Much to everyone’s surprise, the first one to walk across the stage is Derek. Platinum blonde and beach bum beautiful, he offers his services for the rest of the summer.
“Bidding will begin at one thousand,” Devereux states.
“Better get ready to do some filing!” Georgia teases as she raises her card. He politely waves and walks off the stage. He is young, and catching a spot will garner him experience.
As more and more crossed the stage, the bids all stay under five thousand. The money earned from tonight stays with the submissive since it is a private auction.
“Ok, here we go. I know you all have been waiting,” Dev pauses and the audience turns completely quiet. “You know him, you love him, Sparks!”
Sparks dances out onto the stage and several of the older, more raucous—and rich—women run to the stage. They don’t mind that Sparks is mid-forties and on the short end. His long brown hair, tats, and piercings serve his dangerous look.
Fighting over him, I watch the bidding start at five grand for one month of 24/7, all out total power exchange. Anything goes with Sparks. Holding my number card, I think briefly about bidding just to get him to come and help him finish the work in Taos.
Why not?
I jet up my number 34 and Serene laughs. I get into a bit of a bidding war with Ella, who adores Sparks, and then Anna increases the bid even more.
I end up getting Sparks for the next month for twelve grand as I become the talk of the crowd. Everyone speculates I have something else in mind. Little do they know, Sparks is about to spend the next month in the hot summer sun in New Mexico.
“We have someone really special up next. Something we don’t see every day here in Juliet. His name is James, the pony boy switch.”
The audience gasps as he steps out on stage in full regalia. “Bidding will begin at ten grand for a six month open with clause contract.”
Serene scoffs. An open with clause contract is a nasty little piece of paper which gives the sub the ability to work for others during the tenure or stipulate any number of requests. The clauses could be anything from no sex to no heavy lifting to no oatmeal, if he wants.
“Jamie isn’t worth that much with that kind of contract,” Serene whispers to me. Regardless of the contract, the bidding shot up fast. Jamie is a good-looking man, late thirties with sandy blonde hair that hangs over his eyes. He sells for twenty-four thousand to the highest bidder—a pretty woman with flaming red hair in a white hat. The skeptical eyes are all upon her as she gloriously smirks in her winning bid. Casting a glance over my shoulder, I see her smile in my direction as she flicks her eyebrow up suggestively.
“Armstrong overpaid,” Serene raises her brows at Sal.
“That is LMA?”
“What?” Serene laughs at my acronym. “Yes, that is Lily Miller-Armstrong.”
The audience takes a brief intermission to get cocktails from the bar and to mingle. Rumor circulates that there are only four participants left. Meanwhile, I notice the LMA staring in my direction as I stay in my seat and Sparks comes to sit beside me.
“You know she overpaid for that,” Sparks acknowledges, nodding to the Honorable Judge, lighting a smoke, and offering me one. We both watch on as Lily chats up her new purchase.
“I know,” I exhale after lighting the cig from Sparks’ lighter. “But I certainly didn’t.”
“No ass action, man!” Sparks ribs.
“Never,” I tease, keeping my secrets about Dale hidden. “You’re coming to finish the barn and stables in New Mexico.”
“Seriously?” Sparks excites as Serene approaches slow. “Man, that’s awesome! I could use a vacation from this place.”
“If we run over the month, I’ll pay you,” I offer, taking a beer from Serene.
The guests move back to their seats and soon the auction is on. The lights dim and the next sub is on the stage, dressed in a black latex suit, complete with a cat mask.
The audience mumbles about as the Master of Ceremonies continues, “Next up we have a mystery sub, female, aged nineteen, unknown status, with no training. Open to contract offers for one-year terms. The bidding will be based on contract rights. If an agreeable contract cannot be met then the next highest bidder will have an opportunity within the next fourteen days.”
“Unknown status means she refuses to state her sexual stats or preferences,” Serene informs, touching my hand. “It is a complicated auction and risky, but rare as the Dominants never knew what they will end up getting. She may be a complete dud.”
Clearing his throat, Devereux adds, “I should say the participant has been around the scene her entire life. Bidding will begin at ten grand with increments of two thousand.”
The audience proves wiser than I expect as she does her gymnastic poses, unimaginable feats to most especially considering she is in latex. Despite her acrobatics, no one bids. The auction comes to a close when suddenly, Dr. Jack Kerris stands up. “I’ll do five for six months. No more.”
The sub walks over to Dev and whispers a few inaudible words. “The participant has declined the offer.”
Jack sighs, disgruntled.
“I’ll do three thousand. Open contract with the only requirement being to live at my residence,” Serene declares, rising up. The participant nods and waves. It is a done deal as Jack fumes over at the bar, ordering a drink. I imagine he doesn’t really want the girl, but getting undercut and accepted by his former Mistress leaves Jack in a rare visible state of humiliation.
“Alright, next up we have a male switch, properly trained at three of the four schools. He graduated from Juliet fifteen years ago and has gone on to serve some of the rich and elite of the world. One month contract with an option to purchase at the end. Bidding will begin at,” Dev pauses, glancing at the sub who is off stage still. “Is this right?”
The crowd overhears Dev through his microphone. “Bidding will begin at one hundred dollars.”
The audience gasps as he walks out on stage and smiles, a well-kept man in a fine-tailored suit, mask, and fedora. “Wait,” he says in a heavy European accent. “I would like to say I do not need the money, all of which will be donated to Anna’s charities.”
I quickly toss a smirk over at Anna, covering her mouth as I note Lily Miller-Armstrong is still focusing on me.
Abruptly, Serene darts up again with a flirtatious smile. She is intrigued. “Why not a full year?”
“I would like to make sure of a good working relationship first,” Nico Cristos states with a seductive smile as he removes the mask. “But for you, Cardinal-S, I’ll go for twenty grand for the year.”
“Nicki, I’ll give you seventy-five,” she lures.
“Done!” he yells, tossing his fedora into the audience. I catch the damn thing and put it on my head as I watch it all go down, shocked by her ability to acquire more of what I once was. Suddenly, I miss my life here.
Jealousy is a wretched, ugly bitch.
Dev asks, “Anyone else?”
And the deal is done. Serene had Little Miss Anonymous and Nicki coming home to the farmhouse.
“Next, up we have pony girl Ainsley,” Dev states clearly as my heart sinks. I am texting Anna the information. Serene’s eyes hastily dart to me. “Ainsley comes to us directly after spending the last year and a half at Highlandale. Bidding will begin at one hundred grand in increments of twenty.”
My former Mistress rushes to the stage, grabbing the mic and taking control of the bidding war being waged over my pony. “Ainsley has already been purchased, so please stop bidding. Now!”
I sigh as she diffuses the situation. The anger rages on Jack’s face as he storms out of the tent.
“Thank you,” I mouth as she walks past, and I eye her greeting Nico.
“Last up is one of our own—Miss Iris.”
I hear her name and spin quick in my seat as I stare at Dev and shake my head.
“Iris has recently done a stint with Dr. Kerris and comes with high recommendations. The term is for three
months with no extensions. Bidding will begin at one hundred grand in increments of twenty.”
A few people hold up their cards as I stride to the stage. She is nowhere to be found. Unbuttoning my jacket, I ask, “Where is the merchandise?”
“Miss Iris will not be on stage tonight.”
I wave my card and the bidding rises fast. Suddenly, the amount jumps without warning to three hundred. Flicking my eyes up to Dev under the brim of the hat, I counter, “Half mil.”
Someone else comes in at six and I scan the audience to find Uncle Joe, smiling.
“One point five,” I counter vehemently as Uncle Joe sits down.
“Going once, twice—submissive Iris sold to Master Salvatore Raniero for one point five.”
“Where is she?” I bark.
“Mr. Raniero, please sit down or I will call security,” Sands warns from off stage.
No longer giving a fuck, I strip off my jacket and hop on stage. “I want to see Miss Kettles, and I want to see her right fucking now!”
I am about to start throwing punches at Sands, Dev, and anyone else who gets in my way.
“Sal… I am here.”
Hearing her voice again is like an angel singing to me from the heavens as I turn slowly. Red hair bounces, spiraling wild, surrounding her face, and draping down her back like a cloak. She is the only dream I ever need.
With no makeup, her sapphires beam in cat eye glasses. Her simple gray Juliet sweatshirt covers her enormous breasts and her plentiful hips fill tight blue jeans. Her splendid curves steal my attention as she is nothing less than beautiful.
As soon as we see one another, the entire world ceases to matter. She runs and leaps as I catch her in my arms, twirling her round and round on stage.
“I love you so much,” she cries, nuzzling my neck and stealing the hat.
“You fucking scared me, I thought you weren’t even here.”
“I am very much here.”
Latching our fingers together, I pull her even closer, wrapping my arms under her ass and taking in all that she is. Her fullness presses against my body, causing such a deep yearning that my heart pounds faster and much to my surprise, I cry tears of joy.
My emotional landscape isn’t dead, just inebriated.
I gaze down, her hair untamed and tossed about everywhere. Without thinking, I kiss the top of her head, inhaling a deep whiff of her scent. Her lavender scented shampoo hits like a wondrous wave. Immediately, I get hard, shifting my hips back and hiding my arousal. Setting her down, I lead us backstage to the stables and send a quick text to Lula.
The Raptor rumbles up as the enchanting Lula Gregory smiles and hops out. Kneeling in front of Iris, Tank’s daughter banters, “Hi, you must be the luckiest girl in the world!”
“You are just as beautiful as your pictures, Lula!”
“I am?” Lula queries as Iris hugs her close. “Be careful, you two.”
“Thank you for all of your help,” Iris muses, kissing Lula solidly on the mouth. I blink several times, stunned by her assertions.
As I help her up into the truck, Iris baits, “Where are we going, stud?”
Grinning my infamous sexy smile, I step onto the running bar, stealing a kiss from her perfectly pouty, heart-shaped pink lips.
“Anywhere but here, baby.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Heavenly Hay Views in a 4 x 4
IRIS
WHILE THE JULIET AUCTION may have been over, another auction waits on the horizon—one to purchase my professional services. I had no doubt Sal would win the right to my collar, but what I fear most as we travel away from Sugargrove is who will bid in less than two hours. I consider telling him about the auction set up for months in advance, but I don’t have the heart.
A girl has to earn a living somehow.
Sal grabs my hand and doesn’t let go. There are no words between us. No contract. No negotiation. This is a done deal. A smile scoots across my lips as I realize I am his submissive.
He knows what he wants and he takes it without remorse or forgiveness. Speeding down the road, he asks, “Are you hungry?”
I shake my head before I realize he cannot hear my movements. “Nah. I mean I’ll eat but don’t go out of your way.”
I am not the same as I was in January, returning to my quiet, mousy self, full of introspection and little communication.
Driving aimlessly along desolate Texas roads, there is little traffic as he pulls into the convenience store. It is one of those huge truck stops, complete with a diner, showers, and trucking repair center. There are a few people milling about, but mostly it sits empty.
Being the gentleman Sal always is, he walks around to help me out. Not thinking, I push my sleeve up in the dark truck and the moment the door opens, he sees the bruises.
The look in his eyes says—how dare you—as he flashes down to the bruises—cuff marks and bloody cuts—and up to meet my blinking, sordid soul. The surreal moment changes us as the depth of my despair coats his heart.
Pulling my sleeve down fast, I am ashamed and solemn. If the marks had been on anyone else, it wouldn’t have bothered him the way these did. But this—this is his.
The by-products of our fetish gone awry by another man. As the rage swelt up inside of him, his body language morphed into an unknown tongue I don’t understand. He pops his jaw wickedly violent as his eyes turn an intense sable with perks of green and his fists clench tight around my waist. His domineering air uplifts as I feel even smaller than before.
As my confidence creeps away, Sal fills my veins with his intimidation. I am his.
This body with these bruises—his.
This catatonic, unbreakable girl—his.
This broken submissive—his.
And as his fury unleashes, burning down everything in his path, I only know one thing—Sal Raniero is my Dominant, my soulmate, and the only man I will ever want again.
SAL
Out of respect to another submissive, I won’t ask. I won’t push. But that mutual, silent respect only goes so far as my Dom urges to step over the line and take on the responsibility of this heavenly creature. The internal battle forces my mouth to seal shut until I figure out which side to serve up—her best friend, the submissive allegiance, or the Dominant boyfriend dying to take control.
I don’t understand her obvious shame in the bruises as every lash I have ever had, I wore proudly like badges of honor. I enjoy showing off my blue ribbons on my skin, particularly from sessions not involving some sort of disciplinary action. The voluntary ones are the best as I can boast about my masochistic abilities.
Those lashes arrive out of a trust so deep and intense that when in the midst of it there is nothing but my body and the whip, soaring into the cosmos past the heavens and the stars. I understand her even more than she does. She is still fresh and green, naive and afraid of being caught. The possibility of someone thinking she is either the victim of abuse or raped, leads to the hiding of getting off on her naughty kinks. And if people think the later, they assume the liberty to use it as an excuse to then abuse, neglect, and harm.
Taking her hand, I help her down, and if I didn’t notice before, I certainly do now. She is sore, walking like she ached similar to after the car wreck. But she is a different girl now. A girl who apparently had the shit kicked out of her—by her own choosing. My sub speaks, “Want something for that?”
Immediately, Iris knows what I am offering. “What do you have?”
Pushing the button on my keys, I open up the passenger door and climb inside. Inside the center console, I crack open a pill bottle. “Muscle relaxer,” I say with a smile as I break it in half. Placing it on her tongue, I hand her the water bottle. “Better?”
“I will be.”
“If you need something stronger, let me know,” I mutter, stepping dangerously close to the point of taking the helm and caring fully for her well-being. It sounds callous to say I hold back, but it’s purely self-preservation. I have been
hurt, and I do not trust anyone.
I lace my fingers through hers as we walk slowly towards the door. “You probably think I am a mess.”
“I don’t judge,” I venture, “We agreed to work on us, and you will tell me when you ready.”
An older woman with over-processed, magenta hair greets us as we head into the small diner area of the gas station. The dining area is completely empty save for one trucker, reading the paper and eating what looked to be chicken fried steak smothered in thick white gravy. He is a gruff sort and pays little attention.
We depict a young couple in love, perhaps even newlyweds as the waitress comes to our table. She has way too much makeup on with blue caked on eyeshadow and overly rouged cheeks. All of this is complemented by her red outlined lips and pink lipstick.
Oh, honey.
Go on, laugh at my repressed flamboyance that knows makeup and hair better than most. This is what happens when your Nonna raises you. You know one hundred shades of hair dye, how to do wings, and roll on panty hose without snagging them.
The wrinkles surround her lips as the pungent smell of cheap perfume and the sound of her gravel voice makes it seem like she has smoked since the day she was born. “What can I get you kids tonight?”
I don’t bother looking at the menu as I keep my entire focus on Iris. Her face spells exhaustion as her eyes evoke a sadness and loss. The contours of her hands grasp the greasy, stained menu, and I cannot help but wonder how bad the wounds are.
“Coffee,” I interject, glancing briefly back to Iris, staring at me. “With cream and sugar please, ma’am.” My forethought causes Iris to let out a slight smirk for the first time since revealing the wounds.
“I’ll go fetch your joe. Name is Betsy if you need anything.”
We sit in silence as Iris flips through the menu like a five-star restaurant and avoids talking to me by reading every menu item description. About to break, I cannot take her silence any longer as I sense her shunning the inevitable conversation.
Betsy brings two cups, a heated carafe full of coffee, creamer, and a handful of extra sugar packets in case the ones on the table aren’t enough. “What can I get you to eat?” she asks Iris, sitting almost frightened to be spoken to.
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