Anastacia Lucretia brings us another tale of FemDom — in “The Auction”, a male submissive and his Domme are at a sex party that features a fun auction. The submissive wants to be up for sale, to experience it, but as soon as the hot lights are on him, all he wants is his Domme. And then the bidding begins…
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As we began a slow walk of the floor, we noticed a table for a company promoting a D/s dating service — “Addition by Submission”. A beautiful, dark haired woman whose outfit screamed “DOMINA!” was texting on an expensive looking phone as her blonde female submissive handed out cards and flyers and answered questions. A little further along, just outside the kitchen, was a whiteboard that read, “Saturday’s Theme: SLAVE AUCTION!!!”
I looked at Mistress, who raised one eyebrow at me over the rim of her drink. “Yes?” she asked me teasingly.
“An auction…” I didn’t really know how to phrase the question that was forming. Actually, I’m not sure I knew if I had a question.
“Yeah, I thought this might be fun. Let me have the bag, will you?” For parties and playtime away from the house we usually had a toy bag ready to go. Not our best stuff nor the most expensive (as those are the toys and equipment that tends to walk away with strangers), but enough lube, condoms, floggers, paddles, zip ties, gags, a hood, and a strap-on with various attachments. She sat the bag down, dug through a pocket, and came up with my collar and leash. She sensed me wavering a bit, what with the new location, new people, and now something like an auction looming over us both. With practiced hands, she snapped the collar bearing her name around my neck, then clipped the sturdy, worn black leather leash onto the stainless steel ring in front. She pulled me gently to her, kissed me on the lips, her hand on my shoulder then touching my face. “It will be fun. You’ll see.” I’m not sure I would see — not now, anyway. Being in the presence of multiple Dommes when you’re a submissive can be an intimidating, heady experience under the best of circumstances. Was I excited? Yes. Was I nervous? Extremely.
“You’ve done this before, then?”
She smiled. “No,” she answered in a sing-song, devil-may-care voice. “But what’s the worst that could happen? Get the bag, will you darling?” She turned and walked.
I hurried to reach our bag before the leash snapped taunt. “Fuck,” I muttered under my breath getting the bag just in time. Excited. Nervous. Excited. Nervous. Repeat.
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