The Auction (Josefk67 & Alika)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Alika Luminos on 18-01-2011, 04:37:45</h2>
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				Title: <strong>The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Alika Luminos</strong> on <strong>18-01-2011, 04:37:45</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://mystuffspace.com/graphic/kate-beckinsale-7.jpg)</div>Miranda stood on the curb for a long time after the taxi deposited her in front of the auction house. She glanced down at the slip of paper clenched tightly beneath freshly-lacquered fingernails -deep crimson, almost black- and then back up to the granite edifice looming before her. A steady parade of auctionees filed in as she watched from a distance, a safe enough distance that it might seem as though she were not actually here to take part, in case she lost her nerve and turned away. For the first time in her life, the woman truly had no idea what to expect. <br><br>Her plane had come in to Boston a few days earlier, giving her time to prepare herself both mentally and aesthetically for the event ahead. She had gone to the salon yesterday and treated herself - or her potential buyer, as it were - to a paraffin wax and a full manicure and pedicure. When the aesthetician inquired as to her business in town, the Japanese woman beamed with delight at her answer and tried to press a Brazilian wax upon her client. Though she rarely indulged in such an extensive grooming, Miranda had already taken care of that very thing a few days prior, on the advice of her best friend - an auction veteran - so that by the day of the event, any redness would have died down and she would simply be beautifully bare. <br><br>All sorts of figures streamed towards the auction house. The brochure requested that all submissives arrive approximately four hours before the curtain call for processing and house assignments. Miranda still had time, of course, to watch and decide, though the sky was a depressing slate that appeared on the verge of opening up into a downpour. She had come this far, after all, but excitement and trepidation battled together, knotting her stomach into a quivering ball. Both men and women slipped through the gilded revolving doors; some were tall and lithe, some stocky and petite, some wore nothing but an old T-shirt and jeans, while others arrived fully decked out in sumptuous gowns and suits. <br><br>Miranda, for her part, had agonized over what to wear. Bethany - her most experienced friend and the reason behind her trip - had simply advised her to wear whatever she felt most comfortable in, but had little else to say on the subject due to a confidentiality clause. The bed in Miranda’s hotel had been covered with a huge variety of garments this morning, and she had spent much of it trying on different combinations. She did not want to appear so inexperienced as to choose the wrong thing and receive no bids at all. That thought alone nearly set her to bolting as she perched hesitantly at the curb, watching. <br><br>Ultimately, she had decided upon a diaphanous white dress. She had a well-paying job and was quite successful at her career, but the dress was far out of her usual price range. It had been one of those impulsive buys, driven by -want-, and likely the most expensive thing in her wardrobe. The tunic-like garment draped loosely to the knee, but at the same time hugged every important curve, rendering her form into something of a Roman goddess. Pairing her dress with strappy heels that laced up to mid-calf only intensified the impression, and she got more than a handful of sideways glances as she stared at the auction house. <br><br>Miranda was no stranger to being stared at herself, though she would be quick enough to deny it. She had been graced with a perfect peaches-and-cream complexion and a body to match, her figure honed by years spent training in ballet before her career forced her to give it up for more practical endeavors. When she danced, she had reined in her wavy yards of caramel-kissed chestnut, but now they cascaded free and loose down her back. Her eyes, of course, were her most distinguishing feature if one got close enough to inspect. They were heterochromic, with one iris a vivid emerald and the other a more muted hazel. She had thought them a detraction when she was young, but learned soon enough that more often than not, people were drawn to the peculiarity. <br><br>The clock tower down the street tolled noon, drawing Miranda from her thoughts with a start. The numbers entering the auction house had started to dwindle, most of them already inside. It was now or never. She took a deep breath and strode forwards with her heels clicking against the sidewalk in a confident rhythm. Her fine-boned hand pressed lightly against the revolving door, sealing flat against it for a moment before actually pushing in. <br><br>The sheer number of bodies filling the opulent lobby staled the air, and everyone seemed to be trying to talk over each other. Those crammed near to the door were packed in a confusing jumble, though all seemed to be funneling into some sort of order ahead. Miranda’s shoulders folded in as potential auctionees jostled her from all sides. Every now and then, a crestfallen man or woman would work their way against the grain, seeking exit from the yammering throng with their eyes cast sullenly downwards. Their exit blew a gust of the outside chill into the lobby, freshening the air somewhat. <br><br>“Rejected,” the woman next to Miranda yelled over the noise.<br><br>Miranda’s hand pressed lightly against her throat, brows pinching together. “Excuse…excuse me?” Miranda asked, trying to keep in contact with the petite blonde as the crowd pushed them forwards. <br><br>“Rejected. Not ready, not adequate - whatever reason the connoisseurs decided to give. Some of the rejects are quite pretty, I guess, but they‘re the experts. And you don't question.”<br><br>The brochure made no mention of rejection at all. That possibility had not even occurred to Miranda, nor had Bethany brought it up. She glanced up for a moment, swallowing back a wave of panic, her eyes fixed on the crystal chandeliers peppering the ceiling. Her eyes slid back down to regard the other woman. “Connoisseurs?”<br><br>“Oh God, honey, is this your first time?” She stuck out her palm. “Margie.”<br><br>“Yes…Yes, I’ve --” Miranda caught the other’s hand. “Margie, nice to meet you. I’m Miranda.” <br><br>“Margie and Miranda…hah.” She let out a short burst of machine-gun laughter. The woman was quite tan, with a lighter ring of skin around her neck where doubtless a collar had rested not long ago. She looked Miranda up and down and clicked her tongue appreciatively. “You’re just stunning, hon. I doubt you have anything to worry about. Unless they don’t like the way you stand or something. Teasing! Really, the number rejected is quite low, considering.”<br><br>Margie saw the course of Miranda’s gaze and rubbed her fingers at her own neck, speaking once more. “Yeah…It was great for a while, but not the One, you know? So I‘m back.” She tilted her head and peered curiously at Miranda, watching her every expression. “You…don’t know, do you? Oh wow is someone going to have fun with you.” She rubbed her hands together as they got closer to the more organized area. “I am shooting for gold this time!”<br><br>“Gold?”<br><br>The other woman rolled her eyes lightly and slipped her arm through Miranda’s, clearly marking her as her current new best friend. Miranda wasn‘t an overly friendly sort with strangers, but all of this was so alien that she didn‘t protest. “The auction houses. Silver, gold, platinum. Most land in silver, but a very select few make it to gold.”<br><br>“And platinum?”<br><br>“They say less than 1%, but I doubt it’s even that.” She put on a false British accent and pretentious airs. “Held upstairs in the Executive Theatre, it’s a grand event the likes of which has no equal among submissive auctions throughout the world.” Margie rolled her eyes and tittered a little bit, growing even more giddy as they came up to the front of the line. She eyed the staff in tuxedos ushering the submissives through velvet stanchions to the appropriate stations and leaned in to whisper, “Personally, I think they make a bit much of it, though who am I to say?”<br><br>The man standing in front of them held his arms out to either side and announced in a deep voice, “A through M to my left, please, and N through Z to the right.”<br><br>“This is the fun part,” Margie giggled, pulling her black slip-dress over her head.<br><br>Miranda’s eyes widened, and she parted her lips to speak, just noticing that everyone at the front of the line was carefully disrobing and folding their garments neatly to carry to the next station. Either side of the lobby had burnished French doors with plaques above them, naming them ‘Connoisseur Suite A’ and ‘Connoisseur Suite B’, with naked submissives forming twin lines outside either. Miranda’s cheeks bloomed a brilliant scarlet and she hugged her arms tightly over her chest, shifting from foot to foot. <br><br>“Oh, honey, don’t get shy. I mean, this is what you came for, right?” Margie now stood nude next to her new friend, her own body a beautiful thing to behold, marred only by a few thin white lines here and there. “I like knifeplay,” she explained with a broad grin when she noticed the course of Miranda‘s gaze. <br><br>Miranda sighed very quietly, eyes shifting back and forth. The staff member in front of them continued to direct the applicants to the appropriate direction, but his own gaze slipped back over to Miranda every so often, clearly waiting for the exquisite brunette to display herself. <br><br>“Yes, this is what I came for,” she said at long last in answer to Margie. Her delicate fingers slipped beneath the hem of her gauzy dress and lifted it slowly skywards, uncovering the arches and curves of her womanly form. She made quick work of her brassiere and panties and folded everything together in a tight bundle, tucking it under her arm as everyone else seemed to. <br><br>“Hot damn, woman. I’d fuck you,” Margie laughed, only making Miranda’s flush deepen.<br><br>“I’m straight.”<br><br>“Yeah, me too,” the blonde said with a laugh, again taking her by the crook of the arm and leading her on towards the next station. “This is the part where I start to get antsy,” Margie confided, signing in to the clipboard outside the connoisseur room. “But it’s also the most fun.”<br><br>Miranda took the pen from her and scrolled down the page. No last names were used, though the house assigned a number to distinguish those with common enough names. She was the only Miranda, and there was a little star next to her name. The man at the table in front of them smiled at the two ladies as he took the clipboard back and then ushered them through the ropes to stand outside the closed doors. <br><br>“What does the star mean?” Miranda whispered once they had moved on.<br><br>“First time,” Margie said with a smile. “I know you’re nervous, but first timers actually tend to earn quite high bids.”<br><br>“If I’m not rejected.”<br><br>The other woman groaned and shook her head. “Now you’re just being silly. Oh! That’s me!” she called out, waving her arms when her name was called by the staff member milling about outside the room. “Good luck and I’ll see you on the other side!” Margie tottered off with a little muffled thump of her heels over the crimson carpet, disappearing through the double doors.<br><br>Miranda shifted anxiously as she waited. There were several others still before her. She toyed with the trailing edge of her locks, twisting them around her finger. The wait seemed to go on for hours. She had no idea what waited behind that door, what a ‘connoisseur’ was, and why so much time was required to get through the processing before the auction started. <br><br>“Miranda. We are ready for you.”
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>josefk67</strong> on <strong>18-01-2011, 13:47:33</strong>
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				Leo Penrose looked out blankly at the Charles River. Flurries of rowing boats sped past with eager students vying for places on the various university teams, which in turn would bestow privileges, exemptions, exonerations and possibly even stardom in their now and future careers. But Leo barely noticed them. He sat on a bench feeling for all the world like his life had ground to a halt. Just two years ago, things had been so very different. His latest novel seemed to be coming together nicely, and to many at the publishers, it was the book that would bring him to the attention of the world's literati. They assured him this was not just hyperbole, marketing hype, and though he was cautious in his dealings with them, never one to get ahead of himself, Leo himself had begun to feel that this novel possessed a magic all of its own. <br><br>He would sit down after breakfast and write all day easily, mostly powering ahead with the prose, but often using the time to go back over earlier pages and redraft, tweak, amend. Some days he would write thousands of words, other days perhaps a few hundred. But each day he knew he was making progress and that the characters had become full of life and vitality. In the evening, he would return downstairs from his study overlooking the rocky shoreline to be with Sabina.<br><br><em>Sabina</em>. His one. His muse. Dear sweet blonde Sabina whose submission had seemed to inspire him more than anything else in his life hitherto. He would enter the sitting room at 7.30, and there she would be kneeling for him, head bowed, hands behind her back. Waiting for her Master. He often allowed her to decide how she would be attired, enjoying how each day might be different and thus arouse him in different ways. But always the first thing he would notice, no matter how she was dressed, or undressed, would be her collar, an exquisite leather collar that offset her pale complexion so beautifully. The sheer fact of her submission, her acquiescence, the way she surrendered herself to him this way, made his heart leap every time. Her acceptance of his designs upon her each day. It was all part of his creative ritual. A day of strenuous mental activity and then the need to unwind, by dominating his collared submissive in one or two of myriad ways. Having been faced each day with a blank page, Leo would then use his submissive as a blank canvas to his darkest desires for an hour or two, before supper. <br><br>They had been happy. At least.... he <em>thought </em>they had been happy. Sabina had been contracted to him for six months. A golden girl, he had called her, and she had laughed that mellifluous laugh of hers that was like a shiver up and down his spine, made him want to <em>do </em> things to her. And she seemed to want him to do those things, and often, perhaps more often than he did. But that wasn't a problem, surely?<br><br>But then came the day when he went downstairs into the sitting room, to find Sabina standing next to a small black suitcase. She had smiled, a rather distant smile it seemed now, had stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek, whispering 'Goodbye,' in his ear. In his shock, he barely noticed the piece of paper she had slipped into his hand, until he heard the door slam, and the sound of a car engine firing up. He gazed down at the document - <strong>Contract </strong>- and noted the date. 7 July. Six months after the auction... <br><br>After that, his writing dried up. The publishers began to panic, began to issue threats about contracts of their own, of advance payment, of commitments... For months, he could barely write a page, but finally the pressure paid off, and he finished the novel in a rush. He fulfilled his commitments, and the book made a lot of money. But the book was also panned mercilessly by the critics and he was dropped. He didn't care. Why should he care? His muse had gone...had left him with but one word. <em>Goodbye</em>. <br><br>Often he had stared at himself in the mirror and wondered how he seemed to those around him, now that the love of his life had left him. His hair was greying now, but did lend him that academic air that he had so obviously lacked when he had been teaching. It was offset by his neatly trimmed beard, now also greying but shot through with russet flecks of his original colouring. He knew people paid handsomely for such tinting, yet he was blessed with a natural look. His eyes were a striking pale blue, but even he could tell that where they had once sparkled, they now looked tired and veiled. His sister had remarked that his shoulders had become hunched, but looking at himself he still had his tall slim build. Myra did have a tendency to the melodramatic. Be that as it may, there was no doubt that the loss of Sabina had taken its toll upon him in so many ways.<br><br>The distant striking of a clock roused him. Noon. Shit, he was going to be late. His agent had asked him to come into Boston today for a meeting to discuss a few possible commissions. Leo didn't need the money, his first three novels having sold well, and the dramatisation of the first one had been a big summer hit five years previously. He'd invested the six-figure sum wisely, along with his subsequent royalties, and knew he never needed to work again. But he did <em>want </em>to work. He just didn't know what it was he wanted to write about any longer. Still, the occasional commission, a newspaper article here, a journal feature there, kept his mind active. But the <em>magnum opus</em>, everything the last novel had seemed it might be, eluded him still, and perhaps it always would. <br><br>He picked up his cell phone and called Rowena. 'Leo, where the hell <em>are </em>you? I've got Phillips here for the moment, but he's mighty pissed off at you for being late.'<br><br>Leo sighed. 'Tell Richard that I'll be about ten minutes, but if he'd rather get someone like Zac Knight to write the piece about the proposed auction changes, then I don't mind.'<br><br>'But you have that first-hand experience! It's a home run for you..' He could hear Rowena's exasperation with him, but without any trace of empathy or understanding about why anything to do with auctions might be a sore point. Bless her! Always thinking of the bottom line. Well, more precisely, <em>her </em>bottom line!<br><br>'Well, tell him what the fuck you want, Rowena, but I'm going to be another ten minutes by the time I cross the river.' He rang off then and began to saunter along the river path and up the stone steps onto the busy road. His agent's office was not too far away, and irony of ironies a mere stone's throw from the auction house itself. <br><br>It was an impressive building from the outside, but was hard to love architecturally. It was a different matter inside, though, and he remembered being quite amazed by its beauty. His mind began to drift to the time he had last set foot in the building. To Sabina, her nakedness on the stage, her defiant glances around the room...<br><br>He shook his head, angry at himself for his sentiment. He forced himself to walk briskly then, barely noticing the last few people who were slipping through the doors into the granite building across the road.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Alika Luminos</strong> on <strong>18-01-2011, 21:55:45</strong>
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				Miranda followed the tuxedo-wearing usher through those double doors, once more completely unsure of what to expect. The red carpet from the lobby continued on through a central corridor in the connoisseur suite, a narrow walkway flanked on either side by several polished wooden doors with brass numbers on them. No windows. There were probably about a dozen or so of them, six on each side. The usher led Miranda to a door with a bright seven on the front and then held his arms out to gather her clothes from her. <br><br>“They will be waiting for you at the end of the auction, when you leave with your bidder,” he told her, before striding down to the end of the hallway and out the opposite door.<br><br>Miranda stared at the door in front of her for a brief moment, then slowly pushed in, making hardly a sound. The room was richly appointed, with an imposing mahogany desk and a thick oriental rug underfoot. Amber lighting filtered from decorative sconces bolted to the walls, lending the room a serene atmosphere. It smelled vaguely of honeysuckle, but she reasoned that it could be lingering perfume from the last submissive. <br><br>A slightly bookish man sat in a salon chair off to the side, and when she entered, he gestured to the gold ring on the floor. “Inside the mark, please. Hands at your side, legs shoulder-width apart.” He sounded bored and hardly looked at her, pushing the glasses up on the bridge of his nose as he scrawled a few things on his notepad. Another man stood with his back to them, washing his hands at a freestanding sink in the corner of the large room. <br><br>Miranda shut the door quietly behind her and strode to the center of the room, stepping inside the gold ring and doing as the hawk-faced man had instructed. The clock on the wall ticked the seconds away in stuffy silence. The seated man continued to read through whatever was on his notepad, underlining a few things here and there, making comments. Miranda wondered if she was supposed to be doing something.<br><br>The man at the sink dried his hands on a hanging towel and then turned around. He was tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a navy pinstriped suit with a dark ruby tie. His skin was lightly tanned and clearly tended to with expensive products. The man locked his dark eyes on Miranda and he paused for a moment, seeming to drink her in with his gaze. <br><br>“You are Miranda?” he asked softly, a wisp of a French accent tinting his words.<br><br>“Yes.”<br><br>He cocked his head and stared at her for a long while, raking his attention up and down her entire form. “Appearance. Ten. Smile for me? Beautiful. Perfect teeth. Ten.” He walked towards her, bringing the scent of a subtle cologne with him. “Why are you here, Miranda?” <br><br>She held her breath when he circled behind her, feeling the heat of his presence hovering so near. She had never been a prude, but she was not an exhibitionist, and standing naked in front of absolute strangers left a hot rush of color on her cheeks. The clock filled the silence again as she thought over his question. Most people probably spouted off claims of trying to find true love, their essential partnering. But the truth was, Miranda was not entirely certain why she had come. <br><br>“Because something is missing,” she answered.<br><br>The connoisseur laughed behind her. “Excellent. Ten.” When he spoke, the man in the chair made a little mark on his page. <br><br>Miranda felt the man standing behind her sink down to one knee on the soft carpet, then suddenly wrap his strong palms around her calf. She tensed up for a moment in surprise, though it passed quickly enough. His hands slid slowly up her leg, fingertips raking gently over her soft flesh, up over the curve of her thigh. When he reached the top of her thighs, his hands parted to grasp at either hip, walking gently, slowly up her sides until he came to the underside of her breasts. <br><br>“Exquisite, like silk. Ten.” He stepped even closer to her, chest pressed to her back. His hands slid up to close over her breasts, enclosing them completely in his warm palms. Miranda’s breath caught a moment and then she felt the hot wash of his breath at her ear. “Thirty-six C…am I right?” he asked.<br><br>She blinked a little. “Yes, that’s right.”<br><br>The man smiled and the one taking notes jotted a few more things down. The connoisseur opened and closed his fingers, almost kneading her breasts as he appraised her assets. “Natural, too. Very nice.” He ceased cupping her breasts only to catch each nipple between thumb and forefinger, pinching and rolling the delicate buds until they firmed up beneath his attentions. Miranda gasped and arched her back away from him slightly, a surge of sensation drifting between her legs. “Sensitive, responsive. Ten.”<br><br>Miranda’s flush only deepened at the surge of arousal from his almost clinical attentions. While it was not wholly unpleasant, being appraised for the auction, it was unlike any experience she had had to date. She hoped that all of this was worth it. The connoisseur released her nipples suddenly and let his fingers dive between her legs, spreading her petal-soft bare nether lips and dipping his index finger into her sex to just the first joint, executing it with such precision that she scarcely had time to register it before he was finished. Her eyes widened and she gasped, pushing back against him momentarily. <br><br>The connoisseur brought his finger to his lips and sampled the essence coating the digit. “Sweet. Undertones of citrus. Long finish with delicious aftertaste. Ten. Tightness - eleven.” He laughed at his own joke and then shook his head before his comrade could write that down. “Ten.”<br><br>He reached into his pocket then and brought out a small tube, expelling some of the clear, viscous gel onto that same index finger before tucking the tube back into his pocket. Miranda tensed a little when she felt that finger tracing a slow circle around the tight star of her rear, closing her eyes as he used his free hand to peel aside the round globe of one cheek. She let out a soft cry when he dipped again just the first joint of his finger in, pushing past the taut ring of her bud and then pulling out just as quickly.<br><br>“Nothing in there before, hm?” he breathed at her ear. “Anal tightness. Ten,” he called out to the note-taker before crossing the room to wash his hands at the sink again. He patted them dry and slipped behind his desk, opening the top drawer and bringing out a thick stack of paper. “Camden, read back please?”<br><br>The man taking notes scanned down his list, calling out the different ratings the connoisseur had given, some of which Miranda had not even noticed though she supposed they had communicated such with glances when he was behind her. “Average rating: ten.”<br><br>The connoisseur’s face split into a broad smile. So involved with the appraisal was he, that he had not even realized the score as he went about. “A perfect ten…hm, it has been a few auctions since we have had one, I believe. Come here,” he said. Miranda hesitated a moment, but he again beckoned her over to come out of the gold circle.<br><br>He flipped around the papers he held, pointing with his pen at specific passages that were tagged. “This is your contract for the auction. Every participant is required to sign, indicating they have read and understood the terms outlined within. I will give you a few moments.”<br><br>Miranda scanned the document quickly. It seemed to be a bunch of legalese that essentially stated that the participating submissive was required to stay with his or her buyer unless both parties cite irreconcilable differences in the match, at which point the contract would be null and void. She got to the bottom and blinked. There, in the neat typeface, it stated that the term of the platinum house contract was no less than one year.<br><br>“Platinum?” she whispered, glancing up at him. <br><br>The connoisseur handed his pen to her. “You are simply exquisite, Miranda,” he said, watching her intently. She signed the document and then handed it back to him, flushing now for a different reason. She really did not see how she was so special. <br><br>The connoisseur plucked a jewelry case from the three sitting on his desk and popped the clamshell open. Nestled on a bed of white satin was a thin platinum band with a delicate D-ring on the front, and two platinum cuffs set in the center. He lifted the collar from the satin and circled around the desk.<br><br>“Hair up.” He waited for her to lift her tresses and then fitted the collar around her slender neck, locking it in place with the matching key. He set the key back in the case. It would be given to the winning bidder upon claiming of the auctionee. He snapped the case shut and handed it over to Miranda. “Stunning. You were made to wear a collar, my dear. The cuffs will be placed on you by your handler right before you take the stage. You’ll receive your leash then as well. Please head out to the end of the hall. The ushers will take you to the photographers.”<br><br>Miranda took the case from him in shaky hands, still a little shellshocked by everything. “Thank…thank you,” she said uncertainly, and the connoisseur dipped his head with a knowing smile, sweeping his hand towards the door. She turned and headed out, still wondering exactly what it was the auction held in store for her. <br><br>Platinum. What had Margie said? Less than 1%? How could she possibly be of that caliber? Still, the connoisseur had seemed to know exactly what he was doing, and she idly wondered how many submissives he had appraised in his time. She walked down the hall quietly, met at the end by another usher.<br><br>Photographers. Exactly what sort of photography was she to endure now?
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>josefk67</strong> on <strong>19-01-2011, 21:10:00</strong>
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				By the time Leo reached the office block downtown, slowly climbed up the long, serpentine marble staircase to the top floor and been ushered into Rowena’s office by her mousey little secretary, he found his agent pacing angrily up and down. Her black high-heeled pumps rang out a staccato rhythm on the laminate flooring which alerted the writer to the depth of her anger.<br><br>‘Well, that’s just fucking great!’ she spat as he sat down in a large leather armchair in the corner of her large, decidedly minimalist office. It had been shorn of all but a large glass and chrome desk, three chairs and a small coffee table since his last visit many months ago. She had invested in some desperately overpriced Chagal prints, which hung on her whitewashed walls and rendered the space rather too much like a sterile art gallery. In fact, the distinct lack of objects in the room seemed only to accentuate the emotional state of its inhabitant. Surely an agent should seek to convey a sense of warmth, of comfort, rather than frigidity, Leo thought to himself. It was clear that the newspaper editor had gone, and Leo wasn’t surprised. If one had to spend too much time in this room, one would surely end up feeling very exposed by the lack of much else in it.<br><br>He turned his gaze on Rowena, who had plonked herself down on the edge of her desk and was skewering him with her cold, predatory gaze. ‘Phillips said he couldn’t wait any longer, because he had to get across to the auction house to meet with the Connoisseur Board. I don’t think he’s going to forgive you for this, you know, Leo.’ <br><br>Leo shrugged. ‘I’m not sure I’m the right person for that commission, really.’ <br><br>‘Why ever not?!’<br><br>Could she really be that obtuse? The writer stared at this woman who had acted for him for a decade now. She was in her mid forties, he guessed, so not much older than he was, with an immaculately coiffeured&nbsp; black bob that did, actually suit her, drawing attention to her dark brown eyes. But he could not escape the sense that she was clearly trying to hold back the years a little too obsessively in the way she presented herself. She was attractive, in a slightly strained way, wearing a dark blue trouser suit, as if she wanted almost to try to beat the men at their own game, but by somehow removing her femininity; it seemed a shame to Leo’s eye. He wished she would just relax a little more, perhaps to be herself, for she would have a much more devastating impact on those around her, professionally, but also in terms of her beauty. <br><br>‘Why are you so keen for me to do it?’ he asked then, suddenly curious why it seemed to matter that he write about the auction. She didn’t need the money that she’d get for securing the commission. He paid her a decent retainer for her services, and he was by no means her only lucrative client. She wasn’t overly bothered about his landing a Nobel prize, it was true, but there would be other articles, and eventually, another book. He watched her closely after posing the question, and thought, for a moment, that he caught a slight change in her demeanour, a wavering, as if he had caught her doing something she shouldn’t. In an instant, it was gone, and her haughty displeasure seemed to have returned with a vengeance and she glared at him. ‘Because it’s my job to keep you working!’<br><br>She stood up then and paced around the room again, but this time, Leo felt sure it was a displacement tactic, an effort to distract him. He’d struck a nerve, that was for sure. <br><br>It slowly dawned on him then. It was so obvious, he couldn’t believe he’d not grasped it before. ‘You were auctioned once, weren’t you!’ he said, more as a statement than a question. This time, Rowena stopped pacing, and turned, looking at him, all irritation gone.<br><br>‘Twice,’ she said hoarsely. Suddenly, this strident woman looked more crestfallen than he had ever known her to be. She crumpled into the chair next to him and sighed. ‘Twenty years ago,’ she went on quietly, ‘but both times it just didn’t work out.’ She paused. ‘I tried so hard, to open up, but…’ Her voice trailed off then as her brown eyes began to shimmer with tears.<br><br>Leo felt he ought to comfort her, hold her, but then he also knew his agent was a proud woman, and was mindful not to make any sense of humiliation she might be feeling any worse. But his heart went out to her; he knew how it felt. ‘I’m so sorry,’ was all he could muster, knowing it was wholly inadequate, yet somehow so much better than hollow platitudes or awkward words of sympathy. But he leant over to her and took her hand.<br><br>‘You really want me to do this, don’t you?’ <br><br>She nodded. <br><br>‘Why, though? I don’t get it.’<br><br>He looked into her eyes, which had softened, and in turn had rendered her features so much more alive, more natural, less pinched. Rowena Summers suddenly seemed years younger with these tears, submissive even, and for a moment he could imagine how she must have looked when presenting herself to be sold. Deep down, as he continued to hold her hand and look into her eyes, something stirred in him for the first time in a very long time. For a flicker of a moment, in the silence that had suddenly seized the room, Leo remembered what it felt like to possess a beautiful woman, to own her completely. Gazing at his agent, seeing her in a wholly new light, he started to imagine what it would feel like to take her. He could almost feel himself sliding his fingers along her neck…<br><br>She shrugged eventually, and the reverie was broken. ‘I don’t know, Leo. It kind of felt like…like I might get some closure. I always felt that the contract wasn’t binding enough somehow. If they try and change it, weaken it, it could really hurt some people, damage them even. I just thought,’ she hesitated then. ‘I just thought because of how you got hurt too, you might be able to apply some gentle pressure on the directorate by bringing what is being discussed to a wider audience.’ <br><br>For the first time in their acquaintance, Leo actually felt moved by Rowena, leaving aside the ephemeral flickers of desire for her. Oftentimes she had moved him to anger, but never empathy or anything more physical. And in this moment of epiphany, she had revealed her submissive side, as well as acknowledging his own past distress for the first time. He sighed. ‘Ok, Ok! I’ll do it! I’ll go and grab Richard at the auction house before the bidding gets under way.’<br><br>A sparkle flew into her eyes, and for a second, Leo wondered if he had just been played by a consummate performer. But as they continued to gaze into each other’s eyes, he realised that he had allowed cynicism to mislead him. Rowena leant across to him and kissed his cheek softly, her scent delicately tangling his senses. ‘Thank you,’ she said.<br><br><div align="center">*&nbsp; *&nbsp; *</div><br>Leo stood facing the auction house about fifteen minutes later, suddenly wondering if he was about to re-open painful wounds. Rowena had been summoned to another meeting, and they had parted quickly but with a shake of the hand this time. Maybe he could just call the editor later, and arrange to meet somewhere, anywhere else but here?<br><br>But a promise was a promise…<br><br>With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and reached out to the revolving door, the copper hand plate cold to his touch, and he stepped back into his past…<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Alika Luminos</strong> on <strong>19-01-2011, 21:50:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The usher opened the double doors for Miranda when she met him at the opposite end of the hallway, his eyes tracing up briefly to the platinum band encircling her neck now. Her shoulders straightened with an enormous amount of pride as she followed him into the next chamber over. The receiving room was not quite as cramped as the lobby and a bit more refined in presentation.<br><br>The submissives that had already been appraised lounged on chaises surrounding a steadily burbling water wall and sculpture. The room was high-ceilinged and vacuous, ringing with the mixture of voices chattering and the soft rush of laughter. With a gilded painting on the ceiling and gold-veined marble on the floor, it rather remind Miranda of a Roman bathhouse. <br><br>“Miranda!” a woman’s voice called out to her, and with the shock of the ongoing experience still coursing through her blood, it took her a moment to assign the voice to Margie. The blonde came jogging over to her with short-stepped strides, hands out for balance as her heels hammered out a hollow rhythm against the marble. <br><br>“Hello again, Margie,” she answered, once she had summoned her voice again. She smiled and gestured to the gold band around her friend’s throat. “You made it.”<br><br>“Yes I did! I was so--” She halted mid-sentence, her brilliant blue eyes going round. “You are in the -platinum- house?” she squealed, the words repeating over and again in the room. New whispers started to echo in the room, eyes turning towards the two women. “Oh wow…Oh, Miranda…I’m so jealous. You get all the fun stuff now.” She lowered her voice a little. “I’ve only seen a few others come through so they’ll likely be ready for you…now,” she finished as another usher waded over to the two. <br><br>“Miranda, follow me please,” he said, only very lightly touching her elbow to guide her along towards another room. <br><br>As she walked, she briefly had the thought that she had endured less during job interviews than this. The next room was dark and almost cocoon-like, with a very heavy presence. All the lights were off, except for a photography array in the center of the room, encircling a plain white platform with a basic backdrop. <br><br>The photographer was seated off to the side, drinking a cup of coffee and conversing with a few assistants when he saw her. He rose and walked over to her with outstretched arms, kissing her on either cheek. “Bella! This way, please,” he said in a thick accent, directing her towards the set. After gazing at her for a few long moments, he barked a few commands in Italian to his assistants.<br><br>They dashed off and then reappeared a few moments later, ferrying a piece of furniture between them. Once they entered the cone of light cast by the array, Miranda saw that it was a mahogany Victorian chaise with deep scarlet brocade cushioning. They arranged it on the top tier of the set and then shuffled off out of the frame. <br>“We take a few picture to stimulate buyers’ minds,” the photographer told her, taking her delicate hand gently in his and leading her up to the chaise. He called again and his assistant ran up with a gag in hand. “Here now, open mouth.” He tapped at her lips with his index finger, smiling as he fit the red ball behind her teeth and then fastened the straps snugly behind her head.<br><br>The jaw-stretching sensation was not an utterly foreign one, nor was the sudden tang of rubber on her tongue. Miranda had experimented with a few of her vanilla boyfriends using such things, though it had never panned out to anything exciting. A long shiver of anticipation rippled down her spine, drawing more arousal from this seemingly routine scene than she ever had from bland playtime. <br><br>“Lie down here, hips turn towards me…top leg slid over the other. No peeks at goods yet!” he instructed with a soft laugh before going on, waiting for her to arrange herself on the chaise. “Back flat against pillow and arch chest up. Very good, bella…Arms stretched over head, wrists together, please.” He tugged a red silk scarf out of his pocket and wrapped it over and around her wrists, knotting it loosely. “Is not meant for hold,” he explained, “is for art.”<br><br>The photographer reached over and slipped his finger under her hair just above the strap of the gag, tugging a few strands free to fall loosely over her cheeks. “Wonderful!” He clapped as he jogged down the steps over to his camera, almost giddy at having such a subject to shoot. “Now face towards me. Turn head only! Keep chest up!” he called. He jabbered in Italian to his assistant again.<br><br>The assistant ran up to where Miranda was posed, holding an ice cube in his hand. She gasped and bucked up slightly when he leaned down and began to rub the ice slowly over each nipple, working until both buds nearly leapt from her chest, diamond-hard. The photographer waved his hand frantically to get the man out of frame and then just started shooting rapid-fire.<br><br>“Bella! More arch!” He nearly blinded Miranda with the flashes. “Now sit up. Legs together and facing side of room. Bring hands down - leave scarf on - and rest near opposite hip. Good! Hold there and look down at me like you‘ve just been ravaged! Good!” The short man ran back and forth in front of her, shooting at every angle, sweat rolling down his shaved head. <br><br>At long last, he raced back up the tiers and untied her wrists, then worked to free her gag. Miranda licked her dry lips and stretched her jaw. The photographer gave her another kiss on either cheek. “Simply breathtaking. Thank you…” he breathed. He held her hand for a moment, letting his thumb swipe back and forth idly over the veinless smooth expanse, almost hesitant to let go. “Now final prep,” he said reluctantly, gesturing back towards the door. <br><br>Miranda staggered towards the door as though drunk on the snap of flashbulbs and the aftertaste of rubber, startled when a hand darted out of nowhere and caught her elbow, spinning her about in a flourish. It was a severe-looking woman with her black hair pulled back into what appeared to be an excruciatingly tight bun. Using Miranda’s own momentum, she nearly flung her into a salon chair before she even had a chance to breath. The woman tapped at her crimson lips, eyeing the platinum submissive up and down as though she were a painter assessing a blank canvas. The truth was closer than Miranda realized, for in the next moment, a brush jumped into the dark woman’s hand. <br><br>Once Miranda had come down from the exhilaration of the last experience, she had chance to peer around this new room. It was indeed a salon, or a makeshift one at least, with a few chairs staggered around the room facing mirrors and stocked stations. The woman in front of her dipped her brush into a small well of glittery material, tilting her head this way and that as she looked over Miranda’s body.<br><br>Miranda caught the flash of movement in the mirror a moment before she felt hands lacing in her hair, parting her strands and finger-combing them idly. “No no…put down the straightener,” the severe woman said with a tsk. “Her hair is beautiful curly. Refine the waves and put some shine to it.” With that, she went to work on Miranda’s body. “Micronized mineral in a transparent base,” she said in response to the quizzical look. “It’s a bit more refined than just oiling you up, no?”<br><br>Miranda flinched when the cold paint hit her skin near the navel, earning a tsk from the severe woman. “Don’t move, dear.” The person behind Miranda began to toy with her hair, weaving it around different diameters of irons in order to refine and perfect the waves cascading down her back. “Some of the…how do I put this? …less popular submissives require a lot of embellishment. For you, I will make something special,” the woman whispered. <br><br>The paint she used dried clear, except for a soft pearly sheen when the light caught it just so. Not the gaudy, flashy glitter of an exotic dancer. She painted a subtle pattern surrounding Miranda’s navel and extending upwards, fading into a spear of dots that petered out between her breasts. Another artistic pattern was brushed upon the crest of her collarbones, just beneath the platinum circle around her throat. The severe woman’s broad hand tapped Miranda’s thighs lightly and she slipped them open just a little. The woman dipped into a separate container of clear adhesive and outlined a starburst on Miranda’s mons, sticking Swarovski crystals there one by one with the glimmering line halting just before diving over the crest of her mound. <br><br>With that finished, the severe woman opened a drawer and pulled out a gleaming chain with small loops and bejeweled dangles at the ends. She threaded one end of the chain through the D-ring around Miranda’s collar, then let one end drop. Miranda squeaked when that woman squeezed a nipple suddenly, and quite hard, firming it. She stared at her in disbelief, though the woman simply went about her business, looping one end of the chain over the nipple and tightening it with a slip of the jeweled end so that the multi-strand rhinestone embellishment dangled free from the banded nub. She repeated it on the other side so that both nipples were tightly banded and ensured to stay taut throughout the auction, garnished with gleaming rhinestone fringe, and connected to Miranda’s collar in a graceful arc with barely any slack left over. <br><br>Miranda felt the hands stop working at her hair, and a second woman came around the front to stand next to the first, both of them peering at her silently like an <em>objet d’art</em>. The severe woman made a motion for her to stand and she did so. The loops capturing her nipples had started to tingle a little bit, just a constant little source of pleasant pressure that kept her buttons rigid and plump. The chains, at least, had warmed to her body temperature, and jingled softly as she moved. <br><br>The severe woman picked Miranda’s clamshell case up off the chair and handed it over. “Don’t forget your cuffs. You’re off to meet your handler now. Don’t rub at the paint.” <br><br>With that, she ushered Miranda out of the little salon and into another long hallway, leaving the woman lost and alone in the vacant space, looking to and fro as she attempted to make sense of this dizzying and labyrinthine establishment. She literally felt high, shuffled back and forth between so many nameless people, her body poked and prodded and bejeweled like a prize. She clutched the clamshell case to her naked form and waited quietly in the hall for the next 'someone' to come fetch her. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>josefk67</strong> on <strong>21-01-2011, 22:42:11</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				As Leo’s footsteps echoed round the cavernous lobby of the auction house, he was conscious of the relative silence. When he had passed the building an hour or so ago, he had been aware of the throng swarming around inside, as the selection process was about to begin. The first, and indeed only, time he had participated in an auction, he had gone along more in hope than expectation. He had arrived early all those years ago, and slipped up the marble staircase to the far left of the lobby and gone up to the first floor and observed the arrival of the hopeful submissives. He had read about the process, of course, and so was not entirely in the dark; but to witness that excitement and tension with his own eyes brought the theory to life, added vitality to the descriptions he had read.<br><br>As a writer, he loved nothing more than to find a vantage point and watch people. To sit idly at a street café, reading the paper, coffee in hand, and to catch wisps of conversations – the lovers quarrelling on the phone, the child baiting her parents – and register the ebb and flow of human life, there was nothing finer in the quest for inspiration. To observe and yet somehow not be observed onself. He had always felt that as a writer he was invisible, able to slip in and out of people’s lives unnoticed. It was a privilege, and a skill.<br><br>And so he had gazed down on the crowd of hopefuls, being checked in by the ushers and assigned a room for their appraisal by the connoisseurs. He remembered wondering which of the women he watched arrive might be the one. He had been fairly certain that he would leave empty-handed, either outbid or simply uninspired, and was inured to the fact that his own journey of exploration would remain an a priori path to be plotted in fiction. It was simply an experience being here to observe this enlightened, and liberating, ritual, and was one he never believed he would ever have been in a position to participate in.<br><br>But stepping into the golden section and taking his seat, Leo had suddenly felt a sense of anticipation, of promise that took him aback. It had felt as if he were going to find the woman who would be the key to those rusted locks that entombed his darker side. And almost on cue, there she had been…<br><br>The memory of that moment made him wince now, standing in the lobby, and not for the first time today, he wondered what on earth he was doing. So lost in the recollection had Leo been that he had not noticed the presence of an officious looking usher hovering a short distance away, a look of intense irritation on his pale, oleaginous face. He cleared his throat and frowned.<br><br>‘I’m afraid this is not a museum, sir!’ he huffed. ‘I think you ought to leave.’<br><br>Leo was quite taken aback by this aggressive tone, and so deep was his surprise that it drained his natural instinct to tear a strip off this rude little man.&nbsp; Indeed, because of the ghosts of the past that had encircled him the moment he came through the doors, it took him a little while to regain his composure.<br><br>‘I am well aware of that,’ he replied in the end. ‘I am in fact looking for someone.’ Before he could continue, the usher exhaled loudly. <br>‘You don’t say!’ This time, Leo felt his hackles rising.<br><br>‘Would you happen to have seen Richard Phillips, editor of the Boston Globe? I understand he has a meeting with the Connoisseur Board today. I was led to believe he would be here…’ He let his words sink in, and took great delight in the little man’s reaction. He had not realised that one who was already rather colourless could grow ever more insipid.<br><br>‘Oh..I…um…’ the usher stammered, and without another moment’s hesitation, rushed off.<br><br>Leo looked around and noticed a few very ornate chairs tucked away in one corner of the lobby, where a young man sat, head in hands. As Leo approached, it was clear that the man was sobbing, and he looked up with red eyes as the writer sat down on the chair one along. ‘Are you Ok?’<br><br>The young man shook his head. ‘I really thought this time I’d be Ok, that I’d got myself into shape, but..’ His voice trailed off into little shudders, and he sank his head down again. Leo thought again of Rowena, of the damage that she thought the proposed change to the contracts might bring; but here was someone who had fallen at the first hurdle and looked in a bad way.<br><br>Rapid footsteps on the marble floor made Leo look up to see the little prick returning. His face was now suddenly very red indeed; it wasn’t much of an improvement, if truth be told. <br><br>‘The Board is already in session, as they always meet before the auctions begin, so Mr Phillips should be free at around 3.30pm.’ The usher gave the young man a disdainful sideways glance when the poor unfortunate let out another audible shudder, before turning his attention back to Leo. ‘Can I get you a drink for the bar while you wait?’ <br><br>Leo shook his head. ‘No thank you. I’ll go for a walk and come back then. I’d like you to let him know that Leo Penrose would like to meet him just quickly before the auctions start.’<br><br>‘Leo Penrose? The novelist?’ the young man suddenly interjected. Leo looked surprised, and then nodded, smiling. He caught the expression on the usher’s face and allowed his smile to broaden. The officious little man looked mortified now that he realised he had insulted someone obviously a bit more famous than he had first thought.<br><br>‘I’ll be back at 3.30,’ he said and made his way to the door, chuckling as he heard the usher asking the young man who the hell Leo Penrose was.<br><br>* * *<br><br>Leo spent the next two hours strolling around the city, before ending up in a Charles’s Bar in Beacon Hill. He loved this part of the city; it appealed to his Bohemian sensibilities, and he regretted now having sold the apartment he had once owned here. He had had a view of the Public Garden, but felt that being in the city offered too many distractions for him as a burgeoning writer. So, he had taken the decision to buy himself a small house in Cambridge instead. After his first novel, Long Division, had sold well and been dramatised, he had bought himself a large old house near Portland. There had been something about the rugged coastline that appealed to him as a place to find inspiration much more than the gentle sands of Cape Cod. The splendid isolation had allowed him so much more scope to explore his creativity…and with Sabina for company, for that short period, he had started to dream of… Well, many things.<br><br>Leo took a deep swig of his beer and sighed. Was there anything he should have done differently? What had he done wrong? She’d never complained, not once. Together they had started to explore each others darkest fantasies, delighted in making them real, and in so doing, forging newer dimensions, further limits… Maybe he had pushed her too far too fast. Or maybe..? Leo gazed out at the street, where a little mongrel was yapping excitedly at the heels of its owner. Maybe he hadn’t been dominant enough…<br><br>He downed his beer and set off back to the auction house. It was just a little after 3.30 when he found himself back in the lobby, which was now milling with people. But this time, it was a very different body. For with the auctions imminent, these were the buyers, those who, like he had once done, had come to procure the means to explore depravity.<br><br>‘Penrose,’ a deep voice boomed out self-importantly across the lobby, drowning out the throng, ‘where the hell have you been?’<br><br>Almost literally shoving people out of the way, Richard Phillips, one of the local community’s most influential figures, was heading straight for him. ‘It’s about to start and we must get our seats.’<br><br>Leo blanched. ‘But….’ His heart began to beat faster and he felt a knot in his stomach.<br><br>Phillips grabbed his arm and yanked him back into the morass of human wealth. ‘Come ON, man!’<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Alika Luminos</strong> on <strong>21-01-2011, 23:11:43</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Miranda only waited a few moments before the handler came for her. He was a slender, dark man wearing an impeccable tuxedo like the ushers. He broke into a wide smile when he spotted the platinum submissive idling outside the salon.&nbsp; <br><br>“Javier,” he said as he waved his hand in an elegant court bow. Finally, a face with a name in this maddening place. “And you must be Miranda. How lucky for me,” the stately Frenchman said as he devoured her with gaze. “Tens are not unheard of, but I do not believe Marq has ever given one. He has been speaking of you all day and calling his banks to wire money,” he said with a rakish grin.<br><br>Ah, so her connoisseur had a name. Miranda blinked, high color rushing into her cheeks. “He can…? They can -do- that, the connoisseurs?” <br><br>“Oui, demoiselle. It is quite rare indeed, but I am certain we will see this tonight.” He flashed a blindingly white smile and gestured with his hand down the long hallway. “We shall go and get you situated backstage. This is your first time?”<br><br>Miranda began to walk in the direction he indicated. No one had told her to change her shoes, so she still wore the stilettos with the ribbons laced up to her calf and they clicked starkly against the marble in the long hallway. The delicate jeweled chains dangling from her collar and nipples clattered around in a soft music as she walked. She had ventured only a few steps when she realized her handler had not followed. He was standing in the middle of the hallway, his head canted aside slightly.<br><br>“I wanted to see you walk,” he explained, giving her another quick smile. “And it was perfect. I can’t wait to see how you honor the leash and cuffs.”<br><br>Miranda was unsure of what to think of all of it. Surely, this had to be some sort of a game. She was a marketing executive, not a supermodel by any stretch. Still, she found her shoulders riding a bit higher than they had at the start of the day. She scarcely even remembered she was nude now, her confidence only bolstered by the praise and appreciative gazes. <br><br>They reached the end of the hallway and turned the corner, lacing through a few more white, brightly lit halls before coming upon a set of double doors marked ‘backstage.’ Javier pushed open the doors and led her into a staging area with half a dozen folding chairs set out in front of a mirrored vanity. Along the vanity, several clamshell cases like the one Miranda clutched had been laid out. Assistants and ushers and handlers all dashed to and fro constantly.<br><br>“We have about an hour,” Javier breathed at her ear. “Everyone gets a bit antsy.”<br><br>There was another long hallway off to the side and a stenciled sign and arrow on the wall indicated the way to the stage. A handful of other submissives milled about, all bearing their platinum bands proudly. A few sat in the chairs before the vanity, others had already been chained and cuffed and were practicing their presentation with their handlers. <br><br>Miranda curled her fingers in a wave. A male seated near the vanity waved back with a bright smile, but the woman next to him sneered and looked away. Miranda dropped her hand, her brows knitting together for a moment. <br><br>“Do not mind Trisha. She is always sour,” Javier said, his fingers lacing over Miranda’s shoulders. “And she despises anyone prettier than she.” He smiled and led her to the vanity and a chair. “Your walk is perfect, but do you wish to do a few back-and-forths to be sure you are comfortable with the presentation?”<br><br>Miranda nodded and cracked open her clamshell, bringing out the platinum cuffs. They were beautiful, really. Solid, thick rings of metal with a hinge at the back and a small ring on the front. They were weighty, too. She had the feeling they would not be easy for one to sneak out of. Javier held out his hand and she offered them over, presenting her back to him with her hands held behind her.<br><br>The metal was cold when it touched her skin and she hissed a breath through her teeth, shifting a little as he snapped the cuffs closed over her delicate wrists. Javier produced a matching chain and connected the two bands of metal together, stepping around her and shaking his head with a chuckle.<br><br>“Perfection. Look how your breasts arch now…how those jewels catch the light. Art…” He smiled and pulled a white leather lead out of his pocket. He leaned forwards and clipped the end to the D-ring on Miranda’s collar, letting the slack fall free between them, about three feet or so. “Now walk for me…”<br><br>He gave a short tug to the lead as he pulled all the slack out, walking backwards in front of her so that he could watch. Miranda started forwards in her usual stride, hips slinging side to side as she followed the lead of her handler. Her heels clattered loudly in the echoing space backstage. Having her hands cuffed behind her back only made her rely more on the movements of her hips for balance, her breasts thrust forward with the chains jingling lightly together. <br><br>“Perfect! Well, we don’t need to practice one bit then, I think,” Javier said with a bright smile, reeling her in and wrapping her shoulders in a hearty hug. He of course had other designs than just offering her a soft comfort, drawing in the scent of her hair and the feel of her silken skin beneath his fingertips. <br><br>A few others started to filter in behind the stage, dressed in impeccable suits and holding a quiet strength in their strides. Auctioneers and Board Members, Miranda presumed. She started to get butterflies in her stomach, only intensified when she began to hear soft whispers from beyond the stage. Buyers had started to drift in to take their seats, with the start of the auction imminent. <br><br>After a while, the lights grew dimmer and the pace behind the scenes picked up even more, with ushers literally sprinting from one side of the backstage to the other. The handlers all began to cuff and leash their platinum submissives if that had not been done already, arranging them in a bit more order. <br><br>Javier smiled as he drew Miranda along. “They are saving you for last, you know.”
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>josefk67</strong> on <strong>22-01-2011, 22:33:20</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Richard Phillips was one of those people who manages to fill a room with his presence, no matter where, no matter when. Although at times overbearing, he had there an energy about him that was infectious. Or so Leo had always believed…until now. <br><br>He had known the journalist for a long time, since they had been students together at Harvard, though Phillips was a few years older. They’d kept in touch, and when Leo had started teaching at Boston University, the two had often gone out drinking together once in a while. But at this moment, Leo wished he’d never set eyes on the man, as he dragged him over to a very stern looking woman standing at a small kiosk near the corridor leading to the auction rooms. The crowd seemed to part in front of them, affected by this force of nature, when all Leo wanted was to be swallowed up.<br><br>‘Right,’ Phillips barked at the woman, whose sullen expression transformed itself instantaneously, ‘I want to register for the platinum auction, if you please.’ He thrust his credit card down on the desk of the kiosk in such a flamboyant gesture that the woman giggled. Leo was amazed, for she did not seem to be the kind of woman who giggled as a matter of course.<br><br>‘Oh, Mr Phillips,’ she simpered, ‘we don’t need to check your credentials.’ With that, she tapped at the keyboard of the minute laptop on her desk and presented him with a large round token with the number 36 on. <br><br>‘Thank you, Cheryl, let’s hope it’s my lucky number tonight! Now, my friend here is also coming in.’ Phillips thrust Leo forward then, almost as if her suspected that the writer was already thinking of how to extricate himself from this situation at the earliest opportunity. The smile on the woman’s face froze a little when she was confronted with this stranger, which made Leo feel even more self-conscious. ‘Can I see your credentials please, sir,’ she said, her voice suddenly a little colder than before.<br><br>‘Cheryl, don’t you know who this is?’ Without waiting for the woman to acknowledge her ignorance, Phillips continued, ‘this is only Leo Penrose, New England’s finest novelist of the last decade! I can assure you that his credentials are easily platinum standard, and I vouch for him one hundred per cent.’<br><br>‘Richard, I really think…’ <br><br>The woman peered at him, still seemingly unconvinced, but another glance at Phillips seemed to do the trick and she handed Leo a token with 37 on it. ‘Enjoy the auction, gentlemen!’<br><br>With that, Leo was propelled onwards towards the large doors that led to the platinum hall, one of many heading in that direction.<br><br><div align="center">* * *</div><br>‘I don’t know about you, Penrose, but I need a drink!’ Leo nodded. Yes, he needed something very potent all of a sudden, as the editor steered him towards the entrance to the platinum hall. Prior to today, he had entertained no notion of ever crossing the threshold of this establishment again, let alone attending another auction. What the fuck am I doing here, he thought, as his companion dragged him onward. <br><br>His mind darted back to Rowena, to her surprising admission, and realised now that she had unwittingly blindsided him, causing him to renege on a promise he had made himself never to get hurt emotionally again, never to touch the wound deep within him. What did he think was going to happen when he entered the auction house again? That he would just catch Phillips for five minutes and then scoot off back to Portland without having encountered any phantoms? Leo wasn’t sure if he were going to be sick as the doors of the hall swung open and appeared to suck him into the opulent space beyond.<br><br>‘Hmmm, we need to find a puppet and quickly,’ Phillips was saying, at last relinquishing his grip on the novelist’s arm, as if sensing that Leo would now be wholly&nbsp; unable of flight, and heading off towards what looked like a statue at the back of the hall. Leo felt dizzy, barely able to register what was happening. <br><br>“Mmm? Puppet?’ he asked, starting out after his friend. As he neared the sculpture which Phillips was admiring, he quickly realised with astonishment that this was no traditional objet d’art. It was a nubile young woman in tight bondage. She wore a thin black leather collar round her neck, and a leather hood which completely shrouded her head. It hugged the contours of her face like a lover’s embrace, and save the two small breathe holes by her nose, Leo noted that her face was completely concealed; not even a wisp of hair had escaped.<br><br>She was standing against a carved walnut post that was about four foot high, with her wrists were locked behind her back in black rubber cuffs that were tightly secured round the back of the pillar and attached to a steel ring embedded in the dark wood. Her feet were encased in PVC ballet boots with vertiginous heels that would have made it very hard to walk any distance, if at all. Her ankles similarly bore black rubber restraints, but each ankle was fastened to a ring sunk into the wooden floor on either side of the pillar about a foot apart. But what added to the spectacle was the fact that resting against her stomach was a steel tray, suspended from a metal chain, attached to the D-ring of her collar, that bisected her bare breasts, and affixed at its base to a leather belt that was fastened tightly round the woman’s waist. Upon the tray, stood several bottles of champagne and a dozen flutes.<br><br>Phillips gestured at the woman. ‘Puppet,’ he said. Leo turned his gaze around the hall, and began to register that at several locations around the room, other figures were similarly bound serving as repositories for the complimentary drinks, though he noted that some were differently attired. One or two seemed to be wholly encased in leather or latex or rubber, while the others wore at least some item of clothing. All were hooded. <br><br>He turned his attention back to ‘their’ puppet as his friend handed him a glass, and then reached for the bottle of champagne. He noted how the black of her collar, hood and restraints delightfully offset her pale complexion. She had a wonderful figure, with curves and lines that made him want to run his fingers along her soft skin. Unlike the other puppets he could see, though, this one was wholly naked but for the implements of her bondage. For a moment he was unable to take his eyes from her softly swollen mound, the way it glistened in the light cast by the crystal chandeliers, and something stirred inside him, something long interred. <br><br>Leo marvelled at the way that the woman made no movement at all. It was easy to see why he had initially mistaken her for a sculpture; and even now, there was something slightly abstract about this vision, as if she were not real, some kind of dummy. Yes, a puppet even.<br><br>Phillips put the champagne back on the tray and let his fingers brush over the woman’s left nipple, which Leo now saw had a golden ring. At this woman started, and a muffled cry of surprise fought its way out through the hood. The editor chuckled. ‘Sorry, my dear, couldn’t resist that.’ He winked at Leo.<br><br>‘She probably can’t hear me at all. I dare say she has her ears plugged too, just for good measure. The puppets all have quite an intense fetish.’<br><br>‘But who are they?’ Leo asked, taking a long slug of his drink to try to alleviate the sudden dryness in his throat.<br><br>Philips shrugged. ‘Harvard students mostly, though sometimes older women who feel something is missing in their lives. The Connoisseurs are quite particular in whom they select in most things, and are especially pedantic when it comes to anything to do with the platinum service they provide.’ He paused to stare at the woman again, and try as he might to resist, Leo found himself doing the same, allowing his eyes to feast upon her lovely form.<br><br>‘Puppets get contracts just like the submissives for auction, for as long as both parties can agree on. I think they are obliged to serve for at least 10 days a month. They get very well paid, and so first off, it helps get them through University. For some, though, it is a way of getting special consideration if they want to be auctioned themselves. What better way than to serve as a puppet at a platinum auction, and then to end up being sold at one!’<br><br>‘So, they have never been auctioned already?’<br><br>‘Oh, some have, yes, particularly the older women. It’s a way of recapturing something they feel they have lost.’ Leo found that his agent popped back into his head at that, wondering if she had ever been a puppet; there had certainly been times in the past when she had been conspicuously unavailable. <br><br>‘They also have another role,’ Phillips continued, still focusing on the woman in front of them, noting the tiny droplet that was beginning to form between the soft folds of her sex, as if she knew she were being appraised closely, despite being deprived of most of her senses. ‘At the end of the auction, there are inevitably a few disappointed potential buyers. For a small fee, therefore, a puppet can be bought for a few hours’ play in one of the suite of rooms upstairs; for a larger fee, she can be taken for the night.’<br><br>Leo nearly choked on his drink. ‘You mean the Board pimp them out!’ Phillips laughed. <br><br>‘Well, if you will put it in such sordid terms! But, I suppose you can view it that way. All the girls stipulate what their limits are in the contract, so it’s all pretty safe. And no client of the auction house is going to risk being blackballed for overstepping the mark, are they!’ Leo realised all of a sudden that he actually knew very little about this institution, so was hardly the person to write the article his agent hoped he would. He had had no idea that there were playrooms upstairs for example. <br><br>‘But how come I never saw them in the golden hall?’ Leo asked. His friend gave him a disdainful look.<br><br>‘With respect, this is very much a high-end type of perk, don’t you think?’ Leo found it hard to contain his smile at that.<br><br>‘You snob!’ he said, and Phillips laughed, before indicating a couple of empty seats. The mass of people had begun to drift towards the chairs and small tables that were arranged rather like one would expect at a cabaret, which contrasted with the more regimented rows of seating that Leo had experienced in the golden hall. With one last lingering look at the naked puppet, Leo went after his friend.<br><br>‘How come you’re so au fait with the role of the puppets, Richard?’ he asked as they sat down. For the first time he could remember, the journalist looked a mite uncomfortable.<br><br>‘Well, I …er….’ At that moment a gong sounded loudly, echoing around the room. Excellent, show time!’ He smiled a disarming smile, and Leo did not press him further.<br><br>For the first time, Leo took in the sweeping grandeur of the hall. It had high ceilings, edged with ornate mouldings in gold paint. To his right, the walls below the mouldings were adorned with large windows, shot through with stained-glass motifs at certain intervals, and fringed either side with heavy red velvet curtains, which ushers were now beginning to draw closed. The loss of natural light merely accentuated the presence of the large chandeliers plunged from the ceilings shedding dazzling light all around, so that one could marvel a the décor, the furnishings and the artistry. It reminded him of boyhood trips to the West End in London, to some of the ornate theatre auditoriums where he had watched musicals and pantomimes on special family outings with his grandparents.<br><br>The comparison was not far-fetched inasmuch as there was a large stage at the far end of the hall, where a smartly suited man as working at a console to the side. Leo guessed he must be the auctioneer, especially when he stood up, clutching what looked suspiciously like a gavel. It was, though, a remote control, for when it was pointed at the wall, a large screen appeared, upon which a slideshow of images of a woman with long blonde hair shimmered. The pictures showed her lounging on a chaise long, striking a series of poses and concluded with some head shots of her wearing a scarlet ballgag. Deep within, Leo felt that stirring sensation again, but mixed now with an all too familiar unease. It’s not too late, he said to himself.<br><br>‘It looks like a dozen or so on the list today,’ Phillips said, consulting his iPhone carefully. ‘Ohh..’ he exclaimed.<br>‘What is it?’<br><br>‘The last woman up today. It’s her first time! Miranda. That should be something special.’<br><br>With that the lights dimmed, and a round of applause and some whooping broke out. ‘That’s not very platinum!’ Leo whispered to his friend.<br><br>‘Shhhhh!” Phillips elbowed him in the ribs.<br><br>‘Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen, and welcome to today’s platinum auction, and may I say that we have a fantastic selection of items on the bill today. Starting with lot number 1. The lovely Samantha, whose images are currently on the screens for you…’<br><br>The auctioneer settled into his patter and Leo watched as a funny little man led the tall submissive on stage on a leash, her hands locked behind her. She was pretty, but did little for him, and with that he heaved a sigh of relief. Maybe this would just turn out to be an interesting research visit, after all, to aid his article. He turned then to look back at the puppet, though, wondering if she could hear any of this, and what thoughts must have been pulsating through her head at that very moment. It shocked him a little that he really wanted to know…<br><br>Maybe, at the end of the event, he could…? Leo shook his head, trying to dislodge the idea that had begun to germinate…<br><br>No…. <br><br>He turned his attention back to the stage.<br><br>‘Who will start the bidding at 60,000…?’<br><br><br><br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Alika Luminos</strong> on <strong>23-01-2011, 05:25:51</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Miranda’s nerves became more insistent as the auction went on. One by one, the platinum submissives drifted out of the backstage area with their handlers, emerging to a smattering of applause followed by shouted bids. She shifted a little, listening as some sold for six figure amounts. How could she possibly expect to garner that sort of response? As time wore on, she wondered idly if every platinum submissive was told the same things they had all been telling her, to build up her confidence. She had heard that wickedly confident submissives tended to be more in demand than wilting flowers. <br><br>“Miranda, do you have dirty thoughts?” a sudden voice inquired, breaking her from her inner monologue. <br><br>She blinked and looked over to find Javier smiling at her. “W-what?”<br><br>He smiled even broader. “You are to go on very soon. We must get you ready. A little glimpse of a wet pussy can raise your bid even more. So…please…” He led her over to the vanity and unclipped the chain on her cuffs so she would have more mobility. The backstage area was empty now except for them. “You can play with yourself if you wish, or I can help you…”<br><br>Her cheeks exploded into fiery color. She had already been poked and prodded, appraised, painted. Not to mention collared and cuffed with her nipples trapped in bejeweled loops. Now her handler was asking her to masturbate in front of him? She had never been so adventurous before.<br><br>“I don’t uh…well, I …” She was completely at a loss for words, the sheer embarrassment instantly killing any hopes of arousal.<br><br>Javier had been a handler for a very long time, trained by his very own Spanish father - a legend on the circuit, as it were. So he had seen and coached just about every flavor of submissive in his time. Miranda’s shock and shyness only seemed to make him smile more.<br><br>“You are precious, Miranda…” He eased her down into the chair in front of the vanity, sliding behind her and placing his hands on her shoulders, his lips right at her ear. “Part your legs and put one up on the arm of this chair,” he whispered, watching as those milky thighs parted slowly to reveal her tight flower, reflected in the mirror in front of her. “Now, listen to my voice. Do not imagine me as your handler - someone you just met, but…a fantasy perhaps? A past lover? Reach down and rub yourself slowly, slip just the tip of your finger into your pussy,” he murmured in that French accent, waiting.<br><br>Miranda’s delicate hand slowly slid down over her belly, being careful not to smear the shimmery designs or the crystals covering her mound. Her long, slender fingers coursed up and down over her nether lips, parting them slowly and allowing her middle finger to dip inside that tight pink for a brief moment. The loud sound of the auctioneer and the crowd faded for a moment, and she just listened to his voice. <br><br>“Imagine, demoiselle, being completely possessed by your lover. His hands on your body… caressing, stroking, possessing every inch… Imagine him lying you down on the bed and sliding his iron-hard length into that delicate flower, again and again, while you are bound in place and blindfolded. Good…” he whispered, staring straight ahead at the mirror and the sight of the perfect ten playing with herself where anyone might walk through at any moment. <br><br>Miranda’s breaths grew more shallow, and she could feel her secret pearl start to pulse with a heat of its own. Her petals bloomed as she kept up with the gentle self-caress, lulled almost to a trance by the seductive cadence of Javier’s voice. After a few moments, her attentions were eased by a wave of slick honey, spread along those velvet lips and coating them, glistening. <br><br>“Good…you are ready, Miranda. Ah and your cheeks are aglow now as well…perfection!” He clipped the leash to her collar and tugged her out of the chair, rousing her from her own thoughts. “Come now, demoiselle. It is time.” <br><br>Back on stage, the auctioneer was waiting for the previous submissive to trot off with her handler to the claiming area where her buyer would come to find her. He cleared his throat and then smiled broadly. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, our very last submissive of the night and quite the treat for all of you!” He purposely refrained on putting up Miranda’s picture just yet, waiting to bait them and leave them salivating. <br><br>“Lot number 12: Miranda. Not only is she a first-timer at the auction, but she has never had a Master before - so you know you’ll get to train her entirely to your specifications!” He smiled and went on, “In addition, I’m quite happy to inform you that she has rated a perfect ten in appraisals! If you peek at your cards for a refresher on the criteria, I’m sure you will agree that this is quite a treat!”<br><br>At that, he brought his remote up again and clicked Miranda’s photos up onto the screen. A low murmur swept through the theatre as the bidders got their first glimpse at the perfect platinum submissive as she lay arching up on the Victorian chaise, her fragile-looking hands bound up in the red scarf and her full pout filled with a matching scarlet ballgag. “Javier if you please, show us…Miranda.” The auctioneer swept his hand towards the wings.<br><br>The handler led his submissive out on the white leather lead slowly, letting her work those curvy hips in overtime as the clatter of her heels filled the hall. The jeweled chains looped around her nipples jangled and flashed as they caught the stage lights, swinging with the seductive sway of her body as she walked flawlessly behind Javier. Her perfectly manicured hands were trapped tightly behind her in the heavy cuffs, only lending to the arch of her breasts, the perfect peaks bouncing lightly as she strode to the center of the stage and turned to face the crowd as Javier had instructed her. <br><br>The painted patterns on her body shimmered lightly, and the jewels on her mons flashed, but those sitting close enough, or with opera glasses, might also note the slick glistening of her baby soft petals where her fingers had just drawn forth some of her honey. She listened to Javier’s whispered commands, turning this way and that. After she had posed for a few moments on one side of the auctioneer, her handler led her to the other side where a velvet-cushioned stool awaited. <br><br>With his support to ensure that she did not fall -as her hands were bound- Javier bent her completely over the stool with her ass facing the crowd, giving them a glimpse at the well-formed and supple globes of her cheeks as well as the untouched bud between them. He then eased her back up to standing and pulled one of her shapely thighs up to prop her heel on the stool. If there had been any doubt about the glistening of her petals before, it would be put to rest once her sex was bared for perusal with her legs spread wide. <br><br>“Look at her, ladies and gentlemen! One of the finest we have come across, and she can be yours for an entire year - or more! Let me remind you that the cuffs, jeweled chains, and collar are yours, compliments of the Board. Now, who will open up the bid on Miranda at 60,000?”<br><br>Several bids rattled off in a hurry, the auditorium coming alive almost instantly. Javier pulled Miranda to the front of the stage and had her walk back and forth as they fought it out, letting them view the curves and the way her breasts and ass bounced as she walked. Miranda, for her part, could barely see anything in the theatre. It was bright on stage and dark out there, so she was effectively blinded as to what her bidders even looked like. She felt a little drunk again, all of this rushing to her head in a wave. <br><br>“Three hundred thousand,” a softly accented voice called, earning a few gasps from around as the highest previous winning bid of the day had been only $250,000. It took Miranda a long moment to place the voice, as the day had been long since she had last heard it. And then it came to her. Her connoisseur had just entered the bidding war. 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>josefk67</strong> on <strong>24-01-2011, 00:13:58</strong>
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				If truth be told, Leo found the auction rather boring. Phillips seemed to get into it as a spectacle, oohing and ahhing with the crowd, poking him and pointing as some quality or other caught his eye. But most of it washed over the writer, who sipped his drink and spent more time observing the audience of buyers and wealthy oglers. He guessed there were approaching three hundred people in the hall, for a mere twelve submissives. It was clear that the overwhelming majority were there solely as voyeurs; rather like the man next to him, it seemed! Maybe, in fact, Phillips just came for the networking, and the possibility of stealing away with a puppet. <br><br>The thought of the puppet made him half turn to the woman bound at the pillar once again. She intrigued him far more than what was going on at the front of the hall. He found himself wondering what her face looked like, whether the people who consoled themselves with a puppet after the auction were actually allowed to remove the hood. He could understand why the hood, in many ways, was ideal in the hall, for protecting their identity from possible embarrassment. For it was one thing to confess openly to a desire to be sold at auction formally as a submissive, but perhaps slightly less easy to look to make money out of submission as the puppets obviously did, no matter what the motivation might be. He also pondered what it must be like for a puppet to be hired after the auction, to be led to one of the rooms by a complete stranger and then to have the hood removed. At least the submissives in the auction could see who they were being bought by, and could in some way prepare themselves. How would this puppet feel to find herself faced by someone like Phillips for an evening? But then, he supposed, they willingly contracted themselves to the role, could set their limits and service their needs, as well as their bank balances.<br><br>Such thoughts, and his fascination with the shapely puppet at the back of the hall, not only confirmed to him that his own proclivities, long anaesthetised by his bitter experience, were regaining some kind of definition, but also that the auction itself was not really engrossing him. Paradoxically, therefore, he was quite pleased, relieved even. <br><br>A series of female submissives came and went, none of whom stirred him anywhere near as much as his deliberations on the puppet. They were good-looking, it was true, but there was nothing remotely about them that made him tingle. Not like Sabina had once done. Lots 8 to 10 had been male subs, which made him feel a little odd. He knew, of course, that lots of men craved domination, but to see that represented on stage left him rather cold, even if the highest bid of the day - $250,000 – had been for one of them, paid for by a tall slim woman with short cropped blonde hair and those glacial features of Eastern Europe. So, by the time Lot 11 came on, a short girl with long auburn hair nearly down to her waist, Leo had started to make surreptitious glances at his watch, wondering how much longer this spectacle would continue. <br><br>His companion, however, seemed rather smitten with this penultimate lot, grabbing the opera glasses from the table and watching transfixed as her handler led her around the stage. Leo thought he was going to even make a bid, since he clutched his token and started tapping it on his knee nervously. But the bidding rose over $150,000 and the tapping stopped, and the token was discarded on the table.<br><br>When Lot 12 was called by the auctioneer, Leo sighed. ‘This is the last, isn’t it?’ <br><br>‘Yes, but didn’t you hear? She’s a perfect 10, and they hardly ever have any of those, let alone a first-timer. She has got to be something special.’<br><br>Leo shrugged. ‘Perfect 10, my arse, that’s just spin!!’ He raised his eyes to the stage, at the behest of the animated little man standing at the lectern, to delight in this ‘treat’…<br><br>… Suddenly, he found he couldn’t breathe. The slideshow on the screen contained images of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. The way her soft chestnut hair fell around her bare white shoulders, as she lay over the same chaise, accentuating the fullness of her ballgagged lips, made his stomach tighten. He’d seen that pose on that chair in numerous photos already that afternoon, but with this woman, it was as if he were seeing it for the first time. There was an intensity, a depth to her eyes; this was no vapid pose like the others, but was full of profundity. Here was a woman who seemed to be opening herself up so naturally. This was no pose; this was essence; this was being. Here was a woman whose eyes truly seemed to be the mirrors of her soul…her submissive soul.<br><br>As the woman was led onto the stage, Leo realised that in his cynicism he had not even taken note of her name. ‘This girl…’ he whispered hoarsely to his companion, not able to take his eyes from the stage as the elegant woman was paraded by her handler, her hands locked behind her, her movement graceful and balletic, ‘what’s her name?’<br><br>Phillips looked at him, an expression hovering somewhere between amusement and amazement. ‘Miranda,’ he replied. <br><br>Miranda. She who must be admired. Fuck! FUCK!<br><br>Leo grabbed the opera glasses from the table and let his eyes feast upon her body. He noted graceful neck, the curve of her breast, the tightness of her nipples that were adorned with pretty chains…and let his gaze slip down to her secret place – no longer secret in this hall, with crystals on her mound catching the light, and her soft lips glistening…and…her hands…. he closed his eyes for a moment, fighting to regain his composure, his breath tight in his chest. Oh, her hands in those heavy steel cuffs… It was in that precise moment that Leo Penrose knew that he had to have her.<br><br>He watched in near paralysis as Miranda was paraded over to the stool, and then led back to the auctioneer for the bidding to start. His cock was so very hard now; he’d barely noticed in his intoxication, but it was unmistakable now, pushing against his trousers. In all the years of hurt and loneliness, he’d almost believed that he had lost his libido for good. The wound too deep…but Miranda, she who must be admired…It was as if his body had suddenly come back to life after hibernation, after a kind of death. Miranda – the bringer of life…<br><br>So dazed was he that the bidding started before he had really had chance to take it all in. As the vision of grace and beauty was led by her white leather leash back and forth across the stage, the auctioneer rattled out the bids, until it stood at $255,000. <br><br>A hush descended over the hall then, as the previous high was smashed. The hubbub died away, and a suspense grew. <br><br>The auctioneer peered down at the audience. ‘The bid is with you, sir,’ he said pointing to a tiny owlish little man in the middle of the hall, ‘at $255,000.’ Everyone held their breath; Leo could see that Miranda seemed a little overcome, or perhaps it was just dawning on her how surreal this scenario was, as it seemed to be drawing to a close.<br><br>‘Three hundred thousand,’ a crisp voice called out, accompanied by gasps from all corners of the room. Leo turned with everyone to note the owner of the voice, who stood at the back of the hall. He was tall, with a dark suit and ruby red tie, and a whisper started to spread around the room. Phillips tugged his arm. ‘He’s one of the connoisseurs! This is unheard of!’ It was as if these words echoed round the hall on the majority of lips, so that it sounded almost like a religious mantra resounding off the walls of a church in a call and response ritual.<br><br>Something in Leo snapped. He couldn’t explain it, but any reservation, any doubt, any unease seemed to fall from his body like ice melting in a burst of heat and light. This woman did not belong to this man, possibly even the man who had given her those perfect scores. It was not… right.<br><br>Leo felt himself gripped by panic, which in itself shocked him. But what to do? What to DO??<br><br>The auctioneer cleared his throat and brought the room to silence. ‘Going once to my colleague at the back….’<br><br>In an instant, his mind cleared for the first time since he had stepped through the doors of the building. It was like a ray of sunlight piercing an overcast sky and catching a golden statue… It was all so clear.<br><br>‘Going twice…’<br><br>His hand reached out across the table to the token, and in a smooth motion, he raised the disc in the air. ‘$350,000.’<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Alika Luminos</strong> on <strong>24-01-2011, 02:39:49</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				It still surprised Miranda that connoisseurs were allowed to take part in the bidding. She failed to see how that would not be a conflict of interests, though she had neither the time nor the composure to puzzle it out now. She heard the rumble tear through the auction hall, a buzz coming from the animated shadows before her. <br><br>Everything seemed almost dreamlike to Miranda. She idly wondered if this was how her submission would always be, sort of like a drug that kept her in a half daze, spinning from one voice to the next as bids rang out. She could scarcely believe it when the connoisseur’s bid was topped, shattering the record of the previous submissive that had been auctioned. She heard the voice call his bid, though she could not see face or form of the man who had entered in a chance to win her service for a year. <br><br>The auctioneer seemed very pleased with the numbers being shouted, and he grew even more animated at the podium. “That’s $350,000 to the man in back.” He simply beamed at the auction hall, sliding just a bare glance at Miranda. She was pretty, but she did not interest him. The money, that was his love, and he wanted more. “May I remind you gentlemen of some of the finer points of this lovely submissive?” <br><br>He raised the card and proceeded to read quickly. “No previous submissive training, anal virginity, exquisitely sensitive nipples…” He only had to rattle off a few more of her attributes before her connoisseur piped in again. <br><br>“$450,000,” called the connoisseur, his voice cracking with what sounded like a mixture of anxiety and overwhelming desires. <br><br>Javier leaned in and whispered to Miranda, startling her, “I do not recall the highest bid on record, demoiselle, but I feel you are on track to do very well. If I may…put something in you? It will drives the bids over I think.” <br><br>Miranda blinked a moment as he halted her parade from one side of the stage to the other. Had she not volunteered for this, she would have felt exploited, embarrassed, enraged. But somehow, being coveted so strongly and for that amount of money was extremely arousing. A slow trickle of her clear honey moistened the inside of her thighs, trickling in a glistening trail down the inside of her leg, glinting where the stage lights caught it. <br><br>Javier’s question caught her completely off guard. Put…’something’ in her? She looked towards the man she had only met a few hours ago. It was such a surreal experience, all of it. Yet in that short time, he had gained her trust enough that all she could do was nod.<br><br>The handler produced a thin, translucent wand of plastic, scarcely as thick as a finger. With practiced hands and an almost clinical detachment, he gathered up some of her moisture and slowly slid the rod inside her sex. “Clench on it if you feel it slip,” he breathed. “This will just show them how tight you are.”<br><br>Miranda’s breath caught when she felt that thin toy start to dive between her legs. When Javier was satisfied with the depth, he let go of the object and let it hang freely from her. The toy did not budge despite the weight of its handle, hugged tightly by her inner walls. To her surprise, Javier then reached up and suddenly pinched one of her nipples. She had not expected it, and the taut buds were fully erected both with excitement and from the tight loops entrapping them. Miranda’s soft screech echoed out into the auditorium, a quick sample of what a buyer could expect from the platinum submissive. <br><br>“Back to you, sir,” the auctioneer said, swinging his attention towards where Leo sat. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>josefk67</strong> on <strong>25-01-2011, 00:38:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Leo could feel Phillips's eyes on him, wide with amazement at this turn of events. One moment Leo had been cynically detached from the proceedings, and yet, within the blink of an eye he had made the highest bid of the day. Not only that, but the writer was competing with a connoisseur for ownership of the most exquisite, rare creature, a perfect ten!<br><br>Truthfully, Leo could scarcely believe it himself, but then one never knows when fate might cast an angel at your feet. As he had called out his bid into the silence, with calm authority and conviction, he had taken great pleasure in the murmured shock that had cataracted down through the hall. But best of all had been the way Miranda had turned at the sound of his voice, looking directly at him, or so it seemed. He knew she would barely be able to discern anything with the spotlights in her eyes. Nevertheless, in that split second, and even if just blindly, her eyes had met his. He wondered what colour they were. Suddenly it mattered; he had to know and would pay whatever it would take to take possession of that knowledge. Take possession of <em>her</em>...<br><br>He barely registered the auctioneer's patter, but was snapped from his trance by the counter bid from his opponent, the connoisseur to his right. He turned to stare at the man, whose voice seemed to betray emotions that Leo was not clear-headed enough to interpret. But his bid, to jump $100,000 in one go bespoke a growing unease. He was trying to kill the auction too quickly, rather than draw it out. And that, to Leo, meant, that the man did not have limitless resources at his disposal. Not like he did. After his last submissive had left, Leo had long pondered what the point was of having millions in his account, when his life had effectively entered an emotional and creative limbo. Now, though, he knew. The Fates had perhaps had a plan all along... In that moment, as his rival upped the ante so dramatically, Leo knew he had him...and knew he had <em>her</em>.<br><br>Miranda - the gift of the Fates.<br><br>He turned his eyes back to the beauty on the stage, just as her handler took a rather delightful dildo and slid it slowly into Miranda's pussy. It made his body ache for her instantaneously. He closed his eyes, and his mind went spinning forward into myriad scenes of this gorgeous creature on her knees, vulnerable, open, inviting, craving...Thoughts of teasing her, violating her made him feel dizzy, his arousal almost too much to bear without some physical outlet. He imagined how it would feel to feast upon the sweet nectar that he had seen pouring in rich profusion along her thighs. He needed to know how she tasted...He <em>had </em>to taste her...<br><br>The sound of Miranda's little cry brought him back to the present, seconds before the auctioneer addressed him again.<br><br>He could feel Phillips's excitement alongside him. 'Leo!' he hissed, tugging his arm. But the writer was in no hurry. He let his mind wander to Miranda once more, wondering how she was feeling, naked, exposed, penetrated in front of all these people. He wondered if her submissiveness was deepening because of the attention she was receiving, the price that people were willing to pay to own her, to make her theirs. Surely it was the most heady rush to be so desired by dominant men...?<br><br>Savouring the moment, the sudden tension in the air about whether there would be another bid, Leo smiled.<br><br>'$500,000.'
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Alika Luminos</strong> on <strong>25-01-2011, 05:19:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Miranda steadied her breathing, concentrating on keeping the rather thin dildo fixed in place, though she really did not have to exert much effort to do so. She let out another soft yelp when Javier assailed the opposite nipple in the silence between bids, thinking that perhaps her handler was getting a little too much into his role there. An odd stillness befell the theatre, hundred of breaths held in anticipation as they waited to see if the second bidder in the back would throw out a counter-bid to claim the perfect platinum. <br><br>“$500,000,” came Leo’s voice from the back, even the number rumbled with such an overarching sense of strength that Miranda could feel her body respond with gripping arousal. She looked out towards the vague direction of the voice again. Who was her mystery bidder? What did he look like? What plans did he have for her if he won? A soft moan slipped from her lips as Javier slowly withdrew the toy from her clenching walls, freeing even more of her moisture to slip down the inside of her legs. <br><br>She had not even seen her Dominant yet, and she was already almost literally dripping for him. <br><br>The auctioneer peered over at the connoisseur. “And back to you, sir. Do I hear 550?” <br><br>The connoisseur shifted slightly, drumming his fingers against his tie, his lips dry as he fixed his gaze on Miranda as she stood there. Those near to him could almost feel his want - and those really close to him could -see- it as the taut peak in his pants. <br><br>“$500,000 going once…”<br><br>The air in the theatre stilled, a moment of complete silence broken only by the auctioneer’s next, “$500,000 going twice…”<br><br>Miranda’s breath hitched, her gaze fixing out in the direction of Leo, her mismatched eyes trying to catch sight of her mystery. Her legs quivered and her heart leapt. It was the most alive she had ever felt, and already she was completely satisfied with having finally agreed to take part in an auction. A year. What was a year, really? She would have to call her office and let them know; as she had not known the time of service that would be required of her. Most businesses allowed for a ‘leave of submission’ these days, as so many tended to seek out auctions or independent Dominants. None, of course, were quite as large as -the- Auction. <br><br>The silence-shattering strike of the auctioneer’s gavel broke her from her thoughts. “Sold to the man in back for $500,000!” he called, an edge of giddiness to his tone at having one of the submissives fetch such a price. “On behalf of the Board, I thank you all for coming. Winning bidders please see an executive up front to settle your accounts. Your submissives will be waiting for you in the collection area down the hall. Ushers are here to assist you.” He gave a short bow and meandered off stage.<br><br>Miranda stood frozen in place for a moment before the tug on her leash had her chasing after Javier again. “Congratulations, demoiselle.” He led her back stage and through a series of doors until they spilled out into a room similar to the set-up of the connoisseur suites. The handler pushed open the door of one of the individual rooms and unclipped her leash, folding it and placing it on the table.<br><br>The room was small and sparse. The table was the only piece of furniture present. Her clamshell case had been placed upon the table in case her Dominant wished to remove any of the complimentary gear, and the clothing she had worn into the building was folded neatly next to it. Sconces on the wall spilled muted light in to the small space.<br><br>“And with this, I leave you. I thank you for a wonderful auction, Miranda, and I wish you much happiness with your new life,” Javier said, leaning to give her a soft peck on the cheek before retreating once more out the door. <br><br>Muffled voices carried from the next cubicle over, presumably a pair already brought together. Miranda paced anxiously, still cuffed, as she awaited to see her winning bidder. Her heart still had not calmed from the auction, and her cheeks were flushed with the persistent arousal from the events of the day. It was strange, new, exciting. Every time she heard steps outside, her breath caught, though time and again they passed on further down the hall. And so, Miranda waited patiently for her first glimpse at the man who had spent half a million dollars for the chance to own her for a year. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>josefk67</strong> on <strong>26-01-2011, 00:15:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				When the gavel fell, Leo felt a heady rush surge through him. He had no idea how long the auction had lasted; it seemed to have been over in the blink of an eye, and had felt more like a wonderfully thrilling dream than reality. His friend gave him a hard slap on the back that nearly caused him to stumble. “Well DONE!,’ he whooped, and was joined by one or two other people who came up to Leo smiling, shook his hand and wished him all the best.<br><br>Leo looked across at his rival who seemed shellshocked by the outcome. His tall, strong frame seemed to sag with exhaustion and dismay, and he was rubbing his eyes in disbelief. To have taken the unusual step of entering the bidding, taking it to a very high level, and still to lose. Leo could almost feel sorry for him, for he had clearly desperately wanted to possess Miranda, save the fact that in a few days’ time, this man would be assessing more beautiful women and having yet another chance to try to gain some extra advantages. <br><br>But Miranda belonged to him. For twelve months, he would possess this divine creature, become the first to train her, to explore and deepen her submission and take her to places perhaps never yet dreamed of in that pretty head of hers. <br><br>More people came up to him to offer their congratulations, but he barely registered them now, his eyes were locked on his prize. She seemed to be looking straight at him again, and he could swear that her soft pale skin was radiating in ways that she had not been during the auction. He watched, as she was led from the stage as if in slow motion, her head turning back again just before she reached the wings, searching for her new Master, her first Master. <br><br>And as that realisation began to filter through his mind, Leo was gripped by a sudden panic. What if she hated him? What if she took one look at him and recoiled, repulsed by his looks? Just because he had bought her did not mean that she would feel anything for him at all, except perhaps dismay, disappointment, or maybe even fear? She had, after all, had intimate contact with the connoisseur, who was now being consoled by a number of his colleagues. As if he sensed Leo’s thoughts, the man made his way across the hall towards him. He extended his hand, a rather forced smile snaking awkwardly across his lips. ‘Felicitations, monsieur,’ he said, ‘ you have indeed bought the most perfect embodiment of submission I have ever seen. I hope she makes you very happy.’ The man sighed, then, released Leo’s hand and slipped quickly away.<br><br>Yes, Leo thought, but can I make her happy? For the first time since he had entered the bidding, the writer thought back to Sabina. The way she had left him suggested now that she must never have truly reciprocated his feelings for her. He had dominated her, thereby feeding her cravings, but the manner of her departure spoke volumes to him now. Moments before, he had been imagining all of the desires he had for Miranda, how he would make use of her, but now, he realised that for his dominance to find its true resonance, he needed to have a sense that his submissive was as lost as him as he was in her. This angel in bondage who had glided with such grace across the stage, whose pussy had wept its precious honey, who had the most perfect body…would she find in him her One? And…Leo felt his breath catch…would she want to stay…?<br><br>‘What are you waiting for, man?’ Phillips said impatiently, jolting Leo back from his sudden anxiety as the audience began to dissipate, moving to the bar to reflect upon what had just happened. ‘Fuck, if I were you I’d be fighting my way across the stage after her!!’<br><br>Leo laughed at that, and was suddenly very grateful to his friend for breaking the emotional paralysis that had gripped him. ‘Well, you would! But tell me, what are you going to do?’ he held his friend’s gaze, trying to ascertain just what might be on his mind. Phillips shrugged, but Leo was fairly certain that he had shot a glance to the puppet at the back of the hall. ‘I think I’ll try and catch one of the Board members, to ask them about what just happened. Anyway, go! Go!’ He shook Leo’s hand and grinned. ‘Enjoy…!’ <br><br>As his friend departed, Leo made his way across the hall to the stage, where he made himself known to a pinstripe-suited executive. The man, who was of medium height and rather rotund, peered rather strangely at the author, as if he could not quite believe that he could be in possession of the small fortune that had won such a prize. Nevertheless, he shook Leo’s hand and handed him a token, identifying him as the new owner of lot 12, indicating that he should take it to one of his colleagues backstage. So, Leo took the passageway to the left that led out to a small anteroom. A man had just finished talking to a woman behind a desk, whom he recognised as Cheryl from before, and left clutching what the writer presumed was his ownership documents and his submissive’s contract. As Leo entered, she beamed at him, all the suspicion of earlier gone in a flash. ‘Oooh, Mr Penrose,’ she cooed, ‘many congratulations indeed on your purchase.’ Oh, so it was Mr Penrose now, was it? Leo chuckled wryly inside, but offered the woman a friendly smile. ‘You have some deeds for me to sign, I take it, as well as bank draft to the tune of $500,000?’<br><br>The woman seemed almost giddy as he mentioned the sum of money he had paid for Miranda, and as she produced the appropriate document, Leo could swear that her hands were trembling as she passed them to him to sign. ‘I’ve never seen so much money here before,’ she whispered, as if in awe, as Leo signed his name and filled in the details on the sheet, before passing it back.<br><br>‘Well, I’m very lucky that people seem to like what I write, but it has taken me a long time to realise what it was that I truly wanted.’<br><br>‘Well,’ said Cheryl, giggling, ‘from what I hear, you have found perfection.’ Leo smiled. ‘Yes,' he said, I think I have.’ The woman handed him a wallet which he saw contained the deeds of possession, as well as the contract that Miranda had signed during the evaluation, in which she had effectively signed her life away to him. He sneeked a peek at her signature. Even her handwriting was exquisite, such a beautiful hand.<br><br>He felt a rush of excitement again, but this time it was of desire, of lust and confidence. ‘Now,’ he said, smiling again at the woman, ‘I should like to book one of the rooms upstairs for the night, if you would be so kind.’ <br><br>Cheryl grinned at him warmly. ‘Naturally,’ was all she said.<br><br><div align="center">* * *</div><br>With the documents under his arm, and the key to the Anais Nin penthouse suite in his pocket, Leo made his way to the collection area. He tried to keep his pace calm and steady, but his heart was reverberating within his rib cage in a way it had never done before. he knew he was moments away from standing in the presence of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen…and she belonged to him. Cheryl had told him that Miranda would be waiting for him in room 12, together with her collar, cuffs, leash and the clothes she had arrived in. ‘Of course, I don’t expect she will be needing them until the morning,’ she giggled cheekily, and was rewarded with a wink by Leo.<br><br>As soon as Leo saw the door, everything seemed to pass over into slow motion again. It felt like walking through a dream from which he would wake up as soon as the door opened, dragging him back to the cold light of reality. He could see himself extending his hand to the handle, almost as if he were watching someone else. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and entered the room.<br><br>To anyone else, the room might have seemed dull, dingy and Spartan; but to Leo, it was the most exquisite, most coruscating space he had ever been in hitherto in his life. For there, standing before him, was Miranda. <br><br>The first thing he noticed was how lustrous her eyes were, and as he came closer, he noticed with delight that they were heterochromic, with one a burnished emerald colour and the other a warm hazel. He could scarcely believe that Miranda could be any more alluring than she had seemed on the stage; but here she was so close to him, and seeming even more precious still. He stood still, a metre from her, and let his gaze fill the silence, exploring her curves and lines with slow deliberation, a smile dancing across his lips. He could feel his cock erect again, an almost instant arousal at this proximity to a beauty without flaw, and that sensation drew him to let his eyes slide down across Miranda’s body to where her thighs were still glistening with her dew.<br><br>At last, he broke the spell and stepped up close to where she was standing, the scent of her filling his nostrils and firing the most amazing high that made his head spin. He wanted to touch her, to run his fingers over her naked, soft body; but he wanted to savour this moment to the full.<br><br>At last, he spoke. ‘Miranda, you have touched my soul in ways I never knew I could ever be touched.’ He paused then, to let his words register with her, trying to discern her own reaction to the sight of him. ‘And I promise you this, you will truly know what it is to be dominated by One whose very essence has been inspired by the possession of such beauty and grace.’<br><br>He smiled, and then reached out his right hand and touched her lips with is index finger, before gently letting it trail down under her chin to her neck.<br><br>'My name is Leo Penrose, and you, little one, belong to me now.'<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Alika Luminos</strong> on <strong>26-01-2011, 03:23:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Steps finally stopped outside her door. Miranda stood stark upright, her lips half parted in anticipation. A soft squeak slipped from her when she saw the handle begin to turn. Could there be anything more exhilarating than that moment, the cusp of her new life, when the owner of her keys and her body was about to be revealed? <br><br>She could say nothing when he entered. Part of it was a loss on how to address him and what to -do- in his presence. Bethany had explained to her different title preferences and ways of presentation, but had also mentioned that every Dominant was different in what they liked. Miranda simply had no idea if she should be meeting his eyes or slipping to her knees, and so she stayed riveted on the spot, waiting for direction. <br><br>Once the initial paralysis had subsided, Miranda gathered herself enough to gaze up at her new Master. He was taller than her, slim, but with a quiet strength that he no doubt knew how to wield to his benefit. The man had a regal air about him, perhaps engendered by the peppering of his hair with lighter streaks. And his eyes…oh his eyes merely telegraphed the lust that had been building throughout the entire auction, a desiring and possessive glance that made Miranda’s body quiver as he raked it over every inch of her naked form. <br><br>Her body was still overstimulated from the events of the day, experiences she had never even imagined, dark feelings brought to bear, and when she saw the smile on his face coupled with the slow hardening of the bulge in his pants, it was all she could do not to rip his fly open and devour the aching flesh right there. As it was, the look he was giving her, coupled with the timbre of his voice and the sheer thought of his ownership, made her nether petals bloom anew, the moisture refreshing and catching the soft light filling the room. <br><br>Miranda’s shoulders quivered slightly. She was trying hard to betray no reaction, but when he spoke those words, those beautiful words so full of passion and Dominance, a soft sob hitched her breath. Those mismatched eyes of hers brimmed up with a glittery veil of tears, hovering just on the rims and threatening to fall. At the touch of his finger against those petal soft lips, the full pillows parted just slightly to place a gentle kiss on the digit before he swept it away. <br><br>His hand at her neck, at her collar, -his- collar, swirled an all-encompassing thrill of sensation through her, starting at the tip of her toes and rippling through her entire body. Not even a day into her submission, and she felt more alive than she ever had been, swarming with deep yearning to serve the man who stood before her in every way he commanded, to join with him in a year-long journey of mutual pleasure and exploration of the most devious desires. <br><br>“My name is Leo Penrose, and you, little one, belong to me now.”<br><br>At those words, Miranda felt her knees buckle, as though even though her mind was uncertain, her body was leading the way. She fell to her knees before him, her posture erect with her hands still bound behind her. She sat up on her heels, her knees parted to bare her sex to him completely as she knelt. Her chin tipped up and sent her wavy locks cascading over her back, breasts arching in a silent offering as those brilliant eyes of hers fixed on his. <br><br>“I belong to you now, Master,” she breathed. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>josefk67</strong> on <strong>26-01-2011, 21:08:06</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Leo surprised himself with the ease with which he found his Dominant persona coursing through him again. It had been so long hidden, locked away, and he had been sure it must have atrophied over all those years. And yet standing before Miranda, whose submission was in so many ways only now beginning to bloom, he could feel her own power, the power that inheres within submissive women who give of themselves to their One. The obvious emotions that his first heartfelt words to her had stirred, writ large in those coruscating eyes that sparkled with tears and the way her breath shuddered gently, were as magic charms to him. No longer was he concerned about her feelings for him, for in these first moments he knew, he <em>knew </em>that he was in the presence of someone quite utterly unique, so special and priceless. Her reactions to the simple fact of his ownership of her indicated how her true value so far exceeded the sum he had paid for her, was incalculable. But then how can one put a price on perfection?<br><br>He had thrilled to the soft kiss she had placed upon his finger, which had been an instinctive reaction of desire and passion, but also restrained, not wishing to appear too bold or forward in view of her new status as his possession. But the eroticism of that ephemeral kiss was intense, and made Leo look longingly at her mouth, a mouth he knew he would be penetrating so very soon by one means or other.<br><br>He had marvelled at the marble smoothness and silky softness of her pale skin beneath his finger, as he guided it slowly down the elegant line of her neck to where her platinum collar sat, so at home against her skin. He believed he could feel pulsations deep within her as, with each passing moment, the reality of her submission, her possession by him deepened. But her spontaneous reaction to his name, to his words of ownership, made him catch his breath sharply. So caught up had he been in the simple fact of her beauty, so entranced to be in her presence, that he had scarcely even considered matters of formal address and etiquette. It had been so long, and but an hour ago, in his mind he had been on his way back to the rocky shoreline of Maine. But in the blink of an eye, his life had been tipped upside down.<br><br>She had fallen to her knees instinctively, adopting a perfect posture, presenting herself by spreading her knees and offering her deliciously swollen lips to him. The way her hair tumbled down behind her was the perfect complement to the way her breasts sang a siren song, the chains fastened to her swollen nipples chiming softly and invitingly, as if summoning him to feast upon this body. It was an enchanting melody, made all the more potent by those eyes, those magical eyes, that seemed to call him to them, to dive into them and go hunting for the precious pearls that were buried deep within.<br><br>'I belong to you, Master,' she had whispered, breathless, expectant. His heart sang its own response to those words, to her simple, unalloyed acceptance of who he now was, of who <em>she </em>now was. Could it be that she had never served before? How could she have known precisely what to do to delight and excite, to intoxicate and resonate so powerfully with him? He was sure there would be moments where he would need, would <em>crave </em>to stamp his authority upon her, but already she had demonstrated sensitivity that far exceeded anything he might have expected. The impact upon him was intense, the bulge in his trousers now almost too much to bear. He wondered if she were conscious of his erection, just inches from her, because her eyes continued to hold his in their submissive spell, seemed transfixed on his face, on his reactions. He thought he could read a devotion he had never before in his life experienced; it made him want to do so many things to her. It would have been so easy to have fallen on her, to have ravaged her, taken her there and then, and it would have been wonderful. But he also wanted to savour these moments, to amplify the electricity and energy that they were generating, to tease them both to the point where it would be impossible to resist any longer. He wanted these first hours to be as captivating as possible in order that the foundations be laid for a bond that would endure, would evolve, would deepen and not let either of them go. And so he fought his animal lust...at least, for the time being...<br><br>To break the spell, he let his finger slowly encircle the metal of her collar, and then slip onto her skin and repeat the movement. He loved the coolness of her skin, and the way metal and flesh sat so beautifully together. But something cracked in that moment. He pushed himself against her, his cock against her throat and he took a handful of her brown tresses and pulled her head back.<br><br>'Yes,' he whispered hoarsely, 'I am your Master and you <em>are </em>mine, Miranda, the giver of life, and you will come alive yourself because of that.'<br><br>He pounced then, his mouth pressed fiercely against hers, his tongue hungrily slipping betwen her lips. he felt as if he were trying to slip down to her very soul, to feast upon her like some erotic vampire. The fierceness of his passion might have surprised him if he had been able to think clearly. But he was lost in Miranda, and it felt so good.<br><br>When at last he broke the deep kiss, catching his breath as if resurfacing from a deep pool, he felt new energy radiating within him. <br><br>'Would you like to begin your service to your Master, little one?'
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Alika Luminos</strong> on <strong>26-01-2011, 21:51:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The wait seemed an eternity. Her eyes remained locked on his. She had spoken instinctively, moved only by her heart and the emotions swelling there. Had she messed up? Would she be punished already for doing something wrong? She actually knew very little of what would await her in her new life with her new Master. Bethany had given her all sorts of books to read on submission and the general lifestyle, but Miranda was fairly certain it was all moot when it came to the reality of the situation.<br><br>Her chest heaved, making those chains jangle where they lay draped from her perfect breasts. Her overall arousal made the trapped buds of her nipples tingle as they swelled even more in aching desire to be touched, pinched, bitten as was her Master’s pleasure. Even the gentle circuit of air in the room made them throb as light wisps of a breeze licked at them. <br><br>She could nearly feel the -heat- radiating from his iron-hard length trapped within his pants, a heat that was reflected in the glistening readiness of her sex. When his fingers caught hold of her collar, a soft moan slipped from her rosebud lips before she could stop it, goosebumps tracing her spine as those strong digits caressed over the fine lines of her neck. Her breaths were quick, short, and all she found herself thinking of was how snugly those fingers would fit inside her, even if just one. Red heat crept up the back of her neck and into her high cheeks, though it was spurred by arousal and not embarrassment. Arousal at the thought of her new Master binding her as he wished and plundering her blossoming canal with those fingers. The day had been so long, and Miranda was simply aching for contact. <br><br>A soft, stuttered groan dripped from her lips when his erection prodded against her, fitting snugly against the curve of her neck. She could feel his heart racing in the pulse of his cock, trapped behind just a thin barrier of cloth, tapping out his lust, his possession. She felt like an animal, driven to a full and burning heat and in dire need of mating to return her faculties to her. Her chin tipped up fully to regard him when he craned her head back by the hair, her pupils dilated and a slight quiver overtaking her entire form. Beads of fresh moisture formed between Miranda’s soft nether lips, gathering together until the droplet slipped in a slow trail down the fully swollen petals to the curve of her ass. <br><br>She let out a soft noise when his mouth descended on her so quickly, her lips parting obediently under the insistent press of his tongue. The feel of his lithe muscle entwining with hers, flicking and teasing, exploring in her hot mouth, brought her up on her knees slightly to meet him, her breasts crushing against his leg as he caught her in that hot embrace. She could feel the rivers of her lust only intensify as she caught his taste. Perhaps she could not consciously detect the power of his pheromones, but that primal part of her took note of the very Dominant scent and flavor of her Master as their saliva mixed together for the first time, sampling each other. A frank drop of moisture fell from her nether lips, leaving a small ring of visible wetness on the carpet beneath her where she knelt. <br><br>Miranda gasped when he finally pulled back, her eyes wild with the new flurry of sensations, emotions she had scarcely even imagined. Her lips failed her for a moment, still tingling with the press of his there. Finally, she gave him a short nod. “Yes, Master. Whatever you desire.”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>josefk67</strong> on <strong>27-01-2011, 00:23:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The deepening desire and need that was pulsating through Miranda's body filled Leo with a heady rush of power. He had never known such feelings before, never felt himself so in control of another. He realised now how false his life with his former submissive had been - he no longer wished even to formulate her name - because here, now, was an authenticity that made him dizzy. But the acquiescence and desire that was so evident in Miranda signified so much more than that; it gave him validation too in his Dominance. It was as if by drawing and feeding on the desires racing through this woman on her knees before him, with her breasts offered, with nipples tight and hard in her arousal, the gateway to her sex open, inviting, her thighs increasingly streaked with a lust she could no longer control, Leo was finding his true self.<br><br>The little noises and moans Miranda made as she was prey to these, his first Masterful ministrations enflamed him, and ever darker, ever more deviant designs upon this exquisite creature began to flicker with every greater frequency and definition across his mind. He craved her body more than he had ever craved anything or anyone else. More than that, he craved possession of her mind, the notion that he could demand anything of her, subject her to anything, and that she would need to undergo these experiences to feel fulfilled in her role, in <em>herself </em>as his object.<br><br>The taste of her in his mouth, the way she had risen up slightly on her knees in response to his kiss, the penetration of her mouth, was the sweetest taste imaginable. But after he had broken the kiss, recorded he wish to serve him, to fulfil his every desire, he noted with deep pleasure the way her nectar had begun to drip steadily across the soft creamy skin of her thighs to the carpet beneath her. Maybe there was a yet sweeter taste...?<br><br>He knelt down then in front of her, sensing her eyes upon his every movement now, the dutiful sub already trying to mould herself to the whims of her Master, and slowly extended his right index finger to the soft, moist, swollen folds of her sex and carefully, teasingly slipped his fingers just part way insdie her. He savoured the sticky coolness of her honey on his finger, allowed his finger tip to brush each of her lips and then withdrew it again, raising it to his lips.<br><br>But oh, it was exquisite, making him close his eyes in wonder and delight.<br><br>'Stand up,' he ordered, softly but with purpose,' his eyes still closed, still kneeling, 'I want to feast upon you.'
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Alika Luminos</strong> on <strong>27-01-2011, 05:53:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Even as she said the words, she said them without question. It was madness! How could she say such a thing to an absolute stranger and mean it with all of her heart? She was a successful career woman, driven to excel. And now here she was, trussed up as a platinum submissive and kneeling unquestionably before a man she met only moments ago, driven by base instincts and a thundercloud of obedience that hovered over her, keeping her pinned to the floor at her Master’s feet. <br><br>It crossed Miranda’s mind for a brief space that perhaps she was simply playing a part, encouraged by the almost Broadway-like quality of the auction and the dizzying day that had left her confused and wanting. But her body knew better, and the proof was in the wet stain on the carpet beneath her. She shuddered as yet another hot bead of her honey condensed and fell, sliding down her scorching slit and lingering just above the untested button of her rear for a brief moment before letting go to join the spreading banner of her innermost desires beneath her. <br><br>Miranda’s body had always responded fruitfully to arousal, producing ambrosia enough to slake the thirsts of a dozen men and even, on the occasion that toys, fingers, or a solid length of manhood struck her in just the perfect way, gushing in ways that never failed to draw gasps of delight or a set of lustful pearls for her throat. Along with completely dousing the sheets beneath her. Yet in her time she had never felt her sex weep so freely, basically untouched, yearning. <br><br>An animal. She was a kitten in heat, yowling when her Master’s finger slid down to inspect his new velvet sheath. The blossomed petals slipped apart easily in his path. When Miranda felt his fingertip dip in to her honeypot, she bit off a tiny cry and fell against his shoulder, her breath hot on his neck as he teased her for the briefest of moments before withdrawing the contact. It was akin to the sampling of the connoisseur, although where there had been but a spark of lust at that moment, here it was a constant. <br><br>She lifted her head away to watch him taste her, a brief flash of panic as she feared he might not like what he found. Though the sheer look of ecstasy on his face erased all doubts, and she felt her heart only surge at being so pleasing simply by fact of her arousal. And oh, when her Master’s voice rumbled again in soft command, speaking those <em>words</em>, Miranda thought she would almost faint with anticipation of those same lips suckling her juices from the source. <em>Feasting</em>. Miranda shuddered involuntarily. <br><br>Her body tipped to the side as she stuck one knee out as a lever, using it to pry her up off the ground since her hands were still bound back. Now standing above her Master, she peered down with her eyes half-lidded in sleepy passion. One strappy heel slid up onto the table next to them, that one piece of furniture in the sparse room. It opened her legs wide to him, offering every inch of her soaking pussy to his waiting mouth, for him to <em>feast</em> at whatever lengths he wished. <br><br>Her heart pounded in her throat, her breaths still quick and making that delicate chain rattle between her breasts. She couldn’t help but lick her own lips as she envisioned his mouth wrapping around her petals, drinking from her dripping sex. And maybe, if she was very good, kissing along the swollen and unhooded pearl at the cusp of her slit. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>josefk67</strong> on <strong>27-01-2011, 12:45:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				What stoked Leo's fires perhaps more than anything else was the naturalness of Miranda's submission. His precious object seemed to know by instinct what to do, how best to please him, and thereby to court the possibility of finding her own pleasure, in fulfilment, and in desire. There was nothing mechanical, or learned about Miranda; this was her true essence expressing itself powerfully. Her body and soul was riven with surrender, maelstroms of need that bore her aloft and presented her, opened her up so completely before him. She knew that her one true place was on her knees, at the feet of her Master, even if, as now, he bade her stand while he was the one on his knees. The seeming physical anomaly was no contradiction, no paradox, for she was lost, she was his. And she knew it, she needed it, she <em>craved </em>it thus. Metaphorically, spiritually, essentially she was his, on her knees, beholden to his whims and desires. Even in those rare moments when not bound, she would be forever bound.<br><br>It had been the way she had gasped and fell against his shoulder as he slipped his finger into her dark, moist cave that spoke so much of Miranda's submission, of the ebb and flow of her darkest dreams and fantasies, perhaps barely formed, inchoate, and yet always there. Leo smiled happily, for his was a Dominance that would set her free, of that he was sure. Oh, he would test her, push her, hurt her...but she would also know great pleasure and release, the joy of utter abandon, helpless and vulnerable in his hands. This beautiful woman he had known but moments was already opening before him just as the engorged lips of her pussy had parted to the softest touch of his fingertip. Her reaction to that, the slight waver causing her to rest against him, told him that she was beginning to realise this too. And she deserved her first reward for that...<br><br>As if to reinforce his feelings, Miranda had stood carefully and with continuing grace with her hands behind her back - hands that Leo was going to need to pay attention to very soon, he knew, for they were perhaps his greatest fetish of all - and unbidden raised her perfectly sculpted leg up onto the spartan table. But this was no sign of free will, of willfulness, of disobedience; it was merely a recognition that her Master wanted to take from her, to gorge himself upon her. It had required no command; she had simply known what to do to signal her compliance to his wishes, to spread her self wide in expectation that her Master would wish to avail himself of all that she was.<br><br>He looked up at her, catching the dreamy expression of her face and smiled. The dew was pouring now in ever richer profusion, as the entrance to her treasure trove was spread wider. Leo watch closely as ever more droplets slid together forming bigger, thicker pearls that began to slide along the thigh of her erect leg, or simply plunge to the steadily growing pool of her juices on the carpet.<br><br>Holding her gaze, still smiling, he placed his hands on her hips and&nbsp; began to move his mouth closer to its prey, but oh so slowly. He stretched the seconds out into minute, so that they might feel like hours to Miranda. Her honey began to thicken yet again...as his teasing slowness statred to drive her wild, or so it seemed.<br><br>'I want you, little one,' he whispered, before finally allowing his tongue to slip between his lips and brush into her swollen lips. He let it flick gently, this way then that, alooiwng her nectar to trickle onto his taste buds. Her bouquet, an exquisite hint of citrus blended with the hints of sweet honey, was finer than any expensive wine, for it was borne on her complete surrender and lust. He continued to let his tongue work its way up and down her swollen lips, but careful not to penetrate them. At least not yet... he wanted her to teeter on the brink of ecstasy, promising her much but denying her much as well. The time would come for her to reach the most sensational high of her life; but for now, he wanted to exercise his power and control over her, to let her know that he was the one who would determine her life from now on. he was showing her the pleasure that would lie ahead...but wanted her to experience things one small step at a time.<br><br>At last he moved his lips against her pussy, feeling her honey slipping over his face. He started to nibble her lips, gently at first, but then more sharply, a small bite her and there, before he drank from her magical well, swallowing her down and feeling as if he were in some way devouring her soul, possessing her in the most profound way possible.<br><br>He then began to gorge himself fully, alternating tongue, lips and teeth, nibbling, kneading, brushing, flicking, biting down, until she was dripping from his chin. Finally, he slowed the pace of his vampiric feast, and slowly moved his hands to between her legs, placing his fingers on either side of her sweet hollow and parted her, as if throwing open curtains. Then he allowed his tongue to push into her, searching out her buried pearl. When he reached it, he could tell how engorged it was and let his tongue explore it carefully, his face now soaked.<br><br>He was unsure how much time had elapsed, but gauged his attentions by her reactions, knowing he was pushing her close... His own arousal was deepening more than ever, and it was all he could do not to orgasm himself at the thought of sinking his length deep into his cave, impaling her. If he had not been pressed against her, he might have fallen dizzily to the floor. <br><br>He pushed her closer, his lips pressed hard against hers, his tongue teasing her clit...<br><br>...and then slowly withdrew, moving his mouth away, and he looked up at his submissive then, dear, sweet, precious Miranda, collared and cuffed, soaking and vulnerable, blossoming and vital...and he licked his sticky lips.<br><br>'I want you more than I have ever wanted anything in my life,' he said, rising to his feet and moving close against her, slipping his hands around her waist, his fingers searching for her hands.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Alika Luminos</strong> on <strong>27-01-2011, 23:08:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				There was, of course, no small amount of carnal desire impelling Miranda’s movements. But deeper than that, buried, beaten down by the necessities of her work, something had begun to emerge from a cocoon of suppression. More than her primal arousal, undoubtedly the most stimulated she had ever felt in her life, there existed a blossoming submission. <br><br>All she wanted at that very moment was to want what -he- wanted, her Master, and do as he asked. Part of it was, certainly, the wish to impress her new Master straightaway. It was a blind date of sorts, albeit a year-long one, and everyone was on their best behavior. But beyond that, she found her limbs moving without hesitation, making certain that he had adequate room to slide beneath her and feast in whatever way he desired. <br><br>She could feel her honey collecting and coating the insides of her thighs, her entire sex glistening as it awaited the slow lashes of a Master’s tongue. He was taking his time quite obviously, each slow advance towards her weeping pussy making her tense up in anticipation of the moment of contact. The heat of his breath coursing over even hotter flesh as he whispered made her quiver nearly as much as the words spoken. A low, guttural moan rumbled from her throat when he finally pressed the flat of his tongue against her swollen nether lips laden with dew. <br><br>She bit down on her lip, trying to stay still as he lapped at her juices, sampling and teasing all at once. It was more than just out of obedience - she was rather off balance with her leg up while her hands were bound in those beautiful cuffs, and she feared she would stumble if she grew too exuberant in her delight at the feel of his mouth. Her head tilted back slightly, her lips parting in a silent exhale when he buried his face against her delicate pussy, nosing apart those damp folds to drink deeply of the nectar trickling from within. The little nibbles earned soft squeaks and squirms from his girl, her hips shifting back and forth in delight and shock, pleasure and brief thunderbolts of pain. <br><br>And oh how she flowed against his mouth. As he tormented her with the concert of his lips and tongue, she ground her hips down against her Master’s mouth, her eyelids closing as she just rode the waves of pleasure offered to her, a gift from her new owner. Her body jerked and she let out a sudden cry as the tip of his tongue flicked over the swollen nub housed at the top of her dripping slit, sending jolts of quivering heat up her spine and ensuring that her already erect nipples stayed absolutely rock hard. <br><br>It was nearly more than she could bear. Miranda forgot completely that they were simply in a bare suite meant only for collection, that there could be others in range of hearing - which there were, and oh did they delight in knowing how much a patron was enjoying his new submissive. She focused only on the mind numbingly perfect feeling of being eaten out so completely, tenderly, possessively by her Master. Each swipe of his tongue over her pearl made her gasp and tense up, her body aflame with sensation, tumbling quickly towards a peak that she knew would shatter any previous conceptions of an orgasm. <br><br>And then he stopped. Miranda groaned loudly, peering down at him with her cheeks pink and a light sheen of sweat at her temples, having been so very close to a wondrous climax. She knew far better than to ask for him to finish - at least for now - though she found herself only aroused painfully further by the sight of her Master’s lips glistening with her honey. <br><br>As he stood, she followed him with her gaze, whimpering at the light dance of his fingertips over her bare hips as he slid his body against hers. His cock raged against the confines of his trousers, prodding against her so teasingly that she couldn’t help but push back against him and grind into the erect flesh slightly. When his fingers caught hers behind her back, she laced her fingertips with his, running the soft pads over the sides of his digits. <br><br>“You needn’t want for anything anymore, Master,” she said quietly, chin tipped up to look at him. “I belong to you.” 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>josefk67</strong> on <strong>28-01-2011, 21:48:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It was the little involuntary movements and cries that Miranda made, which revealed how her submissive desires were already beginning to coalesce and seethe deep within her. He had no notion of the kind of woman she had been before she set foot in the auction house and presented herself for evaluation by the unfortunate connoisseur, but from the way she had held herself on stage, her poise and elegance, Leo was convinced that she must have been a successful career woman. But he also knew how often women had to hide their true natures when battling the injustices of a patriarchal world; and that was the beauty of the auctions. They allowed all those repressions and injustices to find a liberating outlet...<br><br>So, to feel his submissive pushing her swollen, dripping pussy into his face as he ate her out, felt like the gradual release of years of hiding things away, perhaps longing, yet never daring to surrender totally to the dark forces within. As he teased and probed, it felt as if Miranda were unfolding, like a precious flower slowly unfurling its beauty after a harsh frost. As he nibbled and nipped, her squirms and squeaks of delight made his heart sing. He knew he was being cruel to lead her along the path, so close to the garden of sensual delights, only to halt her just at the gate, but she would soon learn that this practice of his would bear splendid, wondrous fruit. He was pleased too that she did not question him, nor complain, at being thus teased. That was good, so very good. It suggested that she already knew how a submissive should behave. Beholden in all things to her Master, wanting only what <em>he </em>wanted, needing to be directed and told what to do, what to endure. This was the pathway to fulfilment, and Miranda had already shown her sure footing.<br><br>Perhaps, in time, Leo might have to chastise her for the way she had pressed herself against his iron-hard cock, for the way it might be construed as stealing her own sensual pleasure rather than accepting that granted her by her Master...but she had been owned but moments. Moreover, Leo knew that she must have been whipped up into something approaching a sexual frenzy by the connoisseur and the handler - especially given her exquisite beauty and the obvious longing she induced in all those she would have encountered inside the building - and he was simply intensifying her need, quite deliberately. In truth, it delighted him for it revealed her attraction for him, her desire to be with him and he had not felt so desired by a woman for a very long time. Perhaps, he had <em>never </em>known or been the subject of such adoration and lust.<br><em><br>'You needn’t want for anything anymore, Master” . “I belong to you.”</em><br><br>Oh, how those words enflamed him, so delicately spoken and heartfelt. The touch of her immaculately manicured fingers, the softness and smoothness of her hands as she laced her fingers so easily and naturally with his own touch a profound chord within him. He had always so loved the hands of a woman; they were always the first thing her noticed about each woman he met, and was clearly a primal indication of his desire to restrain them, thereby opening the woman like a book. He would feast his eyes on her wrists encircled in the exquisite steel cuffs later on, and wondered what facilities the suite would hold to restrain Miranda tightly before he truly began to explore her, to mark his possession over her.<br><br>'You have already demonstrated that, little one, so delightfully. But you too will not want for anything as an obedient little sub. The collar you wear is beautiful, but you will soon wear the collar that <em>I </em>will choose, and at that point, your service to me will truly begin.'<br><br>He pulled her close then and kissed her, but tenderly this time, delighting in the way that the honey from her glistening hollow now melted into her lips, as he crushed into them. This time, his tongue, still sticky with her dew, slipped slowly, gently into her mouth, allowing her to taste herself on him, like a sweet mingling of their essence.<br><br>He tightened his grip on her hands as the kiss deepened, and he felt a tremble running through him, a need, a desire that now needed to be released, a thirst that demanded to be slaked...<br><br>With reluctance, he broke the kiss and then looked deep into her expressive eyes, smiling. 'I think it's time I took you to the room where I have arranged for us to spend the night, my love. I want to explore every inch of my purchase, every pore, every curve, every line...every rise, every fall.' He paused, holding her gaze for a long time, still pressing her body to him, fingers till entwined. 'I'm going to restrain you tight, tighter still....and then I'm going to fuck you.'<br><br>He released her hands then, bade her put her leg down and then reached for the white leather leash on the table, fastening it to the ring in her collar. 'Now, I am going to lead you upstairs and am going to be the proudest man in the building because I am the owner of the most divine creature I have ever seen.' He winked at Miranda, and gave her a little tug on her leash, letting his pale blue eyes slide down over her body to admire the gleaming stains of her arousal that crisscrossed her soft thighs, as he took up her clamshell case and her white dress in his free hand. <br><br>'Mmmmmm,' he purred as they left the spartan room, walked passed a group of people who had been milling around outside the collection room and towards the wide marble staircase to the upper floors.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Alika Luminos</strong> on <strong>29-01-2011, 01:50:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				When he did not pull from her soft touches, but seemed rather more entranced by them, Miranda continued to slowly caress his fingers where they met hers. The heat from his body infused her own with aching warmth, nestled against her so close. His kiss surprised her, though her lips once again parted immediately upon feeling the soft slither of his tongue through them to invade her mouth. She moaned softly into his mouth as she caught the hint of her own flavor, reminded of the wondrous feel of his tongue working against her pussy just moments ago. <br><br>Her fingers tightened in kind around his, locked together, a fusion of their beings nearly as intimate as the penetrations likely to follow. This was her Owner, her Master, her everything for the next year. And he was trembling against her with desires of his own that he so eloquently expressed by the slow and deliberate lashes of his tongue around hers. <br><br>Miranda gasped when he finally pulled away, her lips tingling in a way that cried out for more contact from this man. Never had her body ached so completely to be held, licked, <em>fucked</em> by a single presence that moved her so entirely to be possessed. <br><br>So she was more than ready when he suggested that they move upstairs, craving it with an almost animalistic need. Her attention never wavered from his eyes, her own almost unblinking as he spoke, lids lowering for a brief moment as a shiver rippled through her when he spoke of what he intended to do to her. <em>I’m going to restrain you. I’m going to fuck you.</em> Her sex began to drip anew at the sheer resonance of those words, her mouth going dry in an attempt to offer a response that would move him as much.<br><br>“Use me hard, and use me well, Master, as is your pleasure,” she whispered, her eyes round and gleaming, the pupils still dilated as though his ownership were some sort of drug that had completely cast her under its hold. <br><br>Her chin tipped up as he clipped her leash on, her heart swelling at the sheer pride in being on the end of this man’s lead. And when he tugged, she was quick to follow, her body shifting with the same fluid grace she had demonstrated on the stage, her breasts bouncing lightly and making the chains crossing them sing their tinny music. <br><br>Even as they left the room and waded out into the main gallery where numerous patrons still idled, her chin never lowered, following her Master as he led her to their accommodations for the night. She bore the fruits of her arousal without shame, actually hoping that others would notice the dribbles of her nectar on her thighs where her Master had already feasted on his property. This was already the greatest experience of her lifetime, a culmination of everything that was ever missing. <br><br>She was a platinum submissive. <br><br>She was owned. <br><br>She was His. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>josefk67</strong> on <strong>01-02-2011, 14:08:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Leo noted the admiring glances of the people still milling around in the auction house as he led his beautiful property though the hall, her heels tapping out their easy rhythm on the floor, her nipple chains singing out a teasing melody. He couldn't help but smile with pride at the looks of envy and desire that permeated the faces of the onlookers. He thought he had noticed the unfortunate connoisseur, haunting the shadows of the hall in anguish, but conceded that may just have been his imagination. <br><br>He turned as they reached the bottom of the staircase, motioned her to stop and felt his pride surge at the expression that illuminated Miranda's perfect face. She held her head high and seemed to be radiating as never before that day. He wondered if she had felt any doubts earlier about taking these steps into submission, waiting backstage, perhaps even earlier when she had presented herself for inspection. Be that as it may, Miranda's eyes sparkled, her flawless body shone and her pussy gleamed, little rivulets of her juices catching the light on her milky thighs; everything about her suggested to him that she was precisely where she had longed to be - and her service had scarcely begun. He admired the curves and lines of her body, the way her hands being restrained behind her made her full breasts seem even more rounded,&nbsp; more prominent, more inviting…<br><br><em>'Use me hard, and use me well, Master, as is your pleasure.'</em> Her whispered words resonated through his mind, inspiring such thoughts, such images of domination, deviance, depravity and desire. They told him that he too was where he had longed to be, but had never truly believed possible, not even when he had been in this place years before. He saw more of her precious nectar pooling at her soft petals, beginning to slide teasingly across her soft thighs and he smiled more broadly. He really <em>did </em>need to get her upstairs. 'You make me feel so proud already, Miranda,' he said, holding her gaze, a serene smile on his lips, 'and you have hardly been my property more than a a few moments.' He leaned in quickly and brushed his lips quickly against hers. It felt as if he had to have some contact with her at every opportunity. He felt magnetised, hypnotised by her beautiful submission. She was the epitome of his dreams.<br><br>He tugged her leash again and they ascended the stairs, her heels ringing out on the marble in such a way that he sensed that all eyes were upon them still; well, on her at least, he thought chuckling softly to himself. At the top of the staircase, pulling Miranda behind him he headed for the lift, as Cheryl had explained, which was the sole access to the Anais Nin suite. All the other rooms were reached by another staircase at the back of the balcony, but the suite he had booked was special in every way. It was right at the top of the building, secluded, discreet and highly exclusive. He pressed the button, and was relieved when the door opened immediately; even the thought of having to wait for the lift seemed unbearable in view of the excitement and anticipation that crackled between the two of them.<br><br>‘After you, my dear,’ he said, and let his eyes gorge themselves upon her body as she eased past him into the lift. In particular, he let his gaze rest upon her hands, locked tightly in the wondrous steel cuffs, and so relaxed, at ease in their bondage. He admired her well manicured, polished nails, a dark red that looked black at times. Her fingers were long and shapely, her wrists exquisite. Yes, he purred to himself, following her into the lift as the doors shut, she was made for bondage, this vision. <br><br>As she turned to face him, he pressed himself close to her, moving his face close to hers, a look of delirious happiness dancing across his features. He leant in, rubbing her nose softly with his own, teasing her with his lips, promising, then denying her the kiss hr mouth looked like it craved. He hoped she could already see how much she filled him with life and energy, with joy and wonder, with deviance and desire. At last, just before the lift came to a stop, he stole the kiss from her lips, simultaneously slipping a finger teasingly across her swollen lips below. ‘Your lips are divine,’ he breathed in her ear, teasing her as to which lips he might have been referring to.<br><br>The doors of the lift opened out directly into the suite, and Leo could barely stifle a gasp. There were three steps down from the doors into the suite, which opened out before them. Directly facing them on the far side was a plate glass window which ran the width of the room with a wonderful view down over the city and the ocean beyond.&nbsp; In between them and the window was the main body of the suite, carpeted with a soft white rug. In the middle was a low walnut coffee table, and Leo noted with satisfaction the array of rings that sat in the wood at strategic points around the edges. On either side were two fulsome sofas upholstered in a velvet of glorious crimson hue. On the right hand side was a kitchen/dining area , and tucked away in the near corner, just along from the lift, was a heavy oak door. In the opposite left hand corner Leo could see the bathroom with its cold marble floor. Next to that was a small spiral staircase up to what looked like a minstrel’s gallery, which jutted out over the lounge area and contained an ornate four-poster bed. Underneath the balcony were a serious of contraptions and devices that made his cock quiver, such as a St Andrew’s cross, wooden horse and a wooden crucifix. He turned subtly to watch Miranda’s reaction to the room, wondering what thoughts were racing through her head.<br><br>He led her on her leash down into the room, putting her dress and the case down on one of the sofas, and began to note little details, such as the array of rings fixed into the ceiling beneath the bedroom balcony close to the window, or into the walls at either end of the suite at various heights. He spotted the wooden chair off to one side which had a vertical wooden back with padded leather. The seat was also padded, but split off into two legs with rings all along that would keep the captive’s legs spread wide for inspection. At various points he noted too the posts rather like the ones that he had seen the puppets attached too downstairs, and he was delighted. And on the far side of the dining area he noted the wooden cabinet that Cheryl had assured him was ‘well stocked with everything you might need.’<br><br>He held her around the suite, feasting his eyes on everything, and letting her do likewise, so that her mind would begin to race at the possibilities ahead for their first night together as Master and submissive. The bathroom was similarly well equipped with useful ergonomically designed devices: it was a depraved Dominant’s dream.<br><br>Leo led Miranda in silence around, delighting in her expression, letting his eyes slip down to her swollen mound to ensure that she was enjoying what she was seeing as much as he was. At last, they came to a stop by the cabinet, which Leo knelt down to open. There, in various sections of the cabinet, were myriad ropes, restraints, padlocks, gags, toys, implements and devices for inflicting pleasure and pain. <br><br>‘I think we’ll be very happy here, don’t you, my love?’<br><br>He took a leather harness with crimson ballgag attached to a leather muzzle and lifted it up to show Miranda. ‘I have always wanted one of these,’ he said, purring, ‘have always wanted to know how good they are at muffling screams.’ He allowed his words to register, before unclipping her leash, holding her gaze with a broad smile on his lips.<br><br>He motioned over to the carpet between the two sofas. <br><br>‘Kneel over there for me, little one, it is time to play with you…properly.’<br><br><br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Alika Luminos</strong> on <strong>02-02-2011, 03:34:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Miranda was indeed glowing, and it wasn’t just the product of the fancy collar and cuffs and chains. Being on the end of his leash seemed to cultivate an almost ethereal glow, an energy that pulsed deep within her being and showed in the brilliant way her mismatched eyes caught the light as he paraded her towards the stairs, in the confident stride she took that was simply brimming with pride. She was not sure at first whether it was the simple fact of being owned that made her radiate that pride and confidence, or her Master himself who elicited such a strong response. After all, they had met but moments before and all either really knew of each other was a name and the taste of each other’s lips. <br><br>It was enough, though. It was the man, and not her submission itself that warmed her core and instilled such a strong sense to serve. She could not begin to explain, being one of a solid and scientific mind, how it had happened. Yet when he turned to her and she saw that same pride and devotion reflected in his eyes as he took in her every curve and the glistening stains of her honey, she knew: it was the man. Their match was so perfect and so effortless from the very start. It was in the way she knew exactly how to present herself to him despite being untrained, and what to call him, in the way that she felt perfectly at ease at the end of his leash. As though that was truly where she belonged, that Leo’s leash was what she had been missing in her life all these years. <br><br>The thoughts of her Master, her perfect match against all odds, coaxed a little more of her honey from deep within, and she felt it warm and spread over her petals, clinging to the supple curves of her thighs. He saw it, too, she knew. She saw his gaze dip down and then back up to her before he whispered words that made Miranda’s heart seize in place for a brief moment. <br><br>“I hope to always make you proud, Master,” she whispered back to him, her voice strained with emotion. Her lips wrapped fully around his when he leaned in for a soft kiss, savoring that flavor that subconsciously only fueled her submissive desires. She knew everyone was watching them, and it only aroused her even further. Miranda had never been an exhibitionist, never even had remote desires of the sort, but at that moment all she wanted was for her Master to fuck her there in front of everyone for the first time. <br><br>She let out a soft noise when their lips parted and he tugged her along. She effortlessly took the stairs with a graceful center of balance despite her bindings, honed by the years of dance training. Her hips swayed enticingly as she entered the lift first at his direction, quite aware of the heat of his gaze devouring her body. It was clear that neither could wait to arrive at the suite where they would seal the bond of her collar this night. Her hands were clasped together in the cuffs, those delicate fingers entwined as though pleading behind her. <br><br>Miranda smiled broadly when she turned to find her Master with that look upon his face. He just appeared completely content, more so than she thought she had ever seen a person. She laughed and rubbed noses with him, feeling giddy, excited, overwhelmed with anticipation about this journey they were about to embark upon together. Her eyes sparkled at the game he offered, her lips reaching out for his over and again, and her silvery laugh rang forth when he finally gifted her that soft kiss right before they exited. The laugh cut off in a gasp when his finger traced over her fully bloomed flower, teasing even further. <br><br>Miranda didn’t even try to stifle her gasp when the doors opened. The suite was a luscious, sprawling thing with more accommodations than anyone should rightly ever need. The view itself was simply breathtaking, and she found her gaze ensnared there for several long moments before she took in the rest of the room. The bed was simply luxurious, though there were so many areas to explore in the room, Miranda was uncertain how much time they would even be spending there. Her breath caught slightly when she saw the bondage equipment below the balcony. She was not experienced enough to name it, or even suppose what it all might be used for, but the simple sight of the padded contraptions, fitted with quite durable metal rings, stirred a very primal urge in her. To be tied…to be taken…to be used. Her body subconsciously leaned against her Master’s. <br><br><br>When Leo began to walk down into the room, she followed after, her head craning around to take in every sight offered. It was an adult playground the likes of which she had never imagined. Her heart quickened, a half frown gracing her lips for the space of a moment. He was so excited and he had already spent a fortune on her. What if she ended up disappointing him?<br><br>She licked her lips without realizing it when she saw that chair, that strange chair that left no question as to what it was for. Her eyes flicked up to the rings studding the walls around the room. A shiver rippled her form. To be chained. Taken. Pounded. Teased. She squirmed a little bit in place, feeling her heat intensify like a furnace. When he opened that cabinet, she peered inside with a slight gasp. She didn’t even recognize half of what was in there, though the things that she did recognize…<br><br>All of it would be going on her, <em>in</em> her, in some way tonight she mused. The thought made her lips part in a soft sigh of pleasure. “Yes…” she answered him, a far-off look in her eyes. She peered at the gag he held up, tilting her head curiously. It was a frightening looking thing, and she reasoned it would be quite secure when in place. <em>Muffling screams</em>. She swallowed thickly, feeling a jump of her pulse again. <br><br>She was only too happy to obey him as he commanded her to kneel. Once free of the leash, she glided over where he indicated and knelt as she had in the waiting room downstairs. Her back was perfectly straight, and her knees were held half parted for him to view or use her lust-slicked canal. Her eyes traced up to lock on his, her body trembling - though certainly not from fear.<br><br>“Teach me, Master.”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>josefk67</strong> on <strong>08-02-2011, 23:38:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>Teach me, Master</em>...<br><br>A tremor began to build deep within him at those words, gathering force like a tornado that began to intensify, devouring all in its path. Leo had always known he was a Dominant, albeit one beguilingly calm and respectable to the world at large. He had wrestled with his desires as a child, worrying that he was somehow alone in harbouring the fantasies he did, and only as an adult had he begun to see that others shared those urges. It is one thing to find a sense of perspective, but quite another to act them out. Just these small moments with Miranda made him realise how ill-equipped, how uninspired he had been before...before he had entered the orbit of this beautiful creature. She seemed to infuse him with light and dark, illumination and shadow, and such a breathtaking sense of...freedom. Yes, that was the word. <em>Freedom</em>.<br><br>That sense of being able to be oneself so completely with another person, that one finds so rarely...Of course, he could have paid the money for a submissive who might have endured all the designs he might have had on them, but then that was how things had been for him before; it had left him broken-hearted. But with Miranda, who was kneeling, waiting for him, eager for him to teach her...things were so very very different! Miranda, who had shone in her bondage and collar as they had traversed the lobby and climbed the stairs...Miranda whose pussy was glistening with desire to be captivated, to be used, to be made to serve even though she seemed so beautifully compliant in every way already. He gazed down at her as she knelt, her eyes proudly holding his own; but it was the pride in being owned, rather than a defiant, challenging sense of pride. <br><br><em>Teach me, Master</em>...<br><br>Those words danced around his synapses like a graceful, sensual harem girl, and enflamed him all the more. Her perfect posture, her knees open compliantly, underlining that her submission to him was absolute and infinite. A rush of pictures rampaged through his mind, almost too many at once for him to decide which to enact first. But at last, with a wicked smile forming on his lips, he knew what he wanted to do first of all.<br><br>He knelt down to the cabinet and took out two pairs of leather cuffs, a couple of exquisitely small steel padlocks and keys, and a small chain. He moved slowly, carefully, ensuring Miranda would see what he was doing. Then, together with the muzzle ballgag harness, he eased over to where his property was waiting for him. He could see how much more soaked her soft thighs were now, now that she was able to feast her eyes on this beautifully perverse playground. He wondered how much she had experienced, longed to know about her journey...but for the moment, his lust overwhelmed him, and all he could contemplate was her complete and utter domination. Her ruination by his hand....<br><br>He placed the gag on the rug in front of her, with careful deliberation, hoping her eyes would be feasting on its almost aggressive beauty. Then he rose, moved behind her and knelt. He took the first pair of leather cuffs and attached one to each of her arms, just above the elbow. They were beautifully made, with fine white stitching punctuating the darkness of the leather; they had none of the elegance of her steel cuffs, the quality of which made him catch his breath, now that he was able to appreciate them from close up for the first time. No, but what the cuffs lacked in gleaming beauty, they made up for handsomely in their practicality. He leant in close to whisper, as he locked the second cuff in place.<br><br>'Yes, little one, I shall teach you <em>so </em>many things during the time that you belong to me. I will teach you how to serve, I will teach you how to be, I will teach you how to open yourself to every dark whim, every deviant desire you have ever had...and hitherto never dared to entertain. I will gift you your true self, your true soul.' He pulled her elbows together then, slipping the first of the silver locks into place, snapping it shut so that her elbows were secured close together, admiring the dramatic effect this had on her sensational body. <br><br>Next, he carefully began to remove her gorgeous shoes, unwinding the laces that hugged her calves and allowing his fingers to map the contours of her well-toned muscles; she must be a dancer, or have danced at some point, he mused. It would surely explain her graceful movements, even in bondage. Now, he wondered what new, more sensual, primal movements he could induce in her very shortly...once he began truly to inspect his purchase. The 'merchandise', as Phillips had put it earlier, he recalled, though admittedly <em>not </em>in apposition to Miranda.<br><br>He was nearly paralysed with his admiration of her legs, her dainty ankles, but Leo snapped out of his trance, his cravings breaking the spell, returning his focus. Taking the second pair of cuffs, he swiftly set to work on her ankles, locking the cuffs as tightly as they would go before also locking them together with the second padlock.<br><br>'Kneel back on your haunches,' he ordered Miranda then, 'and place your hands by your ankles.' As his prize complied, Leo clipped one end of the small chain to her wrist cuffs and the other to her ankles, holding her fast now in a kneeling hogtie. He admired the delicious shape of her body, as if sculpted into submission and helplessness. He longed to see how her delicate petals looked now, but knew he would leave that pleasure a few more moments, teasing himself into an even more seething arousal. <br><br>Instead, Leo gave Miranda the slightest push on her shoulder, to propel her gently, yet significantly, to the rug and to underline just how vulnerable she now was.<br><br>'Shall we begin, hmm?' It may have sounded like a question, but it was a declaration of dark intent. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Auction (Josefk67 &amp; Alika)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Alika Luminos</strong> on <strong>10-02-2011, 22:00:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Miranda kept her gaze locked on her Master. He too seemed completely taken with their shared experience thus far, and she almost thought she saw his breath catch at her last words. Could it be so? Her chest swelled at the prospect of having done something so pleasing without even realizing. She had heard whispers swirling backstage about a natural submissive when the others found out she had yet to experience anything of the sort. Now, as she sat kneeling before her new Master, she could not argue that there was no hesitation to her words or actions. She simply did what she felt was right, and it appeared to please him. <br><br>She wanted to please him. As she looked up at him from below, her heterochromic eyes sparkling from beneath the dark fringe of her lashes, she could think of nothing she longed for more than to please and appease this man. She was his, completely. It was more than just a sale or a swipe of plastic through a card reader that had made this so. Surely, it was by the hand of gods that had led her to this specific auction, on this particular day, their fates interwoven by something greater. At any other moment, in any other circumstance, she would have chastised herself for mental hyperbole. But somehow it seemed utterly appropriate to ascribe their meeting to a higher power. After all, this was magical.<br><br>Her eyes dipped down only very slightly when she noticed the expression crawling across his face. Even though she appeared to cast her glance away demurely, her lips bore a smile of striking similarity, a shared excitement over the training he had in store for her. She had embarked upon this journey for a reason, after all. And now she had already decided that it was not the vague notion of discovering her submissive self that had impelled her to join the auction. It was specifically to meet Leo and undergo her training by his hands. <br><br>She watched as he started to gather his tools of education, her heart pattering rapidly and her anxious breaths making the chains still tied to her nipples jingle softly in the lush suite. Her breath caught a moment when he drew out that strange and complex gag that she had noticed before. She had never seen one, but it certainly looked sturdy and…silencing to be sure. A few more beads of dew slowly gathered and glided down the incline of her nether lips, the moisture hanging for a moment at the back end of her slit before falling to the carpet with a soft patter that he probably didn’t hear across the room. But the fact was clear enough, at least to Miranda: the sight of the gag, the thought of being bound and trained, fucked, by her Master had again set her pussy to dripping. <br><br>Her attention shifted downwards when he set the gag so near to her, eyes raking over the industrial lines of the riveting and rings coupled with the harsh organics of the dark and supple leather. She was still staring down at the novel object and trapped in a fantasy of the mind when he moved behind her, so the feel of his hands suddenly grasping her elbows made her startle a bit, jumping with a gasp. When she realized what he was doing, feeling those cuffs slide into place to add another facet of control, her gasp was transformed into a sultry growl, barely there but he surely might hear the vocalization of her lust. Another soft drip of her honey pattered on the carpet. <br><br>His breath on her ear made her shiver, the hairs on the back of her neck standing out. She could feel her sprinting pulse echoed in the throb of her swollen pearl between her legs. All that she could muster in response to his words was a very heartfelt, breathy, “Thank you, Master.” She gasped again as her elbows were cinched together, leaving her arms completely bound with her breasts jutting out more than ever. <br><br>She let out a soft breath at the feel of his fingertips tracing over the lines of her calves, shifting a little in place on her knees so that he could slip her heels off easily. The addition of the cuffs to her ankles made her eyelids slip slowly shut. He was readying her, slowly but surely. Binding her point by point in a design that still resided in his head alone. It was exhilarating, and her mind wandered with a million possibilities. <br><br>She was quick to obey his wishes, her back arching in a sensual half circle that only accentuated the lines of her body. She heard the soft click of the chain and gave a testing pull. Not to be disobedient or struggle, but simply to gauge the entirety of her restraint. She had never been overly cock hungry or even ravenous with any sexual appetites, but as she found herself falling further and further into helpless bondage, all she could think about was wrapping her lips around the bulge that showed in his pants as he held her completely in place, or being chained to one of the many implements in this delightful suite and used in every way. <br><br>A slight flush washed over her cheeks as she remembered the flash of surprise and pleasure when the connoisseur had worked his finger between the round globes of her ass to sample the tightness of her rear. Miranda found herself even more excited at the prospect of being anally trained by her Master as well. She had heard stories of submissives being made to wear training plugs to help ready them for the service of their Master. The thought made her squirm a little, coupled in time with the push at her shoulder. <br><br>She tumbled, albeit gracefully, falling back and to the side on the rug. Her body was still arched with the positioning of the cuffs, and she peered up at her Master through the silken wash of her hair hanging over her eyes. <br><br>“Yes…please, Master.” She tried to wrestle the hoarse need from her voice, but she wriggled about shamelessly on the carpet, squirming with the flaming desires within her. “Show me.”<br>
			</dd>
		</dl>
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