For Sale by Owner

“Ladies and Gentlemen, now for the event we’ve all been waiting for. Our final auction item. For sale, by owner, Miss Ann.”

I should cringe at being advertised as an item, and probably also at being “auctioned off” and yet, there’s no mistaking how the term has my nipples tightening and my insides clenching. Thank God I’m wearing this frilly and oddly virginal outfit, if only for the time being. I’m sure it won’t last long.

I’m led by a collar attached to a lead with a brisk command to “walk”. Blindfolded, I’m unsure where. Once I’ve moved to my required position, a tug at my throat and an equally abrupt “stop,” halts me.

The mechanically enhanced voice resumes.

“Tonight’s item is a special treat. Miss Ann is a seasoned submissive, meticulously trained, and from well-bred stock.” The crowd laughs and I want to be embarrassed, but there’s already a puddle in my panties, so what’s another drop in the bucket?

“This auction item is a complete package. For a period of 24 hours, Miss Ann will be in your service, to do with as you please.” There’s no mistaking the lasciviousness of his words, or my reaction to them. If my nipples get any harder, they’ll soon cut right through the material designed to protect them. What I’m being protected from, I have no idea. I’m sure everyone in this room has at one time or another seen me naked. If not, they will soon enough. Of that, I have no doubt.

“Within that time, Miss Ann will be available to your every whim, according to the arranged guidelines and limits of her contract. Her owner describes her as a good girl who’s excellent at being bad.” The crowd delights in the innuendo. The MC waits for the volume to lower before resuming his sales pitch.

“Miss Ann is said to be an excellent cook, very attentive to her duties, and in possession a fabulously talented mouth.” More laughter which only increases when I lick my lips. Someone whistles, the cat call loud and clear.

“Other talents include being delectably flexible, boasting the stamina of an African gazelle, and apparently legs as long as one, as well,” the crowd dutifully chuckles along, but the MC doesn’t stop. “Her owner’s personal favorite,” the MC’s voice changes in imitation, “Miss Ann has been trained to orgasm on demand.” A cheer rings out, and it takes everything inside me to hold back my smile. That was a tough skill to learn, but I’m very proud of it.

“Let’s see what we’re buying,” a voice calls from the crowd. The blindfold makes it difficult to place a face or name, but I know it’s familiar. I’m sure Sir’s “friends” are mostly in attendance.

The frilly white bra that they packed me into is released and without being told, I let the garment fall to the floor. Impossibly, my nipples tighten further, almost painfully. And yet, I’m well aware it isn’t because I’m chilled. There’s no prospect of being cold under the heat of the spotlight. Or the intensity of the crowd’s gaze. I don’t know how many people are out there, watching, waiting, but each set of eyes sets a bit more of me on fire. Knowing that they’re observing me as an object, something to be used and thrown away, does nothing to quell my growing arousal.

“What do her nipples taste like?” I know this voice, it’s Sir’s, and so does everybody else, judging by the delighted slide from laughter to chortling that fills the room.

“Perhaps a member of the crowd would like to come up for a taste, and of course, let us know the outcome,” the MC’s electronic voice asks. The room hushes, but the rustle of fabric tells me people are moving.

“Yes, you. The pretty blond with the red lips. Yes. Please do us the favor of informing us how Miss Ann’s nipples taste.” More silent rustling, then suddenly, something warm and wet wraps around the pointed tip of my breast. And then she’s sucking. When her tongue flickers, teasing me tantalizingly, I release a wanton moan, then clamp my mouth shut when a fresh wave of laughter echoes around me. I almost pout when the hot mouth is gone, leaving my damp nipple to the elements of the room.

“So, what’s the verdict?” The MC asks.

“I’m not sure,” a cheery female voice responds. “Perhaps, I should try the other one, too?”

The MC’s laughter overrides everyone else’s, and I don’t hear his reply, but suddenly my other breast is sheathed in warmth, and my head is falling back as a soft tongue abuses it with precision.

Just as I get into her rhythm, she stops. My breath is ragged, chest heaving. She blows on the cooling tip before pulling away.

“She tastes slightly of cherries, with perhaps something that I can’t quite place. Maybe it’s just her natural flavor. Either way, her nipples are delicious.” The woman with the teasing tongue says.

The crowd applauds the volunteer, and the MC continues. “Do we have any other questions before we begin the bidding?” The MC’s words have barely finished ringing out when the next request comes.

“Show us her holes.” A new voice, a deep baritone, but still familiar.

“Oh, a wonderful request. It’s important to know what’s in the undercarriage before purchasing.” The audience thinks that innuendo is hilarious, but the MC doesn’t stop there. “Perhaps we should also see what she can handle?” The crowd cheers like he’s just announced they’ve all just won a jackpot.

I can no longer pretend I’m not aroused. The evidence is dripping down my thigh, even though my panties-if I can call the tiny lace covering that- are still in place. I’m turned brusquely, powerful hands holding me up when I stumble over my own feet. A hand presses on my upper back until I bend over, obediently grasping my ankles. With a tear, my innocent and yet somehow immodest G-string is wrenched from my center.

Without warning, a hand is on either ass cheek, then pulling them apart. Cool air rushes over my sensitive core, the contrast in temperature has me lifting on my toes, pushing my ass back so ensure greater contact with the palms holding me.

“Oh, so eager.” The MC confirms and the crowd roars. Then something thick and firm runs through my folds, the blunt tip pressing at my opening. It’s pushed forward then stalls. I cry out, in dire need of relief, and push back, trying to take what I require.

“Miss Ann seems to be extremely impatient. What should we start the bidding at?” To my delight the dull head is driven mercilessly slow inside me, but then again it stops. I bite my tongue to hold back my growl. The hidden operator of the offending object chuckles at my struggle.

“One thousand dollars!” This voice belongs to a woman, and the idea of being under another woman’s control for an entire day, has my channel spasming, a low moan escaping me. My depths are invaded, just the tiniest bit more.

“Two!” a second voice shouts as the operator of the blunt object invading my center pushes in one inch farther. The friction is delicious, and I try to push back to take some more, but a hand comes down abruptly, pausing my upward motion.

“She’s begging to be filled, ladies and gentlemen. Up on her toes, legs trembling. I can see her cunt spasming, yearning for someone to take her home. Who’s it going to be?”

“Three thousand.” The first bidder, the woman again. Even the hum of so many people speaking at once can’t disguise my whimper.

“Four.” A man this time, the voice definitely unknown. A stranger. The thought should scare me, but my libido doesn’t care as my core is invaded another inch, bringing my head back to the present.

“Six thousand dollars!” The crowd grows louder, people are yelling, the energy in the room a living force and yet all I am aware of is the imperceptible slide of something hard into where I am soft.

“Seven!” Finally, the object is buried inside me, but then at the same frustratingly unhurried speed, it is pulled out. My back arches and I cry out as I try futilely to push it back in. The MC grants me this one desire, only to pull out again.

“Nine!” In one swift push, I’m filled once again. My hips move of their own accord, grinding, thrusting, pleading.

“Ten thousand dollars!” Sir’s voice booms. Everyone and everything stops, except the relaxed thrusts of a foreign object in and out of my pussy. A telltale squelching fills the air, my moans following quickly behind. Confirmation that I’m loving every minute.

The crackle of the microphone breaks the erotic spell, followed by the MC’s tentative, “do we have any other bids?”

The angle is changed, pushing directly into a spot that has my eyes rolling and my toes curling. I begin to pant in my attempt to hold still and take each measured thrust.

“Come.” Sir’s voice resonates throughout the room. I clench around the object once, twice. It’s pulled out, pushed back in and then, fireworks ignite behind my eyes, and my knees go weak.

After the height of the bidding, the hush in the room seems impenetrable. No one dares speak for a breath, then two and then finally the MC says, “Good girl. Sold! For ten thousand dollars to the gentleman at table one. Please pay the ladies at the back and claim your winnings.

“That concludes our auction this evening. Thank you for all your continued support. All donations will go to the charities as you have specified. Enjoy the rest of the evening, whatever it may bring and please remember, don’t kink and drive. At least at the same time. Good night.”

***

“Was your fantasy everything you hoped it would be?” Sir asks when he removes the blindfold, claiming me from the stage.

“It was wonderful, Sir, but you didn’t have to spend so much money on me, I’m a sure thing,” I reply with a sly smile. “Although I’m sure it was for a good cause.”

“Indeed, it was.” He replies with a grin. “Let’s go home, so I can get what I paid for.”

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