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“Dicks and ass,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows. “One of my favorite combinations.”
Eh, fuck it. He’d be forty in less than a year. He was supposed to have wrinkles. Grinning like an absolute fool, he said, “Now tell me more about this slave auction of yours.”
CHAPTER11
Nell
Had those eye hooks on the ceiling always been there? Nell found herself staring at them as Rafe led her into the dining room. The table was gone, and all the chairs faced a small, raised platform in front of the windows. The stainless-steel plates of the eye hooks were screwed into the ceiling on either side of the platform, a heavy silver chain dangling from each one.
Nell tripped over the edge of the Persian rug, pitching forward toward the back row of chairs. She instinctively tried to throw her hands out to her sides for balance, but Rafe bound her hands in front of her before they left the suite, using thick leather cuffs hooked to a metal ring.
It was a good thing Rafe caught her. Bashing her head open on a straight back wooden chair would certainly put a damper on things.
“Careful, girl,” Rafe grunted, punctuating the words with a single stroke from his rattan cane. He used enough force to get her attention, but not to make her cry out.
A delicious shiver ran through her body, making her pussy ache with need. “I’m sorry, Master.”
Letting the cane’s wrapped grip fall from his hand, the long rod dangled from the nylon cord around his wrist. He took her upper arm in an iron grip. “If you do something to damage yourself and lower your value, I swear you won’t see tomorrow.” He gave her a long leer up and down the length of her body. With a sound of disgust, he dragged her the rest of the way across the room. “Up, you little slut.”
She stumbled again as she climbed onto the platform, Rafe’s fist in her hair the only thing keeping her from toppling off the far side.
“Clumsy little bitch,” he spat, spinning her around to face the chairs. “I’ll be relieved to see the last of you.”
Rafe unhooked the leather cuffs, pocketing the ring he’d used to connect them, and stretched her right arm toward the first chain. While he busied himself with attaching the cuff to one of the thick links, she took a look around the room.
More people arrived in the last couple of minutes, filling all the seats. She recognized Camden from the scene yesterday, in the back row. She’d seen a couple of the others around the Manor, but had no idea who they were.
There were even two submissives in attendance, one with disheveled black hair perched on the lap of a Dom with just the right amount of sexy stubble, her legs splayed to either side of his while he toyed with her pussy. She had what looked like some kind of monochrome flower tattooed on her arm.
The other was a stunning woman with white-blond hair in an elaborate up-do, kneeling at the feet of a tall, lean Dom in a perfectly tailored gray suit. A leather collar was buckled around her neck, matching the leash attached to a thick silver ring. The Dom ran the other end of the leash absentmindedly through his hands as he studied Nell.
Squeezing her thighs together, she tried to relieve some of the ache in her pussy, to no avail. Rafe had offered to introduce her to the other Manor Doms before the auction, but she’d turned him down without hesitation. She didn’t want to know a thing about the man who bought her when it happened. That was one of the most important parts of the fantasy.
All she needed to know was that she’d be safe the entire time—and that she’d be back with Rafe once the scene ended.
Soon, both arms were stretched wide, her shoulders strained, her feet not quite able to rest flat on the platform. For a few, magical seconds, she closed her eyes, imagining herself on the stage in the Domino Club—a secret society featured in several of her favorite books.
They auctioned off a different woman at the beginning of each novel, always bought by a stunningly sexy Dom who had no problem disciplining her whenever she misbehaved. Nell first devoured the series in college, and it had been at the foundation of this fantasy ever since.
“Gentlemen, welcome,” Rafe said, drawing her back to the present. She opened her eyes to find everyone in the room staring raptly at the stage. “The auction will start in only a few minutes. But before we begin, I’d like to open the floor to any questions.”
“How old is the slave?” asked the man with the woman on his lap.
With a polite nod, Rafe said, “Thirty-six. I’ve tested her out myself, and she still has plentyof wear left in her. I give you my word.”
Camden leaned back in his chair and asked, “How long has she been in your possession?”
“Only three days.”
Eyebrows shot up all over the room. It was the Dom with the leash who asked what everyone was thinking: “And you’re already selling? What’s wrong with her?”
“Gentlemen.” Rafe smiled, spreading his hands wide. “Do you not remember what it said in the invite? I’m selling a slave with a strong will who needs a heavy hand. I lack the time or patience to train her myself right now, but I know she’ll be a perfect project for one of you. She just needs to be broken.”
It was a good thing Rafe dressed her up in black lace panties and a matching corset, or there would surely be an embarrassingly large puddle on the floor beneath her.
“Does she take punishment well?” That came from the fifth and final Dom in the room—one she’d never seen before today.
“How about a short demonstration, and you can decide for yourself?” Rafe suggested. At the murmurs of assent around the room, he dragged her panties down to her upper thighs, then once again took up his rattan cane.
