Auctioneer's Block


Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fiction, Voyeurism, Slow, .

Desc: Sex Story: A young woman is stripped naked and auctioned before a crowd.

I stood in a world of darkness, hands bound behind my back as I listened with growing trepidation to the loud hum of conversation that had to be a hall full of people. The velvet bag over my head puffed out from my face with every warm breath I took. It was hot in that bag, my face felt flushed and uncomfortable. I didn't dare to move, fearing there would be consequences or that without the benefit of sight I would fall and hurt myself.

Around my neck was a rope, the loose end of which hung freely down between my breasts to trail against the inside of my bare thighs. I was not naked, yet, though I knew I would be soon. I was covered by a sheer dress, not unlike a baby-doll nightgown, the hem far too high for proper decency; barely enough to conceal my panties and the transparent fabric did absolutely nothing to conceal the black bra I wore beneath.

Closing my eyes I took a deep breath and felt my chest tremor as I heard a voice shout out above the noise in the hall. This was it, I thought, feeling my stomach twist into knots. Hands grasped me by the arms, one on either side, manoeuvring me forward, guiding me toward the noise. My heart beat like a demented drummer as I shakily put one foot in front of the other.

Suddenly we stopped our slow procession. A voice in my ear told me to just follow the rope around my neck, that there was nothing ahead of me to trip or fall over. Fingers brushed against my thigh, gathering up the end of rope. I wanted a pee, my knotting stomach twisted tighter, compressing my bladder. The rope tugged gently and I hesitantly stepped forward, gaining slightly in confidence as I set one bare foot down in front of the other. A loud cheer suddenly shattered my confidence, causing me to flinch and side step to my left as though hit by the sheer volume of the applause.

My stomach felt so hollow I thought I would puke at any moment. The rope urged me forward and I pressed ahead, fighting the urge to just turn and run. But run where? I couldn't see and didn't have the freedom of my hands to restore my sight. The rope went slack and I stopped - was this it?

I felt the rope drop, slapping back against my body. Someone was shouting above the din for order. Slowly the noise settled as hands turned me. I was confused; in my blackness I envisaged that the space of the hall lay behind me, but that didn't seem right.

"Lot number forty-three," A commanding voice called out on my right, "a young filly, and a very nice looking wench she is..."

His words were suddenly drowned by the cheers from the hall. Order was once more insisted upon and I could feel my legs trembling nervously while the crowd settled down.

"Thank you!" The voice of the auctioneer shouted out to quieten the last of the nonconformists. "Settle down gentlemen please..." a ripple of laughter, "and we will show you precisely what is available next. Remove her hood."

Abruptly my world changed from bitch blackness to light. My eyes blinked hard as my blonde tresses freed from the bag, cascaded down my back. I was staring at a long curtained wall, the hall, my spectators, were behind me. Nevertheless, it was the coolness of the air rushing across my lips and filling my nostrils that struck me most, and for a brief moment it is possible to say that the experience was exquisite. Until that is, I was turned around.

The hall was packed and I was taken back by the sight of so many faces staring back at me. That snake in my stomach twisted into several more knots as I surveyed the endless rows of smiling faces. Apart from the back of the hall, where the crowd seemed thickest, they were gathered in clusters around small tables, beer glasses seemingly covering every inch of space. All these details I quickly took in and more besides. The room, as you might expect, was predominately made up of men, yet I was surprised to see a few females scattered amidst their number.

The auctioneer was talking. In my dream-like state I was hardly aware of the words he spoke. Bids were already being placed. I was a commodity, a thing to be exchanged for money and it appeared that money was prepared to be willingly traded for me.

I stood stock still as the auctioneer order my gown removed. I felt the two neat bows on my shoulders slip, and then my gown drifted down my body to gather at my feet as the crowd of onlookers cheered my unveiling. Hands rose in the crowd as the bidding increased. It continued upwards, passing two thousand pounds as I was told to turn myself.

My feet shuffled apprehensively round, turning my body in full circle until I faced them once more. The auctioneer walked up to stand beside me, his finger pointed out what fine lips I had. There was a splattering of laughter from the crowd, his implication not lost on them for a moment. He lowered his arm, his hand cupping my breast, raising it enticingly as he remarked on its firmness. A lone voice in the crowd shouted out that they should see it properly.

The auctioneer's hand delved in his jacket pocket, only to reappear with a magician's flourish, banishing a pair of scissors. A snip at one shoulder and I felt the strap slacken. He walked behind me, another quick snip and the other strap was rendered useless. His fingers, cold against my back, unhitched my bra. My arms tensed, trapping my bra between my arms and chest. It was futile. He stood beside me once more, reaching across me, hand curling between my breasts to hook the front of my bra, and then it vanished and the room shouted in approval.

Under the disorder of the spectators he told me to brace my shoulders. Reluctantly I pulled my shoulders back, my breasts rising proudly on my chest as he waited for calm to fall. His finger waved out at the room of spectators, swinging back to point out the hardened nipple crowning my breast as though they were unaware of such a marvel.

"Keep those shoulders back." He muttered. I stiffened as he turned back to the crowd, his hand slipping down beneath my breast and quickly flicking upwards. My breast wobbled briefly before settling back as he called out to them, "See how firm her tits are?"

.... There is more of this story ...

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Fiction / Voyeurism / Slow /