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I know a few people from the scene, and we chat as I sip my orange juice. I get a few compliments on my outfit, and when I tell old friends what I'm doing here tonight, they raise their eyebrows and rub their hands together in anticipation. I wander around, watch a stunningly beautiful young man yelp and yowl with pleasure as a dominatrix who's twice his age and half his size inserts a butt plug with a ponytail on it up his ass and twists it, stimulating him until he begs for mercy. In another dark corner, a gloriously, unashamedly fat woman sits on another girl's face while a man fucks her in her pussy. I feel free, blessed to have access to this place where anything goes. The motto here is that if another adult consents to it, you can do it, and my eyes take in dozens of adults who are not only consenting but begging for sex, for attention, for torture. I'd love to reach out and touch some of these players, to join in the games, but tonight I must restrain myself. I look at my watch, the hands just visible in the flickering half-light. It's eleven thirty, half an hour until the main event begins, the event in which I will take part, in which I may even star.

At the stroke of midnight, the chimes of a grand-father clock start clanging, and the club falls silent. We all know what this means: At midnight, the slave auction begins. Various men and women are offering themselves as slaves for the next four hours to the highest bidder, agreeing to relinquish control of their body to another. The bidder can be male or female, and the winner gets to use and abuse his or her slave until one-or both-parties end up begging for mercy. And I have put myself up for auction. We're raising money for a local sex workers' charity, and although it's great that someone benefits, my primary motivation is self-gratification. To be at the mercy of a stranger all night, to relinquish all power and hand over my body for pleasure and pain-oh God, I'd pay good money for that. I'd give up all my money for that.

The girl with the clipboard ushers me to the side of the stage. I'm always nervous before I surrender control of my body, even though I know the results will be orgasmic. It's not fear as much as an adrenaline rush and an impatience to be done with the formalities and get down to it-to start fucking-now. The club's MC, who will act as auctioneer for the evening, takes to the podium in the center of the stage. His name is Leroy, and I've known him for a few years. He's beautiful, a mixed-race dancer with shorn brown hair and perfect skin. I've had a crush on him since I first set eyes on him, but I'm pretty sure he's gay. Tonight he's showing off his ripped dancer's body in a pair of skintight lederhosen, which outline his generous cock and balls, and workman's boots. As I take my place on the stage, I give him a playful slap on the ass and whisper that it's a shame he's doing the auction and not out there as a buyer. I'd love to have some time alone with Leroy, to have his brown body bend my white one to his will, especially because I hear he's a really evil master. But as I scan the crowd that has gathered in front of the platform, I realize that tonight the place is packed full of sexy, glamorous people, many of whom, like me, work in the city and earn six-figure salaries. There's gonna be a lot of money raised tonight, and the successful bidders will want value for their money. The play tonight is going to be extreme. I resist the temptation to fondle my rock-hard nipples through my peephole bra.

To distract myself, I look around at the other slaves waiting by the side of the stage, and we all smile our hellos to each other. Tonight there are three women, including me, and three guys up for auction. While Leroy announces the auction, explaining the rules and talking about the charity angle, the clipboard girl chains us all together at the ankle and wrist with heavy iron handcuffs that weigh my arms down by my sides and bite into the flesh of my leg-my first taste of pain this evening. Just the knowledge that it's too late to back out now is thrilling. The six of us are led up onto the stage to cheers and whoops from the audience. I am last in the chain. I exchange a glance with my fellow slaves; like me, they're all glassy-eyed and breathing hard, nervous yet exhilarated at the same time, each of us hoping to be chosen by a strict, disciplined master.

Leroy casts an admiring glance at us before beginning his auctioneer patter. He starts at the opposite end of the chain. It looks like I'll be up last. That's fine by me; I love standing here, pussy throbbing, nipples on display for all to see. The longer I stand here, the more excited I'll be when I'm finally released. And it gives whoever buys me time to think up lots of new and exciting things to do with me.

"Lot one is Andre," says Leroy, describing a well-built guy in his late thirties. "A real bear of a man, but he loves nothing more than being dominated by a skinny guy."