Filthy Surrender:The Forbidden Files

File 4: Sold to the Mafia: In-house Auction (1)

Chapter One –

I had come to offer myself which I now realized was f*****g stupid and f*****g unnecessary.

My sister's face flickered in my mind as I recalled her tearful phone call about the debt she had racked up with the wrong people, and the threat of what they would do if she didn't pay.

“This one volunteered”, the auctioneer, a tall man with silver rings on every finger, announced, grabbing my arm as I stepped forward from the line of trembling girls.

“Says she'll take her sister's place”. He completed, eyeing me up and down.

A murmur rippled through the crowd and my eyes glanced over the rows of men in dark suits that filled the velvet chairs. From the line, I had seen how their hungry eyes studied the women paraded across the wooden stage under dim amber lights.

My hands started sweating and bile threatened to escape my mouth not only because of what was about happening but also because the basement reeked of cigar smoke, and expensive cologne.

Even as the murmurs continued, the auctioneer didn't wait for approval. He ripped my coat off, then my shirt, the buttons scattering across the floor.

I stood in my bra, arms crossed while my heart hammered wildly.

I shouldn't have volunteered.

But I couldn't let my sister be here.

“Arms down”, he ordered, sharp.

I hesitated and his hand shot out, yanking my arms to my sides, so the crowd could see everything —the curve of my breasts barely contained by the cheap lace, and the soft swell of my stomach.

“Let's see what we're working with”.

His palms cupped my breasts, squeezing it hard, and his thumbs dragging across my n*****s until they peaked despite the cold. I gasped, trying to pull back, but his grip tightened.

“Mm, responsive”, he announced, loud enough for the back rows. “She'll be worth every cent”.

One hand slid down, groping my ass, fingers digging into the flesh. I bit my lip to keep quiet, but when his other hand shoved into my jeans, knuckles pressing against my slit through the thin cotton of my panties, a whimper escaped me.

“Wet already”, he said, pulling his hand out and holding it up for the audience. A sheen of moisture glistened on his fingers. “She may act shy, but her body knows what it wants”.

Laughter and whistles filled the basement and my face burned, tears pricking the corners of my eyes.

The auctioneer turned me around, bent me over the edge of the stage, my palms flat on the worn wood, my ass in the air. He pulled my jeans and panties down to my knees, exposing my fully.

“Bidding starts at five thousand”.

I looked over my shoulder to see that hands shot up and numbers climbed—ten, fifteen, twenty. My thighs quivered and trembled at how exposed I was as the cool air caressed my bare skin.

I faced forward and squeezed my eyes shut, focusing on the reason I was here.

For Lily. I kept repeating to myself. For Lily.

“Twenty-five from the gentleman in the front row”.

I opened my eyes again, twisting my neck to see who it was. A handsome man sat there. He had a sharp jaw, cold gray eyes, and lips that curved into a smile that held no warmth whatsoever.

He wasn't looking at my face. He was looking between my legs, where my body betrayed me with a slick gleam.

“Thirty-five”, someone else called.

“Fifty”, the front row-man man said in a final voice.

Silence.

"Fifty, going. Fifty, going. Fifty, gone".

Then the auctioneer's gavel banged. “Sold to Mr. Moretti”.

The cold-eyed man rose, buttoning his jacket. He walked toward me as I was pulled upright, but my pants still tangled at my knees.

He grabbed my chin, tilting my face up and studying me like a piece of art.

“You'll do”, he said, and dragged me off the stage.

I couldn't even utter a word.

We walked down a hallway until we reached a door. He opened it and shoved me inside causing me to stumble but caught myself on the armrest. Then he locked the door.

The back room was a small room with a leather couch, a single lamp, and soundproof walls.

“Please”, I started, “I just wanted to save my sister—”.

“I don't care what you wanted”. He shrugged off his jacket, then loosened his tie. “You're mine now. Strip”.

I shook my head, backing away. “I can't —”.

“Strip, or I'll call the auctioneer and have your sister brought here instead”.

My blood ran cold.

I had two options, to either strip like I was told to or have my sister brought instead.

So strip it was.

With shaking hands, I pushed the ruined shirt off, unclasped my bra, and shoved my jeans and panties to the floor at the same time.

I stood naked, arms wrapped around myself as I tried to hide.

But he crossed the room in two strides, grabbing my wrists and pulling them apart. “Don't hide from me. You volunteered to be owned. So be owned”.

He pushed me onto the couch, face-down, and my ass raised. I felt him behind me, heard the rustle of his belt, then the sound of his zipper.

“No foreplay”, he muttered, and the blunt head of his c**k pressed against my entrance.

I was wet, humiliatingly wet from the groping and the exposure on stage that he slid inside me in one rough push.

“Ahhh!!!”. I cried out, hands gripping the leather tightly, my knuckles turned white.

He was thick and he filled me completely. He didn't pause for me to adjust to his size, he just started thrusting. He gave deep and punishing thrusts with one hand on my hip, and the other fisting my hair.

“This is what you get”, he said in a ragged voice. “Coming here, offering yourself. You think that makes you brave? It makes you a hole for men like me to use”.

“Ohhh….”. I sobbed, but my body—the traitor that it was—clenched around him as heat built low in my belly.

He angled his hips, hitting my cervix.

“Tssss…..ohhhhh f**k! You're so deep, so so….ahhhhh. Mmm…”. I gasped, moaned, cried, sobbed, did everything while my toes curled.

I felt my climax building and I became alarmed suddenly. “No, don't—don’t make me—”.

“You're going to c*m”, he said, slamming deeper. “You're going to come on my c**k, and you're going to remember that the first time you ever came for a man, it was because he took you without asking”.

His hand snaked around, fingers finding my c**t as he rubbed fast and rough circles on it. I tried to hold back, and tried to stay angry, but the pressure was relentless, building and building until it snapped.

“Ohhhhhhh……ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!”. A scream tore from my throat as I came, body shuddering, and walls milking him.

He groaned, thrusting through it, and then he stilled for a second and I felt him spill inside me with a guttural sound.

When he withdrew, I collapsed onto the couch and almost breathed a sigh of relief when he roughly dragged me back up from my hips and nudged his c**k at my ass hole.

"No—", I started protesting, barely even recovered from the damage he had done to my p***y. "Please, no, not anal".

"You don't get to choose which hole I f**k you in. Welcome to the w***e-house, pretty girl"