And he walked away.
Cullen crossed his arms over his chest.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” Jessica muttered, before looking up. “I'm sorry.”
God, she was cute when she went all submissive. But she didn't mean it. Not yet.
She stared at him, and then her face crumpled, tears glimmering in her eyes. “I really am sorry, Master Cullen.”
Much better. “And you really are forgiven, sweetie.”
He handed her the drink. “Thank you for helping with Andrea.”
Her smile came out like a beam of sunlight. She took two steps back, putting herself out of reach before saying, “The poor girl has no idea of the nasty Dom she's getting.”
As Jessica scurried away, Cullen barked a laugh. Nasty? Compared to some of the other Doms, he was sweetness and light. If Jessica smarted off to a real sadist, he'd cover her backside with welts, and she… His eyes narrowed. Well, now, there was a thought.
After the majority of the members had arrived, Cullen turned the bar over to Raoul and searched out Karl and Edward. Then he wandered around and talked with every Dom interested in the auction. If he missed any, hopefully they'd get the word.
Finally he and Z discussed the future of the trainee program.
At nine thirty, Jessica, Kari, and Beth herded the subs who'd volunteered to be auctioned-off over to the raised stage Z put up for special events. Members gathered, pulling couches and chairs into a semicircle.
Z walked across the stage and stopped in the middle. “Welcome to the Shadowlands' charity auction. We have a fine selection of submissives who have offered their time.” He nodded to the subs lined up to the right of the stage. “Give them a hand, please, for their generosity.”
After the clapping and cheering stopped, Z continued. “Remember, your win entitles you only to negotiate with the submissive for what she wrote on her card. Also, before you drag her off to a scene area, before you even touch her, you hand over your Dom Dollars to my sub.” He pointed at Jessica who sat at a table to the left of the stage.
Unable to tolerate sitting, Cullen stood off to one side of the area. Quite a nice variety of subs this year. One curvy woman's breasts overflowed her corset—she'd be popular, he knew—and one had such a slender waist, she probably never ate more than three crackers at a meal. A couple of women were short enough that Cullen might step on them by accident.
Now with Andrea—her lovely height and curves balanced beautifully. He wanted to toss her over his shoulder and find a place—any place would do—to savor those curves, to cup her full breasts and tease her pink-brown nipples into hard peaks. Her fishnet stockings and hot pink garter belt perfectly framed her pussy, and she had nothing covering it.
As he watched, he saw the little Amazon's gaze flickering over the crowd. She rubbed her hands on her thighs and shifted her weight every few seconds, uncomfortable in a way she hadn't been since she first came to the Shadowlands. Unfortunately for her, he planned to make everything worse.
Guilt joined the worry in the back of his mind. But she needed a chance to prove herself to both of them, which meant neither of them would enjoy this auction. Shaking his head, Cullen leaned on a chair and prepared to endure the show he usually enjoyed.
A quiet sub with a sweet smile went first, offering herself for a light flogging by one Dom only. She was fairly new to the club, Cullen knew.
An auction at the Shadowlands served two purposes. Local charities benefited since members could earn the fake Dom Dollars from donating time or money.
Almost more important, the auction provided a way for the quieter or newer members to make friends. The Doms planning to bid would talk with all the subs as they checked their tags, and in turn, subs had a chance to evaluate potential Doms. If a Dom won, he and the sub would negotiate a scene. If he lost, the two could always hook up later.
“I'm opening the bidding at fifty Dom Dollars. Will anyone give me fifty for this pretty sub?” Z looked around. “Ah. I have fifty from Aaron. Will anyone give me more?”
And the auction took off. For the next two subs, Z kept the patter fairly quiet, easing both the crowd and the subs into the swing of things. Sally was the third in the line—a line that Z arranged every year according to some arcane logic of his own. The sub grinned as she climbed the steps to the stage.
“Here is Sally, one of our own Shadowlands trainees, and she is offering”—Z's eyebrows rose as he looked at the card—“Little one, perhaps you should have put down what you won't do.”
The audience laughed as he read off the card, and brisk bidding ensued. When it slowed, Z tugged on the sub's hair. “Sally, I think the Doms should see the cute little bottom they get to cane or spank. Turn and bend.”
Sally laughed, turned her back to the audience, and bent over. Z stroked his hand down her butt, and Cullen could almost see the Doms lean forward.
Then Z slapped Sally's ass hard enough to make her jerk, and the fair skin pinken. “The bidding stands at seven hundred twenty. Am I offered more for the chance to flog and fuck this soft little ass?”
Bidding continued upward for another hundred.
By the time Andrea reached the stage, about three-fourths of the subs had been auctioned off. The crowd thinned as Doms took their prizes off to the various stations. Stomach heavy with dread, she climbed the steps, hoping no one could see her legs shaking. Once there, she looked out over the audience, keeping her gaze away from the left side where she'd seen Master Cullen standing. If she saw the cold look in his eyes again, she'd probably burst into tears.
Z smiled at her, picked up her card from between her breasts, and read, “Andrea offers light flogging or spanking, and a blowjob. One Dom only. Time offered: now until closing.”
Closing? Andrea's jaw dropped. No. No way. She hadn't specified any time at all; why would Jessica write that? One hour—she'd figured on only one hour. That was more than plenty. She turned to Master Z. “Mast—”
“Did I give you permission to speak, trainee?”
She shook her head. But, but, but…
A big, blond Dom with a military haircut opened the bidding.
Andrea took a step back. Oh, Dios, not him. Before the auction started, he'd read her tag and laughed. “A trainee and you only want light flogging?” He'd pinched her cheek hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. “Sure, I'll go light on you.”
Someone else bid, please. A soft voice called, “Fifty.”
Oh, thank you. Andrea looked at the bidder, and her vision blurred as horror washed through her. Not him, please not him.
Soft voiced, tall and thin, he looked like an escapee from a Dilbert cubicle. But every weekend she'd seen him with various subs; they all received horrible long welts across their butt and legs from his single-tail.
The first Dom growled and upped the bid, and then the two ran the numbers up. She should be pleased she was making money for charity, but, Madre de Dios, she didn't want to do it like this.
Another Dom entered the bidding—one of the hard-core sadists.
Why? Did she have some sort of sign that said HURT ME stamped on her forehead? The new Dom started an argument about whether a sub should be flogged first or suck off their Dom first. One pointed out that after a flogging the sub would still be crying and have a stopped-up nose, and the blowjob would suffer. None of them disagreed on the crying part.
Whoever won would have her until closing. Safe word. She could always use her safe word.
Why didn't she find that reassuring? Should she just leave now? Hands clenched, she closed her eyes. Wouldn't anyone else bid on her? She kept her gaze averted from where Señor stood. He wouldn't. Someone else must.
But these three had run up the total as high as Sally's. Her knees wobbled. Walk away, estúpida. Go home. But then she'd lose her Señor for certain.
Another Dom bid, a younger Hispanic one, and Andrea closed her eyes in relief. Maybe… But the big blond snapped out another bid, and when she checked the Hispanic, he was talking with Master Nolan.
Her gaze swept the audience, drawn to the side where Cullen had stood. He wasn't there. The feeling of abandonment hit her as if someone had punched her in the stomach. He hadn't stayed to see her auctioned off. Maybe, maybe he didn't care at all. Even a little.
The soft-voiced Dom raised another ten dollars and ran his fingers over the whip coiled on his belt. She cringed and pulled her gaze away. And saw Master Cullen sitting right there in the front row. Joy surged up through her as she stared down at him.
Long legs stretched out, arms folded over his chest, jaw stern. His jade-colored eyes met hers.
Buy me, buy me, buy me. She opened her mouth to ask, but nothing came out. What if he said no? Refused her?
Just the thought made her quail.
Oh Dios, was she afraid to ask? The realization hit her so hard she staggered back a step. She'd thought she had it all figured out, but her need to stand on her own feet had only been part of her problem. The rest was that she was afraid that once she did ask for help, that person would let her down.
Like her father had.
Her hands fisted at her sides as the memories swamped her. Disappointment after disappointment—“I'll come to your play…your confirmation…your parent-teacher conference…”—until she'd finally stopped asking to save herself the inevitable letdown and pain.
And now, because of her father, she didn't have the guts to ask for help from someone else. Especially from Master Cullen. If he let her down, it would hurt much, much worse than anything a sadist could do to her.