Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
SILVER
R oulette night had nothing on this auction.
At least with Roulette she’d been pretty much guaranteed a decent partner for the evening. The only real fly in that ointment had been Ice’s unexpected appearance as one of the Doms for the evening. But even with that distraction, she’d known that one way or another, she’d be paired with someone .
Standing up on stage now, looking out over a sea of men and women who may or may not choose to bid on her, she was suddenly aware of every flaw, every little detail that might keep someone from bidding. She was too tall, her ass was too fat, she hadn’t worn enough makeup for the stage lights—or maybe she’d worn too much makeup—the list went on.
Then her gaze landed on Ice, and the nervous butterflies in her stomach went nuts for entirely different reasons. If he bid on her, and won, there was absolutely no question she was in for a painful lesson. Ice could be devious when he put his mind to it, as she’d observed and experienced herself already.
If he bid on her and lost, well… she had a feeling that would only postpone the retribution coming her way.
“Ready?” Frankie whispered from beside her, distracting her from Ice’s penetrating gaze.
“As I’ll ever be. You?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m so fucking ready.” Looking positively gleeful, Frankie rubbed her hands together. “Bring on the big spenders.”
Braden stepped to the center of the stage just then, and an expectant hush fell over the crowd. “Good evening, my fellow kinky bastards. And welcome to the first official ‘What’s Your Fantasy?’ auction hosted by Club BDE.”
He paused, allowing for the swell of applause and cheers and wolf-whistles. The performer in her recognized another performer when she saw one. And despite what she’d heard about how much he’d hated the idea of an auction, Braden Elliott was completely in his element up on that stage.
With a devilish sort of grin stretched across his face, Braden raised a hand to quiet the din. “Each of our participants will be brought forward one at a time for the bidding. They’ll each be given sixty seconds to introduce themselves and give a short explanation of what they’re looking for tonight. Hard limits as well as preferred kinks will be listed on the screen behind them. Any questions?”
“Yeah. How much for the sexy redhead?”
Beside Silver, Frankie blew a kiss to a man who looked like he’d walked off the set of some Hollywood biker show with his long hair pulled back in a ponytail and his muscular arms covered in tattoos. For all the tats and leather, however, biker boy wasn’t half as terrifying as the man toward the back, towering over everyone else in attendance with a scowl on his face and muscles that threatened to rip open the seams of his well-tailored suit.
The silver fox Lottie had mentioned, presumably.
“Ah, thank you for asking.” Braden interrupted Frankie’s flirtation easily, but it did nothing to soften Giant Silver Fox Daddy’s expression. “All bids will open at one thousand dollars and can be raised by increments of one hundred dollars by raising your paddle.”
Biker Daddy rubbed his hands together, a gleam in his eye that said he was clearly ready to go to war—at least a bidding war—to win Frankie. The rest of the crowd was eyeing not just Frankie, but all the ‘merchandise’ waiting to be won.
Except Ice. Every time Silver looked over at him, he was watching her. Nobody else. And when she forced herself to look away, she could still feel his gaze on her, a burning touch so real it was almost physical.
She thought she would get some relief when Braden called Ivy to the front of the stage and the bidding began. An evening with her, overseen by Cordelia, went for nearly five thousand dollars. Even in the dim lights of the pit, the pretty pink flush on her cheeks was evident as the winner took her hand and guided her off the stage. A stunning blonde woman with her hair pulled up in a ponytail any cheerleader would envy followed closely behind the pair. But even through all of the frantic bidding and excitement of that first auction, Ice’s gaze never faltered.
Two more submissives, one male and one female followed Ivy with similar bids, before a woman in a gorgeous purple corset tied tight enough to give her a perfect hourglass figure stepped forward. A hush that could only be described as reverent fell over the crowd.
And then the woman reached up, slowly sliding her cat-eye glasses down her nose, peering out over the rims, and the response from the crowd was almost deafening.
The pleasure of Mistress Rogue’s company went for more than thirty thousand dollars to a man who nearly ripped the knees of his expensive-looking suit in his rush to kneel at her feet in worship.
And still, Ice watched Silver, through it all.
Then it was Frankie’s turn. Giant Silver Fox Daddy, who had yet to bid on a single person, stepped forward as Frankie introduced herself, the crowd parting before him like the Red Sea. To Frankie’s credit, her voice never wavered as she flirted shamelessly with the crowd, offering herself up for an evening of ‘being used in every possible way’ before Braden stepped forward to begin her auction.
“Opening bid for the lovely Frankie is?—”
But Giant Silver Fox Daddy didn’t bother to let Braden finish. “Fifty thousand dollars.”
Outrage rippled through the crowd. “He can’t do that!” someone yelled from the back.
“Ah, well…” Braden watched, amusement twisting his lips up into a wry grin as Giant Silver Fox Daddy stepped up onto the stage and scooped Frankie up, tossing her over his shoulder with a resounding swat to her upturned ass. “Looks like he can, actually.”
“Holden!” Trapped over the giant’s shoulder, Frankie pounded her fists against his back. Silver hadn’t realized how tiny Frankie actually was until just then. Or perhaps Giant Silver Fox Daddy was actually that giant. Either way, it was like watching a small kitten batting her paws at a lion. “Let me go, you big oaf!”
But Holden’s only response was to swat her again, hard enough to make her yelp and go limp over his shoulder.
Clearing his throat, Braden lifted the microphone and smiled out at the crowd. “Dinner and a show, anyone?” Laughter rippled through the crowd, other than the few scowling men who were clearly unhappy at losing their shot at a night with the gorgeous Frankie.
“Last but most certainly not least this evening, we have the stunning Silver. Tell us a bit about yourself, sweetheart. What are you hoping to get out of tonight’s auction?”
Nerves caught her by the throat as she took the microphone from Braden’s hand. In all the excitement, she’d forgotten that she’d be expected to give a speech. “Ah, right. Like Master Braden said, I’m Silver.” Her gaze shifted to Ice, still standing in the same place watching her with those steady, unwavering eyes and she nearly abandoned her plan on the spot. But that would be letting him win.
And Amanda Sterling did not lose to anyone if she could help it.
“What am I looking for tonight?” Tearing her gaze away from Ice, she scanned the rest of the crowd, offering up a smug smile. “See all this makeup?” She waved to her face, the dark lipstick, the smoky eyeliner. “I want to leave here with it ruined . If you think you’re up to that challenge, bring it on… Daddy.”
She wasn’t sure what had prompted her to add that title to the end of her little speech, but judging by the way several of the men in the crowd—including Big Bad Biker Daddy— were now watching her with hungry, eager eyes, it had been the right move.
Handing the microphone off to Braden, she stepped back, placing one hand on her hip and striking a pose that left her leg bare nearly to her pussy. Hunger filled the eyes of her audience and a familiar excitement pumped through her veins.
It was, after all, just another type of show. And she was nothing if not an excellent fucking performer.
Braden opened the bids at one thousand for the night, just like all the others. Nearly every paddle in the room rose and stayed in the air as the price climbed higher and higher. A few dropped off at the three-thousand and five-thousand marks, but she couldn’t deny the thrill in her veins when the majority of the paddles stayed raised up to the ten-k mark.
Nearly every paddle… except for one. Ice’s arms stayed crossed, his eyes still locked on her as her price tag continued to rise.
At fifteen, they were down to half of the bidders. At nineteen it fell to two—Biker Daddy and some other man in an expensive suit. By now, nerves were jumping in her stomach as she genuinely started to worry about what she might do if Ice didn’t bid on her.
Didn’t he want her? It wasn’t so much the prospect of spending the next few hours at a stranger’s mercy that had her heart racing and her stomach clenching with unease. She’d played enough at Black Light for that not to phase her.
It was the idea that Ice was truly done with her, that she’d somehow broken their relationship beyond repair that made her want to fall to her knees and weep right there on the stage.
But she didn’t, because if that was the case, she would be damned if she’d give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.
Asshole.
When the bidding passed the twenty-thousand mark, the suit shook his head and stepped back in disappointment.
“Going once for twenty-thousand and one hundred dollars, going twice—wait! A new bidder has entered the ring. New bid is twenty-thousand and two hundred dollars!”
Biker Daddy turned to glare at whoever had swooped in to steal her from him at the last minute. Hope beat painfully at her chest as Silver followed his gaze to Ice.
No. Not to Ice. To his friend, the man he’d been seated with the night before when she’d been watching him from across the room. Beside him, Ice still stood, his gaze locked on hers. But now a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
What the fuck was he up to?
The bidding continued, with Ice’s friend and Biker Daddy locked in a battle of wills. Until, finally, around the thirty-two mark, Biker Daddy shook his head and lowered his paddle with a sigh. “Sorry, darlin’. We would have had fun together, but this is a little too rich for my blood.”
Her own blood roared in her ears as Braden counted down, giving the other bidders a chance to step in. Giving Ice a chance to raise his paddle at the last minute, to prove he still wanted her and he’d just been teaching her some fucked-up lesson.
But he didn’t.
“Sold to Master Beckett! Come claim your prize, my friend.”
She was aware of Beckett moving through the crowd. Aware, vaguely, of him approaching the stage, holding his hand out to her. But her attention was riveted on the man he’d left behind. Arms still crossed, that smug fucking smile still playing on his lips as he nodded ever so slightly toward the man standing in front of her.
Her vision blurred as she placed her hands in Beckett’s and allowed him to help her down from the stage. It took her a moment to recognize the blurriness as tears, and she immediately raised her head, willing them back when she did.
She would be damned if she let Elias Turner see her cry.
Not that it mattered. He was gone already, disappeared into the crowd as she stood hand in hand with his friend.
“Come with me, sweetheart. Let’s go find a quiet place to sit and talk.”
The absolute last thing she wanted was to talk to him. Or to anyone. She just wanted the sweet oblivion of giving herself over to someone for an hour or two. She wanted to push everything that wasn’t pain or pleasure out of her mind. Pausing beside a small stage where a St. Andrew’s cross stood empty, she nodded up at the cross and grinned. “Or we could just climb up on that podium and get to it.”
Beckett paused, and for a moment she thought he might take her up on her offer. But then he turned, a hard look in his eye that was tempered only somewhat by the amusement sparking in the dark depths. “We should get something very clear, right out of the gates, little girl. I tolerate brats, but only because I very much enjoy breaking them. Elias already warned me you can be a bit of a handful. But I would suggest not pushing me too hard, unless you’d like to leave this club with your bottom sore inside and out, and your poor little pussy still dripping with need. Am I making myself clear?”
Fear, the most delicious kind, trapped the air in her lungs. “Y-yes, Sir.”
“Good girl. Now, I know damn well you are experienced enough to understand the need for negotiation before a scene, so I don’t want to hear another argument about it.”
“Yes, Sir.” Heat crept up her neck at his lecture. “I’m sorry, Sir. I do know better. It’s just…”
Some of the sternness faded from his expression. “I’m not who you were expecting to bid on you tonight?”
“No, Sir. And that’s not fair to you. I’m sorry. Again.”
“You let me worry about what’s fair or not, sweetheart. All right?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He smiled, and she nearly melted into a puddle at his feet. There was something about being rewarded with a warm smile from a stern man that seemed guaranteed to turn her to putty in any Dominant’s hands. “That’s a good girl. Let’s go have that chat.”