The Night They Auctioned Me Off in the Red-Light District

I don’t know how much time passed before I caught my breath, and when I finally did, it took me just as long to start thinking clearly again. I looked up and saw Ingrid talking to Marco. They had already drawn the curtain, so I assumed the curious onlookers who had been watching us had left. I had no idea what time it was, but with what little sense I had left, I guessed it couldn’t be that late.

My whole body was still under the effects of that orgasm. Although it was already in the past, I could feel its embers scattered across my skin, like coals refusing to die out.

“We didn’t know whether to wake you or go out for a drink and come back for you later,” Marco said with a teasing grin.

Now that I could stay on my feet, I understood that they were already ready to leave that cave of lust and return to the real world. I, on the other hand, needed to put myself back together completely.

“Take a good shower. The night has only just begun,” Ingrid told me, looking me up and down with that panther’s gaze, savoring what she had enjoyed so much. “Everything you need is right there.”

Without a word, my legs carried me to the shower, and I let the water bring me back to the world. But my body, despite everything I had experienced—or perhaps precisely because of it—was still ablaze. The simple brush of my hand, the soap, or the warm stream of water was enough to arouse me all over again. It took a titanic effort to wash myself without finishing what my body was screaming for. Dressed and smiling, I went back to Marco and Ingrid.

“We’ve been talking,” Ingrid said bluntly. “A woman like you can earn thousands of euros in a single night. We’re going to take you somewhere they’ll pay what you’re really worth. There, they’ll use you as you deserve.”

Before I could even nod, she covered my mouth with a deep, possessive kiss that left me without an argument.

***

Marco took Ingrid by the arm, and I followed them like an automaton. I didn’t know what turned me on more: the domination that woman exercised over me, the domination she exercised over my husband, or the promise of what awaited me. I walked three steps behind them, watching Ingrid brazenly brush her hand over Marco’s ass. On the outside, I looked like any other wife; on the inside, I was something else.

Ten minutes through those narrow streets felt like an eternity. Between what could be seen in the shop windows, what could be guessed in the doorways, and the way people looked at me as we passed, I was almost at my limit before anything had even begun.

Ingrid entered a code into an electronic lock, and the door yielded. She stepped aside, and they both let me go in first. A long corridor led to a counter where an enormous man waited, with broad shoulders and a cold stare.

Ingrid began speaking to him in a language I didn’t understand, while the doorman openly looked me up and down, as though assessing merchandise.

“He’s asking whether there are any restrictions,” Ingrid translated. “I told him that with you, anything goes. Right, Marco?”

The fact that they had been talking about me, and were doing so now in front of me without taking me into account, made me feel even more exposed. I was wet again, but I tried to salvage some dignity and looked at them with a measure of disdain. Although, honestly, who was going to believe it?

Ingrid said something to the doorman, and he handed her an object. It turned out to be a leather collar with a leash. Without a word, she fastened it around my neck, and like an obedient bitch, I was led inside.

***

Ingrid and Marco walked ahead; I was one step behind, being pulled along by the leash. She spoke again in that unknown language, this time with a woman who watched me with the same shamelessness as the doorman, or even more. Ingrid displayed me like a trophy, and the woman nodded as she negotiated. Without warning, Ingrid pulled my breasts out over the top of my dress and lifted my skirt. I felt like a mare on auction day, and once again, being treated that way aroused me.

“Well, it looks like we have a deal,” Ingrid announced. “Marco, they’re offering five thousand euros for your wife if it’s in a private room, and ten thousand if it’s in the public one. You decide.”

“And what’s the difference? Remind me,” Marco replied with a crooked smile. “Sorry, I don’t remember anymore.”

They had sold me for the highest price. Ingrid handed my leash to that woman, and I, equally stunned and aroused, let myself be led away. The buyer called two more girls, who took me to another room. No one spoke my language, and no one addressed me: they simply stripped away my clothes until I was completely naked.

The two girls washed me as if they were performing a ritual, carefully and gently, leaving no spot untouched. Once I was clean, they coated me with warm oils, again leaving nothing uncovered. After those massages, my body was taut with tension once more. Marco and Ingrid had handed me over completely to those people, and I couldn’t be angry with them: I was far too hot and far too confused. Being a slut with Marco was one thing, but being a slut for Marco was something entirely different. I couldn’t quite understand why the second thing turned me on even more.

Smeared with oil, wet, and trembling, I felt one of them fasten a leather anklet around each of my legs, each one fitted with a metal ring. The other did the same to my wrists. Then came a sort of corset-belt with two more rings, and finally ankle boots with rings of their own. More naked than dressed, I seemed ready for them. The brunette took my leash and, with a gentle tug, indicated that I should follow her.

***

The door opened, and I instantly understood what Ingrid had meant by the public room. I felt like a gladiator entering the arena. I could feel every gaze sinking into my skin; I couldn’t have said how many people there were. There was something in the center, and I realized that was where they were taking me. I searched for Marco and Ingrid with my eyes and soon located them, standing beside it and surrounded by people.

Up close, I understood better what it was: a kind of padded sawhorse onto which they seated me. First they secured my legs, spread wide and exposing my sex. Then they fastened the corset, followed by my wrists, leaving me at everyone’s mercy. The girls clipped clamps onto my nipples while the woman at the entrance gave instructions to the crowd. Then Ingrid approached.

“You’re gorgeous like this,” she murmured, tugging on the straps attached to the clamps. “They’re going to use you like a bitch. Hold nothing back. Enjoy every thrust, every person, every orgasm.”

Some people were beginning to undress, others were kissing, and still others were caressing one another. Before me was the most obscene scene I had ever imagined. The buyer opened the bidding: she sat in front of me, took hold of my legs, positioned her mouth between my sex and my rear entrance, and began devouring me greedily. While I was losing my mind, I watched Ingrid take Marco’s cock out and, staring straight at me, masturbate him. The girls gave themselves over to what they were witnessing. Some men touched themselves while watching me; other women caressed each other, surely wishing to take my place on that seat.

I knew I wouldn’t last long. If my devourer hadn’t realized it, she would have made me come in her mouth just as Ingrid had ordered, shamelessly and without restraint. But she stopped dead and left me open, halfway there, panting. That was when I realized it wasn’t a chair: it was a swing. She made it tilt until my head was facing forward and my legs were spread backward, suspended and completely offered up.

A line formed in front of me. Men and women took their places to enjoy my mouth, and although I couldn’t see anything behind me, I imagined an identical line there. They took their time, and the waiting did nothing but fan my desire and my need to be possessed.

I felt one of the girls slip beneath the swing. First with her fingers and then with some kind of toy, she began stimulating my clitoris, while from behind, a discreet hand spread some cold gel over my sex and my entrance. Every pore of my body awaited what was about to happen.

“Well, you’re almost ready,” Ingrid said, positioning herself in front of me without letting go of Marco’s cock. “See you on the other side, beautiful.”

The two of them had reserved the best spot so they wouldn’t miss a thing.

***

The first man came to fuck my mouth. He wasn’t looking for a caress: he thrust hard, setting the pace. Before I could draw breath, hands gripped my legs to intensify the thrusting of another pelvis from behind. Penetrated from both sides without respite, while fingers and the toy played with my clitoris, I felt the air escaping me. Whenever my mouth was free, I saw Ingrid’s hand working tirelessly on Marco, who sooner or later would end up somewhere inside me.

That devil of a girl had learned to stop my orgasm just before the explosion, then resume it from a higher point each time. I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest. Suddenly I felt her leave from beneath me, and noticed someone taking her place: a new, deep thrust, this time from below.

My mouth was left empty for an instant, and I regained my sight. I saw them bringing a woman toward me, lying down with her legs spread.

“Well, now we’ll see whether you’re worth what they paid for you,” Ingrid said. “Let’s find out whether you’re a real mare.”

The cock filling my sex went still, waiting for an order, and everything fell silent. Only a slap on my buttock broke the quiet. I felt a glans pressing against my rear entrance, trying to force its way in, and a shiver ran down my spine. Another slap, and my body yielded a little more. I expected a third blow, but instead they tugged on my nipple clamps and, almost without meaning to, I opened completely. That enormous glans settled almost all the way in, leaving me breathless.

“Do you want to come or not?” Ingrid asked. “If you do, you’re going to have to ask for it.”

“Yes, I can’t take it anymore, fuck me,” I managed to babble.

“Only we understand you here. Repeat after me: Fick mich,” Ingrid ordered.

I didn’t know what I was saying, and I didn’t care, but I shouted it over and over. Three more slaps, a couple of tugs, and the cock drove all the way in, which was the signal for the woman beneath me to ride me as well. Impaled from both sides, I felt them bring that woman’s sex to my mouth, where my moans and pleas were drowned.

If Ingrid’s hands had dismantled me piece by piece before, those two bodies opened me like a flower. First my rear entrance exploded, then my sex, and finally a spark in my clitoris left me motionless while the woman spilled her pleasure into my mouth.

***

I hadn’t even caught my breath when I already had two more cocks in my hands and my entire body invaded by fingers and mouths. My sex was given a respite, but the rest of me became everyone’s territory. The chaos overwhelmed me: so many hands, so many kisses, so much of everything. All around me, the entire world was sex. Marco thrust into Ingrid, and Ingrid kissed the woman I had devoured. I had gone from being the protagonist to being a spectator at my own performance.

Little by little, everyone joined that collective orgasm and, in the same way, they gradually disappeared. In the end, only the three of us remained, exhausted and wrapped in an absurd happiness born of all the endorphins released. We needed something—I don’t know whether a hug, a conversation, or a drink—but we needed that something. First, though, a shower and clothes before returning outside.

We went back to the room where they had prepared me. It was the same room, but it no longer seemed like it. Under the water, Ingrid let Marco soap her, and I admired how those caresses were much more than they appeared. Water ran over my breasts, reminding me how they had been bitten and stretched only minutes before. Images of those bodies continued circulating through my head; I could almost still feel them against my skin. Dirtier than I had been a while earlier and probably less so than I would be in another while, I went back out into the street, embraced by my two lovers.

***

We were walking aimlessly when Ingrid suggested seeing the city by tram. It was already past one in the morning, so there were hardly any people around.

“Your wife has turned into quite a little slut,” Ingrid suddenly blurted out.

“The truth is, she’s more uninhibited than ever,” Marco replied.

They began commenting on everything that had happened at the club as if I weren’t there, and not exactly quietly. I assumed the few passengers didn’t understand Spanish, but even so, the situation aroused me again.

“I think your wife is enjoying hearing what a bitch she’s been, don’t you?” Ingrid commented.

“Looks that way. Look at her nipples,” Marco said, taking one between his fingers.

Sitting in the last row, horny again, I understood that my two lovers had decided it was time for another performance.

“Tell her to take off her panties. I’m sure they’re soaked,” Ingrid purred, bringing her hand to Marco’s crotch.

Marco ordered me to take them off, and who was I to disobey? Half dressed, half naked, one of my hands slipped beneath my dress in search of my sex. Going from one encounter to another since we had arrived, instead of satisfying me, kept me in a constant state of tension; even when I came—and I certainly had—I always had one reserve round left in my body.

The three of us sat in the last row: they played at one end, while I was at the other, no longer even trying to hide it, my fingers sliding in and out of me.

“Tell your wife not to be so shameless. That gentleman can’t take his eyes off her,” Ingrid warned.

When I let myself go, I hadn’t noticed the man, or the other passengers. The others may have guessed what was happening, but that gentleman had no doubt whatsoever: he saw my fingers entering and leaving my wet sex perfectly clearly. His smile reached my throat. It wasn’t that I had become prudish, but the suddenness of it gave me a fit of modesty, and I covered myself, blushing.

“Do you want to take him home? Or would you rather have someone else? A woman?” Ingrid asked.

I was too embarrassed to answer. I just wanted to get off the tram and escape for a moment. For once, those two scoundrels listened to me, and at the next stop we watched the carriage disappear, the man still staring in disbelief through the window.

***

When I had recovered a little of my senses, I realized that we had returned to the red-light district, beside the canal and the illuminated shop windows. I was nervous. Then Ingrid hugged me, and I felt an immense, comforting peace.

“You’re gorgeous when you get agitated,” she whispered in my ear, stroking my back. “It turned me on so much to watch you touch yourself almost for that stranger.”

That wicked woman had me exactly where she wanted me: relaxed and aroused at the same time, being led inevitably toward another trap. It looked like an ordinary bar, but in that neighborhood I imagined there was always something more. It was crowded; we found a space at the back of the bar, a little cramped but with enough room. Ingrid ordered for all three of us, and we raised our glasses. The music was quiet, so we could talk knowing that no one understood us.

Ingrid stood with her back against the wall, Marco beside her, and me almost with my back to everyone else. We remained in our own world, amid risqué jokes and lustful comments protected by the language. Suddenly I felt a hand approaching my ass. I looked at Marco and smiled, thinking it was him. It wasn’t that I minded my husband touching me, but something didn’t fit: it wasn’t his way of doing it. I grew nervous again. Who was touching me? And worse still, by this point, with my dress so short and no panties on, he must already have realized I was naked beneath the fabric.

My face gave me away.

“What’s wrong? Everything okay?” Marco asked.

“Biting back my anger, I managed to say it. Someone behind me is putting his hands on me. Really putting his hands on me.”

“You don’t seem to mind very much,” Ingrid said. “I have your husband’s cock in my hand, and he doesn’t mind.”

I couldn’t believe it: Ingrid was working Marco over right there at the bar, and the stranger already had one finger inside me. My body was telling me, “Enjoy it”; my mind was saying, “But where do you think you’re going?” Like an automaton, I shifted away, fleeing that finger, until I reached the wall. I searched with my eyes for the owner of the hand, but couldn’t identify him.

“Don’t tell me you don’t want it when you’re soaked,” someone whispered in my ear.

It wasn’t Marco’s voice, since I could see him, nor Ingrid’s. That one finger became two hands gripping me forcefully.

“I’ve been listening to you for a while, so don’t play the prude,” the voice said.

I felt another hand, and I recognized that one: it was Ingrid’s, and she made no attempt to hide it.

“Your little wife is going to get fucked here and now, Marco,” she said, caressing my clitoris.

Even Marco turned to look at the man and practically gave him his blessing. I was the only one who couldn’t see his face. I felt my dress being lifted from behind, my legs being spread, Ingrid’s fingers on my clitoris, my body surrendered to a faceless stranger in the middle of a crowded bar. I had completely lost my bearings. A flash of lucidity came over me, and I tried to push away both the stranger’s hands and Ingrid’s fingers.

“Let yourself go and let him fuck you properly,” Marco said, placing his hard cock in my hand.

Ingrid playing with me on one side, Marco giving me his cock to play with on the other, and the stranger forcing his way in from behind. The man spread my buttocks, searching for my rear entrance, and pressed his glans against it. A shiver ran through me: he was enormous, impossible to take, so I moved my ass out of its path.

“Not there,” I said sharply.

Without a word, the glans changed course, positioned itself before my sex, and while Ingrid stimulated my clitoris, it entered with a single thrust, without asking permission. Ingrid flirted with me and kissed me with feigned innocence while, below, she cruelly pinched my clitoris. Marco masturbated with my hand, feeling that man ride me deeply and slowly. I stared at the horizon, trying to maintain my composure, being fucked in the middle of a bar, with fingers in my sex and a cock in my hand. I felt like I was flying; I felt dirty, humiliated, and at the same time queen of the universe. By then I didn’t care who the stranger was; all I wanted was to come.

Marco inevitably came in my hand. Ingrid abandoned my clitoris to attend to her own. The stranger brought his thumb to my rear entrance without stopping his thrusting, and, seeking only my own pleasure, I spread my lips and took hold of my clitoris with my own fingers. I wanted to come, I wanted to be fucked properly, and sometimes, for that, a woman has to do her part. So, looking into Ingrid’s and Marco’s eyes, I was fucked in that bar without knowing who was doing it or what he looked like. But this much was certain: I was fucked properly.