PROLOGUE

 

My knees ache! This floor is really hard... Kris Wilson pushed the pain aside, making sure her body was straight, her head high as she knelt on the polished wood of the platform. She knew from painful experience that if she tried to ease her position, the transgression would be swiftly punished.

She had been carefully bound with leather and steel, wrists and elbows tied tightly together and knees spread widely apart. She was quite helpless if her keeper decided to whip her-and she did not want to be whipped. Not now. Not in front of this audience.

She was quite sure that there was an audience watching her--although great care had been taken to prevent the girls being sold from seeing who was bidding. Those lights are set up to be right in our eyes; Kris kept her lids low to avoid being blinded. And the scrim means everyone on the other side is invisible from here. It was an old theater trick-one Kris had learned back in High School-but despite the precautions, she could hear the rumble of voices-and the bids...

It's too bad, she pouted just a bit. I'd kind of like to see who's bidding on me. She let her eyes drift to the auctioneer. And who isn't.

"Five thousand..."

Kris kept her face forward and her eyes downcast-just as she'd been trained. But she did her best to watch the auctioneer and the girl on his block from the corners of her vision. She was kind of surprised to find the slim black girl on the block starting so low. Althea is pretty well trained. Kris had spent all summer with her and knew just how well trained she was. Why isn't she bringing more?

The price of a girl had come to mean something to her. It would soon be her turn to stand on the slightly elevated platform they were using as an auction block and face those invisible buyers.

Her turn to be purchased like a piece of meat.

She prayed she'd bring a good price, even as she wondered why she was being sold.

What did I do wrong? The thought echoed through her mind. Why does he have to sell me? She blinked away a tear. I did everything he wanted. Learned every lesson he taught me!

She thought back to their first meeting...

CHAPTER ONE

 

High School had been a breeze for Kris. An 'early bloomer', she'd quickly learned to manipulate the boys in her class with her beauty and, as time passed, the curves of her perfectly developed body. By the time she started her sophomore year, she had boys to do her papers, boys to pass test answers to her-and good-looking boys ready to take her to dances and sporting events.

She had boys for every purpose--most of whom never had to be paid with anything more than a little tease, a little touch, and, every now and then, a peck on the cheek.

After a time, it became almost boring. All she had to do was ask and the boys in her class would fall over themselves to give her what she wanted. And every minute they were watching her, worshipping her with their eyes as they lusted for what they would only get if she chose to give it to them.

She handled her first year in college in very much the same way. She joined the cheerleading squad, went out with members of the football and basketball teams, and found whatever nerd she needed to help her get through her more technical classes.

It was easy; as easy as it had always been.

Then, right at the beginning of her sophomore year, she met Mr. Randolph, the instructor in Sociology and Human Sexual Behavior-and her life changed.

Charles 'Randy' Randolph was a tall, well-built man who had once been a professional tennis player. When his career was cut short by a knee injury, he turned his back on sports and became a teacher-a surprisingly good one.

The sophomore and junior men who came to his class knew about his athletic background-and respected him for his successes. He, in turn, took them under his wing and gave them lessons in how to live life-all that on top of the expected instruction on Sociology.

For some, advanced students, he also took them through the study of Human Sexuality.

Women-be they sophomore, junior, or senior--were oblivious to his athletic past-aside from the way it had toned and sculpted his body. For them, that body paired with his undoubted charm made him irresistible. Many tried to lure him into their bed, but if any succeeded, they didn't talk about it.

A few weeks into the semester, Kris decided to make her own play for Mr. Randolph. She dressed for her kind of success, showing up for class in a dress so short it was barely there and a halter top that emphasized what most boys considered her greatest assets.

Mr. Randolph, however, was most definitely not a boy. He watched her saunter into class and, before she could even seat herself, called her out.

"Ms. Wilson," his voice was hard, without the wry humor that normally accompanied anything he said. "It's clear that you have no concept of how I expect my students to dress for class." He raised an eyebrow. "I think you should join me for some private instruction on the subject." He glanced down at his blackberry. "Come to my office at..." Another glance. "Four P.M. and we will discuss your dress and your position in this class," he caught her eye, "and this school." He looked down, dismissing her with a curt, "I will expect you to be on time."

Kris colored at the words-but nodded her compliance.

She barely heard another thing in class that day, her ears ringing with his scolding, her face red with embarrassment. He treated me like a child! The thought burned inside her. Like some naughty sixth-grader!

She decided she would show him just how wrong he was, tapping on his office door promptly at four.

"Come!"

She stepped inside at his command, closing and latching the door behind her. "You wanted to see me, Mr. Randolph?"

He looked up. "I see you have decided not to change into something more sensible." His eyes ran up and down her carefully displayed body. "Would you tell me why not?"

Kris swallowed hard, then stepped forward and leaned on the edge of his desk, allowing her skirt to hike up still further, revealing the lacy fluff that she wore underneath. "I wore this for you." She was dismayed at the slight catch in her voice, but went on with her prepared speech. "I wanted you to see what I had to offer..."

"Ms. Wilson, I am quite aware of what you have to offer." He suddenly grinned. "It is more than obvious no matter what you wear!" He stood up. "The question is, what are the terms of that offer?"

"I..."

"Come, Ms. Wilson." Randolph stepped around his desk. "Surely you realize what your clothing and attitude suggest." He raised his eyebrow. "I know you've had your way with any boy you had your eye on since your earliest days in High School-what I do not know is if you are ready to enter an adult relationship with a real man." He looked hard at her. "Are you ready to offer yourself fully, without demur, to a real man-a man who will master you and use you as you deserve to be used?"

Kris slid off the desk, backed toward the door. "Mr. Randolph..." her voice rose a bit as she moved. "I don't know..."

He stepped past her, clicked the latch on the door. "When you are ready to become a completely sexual creature-one to stir the senses of any man," he pushed the door open, "come back and see me." He waved her out. "Until then, dress more appropriately in my class."

The door slammed shut behind her.