Free The Auction by Claire Thompson Page B

vibrator, Carly felt panic sliding over her like a shroud. She began to cry, jerking her head from side to side, her body taut and shaking.
    She was dimly aware of Adam’s removing the leather straps that held her down. He pulled the sleep mask from her eyes and then slid his arms beneath her, lifting her from the bondage chair and carrying her to the sofa.
    Instead of settling there with her in his arms, as he’d done the night before, he plopped her down on her side and stepped back, staring down at her with a frown. “Calm down,” he ordered, his tone terse. “You’d think you’d never been punished before. I did not give you permission to come. Have you no self control?” He glared at her.
    “Go down to the master bathroom. You’ll find wax removal lotion in the shower. Use it and then kneel in a corner in my bedroom until I come get you. I’m going to have lunch. I’ll decide later if and when you can eat. I’ve a good mind to call the auction house and ask for someone who’s better trained.”
    Carly watched in disbelieving horror through her tears as Adam turned on his heel and left the dungeon. Why hadn’t she stopped him before it went too far? Why hadn’t she used her safeword?
    Because, she realized, she was afraid to use it. While Adam hadn’t actually come out and said it, she understood that he expected more from her because of her supposed trained status as a professional sub girl. She’d lied on the auction application, claiming far more experience that she actually had in the scene. If Adam knew the sum total of her real training was all of a week, he’d probably send her packing that very day. She didn’t dare admit just how untrained she in fact was—she couldn’t risk it.
    If he sent her back to the auction house, she wouldn’t earn a dime of the bid price. She knew the trainers wouldn’t let her participate in another auction if she was returned in such disgrace. She’d given up her room in the rent house and her job at the club for this chance. She was doing her very best. What the hell did he want from her?
    “ You bastard,” Carly whispered vehemently at the absent Adam, fury overcoming fear. You set me up. This is just some fucking game to you, but it’s all I have right now. Turning on her side, Carly curled into herself, trying to ignore the dry, annoying wax that covered the front of her body.
    She lay there for several minutes alternating between feeling horribly sorry for herself and raging at Adam Wise for being such an impossible prick of a Master. Finally she pulled herself up and forced herself to go downstairs and shower. Whether this was a game or not, Adam was the one holding all the cards.
    ~*~
    Adam bit into his roast beef sandwich as he stared unseeing at the newscast on the TV. He knew he’d been excessively harsh with Carly, but it had been her fault. She really seemed to have no orgasm control. While the man in him was gratified to think he could pull such powerful reactions from the girl, the Master in him was both surprised and annoyed at how poorly she seemed to be trained in this regard.
    Still, had he pushed her too far? He had just assumed she could tolerate the combination of stimuli he’d thrown at her without really knowing her limits or capabilities.
    Maybe this whole purchased slave thing was a bad idea from the start. Maybe he’d follow through on his threat and send her back. But who would he choose in her place? Would slave Nina be any different or any better? What the hell was he looking for anyway? A perfectly trained automaton who took every punishment with bland stoicism and orgasmed on command with the enthusiasm of a trained seal?
    He took another bite of his sandwich and flicked off the TV. He knew what really troubled him, and he knew it was his fault.
    He’d made her cry.
    Not just the gasping cries of erotic suffering or pleasure, but actual tears, pulled from her because he hadn’t properly gauged what she could or could not