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CHAPTER1
Renee
My new owner fucked me in front of the entire audience at the auction, after his bid of twelve and a half million dollars had proven the highest. Two enormous screens showed different angles on his enjoyment of his new property. The images on them came from AI-controlled micro-drone cameras, capable of getting into very tight places and thus of showing the most shameful, forbidden views of the scene taking place on the auction stage.
Thirty or so of the global corporate elite, tuxedoed men mostly but with a few haute-couture-clad women mixed in, had the honor of watching my owner’s first use of his new nineteen-year-old bed girl. That lewd spectacle represented a consolation prize of sorts, for the victory he—Hendryk Vanderbruggen, one of the Selecta Corporation’s sizable but nevertheless extremely exclusive cadre of senior vice presidents—had just won over them. Despite their best efforts to acquire me, to have the right to penetrate my pussy, mouth, and anus whenever and however they liked, Master Hendryk now had that right instead of them.
He had purchased me from the world’s foremost trainer of concubines, the facility so renowned among the dominant elite, and yet so hidden from the vast majority of their well-controlled, obedient consumers, that it was known only as the Institute. The auction had featured five concubines in all, and I had come last on the bill.
Each of the other girls sold to the highest bidder that night—including two sets of paired concubines who looked enough alike to be sisters but had never met before arriving at the Institute—sat in the audience as well, by that point. As the hammer fell on Master Hendryk’s winning bid, I could see them, girls I had trained with in the Institute’s shameful classes and tutorials there, watching the same humiliation befall me as had just befallen them.
Some of them still wore the Institute’s ‘uniform’: a silky babydoll nightgown in a color that indicated whether a girl had received fucking or discipline that day. Others had had it stripped away by their new owners as they too had undergone his or her first use of them on stage, just as I would, now that Master Hendryk had purchased me.
They sat upon their masters’ and mistresses’ laps, or they knelt on the floor, or they lay upended over their new owners’ knees, their bare, already red backsides receiving the sort of idle discipline some masters like to bestow. One of the seated ones, a blonde named Kara, gazed back at me, her face as pink as mine. The kneeling ones had been given other duties, for the most part; I watched their heads, held in their owners’ hands, going up and down as they gave the service of their mouths.
One newly acquired concubine, a friend of mine named Martha, had her face forcibly pressed against the furry pussy of a beautiful middle-aged woman in a gold lamé micro dress that she had hiked up to her hips. I saw the beautifully manicured, gold-painted nails of the domme moving in her new bed girl’s raven-dark hair as she was made to perform the degrading duty. I could see from the little movements of her head that Martha was licking frantically at her mistress’ clit, laid open to her just purchased fuck toy’s submissive mouth by the shameless draping of her right knee over the arm of the leather-upholstered chair; half an hour earlier the gorgeous billionaire had worn an ivory strap-on to claim Martha as her own.
Another girl, a honey blonde named Deirdre whom I liked immensely but hadn’t really had the chance to get to know, had her face turned to the floor. She sobbed as her master spanked her bare backside, pausing every now and then to pull apart the two glowing halves of her rear to inspect her tiny, no-longer-virgin anus. He had come fifteen minutes before, after a long, triumphant ride that had made Deirdre cry out with discomfort again and again. The contrast between his black-and-white tuxedoed body and her pale, bare flesh—all except for her painfully rosy bottom—made me feel faint. The sharp, too-familiar noises drifted to my ears where I stood on the stage.
He, a handsome older man with gray hair at his temples, had stripped away Deirdre’s nightgown before he had fucked her on stage. As soon as he had gotten back in the audience with her, he had upended her and immobilized her little bottom with his right leg over her knees and his left hand on her back. Then he had begun spanking her at a slow but steady pace. The girl had done nothing wrong, of course. She had merely had the misfortune to be purchased by a man who liked to spank a pretty bottom.
I had focused on my fellow concubines as I heard my own sale taking place. I had tried not to think about what it meant thatIstood on the stage, with my own price going up into the millions and then the tens of millions.
“Get on the horse, please, Renee,” said Miss Charlotte, the academic dean of the Institute. Her voice, subtly amplified by a nearly invisible microphone, carried through the whole room. Watching from the back of that gorgeously furnished salon, the ceremonial heart of the Institute, I had heard her say the same thing to the other girls sold tonight, before they had received their own first fuckings.
I had seen them obey, just as we had all learned to obey in the classrooms and masters’ training rooms. I had watched on the screens, unable to turn away or close my eyes, as the fabulously wealthy men and women of the dominant corporate elite had claimed their new sexual servants with their cocks or in two cases their strap-on phalluses.
My turn, I thought numbly. The man who had just paid so much money for me had stood up from his armchair.That’s my master. Master…I tried to remember the name Miss Charlotte had spoken when she had hammered down the sale. Then I remembered that I could see it displayed in two-foot high letters on the screens that would soon show the audience my sexual submission.
The fucking of Renee by her new master, Hendryk Vanderbruggen,said the golden titles, as the tall, elegantly dressed man walked toward the stage. I noted, through the welter of strong emotions that the brief numbness of shock had covered over, that he seemed to wear his tuxedo even better than the vast majority of the corporate magnates here at the Institute this evening for the auction of trained concubines.European tailoring, I thought.Is he Dutch?
The layer of nothing, of no feeling, that had lain over my emotions started to dissipate. More anxiety and more helpless, wanton arousal took hold of me with every step of Master Hendryk’s gleaming black shoes.
I glanced over at the screen on the right, away from my approaching master and from Miss Charlotte, who stood at the podium stage left. I stood center stage, of course.
The horse stood right behind me.
On the screen I saw a close-up of Master Hendryk, the man who owned me as of a minute ago. Tall, blond, frighteningly handsome. Definitely Dutch-looking, anyway. The corners of his mouth curled in an upward direction, but his blue eyes narrowed a little as he looked at me, standing still when I should be obeying the dean’s instructions. The command to turn and mount the horse, for his first use of me, hung unfulfilled in the air like a threatening cloud.
Miss Charlotte said, a patient smile in her voice, “Renee, sweetie, go ahead and get up on the horse for your new master.” I looked over at the beautiful blonde woman, clad in a white evening dress that reminded the beholder of the babydoll nightgown her bed-girls-in-training wore, my eyes wide with alarm. I should have been ready, of course; Master G had trained me very thoroughly in every shameful duty my owner would expect from me—save one. In accordance with the Institute’s long tradition, he had told me, my virgin anus had been reserved for my owner’s use alone.
The dean looked from me out to the audience.
“Renee is a good girl,” she told them, her eyes beginning with my new master and then passing over the whole of the room. “But of course she’s anxious. Master G, would you come up and help her onto the horse, please?”
The sounds of Deirdre’s ongoing spanking echoed through the hush that followed: her owner’s firm hand coming down on her rosy bottom, her cry of pain. I couldn’t look either at Master Hendryk or at Master G as they approached the stage; I found I could only look at Deirdre’s punished backside, and I saw her owner thrust his hand between her thighs, his thumb pressed between the fiery red cheeks. I watched her back arch, heard her sob of helpless arousal.
Master G had stepped onto the stage. He stood, suddenly, on my left side. He took me gently by the elbow.
“Renee,” he growled, bending down to speak right into my ear, “remember what I taught you. Breathe.”
He turned me toward the horse. A bench, really, with a black padded top above a polished wooden frame, and similar surfaces for knees and elbows to either side. Leather straps, for times when a master wanted or had to secure a girl in place for discipline and use. None of the girls who had preceded me under the auction hammer had required restraint. I hadn’t thought I would either, but Miss Charlotte had told all of us at the beginning of the evening that she wouldn’t hesitate to have our training masters strap us to the horse if necessary. Our submission to the men and women who would purchase us would take place whether we liked it or not.
Master G, in his crimson master’s robe, his huge manhood exposed and swaying menacingly between his thighs, propelled me up one of the three steps it would take to bring me to the horse.
I tried to figure out why I hadn’t obeyed Miss Charlotte immediately. I was indeed a good girl—anangel, as they called us at the Institute, as opposed to abrat,the other kind of bed girl. Once Master G had shown me how much pleasure came with obedience—and how much pain with disobedience—I had done my best to obey him. He had had to whip me only three times, each one for forgetting a lesson about the formal protocol of a concubine’s service.
All the other girls in my training group had received much more frequent punishments, often for reluctance or even resistance to our master’s more shameful commands. Martha, the girl who now worked so hard to please her new mistress’ pussy, had received a terrible paddling over Master G’s horse just a few days ago. Her offense had been that she had put on a sour expression at his command to bury her face in my bottom and prepare my anus for the butt plug Miss Charlotte had made me wear to widen me for my future owner.
