Shameful Thrills

‘What do we call you, Red?’ he asked.

‘Antonia.’ The word seemed to burn on her lips.

‘Sweet. You scared, Antonia?’

‘Please …’

‘You should be.’

Her legs nearly gave way under her and only his grip on her elbow kept her on her feet. The shift of her hips made the tight shorts press into her ass crack and she gasped with discomfort, but the sound was masked by the gales of laughter from their audience.

‘D’you know what’s going to happen to you?’

She shook her head.

‘Of course you do. I’m going to sell you to the highest bidder, bitch.’ The insult was savoured, and Antonia felt the heat run through her body like a shock wave. ‘Whoever wants your cunt the most tonight is going to get it. Of course, you’ll be lucky if he only wants your cunt – and not every other orifice. See anyone out there you like the look of, Antonia?’

She twisted her face away, shutting her eyes, but he transferred his grip to the nape of her neck and squeezed warningly.

‘Look at them. You’re here because you’re worth money to them. Look them in the eye – it’s the last chance you’ll get.’

She looked. There were – what? – maybe a couple of hundred people out there, men and women, standing near the front or sitting on the hoods of cars and lolling across parked motorbikes further back. Black clothing and leather predominated, where they had bothered to cover up against the night air. It looked like a scene from a Mad Max movie. There were a lot of grins, but not one of them reassuring.

‘One of those lucky people is going to be fucking you real soon. One of them’s going to own you, bitch. You know what that means? They can have anything they want from you.’

Antonia couldn’t help whimpering. She was shaking with tension and she knew he could feel it.

‘Shall we have a look at the goods then?’ he called out, and they answered with enthusiasm. ‘Right.’ He parked the beer bottle between his belt buckle and his stomach – where it stuck up like a crude glass erection – and tugged a small piece of plastic from his pocket. It was a cable tie. Scooping up the smooth fall of coppery hair that Antonia was so proud of, he twisted it into a rope and secured it with the tie. His movements were swift and practised. ‘I like to see a good handgrip on a slave,’ he informed her, wrapping the bright ponytail around his left fist and pulling her head up and back. Tears brimmed in Antonia’s eyes.

‘Now, I see we’ve got a good big pair of tits on this one,’ he remarked to the crowd. He retrieved his bottle, took one last sip and then upended it over her breasts, dowsing both thoroughly. Shame burned through her body all the way to her core. The liquid was chilled and the smell of cheap beer made her head swim. She was aware of the sudden pull of her nipples as they tightened in response to the unexpected cold shower, poking out against the taut and now clinging cloth.

The auctioneer tossed the empty bottle back over his shoulder. She heard it smash.

‘Yeah, that’s nice,’ he purred, flicking her nipples with his nail to accentuate their jut and pinning her as she flinched. ‘Imagine getting your cock between these, gentlemen. Look at the size of them! And real too! But don’t take my word for it; see for yourselves.’

He pulled something else out of his back pocket and held it up for Antonia and everyone else to see: a knife handle. Its blade flicked out, glinting gold in the compound lights. She gasped, but he took no notice. Holding her firmly, he slipped the knife up between her breasts, caught the point of the T-shirt’s V–neck and pulled. She felt the jerk of the cloth across her shoulders and neck, but the blade must have been very sharp because the cotton gave way almost instantly, splitting down the front to let her breasts spill out. After putting his knife away, the auctioneer cupped one orb and jiggled it.

‘Now, we don’t see many like that nowadays, do we? The genuine article. Heh. For the real connoisseur.’ He slapped her breast to make it bounce, then took hold of the nipple and pulled it up and out, hefting the weight. ‘And not pierced – yet. Well, buy her and ring her.’

He wrenched the shredded shirt off her back and turned her this way and that along the front of the stage to demonstrate to everyone the quiver and bounce of her flesh. The beer gleamed stickily on her bare skin and her nipples pointed at the crowd as if trying in vain to pinpoint an ally. Antonia could feel herself pulsating with shame. She knew her mascara was leaking down her cheeks already.

‘Nice figure too, I think you’ll agree, ladies and gentlemen. A beautiful big ass. I’m betting that’ll soak up plenty of punishment.’ To demonstrate, he clapped his palm loud and hard against the swell of her bum cheek and Antonia let loose an inadvertent squeal of shock.

The burn seemed to swell even as the pain died away.

‘Oh, a little sensitive are you, darling? That’ll be fun.’ He winked at the audience. ‘And a good pair of lungs on her, I hope you notice. Mind, she’ll need to be able to breathe through her ears, given what one of you horny fuckers will probably be doing to her before the end of the night.’

‘Please,’ she begged, ‘please let me go! I shouldn’t be here, I need to go home –’

‘Shush.’ His fingers were oddly gentle as he pressed them to her lips, cutting off her protests. ‘No one’s listening. Nobody cares.’ Two of his fingers slid into her mouth. They tasted of iron and oil and sweat, and Antonia worked frantically to accommodate them and not gag as he pushed them over her tongue, right to the back of her mouth. ‘That’s better,’ he sighed. ‘You’re beginning to get it, aren’t you?’

As he withdrew his fingers his attention snapped back to the crowd. ‘Of course, ladies and gentlemen,’ he announced, snuggling up to her rear, ‘what you really want to see is her pussy, isn’t it?’ With the word ‘pussy’ his voice dropped an octave and the mic vibrated. He was playing up to the theatre of it all, and she was doubly sure he was enjoying it because, through his abraded jeans, his hard cock was jabbing gleefully up against her.

‘Yes!’ shouted the crowd – and wilder, more obscene things too.

‘I don’t blame you.’ The auctioneer’s spit-wet fingers trailed over her chin and down her throat and between her breasts. ‘You don’t buy a car without looking under the hood, do you? And you don’t buy a fuck-slave without getting a good look at her pussy.’ He smoothed his hand down the slight curve of her belly and insinuated his fingers beneath the waistband of her cut-offs. His thumb flicked open her fly button with a casual expertise. ‘Want to see?’ he teased.

‘Yes!’

‘Turn around,’ he ordered, spinning her to face the back of the stage. ‘Now, be a good little bitch and bend over.’

Antonia had never anticipated this. She could feel the sweat of her panic gather at the small of her back. It hardly felt real: the blood was pounding in her ears and her head was swimming. But the stage was backed by big polished steel panels, allowing her a blurred and distorted view of what was going on behind her: the crowd, the big man controlling her every move. She was not to be allowed to forget that she was being displayed and sold in public.

‘Bend,’ he growled, planting a hand between her bare shoulders to tip her from the hips. She tried to comply, awkward because her arms were tied and she couldn’t brace herself with her hands. She almost lost her balance and he grabbed the back of her shorts to steady her, sending a lightning stab through her private torment. Her fingers dug fearfully into her hips. He kicked her feet further apart. Her ass and tits were now stuck out in perfect counterbalance.

The knife came out again to dissect her cut-off shorts. She felt its cold steel whisper against her skin. It gave even the stitched denim short shrift, and after a series of agonising yanks the garment fell away down her thighs, revealing to the world her ass and crack and the shy peek of her pussy below.

That was the first moment of relief Antonia had felt since coming on stage.

‘Whoa,’ said the auctioneer, appreciatively. ‘What have we got here, ladies and gentlemen? It looks like there’s been some customisation going on with this one.’ He put a hand between her cheeks, prodding the rubber bung that jutted out there. ‘I don’t know if you can see this clearly, but she’s got a big black butt-plug up her already.’

His fingertips explored her stretched anus, discovering the thick greasy lubricant that they’d filled her ass with before inserting the plug. Antonia hadn’t tried to fight when, an hour before her entrance on stage, they’d held her down and worked the dildo into her – she had been too afraid of the hefty cylinder now riding her ass. The discomfort and the sense of imminent disaster and the humiliation had been almost overwhelming, and those tight shorts had only made the sensations worse, every step a torment.

Now it was the auctioneer’s turn. He jiggled the dildo inside her and made her wail.

‘Well, look at that, ladies and gentlemen. She’s lubed up and stretched and wide open. I think that when you buy her, you’re going to be able to just whip that butt-plug out and stick your dick right in there to fuck that beautiful ass, like going into warm butter. So I’m going to leave it where it is for the moment.’

He chuckled. ‘Told you it’s always worth taking a close look before you buy. Now, let’s examine this pussy.’ His hand cupped her sex. ‘Well, if you can’t see, you can take my word for it. This one’s nicely shaved, every bit of her. Soft as a kitten, this pussy.’ He bent and both sets of fingers explored her sex, not at all rough – but thorough. ‘She’s got rings, ladies and gentlemen. I count three on either side, outer labia, silver. Someone’s taken a lot of care with this one. Fucking beautiful example, and I see a lot of them in this line of work. And –’ his fingers spread her ‘– she’s running wet. Jeez – that is one juicy fucking cunt! I don’t think you’ll have any problem warming this one up. She’s just begging to be taken out for a ride!’

Antonia sobbed, mascara tears running down her cheeks. Her pussy seemed to throb under the merciless glare of the auction lights. But the examination was not yet over. He slid his licked fingers into her passage and spread them. With the internal pressure of the plug in her other hole, it was enough to make her squeak.

‘Mmm. That’s good. Tight enough to give you a good firm grip, I think. And …’

She felt the fingers withdraw again. She saw in the blurred reflection how he straightened up and lifted his hand to his face.

‘Sweet. Tastes like honey, ladies and gentlemen. I think we’ve got a prime piece of cunt here.’ Tugging her ponytail, he slapped her ass and jerked her upright. ‘There’s one last thing, though. Want to see how she performs?’

Of course they did.

He brushed his lips to her ear. ‘Get on your knees.’ He didn’t push her, but his voice was like the black oil from an engine sump and she was incapable of disobeying. Her legs seemed to fold of themselves and she came to rest on the rough boards of the stage, her head on a level with his crotch. She watched as he unbuckled the big worn belt around his hips, tugged down his fly and manhandled out an uncut cock that was already fighting for its freedom. Like the rest of him it was long and sinewy and lumpy with veins.

The calls of the crowd had become white noise. She felt the muscles of her asshole clench around the cruel plug between her cheeks. She could smell the harsh masculine sweat of his groin.

‘Lick it, bitch,’ he crooned.

She hesitated, cringing from that unfamiliar cock.

‘Fucking lick it.’