William was beaming as we made our
way through the banquet hall to our table. He
seemed to know every man we encountered.
I could tell he was proud of me and I needed the boost of
confidence. The other women at the ball
were stunning, there is no other word for how they all looked. Every last female in the hall was tall, thin,
dressed to kill and dripping in jewels.
None of them looked at me as I held onto William’s arm while he chatted
with the men. The women looked at
William. The men looked at me.
And what men they were. Like William, each man appeared to be about
fifteen or so years older than the women they were with. Also like William, they were obviously
successful and wealthy, tall and muscular, impeccably dressed in expensive
bespoke tuxedos, and completely in command of their surroundings. They exuded power. They were, to a man, extremely handsome in a
way that was so masculine, so overwhelmingly male, it made me wet just looking
at them. When they looked at me, eyeing
me with no hesitation, no inclination to hide their enjoyment of looking at me,
no intention of disguising their obvious lust and desire, my knees went weak.
After getting used to the looks, I
started listening to the conversations.
I was shocked by what I heard.
William would congratulate each man as they discussed the physical
attributes of that man’s companion. He
would compliment the woman’s body in very crude and vulgar terms, as if he was
describing livestock at an auction.
Usually they would make reference to the woman’s husband and how the
poor wretch must miss having such a beautiful and desirable sexual partner. The first time a husband was mentioned, I
looked at the woman’s left hand. She
wore a wedding ring. Every woman there
was wearing a wedding ring, just like me.
William had insisted I wear mine.
Now I understood why.
Many of the women, although not
all, were wearing what I can only describe as collars. Many were elegant and delicate,
jewel-encrusted and expensive. Some were
common dog collars. As we reached out
table, I asked William what the collars were for, what the indicated.
“The collared women are owned by the men they are with. The expensive collar means the woman is not available. The dog collars indicate that
she is.”
“That she is what?” I asked
naively.
William leveled a gaze at me. “For sale.”
Before I could digest that bit of
news, William began introducing me around our table. I didn’t pay much attention as I could only
see each of the other women’s left hands and their throats. Each of them wore wedding rings, each of them
wore collars. Two of the collars were
very elegant. One was made of cheap
leather.
I tried to be discrete as I asked
William what he meant by ‘for sale.’ He
ignored me as the lights dimmed and a spotlight came up on the small stage near
the dance floor. An impeccably dressed
black man walked to the podium to a gathering round of applause from the men
and women in the hall. As he reached the
podium, some of the men in the room rose, soon to be joined by others, finally
all, including William. All the women
remained seated.
“Thank you, thank you so much, you
are too kind, please be seated,” the master-of-ceremonies said as he waived his
hands in an effort to suppress the applause.
The crowd ignored him and the applause grew louder. He smiled and shrugged, clearly enjoying the
accolades.
“Thank you, please take your seats
or dinner will get cold.” The applause
finally died down and everyone took their seats. “Please join me in congratulating the
excellent staff of this facility on a job very well done.” The applause rose again and quickly died
down. “And thank you all for coming to
the twenty second annual Black and White Ball.”
As the MC thanked various dignitaries
and droned on, I found my eyes drifting back to the woman in the leather collar
who was seated across from me. She was
stunningly beautiful, with high cheek bones and full lips, a perfect figure
well-displayed by a skin-tight gown that was cut low enough to show off her
perfect breasts. I couldn’t believe she
was going to be sold. As I thought that,
I looked at the other women at the table and wondered what precisely it meant
that they were owned, if not for sale. I
discretely glanced around the banquet hall and could only pick out a handful of
women who, like me, were collarless. I
couldn’t wait to find out from William what it all meant.
As the MC finished at the podium
dinner was served. We ate quickly and
relatively quietly, with the men making small talk and the women completely
silent. As desert was served, one of the
men asked me if this was my first Black and White.
I looked at William before answering. When he nodded, I said that it was. The man smiled and asked William who owned
me. William smiled and said I was on
loan from Ray but that I actually belonged to Shawn. I hadn’t realized until that moment that
William even knew Shawn, let alone knew of my relationship with him. I must have looked at William in surprise
because he gave me such a look of disapproval. The man
who asked about me kept pressing the matter.
He was with the woman wearing the leather collar.
“Do you plan to buy her?” he asked
William.
“As a matter of fact I am in
negotiations to do just that.”
I kept my eyes on my desert so as
not to risk another reproach. I couldn’t
believe my ears, but I also could not imagine being more turned on. I wanted to wear a jeweled collar. I wanted to belong to William.
“How long do plan to keep her?” I peeked up from my desert plate at the
man. He was less attractive than I
realized when we sat down, a little older than and not as fit as the other men
at the table. I wondered how he came to
be with his stunning companion, and why in the world he would be selling
her.
Then it dawned on me. He was selling her because he was able to,
and he was interested in acquiring a new white bitch. Me.
“I don’t often sell,” William said
casually. He looked at me with smiling
eyes. “I certainly don’t contemplate
selling before I have even acquired the little cunt.”
That was a relief. I think.
