Second Touch (Emma's Arabian Nights, #2)

by Mayburn, Ann

  “Any other last minute questions?”

  Silence blanketed the room and Gia laced her fingers together again. Her background check had taken six months. By the time it was done, they knew everything about her—from who her best friend had been in elementary school to her preferences in food. She hoped the Dominants had to go through background checks as thorough. This whole experience was so outside her comfort zone that it was quickly turning into something surreal, like a confusing dream where the scenes changed too quickly to really get a grasp on what was happening.

  If it wasn’t for the fact the money raised from her auction would go directly to her charity of choice, she’d be tempted to pretend to be sick and run as far and as fast as she could. Then she’d probably spend the rest of her life kicking herself in the ass for missing the opportunity to serve a true Master, however temporarily. No, she wasn’t going to chicken out. She wasn’t quitter and she certainly wasn’t going to let her fear rule her now. Though the thought of hiding in a bathroom with a fifth of tequila to gain some liquid courage seemed like a great idea.

  She was such a basket case.

  When no one spoke up, Mr. Martin gestured toward the back of the room. “Let me introduce you to the men and women who will help you navigate the stage.”

  Laughter rang from the doorway at the back of the room, and a steady stream of elegantly dressed men and women came to stand before them. A lovely Latina wearing a golden cat mask that matched her elaborate gown stopped before Gia with a friendly smile. Taking a closer look at the gown, Gia was pretty sure she’d seen it on the cover of this month’s edition of Vogue. A diamond collar with a small gold owner’s medallion glittered around her slender neck.

  “Good evening. My name is Harper and I’ll be taking care of you, Gia.”

  Giving the other woman a tentative smile, Gia almost held out her hand in the traditional ‘nice to meet you’ handshake but remembered where she was and who she was with. While shaking hands might be the proper thing to do in the outside world, the BDSM community had its own rules on what was proper. In this case, she didn’t know if Harper was allowed to touch another submissive without her Master’s permission. Gathering herself, she smiled back.

  “Thank you. If I throw up on you or pass out, I apologize in advance.” Gia flushed in embarrassment at how uncouth she sounded compared to this elegant and sophisticated woman.

  Harper giggled and pulled a black blindfold out of her elbow length white silk gloves. “I’ll make sure to aim you in the other direction at all times. Now take a deep breath before you pass out.” Gia did as she was told and took another, which seemed to help clear her head.

  The tall female submissive attending the redhead next to Gia smiled at Harper. “Did you hear? The European delegation is in the audience tonight. Yummy.”

  Gia blinked. “The Europeans?”

  Lifting the blindfold, Harper smiled. “Bend down a bit so I can tie this.”

  The cool cloth slipped loosely over her eyes and the other woman said, “The Europeans are here as part of a…well kind of like a cultural exchange program. They send their top Dommes and Masters over here for training and we send our best Dommes and Masters over there for the same thing. I’ve heard they’re strict, but amazing.”

  “And they are soooo hot,” Iris said with a purr. “I love my Master more than anything in the world, but if I was single I’d be begging any one of them to take me like the willing slut that I am.”

  All three women laughed, then hushed when Master Martin looked their way a raised brow.

  Harper adjusted the blindfold until Gia couldn’t see anything and said in a softer voice, “Okay, the ear buds are going back in. I can tell you from experience, once they’re on, you won’t be able to hear anything. I’m going to hold your hand the whole time so, if you start to get a little anxious, just give me a squeeze. Got it?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I mean Harper.”

  The beautiful woman’s laughter was the last thing Gia heard before Harper placed some ear buds in her hand and Gia put them in her ears. A gentle, classical piece of music played from the tiny speakers, but the soothing melody did nothing to calm her nerves. Feeling suddenly very alone and vulnerable, a wave of distress tightened her muscles and she reached out. Almost instantly, Harper’s hand grasped hers, the smooth satin of Harper’s glove giving Gia something to focus on. No wonder men liked the feeling of a woman wearing gloves. It somehow accentuated how much smaller a woman was, how finely formed.

  Harper squeezed her hand twice and began to lead Gia forward then stopped again. With the ear buds in place, Gia couldn’t have a conversation with the other woman and was left with her own thoughts. Once again, they moved forward, and then stopped. By Gia’s estimate, each time they paused they waited a good five to ten minutes. She should be using this time to think, to compose herself so she presented the best image possible. After all, she only had one chance to make a positive first impression on some of the best Dominants in the world. Unfortunately, her mind refused to stay on one topic for more than a few seconds.

  Her thoughts were chaotic, jumping from concern about her appearance to wondering if she needed a breath mint. A fine tremor went through her hands and she worried that she’d be shaking like a frightened animal on the stage. Mixed in with that was the reoccurring fear that she’d sweat through her deodorant before they made it through the door and that she had some toilet paper stuck to her sheer robe. Opening herself to the potential, very public rejection of nobody bidding on her was so far out of her comfort zone that she didn’t know how to cope with her rising panic. This was like stage fright times a million.

  Someone removed one of the ear buds and Harper whispered, “We’re going up on the stage now to wait. You look beautiful, and I have no doubt there will be a bidding war for you.” She put the ear bud back in and Gia was left alone with her spazztic thoughts and the mellow strains of a violin concerto.

  Harper gave Gia’s hand a tight squeeze and led her slowly up a ramp. The carpet beneath her feet changed to a smooth, cool surface and she realized she was now on the stage. At least her big feet looked cute. As part of her welcome package to the auction she had a full spa treatment consisting of dozens of feminine indulgences she’d never experienced before, including a pedicure that left her with pretty rose pink toenails, and baby soft feet. Spending that kind of money on pampering herself wasn’t in her Ramen noodle budget so she’d enjoyed the experience immensely. Every hair-free inch of her body below the neck had been polished until it gleamed like bronze.

  She almost licked her lips, then remembered the Domme who had expertly done her makeup had threatened to flog her if she messed up her glossy pale red lipstick. Gia was to be perfect, and that meant controlling herself for the pleasure of the crowd as she stood on stage at the auction. Right now though, she was about to pass out from fear despite Harper’s sure grip. They stood still, and the occasional brush of air from someone passing would tingle over Gia’s overly sensitive skin. With her sight and hearing taken away she became hyper aware of any stimulation around her.

  The idea of doing the charity submissive auction had seemed like a dream come true at first. Gia had a low paying job as an architect with long hours and asshole clients. In this economy, she was lucky to have gained legitimate employment with health benefits anywhere after she graduated. True, her work only paid her enough to give her a roof over her head and other basic necessities, but she knew if she busted her ass, she could and would rise through the corporate ranks. Unfortunately, all that work resulted in a miserable lack of a social life and an even more abysmal love life. Yes, she played at her local club, but it was more physical than emotional. She always left feeling that there had to be more to BDSM than what she’d experienced.

  When the Submissive’s Wish Charity Auction came up, she’d jumped at the chance. If a Dominant bought her, the money would go to the charity of Gia’s choice, and she would get ten percent of whatever was bid. Gia plan
ned on using the extra money she made to put a down payment on a house. She was tired of living in an apartment complex where people fought or partied at all hours of the night. The thought of being able to sleep without being awakened by the sound of techno or Fanny's screaming because she caught Joe cheating again was heaven.

  She already knew where she wanted to buy some land with access to the ocean so she could build her dream home someday. The money from the auction could make that happen years ahead of schedule. First, she had to appeal to someone enough to be bid on. When she’d first applied for the Submissive’s Wish Charity Auction they told her some of the submissives offered never got bid on, and she shouldn’t take it personally if it happened to her. She couldn’t imagine how humiliating that would be and prayed someone would find her lean frame, bubble butt and exotic looks appealing enough to make up for her lack of experience.

  Gia stood with her back straight, her shoulders gracefully curved, and one leg slightly in front of the other, turning her body to a subtle angle. Mistress Viola had pointed out how it showed off Gia’s long legs and big, round ass. At the time, Gia wasn't sure if she was offended or flattered, but now she tried to accept her bubble butt as part of the way God made her.

  Taking in a deep breath, she slowly let it out and tried to focus on the positive. She’d beaten incredible odds to make it this far, so there had to be something inside her the Auction Committee found appealing. Hell, she hoped she was attracted to whoever won her. She liked big, strong men and the sight of a pair of broad shoulders and narrow waist always made her heart beat harder. With her luck, she’d be bid on and won for ten bucks by a skinny guy with dandruff.

  A soft, satin glove-covered hand touched Gia’s chin and brought her back to the present with a rush of nerves. Gia let out a soft moan. It must be her turn. The ear buds were removed, and a moment later, the blindfold was taken from her eyes.

  Harper stood in front of her with a warm smile curving her full lips. She looked like a golden goddess while Gia felt like a walking plague victim.

  God, please let at least one person bid on her.

  Just one.

  Leaning forward, Harper whispered, “Breathe.”

  Gia sucked in a deep lungful of air and immediately felt better, less faint. Harper gave her a moment, then gracefully helped Gia walk to the center of the stage. They were in what had to be a ballroom, lit so she couldn’t see anything about the crowd. It was just she and Harper standing in a pool of warm light while an anonymous group of people inspected her from the shadows.

  Harper held Gia’s hand out and cleared her throat. Flushing, Gia remembered to curtsey to the audience. A soft chuckle flowed through the crowd, and she blushed so hot even her ears burned. Obviously, they hadn’t missed her chagrined look.

  A male voice filled the auditorium.

  “Masters and Mistresses, may I present Gia. Joining us from South Carolina, she holds a master’s degree in architecture and is relatively new to the lifestyle. Her charity of choice is a no-kill animal shelter in Myrtle Beach where she has volunteered for the past three years. While she has been trained by the esteemed Mistress Viola and Master Mark on the basics of submission, she has much to learn. I’ve heard she’s a very eager student. We’ve also been warned she has a temper, so it will take a strong Master or Mistress to win her submission.”

  The crowd laughed, and the murmurs through the audience grew louder. Gia flushed hot enough to melt the sun. She’d imagined she’d get up here, the guy would point out that she had nice legs in spite of her chunky butt and she liked to give blowjobs.

  Oh shit, were they going to talk about the sexual fantasies she’d written down for them? She thought they were going to be in the program next to a picture of her or something, not actually talked about while she stood here. Anxiety tightened her muscles and she worried people in the audience could see her hands trembling.

  God, they were going to think she was a weirdo, a pervert, a freak, all those things she secretly felt about herself. No, she wouldn’t give into those negative thoughts. Mistress Viola had spent a great deal of time talking with Gia about her sexual needs. The one thing Mistress emphasized above all else was that Gia should be honest with her partner and herself about what her needs were, and not be ashamed of her natural desires. The mature woman part of her mind agreed, while the prim and proper portion insisted she was a sexual deviant and needed therapy.

  Sure enough, the next words that rolled out of the auctioneer’s mouth made her wince. “Gia is fond of forced seduction and abduction scenarios. She also enjoys relationships where the man is powerful, someone to be feared and respected, but gentle with her…to a point. She craves dominance and has yet to achieve subspace. Well, I’m sure we can help her learn how to fly.”

  More audience laughter, along with a few catcalls. “Her trainers, Mistress Viola and Master Mark from the South Carolina club, The Iron Fist, have said she can be a bit of a brat and will need a firm hand. At her core, Gia is eager to please and wants to be found worthy of your attentions.”

  Harper gave her fingers the barest squeeze and whispered, “Breathe.”

  Gia sucked in an audible breath, and the audience chuckled. She imagined how they were talking about her, commenting on her bony knees, her giraffe neck, her tiny breasts. Here, under the bright lights, all of her insecurities threatened to rise to the surface and overwhelm her. A man to the left commented on her pierced nipples while a woman somewhere ahead of her made a nasty remark about Gia’s small tits.

  This was the single most embarrassing, humiliating, terrible experience of her life. Tears threatened to fill her eyes and she blinked rapidly. No, she was not going to cry, at least, not right now. When no one bid on her, she could let her tears flow.

  “This lovely submissive has agreed to one week serving the winning bidder. Masters and Mistresses, let us start the bidding at one hundred thousand dollars.”

  Gia swallowed hard as the first bid came in. She had no idea how the auctioneer could see who was in the audience, but the bids kept climbing. When the staggering figure of close to four hundred thousand dollars was reached she openly gaped.

  Two men were bidding. One was an American from one of the New England states by his cultured tone. The other had a rough, almost bestial voice with a sharp, growling tenor to it and an accent she couldn’t place. Her few remaining brain cells that weren’t freaking out, tried to focus on the spot the voices were coming from. She could barely see the outline of what might be people sitting in chairs.

  The man with the rough, accented voice roared out, “Four hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars.”

  Silence hung heavy in the air. Even the auctioneer seemed stunned. It took him a moment to respond before he coughed and said, “I have four hundred and twenty-five thousand US dollars. Going once...going twice…sold!”

  Gia stood there in total shock. Four hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars! That was a life-changing amount of money for the rescue shelter. She spent one weekend a month volunteering, so she knew exactly how far they could stretch it—definitely a new building, maybe even enough to purchase the plot of land behind them and turn it into a dog run. They could even add a full-time vet on staff with that kind of money.

  With a gentle tug, Harper brought Gia’s thoughts back to the present in a rush. Harper smiled at her and led her to the edge of the stage. Her time with the winning bidder began right now. For the amount he paid for her, Gia wanted to show him the time of his life, to somehow be worth all the money he’d spent. Hell, she didn’t care if he was eighty years old with liver spots on his balls, she would do her best to rock his world in thanks for his amazingly generous bid.

  The spotlights turned away and she blinked rapidly, trying to adjust her eyesight. They took a few steps and were almost at the main floor when Harper paused. A moment passed, then a man said something in what she thought was Russian or some type of Slavic language. She looked to Harper, who gave her a slight shake of her
head. Great. Harper didn’t understand what was going on either.

  A second man approached and she could see him a bit better. His suit was tan and stood out in the dim lighting of the audience.

  “Your new Master extends his greeting. He is pleased to have won your service. You will wait for him in one of the sitting rooms while he finishes his business here.”

  Gia took a deep breath. Okay, she was really doing this. Soon she was going to make her first impression with a Master, not just any Master, her Master. She needed to do this right, but she really wished she could see what he looked like.

  She held her hand out and the man in the tan suit moved forward. He helped her down from the stage and released her once she reached the bottom. He motioned to her, and she followed him out of the auditorium past men and women whose attention had returned to the stage where the next submissive was being brought out. They went down an elegantly appointed hallway done in red tones until he stopped before a door with the number seven on it. He opened the door and held it for her.

  “Please wait inside. He will be with you soon.”

  She wanted to ask who 'he' was, but silence seemed to be the best option at this point.

  The man in the tan suit left quickly, and she turned to look at the room around her. To her surprise it wasn’t some kinky sex room, but rather a small reading area. A fire crackled in the black marble hearth, and deep burgundy velvet chairs were arranged artfully before it. Books lined the walls, but she didn’t think she could focus enough to read.

  There was a gilt-framed mirror above the fireplace, so she took a moment to check her reflection. A few wisps of her wavy light brown hair had escaped her waist length braid and she quickly smoothed them back into place. Her makeup was intact, and she did a quick check of her breath. Good to go there as well.