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Introduction:

A powerful woman puts on her annual auction providing bachelorettes who put on a special performance with their pets.
Chapter One – The Introductions

The itch comes back sooner than she is used to. Typically she can put off her needs until at least the end of summer. But the urges return in early May and by the time June rolls around the desire is unbearable. She resigns herself to the fact that she's going to have to start sooner than usual for her annual "fundraiser."

But the timing needs to be perfect regardless of her needs. So, she dreams up an adjustment to her typical event. After all, having them continuously in her own backyard, so to speak, will be a bit of a giveaway should anyone get wise. A sitting senator cannot have any ties official or not to this kind of event.

She looks over her existing schedule and comes upon an idea. She is already scheduled to be in Alaska giving a speech in Anchorage on family values. If she aims for holding the event there it will be out of her jurisdiction. Not to mention the distance will require the preparations take longer than usual and hopefully sync up the timing. With her mind made up, she smiles and returns to reviewing bills.

The preparations require a fair amount of proxies to insulate her from the possible legal and most definitely political fallout of discovery. And she never uses her own name in connection to the development. She resorts to using her nom de plume, The Mistress. The out of state aspects of her developing idea take more effort than she's used to, but it moves along if slowly. The talent recruitment similarly starts very slowly. She cannot use her customary Hostess, so she has to carefully vet a new woman on the ground. The process moves along rapidly once she finds an adequate replacement and college starts in the fall.

The new Hostess finds it easy enough to approach her fellow co-eds at parties and chat them up. If the opportunity presents itself, or the target is drunk enough, she seeks out a relatively quiet corner to talk over the proposal and give them her card. If they remember and object to the idea once they sober up, she blames it on a miscommunication or their drunken memories lying to them. The fact that she doesn't need to rely on that excuse very often surprises her.

Gauging her classmates becomes something of a game to her. She likes looking around when she first arrives at a shindig to pick out the most receptive woman. It isn't long before her contact list grows, but she never mentions the organizer behind the scenes. By the time the other side of the operation is in place she has more participants than they need. Ever the pragmatist, she keeps the contact list handy for future consideration.

Once the players for the fundraiser are narrowed down to five, they band together. Since most of the girls live on-campus and have no access or permission for dogs, one of Mistress's intermediaries rents a nearby house for training and keeping the animal element of the fundraiser. Most of the girls have their partners provided by her through various channels. It is easy for her to use her contacts with local breeders to send the dogs to nearby Anchorage.

Once everything is in place, the women pen out their storylines with a little help from their patron and her speechwriters. Although they only see parts of the scripts and general outlines. The main chunks are kept secret for everyone's sake. Once the scripts are ready, the women begin the practice and training necessary to live them. The Hostess is very hands-on for this aspect of the plan. In fact she even helps a few of the girls that won't be a part of this fundraiser with some general training. It's amazing to her how many upper classmen who live off campus have large dogs for "protection."

Everyone works diligently to be ready for the show. And when show time rolls around they all pile into a provided limousine to take them to the nearby five-star hotel. Even though the calendar date was mostly dictated by the needs of preparation and availability, it turns out the timing for the event is absolutely perfect. The sun is still blazing over the horizon fighting to keep the sky warm and bright for just a little longer. But the temperature is already dropping below thirty degrees Fahrenheit. The frigid temperatures permit the assortment of ladies to wear larger coats to conceal their attire. However, even if someone sees beneath the jackets, who would think twice about a young group of college students in costume on Halloween night?

The women step out of the car and into the dying sunlight of All Hallows Eve. The three towers of the hotel dominate the sky in front of them. In the tenth floor of the shortest tower their party awaits. By now the guests have finished their $500 a plate meal. The donations will be funneled through Mistress's PAC. A dinner is the easiest type of gathering to write off as a normal occurrence. Especially after the fact when no one was there to dispute what transpired. And gaining the additional thirty-five grand to cover some of the overhead is icing on the cake.

Mistress's intermediaries rent the whole tenth floor for the sake of privacy. And with the sun setting, the shadows start to pool around the decorative arches of the Quarter Deck ceiling. The light brown wooden ribbing running across the ceiling and solid oak supports begin to look more and more like the hull of a ship with every passing moment. The lights remain dim despite the darkening sky to enhance the illusion.

At full dark, the wait staff usher the guests out the back to the Club Rooms and Library. The assorted men that waited on the elite of Alaskan society wear nice suits and seem a bit buffer than most typical hotel workers. In fact, Mistress hired them to dual as the security for the evening. The best security is available but never seen. And no one ignores wait staff quite as well as the upper crust of society. The staff tells them that the other rooms afford a grander view of the city without the other hotel tower blocking half of the skyline. Although this is true, the main reason to remove the diners is to allow the women to prepare for the main event. The assembled guests oblivious to the subtle con sit before the crackling fireplaces and rest comfortably.

Like clockwork, the elevator doors slide open and expel the group of women just as the last straggler shuffles off to the front of the tower. They exit into the hallway and wait impatiently for their costars. The canines required a bit of extra precaution to make the same trip. It would probably have been easiest to simply have them taken directly to the girls' rooms, but Mistress knows that having them with the costumed beauties will help drive the bidding wars.

Therefore, the dogs were transported separately and taken up a service elevator to the ninth floor by a trusted bellhop before transferring to the main elevator for the last flight. Shortly after the students' arrival, the doors open again to a flood of puppies. They are very well-trained. The dogs heel immediately without a command each coming to their mistress and sitting patiently before her.

The group now complete, they move through the Quarter Deck towards the storage room. The dim lighting provides a natural barrier to prying eyes in the nearby tower. The bright city lights turn the wall of windows into mirrors that deflect any peeping. Once inside the cleared out storage area, the girls prepare by removing their coats. They also strip off any parts of their garments non-essential to their persona but necessary for making it to the hotel without running afoul of public indecency statutes.

The Hostess leaves first before any of the guests return to the main room. As the Mistress of Ceremonies, she has a ringmaster outfit that would draw the eyes of any circus goer with an extant sex drive. Leather boots wrap her calves like a second skin. The laces thread throughout offer the lucky person who gets to remove them plenty of time to enjoy the practice. And the platform heels give her a four inch boost to her height.

Fishnet stockings appear out of the top to stretch across her knees and disappear up her skirt. The thin lines of the loose diamonds are almost invisible in the darkened room, but her milky thighs are the perfect contrast to show them off. The skirt is a flash of red, without enough material to be distracting. The soft fabric is collected in several horizontal stages to provide a little extra flare when she moves, but it is so short if she moves too fast it exposes the rest of the stockings and her complete lack of underwear.

A tight gold and white corset binds her torso and gives her natural breasts a little oomph, not that they need it. And the red bowtie gives the ensemble a touch of class pinned in between her heaving bosoms. A red vest compliments the skirt and tie beautifully, even though it provides very little as a covering. A white masquerade mask covers her eyes to conceal her identity, and her golden hair rolls down over her shoulders to further conceal her face. A short black whip completes the outfit. She gives it a few test cracks to alert the staff that she and the girls are ready.

The staff informs the groups that it is time to assemble once more in the Quarter Deck. The Hostess smiles and poses for the entering crowd. She receives appreciative stares from the men and several women as they take in the view. She waits for everyone to find a seat and when the steady stream of people stops, she cracks her whip bringing the low buzz of conversation to a halt.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she announces over the hushed crowd. "Now that I have your attention, I would like to welcome you all to the main event. I'm afraid our benefactor is unable to make it this evening so you will have to make do with little old me. But I promise to treat you right."

She stalks back and forth along the wall between the two exit signs glowing faintly against the top of the wall. She prowls fluidly like a lioness queen being sure to make direct eye contact with every man she can, urging them with a look to open their wallets. Her wrist twitches flicking the whip through the empty air as the prepared speech bubbles from her lips. It whistles quietly as she moves accenting her words.

"Even though I know I'm not who you came to see, I'm afraid you'll have to bear with me while I go over a few things. We relied on word of mouth to spread the word of this little party, so I want to correct anyone who came under false assumptions before the bidding starts. First and foremost, I need to explain what the winning bids will receive.

"We have a collection of five young actresses and their very well-trained pets. They have been working on plays involving their dogs for the past few months and you kind folks with your generous donations are securing a front row seat to their first live performance. The successful bid includes a second ticket for someone of your choice; however, the performances will begin immediately after the auction. So, if your plus one is not here they miss out.

"If you are willing, some of the acts have the opportunity for audience participation. I will personally check with each of the winners to determine their willingness to be a part of this exciting new branch of theater, but you must also remember. And let me make this absolutely clear." She cracks her whip for emphasis before dropping the tone of her voice.

"The actresses have the absolute final say in their art. If you jump the stage or act inappropriately we have installed several redundant panic buttons in each of the rooms we acquired for the private viewings. If they ever have to push that button you will have no second chance. Our security team will remove you from the room, forcibly if need be, no matter the state of your person."

The warning given, she perks up again. "Once the auction ends, I will talk over the particulars with each of you while the girls set up. I have room cards and instructions prepared for every scenario. So, without further ado, how would you all like to meet the girls?"

A round of applause ripples through the crowd and the door to the storage room creaks open. The women inside know the coming order and already lined up accordingly. Once in position, they clicked off the lights inside before pushing the door open. Without internal lighting, the shadowy ambience of the Quarter Deck does nothing to penetrate the darkness concealing the actresses.

"First up we have the lovely Elizabeth." The group turns as one to the gaping blackness. The first inkling of movement is two pinpoints of reflected light. Two eyeballs emerge from the gloom and at first it appears that she is a rather short woman. The eyes are just over four feet off the ground. But the creature emerges into the dim lighting and reveals the long muzzle of a very large dog.

He walks out calmly towards the Hostess and, almost as an afterthought, Liz comes stumbling after him. This aspect of her performance was the hardest to work on. She only has a short way to go leading the giant Malamute before her, but the whole way she makes it look like she's being dragged. At the same time she maintains a nervous smile like she's worried about controlling such an enormous dog. Bouncing her torso back and forth to produce the proper amount of jiggle from her modest b-cups is an art form all in itself, but she nails it perfectly.

She reaches her mark and breathes a sigh of relief both in character that he stopped "dragging" her and normally that she knows her act was flawless. She takes slow deep breathes to sell the struggle with her pet and continue the movement of her breasts. She smiles shyly careful to avoid direct eye contact with any of the group while they marvel over her getup.

Unlike the Hostess, she wears simple black flats to accentuate the similarity in height between her and the massive beast. From the top of his head to the top of hers leaves only a foot of free space. Her stockings are also simple white lace that stops a few inches over her knees. However, with the low lighting her alabaster skin looks identical to the delicate lace.

She has a red skirt similar to the ring master's. But hers is a little more conservative. She would actually need to twirl quickly to expose the crotchless lace panties that match her stockings. It is bright red with a demure lace trim. The trim tickles her legs as she shifts back and forth mimicking nervousness. The skirt flows up her body seamlessly into a tight bodice. Black fabric hugs her sides and white silk shines through the red lacing tying up the pieces.

The silk reaches up beyond the bodice to wrap around her braless globes. A quick glance reveals nothing untoward, but the careful observer notices that the bodice is a size or two too small and every curve of her body perfectly contours to the silk. Even the outline of her nipples can clearly be seen by the discerning individual. And much of the audience is being very discerning tonight. It helps that she bites her lip and grips her arm behind her back. The action itself is the picture of innocence, but the way it arches her back rubbing her nipples against the tight fabric is anything but.

A red cloak covers the young woman from her head down to her elbow. The cloak forces her red hair forward to frame her face. Her hair curls around the freckles dotting her cheeks. The freckles, her shining green eyes, and her ruby lips add the only color to her face making her alabaster skin appear as white as the driven snow. And when she offers all assembled her sweet smile her whole face lights up.

"She's our very own Little Red Riding Hood. Why don't you give the nice audience a little twirl so they can see you better?"

Liz looks at the Hostess shocked. She briefly shakes her head before quietly assenting at a smile from the emcee. She loops the lead through her pet's collar freeing her hands. And while she's bent down she hooks her finger through a small loop one of the girls sewed in her skirt. Just in case her twirl does not produce the desired effect, she can use her hand to lift up her dress and expose herself to the crowd. They will hopefully think she is trying to keep it down at the same time preserving her persona.

She spins fast enough to lift her skirt but slow enough to give everyone watching a good view. The skirt lifts to reveal short curls of red hair peeking through the open front of her panties. The loop around her finger helps her flash the whole group before she stops and pulls her digit free under the auspices of smoothing the clothes down. She turns her head away from the crowd and feels heat fill her cheeks. Showing herself to the crowd of strangers turns her on something fierce but the rush of blood to her cheeks looks like the blushing of a meek lady to the audience. She retrieves the lead from her puppy and forces herself to calm down. It wouldn't do to get her dog all worked up with her scent before their performance.

"Thank you all for that warm welcome, but we have more women to introduce to you. Next on the auction block is the lawful Cassandra."

Cass storms out of the shadows the instant her name is mentioned. Unlike Elizabeth, she marches confidently forward in thigh-high leather boots. A pair of German Shepherds trail after her on short black leashes. The ties wrap around two separate harnesses hooked under the dogs' arms. Yellow strips of caution tape glow in the darkness declaring that they are Police to whoever could tear their eyes from her beauty to notice.

Whether her choice stems from the height of her boots or personal inclination, she's the first women not to have stockings to help fight the chill. The smooth flesh of her thighs shows itself until the dark blue short shorts take over. The fabric stretches so tightly against her skin that the crowd wonders if it is actually paint not cloth, but the change in coloring from flesh to clothes is unmistakable. Although

A thick belt with more polished rivets than leather cuts off the top off her shorts leaving her tan belly bare for the hungry group. The belt looks almost as wide as the scant clothing beneath it. But it has a bit more to hold up than just the skin tight pants. Several pairs of handcuffs hang from the sturdy belt along with a few pouches and a full size baton. The lot of it bounces against her legs as she takes her place on the far side of Liz.

The tinkling of metal settles down and she rounds on the audience giving them a cold stare. Her dogs sit obediently at her feet like a pair of bodyguards. Her goal is to serve as the foil to Lizzie's naivety. She is the older woman of experience who knows what she wants and eagerly takes it. Now that the group can see her clearly she is also obviously of Asian parentage. The shoulder length strawberry blonde hair may have thrown most of the on-lookers off, but there is no confusing the shape of her eyes or her baby-doll face for European ancestry. She refuses to say if the coloring is the product of rare genetic gift or a gifted hairstylist, but the straight locks of gorgeous keratin are a sight to behold.

Her eyes roam over the crowd and when she locks onto one of the nearby men he shivers. She smiles internally and makes a note of his face. She'll have to play to the crowd to drive up her price, but from the look that man gave her he's willing to put anything down to see her in action. She crosses her arms over her bare stomach and gives him a quick glare before moving on. With her arms wrapped around her body she can look like a hard-ass with a hard stare and still accentuate her breasts.

The light blue top draws eyes in the darkness. And the ample cleavage doesn't hurt a bit. It was originally a little short on her, but with it unbuttoned and the tips tied in a knot in front of her chest it covers about as much as her typical bra. The tiered collar is the same dark blue of her shorts and helps direct attention to the valley between her tits as assuredly as any arrow. The epilates on the short sleeves are almost an afterthought and only serve to blend together in the viewers' mind to create a sense of realism to the clearly unconventional police uniform.

Her cap shines like her freshly buffed boots. The silver badge centered over her brow glistens in the soft lighting. She uses the short bill to play with shadows across her face while allowing everyone to take in her beauty.

"Well my dear, how about a little spin to show yourself off."

Cassandra levels a stare of such contempt on her friend that it is clear to all involved that it ain't going to happen. Even knowing it was coming, the Hostess takes a step back before visibly rallying.

"All right then. I hope you all got a good look with her entrance than. I know I did," she adds in a stage whisper. Her eyes dart towards Cass before she turns back to the empty doorway to announce the next prize.

The Hostess sweeps her arms open wide and says, "Please welcome my good friend, the bubbly Jeannie."

For a few moments, nothing happens. Then a plume of blonde hair materializes out of the darkened doorway. A beautiful face, tilted sideways, follows after the hair. The patrons lucky enough to be close to the entrance goggle at the bright purple eyes staring out at them. She turns to take in the lopsided guests, but when she sees the great number of them she gasps and disappears into the shadows once more.

The process starts again, but this time she returns with a dazzling smile. Rather than retreat, she lifts herself upright and steps out of the dark. She takes a moment to stand in the light with her hands on her hips. Her brilliant smile shines out over the crowd. And with an exaggerated blink, she dances over to join her friends.

For those that have enough sense to take in her full image, her choice in footwear is interesting. In fact she has none. Her bare feet move gracefully across the carpet with a faint ringing coming from the silver anklets adorning them.

Just above the bright silver, a pink loop wraps snugly around her leg. See-thorough pink gauze ties into the pink band. The material splits above the tie to flutter in the wind of her movement. The light catches on sequins strewn throughout. The flashes draw the eyes of every person there to her bare legs. The muscles of her thighs and calves quiver beneath her skin. With every step she twirls and spins accentuating the flutter of her leggings.

The marvelous dance even manages to distract the majority of her audience from the fact her panties are made of the same delicate material as her leg pieces. Her shaved crotch is mostly exposed to the whole room due to her movements, and the gravity of her dance is so great that almost no one notices. Indubitably she does have some coverage. A pink strip of opaque fabric wraps her middle. A few not so discrete holes expose glimpses of her crotch as she moves, but as she settles into place so does her cover. The many that miss her brief disclosure will have to win their chance for the experience.

With her dancing done, the spell breaks and the guests are free to gaze upwards. Her bare stomach moves back and forth. She turns her heavy breathing into a stationary belly dance and it does amazing things to her belly button. The rippling of her abs shakes her covering giving the crowd the barest of peeks at her nether region again. But it also travels upwards.

Her breasts shake in the confines of a small red vest. The tight fabric arches over her amble chest. It stretches over her back and even grants her very short sleeves. Then again, the sleeves contain more fabric than all of what covers her boobs. Their curves dip beneath the edge of the cloth as if trying to escape. And the top is so low the whole thing is fastened more by wishes than solid physics.

For those that manage to tear their eyes away from her knockers, her smile is dazzling. She grins from ear to ear genuinely happy to see so many people. And her impossibly purple eyes fill with light as she gazes lovingly out to the room. A single lock of her golden hair wraps around her face to caress her cheek. The remainder is pulled through the dark red fez atop her head to hang in a loose ponytail behind her.

As soon as she catches her breath, her smile fades and she looks puzzled. Apparently coming to a realization, her face brightens again and she calls out, "Oh Master."

Heavy footfalls pull all eyes back to the storage room. A Mastiff the size of a small pony comes barreling out of the darkness to Jeannie's side. She kneels down to give him a hug, but she still needs to angle her arms up to reach his neck. He gives her a kiss and with his massive body blocking the view gives her two extra licks. One for each breast. His saliva lightens the fabric of her vest and as she stands up to gaze into the crowd again, the dark circles of her nipples can be seen through the wet material.

The Hostess pulls a handkerchief from between her breasts and hands it to Jeannie to clean off the kiss. She does so immediately before stowing the dirty cloth within her own cleavage. The emcee turns to the audience and declares, "I'm sure you all had a great view of our wonderful Jeannie on her way in. And if not, you know what to do. Why don't we welcome to the stage the graceful Selina."

The audience twists to see what new surprises await them. The first things they see are a set of fingers reaching out of the gloom. The fingers curl and dance in the shadows beckoning the crowd towards them. Even after they reach out from the doorway they appear to float in midair with no support. On closer inspection, black material cloaks the arm just past the knuckle. It wraps around the web of her hand between fingers and thumb before disappearing back into the other room.

The arm coils around the doorframe. The fingers caress the molded wood exposing their black fingernail polish. She draws out the suspense. She only reveals the one arm to draw their attention. And no matter how much of her arm plays in the light, all the audience can see is a writhing black snake with delicate fingers for a head.

Once she feels the crowd has reached their limit for this type of foreplay, she grips the doorjamb firmly in hand and swings her whole body out into the room. She flattens her back against the wall letting the bidders drink in her beauty. In some ways she is the most covered of the women so far. But in others she is the least.

The black fabric clinging to her arm stretches all the way up her extremity to cover her shoulders. Once there it crawls down her opposite arm to enfold her other hand. A tight black choker conceals the clasp tying the wrap together. The wide band of leather almost completely covers her neck. Small silver disks dot the choker catching the scattered light and reflecting it in dazzling blinks. With the ladies and gentlemen distracted by her appearance she reaches back into the shadows to receive her dog's lead from the only remaining woman within.

Under the triangular arch of the fabric, her large breasts hang free. Contrasting the assembled women, her globes remain unfettered by bra or top. The only concession to modesty is two oversized paw prints covering her nipples. In point of fact though, the covering is nothing more than black body paint. For those close enough her nipples can be seen clearly beneath the dark paint job. Her chest looks like a large panther stepped into a pan of paint before pressing his paws against it. Several of the guests imagine what else such a large feral cat might have done to the beautiful woman.

Below the curves of her free breasts, the expanse of her tight belly is similarly uncovered. With the audience watching her carefully, she leaps forward towards them. She lands with almost supernatural grace considering the height of her black stiletto heels. The movement serves its purpose to pull attention from her topless torso and down to her legs. Black spandex coats every inch of her lower half above the ties from her shoes which wrap her ankles. The taut fabric highlights every arch of her flesh as she moves sinuously through the tables.

She makes a round through the guests rubbing her fingers, breasts, and head against the amused crowd. She threads her way nimbly between the chairs playing with the humans like a giant kitten. Several of the men are even so bold as to scratch the cat ears perched atop her mane of unruly brunette hair.

After she passes the first few tables, the audience finally notices that she isn't alone. A large Great Dane strolls imperially after his mistress. With the spectacle of Selina's appearance, missing the dog even with his size could be forgiven. Furthermore he is solid black which helped to camouflage his entrance. But as he moves amongst the upper crust of society, several of the women give him an affectionate caress to match the men that pet Selina. He ignores the frequent touches and follows after the stalking feline, living up to his training.

She takes advantage of the distance between them and selects one of the men near the edge of the tables. She aims for someone that has his chair set back a ways from the table. With a short hop she lands in his lap and curls up against his chest. Deep purrs resonate from her diaphragm and vibrate against the surprised man. He's so shocked by the turn of events that he does not even attempt to cop a feel before the Dane catches up. Selina looks over to her patient pet and pouts. The pout is quickly replaced with that mischievous smile and she dismounts from her perch just about the time her victim is coming to his senses. She gives him a quick peck on the cheek and turns to her friends. Her tour complete, Selina strides up to take her place with the others.

"It looks like Selina has gotten to know a few of you. I'm so glad we could persuade her to join us rather than perform the cat-burglary she was planning. Now Selina if you would be so kind?"

She turns to the Hostess the picture of innocence with a questioning look in her eyes. The Hostess is having none of it, and after a few exchanged looks between them Selina lets out an exasperated sigh. She reaches behind her back and pulls out a solid gold Rolex. God only knows where she managed to hide it. She slinks back to the man she sat on and drops the watch in his lap.

He looks puzzled for a moment, but he quickly pulls up his sleeve to show a bare arm with tan lines the same shape as the watch. The rest of the guests laugh as he rapidly fastens it back in place. He rounds on the spot that used to hold Selina, but she's long since returned to her place of honor. Her eyes are once again the picture of innocence. And those that have the force of will to look into her eyes find that not only are they a fascinating shade of light amber, but the pupil is a vertical slit.

Once the laughter dies down, the Hostess reclaims her role. "Thank you my dear," she says to Selina before turning to the crowd. "I'm afraid we've come to the end. Last but not least. Please give a warm welcome to the mysterious Morganna."

A gentle hum emanates from the murky storage room. The guests fall deathly silent and listen to the mechanical whirr. Pretty soon wafts of smoke start to billow out of the doorway. The fog builds up and spills into the room. It creeps across the floor obscuring the carpet and curling around the legs of the nearby chairs.

"You dare summon me?"

The unannounced voice startles some of the group. Suddenly two dark shapes hurtle through the mist creating eddies in their wake. The black streaks zoom over to the staging area before stopping. Later some of the onlookers will swear that the blurs were mere shadows that coalesced into canine shape once near the other women. The fog and shadows can play interesting tricks on human memory.

Morganna uses the distraction of her pets to cover her entrance. She steps along the wall and slips into the hallway. She makes her way around the bathrooms to the other entrance and waits in the dark. After another minute, the timer on her fog machine cuts out. The abrupt silence brings the groups attention back to the darkened room.

With no one to observe her, she steps out into the room and stands patiently between her sleek Dobermans. She calmly sets her hands on each of their heads and scratches their ears. It takes another minute before some of the guests notice and the whispers start. Presently the whole group turns to see her where she belongs between her dogs. To the properly distracted people it seems like she appeared out of nowhere.

By the time everyone realizes she's at the front of the room, her arms curve above her head. Matching black armlets wrap around her biceps. A snake head with rubies for eyes forms the tip of each angled towards the crowd. A black gossamer sleeve hangs off of the armlets. And with her arms positioned above her like she's bound at the wrists, the overlapping delicate cloth shields her face from view.

She slowly lowers her hands revealing herself inch by inch. As her hands drop, the triangular tip of her hat rises behind them. The jet-black witch's hat blends in beautifully with the darkness in the room. The only spark of color is a thin white ribbon tied around the base. The hair beneath the brim is even darker. It appears to have a rapacious appetite for light absorbing it and leaving nothing to escape like a black hole.

But the eyes that appear above her sinking fingers are the most unnerving of all. She has no whites. No iris. The whole of her eye sockets show nothing but a black pit. For a moment it almost seems like she has no eyes, but then they twitch. She glances to the side or up to the rafters, and the solid black eyeball can be seen rolling to and fro. The guests are not quite sure how, but they can tell when she is staring them in the eye and it chills their bones.

The monochromatic scheme continues with dark purple lipstick that nonetheless looks black without proper lighting. And a simple wire mesh choker encircles her throat. With the audience agog at her appearance, she drops her hands to rest atop her Doberman's heads again.

Now that the obstruction is gone, interested parties can glimpse her entire costume. Her dress is fairly simple in contrast to some of the more complicated designs on display. A solid black number, it hugs her curves expertly leaving little to the imagination. Dark red ribbons lace through both sides, but they are merely decoration and flutter lightly against the tight black material. Also, thin silver thread etches spider webs throughout the dress. The designs are almost imperceptibly thin. At her waist, the same light gossamer that makes up her sleeves replaces the more opaque dress cloth to sweep over her thighs.

The shape of her pale thighs easily shines through the delicate fabric. The eye naturally curves along her legs to her crotch only to be stymied by a miniscule black thong. The small nod to underwear is the only solid fabric to mar her otherwise flawlessly exposed legs. Her light skin shows to the whole room from her waist down to her black heels. Although her dogs are so close to her feet they block her shoes from most of the viewers.

She folds her hands into a complicated gesture before her covered belly button and closes her eerie eyes. She bows her head ever so slightly, just enough to bring a wave of hair with it. Her hair falls down around her face, but her lips can still be seen mumbling something low, fast, and inaudible before the crowd. For those that are not rapt by her incanting, they marvel at the length of her hair. She has not had a haircut for much of her life and the straight black hair falls like a waterfall to her waist and creates a shifting curtain around the edges of her waist.

"Don't worry. If you bid on Morganna I promise she won't turn you into a toad."

She pauses her muttering long enough to snap her head up and give the Hostess the evil eye. When she returns to her chanting she has to fight not to smile and ruin the illusion.

"Now that you have met everyone, why don't we start the bidding?"

Mistress watches the crowd through the ceiling mounted camera in the Quarter Deck. She sits in her personal suite before a bank of monitors showing currently empty hotel rooms. Of course wiring panic buttons like they told the customers would be impractical. You can never be too sure where a girl would be if they needed help. But the threat of such an option is usually enough to keep everyone on their best behavior. If not, the cameras secreted inside the rooms they rented will allow her to keep an eye on them and send in the cavalry if need be.

Besides, if any of the ladies or gentlemen attending the event has any funny ideas, the recordings should be a powerful deterrent. Of course just to make sure no one feels cheated if they do not open their wallets enough, everyone receives a door prize of a DVD depicting the Hostess, suitably masked, training with some of the women that were not selected for this night.

All the women will be suitably compensated obviously, though not quite as well as the ones here tonight. The actresses receive half of their winning bids along with the opportunity to keep their pets after tonight. So far none of them have refused this offer.

The auction winds down and the last girl receives her final bid. Some of the rooms are already seeing some movement. So Mistress sits back in her executive chair and dips her fingers between her already moist lips. She rubs herself absently and waits for the fun to begin.
11 comments

anonymous readerReport

2013-01-30 10:23:52
Good start to what appears to be an interesting story.

anonymous readerReport

2012-04-11 23:49:43
please write part two!

anonymous readerReport

2012-02-13 12:35:03
Thanks:) Cool topic, write more often! You manage with it perfctly:DD

anonymous readerReport

2012-02-13 12:12:15
Good! Wish everybody wrote so:DD

anonymous readerReport

2012-02-13 11:49:42
Are you interested in webmaster`s income?!....

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