Yvonne

Yvonne by SteveBriton

I am attempting to learn how to write stories that will appeal to women and appreciate any suggestions, especially suggestions from women, who can tell me how to make my stories more appealing to them. This story was written by me alone and is entirely fictional.

When my wife died I was devastated. She was my soul mate, my lover, my best friend. We had both been married before but neither of us had ever had a real relationship. What we had in the past were room mates, friends with benefits, or less. My wife’s first husband was mean to her, mentally abusive and sexually selfish. My first wife was a beautiful woman with a heart of stone and a bad attitude toward the world. She was, in short, a ball busting bitch.

When I met Linda it wasn’t love at first sight. It was a business relationship. I had a girl friend (well, a fuck buddy) and Linda was married but legally separated with final divorce decree pending. We had heard of each other through friends and had enough information to respect each other before our first meeting. Working together we developed a growing respect for each other, and the trust that doing business generates when all parties are dependable and keep their word. Over time sparks started, just a little. Neither of us made a move on the other for a long time, nearly two years, but I was aware that something was developing. I had broken up with my FWB and was going out to dinner with a mixed group of friends including Linda and needed to change clothes. Linda had a change of clothes in her car, so did I, in my car. We were driving our separate vehicles and I pulled over to a group of dumpsters behind and industrial building. Not the most romantic place but that’s where I pulled in. I got out and so did she and I said “I need to change clothes and this looks like the only place between here and the restaurant. She grabbed her cloths from her car and went behind a dumpster and changed while I went behind another dumpster changing. We weren’t kids, we had both been married, but it seemed the right way to handle things at the time. I didn’t peek.

Not long after that we both had a bit too much to drink one night and ended up at my house. Before I knew it we were rolling around on the sofa like two high school kids in the back seat of a car. We got naked and had sex. I’m not sure that we made love that night but we did have intercourse. The next morning I woke up and the first thing that went through my mind was “I hope Linda won’t wake up regretting what we did last night. I hope she won’t jump up and flee”. Then, she woke up with a smile and we cuddled and it was obvious she had no regrets. I had to ask her anyway, ” any regrets?” And she said “No. How about you?” Then we made love and it was much more than just sex. After that we had a bit to eat and a shower, soaping each other up, me shampooing her hair. We were laughing and frolicking. Back in bed I gave her oral sex very lovingly and gently and learned how multi-orgasmic she could be.

After a few weeks we knew we were in love, but with a much more mature and realistic outlook on life than either of us had when we were younger. Eventually we moved in together and after over two years of “living in sin” were were married. We both worked hard, traveled, had nice cars and bought a decent home. Our love life just kept getting better and better.

Linda was always multi-orgasmic and I had pretty good stamina and control. Before my first marriage I had an older woman as a girlfriend for a while who taught me a few things about pleasing women. Linda always needed at least three and sometimes five or six orgasms to be satisfied. Sometimes I’d manually work her clit for one, eat her for another, and fuck her until she lost count of orgasms and both of us were completely exhausted, spent, weak and covered with sweat. I was always gentle with her and took my time working her up. That doesn’t mean we didn’t fuck hard and fast at times. What I mean is, I didn’t hurt her. Our love making, no matter how intense or active, was always done with love. Early in our relationship I licked her clit until she came and she said “I guess I should give you a blow job now.” I responded with something like “Should is the wrong word. It implies an obligation. No woman should ever feel like she should do that or anything else. If you want to suck my cock, if you can get off on it, then go ahead, but please, don’t do it as a favor to me.” That comment seemed to be some kind of revelation for Linda. She thought it was expected or demanded. Over time we had lots of oral sex (and everything else a loving couple can do). We both liked “nooners” since we weren’t so tired as at night, and after housework and yard work on Saturday or Sunday morning and a shower and we had some of our most spectacular, marathon sessions of love making.

Linda was more than my wife and best friend. I didn’t want to go hunting or fishing with the guys, I didn’t want a golf day or a bowling night. I wanted to do everything with Linda and she wanted to do everything with me. We visited nude beaches and stayed at a nude resort once, but we were never swingers. I didn’t find myself attracted to any other woman. I don’t mean I didn’t enjoy the tits and shaved pussy at the nude beaches. About 90% of the people we saw on nude beaches were shaved, and that included both men and women inside and outside of the country. We started shaving early in our marriage. I just couldn’t get enough of going down on her shaved pussy. And the way she teased me on the nude beaches drove me crazy…spreading her legs and smiling at me and making remarks about the things she wanted me to do to her and the things she wanted to do to me.

Then, Linda got sick….It was advanced and fast moving cancer with no chance of survival and a course of treatment that could only be worse than the disease and could buy her a few extra weeks at most. She opted out of treatment. After a few weeks she died.

After nearly a year of moping around and having no interest in anything my barrister gave me a tennis racket. It was his old racket and it was well-used. He had recently bought a fancy, new “space age material” racket. He told me that I was too young to give up on life. “Take this racket and rebuild your life around it”. Reluctantly I took the racket and promised him that I’d at least attempt to get back into tennis at the public tennis courts near my home. They were blacktop, unlike the clay courts I played on at the club I’d belonged to years earlier. I had quit tennis due to a shoulder injury that I got riding (wrecking) my motorcycle dirt riding. The shoulder had healed but I’d never gone back to tennis…until now. Here I was in my mid 40’s. Not wanting to deal with any social situation I went to the court early Saturday morning, just after daylight. When I tried to hit practice serves alone they went wild. I tried hitting the ball against a wall so it would bounce back to me and I could hit it again. Boy was I lousy.

As I was hitting the ball against the wall I noticed a woman standing watching me. She just stood there a while, so I finally asked “can I help you”. She said “I’m meeting friends here and I’m early. We play every Saturday morning. You can join us if you like”. I said “Thank you, but I don’t think so.” Then she said “What’s your name?” and I answered “Steve, Steve Briton, what’s yours?” She replied “Yvonne” (no last name). At this point I was near enough to her to see that she was about 40 years old, attractive in a “gal next door kind of way”. She had medium length brown hair tied back, little or no make-up. I continued to size her up. Shorts, not very short ones though. I wondered how she’d look in a short tennis skirt. (Maybe I was alive after all? I hadn’t noticed anything about any woman since Linda died.) She was maybe five pounds over weight, not quite perfect, but then those women who are “perfection” with perfect make-up, beauty parlor hair and fake tits are usually not all that nice. I could see she had nice legs and very nice bum, medium size tits, and a friendly warm smile. (Hey, any man age 13 to 99 is going to notice the tits, unless he’s dead). She looked like the soccer mom next door. I then noticed that she was wearing a wedding ring. That was a relief for me. I didn’t want any social situation with a single woman. I’m not the most handsome guy in the world but before I was married I didn’t have any trouble getting dates. I have a decent job, decent car, decent home and I’m fairly tall, just over six feet, and only about ten pounds over weight. I haven’t been hit on very often by women, but I’ve learned to watch out for what a woman is up to if she does hit on a man. Especially a married woman. But Yvonne didn’t come on to me at all.

I asked “Does your husband play?” She said “No, Rob is home with the kids.” This woman, Yvonne, was very open and friendly without seeming forward. She had such a nice smile, and pretty face. “Oh, you have young children?” “No, they are older, but they don’t play tennis either. More into computer games.” We continued to talk and I learned that she works in an office downtown. She was a bit vague about where she lived or worked, but no wonder. I was a stranger she had just met. Yvonne then asked me if I’d just hit a few balls with her until her friends arrived. We swatted a few back and forth and I was absolutely awful. No control of the ball at all. “Did you just take up tennis?” Yvonne asked. “No, not exactly” I replied. “I used to pay but haven’t had a racket in my hand for about ten years”. She said “Until today? What made you decide to come back after ten years?” We continue to hit the ball with her doing most of the hitting and me mostly chasing the ball as I hit wild or missed it completely. “A shoulder injury some years back and a few other personal matters.” She said “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” About then a car pulled up and a couple got out. They looked to be in their forty’s, dressed in tennis cloths like Yvonne. I mean, shorts and T-shirts, tennis caps and tennis shoes but not the expensive, fancy, color coordinated outfits you see on the country club crowd. Their car was a Camry, maybe three or four years old. They looked middle-class, unpretentious, like Yvonne.

“Hi Mary. Hi Frank. How are you guys today” Yvonne said as they walked over. “This is Steve, and it’s his first day here. He says he doesn’t want to join us but maybe you can help me change his mind”. Frank walked over and shook my hand and said “Well, we wouldn’t want to make anyone play against their will, but this is just a friendly informal thing here. We don’t play hard and we don’t care who wins. It’s just for fun.” I repeated that I’d been away from the game for ten years and that I was terribly rusty. Frank said it didn’t matter. A couple of more cars arrived and then we had a mixed group of about ten people. After introductions everyone started hitting balls around. Then it came time to play mixed doubles and Yvonne looked at me and smiled and I knew what she was saying with her eyes…an unspoken “Come on Steve, be my partner for just one game.” Without saying a word I took my place. Although I was clearly the worst player there, I improved several hundred percent within fifteen minutes. I was actually returning some volleys and landing some of them inside the lines. Tennis isn’t like riding a bicycle but it’s not all that different either.

Whenever Yvonne was in front of me I couldn’t help but look at her bum. It wasn’t that her shorts were short or tight, but that five or so extra pounds she was carrying made for some nice curves. He blouse didn’t accentuate her tits and she obviously wore a bra, so no pokies and no jiggle. She didn’t act sexy…but she sure had a nice bum and legs. I realized then that not only had I not looked a a woman’s bum in a long time, I also hadn’t been laid since Linda got sick…nearly a year now. With Yvonne being married and not flirting, and me knowing better than to ever mess with a married woman I figured it was time to go home and wank off. Surly there was something online to stimulate my interest. We played a few sets, switching partners, and no matter who was my partner, we lost (thanks to me and my terrible playing). Nobody seemed to mind. Finally Frank said “It’s getting hot, let’s hit the 19th hole”. I’m no teetotaler but I don’t drink in the morning, not even in the afternoon, and only occasionally in the evening. I said “Count me out, I’m going home.” Then Yvonne said “We don’t really go to the 19th hole. Frank just calls it that. We go to a local bagel shop for tea, and maybe a bagel. After all this exercise you must be thirsty.” “OK” I replied. “Which bagel shop” and Yvonne said “The one on Maple, you can follow me if you don’t know it.” I jumped into my car and followed Yvonne and the others.

There were a bunch of small tables and a counter and one big round table where the others started to sit down, so I followed. Yvonne sat right next to me. She didn’t sit overly close, she didn’t flirt, we didn’t touch. The conversation was light and stayed away from religion and politics. I learned a few personal things about the others, that Frank was an alcoholic but hadn’t had a drink in 15 years, his wife, Mary, was a nurse and worked odd hours, ten hour days, four days a week with three days off. Then Yvonne looked at my wedding ring and asked me about my wife. I kind of choked up and said “I don’t have a wife.” I couldn’t bear to say that Linda was dead and that I wear my wedding ring because I can’t let her go. The ring is my sign to the world that I am not available. Frank asked “Then why do you wear a wedding ring?” Yvonne must have seen that I was close to tears. She said “Frank, let it go.” I was off the hook, at least for now. Yvonne changed the topic and directed the conversation for a minute or two until Frank’s question was, hopefully, forgotten. Our tea and bagels arrived and we we stayed about 30 more minutes before everyone got up and we all said our goodbyes.

Outside as I was getting in my car Yvonne said “Different people play early Sunday mornings. I’m usually there and though a different crowd, they are as nice as the people you met today.” With that she got into her car and drove off. I went home, flipped on the computer, surfed for some porn and wanked off, all the while thinking about Yvonne’s bum. Then I did some yard work, washed the car, went to the grocery store and fixed dinner. There was nothing on TV worth watching so I went to bed early without setting the alarm.

Sunday morning I awoke at the first hint of dawn, and got out of bed with just a little bit of enthusiasm, which was a lot more enthusiasm than I’d had since Linda died. I had a shower and put on shorts and a T-shirt and my tennis shoes and headed for the public courts. Yvonne was already there hitting the ball up against the wall. She was dressed the same as before, different colors but the same kind of clothes, ordinary. She had her hair tied back and was wearing little or no make-up again. When she saw me she said “Steve, I’m glad you came!” I replied “Thank you for inviting me Yvonne.” “Steve, it’s a public court, you don’t need an invitation. Anyone can play, any time.” “Yes, I know, but if you hadn’t invited me I wouldn’t have known to come.” We fell into place hitting the ball against the wall to each other to get warmed up. Then we moved to the net and played a slow easy game of singles. We chatted and whenever one of us hit a good shot the other paid a compliment on it. After a little while three cars pulled up at almost the same time and three more couples joined us. We played mixed doubles swapping partners and opponents. Yvonne was my partner a couple times and my adversary a couple of times. Whenever she was in front of me I got another good look at her very fine bum and great looking legs. Everyone was friendly. This wasn’t a blood sport by a long stretch. My playing continued to improve. After about two hours play with only a couple of short breaks everyone decided it was time to call it quits for the day. About half of us headed for the bagel shop.

Yvonne was seated at the round table when I arrived so I went over and sat next to her. She smiled and we chatted with everyone. Whenever Yvonne looked at me she smiled, but not the kind of smile a women gives when she’s coming on to you, not an invitation, just friendly, open, without any agenda. What a nice lady. I asked her about Rob and she said they get along OK but they have different interests. Yvonne told me she is a type A and Rob is type B. He plays golf and has a pool table in the house. Yvonne used to play volley ball, now she’s into tennis. She says Rob is quiet, not gregarious, somewhat shy. He’s a hard worker and a good provider and good with the kids. Yvonne: “Rob is kind and I trust him, I respect him. He is a bit of a stick in the mud, very conservative and traditional, and quiet.” After a while everyone finished their tea and we all went home.

The next few weekends were pretty much the same except for when it rained. When it rained there was no tennis. Saturdays and Sundays I went to the tennis court early, mostly the same people showed up, give or take one or two. We played mixed doubles and went to the bagel and doughnut shops. After a few weeks I was into the routine and starting to feel at least half way alive. One Saturday morning I was sitting next to Yvonne at the bagel shop and I saw her looking at my wedding ring. I’m sure she didn’t mean to stare at it. I guess she couldn’t help but wonder about my comment “I don’t have a wife.” I said to her in a very low voice, almost a whisper, “Linda and I had a wonderful relationship but she died nearly a year ago. I’m just putting one foot in front of the other, trying to get on.” Yvonne looked at me with sympathy in her eyes and placed her hand on mine and whispered “I thought it might be something like that. You don’t have to talk about it, but you can if you wish. I’ a good listener.” After a while everyone got up to leave. As we were going out the door Yvonne slipped me a crumpled up little slip of paper. I put it in my pocket and walked to my car, where I looked at it. Just some numbers, her cell number? I reached into my car and grabbed one of my business cards from the side pocket in the door, walked over to her car which she was just starting up, and handed her my card through the window without comment, then I drove home.

At home I was bored and having not been laid for nearly a year, a bit horny. I fired up the computer and surfed for something to look at while wanking. As I surfed for some photos or videos I happened across a website that offered pornographic stories submitted by users. There were many categories, and the one that caught my eye was near the bottom of the list, “written by a woman”. As I perused the stories written by a woman I opened and started reading a few. Some were obviously not actually written by a woman, even though they claimed to be so. Then I saw one written by “Yvonne”. Thinking about my tennis friend, I opened it and started reading. Then I found that there were several more stories by this same author. Over the next few days I read them all. They certainly couldn’t have been written by the Yvonne I met at the tennis courts. Yvonne the amateur porn writer refers to herself as a slut, whore and worse. In her stories she is gang-banged, raped, fucked up the ass, abused, debased and tortured. The Yvonne I know is a soccer mom, middle class wife and mother, educated and intelligent. I’ve never even heard her utter a curse word.

Linda used to “talk dirty to me” sometimes when we were making love. Actually, we’d talk dirty to each other, but I never called her a bad name. Our talk was about making love in public, or being spied upon while we made love, making love in the same room where other couples were doing the same, and that kind of stuff. Pretty tame compared to Yvonne the porn writer. Nearer the end of the week I surfed some more and found a website which advertised sex slaves. The site required registration and payment of a small fee to apply for “membership” which would give me access to the details. The registration process assured me that I would be checked out before gaining access to the actual women and men being sold as sex slaves and that I must provide my real name, real address and some other information. The disclosure material had something about the successful bidder taking his sex slave home for a period lasting from several hours to several months, depending on the terms of the contract on slave being sold and that the person buying the slave had to follow certain rules for the protection of the slave.

“The bidder can take the slave home and use him or her any way he wishes so long as he or she is not subjected to permanent physical damage. The bidder can perform any sex act on the slave and demand any sex act from the slave however any physical abuse must be limited to minor tearing of vagina or anus, minor bruising. Bones must not be broken, disfigurement must not be permanent, and most importantly, if a slave should turn up dead or not be returned in the agreed upon condition at the end of the contract period the police will be given the identity of the purchaser.” Although I’ve never wanted to use and abuse a woman I was intrigued by the ad, but I figured the post was just pfishing to get my credit card number so I didn’t register. I shut down the computer and went about my routine. What followed was a typical week for me, working weekdays, dinner alone at home every night, and sometimes a little porn and a wank before bed.

Saturday rolled around and I was up before dawn. At first light I was swatting the tennis ball at the wall for only a little while when Yvonne showed up. Her face somehow looked a little prettier than before. Maybe she was growing on me…but she was married, so hands off. She fell into place beside me hitting the ball to each other off the wall. “Yvonne, have you lost weight?” I said. “Yes, Steve, I’ve lost most of the five pounds I set out to lose. I’m surprised you noticed though”. I thought to myself, “How could I not notice? Yvonne’s fine bum is even finer than before.” Yvonne said “Steve, you look as though you’ve lost weight too.” I replied that I had lost most of the ten pounds I set out to lose. We both agreed that tennis was good for us.

Then we heard a crash and looked over at Yvonne’s car, which had another car up against it. The other car had crashed into Yvonne’s car, so Yvonne ran over to see the damage. The driver looked like a teenage girl. She had a cell phone in her hand and it appeared she’d been talking, or perhaps texting, obviously not paying attention to her driving. She had run into Yvonne’s parked car. Yvonne was upset. The girl was not apologetic at all, rather rude, didn’t want to show her papers or license. She was actually giving a load of crap to Yvonne who got riled up and said something to the girl about having a cock or two up her ass. I was a little shocked. Not at the words. After all, like many men, I enjoy a good dirty joke, a bit of porn now and then and until Linda died I enjoyed sex regularly accompanied by some dirty pillow talk. It’s just that I’d never heard Yvonne curse before. I retrieved my cell phone from my car and called the cops who came and sorted it all out. The girl was driving her mother’s car and there were insurance papers in the glove compartment. By the time the bobby left everyone was there and ready to play but Yvonne was just too upset. She made a feeble attempt in one game and left. I excused myself and went to my car, grabbed my phone and called Yvonne’s cell number. She answered and agreed to meet me but not at the regular bagel shop. She named a doughnut place a few blocks away. I dashed over and joined her.

“Oh, Steve, I feel so stupid to get all upset over a damn car. It’s only metal and plastic and it can be repaired. I’m just so angry with the little bitch who hit it.” Well, now I knew Yvonne was no prude and could curse. “Yvonne, you need not feel stupid over being upset. However you feel, it is OK to feel that way. I mean, feelings just come upon us and sometimes we can’t help what we feel. You are entitled to your feelings and your thoughts whatever they may be. You have the right to feel as you do now and as you may at any time in the future.” Yvonne said she appreciated my acceptance of her feelings, and something about not many people seem to even notice how she feels, then she said “And I respect your feelings, and your privacy, and your right to not want to talk about painful things unless you wish. ” I thanked her for her understanding, and we smiled at each other, then she related how she had made double payments on the car and just last month had paid it off. After a cup of tea and a bit more light conversation Yvonne rose to leave. I walked her to her car and when we arrived I simply said “Tomorrow?” and she smiled and shook her head yes.

Sunday morning Yvonne didn’t show up for tennis. I played with the others, all the while wondering what had happened to Yvonne. Was she ill? She has a husband and children, she’s probably just tied up with family stuff. After tennis we all went to the usual bagel shop and the conversation was light and friendly as usual. When I got home I took a shower and gabbed the press and a cup of tea. Having not much else to do I spent nearly two hours reading through the entire newspaper. As I was heading for the dust bin with the newspaper my cell phone rang. The caller ID showed “Yvonne”. I answered “Hello” and heard no words in reply…”hello?”…”hello?”…then I thought I heard sobbing, quiet crying. “Yvonne, what’s wrong?” Finally between sobs she choked out “My life is ruined, destroyed, everything’s come undone.” “What can I do Yvonne” and she replied “Nothing, that’s the problem, there is nothing that anyone can do, no way out.” I asked if it’s the kids. “No, they are OK, at least for now.” “Is it Rob?” She just sobbed and blubbered. I couldn’t understand her, so thought perhaps he’d died and I knew what that would feel like having lost Linda, the love of my life. She blubbered some more and said she couldn’t tell me that it was “too awful”. I finally got her to agree to come over with the offer that she could just stay at my place for a little while until she regained her composure. I gave her my address.

A short time later a taxi cab pulled up in front of my house. I went out and while Yvonne was fiddling in her coin purse looking for the fare I paid the cab then escorted her in and sat her down in the kitchen. Yes, the kitchen, not the parlor. The parlor is for strangers, the kitchen is for friends. I set about to make some tea and after I’d poured us cups I sat down across the table from her. She had her hands folded on the table so it seemed natural to reach across the table and take both her hands in mine. She started crying again. “Oh, Steve, I am so sorry to burden you with my problems. I have no one else to turn to, not that you can do anything to help me. I had to get out of the house, I couldn’t stay there with Rob another minute, not after what he’s done.” At this point I figured she must have caught him with his zipper down around another woman. “Yvonne, you told me Rob was kind and a good provider and good to with the children. Whatever he’s done, it doesn’t have to be the end the world for you.”

Yvonne continued sobbing, so I stood up and walked across the room and grabbed a box of tissues and placed them on the table in front of her, then I stood behind her and placed my hand on her shoulder. She reached up and placed both of her hands on my hand lightly, as if to prevent me from moving away. She finally choked out “He’s been gambling.” To which I replied “Oh, it’s only money! Money can be made and lost and made back again.” Yvonne then said “But it’s not just money, he’s gambled everything away, the house, the car and even me.” I tried to sooth her. “When you were first married did you own a house?” “No” she replied. “We lived in a flat”. “And you had two cars?” “No” she said, “We took the tram.” ” So all you had was each other?” I asked. Yvonne said “It’s not just the house, the mortgage he signed my name on and got a crooked notary so that we owe more than it’s worth now. It’s not just my car which he took the title and signed my name and financed the day after I paid it off. It’s not just his car, which I thought was in the shop and now I find it’s gone. All that I could bear. He still owes these men a huge debt and they are taking me to satisfy the debt.”

“Yvonne, a human being cannot be taken for a debt, at least not here in this country and not in any civilized country.” Yvonne looked up at me and said “Oh, but they can. These men who run the gambling ring are hooked in with the Bratva, the Russian Mafia. They told Rob that there are eight legs in our house and they will break them all, his legs last, if we don’t do as were are told. They’ve threatened my children. And the leg breaking, they say, will be only the beginning of what they have in store for us if we don’t cooperate.” “What is it they want? How much money?” I said. Yvonne put her head down on the table and sobbed “They won’t take money now. The deadline for payment passed. They demand ME, to be auctioned off as a sex slave, probably to some perverts who will use me and abuse me and commit all kinds of vile acts on me.” My mind flashed back to the website where I had not registered. Could this be the same thing I saw posted on the internet? “When is the auction? Where? How does this work.”

Yvonne explained “I’m to be picked up from our home Friday at 8 p.m. Rob is to make up whatever story he wants to tell the children. He will be held at the house so he cannot follow me. I’ll be taken somewhere and put on the block, auctioned like livestock. The perverts who buy sex slaves at these auctions all bid the same amount of money, £ 200,000. Their bid is for the length of time I must serve as their slave. The bidding will start with five months. FIVE MONTHS! Whatever perv bids the shortest time will pay the money, £200,000, and take me for the agreed upon period of time. The buyer can do anything he wants with me, any filthy sex act, beat me, humiliate me, parade me naked down main street! About the only thing he’s not allowed to do is break my bones or kill me.” It was the same as the website I’d stumbled on. My heart ached for her.

After about an hour of conversation with Yvonne cursing her husband for his folly, calling him some names like “rotten bastard” and saying that “He’s the one who deserves to be fucked up the ass, not me” she finally calmed down. I asked if she’d eaten today and she said she hadn’t so I suggested that I go get some Chinese take-out. She agreed and asked if it would be OK if she used my shower while I was out. I looked at her, red eyes from crying, disheveled, unkempt hair, no make up, wrinkled clothes. She looked the worst she possibly could, and still managed to look very pretty at the same time. “Sure, but use the bath in the master bedroom. There is a big shower and an oversize tub with water jets if you like. All of Linda’s clothes are hanging in her closet and in her dresser. You look about her size, so take a look through her things and wear whatever you wish. There’s a new toothbrush still in it’s package in the guest bath you can have.” She smiled for the first time since she’d arrived at my house. I headed out the door to my car.

After I picked up the Chinese food I stopped at a shop that sold wine and bought two bottles, one white and one red. When I arrived back at my house I called out “Yvonne?” “I’m still in the bath. I’ll be out in a few minutes.” The door to the bedroom was open and as I walked by I could see into the bathroom and she was in the tub. I turned away afraid to look. She saw me and said “It’s OK, I am completely covered with bubbles from Linda’s bubble bath.” I said “Red or white?” “Red or white what?” “Wine.” I said. “Oh, white please.” I went to the kitchen and opened the bottle, poured two glasses and carried them back to the bedroom door. “Would you like me to set your wine down here?” Yvonne smiled and said “Please bring it to me, I’m still covered with bubbles, I trust you. I know you are a perfect gentleman.” I walked over to the tub and handed her a glass. As she reached up for the glass with her left hand her left nipple peaked out of the bubbles. Not the entire nipple, just half of it. It was barely a glimpse, just a half second, but I saw it was a lovely pink, delicate, and it looked delicious. Some women, as they get older, their nipples get leathery looking, dried or cracked. I’ve seen it on nude beaches. Yvonne had what I’d call a perfect nipple. I didn’t let on that I’d seen anything. I felt a bit guilty for enjoying the peak so very much.

I sat in a chair next to the tub for a few minutes and we continued to talk. “The Chinese will get cold if we don’t get to it soon.” Yvonne said. “Yes, you are right. I’ll go out and let you get dressed.” As I left the bedroom I closed the door behind me. A few minutes later Yvonne came out carrying her empty wine glass and wearing a pair of Linda’s jeans, sweat socks, and a plain blue blouse without a bra. Sorry but no normal man can fail to notice when a nice set of tits are bra-less. We sat at the kitchen table and enjoyed our meal with another glass of wine. After a while Yvonne said “I can’t go home, I can’t face Rob. Can I stay on your couch tonight?” “I have a guest room with a comfortable bed on the opposite side of the house from the master bedroom. You can stay anytime you wish for as long as you need.” Then she said “I must call my children to let them know I’m all right.” “Please, go into my study to have some privacy while I clean up here.” As I was putting away the left-overs and washing things up I could here some of what she said. “Rob, I don’t want to talk with you right now. I am at a friend’s house and I’ll be staying here tonight. Please let me have a word with the children.” She spoke with the children briefly and assured them that she was OK but very angry with their father and not coming home tonight.

The hour grew late far too soon, as I was very much enjoying my conversations with Yvonne. “Yvonne, tomorrow is a work day. Will you be going to your office as usual?” “Oh, I don’t know. I have some holiday saved up. Maybe I’ll call in and take the day off. How about you?” I thought for a moment and said “I can do the same, if it’s your wish. Why don’t we call it a night. You can look through Linda’s things and find some night clothes and retire to the guest room. There’s a lock on the door if you need it. I’ll leave the door to my bedroom open in case you wake in the night and need something.” What was going through my head was Yvonne’s nice ass and that delicious looking nipple I’d seen earlier. Yvonne didn’t act as though she had any idea of my wicked thoughts. She went into my bedroom and selected Linda’s yellow flannel pajamas with feet in them. You know the type, like little kids wear, with a trap door in back and foot coverings built in. Linda and I always slept naked but on one ski trip when we were to stay in a cabin in the mountains she had bought these very un-sexy flannel things to keep warm. She’d worn them nearly five minutes before my caressing of her bum through the trap door had resulted in our usual naked frolicking. Yvonne took the pajamas to the guest room and shortly thereafter came out looking like a five year old. “Well, is this a decent outfit for a married woman to wear when she stays with a strange man?” We laughed. Shortly thereafter we retired.

As I lay in my bed thinking about Yvonne’s trap door I heard her walk quietly into my bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed and said “Steve. I can’t do anything with you. I mean, I’m married and I’ve never been unfaithful. Could I stay here with you for a while without you expecting…?” “Yvonne, you already know the answer to your question.” She crawled under the covers and cuddled up in my arms. I was naked and I’m sure she knew it but she showed no reaction. Soon we were asleep.

The next morning we woke up slowly. By that I mean, we came half awake, and then dozed off again two or three times. Finally we looked at each other and Yvonne said “Steve, thank you for taking care of me and being so completely respectable. I don’t think there are many men, perhaps not any men, so caring and decent as you.” “Yvonne, it’s easy to respect a woman who deserves to be respected.” “Thank you, Steve. I suppose you’ve not been with a woman for a long time. I mean, I suppose it must not be easy for a man to be placed in the position I put you in last night, and then you can’t…” “Yvonne, it’s OK. You are an attractive woman, but I knew better than to expect anything. Under different circumstances, if you weren’t married, I might not be so well behaved.”

Yvonne: “Steve, do you really find me attractive?” “More than attractive” I replied. “You are a beautiful woman.” Then she said “But you’ve never shown any interest.” “Of course not. That would be improper. You are a married woman and you never flirted with me. You always behaved properly. As a matter of fact, your good behavior is one of the things that most attracts me to you. That and your lovely….well, you know, your physical attributes.” And she said “Oh, and my mousy pulled back hair, little or no make up, crummy old shorts and tops with tennis shoes.” “Yes, your complete naturalness, which is far more sexy than high heels and teased hair.” All this time we were still in bed, me naked under the covers and Yvonne wearing Linda’s flannel pajamas. I asked “Do you want to call in to work and take the day off?” Yvonne thought for a moment then replied “No. I think it would be better if I just went to work like nothing is wrong. I’ll call you this afternoon to see if I am able to return home, and if not, if you are willing to put up with me another night.” We decided to get up and take a shower. “Steve, I hope you understand, I can’t get in the shower with you, although I must admit, the idea is tempting. If it’s OK I”ll go now and you can put on a towel or something. If you can bear it we can share the bathroom to that extent.” With that she was out of bed.

I heard the shower start so I walked naked into the bathroom. I could see her outline behind the hammered glass shower door and my cock went to half mast. The flannel pajamas were on the floor. I put a towel around me and stood at the sink and brushed my teeth. After a bit Yvonne said “Shall I leave the shower on for you?” “Yes” I replied. She stepped out wearing a towel around her under her arms but above her tits which covered everything properly and another around her head like a turban. I stepped into the shower before removing my towel. When I finished I could hear the hair dryer, so I put my towel around me and stepped out, and looking at her face in the mirror I smiled at her and gave her a wink. She winked back and said “Is a wink as good as a nod?” We laughed. While she finished drying her hair I shaved. Then, Yvonne turned to me, stepped close, put her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek. The she stepped back and said “Oh, I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t have done that.” I smiled and said “Was it what you felt like doing at the moment? It’s OK. You can do it again or not. Whatever you do is just between us and I’ll try to never make you feel obligated to do, or not do, anything.” She said “I need to think about so many things. More has happened to me in the past 24 hours than in the past several years. I need to get a grip on myself.”

We went into the bedroom and I grabbed some underwear out of my drawer and said “I’ll step into my closet to get dressed. You can look through Linda’s things and find something. Her coloring was close to yours so maybe you can find some of her make-up if you want.” With that I stepped into my closet and closed the door, put on my Jockey’s and a pair of gray dress slacks that were hanging there and waited a few minutes before saying “Are you decent?” Yvonne replied “Just a second. OK, you can come out now.” She stood there in Linda’s gray straight skirt and a bra. “I think Linda has a gray blouse that goes well with that skirt. It would be hanging in her closet.” I selected a gray shirt for myself and grey socks, then a colorful ties to break up the monotony of all gray. Yvonne found the blouse and put it on, then went through Linda’s drawers and found a pair of pantyhose. “Could you turn around for a minute? I mean, I know it isn’t anything you haven’t seen before, but it’s not very graceful pulling up pantyhose.” I turned around, meanwhile tying my necktie. Yvonne was putting on a pair of Linda’s medium heels. She stood up and I looked at her and said “Wow! I never saw you dressed up with make-up and hair done before. You look terrific. I mean, you’re beautiful, stunning, absolutely gorgeous.” Yvonne said “Thank you, Steve. I’ve never seen you dressed up before either and you are very handsome.” I replied “Well, we are all dressed and ready for work. Let’s grab a bite on the way. I’ll drop you at your office.”

Yvonne had me drop her about a block from her office, around the corner. I drove to my office a mile or so away and dropped my car at the car park. At my desk I kept replaying the events of the last 24 hours in my head. For lunch I had my regular protein bar at my desk. Around 3 o’clock my cell phone rang. “Hello” ” Hi, it’s me. Steve, I need to see my children but I can’t stand the thought of looking at Rob. I’ve arranged to have my kids meet me at a restaurant near my office right after work. They will drive there in my car and I could take them home and keep my car….or if they keep it…well, would it be too much of a bother to have you come pick me up after they leave?” “Yvonne, you know my answer. I’ll wait for your call.” At quitting time I went straight home and fired up the computer. I took a sandwich to my desk with me and found the sex slave website and studied everything again without joining or paying a fee to see the rest of the information. Then I went to the corner store and bought a fifty pound VISA gift card. Back at my desk I signed up and paid using the gift card so as to avoid giving out my credit card number or bank account information. Once in I found the details on the upcoming auction.

Next Auction Friday evening starting at 9 p.m. in a local warehouse in the industrial section of town. Address will be given to registered bidders. Bidders will wear a mask at the auction to protect their identity. The officiating auctioneer and his staff will check the ID and credentials of all bidders and verify the cash in each bidder’s possession to ensure that no bids are made beyond the means of the bidder to pay. Each bidder will be given a different colored paddle and will be called by the color of his paddle, Mr. or Mrs. white, or blue or green, etc.

Lot number one: Beverly, a 28 year old stripper, 38 D (enhanced), 24, 36. Blonde, 5’5″ 120 lbs. Coke user, but not addicted. She’s being sold for £3,000 to satisfy an unpaid debt to her supplier. Experienced cocksucker, with some experience in Greek. She was auctioned here once before, a year ago for the same type of debt. The successful bidder can expect a good party with this gal, especially if he has a few lines to share with her. Bidding starts at 3 days.

Lot number two: Simon, a 21 year old male. He’s straight, not gay, virgin rectum ready for YOU to take his ass cherry. 6′, 175 lbs. fair complexion, being sold for £10,000 to satisfy drug debt. Bidding starts at 10 days.

Lot number three: Ms. Y, stunning 41 year old mother and housewife. Supposedly has never been with any man other than her husband, which makes her almost a virgin. Being sold to satisfy her husband’s gambling debts. This lady is educated, intelligent and upper middle class. 5’4″ 128 lbs, natural 36B, 26, 36. Auction price £200,000, bidding starts at 5 months….

I didn’t need to read anymore. I promptly went through the rest of the registration process. Without knowing exactly what I was going to do I at least knew I’d attend the auction if I could. Then my cell rang..it was nearly 7:30, the caller ID showed it was Yvonne. “Hi beautiful. How’s it going?” “Oh, Steve, I’m not so beautiful now. I’ve been crying again. The kids just left. Can you come get me now?” “I’m half way out the door already.” Rush hour was over, fifteen minutes later I pulled up in front of the restaurant. Yvonne got in and gave me a peck on the cheek. She had a large manila envelope and a small suitcase. I looked at the envelope and Yvonne said “Rob sent it with the kids. I’ve not opened it yet. I was afraid of what might be in it. The suitcase has a few things in it that I asked my children to bring to me, some make-up and a few articles of clothing.”

When we got to my house we went in and I suggested we change out of our work clothes. Yvonne went through Linda’s things and found a pair of shorts and a pull over top. She made as if to pull her pantyhose down but stopped, so I turned my back, after a moment she said “OK, you can turn around now.” She stood there in her bare feet and unbuttoned Linda’s gray blouse and took it off, then she unzipped the side zipper on Linda’s gray skirt and took it off. There she stood in panties and bra, then she put on the shorts and pulled over the top. Reaching under the pull over top she unfastened Linda’s bra and got her arms out of it, then pulled the bra out of the bottom of her shirt. I removed my trousers and walked to my closet in my Jockeys and hung up my trousers, took off my shirt and tossed it into the hamper, then took tennis clothes out of my drawer and put them on. During all this not a word was spoken. Finally I said “Yvonne, are you cold?” “No, why do you ask?” I just looked at her pokees and smiled. She blushed slightly, looked at the growing bulge in my pants and and said “And here I thought you were immune to such things”

Yvonne picked up the envelope and we went into my study, grabbing the bottle of red wine I’d bought the night before on the way. I had a cork screw in my desk, so I opened the wine while Yvonne went to the kitchen to fetch two stems. I sat behind my desk and Yvonne took a chair on the other side. She pushed the envelope across the desk at me and said “Please, open it, let me know what it says.” I removed several pages and read silently for a few minutes. Then I said “Do you want me to read all this to you or just paraphrase it.” Yvonne answered “Just tell me in a few words what it says”.

I looked through the papers again and said “You will be picked up at your home this coming Friday at 8 p.m. and escorted to your destination. Someone will stay with your husband to ensure he does not follow you. You will be blindfolded during your transport. It will be to your advantage to look your best. If you attract multiple bidders the auction process could result in your contract being shorter than the starting point of five months. We suggest you wear a nice dress and heels, stockings, and have your make up and hair arranged to look your best. You will be allowed to call your family on Saturday at noon and once per week during the period of your contract.”

“Is that all?” “No” I answered. “There is a lot of detail on the things you may be expected to do or have done to you, depending on the wishes of the successful bidder. Do you want to hear it?” “No” she replied. “I’m sure it’s a complete list of every sexual depravity that the Marquis wrote of and perhaps more.” I looked at her puzzled and asked “You’ve read DeSade?” “Yes, and and ‘Justine’ and ‘O’ and some others. I am well acquainted with the fantasies of the depraved people who are likely the bidders at the auction” she said in a monotone. Her eyes were unfocused. She fell silent. I got up from my chair and walked around my desk, took her hands in mine and pulled so gently as to barely suggest that I was urging her to stand. She rose slowly and looked up at me with tears welling up in her eyes. I took her gently in my arms and kissed her forehead. She leaned against my chest and mumbled “Do you ever gamble?” “No” answered, “Not ever. Linda and I went to Las Vegas once and I never put a nickel in a slot. I’ve never bought a lottery ticket.” “Why is that?” she asked. “I don’t want to say anything critical of Rob, but gambling seems to me to be somewhat less than a matter of luck. For every shilling won by a man more than a shilling must be lost by another for the house always gets it’s share. The math doesn’t make logical sense to me.”

Yvonne looked up at me and asked “Do you play the stock market?” I answered “I invest in the securities markets, but I don’t call it playing. It is a serious matter.” Yvonne asked “How is it not gambling?” I explained “for every shilling made by one man there need not be a shilling lost by another. If I buy shares of a good company, and that company makes a good product, then the company makes a profit on the product and they use some of the profit to expand the business and develop more products and they use some of the profit to pay me dividends. As the company has increasing sales and profits my shares increase in value, and no other man has lost a shilling. Those who bought the product received fair value for their money and may buy another good product from the company in the future. All this is economically logical.” Yvonne then said “Rob used to buy shares but they are all gone now, along with everything else.”

We picked up our wine glasses and topped them off and I put the cork back in the half bottle or so of wine that remained and we headed to the bedroom without any discussion of what would come next. I put my glass on one side of the bed, Yvonne put hers on the other and we went into the bathroom where we washed up a bit and brushed our teeth like a couple who had been married a long time. “I’m sorry but I don’t own any pajamas” I told her. She replied “You could keep your shorts on for now. I’d rather not wear Linda’s flannels, but I don’t think it would be fair to either of us if I wore her thin short nighties that are in her bottom drawer. She went to my closet and with her back to me she took off Linda’s pullover shirt and took one of my dress shirts off it’s hanger and put it on. Then she shook off her shorts and stood there in panties and my dress shirt not knowing that her outfit was more sexually provocative than the thin shorty nightie would have been.

So I in my shorts and she in my shirt, we crawled into bed and Yvonne cuddled up next to me. I turned off the light and she whispered “Steve, you can kiss me good night if you’d like.” It was a wet kiss, half open mouths, and it lasted near a minute. We both started to breathe a bit heavier then Yvonne rolled over with her back to me and her ass against my cock and said “Good night, Steve.” The next thing I remember it was the first faint light of dawn. Yvonne lay there beside me uncovered on her back with my shirt open completely exposing one beautiful breast, the left one. I don’t know why, but I gently moved my shirt to cover her bare breast. It felt like cheating to look without her permission or something more than just an opportunity to look at her. Yvonne stirred and opened her eyes and smiled at me. I moved my face close to hers so that our lips were almost but not quite touching, and held very still just listening to her breathing. Finally she moved closer so that our lips touched and we shared a very gentle kiss.

We then went into our routine, getting up and getting ready for work. We had tea and cold cereal in the kitchen and I dropped Yvonne near her office. Tuesday went much like Monday. At lunchtime I went to my bank and attempted to make some arrangements. The banker had me sign some papers and told me to return the next day. I went back to my office. Just before quitting time Yvonne called and asked me if I could pick her up. “Of course, I’ll be right there.” Rush hour traffic was awful. It took twenty minutes to drive the mile to her office. As she got into my car I asked “Dinner out tonight?” and Yvonne said “I’d rather cook. We haven’t cooked together. Do you think we can share a kitchen?”

We stopped by a market where we loaded the cart with all kinds of good, healthy food. I’d not cooked very much after Linda died, mostly sandwiches and canned soup, sometimes bacon and eggs. We bought fish and vegetables and lettuce, bacon, eggs, ham, and much more. “Oh, Steve. This is so nice, shopping with you and going home together. It’s almost like having my life back.” Then she looked solemn and I knew that she was thinking about Friday again. When we arrived back at my house we went into the bedroom to change. Neither of us had any second thought about shucking work clothes and changing into casual clothing in the same room. I enjoyed seeing Yvonne in her panties and bra, but neither of us said anything about it.

After a nice dinner with the last half of the bottle of red wine we talked some more about our past lives, growing up and school and careers. It was small talk, but it served to help us become better acquainted with each other. We repeated our bedtime routine from the night before and then snuggled close and fell asleep.

Wednesday morning went much like Tuesday had gone. Yvonne called at five past noon. “Are you having your protein bar now?” “Yes, with a bottle of water, how about you?” Yvonne responded “You’ve taught me something. I’m having the same.” After a short chat it was decided I would pick Yvonne up as before, but tonight we would dine out. I made a reservation at a nearby cafe, then went to the bank again for more frustration and delays in making financial arrangements.

When I picked Yvonne up near her office she got into the car and smiled and said “Steve, I am so glad to have you in my life. I don’t know if I could keep myself together these past few days if I didn’t have you.” I said “And I had no life after Linda died, until you showed up. I feel alive again having you around.” We went into the cafe and got a table in the back corner where we sat next to each rather than across the table from each other. We spoke in low voices so others couldn’t overhear and ordered the fish special and sparkling water, no wine. Neither of us drank a great deal of alcohol and we both wanted to keep our wits about us. Besides, no wine was needed to reduce inhibitions or get through the awkwardness we had experienced our first nights together. We skipped desert and went home.

When we got home, my home was home for both of us now, I turned on some soft music and took Yvonne in my arms and danced with her, a slow dance. “Steve, I didn’t know you could dance at all, much less so very well.” I replied “You dance well too. I feel as though we’ve danced together before. It’s familiar, and comfortable, and yet also a bit exciting, which seems kind of a contradiction.” Yvonne added “Kind of like a prelude to the future I wish I had…” Then she grew solemn and said “Friday is coming so fast and I don’t know if I will ever see you again after that.” I replied “It’s a contract with an end date. No matter what, when your contract is up, you will see me again if you wish. And don’t give up hope that all this will go away. You haven’t been auctioned yet and maybe somehow, some way, it will never happen.” Yvonne: “Steve, there is no way out, no hope.” “Don’t say that. Don’t give up.” We sat a talked some more and drank more sparkling water out of wine goblets, then retired to our now familiar nightly routine. Soon we were asleep.

Thursday morning came way too soon and it being another work day we had to get about our morning routine quickly. The same routine in the bathroom, Yvonne picking out another of Linda’s outfits, which fit as well as the others. We grabbed fast food at a drive up window on the way to work. At lunch time I ate my protein bar and went to the bank yet again. More papers, more questions, and no results. My cell rang at 3. “Hi, it’s me. Can we cook at home tonight? It may be our last chance for a quiet evening together for a long time.” I replied “Whatever you like.” I picked her up near her office and home we went. Together in the kitchen we prepared salad, vegetable and chicken breast, a completely healthy meal. After we finished cleaning up the kitchen we went into the parlor. I put on some music.

“Steve, I’m trying so hard to have a normal evening but I’m scared to death about tomorrow. I don’t know that I can sleep.” “Then I’ll stay up all night with you.” “But you have to work tomorrow, and so do I.” Then Yvonne started crying again. I took her in my arms and whispered “Don’t give up. I’m working on something…no guarantees but I’m doing all I can.” We sat on the sofa. Yvonne didn’t say anything, she just cried on my shoulder for a while, then said “I guess you can hold me in bed more comfortably than here on this sofa.” So off to bed we went. Once in bed and wrapped safely in my arms Yvonne fell asleep early. The strain and worry had completely worn her out.

Having fallen asleep early we woke up well before the alarm sounded on Friday morning. We got up and did our bathroom routine and got dressed. It was well before time to leave for work so I went to the kitchen and made tea, ham and eggs and opened a can of pork ‘n beans. If it was to be our last breakfast together for a while I wanted to make it a good one. Yvonne finished her make-up and hair and came into the kitchen. “Steve, that’s lovely. Thank you for fixing us such a nice breakfast.” She sat and I served, then we ate and chatted, obviously trying to keep from thinking too much about the immediate future. Yvonne cleaned up after breakfast then we headed to work.

When I pulled up right in front of Yvonne’s office she didn’t say anything. I’d been letting her off around the corner before. She looked at me and then leaned over the console awkwardly and put her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek. “Steve, if I don’t see you again….” “Don’t talk like that. You will.” With that Yvonne got out and walked toward the door of the office building. When she reached the door she stopped and turned around. I was still sitting there in my car looking at her. She gave a little smile and waved, then she was swallowed up by the building. I drove to my office and dropped my car at the car park, then made my way to my desk.

At work I couldn’t concentrate. I got up and went to the water cooler, the men’s room, downstairs to get a cup of tea, back and forth I paced. At 11 I told my assistant I was taking an early lunch to take care of personal business and went back to the bank. After a very short delay I was taken to a private office to complete my business and emerged with a briefcase. The afternoon went much like the morning. I couldn’t concentrate. The clock moved at what seemed half speed. I was up and down in my chair, in and out of my office. I was worried, finally headed home at 5.

Back in her office Yvonne was dull and listless, unfocused and distracted. One of her coworkers asked what was wrong. “I’m not feeling all that well. Maybe I’m coming down with something.” She called home and arranged to have her kids pick her up. When quitting time arrived she went down and there they were, waiting for her in her bent up car. At home, after a short rest, she showered and shaved, and carefully fixed her hair and make-up. She selected a black dress with white trim, a single strand pearl necklace and a pair of single pearl stud earrings. She chose a rose shade of lipstick that was not anywhere near bright red, and medium heels. She didn’t eat. Rob had arrived home shortly after her and they barely spoke.

After a very light dinner I showered, shaved and dressed in a black shirt, black tie, black suit and shoes and got the Guy Fawkes mask out of the closet that I had bought to wear to a Guy Fawkes party with Linda a couple of years earlier. I took my briefcase and the mask and got in my car at 8 for the drive to the warehouse.

At 8 p.m. sharp three “goons” arrived at the home of Yvonne and Rob. They all spoke with a Russian accent. One stayed with Rob, the other two took Yvonne to their car and blindfolded her. After about a 20 minute drive they stopped and led her into a warehouse where they removed her blindfold. The place must have been a city block in size, almost completely empty. There was an area with a small platform and beside the platform a folding table and chair. In front of the platform were a couple dozen folding chairs. Off to one side a folding table was set up as a bar with bottles of whiskey, mixers and plastic cups. On the other side of the stage and to the rear was an area partitioned off by folding screens. She was led behind the screens to find several more folding chairs where she was seated. A little while later she was joined by a “kid”, a tall young man of perhaps twenty or so years of age, and a “thirtyish” woman with teased hair and too much make-up wearing very high heels in CFM red which matched her bright red lipstick. A few other women arrived and were also seated near her.

I stood at the back of the crowd of bidders in my Guy Fawkes mask holding my green paddle and briefcase, behind all those seated in the folding chairs. Near the front were two men who talked with each other as though they knew each other well. One was tall and skinny with a long pointed nose and pock marked cheeks. He wore a plain black mask and held a black paddle. His friend was stocky with yellow stained crooked teeth. He wore a plain white mask and held a white paddle. The used a tremendous amount of profanity as they loudly and obnoxiously announced to each other and to the crowd what they wanted to do to whoever they bought.

Yvonne wasn’t wearing a watch but when she heard more noise from the other side of the screen she knew the bidders were arriving, so it must be nearing 9 p.m. She shuddered as she imagined the perverts gathering near the platform. Then she heard someone climbing the stairs to the platform. He began to speak with a slight Russian accent, but his English was very good and easy to understand. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming tonight. Most of you have been here before but for those who are new to our events I’ll cover the ground rules briefly. Each lot to be auctioned was posted on the internet. Registered bidders know something about tonight’s offerings and have signed the necessary agreements. Just to remind you, all bids are for cash to be paid immediately upon conclusion of the auction of each lot. A bid, once made, cannot be withdrawn. Any bidder who violates any of our rules is subject to being auctioned off at our next event. Any questions?” There were none.

A woman wearing too much make-up was escorted out from the screened area and the announcer introduced her. “Lot number one, Beverly, female, age 28, professional stripper, experienced cocksucker with some experience in Greek. The bid is £3,000 and starts at 3 days.

From the middle of the seated area a thin man with a suit and hat and big sunglasses instead of a mask held up a blue paddle. “3 days” he said in an overly husky voice. Steve looked at the man again and realized it wasn’t a man, it was a woman dressed mannishly and acting very mannish. There was some laughing among the other bidders and someone said “Let the dyke have her.” There were no other bids. The woman with too much make-up was led off the platform and “Mr. Blue” went over to the desk to the side where he sat down opposite the man behind the desk. Papers were put on the desk for “Mr. Blue” and the “slave” to sign. “Mr. Blue” handed an envelope to the man behind the desk who looked in it briefly and without bothering to count the money put the envelope into a metal box that he had on the table.

The next person brought to the platform was a young man, almost a fresh faced kid. He looked like a teenager. He walked with a swagger and wore a smirk, as if he was not the least bit worried. “Lot number two: Simon, a 21 year old male. He’s straight, not gay, virgin anus ready for YOU to take his ass cherry. 6′, 175 lbs. fair complexion, being sold for £10,000 to satisfy drug debt. Bidding starts at 10 days.” Mr. “White” snarled “This boy looks so young and innocent I almost wish I was gay.” Mr. “Black” said “Maybe we should buy the lad and try him out.” The smirk vanished from the lad’s face. He looked worried now.

Someone in the middle of the crowd held up a purple paddle and said “Ten days.” Another man held up a pink paddle and said “Nine Days.” “Nine days, do I hear eight? Going once for nine days, going twice, SOLD to Mr. Pink £10,000 for nine days. The young man was led off the stage over to the folding table where he and “Mr. Pink” signed papers and Mr. Pink gave an envelope to the man behind the table who looked in it, and dropped it into the metal box.

On the platform the announcer said “Tonight we have a very long contract £200,000 for up to five months. Ms. Y….

The rest of this story will be told by Yvonne:

“Ms Y” I heard the man say as I was led out from behind the screened area and up on the platform. I looked across about two dozen men seated in front of the platform and a few more standing behind them. They all wore masks. At the front of those seated, nearest the stage was a tall skinny man with a pointy nose and pock marked cheeks wearing a black mask. Beside him was a stocky man with crooked, yellow stained teeth and stubble from two or three days of not shaving wearing a white mask. Mr. “White” half stood and leaned toward the stage and grabbed at the hem of my dress saying “Let’s see those thighs and….” I recoiled and jumped back a step so he grabbed empty air instead of my dress. “Before I pay £200,000 for this little slut I want to see the merchandise. Let’s see her stripped down to her birthday suit.” He said. I started shaking uncontrollably. Two goons came on the platform and toward me as if to fulfill the awful man’s request.

“I object!” I heard from the back of the crowd. The man running the show said “What is your objection Mr. “Green”. A man wearing a Guy Fawkes mask and holding a green paddle said “If I am to pay £200,000 for this merchandise I’ll want it unspoiled and for my eyes only. I might want to march her down main street naked later, but that will be up to me. If Mr. “White” wants to parade her naked on that platform in front of all of us, let him first pay his £200,000.” Mr. “Green’s” voice seemed vaguely familiar but with all the noise from the crowd it was not possible to determine if he might have been someone I’d met, or simply seen on the telly. Perhaps some pervert MP?The auctioneer left the platform and went over to confer with the man seated at the table, then returned to the platform and said “The boss says you pay your money before you handle the merchandise.” There was grumbling from Mr. “White” and the auctioneer said “Enough delays, we will proceed now”.

“Lot number three: Ms. Y, stunning 41 year old mother and housewife. Supposedly has never been with any man other than her husband, which makes her almost a virgin. Being sold to satisfy her husband’s gambling debts. This lady is educated, intelligent and upper middle class. 5’5″ 128 lbs, natural 36B, 26, 36. Auction price £200,000, bidding starts at 5 months…”

Mr. “Black” seated up front held up his black paddle and nodded his head. The auctioneer said “We have a bid at five months, do I hear four”. Mr. “White” grinning at me with a crooked smile and his awful, crooked, yellow stained teeth said “Four and a ha’ ” My knees went weak and the shaking started again. Mr. Black said “Billy, why are you bidding again’ me? You know I’d have you and the boys over to take a poke at her after I’ve had my fun for a few days.” Mr. “White” (I guess his name is Billy) just snarled at Mr. “Black” “Fook you!”

The auctioneer said “We have four and one half months. Do I hear four?” From the back of the room I heard what sounded like someone saying “One Day.” I wondered “One day what? One day I’m going to get you?” The auctioneer said “Who said that?” and the man wearing the Guy Fawkes mask held up his green paddle and said clearly “One day. My bid is one day.” The auctioneer replied “Do you understand, Mr. Green, that you are bidding £200,000 to have this woman for one day and that bids are not retractable?” “Yes” he replied. “Going once, twice, sold to Mr. Green £200,000 for one day with this woman.” “I object” said Mr. “White”. “On what grounds?” asked the auctioneer. On the grounds that her husband must have sent this bidder, this Mr. Green, or something is crooked.” The auctioneer conferred with the boss who picked up his cell phone and made a call. The boss then said something to the auctioneer who returned to the platform.

“The husband is home, under guard. There is no way he could have raised the money for this. It doesn’t make sense to us, but the bid is made and accepted. A fool and his money and so forth.” I was led off the platform to the table with the boss and given a pen and someone slid papers in front of me and pointed at where I was to sign. Mr. Green was standing beside me and he also signed. I was led back behind the screen where I could hear one of the goons say ” Mr. Green, do you want her restrained, cuffed or tied when we put her in your car?” “No, he said. “She’s signed, and I am confident that she will give me no trouble at all.” “OK, go get your car and I’ll deliver her to you at the door where you came in.” A few minutes later I was led out the door. A car approached and by the street light I could see the Guy Fawkes mask behind the wheel. The goon opened the door and ushered me into Mr. Green’s car.

As we drove off he removed the mask. I couldn’t believe my eyes. “Oh, Steve! You did it. You are so wonderful.” I leaned awkwardly over the console and threw my arms around his neck and kissed him. ” I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.” “You can’t.” he said. You cannot repay what you do not owe. You borrowed nothing from me, other than a place to stay for a few days, and some of Linda’s clothes that I can’t wear anyway.” I couldn’t help asking “Where on earth did you get £200,000?” Steve said “From the insurance settlement on Linda. When we bought the house I wanted to take out a policy on my life so that if something happened to me she could pay off the mortgage. Linda insisted that we get a first to die policy so that if something happened to her I could do the same.” “And the policy was £200,000?”
I asked. “Actually 250”, he replied.

We drove on and when we arrived at Steve’s house we walked in, the hall clock showed almost 11 o’clock. As soon as the door closed behind us Steve took me in his arms gently and kissed me. It was a very long, deep kiss. I opened my mouth as an invitation to his tongue and he obliged. After a while he withdrew his tongue so I gave him mine. Then I said “Well, Rob had me sold so I have no obligation to be faithful to him any longer. You have bought me, so I guess you have the right to have me.” Steve replied “No, I didn’t buy you. I bought your freedom. And that does not give me the right to anything.” I was puzzled for a moment, and then I realized what he meant. “Steven, I want you to make love to me.” And then he said “And that I shall.” With that he put his left arm behind my shoulders, bent down and put his right arm behind my knees and sweeping my legs out from under me picked me up and carried me to the bedroom. I expected him to throw me on the bed and rip my clothes off but instead he set me gently down on my feet and took me in his arms again and kissed me.

As Steve held me and kissed me he deftly undid the hook at the top of my dress, then pulled down the zipper than ran down the back of my dress. Meanwhile I was kicking off my shoes. He kicked off his shoes as well. He pulled back from me slightly and grasped the front of my dress at my neck and pulled as I shirked my arms forward allowing my dress to fall to my waist. I wiggled and my dress fell to the floor and I stepped out of it. There I stood, panties and pantie hose and a bra. I undid his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. Steve reached behind me with his one hand and unfastened my bra. I shirked my shoulders forward and allowed it to fall down my arms, then I tossed it across the room and undid Steve’s belt and pants, which fell to the floor. He took me in his arms again, kissing me, my mouth, my ears, my neck, he grazed his teeth lightly on the back of my neck and sent chills all over me, and nibbled my ears. Then he gently helped me step backwards until the backs of my lets touched the bed, and laid me down with my bum on the bed. He grasped the waist band of my panties and pantie hose at the side with both hands and pulled them off.

The look on Steve’s face when he saw that I was completely shaved ! Off came his underwear and I was just as surprised to see that he was also shaved. He laid on me and kissed me some more and started nibbling my neck which drove me crazy and I thought he was going to enter me but instead he kissed down my neck to my nipples. He kissed and sucked one and then the other then kissed his way down to my belly button, and down some more. Then he started working just barely the tip of my clit with the tip of his tongue. He was barely touching me but the sensation was electric. I wanted him to use his entire mouth on me, deeply and lick my entire clit. I moved my pelvis just barely a quarter inch toward his mouth to let him know what I wanted but he pulled back a quarter inch and continued just barely the tip of his tongue on the tip of my clit. This went on for what seemed like an eternity of exquisite, agonizing ecstasy. I
continued to build toward the inevitable, slowly, ever so slowly. My body ached for an orgasm, yet still Steve just used the very tip of his tongue on the tip of my clit. Finally I felt an orgasm coming on and when the first wave hit me he dove in using his entire mouth and tongue lapping at me, and the first wave continued to build. It felt like I was being taken by a gigantic storm with electricity coursing through my body, then before the first wave subsided the second hit, stronger than the first. I thought I’d lose consciousness and closed my eyes tightly but instead of everything turning black everything turned bright white, like a bright flash but flashes last only momentarily whereas this blinding light went on for several seconds. My entire body convulsed, I screamed as if I’d been thrown into a fire, then the third wave hit me almost as strong as the first two.

Steve continued to go down on me, alternately putting his tongue in me, then licking my clit at various speeds, always the perfect speed and depth for the moment. Wave after wave engulfed me, the longest and most powerful orgasm I’ve ever had. I finally started to come down and Steve moved up to my mouth and kissed me, then positioned himself between my legs. It was time for him to enter, to take me completely, but his used his hand to guide his cock head up and down my slit, rubbing it over my clit until I was building up again. Finally he put his cock head into me, but only the head. As he moved in and out rhythmically I began to move with him. We were in perfect sync. Gradually, so very gradually, he moved a bit deeper and then a bit deeper. I moved my pelvis a bit trying to swallow more of him but he held back and continued just half way in. After what seemed forever he finally penetrated me fully. I mean fully and I was full. Steve was a bit bigger than Rob in both length and girth. He bottomed out in me, stretched me just a little beyond anything I’d ever experienced before, but he was gentle and didn’t hurt me. After a few minutes Steve grew still and said “Don’t move.” I remembered that movie, out of Africa when Robert Redford said that to Meryl Streep, and quoting her I said “But I want to move.” Then we both laughed and that seemed to have been the break Steve needed to regain control and continue on.

I felt a second orgasm building and figured that Steve had held off about as long as he could so I let it come, so that we could cum together. I gasped, moaned, made some other noises that were beyond my control and let the waves of ecstasy roll over me. As my second orgasm subsided I felt the muscles in my nick hurt a bit from being so tensed up. My fists were clinched and I let them go, my hands hurt from clinching so hard. Steve kept moving, in and out, hard as steel. He hadn’t cum. Finally he rolled off me and lay on his back. The bedroom light was still on and I could see his cock was ready for more, but I wasn’t. At least I didn’t think I was.

After a while Steve rolled me off the bed and stood up beside the bed. He pulled my legs so I was sideways on the bed and pulled me down until my bum was on the bed but barely so. He pulled my legs up and put my ankles on each side of his head, legs over his shoulders and pushed my legs down until my thighs were up against my chest, then entered me very slowly. I was a little bit afraid that he might hurt me, this position allowing such deep penetration, but he moved in slowly until he bottomed out. Very gently he pushed in a little more stretching me and penetrating me deeper than I’d ever been penetrated before and then he held still and flexed his cock. I flexed my pubic muscles back at him. He flexed again and so did I, then he let my legs down and held his wrists under my knees so I grabbed his hands. Steve began to pump me slowly then faster, and faster, and faster. I felt another orgasm building as Steve pounded me. His balls were slapping my bum, and he pumped faster yet. “Oh, my GOD!” I yelled as my third orgasm hit. Steve didn’t slow down.

My third orgasm, though not as long or intense as the first two, left me shaking with exhaustion for a couple of minutes. Steve collapsed beside me. His cock was still rigid! After we caught our breath Steve asked “Thirsty?” “Yes” I replied. He went to the kitchen and came back with two bottles of water, his hard cock wagging in front of him. We drank some then he laid on his back pulled me on top of him. I sat on him, took his cock and guided it into me, impaled myself on him. As I moved up and down his shaft I reached back and gently grabbed his balls. Steve reached both hands up and started working my nipples. The light was still on. I smiled at him and he smiled at me. “OK, he said. “I’m about done here. Can you cum again? Cum with me?” “I don’t know, I’ll give it a try.” I said. We moved together in perfect rhythm for a while then I felt Steve start to tense up. I bore down on him with all my might and felt another orgasm coming on. “Ohhhhhhh !” I moaned. Just then Steve bellowed. I don’t know how else to describe it other than he bellowed, very loudly. I screamed, we must have woke not only the neighbors but also the dead! I felt his first squirt inside me, then another, and another as we came together.

When the last wave had passed I collapsed beside Steve and we lay there panting. He reached one of the bottles of water and took a big drink, half a bottle in two gulps, then he asked “Want some?” I shook my head and he took another big swig then put his mouth to mine and filled my mouth with water, which I swallowed, then I took the bottle from him and finished it. I’d never had anyone spit water into my mouth before, but it was wonderful, intimate, something you don’t do with just anybody. It was a very special feeling to share to that extent. We lay there for about fifteen or twenty minutes, talking a little, drinking most of the second bottle of water, then I moved down and gently took Steve’s cock into my mouth and sucked gently, working my mouth slowly. To my surprise his cock started to swell in my mouth, so I sucked a little harder and moved my mouth a little more. He was rigid again, hard, stiff and he said “You’d better stop before I cum in your mouth.” I sucked a little harder and moved my mouth a little more while playing with his balls with my left hand and holding his shaft with my right. Steve grunted, moaned and his first shot went right down my throat. Before I could swallow his first shot the second squirted into my mouth and I swallowed that as the third pumped out of his cock. When he had completed his orgasm and I’d sucked out and swallowed every last drop I looked at the clock. Nearly two o’clock and we’d been going at it since just before eleven.

We were both exhausted, spent, covered with sweat and spit and a mixture of our bodily fluids and the last thing on earth I’d want to do was wash it off. We both went to the bathroom to use the toilet then returned to bed. Steve pulled the sheet up over us and took me in his arms and we fell sound asleep almost immediately.

Saturday morning when we woke up it was broad daylight. The clock showed ten. We went to the bathroom and used the toilet without any embarrassment or second thought, then got into the shower together. We soaped each other up and Steve washed my hair, giving me the best scalp massage of my life. We then went to the sinks and brushed our teeth. Steve came and stood behind me so I turned around. He picked me up and sat my bum on the counter between the two sinks, dropped to his knees and licked me for a while, running his tongue all over my clit and “tongue fucking” me. Then he stood and entered me. After a couple minutes I wrapped my legs around him and he carried me to the bed while I remained impaled on his shaft.

As Steve laid me down on the bed his cock fell out of me, so I grabbed it and guided it back into me. Steve began nibbling my ears and gently biting my neck as he pumped away which sent shivers up and down my spine . It didn’t take long for both of us to cum, and it was in unison again. Perfect timing. After a short rest I said “I’m sore.” Steve replied “Me too. Shall we have some breakfast?” We got up and I put on panties and Steve’s shirt. He put on gym shorts and a T-shirt.

In the kitchen we made ham and eggs, tea, toast and had some orange juice. I was so hungry I felt like I could have eaten the table cloth, if there had been one on the kitchen table. After we cleaned up the kitchen and the bedroom (which had a trail of clothes scattered all over the place) it was noon. Steve said “Yvonne, I am supposed to allow you to call your family at noon. If you don’t make the call those Russian mafia guys might…” I replied “I need to let my kids know I am OK. Steve said “What about Rob?” and I said “Fuck Rob! No, I don’t mean that. I mean, he can go fuck himself.”

Steve suggested that I go into the study to have some privacy but I insisted that he go into the study with me. I wanted him to hear what I had to say. I used his land line and dialed home. Rob answered and when I said “Hello” he asked if I was OK. “Yes, I’m OK, but there was only one bidder. I’ll have to serve the full five months.” Steve looked surprised for a moment, then he smiled. I continued talking with Rob. “It could be a lot worse. The gentleman who bought me doesn’t seem to have any intention of beating me and he says he won’t invite his friends over to gang-bang me… Oh yes, it appears that I will be thoroughly fucked on a regular basis. Yes, a bit bigger than you, stretched me some but he didn’t hurt me. I’m to be allowed to keep my job and see the children often, but I am not going to see you. Sorry, that’s the way it is. Now may I speak with the children?”

After I talked with the children we went back to the kitchen for another cup of tea. Steve said “Five months, are you really ready to live here with me for five months?” I replied “If you’ll have me that long.” Steve smiled and said “Back to bed with you before you change your mind about all of this.” My reply was flippant. “What’s wrong with the kitchen table?” I stood up then sat on the table and leaned back on my elbows allowing Steve’s shirt to fall open exposing my breasts. Steve stood and grabbed the waist band of my panties and pulled them off. Just as he as about to enter me he said “Do you mind if I ask you a question?” I said “Ask me anything.” and he said…”Have you ever posted pornographic stories on the internet?”

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