by Jesse Joren
Thick tension grew between them, and silence filled the hall as masked faces turned to observe the three of us. Madame Colette reappeared at the front of the room.
The man laughed shortly and released my chin, capturing my hand in his. My fingers clenched into a fist, making him chuckle.
"Surely a small kiss will leave no bruise," he said.
The cold lips of the mask brushed the back of my hand for the briefest instant. With an incline of his head he was gone, passing through the set of doors near me.
"Did he hurt you?" Hex asked me.
I shook my head. "There was just something…off about him."
"It was about to be his balls. In a way, I can't blame him. You look…wow."
He walked slowly around my cage, examining every inch of my new look before coming to stand in front of me again.
"I've heard that Madame can see things in girls that even their lovers miss. I'm impressed by how well she's showcased you."
He ran his cool fingertips over my lips.
"Why should I buy you tonight?" he asked.
My tongue darted out to lick his fingers. With a quick, smooth motion I pulled his index finger into my mouth, stroking up and down the length of it.
Behind his mask, I could hear the change in his breathing. Very gently he pulled it back from me, leaning closer until I could see the heat in his eyes through the mask.
"Kiss me," he ordered.
"Are you sure?" My voice was filled with sass. "I don't want to ruin your mask. It looks expensive."
When he told me how expensive, I blanched. Incredible that everyone here tonight could and did pay thousands of dollars for a mask that was only a small part of the evening.
Standing on my bare tiptoes, I pressed my lips over the mask, breathing in the gentle breath of his scent. His hand cupped the back of my head, holding me still as the barest tip of his tongue snaked through the mouth slit, darting against my lips.
Groaning my frustration, my own tongue tried to keep up, but the mask prevented me from making any sort of entry. I felt his deep chuckle behind it.
"Pace yourself. You have a long night ahead."
The gong vibrated through the hall again. Hex pulled away from me.
"Just remember that you may not see me. But I'll be there."
With a final silvery gaze from behind the mask he was gone. The doors next to me swung soundlessly open into a dark space.
Madame Colette clapped her hands together.
"Let the auction commence."
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The long room emptied of the buyers. Each girl's handler appeared as we were all released from the cages to mill freely again. Most of the attendants held small marble bowls, cold enough to have frosted sides.
"Sorbet," Yvonne explained, feeding me creamy mango sweetness from a tiny spoon. "Something to cool you and carry you through the auction. Anything more is a bad combination with the heat and excitement."
"I saw a girl being fed a pastry earlier."
Yvonne smiled.
"Someone in a position to know told me that the inside very likely was not whipped cream," she said. "It was a very personal filling from her buyer. I imagine that she will feel fine."
As she coaxed me with the last bite of sorbet, I recalled Megan's earlier words. Anything truly did go here.
"Unlike the cages, there is a specific order to the auction," Yvonne explained. "You'll know it's your time when I bring the addition to your costume. Until then, remain calm and enjoy."
She and the other handlers left the room, leaving only those of us for sale. All at once the dark area outside the doors lit up, partially revealing a very plain stage.
By craning my neck I could see two things on that stage. The first was an auctioneer's block, empty under the bright lights. The second was a raised dais similar to the one in the room where I had been prepped earlier, with one key difference.
A heavy wooden pillory hung over it, suspended with thick black chains that made periodic creaks as they swayed. I could almost feel the rough wood pressing on my neck, chafing against my wrists.
Somehow that wasn't my idea of a pretend slave auction. It looked far too official. Was I really going to stand in front of strangers in my bodysuit and let myself be strapped into that?
"Don't worry," Megan reassured me. "That's optional, mostly for effect. It's rare they put anyone into it."
"But if they do," another voice said behind us, "then you should make it count and give it all you've got."
Filly had moved down the long hallway to stand near us, close to the entrance to the stage. Fresh red marks stood out on her hips and legs, but her green eyes danced as she surveyed the stocks.
Megan gave her a curious look. "Is that what you want?"
"Hell to the yes," Filly said. "All that and more, if I'm lucky." She tossed her auburn curls.
Her two handlers appeared, the one with the crop giving her a couple of hard flicks. As she stood taller with fire in her eyes, I realized again the genius of Madame Colette's names.
"Ladies and gentlemen," announced a male voice with a thick French accent, "it is our pleasure to welcome you to tonight's sale. I am Théodore, your auctioneer."
A stout man with thick white hair was standing at the podium, facing the audience that none of us could see at this angle. His craggy profile seemed to glow in the bright lights trained on the stage.
"All of you are familiar with house rules," he continued, "so we will commence the auction without delay. May you find the slave you are seeking tonight."
Madame Colette appeared, looking us over with a stern eye. The animated chatter in the room suddenly ceased. It seemed that no one really wanted to be first.
Madame pointed at Filly, nodding to the handlers. Megan and I both sent her a look of sympathy, but that was totally unnecessary. Far from being intimidated, Filly embraced the challenge.
"That's my cue," she said with another toss of her head. "Stand aside, ladies. Let me show you how to get this party started."
"Tonight's first offering," Théodore boomed, "is a very high-spirited Filly."
Her handlers herded her onto the stage as she struggled in the same manner as entering the hall. With apparent difficulty they locked her into the pillory, her hair glowing almost red in the bright stage lights. She high-stepped and pawed at the boards of the stage.
"As you can see, this slave requires a firm hand," he went on, "to reach her full potential."
He nodded to one of the handlers, and the woman stepped forward brandishing a wide wooden paddle. She drew back and gave a resounding smack that sent a ripple from Filly's ass down the backs of her legs.
I caught my breath. That had to hurt like hell, but Filly closed her eyes and groaned, a look of utter rapture flooding her face.
All of us could hear the change in the audience, like a great indrawn breath. A thin series of murmurs drifted through the air.
"Side bets," Megan whispered to me. "Sometimes more money passes around on those than the actual auction."
"What do they bet on?" I whispered back.
"Anything. This crowd gets bored fast. Watch Théodore. He sets the tone, based on whatever cues he's been given by the buyers on how they want the girl treated."
As if to prove her point, Théodore now spoke in a much harsher tone, a sardonic arch to his frosty brows.
"Do I have an opening bid on this feisty bitch?" he inquired, nodding again to the handler. "Or do you need more proof?"
Another resounding paddle blow made Filly gasp, then laugh. "Is that all you've got?" she asked. "I thought you people were supposed to be tough."
The crowd came alive, shouting bids. Théodore acknowledged each with a nod before goading them to higher levels.
The amounts stunned me. We were talking flawless diamond prices as opening bids, climbing rapidly into the level of luxury cars, then higher still. Among all the tumult, one male voice was a constant presence, steady and smooth.
/>
"That's him," Megan said. "You can always tell who brought a girl here. Everyone bids early as part of the game, but it would be a total breach of etiquette to outbid the real buyer."
As if to prove her point, that same voice announced a stunning bid, and the room fell silent. The handler gave Filly a final whack with the paddle, and her small scream twisted through the quiet air like an exclamation point.
Théodore brought his hand down hard on the podium, making me jump.
"Sold," he announced, "to Buyers Number Four, Five, and Six."
"She better have a butt made of leather," Megan said under her breath.
Filly was removed from the pillory, panting and pink and obviously aroused as she was spanked all the way off the stage. Maybe she would be exhausted tomorrow morning, but she didn't seem too worried.
--
The auction continued at a slow, unhurried pace. Now I understood why Yvonne periodically reappeared and plied me with water and sorbet. The tension of seeing the other girls on the stage, their endless sensualities fanned into life before an audience, made my mouth dry and my heart pound.
The slaps of Théodore's hand on the podium became chimes of the clock that was counting down to my own turn on that stage. By the time only Megan and I were left, fear and desire had left me with a fine sheen of perspiration and damp heat between my thighs.
A gorgeous Asian girl in body paint was the last sale before it was just us two. Megan squeezed my hand, giving me an encouraging smile.
"I'll look for you tomorrow morning," she said, but before I could ask what she meant, Théodore's smooth voice rolled out across the stage.
"For those who seek beauty in its lushest form," he said with a grand sweep of his arm, "we present Gaia for our next bid."
A male handler appeared beside Megan, offering her his arm to escort her on stage. She moved with light steps on her bare and delicate feet, a slight undulation in her walk making the curve of her pregnancy sway hypnotically.
At the middle of the stage she stopped, facing the audience with a small curtsey. Her Mona Lisa smile and glance over her shoulder mocked the pillory's shadow behind her.
Low conversation buzzed through the audience, then a folded note was passed up to Théodore. He glanced over the paper and smiled at her.
"Mademoiselle Gaia," he began with respect, "we have the matter of a small side bet that we hope you can settle. Would you lift your dress for the audience?"
"Of course," she said, as gracious as a dinner party hostess accommodating a special menu for a guest.
She pulled up her gauzy dress to breast level, exposing her long legs and a pair of brief white panties. With one smooth motion she made a slow ballerina turn, flaring the light fabric out around her.
A burst of fresh whispers rose from the buyers. Théodore waited for a moment, then nodded at the handler.
"Measure Mademoiselle's midsection, directly over the middle, and then state the measurement in both inches and centimeters," he said.
The handler produced a white measuring tape, glancing at Megan to seek her consent. She nodded, holding the dress high as he passed the tape around her ripe midsection.
"Thirty-nine and three-eighths inches," the handler announced. "Exactly one hundred centimeters."
"Hell yeah," came a lazy drawl from the audience. "We grow our babies right in Texas. That's my girl!"
Smothered laughter drifted up to the stage. Even Théodore smiled.
"We will start the bidding, if Mademoiselle is ready?" he inquired.
Megan smoothed down her dress, high color staining her cheeks. She inclined her head the tiniest bit as a cluster of high bids rose from the buyers. They were quiet and almost respectful, a sharp contrast with the shouts that erupted with Filly and some of the other girls.
After a brief moment of bidding, that same Texas voice called an amount that made Megan gasp. She wagged a slender finger in the general direction of the bid.
"Stop it," she ordered. "We gotta have money to put these babies through college."
"Home-schooling worked for me darlin'," the voice shot back. "Screw those high tuitions. You're worth every penny!"
More laughter rippled through the audience. Théodore whacked the podium to announce the sale.
"Sold," he announced gravely, "to fertile Buyer Number 32."
Megan gave a demure curtsy and exited the stage with her handler, flushed amid cheers erupting from the audience. One of them was mine.
Buyer 32 was a lucky guy. So were those babies.
"We will take a small intermission before our final offering tonight," Théodore announced.
For a moment that didn't register, then I realized that I was the last offering. Was this break a good thing (put it off a little longer) or a bad thing (get it over with)?
That question was answered soon enough. Yvonne touched my shoulder, and I turned to find Madame Colette beside me with a man I hadn't seen before. A large box rested at his feet.
"The last piece of your costume has arrived," Madame Colette announced. "Once Monsieur Laroquette has it arranged, your auction will begin."
She nodded to the man, and he reached down to open the box. It was royally padded with plush red velvet, the dark wood and brass gleaming.
Two golden-black twinkles gleamed up at me from the shadows of the box. I found myself looking into the eyes of the largest snake I'd ever seen.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
"The idea," Yvonne said a few minutes later, "is to be her support while not constraining her. Let her cling to you, like the moss to the tree."
"It's a she?"
I struggled to be nonchalant as the man guided the snake around my left leg. She slithered her way up the side of my body.
"Felice," he announced with a proud smile. "She like you already, yes?"
If you say so.
In a way she was beautiful, about seven feet long and very muscular. Her skin was a rich pattern of mahogany and gold markings, striking as she coiled against the flesh-toned bodysuit. Wearing Felice as a living accessory, I was now anything but drab.
The man spoke to Yvonne. Felice tightened her hold on me, propelling herself higher.
"He says she's tame from birth, very used to people. Don't let her coil around your neck or chest."
Felice had finished her journey and now rested her head on my shoulder, looking at me intently.
"Does she bite?"
"Burmese pythons aren't vipers," Yvonne explained. "If she gets agitated she will squeeze harder, so stay as calm as possible."
I'm about to be auctioned in front of a room filled with strangers while wearing a snake thicker than my arm. Why wouldn't I be calm?
The snake nudged at my neck, tasting the heat under my hair with a whispery tongue. The man spoke again, stroking her tail hugged my leg.
"They like warmth," Yvonne translated. "We're lowering the room temperature so she'll be more inclined to be still."
For the past few minutes I'd been aware of shivering, but I assumed it was python-induced fear and dread of the auction. Now I felt the crispness in the air.
"You must have a snake at every auction," I said, figuring it couldn't be too dangerous if other girls were doing it too.
"No, never," she admitted. "Madame had to – how is it you say – pull many strings to bring Felice here so quickly."
Somehow this wasn't a comforting thought. There was no way I could back out now.
Théodore sauntered up to us, bringing an odor of fresh outdoor air and a faint tinge of cigarette smoke. He looked me up and down, nodding to himself.
"Lilith," he said thoughtfully. "So Madame thinks you bring trouble. She's rarely wrong about such things."
"I'm not planning to make trouble."
The last thing I wanted was to be strapped into the pillory. That cruel device wasn't the panty-tweaker for me that it had so obviously been for Filly.
"I am certain that Mademoiselle will be charming and well-received," h
e said with a gallant bow. "However, trouble often arrives whether invited it or not."
He kissed my hand with a courtly flourish. "The snake suits you, and the buyers await."
He strode out onto the stage and took his place at the podium. The bright lights over the stage dimmed, making the cold seem more intense.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, his breath fogging as he spoke, "we present Lilith as our final offering for this evening."
Yvonne gave me an encouraging smile and motioned for me to follow her onto the stage. Trying not to frighten Felice, I kept my breathing slow and steady.
Throughout the auction I had been distracted from what was happening inside of my own body. Now heat seemed to radiate from my body, making me glad for the cold air.
Felice seemed to sense and like this change, re-applying her snake-hug as she soaked up my warmth. They were wise, these secret auctioneers of Paris.
The lights were still bright enough to shine in my eyes, making it impossible to see the audience. Hex was somewhere in that sea of blackness. So were a lot of wealthy strangers, all watching me.
What was Eva Bright doing in a place like this? A world filled with money and power and beautiful girls?
Since Filly had gone onstage, I'd been preparing myself for the bidding, the sighs, the murmurs, and the occasional yells of the audience. Now I was met with something much worse.
Silence.
Not a single bid or sound rose from the crowd. Even the low murmurs of side conversations had ceased. Like some horrible nightmare, I stood alone in the dim lights as the quiet sank into me.
Théodore caught my eye, giving me the barest wink of encouragement before he spoke.
"The serpent brings forbidden knowledge," he said in buttery tones, "but is enthralled by the very creature it seeks to corrupt."
Felice tightened around me as if sensing my panic. I had counted on having the subtle directions that Théodore had used to guide other auctions. After his one cryptic remark, he was silent too.
Was that my cue? I thought about those few words. Serpent. Forbidden. Enthrall. Those couldn't be random.
No one else screwed up out here tonight. Don't you dare be the first.
