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"I'm not sure I'm up for one of your scenes, Claire, so I think we'll pass." said Dave, my master. But if it weren't for Dan's battering and the threat of swung leather I could really enjoy this—the softness of Claire's skin against mine was delicious, and the taste and delicacy of her vagina were exquisite novelties. He leaned down and kissed me tenderly before sliding off to explore my body with his hands, lips and tongue. Then he worked on my right breast, and while he did that, his left hand stroked down to my belly, my mound, my pussy. "That was lovely." I reached my arms up to him, to stroke his arms, back, and chest as he rocked, barely fucking, more just enjoying the warmth of being inside me.
Chapter 6: Trouble. Was there ever a piece of trouble I couldn't talk myself into? Blowing him had been bad enough; what was I in for now? My master had told Dan "no hitting" but that was before I'd screwed up and earned a punishment—I felt that in accepting my punishment, I had given Dan permission to do as he saw fit, and was expecting him to come back with a whip—after all, he seemed to want to whip me and weren't you supposed to whip disobedient slaves? When I said "I accept my punishment" I thought I was talking to Master Dan. Instead I was just babbling to myself. I tensed, locking my jaw so that I wouldn't scream, wondering where the blow would fall.
As I rolled up, I heard a voice from the darkness, a warm baritone, say "1600." I heard more voices, not quite registering the bids, but then a loud "3600" spat out like a gunshot, daring anyone to risk challenging it. I blinked and tried to force my vision into the shadows to see what he looked like, when another voice cut in "3800." This was the baritone I'd heard earlier—the man who liked how I curled my legs. Up on my knees with a twist of the hips and an intense gaze toward Mr. Baritone: oh, please, buy me. "Are you sure you don't want to bid again, I can't squeeze even 4050 from you?" spoke the auctioneer to the room.
I guessed my little party wasn't the only fun being had last night. I saw one tipped over on the floor in the middle of a small puddle; it had hot pink lipstick smeared on the edge and I wondered about its story. His eyes were a little droopy, like he'd been up all night—I guessed even the maintenance crew was busy when the show was in full flight. There's a shower in back, and I put your clothes there for you already." "I don't know." I said. "I wasn't joking last night when I said it seemed a shame to waste you on some stranger—I'd like to see you again." "Maybe; I know where to reach you.
I had no time to ponder what it would be like to be forced to serve a woman, as the black-clad man turned to the crowd. Turning back, his amber eyes met mine and held them for a moment; then he stepped behind me, close enough that I could feel his heat on the bare skin of my back. I met his gaze briefly, blinked another blurry drop from my eye, but then completed the turn and faced the room, squaring my shoulders and feeling my wrists move within the now-warm steel. "I don't need you to say the words" he said, "I just want to hear you beg for this" he laughed as the collar started toward me and its jaws began to claim my throat.
They were the steps of the man with the baritone voice who had bought me. As he stepped off the stage, he stopped momentarily when one of the seated men asked, in a voice with a light lisp "Going to let us take her for a ride?" I tried to get a look at these other men, who, it seemed likely I was going to have to "take for a ride." Mr. Lisp was telephone-pole skinny, wearing a navy blazer over a white shirt; he had shoulder-length chestnut hair. I wondered which side of the room was going to be the focus of the night's entertainment; I hoped master was a leftie.
To try to show that I meant it, I lifted my head and looked toward the skinny asshole still moving between my legs; I forced my eyes to meet his, and said "I'm sorry, please rape me some more." Casting my voice as low and sultrily as I could, I asked "Would Master Dan like to take his pleasure of my body now?" And I sashayed my hips a little. He looked at me, laughed lightly, came over, unlatched my wrists and said "I'd rather have you use that body to give me pleasure." Then he stepped over to the cross, leaned against it, reached up, grabbed hold of the straps and looked toward me expectantly.
Looking at his plump lips, I said "I want to kiss you, Master." I took a quarter step back, let my arms fall to my sides, dropped my eyes to his still fully erect cock, and said, trying to sound repentant, "I'm sorry Master. As I slid away from him, I lifted my head, gazed at him, and just had time to whimper, "Fuck me, Master, please fuck me" before he clambered up, pushed fully in, and locked his mouth on mine. I closed my eyes, threw back my head, and reveled in it all—his hands on my breasts, his cock pounding into me, the power of riding a man, and the knowledge that I was under his command.