My heart was pounding a mile a minute the night I met Laurie.  Or I guess you could say the night I "bought" Laurie.  I had heard about the slave auctions at one of the famous S&M clubs in downtown New York City on a Friday night.  I went there not knowing what to expect.  There were an
awful lot of weird characters there and I really felt out of place.   I mean, a girl really shouldn't be in a place like that.  The men made passes at me; the women looked at me like I was competition for them.

There were three girls available for auction that night.  After seeing the first two, who looked like they had been worked over by a steam shovel, my anticipation dwindled.  But when Laurie came up to the stage, my heart leaped out!  There she was, the girl of my dreams--petite, blonde, blue-eyed, pug-nosed.  Innately shy.  Not a day over 20.  She never raised her head, not once, while the auctioneer rattled off the cadence of numbers.

At $250 there were three bidders left.  At $325 just two.  I ended up buying her for $400, only after convincing the auctioneer to raise her skirt up,
showing us a dainty pair of white panties beneath her tan-colored pantyhose, and then to open her blouse half-way, exposing a lacy, white bra and what appeared to be a pair of very well-formed breasts.  

She blushed profusely as she was led to me from the dais, her head still lowered.  I wondered what kind of girl would allow herself to be sold as a slave to a perfect stranger, to another girl.  "I live in Jersey," I half-whispered, my heart racing.  "My car is outside."  "You have to promise me one thing," she said in an obviously nervous manner.

     "What's that?"

     "No marks.  I don't want you to leave any marks.  I don't mind going with you, and you can do whatever you want to, but I don't want marks."

     "All right.  No marks," I said.  "I want you to enjoy this evening as much as me."

     For the first time she looked at me.  Our eyes met.  "I'm Laurie."

     "And I'm Danielle," I said, holding out my right hand.  She shook it and smiled, just slightly, the kind of smile one gives more out of fear than of happiness.

     Our chauffeur-driven ride through the Lincoln Tunnel occurred in almost total silence.  I wanted it that way, to heighten Laurie's obvious nervousness.  She looked out of the window most of the time.  I made some notes in a note book along the way, reminders to myself of things I planned to do in my one big night of fantasy fulfillment.

     When we arrived, I gave the butler the night off and escorted Laurie into my house.  She seemed quite impressed with the mansion that I had
inherited from my grandfather.  She particularly liked the indoor swimming pool.  I offered her a drink and she accepted.  We ended up on the living room sofa.

     "Well, I guess you know why you are here, Laurie," I said to the pretty blonde.

     She kept her head down, blushing once more.  She shook her head in the affirmative, biting her lower lip ever so slightly.  She appeared to be
trying to act like she wasn't as nervous as she really was.  I could sense her uneasiness.

     "How long have you been into this sort of thing, Laurie?"

     She smiled again.  "You are not going to believe this, Danielle, but only for a few months.  My ex-boyfriend really got me started.  He was deeply into S&M and got me involved.  At first I didn't like it, but after a while it grew on me.  When he got tired of me, he let a few of his friends use me.  I got more and more into it."

     "Is this the first time you've been auctioned off?"

     "The second," she replied.  "But last weekend was a bomb.  The guy wanted to mark me up.  I think I escaped with my life.  Please tell me you're not like that."

     I smiled.  "I'm not, Laurie.  But I hope to get my $400 worth."

     For one of the first few times in the evening she looked at me again. "You will," she said softly.  "I trust you."

     "Tell me some of the things you like, Laurie."

     She became pensive.  Her mind seemed to be racing with thoughts of how to answer my question.  She seemed to want to please me.  It was obvious she had been well trained by someone.  "That's a difficult question.  I guess it depends on the situation.  I like to be ordered to do things. 'll do almost anything you ask me to."

     "I can go for that.  How about for starters raising your dress up a bit while you're sitting there so I can see a bit more of your legs.  You have very nice legs."

     She blushed slightly, but without hesitating, raised her hips a few inches off the sofa and, placing the palms of her hands on the outside of her dress to the side of her thighs, pulled the thin, dark blue cotton several inches higher.  She was wearing see-through pantyhose which made her
legs look sleek and tanned.  The hem of the dress stopped just a few inches short of the top of her thighs.  Having raised the dress, she curled her
shoeless feet under her behind and pointed her knees away from me.

     It was a nice, somewhat provocative leg show.  "That's nice," I said.  "You are very sexy, Laurie.  Have you ever made it with another woman?"

     "Yes," she replied, "or I wouldn't be here now."

     "Tell me what else you like."

     "I, well, I guess I like to be tied up and, ah, you know, whipped."  She spoke hesitatingly, feeling me out, trying to determine what my intentions were for her.

     "Where do you like to be whipped?"

     She became pensive again.  There was a long, pregnant pause.  Finally, she replied, "Anywhere," biting her lower lip even harder.  Her answer really piqued my interest.  "Your ass?"

     "Yes."

     "Your breasts?"

     "Y-yes," she said, instinctively moving her right hand to just under left tit, cupping it ever so slightly.  The gesture inflamed me.  I really wanted to try this girl out.

     "How about your pussy, Laurie?"

     She turned her head away from me, as if she were afraid to answer.  She looked so sweet, it was difficult to believe she was really into this life-
style.  "Laurie?  Answer me.  I have a pussy whip in my little collection.  Does that turn you on."

     She looked at me for a brief second, then turned her head away.  "Yes," she blurted.  "Even my pussy, if it's done right.  Do I have to answer these questions?  This is embarrassing."

     "I want to know how to please you, so I can please myself.  I'll work with you if you work with me.  We're in this together, okay?  What part of
your body is the most sensitive to erotic stimuli?"

     Her head dropped completely.  She stared at her lap.  She paused for a moment, her lip quivering just slightly.  "Do I have to tell you?" she
asked.

     "You must," I said in a more demanding tone than I had heretofore been using.

     "I, well, I guess it's my backside, you know...my anus.  I can really get off if things are done to me there."

     "Like what?" I persisted.

     There was a another long pause.  She was choosing her words carefully, still trying to analyze my desires.  "I, I like to be taken there."  She paused again, then blurted, "Especially when I'm tied up and can't move.  And I guess I like to have things put inside my ass."  She began fidgeting
nervously with her fingers, afraid she had confided too much to me.  Her voice cracked when she spoke.  I had located a nerve ending, and I  decided to explore it immediately.

     "I have a long, thin battery-operated dildo, Laurie.  I'm going to penetrate your asshole with it later on this evening, and leave it inside you for a long time.  Maybe I'll whip your backside while it's in there!  Do you think you'd like that?"

     Her face turned crimson.  She shifted her legs.  "I know I would like that.  I'd like that very much," she said so softly I could barely hear her.

     "I won't let you down.  I promise not to hurt you beyond what you can endure, and I promise to leave no marks.  I have only one rule--I insist on
complete obedience.  You are my slave for the rest of this evening.  If a slave is disobedient, she gets punished.  If she obeys, she is rewarded.
Do you understand?"

     "Y-yes," she replied, barely above a whisper.

     "Then it's time to begin.  Stand up, Laurie."

     As she moved her legs to stand, she opened them just enough to afford me a brief glimpse of the 'V' of her crotch, covered as it was by the darker colored pantyhose tops above her thighs.  She stood just a few feet in front of me, head obediently lowered, eyes closed.  Her dark blue skirt had fallen back into place.  She wore a white cotton, short-sleeved blouse, unbuttoned at the neck.  Her hands were at her sides, her fingers nervously fidgeting.

     "I wand to examine what I've bought.  Every inch of it.  Every part."

     "Yes, mistress."  She did not raise her head or open her eyes.

     It was the first time she had called me "mistress".  It sounded nice.  "Come closer to me," I commanded.  She took child-like steps on the  softness of the carpet beneath her stockinged feet.  She stopped, her knees just inches from mine.

     "Laurie, I want you to kneel down and raise your hands over your head and hold them there until I tell you to lower them."  Without hesitation she
did as I told her.  By her actions, I knew she would make a good slave.  Her hands were fists above her lowered head, her eyes still closed.  I  inched forward from my seat and brought my fingers to her face.  Gently, I massaged the skin of her forehead and cheeks with the tips of my  fingers for several moments.  It was a technique I had read about--complete tenderness before the suffering.  It served to raise the distinction in the recipient's mind between the two extremes of pain and pleasure.

     "You have a very pretty face," I whispered, then added, "And I hope that blonde hair is natural."

     "It is," she said, her face flushing for the hundredth time this evening.

     "I'll be finding out soon enough for myself, I said, bringing my finger tips down the sides of Laurie's bare neck and resting my palms on her shoulders.  Ever so gently, I kneaded the area beneath my palms, then slowly lowered my hands toward her pouting, blouse-covered breasts. She hissed slightly as my hands moved over the mounds; I felt the fullness of her mammaries beneath the blouse and bra.  Her tits did not feel large,  but they were not small by any means.  I squeezed gently.  She shuddered.  Her mouth gaped open.  The nipples began to enlarge beneath the thin cotton as I moved the palms in a circular direction, teasing the turgid nubbins even more.

     "I like your breasts.  They are firm.  Just the right size."  For good measure, I gave them both a hard squeeze.  She groaned, more out of  surprise and pleasure than pain.  She seemed to consciously lean into me as I grabbed her there, pressing her upper body against my hands, as if she wanted me to do this to her.  She was really into this pain stuff, I could tell.  Sensing her needs, I squeezed much harder, causing her to  throw her head back slightly and to moan softly.

     "Do you like it when I squeeze your tits real hard?"

     "Yes," she blurted.  It was obvious she was being truthful.      I took the opportunity to give her exactly what she wanted, contracting my hands and fingers over her mounds, savoring her now incessant moans and groans.  Having had my temporary fill of her breasts, I moved my hands down her body, alongside her petite waist, finally letting them come to rest on her hips, just below the black leather belt she wore around her skirt.
Noticing the belt for the first time, I decided that it could come into use later.  Quickly, I unbuckled it and pulled it out of the loops around her waist.  I said, "This may come in handy later," then placed the belt next to me on the sofa.

     "That's why I wore it," she said timidly.