Auction

• My dear friends, for their first BDSM dance, we are going to organize a small auction for these young ladies. The proceeds raised will go to the winner of the competition. She put a sort of collar on each of us with a number. I was number 6 and Emma was number 5.

Sylla had the first number. Her breasts were voluptuous, framed by her long black hair. She swayed, seductive, playing along. The bidding began. Sylla had the first number. Her breasts were voluptuous, framed by her long black hair. She swayed, seductive, playing along. The bidding began.

A master with a face carved in roughness was the first to raise a leather-gloved finger. "Fifty pounds for the one who dares to defy me with her gaze." His raspy voice made Sylla shiver, her hardened nipples betraying her excitement despite the feigned insolence.

"One hundred pounds for number one," called a cold, authoritative female voice, as a woman in a tight-fitting leather dress stood up, a whip casually swinging between her fingers. Sylla blushed under the stares, her chained ankles twitching as the housekeeper rotated her torso to better expose it.

"One hundred and fifty," countered a man in a velvet mask, tracing a slow circle with his index finger on the back of the neck of a **** kneeling at his feet. She finally settled for two hundred and fifty pounds.

The second, Min Mei, a wonderful Asian woman I had worked with on a lesbian BDSM mission, also stepped forward, but with timidity and reserve. It was her character she was developing; the clients loved that innocence.

Min Mei lowered her eyes, her long eyelashes shadowing her cheeks as a shiver ran through her golden skin. The murmurs grew louder when a master in a black silk vest stood up, an ebony cane twirling between his fingers.

"Two hundred pounds for this flower that trembles so beautifully," he announced, the tip of his cane brushing the air in front of her small breasts. She held her breath, her leather bracelets creaking slightly as she clenched her fists.

A woman with two female slaves, dressed like dogs, raised the bid for two hundred and fifty pounds while playing with a riding crop.

Min Mei's breath quickened as the woman with the riding crop caressed her collarbone, the leather cool against her red skin. A murmur rippled through the crowd as another bidder—a broad-shouldered figure in a tailored vest—held up two fingers. "Three hundred." Her voice was soft, steady, the kind that promised both cruelty and precision. The riding crop stilled as the woman hesitated, her painted lips curving into a smirk before she shrugged and sat back down, yielding.

The pace quickened when it was Emma's turn,

The pace quickened when it was Emma's turn, her hips barely swaying under the heated gaze of the assembled masters. The chains on her wrists clinked softly as she lifted her chin, her lips parted in an expression both provocative and fragile. Her resemblance to a star from whom she took her name earned her a bid of 450 from a man who looked a bit like Lucius Malfoy, who clearly found it interesting to make this doppelganger scream.

Then it was my turn, I stepped forward, my heart pounding, playing my Lolita character, falsely shy, but whose body language betrayed a perversity inviting the worst torments.

The masters' eyes were fixed on me, languid, my lowered eyelashes barely concealing the vicious glare in my eyes. A shiver ran down my thighs as the chains pulled my wrists forward, exposing the provocative curve of my arched back.

"Five hundred pounds for the little demon who plays innocence so well."

The raspy voice came from a man in a patent leather mask, his gloves creaking as they tightened around a crystal glass.

"Six hundred," the counterbid cracked like a whip, coming from a raised box where a darkly attired figure stood, his ringed fingers casually tapping a Malacca rush riding crop. An electric silence fell over the room.

When a final challenge came from two twins with grimaces that boded nothing good, the twins leaned forward, their twin silhouettes silhouetted against the candlelight, their twin smiles revealing overly sharp canines.

"Seven hundred pounds," they murmured in unison, their voices honeyed and synchronized as if they were one.

Silence fell; I was awarded this price to this disturbing duo. The twins' hands simultaneously closed on my chains, their cold fingers sliding along the bonds like snakes on silk. The leather creaked as they pulled, forcing me to stagger forward toward their dressing room, which was made of only three sections of wall but completely visible to the rest of the room, my bracelets biting cruelly into my skin with every movement.

A murmur ran through the crowd as one of them ran a too-pink tongue over my lips, his brother casually lifting a handful of my hair to bury his nose in it with satisfaction.

• Hmm, twice the pain and pleasure just for you, that's a good start, isn't it?

The other twin's fingers closed around the back of my neck, his nails digging in just enough to elicit a moan from between my clenched teeth.

“Seven hundred pounds well spent,” murmured the one who still smelled of my hair, his voice low and vibrant like a wild animal’s purr.