Chapter 10: Partners, Part 1

James

The bidding resumes.

Charlotte stands there, so vulnerable and yet so brave, while the mob drool over her. I watch her face closely, her expression. She looks a little spaced out.

The mind disconnecting from an unpleasant reality?

But she doesn't look distressed. Her breathing is fast and shallow, but she's not panic-stricken. Is she enjoying this at some level? Relishing testing her own limits?

Or is she a true sub? Revelling in the submission aspect of it all?

And of course, she is going to earn a great deal of money, so long as she keeps her nerve for the seven days of her contract.

And nothing too unpleasant happens to her....

Does she understand how dangerous this is? Even with the so-called safety procedures of the auction house.

How would I feel if that were Georgie up there?

And she's younger than Georgie....

I feel queasy, my gorge rising at the thought of what I am doing.

You're being ridiculous, a middle-aged man with virgin fantasies.

This is wrong....

Michael was right. I shouldn't be doing this.

I rise to leave, but as I stand, I realise who some of those bidding are, that I couldn't see sitting down.

Jeez.... Finchby's bidding for her.... What the fuck's he thinking of for her?

I know what he's thinking of. He'll rent her out at one of his joints. Under the contract from the Auction House, he'd be able to demand it of her. And if she baulked, her money would be forfeit.

There's a couple of others too, but the idea of Finchby getting hold of this girl for a week, brutalising her....

I sit again, torn with indecision, then as I see the brothel-keeper raising a finger to the auctioneer, my mind made up, I raise my hand to bid.

I don't want to dwell on the wisdom or the ethics of what I am doing. The bidding is already sky-high. 'Charlotte', if that is her name, is the jewel of the auction, and her price reflects it.

Several of the bidders have already been knocked out; the no-hopers, and those whose hopes were greater than their wallets. Some of the more grotesque of the bidders have also been outbid, including some of those making the crude comments and heckles of a few minutes ago. To my relief, the creep who shouted from the back of the room was knocked out of the bidding early.

But with a good two dozen of us still bidding, some physically present in the auction room, others by proxy, with agents indicating for them; and with the bids climbing in $1,000 increments, the price is steep and getting steeper.

Finchby looks pissed off. The bids are clearly higher than he either expected or possibly, budgeted for, and his expression is a mixture of fury and frustration...

Perhaps he's made promises he can't keep?

To some extent, I'll be happy simply to see him knocked out of the bidding. I've never met Charlotte, only seen her auction profile. With the best will in the world, most of my knowledge of her is pure fantasy and the more imaginative speculations of an older man watching a beautiful young girl. But at some level, I've connected with her, and I want to win the bidding, to take her back with me...

To lie between your thighs, spurt into you, while you gasp and whimper under me...

The set who seemed to be bidding as a group has dropped out, the pot too rich for them now, and one by one, the proxies stop bidding too.

With mounting excitement, I watch the monitor as the High Bid climbs ever higher. Some of the audience seem to be there only to watch. Is this how they get their kicks? If so, given the auction deposit, it's an expensive past-time. But plenty more do bid, and I see more remote bids coming in through the agents.

Each time Finchby raises his hand, I match him and he raises it, but now he's looking back over his shoulder to see who is competing against him, who is his opposition. There are still one or two others, but even they are beginning to waver.

"Any more bids, Gentlemen?" calls the auctioneer. Finchby falters, slowly raising his hand once more, but this time is outbid by someone I don't know, an Asiatic type. He bids again, but now a short fat man halfway down the hall raises a finger.

Finchby visibly curses, bids once more, but this time I bid against him. He looks furious, but as the auctioneer looks back at him, the question in his eye, shakes his head, as does the fat man.

The Asian is my last competitor and for another three or four bids, he raises against me, and I top him each time...

Is this how expected to spend the money from that contract?

No...

You're a fool, Man... After all these years, all that work, blowing your cash this way...

But I raise my hand again anyway.

This contract is only the first of many...

"Final offer, Gentlemen? I have the bidding with number 247 at the back." He looks at the Asian, who shakes his head. The hammer hovers then bangs down. "Sold! Number 247. Charlotte, come down to the office please."

Eyes wide, as if the reality of what she has just done is only now taking hold, she steps down to a cubical where, away from the crowd, I see her being given a document and instructed to read it. I can't hear her over the general hubbub, but I see her lips moving, reciting the words...

She can't say she doesn't know what she's agreed to...

... before she signs.

I push through the crowd, Finchby giving me a filthy look as I pass. I counter-sign the contract and pay, then turn to claim my 'goods'.

She looks like a deer about to bolt, if deer came with a sea of red hair and mermaid eyes. But she smiles at me nervously as her leash is placed in my hand.

"Nice to meet you, Charlotte," I say. "I'm your new Master for the week."

"Nice to meet you too." She looks down, swallowing her words.

I've paid a lot for you. Let's get this one straight from the start.

"Nice to meet you, Master." I give the leash a tug.

"Sorry, Master. Nice to meet you, Master."

You volunteered for this, and I've saved you from a lot worse than you'll get from me...

And I'm gonna fuck you every way it's possible to be fucked...

... and I'd love to share you. Watch you get fucked too...

Michael's words pass through my mind.…

Abuse...

Alright, Green-Eyes... Let's give you the option and an incentive, then it's your choice how far this goes.

"That's better," I say. "Now come with me. We're going to have a little chat."

There's an antechamber to the main auction room, stacked with old furniture and other sale goods. I seat myself in a carver chair, then survey my prize, still naked, collared and on her leash. She's trembling, and I don't think it's just from the chill.

Calm her down a little...

Not too much though. She walked into this with her eyes open...

... half-open at least...

"Don't worry. I'll let you put some clothes on before we go. But right now, I'm enjoying the view."

She doesn't speak, simply nodding. She's chewing on her lower lip and her fingers are bunched.

Ready to lash out?

You've still got some fight left, haven't you...

"On your knees, Charlotte."

Obeying me, she drops to the ground. It's not too graceful, but she's trying not to scrape her knees on the stone floor. Naked and leashed, she looks up at me with those incredible eyes. In almost any other face, the red hair would be her glory, but with those eyes...

Her pupils are like pinpricks; black dots in circles of jade.

Scared?

Of me...?

... Probably...

Let's cut to the chase.

I'm paying a lot of money here. Am I getting the genuine article?

"Are you really a virgin, Charlotte?"