On the Auction Block (18 page)

“To hell with this,” Dodge said. He grabbed
her arms, threw her off of him, pushed her onto her back, and drove
himself deep between her legs. He came after only a handful of
hard, fast thrusts.

She came, too. It was not unusual for her to
come when Dodge was fucking her, but she seemed to feel it more
deeply this time.

Afterward, she felt like she was floating on
the edge of sweet oblivion; like the smallest nudge would send her
drifting out of the world on clouds of happiness.

“I don’t know what the hell you were trying
to accomplish, there, but it felt like a waste of time to me,”
Dodge said.

Flame didn’t reply. Her time hadn’t been
wasted. She had learned what she needed to know. At the end, his
moans had sounded exactly like the moans that men made when she was
teasing them with her mouth, keeping them on the edge of ecstasy
but not letting them step over into a climax.

She had accomplished the same thing with her
cunt. That was a big step in the right direction. More training,
more strength, more control, and she’d be able to carry a man all
the way to heaven by cunt action alone.

And she’d be right there with him, every step
of the way.

The next day, she discussed her experience
with Barry. “I’m not there yet, not by a long way, but my exercises
are doing some good. I can feel it. I need to find some way to step
up the game. What I’m doing now isn’t enough to take me all the
way. Can’t you think of anything that will give me more strength
and more control over my cunt?”

He was desperate to help her because she
hadn’t sucked him off yet and his wife didn’t have nearly the skill
that Flame had. If he had to wait until he got home, he’d have a
frustrating day followed by a half-hearted blowjob that would leave
him feeling empty and listening his wife spitting in the bathroom
sink for ten minutes.

“I’ll ask around. Someone has to know some
trick that they haven’t told me yet. I’ll find out. I promise.”

“I’m going to hold you to that promise,”
Flame said and sunk to her knees in front of him.

“I’ll keep it. Don’t you worry,” he said as
she unzipped him. He meant it.

Her lips wrapped around the head of his cock
and her tongue began caressing the seam along the bottom.

God, did he mean it. God, yes!

Two days later he came through for her. He
handed her a wooden box. “I had a devil of a time finding this.
It’s a very specialized item.”

When she opened it she found a plastic cone
that looked like a small version of her butt plug and a collection
of different weights with threaded dowels and holes.

“What do I do with this?”

“You insert the plastic cone into your cunt.
The flanges on the end keep it from slipping all the way in. With
it hanging half-way out, you’re going to have to squeeze it pretty
hard with your cunt muscles to keep from dropping it when you’re
standing. Then you can try walking around with it inserted. When
you can do that, you start screwing the weights into the bottom.
There’s an eighth-ounce, a quarter-ounce, a half-ounce, one ounce,
two ounces, and four ounces. The cone weighs an eighth without any
weight attached, so, if you screw all the weights together and
screw them to the cone, it’ll weigh a half-pound. If you can keep
that slippery sucker from falling out, then you’ll have one scary
cunt. From what I was told, you should probably be aiming for two
ounces. Three at the most.”

Flame took the cone and examined it. It
seemed light enough without any weights attached. She didn’t think
that it would be too challenging so she spread her legs and
inserted it between her lower lips.

It slipped back out into her hand.

She pushed it back in and squeezed her
muscles. This time it stayed inside when she removed her fingers.
Retaining it was more difficult than it looked because the flanges
kept her from inserting it far enough to be secure and the cone
didn’t offer much for her to grip.

She tried walking a few steps. As long as she
kept concentrating on keeping her muscles tight, she could keep it
in place. She was keenly aware of her cunt every second.

Barry smiled. “That’s pretty good. You keep
working at that and you’ll be the star of every orgy before you
know it.”

Was that what she wanted? To be the most
popular slave at the orgy?

People always said that you had to be careful
what you wished for because wishes come true.

* * *

It wasn’t long before the cuts healed and the
scabs flaked off Flame’s ass. It was no longer raw, only
criss-crossed with reddish welts.

She could sit and lie on her back comfortably
again. Though, in idle moments, of which a slave has many, she
would unconsciously run her fingers back and forth across her
backside, feeling every ridge and groove that the cane had molded
into her flesh, until that unnatural fleshscape was more deeply
embedded in her tactile memory than any other part of her body.

She found it interesting that Mr. Dodge
hadn’t scheduled a single dinner party during her convalescence.
She didn’t believe that he had inconvenienced himself out of any
consideration for her welfare. She could easily have been made to
perform. Her act didn’t require much sitting. And if she suffered
some extra pain during the evening, that wouldn’t cause any
permanent damage so it would be no problem for Mr. Dodge.

Rather, she believed that Mr. Dodge had
wisely paused his entertainments to take the temperature of his
insertion into polite society. He’d been inviting a lot of people
to his parties and had received few return invitations. That was
not a good sign. It was time for him to find out if people
appreciated his company or if he were merely being exploited.

He hadn’t asked Flame for advice; he made his
own decision to wait for return invitations before hosting another
round of parties. She applauded him for his keen strategy.

And it worked.

His parties were popular, to no small degree
because a slave who had the unique feature of being the former wife
of a lord was offered as entertainment. So it was gratifying but
not surprising when the knights and baronets who had attended his
dinners began extending more frequent reciprocal invitations to him
and his wife.

During this brief hiatus, Mrs. Dodge
continued to treat Flame with considerable contempt – she was never
slow to deliver a swift kick – but she also asked her advice about
fashion and comportment. She never failed to follow Flame’s advice
to the letter.

After attending a fair number of dinner
parties and some other events – a couple of balls, a concert, and a
stage play – the Dodges resumed hosting dinners for two or three
couples at a time.

Flame noted that Drake wasn’t completely
excluded, but he was on the guest list far less often. Mr. Dodge
had begun inviting a better class of knights and baronets. He was
on one of the lowest rungs of the social ladder, but he was already
climbing to the next one.

She was setting the table for Mr. and Mrs.
Dodge’s dinner one Thursday evening when Mrs. Dodge came into the
dining room and said, “You’re going to be loaned out on
Saturday.”

Flame paused in laying out Mr. Dodge’s place
setting. Her heart skipped a beat. She had become well enough known
for her solo entertainments that wives should have been asking to
borrow her for some time. But this was the first time that it had
happened. It seemed that the wives of aristocrats weren’t eager to
be in a commoner’s debt.

The fork in her hand hovered over the table
as she looked up at her owner’s wife. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I believe you know Lady Hoffman.”

Flame put the fork into place with careful
deliberation before speaking. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Their driver will pick you up at five
tomorrow. Be waiting.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

There was no clock in the kennel so she had
no way to tell the time. But that was her problem, not Mrs.
Dodge’s.

To ensure that she wouldn’t miss the car, she
began waiting at the kennel door early – by her estimate, some time
between three and four. She was wearing her housedress and carrying
a plastic bag with makeup and a set of erotic red underwear.

The household that borrowed a slave was
expected to supply the clothing that they wanted the slave to wear
for the entertainment, if any were required, but Flame thought that
it would be safest to bring a minimal set of her own just in
case.

She waited for more than an hour. It gave her
a long time to think about Linda.

Her thoughts broke her heart. She wasn’t
deluded – she knew that Linda couldn’t be friends with a slave.
Automatically losing all her friends was part of the deal when she
had decided to enslave herself – it was as certain as losing her
husband. She had understood and accepted that before she mounted
the stage to give herself to the auctioneer.

But she had hoped that some of her former
friends might still care about her. Linda had been her closest
friend. If anybody had any sympathetic feelings for her, it should
be Linda.

It had been ten weeks since Mrs. Dodge had
borrowed Sapphire. Linda had had ample opportunity to borrow Flame
back before now.

Flame had counted the weeks. She had expected
to be borrowed within three weeks. A month at most. When six weeks
passed without Linda requesting the favor that Mrs. Dodge owed,
Flame had begun to feel safe. After two months had passed, she had
been sure that Linda still cared enough for her that she didn’t
want to see her old friend wantonly ravished by a gang of gentlemen
who still remembered her as Lady Irene Fortson.

But now the call had come. Linda had taken
her time, but had finally decided to toss her helpless body to the
wolves.

Flame had no right to complain. When she had
climbed onto the block, she had told the whole world, in the most
certain and public way possible, that this was what she wanted.

But she dearly wished that Linda had cared
enough to let someone else do the tossing.

Flame spent too long waiting and feeling
sorry for herself. By the time the Hoffman car arrived, she was
fighting to hold back her tears. That wouldn’t do. No gentleman
wanted to be entertained by a melancholy slave.

As she was being driven down Norbit Hill, she
told herself that it was time to toughen up. She was a lusty slave,
not a forlorn lady. She forced herself to stop thinking about Linda
and focused her attention on the imminent entertainment.

She had no idea what was coming so imagined
the worst possible case – that she would be asked to entertain a
large number of men alone. Sapphire once said that she had
entertained eight men by herself. Maybe Linda– No, not Linda. The
hostess. She had to maintain the right mindset. Maybe the hostess
expected her to exceed Sapphire’s feat. Maybe she would be asked to
entertain ten gentlemen – or a dozen – by herself.

She was becoming known for her performance in
which she transformed herself from a lady into a slave. How could
she adapt that to accommodating a dozen men?

She mentally rehearsed her act, arranging it
in her mind so that she would offer her cunt first. The proper
sexual parts would better be able to accommodate a lot of men than
her asshole. Even with her sphincter well-stretched and her anus
heavily lubed, her asshole could be damaged more easily than her
cunt. Especially if she could keep the men from ramming against her
clit. Rear entry was much easier on the cunt than missionary, but
she couldn’t just bend over. That would make her asshole as
available as her cunt. If half a dozen men decided to use her ass,
either exclusively or switching between the two holes, and they
each got it up three times, she would be bleeding like a
slaughtered pig before the night was over.

By the time the car entered the Hoffman’s
rear gate, she had a solution. Lay a man on his back and ride him.
That would let her control both the depth and the force. She would
alter her patter. She would describe herself as a slut who had been
so desperate for sex that she had enslaved herself just so that she
could get into every billiard room in the county.

All her planning was for naught, thankfully.
When she was escorted into the kennel, she found herself in a crowd
of a dozen slaves.

She was sure that Lord Hoffman didn’t keep
many more slaves than her own husband – not more than four.

For this entertainment, then, Linda must have
borrowed every slave that she could get her hands on. She hadn’t
singled out Flame. In fact, she had probably borrowed Flame only
after she had borrowed from everyone else that she could.

That happy thought was soon smashed to
smithereens.

One of the slaves was old. Older than any
pleasure slave that Flame had ever seen. At least forty-five.

She introduced herself. “I’m Thorn. I assume
that you’re Flame.”

Flame nodded.

“Help me up here.” She held out her hand.

The Hoffman’s kennels were considerably
larger than the Dodges’, and the pleasure room was larger and
better equipped in proportion.

Thorn was standing by a low table, the size
and height of a coffee table, but with steel reinforcement so that
it could withstand robust use.

Flame offered Thorn a hand up.

When she was standing on the table, Thorn
addressed the crowd. “Slaves, your attention. I’m Thorn. I’m the
director of tonight’s entertainment. For those of you who’ve never
worked with a director before, I’ll just say that it is my job to
create the entertainment and ensure that it is executed flawlessly.
What that means is that I know exactly what each and every one of
you is going to have to do tonight. You don’t know yet, so you are
going to have to listen to me and obey me exactly. My orders to
carry the same weight as your masters’ orders. If you fail to do
exactly as I say, I have the authority to punish you. My
punishments leave no marks and do no permanent damage but they are
severe. A couple of you have worked with me before and can testify
to that. If I punish you, you’ll be wishing that your master had
taken a cane to you instead.”