The Premium Prize Ch. 01 by ChrisWarner

The Premium Prize Ch. 01 by ChrisWarner

Dive into “The Premium Prize Ch. 01” by ChrisWarner, a thrilling BDSM journey that explores boundaries, desire, and power dynamics. Get ready for an intriguing tale that will captivate your senses and ignite your imagination. Indulge in a world where pleasure and pain intertwine, and discover how far passion can take you. Read now to uncover the secrets that await!

When my husband Mike left his office job and went into the real estate industry, I knew there would be highs and lows. More precisely, I knew there would be plenty of lows, and I just hoped there would be enough highs to make it all worthwhile. I understood the real estate game enough to know how important the leased BMW and the expensive suits were, but I also knew that we would barely get by on my salary if he didn’t start earning some commissions. Still, Mike was convinced that he would be a success, and I couldn’t argue that he hadn’t earned the opportunity to try.

Mike and I have been together since high school. He left school a year before me and moved to Auckland, getting himself a job with a small printing firm. I moved in with him the following year when I started at Auckland University, and he didn’t complain as his low paying job supported me through six years of study. The firm that Mike worked for did a lot of printing for real estate companies, and he spent a plenty of time talking with many of the agents. Mike waited patiently until I had finished my Masters and received my first pay rise in my new job before he told me of his desire to try selling houses.

The firm that Mike applied to was Macleod Realty, a new player in the booming Auckland market. Mike was impressed by the things he heard from the Macleod agents he spoke with. The company was still actively managed by its founder and majority owner Hamish Macleod. Mike was impressed by the company culture which included social events and mysterious bonuses. The company tagline was “Everybody Wins with Macleod Realty”, but I had no idea that we might win another person.

*****

After a few months toiling away for minimal financial reward, mostly just payments from other agents for helping with open homes and other tasks, Mike finally got his first lucky break. He immediately recognised Rob Hennessey, a wealthy property developer, as soon as he walked into the small branch office. Hennessey approached Mike directly and asked to be shown the Mansfield Estate, a property on the market for over six million. Mike offered to contact the agent for that property, but Hennessey declined. He was well known for avoiding the agents chosen by the vendor, choosing instead to bargain using intermediary agents. The outcome of this piece of luck was that Mike earned a share of the huge commission and an invitation to a very prestigious party – the Macleod Top Dog party for the fifty highest earning agents for the preceding two months.

According to others in Mike’s office, the Top Dog parties were legendary, although the details were somewhat lacking. It seemed that others who had attended in the past had been sworn to secrecy regarding what went on. The other unusual thing that aroused my suspicions was the RSVP card that Mike had to complete. In addition to ticking boxes stating whether he was attending, and whether he was bringing a date, he also had to state whether his date was “a spouse/partner/significant other” or “a casual date”. Naturally, since we had now been married for two years, Mike ticked the first option.

On the night of the party, I was nervously looking around at the other women as we climbed out of the taxi. The invitation was to a formal Friday evening party at Mr Macleod’s mansion. Mike hired a tuxedo while I dug out the gown I had worn to my graduation ball, hoping it wouldn’t look too cheap among the wealthy agents and their partners. I knew that many of the agents at these parties attended regularly and were not short of money. Even to my inexperienced eye, I could tell that some of the gowns, shoes and jewellery on display were worth many thousands of dollars.

We were met at the door by Mr Macleod’s PA Miss Cameron, a beautiful woman in her late 50s. She asked our names and then looked us up on her guest list. “Ah, here we are. Mr Michael Irons and Mrs Jessica Irons. A warm welcome to you both, Mr and Mrs Irons.”

“Please, call me Mike.”

“Jess.”

“Thank you,” said Miss Cameron. “Please call me Heather. Now, let me find your name tags.” She looked first through a tray of black name tags until she found mine, then she looked through a tray of red tags until she found Mike’s. His name tag had the number 20 prominently displayed above his name. “Congratulations Mike,” she said. “You’ve come 20th out of the agents here tonight, so you are guaranteed a premium prize if you decide to accept one. There is an excellent chance you will have a choice of prize since a few of those ahead of you are likely to decline.”

“Why? What are the premium prizes?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine what kind of prize would be declined.

“I’m sorry. I got ahead of myself. All will be explained later. Please feel free to leave your coats in the room on the left then go through to the party in the room on the right. I will see you both later in the evening.”

As we walked into the party, the opulence of the mansion was apparent everywhere I looked. However, the decor couldn’t compete with the sight of the people filling the room, from the most honoured guests through to the waitresses. Particularly the waitresses.

Circulating through the crowd were twenty young women all wearing identical white dresses. The dresses were floor-length and flowing with long sleeves, and from a distance the waitresses looked sophisticated and angelic, an impression that was enhanced by their frequent smiles and confident conversation. Up close, however, the angelic tag wasn’t as easily applied. When one of them approached us with a tray of drinks, it was obvious that the material of her dress was see through. Her white panties were easy to see, and her braless breasts were only partially obscured by the word MACLEOD embroidered in silver thread across her chest.

“Welcome Michael and Jessica,” she said, reading our name tags. “Champagne? It’s nice to see some fresh young faces at this thing. You’re definitely a young twenty, Michael. My name is Brandy, just in case you want to remember it later in the evening.” With that, Brandy wandered off to talk with some other newly arrived guests, leaving Mike and I to exchange a surprised look. It was true that Mike and I were amongst the youngest guests at 24-years-old, but Brandy hadn’t looked much older than a teenager. I could also see that Mike was blushing. I could tell he was embarrassed that the party had turned out to be unexpectedly sordid.

It was the kind of party where people circulated quickly. We met with a huge number of people but didn’t talk with anyone for more than ten minutes. Hamish Macleod himself introduced himself to us and chatted to me about my research job. We noticed too that he greeted us as Mike and Jess rather than Michael and Jessica, demonstrating a great attention to detail. He seemed so genuine that it was difficult to believe that his name was all that was obscuring the naked breasts of his waitresses. I was already struggling to decide whether I still held to my initial reaction that the party was sleazy.

The behaviour of the waitresses was starting to intrigue me. It certainly seemed like they were an important part of the party rather than just staff. They introduced themselves to people and made conversation with them. As they did this, I started to notice that all their names sounded like ‘stripper’ names, such as Angel and Candy. Many of them seemed to know guests from previous parties. They seemed articulate and intelligent, and they came across as self-confident, although in some cases it seemed like bravado. As I watched them talking to other guests, I noticed that many of them would blush if they saw the person looking down at their body. In some ways they seemed genuine and likable, but I also detected an undercurrent that something else was going on. These girls didn’t seem like regular waitresses who had been asked to dress in revealing clothes, nor did they seem like strippers or sex workers being asked to serve food and drinks. My hunch was that they were university students.

Another thing that I noticed was that the girls were mostly speaking with Mike, in some cases to the point where they barely acknowledged my existence. What’s more, they frequently commented on the fact that he was new to them, and that he was young and handsome. Normally I would have found this offensive, seeing young women flaunting their tits and flirting with my husband while I stood beside him, but bizarrely I was feeling something else. They all seemed strangely excited by what they were doing, as if they were there on a dare. I found myself imagining being in their position, waitressing to a roomful of strangers wearing only panties under a see-thought dress. A few of them were even wearing thongs instead of panties. I think thongs are sexy, and I know that Mike does too, but I’ve always found them too uncomfortable. Watching these girls, I started to fantasize about various dare or lost bet scenarios that would put me in their situation. I knew I was getting turned on.

I could see that Mike, bless him, was still feeling awkward about what was happening and was making an extra effort to be attentive. Whenever he noticed me being ignored, he would often put an arm around my waist and find ways of bringing me into the conversation. At one point when we were alone, he reassured me that I shouldn’t hesitate to let him know if I wanted to leave early. However, I could also tell that he was finding the evening exciting. I found myself regretting that we had lost some of the sexiness in our marriage, and that I rarely took the opportunity to be the hot wife of his dreams. I had bought a thong back when I was a teenager, and I put it on a few times at bedtime when I knew it would be taken off minutes later, but I had gone up a dress size since then and hadn’t bothered to replace it. I enjoyed sex, but I had never given myself permission to be sexy or daring in public.