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  • Auctioned Housewife Ch. 01

Auctioned Housewife Ch. 01

12

It's just a game for Barbara

Barbara and her husband, Jack, enjoyed a little exhibitionism, which had grown ever more adventurous, to the point where they were caught making out in a park. At least they hadn't been prosecuted. Though from then on the adventures, as they called them, were toned down. In turn their sex life returned to the boring duty it had been. They both agreed to join a club with like minded people, where they could indulge their fantasies.

Jack suggested she enter an auction at the club, to be held in a few weeks time. Barbara giggled thinking he was joking.

'Look, it's right here in this forum. It would be a good way to introduce ourselves,' Roger suggested.

She read through the blurb establishing it wasn't a joke, or just a fantasy evening.

'Jack! This is a serious auction, not just a game,' she scolded him. 'It's not even at the club, they're just mentioning it,' she added.

'If you bothered to look, there's a safe way to go about it, for fun,' he enthused.

'Well, I'm not so sure,' she hesitantly replied.

'Read that bit there. Some of the club members join in,' he encouraged. 'Besides, how can anyone really be a slave today. If you didn't like your master, you'd just get a taxi home,' he said.

'Oh! Right! So you do intend auctioning me off to a stranger,' she teased.

He just sighed and stood up from the computer.

'All I ask is that you give me the taxi fare. Just don't expect me home for a few days. I'll need to give the guy a chance to satisfy me,' she smirked.

Barbara sat at the screen to read through the details.

True enough, it was possible to enter the auction safely. An option on the conditions specified the male or female slave could be reserved exclusively for a certain buyer. They would be entered in the auction, bided upon by anyone, only to be finally purchased by the seller. Probably a husband, lover, or friend.

'Besides, it doesn't matter how high the bidding goes, we'll get the money back from the sale,' he pointed out.

Less the commission she thought. Not believing he would bother with all the planning this involved, she agreed to consider it.

***

While he was at work Barbara looked through the rules, and figured it was a possibility. Although anyone could and would be biding, only the nominated person could ultimately win. She liked the idea of experiencing a no risk thrill. The men bidding on her wouldn't know it was her husband taking her home as his slave.

She imagined parading around, scantily clad, with strangers lusting after her. The thought of men bidding on her, wanting her as their sex slave, was thrilling. Jack would be taking her home, but she would tell him to pretend to be her new master. He'd like that, her serving him as a sex slave for a whole weekend.

At the club there was a painting set in Roman times, of a girl being auctioned. The image made her hot. What in hell would she feel like parading her near naked body before strangers? She'd have to be careful or she might orgasm in front of them all.

An overactive imagination spurred her on to consider the idea. The men wouldn't just be ogling her body, like those times in the park. They would be bidding upon her, with the lucky one able to take her. Oh! God! A master could do whatever he liked with her.

Barbara doubted she would look so demure and downtrodden as the Roman slave-girl. She was more likely to be excited and lead them on. That might spoil the atmosphere for her, so maybe she should try to act the part, by thinking of herself as a poor slave-girl. What would it be like to lose her freedom, and have to pander to a man's whims?

Sitting before the computer screen she burst out laughing. 'I hope the man that wins me has plenty of whims, or he'll be in trouble.'

A hand dropped between her legs as she imagined the moment on stage. Being put up for auction by her husband, for a stranger to purchase and use. It was a humiliating notion. Experiencing it would be electrifying, and so very stimulating, as she was already finding. She was lost in a fantasy, unable to fathom whether it was the humiliation, or exhibitionism that was the most enthralling.

It was her husband's idea, so she let him work hard at persuading her over the next few weeks. A weekend away at a health spa, gold jewellery, and the extra pampering, were a delight. While he was at the office she worked out hard at the gym, with an added incentive to tone her body.

It wasn't just her improved shape that invigorated their romantic evenings. They were both fantasising excitedly, over the prospect of entering a real slave auction.

Jack was proud of his wife. She had an hour-glass figure and a pretty face. At thirty-five he was lucky to have such a young attractive wife. He thought it was his idea to try exhibitionist adventures, and was pleased that she agreed. It gave him a thrill to see other men lust over her.

She was already getting into the spirit of things, by calling him, Sir, then recently she called him master. A new demure attitude was quite a surprise to him, as she was usually so independent and assured.

The day before applications had to be in, Barbara agreed to fill in the on-line forms, knowing he hated details. She was now officially an object, ready for auction! The thought of it left her a little frightened, yet energized with anticipation.

There were three days before the auction, and each one of the nights since filling in the application, had been terrifically passionate. From just thinking about it Barbara became worked up. Once purchased, she would be his slave, having to obey his every command. At least until the novelty wore off, or he pushed her too far.

That was the deal, and they both knew she would honour it. Barbara had a fixation about honouring a commitment, though it was more than that. She had been willingly playing at being his slave girl, since before completing the registration document. When purchased, after parading before bidding strangers, she would become so worked up, their weekend would be the sexiest ever.

Jack couldn't wait. She was already doing a good job, tiring him out from an over excited libido.

Two days to go, and she was nervous as hell.

Hearing the car pull into the drive, she shrugged off the respectable housecoat, to greet him wearing a new set of underwear. She wore a tiny bra and panty set, together with a suspender belt, holding sheer stockings. Her slim figure, with long limbs suited the set. She looked like Bambi, the way she was squatting on her knees, looking up at him with large expectant eyes.

'My master is home, how may your slave serve her master,' Barbara beamed up at him.

For just a second the weariness of work, meant it caught him off balance. About to smile with pleasure at such a sexy greeting, he instead grimaced. A few days ago he would have jumped the beautiful woman, wife or not. Over the past few days she had been so demanding, he was flagging.

'Is there something wrong, master? Is your slave unsatisfactory?' she asked, looking concerned.

She had certainly practised the role, as she had all day to think of nothing else, while he juggled boring figures all day. Although worn out, he was quick to think of a ploy that would suit them both. He needed to slow her down, as well as exorcise bad feelings brought home from work.

'Bad slave-girl!' he angrily spoke.

He surprised them both, with the sharpness of tone. He watched his wife hang her head in confusion, and with disappointment.

'Crawl over here,' he firmly demanded, not giving her a chance to get out of character.

'You've been a bad slave-girl, and need to be punished,' he teased.

He was calming down, so had to bring a pretended anger to his voice. At least she wasn't looking at him, otherwise he might have burst out laughing.

'Over your master's knee,' he directed.

The back of the panties were see through, showing off a well rounded bottom. He had thought of tanning her backside before, only he knew full well she would refuse such an indignity. He watched her reluctantly assume the position, slowly manoeuvring into place.

Barbara was fighting the urge to submit, and losing. It was a surprise to find she was reacting to his anger, even if it was put on. She just couldn't help doing as she was told, from being so worked up. All day she had fantasised about the auction, inflaming her passion, until it was out of control.

Jack bared her bottom, was tempted by it, and wanted to drag out the scintillating moment.

'Your master might have brought someone home, and there his slave was, half naked, showing off her ass to anyone walking in. Can you imagine that, slave-girl?' he asked, with a grin on his face.

Barbara could see a close up of the carpet, only it was out of focus as she imagined the scene he had conjured up. They had played naughty games, showing off her body while away from home, and even in their back yard. She imagined one of his co-workers walking in, seeing her half naked, and prostrate at her husband's feet.

A shudder of passion ran through her tummy. She was already wet, had been all day; so much so it forced her to change panties a couple of times. Now she was flowing, anticipating being spanked, imagining someone was there witnessing her disgrace.

Jack slapped his wife's bottom, with a sound far louder than expected, despite it being just a tease. Seeing how wet she was, and receiving an obvious moan of pleasure, meant he wasn't going to stop now.

'Anyone would think you're a cheap slut, slave-girl,' he admonished her, and slapped her ass less gently.

'Sorry, master,' she spluttered.

The only way she could accept the indignity of being over his knee, was by burying herself in the role of slave. Having practised it so often she could switch off her usual moral code, to become an obedient slave-girl. She had a fierce determination, and a stubborn streak, that combined to keep her believing it was true.

'You will be sorry, bad slave-girl,' he said, with another slap.

He enjoyed the way her bottom wobbled, and how she pressed against him, trying to avoid the stinging touch.

She murmured incoherently every time he stroked her bottom, encouraging him to carry on, despite the pain in his palm. Her cheeks were stinging red, heated up as much as his hand was. Knowing her so well, he could see she was vibrant with sexual tension, flexing her thighs, and badly needing him.

It had been the same when coming home after a game in the park, or a mall. Sometimes they couldn't wait to get home, so they just parked up and jumped onto the back seat. Recently she had been more out of control, less able to hold back. He soon found he could push her into more adventurous sexual acts, while she was so heated up.

Jack guided her off his lap, not daring to push her, as she was in a world of her own, and might have hurt herself when falling in a lump at his feet.

Barbara pushed up on all fours, feeling animal like, lustful, needing a male to mount her. Her eyes were glazed over, but she could smell him. Her face was inches from his crotch. She leaned forward, pushing at his hard cock, to nuzzle it, suggestively opening her mouth and licking her lips.

Jack was surprised she had allowed him to spank her, and now she wanted to suck him off! He had never pushed it, though even a light hearted suggestion had been refused in the past. In the last few days she had reluctantly agreed, while playing at being his slave, so now, surprisingly, she was initiating the act. He was ready, and wanted the pleasure of it. Recently he felt the pressure was on him to perform, and he was exhausted. Besides, he wanted to take advantage while she was so malleable.

'Stand up, bad slave-girl. What have you to say to your master,' he fiercely demanded.

'Sorry, master. Your bad slave-girl deserved a spanking. Can your slave-girl pleasure her master now? Please!' she whined.

He had never seen her so flagrantly flaunting her sexuality. He was ready now, only just able to hold back from grabbing her to wildly fuck her. It wouldn't be a nice gentle love making, it would be pure animal lust that drove them. It was so tempting to let go, but the moment demanded his attention.

'Are you a wanton slut, slave-girl?' he asked.

'Sorry, master. Your slave-girl can't help being a dirty little wanton slut. Your slave-girl needs master's cock, please! Oh! Please, master,' she moaned.

'No! Slave-girl doesn't deserve her master's cock, yet! Go stand in the corner like a naughty slut of a girl,' he sternly commanded.

She hesitated. She turned around and pulled up the panties from around her knees. She pulled them half way up, twisting her hips as though wriggling into them. She looked around at him, with pouting lips, and an obvious look of desire on her face.

The expression told him she was desperate for a good fucking. His cock twitched in the suit trousers, yet he sat there, slumped in his favourite chair. It would never be the same again, as he savoured this moment for ever. He would remind her of it, whenever he wanted to tease her.

'Leave them, you've soaked them with your sex juices, little sexed-up slut,' he said. 'Go stand in the corner, until your master demands his slave girl's presence,' he told her.

Kicking them off she sauntered to a corner of the room, wiggling her red ass at him. The effect wasn't lost on him. He rubbed the hardness in his trousers, suddenly stopping, knowing he would have to cool down if he was to make it a good session.

What helped cool him down was the uncharacteristic reaction. Speaking to her in such a demeaning way should have had her demanding an apology. Instead she was taking it all, and wanting more.

'Hands on your head, little slutty slave-girl,' he firmly ordered.

He was so very pleased with his own performance, he nearly laughed out loud. Spoiling the effect now would ruin all that had been gained so far.

He quietly walked up to her and whispered in her ear. 'Stay where you are, until your master is ready to fuck his dirty little slave-girl. Don't move or fidget. Keep your hands on your head, away from that fat swollen cunt,' he warned her.

'Yes, master, sorry master. Your naughty little slut-slave will be a good girl and do as she is told, master, promise!' she cooed.

She normally hated being called anything pathetic sounding, like girl, or a slave-girl. It was out of the question to refer to her pussy as a cunt, yet she stood there taking it. Behind her he smiled, while stroking her spanked ass. He had never seen her so worked up, and knew it would last until he deigned to satisfy her need. He would have to be good though.

He showered then quietly padded back to the lounge.

'I'm keeping an eye on you, dirty little slave-girl,' he quietly spoke.

Hearing her breathless murmuring response, told him she was still fantasising, keeping herself ready for him. His rock hard cock nudged her sensitised ass, and she started to turn around.

'No! Stay where you are, you wanton hussy!' he harshly ordered. 'When your master is ready he will use his slave-girl, as he sees fit. Until then, slave will stand with hands on head, well away from slave's cunt. Does little pathetic slave-girl understand?' he demanded.

'Yes, master! Sorry, master,' his wife quickly replied.

It was obvious she was gagging for it. He had heard the expression, but hadn't thought a woman could become so excited. Having his wife so worked up, she was willing to obey him, was beyond anything ever expected. He left her standing in the corner of the room, wearing just stockings and suspenders, with hands on her head.

Trying to find the silk dressing gown, added weight to her often repeated words, about husbands unable find something right under their nose. It was her favourite dressing gown, and it was delightful keeping her waiting while trying to find it. After awhile he discovered it hanging in his closet. He went back into the lounge, ready for an interesting evening.

Sitting in his favourite easy chair, he stared at her. If anything, she was more worked up from being kept waiting. She was trembling with anticipation, knowing he was examining her.

Her hands were still on her head, though she was rubbing her thighs together, trying not to be too obvious about it. Her pussy lips were swollen. They were always big and puffy, which she hated to be remarked upon. At twenty-nine she should have outgrown the bloom of youth, yet her skin looked young and vital. He was lucky to have such a beautiful woman as his wife. Even more so, to have her wanting him so much.

'Over here little slutty slave-girl,' he demanded.

He didn't need to put on a gruff voice, it was deeper from arousal, and stronger from self-assurance.

Barbara didn't think she could move. Turning around she saw he had on the silk dressing gown she liked him to wear. Her legs were weak, yet she managed to stand there simmering with heat. As ordered, she got on hands and knees, to crawl to her master. Her arms were aching, though not as much as her pussy ached for his cock.

'Are you going to be an obedient little slave-girl?' he demanded.

'Yes, master! I'm your spanked slutty slave, ready to pleasure her master, please!' she begged him, with a light girly voice.

This wasn't the playful voice used recently. She sounded like a silly dumb blond. She was beseeching him to satisfy her, and couldn't help it. As much as the sound of her voice embarrassed her, the fire in her belly drove her onward. She intensely stared at his cock, revealed where the dressing gown parted.

'You know what sluts do. You know how they pleasure their master? Then get to it, and don't swallow, show me when you're done,' he warned her.

Feigning indifference, he sat back to let her work on him. Damn! She was looking so hot! The sexy underwear would have been enough of a thrill, but it was almost forgotten. Jack had never seen her so excited and enthusiastic. She couldn't wait to get at him, pulling his cock, grasping it tight, he thought she might rip it off.

She had played with him before, under the covers, but never like this. In their lounge, on her knees with her eyes sparkling, she was kissing the end of his cock. It was something never expected, until now. The strangeness of it, was all that kept him from shooting his load over her face.

He glanced at the window, realising he had forgotten to draw the curtains. His wife was oblivious of everything from being so worked up, that she focused on the one thing important to her. His cock!

He watched her draw it into her mouth, savouring the sight, and the feel of her tongue. She was working him hard. After all these years he was discovering she had a talent, never before guessed at. She gripped the base of his cock, helping him to hold back.

As much as he wanted to, he dare not cum, as she would be revolted and may never do this again. His mind flipped over to the opposite idea, that she wouldn't anyway, so why not take advantage of the one-off experience. She wanted to be his slave for the evening and he had played the game, so now it was his right to reap the rewards.

His muscles flexed, he was more than ready. He desperately needed to cum. He tried to think of something else, something neutral, a football game. Instead he thought of entering her properly, of returning this pleasure, with a building need to fuck her pussy.

He was about to push her away, and started to tell her, only the words became a blurted grunt. The image of her sucking his cock down her throat didn't change his thinking, it wiped all thought away. She had choked, but his wife managed to swallow his cock!

His eyes were wide with wonder. Again her head pushed down, with distorted lips extended over his fat cock. It was no mistake, her lips kissed his hairy flesh, with his cock tightly gripped down her throat. Her lips pulled up its length, sucking greedily, until only the head of his cock was in her warm wet mouth. She sucked in air, flicking its tip with a powerful tongue.

12
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