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AUCTIONED TO THE SPANISH DOM
The Spectrum Auctions 3
DORIS O’CONNOR
Copyright © 2014
Chapter
One
Arms
held in tight chains in front of her, and in full glare of the stage lights,
Peyton’s stomach rolled in nervous anticipation. Maybe this hadn’t been one of
her best ideas. Sure she’d get her story, but at what price? It had seemed so
simple on paper.
What
better way to get behind the scenes of Club Spectrum, than to sign up for the
Auctions? Mistress Scarlett’s narrow-eyed assessment and the endless forms and
tests she had to pass had been nothing in comparison to this. The reality of
the situation hit her square in the gut and she found it hard to breathe.
The
disembodied voice of the announcer projected her attributes to all and sundry
and despite her instructions to the contrary, she lifted her chin and stared
into the crowd. Not that she could see much, past the first few tables, and the
recent bane of her life had to be sitting right in her line of vision.
Pedro
Hernandez lounged back in his chair, one denim-clad leg lifted over the other.
Dressed entirely in black, he made a forbidding figure, even sat down. He
smiled at something that Mistress Scarlett said to him, his even, white teeth a
startling contrast in his olive complexion, and he raised his hand to enter a
bid for her.
Heat
rolled over her skin and the world tilted a little more every time he raised
that hand again. His other hand tapped the riding crop he held onto his knee-high
leather boots, and Peyton could have sworn those taps echoed across her skin.
Why
had it not occurred to her that he might make a bid for her? Why had she been
so stupid? And why could she not tear her gaze away from this man?
It
was bad enough having to deal with him in everyday life, but here in the club? The
hammer fell and Peyton stopped breathing.
“Sold
to Master Pedro. Come and claim your new slave, Master Pedro.”
*
* * *
Blood
fizzed in his veins and there was a definite spring in his step, as he
approached the stage. His fingers itched to get a hold of Ms. King’s ample
curves, and he hid his smile at the anxiety pouring off her in waves. This was
almost too easy.
Out
of her sensible office attire, Peyton King had lost all of her starchiness and
some of that air of superiority, even if she positively glared at him from
under the silky curtain of her hair.
“I
changed my mind. I don’t want to do this anymore.” Her breathy objection shot
straight to his groin, and this time he did smile. She flinched when he used
the tip of the riding crop to push her hair out of the way, but she stood her
ground and pushed her shoulders back in an act of defiance.
The
action only served to push her impressive tits out further and Pedro’s cock hardened
in his pants.
“Really
now. I didn’t take you for a coward, pequeña.” Her eyes flashed fire at him, and he
slowly ran the tip of his crop down over her cleavage. Her nipples hardened at
the light touch he used, and she gasped.
“I’m
not a fucking coward. I’m here, aren’t I?”
Pedro
shook his head and ran that crop lower, until he reached the hem of her short
dress. She shivered when he inched it higher and she bit her lip in a seeming
effort to not let her reaction show. He stopped just before he reached her
pussy, and she squirmed under his slow perusal. By the time his gaze connected
with hers, goose bumps had broken out on her skin, and she had trouble keeping
his gaze.
“So
you are, and as such I expect you to show the appropriate respect. I will not tolerate
foul language like that. If I hear you use it again, I will gag this pretty
mouth of yours, and put you over my knee to spank that ass.”
Her
eyes lost their focus for a minute and he bet his best riding crop that she
would be wet for him.
“You
wouldn’t dare.” She mumbled the words and some of her bravado left her when he
stepped so close to her, that she would be able to feel his raging hard-on
against her belly.
“Wouldn’t
I?” he asked and fisted his hand in her hair with enough force to make her
yelp. “I’m a sadist, pequeña, and as such, it would give me great
pleasure to see you writhe on my lap. What’s more I think you’d rather enjoy
it.”
She
tried to shake her head, but his tight hold on her didn’t allow for any
movement and she went limp against him, when he licked the rapidly beating
pulse point in her neck and then bit down slightly on her earlobe.
“I
wouldn’t,” she whispered, her voice so breathy it shot straight to his cock. A
man could lose his shit listening to that voice alone. It belonged to a woman
ready for fucking, and gave away her current state of arousal like a lighthouse
beacon. She might protest, but she was here because she wanted this, craved it
even, deep down in her psyche, and he was just the man to show her how good
this could be.
To
prove his point, he stepped away and released his hold on her.
“Then
say your safeword and you’re free to go.”
She
blinked and frowned.
“Wh–What?
You’re just gonna let me go?”
Pedro
hid his smile of triumph, took another step away, and crossed his arms over his
chest.
“That’s
the way this works, Peyton.” She blinked again at the use of her actual name. “I
have no wish to force my attentions where they are not wanted. There are plenty
of willing subs I could have chosen instead. I happen to think, that you and I
could be great together in a Dom/sub relationship. Nothing more, nothing less,
but this is always your choice. So, if you want this to continue, then lose the
attitude. As much as I like bratty submissives, the attitude gets tiresome
after a while.”
He
stopped talking and waited. Seconds turned into minutes and he was all too
aware of the curious glances thrown their way. He had already shown Ms. King
far more leeway than he was known for, but, dammit, he wanted her. If the
stubborn woman only gave in. His inner caveman just wanted to fling her over
his shoulder, drag her to his personal dungeon here at the club, lock the door,
and show her what had been missing in her life up till now. They had locked
horns so many times in the past over her job that he knew how passionate she
was. However, that was not the way this worked. He needed, wanted her consent.
She
frowned, bit her lip, and shifted from foot to foot. It drew his attention to
her fuck-me heels. A nice, if unusual addition. The slaves up for auction were
usually barefoot, but then Scarlett knew how much he appreciated high heels on
his women. He would have to thank her later for this rather delicious setup.
“Safeword?”
The whispered question pulled his attention back up her body until he snared
her crystal gaze with his.
“I
know you’ll have been given the club safewords. Mistress Scarlett is most
thorough. Or are you telling me your heels are not the only thing she let slip
by?” He dropped his voice on purpose, giving it that edge that always got the
little subbies worried, and like a frightened rabbit, Peyton startled and shook
her head.
“No…I
mean, yes I know them. She made me jump through all the required hoops like
some trained dog. I just…”
Her
voice faded away and her eyes widened when he placed his hand on her throat and
gave it a light squeeze.
“Hoops,
you say. If that’s what turns you on, we can certainly add pet play to your
list of requirements.” He rather enjoyed the way her mouth dropped open and she
stared at him as though he’d grown six heads. “Though from your list, you seem
to not want to do much at all.”
Heat
rose in her cheeks when he pulled her list of soft and hard limits out of his
back pocket, where he’d stuffed it on his approach to claim her.
“I…er…well.”
He turned his hold on her throat into a gentle caress, and she leant into his
touch when he cupped her chin and ran his thumb over her bottom lip.
“I’m
waiting, pequeña.”
He
pulled her closer still until their breaths mingled and his lips hovered over
hers. The urge to claim those full lips, to suckle them into submission until
she sagged against him, was strong indeed, but he resisted the impulse. Far
better to keep her on edge. Her eyes fluttered shut and a needy little moan
escaped as she appeared to wait for him to kiss her. This close, he could
appreciate the delicate paleness of her skin. She would mark so beautifully
under his hands.
When
he didn’t close the distance, she opened her eyes, and her momentary confusion
was quickly replaced by a flash of anger. There it was the spirit he’d admired
for the last few months.
“Fine,
have it your way. I’m not going to say my safeword, because…yikes, put me down.”
Pedro
followed his original intentions, and picking her up, dumped her over his
shoulder, and started walking.
As
he expected her to, she squealed and squirmed and tried to push herself off his
shoulder. With her wrists still tied with the chain, the end of which he held
in his hand to restrict her movements, and his arm firmly clamped just below
her ripe ass, she had nowhere to go, however.
The
woman had curves to die for, with just enough flesh for his liking. Pedro
grinned when she gave up struggling and a string of profanities came out of her
mouth instead.
“Have
you already forgotten what I said about using foul language, pequeña?” He adjusted the long chain wrapped around his hand to enable him
to transfer it to his other one, and slapped her ass twice, hard enough to
leave a mark. “For someone who professes not to like pain, you’re certainly
going the right way about making sure I’ll give you some.” Her outburst stopped
at his growled words and he indulged himself by swatting her ass twice more.
Peyton gasped and went limp over his shoulder when he massaged the sting away
and slid his hand under the skirt barely covering her modesty.
Wetness
greeted him, and he knew he was grinning like a fool as he left the main play
area and entered the corridors that led to the dungeons. His birthday was
definitely looking up.
*
* * *
Her
ass stung like crazy, and the floor slid by at dizzying speed. Peyton knew she
should be outraged at the way this Spaniard was manhandling her. She was a
grown woman, for fuck’s sake, not a bag of potatoes, but she couldn’t deny how
much of a turn-on this was either. The absolute dominance that seemed to pour
out of his very pores made her feel small and fragile. A definite novelty for
Peyton. With her killer heels on she stood at just under six feet. Yet, he was
still half a head taller than her. Despite having the lean physique of a swimmer
rather than the overbearing muscle mass of, say, Mistress Scarlett’s sub, Mike,
he still carried her as though she weighed no more than a feather.
When
she had run into him in her job as a reporter, she had been struck by his
steely determination, but, here at the club, his presence was overwhelming. The
way the crowd parted for him did little to soothe the army of slithering
insects that seemed to have taken up residence in her tummy, and by the time
they entered the corridors she could barely breathe for her nerves.
Damn
her boss’s insistence that she get the inside scoop on Club Spectrum, but her
natural curiosity and the big, fat carrot of a pay rise and promotion had been
too hard to resist. She had signed a non-disclosure contract as part of being
put up for auction, which meant she would not be able to name names, but there
were always ways around that—if she survived this encounter, that was.
High-heeled
stiletto boots appeared in her vision, followed by bare, very masculine feet,
and Pedro stopped his rapid walk.
“I
see you two seem to have sorted out your differences. For a while there I
thought we would have to reimburse you, Pedro. Your slave looked ready to bolt.”
Mistress Scarlett’s amused tones were joined by Pedro’s short laugh, and she struggled
into a more upright position over his shoulder. He must have loosened his hold
on her chains, because she managed to push against his muscular back and lift
slightly. With her hair covering her face like a black curtain, she still
couldn’t see much, but a least it stopped the blood rushing to her head and the
world stopped spinning. Last thing she wanted to do was embarrass herself
completely by throwing up all over Mistress Scarlett’s polished boots.
She
huffed in a futile effort to clear her vision from all that hair, and masculine
hands lifted it out of the way. To her surprise they belonged to Mistress
Scarlett’s Mike. Dressed in nothing but a thong, the sight of which made her
cheeks heat—boy, was that man well blessed in the cock department—the silver
cuffs and the heavy play collar around his neck confirmed his submissive
status. He didn’t look very submissive to her at the minute, though.
His
callused hands framed her face and his crystal blue gaze searched her face as
though she was one of his suspects under interrogation at the police station,
and not another sub, flung over the shoulder of her Dom.
Her Dom. Now there was a
thought. As much as Peyton enjoyed her smutty stories, the kinkier the better,
she’d never have thought that statement would ever apply to her.
“How
are you holding up there, Peyton?” he asked. “You looked pretty overwhelmed on
that stage.”
Seemingly
not satisfied with whatever he saw in her expression, the steely command behind
that tone of voice would have done any Dom proud. It seemed you could take the
cop out of the police station, but not out of the man.
She
offered him a weak smile.
“She’s
fine, boy, and none of your concern.”
Pedro’s
clipped tones should have been the end of that conservation, but Mike ignored
him, and leant in closer, so that only she could hear his next words.
“Don’t
let him bully you into anything you’re not sure about, and use your safewords
if you have to.”
Scarlett’s
red-tipped fingernails appeared in view and Peyton barely suppressed a wince when
she dug those nails into Mike’s forearm. Spots of blood appeared under the
crescent indents Scarlett left behind on her sub’s skin, and bile rose in
Peyton’s throat. That was definitely one of her hard limits, she decided. Had
she put that on her form? She must have done. There was very little she had
said yes to, so why then had Pedro bid for her? It just made no sense.
Mike
didn’t seem to care about the fact that his Mistress was literally drawing
blood, because he winked at Peyton and let her go. The chain round her wrists
tightened anew and she slumped back over Pedro’s back. The new me, a sack of spuds.
Peyton
sought refuge in humor. Anything to keep her sanity, because that damn man was
now patting her ass. Light taps only, but they still sent heated arousal
through her veins. She would disgrace herself if he kept that up, and she froze
when he grazed his fingers along the seam of her slit underneath her sodden
underwear. Shit, now he’d know
exactly how wet she was.
To
make her humiliation complete, he seemed to be showing his fingers to Scarlett,
if his next words were anything to go by.
“Does
this look as though she’s not enjoying herself?” Scarlett laughed and Mike
grunted as though in pain. Heaven only knew what the woman had just done to
him.
“So
tell your bloodhound to lay off. I do know what I’m doing,” Pedro said and
resumed the slow, far too arousing taps on her butt.
“Of
course you do, Pedro. You will keep out of Master Pedro’s business, brass, is
that clear?”
Peyton
swallowed hard at the sharp tone of voice she used.
“Yes,
My Lady. I was only concerned, because I remember how overwhelming this can be
at first.” Mike’s reply sounded strained as though he was indeed in pain and
then he expelled an audible sigh of relief.
“I
know, Mike. It’s the only reason you’re not already in a cock harness.” Again
Peyton had to clamp her mouth shut to stop herself from reacting, and Pedro’s
shoulder’s shook as he laughed.
“I
do like your style, Scarlett, but I think your toy still needs punishing. That
glare on him is something else. If I wasn’t busy with my own one, I’d offer you
a helping hand.”
Mike
swore and coughed, but you could still hear a very distinct, Fuck off.
“Hmm,
you might be right on the punishment bit, Pedro, but you’ve already had your
birthday present, so go on and enjoy her. I shall do the same with Mike here.
Up you come.”
It
was his birthday? Had this all been a
setup with her as the clueless present?
The
click clack of Scarlett’s heels faded into the distance and Pedro turned to
face the other wall. Rapid beeps of a keyboard entry pad being pressed later,
and Peyton faced the pristine stone floor of what she assumed must be Pedro’s
private dungeon.
He
set her on her feet, tucked her hair behind her ears, and tipped her chin up,
all the while keeping a firm grasp on her still bound wrists.
“Now,
for that present,” he said. “Time to get started, pequeña.”
*****
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