Natalie Acres (12 page)

“Who would’ve thought she would do something like this!”

The auctioneer tapped the microphone. “Gentlemen, meet Kimberly Cartwell.”

The cables snapped and Kimberly went flying through the air. Her flight was graceful, elegant, and certain to command attention, not to mention high bids for her time.

“What the hell was she thinking?”

Wyatt jerked. “She wants to show her willingness to explore placement in vulnerable situations.”

“Point taken,” Sebastian grumbled, acting as if he might leap from his seat and rush the stage.

As Kimberly’s stats were given, the auctioneer’s voice seemingly faded away. Wyatt watched Kimberly fly across the limited area hovering over the runway. In full suspension, Kimberly’s weight was supported by cables as the men on either side of the stage maneuvered her body across the crowd.

Hogtied in a horizontal teardrop suspension, Kimberly’s limbs were secured behind her back, forcing her voluptuous chest forward and exposing her crotch area.

“She did this for spite,” Wyatt pointed out.

“What did you do to piss her off?”

“Who would know,” Wyatt said.

Those in control of the overhead suspension points pulled her from one side to another. She was lowered over each potential bidder. One gentleman after another appraised her body, many of them nearly foaming at the mouth as they witnessed the eagerness of one woman’s willingness to submit.

“What is she?” Sebastian asked.

“An angel,” Wyatt suggested as her body inched closer to the air space above his head.

Every muscle in his body tightened as she came closer. Hard-core fantasies left him snagging ideas and placing them in his memory for safekeeping.

“Dear Lord, do you see that?” Sebastian asked, his tone strewn with lust of a different sort, a wantonness he apparently didn’t mind to voice. His expression changed as soon as her body passed over their heads.

“Gentlemen, all of you have had time to view our lovely participant this evening. As you can see, she is receptive to all forms of bondage and submission. We’ve never had a participant project such willingness in any of our auctions.”

The crowd cheered. Several men gave her a standing ovation.

The auctioneer continued, “When Miss Cartwell arrived this evening, she wore—”

As the auctioneer described Kimberly’s earlier attire, something out of the ordinary happened. Wyatt’s body went rigid. He tightly clenched his fists. “I’m jealous as hell.”

“Yeah, I hear ya,” Sebastian said, apparently unable to look away from her.

Silver clamps encased her pretty beaded nipples with the tiny claws barely visible against her dark areolas. Her bare, recently waxed mound made him as hard as granite, but those glistening pussy lips were almost his undoing.

“She’s wearing dual remotes,” Sebastian said, acting as if he were ready to leap to the stage, demand her release, and piss off more than half the men there. “What the hell was she thinking?”

Wyatt pointed out the obvious. “The auction is for a good cause. By agreeing to the hogtie, blindfold, suspension bondage, dual dildos, and nipple clamps, she will definitely go to the highest bidder with the deepest pockets.”

“Hell! I may not be able to afford her now!” Sebastian bellowed.

The thought had crossed Wyatt’s mind as soon as he eyed the men seated directly across from them. Ranchers from Texas, the Dillon brothers had more money than Sebastian. To make matters worse, they were whispering back and forth, shifting in their seats, and showing one another their cell phones.

“They’re figuring out the math,” Sebastian said, leaning closer. “They’re deciding how much they’ll spend on her per hour.”

“Any idea how much they’ll go?” Wyatt asked.

“A million an hour is what they paid for a submissive in New York last year. She was a fetish model who was well known for her suspension tricks, but she didn’t enter the arena like this. In fact, she’d gone to auction with an attitude and a half. She’d worn street clothes.”

“Let’s hope they like the defiance.”

“Let’s not,” Sebastian bit out. “Anyone can see that’s precisely what this is.”

Wyatt wondered about that, too. “You think she wants Neely to know about this?”

“Yes,” Sebastian replied. “And that pisses me off.”

“If she wants to make him angry, she may still care about him,” Wyatt pointed out.

“She’s bound to him because of the mind control he’s used over her.”

“You’d better come up with a plan,” Wyatt said, noticing the auctioneer taking a moment to retrieve his cell phone as well. “Our friend there is making comparisons. I can only imagine what the opening bid will be.”

“Gentlemen, we’re starting the bid at one million,” he said, the jibber-jabber of auctioneer lingo beginning.

“Two and a half,” one of the Texas billionaires said.

“We have two and a half,” the auctioneer said, searching the crowd.

Wyatt glanced up at Kimberly. A gag stretched her lips wide, but he could tell by her flushed cheeks and her extended nipples—she was mighty impressed with the high bid on the table.

“Three,” Sebastian said.

“We have three. Who’ll pay three and a half?”

“Four.” The bid came in right away, and Wyatt ducked his head.

“It’s a good cause, remember,” he said, probing Sebastian.

“Six and a half,” Sebastian called out. “I see no reason to diddle-daddle around. She can’t hang around up there forever.”

“Ten million,” the brothers said together.

Wyatt jerked. “Apparently they don’t want to dance either.”

“That’s their final offer,” Sebastian said.

“We have ten million, gentlemen. For those of you interested, Miss Cartwell is wearing dual dildos in two of her orifices this evening. She is perfectly composed and doesn’t appear to have any problem with restraint. Shall we test that?” He held up a small remote control device and aimed the end at Kimberly. “As a demonstration.”

“Ah fuck,” Wyatt grumbled, nearly coming in his pants as her body twisted and writhed in all sorts of provocative positions. The remote unit charged the toys locked in place. The way she moved was exquisite, but the throaty moans, the guttural longing so evident and present, made every man in the room shift uncomfortably in his seat.

“That woman is mine,” Sebastian said, pressing the heel of his hand against his rigid length.

“Try not to embarrass yourself,” Wyatt teased.

“If that demonstration doesn’t stop, they’ll be several of us sitting here jacking off.”

Sebastian had a point. Beads of sweat peppered the furrowed brows around the room. A few men loosened their ties. Several left the area altogether.

The auctioneer clicked the remote once more, apparently stopping the toys’ jiggling sensations. Her body went limp and she hung her head as if she realized she needed to conserve her energy for the understood grand finale.

“We’re at ten million,” the auctioneer reminded them. “Who’ll give us fifteen?”

“What happened to all those numbers in between?” Wyatt asked.

“Beats me,” Sebastian grumbled, throwing his paddle up in the air and taking the bid at fifteen.

The auctioneer signaled his associates. “Lower Miss Cartwell please and remove the ball gag.”

All cables dropped and two men hurriedly approached her. The gag was removed and Kimberly was hoisted into the air once more.

“Here we go,” Sebastian growled, splaying his legs and leaning forward. He fiddled with his bowtie and cleared his throat. “This is sure to run up the bid.”

Wyatt held his breath. The auctioneer pointed the remote. Sebastian groaned. The Texans stood.

“Holy sweet hell,” Sebastian muttered.

The click of one small remote set her in motion. From her bound ankles and thighs all the way to her slender neck, the slight movement provided a sensual form of sexual ballet. Erotic in nature, her shimmying was hypnotic. Her body became a mesmerizing wonderland.

“Like making love,” Sebastian said quietly, his awe apparent.

“Eighteen million,” the Texans called out.

“Fuck!” Sebastian screamed, obviously furious as much as disappointed.

The brothers from Texas tilted the brims of their cowboy hats in their direction. One of them mouthed, “Your turn.”

“Want me to throw in?” Wyatt offered, realizing this kind of bidding war was already way out of his league.

Kimberly swayed back and forth as she reached the pre-determined airspace she’d occupied earlier. She wet her whistle with a long, indulgent swipe across her mouth.

Perspiration dotted her chest and brow. Incredible feminine moans filled the air.

“Let’s kick this up a notch. Shall we, gentlemen?” The auctioneer seemingly taunted Sebastian by smirking as he spoke. “Kimberly’s toys are on full power. We have eighteen million on the table. Let’s see if that amount can double.”

Kimberly withheld her orgasm. She fought the need to climax with the strength of ten thousand men, determined to prove her point to those bidding for her time. She wasn’t just another trained submissive, she was a force to be reckoned with, a woman in touch with her sexuality.

She’d long since come to terms with the fact that her evening wouldn’t be spent with Wyatt. While she realized he might be disappointed, she would later assure him she hadn’t entered this situation blindly.

In many ways, she’d known her acceptance of the props offered would potentially run up the bids. The more willing and accepting of the extreme, the more likely she was to garner a few outstanding bids. Dominant men were more predictable than they realized.

The gentle throbbing between her legs intensified as the toys gathered momentum together, stroking her flesh, thumping inside her. Her mouth hung open, and her throat constricted. God, she loved this sense of empowerment. The knowledge that so many below her were gazing up and imagining the mind-blowing opportunities awaiting them made her hungry for release. No, she was famished.

She yearned for an intimate connection, a probing stroke from male flesh. One cock came to mind—the source behind her recent fantasies.

The cables retracted, forcing her hands and feet closer together. She felt her facial expression tighten as she adjusted to the new tension on the restraints.

The eye mask slipped to the left and she was struck by knowledge. A little wrinkle from her nose and some eyebrow action would allow her a substantial peek.

To onlookers, she probably appeared imprisoned by her choices, enslaved by her need for dominance, but no. Oh no, this was something else entirely. This was freedom in the first degree.

She shook her head, as much as the limited mobility allowed her. The auctioneer announced another amount, a number which quickly escaped her as the pulsing vibrations in her pussy forced her to clench around the toy in rapid succession. She might as well have been practicing Kegel exercises.

“What a demonstration we have here this evening, gentlemen. As many of you know, this is The Elite Gentleman’s Club’s largest benefit and all of you in attendance came prepared to donate to a good cause, so let’s run up the bid. Shall we?”

The toys were held in place by a harness. When the associates had hogtied her, they’d carefully guided the large nine-inch vibrator between her damp pussy lips, making remarks about her moist entrance, joking even about how her preparedness made their job much easier.

Now she wasn’t moist. She was drenched in sophisticated need, sophisticated because she understood what it would take to make her come for the crowd, what provocation she needed to finish her.

She wiggled her nose, fought against the restraints confining her in order to put on a proper show wrought with enough distraction. No one below her would realize she could now see the crowd from under the eye mask.

Frantically she searched for Wyatt, blinking back the moisture as her eyes burned from the bright overhead lights. She scanned the crowd as her body hung in the balance, rocking one way and then the other.

Her gaze was met with a familiar pair of beautiful blue eyes. She immediately blinked, trying to recall a first meeting, a possible interaction.

“Him,” she breathed, realizing it was very possible those below her may have heard her utterance.

Recognition drove her back to him once more. He shouldered a head full of blond hair, hanging loosely around his face in perfect curls.

He rubbed his tongue over his upper lip as his hooded eyes called to her, beckoned her to remember that first introduction.

“Where,” she breathed, the pressure from the clamps making her breasts heavier, fuller.

In the moment, she had temporarily forgotten about her search for Wyatt, her need to lock gazes with someone familiar, someone safe.

Her body snapped with another hard tug from the cables. She cried out in pain. She longed to squeeze her legs together, draw the toy inside her cunt, further inside her channel, and let herself go. Let herself feel.