Now turn around and smile.
Your audience is waiting.”

Michael guided my turn, then told me to spread my legs a bit
to steady myself.

I looked out over the crowd. So many people. I couldn’t
focus on their faces, didn’t yet dare. I kept my eyes above their heads and let
them blur together.

Glancing to the side, I saw some of the other women up for
“sale.” A few were restrained like me, others in different poses. One was
completely naked and kneeling.

I shuddered and looked away. Naked. Somebody seriously
wanted to start a bidding war. I nearly giggled. Lousy nerves. I slowed my
breathing to calm myself. I could do this.

Michael sat in a chair he had pulled over to one side of the
stage. He was kicked back, legs crossed, taking it easy.

The sounds of the crowd, like their individual faces,
blended together into a loud murmuring in my head. I was beginning to try
actually focusing on the people in front of my stage, when a voice cut through
the murmur.

A man said, “Sweet, eh? Wouldn’t mind getting a taste of
that sugar.”

He came into focus. Just a man. Could have been any man at
all. He was looking at my bare legs, fully revealed by the open slit in my
dress. Or maybe he was looking between my bare legs. I shuddered.

There. Another man looking at me, at my breasts. And another
one, also staring at my breasts, his mouth slightly open. A woman. Critically
eyeing me from head to toe. More men. More women.

All of them looking at me.

My nipples grew tight and hard.

Someone said, “I’ve got a long line I bet you’d like,
Sweetie.”

A few chuckles in the crowd.

A woman said, “Ooh, she likes kitty cats. I wonder if she’d
pet my pussy.”

More chuckles.

I blushed. Should have expected that one. I couldn’t hold
anyone’s eyes, not that they were looking me in the eye very often.

Was it hot in here? It was hot in here.

A man close to the front of the stage asked, “Do you like
spanking?”

A man in a death mask asked, “Hey little subbie, how do you
feel about canes? I’ll bid on you if I can cane that little ass of yours. What
do you say?”

I was rattled. Should I answer? And what would I say,
anyway? No thank you?

Michael stepped up beside me and said, “Sorry gentlemen, but
she’s on strict orders not to speak while she’s on display. I’d be happy to
answer any questions you might have.”

I shot Michael a grateful look, but he didn’t appear to
notice. He smiled out at the crowd, looking like a slick salesman.

A tall man farther back in the crowd called out, “Hell,
Weston, quit being stingy. That’s a great pair of legs there, but I’m gonna
need a better look at the rest of the wares if I’m gonna bid.”

Numerous people laughed and loudly agreed.

Michael laughed, too, and stepped behind me. He crossed his
hands over my belly and said softly into my ear, “It’s time to start the show,
Sweet. I can tell by your breathing that you’re ready.”

He was right. The speed of my breathing had definitely
picked up.

He ran his hands up my torso. I shivered from his touch, and
from seeing how the spectators’ gazes followed the path of his hands.

He lightly brushed up and over my breasts, then with a few
flicks, undid half a dozen of the little satin buttons. He lay the fabric open
on either side, enough to reveal most of my bra.

He ran his fingertips over the exposed tops of my areolae.

Some people in the crowd murmured approval. Others called
for more action.

Michael obliged. He reached down and quickly undid a number
of buttons at the bottom of the dress. He pulled the dress outward, showing my
thong and stomach.

This action got a much louder reaction of approval. Again
though, there were calls for more. Again Michael obliged.

A throbbing had begun in my lower belly and between my legs.
I couldn’t stop watching the people in the crowd, not even if Michael had
commanded me to. All of it, the staring, the innuendos, the blatant remarks, it
was driving my arousal into higher gear.

Michael soon had all the buttons undone. He completely pulled
the dress behind me, securing it back there somehow, so it stayed out of the
way. He liked teasing me, and the crowd, too, by running his fingers over the
edges of the bra and at the edges of the little triangle of satin covering my
mound.

Eventually, Michael appeased the rowdy crowd by reaching
into one of the bra cups and pulling out one of my breasts. This didn’t satisfy
the crowd for long. He pulled out my other breast.

He pinched my nipples, making them harder than they already
were. He pinched me again because a man in the crowd wanted it. He turned me
around so another man could check out my ass, then gave me a few playful swats.

Both of the men placed bids for me.

I was breathing hard. The noise, the rowdy spectators
watching Michael disrobe and fondle me ... it was almost like the crowd was
stripping me, touching me, too. Jolts in my belly. I didn’t know how much
longer I could last.

Michael pulled out his riding crop and stroked it over my
breasts, my nipples, and between my legs. People hooted. More, they wanted
more.

How much more was there to give?

I focused on a new bidder who had walked up to the table. It
was Ron Hoyte. He winked and gave me a thumbs up sign. I smiled a shaky smile
at him.

Then Michael slid the riding crop under my thong. All eyes
were on my pussy, as Michael slid it back and forth under the lacy fabric. He
pulled outward, giving everyone brief glimpses.

I wondered, would he do it? Would he strip me completely?
Did I want him to?

I did.

He did.

With a quick move, he twisted the riding crop around the
elastic and yanked down. I was exposed.

I heard someone say, “There ya go. That’s more like it.”

Another, “Hell, gonna have to bid on that sweet little
pussy.”

And, “Does she do girls?”

And, “I’ll need more than an hour with that one. How much
for two hours?”

People laughed, and taunted me, complimented and embarrassed
me.

When Michael began rubbing the crop over the flesh
surrounding my throbbing clitoris, I didn’t know how I would be able to keep
myself from coming.

My mouth was dry and my knees were trembling. I needed. I
needed more.

A horn sounded loudly in the room and a voice came over the
loudspeakers, “That concludes the first sub auction. All participants please
leave the stage.”

Had it been thirty minutes already? It didn’t seem possible.

Some scattered boos rose up around the room.

The announcer said, “Bidding will continue for 15 minutes
only, people, until the second auction begins. Next up, male newbie subs. Bid
often and bid big. This is for charity, folks.”

There were a few more boos, but most people smiled, clapped
and chattered.

I was both relieved and annoyed. I had been so close to
coming on that stage. The idea of having an orgasm in front of all those people
... I couldn’t decide if the embarrassment would be worth the thrill.

Michael smoothly pulled my thong back into place, got my
dress around me, and unshackled me, all the while talking to people and urging
them to place bids if they wanted to see more of me. I thought giddily, what
more was there?

He ushered me off the stage, pulled back the black cloth on
the wall, and led me through the door into the recovery area.

I hardly registered my surroundings. It was a tiny space
with a couple of chairs and a love seat, some towels and blankets on a table. A
second door on the other side of the room led who knew where. The air smelled
of citrus cleaner.

Michael stripped off my dress, then yanked off my thong. He
sat in one of the chairs and pulled me onto his lap, ordering me to spread my
legs.

Two fingers slid between my legs, parting me. I groaned.

Michael said, “You’re so fucking wet.” And he plunged his
fingers inside me.

He flicked at my clit and growled, “Don’t come yet. Hold it
off.”

I drew unsteady breaths and tried hard to obey.

He said, “You loved that, all those men wanting you, women,
too. They’d love to be me right now. And you’d like for them to watch, wouldn’t
you? You’d love it.”

I gulped. Rolled my hips. Dug my fingers into his hard
thighs. The pleasure was maddening.

He said, “There are men out there right now, hoping they won
the right to do all sorts of things to you. Hoping they won you.”

I groaned. Oh God, I wasn’t going to be able to hold off
much longer.

Michael’s fingers thrust in and out of me, and his thumb
intermittently rubbed my clit.

He said, “I knew you’d love it. Think of all those people
watching you, taking you ... and come. Come now.”

I thought, finally. And I unleashed the pressure, letting it
spread through me. It pulsed out of my pussy and through every nerve ending in
my body. I came.

I sat limp in Michael’s lap, his arms tight around me, my
head snuggled against his shoulder. He stroked me and told me what a good girl
I was, and how proud he was of me. Little aftershocks broke over me now and
then. I felt protected and safe.

I don’t know how long I sat there like that before I noticed
Michael’s erection. I was surprised. This wasn’t how things normally went with
us. I was dismayed that he was still hard, that he hadn’t yet had his pleasure.

I slid one of my hands between our bodies and lightly
squeezed his cock.

Michael smiled, but reached down and pulled my hand away.
“No”.

“Why not?” I asked with a smile. “How about if I give you
one of my first class blow jobs?”

“Tempting, but no. Not right now. Later.”

“Oh, okay.” I wasn’t sure what to make of it, so I covered
my feelings with some questions. “What happens next? Where do we go? What do we
do?”

Michael chuckled, “If you’re all recovered, you can start by
getting your clothes back on.”

I grinned. “Good point.”

As I slid off his lap, I said, “I wonder how many people
have ‘recovered’ in that chair.”

“More than either one of us probably wants to know,” he
answered.

While I pulled my clothes back on, and stuck my breasts back
into my bra, Michael washed his hands and found some bottled water. He told me
to sit back down and drink. As he sat down in the other chair, he opened his
own bottle.

I smiled. He smiled back.

I asked, “So where do we meet up with Kamun?”

The smile dropped from his face. “We don’t.”

“He comes to get us here?”

“No, we won’t be meeting with Kamun. He didn’t bid for you.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“He didn’t place a bid.”

My breath caught in my throat. It wasn’t possible. I saw him
in the crowd, more than once, leering at me. “He was there. I saw him.”

“He was there. But he didn’t place a bid. I never asked him
to.”

“What the hell do you mean? You’d better not be kidding
around about this, Michael. You told me Kamun would win the bid.”

His gaze was steady, stern. “I know I did. I just said that
to help you, to give you permission to do what you really want to do.”

I stared open-mouthed at him. “You’ve got to be fucking
kidding me.”

“I’m not.”

“I ... I ... can’t believe you lied to me!”

“It was for your own good, Sweet. That’s my job, to give you
what you need.”

“I am so pissed right now, Michael. Don’t you ‘sweet’ me. So
help me. What gives you the right ...”

“I’m the only one with the right,” Michael said, his voice
firm, his mouth tight. “You gave me the right, as your master, to do as I
wished with you.”

“Within limits, Michael. Remember those little things?”

“What are limits between us? I’m supposed to push your
limits.”

“The only reason I agreed to do this was because you said
you had the thing rigged. You knew that I wouldn’t agree to it otherwise. I
think that made it a hard limit, and you should have respected it.”

“You never said this was a hard limit. It doesn’t matter
anyway, because I know that being sold to a stranger is a huge turn on for you,
just like it is for me to see you sold. Be honest, will you? Your pussy was
practically dripping when I brought you in here. Two more minutes out there and
you would have come on that stage. What do you call that? I say it proves me
right about what you really want and need.”

I sputtered. “That’s different!”

“How is it different? What’s different?”

“I don’t know. I mean. It just is. Being watched isn’t the
same as being sold, having a stranger use me.”

He shrugged. “In this case, it’s two sides of the same coin.
You loved having a crowd of strangers watch you be stripped naked and fondled.
You loved hearing them call out for more. And you loved that they were lining
up to bid for you.”

“That’s just watching,” I said.

“No, it’s not just watching. The bidding turned you on, too.
Now let’s say, just for argument’s sake, that we go meet with the winning
bidder and he wants to see you naked, wants to see me touch you. Is that any
different than what you’ve already done tonight? The only difference is that it
will be an audience of one instead of dozens.”

“It’s different ...”

“Let me finish. And let’s say that the winning bidder wants
to touch you. Weren’t you imagining the men in the crowd touching you?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? You know you were.”

“Okay, maybe I did, but that’s fantasy.”