The following fictional story is being reposted by Mr Double.  If you are the author of this story and would like to receive proper recognition (an Author's Page at my website at: http://pw1.netcom.com/~mrdouble/main/stories.html), please contact me at mrdouble@ix.netcom.com.








Auction

I didn't write this.

"CRACK!"

The whip lands again on my back, sending another sharp spear of
pain into my gut, and with it another wave of agonizing, unful-
filled desire crashed through me.  "Please Master...Yes, I want
it, I want it now!" I moan through clenched teeth.

He steps around in front of me, smiling in mock surprise.  "My,
what a lusty wench!  And you've finally admitted it!  Well *now*
you'll just have to wait.  I'm having fun doing just what I'm
doing."  And with that he disappears again behind me, and I felt
the whip descend once more, between my shoulder blades, with a
thwack and a burn.

With the rhythm of the whip, I slip into a delirium of pain and
lust.  And lost in the rhythm, I find my mind wandering through
the events that had led me to this delicious and frustrating
predicament.

On a whim, I had offered myself up for sale at the "auction".
What the hell, I thought to myself, what have I got to loose?  I
can explicitly eliminate sex from what I offer, and what else
could there be that someone could want that I couldn't do?  [That
thought makes me chuckle, even as yet another lash of the whip
hits me across the back of my thighs, bringing tears to my eyes.
How ignorant I had been what seemed like so long ago...]  Be-
sides, if things got out of hand, I could always just leave, the
only drawback then being that I had wasted my time and wouldn't
get paid.  Besides, I needed the money.  The auctions sold time,
not services.  Most "slaves" (as the people being sold were
jokingly called) ended up helping people move, making dinner,
giving backrubs, or serving as "ornamental slaves", where the
purchaser would, say, bring them to a party on a leash, and show
them off all night.  All in fun, of course.  Of course, "slaves"
could limit what they would do to certain things, or just say
they wouldn't do certain things, as long as they made the limits
clear before the bidding began.  And never, ever was it allowed
for sex to be offered as a service, to avoid possible charges of
pimping for the auctioneers.  Of course, some people hinted that
sex would be a part of the package, and those people (females at
least) got very high bids.  Knowing this, I very explicitly said
"No sex" --- loudly, and a number of times.  A few people who
seemed to be interested at the start were turned off by my ada-
mant refusals.  But I didn't care; I wouldn't want to have sex
with them for all the money in the world anyway.  Besides, I knew
that lot's of people wanted me enough to settle for just being
around me for that time.

As predicted, I had a number of people bidding on me, and the
bids went quite high.  As was fairly typical, I was offering only
four hours of my time, and when the bids hit three digits I was
smug!  But most of the people bidding were students, and just
couldn't compete with Daniel's bids --- after all, he had an
*income*!

I had met Daniel a couple of times at parties.  He was basically
an unassuming type, blending into the background of whatever
group he was in.  He was the type of guy who always lusts after
me, but never says anything; the type I never give a second
thought.  I was quite surprised at how determined he seemed to
buy me...and also a bit relieved, because he seemed so meek.  He
would probably be in such awe of just being with me, he couldn't
get up the guts to do more than ask me to cook dinner for him.
[With a wry smile, I realize that he hadn't even done that!  The
smile brings a questioning look from my Master (he is now working
on my breasts and belly), followed by a quick volley of five or
six strokes across my thighs.  ooooh...]

When Daniel picked me up at an arranged place and time, I was
dressed to please.  I figured that, even though I had specified
no sex, he had bought me because he lusted after me, and I would
give the guy his money's worth.  Call me a tease, and I won't
blush; I love the obviously desirous stares I get from men, as
long as they don't touch!  I was wearing a short-short mini-
skirt, and tight, low-cut tank top, and bright yellow panties
that I knew could be seen whenever I leaned over.  The tank top
showed my nipples off well, with the fabric stretching over the
hard points.  My breasts are medium sized, rounded, and firm
enough that they require no bra, and they have always attracted
longing looks from the men around me.  He stared at my breasts as
he opened the car door for me, and I gave him my best "come
hither" smile.  I swear he let out a gasp!  In the car, I asked
him where he was taking me, and he said "To my place."  After
riding in silence for a bit, I asked, "So what do you have in
mind for me?"

He looked at me with an unreadable expression and said quietly.
"I want to have sex with you."

Oh God! I groaned to myself.  This guy is going to be a schmuck
about it, and force me to walk out on him.  I started to tell him
that hell would freeze over before I would sleep with him, and he
said, with more force, "Don't bother saying you won't.  I *will*
fuck you, and you'll love it."  He said it simply, and with
force, and I stared at him, open-mouthed.  Shit, I thought, he's
going to rape me.  My God, how am I going to get out of this?  As
if in answer to my thoughts, he said, "Don't worry, I'm not going
to rape you.  I won't do anything to you you don't want me to
do."  His words were somehow both reassuring, and ominous.  They
scared me but also started my curiosity churning in full force.
Just how did this presumptuous little dweeb propose to make me
*want* to have sex with him?  And he sounded so confident!

As we continued driving in silence, I continued watching him.  In
the past, his manner had been so unassuming, I had never bothered
to really look at him.  He was tall and very thin, with something
of a studious look about him.  But looking carefully I could see
that he was well-muscled, in a lean, tight sort of way, under-
neath his conservative dress shirt.

[My thoughts return to the present.  Confusion.  The whipping has
stopped.  Ah, sweet relief.  But only from the pain, not from
this overwhelming desire.  Now? I plead to myself?  Oh God, oh
Master, take me down, take me!  Please, now...?  But no, he is
stopping just to change tools.  Now it's the paddle, slapping my
already ret-hot ass.  Uhhhhh, I moan, as I remember when I first
saw the tools that are now being used so effectively on me....]

The first thing Daniel did when we got to his house was to in-
struct me to kneel in the middle of the living room.  This is
silly, I thought.  This guy has some sort of dominant fantasy or
something weird.  He wants to play some stupid game.  Well fine,
I can play along --- after all, I'm being well-paid.  "For the
remainder of your time with me, you are to call me 'Master'."

I almost laughed out loud!  This sounded like something out of
one of those disgusting magazines of my father's, that I had
sneaked looks at when I was young.  But I suppressed my smile and
said, putting on what I imagined to be a good submissive look,
and said, "Yes, Master."

"Stay here.  Don't move until I tell you you can," he said, and
then looked at me expectantly.  I was confused for a moment, then
realized what he wanted.  "Yes, Master."  Boy this guy is weird,
I thought.  But I was *really* curious now, anxious to see what
bizarre activity was to follow.  He turned and disappeared down a
hall-way.

While he was gone, I sat there on my knees, wondering why I was
putting up with this shit.  Well, I was getting a *lot* of money
for these few hours.  Besides, I was just burning with curiosity.
And something else?  I wasn't sure.  But I knew I was eager for
him to return, to find out what the next move in the game was.

I took advantage of his absence to study my surroundings.  His
living room looked pretty much like I would have expected from my
earlier impression of him.  Standard motel looking furniture,
well-worn.  Many bookcases almost overflowing with books, thought
I couldn't read most of the titles from my position on the floor.
In one corner was a desk with a computer (of course).  One thing
that really stood out about the room was that it was amazingly
neat and organized.  Almost compulsively, I thought.  Although he
had tons of books, papers and other stuff, everything was ar-
ranged and stacked neatly, and it seemed clear that everything
belonged in exactly the place it occupied.

He didn't take long, so I didn't get a chance to look around more
carefully.  He came back with a collar and leash in his hand.  I
gasped!  He isn't going to expect me to wear *that*, is he?  Then
I calmed down, and remembered that during the auction I had even
been prepared to be an "ornamental slave", led around on a leash
*in* *public*, and somehow this private horror seemed a blessing.
What on earth had made me think I was cut out to be auctioned as
a "slave" anyway?  As expected, he placed the collar around my
neck.  It wasn't a normal dog collar --- it had metal rings on
the sides and front, not just on the back.  He clipped the chain
leash onto the ring on the front.  "Follow me" he instructed, and
I started to rise.  "Not like that.  Stay on your knees."  So I
followed him down the hallway he had just come out of, scurrying
along the floor, on my knees.  Jesus, this guy must be having a
field day, I chuckled silently.  How often does he get a gorgeous
girl to follow him around on a leash?  Well that's what he
shelled out good money for, I guess.  And I was just doing it for
the money, right?  Wasn't I?

At the end of the hallway was a door that I figured led to his
bedroom.  I was about to protest, but then he opened the door and
I saw that this was most certainly not a bedroom.  There was no
bed in sight, but there were certainly lots of other things.  The
room was dimly lit, and the walls appeared to be black!  Oh wow,
this is too weird!  The room had chains hanging from the ceiling,
various pieces of furniture, some of which the purpose was clear,
the others baffled me.  And hanging all around the walls were all
sorts of...well, whips, it looked like.  And paddles.  More
chains and ropes.  Strings.  And lots of stuff I couldn't even
name.  I couldn't do anything more than gasp and stare.

I didn't get long to look around, though, before he pulled me
towards a goal-posts looking thing, with a bar between two poles
across the top.  He quickly hooked the leash to a hook on the top
bar.  It was just long enough so that if I stayed up on my knees
with my back straight, the collar stayed loose around my neck.

He stepped back, and looked at me kneeling there, and I felt
myself blush.  Me, blush?  Why, I'm always in control, I never
get embarrassed.  But something about being there with the leash
on made me feel so exposed.  Not exposed enough for him, it
seemed though.  "Very pretty," he said, looking thoughtful, "but
I think it would be better without the clothes.  Don't you think
so too?"  He looked at me meaningfully.

"No way, guy," I protested vehemently.  "I said before, no sex.
This is already getting real close to getting out of hand as it
is!"

He ignored my protests, and moved off to a corner of the room.
He came back, dragging a full-length mirror, the kind that pivots
vertically in a frame on wheels.  He put it in front of me, so
that I could see myself kneeling, and asked again "Don't you
think this would make a pretty picture without clothes?"  I kept
my mouth shut, and refused to look at the mirror.  "Okay, if
that's how you want it," he nodded.  "In that case, there isn't
much I can do here.  Just this..."  He went to the wall and
brought back four padded leather straps, with buckles.  Oh no!
Sure enough, he fastened them around my wrists and ankles deftly,
and then attached each wrist to the same side ankle with a short
length of chain.  He moved the mirror back a few feet, so that I
had a better view of the room.  "I'm going to the living room to
read a book.  If you change your mind about taking your clothes
off, call me.  Otherwise, I'll be back at the end of your time
with me, which by the way is about three more hours, to let you
go.  Have fun!" he said, chuckling, and walked out.

The first thing I did after he walked out was lean on the chain,
testing it's strength.  It was a light chain, and I could tell it
would break under my weight.  Good, I thought, I won't hang
myself if I fall over.  I didn't even occur to me at the time
that this was probably quite intentional on Daniel's part.  I
also tested the cuffs on my wrists and ankles --- there was no
way I could break the chains, but I figured I could, if I had
wanted to, get out of the cuffs.

Well, it seemed I was going to be in this room for a long time,
alone, since I was most certainly not going to allow this weird
pervert to take my clothes off.  So I looked around.  Doing so
gave me shivers --- where did this guy get this stuff?  The
implements on the wall looked like something out of a medieval
torture chamber.  Like the living room, everything appeared
carefully arranged.  It was actually quite impressive, if I
forced myself not to think about *what* I was looking at.  Every-
thing was within easy reach, and arranged by categories.  Somehow
it all seemed to fit.  How careful he was about keeping every-
thing neat and clean...how scrupulous he was about not doing
anything I didn't want him too...how he had made sure I was safe
while he was out of the room.  It all showed a careful attention
to detail that even I was forced to admire.

[I am reminded again about his attention to details, as the
paddling pauses again.  Every single inch of my skin burns from
some sort of stimulation.  He had left no part of me untouched,
no piece of my body escaped this desire.  I had already told him
I wanted it.  Now all I can do is wait till is pleases him to
take me.  Oh God, I hope it's soon!  I am still amazed that it's
me thinking these things.  As the paddling resumes, I think back
to my transition from disgust to desire...]

I have no idea how long I spent on my knees in that room.  I know
I was very bored, and my knees were starting to ache.  I thought
to myself that I could very easily get out of this mess, just get
up and walk out.  But I didn't!  Why am I doing this?  I spent a
lot of time trying to answer that question.  Initially my answer
was "money", but for some reason that didn't carry the conviction
it had from the start.  And finally it occurred to me --- I was
getting turned on, hanging here from my neck, hogtied.  I was
getting turned on being ordered around by this strange person,
and even by the change that had come over him when we had come
into his territory.  I was even turned on looking at these bi-
zarre devices hanging from the walls, even though they terrified
me.  I found my eyes continually being drawn to the mirror.

The picture it presented was disturbing to me.  Surely that girl
in the mirror wasn't me!  She seemed so young, so vulnerable.
Her brow was slightly shiny with perspiration, and her chest
heaved a bit more quickly than it should have for someone rest-
ing.  Her lips were slightly parted, and wet, from continually
being licked.  A nervous gesture?  I never even noticed I did
this!  I looked at her, and she looked at me, and I realized she
was flushed with arousal.  And looking at her was arousing to
me...  How could this weird shit arouse me?  Only perverts like
this stuff, I told myself.  Daniel was quite clearly a pervert
and yet I found myself thinking about him, sitting out there in
the livingroom, completely ignoring me, and wishing he would come
back in.  Men never ignore me!  And here I was --- horny!  Even
so, I knew I wouldn't have sex with this guy.  Just because some
perversion turns me on doesn't mean I have to do it.  And not
with *him*, of all people.  But it didn't seem like it would do
too much harm to allow him to take my clothes off.  I mean, it
wouldn't be like it was the first time I had been seen naked by a
man.  And it would mean the end of this damnable boredom and
frustration [ha! right!] and maybe I could get Daniel to explain
to me how some of those fascinating, repulsive, unfathomable
devices were used.  And to be naked, bound like this...oh, no, I
couldn't think about it.  So I called for him, "You can take my
clothes off if you want."

I waited, but I heard no footsteps approaching.  Oh no, he's
going to keep me like this for the rest of my four hours!  How
could any guy turn down an offer like that?  Most men would come
running.  What was it about this Daniel that he was so indiffer-
ent?  Then I remembered.  "Master!  Take my clothes off.
Please!"  I added that last, hoping it would sound appropriately
submissive, so that he would come in here.  It must have worked,
for almost immediately the door opened, and Daniel walked in.  He
looked so much taller than when he had left, and much stronger.
My mind was playing tricks on me.  Oh well, I never had been able
to deal with isolation well.  Without a word, he removed the
chain between my wrists and ankles, and jerked on the leash to
indicate I should stand up.

He swiftly, and somewhat roughly, pulled down my skirt and pan-
ties, together.  As I lifted my feet to let him lift away the
clothing, he also slid off my sandals.  Then he unclipped the
leash, lifted my tank-top over the top of my head, tossed it with
the other clothes, and replaced the leash.

He pushed me back down into the kneeling position I had just
left, and stood back and looked at me.  He wasn't even smiling.
He was inspecting me like I was some piece of art that needed
critiquing.  Oh, this wasn't how it should have been.  This
careful inspection made me feel much more naked than just nudity
alone would have!  I felt the flush return to my face, and I
couldn't even look at him.  I lowered my eyes to the floor, and
wondered whatever had inspired me to let him take my clothes off.

He acted as if it was *him*, doing *me* a favor.  He walked
slowly around me, looking at me, and I never moved an inch.  I
didn't even look at him, I was so embarrassed.  When at last he
had completed his inspection, he said "Hmmm.  Very nice.  Quite
nice indeed."

I felt a flood of relief, and my shame vanished.  Then I felt
shock at myself --- why should this strange man's approval mean
anything at all to me?  I *knew* I looked good, and even if
Daniel didn't think so, hundreds of other guys did!  But kneeling
there, stark naked, under Daniel's critical eye, I suddenly felt
more acutely aware of my own body, and it's attractiveness, than
all the stares, whistles and out-right compliments I had received
before had ever made me feel.

I looked up at him and smiled, and he returned my smile.  Once
again, I was surprised at the effect this had on me.  Never
before had I been concerned with what anyone thought of me.  But
his approval, and his apparent pleasure with me, sent surprising
waves of pleasure through me.  I felt an inexplicable urge to
wrap my arms around Daniel's knees, in front of me, and stopped
myself, shocked!  What was happening to me?  I was having these
unfathomable urges which went totally against my nature.  And yet
something about where I was felt so...right.  It was as if I
belonged here, had always belonged on my knees in front of this
strange man, this Daniel, this...Master.  My whole mind rebelled
against the word.  And yet, each time I said it, it sounded a
little less strange.

"Master," I said quietly, more to try it out than to get Daniel's
attention.  The word caught a little in my throat, but not nearly
as much as it had the first time.

"Speak," Daniel replied to my stumbling call.

"I...I feel...strange.  I'm not sure what is happening.  What's
happening, what are you doing to me?"  I looked at him, suddenly
feeling that he had the solution to the unfamiliar turmoil within
me.

Daniel knelt down in front on me, and grasped my chin firmly in
his hand.  Holding my face directly in front of me, he looked at
me, looked into my eyes, for a long time.  He wasn't smiling, nor
was he frowning; I couldn't read his expression at all.  But I
stared back into his eyes, and it felt like I was falling into
them.  I had the oddest urge to drop my eyes, but I didn't.
Instead, I found that every moment that our eyes were locked, my
internal conflict lessened.  Yes, yes...this was right...Daniel
was right...everything was okay, and as it should be.

Then he stood up, and I felt like I was being released from some
great weight.  I started to slump down to the floor, exhausted,
but the collar and leash wouldn't let me, so I quickly sat up
with my back straight, to ease the pressure.  I didn't look back
up at him, but I felt that he was looking down at me, watching
me.

He reached down, and stroked my hair gently.  I pulled back from
his touch, instinctively, a retort already starting to form in my
mind.  But it never reached my lips.  Even as I shied away from
his touch, I wanted it.  I leaned into his hand, my forehead
resting on his palm, his thumb rubbing my hair.  My heart and
mind were racing.  I wasn't sure what I wanted, how far I wanted
to let these new sensations take me.  I knew the best thing I
could do was to leave, to just stand up, take the collar off, get
dressed and walk out --- to forget that this evening had ever
happened.  But I didn't *want* to do that.  I wanted to stay and
see what would happen and...and I wanted him to touch me.

That particular touch didn't last long, though.  Soon Daniel
withdrew his hand, and his manner returned to it's previous
firmness, mixed with humor.  He unhooked the leash from the bar
above my head, and indicated that I was to stand.  I did, and the
relief in stretching my legs again washed through me, bringing
back that weak feeling, and I thought I was going to collapse.
But then Daniel was there, in front of me, with his strong arms
around me, supporting me.  Without even thinking about it, I
leaned against him, giving myself to his arms.  Then I realized
what I was doing, and pulled back, staring at him.  He just
looked at me, a slight smile on his lips, and I got the feeling
he was waiting, that he knew already everything that was going to
happen, all my thoughts and confusion.  I wanted to throw myself
back into his arms, but that wasn't right; I couldn't draw com-
fort from the very person who was bringing this turmoil to me.

But I had no more time to ponder my confusion.  He pulled me
farther into the room, over to a piece of furniture that look
basically like a padded saw-horse.  He turned me to face him and,
still smiling that small, knowing, and somewhat ironic smile, he
said "You took an awfully long time making up your mind about
taking your clothes."  He looked at me expectantly, and I dropped
my eyes again.  I couldn't tell if he was really upset at me, or
if he was just teasing me.  And why should I care?  But I did!  I
didn't want him to be angry with me, for then he might not touch
me again.  I longed for his touch!  "You are going to have to
learn to think more quickly."  His words confused me.  "Going to
have to learn"...?  But his tone was clear, the same tone my
father used to use to say "You've done something wrong.  I'm not
upset but for your own good you must be taught a lesson."

I found myself relieved that he was not upset, but at the same
time ashamed of myself for doing "something wrong".  A condi-
tioned reflex from my childhood, to my father's tone?  Perhaps,
but nevertheless I felt I deserved a lesson.  But the thought
that Daniel was going to give it to me scared me.

He turned me so that I was facing the sawhorse, and place a hand
on my back, gently pushing me so that I was bent over the horse,
my belly resting on the padded bar, my breasts and arms hanging
down in front of it.  My heart was pounding, and I could feel my
sweat making the smooth surface of the horse sticky.  It was
clear where this was leading; I should have gone bolting for the
door.  But it seemed appropriate and necessary.  I didn't even
seriously consider leaving.  I just stood there, naked, bent and
vulnerable, waiting for the inevitable.

And it came --- a light, stinging slap to my ass.  It didn't
hurt, but it startled me, even though I had been expecting it.
The second followed quickly, and then the third.  The slaps were
still light, but I could feel my cheeks reddening slightly, and I
felt quite warm all over.  As the slaps continued, I marveled at
what was happening.  I was letting Daniel spank me!  No, I cor-
rected myself, I was letting my Master spank me.  And finally the
word felt totally right.  "Master," I whispered, too low for him
to hear.  But I didn't feel that I was "letting" him spank me.
Rather, I had an odd feeling that he was in his right, in this
spanking, and that I was receiving a deserved punishment.  I
wanted to be touched, and even this touch was better than none.
In fact, I discovered that the growing heat on my backside was
adding to my arousal, making me squirm on the horse.  I was star-
tled out of this self-contemplation by another smack on my ass,
much harder than the previous ones.  I winced and grasped the
legs of the sawhorse.  I felt sure that all I had to do was say
"Stop", and Daniel (Master!) would stop immediately.  But I found
that I didn't want him to stop.  The spanking hurt, but somehow,
at the same time it felt good.  It felt right!  I waited with a
combination of desire and apprehension for the next stinging
slap.  It came, and I gasped and actually raised my ass toward
his hand in preparation for the next one.  And the next one came,
and the next and the next.  And as my bottom got hotter and
sorer, I got hornier and hornier, marveling at the incongruous
complement of pain and pleasure.

[I laugh at myself under my breath.  I had thought those little
smacks were so hard and so wonderful, I had been so easy to turn
on!  I wonder if Daniel expected it to be so easy.  He certainly
seems to be working hard now, I think, and I feel another crack
of the paddle.  But it's stopping!  Is this another pause, a
tease, or is he actually going to take me now?  Oh yes, yes, he's
unhooking my wrists.  A moan of anticipation escapes my lips, and
in the moment before he lowers me to the floor, my mind flashes
back to getting into the position I was now so relieved to be
leaving...]

I don't know how long the spanking lasted.  It can't have been
very long but in my mind it was an excruciatingly ecstatic forev-
er.  But eventually the pain started reaching out, past the
pleasure.  But just as I felt the excitement start to slip, he
stopped.  How did he know?  I had had just enough to get me
trembling with excitement, and no more.

I rested on the horse, breathing heavily, feeling the sweat
between me and the slick surface I was lying on.  I was tired,
but somehow I felt refreshed.  I felt no more shame at my failure
(I had long ago stopped thinking about exactly what it was I was
being punished for, and only that I deserved this, that he was
purging my guilt.)  I hoped my Master was pleased with me, and I
was ready to do anything he wanted.  Almost.  Even as I thought
that, the incredible heat of the moment faded, and I again start-
ed asking myself what in the world I was doing here.  Although I
still felt arousal and desire coursing through me, I swore to
myself I would not succumb to Daniel's desire.  Getting a spank-
ing may make me as horny as I've ever been, but I certainly
didn't have to admit that to *him*!  I stubbornly swore to myself
that, no matter how turned on he got me, I wasn't going to let
him fuck me.

He allowed me few moments to recover, and then he tugged on my
collar to indicated I should stand up, and walked me back over to
the pole set-up I had been attached to when we first came into
the room.  He moved me so that I was standing under the top pole,
and again lifted my chin so that I was looking at his face.  His
manner had changed.  He still seem strangely confident of him-
self.  But now, mixed with the ever-present humour in his smile,
was a bit of smugness.  His smile suggested that he knew that he
had already won, and all he had to do was wait.  Rebelliously, I
reaffirmed my vow to prove him wrong.

He stroked my cheek lightly, and then took my wrists in his
hands.  He clipped the straps around my wrists together, and then
attached both wrist restraints to a hook on the bar above us.
The bar was high enough that I had to stretch my arms to be able
to keep my feet on the floor.  He stepped back, watching me, with
the same satisfied, confident smile on his lips.  The mirror was
still where it had been when I was kneeling on the same spot, and
I could see myself clearly.  The girl in the mirror was quite a
different sight than she had been previously.  Her short hair was
damp with sweat, and the slight flush on her face had become a
full body flush.  She was trembling, and her breathing was so
heavy it was almost panting.  The biggest change though, was an
almost indefinable change in her expression.  It seemed that some
of the stubbornness, the willfulness, the arrogance, had gone out
of it, to be replaced with...something I could not name.

The sight of my trembling nakedness made me realize how vulnera-
ble I was.  It also renewed my excitement almost unbearably.  I
heard my Master say from somewhere to my left "Pretty girl.  You
are so excited, and we haven't even begun yet."  His words sent a
noticeable shiver through me, and I strained forward against my
bonds, pleading silently to be touched again.  I wondered how
long I could keep my stubborn vow.  I even wondered why I had
made it...

I was still staring at my reflection when I felt a sharp sting on
my back.  In the mirror, I looked behind me, and Master was
there, with a nasty-looking whip in his hands.  It appeared to be
a thick handle with a number of leather straps hanging off it.  I
had seen it on the wall earlier.  Before I could recall what I
had thought of it at the time, I saw him swing again.  I watched
in the mirror, an the whip disappeared behind me a split second
before I felt it crack down again on my back.  The pain was much
sharper than that of the spanking, much different.  This pain
left heat, too, but traveled all through my body, each stroke
bringing me higher and higher...

Finally, my Master lays me down on the floor.  Somehow, in my own
delirium, I missed him taking his clothes off.  Now I feel his
body heavy on top of me, our bodies both slick.  I look up at
him, trying to tell him with my eyes that I surrender to him
totally.  Then I close my eyes and gasp as he enters me in one
smooth, quick thrust.  My gasps turn to groans, and my groans to
screams, as the pleasure mounts into an orgasm that rocks my
soul.  And he keeps thrusting and I lose myself in ecstasy...

Finally, it is all over.  My exhaustion is mixed with a sense of
satisfaction that goes deeper than just orgasm.  He has taken me,
and I am his.  I feel no more confusion, no more turmoil, just a
profound feeling of fulfillment, of rightness.  "Master," I
whisper into his neck as he strokes my hair.  He nods, and I know
he understands...
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Subject: Re: STORY: Auction

I don't have the original headers.  This story was written by "Diana
Carroll, Rensselinstipolytechnitute '89, carrolld@pawl.rpi.edu -or-
diana_carroll@mts.rpi.edu".  I suspect that she posted it in 1988 or
1989.

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Double for Nothing!!  Tricks for Free!!!

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