Auctioned to Him

by Charlotte Byrd

  “And what does it mean that the men get to do whatever they want? Sexually speaking?” the girl to the right of me asks.

  “It means exactly that. Some men will want to talk and then have a little sex. Others want only oral. Others want everything. Oral. Them on top. You on top. Him in your ass. You in his ass with a strap on. Whatever floats his boat.”

  “And what if we haven’t done anal before?” another girl asks.

  “Well, I’m sure you can tell him that and he will be much more gentle. There will also, of course, be plenty of lubricants available.”

  “Are you going to do it?” Caroline whispers to me. I shrug. I hate to admit it, but there is something tempting about this. The guys were really hot. I wouldn’t have minded sleeping with one or two of them on this yacht party for free.

  “Okay, if there are no more questions, I will pass out the contracts. Please read it carefully. If you are willing to be auctioned off, please sign it and return it to me. The auction will begin in an hour. If you are not interested in the auction, you will take the helicopter back to the mainland. Unfortunately, you will not be joining us for the next part of the festivities.”

  She makes her way around the room, handing each of us a piece of paper and a pen. I read over the contract carefully.

  “This looks pretty standard,” Caroline says. I look at her like she’s insane.

  “Pretty standard? There’s nothing standard about this.”

  “Well, you know what I mean. It just lays out everything that she just told us. Plus, look at this part here. As soon as the auction is over, before the night actually commences, they will wire you the full amount to the account of your choice or give a check.”

  “You think they’re good for it?” I joke.

  “From the looks of this yacht, I’d say they are.”

  I’ve been around plenty of rich people, but the thought of someone actually writing a check or wiring eighty or ninety grand into my account seems unbelievable.

  “I wonder why it has to be before the night commences,” I say, reading the contract.

  Lizbeth overhears me.

  “Because everything that happens here is optional. It’s up to you.”

  Now, that doesn’t really make much sense, but I don't question her. After she leaves, I turn back to Caroline.

  “I think it’s because then it would be prostitution. Now, it’s just some sort of present or a game or something,” I say.

  Caroline and I both sit there for a few minutes debating whether we should really go through with this. Honestly, I don't know. On one hand, it seems insane. An auction. A sex auction, in this day and age. We’re women. We’re supposed to be liberated and free. We can have sex with anyone we choose. On the other hand, being liberated and free also means that I’m free to participate in an auction if I want. Right? Would this really make me a prostitute? Or do you get some sort of one-night pass? I mean, I’ve had a one night stand before after a really nice dinner. How exactly would this be any different? While one part of me asks that question, another part is quick with the answer. It’s different because I wasn’t auctioned off. To a stranger. To do with what he wants for the night. That’s the fucking difference.

  “So, what do you think?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” Caroline shrugs.

  I’m actually shocked by this. Caroline likes good sex and anything fabulous. What could be more fabulous than some hot rich guy paying double the average US annual salary to spend one night with him?

  “Are you serious?” I ask. “I thought you were down for this for sure.”

  “Why? Because I’m such a slut?”

  “No, of course, not. You know I don't think that. I just thought that you would think this is fun.”

  “I do,” she says, hesitantly. “I’m just not sure. Just something about this…sounds strange.”

  I nod. It does. It is very unusual.

  A girl near us waves Lizbeth over.

  “I just had a question. What is the auction like? Do we just stand up there in what we’re wearing now and they bid on us?” she asks.

  “Well, there’s an auctioneer who oversees the auction,” Lizbeth says. “They stand at a podium and you stand near the auction block near them. The auctioneer organizes the bids in standardized increments of about ten thousand and the prospective buyers raise their paddle if they want to place a bid for that particular increment. As far as what you wear… you will wear what you’re wearing now. The bidders do not have the right to ask you to remove any clothing or to show your breasts or anything like that. That’s for later.”

  “Wow, that was quite a thorough explanation,” I whisper to Caroline.

  “Okay, ladies,” Lizbeth says loudly. “If you are ready to participate, please turn your signed contracts over to me.”

  I look over at Caroline. It’s now or never. It’s not like we’re going to do this together, but there’s something comforting about having a friend go through something with you.

  “I can’t do this,” she says quietly.

  “Oh, are you sure?” I ask.

  She nods confidently, placing the pen on top of the contract.

  “I guess we’re both going home, huh?” she asks. “What a bummer.”

  “Well, actually, I think I’m going to do it.”

  “What?!”

  “I don’t know,” I shrug. “It’s a lot of money. And the guys are pretty hot.”

  9

  When you are all alone and you suddenly regret your decision…

  The fact that Caroline is leaving is making me reconsider my decision. This whole thing was Caroline’s idea and it’s hard to imagine being here without her. I follow her back to our room and watch her pack up her clothes.

  “Are you sure you want to stay?” she asks.

  I shrug my shoulders. I don't really know.

  “Why don't you want to?” I ask.

  “I don’t really know,” she shrugs as well. “I thought I would. I mean, when she first came out and talked about the auction, it sounded exciting. But now, I don't know. There’s something about it that’s just off. I mean, isn’t it a little odd?”

  I nod. “It’s definitely not a normal thing to do.”

  “I mean, don't get me wrong, the guys are really attractive. And obviously rich. I just don't think I can make it up there to the podium. And what if he wants me to do something that I don't want to do?”

  “Like what?” I ask. I don't mean to be cheeky, but I wasn't aware of anything sexual that Caroline didn’t do. She has had a threesome, she had anal sex, she even went to an orgy. I’m pretty sure that she has done everything there is to do, even tried a little bit of bondage and tying up.

  I look at Caroline. She is staring down at the floor and shuffling her feet a little.

  “I just can’t do this,” she says. She actually looks terrified. Suddenly, my trepidation about my own decision starts to feel more like anxiety. I’m not nearly as experienced as Caroline and if she’s not doing this, then maybe I shouldn’t be doing this either.

  The whole experience reminds me a lot of going to Six Flags when I was thirteen. I went with a good friend of mine and she was all set on riding the biggest rollercoasters. Then she chickened out. I was afraid to go in the first place, and after she refused to go, I was questioning my decision even more. That time in Six Flags, I decided to go along with her. But this time, something is keeping me here. I’m afraid and uncertain, but I can’t make myself go.

  “Are you sure you want to stay?” Caroline asks, one last time. She’s holding her bag and Lizbeth is at the door waiting to escort her to the helicopter.

  I nod. Lizbeth has a satisfied look on her face and a small little smile. She knows what’s about to happen and she isn’t staying. I give Caroline a brief hug and tell her that I’ll see her soon. I don't actually know how long I’m going to stay on the yacht. Maybe I’ll be back tomorrow, maybe I’ll stay a few days. This whole place is so mysterious, I’m
afraid that I’m going to make a wrong move and do something improper at any moment.

  When Caroline leaves, my chest seizes up. My hands feel clammy and all blood drains from my face. What have I done? I feel sick to my stomach and sit down on the bed to calm myself. Did I really just stay here all alone? How the hell am I going to get off this yacht if I do want to leave? Is the contract really binding? What if I watch the beginning of the auction and then I want to leave? A million thoughts run through my mind at a speed of a thousand miles per minute. I feel like I’m going to pass out. I lie down on the bed and close my eyes.

  A knock at the door wakes me up. I don't know how long I’ve been asleep.

  “Come in.”

  A girl who was sitting across the room from me walks in. She’s tall and thin and gorgeous and looks just as terrified as I feel. She introduces herself as Olivia.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, I’m just trying to find another person who stayed.”

  “Really? Did not many people stay?” I ask.

  “I don’t think so. I tried a number of rooms before I got to yours and no one responded,” Olivia says.

  Wow, that does not make me feel any better.

  There’s another knock on the door. Lizbeth comes in and tells us that the auction is starting soon.

  “What should we wear?” Olivia asks.

  “You can wear what you’re wearing now,” Lizbeth says. “Or you can change into something more provocative. It’s up to you and how you want to present yourself.”

  “More provocative?” I ask. I’m already wearing a hip hugging dress and heels.

  “Some girls have chosen to wear only a bra and panties and some even go up there naked.”

  Oh my God. My heart sinks. What have I done? Bra and panties? Going stark naked in a room full of strangers? Suddenly, I’m coming to the realization that I’m way out of my league. The girls who do this must be made of steel and have the confidence of a rich wealthy man. They must have gorgeous bodies without a single imperfection.

  “It’s really up to you,” Lizbeth says, probably sensing my hesitation. “The girls have been successful wearing dresses, pants, and everything in between. You really just want to go up there and be your true self.”

  Yeah right, I fight the urge to roll my eyes. When Lizbeth leaves, Olivia turns to me and says that she’s going to strip down to her bra and panties.

  “It’s just like a swimsuit and if it fetches a better price, then why not?”

  I shake my head.

  “No, I can’t do that,” I say. “Aren’t you scared, though?”

  “Yes, terrified,” she says, taking off her dress. Her push up bra makes her breasts look amazing. She’s wearing a thin lacy thong on the bottom. Her stomach is flat and almost chiseled.

  “You’ve got an amazing body,” I say.

  “Thanks, you too,” she says politely.

  “Yeah, right,” I say with a shrug. My stomach is not really flat and I’m about five inches shorter than she is. She seems to be all legs while my legs are kind of on the short side.

  “If you feel uncomfortable, you should just wear that dress. You look amazing in it.”

  I nod. That’s probably what I’m going to do. After giving myself a brief once over in the mirror, I follow Olivia back to the main cabin.

  10

  When the auction starts…

  Lizbeth meets us in the hallway right before we come in and shuttles us out to another room. This is the waiting room with some refreshments at the far corner of the room. I count the girls as we wait for the auction to start. There are ten girls there, all in various levels of undress. About four are completely naked, sitting and chatting so comfortably as if they’re wearing their pajamas. Then there are a couple in their bra and panties, two just in panties, and two who are still dressed in dresses. I’m one of those. Suddenly, I feel very overdressed for the occasion, as if I had shown up to a baseball game wearing a prom dress.

  The stage is right in front of us and Lizbeth positions herself at the podium. She’s going to be the auctioneer. I peek out to get a look at the men in the room. There are many familiar faces there including Blake Garrison and Harrison Brooks. Some are young like them, but there are also plenty of old men too. I’ve never been with anyone over thirty. But the men in the audience aren’t just old. They’re really old. Fifties and sixties. Maybe even older. Grey hair and overweight. Shit. What did I expect? I mean, this is a luxury super-yacht. Not many hot men in their twenties can afford this type of party.

  Lizbeth introduces herself to the audience and goes over the rules. They are supposed to stay quiet and raise their paddles when they want to make a bid. Once she calls out a price three times and no one goes higher, then the girl goes to that bidder. They are expected to make out a check, money order, or wire transfer to her choice of bank account before they are allowed to take her to their cabin.

  I tap my fingers on the table nervously waiting for the auction to start. A few minutes later, it finally starts. Lizbeth calls out the first name. Arabella, an excited nude girl in the back, jumps up and runs in four inch heels to the stage. I keep waiting for her to trip, but she’s an expert in those things.

  When she gets to the beginning of the stage, she takes a deep breath and walks out with poise and confidence. A bright flood light hits her body as the rest of the room goes dark. Lizbeth introduces the girl by her name and height but doesn’t say anything else about her. Then she starts the bidding at ten thousand.

  Quickly the paddles start to go up. The price starts to climb. When it reaches fifty thousand, Arabella smiles from ear to ear, turns around coyly and bends over. Her legs are spread shoulder-length apart and her head bends all the way to the floor in a perfect yoga pose. The bidding continues to climb higher. It quickly reaches ninety thousand. It stays there for three counts and Lizbeth yells, “Sold for $90,000 to the gentleman in the back.”

  I can’t quench my curiosity anymore. I go to the far corner of the stage and peak out to see who bought her. The men in the back high-five an older guy who is clearly in his sixties. My heart sinks. Really? Am I really going to have to sleep with a sixty-year-old?

  But Arabella comes back to the room with her head held high. She’s over the moon by the process.

  “I made forty-grand last year cleaning hotel rooms,” she says to her friend. “Ninety grand, tax free, for one night of sex? Yes please!”

  A meek little man with glasses and a brief case walks over to her and asks her how she wants the money. While they do the paperwork, Lizbeth starts the auction again. This time, she calls Olivia. Her eyes open wide and she takes a deep breath.

  “Good luck,” I whisper. She fakes a smile and heads to the stage. She’s not as excited as Arabella. But she walks out there with her head held high. Again, Lizbeth starts the bidding at ten thousand. That appears to be the starting point. Unlike Arabella, she does not do anything but stand there with her hands on her hips. She is dressed in a bra and panties and her body looks like it’s covered in glitter under the spotlight.

  Ten thousand dollars might not be ninety, but it’s still an insane amount of money, I say to myself. I mean, I make a third of that working all year. So, even if I only get ten thousand, that’s okay. But no matter how much I try to convince myself, I still feel like I’m going to throw up at the prospect of going up there.

  Olivia’s auction goes up to eighty thousand and she’s bought by a man in his forties. When she comes back to the table, she seems satisfied by that number. I would be too. I think ten grand is worth sleeping with someone who is much younger than Arabella’s man.

  When the little man with the briefcase comes over to Olivia, she asks if she can have the money in cash. He says that they don't have that much on hand. She debates whether she should get a money order or let the money be put directly into her checking account. She’s thinking about the tax repercussions. Obviously, cash is best then she doesn't have to lose thirty percent to the government. Bu
t who the hell wants to walk around with ninety thousand in cash around New York City? Finally, she gives him her checking account number.

  I’m so engrossed in their conversation that I don't notice that Lizbeth has started the auction again. And she called my name!

  “Ellie!” Lizbeth says again and again. Olivia elbows me in the ribs. I’m so caught-off guard that I don't even have time to worry about what is about to happen.

  “She’s calling you,” Olivia says. I nod and stand up. Is this really happening? I walk over to the stage. I’m a dead woman walking.

  11

  When it’s my turn…

  The bright spotlight blinds me. I can’t see a thing in front me of me. I put on a smile and stand with my hands by my sides. Suddenly, I’m very well-aware of how much my high heeled shoes are pinching my feet. I struggle to breathe in this tight dress, which doesn't allow my legs more than an inch of movement.

  “Let’s start the auction at $10,000,” Lizbeth says into the microphone. “Can I get ten thousand?”

  “Twenty-thousand. Thirty-thousand.”

  My eyes finally adjust to the brightness of the stage. Paddles keep flying into the air as the numbers keep climbing high and higher.

  “Okay, how about eighty thousand,” Lizbeth says, clearly pleased with the way the auction is going.

  Am I really going to go for eighty thousand? That number floats around in my head as some unreachable goal.

  Somewhere near the back of the room I spot Blake Garrison and Harrison Brooks. They are sitting at the same table and raising their paddles each time the number jumps up. Please, let it be one of those two, I say to myself. At least, I already know them. And they’re my age.

  When the price reaches ninety-thousand, everyone else who was in the running drops off. It’s just these two. And they keep going. Am I really going to go for one hundred thousand dollars? That kind of money doesn’t even seem real.