Auctioning Off Isabel

Breathless silence in the audience.

"This number is the number of months a year has."

In my head it worked furiously fast and unimaginably slow at the same time. Briefly I had the hope that the year had 11 or 13 months. Slowly, he turned the card over. For everyone in the room, the number 12 was unmistakably visible on it.

"Oh, my god," Isabel whispered in a trembling voice.

"Where is the lucky winner sitting?" asked Sam, and everyone looked around searchingly.

"Where is number 12 sitting?"

Isabel looked at me with eyes widened in shock.

"Shall I?" she whispered.

I was also in shock.

"I don't know," I whispered back. There were whispers in the audience.

"I'm going to ask number 12 to raise her arm on the count of three," we heard over the loudspeakers. We looked deeply into each other's eyes as the announcer counted down.

"1... 2..."

Isabel had to swallow as we heard the announcer say "three". A tiny moment more passed, then Isabel moved her hand with the light ribbon and slowly raised it in the air until her slender arm was stretched upwards. And all the while she looked at me. I heard, as if from a distance, the whole audience applauding.

"Wonderful!" shouted the announcer, "please come on stage, number 12!"

Isabel leaned over and kissed me. It felt a bit like a goodbye kiss. Then she stood up and walked to the stage. Applause erupted again. Isabel's cheeks glowed red with excitement as she walked on stage in her silk dress. A murmur went through the rows of the audience, which made her smile shyly. I could feel the whole audience being enchanted by her. And I was now not only seeing my girlfriend on stage, the woman with whom I sometimes played Scrabble in the evenings, who cooked me food and with whom I regularly went hiking, I was also seeing her through the eyes of the audience: a desirable young woman whose shyness and palpable excitement made her even more desirable, for it was impossible to miss that she was in such a situation for the first time in her life.

"What's your name?" asked Sam of my friend, holding out the microphone to her.

"Isabel," she replied.

"You have," Sam told her, "been chosen by a very large majority to be the item to be auctioned off today for a good cause for three days. How do you feel?"

He held out the microphone to Isabel and I saw her gulp. Then she said in a trembling voice:

"I feel honoured."

The audience applauded joyfully.

"It is now," the black man said with a smile, "the last moment to turn back. It is the threshold at which you must leave your old self behind. The threshold after which you become an object of desire, a luxury good that is only there to give its owner pleasure for three days. The threshold where you have to leave your free will behind and give away your beautiful young body for three days. When you cross that threshold, you leave behind all rights of freedom and lose your status as a subject."

Isabel had to swallow another time, everyone could feel her pulse racing. But she certainly seemed to be enjoying this excitement too, as the smile on her face revealed. Sam had a red velvet cushion brought to him, on which lay a pair of golden scissors. He took it and held it out to Isabel.

"If you take the scissors, it means that you are ready to cross this threshold. You then agree that all those present here who are interested in participating in the auction may examine you in detail so that they can judge in detail how much money they are willing to invest in you. If you do not agree to this, I will ask you to leave the stage now."

He waited a while before continuing. Isabel remained on stage.

"However, should you be willing to be auctioned off for charity and take the scissors, you are obliged, in a symbolic act before the audience, to cut your dress, which you will not then need for the next three days anyway, since one of the duties that your status as an object entails is that of uninterrupted nudity, so that you are at the full and complete disposal of your owner at all times. "

Isabel looked into the audience and seemed to seek my gaze, however the spotlight was apparently so bright that she was blinded. She now seemed to become a little afraid of her own courage, and I too was on the verge of shouting that she should not take the scissors. But my throat was dry and tight. Isabel looked at the scissors, into the face of the smiling presenter and once again into the audience. There was absolute silence, you could have heard a pin drop. Her body seemed to turn away. But then, after a seemingly endless moment of suspense, it actually happened: Isabel slowly raised her hand, and I and the whole audience could see her trembling as she took the scissors.

The audience erupted in cheers so loud that Isabel had to laugh, because the volume made it clear how much large parts of the audience had hoped for the chance to bid for three days with this charming, beautiful young woman. The applause would not end, Isabel was embarrassed and had to laugh again and again. I was thunderstruck. Now it would actually happen. One of the guests present would spend the next three days with my girlfriend. I looked around and realised that one of the applauders would soon be sleeping with Isabel.

Finally, Sam silenced the applause with a reassuring gesture. Silence fell. And this silence was again expectant, as everyone was now waiting for Isabel to finally cross the threshold with the cutting of her dress. The stage lights dimmed and there was now only a single spotlight on my girlfriend. I couldn't help but think of how we had bought the dress and how beautiful it looked on her.

"You are on your way to losing your status as a subject," Sam said, "now cut your dress to cross the threshold for good."

Isabel hesitated a moment longer, then guided her hand with the scissors to her shoulder. She opened the scissors, hesitated one more time, then cut the left strap of her dress. The dress was now held only on the right side. Isabel opened the scissors again and hesitated a little longer now. She looked at the audience with a serious look, but then suddenly a fine smile came to her lips and she cut the other strap as well. With a soft rustle, the silken dress slid to the floor in one movement.

My friend was now standing on the stage, illuminated by the one spotlight, and she was only dressed in the skimpy panties and her black pumps. Her breasts looked beautiful, firm and flirtatious, Isabel stretched them forward without any shame. She put a hand on her hip, almost like a model. The audience cheered her like a pop star. She really seemed transformed, her now radiant laughter showing how much she enjoyed the attention and the enthusiasm of the audience.

Sam took the scissors from her.

"I have the pleasure," he then said to the audience, "of announcing that a beautiful object is up for auction today. As you can already easily see, it is an object that is rarely found. A jewel. I think you, like me, can't wait to see the object in more detail, and I can assure you that you will have ample opportunity to do so."

As he spoke, the two helpers had approached Isabel. Each of them had a long rope in her hand, apparently attached to the ceiling to the right and left of the stage, and at the end of which were leather loops which they fastened to Isabel's wrists. The next moment the ropes were brought to tension so that my friend was standing on the stage with her arms outstretched, unable to move her arms. The next moment one of the women stepped behind her and blindfolded her.

"We would also like to take this opportunity to thank a man for whom the next three days will certainly not be easy. For the place next to him in his bed will be empty. His girlfriend will not be his for three days and three nights, she will belong to someone else during this time. However, so that the husband does not miss his beloved girlfriend too much during this time, the successful bidder is obliged to regularly take a picture or a short video of the object and send this to the husband."

Sam stepped next to Isabel again and held the microphone out to her.

"How do you feel now?" he asked.

„I feel... like an item...," my friend replied.

„That makes total sense" Sam said, "because that is exactly what you are."

Quiet laughter in the audience. I saw Isabel smile as well.

"But am I wrong, or is there something missing for your presentation as an object?"

"I don't know..." said Isabel.

"Oh, I think you know at least one thing very well that is not quite right yet, don't you?"

"Yes, I know," said Isabel.

"And what is that thing?"

"That... that I still have my panties on," my friend said quietly.

"Very true," said Sam "and why is that not a condition that should last?"

Isabel swallowed and couldn't answer.

"Why?" asked Sam a little louder now. He clearly enjoyed asking Isabel these questions.

"Because the audience can't see everything," Isabel finally said.

"What can't they see?"

"My... my pussy."

"Your tender, sweet pussy. Your soft lips. And should that be so?"

"No."

"What can we do about it then, about this untenable state of affairs?"

"Take off my panties," Isabel said softly, and a shudder ran through her whole body.

"Take them off? Are you going to put them back on?"

"No," she said.

"So what should we do with it?"

"Cut it up."

"But who could do that?" asked Sam, "your hands are tied..."

"I don't know," said Isabel.

"Well," said Sam, "we all know to whom the honour of taking on this task belongs."

He looked into the audience, and suddenly all the spectators turned to me.

"What's the name of the man you came here with?"

"Sebastian," said Isabel.

"Sebastian!" shouted Sam, "would you please come forward?"

As if hypnotised, I stood up and walked to the front of the stage. The audience applauded. The situation felt completely surreal.

"Good evening, dear Sebastian," Sam greeted me, "how lovely and how generous of you to release your Isabel for the next three days for a good cause."

I didn't know what to say in reply. He handed me the scissors with a smile.

"With this small gesture you are showing us all that you are happy to give your Isabel to the highest bidder and enjoy displaying her in her nakedness for all of us to see. By cutting the panties, you symbolically open the door to Isabel's inner sanctum, so to speak, and ask the highest bidder to please come in. Or, in simple words: We all can't wait to see your girlfriend's hot pussy. Cut the panties and show us her wet lips!"

Laughter in the audience. I didn't know what to do. But what was I supposed to do? I was confused and incredibly aroused by this strange situation.

Slowly, I guided scissors to the left side of my girlfriend's panties.

"Shall I?", I whispered in Isabel's ear.

„Go for it," I heard her whisper back. She put her legs apart and I realised she was doing it to prevent her panties from getting caught between her legs.

I cut one side of the panties. The panties were now hanging down but just hiding Isabel's pubic area, already showing a bit of the thin strip of pubic hair she had left when shaving. A shudder ran through Isabel's body as I applied the scissors to the other side of the panties. Was I really going to do it? Should I contribute to seventy people seeing my girlfriend's vagina? I felt some reluctance to do it, but my excitement and desire to present Isabel's nakedness to all these people was greater. I suddenly wanted everyone to see her vagina. A small cut, the panties fell to the floor, and Isabel stood completely naked on stage, in her black high heels and blindfolded. She looked stunning, beautiful and erotic.

The audience was speechless, a long moment of reverent silence ended in boisterous applause and many shouts of "Bravo". Sam took off Isabel's blindfold so she could see that all the audience had jumped up and given her nudity a standing ovation. Isabel had to laugh again, so unreal was people's enthusiasm for her. She looked at me for a moment, her eyes wide. I could see that she was enjoying it all. I was kind of relieved about that, but also a little shocked. After a long while, the applause finally died down and Sam turned to me again.

"Now, very soon, the lucky highest bidder will have three days of your naked girlfriend at his disposal. For three days he will be allowed to do anything she wants with her. I'm sure you want the next three days to be three wonderful days for Isabel, don't you?"

"Yes," I said quietly.

"Then do you perhaps have any advice for the person who will spend the next three days - and nights! - with her?"

"I don't know," I said in a trembling voice.

"For example, does she have any particularly erogenous zones? Earlobes?"

"Her earlobes are totally insensitive, she always says... but... her... her nipples are very... sensitive..."

„Such helpful information," said Sam, touching Isabel's nipple with one finger. She groaned loudly.

"Indeed. And what else?" asked Sam.

"I don't know if I can say," I said haltingly.

"Can he say it?" asked Sam of Isabel.

"Yes," she said after a little pause.

"She... she likes to have... her butt hole... massaged... and licked..."

"Her little rosette?" asked Sam, stroking Isabel's bottom. Isabel's body shuddered.

"Wonderful!" exclaimed Sam, "now that's some clues! Let's hear it for Sebastian!"

I was led off the stage.

A large metal bowl was now brought in. Isabel's dress was placed on it and also her panties. The assistants poured a liquid over it and lit matches.

"Now let's move on to our little private Olympic fire, the burning of the object's clothes. Do you know why we are burning your clothes?", Sam asked Isabel.

"Because I won't be needing them for the next three days."

"Very true," said Sam, "and why won't you need them?"

"Because I will be naked all the time."

"And why will you be naked all the time?"

"So that I can be fully available to my owner at all times."

"You're a quick learner," Sam said, "that's so wonderful."

The two assistants threw the matches into the bowl, and the next moment my friend's clothes burst into flames. There was something irrevocable in that act.

"How do you feel now?" asked Sam.

"Naked," said Isabel, whose arms were still spread out and fixed by the ropes.

"And everyone sees you," said Sam, "and wants to possess you. But only one of them will get to take you home at the end of this evening."

He began to run his fingertips over her body. Isabel moaned softly as he touched the side of her breasts. His hands explored her whole body, running over her flat stomach, caressing her bottom and back, and shivers ran through Isabel's body again and again. He stepped behind her. His hands clasped her breasts, then one hand moved down stroking the narrow strip of pubic hair.

"It is with one of these people you see before you that you will spend the next three days. Who do you think it will be? A man whose penis is now already hard in his pants and will soon be taken up by your wet lips? A woman whose warm womb can't wait to be spoiled by your tongue? Or perhaps a couple who will join forces to caress your nipples and rosette? Only one thing is certain: the person who is allowed to have full access to your body will not be your boyfriend. That's just the way the rules are."

Then a finger touched her clit and a loud sigh escaped Isabel. Sam and the audience laughed softly, not at her, but with her. His finger went even deeper between her legs, making Isabel moan again, then he took his hand away and the whole audience could see her pelvis stretch forward to prolong the touch.

"Don't worry," Sam told her gently, "no matter who's about to bid for you, your pussy won't be able to complain about too little attention for the next three days..."

Music started up. Sam began to sing. He sang "Try Me" by James Brown, the lines now taking on a very special meaning: Are you alone, baby? If he ain't around, pick up your phone, baby... I'm ready to go all the way if you let me, don't you tempt me..." As he sang, a large bed was pushed onto the stage with bedposts in all four corners. The two assistants untied Isabel's arms and led her to the bed. Isabel had to lie on her stomach on the bed and immediately her hands were fixed to the posts at the head end. She lay sideways to the audience. The assistants now also put loops around Isabel's ankles, pulled her legs apart and fastened the loops to the bedposts at the foot end. Isabel now lay on the bed with her arms outstretched and her legs spread. The assistants now took several large pillows and pushed one after the other under Isabel's pelvis. This finally led to her pelvis and bottom sticking up in the air. Even from the side, this position looked so vulgar, I didn't want to think about what she looked like standing behind her.

Sam's mouth now came very close to the microphone, and his voice seemed to become even deeper and strangely more present and quieter at the same time.

"Now let's move on," he said in his soft deep voice, "to the procedure which you are well aware of and which we sometimes refer to as the oil level check."

A great roar of enthusiastic laughter, cheering and applause was the audience's response to this announcement. The black man undid a clasp on his robe that sank to the floor with a soft hiss. Beneath the robe he was completely naked, his shimmering black body revealed. He was muscular, but not too muscular, his body simply radiated an incredible elegance. And hanging between his legs, almost like a body of its own, was a large penis, already larger in its semi-erect state than most other penises in their erect state. A murmur went through the audience.

"Dear Isabel," he said, sitting down on a stool in front of the bed so that Isabel had a perfect view of his penis, "I am pleased to introduce you to a tradition that involves a brief but intense encounter between you and me. For it is my honour to have this small discreet tool between my legs enclosed by your lips for a brief moment. And when I say lips, I am in no way talking about the lips of your mouth. I'm talking about stepping behind you, embracing your hips with my strong hands and sinking my love stick into your moist warm clam. But since we are not really friends of pornographic metaphors here, let me say it prosaically: I will penetrate your pussy, which is already dripping with lust, from behind with my hard cock, so that the spectators present can convince themselves of your moisture afterwards. Now it's not like you have a choice, because since when does an object have a choice, but I would hope that even if you did have a choice, you would be sympathetic to this little tradition?"

He held out the microphone to her, and at first only Isabel's heavy breathing could be heard. Her voice was now no longer trembling and uncertain, but full of excitement that she no longer tried to hide.

"How could I, as a newcomer and an object, be dismissive of a long-standing tradition?" she asked, purring like a cat. "And even though I can feel myself that my pussy is almost overflowing with arousal, I understand very well that someone who considers to invest his hard-earned money in me wants to be convinced of that fact. If you buy three days with a girl at an auction and perhaps have quite precise ideas about what you want to do with the girl during these three days, then you want to make sure that this girl's vagina is also ready for it. And if that ordeal includes a brief encounter with that already impressive and beautiful penis, then I'd like to open myself up to that tradition as much as I can."

I was stunned by how confident and flirtatious and self-assured Isabel was talking, especially given the physical position she was in - as exposed as one could be. The audience was totally enthralled and burst into cheers.