Christmas Captive

In the middle of the auction, I stood up, getting ready to leave the room. In moments, one of the employees of Couture House was standing by me, eager to prevent me from leaving.

"Something wrong, Sir?"

"I don't think I'll find what I'm looking for here," I muttered, eyes sweeping over the stage where a pretty redhead was being bid on. Still, her eyes lingered on me, hoping I'd raise my paddle to bid on her virginity. "These girls aren't exactly my type."

"Sir, if you tell us what you're looking for, we might be able to serve you better," the employee, a man in his early thirties, was eager to answer. "We pride ourselves on finding the perfect match for anyone and everyone. Would you like to fill out a form? Despite the fact that you didn't find someone suitable today, we might be able to accommodate you in the future."

A form. I chuckled at the thought. Who would have thought finding the perfect submissive would come down to filling a goddamn form. And yet I couldn't resist. I wanted this. Even the thin promise on the man's lips excited me. I gave him a curt nod, followed him to an office in the back, and stared at the form he presented me with.

It was detailed, demanding to know everything from the woman's hair color to her weight and age. But I didn't give a shit about any of that. I had a type, of course, but it had nothing to do with the girl's appearance, and everything to do with her delightful little brain.

Finally, I settled for writing a single line on the form.

I want a captive to keep over Christmas.

Smirking to myself, I handed the form to the perplexed employee of Couture House and headed out of the auction house. As I passed through the main room, I felt several pairs of eyes following me, including those of men whom I would never expect to see in a place like this. I nodded to a few acquaintances, pretended not to notice the two members of Parliament in the front row, and ignored the famous American actor and his wife who were scoping out a potential new victim.

But as I made my way to the exit, the sinking feeling of failure reminded me I was once again going home to an empty apartment.

I hadn't even decorated for Christmas. Anything to distract me from the boring, depressing truth—that I was more alone than ever.

I could have a slew of women at my apartment at the click of my fingers, and yet the thought didn't excite me. I wanted more than a random fling. For the first time in my life, I found myself wishing for more than a set of holes to fuck. I wanted a companion. Not a toy. Someone worthy of my attention, someone worthy of spoiling.

I pondered all this as my driver pulled away from Couture House and toward my penthouse apartment in London. The driver opened my door once we arrived, and I nodded at him, dismissing him as I slipped a fifty into his hand. I walked over the pavement to the glitzy lobby of the building I owned when something caught my attention.

Lyra, my would-be date was standing in the lobby, mascara smeared and her makeup ruined. The doorman dashed toward me just as she did.

"I'm sorry, Sir," the man rushed to get the words out. "She wouldn't take no for an answer, she was so desperate to see you, and I didn't know how to stop her."

"It's alright," I muttered. "But this can't happen again. Got it?"

He nodded in understanding just in time as the girl rushed toward us the next second, clinging to me with desperation.

"I'm so sorry I turned you down, Sir," she whispered, tears already falling down her perfectly pretty face. "The dinner was a disaster... My parents will never understand me. I didn't know where else to go, Sir... Are you angry that I'm here?"

I gently pried her fingers off my expensive suit, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "No, I'm not angry, but I don't have time for you right now."

The lie slipped from my lips easily, and Lyra's bottom lip wobbled at the words. "Please, Sir, I'll do anything, just don't make me go back home."

She had my interest now. Any time a woman promised everything, I got fucking excited. It meant I could push them to their very limits.

"Anything?" I wondered out loud, and she was quick to nod, so very eager it was almost laughable.

"I'm so sorry, Sir, please, let me make it up to you... I want to give you everything, please, let me show you how grateful I am."

I pondered her words for a beat too long, enjoying how nervous it made her to see me contemplating her fate.