Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 06

On one knee he took hold of her ankle. 'Sorry. Does it hurt?' he asked.

'No, I'm OK, really,' she said, a little too loudly.

He tightly wrapped the big fluffy gown around her, patting it to dry her. He avoided touching anything sensitive, which still left her nervous. From sitting on the edge of the bath, he picked her up.

'There's no need, I can walk, honest,' she complained.

'I'm your slave, remember?' he reassuringly smiled.

She was in a big strong man's arms, being carried to her bedroom. This would have to stop right now. He was too young to be a perfect gentleman, so what was going on? Young guys were notoriously self-obsessed. Instead, he really was acting as her slave, just like the historical novels she read. How was she going to cope with the disappointment when he rejected her, because he was gay, or she were too old to be attractive. She told herself to stop it, and get a grip.

'You can see to the bath, and fetch my drink, slave,' she joked, trying to snap him out of the serious mood he was in.

'A massage, first, mistress,' he thoughtfully determined.

'Well, maybe, err, tomorrow?' she tried to say.

He lay her on the bed, and turned her over. The gown was rolled back to just cover her bottom. A touch of reality, how the ravishes of time treated a forty-year-old body, would put a stop to all this fuss.

She raised her chin from between the pillows to tell him it wasn't necessary. She couldn't turn over as her breasts would be revealed. She was stuck there until he left her in peace. She felt a dribble of warm oil on her back, followed by a pair of strong hands, smoothing it up her back.

She opened her mouth to remonstrate with him for ignoring her wishes. Instead she moaned.

'Your neck is stiff, it must hurt.' Hearing a murmured acknowledgement, as a long drawn out, mmm, he continued to rub her shoulders.

The big hands encompassed her shoulders, with movements seemingly reshaping them. Her whole body began to relax. For some time he smoothed away the aches and pains, from upper back, neck, and arms. His hands slipped over one of hers, between fingers, gripping hard, then softly piping them. He moved to her feet, and she couldn't hold back a whimper of ecstasy.

As his hands slid up a leg, griping it tight, she worried about the gown folded over her bottom slipping away.

'What the hell!' she murmured into the pillows.

'Not too hard, I hope,' he softly asked.

'Harder the better,' she said, unable to hide a touch of lasciviousness in her voice.

Having spent time on her calves, he moved up to her thighs. He had separated her legs to gain access. The thought of him gaining access left her silently giggling. The ache in her neck was gone, to be replaced by an ache down there. He was kneeling on the bed between her feet, with an inelegant view of her body. She was passed caring what he did to her.

Thinking it was over, a sob burst from her lips. Damn! She was going to be left so incredibly needy! A hand gripped an ankle, straightened it slightly, then very slowly slid up the leg. It didn't stop, it carried on up over her bottom, with the other hand lifting the folded gown, then resting it back, as the hand soothed its way to her neck.

Her legs were pressed hard together, under an attempted pretence of decency. What he was doing to her was the most deliciously indecent thing she had ever experienced. Ever so slowly the other side was completed.

'Again,' she whispered, sounding desperate.

The slide of the material covering her bottom was just an additional sumptuous sensation, combining with the tingling from his feather touch to bare flesh. Finger tips slid between her buttocks on the way between her thighs. There was no pretence now. Both hands cupped her front and back, pressing, tickling, teasing, probing. A sharp intake of breath announced the appearance of her clit. Two fingers trapped it for a moment, gently pulling, ringing her bell.

She began uttering nonsense sounds. Feeling his weight on the bed sparked an alarm bell. She couldn't remember his name, from when it had been announced at the beginning of the auction. How could she let a stranger make love to her! Her legs were parted, with knees pushed sideways. Between panted breaths, she tried to turn over, not wanting to be taken like this. He might even do the unthinkable to her.

He lifted her up, with her weight pushing her head into the pillows. A pillow was pushed under her tummy. What was he going to do to her? She yelled a muffled sound, becoming frightened from the helpless state she was in. Her hands uselessly flapped at the small of her back, trying to stop him.

Something cupped her labia! It sucked on her swollen lips. He was nibbling on her button! Her lips were sucked into his mouth. A finger played with her puckered hole, and another wormed its way into her wet openness, pressing against another sensitive spot.

'Oh! God!' she groaned, on a heavy outrush of breath.

She cum deeply and wonderfully. He didn't let go, he carried on, and so she did to. A long deep orgasm left her sated and helpless, just laying supine, letting him feast upon her sex.

***

Mr McKenzie had voted to add slaves to the charity auction. From the moment Mrs Marshal proposed the idea, he was suspicious. It was obviously not her idea, so who was behind it, and how had they talked her into it. On the city planning committee, she had pushed a proposal from Margaret, which again was unusual. Putting the two events together, with a change in her behaviour, he concluded Margaret had something on the woman.

A week ago a business friend had let something slip. He'd asked Bob if he was bidding for a certain slave in the auction. When the friend said he was bidding on Jane, Bob coughed on the whisky and soda. That she would be in the auction, was not just surprising, it confirmed Margaret had something wild held over the woman. He was determined to find out what it was, and use it himself, to get the chairmanship of the planning committee.

He watched the crowd of bidders. There was a great deal of amusement that this particular woman was being auctioned. Some just considered her too old. Those that knew her, like him, were astonished that she would submit to such an indignity.

The bid figure slowly increased, with the auctioneer dragging it out with small increments, until it surpassed the younger slaves prices. Many in the audience were surprised, but he understood why.

Jane looked at a small patch of floor at her feet. An occasional glance told her there were people out there who wanted to take her home, to humiliate her. It was obvious the winner would invite friends over to show off the fact this respectable woman, was their maid. Little did they know it would be nothing, compared to what she had endured over the last few weeks with Margaret. They seemed to enjoy the process of bidding on her, as though prolonging the agony was an enjoyable game.

As the bidding slowed, Bob looked around. As expected, fewer bidding numbers were held up. He didn't recognise any of these serious bidders, except his friend. They were determined to win the bidding war. It seemed an awful lot of money for a weekend maid.

What the select group of businessmen knew, and the crowd didn't, was that she would be a slave, not just a maid. The thought of owning a willing slave, kept them bidding. On top of the amount they were agreeing to openly, for charity, there was a substantial commission to pay Margaret. The bid price had risen to well over a thousand, and with commission at five times that, they would expect a lot for their money.

'Hello Margaret, what a great event! We've raised far more this year than ever before,' Bob said, on meeting the woman.

'That's good, I'm pleased. The committee has done a good job,' Margaret smiled, through gritted teeth.

She wasn't the auction organiser, but obviously orchestrated this part of the event. She was annoyed at this distraction, needing to study the bidders, obviously wanting to know who won. Of course she did, she wanted to collect a hefty commission. He wondered where that would be going, because it hadn't been mentioned to the committee.

'What do you think of this slave auction? Not too racy for this town?' he asked, positioning himself right in front of her, to block her view of the audience.

'No, no, it's fine,' she said, sounding as though she were shooing away an annoyance. Her hands flapped, trying to move him on.

'It's a surprise Jane is here. Why do you think she volunteered to take part?' he asked.

'Err, well. . . How should I know!' she blustered, and pushed at him. She was becoming more restive with every bid.

Even at fifty, after a year of retirement, he was big and strong, not easily pushed around.

'Hey what's the problem?' he asked, knowing full well what was upsetting her.

When she pushed him again, he gripped an arm. 'I'm a committee member and a steward for this event. I will eject you if you don't calm down,' he calmly spoke.

'Sorry, Bob, isn't it?' she said, with a big smile, aimed right at him. At the same time she pulled her arm against her side, so his hand was squeezed against her breast.

He was impressed with how quickly she changed from cajoling to flirting mode. Bob would remember this, when he dealt with her in the future. He heard the hammer drop, meaning the item had been sold. He couldn't help smiling over Mrs Marshal being that sold item. That she was now owned like a piece of merchandise, by someone unknown to her, was highly amusing.

Margaret moved to his side, and so did he, then back again, as though they were in some bizarre dance. She firmly placed her hands on his shoulders, and moved around him. He could have stepped in her way, but figured it would make her suspicious.

Margaret made her way through the crowd, becoming more frustrated as people got in her way. They were all gossiping over the bid figure for Mrs Marshal. Who had bought her was a mystery. It was a mystery to Margaret, but she was on her way to find out. They owed her a fat commission, which was going towards Louis' tuition fees.

'So who won?' Margaret asked.

'Everyone's been asking me that,' Pinkie dismissively said.

'Well?' Margaret wanted to know.

'No idea. Didn't recognise him? You'll just have to see for yourself. Liz has been looking after collections. There's a queue, so I guess she's still there waiting to be collected, like all the other stuff,' Pinkie chuckled.

Margaret wasn't worried about her friend not recognising the final bidder. He was one of the out of town businessmen she had invited. The arrangement had been for them to buy a compliant slave girl, or perhaps a slave woman was more accurate. She guessed it made it all the more exciting for them, to be buying a slave at a public auction. No one else knew of this private arrangement, so no harm done.

Margaret still felt anxious. She was responsible for the stupid woman. It was for her this had been arranged, or at least for her daughter's education. Damn! There really was a long queue. Liz still hadn't got through the junk sold earlier. Buyers probably couldn't tear themselves away from the slave auction section, to be bothered about collecting that load of old tat.

'Liz!' Margaret shouted over the clamour of voices wanting their stuff.

'You going to help?' Liz shouted back.

'Yea! Where are the, err, slaves?' she whispered, once close enough.

'They've gone,' Liz answered, while accepting a cheque for a state of the art plastic alarm clock. 'Genuine plastic that,' Liz laughed.

'What do you mean, gone!' Margaret asked.

'I got the cheques and let the winners through. The slaves can look after themselves, unlike this stuff,' Liz shrugged. 'Hey! Aren't you going to help out here!'

Margaret ran to the changing room, to find it empty. 'Damn!' she exclaimed, and stamped a foot.

She hadn't done that since she was a child. Not getting her own way had always been hard, but this was doubly so. She realised it wasn't the uncollected extra cheque that annoyed her, it was not knowing who had taken her away. That was very worrying.

***

The man pushed his way through the crowd, not caring if he stood on a foot or two. He knew exactly where he was going, and filled in the amount on a prepared cheque as he scurried along. He handed it to the harassed looking woman, who was trying to deal with a cluster of winners, demanding their prized objects. Thankfully he didn't have to join the queue.

Liz grunted after looking over the cheque, then pointed behind her, to a side room. The slave was waiting in a changing room, looking bemused, probably in shock.

'I'm here to collect you, slave,' he said.

It was impossible not to use that mystical word. He had delivered many things, even a baby in the back of a car, but never a slave. He ushered her into the back of the non-descript saloon. She wasn't dressed as he had imagined a slave would be, yet that was just as well, as he didn't want to attract attention. The dark evening was an advantaged. Anyone noticing them would think he was a husband, picking up his wife from a cleaning job.

He helped the woman from the car, and led her to the front door. Unlocking it, he ushered her in to a large kitchen. Taking hold of an elbow, he led her into what he hoped was the study. Obviously it was, so he read out the instructions.

'Wait here, for your new master. He may be some time, so be seated. Don't touch anything,' he said, in a flat voice, from having to read the prepared lines.

Nothing was said, or asked of him, from the moment he picked her up. That was a relief. He drove away whistling happily to himself, from earning a high fee for such an easy job.