Author Description

We were lined up by our numbers for the slave auction - I was Number 12 -- and marched onto the stage.That's when I first saw Nika.She was sitting demurely in the front row, the epitome of prim: a tall, striking brunette in a gray business suit and white blouse, her hair in a bun, wearing librarian-style black rimmed glasses and spiked black pumps.Her dark brown eyes briefly met my baby blues.I saw a thin smile cross her face. She repositioned herself in her chair, straightening her posture and then, looking straight at the auctioneer, pulled her knee-length skirt an inch higher up her thighs.Was she flirting with me?My eyes voted yes.My manhood, too.I could not take my eyes off her. That subtle little tease got me. I studied her in greater detail. She had shapely legs. Yummy legs.And a teeny waist -- so trim I wondered if she wore a waist cincher or corset.She had perky, perfect breasts.She wore little makeup. Just a touch of red lipstick, light makeup on her cheeks. Perfect eyes. Perfect smile. Perfect everything. It was as if the gods had sculpted her just for me.My Lord! I couldn't believe myself. Here I was, standing before a sea of eligible women, and I was transfixed by this goddess. I wanted to build her a temple and worship her the rest of my life.I imagined her naked.I imagined her in a flaming red corset and matching 6-inch heels.I imagined her as my dominatrix.I imagined her as my virginal bride, in sheer white garter belt, panties and bra, waiting sheepishly for me to me to pounce.What I couldn't imagine was life without her. She had already captured my heart and the bidding had yet to start.Mistress Nika paid a record amount to buy me. And she promised me one thing: my new life would be no picnic.Turns out, she was worth billions. Savvy. Sexy. Powerful in the corporate world. Commanding in bed. Owner of a specialized retraining academy for wayward men -- the EMF Retreat, a sprawling 74,000-acre estate with a worldwide reputation for bringing the most m