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This year’s auction had been a steady stream of good-looking young male and female slaves, each one eagerly stepping up to the block and showing themselves off. His son, Christian, had been one of the first and had stood there naked except for a brief loin cloth, flexing his muscles to appreciative applause from the men and women of the audience. It was all in a good cause, the select member’s club was raising money for charity. The members sat, sprawled and lounged in elegant surroundings of the Meeting Room, a room that looked more like an old college library room than what was in effect a sex-club. The members were well dressed tonight, far more so than they normally would have been at this time of night, though ties had been loosened and dresses re-arranged for ‘comfort’. It had been an expensive night for Paul already, from the various contributions and spot purchases – not to mention what his wife had spent to buy their son. Toni had had to bid against several other women to buy Christian. But he knew it would make his wife happy and ultimately – he guessed – Christian would be pleased as well.
But now the last lot was approaching the auction block. Each of the previous ‘slaves’ had entered into the spirit of the event and dressed appropriately, wearing rags and slave clothes, and one of the girls – Joan – had actually presented herself stripped naked and wearing plastic manacles. She had stood on block her pleasantly sized breasts heaving as she glared ferociously at the audience, her pale blonde hair loose, and slightly dishevelled, the defiant look worked well, she was very inch the ‘captured slave’, despite the fact that she regularly served Paul at the local shop when he went for his Sunday papers. The bidding had become very fierce very quickly – Paul had not participated – and within a few minutes Joan had been sold back to her father for one thousand and three hundred pounds.
Antonia took the stage, and a hush fell on the room. Paul drew his breath sharply, he could feel his wife’s interest, as she sat next to him stroking Christian’s strong shoulders. He knew the outfit that his daughter was wearing was from one of the Star Wars films, but wasn’t sure precisely which one. The copper coloured bra cupped her full but well-shaped breasts exquisitely, while the long purple tab hanging from a golden plate on a chain at the front of her tummy emphasised her long and shapely legs. Around her neck a light collar with a fine chain hanging down between her breasts. As usual Tonia wore just enough make-up to highlight her eyes and lips, subtle, but effective. She was at one and the same time virginal and wanton – how the fuck do you carry a chain that sexily, Paul thought to himself.
As Antonia stepped on to the auction block Toni whispered, “Oh dear! This could get expensive!”
“Fuck, yeah!” Paul agreed.
His daughter looked magnificent as she posed – left foot forwards, her weight over her back foot. She reached her right arm behind her back and grasped her left arm at about the height of her elbow. The effect was to show off her hips and push her rounded breasts forwards. She gazed out over the audience, not meeting anyone’s eyes, looking – not staring into the darkness at the back of the room. Her head was turned slightly to one side, her right shoulder pulled slightly back by her pose to emphasise the shape of her jaw her graceful neck. Antonia’s grey eyes sparkled under the lights, her head was held high, the angle calculated precisely to make her look defiant but captured as well.
The bidding was ferocious at first and Paul bided his time, as the auctioneer rolled off the bids, directing people’s attention around the room. From chairs and couches hands were raised or a barely perceptible nod drove the amount onwards and upwards. Soon the bidding was down to two people – Colin McDonald, a large scots man in full formal highland dress (Toni had reliably informed Paul that Colin was naked under the kilt as all true scots should be), and Rachel Orton – who had recently shed several stones in weight, but none of her voluptuousness or sex appeal. The bid was just over fourteen hundred pounds when Colin McDonald shook his head.
“Fourteen hundred and thirty five pounds, going once?” Dave Bates, the auctioneer, intoned. “I have fourteen hundred and thirty five pounds in the room for this delightful slave going twice?”
Paul entered the bidding, “Fifteen hundred pounds!”
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have seen some stunning examples of slaves tonight, and this one is no exception, full and nicely shaped breasts, a fine pair of hips, and quite frankly the best bum I have seen all evening.” This last one drew a muted chuckle. “Surely we can do better than fifteen hundred pounds?”
Rachel Orton entered several more bids but Paul matched each one.
Finally Dave Bates offered it to the room, “Sixteen nine five going once? Sixteen nine five going twice? Three times?” When no more bids rose to his question the gavel tapped once signifying the end of the auction.
“Sold to the slave’s pendik escort sire for sixteen hundred and ninety five pounds!”
Antonia squealed with delight as her father stood and held out his hand towards her and she made her barefooted way down from the block across the plush carpet towards her father and mother. Reaching them Antonia gave a little curtsey, and unlike her brother who reclined on a large floor cushion next to his mother, she knelt on a small cushion next to her father. Paul rested his hands on her bare shoulders and beamed at the defeated bidders. Rachel and Colin both beamed back at him, and Colin raised a small glass of whiskey in salute.
The end of the auction signified the end of the formal events, and Paul felt it was time to take his wife, and their newly acquired slaves home.
Their driver appeared at the main entrance as the Corley family drew on heavy winter coats and went out into the night. It was beginning to snow gently.
Sat in the car with Antonia pressed close to him Paul thought about the last couple of weeks.
It had begun one Sunday morning in the large kitchen that was at the heart of Paul and Toni’s house. As Paul sat alone, combing through his usual stack of Sunday papers, he was surprised when his daughter greeted him by kissing his head from behind.
Paul looked at her over his reading glasses as she sat down opposite, pouring coffee from the café tier. His daughter had the face of an angel, the body of a young goddess, a sharp intellect and the instincts of a corporate lawyer.
“What?” Antonia asked her father.
“I was just wondering what my favourite daughter is doing up this early on a Sunday morning.”
“Can a girl not get up early and spend quality time with her father?”
Paul – who normally had the house to himself in those early Sunday hours – knew his daughter, and refused to be drawn. Instead he used Antonia’s tactics against her, diverting her attention with a question – “What do you want for your birthday, honey?”
“I’ve been thinking about it?”
“I’m not sure”
“Sure of what?”
“I’m not sure whether you’ll give it to me.”
“Do you love me daddy?”
Paul looked at her surprise, “Of course I do Tonia, why’d you ask?”
“Am I pretty?
“You’re absolutely stunning. But then again I may be biased, because I am your loving father.”
“If I asked for something outrageous for my birthday would you give it to me?”
“It would depend very much on what it was. Not_” Paul could see Antonia was getting ready to launch a series of incisive questions.
“Not because we don’t love you, but because sometimes we should not be allowed to have everything we want.” He carried on.
Antonia drew breath again.
“Because sometimes having everything we want is not good for us.” He interrupted.
“I know that daddy; you’ve always said that, but_”
“Tell me what it is Antonia, and I will tell you if you can have it or not.”
Paul’s daughter leaned over and whispered – even though they were the only two in that part of the house.
When she had finished, Antonia kissed her father on the cheek.
“Oh!” Paul looked at his daughter, for a long minute, non-plussed. “Well!”
Paul took another drink from his juice. He looked at Antonia again. “Hum!”
“The first thing I have to say,” he eventually went on, “Is – I’m honoured. Very.
“Honoured you came to ask me, and surprised and more than a little pleased you’re asking and a little bewildered that it’s not already happened before. But that is so like you Tonia.
“But is there not a young man who can do it for you, honey? What about that lad – what’s his name_?”
“No daddy, I want it to be you. I want it to be as good as it can be and I want you to do it.”
Paul sat and thought for a few minutes, “Me?” he asked her again, Antonia nodded.
“I’ve heard you and mummy…” she let the sentence trail off into silence.
“In that case,” Paul told her, after some thought, “It is something I will have to speak to your mother about.”
Toni Corley threw her leg over Paul’s hips, impaling herself on his hard cock. Pushing back she pressed her hips down until he filled her, slowly she ground her hips around it. Paul drew her head down towards him and kissed her sensual mouth. Toni picked up the pace and she raised herself up, so that she was screwing her husband up and down, Paul raised his hands up and tweaked her nipples, letting his wife’s movement rub her nipples up and down against his palm.
Toni came heavily, moaning loudly.
Paul gazed at his wife, she was sexy, and sensual with a strong adventurous streak. Just past the big four-oh, both of them were in excellent condition, toned without being buffed. Active and healthy, they enjoyed a healthy and, frankly, interesting sex life. She and Paul had both had lovers, in and out of the marriage. Toni had a strong bisexual side, which Paul had witnessed several times, and Toni had seen his maltepe escort – once.
“What’s the matter?” Toni asked him as she lay draped across his chest.
“Have you talked to Tonia about her eighteenth birthday present?”
“No. What does she want?”
Paul told her.
“Oh! She does, does she?” Toni exclaimed. “And are you going to do it?”
“I don’t know.” Paul told her honestly, “There’s a lot to think about. For a start there’s the fact that it’s illegal.”
“And that’s the biggy is it, not the fact that it’s a huge taboo?” his wife asked him, smiling.
“Well yes, it IS a taboo!”
“And of course we NEVER break taboos, do we?” Toni laughed, but her laughter was brief and gentle, she could see how serious Paul was about this.
“Look,” she told him, “Tonia knows what she wants, that girl is an old head on a young body. She’s thought about this a lot. Which means it’s down to whether we want to?”
“Well of course, but _ but you know I really can’t refuse her anything.”
“Bollocks!” His wife laughed. “It’s all about you and my beautiful daughter. Though I suppose she wants the best and not a quick fumble in the back of a car.”
“Could be!” Paul smiled back. “But don’t tell me you wouldn’t jump Chris’s bones if you got the chance.”
Toni didn’t answer immediately, kissing Paul.
“You would!” He laughed, “You bloody would!”
Toni blushed and ran her hands across her husband’s abs in distraction, “But it’s wrong, so very, very wrong,” she said, as her hand slid lower and started to fondle Paul’s cock.
Enjoying his wife’s soft hands on his knob, Paul leaned over and nibbled his wife’s ears, making her shudder at the touch of his lips. “I could live with it, and I think Chris could.”
“If I did Chris as you put it,” she told him in her sexy, purring voice, “That would mean you could then give Tonia her birthday present, you horny bastard!” Toni laughed, leaning forwards and licking the top of his cock as it showed in her hand.
“Well I suppose as you put it like that_” Paul groaned as his wife slid her mouth over the head of his cock.
“Mum? What’s this?” Tonia walked into the kitchen waving a flyer. Toni paused in finishing the pie she was making and flicked a strand of hair from her face.
“Oh it’s something at the club.”
“The “Club”? Your famous club? Where all sorts of interesting things happen? It says it’s a Slave auction – who are you auctioning and why?”
Her mum grinned, “Yes THAT club, I thought you might be interested. We do it every year, individuals volunteer to be auctioned off to the highest bidder for a period of twenty-four hours and the proceeds go to charity. This year it’s open to younger people – as long as they’re related to members and they’re at least eighteen, and we thought you and Chris might want to have a go. It would help you if you wanted to be members later.”
Tonia’s eyes sparkled, she had heard rumours about the Club. Every month or so her mum and dad would leave for the evening and return, most times in the early morning, but sometimes later the next day. Tonia had seen her mum looking as if she had had a very, very good time.
“And you’d be okay with that?”
“I think so.” Her mum nodded.
“And you’d let someone bid for me?”
Toni nodded again, pressing the edges of the pie’s pastry together, in a scalloped pattern.
“What happens if someone wins you in the auction?”
Toni washed the crust with beaten egg and pierced the top of the pie, “It’s very much something you have to decide for yourself. I mean you are expected to do some things, otherwise why stand? But you do get to say what. Not that it’s likely to be an issue.” She placed the pie in the oven.
“How do you mean? ” Tonia asked, intrigued.
“Well – at eighteen you can make your mind up about that.”
“But what if I didn’t like the person who bought me?”
“Do you honestly think your father would let someone else buy you?” She smiled, at her daughter’s astonishment. And then she dropped the bomb, “And it strikes me that a night like that would probably be a good time for you to celebrate your birthday with a late present.”
Wiping her hands on a cloth Toni left her daughter standing open mouthed in the kitchen.
All in all, Antonia believed, growing up with her brother had been a generally painless process. Christian was an enormously useful person – he was good with technology, had a vast knowledge of films and an extensive collection. He had impeccable taste in music and he was physically imposing, having spent the last few years rowing for their school and working in a local builders’ yard over the summer and at weekends. Tonia was always careful to make sure that she looked after Christian – not that he needed too much help – several of her friends had been seen out with her brother because she had suggested him as a possible date.
The two were very comfortable together; they were used to being naked with each other, and had been kartal escort so since they were small. So when Tonia walked – semi clad – into Chris’s room to get help with her costume, ie how to squeeze her full breasts into the shaped cups of the bra, he didn’t bat an eye.
“Help!” She said. “I can’t get ‘these’,” Tonia pouted, “Into those shallow cups.” She cupped her boobs and showed the bra to Christian. Tonia’s breasts had been an issue for her since they had developed, and she had a love-hate relationship with them. The ‘Girls’, as she called them, had arrived not long after her thirteenth birthday and she had gone from a training bra to a 32D almost overnight. She had been shocked when she found that some girls acted bitchily towards her because of them, and sometimes, well, sometimes they just got in the way. They did attract boys, but while Tonia wasn’t against being in a relationship she had not yet met anyone who she was THAT into.
Christian took the bra from her and began to ease the metal with his strong fingers, his sister sighed “I wish they were smaller.”
“Never say that Ton, they’re just right. They’re not too big and not too small and they complement your figure beautifully.” Tonia grinned shyly at her big brother as he gently pressed the metal decorations of the bra with his thumbs, easing them so they didn’t curve so sharply. “Try that now!”
“Ooh that’s so much better Chris,” Tonia told him as she fitted her boobs into the bra. It was filled nicely now and they showed at the sides as they sought to escape. “Now they’ll stay in.”
“Carrie Fisher had the same problem with hers in ‘Jedi’. They kept falling out too. But hers probably weren’t as big as yours. You are going to rock this outfit.”
“So what are you wearing for this auction Chris?”
Christian reached down by his chair and handed her a plastic supermarket bag. When Tonia looked inside there were several pieces of leather.
“What is it?” She asked him.
Christian took it out of the bag and showed her a large piece of soft chamois leather, and a second piece that had been braided to make a cord. “It’s just a simple loin cloth, pull it on under your ‘nads, pull up the front and the back, tie it around the waist and there you go.”
“Did you make it?”
“Me and Carly.”
“Carly?” Tonia was astounded at her friend, who was considered to be quiet and bookish.
“What can I say? She’s got a thing about jungle girls and Tarzan, so she helped me make it.”
“Can I see it on?” Tonia deliberately bit her lower lip between her teeth. It usually worked on Christian.
“Yeah.” He told her, Tonia smiled; her brother was very easy on the eye, “At the auction!” Christian laughed. “Now go on – I’ve got stuff to do.”
The night of the auction arrived. The ‘slaves’ arrived with their sponsoring members and were immediately segregated in an ante room. A club committee member explained the rules to them and gave them a run down about what was acceptable – though, she pointed out laughing, it was very much a set of guidelines and the slaves could discuss this with their purchasers.
Antonia was surprised by how many people she knew, and even more by some of the costumes. It wasn’t what they revealed but rather who they revealed. Christian with whom she was quite familiar, looked very imposing in his loin cloth. His shaggy blonde hair made him the archetypical jungle boy, but standing quietly next to him in an incredibly skimpy leather bikini costume was her friend Carly, barely covering her nipples and just about concealing her mons. Tonia was fairly certain her friend was shaven. The brown haired girl wore a leather head band and copper bangles on her arms, and she stood very close to Christian. He offered her little touches of assurance every so often. Tonia was happy with this pairing they made such a good couple.
Joan from the newsagents started to undress and carried on going. Tonia knew Joan reasonably well from seeing her at school and behind the counter of the paper shop, but when Joan finished stripping and stood chatting with them unconcerned by her own nudity – complementing Tonia on her costume – Tonia realised that she would have to revise her opinion of the fierce looking girl. Joan was less well-endowed than Tonia and said so enviously, but Tonia envied Joan’s athletic, almost muscular, physique, tanned with a dark-eyed make-up that highlighted her eyes when she glared. Joan casually swung a set of plastic manacles in her hand.
The evening went quietly, there was soft music, nibbles and drinks for the slaves while the members of the club held their fund-raising evening. Carly and Christian were sat together on a couch, and one of the other boys – dressed in just a pair of brief sports shorts – homed in on Tonia wanting to talk Star Wars because of her costume, but Joan intervened and shut him down. The two girls sat together and chatting quietly about what was going to happen. Joan’s parents were members, like Tonia’s, but unlike Tonia, the blonde girl was less focused on the outcome, she was looking forwards to the uncertainty of the auction. When Tonia asked her about what she was prepared to do when she was bought, Joan took a drink and smiled out from under her dishevelled blonde hair, “No limits!” she told her.
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