This year's auction had been a steady stream of good-looking young male and female slaves, each one eagerly stepping up to the block and showing themselves off. His son, Christian, had been one of the first and had stood there naked except for a brief loin cloth, flexing his muscles to appreciative applause from the men and women of the audience. It was all in a good cause, the select member's club was raising money for charity. The members sat, sprawled and lounged in elegant surroundings of the Meeting Room, a room that looked more like an old college library room than what was in effect a sex-club. The members were well dressed tonight, far more so than they normally would have been at this time of night, though ties had been loosened and dresses re-arranged for 'comfort'. It had been an expensive night for Paul already, from the various contributions and spot purchases – not to mention what his wife had spent to buy their son. Toni had had to bid against several other women to buy Christian. But he knew it would make his wife happy and ultimately – he guessed - Christian would be pleased as well.
But now the last lot was approaching the auction block. Each of the previous 'slaves' had entered into the spirit of the event and dressed appropriately, wearing rags and slave clothes, and one of the girls – Joan - had actually presented herself stripped naked and wearing plastic manacles. She had stood on block her pleasantly sized breasts heaving as she glared ferociously at the audience, her pale blonde hair loose, and slightly dishevelled, the defiant look worked well, she was very inch the 'captured slave', despite the fact that she regularly served Paul at the local shop when he went for his Sunday papers. The bidding had become very fierce very quickly - Paul had not participated – and within a few minutes Joan had been sold back to her father for one thousand and three hundred pounds.
Antonia took the stage, and a hush fell on the room. Paul drew his breath sharply, he could feel his wife's interest, as she sat next to him stroking Christian's strong shoulders. He knew the outfit that his daughter was wearing was from one of the Star Wars films, but wasn't sure precisely which one. The copper coloured bra cupped her full but well-shaped breasts exquisitely, while the long purple tab hanging from a golden plate on a chain at the front of her tummy emphasised her long and shapely legs. Around her neck a light collar with a fine chain hanging down between her breasts. As usual Tonia wore just enough make-up to highlight her eyes and lips, subtle, but effective. She was at one and the same time virginal and wanton – how the fuck do you carry a chain that sexily, Paul thought to himself.
As Antonia stepped on to the auction block Toni whispered, "Oh dear! This could get expensive!"
"Fuck, yeah!" Paul agreed.
His daughter looked magnificent as she posed - left foot forwards, her weight over her back foot. She reached her right arm behind her back and grasped her left arm at about the height of her elbow. The effect was to show off her hips and push her rounded breasts forwards. She gazed out over the audience, not meeting anyone's eyes, looking – not staring into the darkness at the back of the room. Her head was turned slightly to one side, her right shoulder pulled slightly back by her pose to emphasise the shape of her jaw her graceful neck. Antonia's grey eyes sparkled under the lights, her head was held high, the angle calculated precisely to make her look defiant but captured as well.
The bidding was ferocious at first and Paul bided his time, as the auctioneer rolled off the bids, directing people's attention around the room. From chairs and couches hands were raised or a barely perceptible nod drove the amount onwards and upwards. Soon the bidding was down to two people - Colin McDonald, a large scots man in full formal highland dress (Toni had reliably informed Paul that Colin was naked under the kilt as all true scots should be), and Rachel Orton – who had recently shed several stones in weight, but none of her voluptuousness or sex appeal. The bid was just over fourteen hundred pounds when Colin McDonald shook his head.
"Fourteen hundred and thirty five pounds, going once?" Dave Bates, the auctioneer, intoned. "I have fourteen hundred and thirty five pounds in the room for this delightful slave going twice?"
Paul entered the bidding, "Fifteen hundred pounds!"
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have seen some stunning examples of slaves tonight, and this one is no exception, full and nicely shaped breasts, a fine pair of hips, and quite frankly the best bum I have seen all evening." This last one drew a muted chuckle. "Surely we can do better than fifteen hundred pounds?"
Rachel Orton entered several more bids but Paul matched each one.
Finally Dave Bates offered it to the room, "Sixteen nine five going once? Sixteen nine five going twice? Three times?" When no more bids rose to his question the gavel tapped once signifying the end of the auction.
"Sold to the slave's sire for sixteen hundred and ninety five pounds!"
Antonia squealed with delight as her father stood and held out his hand towards her and she made her barefooted way down from the block across the plush carpet towards her father and mother. Reaching them Antonia gave a little curtsey, and unlike her brother who reclined on a large floor cushion next to his mother, she knelt on a small cushion next to her father. Paul rested his hands on her bare shoulders and beamed at the defeated bidders. Rachel and Colin both beamed back at him, and Colin raised a small glass of whiskey in salute.
The end of the auction signified the end of the formal events, and Paul felt it was time to take his wife, and their newly acquired slaves home.
Their driver appeared at the main entrance as the Corley family drew on heavy winter coats and went out into the night. It was beginning to snow gently.
Sat in the car with Antonia pressed close to him Paul thought about the last couple of weeks.
It had begun one Sunday morning in the large kitchen that was at the heart of Paul and Toni's house. As Paul sat alone, combing through his usual stack of Sunday papers, he was surprised when his daughter greeted him by kissing his head from behind.
Paul looked at her over his reading glasses as she sat down opposite, pouring coffee from the café tier. His daughter had the face of an angel, the body of a young goddess, a sharp intellect and the instincts of a corporate lawyer.
"What?" Antonia asked her father.
"I was just wondering what my favourite daughter is doing up this early on a Sunday morning."
"Can a girl not get up early and spend quality time with her father?"
Paul – who normally had the house to himself in those early Sunday hours - knew his daughter, and refused to be drawn. Instead he used Antonia's tactics against her, diverting her attention with a question – "What do you want for your birthday, honey?"
"I've been thinking about it?"
"And?"
"I'm not sure"
"Sure of what?"
"I'm not sure whether you'll give it to me."
"Why not?"
"Do you love me daddy?"
Paul looked at her surprise, "Of course I do Tonia, why'd you ask?"
"Am I pretty?
"You're absolutely stunning. But then again I may be biased, because I am your loving father."
"If I asked for something outrageous for my birthday would you give it to me?"
"It would depend very much on what it was. Not_" Paul could see Antonia was getting ready to launch a series of incisive questions.
"Not because we don't love you, but because sometimes we should not be allowed to have everything we want." He carried on.
