The Auction Lot

“I’ve played with all kinds of Doms at the club and I’m not messing with them.”

“There’s a big fucking difference between a night at the Underground and a year as a full-time sub!”

“You know I want any long-term relationship to be in the lifestyle. It’s who I am. Besides, the auction has strict rules, just like the club. Bad behaviour means a lifetime, worldwide ban from any of the good BDSM clubs. Real Doms won’t risk their reputations like that.”

“These guys are mega rich. Big dogs. We’re weak, breakable and a bit chewy.”

“Where do you get this stuff? They aren’t looking for chew toys, though I guess puppy play could be an option. You’re not going to put me off.” Despite his bravado, Ethan was a little nervous. “What’s not to like? A million quid in exchange for a year as some squillionaire rich guy’s sub. My older brother had to remortgage his house to pay for my grandad’s care home until he passed. Kids are expensive, and he has two of them. I have student loans up to my ears.”

“A year! What if you don’t like the dude?”

“I don’t have to like him, just submit to him. I could pay off all my brother’s debts, and he could go back to carpentry and running his dive school instead of working on oil rigs. Diving on the rigs is unbelievably dangerous. We could get a decent headstone for grandad’s grave instead of the basic stone we sold his classic bikes to pay for, and I could pay off my loans and yours. We could go travelling. It would also be a great way of testing whether I want something twenty-four-seven when I meet my forever Dom.”

“If I can’t talk you out of it, I have to curb your enthusiasm. Applying doesn’t mean you’ll be accepted.”

“I have to have a decent chance. I’ve experience as a sub, they can check up on me at the Underground, and I haven’t upset anyone…recently. I don’t have any ties. I’ll graduate before the contract starts and I’m not too offensive to look at. Am I?”

“Be quiet, you two!” a passing librarian whispered at them. “This isn’t a bar and you’re disturbing people.” Ethan glanced around. There was no sign of another human being anywhere at the reading tables. He gave the librarian a head tilt. “Maggie, this place is deserted, and you love us. Go stack something.”

“You little brat! I should take a ruler to your behind.”

Angus snickered. “He’d like that.”

“And yours. Pair of reprobates. Do you ever read anything in here or are you just saving on your heating bill?”

Ethan gestured at his stack of books. “What are they then, goldfish?”

“You’re not reading them though, are you? You’re using them as a wall to hide from me.”

“Never! A degree is hard work. Angus and I are debating complex theories here.”

“Complex my ass. You’ll be discussing your latest conquests or the hot guy from the coffee shop.” She stalked away but Ethan caught her indulgent grin before she turned away.

Angus gave a sigh of longing. “She’s not wrong, but we should do some actual work.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Ethan, you’re fully aware that you have that whole blond, blue-eyed, innocent thing going on. Get to work.”

“You’re such a swat. You’re already guaranteed a job in the department, so you have nothing to worry about.” Ethan chewed the end of his pen.

“I’m not sure it’s what I want, though. Lecturing gives me hives. I love the research part of academia, but the performance part is much more you.”

“As a research assistant you wouldn’t have to stand in very often.”

“Why don’t you apply?”

“We’ve talked about this. Professor Hanley hates my guts, and he’s all but told you it’s yours if you apply.”

“He doesn’t hate you. Nobody hates you, Mister Sunshine. They all think you walk old ladies across the street and rescue puppies. I should tell people you prefer getting your ass spanked by some leather-clad macho types.”

Ethan batted his lashes. “They wouldn’t believe you.”

“Probably not. I’m still not sure about the job.”

“I think he secretly likes you. He’s definitely Dommy—probably wants to bend you over his desk.”

“In that case, I’m gonna start buying caramel macchiatos for Professor Hanley, cos he’s hot! Then I get to talk to my hunky barista and suck up to the prof.”

“Idiot.”

“Takes one to know one, Dom bait.”

“Shouldn’t best friends be supportive no matter what?”

Angus steepled his fingers. “Usually, I’d say yes, but let’s consider the data here. One, you may be a sub but you’re also a bit of a brat and that’s being nice. That might not go down well with prospective Doms. Two, this auction only happens once a year and hundreds of subs apply from all over the world. Your chances are slim. Three, I’m not convinced you can pull off a Princess Leia slave girl costume.”

“Are you done?” Ethan rolled his eyes.

“I could go on all day.”

“Don’t I know it and your point three doesn’t qualify because I’m not wearing a costume.”

“Were you even listening to points one and two?” Angus pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Carpe Diem, my friend. This is my chance and what’s life if we don’t take a few risks?”

“I’m not going to talk you out of this, am I?”

“Not a chance.”

“Then I need to be your safety net. You can call me when they throw your cute little butt in jail for defaulting on the contract. I’ll come spring you before you’re despoiled by an entire gang of drug-running bikers with enormous…beards.”

Ethan snorted. “Despoiled? What century do you live in again?”

“My preference would be the 1660s when pirating was at its most prolific in the Caribbean. I would have made a great cabin boy for some handsome, demanding pirate captain.”

“I wish I hadn’t asked. And I won’t default on the contract if I get one. I can deal with a year on my knees. Sucking dick is my favourite hobby.”

“And what if your Dom, or should I say owner, decides to put you in chastity for a year?”

Ethan gulped. “It would still be worth it.” It would drive me insane, but what are the chances?

“Liar. All the colour just drained from your face. I’ve seen pieces of white chalk with more colour than you.”

“My dick is a free spirit.”

“Well no part of you will be free if you get this gig.”

“I think I need some fresh air. You wanna split a pizza?”

“My dad came through with some cash when I saw him last weekend. We can afford a whole one and some garlic dough balls.”

“Please don’t talk about balls. Mine are nervous and it’s all your fault.” Ethan gathered up his things.

“I said it already, but, to confirm, you’re an idiot. Start praying your application isn’t accepted because if it is you’d better get used to the idea of an orgasm-free future.”

An hour later they were installed in the basement flat they shared, pizza box open on the coffee table. Angus had the couch, Ethan had been partly swallowed by a voluminous furry pink beanbag, which had been a gift from their landlord when they’d moved in. He licked greasy garlic butter off his fingers.

“That was so good. I’m stuffed.”

“You’d like to be.” Angus snaffled the last slice of pie.

“I can always rely on you to lower the tone.”

Angus kept chewing but raised his can of Coke in acknowledgement. Ethan shook his head. He reached for his mobile to check his email. “Oh!” He squirmed and rolled, trying to get free of the beanbag. He ended up flopping sideways in a heap before scrambling to his feet.

“What are you doing?”

“I got a reply!”

“A reply to what, you doofus?”

“My application to the sub auction.” Ethan held his phone out in front of him like it might explode. “Oh my God! What do I do?”

“Open it?”

“What if it’s a rejection?”

“What if it isn’t?”

Ethan hopped from one foot to the other. “I can’t look.”

“Give it to me, I’ll open it.” Angus reached for the phone.

“No!” Ethan danced away. “I can do this.” He ran for the bathroom then locked himself in. He gave his reflection a stern talking to. “What hope have you got as a sub for a year if you can’t open one tiny email? Do it.” He sat on the toilet, took a deep breath then tapped the screen.

“Dear Mr Peltier…we are…oh my God!” He screamed then tore out of the bathroom. He ran two circuits of the lounge before throwing himself into Angus’ lap.

“So, it’s good news?” Angus jiggled him into a better position.

“I got an interview!” Ethan fanned himself. “Oh fuck! I got an interview.”

“I’m detecting some conflicting emotions here.”

“No shit!”

“Do I need to fetch you a brown paper bag?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know!”

“Oh, that’s clear as mud.”

“I’m flummoxed. Leave me alone.”

“Let me see the email. What does it say?”

“I didn’t get past the ‘you are invited to attend an interview’ part.”

“Fuck’s sake!” Angus grabbed the mobile then dumped Ethan onto the sofa next to him. “Dear Mr blah de blah… Wow, not just any old interview, it’s in front of five people, but you won’t be able to see them.”

“Huh, what are you talking about?”

“It says they’ll be able to see you but you won’t be able to see them. The panel remains anonymous.”

“Blimey. What else?”

“You have to have a physical, a medical examination, you have to grant permission for your medical records to be shared, too.”

“Seems reasonable.”

“That’s not all. You have to disclose any criminal record.”

“I’ve never even had a parking ticket.”

“You don’t have a car.”

“Exactly.”

“This last one’s the killer, a psych test. That’s you done for.”

“Hey!”

“They’ll find out you’re nuttier than a Snickers bar and toss you out on your ear.”

“Am not.”

“Are so.”

Ethan sighed. “When is it?”

“All on one day, in two weeks’ time. It’s a Saturday, I think, so you won’t need to bunk off classes.”

“I can’t believe I got through the first stage. Fuck, I have nothing to wear!”

“It says smart casual. It’s a private address in, holy moly, a very posh part of Kensington. These people must be well connected.”

“I’m scared. And excited. And some more scared.”

“You don’t have to do this, you know. A year is a long time.”

“Oh, I’m not scared of that bit. I hate interviews.” Ethan bounced and the couch springs creaked. “You’ll have to come with me.”

“I can’t do that, you turnip, and before you suggest it I’m not taking you there then hanging around for an entire day waiting for you.”

Ethan pouted. “But, I need you!”

“I’ll come meet you afterwards. We can go for a fancy coffee somewhere, and you can tell me all about it.”

“I suppose that’ll have to do. Can we go somewhere that does extravagant French patisserie? I’ll need cake.”

“You’ll need your head examined, but I’ve been saying that for years.”

“Ever since we met in that shop in SoHo, and you admired my ambition for considering that enormous plug.”

“That thing could have corked a leaky dam.”

“Felt sooo good.” Ethan cackled. “Size is everything.”

“What if you get a Dom for a year and he has a tiny little dick?”

“Surely there are screening questions for Doms. They’d sift out anyone with less than a good, fat six inches, wouldn’t they? Angus?”

“Well, when they get to the end of the interview and they ask if you have any questions…now you have one.”