Please don't forget to leave feedback on the stories you read!

Allison's Descent into Slavery Part Three Rewrite

Post Reply
Mr. Smith
Platinum Member
Platinum Member
Posts: 360
Joined: Fri Jul 31, 2020 12:56 am
Gender: Male

Allison's Descent into Slavery Part Three Rewrite

Post by Mr. Smith »

Below is the rewrite to parts of the original story as posted posted here. The rewritten chapters and in some case renumbered chapters were posted on Literotica. Oncce again Carl Bradford kindly edited the story providing feedback. I have some new chapters that I will post on Stripsearch in the near future so this is my attempt to fill the gap. My apologies for not keeping up on this.

Pursuant to the Federal Uniform Slave Code recognized in all fifty states including the State of Texas, when a registered slave is sold to a third party by a licensed slave dealer, such as the Big D Slave Market, the sale and enslavement become irrevocable. That is unless it is found that the buyer, seller and dealer were all acting in bad faith.

The loan agreements require a waiver of rights to a court hearing before foreclosure on a delinquent borrower. The lender only needs to initiate foreclosure proceedings in court by filing a motion accompanied by declaration and documentary evidence generally consisting of the loan contract and proof of three consecutive missed delinquent payments and a judge would sign an order of repossession. Once the order of repossession is filed with the court a delinquent borrower could be taken possession either by a licensed slave catcher or in a licensed slave market and immediately sold on order by the owner, generally the lending institution.

Since I had dutifully made my monthly loan payments there was no way that I could legally be repossessed for defaulting on my loan. This must all be part of the Deluxe Reality Package or so I thought as my pussy tingled out of control.

Whiny Girl and I were brought into a small room by two slave handlers and told to sit down at the table. A man wearing the distinctive Big D polo shirt with Assistant Manager embroidered under the logo with a name tag identifying him as Mack Brown entered and sat down next to a woman. She was a teary-eyed woman around forty-five years old that I recognized as Whiny Girl’s mother. My gag was removed, but not Whiny Girl’s.

“Miss Wilson, your mother pursuant to the authority under the valid power of attorney you signed executed the option for immediate sale for a five year period of involuntary indenture. The Big D lawyers have reviewed the paperwork and it is in order. We will be putting you on the Broadway auction block early this afternoon for sale with the other Prime graded slaves as an involuntary indenture for a period of five years with a ‘No sale/transport out of the US’ clause.” advised Mr. Brown.

“Lindsey, honey, you are actually my niece, we adopted you when you were an infant when your mother passed away in a car accident and raised you as our own. Your sister, I mean your cousin, Amy, is sick and needs a medical procedure and the only way to pay for it is to sell you,” said the woman as Lindsey was shaking her head crying.

“I explored the options for over a month now and this is the best one. I wanted to meet with you face to face and explain why and say I am so, so sorry for doing this,” the woman sobbed as she got up and rushed out of the room.

A shudder went down my spine observing this interaction. It was horrifying to watch this unfold before my eyes. This poor girl had walked into the Big D a free woman for a slave grading, expecting to leave later today as a free woman only to find out that she was to be sold on the auction block in a few short hours. This had to be real, not part of some Deluxe Reality Package. However, what about me? How could my repossession be real? I felt the dread of impending slavery coming back to haunt me.

As Lindsey’s aunt left, a woman in her late twenties wearing a stylish suit dress combination entered the room and sat down next to Mr. Brown. She was six feet tall, a hefty two hundred ten pounds and had bull dyke written all over her.

“Miss Stevens, the Big D has been served with a valid repossession order authorizing repossession and immediate sale of your person. Our lawyers have reviewed the order and accompanying documents and they are legitimate. As such, we will be putting you on the Broadway auction block early this afternoon for sale as an involuntary indenture for a period of five years with a ‘No sale/transport out of the US’ clause. This is Ms. Arbuckle, with the law firm of Jones and Martinez who represents Consolidated Loans Inc. to explain what happened,” advised Mr. Brown.

“Allison, may I call you Allison?” asked the attorney.

I nodded yes.

“My client Consolidated Loans Inc. acquired both your UT and Joffrey student loans when you graduated last spring and in September they proposed consolidating them. When you refinanced and signed the loan consolidation contract back in November you agreed to get slave graded within thirty days as a condition of consolidation. As part of the contract, you agreed to immediately make payments of $668 per month to Consolidated Loans Inc. on the UT loan and that would be the monthly payment for the consolidated loan moving forward. Per the contract, you were required to continue paying the Joffrey loan amount of $386 per month until all of the conditions precedent of the agreement were met. Your failure to get slave graded delayed the loan consolidation and you became delinquent when you stopped paying the Joffrey loan,” advised Ms. Arbuckle.

There was a pause as I tried to absorb what the lawyer was saying while trying not to panic at my current situation.

“You do remember last November agreeing to be slave-graded within thirty days, right?” asked the lawyer.

With a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach, I nodded my head. I had called to advise the Consolidated Loans Inc. representative every time I had procrastinated and rescheduled my slave grading.

“I remember agreeing to be graded in thirty days but when I called Consolidated to extend that date they were fine with it,” I answered blushing in embarrassment. “I wanted to make sure I did not get into trouble with the loans for delaying the grading when I called and they confirmed I was fine.”

“Pursuant to the contract, you had the option to delay the consolidation by not being graded, which is what happened. You did get the six delinquency notices on the Joffrey loan, didn’t you?” she asked.

“I did but I thought they were clerical errors. I called Consolidated after the first one and was told to just pay the new amount of $668 and everything would roll over once I had the grading complete. I was paying the higher amount to Consolidated that was supposed to cover both loans,” I replied in a panicked voice.

This sure sounded real! I am an idiot. My fiancé is a rich lawyer, an heir to the Bedford Holding Company, who offered to look at all the paperwork but being the independent college educated woman that I am, my pride led me to telling him I had it under control. Somehow, I still held a glimmer of hope that this was all part of the Deluxe Reality package.

“The first delinquency notice was an error because it was within the original thirty day window for the slave grading and would roll over if you met the deadline which you did not. There was no clerical error when you did not meet the slave-grading deadline. When you ignored the subsequent five delinquency notices you were repossessed, easy peasy. And now we will sell you and make a substantial profit because you have a Prime slave grade,” replied Ms. Arbuckle with a smirk.

“Mr. Brown, is this all part of the Deluxe Reality Package or is this for real?” I asked, holding out a flicker of hope that this was all part of the package. “If this is real, please do not auction me until you contact Amelia Bedford who holds my claim ticket. She is very wealthy and I am sure she would submit the winning bid.”

“This is very real. Texas law requires a thorough review of any repossession and judicial enslavement to make sure we have all of the correct documentation and that the repossession is valid. The Federal Uniform Slave Code mandates notification to any individual of their enslavement and why, whether by repossession or the decision of the holder of the power of attorney for example, before we sell them,” advised Mr. Brown becoming irritated with my naiveté.

My heart went into overdrive as I heard, “Big D staff has attempted to contact Amelia Bedford who holds your claim check and has power of attorney until the time you are sold. We have been unsuccessful reaching her at the number she left,” informed Mr. Brown.

“There will be no delays. Every piece of prime pleasure slut livestock in our inventory is going on the Broadway auction block at 2:00 p.m. and that includes the two of you. We currently have a shortage of Prime pussy for this auction and a large shipment of replacement livestock is arriving this afternoon to replenish our inventory. Right now, you are inventory, simply a piece of slave pussy to be processed and sold quickly to make room for the next collared slave cunt,” coldly informed Mr. Brown standing up to leave.

“Now for my favorite part, slave kneel,” ordered the lawyer, as she stood up and walked around the table pulling up her skirt revealing muscular thighs and a very hairy pussy.

“The auctioneer will do his best to find each of you a good master this afternoon,” chuckled Mr. Brown, turning to leave.

I was now on my knees faced with my first cunt as Mistress Arbuckle grabbed my hair pulling me forward.

“Get your tongue to work on my twat you stupid slave,” directed the lawyer.

I started tentatively licking her pussy lips when she turned to the handler.

“Hand me your slave goad, this whore needs some motivation,” directed Ms. Arbuckle.

I heard the electric crackling of the activated prod next to my ear. My tongue went into overdrive licking her cunt, tongue fucking her hole and then up to her clit to lick and suck on it. Her taste was tart but bearable, having nothing to compare it to as I lost my lesbian virginity.

Turning to the two slave handlers as he left the room, Mr. Brown directed, “Take them to the Broadway holding pen as soon as the lawyer is done with this slave and make sure the auctioneer knows they are going into the chute for sale in the first afternoon auction. That is when our high rollers will be present,” as the door closed behind him.

And then it got worse, Mistress Arbuckle pulled my head away and turned around pulling her cheeks apart.

“Get that pretty little tongue to work on my rosebud,” she growled.

The slave handler laughing pushed my head into her ass and tapped me on my ass with his slave goad. I noticed when she turned around that the other slave handler had his cock in Lindsey’s mouth and I could hear her gagging. There was an earthy gritty taste, I mean it really just tasted like ass as I started slobbering all over her rosebud

“Tongue-fuck my ass you skank,” she ordered, and I obliged.

I felt like I was going to puke as I went to work sticking my tongue up her Hershey Highway.

“I love getting tongued by someone I enslaved right after they find out. You stupid bitch, you didn’t read the agreement. Too stupid to be free, you belong in a collar. For the next five years all you will be good for is eating ass,” she rambled, the whole time I ate her back door.

Pushing my head away, Mistress Arbuckle turned around and presented me with her pussy again. Pulling my head into her cunt she ordered, “Whore, I am a squirter so when I tell you to open your mouth you open it wide and I am going to squirt into your mouth and all over your face. You will swallow all of it.”

Enthusiastically I went to work on her pussy, after her ass it tasted like candy. I could hear Lindsey choking in the background as the first handler grunted unloading in her mouth. Why was my pussy drenched, tingling in arousal, as Mistress Arbuckle used me for her pleasure? If my hands were not handcuffed behind my back there was no doubt in my mind that I would have been diddling myself chasing another orgasm from the physical and verbal abuse from the lawyer. What was wrong with me?

The lawyer’s running narrative continued, “Did you really go to college? Bet you slept your way through, too stupid to actually pass a class. Cunt, Whore, Slut, Bitch, Stupid Slave, Tramp, Slave Cunt… You are going to go to the auction block with my taste in your mouth to remind you who put you there, you ignorant little slave cunt.”

“Open wide,” she yelled, as she pulled my head back, and proceeded to squirt three times into my mouth and all over my face.

I heard Lindsey slurping on the second handler’s cock. In my peripheral vision I caught glimpses of him in a hurry face fucking her hard, holding her head with a handful of hair as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Good little slave cunt,” Mistress Arbuckle cooed, seeing me swallow as she straightened out her clothing.

“This is your new life, you stupid slave. I like feeling a warm wet tongue in my asshole. Free women that I date for some reason will not lick my asshole so I get something like you to do it because it feels good to me and I do not have to worry if you want to or not. I do not have to care if you like it because all that matters is I enjoy your tongue massaging my sphincter. Your body is just the vessel for that tongue I want in my ass to make me feel good. For the next five years you get to perform the sexually disgusting acts that dignified free women refuse to do and that you would not even consider if you were free because now as a slave you have no choice in the matter,” lectured the attorney.

Then she laughed saying, “And the disgusting part of it is that most of you pleasure sluts actually start to enjoy it to the point that you even begin to look forward to it!”

I was on my knees, hands cuffed behind my back, my face glistening with her juices, grappling with this turn of events. I was a slave about to be sold. The slavery horror stories started running rampant through my mind. Where was Amelia!

“Let me help you with your block routine. When you first get on the block and fall to your knees I want you to proclaim, ‘Slavery is my destiny’ followed by, ‘Please buy me Master.’ Now chant it three times,” ordered Mistress Arbuckle.

“Slavery is my Destiny, Please buy me Master, Slavery is my Destiny, Please buy me Master, Slavery is my Destiny, Please buy me Master,” I obediently recited.

“When you are ordered to stand, kneel, backhands, anything from now on you will announce, Slavery is my Destiny, Please buy me Master. Stand,” Mistress Arbuckle directed.

I stood up with my legs spread shoulder width apart announcing, “Slavery is my Destiny, Please buy me Master.”

Lindsey was gagging again as the second handler grunted unloading in her mouth and then wiping his cock on her face leaving a trail of semen from right under her nose to her left cheek below the ear.

The attorney ran her hand over my pussy and waved her fingers, glistening with my juice, in front of my face.

“You do not understand yourself or what you are. Look at my fingers; you are dripping wet after I made you eat my ass and pussy. You are a submissive that will only be happy serving a master, your true soul is calling for the collar,” she snickered.

She took my bite gag and rubbed it all over her pussy and ass.

“I want you to remember me,” she said, jamming it into my mouth and securing it firmly in place.

“Perfect, is that your grin because you like my taste?” she taunted me. “Was my pussy your first?”

Ms. Arbuckle laughed cruelly when I nodded yes.

“Between now and when you land on your knees on the block I want you chanting ‘Slavery is my Destiny, Please buy me Master’ in your head to remind you what to say when your knees hit the sand on the block.”

Turning to the handler she laughingly stated, “I love leaving a new slave with my juice all over her face when it is her first taste of pussy. Just marking my territory on a fresh slave cunt.”

After creaming all over my face and inserting her juiced bite gag in my mouth, she straightened up her clothing and giggled, “I think we are done here.” She turned, collected her file and walked out of the room leaving me standing with her juice glistening all over my face and a bad taste in my mouth as the reality of her life lesson on my new station in society sunk in.

After she left, a slave handler attached Lindsey’s leash to my collar and took my leash, leading us out of the room with my face covered in pussy juice and Lindsey with her trail of splooge on face. He was kind enough to stop by a bathroom grate so we could pee, squatting together with Lindsey’s tits in my back and her head resting on my shoulder as we took care of business over the grate in the floor. Poor Lindsey looked like she was still in shock trying to comprehend what had just happened to her.

My first thoughts were that I was so screwed. I had been repo’d although I still somehow held out hope that this was all part of the Deluxe Reality package. Either way I was going to auction in less than sixty minutes. I had a sinking feeling that the repo was real. Where was Amelia? Why wasn’t she answering her phone? I recalled she said she had a spa appointment and would be away from her phone for a while.

Then I noticed that my nipples were as hard as diamonds and my pussy was dripping again. The slave heat in this building was infectious. I should be terrified, but instead I was more aroused than ever. What is wrong with me?

The slave handler led us to a room that was the holding area for the Broadway auction block. The auctioneer took one look at us, me with drying pussy juice all over my face and Lindsey with her splooge streak, and yelled for someone to make us presentable. A couple of women cleaned up my face, brushed out my hair, gave me some water, and then did the same for Lindsey. She and I shared a brief hug while being cleaned up. After looking at a computer notebook, the auctioneer came back.

“Do you have any ballet moves in your block routine?” he asked.

When I nodded he ordered, “Show me,” as he stepped back giving me some room.

The block routine I regularly performed for Calum as his little slave girl had one move in particular that he always loved.

“I have a pirouette that I do that I transition into a tilt move with my right leg followed by a double tilt pirouette, Master. This is the tilt move,” I replied.

I raised my right leg 180 degrees from my left leg with the knee bent toes on my right foot pointing to the ground. Now blushing profusely holding my arms over my head I then straightened my right leg until the toe pointed to the ceiling, my wet cunt and ass lewdly exposed. With my right hand, I grabbed my right foot and ran two fingers from my left hand through my dripping pussy lips, scooping pussy juice, showing him my wet fingers and lowering my foot to the ground.

“Master, I need to do some stretches before I do a pirouette in the tilt position again,” I advised.

He laid two fingers in the crack of my ass and told me to flex and when I squeezed his fingers hard.

“Ever crack a walnut with your ass? I cannot recall ever seeing an ass as magnificent as yours,” he asked, as my cheeks held his fingers firmly in place.

“Never tried it before, Master.” I giggled.

He then explained what he wanted me to do on stage, what his expectations were and warned me that he had a whip and would use it if I froze or did not follow his commands. He then directed me to drink some water, do my stretches to get ready and keep playing with my pussy so I was slave hot on the block. He concluded that I was the hottest pleasure slut for sale today, he was confident that I would nail my block routine and that I would find my time on the block a sexually exhilarating experience that I would never forget. Most importantly I would get the good master that I deserved.

I was all pumped up to perform my routine perfectly after his pep talk during which he sounded genuinely concerned for me. I felt so fortunate to have this man selling me today.

The next forty-five minutes went by in a flash. I hydrated, completed my stretching routine, and practiced my tilt moves. I focused on my performance, shutting out what was happening around me. My pussy was dripping without diddling myself, but the handlers kept urging us all to lather up.

All of a sudden the slave wranglers were lining us up and then we were crammed into this dark chute with Lindsey right in front of me. It smelled like wet pussy in there with my tits pressed into Lindsey’s back in front of me. Sandy was behind me, her large breasts crushed against my back, she kept hitting my ass with her hand as she furiously masturbated. I started diddling myself, accidentally climaxed in the line, and then started working up for the next one, carefully edging myself so that I would be on the verge of another climax when it was my turn to run onto the auction block.

I did reach around and give Lindsey a hug as I whispered in her ear, “You are strong, we will be ok, maybe the same master will buy us both.” I now had a feeling of kinship with her based on our shared experience and believed it was mutual. She nodded and reached back with her left hand and patted my thigh in thanks, I grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze and then she was gone.

Next thing I know I was next up, standing in the dark, playing with my wet cunt to the sounds and smells of the other girls masturbating behind me, staring at the door in front of me, a naked Sandy still pushing behind, her large tits in my back, her hand rubbing against my ass as she diddles herself.

My impression was that for Natasha being sold on the auction block was one of the most memorable sexually exhilarating experiences of her life. I remembered Natasha describing her experience rolling in the sand on the auction block. How she recalled the distinctive smell and feel of the sand on her body on the auction block. Her vivid recollection of her orgasm squirting in the sand while performing her block routine.

Would it be the same for me I wondered, as I massaged my soaking wet cunt with one hand while squeezing a nipple? Groaning in frustration I waited while my slave heat smoldered near the boiling point as the smells and sounds overwhelmed my senses. How will this day be seared into this slave cunt’s memory I marveled?

Suddenly, crude words like “tits,” “cunt,” and “ass” seemed natural to describe myself as a slave. Ever since I polished the pussy post this morning in front of my future mother-in-law my arousal had been increasing exponentially until now, when I felt that all my sexual energy was ready to explode. I realized at that moment that I too would climax in the sand while being sold. I again wondered, what is wrong with me?

The gate sprung open in front of me and I was blinded by the light as I moved forward through the door. A slave wrangler slapped me hard on my ass to get me moving. Next thing I was running onto the auction block.

As I approached the stage, I performed a graceful Grand Jete with both legs completely extended, toes pointed; with the split its widest at the height of the arc of my jump. I was breathing in as my legs were fully extended to increase the height and appearance of flying before landing in the center of the block on two feet. I smoothly assumed the slave kneel position to the applause, jeers, and laughs of the audience.

“Slavery is my destiny, Please buy me Master,” I loudly proclaimed.

I held the slave kneel position with my knees wide apart displaying my wet cunt. Looking out I was in a large theater with 400-500 people in the audience. The auctioneer introduced me as a Yankee ballerina from the Joffrey School of Ballet.

“Present,” he commanded.

I gracefully moved into position, legs shoulder width apart, hands behind my head, where I again loudly announced, “Slavery is my destiny, Please buy me Master.”

The auctioneer then started promoting my exquisitely sculpted ass as he directed me to turn around.

“Display,” he ordered.

I smoothly bent over with my head between my knees keeping my legs straight as my long hair fell into the sand. The auctioneer then described how he believed my strong firm cheeks could crack a walnut as he left the auctioneer’s stand and approached me, walnut in hand.

“The walnut or the whip,” he whispered to me, as he leaned over me placing the walnut right on my rosebud between my exquisite buttocks.

I had read that some people obtained superhuman strength under stressful circumstances when their adrenaline was pumping. I raised my upper body moving into a kneeling position to get a better grip and flexed my cheeks as hard as I could. A camera projected my face on the screen above the auction block as I focused on the task at hand as the crowd quieted in anticipation. Alas, my adrenaline fueled super strength failed me and despite my best efforts the walnut remained intact.

“Slave Fours,” the auctioneer commanded.

The auctioneer plucked the undamaged walnut from between my cheeks and slapped my ass hard with his other hand.

“I thought she would be the one with those buns of steel,” he proclaimed, returning to the podium.

Unbeknownst to me the auctioneer had accomplished his goal of focusing the buying audience’s attention on my most spectacular asset, leaving me in slave fours with a red handprint on my right ass cheek.

Then he flicked his whip in the sand commanding, “Pirouette, ballerina.”

I jumped to my feet and performed the best pirouette that I could in my bare feet in the sand. I then transitioned to my tilt move, staying on my left toe facing the audience. I raised my right leg 180 degrees from my left leg with the knee bent, toes on my right foot pointing to the ground. Holding my arms over my head, I then straightened my right leg until the toe pointed to the ceiling, my wet cunt and ass lewdly exposed to the audience. With my right hand, I grabbed my right foot and performed another pirouette, holding this indecent position to the raucous cheers of the crowd.

After completing two rotations, I stopped, facing the crowd. Running two fingers from my left hand through my dripping pussy lips, I scooped up a profuse amount of pussy juice then brought my fingers to my mouth. I sucked them in my mouth and then pulled them out, licking them with my tongue to ensure I captured every drop all while holding the tilt position.

“I am so wet for you master,” I proclaimed.

Unable to hold the tilt position any longer I dropped to the kneeling position to start my block moves. The whole time the auctioneer was soliciting bids.

With a seductive look on my face I pleaded, “Master, may I please suck your big cock?” I then flipped over to slave fours, looking over my right shoulder to the audience with my naughty look and slapped my firm picturesque buns of steel hard twice, making a loud smacking sound while reddening my ass cheeks.

“Spank me when I’m bad, spank me haaaard,” I said in my naughty voice, while giving myself one more hard spank.

I then dropped my face and tits into the sand, spreading my knees far apart to lewdly expose my leaking cunt and rosebud chanting, “Master, fuck this horny slave in her dripping wet cunt. Jam your big hard cock up my tight ass and fuck me hard,” while furiously masturbating.

“Let me cum with you, creaming all over your cock as you flood me with your cum,” I pleaded, after I flipped over onto my back feverishly working my clit and fondling my breasts.

The humiliation of exposing myself in such an obscene way in front of hundreds of people was incredibly arousing. Seeing stars and flashes of color before my eyes I shuddered, squirting copious amounts of fluid out into the sand in front of me, cumming hard in the most intense orgasm of my life as I collapsed, the memory of this orgasm seared into my memory.

The auctioneer brought me out of my reverie when he flicked my right breast with his whip.

“Slave kneel,” he ordered.

The rest of my auction occurred in a blur responding instinctively to his orders as the bidding continued, “Squat,” “Present,” “Display,” “Slave Fours, “Flip Over,” “Sold,” and the gavel came down with a loud “Crack.” I had been sold! Is this for real!

I listened for the auctioneer to announce, “This is an Any Chance sale and the time starts now.” But it never came. I had actually been sold! I was now a slave!

“Who bought me? Where was Amelia? Does she even know I had been repossessed by the bank? What happens now?” I wondered standing in the sand in a daze.

Then I saw myself on the television monitor covered in sand. It was everywhere on me. In my hair, on my feet, stuck to my legs, knees, breasts and arms. There were particularly large clumps around my pussy, which was visibly wet and starting to drip down my thighs again. I could feel the sand in between my toes, in the crack of my ass, in my pussy and tasted it in my mouth.

I was standing there panting while blushing in humiliation, stupidly looking around with a ‘what now’ expression on my face. I had a vacant sex-crazed look in my eyes; I had become the total pleasure slut that Amelia envisioned when she encouraged me to embrace the slave experience while I was here. The stupid, slutty slave whore that brazenly masturbates until she squirts hard in the sand while being sold.

I was still coming down from the most intense orgasm of my young life as it dawned on me that I was not playing a slave girl anymore. This was real and I had been sold. Yet still I was sexually aroused, wanting more, like the little slave girl that I role played for Calum. What was happening to me? Had the submissive that Amelia saw hidden within me broken free?

Then two slave wranglers approached me as the auctioneer slapped my ass, propelling me towards them and reality hit hard, someone owned me now. One slave wrangler held a slave goad in his hand, waving it in front of my face as he turned it on to send me a very clear message.

“Back hands,” ordered the other slave wrangler.

I quickly complied, putting my hands behind my back and the next thing I knew I was in handcuffs connected with a small chain that easily clipped onto my collar. My hands were secured in the middle of my back, well above my ass.

“Your ass is all mine if you misbehave,” said the slave wrangler as he slapped my ass with his whip.

“Open that slut mouth nice and big for me,” ordered the wrangler as he pulled out a bite gag.

When I opened my mouth, he jammed the bite gag into my mouth, pulling it secure into the back of my jaw and locking it in place. It was a foul-tasting piece of industrial rubber that tasted like it had never been washed, complete with the teeth marks from previous owners.

The clerk of the auctioneer reached over, using some tool to remove my blue ballerina cattle tag from my ear. He then put a sticker with a bar code on an orange “sold” cattle tag and attached it to my other ear. The sting brought me back to my senses, reminding me again that I had been sold as a slave. I was merchandise, a commodity, a piece of livestock, not a person anymore.

The wranglers marched me to the edge of the stage, picked me up by my arms and lowered me over the edge where another slave wrangler reached up, grabbing me by my armpits and lowered me to a concrete floor. He attached a leash to my collar and led me off as the auctioneer was introducing the next slave for sale. He pulled me around the front of the stage, through a door and then through a second door. I had thought that things could not get worse, but it quickly got real.

My descent into slavery truly became a nightmare when I was confronted by hot air and the stench of burning flesh and urine. I was shoved into the room and secured to a pole by the door. In front of me was the branding bench, occupied by the bound struggling Lindsey who had gone out the chute before me.

“This one gets it on the left cheek,” advised one wrangler as he carefully cleaned the sand off her left butt cheek.

The other wrangler was waiving the hot brand in front of the face of the terrified Lindsey.

“Do you think it’s hot enough to get a good sizzle?” he teased her.

I could not see Lindsey’s face but her head pulled away from the brand as she squeaked out a protest. Tears flooded down her cheeks running to the ground. He then put it back in the fire while another wrangler proceeded to wipe down her left buttock with an antiseptic pad.

Seeing the slave’s buttock was ready, the wrangler pulled out the brand, strode behind her and got himself into position. Without any hesitation, he lined up the brand with her exposed buttock and applied it to her unprotected flesh. There was an audible sizzle, the smell of burnt flesh, and a muffled cry from Lindsey, whereupon her bladder released and she urinated into a grate in the ground below her. Her body was frozen as tight and rigid as could be. Smoke curled up off the skin around the brand. The wrangler removed the brand from Lindsey’s soft flesh, leaving behind a large discolored burn of the Big D logo seared into her left buttock.

The wrangler promptly replaced the brand into the fire for later use. Next, he patted the head of the semi-conscious Lindsey, trying to revive her. The other wrangler wiped an ointment from a bottle onto the injured flesh. He then proceeded to spray a bandage onto the wound using an aerosol can. After tending to the wound, the wranglers released the poor girl from the branding station and helped her to her feet. When she collapsed, they carried her out of the room.

The odor of burned flesh and urine, which permeated that room, would haunt me forever. I knew that nothing in my short life had prepared me for the pain that I was about to experience. I felt the wranglers quickly strap me into the branding bench with my ass up in the air.

“On the left cheek,” declared a wrangler.

No thanks to Amelia, I knew exactly what that meant. The sand was cleaned off and then the antiseptic wipe felt oddly cold as it cleansed my left buttock.

The wranglers were not rubbing in any of the special pre-branding cream as described by Cindy that was used for the Trial Branding program. This was going to be a permanent brand! Tears of panic streamed down my cheeks as I unsuccessfully struggled to free myself and squealed through the gag. The wrangler pulled the brand out of the fire, walked behind me and readied himself to inflict the brand.

I felt the heat emanating off of the brand as the wrangler positioned it behind me. Then the searing heat initiated pain that screamed through every cell in my body unlike anything I had ever felt before. It felt like the brand was pressed into my sensitive flesh for days while in reality I knew it was only seconds. I felt the breath knocked out of my lungs and heard a shrill moan escape my lips through the bite stick as I tried to chew through it. I felt tears flowing down my cheeks as I peed into the grate below, my vision blurred.

“Breathe, take a deep breath,” I heard a wrangler say as I felt a hand on my head shaking me back to full consciousness.

The permanence of the Big D brand burned into my buttock drove home the finality of my enslavement for me. There was no way Amelia would ever brand me like this. No longer did I harbor any doubt that I had actually been sold as the sudden dread overwhelmed me. But to whom?

A cool ointment was spread on my injury dampening the pain, followed by the application of an aerosol bandage. Strong hands pulled me to my feet as tears continued to stream down my face. I took a step forward and faltered. They grabbed my arms, helping me regain my balance as I took another step.

I was led out of the room and down the hall to an enclosure full of recently sold, and in most cases, branded slaves. My wrangler removed my bite stick, un-cuffed my hands, handed me a bottle of water and pushed me into the holding pen. Inside I found Lindsey and I drank some water and then we hugged. There was so much I wanted to say to Lindsey but at that moment all we could do was stand there hugging, comforting each other in a silent embrace, shedding tears on each other’s shoulders.

(to be continued)
These users thanked the author Mr. Smith for the post (total 4):
Carl BradfordJustBobjeepsterreddbunnz

Post Reply