Princess in Time

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I immediately switch to emergency mode as catastrophe strikes. But Sarge and Lad are expecting that, and they put each a heavy hand on my bare shoulders, grinning at each other, as the Judge continues:

“And a damn good cop at that, my congratulations, Doctor.”

I quickly push the nail extension behind my back. Seventeen minutes. The Judge opens another folder and extracts a small stack of photo enlargements. He shows them to me and to the public, and I hear a slight commotion. There is the whole collection of photographs taken by the beauty-mole cameras, and he takes his times as he shows them one by one to the public. Lad and Sarge leering at me. Monsieur and Milord fucking the fiddlers. Orlov supervising the installation of the Fabergé egg. The Judge himself – posing as Sir Stephen – groping at my breasts, the dirty ugly valet leering in the background. They are all there.

Maybe the rescue will take more than seventeen minutes this time.

“Your little undercover operation would have succeeded if we were just a criminal organization. But it could be rather reductive to say that. You don’t know what you are up against, Doctor.”

“All the same, you are a notable person and an asset. And I appreciate your naïve attempt, Doctor. I will, therefore, pass a mild sentence on you, just to indemnify us for the nuisance you gave.”

He solemnly raises his gavel and passes the sentence.

“One year of sex service, in a distinguished establishment to be decided through auction. Guards, please, prepare our dear guest. Ladies and Gentlemen, please follow us to the Music Hall.”

Smiling, they gently push me towards the next door. I try to resist, just to check, but they just smile more and effortlessly drag me as Lad slaps my ass, without too much conviction, rolling his eyes dismissively.

“Oh come on, Docteur, be a sport”

As we exit the Court, I have a quick glimpse of Miss Desi being freed of her red cape.

On our way towards the Music Hall, the Judge directs me towards a side wing.

“Maybe you want to say hi to your colleagues, Doctor,” says the Judge with a kind smile.

Here is the Lesbo Squad. Their faces flushed and expressions bewildered, they are sitting side by side astraddle two antique Baroque chairs, facing the backs with their legs spread wide. Their forearms are securely tied to the backrests and their gorgeous asses prominently displayed.. The Master Spanker is busy with them. He is methodically caning Ellen’s ass, each strike half an inch lower than the preceding. She yelps at each strike but refuses to count. He suggests gently she starts counting, so he can give Alice her turn. When we step in, the man flashes his dazzlingly white smile at me, swishes his cane in the air, producing a pure tone, then says in a sweet tone:

“Oh Doctor… What a pleasure. I’ll see you later, Madam.”

I try to ignore the innuendo, but I shiver as we enter the Music Hall.

We stop just in front of an anonymous audience as a strong light is turned on. I squint at the people, but they are just dark shapes.

I feel my bracelets being disconnected as Lad orders in a low, almost gentle tone.

“Doctor. Display”.

I clasp my hands behind my neck, push my small breasts forward and stand still, as a male deep educated voice resounds.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the first item of today’s auction”

“Varela Autopoiesis. Caucasian. 39 Years Old. Nickname Doctor.”

“Offered for a one-year lease”

Lad turns me, and I give my back to the audience. “Doctor. Bendover”

“A fine specimen as you can see”

The auctioneer continues his professional performance, describing in rather flattering terms my brilliant university career and great social soft skills. He doesn’t mention my career at the Agency and some hard skills I acquired there. I guess knowing his new sex slave is Krav Maga level six and – if freed from her constraints – could easily break his neck wouldn’t appeal the prospective buyer. Caveat emptor. I wouldn’t buy a used car from this guy.

Meanwhile, Lad makes me go through a repertory my of positions. Most of them rather indecent, from the Gorean repertory we were so carefully taught at the Pussycat Gym.

I can hear hushed male voices and fidgeting from the strangers in the audience.

“At thirty-nine, Doctor Autopoiesis is rather older than the top specimens we usually propose. All the same, her high qualifications I described makes her a good choice for that interesting market niche who likes older, classy, educated women. But what makes Doctor Autopoiesis really unique for your business is her attitude, which we will now demonstrate.

A massage bed is set in front of an audience, the sort of luxury item you may find in top beauty farms. Brown leather and dark wood, sort of antique. But it is custom made, too short, as I realize when Sarge and Lad lift me on it - hands under my bare ass. When my buttocks are in position at one end of the bench my head almost hangs outside the other side, just the neck resting on a soft leather cushion.

With a soft click, the hands and ankle restraints are connected to small carabiners and I am soon well tied in an awkward, rather indecent, but otherwise comfortable position.

I hear someone in the audience getting closer and asking something in a low voice to the auctioneer, and through a reflection, I can see him nodding to Lad.

“With your permission Doctor…”

He says in a mockingly respectful voice, as he takes his position by me.

The auctioneer continues

“As you can see, ladies and gentlemen her… uh, business end is almost perfect, probably Doctor Autopoiesis has used her notable brain more than her equally notable cunt.”

Twisting slightly my head, I notice a panoramic display, and there I can see Lad’s well-manicured elegant hands, strong and slender strong. The hands of a pianist, or an artist. And an artist he is. He shows passion and expertise. He opens my small lips like an ikebana master arranges a delicate flower, twisting slightly the Fabergé egg until the famous signature is clearly visible to the enraptured public, and makes a small satisfied nod as he completes his expert work.

And here it is, my cunt as a work of art. The Fabergé egg base glimmers, the big emerald shining of green and azure under the small butterfly, very pink, very symmetric, glistening under the strong light.

Then other fingers touch me there, making me flinch, as I see a very feminine hand on the screen, a slender finger circling expertly my swollen clit, once, twice… I can’t stop a deep sight, followed by a soft female laugh.

“But of course it is the sex attitude of the good doctor that gives this fine specimen a great value. Let’s demonstrate this. Sergeant, please”

Grinning, Sarge gets in front of me. From my position, I can see only his white teeth smiling, and his powerful torso, strong muscles under the black T-shirt. But Lad helps me there and raises my head slightly, so I can also look between my open legs. And there I can see his really big cock, thick and slightly curved, almost ready and in position.

Then Lad carefully adjusts the cushion letting my neck swivel gently backward, and there I can see the Judge, majestically, upside down. He has opened his robe and his cock is also almost ready for my mouth. Not as big as Sarge’s, but not bad for a white man. Getting closer, he sets his big hands on my tits, and my nipples, already tight, get harder under his skilled fingers. Twisting my head forward with a slight effort I can see again Sarge who now has discarded his black T-shirt, and shows all the results of his intensive workout. And under that abs the big glans, a glistening drop on his tip. Smiling widely, he whispers “Ain’t no me uh Doctor?”. But he is not angry, he is beyond anger now, the expression is of pure, primeval desire. He wants me. He just wants to be inside me.

And with the greatest surprise, I realize that I want him inside me. Now.

I flinch and sigh as I feel his silky tip touching the sweet gap between the pink butterfly. And there he stops, waiting, looking at the Judge. It seems they plan to enter me from both sides in sync. They must have practiced this before. My breath automatically deepens and becomes more frequent, and I feel more wetness down there in anticipation, already feeling the big magic shaft effortlessly entering and filling me up. I try – against the restraints – to spread more. Someone laughs. Automatically my hands try to move, but they are pinned. The Judge gently rotates my head backward and I automatically open my mouth slightly. breathing harder. I am ready. He sets gently the soft skin on my upper lip, then nods to Lad. With a soft click, my wrist restraints are released. His benign voice addresses me:

“As promised, you may now opt out Doctor. You are free to go.

But my hand seems to move of its own volition, and as my fingers touch my swollen clit a jolt of pure electricity is released through my whole body, and I jerk and try to open my legs and mouth now in sweet urgent need to be filled up. And as I cry in ecstasy an applause emerges for the small audience, as the classy woman laughs again.

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