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“Your first time at The Enclave?” Tom asked.
“It is,” Damon confirmed. “You?”
“I’ve been here a bunch of times,” Tom asserted with evident pride. “Every event they open to the public, I’m first in line. This place is beyond awesome.”
Damon looked around the elegantly furnished, spacious living room. “This is quite a setup,” he agreed. “That dungeon is first-rate, as good as anything I’ve seen anywhere in the world. When Anthony Gerace first told me about The Enclave, I had no idea of the scope and breadth of their operation.”
“Whoa, so you know Anthony personally?” Tom asked. “He’s like a BDSM god in Asheville.”
Damon chuckled at the description, mildly amused by the other man’s apparent awe.“I don’t actually know Anthony super well,” he admitted. “I met him several times at Lair Sade, back in Charlotte, where I’m from. He owns that club, and we got to talking after he observed an intense scene I was involved in.”
Damon’s conversation with Anthony had been completely unexpected. Not used to offering much about his personal life, somehow with Anthony, he’d found himself sharing far more than he’d meant to, even some of the horror stories from his time in the Middle East.
“I’m not sure I’m a good fit for this auction thing,” he’d protested when Anthony had floated the idea. “I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I’ve got a lot of irons in the fire with my security business, including a special project overseas.”
Instead of trying to convince him otherwise, Anthony had just smiled a Buddha’s smile. “What’s a mere seven days in the scheme of things? There’s a BDSM bed-and-breakfast in town that gives us a special rate for these events. If that doesn’t suit you, The Enclave has a small cabin toward the back of our property that I’d be happy to lend you for the week, assuming you’re placed with one of our submissives. I think you’d be an excellent candidate. Why not take a chance? After all, what is life without a little risk? If it doesn’t work out,” the older man had shrugged, still smiling, “no harm, no foul.”
“One thing led to another,” Damon said to Tom, “and Anthony invited me to this auction. I wasn’t really sure what to expect. I like to take chances and seek out new experiences so”—he shrugged—“here I am.”
Tom took a long swig of his beer. “I’ve been trying to get a spot since they started these auctions a few months back. I was totally stoked when I found out I got in this time.” He frowned. “Though I can’t say I’m thrilled with the odds.”
Damon shrugged. “Fifty-fifty odds aren’t so bad. And from what I understand, those who don’t win a sub get a preferential placement in the next auction.” Not that he planned to come back to Asheville again. He had a company to run.
He glanced around at the lovely, naked staff slaves who offered the men appetizers and anything they wanted to drink from the open bar.
“Meanwhile, there are quite a few lovely consolation prizes in this place. Even if it’s just for a scene or two.”
“You can say that again,” Tom enthused.
They stopped talking as the three auction subs were ushered into the room by Lawrence Becker, one of The Enclave Doms. He led the naked women to the hearth of the larger of the two stone fireplaces. Three yoga mats had been set side-by-side on the hearth. Each woman stepped onto a mat—Juliette on the left, Amira on the right and Ellen in the middle.
“Gentlemen,” Lawrence said in a loud voice. “We trust you enjoyed the scene portion of the evening. Now we’d like to give you a small demonstration of our slave trainee graduates’ grace and obedience.”
He turned toward the three women. “Slaves, assume the kneeling expose position,” he directed.
As one, the subs brought their hands behind their heads and then lowered themselves to their knees. Backs arched, they spread their legs, offering a tantalizing view of their bare cunts. Damon couldn’t help but wonder how these Enclave Doms, constantly surrounded by gorgeous, highly trained and always-available sub girls ever got anything done.
“Slaves, assume the wait position,” Lawrence barked. The guy could have been a drill sergeant.
With military precision, the three women rose without the use of their hands. They stood with their feet precisely shoulder-width apart, brought their arms behind their backs and grasped their opposite elbows.
“Amira,” Lawrence said, “assume the floor position.”
The redhead turned to the side and dropped to all fours. Then she lay face down on the mat and crossed her wrists behind her back. From his vantage point, Damon could see the lingering evidence of the welts he’d given her with his single tail earlier in the evening. His cock twitched in appreciation.
Lawrence stepped close to the girl and placed the sole of his heavy black boot on the nape of her neck. Amira didn’t move. After a moment, he stepped away and said, “Return to wait position.”
Once Amira was again upright, Lawrence snapped, “Juliette, assume the wheel position.”
The girl looked directly at Damon, the tip of her pink tongue appearing briefly on her lower lip. It was an invitation if ever he saw one. Then she lowered herself to her mat, lying on her back and placing her hands near her head. With the agility of a yoga master, she lifted her hips and arched her back, creating a rounded bridge with her body.
“Christ,” Tom murmured. “That’s one hot little piece of eye candy.”
“She is, indeed,” Damon agreed.
After giving everyone in the room a chance to admire the lithe girl, Lawrence released her and she resumed her standing position.
“Ellen, ankle position,” Lawrence barked.
