Claiming Cleo (Masters Club 2)

“Yes, Mistress,” they replied once more in unison.

Mistress Dominique gave a brisk nod. As she handed out black satin sleep masks to each of the subs, a sparkle of dominant mischief entered her eyes, putting Cleo on instant alert. She knew that look.

“Tonight, we thought we’d have a little fun with the format,” she continued. “You’ll wear your blindfold while on the block, and we’ll be conducting a silent auction. The Doms will use paddles to indicate their bids. To add even more mystery to the proceedings, Master Grayson won’t be addressing the bidders by name, but rather by their paddle number. You won’t know until the blindfold is removed who you will serve for the length of the slave contract.”

This was a new twist that would definitely heighten the anticipation. The subs glanced at one another. The excitement and trepidation Cleo saw on their faces no doubt mirrored her own.

Mistress Dominique turned her attention to Angelique, a plump, voluptuous beauty with thick, dark hair Cleo had painstakingly curled into long, shiny ringlets that hung beautifully down her back.

“You’re up first, my dear,” Mistress Dominique said. “Let’s get this party started.” She led blindfolded Angelique from the room, closing the door softly behind them.

The remaining five subs chatted quietly as they waited their turn. They could hear some of the proceedings, but the sounds were muffled by the thick door that separated the rooms. After about ten minutes, Mistress Dominique returned, this time selecting Eugene.

One after the other, the subs vanished with Mistress Dominique to the auction room, until only Cleo remained. She closed her eyes and let her mind empty as she focused on remaining calm and receptive to whatever awaited her. Finally, Mistress Dominique returned for her.

“Remember,” Mistress Dominique said as she adjusted the sleep mask over Cleo’s eyes. “You will submit to whoever wins you.”

Cleo frowned in confusion at this unnecessary remark, which echoed Master Grayson’s earlier reminder. An uneasy feeling swept through her. Why did Mistress Dominique and Master Grayson keep harping on her duty to submit and obey the terms of a bidding contract? She was a trained slave, for heaven’s sake. She wouldn’t dream of backing out. She said nothing, however, only giving a brisk nod of agreement.

As they entered the auction room, the sudden silence prickled over Cleo’s skin. She felt all eyes on her as she was led to the raised dais that had been set up in front of the large stone fireplace. Helping hands guided her up the three small stairs and to the center of the stage.

Master Grayson spoke somewhere just to her left, no doubt standing at the small podium they used to lend the auctions a more formal air. “For our final bid of the evening, we offer slave Cleo. As indicated in her profile, she has no known negative triggers, and a high pain tolerance. I can tell you from my own experience with this lovely girl that she’s highly trained, deeply submissive, and man, she can suck the paint off a barn door.”

There was laughter at this nod to Cleo’s oral skills. She stood at attention, her expression outwardly placid, though her heart was racing with excitement. Who would win her? What would their terms be?

She made herself concentrate as Master Grayson put her through various positions to demonstrate her grace and comportment. Mistress Dominique stayed close by, occasionally offering a steadying hand as needed. Cleo managed well enough, though it wasn’t as easy to assume and hold the positions with a blindfold over her eyes.

Eventually, Master Grayson directed her to stand in a wait up position, legs slightly apart, wrists crossed overhead, which was her cue that the bidding would now begin.

Master Grayson rapped his gavel smartly on the podium. “We’ll start the bidding at five hundred,” he announced. “Who will give me five hundred?”

Cleo heard rustling from the audience. After a moment, Master Grayson said, “Paddle four has bid five hundred. I’m looking for seven-fifty. Paddle six has bid seven-fifty. Eight hundred from paddle four. Paddle seven has bid eight-fifty. Can I get nine?”

When the bidding crossed the two-thousand-dollar threshold, Cleo understood she’d be on the hook for at least two days. Apparently, that was fine with her owners, because Master Grayson continued to raise the bid.

Eventually, he called out, “Five thousand from paddle two. That gives you the right to a five-day contract, if you so wish. Remember, gentlemen, this is for charity. Do I see fifty-five hundred? Ah, excellent. Fifty-five hundred from paddle one. Can we get six thousand? Six thousand from paddle six.”

To Cleo’s amazement, the bid continued to climb, all the way to ninety-five hundred dollars. The bidding was now only between paddle one and paddle four. She searched her memory for any fundraising auction that had garnered more than five thousand for a single sub and couldn’t recall one.