Page 5 of Auctioned Surrender

When the long-blonde-haired receptionist gestures me to follow her to the back of the salon, I do as I’m told, averting myeyes and not saying a word. I already know the rules and what’s on the agenda for today. The first waxing was embarrassing, but the second one went better, and it’s not so bad, really. When we reach the spa, Ming, the mistress who resides over the parlor is waiting, and gestures me in like it’s completely my choice to be here.

Ming holds out a glass filled with ice water and hands me a pill. “Take this; it will help you relax.”

I’m to do as they say, when they say it, but I don’t want to take anything that will affect my guard. “I’ll be okay without anything, really,” I say, hoping she’ll concede.

Ming tsks at me and shakes her head. “I make the rules here, not you, my pet. Now be a good girl and swallow,” the long, dark-haired esthetician in black high heels says, watching me do as she’s instructed before closing the door. She turns to me.

“Strip for me, my pet,” she instructs, sending a shiver of apprehension down my spine.

I inhale deeply, pulling on my dance and yoga training to help me center and calm myself. I know the drill and slide out of my stretchy black pants before slipping the form-fitting t-shirt over my head, taking time to fold both before placing them on the chair next to the table.

“We’re wasting time, my pet,” Ming says, tossing her hair and taking in my length as she marches toward me, her high heels clicking against the tile as she does.

I reach down to slide my panties off, but she tsks. “Bare your breasts first. I like the way they bounce when you’re removing your panties,” Ming says, her eyes capturing mine in challenge.

I swallow past the lump in my throat, find the clasp behind my back, and slide my straps down the length of my arms before laying the bra on the pile of clothes. The third time should be easier, but the realization that this has really become my life seems to settle in with each command and humiliating order.

“Panties now; I want to inspect your pussy. I need to see how much work is needed to make you presentable for Friday night,” Ming says.

I slide my hands down my hips and grasp the sides of my panties, trying to hide the trembling and the sudden fuzziness I’m beginning to feel.

“Come, pet, hurry along. Nothing to be frightened of. I’ll take good care of you,” Ming coos, lowering her eyes to watch me as I remove the last bit of material from my body.

“See, that wasn’t so bad. Now, hands at your sides. I want to look at you,” she says, taking in my breasts and then lowering her blue orbs to between my legs.

She’s enjoying my humiliation, and something about that makes me summon a strength deep inside to hold back the flood of emotion, keeping it to myself so she can’t gain even one ounce of pleasure from my shame.

She pats the table, and her eyes warn me not to dawdle. I step onto the little stool to get on the table and lie down, knowing what will happen if I don’t, and nothing in the world is worth risking that. I have psyched myself up for her normal commands, the one where she tells me to butterfly my legs and press my heels together so she can inspect me for what she calls proper grooming. Instead, she walks to the side of the table and leans close enough that her lips are almost touching mine.

“We have so much time today. I’m going to teach you how to pleasure yourself while giving me a good show, my little sweet,” Ming croons, drizzling a warm vanilla-scented oil over my breasts and stomach.

“Rub it in, my pet. You’re going to provide the person who purchases you with a slow, erotic show, my little virgin. I will teach you what these men like, to ensure you don’t reflect poorly on my training skills,” Ming purrs.

The phone on the table next to us begins to buzz. She wipes the oil from her hands with a salon towel before answering. “I’m busy; what is so important?” Ming asks before her eyes narrow at the phone and then down at me. “She hasn’t even been waxed yet.” There’s a brief pause as she listens to the person on the other end of the line. “Fine, I’ll have her ready.”

She looks down at me and gives me a wicked smile. “Well, pet, it looks as though you and I will have to save playtime for later. Apparently a gentleman who’s looking for a little fun will be stopping in shortly. Be a good girl for him, and I’ll reward you later,” Ming says, not even bothering to wipe the oil from my skin, leaving me dazed and confused and at the mercy of whoever walks through that door.

Chapter 5

Damian

I rouse to a heavy hand pushing against my shoulder. “Hey, wake up, Dame. Limo just pulled up, and Bryanna’s on the move. I called for backup, and I’ll fill you in on Dereck’s meet with Layla on the way,” Matt says.

My eyes rapidly adjust to the sunlight. I nod, pushing up quickly, rolling my belongings just in time to watch Bryanna as she walks down those rickety fucking apartment steps. We hear the crunching of gravel as a sleek black Lincoln Continental makes its way up to the road and stops beside her. There’s a big burly guy in the driver’s seat, and as soon as Bryanna’s in the car, he wastes no time at all hitting the gas, which sends gravel flying clear across the parking lot.

I connect with our intel team and patch Evers into the call. “Follow that fucking car, and don’t lose it,” I say to Evers. “Matt has backup on the way,” I say to our intel group as we begin hiking toward the main road.

We’ve barely made it out of the woods when a supercar spins out in front of us, and the driver’s door swings up like a switchblade. Jay is grinning ear to ear in his brand spanking new Gemera, a luxury Swedish sportscar and I couldn’t be happier to see him. I jump into the front seat, keeping my eyes glued onthe tracker that’s following the chip in the limo Evers is driving, which will tell us exactly where he and the Lincoln he’s following are heading. Matt jumps into the back seat, the door swings closed, and Jay roars onto the highway.

“They’re about three miles ahead of us. Take the next right at the intersection,” I say.

“Roger that,” Jay says, accelerating the next couple miles before slowing for the right-hand turn. “Hang on,” he says, just barely making the light and hugging the curve as we head north.

“Ease up, Jay. They’re not too far ahead of us. They’re taking the next left,” I say, and he slows and then stops at the intersection.

“We’re hung up at the light,” I say to Evers on the overhead.

“No worries. I’m right on their tail.”

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