The Night They Auctioned Me Off in the Red-Light District
I don’t know how long it took before I got my breath back, 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 figured the curious onlookers who had been staring at us had gone away. I had no idea what time it was, but with the little head I had left, I guessed it couldn’t be that late either.
My whole body was still under the effects of that orgasm. Even though it was already in the past, I could feel its embers scattered across my skin, like coals refusing to go out.
“We weren’t sure whether to wake you or go out for a drink and come back later to pick you up,” Marco said with a teasing smile.
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 rebuild myself from scratch.
“Take a good shower; the night has only just begun,” Ingrid told me, dragging that panther’s gaze over me from head to toe, savoring everything she’d enjoyed so much. “You’ve got everything you need right there.”
Without saying 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 it had lived through—or perhaps precisely because of it—was still on fire. The simplest touch of my hand, the soap, the warm stream was enough to set me alight 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 without pretense. “A woman like you can earn thousands of euros for a single night. We’re going to take you somewhere they pay what you’re really worth. They’re going to use you there the way you deserve.”
Before I could even nod, she covered my mouth with a deep, possessive kiss that left me without arguments.
***
Marco took Ingrid by the arm and I followed behind them like an automaton. I didn’t know what turned me on more: the domination that woman exercised over me, the one she exercised over my husband, or the promise of what was waiting for me. I walked three steps behind, watching Ingrid shamelessly brush Marco’s ass. Outwardly I looked like any other wife; inside I was something else entirely.
Ten minutes through those narrow streets felt eternal. Between what was on display in the shop windows, what could be guessed at in the doorways, and the way people looked at me as I passed, I was almost at breaking point before we’d even begun.
Ingrid punched a code into an electronic lock and the door gave way. She stepped aside and they both let me go in first. A long corridor led to a counter where a huge man waited, broad-shouldered and with a cold stare.
Ingrid started talking to him in a language I didn’t understand, while the doorman looked me over without the slightest shame, like someone evaluating merchandise.
“He wants to know if there are any limits,” Ingrid translated. “I told him anything goes with you. Right, Marco?”
The fact that they were talking about me, and doing it right 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 certain contempt. Though honestly, who was going to believe that?
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 single word, she closed it around my neck, and like an obedient bitch I was led inside.
***
Ingrid and Marco were in front; I was one step behind, on a leash. She spoke again in that unfamiliar language, this time with a woman who was looking at me with the same shamelessness as the doorman, or even more. Ingrid was showing me off like a trophy, and the woman nodded while negotiating. Without warning, Ingrid pulled my breasts out over my dress and lifted my skirt. I felt like a mare on auction day, and once again it turned me on to be treated like that.
“Well, looks like we’ve got 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. Your choice?”
“And what’s the difference? Remind me,” Marco replied with a crooked smile. “Sorry, I don’t remember anymore.”
I had been sold for the highest price. Ingrid handed my leash to that woman and I, stunned and aroused in equal measure, let myself be led away. The buyer called over two more girls who took me into another room. No one spoke my language, no one addressed me: they just kept stripping off my clothes until I was completely naked.
The two girls washed me as if they were performing a ritual, with care and softness, not leaving a single inch untouched. Once I was clean, they anointed me with warm oils, and again left nothing uncovered. My body was wound tight all over again after those massages. Marco and Ingrid had handed me completely over to those people, and I couldn’t be angry with them: I was too hot and too confused. It was one thing to be a slut with Marco, and something very different to be a slut for Marco. I still didn’t quite understand why the second thing turned me on even more.
Soaked in 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 at my wrists. Then came some kind of corset-belt with two more rings, and finally a pair of ankle boots with their own rings. More naked than dressed, it seemed I was ready for them already. The brunette took my leash and, with a gentle tug, signaled for me to follow her.
***
The door opened and I understood instantly what Ingrid meant by the public room. I felt like a gladiator walking into the arena. I could feel every gaze drilling into my skin; I couldn’t have said how many people there were. In the center there was something, and I understood that was where they were taking me. I looked for Marco and Ingrid and quickly found them, standing beside it, surrounded by people.
Up close I understood better what it was: some kind of padded bucking frame where they sat me down. First they secured my legs, spread apart, exposing my sex. Then they fastened the corset, and after that my wrists, leaving me at everyone’s mercy. The girls clipped clamps onto my nipples while the woman at the entrance gave the public instructions. Then Ingrid approached.
“You look gorgeous like that,” she murmured, tugging on the straps attached to the clamps. “They’re going to use you like a bitch. Don’t hold anything back. Enjoy every thrust, every person, every orgasm.”
Some were starting to undress, others were kissing, others were touching each other. In front of me was the most obscene scene I had ever imagined. The buyer opened the floodgates: she sat down in front of me, took my legs, settled her mouth between my cunt and my back entrance and began to devour me hungrily. As I lost my mind, I saw Ingrid pull Marco’s cock out and, staring directly at me, jerk him off. The girls were swept away by what they were witnessing. Some men were touching themselves as they watched me; other women were stroking each other, surely wishing they were in my place on that seat.
I knew I wouldn’t last long. If she hadn’t realized it, my devourer would have made me come in her mouth just as Ingrid had ordered, without shame and without restraint. But she stopped dead and left me open, only halfway there, gasping. That’s when I understood it wasn’t a chair: it was a swing. She tipped me until my head was forward and my legs were open behind me, suspended and completely on offer.
In front of me a line formed. Men and women took their turn to enjoy my mouth, and though I couldn’t see anything behind me, I imagined an identical line. They took their time, and the wait only fueled 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 toy she started stroking my clit, while from behind a discreet hand smeared my sex and my entrance with some cold gel. Every pore of my body was waiting for what was about to happen.
“Well, you’re almost ready,” Ingrid said, standing in front of me, still holding Marco’s cock. “See you on the other side, красавица.”
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 drove in hard, setting the pace. Before I could get any air, hands grabbed my legs to intensify the thrust of another pelvis from behind. Impaled from both sides, with no respite, while fingers and the toy worked my clit, I could feel the breath leaving me. Every time my mouth was free I could see Ingrid’s hand working Marco relentlessly, and sooner or later he’d end up inside some part of me.
That little devil of a girl had learned how to stop my orgasm right before it burst, and then restart it from a higher point each time. I thought my heart was going to leap out of my chest. Suddenly I felt her leave from under me, and I noticed someone taking her place: a new thrust, deep, this time from below.
My mouth was left orphaned for an instant and I got my sight back. I saw them bringing a woman toward me, laid out with her legs open.
“Well, now we’ll see if you’re worth what they paid for you,” said Ingrid. “Let’s check whether you’re a real mare.”
The cock filling my cunt stayed still, waiting for an order, and everything fell silent. Only a slap on my ass broke it. I felt a glans pressing against my back entrance, looking for a way in, and a shiver ran down my spine. Another slap, and my body gave a little more. I expected a third blow, but instead they pulled on my nipple clamps and, almost without meaning to, I opened fully. That huge glans settled in almost completely, 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 stammer.
“Here only we understand you. 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 again. Three more slaps, a couple of tugs, and the cock slid all the way in, which was the signal for the woman underneath me to start riding me too. Strung up on both sides, I felt them bring that female sex to my mouth, where my moans and pleas drowned.
If Ingrid’s hands had dismantled me piece by piece before, those two bodies opened me like a flower. First my back entrance exploded, then my sex, and finally a spark at my clit left me motionless while the woman let her pleasure spill into my mouth.
***
I still hadn’t caught my breath when two more cocks were already in my hands and my whole body was invaded by fingers and mouths. My cunt was given a break, but the rest of me belonged to everyone. That chaos overwhelmed me: so many hands, so many kisses, so much of everything. All around me, the whole world was sex. Marco was fucking Ingrid, Ingrid was kissing the woman I had devoured. I had gone from the star of the show to the spectator of my own performance.
Little by little everyone joined that collective orgasm and, in the same way, they all 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 if it was an embrace, a conversation, or a drink—but we needed that something. First, a shower and clothes to go back out into the street.
We returned 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 up, and I admired how those caresses were so much more than they appeared. The water ran down my breasts, reminding me how they had been bitten and stretched only minutes before. The images of those bodies were still swirling through my head; I could almost feel them still against my skin. Dirtier than a little while earlier and probably less so than I would be again in another moment, I went back out into the street embraced by my two lovers.
***
We were walking without a destination when Ingrid suggested getting to know the city by tram. It was already past one in the morning, so there were hardly any people aboard.
“Your wife has turned into quite the little slut,” Ingrid blurted out suddenly.
“Truth is, she’s more uninhibited than ever,” Marco replied.
They started commenting on everything that had happened in the club as if I weren’t there, and not exactly in a low voice. I assumed the few passengers didn’t understand Spanish, but even so the situation only turned me on more.
“I think your wife likes hearing what a bitch she’s been, don’t you?” Ingrid remarked.
“Looks that way. Look at her nipples,” Marco said, taking one between his fingers.
Seated in the last row, horny again, I understood that my two lovers had decided it was time for another number.
“Tell her to take off her panties. I bet they’re soaked,” Ingrid purred, moving 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 under my dress, searching for my sex. Going from one encounter to the next since we’d arrived, instead of satisfying me, kept me in a constant state of tension; even when I came—and God knew I had—my body always kept a reserve round in the chamber.
The three of us in the back row: they played at one end, I at the other, no longer bothering to hide it, my fingers going in and out of me.
“Tell your wife not to be so shameless, that gentleman won’t stop staring at her,” Ingrid warned.
In letting myself go, I hadn’t noticed the man, or the other passengers. The others may have guessed, but that gentleman had no doubt at all: he could clearly see my fingers slipping in and out of my wet sex. His smile went straight to my throat. It’s not that I’d turned prudish, but all at once I was seized by a fit of modesty and covered myself, blushing.
“Do you want to take him home? Or would you rather have someone else? Or another 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 pull away with the man still looking on in disbelief from the window.
***
When I managed to get my head back together, I realized we had returned to the red-light district, by the canal and the lit-up windows. I was nervous. Then Ingrid hugged me and I felt an immense, comforting peace.
“You’re gorgeous when you get flustered,” she whispered in my ear, stroking my back. “It made me so fucking hot seeing you almost touching yourself for that stranger.”
The little witch had me exactly where she wanted me: relaxed and aroused at the same time, inexorably led into another trap. It looked like a bar like any other, but in that neighborhood I imagined there was always something more. It was packed; we managed to find a spot at the back of the bar, a bit boxed in, but with room. Ingrid ordered for the three of us and we toasted. The music was low, so we could talk with the comfort of knowing no one understood us.
Ingrid stood pressed to the wall, Marco beside her and me almost with my back to the rest of the room. We were still in our own world, trading dirty jokes and lustful comments protected by the language barrier. Suddenly I felt a hand moving toward my ass. I looked at Marco and smiled, thinking it was him. Not that I minded my husband touching me, but something didn’t fit: it wasn’t the way he did it. I got nervous again. Who was touching me? And worse, by now, with my dress so short and no panties on, he would already have realized I was naked beneath the fabric.
My face gave me away.
“What’s wrong? Everything okay?” Marco asked.
“Biting my tongue with anger, I managed to say it. “I’ve got someone behind me groping me. Really groping me.”
“Doesn’t look like you mind too much,” Ingrid said. “I’ve got your husband’s cock in my hand and he doesn’t mind.”
I couldn’t believe it: Ingrid was working Marco off right there at the bar, and the stranger already had a finger inside me. My body was telling me, “Enjoy it”; my head was saying, “But where the hell do you think you’re going?” Like an automaton I moved away, fleeing that finger, until I reached the wall. I looked for the owner of the hand, but I couldn’t identify him.
“Don’t tell me you don’t want it, when you’re soaking wet,” someone whispered in my ear.
It wasn’t Marco’s voice, whom I could see in front of me, nor Ingrid’s. That finger became two hands gripping me with force.
“I’ve been listening to you for a while, so don’t play the innocent,” said the voice.
I felt another hand, and that one I recognized: it was Ingrid’s, and she made no attempt to hide it.
“Your little wife is going to get fucked right here and now, Marco,” she said, stroking my clit.
Even Marco turned to look at the guy and almost gave him his blessing. The only one who couldn’t see his face was me. I felt my dress being lifted from behind, my legs being parted, my clit in Ingrid’s hands, my body surrendered to a faceless stranger in the middle of a crowded bar. I had completely lost my bearings. I had a flash of lucidity and tried to push away both the stranger’s hands and Ingrid’s fingers.
“Let yourself go and let him fuck you good and hard,” Marco said, putting his hard cock in my hand.
Ingrid fingering me from one side, Marco giving me his cock to play with from another, and the stranger making his way in from behind. The man spread my cheeks, looking for my back entrance, and pressed his glans against it. A shiver ran through me head to toe: it was huge, impossible to get in, so I moved my ass out of its path.
“Not there,” I said flatly.
Without a word, the glans changed course, positioned itself against my sex and, while Ingrid stimulated my clit, entered in a single thrust, without asking permission. Ingrid flirted and kissed me with false innocence while beneath it all she trapped my clit with the greatest malice. Marco was jerking off in my hand, feeling that man ride me deep and slow. I stared at the horizon, trying to keep my composure, fucked in the middle of a bar, with fingers in my cunt and a cock in my hand. I felt myself fly, I felt filthy, humiliated, and at the same time queen of the universe. By then I no longer cared who the stranger was; all I wanted was to come.
Marco came, inevitably, in my hand. Ingrid left my clit to take care of his. The stranger brought his thumb to my back entrance without stopping fucking me, and I, wanting only my own pleasure, spread my lips and took my clit between my own fingers. I wanted to come, I wanted to be fucked right, and for that sometimes a woman has to do her part. So, looking Ingrid and Marco in the eye, I got fucked in that bar without knowing who was doing it or what he looked like. But one thing was certain: I was fucked good and hard.
