Allison's Descent into Slavery Part Three, Reality kicks her Slave Heat into Overdrive

[Mr. Smith]

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

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

The auctioneer then started promoting my exquisitely sculpted ass as he directed me to turn around, ordering, “Display,” as I smoothly bent over with my head between my knees keeping my legs straight. 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 ass cheeks.

I had always 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. Alas, my adrenaline fueled super strength failed me and the walnut remained intact. “Slave Fours,” the auctioneer commanded. He pulled the undamaged walnut from between my cheeks and slapped my ass hard with his other hand proclaiming, “I thought she would be the one with that ass,” as he returned 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 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 pulling them out, licking them with my tongue to ensure I captured every drop all while holding the tilt position. I then proclaimed, “I am so wet for you master.” 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 buns. In my naughty voice, “Spank me when I’m bad, spank me haaaard.” I gave myself one more hard spank and then dropped my face and tits into the sand, spreading my knees far apart to lewdly expose my cunt and rosebud. While furiously masturbating I chanted, “Master, fuck this horny slave in her dripping tight cunt. Jam your big hard cock up my tight ass and fuck me hard.” I then flipped over onto my back feverishly working my clit and fondling my breasts pleading, “Let me cum with you, cream all over your cock as you flood me with your cum.” The humiliation of exposing myself in such an obscene way in front of hundreds of people was incredibly arousing. I shuddered, squirting copious amounts of fluid out into the sand in front of me and cumming hard in the most intense orgasm of my life as I collapsed.

The auctioneer brought me out of my reverie when he flicked my right breast with his whip and ordered, “Slave kneel.” 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. “Who bought me? Where was Amelia? Does she even know I have been repossessed by the bank? What happens now?” I wondered.

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? 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. The other slave wrangler ordered, “Back hands.” 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. The slave wrangler slapped my ass with his whip saying, “Your ass is all mine if you misbehave.” Then he pulled out a bite gag and ordered, “Open that slut mouth nice and big for me.” 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 in my ear. He then put a sticker with a bar code on an orange “sold” cattle tag and attached it to the same 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, 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 hell 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. I heard one slave wrangler speaking, “This one gets it on the left cheek,” as he carefully cleaned the sand off the her left butt cheek while the other wrangler was waiving the hot brand in front of the face of the terrified Lindsey, asking, “Do you think its hot enough to get a good sizzle?” as he teased her. I could not see her 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 branded on 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. One wrangler declared, “On the left cheek.” 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. 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 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 being 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.

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

A few minutes later Bobby, the slave handler that was in the room with me and the lawyer opened the holding cell door, called out, “CZ-3927 and CZ-3933.” Lindsey and I stood up and walked towards him he ordered, “Back hands.” I promptly turned around, placing my hands behind my back where he rapidly handcuffed them. He swiftly compared my cattle tag and my freshly tattooed SIN to his paperwork. He performed the same procedure with Lindsey and then led us to the shipping bay.

En route he pulled us into a break room commanding, “Kneel sluts. I need to feed you a late lunch,” as he pulled out his erect six inch cock. “This will be my first on-the-job blow job and I get two cum hungry slave sluts sharing my cock,” he bragged to himself.

Pulling us together with Lindsey on my right he grabbed us by the hair. “Lick the shaft,” he commanded as he directed our tongues along his shaft. Lindsey and I were nose to nose moving up and down his thin shaft. Our tongues frequently touched on the underside of his cock as we licked up and down his rod.

“Both of you lick the head together,” and our tongues danced together over his mushroom.

“French kiss,” he commanded as he pushed our mouths together-- I kissed my first girl and I liked it.

Sensing we were enjoying our kiss too much he roughly grabbed my head commanding, “Open wide and gag on it,” as he preceded to face-fuck me. After four hard thrusts he pulled out and aimed at Lindsey. Calum’s cock was bigger so I had no problem accommodating his little cock.

“Your turn, bitch,” he laughed as he started face-fucking her. I watched her gagging on his cock with spittle dripping off her chin; clearly she did not have my experience getting face fucked playing little slave girl. Then it was my turn as he went back and forth between us.

“Hold your mouths open, I am sharing my load with both of you since you both missed lunch,” he laughed, pulling his cock out of my mouth as he started jacking off. His first squirt went right into my mouth. It was thick and salty.

“Keep your mouth open and do not swallow,” he commanded as he shot his second blast onto my face; his string of cum running from my forehead down between my eyes onto the right side of my nose down onto my cheek. “You look good wearing my splooge,” he laughed.

The next shot went on Lindsey’s face, hitting her on the left side of her nose down her cheek dripping off her jaw line. Then he stuck his penis into her mouth.

“Suck the rest of it out of my cock you whore, do not swallow, hold your mouth open and show me the jism like a good little slave when I pull out,” he directed, finishing in her mouth.

When he finally pulled his limp prick out of Lindsey’s mouth we were both on our knees, handcuffed, mouths open showing him the cum, adorned with it on our faces.

“Swallow,” he commanded and I happily complied, getting it out of my mouth.

“Lick it all off each other’s faces and hold your mouths open showing it to me, you first,” he said pointing at me.

I leaned into Lindsey sticking my tongue out. Starting on her chin, I worked my way up to the side of her nose and sucked all of the cum along with some particles of sand off her face. Turning my head towards the handler I held my mouth open showing him my prize.

“Your turn, and get it all,” he said pointing at Lindsey. She had to work harder since there was more on my face with the string of cum running from my jaw all the way onto my forehead. Her tongue felt nice on my face and she managed to not get any into my eyes for which I was thankful. Finally she collected all of it and sat back on her heels holding her mouth open.

“Now I want you to French kiss again sharing my splooge,” he directed. Once again I was kissing Lindsey trying to enjoy it as we shared his cum between the two of us. I was tingling from my nipples to my dripping wet pussy while again thinking what was wrong with me?

“Swallow it now, suck my splooge out of each other’s mouths until it is all gone,” he directed and we complied. Once we had swallowed the cum the kissing became much more pleasant.

“You are real sluts getting hot tongue-wrestling for my splooge,” he snickered. “Both of you have your high beams on and your cunts are leaking,” he observed as the door to the break room opened and two huge slave wranglers walked in.

“Looks like Bobby is sampling the merchandise,” laughed George, a large blonde with a crew cut and acne scarred face forty something with a dad body. “And the bitches smell like they are in slave heat,” as he smelled our arousal leaking from our cunts.

“Let’s show him how it’s done,” responded Fred, a shorter, stocky bald black man in his mid thirties. “You see Bobby, the one thing free women rarely accept is taking it in the poop chute, but a slave slut just gets to enjoy it when I slam my salami up her winking starburst,” he explained as he pulled out his cock, grabbed me by the hair as I opened my mouth knowing what he expected as he shoved his cock in and I started servicing him, looking him in the eyes longingly like a good pleasure slut. I heard Lindsey gagging as George filled her mouth.

“You need to make sure you do not damage the sold merchandise so you need plenty of lube,” advised George pulling a tube out of his pocket. “I always use a flavored lube like this peppermint one.”

“Throw me that lube,” said Fred as he pulled me to my feet by my hair and bent me over the table, kicking the chair out of the way. “Start begging me to fuck your dirtbox, you skanky cunt. You have no choice now but to take it in the shitter,” he sneered as he jammed two lubed fingers up my butt and started rotating them, lubing me for his big prick.

“Master, fuck my back door, pound me with your big cock, take my virgin asspussy, train my asscunt to please you master, make me a good slave and fuck me hard,” I begged, feeling the table shudder as Lindsey was slammed right next to me. She looked at me with a terrified look on her tear-stained face.

“Relax your asshole, push out like you are going to the bathroom, it goes better,” I whispered to her, making eye contact while the men bantered.

“Slap,” Fred hit my right butt cheek hard. “Stop your yakking,” he commanded as I felt him lining up his cock with my rosebud while taking the two lubed fingers from his right hand, the same ones he had used on my asshole, rubbing them under my nose and then sticking them into my mouth like a fish hook and viciously pulling my head back to the right.

“Hope you enjoy that Dirty Sanchez I gave you to remember me by, when I use the peppermint lube it’s called a Dirty Santa,” explained Fred. “Your rusty wagon wheel better be ready for my cock.”

“Please master, fuck my hot wet cunt. I’ve never taken a cock in my ass,” begged a panicking Lindsey.

“You stupid slave, only free women can say no. Your body is no longer yours, it is nothing more than a cum receptacle to be used for my pleasure,” responded George. “You are too stupid to be free. Learn to serve your betters, bitch, your back passage is mine,” as Lindsey continued to plead and the massive wrangler wormed two lubed fingers into her asshole.

“I like to fish hook them good when I drive my cock into their cinnamon ring,” Fred laughed, pulling back again on my right cheek. As he drove his cock balls deep into me, it felt like a red hot poker tunneling in as I squealed in surprise. Lindsey let out a loud shriek into my ear as she lost her anal virginity to George.

“You give her about thirty seconds to get used to your cock and then you start fucking her hard letting her know who is in charge. Remember, your break is only fifteen minutes long so you are fucking to cum fast. Who gives a damn if the cum dump of a slave enjoys it?” explained Fred releasing my mouth and grabbing my hips as he started pounding my butt hard.

My asshole burned in pain as he forced his cock deep in my rectum. When he started pumping his prick, the burning sensation transitioned from pain to a mixture of pain and pleasure and then finally to pure pleasure. I now actually missed the pain. I need more pain, spank me, spank me; I thought not realizing that my slave heat was taking over.

“Spank me, spank me hard, spank your naughty slave,” I groaned out loud not believing that those words emanated from my mouth as the slave heat engulfed me. For the thousandth time, what is wrong with me?

Damn if it didn’t start feeling really good as my pussy started tingling as I ground my erect nipples on the tabletop pushing back while trying to rub my clit on the edge of the table. What was I doing, trying to cum as this man brutally spanked and sodomized me?

“Switch,” called out Fred as he and George traded places. George wasted no time jamming his cock up my ass as I loudly shrieked. His cock was really thick, but not as long as Fred’s. Turning my head to look at Lindsey, I saw that she was sobbing as Fred pulverized her asshole.

“Thwap, Thwap, Thwap,” I heard and felt George picking up where Fred left off, spanking my right ass cheek. I was certain it had turned bright red.

“Kiss me, focus on my lips,” I said as I leaned in towards Lindsey trying to distract her. She leaned forward and our lips locked as I jammed my tongue into her mouth and she responded in kind.

“Looks like we have two tramps in slave heat here,” laughed Fred as the tingling in my cunt grew. My clit finally hit the edge of the table just right as I blasted off with my lips locked to Lindsey’s as my sphincter started choking George’s cock and my cunt squirted onto the table.

“High five dude,” yelled Fred, “You just made her cream with your cock up her puckered browneye while spanking her, what a slut.” I heard a loud “SLAP” as their hands connected.

My orgasm triggered George as he moaned, “Yessssssss, best leather cheerio I’ve fucked this year,” as I felt him dumping ropes of hot jism deep into my colon. When he stopped unloading in my guts, he pulled out.

“Bobby, this is why we use flavored lube,” he advised as he grabbed my hair pulling me off the table, breaking my lip lock with Lindsey and pushing me to my knees. “Clean my cock cunt,” he commanded as he jammed the slimy cock into my mouth. I gagged on the mixed taste of peppermint and ass. Once I was over the shock I quickly sucked him clean, hoping to get his cock out of my mouth.

“With the flavored lube these sluts clean your cock quicker, remember you only have a fifteen minute break,” advised George, panting trying to catch his breath.

“This Butt Pirate is burying his treasure where the sun don’t shine after digging deep into this slut’s dookie hole,” announced Fred as he thrust into Lindsey and held his cock deep within her bowels, depositing a cache of sperm while I finished cleaning George. Fred roughly pulled Lindsey off the table, throwing her to her knees. She was in uncomprehending shock as Fred lined up his dirty cock with her mouth.

“Master, please let me suck your slimy cock clean,” I begged crawling over to him pushing Lindsey aside knowing that she was too out of it in no condition to obey.

“Who am I to deny a pleasure slut in slave heat the satisfaction of cleaning my cock,” he proclaimed. Smiling, he shoved his filthy cock into my mouth once again with the mixed flavor sensation of peppermint and ass as Lindsey looked on in relief. I made quick work cleaning his cock hoping to get it out of my mouth.

“Bobby, you need to do some anal carnage in one of these slave’s puckered starfish,” advised George, noticing that Bobby had another woody sticking out of his pants or should I say sapling as he was no match for the real men.

“You have not lived until you have pulverized a squealing slave’s rusty sheriff’s badge,” laughed Fred.

Pulling my mouth off of Fred’s spit-polished cock I pleaded, “Master, fuck this slutty whore to another orgasm,” saving Lindsey again. I knew that after getting stretched by Fred and George I would hardly feel Bobby’s thin prick. I rose from my knees and leaned over the table, presenting my winking rosebud. I was looking at Lindsey as she continued to cry quietly with a thankful look on her face while I continued to beseech Bobby to fuck my back alley.

“Bobby, take that one, her slave heat is taking over, that pleasure slut needs your prick nailing her puckered brownstar,” laughed George as he nodded in my direction.

Bobby shoved his cock into my already-lubed rosebud and started pumping away. “Her Texas chili bowl is hotter than a twat,” exclaimed Bobby in wonder as he lost his anal virginity. Thrusting his Minuteman missile into my asshole, he lasted fewer than sixty seconds before he dumped a fresh batch of cum into my rectum.

Acting as a wanton pleasure slut I almost came again as my slave heat burned out of control. Was I actually disappointed that it was coming to an end? There is truly something wrong with me.

If these men had sexually abused Lindsey and I this way as free women society would condemn them to long prison terms or a life of harsh slavery. They would be disowned by their families and society as a whole. This same sexual conduct done to us as slaves is now somehow acceptable and even celebrated with high fives. Allison Stevens the free person and who she used to be no longer mattered to society; I was now a slave with no protections. My shocking change in status had occurred over only a few hours. It gave me a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach to what we had to look forward to for the next five years yet my pussy continued to tingle with slave heat.

“These slaves better not be late for shipping,” laughed Fred. He and George walked out of the break room. “Give them some water before gagging them in their crates,” ordered George in a serious tone as the door closed behind them.

Bobby started to panic a little, realizing that his break had taken much too long as he stuffed his cock back in his pants without getting it cleaned. Thank god for minor miracles.

Grabbing a bottle of water he opened it and held it to Lindsey’s lips. “Quick, drink some water 3933,” he ordered. After she chugged half the bottle he put it to my lips and I quickly finished it washing out some of the bitter peppermint ass taste.

“Time to get you into your crates for shipping so you can cool down,” Bobby said as he pulled us together, attaching my leash to Lindsey’s collar and leading us out of the break room. On the way to the shipping bay he allowed us to take another pee over another grate in the floor, squatting together with my tits in Lindsey’s back and my head on her shoulder with cum leaking out of my ass. I definitely felt a closeness to Lindsey that I did not fully comprehend as my cunt continued to uncontrollably tingle while my slave heat continued to smolder unrestrained.

We arrived in the shipping bay which was bustling with activity, full of cages stacked on top of each other occupied by handcuffed and gagged women. He had me kneel in front of a cage and efficiently placed another bite gag in my mouth stating, “I saved this one especially for you,” as he smiled at me. I recognized the scent and the distinctive taste of that lawyer’s pussy and ass. He ordered me to crawl backwards into the cage designed for a medium sized dog and locked me inside. He put Lindsey in the cage next to mine. Then he wheeled us over to an area labeled “Dallas/Fort Worth Transport” and left us side by side.

There I was, caged, naked, hands secured behind my back, gagged, sand still littering my body and inside my parts, an orange sold cattle tag hanging from my ear, the brand throbbing painfully as cum leaked out of my ass. I still had that lawyer’s taste in my mouth and the smell of peppermint and ass invading my nostrils from the remnants of the “Dirty Santa” smeared under my nose. My pussy was still wet and tingling. I was both terrified and sexually thrilled beyond belief. Yet again, what was wrong with me? Why did I enjoy this horror?

This morning I was happy, although very embarrassed, naked with my future mother-in-law helping me take care of my slave grading when my fiancé cancelled at the last minute. We were talking about my coming wedding to Calum, looking at a bright future. Who was Allison Stevens now? This had felt as if I was in a surreal bad dream which I would eventually wake up from, right up until the moment I was branded. That attorney and the Big D staff showed me what it was like to be an unthinking pleasure slut. I had been sold like an object, a car or a horse, on the auction block. The branding drove it home; I was just a piece of property being permanently marked, as one would put their initials in a shirt or a pair of shoes. The person that owned me decided to brand me like they would treat a possession or thing, not a person to be cherished.

I had no idea who bought me or how they were going to use me as I started silently crying. I looked over at Lindsey wondering what her story was and if she was having some of the same thoughts as I was. She appeared deep in thought, tears running down her cheeks. Sensing me staring at her she turned towards me. I felt fear, confusion and despair emanating from her. As we looked deeply into each other’s eyes I saw understanding, gratitude and camaraderie as I hoped this was not the last time I would see her. We nodded and returned to our own deliberations.

Was I becoming a brainless pleasure slut, a slave that lived to please her master, to do all of the things that the master wants that I would never have considered before? In less than a day my sexuality had transformed from a conservative private free woman to a perpetually horny slave. I was quickly aroused after getting naked when Amelia ran the riding crop over my body describing how hot I was. It all took off when I squirted on the pussy post with Amelia. I was horny after the attorney used me; I was aroused on the auction block when I had the most intense climax of my life. The three greatest orgasms of my existence occurred as a slave today and not during the previous three years with Calum. What was wrong with me?

Amelia had looked into my soul and told me I was a submissive, pointing out that my best sex was when I played the little slave girl for Calum. She was right about the sex, but was I really a submissive who needed a master to treat me as the pleasure slut I had become? I must be tired; I had not just perceived myself as becoming a pleasure slut but had instead mentally concluded that I was a pleasure slut. I fell asleep emotionally and physically exhausted, bound on my knees in a cage like an animal pondering that thought. What was wrong with me?

The jostling of my cage woke me from my slumber and I groggily looked around. Lindsey was gone. A slave handler was loading my cage onto a trolley. He then pulled me to a delivery van and pushed me into the back, which contained three other cages with three other gagged and handcuffed slave girls. It looked like early evening outside when he slammed the van doors closed leaving us in the dark and we were off.

The van made two stops en route to my final destination, each time unloading an occupied cage and then returning the cage without its former occupant. For the entire trip it felt as if I had my face in the ass of the girl in front of me or more precisely, the odors of the girl’s ass to my front. I could smell her arousal knowing that I was not the only one suffering from slave heat.

My thoughts ranged over a number of topics. What had happened to Lindsey? She had been moved while I was sleeping and I wondered if I would ever see her again. My more immediate concern was what happened to Amelia? My future father-in-law Glen Bedford was the principal owner of Bedford Holdings, the largest real estate developer in the state of Texas. Something was terribly wrong; Amelia obviously did not know I was being sold as she could easily purchase me with a flick of her wrist on her credit card. Had she exited the spa late only to find me sold or something worse, had she been in a car accident and was lying in a hospital? Would Calum ever be able to find me once I was sold? And, why was my cunt all tingly and dripping wet?

(To be continued)

[Carl Bradford]

The post-auction graphic sodomy (anal and oral) does a good job of establishing the emotional link between these two women. Keep going!