Chapter 6: Chapter Six

One Week Later.

Sam.

As I sit curled in the oversized armchair by the fireplace in my softly glowing pink room, I smile. But I let the smile fall from my face.

“I can’t stay here.” I have spent the past week watching my friends paired off happily and planning their futures, their weddings, and playing with their children. My heart aches every day for those things.

Standing, I cross to the pile of dirty laundry on the floor by the closet and dig through it, looking for my black jeans. When I find them, I slide my hand into the pocket and search around for the small scrap of paper.

“Where is it?” I grumble, unable to find it at first, but finally, my fingers close around it in the other pocket.

Pulling out the scrap, I unfold it gently and read over the phone number written on it. Before making the call, I decide I need to find Melody and ask her what she thinks. I don’t want her to think that I am ungrateful to her for letting me stay here and that I am running away.

When I come down the stairs to the grand hall, I see Melody sitting in a chair at the massive table that takes up most of the floor space in the center. Papers piled around her, she looks engrossed in her work and I don’t want to disturb her, so I turn to go.

“No! Don’t do that,” she calls to me and I turn back and see her rising from her seat and coming towards me. “Come down here and tell me what is on your mind, chica. Something has been stuck in your craw all week. I want to know what it is.”

“Dammit,” I mutter to myself under my breath as I head down the stairs the rest of the way towards my friend. Settling into one of the twin chairs covered in green floral patterns by the fireplace, Melody motions for me to join her.

“It’s not stuck in my craw.” I glare at her, and she purses her lips at me.

“Sure as hell seems like it is.” Her honest response makes me think it through. I have been resentful of watching them all getting their happily-ever-afters.

“I’m thinking about something.” Reaching into my pocket, I fidget with the scrap of paper there. “I saw a flyer at the club when we were there for the party on New Year’s Eve.”

Melody leans forward, her elbows on her knees, and looks at me, concern filling her eyes. “What flyer? What was it for?”

“For a ninety-day total power exchange auction.” I’m direct when I tell her, trying to keep my emotions out of it.

“Sam” —she looks at me closely now— “is this about Colin?”

“Of course it is!” I shout at her, tears filling my eyes. “But, it isn’t. This would give me an opportunity to move past that. Give me the chance to make a little cash and maybe meet someone.”

“But a TPE auction, for ninety days, Sam? Three months is a long time. Who knows what kind of creep you could end up with? Have you really thought this through?” Melody shifts in her chair and leans back, chewing on her thumbnail. “I just want to make sure you’ve thought about this. I know you’re okay with a TPE and that you could handle it. But are you sure?”

***

Alec.

I stand around the corner, listening to the women’s conversation. Thinking through my options. While I have no issue pushing Sam in the right direction, I refuse to take away her free will in this matter.

Glancing up, I look around the area, wondering if Ocoee is here and how much help he can give me in this situation. My old friend can move among the plains unseen while I stick out like a sore thumb here in Finn’s home, eavesdropping on the conversation being had feet from me.

When his purple eyes appear before me, I nod and signal Ocoee to listen. I turn and exit the hall, not wanting to be discovered. My friend will report back once her decision is made. Pausing, I turn and wave my hand in the air, sending an idea to Melody. Hoping that it will be just enough of a nudge to accomplish my goals.

***

Sam.

“I have,” I tell her. “I just wanted to talk it through with you because I didn’t want it to seem like I was ungrateful to you for letting me stay here. I hope you will welcome me back if I choose after the term is up.”

Melody stands and comes towards me, pulling me out of the soft chair and into her warm arms. “Oh, hun, of course, you would be welcomed back. No matter how long you go or where you are, you are always welcome here. Our home is yours.”

Pushing me away from her by my shoulders, she surveys my face. “I think that this would be good for you. If it is what you want, I will support you, and I will make sure that everyone else does as well.”

“Thank you, Melody.” I hug her tightly, resting my head on her shoulder and letting her warm scent fill my nose. I sniff back the unshed tears still threatening my eyes and hope that I’m making the right decision.

***

Ocoee.

I remain unseen by the women. The smaller of the two with the pink hair is the one that I know Alec’s heart yearns for. She has something about her. The light that glows from her soul is pure. Beautiful inside and out. While I listen, I work a little magic of my own, pushing them in the direction I want. I’ll return to my dear friend and relay what I have heard, but I know in my heart that she will choose the right thing, and in the end, it will mean a lifetime of happiness for my friend.

***

Saturday, January 8th—Dublin, Ireland.

Sam.

Melody and Finn drop me off in front of the club. I wave goodbye to them. As I approach the front door, it swings open towards me, and a bouncer lets me into the club.

“I’m here to meet Tom,” I tell him, and he nods.

“You’re here for the auction?” he asks me gruffly.

“Yes. I’m supposed to meet Tom at eleven. Is there somewhere I can put my bag?”

I called the number on the slip of paper I took from the flyer the same day that Melody and I spoke about the auction. Deciding I was determined to do this. They informed me of all the ground rules, that the auction would be held at noon on the eighth and that I would receive fifty percent of the proceeds. The other fifty are going to the club.

Tom informed me I could bring one bag of belongings but to expect to more than likely not need them. Most of the women end up going to wealthy benefactors of the club and having all of their needs provided to them for the course of their ninety-day enslavement, or so he referred to it.

Enslavement. The word comes to my mind now as I follow the bouncer down the hall. Pausing at the end, I look back over my shoulder in the door's direction. Hesitating for a moment more, thinking about returning to the keep with Melody and Summer. Spending the rest of the winter locked up in front of the fireplace in my room and avoiding the world. Straightening my shoulders, I walk through the inner door and into the club.

When we enter Tom’s office, I see an older man with a head full of wiry white hair sitting behind a small black desk. Two worn red chairs, the fabric on them nearly faded pink, sit in front of the desk. I take a seat.

“Sam?” Tom says, reaching his hand out to me across the desk. I reach out mine and shake his. The warm, callused hand quickly squeezes mine in his grip before he drops it and sits back down in his seat behind the desk. “I have all the contracts here, ready for you to sign. Did you have questions or concerns about anything?”

His gentle nature and the wrinkles in his face remind me of a grandfather and I wonder for a few moments what a man like this is doing, running a BDSM club in Dublin. Shaking my head, I clear my thoughts.

“No, I think you explained everything very well over the phone. Um, I was wondering, though, about the outfit that you said would be provided for the submissive in the auction.” I look around the room and see a small chest of drawers on the far wall.

“Ah, yes. All the submissive will be required to wear the outfit provided by the club when put on display. Is that going to be an issue?” He stands, but pauses, waiting for my answer.

“No, no issue…” I trail off and watch Tom walk to the chest of drawers now. “I’m just curious what it is, how revealing.”

“What size are you?” he asks as he opens the top drawer. “I’m guessing a D or double D?”

A blush spreads across my cheeks at discussing this with the old man, but I nod when he turns to look at me. “A thirty-four double D. Medium bottoms.”

“Got it.”

When Tom turns, he produces two white pieces of clothing. A matching white leather harness set, the bottom has cuffs attached to the waistband.

Tom steps around from behind the desk. “Casey is in the dressing room down the hall. I’ll show you where it is. She will help you get changed and show you where you can place your belongings for the time being. It is great to have you here, Sam. We strive to provide the best experience for all of those involved. If you feel that this is not suited to you at any time, please call us here, and we will immediately pull you from your placement. While this is a total power exchange, it is imperative to us that our submissive are happy with their dominants and hopefully have a wonderful experience that will encourage you to return to more auctions in the future.”

“Oh, wait.” He turns back around. “I almost forgot. We need to complete the legal details. Please sign the three copies of the contract here,” he holds his finger out, pointing to the line on the page. I scrawl my signature down quickly. “Here,” I again sign my name, “and here.” Tom points to the last line on the third piece of paper, and as I sign it, I feel a warm buzzing moving up my arm from the pen. I look down at my arms and grab my wrist with my other hand, stroking it.

A soft buzzing fills my ears and the warm tingling sensation moves throughout my entire body. Peace comes over my mind and I know that this was the right decision. I can’t explain the feelings I am experiencing, but they tell me I’m doing the right thing.

An hour later, I am in the matching body harness, with my wrists secured down by my waist. My entire body is exposed and on display to those who will bid on me at the auction. The outfit merely exists to accentuate what we have to offer, not actually cover any of it up.

When we’re filed into the room one by one, I take the time to count each woman, four ahead of me and five behind me. I stand at my place in the center of the line.

“Ten,” I tell myself, scanning the inner room.

They have led us through a labyrinth of halls and dimly lit rooms. The smell of disinfectant fills my nose now.

Looking around the room, as my eyes adjust to the brighter lights here, I see that the rounded walls have d-rings mounted in them, spaced evenly apart. I count them. There are ten rings. When I hear the door on the far side of the circular room open, I avert my eyes. I am afraid to be caught looking around the room disobediently, taking in my surroundings rather than trusting that I will learn what I need to know when those in charge feel it is time.

Glancing down at the floor, I let my eyes pass over the supple leather cuffs buckled around my wrists, the short silver chain trailing from them to the harness around my waist, securing them to my side. I follow the chain down the length of my body, then the swoop of it up and over to the same short length between the wrists of the woman on either side of me, keeping us in our place in line.

“Slaves,” a deep voice resonates through the room, and my inner muscles clench at the sheer dominance I feel in it. A flush runs up my body, knowing that the auction will start soon and I will be put on display, hopefully able to entice a bidder to purchase me. I feel the heat of my blush spreading over my breasts and my nipples harden into rounded pebbles, the piercings in them standing erect now. Imagining this man taking them into his mouth and tasting me, nipping at me.

I’m distracted, not paying attention, and it is only when I see the boots standing in front of me that I realize I missed his footsteps as he made his way into the room. A firm, callused hand reaches out and takes my chin into a stern grip. I missed what instructions were given, and I’m unsure how to respond to the man touching me now.

Tipping my head back so he can examine my face, tilting it from side to side, he looks me over. His sharp eyes burn my skin as they devour my body. I can feel my blush spreading, and my skin is on fire. I arch my back and present my breasts to him, squeezing my thighs together against the growing wetness there.

Dropping my jaw, allowing me to bow my head again, he steps to the woman next to me and does the same, scrutinizing her face. I exhale a sigh of relief that I don’t seem to have made a fool of myself before things even begin. I hear chains dropping to the floor, but keep my eyes downcast, refusing to let curiosity get me into trouble, as it so often does. When another set of boots stops in front of me, I’m released from the chain, attaching me to the nine other women, but my cuffs remain in place.

“Turn.” The one-word command is given and I turn to face the wall behind me as I am told, gentle pressure on my lower back signals me to step forward and I take slow determined steps, keeping my spine straight, neck bent forward, bowing my head in respect. Suddenly, the back of the white leather harness covering my chest is pulled, and I come to a stop in front of the wall. I’m told to turn again and they attach another chain to the harness wrapped around my waist and it’s fed through the d-ring on the wall. It is encircling me and keeping me in my place. Once I am secured, I spread my legs, standing with them shoulder-width apart, straightening my spine, relaxing my shoulders back, and presenting my breasts.

I don’t dare raise my head or my eyes to meet those of the man in front of me. I steady my breathing and wait. His grunt of approval at my presentation is soft, then he turns and steps to the next woman in line. Time goes by and I can hear, one by one, the others being chained to the surrounding walls. We stand circled around the edge of the room, waiting for our next instruction.

I get a quick glance around at the room full of blondes and brunettes. All beautiful women who will no doubt secure bids from the wealthy benefactors Tom mentioned. I regret my bright pink pixie cut and hope I don’t stand out too much.

“Slaves,” the voice reverberates through me again and I inhale sharply, straightening my spine and preparing myself for his next words, “the bidders will have thirty minutes to look you over and decide which of you meet their standards and will be bid on.”

I tense at his words. Meet their standards, my own insecurities making me worry they will find me lacking and receive no bids. I realize I’m distracted again and scold myself. Coming back to the present, I hear him telling us the rules of the display.

“Bidders may not touch the slaves. The Dungeon Monitors will circle the room during the open viewing time. However, if a bidder touches you, use your safe word. Red will be the recognized word. We permit no speaking unless it is for you to safe word, or if a bidder asks you direct questions.”

I chew on my bottom lip and fidget with my fingers, my nerves getting to me now. Please let me get a bid. I chant over and over in my mind, squeezing my eyes closed and breathing out slowly through my nose. Opening my eyes, I notice a small crack in the tile by my right foot and I focus on it, deciding to keep my eyes there for the entire thirty minutes unless otherwise instructed.

Thanking myself for the distraction, I cringe when I hear the door open and the sound of footsteps and murmuring voices fill the room. Most of the men and women circling the room and talking amongst themselves about the slaves on display keep their distance from me, none coming close enough for me to hear their hushed words. I remember to keep my eyes downcast and my spine straight, constantly telling myself not to shift from foot to foot.

When he approaches me, the warm smell of sandalwood soap and vanilla fills my nose before seeing his boots. Having seen the other sets of feet in the room, I smirk at his combat boots. The women’s thousand-dollar heels click on the floor, joined by wing-tipped dress shoes polished to a shine. This man is wearing a pair of black combat boots. He is my kind of man. I quickly fix the smirk on my face and breathe slowly in and out. Not wanting to look too eager, I don't push my breasts towards him.

I can feel his eyes moving over my body. I’m wearing only the leather harness, with my bare feet still shoulder-width apart and my posture held in the presenting position. I am completely on display to him. The longer he stands in front of me causes a blush to spread across my skin. My chest feels warm and I can feel my cheeks on fire. I know he can see it too, my pale skin turning pink under his eyes. My head swims and my stomach twists inside me.

“The pink looks good on you. I’d bet that ass would look amazing, bright red under my hand.” His voice is husky and rough, leaning in towards me. His breath flutters the wisp of hair that hangs by my ear. His lips nearly brush my ear when he speaks again, “Do you like to be spanked, slave?”

My mouth goes dry, and I swallow hard. It’s a direct question. I can speak when asked a direct question. But I forget how to make words. The proximity of his body leaning so close to mine is doing things to me. I purse my lips together, then moisten them with my tongue. How I wish so badly that my legs were not spread apart, exposing me to him. I know if he looks, he will see the slickness forming there, from just his words.

“Yes, sir,” I finally say, softly, barely audible over the din of voices in the room.

I exhale loudly, thankful to have that moment over. When he speaks again he stands up straight, no longer so close to my ear that I could take his mouth with mine if I turn, and I’m left pouting at the thought of him leaving.

“Look at me, slave.” Doing as I’m told, I slowly raise my eyes to his. He is wearing dark-colored jeans and a black t-shirt that is pulled tight across his biceps. I can see the lines of the toned muscles in his chest. When I meet his piercing green gaze, my eyes widen. Taking him in, looking over his face, I’m shocked by who I see standing in front of me. Alec. I jerk noticeably with my shock.

His jaw is covered with a rough shadow beard from several days of not shaving. His olive-toned skin and dark hair give him a tanned look. But it is his eyes that I get lost in, deep pools of emerald-green, small lines crease at the corners when he smiles at me. I got lost in the same eyes on New Year’s Eve when we met at the bar.

“Hello there, sweet girl,” he says and I get a whiff of spearmint on his breath. I’m frozen before him. My blush has not yet faded and the extra attention he is giving me now is making it spread, my ears tingle and burn. I curse my pale skin again, wishing I could be like the thinner, tanned women in the room. Perfect slim waists, hourglass hips, and breasts to die for.

I stand at five feet, one-hundred-fifty pounds, and I am not thin by any means. I carry most of my weight in my chest and my ass matches it, so I’m not unbalanced. But my soft stomach is not toned, my waist is not thin, and my thighs are on the bigger side. I fidget now from one foot to the other as he too holds my gaze, and I go over these flaws in my mind, as reasons he will not pick me. Pick me! Pick me! My inner goddess screams at him.

The thoughts going through my mind make muscles in my sex clench and twist into knots. I wish I could squeeze my thighs together against the sensation. My arousal is spreading over my folds. I swallow hard when he continues to look me in the eye. Time crawls, and it feels like we stand here, our gazes locked on one another for time untold. The room disappears around me and finally, I can’t help myself and I smile at him. Dammit! He’ll never choose me now that he sees I can’t be a good, obedient slave.

I’m shocked when he smiles. “There she is, there is a fire in you,” he says as he leans into me close again. I take in a deep breath, filling my lungs with the scent of him. “I’m going to be the one to harness it.” My knees buckle and he laughs as I quickly catch myself and reposition. Again, I imagine turning into his kiss.

“See you soon, kitten,” he purrs at me as he stands up straight. He reaches down to adjust himself in his pants and my eyes widen again. The size of the bulge at the front of his jeans is astounding. I smile as I drop my eyes again and watch his boots turn on the tile floor, then disappear from view.

The rest of the viewing time goes by uneventfully, as I suspected I’m of little interest among the supermodel bodies in the room. But I hope that my green-eyed man will indeed be willing to spend the money on me. Alec, I say again in my mind.

I've forgotten all about needing my share of the money to pay off my debts, and I can only think about getting to spend the next ninety days with him, serving him. I smile and am greeted with a harsh, “What are you smiling at, slave?” by a passing DM. I keep my head bowed and don’t answer him. Checking my posture, he eventually walks away.

After the room is cleared, there is an announcement, “Slaves, the bidding will begin immediately. If purchased, those who have paid for you will collect you momentarily. Remember, the same rules apply, and you are not to speak unless spoken to. When approached, you will be unchained and released to the custody of your purchaser. I thank you all for being here. As always, your actions are a direct reflection on this establishment. Remember that throughout your servitude. Those who do not receive excellent reviews will not be permitted back.”

His announcement saddens me. If I’m unsatisfactory and don’t sell, I won't get the opportunity to get to know Alec more. He is here for a reason. I don’t believe in coincidences like this. As I watch the girls being handed over to their new dominants, I get lost in thought. I’m daydreaming about his green eyes when I hear his voice.

“Hey there, kitten.” I beam, my head still bowed. But then quickly bite my lip to keep from being seen.

The DM next to him unchains me from the wall and hands the end of the chain still attached to my wrist cuffs to my new Dom. I watch him wrap his hands around it and suck in a sharp breath.

“Look at me, kitten,” he commands me, and I raise my head, looking into his eyes. Alec reaches out with his free hand and cups my cheek. The moment he touches me, something incredible flows through my body, like warm honey spreading through me. I feel it all the way to my toes and I nuzzle into the palm of his hand. He smiles at me, then drops his hand and tugs on the chain. I follow him dutifully out of the room and into my future.

Stopping when we are close to the door, Alec turns to a rack filled with short white robes and picks one out, then he gently wraps it around my shoulders. Covering me from gawking eyes we may encounter on our way out of the club. “The cuffs have to stay on, is my understanding, per club policy, until we are in the car. But I will release you and you can feel free to change then before our drive back to the keep.”

His words make me pause, back to the keep. This couldn’t get any better. Not only will I get to spend the next ninety days with Alec, but I’ll be right back home with my friends. Fate. The word comes to my mind, and I smile. I nod at him, showing him respect by not speaking out of turn and following him dutifully out of the club.