Page 5 of His to Possess
Our handler steps forward, and the auction begins.
Philip
I’m completely speechless as I gaze up at the women on the stage. Lilah is standing there, slightly left of center, dressed in a tiny pink babydoll nightie, her hair tumbling around her shoulders. There’s no mistaking her now. That’s my little sister’s best friend, the girl who practically grew up in my father’s house. The girl who was always eager to follow Veronica on whatever hair-brained idea my sister got into her head—only to call her big brother begging to be bailed out whenever trouble inevitably followed.
I can’t believe that Lilah Cartwright is even in this club, let alone standing up there on stage. She’s about to auction herself off. And for the life of me, I have no idea why.
It wouldn’t be about money. Her dad is a multi-millionaire, huge in the shipping industry. William Cartwright would have a freaking coronary if he could see her right now.
What in the bloody hell is she thinking?
I’m so caught up in my shock and concern that it takes me a few moments to really take her in. And the sight is nothing short of breathtaking.
You cannot be thinking like that about her,I tell myself sternly.She’s Veronica’s age and she’s practically family.
But the Lilah who is standing before me on that stage bears little resemblance to the awkward, brace-faced kid with the wild, messy curls who used to follow me around the summer I stayed at my dad’s place to oversee the business after his heart surgery. This Lilah is clearly all woman.
The babydoll dress she’s wearing is practically see-through. The pale pink fabric is just sheer enough to show the dark shadow of nipples on the tits currently straining the garment. It’s somehow even sexier than if she was completely naked—that little hint of something very naughty behind the veneer of good girl the cut and color of the dress would suggest. The auctioneer has the girls circle the stage twice, giving me the chance to take in her backside as well, and the view might be even better. Her ass is perfection, round and firm, and I’m struck by the sudden urge to spank the hell out of it.
That’s Lilah,I tell myself sternly. My dick doesn’t seem to give a shit.
Once the girls are standing still in line again, I take the opportunity to study her more closely. Gone are the gangly limbs and round baby face. Lilah Cartwright is all grown up, and the difference between this beauty I see in front of me and the girl I knew is stark.
She still has the same wide, blue eyes, so dark they’re practically navy. I’ve never seen eyes like that on any other person in my life. Right now those eyes are firmly fixed on a spot on the far back wall. She looks scared to death, but there’s an air of defiance there, too. Like she’s determined to do this insane thing no matter what.
Why though? How does a girl like Lilah end up here?
The auction is every bit as seedy as I expected. The girls are called up one by one and asked to do various things—turn in place, arch their back, bend over at the waist. Meanwhile all the men in the audience chortle and whistle. Once or twice the auctioneer actually puts his hands on them, smacking an ass here and grabbing a breast there, all to assure the potential buyers of the firmness of their young, tight bodies.
I think about Lilah going through the same process and I want to be sick. I’m pretty sure I’ll punch the asshole if he puts a hand on her.
I’m surprised by the vehemence of my reaction to the thought. I rarely have such protective urges. The women I’m with come to me for one reason—I’m the best damn Dominant on the entire eastern seaboard. Other Doms send their new subs to me on a regular basis, so strong is my reputation in training them. I’m never protective, nor am I soft or gentle or anything else an innocent young woman might be looking for. But I can wield a whip better than just about anyone. I can bring a sub to the very edge of her limits. I can make them crave the pain I inflict even more than they crave their own release. And when the time for pain is done, I can make them feel better than they ever have in their lives.
I’ve always been this way. Most of my sexual interactions take place in the dark back rooms at my club. The few long-term relationships I’ve had have all been with submissives. Dominant is the only way I know how to be.
But I shouldn’t be feeling dominant right now, not over her. The urge to protect her I understand—she doesn’t belong here. Harder to come to terms with is the stirring in my cock when I think about what it would be like to buy her tonight.
Not just buy her—because that’s obviously the plan. I have to step in and bid on her to ensure that no other man gets a chance. There’s no way I’m going to allow Lilah Cartwright to give herself—give her innocence—to any of the men here.
So why am I wondering what it would be like to claim it for myself?
Absolutely not. I’m going to win Lilah to protect her, not to subject her to my own kinky fantasies. She’ll get her money—though why she thinks she needs it I have no clue—and then I’ll send her on her way. She should lose her virginity with a nice guy her own age who will make it special for her.
But that’s rarely how it happens, is it?A wicked voice in my head whispers. It’s usually a fumbling, skinny boy who has no idea what he’s doing. He won’t make her feel good. Not likeIcan.
Jesus, what is wrong with me? This isLilah. It doesn’t matter how maddeningly sexy she looks up there in her faux-innocent little dress. It doesn’t matter how much her hair is shining under the stage lights, or how much my fingers itch to wrap those chestnut locks around my fist while I thrust—
“Our next cherry up to bid belongs to the sweet Miss Lilah,” the auctioneer announces. “Though not for long, am I right gentlemen?”
There’s a chorus of wolf whistles and I want to be sick—or start throwing punches.
The worst part isn’t even the absolute wankers in this room who think they have a shot. The worst part is that there’s a tiny corner of my brain thatlikesthis. Not just the thought of claiming Lilah, but all of it. The tawdriness. The taboo. The submissiveness inherent in the idea of selling your body to an eager man. If this same scenario was happening at Club Wyld, I’d likely be out of my mind with lust. Even here, even knowing how seedy and wrong this is, there’s still that voice in my head telling me to buy her and claim her and use her however I like for as long as I’m able.
I’ve never been someone to get too introspective about my sexuality. I’m a confident man, and I long ago accepted that I like what I like. I’ve never felt a need to get down on myself about whatever kink I’m enjoying. Self-recriminations are pointless when it comes to sexual desires. Humans are unique and varied and, at the heart of it, incredibly weird. We all like different things and who can say why or what it means? I refuse to self-flagellate because I’ve been fantasizing about tying up submissive women since I first started wanting sex. I’ve never once felt bad about what I like.
I’m feeling all kinds of bad right now, though. Because this—the fantasy I can’t shake about Lilah—iswrong. My closest friend, Nate, is a psychologist and best-selling author whose work focuses on human sexuality and relationships. There’s not a thing Nate could tell me about the inner workings of my dominant mind that would make this okay.
There’s no excuse for the way I feel watching Lilah be offered up for the highest bidder. But I can’t pretend it’s not there.
