Mira the Captive Ch. 04

Chapter 4: The Auction

Mira sat bound to her armchair in the dining chamber, watching Tiran guards lead Earth women away. Her nerve-endings buzzed. Today, after bathing her, Silerna had rubbed bandy oil over every inch of Mira's body, leaving her shiny and smooth, with the arousing scent of the oil rising, heated, from her skin. The guard had given Mira two glasses of bandy wine, so that her pussy ached intensely and her mind could no longer form words, but was focused on a single desire: To feel a cock inside her. She watched guards and Earth women rise and leave, rise and leave, until only a handful of Captives remained---glowing, naked bodies in a sea of empty chairs. Finally, a guard approached her chair, snapped open her cuffs and unwound her leash. "You will follow me."

"Yes, Master," she murmured, and she followed him dazedly up to the center of the stage, stepping into the circumference of a small, metal circle.

"Hold onto me," the guard instructed, and Mira wrapped her arms around him, feeling his hard torso against her chest, and the iron contours of his penis pressing into her belly. Instantly, the circle plunged downward, like an elevator with broken cables. On Earth, Mira would have been terrified, but the strangeness and the wine and the guard's stability all served to flood her body with pleasure, rather than stress, as the circle plummeted.

And then, suddenly, it was still. The guard unwrapped Mira from around his chest, and took firm hold of her wrists, forcing her arms behind her back and deftly roping them together. He stepped off the circle, tugging her leash, and she followed him, awkwardly off-balance with her arms bound. The bottoms of her toes met a groundcover thick with fallen flower petals, unbearably soft beneath her tender, scrubbed feet. The air was warm and humid, and clearly nighttime, but it was the bluest, brightest night Mira had ever seen. They stepped silently through an outdoor corridor lined with trees that rose high overhead. The trees grew in clumps of multiple trunks, like banyans, interwoven with thick vines, with the now-familiar oversized blue trumpet-flowers dangling downward, glowing and nodding. Up above, the sky was night-blue with swaths of sparkling stars. Mira walked and walked, her eyes trained on the muscular back of the guard in front of her, until the path opened up into a clearing.

Two round silver moons hung high among the stars. In the extra-bright moonlight, Mira saw that she was in a small, stone amphitheatre, open to the sky, with rows of empty seats rising up along one half of the structure and a stage in the center. In the other half of the structure stood the Captives, arranged on a series of round pedestals, spaced about a foot apart. The women's arms were bound behind their backs, and their leashes were spiraled tightly around metal rods that were anchored into the center of the pedestals. As the guard led Mira toward an empty rod, she recognized Katarina, Chitra, Magda, and other Captives from the ship. They stood still on their platforms like statues, all facing the center of the theatre, their skin glowing garishly in the strange light. Mira scanned the faces in search of Loraine, but didn't see her.

The guard positioned Mira with his strong hands, and then twisted her leash around the rod, firmly tethering her to her platform. Then he left and she stood alone in the silent, open air, watching the two moons of Tir slowly angle toward the horizon and the sky turn purplish orange. As the world changed color, Mira's guard returned, bringing another vessel of bandy wine and tipping it into her mouth, and she swallowed, tasting its bitter saltiness and feeling the heaviness of overdue orgasms weighing down her clitoris with each sip.

Daylight slowly poured into the jungle amphitheatre. Mira heard the faint sound of male voices. Soon, Tiran men trickled in, and began to stroll among the Captives, touching them and pinching them. Mira saw one approach her, the spirals on his body glowing in the early morning light. She closed her eyes, feeling the fluids slick on her thighs. She felt a hand on her ass, heard a grunt of approval. Two hands fondled her breasts and she felt hot breath on her neck. "Good little girl, harden those nipples for me." Mira moaned and shifted. She kept her eyes closed, ashamed to confront the men. The parade of hands continued, soft strokes and pinches on every part of her body.

Then there was a lull, the early birds apparently finished with their rounds. Mira opened her eyes again. Half the seats in the amphitheatre now contained Tiran men, all tall and dressed in lush brocades, some of them taking notes on small, thick squares of paper. Mira's eyes were drawn to one man with wiry blue hair; he sat back in his seat with a large, stiff cock rising at an angle from his clothing. A pale Captive knelt beside him, her leash attached to his arm. The man motioned impatiently with his hand, and the girl bent in toward his crotch, wrapping her hand around his penis and licking it. Mira could see thin, red lines crisscrossing the girl's bottom. The Captive sucked hard, with total concentration, but the blue-haired man appeared unmoved by the blowjob, looking out at the world nonchalantly as the girl sucked and pulled at his cock.

Mira couldn't tear her eyes away. She almost jumped when she heard a voice in her ear: "Your mouth would suit my cock nicely." She turned her head, and saw the man she had been fantasizing about for two days: tender angNaveena. Mira quickly looked at the ground, flushing. She was certain angNaveena could see her thoughts, that he knew how much she wanted him to touch her, to penetrate her.

Another voice, a jovial one, said, "AngNaveena, this is the one. If you bid on one whore, it has to be this one. She is breathtaking."

Mira felt a finger under her chin, tilting her face upward. She squeezed her eyes shut. "Look at me, you naughty girl," said angNaveena gently. Mira opened her eyes and looked into his purple ones, her heart pounding so hard she was sure he could see it thumping beneath the fat of her breast. "Yes angKov, you may be right . . ." AngNaveena withdrew his finger and looked at her thoughtfully. She stared back, obediently, her skin hot with embarrassment and arousal. AngNaveena's mouth was soft, almost feminine, upturned in a gentle smile. His eyes were darker than Silerna's, his deep-violet pupils almost touching the edges. As he studied Mira, the dragonfly on his shoulder slowly shifted its wings, glinting in the early-morning sun like woven silver. Then angNaveena gave a little nod, and the two men moved on. AngNaveena stopped now and then to lightly touch or inspect a Captive. His companion was less restrained---He was tall, even for a Tiran, and bald, and smiled continuously, and he reached out and ran a hand along the curve-line of every Captive he passed, all the while talking to angNaveena and laughing. Mira watched the two men until they reached the other side of the amphitheatre and settled into their seats.

Now the stone seats were two-thirds full of Tiran men, mostly in pairs, conversing in a low, male hum. As the sky brightened, Mira noticed another tone, a pretty, soft vibration that looped and bounced inside the walls of the amphitheatre. She finally traced the sound to the stage, where Silerna stood, arms held wide with her hands opened toward the sky. Silerna's eyes were closed, her chin lifted upward, her tail ever so slowly swishing the air. While Silerna intoned, the men grew quieter, until finally her cello-like voice was the only sound audible. Silerna lowered her arms, opened her eyes, and smiled broadly at her audience. "Welcome to the biannual Tir 7 Captive Auction. We have a new batch of beauties, fresh from the planet Earth. Men, you will not be disappointed." She laughed, and the men, eyes trained on Silerna, laughed too. "I see a few new faces . . . Please keep in mind that the whores do not officially belong to you until you've paid Daro and performed the ceremony. And now, let's begin." Silerna turned to her left and twirled her elegant hand at one of the guards, who stood stoically next to the stage, holding the Captive Katarina by a leash. The guard nodded back at Silerna, and led Katarina carefully up the stone steps to center-stage. As they walked, Katarina studiously looked at her bare feet, hunks of smooth, blond hair falling over her cheeks to hide her face.

Once he had positioned Katarina to the left of Silerna, the guard stood motionless behind the two women, holding the leash. Silerna beamed at her audience, and then turned to Katarina and scooped up a hank of her hair. "Our first item today is Captive 19 . . . Have you ever seen hair like this? It has already grown 6 inches, just on the journey to Tir . . . Nineteen is shy and obedient as well as luscious . . . Katarina, you will look at the men."

"Yes, Mistress." Katarina raised her head, stage-terror plaguing the corners of her eyes.

"The bidding starts at 3,000 shards. " The blue-haired man nonchalantly raised an index finger. "And, we have a bid from angTurken. Anyone, 3,100?" Another man gave a nod. AngTurken then bid 3,200, simultaneously raising his finger and tugging the leash of his little Captive, who bent forward and once again wrapped her mouth around his cock. Mira watched, through her bandy-wine induced languor, trying to make sense of the process, enjoying the music of Silerna's voice and the sensual swirl of her hands, and then drawn back to angTurken and his Captive. Her eyes took in angNaveena as well, who sat two seats away from angTurken. AngNaveena's head was cocked toward his bald friend, who gestured and chatted throughout the auction. The auction for the first Captive finished quickly, with angTurken winning Katarina for 6,000 shards. A guard promptly presented another Captive, and the next round of bidding began.

And so it continued. The day grew brighter, and Silerna's voice resonated in the quiet of the stone amphitheatre, praising the beauty, sensuality, dexterity and obedience of Mira's Captive companions. AngTurken, the blue-haired man, bid on several Captives, and won at least five of them. He seemed to have an endless need for felatio; his girl knelt beside him like a pet waiting to be fed, and every few bids, he pulled her leash and her head and hand resumed their place between his legs. While the girl serviced him, angTurken continued bidding, his face barely changing expression.

All around Mira, the pedestals emptied as the auction proceeded. Guards walked among the remaining Captives, pouring wine into their mouths and here and there un-tethering a Captive to lead her toward the stage. And then, suddenly, a guard was loosening Mira's leash and pulling her off her pedestal. She followed, feeling faint, conscious of her thighs rubbing wetly together and her ass shifting as she walked. Strange, staccato birds cried in the jungle beyond the theatre. Her legs felt weak; she could barely raise her knees to climb the stone steps up to the stage. When she reached the center of the stage, Silerna looked lovingly down into her eyes and moved her arm to Mira's back, placing her fingers lightly on Mira's bound wrists. Then she folded Mira's right hand into her own long, exquisitely soft one. Silerna turned back to the audience, looking around meaningfully at the Tiran men.

"Number 47. . . This one is special. . . Not only is she an exceptional beauty---ripe, smooth, silky to the touch---but she has a highly developed depravity and a sense of devotion rarely found in new Captives. Men, the bidding starts at 11,000 shards." A little groan of exasperation came from the crowd. "And . . . do I see 11,000 from angTurken?"

Mira felt her blood turn cold. She could not, she would not have this inattentive man for a Master. She was meant for angNaveena. She felt despair rise in her chest. Then, as though to reassure her, Silerna's tail lifted upward and began to stroke Mira's spine with its pointed tip, and Mira felt herself relax again.

"Do I hear 11,100? Thank you, angNaveena, it's about time you put in a bid." Mira's heart jumped; she saw angNaveena gesture with two fingers. He and his friend were suddenly watching the stage intently. AngTurken casually raised the bid, and angNaveena outbid him again. AngTurken rolled his eyes and lifted his hand; angNaveena smiled, and gestured with his fingers again. Again and again, Silerna requested bids, and the two men leapfrogged one another with higher and higher amounts, until the bidding reached 17,000 shards. AngTurken threw angNaveena an irritated look, and pulled his dick out of his pants for the little Captive to suck again.

"And do I hear 17,100? Okay, angTurken bids 17,100. . . AngTurken---you will have at least five whores to name this afternoon, so don't forget to save some spunk for the naming ceremony." The audience burst out laughing, and angTurken's face screwed up into a sour smirk. He and angNaveena continued outbidding each other, while the Captive worked ever more noisily on angTurken's cock, the smacking sucking sounds resonating around the amphitheatre whenever Silerna's voice grew quiet.

"Do I hear 26,000? Thank you; angNaveena bids 26,000. . . How about 26,100?" A shaft of brilliant sunlight filtered through a gap in the stonework, directly hitting the dragonfly on angNaveena's shoulder. The creature suddenly fluttered upward, spastically circling, and flapped down the row of seats and into angTurken's eyes. Startled, the blue-haired man waved his hands in front of his face, his body jerking from side to side, throwing the little Captive off of her position. As she fell to the ground, Silerna blissfully announced, "All right then, we have no more bids---angNaveena has placed the winning bid for Captive 47, at the extraordinary price of 26,000 shards. Congratulations to angNaveena, the new Master of Captive 47."