Week 2: Wednesday, 12th Dec 2029, Afternoon

Lisa finished with a practiced flick of her tongue, gathering every trace with dutiful care. The muffled drone of the auction’s return buzzed just beyond the booth’s thin door, reminder that spectacle and ceremony ticked on, indifferent to private afterglows. She reached across the duvet, slender fingers seeking a tissue.

“Girl, What exactly do you think you're doing?” My tone was light, but carried enough edge to make her freeze.

She paused, glancing up with the smallest frown. “Sorry, Master? I was just tidying myself. Unless… do you still require my service?”

“Tidying?” I grinned, letting the pause hang. “Are you embarrassed there’s my cum inside you?”

She shook her head, earnest and a touch defensive. “No, Master. Not at all. I thought I should keep myself presentable for occasions like this.”

“Usually, yes. But not today.” I watched realization slowly bloom behind her eyes.

The moment stretched. “I… may I ask why?”

I leaned forward, enjoying the hint of awkwardness in her gaze. “Because I want every pair of eyes in that room to see what’s happened to the former custodian. Let them wonder. Let them know exactly who owns you now.”

There was the tiniest flicker of shy pride beneath her blush as she nodded. “As you wish, Master. But, if I may… when I knelt beside you earlier, your point was made."

I laughed, low and easy. "Maybe. But how will they know for sure unless there’s evidence”I gestured teasingly at her trembling thighs and ruined stockings, "dripping down your legs the entire second half?"

Color scalded her cheeks, yet her answer was steady. "Of course, Master, if that’s what you want, then nothing could please me more."

I watched Lisa compose herself, her dress still disheveled and thighs glistening, the unmistakable signature of ownership left slick along her skin. As we rejoined the flow back toward the auction hall, Janus intercepted us with a sly grin, eyes darting from Lisa’s stained legs to my unbothered stance.

“Two hundred grand? You never struck me as the cautious kind,” he murmured, all amusement and calculation.

I shrugged. “Small change. Besides, that little Asian was too cute to pass up.”

Janus arched a brow, half-mocking. “Which, there were two, right? Or is my memory failing me? I'm not a buyer today, just here to make sure logistics runs smooth.”

I grinned, stepping closer so he’d catch the low, confessional undertone. “The shorter one, Janus. Imagine pinning her down on a sofa, filling her tight little hole while the other three keep sentry, **** to hold formation and pretend they’re not hearing their teammate's moans. That’s the kind of scenario which makes you stop counting credits.”

Janus let out a low whistle. “You really do know how to pitch.”

I offered a wink. “Best in the trade.”

Before Janus could volley more banter, the auctioneer’s distinctive gavel cracking against wood, summoned silence throughout the chamber.

“Ladies and gentlemen! I trust you made good use of the break. Apologies it was so brief, but the business of pleasure waits for no man. Save your stamina, you might need them to break in new spoils tonight. If there are no special requests, shall we get back underway?”

I lifted my voice from our corner, drawing a theatrical arc with my arm toward the faint, viscous trail threading beneath Lisa’s knees. “Clean up at aisle nine!” The room’s laughter rolled and the spotlight found Lisa, my seed streaking her thighs, some already pooling on the polished floor.

The auctioneer surveyed the scene with an arched grin. “Wait, Lisa, isn't it? A fellow Utopian Orphanage graduate! How wonderful to see you've found your true calling, standing there with your master's cum dripping from your holes.” The crowd roared; a few heads nodded in recognition, others in hungry approval.

Lisa, despite the carnality painted down her legs, straightened her back and fixed her gaze forward, pride shining behind her embarrassment. The Orphanage's curriculum emphasized sexual service as fundamental, no **** was considered complete without full submission to her master's desires. She'd clearly internalized that philosophy.

A staffer hurried over, mop and tissues in hand. She knelt, dabbing at the evidence, while discreetly handing Lisa a stack of tissues. Lisa raised uncertain, demure eyes to me, a question as much as a plea. I chuckled, gave her a nod. Finally, she lifted her skirt to swipe at her slick thighs, giving the watchers an unobstructed view of her glistening, well-used sex. I caught more than a few glances, hungry, envious, appraising. That flash of embarrassment and pride mingling on Lisa’s face. Perhaps public displays had merit after all, as long as I wasn't the one on exhibition.

I settled back into my seat, Lisa resuming her kneeling position with practiced grace.

The auctioneer’s grin widened as she reclaimed the stage. “Let’s move swiftly, less time haggling, more time savoring,” she quipped, waving in a handler who wheeled center a gleaming cage. Inside, a woman blanched to near translucence, skin untouched by sun, hair white as salt. Even from a distance, there was an eerie, manufactured perfection to her pallor, unnatural, mesmerizing, but a touch unnerving.

“An albino today,” the Auctioneer announced, crooking a finger at the bars, “not merely natural, but bespoke, refined by the Gilded Hand, bred to preserve all the beauty, none of the flaws.” Her lips curved in sly warning. “Though I’ll say this, if you fancy public sex in the garden, best look elsewhere. Sun’s still her worst enemy.”

Muted laughter, tinged with fascination and unease. I kept my paddle lowered, novelty has its price, but my tastes ran elsewhere. The bidding was subdued, clocking in a modest 40k. Not a disaster for a single offering, and the auctioneer let none of it ruffle her.

“White’s not in vogue, it seems,” she tossed off, mischief flickering in her glance. “But don’t fret, there’s plenty more that might catch your fancy.”

Next, two identical girls entered, naked and hand-in-hand, moving with a fluid, mirrored precision that was almost alien. The auctioneer gestured, and a staff member swept a thick curtain between them, drawing fresh attention. “This time, I’ll show rather than tell,” she purred. Approaching one, she squeezed the left breast. “Tell us, what am I touching?”

The answer piped out, not from the girl in question, but from her twin: “My breast, Mistress.”

“Which side?”

“Left.”

A finger pressed against the first’s anus. “And this?”

The reply chimed from her sister: “My asshole, Mistress.”

The auctioneer beamed. “Usually they hit seventy percent accuracy. Raised from birth to be a perfect match, looks, training, even responses. It’s said even their handlers get confused, and the fun part? Fuck one, and the other feels the thrust.”

Some nearby bidders guffawed. They weren’t my type though, doesn't pass my beauty check but in a world hungry for spectacle, twin dynamism sells. The gavel hammered down at 350k, a record for a simple pair, grossly overpriced just for synchronized moaning, in my opinion.

The auctioneer’s tone turned teasing. “For everyone who likes a threesome but hates the extra work, for this pair you only have to fuck one.”

A fresh chorus of laughter; elsewhere, envy and calculation flickered in the eyes of rival bidders as the twins retreated.

“Now,” the auctioneer continued, “a collection with a dynamic all its own.” Three new slaves were ushered on stage, a trio whose differences were sharper for being announced together: a tall, sharply pretty sissy in a chastity cage, an older woman in conservative attire, and a willowy, anxious girl just pass the age of majority.

“This lot's special,” the auctioneer said, preempting a few skeptical scoffs from the crowd. “First, our star: Daddy, so feminized, that without prior knowledge, would you have guessed her biological sex?."

From the seats, a heckler couldn’t resist: “The cage is a dead giveaway!” Laughter rippled out, pointed but friendly.

The auctioneer smirked, unfazed. “A fair point. But could you believe how long she stayed locked? Five years, that cage never left her cock, if that thing can be called a cock to begin with. Second, our mummy, ideal for household duties, obedience guaranteed. And finally, their daughter.” Her gaze flicked across the hungry faces. “Imagine the possibilities: bend Daddy over while Mummy tidies the room, cuck the wife while the sissy **** to supervise, break the daughter in while her parents hold her hand, giving instructions and words of encouragement. And for you collectors, yes, the daughter’s still a virgin.” That line drew a burst of murmured appreciation, lewd and greedy.

Not my selection, the dynamic too contrived, the daughter too green, the parents too tired. Still, the room responded, and when the gavel fell at 300k credits, it was clear that taboo sells.

"Well then, let’s send our dear family off to their next adventure. After all, home is where the family is, and hopefully they'll settle comfortably into their new roles and residence."

A crisp rap of the gavel, and the house lights widened on the next lot: four figures, hands cuffed but polished, attractive, and clearly accustomed to attention even in their current restraints.

The auctioneer’s grin sharpened. "No need for introductions here, four social media influencers, the least popular among them boasting over one million followers. Wouldn’t it be poetic if they fetched a million today? Go on, make history."

Skeptical whistles rippled through the crowd. Popularity commanded premium pricing, certainly, but a million seemed ambitious.

She let the tension simmer, then leveled her gavel. "All right, let’s skip the hype and let your credits do the talking. We’ll start at one hundred thousand, increments of ten. Show us your clout."

"Two hundred," I announced, my voice calm in the sudden hush. I didn’t recognize the faces, didn’t care to, but this was the fourth and likely final offering today. Four high-value trophies, well-groomed and polished, their appeal undeniable, plus it will leave a lasting memory.

"Two-fifty," countered the familiar female bidder, her tone clipped, determined.

"Five hundred," I replied, savoring the ripple of shock that roiled the crowd. Silence snapped down over the room.

"Sold!" the auctioneer declared, not bothering to prolong a contest already won. "Enjoy your prize, sir. And if you plan to break them in tonight, might I suggest streaming? Their fans will want to watch their … content rebranding." The laughter this time was edged with envy, the undertone of a market watching its latest icons tumble into flesh and submission.

The auctioneer lifted her gaze, voice ringing out: "I could call the auction ended, but one final lot remains. And what a finish, when I saw what we’d secured this season, even I was surprised. Are you ready?"

A wave of cheers, loud but unfocused.

"No, no, that won’t do. ARE YOU READY?" she roared. The crowd erupted, anticipation suddenly feverish.

"Are your wallets ready?" A few shouts, a scattering of nervous laughter, bidders and watchers alike bracing for the spectacle.

The auctioneer stepped from the podium, center-stage in the full spill of light. Without preamble, she shrugged her coat from her shoulders and let it puddle at her ankles. Fully nude, the image of poise, muscle and curve and flawless skin. The silence before the storm hung for a heartbeat, then hungry eyes devoured every angle.

"The final lot, Seraphina Kensington," she announced, cupping her breasts, voice proud and wicked. "DD-cup, firm and eager." She turned, offering her ass, eyes glittering with challenge. "Refined curves, just the right balance of give and bite." Then, her hand slipping brazenly between her thighs, parting her sex for every buyer to see, voice dissolving into a purr: "And this, barely used. Only twice by my last master." Rolling to her knees, she presented her final asset with brazen confidence. "Plus one untouched entrance, awaiting my new owner's exploration."

She knelt and bared herself fully, the **** spread more performance than submission, before standing with a teasing wink. "Beauty might be skin deep, but I go deeper. Graduate of the Utopian Orphanage, dual doctorates in **** Psychology and Ethical **** Breaking, former instructor. You can fuck both my holes and my intellect." She grinned and the crowd howled.

"You know who I am, what I bring. Bidding begins at one hundred, increments of ten. Don’t insult me with hesitation." The words were a challenge and a dare.

"Two hundred!" came a shout, thick with urgent need.

The auctioneer, or Seraphina, laughed, tweaking her breasts for the stage lights. "Two hundred? For a pair of tits like this? Don’t be shy, boys. You’re not just bidding for my body, you’re bidding for what I represent. My name, my knowledge, my legacy. Surely worth more than pocket change?"

"Two-fifty!" Another call, voices now overlapping with desire.

"Four hundred!"

"Four hundred, going once. mind you, the daughter of the Utopian Orphanage’s founder up for grabs. You’re fucking more than me, you’re fucking an idea. That can’t come cheap."

"Five hundred!"

I leaned forward, spoke into the sudden hush. "One million."

A gasp rippled through the hall. A few murmurs, but none followed. Seraphina flashed her brightest smile, eyes warm with private satisfaction. "Now there’s a man who understands real value. Can’t wait to be fucked beside my fellow Utopian graduate. Lisa, hope you’re ready for alumni night. Any other challengers?"

"1.1," came a wavering voice, hopeful but unsure.

"1.5," I said. No hesitation. That killed the room dead.

Seraphina’s gavel dropped instantly. "Sold, to the vision and the audacity. One-point-five million! Congratulations, Master, on your taste, and your deep pockets."

A silent signal to the staff, a quick verification, then, assured, she sashayed off the dais, walking past stunned faces before settling gracefully to her knees in the aisle beside me.

She tossed the crowd a final smile. "Sorry boys, you’ll have to find a new auctioneer. My sweet ass has an owner now." Her laughter was the last raucous cheer of the day, excitement and envy mingling as the curtain fell on another market.

An auction’s end, but for Seraphina, and for me, only anticipation awaits.