John Friday - Cuffed and whipped wife

"I want my wife!"

"Impossible. She's already been sold. But my daughter Celia is going on the block this time, why don't you try for her? She's a real beauty. I hope you brought your checkbook, Gill." Bennett moved off into the crowd, ever the genial host.

Gill was left stammering, "God damn it, I've blundered into a fucking loony bin!"

Marilee touched his arm with a wan smile. "Did you find Lanore?" She was wearing a white toga fashioned quickly from a lace tablecloth.

"No, not yet." He was distracted by her lithe beauty and long fall of raven hair.

Al joined them wearing a diver's wet suit and carrying a three-pronged fish spear. In the eerie red glow, he looked like the devil himself, but he said to them, "I don't think my outfit is kinky enough."

Gill was about to answer when the lights went out, all but a spot illuminating the raised platform at the end of the room. Blake Bennett was there at the microphone, calling for quiet.

"Our second round of bidding for this weekend's party is about to begin," he announced. That brought a cheer. "Remember, all the proceeds go to help fund the new children's wing at City Hospital. The slaves have generously offered themselves to support that great cause."

His wife Marge was first on the block, dressed in a crisp while nurse's uniform tight enough to show that she had an enviable figure.

Marge was sold to a woman dressed like a fairy princess and had her head under the woman's long gown even while the check for the woman's contribution was being written out.

"That looks like fun," Marilee said. "And I ought to be able to raise more than the two hundred she didn't."

Al gripped his wife's arm. "Stay here."

"We've lost one wife already!" Gill agreed, holding her from the other side.

"Oh, come on, guys. How much would you bid for me?"

"Ssshhh," they both hissed.

A woman with the biggest tits any of them had ever seen went on the block next, flaunting them proudly. The pace of the bidding picked up, and she was sold to the pilgrim for. Then three women pooled their funds to pay for a bearded giant in a shaggy fur caveman outfit.

As he left the platform, Blake said into the microphone, "The way I figure it, that's less per pound than a good steak. And a lot more fun, you can bet. Come on, folks… let's keep those bids coming in. A lot of poor kids need our help. And here's someone who should really help a lot. My daughter Celia!"

The tawny redhead brought cheers and whistles, and a murmur of excitement moved through the crowd. Some man bid right off. Gill shouted, "Six!" without even thinking.

"Gill, what are you doing?" Marilee whispered.

"I want her. She knows where they've got Lanore."

"Yes, but…" The bidding went on while they talked.

Marilee turned and glared. "What are you doing?"

"Helping my friend and neighbor. We'll go in halves. After he talks to her, I'll take what's left."

"You son of a bitch," she said with a good humored grin.

The London bobby bid, and a man in the back of the room topped that. Gill said, "Nine!" Even with Al paying half, he was kissing off the small sailboat that he and Lanore had been saving for.

A hush fell then. "Going once," Blake said, urging them on. "Going twice…"

Marilee saw the London bobby was about to bid again. "Save your money," she said. "I'm up next."

"Ooooh!" He quickly dropped the hand he was raising to attract the auctioneer's attention.

Gill and Al were so intent on the results that neither of them noticed the exchange.

"Going three times!" Blake said. "Sold to the man who walked in here carrying a gun. Let's hope all the shots he fires tonight are from something more pleasant."

Al and Gill left Marilee to write checks and claim their new slave.

"You know I'm giving up a great new set of golf clubs to do this," Al muttered.

"Yeah, but we've got the only clubs we need to play her three holes," Gill replied with a lewd grin. There was something strangely exciting about this, he'd decided. And he blamed Lanore less for having joined in.

Al's feelings were less charitable when he saw his wife step under the glare of the spotlight, letting her improvised toga slip down enough to show nearly all of one fit. "Hey, what the hell?"

Gill said, "Relax, Al. It's for a good cause. And we're going to be very busy." He gripped Celia's arms and cuffed them behind her back.

The redhead only grinned anxiously.

"So, I have two masters," Celia said, looking them both up and down.

"And we want a private room," fill told her. "We're not used to large crowds."

"There's a nice room upstairs," he told them. "It's all fitted out like a Persian palace."

The bidding for Marilee had reached before Gill, Al and their new slave girl got to the stairs. They weren't paying attention.

"Nine-fifty," said the bobby.

"One thousand dollars," said the woman, in white mink.

"Eleven hundred!" the bobby said, wincing because that was more than he'd planned, to spend. "Twelve," the woman said coldly.

Marilee was amazed, and pleased that hers was the record price for the night. "I'm surprised you'd pay so much for another woman," she said to the lady as she was writing out her check.

"Oh, but you aren't for me. I have three sons waiting at home. They're all virgins, and I want a beautiful older woman to start them out right."

"Oh, my God," Marilee said weakly. By then Gill and Al had left the room. There was nothing she could do… except play the willing slave she'd volunteered to be.

Celia took them to a spacious room, the walls and ceiling all draped with rich brocade in vibrant colors. It was candle-lit and there was incense burning somewhere. Gill took off the handcuffs.

The redhead knew and enjoyed her role as a slave, she found it to be a rare treat after the boredom of her college classes. She clicked on music that came from hidden speakers, a haunting refrain.

She slipped off her vest and bared two lush tits with large nipples that had been pierced to hold a pair of dangling golden ear rings they swayed as her hips began to undulate in response to the exotic stereo refrain.

"Father should have said that I'm a belly dancer," she purred. "I would have brought an even better price."

Al watched, entranced. "I'm glad he didn't mention it."

Celia had slipped little pairs of cymbals onto her hands. They clanged overhead as she swayed sinuously, working her hips in the most tantalizing assortment of fuck motions either man had ever seen.

Gill somehow remained aloof. "I'm more interested in finding my wife and getting her out of this madhouse," he said.

"Hey, let our young slave do her thing," Al told him. "That's your sailboat you're watching drift away."

"Don't remind me." Gill's look remained gloomy, but he couldn't take his eyes off the fluid swaying and rocking of Celia's tawny pussy mound. Her cunt hair showed through the filmy harem pants she wore, and now she was pushing them down.

"Does either of you have half a dollar?" she asked, clanging those little brass cymbals again.

"Uh, yeah… I do." Gill reached into the pocket of his uniform pants, mesmerized by what he felt.

"Put it flat between your teeth and tilt your head to the side," she told him, dancing near. Her pants slipped down to her ankles and Celia stepped out of them, arching her back so that she approached Gill pussy first.

He had seated himself on one of the many large satin pillows that were all that served for furniture in this exotic room… except for a strange-looking chair made out of camel saddle and Al was sitting on that.

Celia's tawny-baked pussy lips seemed to pulse in time with the music she'd put on. It was something strange to watch. Gill had never seen such motions, such sinewy contractions so close before.