The auction begins

The mansion was exquisitely decorated with fine Persian rugs and tapestries covering carved and smoothed marble floors. Statues, no doubt original artifacts from history, lined the hallway; and this was just the servant's entrance. The air was perfumed with incense and cool. I could see other men with other girls lounging in the main hall on leather and berber couches. The women and girls were gorgeous and from all corners of the globe. Japanese women sat demurely at the feet of rough looking, dusky skinned men while South American girls who had to be barely of legal age were being used as footstools.

A beautiful woman from Africa kneeled beside a fat, bearded Arab in aviator sunglasses smoking a cigar. Her large breasts jutted proudly and exposed from her athletically lithe body. He laughed at some remark or another made by the man across from him, and ashed into her open mouth. If this was the "better" market, I couldn't imagine what the desert market must be like.

"Do not worry. Those men are the sellers with their personal property. The buyers are masked and waiting within." Omar whispered to me. My heart was pounding as we passed them. The fat man with the cigar grinned and choked on his smoke as he coughed and laughed as I walked by. He nodded his approval and said something to Safi. Safi smiled and replied, motioning to me. The man leaned forward, and lifted my right breast, feeling its weight and firmness. His other hand, the one with the cigar, slid between my legs. I held my breath as he inspected my shaven sex, pushing my lips apart with the unlit end of it, sliding it in slowly and withdrawing it. He brought it to his mouth, licking my juices from the paper with a broad, dry tongue. A short conversation end with the man shrugging and Omar looking and sounding perturbed. I didn't need to know Arabic to understand what the man was asking. He released my breast and lay back on the couch, and I was finally able to exhale.

I could hear sitar music coming from the main hall ahead. Either side of the door was flanked by large, stern looking men in designer suits. One of them asked a question, and before Safi could speak, Omar put his arm through mine and replied. Safi grumbled, and went to join the men back in the lounge. Omar led me into the main hall, and I saw the other girls.

I've always prided myself on my appearance, but some of these women were almost angelically beautiful. A blonde from Scandinavia and wide hipped woman from India, Columbian goddesses, and adorably sensual women from Japan and Korea; over half a dozen in all, were waiting inside. They all wore similar dress and jewelry to mine, some with diamonds and gold and knelt on silk pillows. I was up against some very serious competition. Omar led me to an empty pillow, and motioned for me to sit. I knelt beside them, and looked up. On the balcony were men. Men wearing Venetian masks, turbans covering their faces, or blank theater masks lined the rails. Some wore expensive Armani jackets, others the traditional dress of a Sheikh, others the insignia of great generals. Omar patted me on the shoulder, and took his place next to dusty men in a row of seats at the end of the hall.

A tall, handsome Arabic man entered the hall leading another girl to another pillow. She was attractive, no doubt, but not as finely dressed as I nor as naturally attractive. The next, even less so. It dawned on me that we had been let in in order what they considered the highest value. Three more women were led in, and the doors were closed.

A man stood from the row of chairs, and greeted the audience. Their expressions were hidden, and only nodded in response. The first woman, the blonde, was presented. She stood nearly 6' tall, and was covered in jewels and the finest silk. The man directed his questions upward to the men. One of them raised a hand, then another, then another. The bidding had began. Those three stayed in place while the rest stepped backward into the shadows. One of them held a card with Arabic characters written on it. The seller nodded, and whispered something to her. She looked alarmed, then resigned. He pulled her skirt aside and turned her around, displaying her athletically toned ass to the men. Another held up another card, and he smacked it hard. She winced as his handprint left a bright red mark on her snow white skin. One of the men stepped back into the shadows, as the other two resumed bidding. Within a minute, one of them stepped back, and the blonde was led up the stairs. She looked back at the rest of us, a worried look on her face. I met her eyes, and offered a weak smile of sympathy.

And so it went. Woman after woman was displayed, some being bid on again and again while others were almost given away it seemed. The sellers groped them, had them display their mouths and their bodies. The Columbian woman was excited when her turn came. She shifted sensually from foot to foot, arching her back as she danced for them. When the bidding was done, she went to one of the men in the Armani suits. The cards requesting displays ranged from the seemingly innocent as the wiggling of toes to the **** of being choked by a belt while fingers were roughly pushed into their throats, and seemed to be getting more and more **** as time went on. The woman from India was made to suck the seller's short, fat cock and swallow his cum before anyone bid on her. She performed so well that a fierce bidding war between a man in a suit and one of the military men ensued. Finally, Omar stood up and stood beside me.

I didn't understand what all he said as I stood beside him, but he turned me around slowly, displaying my body in hints and peeks. He ran his hand through my long red hair and along my cheek. Four of them stayed in the light. The first card came up from a man in Saudi clothing with his face covered by a turban. Omar squinted to read it, and whispered to me...