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Chapter 16
Cameron took the stairs two a time, castigating himself as he went. Not once, but twice within the same session he’d very nearly behaved like a complete asshole, letting irrational, stupid emotions color his judgment.
As he got to the first floor, he rummaged in his pocket for his car key fob, intent on making his getaway. Head down, muttering to himself, he nearly collided with Grayson as he was passing by the auction room.
“Oh, sorry, Grayson. I didn’t see you there.”
“Clearly,” Grayson said with a chuckle. “Where are you off to in such a hurry? The auction is just getting under way for Bridgette and Adriana. You should bid. Wouldn’t you like a slave girl waiting at home for you after a hard day at the office? Or maybe you could sneak her into that big fancy skyscraper where you work and hide her under your desk for when you need a little R&R.”
Cameron made a face. “You’re kidding, right?”
Grayson patted Cameron’s shoulder. “Yes, I’m kidding. You’re the last guy who should own a slave. You’re too fucking selfish.”
Grayson was smiling as he said this, but his words hit Cameron like a slap in the face. “What do you mean?” he demanded.
“Relax. I’m just messing with you, bro. You’re like Dominique and me. We like the constant variety the Masters Club affords us. Don’t get me wrong—Cleo and Brandon are top notch. But we would feel tied down, excuse the pun, if we were restricted to just those two. We have each other, after all, as life partners. The club subs just scratch our shared kink.”
“And I, as you know, don’t do ‘life partners.’” Cameron made air quotes around the words with his fingers. He’d meant it to come across as funny, but it ended up sounding snide, even hollow.
“But you do like variety,” Grayson retorted, not missing a beat. “Come inside with me and watch the action. There are four bidders tonight for the two girls. Hal Turner, Jerry Sullivan, Mike Thomas and Harlan Restrepo.”
“Wait. Harlan? Wasn’t he Adriana’s trainer?”
Trainers, who received a third of a slave’s sale price as partial compensation for their training, didn’t typically bid, though there was no rule against it. The slave also received a third, with the balance going to the Masters Club. A slave was informed in advance of his or her bidders, and always had the final right of refusal.
“Yep. And from what I hear, he’s pretty determined to win Adriana for his own. He’s actually gone and fallen in love with his trainee.” Grayson snorted, shaking his head. “Not smart, if you ask me. But then, love doesn’t worry about smart, does it? The heart wants what it wants.” He grinned, adding. “Look at me. All these gorgeous sub girls at my beck and call, and I fell for a Dominatrix.”
As they entered the room, Dominique was in the process of displaying Bridgette for the bidders. Grayson and Cameron settled quietly into two seats near the back of the large space.
Adriana was standing to one side of the fireplace in a wait up position, her eyes demurely lowered, breasts thrust proudly forward. She had black, curly hair, smooth, dark skin and large, liquid brown eyes. Her heavy breasts were stippled with marks, probably from a recent lashing. There was a small tattoo of a butterfly across her shaven mons.
Bridgette, a petite strawberry blonde with fair, freckled skin and a sweet, shy smile, was being taken through a series of advanced slave positions at Dominique’s direction. She moved with the poise and fluidity of a ballet dancer. Cameron watched, letting his mind empty as he focused on the graceful girl.
After about ten minutes of display in various positions, Dominique strapped Bridgette into the St. Andrew’s cross, facing forward. Through it all, Adriana stood still as a statue on the other side of the fireplace, no trace of impatience or fatigue evident in her bearing.
“We’ll open the bidding now, gentlemen,” Dominique said. Her gaze moved over the room. Spotting Grayson and Cameron, she gave a small smile and nod. Turning back to the men seated in front of her, she said, “The base price for this exquisitely trained slave girl is one thousand dollars. Do I hear two?”
“Two thousand,” Jerry called out.
“Twenty-five hundred,” Mike countered.
After a few minutes of bidding, Bridgette was sold to Jerry for nine thousand dollars. Jerry jumped from his seat and marched to the cross. He released Bridgette from her cuffs. She was smiling broadly at him, her eyes sparkling. He tapped her shoulder, and she sank gracefully to her knees. She lifted her hair, leaning her head forward as Jerry buckled a jewel-studded slave collar around her slender neck.
As he led her from the room, Dominique turned her attention to Adriana. Leaning close, Grayson whispered, “Domi’s such a romantic. She’s already whispered in the other guys’ ears to let Harlan win Adriana. After they bid up the price, of course,” he added with a chuckle.
