[FF] [Slavery] [Masturbation] The Auction – Part Two

***Note:*** *Thank you for the warm reception! A special thanks to the few helpful readers who reached out with critiques. I tried to keep your suggestions in mind and flesh out the setting and characters for part two, but if I’ve overreached, please let me know.*

*Erotica is something that I’d like to explore as a side-hustle… Neasa and the characters to come are a lot of fun to work with. Is this kind of writing something you’d pay a small amount to read? Would my efforts be better spent with a different style? Or is this what you’d regard as free content? I’d really like to hear from you and set a realistic goal for myself.*

*Enjoy!*

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The city streets were nothing like the quaint dirt roads at home. Neasa tried not to gawk at the citizens in passing, but it was impossible not to. There were bronzed women in litters with their oiled breasts glinting in the sunlight, effeminate servant boys pawing flirtatiously at fat politicians, and men who appeared more beast than human.

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She and her master strode past a pair of twins locked in a passionate kiss and a goddess with skin as dark as the night sky. Neasa’s intrigued gaze was fixed on the woman’s emerald nipple piercing when the older man gave the chain a tug.

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“Your naiveté is endearing, but you mustn’t stare. Keep your head down and say nothing.”

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Her new owner was the most curious of all. In a city that clearly thrived on hedonism, he was modestly dressed and carried himself like a high-bred gentleman, holding his head higher than the half-naked street rabble. She had glimpsed his face for only a moment at the auction while he paid the slave master, and all she could see of him now were his handsome backside and the shoes on his feet.

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It had been a striking first impression. There was grey feathered throughout his short black hair and he had laugh lines that suggested he had been a cheerful person once. There’d been nothing cheerful about his demeanour as he handed over a fat purse of silver in exchange for her contract, though. The older man wasn’t as tall as the doctor had been, but his broad shoulders and rigid posture gave a grand impression that made Neasa feel as small as a kitten.

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Now her silver chain was in his grasp and she was being led down the street in his shadow, trying not to appear as nervous as she felt. It was easier said than done; she knew what awaited her and how important it would be to impress him.

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***

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The house he steered her into wasn’t distastefully excessive. It reflected her new master like a mirror; the colours were muted, it was the perfect size, and the decor was classic. There were alabaster statues of women on either side of the front door – two sylphs, each ineffectually covering her naked body from the prying eyes of admirers – and someone had taken the time to groom flowerbeds full of roses that ran along the brick walls and disappeared around the corners. It was perfect.

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Without a word, he let go of her chains and ushered her through the entryway. She could hear the shuffling of servants as they entered, and though she didn’t catch sight of another person in the foyer, Neasa felt confident that she was being watched. Her master walked into an adjoining room and crooked his finger, silently ordering her to follow.

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Here, in the warmth and privacy of his home, they could talk freely and get to know one another. With her hands folded politely, the blonde accompanied him to the parlour and cleared her throat. When she spoke, it was with the softest of voices.

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“My name is Neasa.” She smiled timidly and waited for him to introduce himself. A touch of normalcy would quell the anxiety that had settled into her bones… just a few words of comfort and reassurance would do. She was eager to know him. But when she summoned the bravery to look at him, there was nothing in his dark gaze that suggested he cared about her comfort.

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“I told you to say nothing.” Her master sounded as cool as ice. “Take off your clothes.”

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Panic gripped her tight and made her heart race. They were mere minutes into their time together and she’d already displeased him. With trembling fingers, she stripped off the bedraggled dress that she’d been wearing for eleven days and dropped it to the floor. Pulling out a tiny key that had been passed over with her slave documents, the gentleman took her by the wrists and unlocked her silver cuffs. It was the first time he’d touched her… his warm hands send a tiny shiver up Neasa’s spine. Satisfied that she was truly naked, he released her and stepped back, studying her with the detached stare of a businessman.

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She was exquisite and breakable, his very own porcelain doll to shatter on a whim, and the sunlight streaming through the window reflected white on her lustrous skin. The curves of her body were subtle, but there was nothing boyish about her willowy figure; those small breasts were just enough to fill a man’s hand, far more appealing than full-bodied women whose pillowy tits bulged between a suitor’s parted fingers.

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Despite having every inch of her displayed before him, it was her eyes that caught his attention. He should’ve been admiring the tight little cleft between her legs – any other man would’ve been aroused by the sight – but something about the blind faith in those doe eyes fascinated him. She was of age but she watched him like an innocent child, eagerly waiting to be praised or scolded. His wish was her command.

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The older man settled on a chair in the corner and gestured at an oversized ottoman six feet from where he sat. “Please yourself for me.” His voice echoed against the marble tiles.

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“Sir?”

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“I want you to make yourself orgasm. And call me master… consider that your first warning.” He rested an ankle casually on the opposite knee and leaned back into his leather seat. An inconspicuous servant appeared out of nowhere with a glass of wine; he accepted it without taking his eyes off Neasa. “Show me what I paid for.”

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The blonde took a steadying breath and obeyed, crawling onto the ottoman. The fabric squeaked against her ass as she squirmed nervously.

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“Good girl.” His rich voice guided her body as though she were a puppet and he was the one holding the strings. “Now lay down and face the ceiling. Bend your knees and part your legs. Wider.” He swilled the wine in a slow circle, watching the scene before him as it unfolded. The ruffles of her gleaming slit shone pink in the light. “I want to see everything.”

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The purr in his voice didn’t carry into his expression. “Begin.”

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She was nothing if not obedient. With one last look at her owner’s stern face, she laid her head down and fluttered her eyes shut. She was already excited, stretched out self-consciously in front of her master. What part of her lithe body he staring at? The tiny whorl of her asshole clenched at the thought that he’d be fucking her shortly.

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She tried to recreate what the doctor had done to her on the ship, playing it out like a dance. Her fingers skittered over the plane of her flat stomach and came to rest on her clitoris, nudging it to life. There were steps to follow and spots to touch, and when she finally caught the rhythm that she’d learned onboard, it was fast and frenzied. Her cunt could scarcely keep up with the pace, and she was close to finishing when his deep voice interrupted.

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“*Slower.* Don’t claw for immediate pleasure like an animal.”

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Her damp hand stilled against her pussy, itching to rub one minute longer and tip over the peak of pleasure that she’d nearly reached. “M-master?”

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“Work your way up to it,” he elaborated, sipping the velvety red wine. His eyes were dark as pitch and devoid of emotion. “You’re here to serve me, not to serve yourself.”

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Swallowing the urge to look at him, Neasa tentatively moved her fingers, parting the lips of her sex and fighting the urge to furiously pet herself and finish what she’d started. But he had asked for her to slow down, and he was right: she was here for his amusement. With a shuddering breath, she imagined what he would use her for next. Would he take her on the ottoman or carry her to bed?

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She wanted him inside of her like she’d wanted that deckhand. A single finger dipped down to circle the minute entrance to her vagina, and with a stifled moan, she pressed against it. The smooth hymen stretched to accommodate her fingertip, swallowing it up to the first knuckle, and she was about to push deeper when he interrupted her again.

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“*Don’t*.” His voice was suddenly sharp. “That’s mine.”

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Her blue eyes snapped open. She felt like a dog that had misbehaved. The sailors had all been impressed by her first orgasm… they’d spilled themselves on the folds of her skirt and praised her unbridled enthusiasm. But her master clearly expected more than a dockside show, and she didn’t know how to give it to him. She pulled her finger free with a wet ‘pop’ and returned her focus to the nub of flesh at the top of her slit.

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He didn’t interrupt a third time. When she felt herself beginning to rise up to an orgasm, his voice echoed in her mind – *”Slow down.”* – and she eased, quivering at the effort it took. “A-ah… ah…” She rolled closer and closer, waiting for some sign that she was allowed to finish, but her master stayed eerily silent. Once she was sure that he wasn’t going to grant explicit permission, she gave a small cry and jostled her fingers as fast as they’d go, allowing the hot ache to spread down to her pointed toes with an intensity that matched her self-discipline. He hadn’t fucked her… had he even touched himself? Neasa bit her lip, suddenly nervous.

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“Was I alright, sir?”

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“You’ll do.” He downed the last of his drink and stood, brushing out the creases in his shirt. His half-mast erection went unaddressed, as though he hadn’t noticed the bulge trapped against the fabric of his pants. “Go to the servant’s quarters and take a bath. Charlotte will see to you. And don’t call me ‘sir’ again… that’s your second warning.”

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Then he was gone.

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***

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Neasa found Charlotte waiting in the hallway. She was an austere woman with wrinkles carved into her face from years of tireless work, but she wasn’t unkind. Far from it. She welcomed Neasa as though she were a guest instead of a slave, bobbing her head respectfully as she led the blonde deeper into the house. Charlotte’s wavy hair was as brown as her eyes, and it swished between her shoulder blades as they quietly walked to the servant’s quarters.

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A bath had been prepared for Neasa, and though the wash tub was too small to stretch her legs out, the steaming fragrance of rose petals made it seem luxurious beyond measure. She had a sneaking suspicion that Charlotte was eyeing her flushed groin. Did the woman think it attractive, or was she as critical as her master? Neasa abashedly hurried to get in the tub and hide her disgraced body. Sinking into the hot water, the blonde sighed and reclined against the sloping metal at her back. It was a relief to wash away the unpleasant stink of travel.

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“So, angel, how did he like you?”

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The blonde startled at the servant’s warm voice and the tips of her ears grew hot as the woman approached the tub. Charlotte dipped a hand into the water and worked over the slave’s lower body, cleaning away the slippery sheen of discharge and drool that had accumulated on Neasa’s journey. Up close, the girl could see her companion’s appeal; Charlotte’s round face was sun-freckled and her full lips were begging to be kissed. If they felt as enticingly soft as they looked, it would be the kind of first kiss that Neasa had spent years dreaming of.

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“I don’t know. He didn’t say much…” Neasa rubbed a sponge over her seal-sleek arms, frowning. “He only said ‘*you’ll do*’ and then left.”

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“That’s better than nothing,” Charlotte hummed, pulling her hand back and shaking off bathwater, “but there’s clearly room for improvement. Let me show you how he prefers it. Come, I’ll see you to your room.”

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***

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“Give me a repeat performance.” The brunet was perched on the edge of Neasa’s new bed, looking at the new girl inquisitively. It had been a long time since the master of the house had purchased someone, and judging by the looks of her, Neasa hadn’t come cheap.

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The blonde nodded shyly. “Yes, miss.” Neasa settled back on the bed as she had done in the parlour, spreading her legs so wide that everything was visible: the unbroken stretch of skin over her entrance, short curls of sandy hair dusted along the side of her pussy, and the little nub that she’d fallen in love with. Biting her lip, Neasa began to finger herself the same way she had in the parlour, rolling her fingertips over the most delicate parts of herself with a stifled moan.

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“You’re being too restrained. He asked for a show,” Charlotte reminded her. “It’s your job to give him one.” She shuffled onto the bed alongside Neasa and sat close, looking down at the blonde with a playful twinkle in her brown eyes. “Pretend there’s someone on top of you. You aren’t just touching yourself. You’re fucking your hand as though it’s a man. See?” Her soft hand cupped over Neasa’s mound and a single finger teased the girl’s clitoris to attention. Then she went still, pressed up close and unmoving. “Fuck it.”

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*Fuck it?* Comprehension dawned on the slave’s ivory face. She wasn’t supposed to stay still; her elegant master wanted to see her thrusting like an animal in heat, expressing every wave of excitement with her body. It wasn’t enough to feel the orgasm herself… she had to let him see how it felt and allow him to share in it.

Neasa lifted her hips off the mattress and nudged into the maid’s waiting hand, exhaling a shaky breath at the slow friction. Then she did it again, harder, until the woman’s fingers rubbed deliciously over her cunt and made her shudder.

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The mattress squeaked as her hips gyrated. Neasa’s ass rose and fell to meet the older woman’s hand, striking a new spot each time. She gave a strangled squeak as a pang of pleasure struck deep.

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“Oh, that’s perfect.” Charlotte took pity on the new girl and bowed between her open legs. “Now lay still for a moment.”

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The maid was more sensual than the doctor. Her lips against Neasa’s pussy were soft, kissing her delicately instead of tonguing like a beast. She suckled on the young slave’s slit from top to bottom, murmuring encouragements as Neasa’s moans grew louder, and finally came to rest at Neasa’s button. Her actions were rhythmic and careful, accompanied by the silky stroke of a finger over the girl’s asshole. It wasn’t long before Neasa was panting for breath.

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Charlotte was a master, and why shouldn’t she be? No one knows a woman’s body better than another woman.

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The girl was soaked again, spread out on the mattress with a halo of silver-blonde hair on the pillow. It was easier to release herself than it had been on the ship; there was no reason to hold herself upright, and the energy that had gone into grasping the rail was now funnelled into humping the maid’s pretty face.

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Charlotte drew back with a slurp, licking her pouty lips and speaking to Neasa with the authority of a teacher. “Touch your nipples.” Then, without waiting to see whether the girl obeyed, Charlotte disappeared between the slave’s thighs again and resumed her work.

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Neasa fondled herself, far gentler with her breast than the auctioneer had been, and a dainty twist of one nipple made her realize that there was more to the gesture than mere exhibitionism. It sent a spark through her that mirrored the pulsing surge of her pussy, and with renewed interest, she pinched the rosy bud of flesh again, harder this time. When Charlotte sat up and left the girl unfinished, Neasa moaned with disappointment. “No, please! I’m almost-”

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“I’m not doing it all on my own,” the brunette scolded, cocking an eyebrow. “It’s your turn. Use your own hand and imagine he’s here, watching you. Show off that sweet pearl and everything you can do with it.”

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Groaning with desire, Neasa placed both hands on her cunt and began to grind, hard and desperate. Opaque nectar trickled down the crack of her ass and fell in drops off her cheeks, mingled with sweat and saliva, as she thumped her mound into the palm of her hand. Neasa imagined there was a man atop her – the sailor, her master, one of those beastly men that she’d seen on the streets, it didn’t matter – and sped up, crying out for the fantasy cock rubbing against pussy.

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The orgasm made her pussy seize around her fingers with shocking strength, grasping for a dick that wasn’t there, and it drove a wave of prickling pleasure throughout her slender body. “Nn-ngh-*ah*!” Neasa kept gyrating against her hand until the engorged button on her slit began to throb in protest, though the pulses of warmth hadn’t yet ceased. With a final huff, she dropped her hips and laid unmoving in a wet spot upon the goose-down mattress. Her thighs were drenched. Although she’d orgasmed twice in one day, she felt ready to try for a third.

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Charlotte wiped the spittle from her chin and smiled. “I daresay you’re ready for him, angel. And it looks like I need to change those bedsheets again…”

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/jo19n3/ff_slavery_masturbation_the_auction_part_two