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This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental.
© obohobo 2012
"Buy me Sir ... Please."
Clive Ross put down his coffee, glanced again at the photocopied leaflet on the cafeteria table and looked up at the shabbily dressed student standing opposite him. He'd seen her around the university campus and knew that she, like him, was a first year undergraduate student, she on a vocational course while he studied organic chemistry.
"At the auction on Friday night, Sir, will you bid for me please?"
"I didn't intend going."
"Sorry, Cliff, in my class said you would go and might buy a girl for the Christmas period as a live-in housemaid to do chores and stuff."
"There'll be other bidders there."
"Yes, but I'm told they'll most likely be older men and you have your own house and live there alone and might need help with the cleaning and other things," a tear trickled down her face before she went on, "And when they close the dorms for Christmas, I'll have no where to live and no money for a hostel. I'd do everything you wanted Sir, everything."
"And mother and my girlfriend, Stephanie, would be put me through hell. Can't you stay with your parents like most other students?"
"Mother remarried and moved to France. Her new husband wants nothing to do with me. I don't know where dad is now but when I last heard he was in the merchant navy. Oh please, consider buying me. I'm sure I wouldn't cost much and I'll only need a bed and some food, nothing more."
Seeing her downcast, forlorn expression he relented a little. "I have a lecture in ten minutes, when does your last class finish ... er?"
"Chris, Christine Shearman. Usually a little after four."
"Hi, Chris, I'm Clive, Clive Ross, how about you meet me at the rear entrance to C block when you finish and we can talk about it then."
Throughout the afternoon, Ross's chemistry notes became entwined with his thoughts on Christine, the auction and what she meant by, 'I'd do everything you wanted Sir, everything'. The auction, run by a student group, raised money for a local charity by businesses donating goods or people offering their services for periods ranging from a few hours to several weeks. To comply with a legal requirement not to provide sexual services, girls, and some men too, offered themselves as housemaids and when they went on stage to state their offer, they dressed scantily and showed their assets to the best advantage but in their advertising speech, they only offered to do general maids work and would live in with the buyer. Those who were not offering sex as part of the package, simply agreed to a number of hours of housework and didn't live in. The bid price at auction went to the charity but those who covertly offered sex as an extra, expected a large tip from the bidder.
"I wonder what pressure forced a girl like her to offer herself to me for sex? Money, no doubt as she said. I wonder if she's trying to get some of mine? Didn't seem like it and she didn't even hint at a tip for her services and when I've seen her around she's not been with other boys or flirting like many of the girls at Uni. She didn't strike me as being a whore either, certainly she doesn't dress like one and her skinny body and small tits wouldn't make her attractive to most men but I'm not all that keen on show-it-all, bossy girls. I have enough of that with Stephanie. Sounded like Chris might be forced to spend Christmas on the streets if no one bought her; not a good idea for a girl of her age. Maybe one of the charities that put people up in churches for the Christmas period will take her in, not that that would be very nice for her and she's likely to be preyed upon by homeless men. From the little time I spent with her, she seemed nice enough but Mother will have a fit if I take Chris home and say that I'd bought her as a slave girl and, although we don't live in the same house now, she'd certainly come storming round as soon as she heard especially after the way she engineered Stephanie's parents to agree to her becoming my girlfriend. I know they are looking to us getting married but I've put that off for another three years until I finish the course at university. It would certainly knock Steph's snooty nose well out of joint if I took Chris into my bed, but at least with her I should get a fuck instead of being put off every time I try to do more than kiss the girl who is supposed to be my girlfriend. Maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing and make her realise that she has to give as well as receive and perhaps by the end of the course I will have found someone I really like and not someone who is being pushed on to me by parents. Can't see it being a waif like Chris though, but perhaps I'll find out a little more about her when we meet later and if I do my knight in shining armour bit, I'll get something out of it too." Clive let his thoughts wonder as he sat in the Library until the four o'clock time to meet with Chris.
Her mind wandered too but sanding panels for a bedside table, didn't require any serious thought. "What will I do if he doesn't take me to his home? Trust to luck on the street? Offer to be a live-in housemaid to anyone at the auction? With my figure, or lack of it, only the worst kind of men will bid on me and I might end up with more problems than I have now. Somehow I have to persuade him to take me even if I have to offer to be his sex slave. That shouldn't be a problem as I still have enough contraceptive pills left to last until the New Year. I wonder what his house is like? He's reputed to be very rich but he doesn't show it and from what Cliff said, he doesn't go to many of the Uni parties. Perhaps he'll suspect I'm a gold digger and I'll need to convince him that I'm not; all I want is a room over the holiday period and food in my belly."
"I've booked a table for us at Renalto's for Friday evening. It's a Christmas dinner and dance and all the best people will be there. Very formal so you'll need to get your suit and bow tie out and look smart. I've bought a new dress for the occasion and will have my hair done on Friday afternoon. Make sure yours is cut too and you have a proper shave before we set out so there's no five o'clock shadow or stubble. Get a taxi and pick me up at 7:30."
Stephanie babbled on without giving Ross a chance to get a word in until he almost shouted into the phone, "Stephanie, stop and listen. I've made other arrangements for Friday evening and I won't be going to the dinner. You should have told me earlier and saved yourself the expense. Or perhaps find someone else to go with."
"Cancel your arrangements, what's so important that you cannot be with me?"
"I've promised to attend a Charity Auction and I really can't back out of it. Sorry, you'll have to cancel or go alone or find another partner?"
"You can't do this to me, I'm your girlfriend, your fiancée, what so important about an auction?"
"There's an item that will never come up for sale again and I just have to buy it."
Once again Stephanie let forth a tirade of invective and pleas and only let him say a few words but he wouldn't break his word to Chris and didn't mention her to Stephanie.
Nervously Christine stood on the platform in her mismatched charity shop clothes and looked at the audience hoping and praying Clive would keep his word and be there. He'd mentioned the row with his girlfriend and how his mother and her, tried to force him to go to Renalto's and when she couldn't see him, she wondered if he'd succumbed to the pressure. "I am offering six hours housework a day for the Christmas period. I can live in," she stuttered. For a few moments no one spoke. No one lifted their card. Who would want a woman doing housework for six hours a day during the holiday festivities?
The bidding started at £50 and slowly climbed to £80 and stuck there. She saw the bald-headed man two rows from the front raise his numbered card and tears flowed down her face at the thought of staying with him. Had Clive deserted her?
"£100!" Clive's voice rose above the comments from the crowd seconds before the auctioneer struck his gavel on the block.
University didn't end until the following Tuesday, but in the discussions they'd had the day before the auction, Clive agreed to take Chris home immediately afterwards and she would spend the weekend with him as his 'sex slave', a term she'd used, partially in jest, earlier. "If I go to the auction dressed like this," she'd indicated her normal working clothes, "The bids will probably be low and if I only offer work time, you should get me as a cheap sex slave and afterwards I will only need feeding so my being with you won't cost you a lot and I will do housework as well."
"How far are you prepared to go with being a sex slave? I need to know what your limits are to avoid doing something that you are unprepared to do."
Desperate to get him to take her home, Chris replied, "Anything that doesn't hurt too much or leaves lasting marks or makes me sick."
Now, sitting in his car and being driven to a village well outside of the town and the university, she began to worry over what might, and indeed could, happen to her when alone in a house with Clive. He'd seemed nice and reassuring so far but would that change when lust took over?
Seeing her fidgeting and looking worried, Clive spoke quietly to allay her fears, "Chris, we'll get on fine together and I won't do any more than we agreed the other day and our main concern will be the wrath of my mother and Stephanie. I shall expect you to sleep with me and have sex like you agreed, but you won't be whipped or hurt ... and I'll expect you to do the housework I bought you for," he added with a grin, knowing that wasn't the real reason for buying her.
They arrived at his home shortly after midnight and her fears rose a little when the headlights revealed an almost isolated house. Clive carried her case inside and gave her a hug and a kiss to quell her shaking before doing a quick tour of the rooms and helping her unpack the necessities for the night. She tried to delay the inevitable getting into bed but tiredness overcame her fear and, after a bathroom visit together and use the toilet where she saw his prick for the first time, she thought into the mirror as she cleaned teeth, "It looks normal so have I anything to be afraid of? After all, this is what I offered myself for and I promised to keep my part of the bargain. Perhaps I will get to enjoy it."
At that late hour, the central heating had turned off so, after quickly undressing each other, they snuggled under the duvet and Chris slowly relaxed and began to respond to his caresses; his gentle massaging of her mound and his nibbling of her tits. Clive had quickly visually appraised her body when undressing her and wasn't too dissatisfied with his purchase and now, as his hands explored her flesh, her small breasts and the ribs he'd seen protruding beneath them he decided, "I'll do what I can to put some meat on her over the Christmas period," and let his hand work it's way to her thighs. "Open up, slave girl," he whispered with laughter in his voice and when moisture began to flow from her vagina, added, "Play with me too."
Her hand grasped his firm erection and gently massaged it. For the first time for years she felt horny and didn't object when he rolled on top of her and entered his prick into her wet opening. "Please treat your slave girl gently this time, she hasn't done this for many years." He did, but wondered at the fearful circumstances that forced a near virgin into offering her body for sale when she wasn't experienced. Thrusting back to meet his loins, praying that he wouldn't be like Keith, her short-term boyfriend in college, who'd fucked her four times, each time shooting his load very soon after his prick entered her and giving her no satisfaction or pleasure. When she suggested he used his hand to get himself off before hand, Keith, blaming her, said, "Wouldn't make any difference with your vacuum cleaner cunt." Inevitably Clive came before she did but not so quickly that she didn't enjoy the experience. "Probably that's his first time for a while and maybe I can make him hold out a bit longer next time, few seconds more and I would have made it." she told herself, kissing and cuddling him afterwards. She lay awake long after he'd fallen asleep, wondering at what might lie ahead. Already she liked the boy but wasn't sure if he liked her or just wanted her for the sex.
"Wake up, slave girl, time to make some coffee and then have another fuck." Chris blearily opened her eyes to see his only inches away and shortly his lips found hers in a passionate kiss. With the heat having been on for a couple of hours, they went naked into the bathroom to do their ablutions and then to the kitchen where he showed her how to work the coffee maker and cuddled and kissed while the machine gurgled and spat its contents into the jug. "This is nice," she thought, "If it continues like this over Christmas, I won't want to go back." She knew though, she had to give something in return and from the conversations they'd had, he'd expect more than a simple fuck or two.
"The coffee's made my hard-on go down, what are you going to do about it, slave girl?" His voice made the term, slave girl, one of endearment and, knowing he expected her to suck his prick, she did so and soon had it hard enough to enter her wet channel and fuck her for the second time. This time he took longer and she climaxed well before him and continued to thrust her loins to meet his until he shot his load into her. Covered with sweat, they thanked each other and laughingly continued to play tickling and kissing games like real lovers until finally, Clive ordered, "Get up slave girl, time to shower and for you to make breakfast. Breakfast? Chris tried to think back to when she'd last had a proper breakfast. University fees had so drained her funds that paying for breakfast was a luxury she avoided.
Over the meal they chatted as though they'd known each other for years, mostly about their lives and their aspirations at university and plans for afterwards. He gave her a quick tour of the house but because of the weather, only looked out of the windows at the grounds. "The house across the way is my mother's and the big building further on is Planetree Hall, the ancestral seat of my family," Clive explained, "When father saw the upkeep of the Hall cost more than he could really afford, he built the two identical houses, one for mother and one for me and sold the Hall to a hotel group and it's now a convention centre. He rented this one to tenants until I became eighteen three years ago when he considered I'd be adult enough to look after it but he died before then. There should have been a third built, one for my older sister, Jennifer, but she refused to live in this isolated area and took the money instead and now lives in the town. The stables at the back might interest you Chris," he pointed to a low, redbrick building across the courtyard seen from the kitchen window, "We had horses when we lived in the Hall but sold them when I went to college and the previous tenant here was a keen hobbyist specialising in making wooden rocking horses. He installed some machines in the stables but couldn't take them with him when he moved to the States and I bought them at a knockdown price, thinking to sell them at a profit but never did. I've no skills in that direction so they've not been used. We'll have a look at them later when it gets lighter and the rains stops but I suppose now I ought to face the music and play some of Steph's messages on the answerphone while you, slave girl, do the breakfast dishes. I'll put her on the speaker phone but I doubt she'll speak to you."
"Clive Ross, why are you not answering the phone? What happened at this auction that you didn't even arrive late at Renalto's? I sat there alone and several men hit upon me in a disgusting way. You humiliated me. You'd better have a good explanation for your unspeakable behaviour," Stephanie's shrill, demanding voice come over the speaker. The other messages were in a similar vein, all blaming Clive for not partnering her at the dinner. Chris took an immediate dislike to the woman and Clive compared the two and already knew which one he would try and keep.
"She seems upset," Clive smiled, "I suppose I'd better phone her back but I guess she'll be even more upset with my reply.
"Oh, now you decide to answer my call, just when I intended to get into my bath. Most inconsiderate of you, as usual. So what piece of antique junk did you buy at the auction? The item that was more important than me?"
"No antique Stephanie, nothing as old as that, and very much alive too. I bought a twenty-two year old slave girl and by the time we got home it was past midnight and I had to attend to her needs and she, mine. We're just finishing breakfast and we're off to the supermarket in a short while. She's..."
"You bought a slave girl? I don't believe it; you can't buy slaves these days. You must be joking."
"No, It's no joke. Technically she's a housekeeper and at the moment she's washing the dishes in the kitchen." He paused and called to Christine, "Come and say hello to Stephanie, slave girl."
"Hello, good morning, Steph."
"It's Stephanie! Even a whore should have some manners. I presume you bought her for sex. Disgusting. Does your mother know about her yet, Clive?"
"No, but I'm sure she will soon after I put the phone down."
"I'm going to cause a lot of trouble with your family, Clive, should I leave?" Chris asked above the hum of the engine as they headed for the supermarket.
"What, and lose all the money I spent on you?" Fortunately she heard the mocking tone of his voice, "No, slave girl, I've enjoyed our time since last night and not just for the fucking, more for the conversations where I could get to say more than a word or two and for the companionship, the pleasure of being with you. I'm sure there'll be a huge row later especially if mother and Steph get together but we'll survive it."
"It's Stephanie, Mr. Slave Boss."
Chris mimicked Stephanie's voice and Clive laughed and went on in a more serious tone, "Whatever they say, whatever insults they throw at you, don't let them goad you into leaving me. I want you to stay until the New Year and longer if we get on like we are now."
In addition to the vast amount of food Clive thought necessary to stock the freezer to last over the Christmas period, they went to the clothing section where he insisted on buying her a dress and a decent pair of shoes to go with it. "It's only a plain dress such as a slave should wear," he grinned, "For when we have company or if mother decides to allow you to our Christmas dinner. Normally, Jenny and I are invited for a family get together on Christmas day and she invites a few close friends and Jenny brings a boyfriend if she has one. I suspect you won't be invited so we may eat alone."
"So this is the miserable specimen of humanity, this whore, you bought as a slave girl. She's obviously a homeless bitch just looking for someone with money to look after her and she'll be taking you for a ride before long. The sooner you get rid of her the better and do your best to pacify Stephanie Wesleythorpe. She's a girl more in keeping with your rank and worth more than a night or two with this piece of roadside trash. And don't even think about bringing her into my house."
"Mother, may I introduce Christine Shearman, a first year undergraduate student from the university? Chris, this is my mother Rachel." His quiet, formal tone calmed his mother a little, "She my new housemaid." Knowing his mother would not shake hands or kiss her cheeks, Clive clasped her hand reassuringly tightly. "For now, I have bought her services until term starts in January and the price I paid did not include sexual services so she's not a prostitute. She spent the night in my bed, and did so freely and without payment and I'm sure between us we can cook a decent dinner so we've arranged to spent Christmas Day here and will not upset your plans."
After his mother finally left, Clive hugged his slave close to his body until her sobs quietened and he ordered, "Into the kitchen, slave girl, and make lunch. In fact they made it together and while they sat quietly eating, she again wondered at the wisdom of staying with Clive. "Is the trauma and rows going to be worth it? Will he really want to keep me after the holiday ends like he said he might? I know I enjoyed what we did together and I'm sure he did too, but will his family force him to change his mind? I do like him though and don't mind the pretence of being a slave but wonder, did he buy one of the cheaper dresses so I could wear it later without embarrassment or did he think I wasn't worth the extra expense? He did ask which I wanted and I chose that one." Question after question ran through her mind, questions for which only time would provide the answer.
When tooting the horn of her BMW did not produce the desired result; Clive had not rushed to open the car door for her, she had to walk to the front door and ring the bell and wait for it to be opened, opened not by Clive, but by his slut. Surprised, Stephanie stood on the doorstep resplendent in a hooded fur coat and knee length leather boots and looked down at Chris who greeted her in pre-arranged housekeeper mode. "Good afternoon Miss, the Master's upstairs working on a chemistry homework problem, if you care to wait in the lounge I will inform him you are here. Who should I say is calling?"