Chapter 2: Inspection room
The inspection area of the Black Magnolia was a dark, cavernous space, the air thick with the scent of leather and the faint hum of whispered secrets. The room was bathed in a dim, eerie light, casting long, dancing shadows on the rough-hewn walls. The wooden crosses stood like grim sentinels, their rough surfaces glinting in the half-light.
Patrick's eyes flicked from one to the next, his heart pounding in his chest as he took in the sight of the other slaves. They were all naked, their bodies bound by thick leather straps, their arms and legs splayed wide. Some of them were already hard, their cocks standing at attention, while others hung limply, their bodies tense with anticipation or fear.
Patrick's eyes lingered on a woman a few crosses down from him. She was petite, her body slim and toned, her breasts small but perky. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed, her lips parted in a soft moan.
Patrick's cock twitched at the sight, a surge of desire coursing through him. He tried to push the feeling down, to focus on anything but the woman's naked body, but it was no use. His eyes roamed over her, taking in every curve, every dip, every freckle. He could feel his own body responding, his cock hardening, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
Veronika noticed his reaction, her eyes narrowing as she took in the sight of his erection. She smirked, a cruel twist to her lips. "Looks like someone's excited," she said, her voice a low purr.
"But don't forget, you're one of these today. I wouldn't dream too much now. Soon, you all would be pleasing club patrons." Veronika's smirk deepened as she watched Patrick's expression change from desire to realization, his erection softening slightly at the reminder of his new status. He swallowed hard, his eyes darting from Veronika to the other slaves, then back to her. I know," he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I didn't expect..." Veronika raised an eyebrow, her expression cold. "Didn't expect what? To be turned on by the sight of a naked woman? Or to be reminded that you're here to be sold?" He opened his mouth to respond, but Veronika cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Save it. You're here now. You signed the contract.
Megan, the charismatic and assertive host of the slave auction, swept into the room like a hurricane. Her presence filled the space, her eyes scanning the room with a sharp, critical gaze.
"Ah, the new crop," she purred, her voice a velvet whip. "Let's see what we have here." Megan approached Patrick, her heels clicking on the stone floor, her eyes never leaving his. She circled him like a predator, her fingers trailing over his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "New meat," she said, her voice a low growl. "Always so fresh, so eager." She paused in front of him, her eyes meeting his, a challenge in their depths.
"Why is he not yet in his place?" she asked, her voice sharp. Veronika, who had been watching the exchange with a critical eye, stepped forward. "He's new, Megan. I was just explaining the rules." Megan's eyes narrowed, her gaze flicking from Veronika to Patrick. "New or not, he should be prepared. The clients will be here soon, and we can't have them waiting." She turned to Veronika, her voice a low command. "Get him ready. Now." Veronika nodded, her expression serious. She turned to Patrick, her voice brisk. "You heard Megan. It's time to get you ready.
Strip," Veronika commanded, her voice sharp and unyielding. Patrick hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting from Veronika to Megan, then back to Veronika. His heart pounded in his chest, his palms growing sweaty as he realized what she was asking of him. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. He reached for the hem of his shirt, his fingers trembling as he pulled it over his head. His chest was bare, his skin pale and unmarked. He could feel the cool air of the room against his skin, raising goosebumps on his arms. He looked down at his jeans, his hands hovering over the button. He could feel the weight of Megan's gaze on him, her eyes assessing, her expression unreadable. He took a deep breath and unbuttoned his jeans, his fingers fumbling slightly as he pushed them down his legs.
He stepped out of them, standing before Veronika and Megan in nothing but his boxers. He could feel the cool air of the room against his skin, raising goosebumps on his arms and legs. He looked up at Veronika, his eyes meeting hers, a silent question hanging in the air.
Veronika's expression was stern, her eyes cold as she reached for a tray on a nearby table. She picked up a metal collar, its surface gleaming in the dim light, and held it out towards Patrick. "This is for your neck," she said, her voice flat. "It's to remind you of your place here."
Patrick hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking from the collar to Veronika's face. He could see the challenge in her eyes, the dare to defy her. He lowered his head, allowing Veronika to slip the collar around his neck.
The metal was cold against his skin, a stark contrast to the heat that was building within him. He could feel the weight of it, the symbol of his submission, and it sent a shiver down his spine.
Veronika stepped back, her eyes scanning him critically. "Good," she said, her voice sharp. "Now, the cross." She gestured to the wooden cross a few feet away, its rough surface glinting in the dim light. Patrick took a deep breath and walked towards it, his heart pounding in his chest.
He turned to face the cross, his hands reaching out to grasp the leather straps that hung from it.
Veronika stepped forward, her heels clicking on the stone floor, and took one of his wrists in her hand. She was strong, her grip firm as she wrapped the leather strap around his wrist, pulling it tight. Patrick could feel the rough texture of the leather against his skin, the cool metal of the buckle pressing into his flesh.
He looked up at her, his eyes meeting hers, and saw the cold determination in her gaze. She was not going to be gentle, not going to treat him with kid gloves.
Veronika tied his hands to the cross, the leather straps biting into his wrists, the metal buckles cold against his skin. Patrick winced, his eyes watering slightly as the straps were pulled tight. He could feel the rough wood of the cross against his back, the cool air of the room making him shiver. He looked up at Veronika, his eyes meeting hers, and saw the cold determination in her gaze.
"Comfortable?" she asked, her voice sharp and unyielding. Patrick hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking from Veronika to the other slaves, then back to her. "Not really," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. Veronika's expression didn't change. "Good," she said, her voice flat.
"Now, let's get these off you." Megan's voice was low, husky, as she reached for the waistband of Patrick's boxers. She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, a challenge in their depths. She hooked her fingers into the elastic, her nails scraping against his skin, and began to pull them down, slowly, in a squat-like movement that brought her face level with his cock. Patrick's breath hitched in his throat as he felt the cool air against his skin, his cock already half-hard at the sight of Megan's mouth so close.
He could feel Veronika's hands on his ankles, her grip firm as she began to tie his legs to the cross. He looked down, watching as she wrapped the leather straps around his ankles, pulling them tight. The cross was designed so that his legs were spread wide, his cock and balls on full display. He could feel the cool air against them, making them tighten and harden even more.
As Veronika finished tying his legs, she stood up, her eyes meeting his. she asked again, her voice still sharp, but with a hint of something else. Something that made Patrick's heart race even faster. He shook his head, his voice barely a whisper. "No." Veronika smirked, her eyes flicking down to his cock. "Good," she said, her voice low.
Megan's eyes flicked from his cock to his face, a smirk playing on her lips. "You're already getting excited," she murmured, her voice a low purr. "Good. That's what we want." She leaned in, her breath hot against his skin as she spoke.
"You're going to love this. You're going to love every second of it." Her fingers trailed down his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles, making his skin tingle with anticipation. She reached his stomach, her fingers dipping into his belly button, making him shiver. "You're so tense," she murmured, her voice a low purr. "Relax. Let go." "Can you do that for me, Patrick? Can you let go?"
Patrick took a deep breath, trying to relax his body, to let go of the tension that was coiling in his stomach.
He could feel Megan's fingers still tracing patterns on his skin, her touch sending shivers down his spine.
"Fuck," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't believe I'm doing this."
Megan's smirk deepened, her eyes never leaving his. "You're doing it because you want to," she said, her voice low and husky. "You're doing it because you're hard, and you want to come.
You're not here to think, Patrick. You're here to feel." Megan's voice was a low purr, her eyes flicking from his cock to his face. He could feel Megan's fingers still tracing patterns on his skin, her touch sending shivers down his spine.
Megan turned to Viktoria. "All slaves are set, except one, right, darling?"
Megan asked, her eyes flicking to Veronika, who nodded, her expression serious. "Yes, Megan. I've just finished with the last one." Megan's smirk deepened as she turned back to Patrick, her eyes lingering on his cock, which was now fully erect, the head a deep red, glistening with pre-cum. "Good," she said, her voice low and husky. "Let's get this show on the road." She turned to Veronika, her voice sharp. "Bring me the champagne." Veronika nodded and walked over to a nearby table, picking up a tray laden with glasses and a bottle of champagne. She handed it to Megan, who took it with a smirk.
Megan popped the bottle, the cork flying across the room, and began pouring glasses, her movements fluid and graceful. The sound of the champagne bubbling filled the room, a stark contrast to the heavy silence that had fallen over the slaves.
Veronika, meanwhile, had taken position in front of Patrick, her eyes never leaving his as she began to undress. She started with her blouse, her fingers working the buttons slowly, one by one, revealing the smooth, tanned skin of her chest. Patrick's eyes followed her hands, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the sight of her body, now bare from the waist up.
Megan noticed his reaction. "Enjoying the show, Patrick?" she asked, her voice a low purr. He swallowed hard, his eyes flicking from Veronika's body to Megan's face.
Megan smirked, her eyes never leaving his as she continued to pour the champagne. Veronika's hands moved to her skirt, slowly pulling it down, revealing her black lace thong. Patrick's breath hitched in his throat as he took in the sight of her, his cock twitching at the sight of her body, now almost completely bare.
Veronika's eyes met his, a challenge in their depths. "Like what you see?" she asked, her voice low and husky. Patrick hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking from Veronika to Megan, then back to Veronika. "Yes," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
She reached for the waistband of her panties, her fingers hooking into the elastic, and began to pull them down, slowly, in a deliberate, sensual motion. Patrick's breath hitched in his throat as he watched her, his eyes widening as she revealed more and more of her body. She stepped out of her panties, leaving only her stockings and garter belt and black high heels. She reached for the collar that lay on the tray, a more elegant version than Patrick's, and slipped it around her neck, the metal cool against her skin. She turned to face him, her eyes meeting his, a challenge in their depths. "Now, let's see how you like this," she said, her voice low and husky.
Patrick felt a jolt of anticipation, his heart pounding in his chest as Megan's hand wrapped around his cock. He was already hard, his cock throbbing in her grip. She stroked him slowly, her fingers tracing the length of him, her thumb circling the head, spreading the pre-cum that had gathered there. Patrick's breath hitched, his eyes fluttering closed as he gave himself over to the sensation. Megan's touch was firm, confident, her grip tight enough to make him gasp. She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear as she whispered, "You're going to love this. Patrick's cock twitched in her hand, a surge of desire coursing through him. He could feel the cool air of the room against his skin, the rough wood of the cross pressing into his back. He looked up, his eyes meeting Megan's, and saw the cold determination in her gaze.
Megan stopped stroking abruptly and laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down Patrick's spine. "You're so easy," she said, her voice a low purr. "I could have you coming in seconds if I wanted to." Patrick's breath hitched, his eyes flicking from Megan to Veronika, then back to Megan. He could feel the weight of their gazes on him, their eyes assessing, their expressions unreadable. Megan's smirk deepened as she watched him squirm, her fingers still tracing patterns on his skin. "But where's the fun in that?" she murmured, her voice a low purr. "We want you to last, don't we, Veronika?" Megan asked, her eyes flicking to Veronika, who nodded, holding the tray with filled glasses.
Megan then took Veronika's panties from the table, holding them up for everyone to see. "And here's something for our new slave to enjoy," she said, a wicked glint in her eyes. She brought the panties close to Patrick's nose, the scent of Veronika's arousal filling his senses. "Smell that, Patrick.
That's the scent of a woman who's ready for a good fucking," Megan purred, her voice low and seductive. She pressed the panties against his nose, forcing him to inhale deeply. The scent of Veronika's arousal was intoxicating, a heady mix of musk and sweetness that made Patrick's cock throb in Megan's grip.
Patrick groaned, his hips bucking slightly against the cross. Megan's smirk deepened as she watched him.
"Good," she murmured, her voice a low purr.
Patrick's breath hitched in his throat as he felt the cool air of the room against his skin, the rough wood of the cross pressing into his back.
Veronika leaned in, her breath hot against his ear, whispering, "You're going to love this, Patrick. Patrick's heart pounded in his chest, his cock throbbing in Megan's grip.
He was so close to the edge, his body tense with anticipation, when suddenly, Megan stopped stroking. He looked up, his eyes meeting hers, and saw the cold determination in her gaze.
Suddenly, the door to the inspection area creaked open, and a group of patrons entered the room. Anna and Mark were at the forefront, their eyes scanning the room with a sharp, critical gaze. They were followed by a few other patrons, their expressions ranging from curious to excited.
The room was filled with a low hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional laugh. The patrons filled the space, their eyes scanning the room, taking in the sight of the slaves, their bodies bound and on display.
Anna, her eyes sharp and assessing, made her way towards Patrick, a glass of champagne in her hand. She paused in front of him, her gaze flicking from his face to his cock, a small smile playing on her lips. She reached out, her hand cupping his balls, a sudden, unexpected touch that made Patrick gasp. "Well, well," she murmured, her voice low and husky.
"Looks like we have a new toy to play with." She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear, whispering, "You're going to love this, Patrick."
"Time to start the show," Megan said, her voice low and husky.
Anna released his cock, leaving Patrick feeling empty and aching.
He watched as Megan turned to the patrons, her voice ringing out clear and confident. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Black Magnolia's slave auction. Tonight, we have a special treat for you. Let's proceed to the auction room"
Megan announced, her voice echoing in the room. The patrons began to move, their heels clicking on the stone floor, their voices a low hum of anticipation. Patrick watched as they filed out of the room, his heart pounding in his chest, his cock still hard and aching. He could feel the rough wood of the cross pressing into his back, the leather straps biting into his wrists and ankles. He was completely at their mercy, and the realization sent a shiver of fear and excitement down his spine.
Veronika, now completely naked except for her collar and heels, walked over to him, a glass of champagne in her hand. She held it out to him, her eyes meeting his, a challenge in their depths.