Sold as a Domme on Valentine's Day

by Juliana Conners

  Briefly, my eyes find Jane. She’s looking nervous for her friend. But also, excited. Pleased by such hot bidding action.

  “$200,000,” calls someone from the back of the room. He’s quickly drowned out by other offers. With every offer, the bid is going up by tens of thousands of dollars.

  Quickly, the bid is at $300,000, then $400,000.

  But, despite yelling at him, when I return my eyes to the table Paul’s not just anxious, he’s gotten completely frozen by all the action. By the tons of testosterone flooding the room. Jordan says what I want to, and in a kind of commanding voice I didn’t think he had. “Get in there, man! We told you not to worry about it! Bid!”

  Finally, I see Paul renew his eye contact with her. I see him lick his lips contemplatively, like the hungry beast I know he is.

  Come on, come on, bro! Go for the kill! Again, my eyes find the stage. Mariah, then Jane. Jane briefly finds my eyes. Unlike her friend, she looks calm. Collected. She grins at me as if saying, “I can’t wait to play.”

  “$600,000,” barks Paul, as if he’s tired of these posers. His bid brings my attention away from Jane momentarily, and back to our table.

  “$680,000,” comes in immediate counteroffer.

  “$750,000,” returns Paul, looking at Jordan. Jordan nods.

  “888,000,” calls a voice way in the back.

  “$900,000,” comes yet another bid. This one from a darkened corner.

  Unlike Mariah and Paul, I’m not overwhelmed by these numbers. I’m not phased, and I’m going to make sure that confidence applies to my brother too, who has gone pale. “Go get her, Paul,” I growl, speaking to the part of him I know is determined. “You’ve never let anyone tell you what you can and can’t have, bro. Don’t let these posers start now.”

  I lick my lips. Lips begging for a sip of whiskey. Or better yet, Jane’s nectar. I need you to get what you need so I can feel good about getting what I need. I chew on a fingernail. I won’t feel good about getting laid if you’re not.

  “$900,000,” says the MC, after a short pause. “Do we have any other bids?” Another pause. “$900,000, going once, $900,000 going twice…”

  Just when I think Paul’s going to back out, and that I’m going to have to punch him to get him to go higher, he jumps out of his seat and yells, “A million dollars!” His voice is loud and firm.

  Murmurs go up as I would expect for such a bid, but I’m feeling good. Cocky. It’s my brother causing such a stir.

  “A million dollars,” murmurs the MC. “A million for this woman’s virginity, and a whole night in which to take it in whatever way you want.” A heavy, hot sigh. “Do I have any more takers?”

  Whisperings of “I’m out,” and “No way,” emerge from different tables around the room, proving that we are lions in a room full of pussies when it comes down to it. Like I always knew him to be, Paul’s a true hunter. He’s holding his ground, his position, even when others are backing out and heading for the hills.

  “A million dollars going once, going twice.” The MC stops, purposely jacking up every man in the room. Jerking them off with the silence. The anticipation. Finally, as if she can feel the excitement swelling, about to burst from her, she declares, “Sold!”

  In that moment, I hear Mariah laugh, almost cry, with relief. I hear Jane celebrate, and that’s when I know I need to have her. My commitment is renewed. I need to make that voice cry and scream with pleasure. Call out my name like a mortal calling out to a God.

  In that same moment, my thoughts are disturbed by Paul celebrating his good fortune. “Yes!” He roars it, slamming his hands down on the table.

  In no time at all, Mariah is down off the stage and in Paul’s grasp. Before I can even wish him luck, he’s already dragging his virginal prize out the door with him. The way he moves reminds me of a gambler who just won against the casino and is now running out after cashing in his chips, lest anyone try to take them from him.

  Now it’s just me and Jordan.

  More importantly though, it’s just me and Jane now, and it’s finally her turn.

  “Well,” says the MC, as if she’s just had a fabulous meal along with everyone else. “I’m sure we’re all anxious to have that kind of excitement continue, but it’s time for the next lovely lady to put herself up for auction.”

  Without even needing to be called out, Jane steps forward. She’s in the fluffiest, most form-fitting sweater I’ve ever seen in my life. Her pants remind me of something in between jeans and sweatpants. Whatever they are, they’re absolutely delicious on her.

  If clothes could be an appetizer, I’d like what I was tasting.

  And now it’s time for me to eat even more.

  “And what are you offering this evening, miss?”

  Jane doesn’t answer right away. She just smiles and breathes into the microphone.

  She looks at me, holding the mic like a silver cock she wants to suck. “Well,” she says, “let me think.”

  We intensify our mutual stare, and as we do, we know one thing for certain: she doesn’t need to think about anything. At all. She already knows what she wants.

  And so do I.

  Chapter 12

  Jane

  When it’s my turn to step up to the mic, I’m more excited than nervous. I miss having Mariah up here with me. Part of me wishes she were here for some moral support, but I know that now that she’s been sold, she’s in a better place. I don’t mean heaven, thank God. I mean a million-dollar place with her billionaire lover, probably getting some foreplay and some ideas about what’s to come.

  In my own way, I’m getting some foreplay too. Now that the older brother is gone, Alex has nothing to distract him from me, and I love it. I love the grip his eyes have on mine. It’s stronger than any part of me has ever been held by anyone.

  “And what will you be offering us this evening, miss?” The MC’s question does nothing for me. Doesn’t rile me up like she’s hoping it will. Especially after such an explosive and intense bidding session with Mariah. She’s anxious to keep up the interest, and the dollar amounts, but I already know what I want.

  And the first thing I want, I think, taking the microphone, and smiling into it, is to keep my virginity to myself.

  I hold the mic in my hands, making sure to keep my hand closed around it like it’s a cock. Alex’s cock. Luckily, it seems he gets my drift. Plus, a whole lot more. I say to the assembled audience I don’t care about, “well, let me think.”

  There’s really no thinking involved. I’m already super clear on what I’m offering, but I want to make these other men feel like they have a chance with me. Like they have even the slightest ability to satisfy me. Maybe that’ll keep the stupid ones from raising their hands.

  You know me so well, don’t you? I think, briefly, allowing myself to enjoy Alex’s intense gaze again. It’s even more enjoyable now because his posture has changed to reflect it. But not in the way you think. He’s not sitting intensely forward. He’s laid-back now, like an Emperor on the throne. His eyes are now wolf-like. Not mean or scarily hungry; just wise. Confident. You know I don’t need to think about what I want, don’t you? And you know you want to be the one to give it to me, don’t you, big boy?

  I sigh into the microphone, this time letting them hear my voice. My contemplative hum. “I’m offering a whole night, no holds barred.” I pause, letting the men eat up my words like fast food. “During this night in question, you can do whatever you like to me.”

  I let my eyes return to Alex, who’s just nodding. Almost like he’s getting in sync with me. Prepping himself to come out of the gate running, the moment I finish announcing what I’m offering. Good. That’ll make sure you get me, I think, holding him the same way he holds me. Intensely. “But I will be particularly interested in taking offers from men who are willing and able to stretch the definition of ‘whatever’ when it comes to what you want to do to me. Be a big dreamer,” I say, emphasizing those words for Alex though I know I
don’t need to. “Be risky. Be wild. Be yourself,” I whisper, hoping he hears it. Or reads it on my lips.

  The MC is definitely hungry for what I’m serving. “Ooooh,” she says, letting me hear her pleasure as she takes the microphone back, “a fairly good offer to come on the heels of our Virgin Mary, don’t you think, boys? An offer to be risky. Wild. To be…creative in how you do her.”

  Chuckles from a few men who think they’re bedroom Einstein drift towards me, but we all know who the alpha predator is here. And he happens to be sitting not far away from me.

  “Isn’t that nice, boys?” The MC pauses. “If you’re ready, let’s start the bidding, shall we?”

  Cheers for this go up, but nowhere near as enthusiastic as the noise made for Mariah. Which is fine by me. I’m not jealous. And I don’t care to be on anyone else’s menu except Alex’s. From the looks of things, he’s ordered a drink to go along with my auction. Something dark and mysterious, much like him.

  “Any starting bids, gentleman?”

  Alex takes a sip of his drink, and says, “$10,000.” It’s so lazy — so unconcerned — it’s like he said ten, not ten thousand. The fact that he’s the first one to bid, and that his starting bid is so high, makes the front of my pants feel full. My lacy underwear, wet and slick.

  I knew you weren’t shy, I think, glancing at him as another bid comes in. This one is for $10,000 more.

  Unfazed, Alex takes another sip of his drink and puts forward another bid. “$50,000,” he says. Unlike his brother, there is no anxiety. No hesitation. Again, $50,000 sounds like $50 coming from his confident mouth.

  But if Alex were going for no competition, it seems this bid is a mistake. Once he says $50,000, it’s like the room erupts. Bids start flying, and from men who are looking at me trying to figure out what the other men see in me. Particularly the man who was the first to bid.

  By the way they look at me, it’s obvious that they don’t see it. None of them admire my curvy figure the way Alex does. But it doesn’t matter. The numbers keep flying.

  “$65,000,” says the cowboy who lost my friend to Paul.

  “$70,000!”

  “$80,000!”

  “$90,000,” says the cowboy in response to the two chumps trying to outbid him.

  “$100,000.” Surprisingly, this is from a woman.

  But I don’t even have time to find her in the crowd or wonder what she sees in me. Before that offer even has time to cool on the floor for more than a second, Alex comes back with, “$350,000!” Saying this, he drains his drink and slams it down on the table. For emphasis, and to mark his territory.

  The tagalong friend at his table nurses an eggnog but doesn’t seem to look at any girl in particular. Just watching the action, like his type would. They love a good dick-measuring contest.

  “$425,000!” Regrettably, the cowboy is back in action with this bid. But luckily, I can hear his fatigue. He may have a lot of money, but I can tell he’s not willing to part with it for me. Good. Not for much longer.

  “$525,000,” shouts Alex, as if he’s tired of toying with the competition. Like he just wants to leave them all in the dust, which I would love.

  Thankfully, Cowboy backs out. And so do many of the others who were bidding for me.

  But there is a challenging bid. One for $50,000 more, and from a man who sounds like he just flew in from Britain.

  For a moment, Alex doesn’t speak. But that’s not because he’s scared off. He’s just taking his second drink from the waiter and sipping on it. This one looks like something I would like. It has a cherry on top.

  “$575,000,” says Alex with a grin. Now he’s just toying with everyone like a gazelle with a mouse before he swallows it whole.

  The man from Britain makes another offer. It’s more than Alex’s but not much more.

  “$799,000,” says Alex, getting to his feet and taking a big swig of whatever he’s drinking. He also takes a big swig of me. From head to toe. As he does, I read one message loud and clear: You’re mine. Money doesn’t mean shit to me. You will be mine by the end of this, I guarantee it.

  I can’t help it. I giggle, seeing how much he wants me. He may have adorable puppy-dog eyes, but he’s a real man. He knows how to throw his weight around.

  Then go ahead and take me, I think, nodding at him to accept his bid. To accept his ownership of me. Money doesn’t matter to me either. I have enough of it. What I want is you. So, come get me, big boy.

  With those thoughts, I turn my eyes back to the rest of the unworthy audience and wait for what I already know is coming. The end of my bidding war. Most men have thrown in the towel and now are just left trying to figure out what makes me so valuable.

  “$799,000,” says the MC, as if she can’t believe that big of a number being applied to me either. “Going once, going twice…” As she did with Mariah, she pauses, but not as long. There’s not as much excitement to build up this time, and she knows it. “Sold!”

  To this news, Alex doesn’t celebrate. He simply finishes his drink and sets it down on the table. All without ever breaking eye contact with me.

  I hurry off the stage before the MC even has to ask, or before I have to spend another minute being studied by other men who don’t understand what makes me worth over seven hundred grand.

  It’s because I’m his, I think, as I get closer to his table, and feel the magnetism of his eyes practically melt my insides. I was his before the bidding even started. None of these men understand that. And they never will.

  Chapter 13

  Alex

  I knew she would be mine from the moment I laid eyes on her, but it’s a completely different experience to have her standing in front of our table. Coming over to me with this deliciously demure but feisty attitude. We didn’t break eye contact with each other once. Not once during that whole bidding war, I realize, moving to take her hand, and leave with her as fast as I can.

  Though I can’t verbalize what makes that so fucking hot, it does. Maybe it’s because I know it means she wants me. Maybe it’s because I know women don’t give you that kind of eye contact unless they mean what they say, but either way, the moment my hand intertwines with hers, my mind is alive with so many thoughts of what exactly I’ll do to her, with her, and for her.

  How exactly I’m going to break and expand the definition of ‘do whatever you want’ when it comes to owning her for a night. And I’m already in love with the possibilities. Lots of toys, for sure. Toys for insertion. Toys for teasing. Ones for restraining and leading. Especially after I’ve got her helplessly suspended in something I have back at the room.

  Something I don’t even let myself think about too much as I turn to Jordan and say, “You’re on your own, man. Find your own way back after you get your own girl, or whatever.”

  Jordan looks at me as if none of this is surprising. “Cool, dude.” He drinks more of his eggnog. The most I’ve seen him drink in one go in the last hour or so. “Don’t worry about me, man. Just worry about you.” He grabs a napkin and wipes his mouth free of the milk mustache. “I might hang around and see if something goes in my favor,” he adds. “But whatever. I’ll worry about that. You just get going.” He turns completely to face the action going down on the stage.

  I take that as my queue to get Jane out of here with me, so I do. I take her quickly and quietly through the “upstream” that is all the tables. Some have been already vacated by their guests, and others are still occupied.

  We reach the entrance. The double doors, which open for us the moment we come within sight of the doorman.

  From there, we make our way through the body of the basement and back up the shadow-shrouded stairs. Out the door we came through, the night and snow immediately descend. Both are thick and falling heavily around us.

  “My car’s just up this way,” I say, remembering that she’s only in a sweater, and that sweater is quickly going to get soaked when the snow dissolves on the warmth and sexiness housed within. “Watch your
step,” I add, realizing fresh ice has formed near my car.

  “Watching,” replies Jane. I don’t think it’s possible for any man to love the sound of a voice more than I love hearing hers. In this moment. In other moments. It’s so confident, yet sweet. So able to demand yet relent.

  “There you are,” I say. I don’t know how, but somehow, I’ve managed to unlock my car, open the passenger side door for her, and carefully guide her into the waiting seat. The cushy thing that seems as if it were made just for her perfect, sculpted ass. I help her get her feet in and then buckle her. “I know you can do this all yourself,” I say, into her strawberry-shortcake curls, trying not to lose my mind over them, “If I let you. But I’m not letting you. You’re mine for the whole night, and that starts now.”

  Jane trembles adorably under these words. Just what I wanted. Just what I was expecting.

  I savor the click of the seatbelt in its lock. How tightly the seatbelt sits across her chest and makes her tits look even bigger. Even more ready to be at my mercy.

  “Think of it as pre-training,” I tell her. “Practice in obeying me, though I’m sure you don’t need it.” To this, Jane smiles. It’s a little too naughty for my taste. A little too mischievous. “Although, with a smile like that, you might.”

  “Yes, sir,” she says.

  I don’t let her see it, but I’m taken aback by this as I shut the door on her and go around to my side of the vehicle. I don’t even have to teach her how to address me, I think, feeling my blood start pumping. It’s below the belt, despite the cold. Already speaking like a good little sub. This thought fills the cab as I climb in, shut the door, and start the ignition.

  As we start our way out of the cold and forgotten parking lot, and onto one of the main thoroughfares that will lead us back toward the resort, I say, “I assume your dad taught you manners and obedience, but don’t think I won’t train you properly if I have to.” Again, I get what I want. Jane squirming in the seat next to me, like the good-bad little girl she’s probably fantasized about being. “Did you hear me, little girl?” I make my voice a little deeper for her. A little more commanding.