Free The Auction by Claire Thompson

he had. Frustration with herself, anger with Adam for no doubt setting her up, chagrin that she hadn’t seen it coming—these feelings warred with the constant sexual excitement and anticipation that had settled over her like a net since the moment she’d stood on the auction stage, her eyes locking with the man who had ended up taking her home.
    Carly wiped herself and flushed, quickly washing her hands in the sink she already regarded as “hers” after just one day. One day! She hadn’t even been in Adam’s house for twenty-four hours, and already he’d packed more into the experience than she’d had in a month of Sundays. Would she really be able to endure another twenty-nine days of this kind of constant stimulation? Would Adam? It was the weekend, after all, she reminded herself. It was possible he would work during the week, and what would she do while he was gone?
    Stop anticipating.
    The trainers had tried to teach the girls about living in the moment, about accepting what was given them by their Masters, and not attempting to anticipate or control events. “Your place and your duty are to serve your Master,” Mistress Audrey had told them when they first began the training and many more times over the course of the week. “You do this by obeying, to the letter, his every dictate and command. It isn’t about your pleasure or your pain. It’s about what pleases him . Remember that, and you will be a good slave. Forget it at your peril.”
    Carly hurried out of the room toward the dungeon stairs, her stomach in a nervous flutter of anticipation. Adam stood near a leather recliner. Beside the recliner was a table upon which sat three large, fat candles, the wicks already lit. In addition to the candles were what looked like two very large pairs of scissors, but instead of pointed tips, each end was covered in an oval of dark pink rubber. The ovals fit flat against one another when the scissors were closed. There was also a vibrating wand, its large, round head already shiny with lubricant. Finally there was a black sleep mask.
    Adam pointed to the recliner. “Sit here and I’ll strap you in.”
    Carly saw no straps, but did as she was told. Adam pressed a lever on the side of the chair, causing it to slide back so her body was now parallel to the floor. At the same time, the foot rest section of the chair split apart, forcing Carly’s legs wide open. Reaching beneath the chair, Adam lifted leather straps over each of Carly’s ankles, securing them. He did the same at her thighs.
    “Arms over your head,” he ordered, pulling additional straps from the top of the recliner, which he used to bind her wrists together overhead. He picked up a pair of the ominous scissors. “Do you know what these are?”
    “No, Sir,” Carly whispered, though she was afraid she could guess.
    “They’re labia clamps. You’ll be wearing these throughout the punishment. While not especially painful, they do leave a lovely mark.” He reached between her legs, gripping her left outer labia in sure fingers. He opened the first pair of scissors and closed the rubber ovals tight over her flesh.
    When Carly winced, Adam smiled cruelly. “Just think of it as erotic discomfort,” he said, as he looped a strap through the scissors handle and secured it to the chair. “That might it make it easier to bear.”
    He did the same thing on the other side, forcing her cunt wide open, her labia caught in the tight, rubber grip of the clamps. He was right—the clamps didn’t precisely hurt, but the pressure was intense, and the position fully exposed her already throbbing clit. Even the slightest movement exerted an additional pull on her labia that she realized could cause the so-called erotic discomfort to rapidly edge into pain.
    Carly turned her head, drawn to the burning candles, each of which already had a pool of hot, melted wax at its center. She almost bit her lower lip when Adam lifted one of the candles, but managed to