Sold at the Auction(5)

And once I was positioned on the dais, the female voice chimed melodically.

"Welcome back to the auction," she said, her tone still moderate and  pleasant, like this was completely normal. "Here before us we have  Article Twenty-One, an eighteen year-old girl. Handlers, please remove  her robe."

And with a swish, the midnight blue cloak was pulled from my body, the  velvet caressing my shoulders as it left, leaving me chill on the dais. I  didn't know where to look, wasn't sure how to stand, how to do  anything. All I knew was that there were unknown men looking on at me,  sizing me up for purchase, and it made shivers run through my arms and  legs. I crossed my arms over my chest instinctively, as if trying to  protect myself, but immediately the voice came on again.

"Please let the viewers see all of Article Twenty-One," the woman chimed  as the men pulled my arms down to my sides. "Article Twenty-One is  tonight's highlight, a unique lot with something rare, that may only be  offered once. ‘The Girl in Gold,' as we're calling her, is a virgin.  Yes, bidders," she continued. "The Girl in Gold has never been touched,  never been handled intimately by a man, and is ready for your pleasure."

I gasped. Oh my god, I was tonight's "special"? And I was special  because I was a virgin? Suddenly I realized how Rachel had betrayed me.  It wasn't anything purposeful, she must have been gossiping and confided  that I was a stick in the mud because I was a virgin. Unfortunately,  Miles and his goons had immediately picked up on it and realized they  could get a higher price, thus the kidnapping. Oh my god.

And what was this "Girl in Gold" stuff? How had they come up with this  name? Suddenly, I realized it was my dress. The beautiful golden slip  was gorgeous under the spotlights, shimmering sensuously, caressing my  curves just so, the hem fluttering despite the lack of a breeze in the  closed chamber. And I realized what I must have looked like  –  creamy,  sensuous, young and nubile, glimmering before the men's eyes, waiting  for a taker.         

     



 

But before the bidding began, the woman's voice came on once again.

"As always, we will be showing off the goods. Handlers," came the voice. "Please help Article Twenty-One out of her clothing."

And the two black-clad men came towards me again, their faces hidden by  masks, looking like two burglars. But I didn't want them to touch me. As  degrading as this was, I wanted to be my own woman as much as I could,  fierce and independent. So I held out a hand and ground out, "I'll do it  myself."

Both men were still for a moment, tentative, unsure. But before they  could swarm, I reached behind my neck and undid the string tie, letting  the golden straps slither off my chest. And because it was nothing more  than a slip, immediately the top began to drop off, to fall to my feet.  But I wanted control. I was going to own this in whatever small way  possible, so with shivering, trembling hands, I slowly lowered the cups  of the dress until both my girls were bared.

And I cursed myself then. Oh god, once upon a time I'd been thin as a  pencil, looking like a boy, no one would ever be aroused. But no more.  Now my breasts were creamy, pendulous, huge mountains of white topped by  pink areola, the nipples stiff in the cold chamber, swaying and  jiggling slightly with my movements.

And immediately several lights flashed on above the booths, blinking  furiously, like angry eyes. But the woman's voice rang out once more.

"Bidding has not started yet, we are still in the viewing phase," she  said in that modulated tone. "Please refrain from bidding until the  final part of our auction. Article Twenty-One," she continued. "Please  continue to disrobe."

I almost rebelled. I'd throw their auction right off the rails, give  them something to remember the "Girl in Gold" by. I'd show them how a  girl with sass and spunk behaved, even in captivity. But common sense  took over. If I didn't get sold, I'd have to stay with Miles and he'd  pull no punches this time around. I'd be battered, assaulted, all sorts  of terrible things once there were no prospective buyers to protect my  lily white skin.

So slowly, I wriggled my hips a bit, tugging the golden fabric down.  Inch after inch of creamy white flesh was exposed, my tummy, my belly  button, and then lower until I'd pulled the dress over my hips entirely,  letting the fabric pool on the floor. And then I stood up, clad only in  the tiniest pair of black lace panties, a g-string I'd bought  specifically for the trip, feeling warm and tingly when I made the  sensuous purchase.

But now, it was coming back to bite me because I knew how I looked in  the tiny piece of lingerie. The fabric was so sheer you could see the  small landing strip on my vulva, the rectangle trim and beautiful. And  oh god, but the lacy mesh caressed my labia, outlined by the black  fabric, my nether lips swollen and engorged, dripping slightly.

Because I was aroused. Despite my fear and hesitation, despite the fact  that I was stripping in front of a dozen anonymous men, my body was  reacting, illicitly showing its arousal. My nipples stiffened even more,  this time begging to be touched, and my cunt moistened embarrassingly,  loving the thought of male eyes on every part of my skin, every inch of  my curves.

But this was still an auction, and the woman's voice rang out once more.

"Turn," the dulcet tone rang out. "Turn to your left and then to your right."

And like a priceless museum piece, I obeyed, slowly rotating in my  golden heels so that the men on the right could see my luscious assets,  get a good view, before turning to the left, showing the entire audience  what I had to offer. And it was a delectable sight, I know. My girls  jiggled and bobbled, my cunt warm with a slight drip, and involuntarily,  I began playing it up, sashaying my hips, swaying sensuously, making  the audience want me. I guess it was my own way of owning the ritual,  this humiliating process. I wanted them to want me, I wanted these men  to bid so high that their wallets bled. I wanted them to go crazy, to  look at me like I was the answer to their dreams. It was an exchange of  power, and I was going to end up on top.

And sure enough, the lights above the booths flashed crazily again,  blinking like ambulance sirens, at least five or six of them going off  with desperation. The woman's voice came on again.

"We have not yet finished the viewing phase, please hold your bids," she  said, almost like an airline announcing that a flight would be delayed  for two hours. I squinted a bit at the flashing lights, wondering who  could possibly be viewing me, but suddenly, I had an answer. A door  opened in one of the viewing chambers, letting in a crack of light and I  could just make out the man inside.         

     



 

I gasped. Did he know that the one-way mirrors only worked if there was  total darkness on his side? Did he know that I could make out strong  features, dark, dominating, oh so masculine? Or was he purposefully  giving up his anonymity? I waited for the female voice to come on again,  or at least a handler to rush over, informing the bidder that we could  see him, but nothing happened. Instead, I was caught by a pair of deep  blue eyes, their gleam unmistakable, as the solitary man gazed at my  curves, drinking in my luscious form.

Trembling like a leaf, I stood before him, unsure what to do next.  Suddenly it was as if the world had narrowed to just me and him, there  was no creepy female voice, no handlers on either side of me. It was  just me, taking it off for the gorgeous man inside and I grew warm and  moist once more, my body blooming under his scorching gaze, opening like  a petal to the sun.

But it was my imagination. Of course the handlers were still there, of  course this auction was being monitored by dozens of people, this was no  amateur event thrown together on a whim. The woman's voice came on once  more.

"And now we will be viewing Article Twenty-One's virginity. Handlers, please remove the remainder of the girl's clothing."

The two black-clad men stepped forward once more but I couldn't bear it.  I couldn't stand to have these criminals touch me, didn't want to feel  their dirty paws on my body. So I did the only thing left. Slowly, I  slid my panties down my hips, undulating to the left and then to the  right, pulling the flimsy piece of lace down, down, down until my pussy  was revealed, my beautiful slit glistening and moist under the harsh  spotlight, dragging the material over my thighs until I was able to kick  them off. And then I stood once more, chin lifted, determined not to  show my fear. Because I was beautiful, wearing nothing but the golden  heels, huge breasts swaying, hips sensuous, all leading to the vee  between my legs, the sweet snapshot of pink that beckoned to the  bidders.

And I shot a glance at the man once more. A sliver of light still  penetrated his booth, and I could make out the way his blue eyes ate  everything up, how he was devouring every inch of creamy skin, dark  streaks across his cheekbones, face tight. And a tingle coursed through  me, my pussy moistening again, a small gush between my thighs. If I  focused on him, blocking out all else, I could pretend that I was here  with him alone, that it was just the two of us, alone in our world.