This is my first rewrite. Hooked6 sent me a detailed critique and I made additional changes for the third version which I posted below. The third version was also posted on Literotica. The changes focus primarily on the portrayal of the Allison and Amelia characters returning Allison's innocence and naiveté in the third version.
Carl has been encouraging me to post my stories on Literotica which I will be doing shortly but figured it was appropriate to post the rewrite here first. Since I started writing this story six months ago my vision for Broadstone and the slave society has evolved requiring a rewrite of the previous chapters. Much of what I have done is add a few concepts for later use in the story while also trying to increase the level of Allison's embarrassment and confusion as to her status and then every time I proof read it I had another idea landing me in the bottom of a rabbit hole where I added something to the story from a Big D Christmas ornament or to a new character. I now have another character, Pixie Girl, who may or may not return to the story after Allison's slave grading. Also Gary's initiation of the discussion regarding Protective Enslavements challenged me to somehow incorporate that legal concept into my story which I have done. I guess I should thank Gary for pushing me into that rabbit hole. I found that the quality time spent in these rabbit holes may improve the product but distracts from every finishing the story(thanks Gary). I hope you enjoy this longer and hopefully improved version.
(This story arc takes place in an alternative reality where legal slavery exists in the United States as depicted in the stories by Joe Doe, Carl Bradford, Gentlemanmariner and a number of others. Joe graciously allowed me to use the Big D slave market so long as I avoided killing or maiming any of his characters which I somehow managed to avoid. I also want to thank Carl for editing much of my work, which greatly improved the final product. All persons enslaved, involved in slavery operations or described in explicit sex scenes are aged 18 years or older.)
Congress passed legislation over thirty years ago designed to reduce the student loan delinquency rate by requiring that each borrower agree to a body attachment for a period of involuntary indenture as collateral. There were a number of factors that actuaries used when calculating the period of indenture to guarantee that the outstanding loan would be paid.
One was inclusion of a no-international clause prohibiting sale or transportation outside the United States, which rendered the person less valuable, in turn leading to a longer period of indenture. Some countries did not recognize terms limiting the period of indenture. For example mine has a five-year period of indenture without a slave grade and if I was sold internationally to, say, Japan or Saudi Arabia, where all enslavements are for life, my five-year indenture would become a lifetime of slavery.
Another significant factor is one’s slave grade; the better the grade for young women like me the shorter the period of indenture to repay the same amount, and that is why I find myself here today. The slave grade also for some reason influenced the interest rate one paid on the loan. As a college student, I did not have a slave grade and needed one to consolidate my two outstanding student loans into one loan at a lower interest rate, which was why I needed a Prime slave grade.
Arriving at the Big D Slave Market first thing in the morning, my future mother-in-law, Amelia Bedford, pulled into the parking lot in the area farthest from the entrance. She pulled a bag from the backseat containing a slave collar and turned to me.
“Well, are you ready?” Amelia asked. “I have the power of attorney here which we signed yesterday and the two notarized copies. Once you take off your clothes I will put on the collar, walk around the car and pull you out and zip tie your hands behind your back.”
She could sense my apprehension as I started removing my clothing with a concerned look on my face. When I was nude she put the collar around my neck, exited the car, walking to my door and pulled it open.
“Get out of the car, slave,” she said in a joking manner. When I stood up, in a very serious tone she ordered, “Back hands, slave;” when I complied, she zip-tied my hands together behind my back.
Then she pulled a stick gag out of the bag and directed me to open my mouth, securing it in my jaws giving me the slave grin of legend. Next came a leash which she attached to my collar. Grabbing the folder with all of the paperwork, she then picked up a riding crop and locked the car. Amelia swatted me so hard on my ass with the riding crop that it felt like it left a mark. The blow also made my pussy tingle for some reason, confusing me.
She put the crop under my chin, pushing it up while telling me, “Stand up straight, hold your head high and stick your tits out. You are a magnificent filly; your dancing has left you with a muscular yet feminine physique that includes a perfect ab crack and sexy thigh gap. You look like you are 5’7” and 110 lbs. and you have the most exquisitely sculpted ass with those firm cheeks. I bet you could crack a walnut if I stuck one between your cheeks and you flexed. You have beautiful wavy red hair and vivid deep blue eyes with a smattering of freckles all over your body that is really cute. You would sell for top dollar here.”
Moving the riding crop from my chin running it down my neck she circled my breasts and rubbed my nipples, making them stand out.
“You have firm C cup breasts shaped like champagne glasses with nice big erect nipples, at least they are erect now.” She giggled, while rubbing them with the riding crop.
Now my pussy was really tingling and starting to get wet. Amelia ran the riding crop down my body, in between my breasts down my ab crack over my firm abdomen to my mons and then over my nicely trimmed pubic hair.
“And a neat little landing strip demonstrating that you are a natural redhead,” continuing her narrative.
Amelia ran the riding crop even lower and proceeded to rub my clit, finishing on my wet pussy lips. My soon to be mother-in-law is rubbing my labia with a riding crop as I stood naked, cuffed, collared and gagged in front of her in a very public parking lot. I moaned as I felt my now needy vagina dripping.
“You are already dripping slave hot, let’s go get your Prime rating, and you are so ready for this. Be proud of yourself—you look every inch a horny pleasure slut,” she laughed, while examining the riding crop, which clearly held evidence of my arousal on it.
God, I was so turned on and I had not even gotten across the parking lot and inside the Big D Slave Market. What was my future mother-in-law doing to me? Stepping towards the main entrance, she pulled me along, chatting as she went.
“Today you will be the most beautiful woman in the Big D Slave Market and remember they only handle prime pussy on their main auction block. You have been practicing your slave yoga for months and I am confident that you will excel with your dancing background. Calum told me you would do great after describing the hot nude block routine you do when you play little slave girl for him,” snickered Amelia.
She smirked as she saw my blush. I could not believe that my fiancé had described in great detail my slave girl auction block routine to his mother in which I performed slave yoga positions incorporating my own original ballet moves, and during which I begged him to buy me and force me to perform a wide variety of perverse sexual acts. We had the best sex when I played his little slave girl wearing his collar with all my inhibitions released. He was still in the doghouse for leaving on a business trip, relegating to his mother the job of taking me to my slave grading which I needed to consolidate my student loan payments. Now he may never get out of the doghouse for that revelation.
I had joined the Joffrey Ballet School Trainee program in New York City after my sophomore year in high school. After three years at Joffrey, I had two years completed towards a Bachelor of Fine Arts while also completing my high school requirements. Then my father had a heart attack and passed away, forcing me to leave the expensive New York school.
With Joffrey no longer an option I transferred into the top ranked general dance program in my home state of Texas, located at the University of Texas, Austin, three years ago. It was there that I met Calum Bedford, then starting his second year of law school. I went from a school with less than two hundred students to UT with a student population of over fifty thousand. It was my first day on campus during student registration and I was hopelessly lost. Demonstrating that chivalry was not dead he recognized my distress and spent the morning helping me navigate the campus, leading to a date later that evening. Now, almost three years later, he had proposed and I said yes.
As we continued through the parking lot Amelia advised, “I prepaid for three days of kenneling for you just in case,” causing me to stop walking. She turned around and said, “It is simply a safety precaution in case you need to stay the night. I do not want them to try and sell you over an unpaid kenneling fee and then have to explain to Calum how I lost you.”
Pulling on the leash, “Say I get in an accident and do not get back before closing or they have a surge of inventory that takes priority over your slave grading, you cannot leave until your grading is complete.”
Walking through the parking lot Amelia counseled me, “Remember, you follow every one of my instructions in the reception area, regardless of how humiliating and embarrassing. You can blush, you can cry, but you do not hesitate, if you do I will use the riding crop on you to get you moving.” Turning towards me looking me in the eye, “Do you understand me? It will help your grade.”
I nodded in agreement. My pussy and nipples were really tingling now as I speculated what nasty surprise Amelia had planned for me. As we continued towards the entrance, Amelia noticed that I still had my engagement ring on.
“Give me your engagement ring; you cannot take any jewelry in there,” she demanded, stopping and holding out her hand.
I reluctantly took it off, turned around with my hands cuffed, and handed it to her and she put it on her ring finger next to her wedding band.
“I will hold it here for you for safekeeping until I can return it to you,” she advised.
Amelia held her right hand on my cheek and tearing up she said, “I am thrilled that you are going to be my daughter-in-law. You make Calum so happy and I can tell that you really love him. The two of us will shed tears of anguish and joy together between now and your wedding. I want you to know that no matter what struggles you have, and there are always challenges getting through a wedding, I really truly love you.”
Then composing herself she turned and walked me into the front entrance of the Big D Slave Market. An attractive woman in her forties with a kind smile on her face held the door open for us. She was accompanied by an extremely beautiful cute teenager with mischievous clear blue eyes, just a little over five feet, with a tight little body sporting a pixie cut to her blonde hair. Both were stylishly dressed in short skirts while Pixie Girl sported a simple black leather choker around her neck that was a quarter of an inch wide which was an unusual accessory to wear to a slave market. We all walked into the reception area with a great big “Welcome” sign hanging over it. There was a long counter with five clerks conducting business with a VIP express line on the far right.
What instantly caught my attention was the row of yellow three-foot high bollards that prevented vehicles from getting too close to the counters. I could not believe my eyes! There were six slave naked sluts on their knees backed up to the poles and grinding off on them. Some had their hands cuffed behind their backs while others had the use of their hands to balance. There was a small crowd of bystanders walking amongst the girls commenting on their performance.
One grunting busty blonde slut creamed all over the bollard at the end closest to the door we had just walked through to the applause of a small group of bystanders.
“Oh! My! God! Mom! That’s Sandy Holman, she used to baby sit me when I was younger,” squealed the Pixie Girl, pointing at the attractive well-endowed blonde woman.
Poor Sandy Holman’s eyes snapped open, a horrified look on her face, she blushed red from her face to her rather ample chest when she heard her name yelled across the room by Pixie Girl. Sandy scrambled away from the post getting to her feet with a woman that appeared to be her mother holding her leash.
Sandy was a classic green eyed blonde, a tall statuesque beauty with magnificent, oversized, firm breasts sporting large erect nipples. The contrast in body types struck me as Pixie Girl’s eyes were at nipple level when standing in front of the naked Sandy.
“Calm down Becky. You are eighteen now. Please act your age,” sighed Pixie Girl’s exasperated mother while turning towards the woman holding Sandy’s leash.
“Hi Martha, I would have thought Sandy would have been graded four years ago. Is this a regrading?” asked Pixie Girl’s mother, as poor Sandy’s blush deepened.
“This is Sandy’s first grading. She graduated from MIT and did not need a slave grade for student loans through the MIT financial aid office. Now, to consolidate those student loans, get a better interest rate and shorten the period of possible indenture she needs a good slave grade. So here we are. I really need to get Sandy checked in for her grading. See you later,” grinned Martha as she took her daughter to the check-in counter.
“Good luck, Sandy,” squeaked Pixie Girl, waving to the older woman being led away by her mother on a leash naked, collared, cuffed and gagged like a hot pleasure slut slave for sale.
Amelia led me to the post just vacated by the statuesque blonde, still glistening from its prior occupant. That used bollard looked like the filthiest one in the room with the most stains on it.
“Local superstition holds that if you want a Prime grade at the Big D you gotta paint one of the pussy posts, and the dirtier, filthier, and most recently used the more good luck you get. This one looks like the luckiest pussy post in the building,” she snickered.
“Get down on your knees and back your juicy cunt up to that post and start rubbing it until you cum all over it. I want to see you squirt on it right on the spot with all of the paint worn off,” directed Amelia, giving my ass a playful whack with the riding crop.
Blushing in embarrassment with my dripping cunt tingling, not believing I was actually doing this in a public place in front of an audience, I lowered myself to my knees and backed up to the warm wet concrete post. Putting my face on the dirty floor in order to get the right angle and leverage I started rubbing.
“Gross! That slut is rubbing her pussy on the dirty post that still has Sandy’s pussy juice all over it,” exclaimed Pixie Girl pointing at me.
“Whack,” the crop struck the ground right in front of my face.
“Focus, pick up the pace, the next one will be on your ass,” cajoled Amelia.
I started humping the post with a passion, quickly creaming on the bollard to my surprise. I had not realized just how aroused I had become since stripping in the car. The Big D seemed infectious, the atmosphere brought every woman’s inner slave heat out into the open.
“You’re not done yet, keep going,” Amelia commanded,
Amelia whacked my right buttock with the crop causing me to hurry up both the speed and pressure of my rubbing.
“Are you going to make me do that?” asked Pixie Girl.
“Just picture yourself next week right where that slut is,” responded her mother, Natasha.
I could hear the chorus of groans and moans from the girls behind me painting their posts accompanied by an occasional crack of an encouraging whip and then one of them would cream her post, garnering applause from the crowd. I was closing in on my second orgasm as Amelia ran the crop over my body as she encouraged me to blow on the pussy post.
“You’re almost there, squirt on the post, you skanky pleasure slut slave,” Amelia directed, triggering my second climax.
Now I was sweating, panting out of breath, my face in my own wet spot on the floor with my pussy glued to the slick pole.
Kneeling, Amelia pulled my hair out of my face, grabbed my chin and urged, “One more; third time’s the charm slave slut, you ain’t squirted yet,” and whacked my ass with the riding crop.
“Mom, that slut is hogging the lucky pussy post, she already creamed twice on it. I want my turn,” I heard a girl whine as I started up again.
I cannot believe this is happening I thought as I once again started painting the pussy post with my juices.
“How much longer is your skanky slut going to be? My daughter wants that lucky pussy post,” her mom asked Amelia.
God, I was so aroused, girls groaning on their posts behind me, people walking by commenting on what a sweaty skank I was.
“What a nympho, she already came twice and she’s still going.” Another male commentator chimed in, “Like a little pink Energizer pussy,” as he chuckled at his own joke.
The humiliation was turning me on; I could feel the tingle building up from my nipples to my anus to my pussy until I was on the verge of my next climax. ‘Whack,’ Amelia struck me hard with the crop right on my little winking rosebud, sending a shock wave through my body that triggered my most intense orgasm ever as she yelled, “Cum for me now.” I bayed like Lassie as I squirted profuse amounts of cunt cream all over the pussy post.
“That will be you next week squirting on this very pussy post. I do not care how long it takes,” advised Natasha.
“What if I can’t squirt like her?” asked Pixie girl, looking worried.
“I have a crop just like that one at home. Would you like to practice when we get home?” smirked Natasha as Pixie Girl blushed.
“See mom, that is the luckiest pussy post here. I want to paint the squirter pussy post for good luck before my grading,” exclaimed the Whiny Girl.
I was now lying face down in a puddle of my own fluids, my pussy sliding down against the pussy post, unable to move as I tried to collect myself. I looked up at the Whiny girl who was a drop-dead gorgeous athletic brunette with emerald green eyes and winked at her and she winked right back with a playful smile.
“I know you are a squirter, honey. Just go with it. You regularly squirt when you practice slave yoga naked in your room at night. When you go to school this fall I have to replace the carpet due to all the nasty stains and odors from all your pussy juice,” advised Natasha, while rolling her eyes at her daughter.
“I used Febreze. It’s not just me. Annie also squirts when we practice slave yoga together in my room. We can’t help it; it just happens every time we practice together,” winced Pixie Girl. “At least we both got A’s on our slave yoga final exam this year.”
“I captured a video of that slut squirting on that pussy post on my phone. Mom will never believe this,” I heard one young man with a Boston accent tell his father.
“Son, there are certain things best not shared with your mother, and this is one of them,” the father with the same Yankee accent replied in a worried tone as they walked away.
As I regained my composure, Amelia pulled me to my feet, “Honey, there is something about being slave naked that is liberating. You can do things that a clothed free person cannot. I would be arrested if I pulled down my panties, pulled up my skirt and rubbed one off on the pussy post. You are slave inventory right now, a piece of livestock, so you have a free pass to masturbate in public, to have sex with another a man or woman while here and nobody will care. You are just living down to the lowly status of a slave, the pleasure slut they see you as now. Do you understand?”
I nodded, unable to speak past the gag. “Let’s get you registered,” she took out my gag and pulled out a bottle of water, giving me a healthy drink before replacing the gag and leading me to the VIP Express line to check me in.
Amelia pulled me up to the counter to get me registered. We were greeted by a clerk wearing a burgundy polo shirt with The Big D logo and a nametag identifying her as Cindy.
“Welcome to the Big D Slave Market, how may I help you this morning?” asked a chipper Cindy with a big warm smile.
“I am Amelia Bedford here to register Allison Stevens for her slave grading. Here is all of the paperwork and a notarized power of attorney authorizing me to act on her behalf,” advised Amelia as she handed over a folder full of paperwork.
Cindy reviewed the paperwork and then looked me up on her computer.
“Ok, We have a reservation for the Deluxe Reality slave grading package meaning she will be treated just as if she was a slave going to auction to include a Slave Identification Number (SIN) tattoo, cattle wash, cattle tag, physical, photo shoot, beauty clean up, slave grading, and three days optional kenneling in case the grading is not completed today. The medical pre-screening documents are complete. The Vet assistant will complete the final medical screening at the grading center. The Big D is in Pussy Premium Red meaning our inventory is low so we are slow right now and should be able to move her through rather quickly,” she summarized.
“We have a new ground-breaking promotion this month for women that want the true Sandy Foot Girl experience of being put on the auction block and sold. It’s called the “Any Chance” auction. Would you like to learn more about this fantastic opportunity?” piped up Cindy as she started her sales pitch.
“I’m intrigued, tell me more,” asked Amelia with a playful grin.
“Your slave will go through the entire process of being auctioned. The only difference is that we list her as “Any Chance” on the inventory notifying the buyers that the owner maintains the right to reject the winning bid within twenty-four hours of the gavel coming down. This way you get to see how much money you would make on the sale, and will increase her value as collateral for any loan. This is also a safe way to give a girl her Sandy Foot Girl fantasy experience as the sale is real until revoked,” explained Cindy. “There is always any chance that, for any one of these sluts thinking they are going home at the end of the day, the bid will be accepted.”
“What is the cost?” asked Amelia.
“This month the price is $500 for this promotion to cover our costs but it is fully refundable if you go through with the sale,” said Cindy.
This sounded like a horrible idea. Going through the very public slave grading was bad enough. Actually being sold at auction to some stranger terrified me. Why I was so aroused listening to Cindy’s sales pitch really confused me. My pussy was leaking and I am sure that both Cindy and Amelia could smell my slave heat wafting from my highly aroused pussy.
“How often do the sales go through?” inquired Amelia.
“More often than you would think. I just had one last Friday. Daddy brought in his twin daughters, not identical, for their slave grading for their college loans since they were graduating from high school this spring. The hot ditzy blonde-haired one begged for the Sandy Foot Girl experience. She was infatuated with the slave romance novels and Hallmark Channel movies. Daddy caves in. She was a high school cheerleader and on the school Ponygirl dressage team. She was a virgin, slave graded as a Prime and the winning bid was a fortune. After the auction, her Daddy came back all flustered asking for my advice,” said Cindy.
“What was his problem?” asked Amelia.
“He watched his ditzy daughter put on quite the show rolling around in the sand during her block routine and begging a master to fuck all her holes. Her slave heat took over when she worked two fingers up her ass while diddling her cunt until she exploded in an intense orgasm squirting in the sand while howling like a wolf with a look of complete rapture on her face. I saw the picture and would not be surprised if she was not this month’s Sandy Foot Girl,” explained Cindy.
“So she was really enjoying herself on the auction block,” laughed Amelia.
“Mmph,” I tried to speak through the gag as Amelia grinned at me. This was not a good idea even though it made my pussy tingle. Why was being sold as a slave at auction making me horny? As I squeezed my thighs together, I wondered if I could masturbate to orgasm lying in the sand on the auction block. What was wrong with me, my pussy was a leaking sieve?
“That’s an understatement. Between the two of us I could tell she was a real submissive when he signed her up. I told him that his beautiful daughter had a calling for the collar. As her father, he had an obligation to make her dream come true. He had to sell her for her own good, as she would never be truly happy as a free woman. I pointed out that with the money from her sale he had more than enough to put his other children through college and take his wife to Hawaii, so he did,” continued Cindy.
“He confided in me after what he saw on the auction block he really couldn’t bring her home. Two of his neighbors were in the audience along with a co-worker that all recognized his daughter, witnessing her debauchery. He added that she was not very bright and college would have been a waste of good money,” laughed Cindy. “And I made a good commission on the sale.”
“What about her sister, the smart one?” asked Amelia.
“You mean the free one. She was upset at first although not really surprised. When she learned that due to the sale she had a free ride to college and medical school her attitude changed for the better,” laughed Cindy. “Then she mentioned that her sister would never steal another boyfriend from her and they walked out without even saying goodbye.”
“We have an auction on Broadway, our main block for Prime slaves, scheduled for 2:00 pm this afternoon if you are interested in this fantastic opportunity since she looks like Prime livestock. Your pleasure slut’s processing and grading will be prioritized to make that deadline,” advised Cindy.
“I think this would be a good experience for you, being sold like a slave at auction. It would open your eyes to what a slave goes through,” said Amelia, looking at me with a serious look on her face. “Charge the $500 to my account.”
“Do you want a no international travel, transfer or sale clause included?” asked Cindy
“Yes,” answered Amelia.
“How long do you want the period of indenture? Our standard term is five years,” advised Cindy.
“Five years sounds good,” giggled Amelia, looking at me with a naughty grin on her face.
Cindy went to work on the computer and the printer spewed out another form and she handed it to Amelia.
“This is the Any Chance auction agreement. Please sign the waiver that you are aware that the sale becomes final if you fail to rescind it within twenty-four hours,” advised Cindy.
“Please initial here. This indicates that you understand that the twenty-four hours starts when the auctioneer’s gavel comes down. The auctioneer will announce, ‘This is an Any Chance sale and the time starts now’.”
I watched as Amelia reviewed the form, horrified that I would be publicly sold at auction. Why were my thighs rubbing together as I tried to squeeze my pussy as Cindy returned to her computer?
“Here is a paper with the link to our app that enables you to accept or reject the bid using your smartphone. We recommend that you come in person and either accept or reject the bid due to one mishap that occurred a few weeks ago with a bid that was accepted by mistake,” advised Cindy.
“Mmph,” I squealed through the gag as Amelia ignored me. A mishap where a poor woman was enslaved by mistake!
“What happened?” inquired Amelia, visibly curious.
“An eighteen year old wanted the Deluxe Reality package with the auction option for a two year term after becoming infatuated with the slave romance stories depicted in those books and movies. It is amazing how many naive teenage girls grow up thinking those slave romance stories are real. That girl clearly had self-enslavement fantasies,” explained Cindy.
Having read a number of the erotic slave romance novels I knew what they were talking about. Often reading while lightly massaging my breasts or pussy until I put the book down; masturbating to intense orgasms while having my own slave girl fantasies or jumping Calum if he was home. These books were extremely popular with women, many of whom had secret slave girl fantasies which was fine so long as it was limited to role play or stayed a fantasy.
“There are slave psychologists that are calling this extremely rare phenomenon, where teenager’s act upon their fantasies about becoming a slave, Self-Enslavement Syndrome. Recently it became a recognized mental disorder. These young women voluntarily indenture to live out their unrealistic slave fantasy,” responded Amelia.
“Did you see the Sixty Minutes segment just last month where Leslie Stahl interviewed Dr. Nikki Sheldon along with those two teenagers and their parents? When both were eighteen they tried to voluntarily indenture for six months together. One succeeded while the other’s parents had obtained a Protective Enslavement Emergency Protective Order (EPO) and the slave market turned her away,” asked Cindy.
“I saw it! That poor girl that was sold ended up in the Whips and Sticks Bordello, a low end, high volume, BDSM brothel, for two months before her parents could rescue her,” exclaimed Amelia. “She and her parents clearly outlined how the reality of slavery, especially when being used as a pleasure slut, diverged from her fantasy.”
That segment terrified me. After watching it, I swore off reading any more Hillary Rodham slave romance novels forever. My promise didn’t even last two weeks before I was back at it, fueling my addiction, relieving my stress while reading them again when Calum was away.
“I thought Dr. Nikki Sheldon did a great job describing the believed origins and symptoms of the disorder that met the slave tendencies requirement for the Protective Enslavement EPO. Especially pointing out that the syndrome generally develops when these impressionable teens start their mandatory Slave Yoga training in high school senior year. For natural submissives, the mental conditioning inherent in Slave Yoga coupled with immersion in the slave romance novels and movies can lead to the development of this syndrome. Dr. Nikki was incredible working with the other girl’s parents to obtain the EPO that saved her,” continued Cindy.
“I really liked the way Dr. Nikki made the distinction between a healthy slave fantasy and the syndrome. Explaining that the majority of women, including herself, have some submissive tendencies which the slave romance can help fill that void. She was so down to earth and relatable, even admitting that she, herself, had ‘indulged’, as she put it. Even giggling that she tended to enjoy the stories with a BDSM theme. Telling parents not to freak out if they catch their daughters indulging in one of these fantasies because it was normal. Clarifying that the danger occurs when the young women start actively planning their enslavement which is when parents need to act quickly,” said Amelia.
“Dr. Nikki did a great job covering the warning signs. It was almost like a public service announcement for parents,” said Cindy.
“Right, Dr. Nikki advised parents to watch for their girls having a disproportionate fascination with slave romance novels, movies, and TV shows. Excessively masturbating to them in private,” said Amelia. “I am so happy that my daughter hated those slave romance novels.”
“She also warned that the little sluts also displayed exhibitionist tendencies and risky behavior to include public nudity and masturbation,” snickered Cindy.
“One highlight for me was Dr. Nikki describing them slave grooming; shaving or waxing their pussies and asses, basically going hairless below the neck like a slave. One clear warning sign she described was using bleaching cream to lighten the color of their anuses. From Leslie Stahl’s reaction to the anal bleaching cream, that was clearly the first time she ever heard of that practice. I hear that really stings,” giggled Amelia.
Damn right it stings! I regularly bleached my rosebud for when I played Calum’s little slave girl since he said hard for her to see her own anus] it made my hairless rosebud look hot.
“It was the wrong interview for Leslie to wear that adorable gold choker with the seven inch gold tassels. She started pulling on it and blushing when Dr. Nikki warned that these girls often make a fashion statement wearing chokers, with tassels in front as imaginary collars and leashes,” laughed Cindy.
What was the name Dr. Nikki had for it? When the girls wore short skirts and no panties so they feel the draft of the air on their cunts as if they were slave naked? I forgot what she called it?” asked Amelia.
“Slave Breeze,” giggled Cindy
On my little slave girl date nights with Calum I would often wear chokers, sometimes with tassels and go panty less when we went out to dinner enjoying the stimulating feeling of the “Slave Breeze” on my very moist kitty. All the time encouraging Calum to check my “slave heat” anywhere, in private or public, often in parking lots, elevators and under the table during our meals.
Once Calum fingered me to an intense sloppy wet orgasm during dinner. I had to walk out of the restaurant with a big pussy juice stain; a big wet spot on the back of my skirt. He made me take off my skirt and sit on a towel for the drive home while he periodically checked my “slave heat”. When we got home he disciplined me for embarrassing him in public for staining my skirt. Awesome slave sex that night! I was looking forward to more slave sex when he returned from his business trip but that did NOT mean I wanted to end up as a real slave.
“It was intense. The parents that obtained the EPO described following Dr. Nikki’s advice by putting up cameras all over the house. They captured on film their daughter running around naked in the house when nobody else was home. Masturbating in the kitchen, by the front door and in the backyard. She even tried eating food on her knees once out of a dog bowl in the kitchen emulating how some slaves are fed. The poor girl also displayed all of the classic slave grooming and fashion tendencies,” described Amelia.
“I was surprised when Dr. Nikki recommended as part of the treatment regimen, enslaving and sending the young women through a slave school, so that they could experience some of the negative consequences from enslavement while avoiding the danger of sale to an unknown master or to a place like the Whip and Stick Bordello,” continued Cindy. “I was shocked when she included sending a patient to work at the Ass to Mouth Lounge or similar glory hole establishments as shock therapy that would quickly destroy the fantasy.”
“I’m not. The life of a slave is difficult, and the hardships are best learned in person giving them an education of what slavery is really like. Trust me, the first time they have to orally service a male, or even a female, with really poor hygiene or that tastes like pussy and/or ass, their fantasy ends right there. Having to swallow fifty loads of cum in a day working at one of those places drives home the point. Did you see Dr. Nikki’s patient and her mother blush when the Ass to Mouth Lounge was mentioned?” contended Amelia, with a knowing smile. “There is a difference between healthy role playing between consenting adults and what these girls were agreeing to.”
“The scariest part of the story was the self-branding some girls did to themselves or their friends. That girl that made a brand out of a metal hanger had real issues,” sighed Cindy.
“Horrifying,” responded Amelia.
“Did you see that cute blonde spinner with the pixie cut while your slut painted the pussy post? The one wearing a narrow leather choker and a short skirt. Bet she’s not wearing any panties and at some point today gets caught with her hand under her skirt pleasuring herself,” laughed Cindy.
“I saw her and wouldn’t take that bet after listening to Dr. Nikki’s advice. Any girl that dresses like that in a slave market is clearly making a silent plea for help. So, what happened with that girl that was sold by mistake?” asked Amelia.
“She was rambling about the Hillary Rodham novel she had just finished reading about a slave finding love in a harem in the middle east. Her grandfather bought the Any Chance auction for her just to shut her up and he decided to use the app function on his smartphone to reject the bid. Unfortunately, he was not tech savvy and hit the sell button by mistake finalizing the sale,” explained Cindy.
“Oh my,” exclaimed Amelia.
How awful for that poor girl. Lucky for me Amelia is one of the most tech savvy women that I know. There is no way she would make that kind of mistake.
“All sales are final so there was nothing we could do to help him. She brought in a mint and that still did not mollify him at all,” continued Cindy. “When I got off work that day I found her in shipping, blissfully crouched in a poodle cage, branded, collared, cuffed, and gagged with a genuine smile hidden behind her slave grin actually looking forward to her new life, like it was some kind of grand adventure. Stupid slave girl.”
“That poor girl is going to give him an earful when she gets back,” commented Amelia.
“Oh, she’s not coming back. She’s living the dream in a slave harem in Dubai. Grandpa did not include a no international travel, transfer or sale clause in the contract. All defined term indentures become life enslavements in Dubai which was where we shipped her at the request of her owner. That is why we have the waiver form for you to sign when we provide you with the app,” said Cindy.
Amelia signed the waiver form, initialing each clause as it was explained to her by Cindy. When Amelia was done Cindy placed the form in my file.
Turning to me, Amelia smiled kindly and said, “No need to worry, you are too precious to me to ever consider selling,” making me feel much better about my current situation.
“We pulled a Slave Identification Number US-ILS81-X9Z3 and lot number CZ-3927,” she summarized as the printer churned.
She grabbed a blue tag shaped as ballet slippers and put a sticker on the blue tag.
“The sticker on the cattle tag contains her lot number and barcode. It will remain on her until she is released back to you. Here is your claim tag, you will need it to claim her so don’t lose it,” said Cindy, handing the tag to Amelia.
“That is if you don’t sell her,” Cindy giggled.
Turning to me Cindy advised in a stern voice, "You are at The Big D Livestock and Slave Market in Dallas, Texas. You are here for a slave grading and auction. During the time you are here, you will be treated just as if you are here for processing and sale as a pleasure slut slave. I am required by law to tell you that the slave collar you will be fitted with can deliver a powerful and extremely painful electric shock if you attempt to leave this building without permission or are disobedient. Additionally, all Big D employees are authorized to use any means deemed necessary to compel you to comply with all orders given to you, and those means include electrical shock and whipping. If you follow my instructions, you will not be hurt. Do you understand?"
Cindy established the penalty of my disobedience by holding a slave prod in front of my wide eyes and pressing the trigger. Amelia chuckled, holding me in place as I involuntarily pulled away from the crazy slave prod-wielding clerk with wide eyes as I watched the electricity jump between the two sharp metal prongs accompanied by an electrical crackling.
"Do you comprende?" Cindy repeated harshly.
I vigorously nodded and tried to say yes through my gag hoping she understood. Turning to Amelia the clerk had Amelia initial the box that I had been properly advised and proceeded around the counter carrying the blue tag and a heavy black slave collar with a battery pack that she placed on the counter in front of me. She cut off my zip-ties.
“Slave Kneel,” Cindy ordered, followed by, “Collar.”
I quickly assumed the collar position as Cindy efficiently secured the slave collar around my neck and attached a leash to the collar. Sharp prongs in the front and back stuck into my tender skin. She waved a remote control in front of my face.
“I push this button and the collar shocks you, lights out, comprende?” advised Cindy.
Again, I nodded vigorously.
“Prone,” she directed as I assumed the position on my stomach.
“Back-hands,” she ordered.
Petrified at the threat of a shock, I placed my hands behind my back and Cindy quickly secured my hands in standard Big D handcuffs. She then picked up the blue cattle tag shaped as ballet slippers off the counter. Putting it into a punch gun and kneeling on my back, she grabbed my left ear.
“Hold still, this is gonna hurt,” Cindy ordered.
Cindy punched the heated tag through a tiny hole in the cartilage in my ear. Not knowing what was happening the pain surprised me, generating a high-pitched squeal into my gag as I started crying.
Getting off me Cindy said, “Stop crying you horny little slave, I can smell your slave heat,” and then commanded, “Stand.”
Handcuffed, I struggled to my feet as Cindy walked back behind the counter handing Amelia the collar and leash I wore into the Big D.
“After we get her SIN tattooed we will start with the cattle wash, she stinks worse than a well-used pussy post. You have your claim check, all of the paperwork is in order, the grading and kenneling was prepaid, the Any Chance Auction is now charged to your account and she has been processed as inventory with the Big D. We have a couple other specials this week and our new Trial Branding. What can I help you with first?” asked the enthusiastic Cindy sensing another sale.
“Tell me about the new Trial Branding,” asked Amelia. She then turned to me, “Turn around and display.”
Obediently I turned facing away from her, bending down looking through my legs in the display position.
“The Trial Branding program allows owners to apply a temporary Big D brand to experiment with how it looks on different parts of the body. Common branding locations are the buttocks, between the cheeks, vagina, back shoulder and thigh. The blacksmith prepares the site for a few minutes with a special pre-branding cream and uses a lighter touch when applying the brand. The actual branding takes a bit longer and burns worse than the standard brand. It is not permanent and heals in a couple of months. The standard fee is $150 unless you want a custom brand,” advised Cindy as I started whimpering. “Your slut has an incredible ass. One of our brands would look awesome burned onto her butt.”
Amelia ran her fingers center on my left ass cheek as I started trembling. She asked Cindy, “Is this the location, on the buttocks?”
Spreading my ass cheeks Amelia ran her finger on the sensitive skin on the inside of my left cheek right next to my rosebud, “And this is the location between the cheeks?” she asked.
“Correct, some owners want the brand prominently displayed on the center of the buttock while others prefer a more subtle approach between the cheeks. The skin between the cheeks is more sensitive and is thus more painful to apply. Can I reserve a time with the blacksmith for you this afternoon? You can consult with the blacksmith and decide which you prefer,” Cindy advised.
“Please schedule her for 4:00 pm and charge the $150 to my account,” instructed Amelia.
“There are a few more awesome promotions available this month. The first is the Sandy Foot Girl video chronicle of your slut’s experience here at the Big D. For only $150, we compile thirty to forty minutes of your slut’s highlights starting with you leading her in the front door on a leash and her squirting on the pussy post. We use the surveillance feed and strategically placed high resolution cameras throughout the facility,” explained Cindy.
What should I expect to see in this video?” chuckled a clearly intrigued Amelia.
“Your pleasure slut’s video would of course include her painting the pussy post including her squirting during her last orgasm. These videos capture her SIN tattooing, cleaning out her crotch critters in the cattle wash, photo shoot, graded slave yoga routine, slave grading, and display. It culminates in her full block routine when she becomes a true Sandy Foot Girl as she is sold on the Broadway auction block. Capturing for all posterity, your slut’s slave heat engulfing her as she rolls around in the sand diddling her sloppy wet cunt until she orgasms while begging a master to fuck her sopping snatch is priceless. We use a simultaneous split screen for the branding. One camera captures her facial expressions as the Big D brand is burned into her ass while another camera captures the view from behind,” explained Cindy.
“Since your slut has the Deluxe Reality package there may be some bonus scenes where our employees sample the merchandise so to speak. Most of the sluts with the Deluxe Reality package go home, if they go home at all, with at least some baby batter in their tummies if not other places. If you accept the bid selling her, we refund the charge and give you a complimentary video. You can keep the video private or post highlights on your Facebook page,” expounded Cindy as she finished her sales pitch.
“Nmph, nmph, nmph!” as I tried to shout no, no, no through my gag. I was not interested in consuming any baby batter today, let alone being filmed doing the deed. The humiliation of sharing my block routine in the sand on the auction block with Calum terrified me. Would he ever look at me in the same way after viewing this video? Why was my wet pussy tingling so badly?
“I will miss the action as it is a spa day for me and my girlfriend. It would be such great fun to sit down and watch it over a glass of wine with you Allison. I could give Calum a copy as an engagement present,” giggled Amelia as she ran her hand through my hair.
"I will take it. Please charge my account. You mentioned some other promotions?” inquired Amelia.
“We have a mock cover of The Sandy Foot Girl magazine with your slut’s block picture on the cover. For $100 you get one 8” by 10” color print and an electronic copy emailed to you that you can make more prints or post online. These pictures are trending online this month,” exclaimed an excited Cindy. “Who knows, your slut looks hot enough to make the actual cover.”
“Charge it to my account. I cannot wait to see how that comes out,” smirked a grinning Amelia.
“We also have an early bird Christmas special consisting of Sandy Foot Girl Christmas ornaments that contain pictures of you slut being processed here at the Big D. The ornaments are two sided with a picture on each side. The pictures are stills of your slut painting the pussy post, SIN tattooing, cattle wash, photo shoot, slave yoga, slave grading, display, auction block and my favorite the branding,” explained Cindy.
“Why is the branding your favorite?” asked Amelia.
“For the branding ornament you get her priceless facial expression as the badge is burned into her ass and on the flip side you see the branding iron searing the logo into her ass. You can buy single ornaments for $30 or a set of five for $100,” advised Cindy continuing her enthusiastic sales pitch.
“You can charge two sets to my account. Those will make awesome stocking stuffers for Christmas this year,” exclaimed Amelia as she looked at me with a mischievous grin on her face.
“Congratulations Ma’am, you qualified for a free bonus promotion consisting of a Sandy Foot Girl apron with our logo on it. The apron reads, ‘Certified Prime at the Big D’ and below that it says, ‘I’m a Sandy Foot Girl’ with our logo in the middle. These aprons are perfect at protecting your naked sluts while they cook in the kitchen,” enthused Cindy.
“Can I have two aprons, please? I’d love to greet my husband naked in the kitchen in one of those aprons while preparing a meal for him,” gushed Amelia.
“Of course, I will throw in a second apron for you,” smiled Cindy.
“Did you know I graded Prime right here at the Big D over thirty years ago. So I earned the right to wear a Prime Big D apron,” proudly exclaimed Amelia as she winked at me.
“Wow, that’s awesome. Let me look you up in our computer Mrs. Bedford.” After my mother-in-law provided a SIN number the wrangler punched it into the computer. “Well look at that! You were processed through the Big D earning a Prime slave grade but were not branded with the Big D badge. Can I interest you in getting branded with your slut here? There is nothing that says I am a sexy pleasure slut more than you naked in the kitchen wearing only one of our aprons with the Sandy Foot Girl logo branded on your ass,” exclaimed Cindy.
“Now that’s a really delicious proposition. Allison and I could get matching brands and aprons for our men,” Amelia said with a mischievous smile on her lips.
“You have really taken care of yourself too. I bet you do an hour of slave yoga every morning along with a regular exercise routine. You could even go back there today and get that same grade. I suspect that you would be having a really late dinner in bed if your husband found you adorned in one of our aprons sporting the Sandy Foot Girl brand on your ass,” giggled Cindy trying hard to make one more sale.
“The second brand is also discounted at $125 so you would save a little money doing it together,” explained Cindy.
“Let me think about it. Can I decide this afternoon when I come in to cancel the sale and meet with the blacksmith?” inquired Amelia with a twinkle in her eye.
“Sure thing. You can also look at some of the branding photos on our website to get a better feel for how it would look and the different placement options,” advised Cindy.
“I’ll talk about it with my girlfriend today at the spa today and let you know this afternoon,” replied Amelia grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
“Can I interest you in a tandem slave grading with your future daughter-in-law. Tandems seem to score higher slave grades these days?” gushed Cindy trying to make yet another sale.
Amelia turned to me and started running her fingers through my hair deep in thought considering the proposal. I had mixed feelings about getting slave graded with my mother-in-law. I mean, who does that? Besides that, if we were both slave naked, who would hold our claim tickets? Before I decided if that was a good idea or not, Amelia came to a decision.
“Thanks for the offer but I have other obligations for today. Are we done now?” asked a smiling Amelia.
“Yep, she’s all processed; see you at 4:00 pm in the blacksmith’s shop. Remember, you will have to rescind the sale prior to going to the blacksmith’s shop if you want to give her either a trial or permanent Big D brand. Thank you for coming to the Big D for her slave grading,” chimed Cindy with a big smile on her face as she calculated her sales commission in her head.
Turning to me, Amelia took my face in her hands bringing me to a standing position facing her while looking deep into my eyes with understanding, seeing deep into my soul. I am sure she smelled my arousal as I blushed while meeting her gaze.
“I see a submissive hidden within you that needs to break free. You need to look deep into your soul and ask yourself why you are so sexually aroused today. I believe the experience of being sold on the block will help. You are sexually turned on just being naked like a slave here. I can smell it emanating from you. Your submissive personality is why you enjoy sex the most when you are playing the little slave girl wearing a collar for my son. You are not playing anymore, this is real, and it is as real as it can get for you, embrace it and enjoy an experience that you will never forget. Always remember no matter what happens I love you,” counseled Amelia.
Amelia kissed me on the cheek, handed the leash to the slave handler, named Bobby according to his nametag, that came to collect me as she swatted me on the ass once more with the riding crop.
“That’s one for good luck,” she giggled.
Amelia walked out the door leaving me to my fate. God, my cunt was dripping down my thighs; I had never been as aroused as I was now.
(To be continued)
My Descent into Slavery (A rewrite and expansion of Ch 1 of Allison's Descent...
My Descent into Slavery (A rewrite and expansion of Ch 1 of Allison's Descent...
Last edited by Mr. Smith on Sun May 02, 2021 5:09 pm, edited 2 times in total.
- These users thanked the author Mr. Smith for the post (total 8):
- Carl Bradford • dakswiggin • Ferd • jeepster • audiq9 • Hooked6 • imreadonly2 • reddbunnz
Re: My Descent into Slavery (A rewrite and expansion of Ch 1 of Allison's Descent...
I think I like this version more than the original!
Re: My Descent into Slavery (A rewrite and expansion of Ch 1 of Allison's Descent...
Thanks for using the Protective Enslavement, I'm glad I was able to give you a a nice idea to add to your story.
In the original version misread the how the Pussy Post was used. I also started calling it a Pussy Pole and it was the inspiration for the Pussy Pole Trap in "A Heartland Slave Grading: Chapter Seven". However I read the original too quickly and thought the slave girls straddled the bollards, rubbing against the top rather than the side.
I appreciate the additional World Building you incorporated into the story. I think you add it without slowing the story.
In the original version misread the how the Pussy Post was used. I also started calling it a Pussy Pole and it was the inspiration for the Pussy Pole Trap in "A Heartland Slave Grading: Chapter Seven". However I read the original too quickly and thought the slave girls straddled the bollards, rubbing against the top rather than the side.
I appreciate the additional World Building you incorporated into the story. I think you add it without slowing the story.
Re: My Descent into Slavery (A rewrite and expansion of Ch 1 of Allison's Descent...
Gary wrote,
Your Pussy Pole Trap for me is one of the highlights of your Heartland stories. I just loved the description of that device and how it was used. If I can ever figure out how to get one of my characters stuck on a Pussy Pole Trap I would. Just have not figured that one out.
Thanks for your comment.
Mr. Smith.
Painting the pussy post or pole was Joe's idea. When I put characters through the Big D I tried to follow his design for the facility as it is described down to how the characters would position themselves. Hopefully I got it right. I used both post and pole to avoid using the same term through out the story as both terms can be used to describe the bollard(s).In the original version misread the how the Pussy Post was used. I also started calling it a Pussy Pole and it was the inspiration for the Pussy Pole Trap in "A Heartland Slave Grading: Chapter Seven". However I read the original too quickly and thought the slave girls straddled the bollards, rubbing against the top rather than the side.
Your Pussy Pole Trap for me is one of the highlights of your Heartland stories. I just loved the description of that device and how it was used. If I can ever figure out how to get one of my characters stuck on a Pussy Pole Trap I would. Just have not figured that one out.
Thanks for your comment.
Mr. Smith.
- These users thanked the author Mr. Smith for the post:
- Carl Bradford
-
imreadonly2
- Platinum Member
- Posts: 383
- Joined: Sun Oct 27, 2019 3:44 pm
- Gender: Male
Re: My Descent into Slavery (A rewrite and expansion of Ch 1 of Allison's Descent...
From Joe:
There is so much that I love in this story that I don’t know where to begin.
The power dynamic between the mother-in-law and her would-be daughter-in-law is perfect, and I love Amelia’s obvious relish of her daughter-in-law’s humiliation and enslavement.
I loved her taking the engagement ring…
Sandy the babysitter being made to paint-the-pole in front of Pixie Girl, one of her charges…
Amelia smacking the riding crop on the ground right in front of her face, while ordering her to pick up the pace!
Amelia driving her on to keep going until she squirts!
The story of dad selling the daughter after all the neighbors see her in the Any Chance Auction.
Really, this was wonderful, and one of my favorite stories in a long time. I need to get writing again, as you have really inspired me!!
Joe
There is so much that I love in this story that I don’t know where to begin.
The power dynamic between the mother-in-law and her would-be daughter-in-law is perfect, and I love Amelia’s obvious relish of her daughter-in-law’s humiliation and enslavement.
I loved her taking the engagement ring…
Sandy the babysitter being made to paint-the-pole in front of Pixie Girl, one of her charges…
Amelia smacking the riding crop on the ground right in front of her face, while ordering her to pick up the pace!
Amelia driving her on to keep going until she squirts!
The story of dad selling the daughter after all the neighbors see her in the Any Chance Auction.
Really, this was wonderful, and one of my favorite stories in a long time. I need to get writing again, as you have really inspired me!!
Joe- These users thanked the author imreadonly2 for the post (total 3):
- Carl Bradford • Mr. Smith • ZeeChromosome
Re: My Descent into Slavery (A rewrite and expansion of Ch 1 of Allison's Descent...
This is my third and final try at this chapter. Hooked6 provided some extremely insightful advice regarding the change in the Allison character between the first two versions. In this version I tried to return some of the original innocence and naiveté that I lost in my second attempt. The 60 minute interview discussion was moved to the next chapter to keep the focus on Allison for the start of the story. I posted the below on Literotica with Carl's encouragement. I received one email by a reader stating "The scene with the pole could easily have been written by Joe Doe himself!!!" so I sent him an email confessing the origins for the pussy pole and Any Chance auction were actually Joe's and referred him to this site for more quality stories. I have gone back and rewritten the first five chapters to lay a better foundation for how I want this tale to end. Hopefully this is an improvement over the first two versions.
Congress passed legislation over thirty years ago designed to reduce the student loan delinquency rate by requiring that each borrower agree to a body attachment for a period of involuntary indenture as collateral. There were a number of factors that actuaries used when calculating the period of indenture to guarantee that the outstanding loan would be paid. One was inclusion of a no-international clause prohibiting sale or transportation outside the United States, which rendered the person less valuable, in turn leading to a longer period of indenture. Some countries did not recognize terms limiting the period of indenture. For example mine has a five-year period of indenture without a slave grade and if I was sold internationally to, say, Japan or Saudi Arabia, where all enslavements are for life, my five-year indenture would become a lifetime of slavery.
Another significant factor is one’s slave grade; the better the grade for young women like me the shorter the period of indenture to repay the same amount, and that is why I find myself here today. The slave grade also for some reason influenced the interest rate one paid on the loan. As a college student, I did not have a slave grade and needed one to consolidate my two outstanding student loans into one loan at a lower interest rate, which was why I needed a Prime slave grade.
Arriving at the Big D Slave Market first thing in the morning, my future mother-in-law, Amelia Bedford, pulled into the parking lot in the area farthest from the entrance. She pulled a bag from the backseat containing a slave collar and turned to me.
“Well, are you ready?” Amelia asked. “I have the power of attorney here which we signed yesterday and the two notarized copies. Once you take off your clothes I will put on the collar, walk around the car and pull you out and zip tie your hands behind your back.”
She could sense my apprehension as I started removing my clothing with a concerned look on my face. When I was nude she put the collar around my neck. After Amelia had the collar in place, she took my head in her hands, turning me towards her so that we were looking each other in the eye.
“Honey, do not worry about those stories where free women go into the Big D for a slave grading and come out a slave. That will not happen to you. I promised your mother before she passed that I would look out for you and make sure you were safe. You do trust me, right?” asked Amelia.
I nodded in the affirmative, smiling at her while still feeling trepidation concerning my fast approaching public nudity when I would exit the car to walk across the parking lot for my slave grading. Yikes, it was really happening. I was actually doing this.
“I am going to act a certain way, bring out my inner dominatrix a little while we are in there and make you do things or tease you in a way that may make you uncomfortable. It will help you get that Prime grade you covet,” advised Amelia with a serious look on her face. Her face transitioned into a fun smile, giggling, “I even wore my black leather skirt and three inch heals as part of my costume for my role.”
Amelia leaned forward planting a big kiss on my forehead, reassuring me that it would be ok, released me and exited the car; walking to my door she pulled it open.
“Get out of the car, slave,” she said in a joking manner. When I stood up, in a very serious tone she ordered, “Back hands, slave;” when I complied, she zip-tied my hands together behind my back.
Then she pulled a stick gag out of the bag and directed me to open my mouth, securing it in my jaws giving me the slave grin of legend. Next came a leash which she attached to my collar. Grabbing the folder with all of the paperwork, she then picked up a riding crop and locked the car. Amelia swatted me so hard on my ass with the riding crop that it felt like it left a mark. The blow also made my pussy tingle for some reason, confusing me.
She put the crop under my chin, pushing it up while telling me, “Stand up straight, hold your head high and stick your tits out. You are a magnificent filly; your dancing has left you with a muscular yet feminine physique that includes a perfect ab crack and sexy thigh gap. You look like you are 5’7” and 110 lbs. and you have the most exquisitely sculpted ass with those firm cheeks. I bet you could crack a walnut if I stuck one between your cheeks and you flexed. You have beautiful wavy red hair and vivid deep blue eyes with a smattering of freckles all over your body that is really cute. You would sell for top dollar here.”
Moving the riding crop from my chin running it down my neck she circled my breasts and rubbed my nipples, making them stand out while saying, “You have firm C cup breasts shaped like champagne glasses with nice big erect nipples, at least they are erect now.” She chuckled, while rubbing them with the riding crop.
Now my pussy was really tingling and starting to get wet. Amelia ran the riding crop down my body, in between my breasts down my ab crack over my firm abdomen to my mons and then over my nicely trimmed pubic hair continuing her narrative, “And a neat little landing strip demonstrating that you are a natural redhead.”
Amelia ran the riding crop even lower and proceeded to rub my clit, finishing on my wet pussy lips. My soon to be mother-in-law is rubbing my labia with a riding crop as I stood naked, cuffed, collared and gagged in front of her in a very public parking lot. I moaned as I felt my now needy vagina dripping.
“You are already dripping slave hot, let’s go get your Prime rating, and you are so ready for this. Be proud of yourself—you look every inch a horny pleasure slut,” she laughed, while examining the riding crop, which clearly held evidence of my arousal on it.
God, I was so turned on and I had not even gotten across the parking lot and inside the Big D Slave Market. What was my future mother-in-law doing to me? Stepping towards the main entrance, she pulled me along, chatting as she went.
“Today you will be the most beautiful woman in the Big D Slave Market and remember they only handle prime pussy on their main auction block. You have been practicing your slave yoga for months and I am confident that you will excel with your dancing background. Calum told me you would do great after describing the hot nude block routine you do when you play little slave girl for him,” she smirked seeing my blush.
I could not believe that my fiancé had described in great detail my slave girl auction block routine to his mother in which I performed slave yoga positions incorporating my own original ballet moves, and during which I begged him to buy me and force me to perform a wide variety of perverse sexual acts. We had the best sex when I played his little slave girl wearing his collar with all my inhibitions released. He was still in the doghouse for leaving on a business trip, relegating to his mother the job of taking me to my slave grading which I needed to consolidate my student loan payments. Now he may never get out of the doghouse for that revelation.
Growing up I fell in love with ballet as a young girl; the beauty of the disciplined moves that allowed me to become one with the music when I danced. I had joined the Joffrey Ballet School Trainee program in New York City after my sophomore year in high school. After three years at Joffrey, I had two years completed towards a Bachelor of Fine Arts while also completing my high school requirements. Then my father had a heart attack and passed away, forcing me to leave the expensive New York school.
With Joffrey no longer an option I transferred into the top ranked general dance program in my home state of Texas, located at the University of Texas, Austin, three years ago. It was there that I met Calum Bedford, then starting his second year of law school. I went from a school with less than two hundred students to UT with a student population of over fifty thousand. It was my first day on campus during student registration and I was hopelessly lost. Demonstrating that chivalry was not dead he recognized my distress and spent the morning helping me navigate the campus, leading to a date later that evening. Now, almost three years later, he had proposed and I said yes.
As we continued through the parking lot Amelia advised, “I prepaid for three days of kenneling for you just in case,” causing me to stop walking. She turned around and said, “It is simply a safety precaution in case you need to stay the night. I do not want them to try and sell you over an unpaid kenneling fee and then have to explain to Calum how I lost you.”
Pulling on the leash, “Say I get in an accident and do not get back before closing or they have a surge of inventory that takes priority over your slave grading, you cannot leave until your grading is complete.”
Walking through the parking lot Amelia counseled me, “Remember, you follow every one of my instructions in the reception area, regardless of how humiliating and embarrassing. You can blush, you can cry, but you do not hesitate, if you do I will use the riding crop on you to get you moving.” Turning towards me looking me in the eye, “Do you understand me? It will help your grade.”
I nodded in agreement. My pussy and nipples were really tingling now as I speculated what nasty surprise Amelia had planned for me. As we continued towards the entrance, Amelia noticed that I still had my engagement ring on.
“Give me your engagement ring; you cannot take any jewelry in there,” she demanded, stopping and holding out her hand.
I reluctantly took it off, turned around with my hands cuffed, and handed it to her and she put it on her ring finger next to her wedding band advising, “I will hold it here for you for safekeeping until I can return it to you.”
Amelia held her right hand on my cheek and tearing up she said, “I am thrilled that you are going to be my daughter-in-law. You make Calum so happy and I can tell that you really love him. The two of us will shed tears of anguish and joy together between now and your wedding. I want you to know that no matter what struggles you have, and there are always challenges getting through a wedding, I really truly love you.”
Then composing herself she turned and walked me into the front entrance of the Big D Slave Market. An attractive woman in her forties with a kind smile on her face held the door open for us. She was accompanied by a captivatingly beautiful teenager with mischievous clear blue eyes, just a little over five feet, with a tight little body sporting a pixie cut to her blonde hair. Both were stylishly dressed in skirts that came down to mid-thigh while Pixie Girl sported a simple black leather choker around her neck that was a quarter of an inch wide. It struck me as an odd accessory to wear to a slave market.
The four of us walked into the reception area with a great big “Welcome” sign hanging over it. There was a long counter with five clerks conducting business with a VIP express line on the far right. What instantly caught my attention was the row of yellow three-foot high bollards that prevented vehicles from getting too close to the counters.
I could not believe my eyes! There were six slave naked sluts on their knees backed up to the poles and grinding off on them. Some had their hands cuffed behind their backs while others had the use of their hands to balance. There was a small crowd of bystanders walking amongst the girls commenting on their performance. One grunting busty blonde slut creamed all over the bollard at the end closest to the door we had just walked through to the applause of a small group of bystanders.
“Oh! My! God! Mom! That’s Sandy Holman, she used to baby sit me when I was younger,” squealed the Pixie Girl, pointing at the attractive well-endowed blonde woman.
Poor Sandy Holman’s eyes snapped open, a horrified look on her face, she blushed red from her face to her rather ample chest when she heard her name yelled across the room by Pixie Girl. Sandy scrambled away from the post getting to her feet with a woman that appeared to be her mother holding her leash.
Sandy was a classic green eyed blonde, tall, bordering on six feet, statuesque beauty with magnificent, oversized, firm breasts sporting large erect nipples. The contrast in body types struck me as Pixie Girl’s eyes were around nipple level when standing in front of the naked Sandy.
“Calm down Becky. You are eighteen now. Please act your age,” sighed Pixie Girl’s exasperated mother while turning towards the woman holding Sandy’s leash.
“Hi Martha, I would have thought Sandy would have been graded four years ago. Is this a regrading?” asked Pixie Girl’s mother, as poor Sandy’s blush deepened.
“This is Sandy’s first grading. She graduated from MIT with honors and did not need a slave grade for student loans through the MIT financial aid office. Now, to consolidate those student loans, get a better interest rate and shorten the period of possible indenture she needs a good slave grade. So here we are. I really need to get Sandy checked in for her grading. We can catch up at the alumni mixer this weekend,” grinned Martha as she took her daughter to the check-in counter.
“Good luck, Sandy,” squeaked Pixie Girl, waving to the older woman being led away by her mother on a leash naked, collared, cuffed and gagged like a hot pleasure slut slave for sale.
Amelia led me to the post just vacated by the statuesque blonde, still glistening from its prior occupant. That used bollard looked like the filthiest one in the room with the most stains on it.
“Local superstition holds that if you want a Prime grade at the Big D you gotta paint one of the pussy posts, and the dirtier, filthier, and most recently used the more good luck you get. This one looks like the luckiest pussy post in the building,” she snickered.
“Get down on your knees and back your juicy cunt up to that post and start rubbing it until you cum all over it. I want to see you squirt on it right on the spot with all of the paint worn off,” directed Amelia, giving my ass a playful whack with the riding crop.
Blushing in embarrassment with my dripping cunt tingling, not believing I was actually doing this in a public place in front of an audience, I lowered myself to my knees and backed up to the warm wet concrete post. Putting my face on the dirty floor in order to get the right angle and leverage I started rubbing.
“Gross! That slut is rubbing her pussy on the dirty post that still has Sandy’s pussy juice all over it,” exclaimed Pixie Girl pointing at me.
“Whack,” the crop struck the ground right in front of my face.
“Focus, pick up the pace, the next one will be on your ass,” cajoled Amelia.
I started humping the post with a passion, quickly creaming on the bollard to my surprise. I had not realized just how aroused I had become since stripping in the car. The Big D seemed infectious, the atmosphere brought every woman’s inner slave heat out into the open.
“You’re not done yet, keep going,” Amelia commanded,
Amelia whacked my right buttock with the crop causing me to hurry up both the speed and pressure of my rubbing.
“Are you going to make me do that?” whined Pixie Girl, pointing at me while I ground against the slick bollard.
“Just picture yourself next week right where that slut is,” responded her mother, Natasha.
I could hear the chorus of groans and moans from the girls behind me painting their posts accompanied by an occasional crack of an encouraging whip and then one of them would cream her post, garnering applause from the crowd. I was closing in on my second orgasm as Amelia ran the crop over my body as she encouraged me to blow on the pussy post.
“You’re almost there, let yourself go, squirt on the post, you skanky pleasure slut slave,” Amelia giggled, triggering my second climax.
Now I was sweating, panting out of breath, my face in my own wet spot on the floor with my pussy glued to the slick pole. Kneeling, Amelia pulled my hair out of my face, grabbed my chin and urged, “One more; third time’s the charm slave slut, you ain’t squirted yet,” and whacked my ass with the riding crop.
“Mom, that slut is hogging the lucky pussy post, she already creamed twice on it. I want my turn,” I heard a girl whine as I started up again.
I cannot believe this is happening I thought as I once again started painting the pussy post with my juices. God, I was so aroused, girls groaning on their posts behind me, people walking by commenting on what a sweaty skank I was.
“How much longer is your skanky slut going to be? My daughter wants that lucky pussy post,” her mom asked Amelia.
“What a nympho, she already came twice and she’s still going.” Another male commentator chimed in, “Like a little pink Energizer pussy,” as he chuckled at his own joke.
The humiliation was turning me on; I could feel the tingle building up from my nipples to my anus to my pussy until I was on the verge of my next climax. ‘Whack,’ Amelia struck me hard with the crop right on my little winking rosebud, sending a shock wave through my body that triggered my most intense orgasm ever as she yelled, “Cum for me now.” I moaned loudly as I squirted profuse amounts of cunt cream all over the pussy post to the amusement of the crowd.
“I captured a video of that slut squirting on that pussy post on my phone. Mom will never believe this,” I heard one young man with a Boston accent tell his father.
“Son, there are certain things best not shared with your mother, and this is one of them,” the father with the same Yankee accent replied in a worried tone as they walked away.
“That will be you next week squirting on this very pussy post. I do not care how long it takes,” advised Natasha.
“What if I can’t squirt like her?” asked Pixie Girl, looking worried.
“I have a crop just like that one at home. Would you like to practice when we get home?” smirked Natasha as Pixie Girl blushed.
“See mom, that is the luckiest pussy post here. I want to paint the squirter pussy post for good luck before my grading,” exclaimed the Whiny Girl.
I was now lying face down in a puddle of my own fluids, my pussy sliding down against the pussy post, unable to move as I tried to collect myself. I looked up at the Whiny Girl who was a drop-dead gorgeous athletic brunette with emerald green eyes and winked at her and she winked right back with a playful smile.
“I know you are a squirter, honey. Just go with it. You regularly squirt when you practice slave yoga naked in your room at night. When you go to school this fall I have to replace the carpet due to all the nasty stains and odors from all your pussy juice,” advised Natasha, while rolling her eyes at her daughter.
“I used Febreze. It’s not just me. Annie also squirts when we practice slave yoga together in my room. We can’t help it; it just happens every time we practice together,” winced Pixie Girl. “At least we both got A’s on our slave yoga final exam this year.”
As I regained my composure, Amelia pulled me to my feet, “Honey, there is something about being slave naked that is liberating. You can do things that a clothed free person cannot. I would be arrested if I pulled down my panties, pulled up my skirt and rubbed one off on the pussy post. You are slave inventory right now, a piece of livestock, so you have a free pass to masturbate in public, to have sex with another a man or woman while here and nobody will care. You are just living down to the lowly status of a slave, the pleasure slut they see you as now. Do you understand?”
I nodded, unable to speak past the gag. “Let’s get you registered,” she took out my gag and pulled out a bottle of water, giving me a healthy drink before replacing the gag and leading me to the VIP Express line to check me in.
Amelia pulled me up to the counter to get me registered. We were greeted by a clerk wearing a burgundy polo shirt with The Big D logo and a nametag identifying her as Cindy.
“Welcome to the Big D Slave Market, how may I help you this morning?” asked a chipper Cindy with a big warm smile.
“I am Amelia Bedford here to register Allison Stevens for her slave grading. Here is all of the paperwork and a notarized power of attorney authorizing me to act on her behalf,” advised Amelia as she handed over a folder full of paperwork.
Cindy reviewed the paperwork and then looked me up on her computer saying, “Ok, We have a reservation for the Deluxe Reality slave grading package meaning she will be treated just as if she was a slave going to auction to include a Slave Identification Number (SIN) tattoo, cattle wash, cattle tag, physical, photo shoot, beauty clean up, slave grading, and three days optional kenneling in case the grading is not completed today. The medical pre-screening documents are complete. The Vet assistant will complete the final medical screening at the grading center. The Big D is in Pussy Premium Red meaning our inventory is low so we are slow right now and should be able to move her through rather quickly.”
“We have a new ground-breaking promotion this month for women that want the true Sandy Foot Girl experience of being put on the auction block and sold. It’s called the “Any Chance” auction. Would you like to learn more about this fantastic opportunity?” piped up Cindy as she started her sales pitch.
“I’m intrigued, tell me more,” asked Amelia with a playful grin.
“Your slave will go through the entire process of being auctioned. The only difference is that we list her as “Any Chance” on the inventory notifying the buyers that the owner maintains the right to reject the winning bid within twenty-four hours of the gavel coming down. This way you get to see how much money you would make on the sale, and will increase her value as collateral for any loan. This is also a safe way to give a girl her Sandy Foot Girl fantasy experience as the sale is real until revoked,” explained Cindy. “There is always any chance that, for any one of these sluts thinking they are going home at the end of the day, the bid will be accepted.”
“What is the cost?” asked Amelia.
“This month the price is $500 for this promotion to cover our costs but it is fully refundable if you go through with the sale,” said Cindy. “For another $50 we provide a Certificate of Value stating the price of the final bid along with the bidding history for that slave.
This sounded like a horrible idea. Going through the very public slave grading was bad enough. Actually being sold at auction to some stranger terrified me. Why I was so aroused listening to Cindy’s sales pitch really confused me. My pussy was leaking and I am sure that both Cindy and Amelia could smell my slave heat wafting from my highly aroused pussy.
“Tell me more about the Certificate of Value. What impact, if any, does it have on the period of indenture required to secure the loan? What about the interest rate on the loan?” inquired Amelia, as her demeanor instantly turned all businesslike.
Cindy explored my file on her computer while saying, “Let me look her loan up in the system quickly. Found it; she has student loans with Consolidated Loans Inc. with a five year body attachment as collateral, a no international transfer/sale clause and no slave grade which is why she is here today. I see that based on the auctorial tables a Prime grade will reduce the period of indenture from five to four years with a slight interest rate reduction. Does that sound correct?”
“Yes,” replied Amelia, while I nodded in the affirmative. “How would a Certificate of Value either further reduce the interest rate on the loan or the period of indenture?”
“The terms of your loan appear in compliance with state regulations. If the winning bid on a three year indenture is fifteen percent greater than the remaining principal owed on the loans her exposure drops from five to three years along with a more favorable interest rate,” advised Cindy, as Amelia turned giving me a thumbs up.
“I can smell her slave heat from the other side of the counter,” grinned Cindy, leaning over the counter to look at my pussy. “I can see moisture on her cunt; she definitely has the necessary slave heat. Although I only caught part of her performance polishing the pussy post; what I saw was impressive. I would expect a Prime slave grade assuming everything goes well during the grading. When she nails her block routine during the auction she should easily hit the fifteen percent threshold.
“When would she be auctioned?” asked Amelia.
“Our next auction is this afternoon. We are in Pussy Premium Red meaning our inventory is low so there will be fewer pieces of Prime livestock to bid on which should raise the prices a little. We have our high rollers coming in for the 2:00 pm auction and some of them get a perverse thrill out of purchasing a slave that thought she was going home. For that reason we find that the Any Chance sales prices are about two to five percent higher than the regular auctions,” chuckled Cindy. “So this is a really good opportunity for your slut.”
“How often do the sales go through?” inquired Amelia.
“More often than you would think. I just had one last Friday. Daddy brought in his twin daughters, not identical, for their slave grading for their college loans since they were graduating from high school this spring. The hot ditzy blonde-haired one begged for the Sandy Foot Girl experience. She was infatuated with the slave romance novels and Hallmark Channel movies. Daddy caves in. She was a high school cheerleader and on the school Ponygirl dressage team. She was a virgin, slave graded as a Prime and the winning bid was a fortune. After the auction, her Daddy came back all flustered asking for my advice,” said Cindy.
“What was his problem?” asked Amelia.
“He watched his ditzy daughter put on quite the show rolling around in the sand during her block routine and begging a master to fuck all her holes. Her slave heat took over when she worked two fingers up her ass while diddling her cunt until she exploded in an intense orgasm squirting in the sand while howling like a wolf with a look of complete rapture on her face. I saw the picture and would not be surprised if she was this month’s Sandy Foot Girl,” explained Cindy.
“So she was really enjoying herself on the auction block,” laughed Amelia.
“Mmph,” I tried to speak through the gag as Amelia grinned at me. This was not a good idea even though it made my pussy tingle. Why was being sold as a slave at auction making me horny? As I squeezed my thighs together, I wondered if I could masturbate to orgasm lying in the sand on the auction block. What was wrong with me, my pussy was a leaking sieve?
“That’s an understatement. Between the two of us I could tell she was a real submissive when he signed her up. I told him that his beautiful daughter had a calling for the collar. As her father, he had an obligation to make her dream come true. He had to sell her for her own good, as she would never be truly happy as a free woman. I pointed out that with the money from her sale he had more than enough to put his other children through college and take his wife to Hawaii, so he did,” continued Cindy.
“He confided in me after what he saw on the auction block he really couldn’t bring her home. Two of his neighbors were in the audience along with a co-worker that all recognized his daughter, witnessing her debauchery. He added that she was not very bright and college would have been a waste of good money,” laughed Cindy. “And I made a good commission on the sale.”
“What about her sister, the smart one?” asked Amelia.
“You mean the free one. She was upset at first although not really surprised. When she learned that due to the sale she had a free ride to college and medical school her attitude changed for the better,” laughed Cindy. “Then she mentioned that her sister would never steal another boyfriend from her and they walked out without even saying goodbye.”
Getting back to business Cindy advised, “The 2:00 pm auction this afternoon on Broadway, our main block for Prime slaves, is a fantastic opportunity due to our low inventory of Prime pussy for sale. Your soon to be Prime pleasure slut’s processing and grading will be prioritized to make that deadline,” advised Cindy.
“Getting a Certificate of Value will really help with your loan. I also think this would be a good experience for you, being sold like a slave at auction. It would open your eyes to what a slave goes through,” said Amelia, looking at me with a serious look on her face. Reluctantly, I nodded my head in agreement thinking in for a penny, in for a pound. She nodded back saying, “Charge the $550 to my account.”
“You want the no international travel, transfer or sale clause included?” asked Cindy
“Yes,” answered Amelia.
“We are going with the three year period of indenture, right?” advised Cindy.
“Three years it is. Taking two years off her indenture while also further reducing the interest rate sounds perfect,” smiled Amelia, looking at me with a grin on her face as I nodded in agreement.
Cindy went to work on the computer and the printer spewed out another form and she handed it to Amelia advising, “This is the Any Chance auction agreement. Please sign the waiver that you are aware that the sale becomes final if you fail to rescind it within twenty-four hours.”
“Please initial here. This indicates that you understand that the twenty-four hours starts when the auctioneer’s gavel comes down. The auctioneer will announce, ‘This is an Any Chance sale and the time starts now’.”
I watched as Amelia reviewed the form, still horrified that I would be publicly sold at auction even though I had agreed to it. Why were my thighs rubbing together as I tried to squeeze my pussy as Cindy returned to her computer?
“Here is a paper with the link to our app that enables you to accept or reject the bid using your smartphone. We recommend that you come in person and either accept or reject the bid due to one mishap that occurred a few weeks ago with a bid that was accepted by mistake,” advised Cindy.
“Mmph,” I squealed through the gag as Amelia ignored me. A mishap where a poor woman was enslaved by mistake! I was having second thoughts about this auction.
“What happened?” inquired Amelia, visibly curious.
“Eighteen year old Amber wanted the Deluxe Reality package with the auction option for a two year term after becoming infatuated with the slave romance stories depicted in those books and movies. She was rambling about the Hillary Rodham novel she had just finished reading about a slave finding love in a harem in the middle east. Her grandfather bought the Any Chance auction for her just to shut her up and he decided to use the app function on his smartphone to reject the bid. Unfortunately, he was not tech savvy and hit the sell button by mistake finalizing the sale,” explained Cindy.
“Oh my,” exclaimed Amelia.
How awful for that poor girl. Lucky for me Amelia is one of the most tech savvy women that I know. There is no way she would make that kind of mistake.
“All sales are final so there was nothing we could do to help him. Amber brought in a mint and that still did not mollify him at all,” continued Cindy. “When I got off work that day I found her in shipping, blissfully crouched in a poodle cage, branded, collared, cuffed, and gagged with a genuine smile hidden behind her slave grin actually looking forward to her new life, like it was some kind of grand adventure. Stupid slave girl.”
“That poor girl is going to give him an earful when she gets back,” commented Amelia.
“Oh, Amber’s not coming back. She’s living the dream in a slave harem in Dubai. Grandpa did not include a no international travel, transfer or sale clause in the contract. All defined term indentures become life enslavements in Dubai which was where we shipped her at the request of her owner. That is why we have the waiver form for you to sign when we provide you with the app,” said Cindy.
Amelia signed the waiver form, initialing each clause as it was explained to her by Cindy. When Amelia was done Cindy placed the form in my file.
Turning to me, Amelia smiled kindly and said, “No need to worry, on top of the promise I made to your mother, you are too precious to me to ever consider selling,” making me feel much better about my current situation.
“We pulled a Slave Identification Number US-ILS81-X9Z3 and lot number CZ-3927,” she summarized as the printer churned.
Cindy grabbed a blue tag shaped as ballet slippers and put a sticker on the blue tag saying, “The sticker on the cattle tag contains her lot number and barcode. It will remain on her until she is released back to you.” Handing the claim tag to Amelia Cindy continued, “Here is your claim tag with matching lot number and barcode, you will need it to claim her so don’t lose it.”
“That is if you don’t sell her,” Cindy chuckled.
Turning to me Cindy advised in a stern voice, "You are at The Big D Livestock and Slave Market in Dallas, Texas. You are here for a slave grading and auction. During the time you are here, you will be treated just as if you are here for processing and sale as a pleasure slut slave. I am required by law to tell you that the slave collar you will be fitted with can deliver a powerful and extremely painful electric shock if you attempt to leave this building without permission or are disobedient. Additionally, all Big D employees are authorized to use any means deemed necessary to compel you to comply with all orders given to you, and those means include electrical shock and whipping. If you follow my instructions, you will not be hurt. Do you understand?"
Cindy established the penalty of my disobedience by holding a slave prod in front of my wide eyes and pressing the trigger. Amelia chuckled, holding me in place as I involuntarily pulled away from the crazy slave prod-wielding clerk with wide eyes as I watched the electricity jump between the two sharp metal prongs accompanied by an electrical crackling.
"Do you comprende?" Cindy repeated harshly.
I vigorously nodded and tried to say yes through my gag hoping she understood. Turning to Amelia the clerk had Amelia initial the box that I had been properly advised and proceeded around the counter carrying the blue tag and a heavy black slave collar with a battery pack that she placed on the counter in front of me. She cut off my zip-ties.
“Slave Kneel,” Cindy ordered, followed by, “Collar.”
I quickly assumed the collar position with my left hand on my thigh and my right hand pulling my hair away from my neck. Cindy efficiently secured the slave collar around my exposed neck and attached a leash to the collar. Sharp prongs in the front and back stuck into my tender skin. She waved a remote control in front of my face.
“I push this button and the collar shocks you, lights out, comprende?” advised Cindy.
Again, I nodded vigorously.
“Prone,” she directed as I assumed the position on my stomach.
“Back-hands,” she ordered.
Petrified at the threat of a shock, I placed my hands behind my back and Cindy quickly secured my hands in standard Big D handcuffs. She then picked up the blue cattle tag shaped as ballet slippers off the counter. Putting it into a punch gun and kneeling on my back, she grabbed my left ear.
“Hold still, this is gonna hurt,” Cindy ordered.
Cindy punched the heated tag through a tiny hole in the cartilage in my ear. Not knowing what was happening the pain surprised me, generating a high-pitched squeal into my gag as I started crying.
Getting off me Cindy said, “Stop crying you horny little slave, I can smell your slave heat,” and then commanded, “Stand.”
Handcuffed, I struggled to my feet as Cindy walked back behind the counter handing Amelia the collar and leash I wore into the Big D.
“After we get her SIN tattooed we will start with the cattle wash, she stinks worse than a well-used pussy post. You have your claim check, all of the paperwork is in order, the grading and kenneling was prepaid, the Any Chance Auction is now charged to your account and she has been processed as inventory with the Big D. We have a couple other specials this week and our new Trial Branding. What can I help you with first?” asked the enthusiastic Cindy sensing another sale.
“Tell me about the new Trial Branding,” asked Amelia. She then turned to me, “Turn around and display.”
Obediently I turned facing away from her, bending down looking through my legs in the display position.
“The Trial Branding program allows owners to apply a temporary Big D brand to experiment with how it looks on different parts of the body. Common branding locations are the buttocks, between the cheeks, vagina, back shoulder and thigh. The blacksmith prepares the site for a few minutes with a special pre-branding cream and uses a lighter touch when applying the brand. The actual branding takes a bit longer and burns worse than the standard brand. It is not permanent and heals in a couple of months. The standard fee is $150 unless you want a custom brand,” advised Cindy as I started whimpering. “Your slut has an incredible ass. One of our brands would look awesome burned onto her butt.”
Amelia ran her fingers center on my left ass cheek as I started trembling. She asked Cindy, “Is this the location, on the buttocks?” Spreading my ass cheeks Amelia ran her finger on the sensitive skin on the inside of my left cheek right next to my rosebud, “And this is the location between the cheeks?” she asked.
“Correct, some owners want the brand prominently displayed on the center of the buttock while others prefer a more subtle approach between the cheeks. The skin between the cheeks is more sensitive and is thus more painful to apply. Can I reserve a time with the blacksmith for you this afternoon? You can consult with the blacksmith and decide which you prefer,” Cindy advised.
“Please schedule her for 4:00 pm and charge the $150 to my account,” instructed Amelia. Turning to me Amelia commanded, “Slave kneel.”
“There are a few more awesome promotions available this month. The first is the Sandy Foot Girl video chronicle of your slut’s experience here at the Big D. For only $150, we compile thirty to forty minutes of your slut’s highlights starting with you leading her in the front door on a leash and her squirting on the pussy post. We use the surveillance feed and strategically placed high resolution cameras throughout the facility,” explained Cindy.
What should I expect to see in this video?” chuckled a clearly intrigued Amelia.
“Your pleasure slut’s video would of course include her painting the pussy post including her squirting during her last orgasm. These videos capture her SIN tattooing, cleaning out her crotch critters in the cattle wash, photo shoot, graded slave yoga routine, slave grading, and display. It culminates in her full block routine when she becomes a true Sandy Foot Girl as she is sold on the Broadway auction block. Capturing for all posterity, your slut’s slave heat engulfing her as she rolls around in the sand diddling her sloppy wet cunt until she orgasms while begging a master to fuck her sopping snatch is priceless. We use a simultaneous split screen for the branding. One camera captures her facial expressions as the Big D brand is burned into her ass while another camera captures the view from behind,” explained Cindy.
“Since your slut has the Deluxe Reality package there may be some bonus scenes where our employees sample the merchandise so to speak. Most of the sluts with the Deluxe Reality package go home, if they go home at all, with at least some baby batter in their tummies if not other places. If you accept the bid selling her, we refund the charge and give you a complimentary video. You can keep the video private or post highlights on your Facebook page,” expounded Cindy as she finished her sales pitch.
“Nmph, nmph, nmph!” as I tried to shout no, no, no through my gag. I was not interested in consuming any baby batter today, let alone being filmed doing the deed. The humiliation of sharing my block routine in the sand on the auction block with Calum terrified me. Would he ever look at me in the same way after viewing this video? Why was my wet pussy tingling so badly?
“I will miss the action as it is a spa day for me and my girlfriend. It would be such great fun to sit down and watch it over a glass of wine with you Allison. I could give Calum a copy as an engagement present,” giggled Amelia as she ran her hand through my hair. “Maybe it would be better to watch it together and then decide if he, or anyone else, ever gets to see it.”
I will take it. Please charge my account. You mentioned some other promotions?” inquired Amelia.
“We have a mock cover of The Sandy Foot Girl magazine with your slut’s block picture on the cover. For $100 you get one 8” by 10” color print and an electronic copy emailed to you that you can make more prints or post online. These pictures are trending online this month,” exclaimed an excited Cindy. “Who knows, your slut looks hot enough to make the actual cover as this month’s Ms. Sandy Foot Girl.”
“Charge it to my account. I cannot wait to see how that comes out,” smirked a grinning Amelia, looking my way. “I really think Calum would like that photo as a personal keepsake and deep down you know you will be proud of how much he likes it.”
Amelia had me there. I knew that Calum would admire how attractive and slutty I looked in that kind of photo. Knowing my fiancé would be turned on by this new side of me just further inflamed my slave heat.
“We also have an early bird Christmas special consisting of Sandy Foot Girl Christmas ornaments that contain pictures of you slut being processed here at the Big D. The ornaments are two sided with a picture on each side. The pictures are stills of your slut painting the pussy post, SIN tattooing, cattle wash, photo shoot, slave yoga, slave grading, display, auction block and my favorite the branding,” explained Cindy.
“Why is the branding one your favorite?” asked Amelia.
“For the branding ornament you get her priceless facial expression as the badge is burned into her ass and on the flip side you see the branding iron searing the logo into her ass. You can buy single ornaments for $30 or a set of five for $100,” advised Cindy continuing her enthusiastic sales pitch.
“You can charge two sets to my account. Those will make awesome stocking stuffers for Christmas this year,” exclaimed Amelia as she looked down at me with a mischievous grin on her face. Noticing the horrified look on my face she smiled, “I’m joking about the stocking stuffers. You can surprise him by hanging them on your own Christmas tree where only the two of you will see them, that is until you have children, then they go into storage.”
“Congratulations Ma’am, you qualified for a free bonus promotion consisting of a Sandy Foot Girl apron with our logo on it. The apron reads, ‘Certified Prime at the Big D’ and below that it says, ‘I’m a Sandy Foot Girl’ with the Big D logo in the middle. These aprons are perfect at protecting your naked sluts while they cook in the kitchen,” enthused Cindy.
“Can I have two aprons, please? I’d love to greet my husband naked in the kitchen in one of those aprons while preparing a meal for him,” gushed Amelia.
“Of course, I will throw in a second apron for you,” smiled Cindy.
“Did you know I graded Prime right here at the Big D over thirty years ago. So I earned the right to wear a Prime Big D apron,” proudly exclaimed Amelia as she winked at me.
“Wow, that’s awesome. Let me look you up on our computer Mrs. Bedford.”
After my mother-in-law provided a SIN number the wrangler punched it into the computer.
“Well look at that! You were ah . . . processed through the Big D earning a Prime slave grade but were not branded with the Big D badge. Can I interest you in getting branded with your daughter-in-law here? There is nothing that says I am a sexy pleasure slut wife more than you naked in the kitchen wearing only one of our aprons with the Sandy Foot Girl logo branded on your ass,” chimed Cindy.
“Now that’s a really delicious proposition. Allison and I could get matching brands and aprons for our men,” Amelia said with a mischievous smile on her lips.
“You have really taken care of yourself too. I bet you do an hour of slave yoga every morning along with a regular exercise routine. You could even go back there today and get that same grade. I suspect that you would be having a really late dinner in bed if your husband found you adorned in one of our aprons sporting the Sandy Foot Girl brand on your ass,” giggled Cindy trying hard to make one more sale.
“The second brand is also discounted at $125 so you would save a little money doing it together,” explained Cindy.
“Let me think about it. Can I decide this afternoon when I come in to cancel the sale and meet with the blacksmith?” inquired Amelia with a twinkle in her eye.
“Sure thing. You can also look at some of the branding photos on our website to get a better feel for how it would look and the different placement options,” advised Cindy.
“I’ll talk about it with my girlfriend today at the spa today and let you know this afternoon,” replied Amelia grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
“Can I interest you in a tandem slave grading with your future daughter-in-law. Tandems seem to score higher slave grades these days?” gushed Cindy trying to make yet another sale.
Amelia turned to me and started running her fingers through my hair deep in thought considering the proposal. I had mixed feelings about getting slave graded with my mother-in-law. I mean, who does that? Besides that, if we were both slave naked, who would hold our claim tickets? Before I decided if that was a good idea or not, Amelia came to a decision.
“Thanks for the offer but I have other obligations for today. Are we done now?” asked a smiling Amelia.
“Yep, she’s all processed; see you at 4:00 pm in the blacksmith’s shop. Remember, you will have to rescind the sale prior to going to the blacksmith’s shop if you want to give her either a trial or permanent Big D brand. Thank you for coming to the Big D for her slave grading,” chimed Cindy with a big smile on her face as she calculated her sales commission in her head.
Turning to me, Amelia took my face in her hands bringing me to a standing position facing her while looking deep into my eyes with understanding, seeing deep into my soul. I am sure she smelled my arousal as I blushed while meeting her gaze.
“I see a submissive hidden within you that needs to break free. You need to look deep into your soul and ask yourself why you are so sexually aroused today. I believe the experience of being sold on the block will help. You are sexually turned on just being naked like a slave here. I can smell it emanating from you. Your submissive personality is why you enjoy sex the most when you are playing the little slave girl wearing a collar for my son. You are not playing anymore, this is real, and it is as real as it can get for you, embrace it and enjoy an experience that you will never forget. Always remember no matter what happens I love you,” counseled Amelia. “We will have much to talk about when I pick you up.”
Amelia kissed me on the cheek, handed the leash to the slave handler, named Bobby according to his nametag, who came to collect me as she swatted me on the ass once more with the riding crop.
“That’s one for good luck,” she giggled.
Amelia walked out the door leaving me to my fate. God, my cunt was dripping down my thighs; I had never been as aroused as I was now.
(To be continued)
Congress passed legislation over thirty years ago designed to reduce the student loan delinquency rate by requiring that each borrower agree to a body attachment for a period of involuntary indenture as collateral. There were a number of factors that actuaries used when calculating the period of indenture to guarantee that the outstanding loan would be paid. One was inclusion of a no-international clause prohibiting sale or transportation outside the United States, which rendered the person less valuable, in turn leading to a longer period of indenture. Some countries did not recognize terms limiting the period of indenture. For example mine has a five-year period of indenture without a slave grade and if I was sold internationally to, say, Japan or Saudi Arabia, where all enslavements are for life, my five-year indenture would become a lifetime of slavery.
Another significant factor is one’s slave grade; the better the grade for young women like me the shorter the period of indenture to repay the same amount, and that is why I find myself here today. The slave grade also for some reason influenced the interest rate one paid on the loan. As a college student, I did not have a slave grade and needed one to consolidate my two outstanding student loans into one loan at a lower interest rate, which was why I needed a Prime slave grade.
Arriving at the Big D Slave Market first thing in the morning, my future mother-in-law, Amelia Bedford, pulled into the parking lot in the area farthest from the entrance. She pulled a bag from the backseat containing a slave collar and turned to me.
“Well, are you ready?” Amelia asked. “I have the power of attorney here which we signed yesterday and the two notarized copies. Once you take off your clothes I will put on the collar, walk around the car and pull you out and zip tie your hands behind your back.”
She could sense my apprehension as I started removing my clothing with a concerned look on my face. When I was nude she put the collar around my neck. After Amelia had the collar in place, she took my head in her hands, turning me towards her so that we were looking each other in the eye.
“Honey, do not worry about those stories where free women go into the Big D for a slave grading and come out a slave. That will not happen to you. I promised your mother before she passed that I would look out for you and make sure you were safe. You do trust me, right?” asked Amelia.
I nodded in the affirmative, smiling at her while still feeling trepidation concerning my fast approaching public nudity when I would exit the car to walk across the parking lot for my slave grading. Yikes, it was really happening. I was actually doing this.
“I am going to act a certain way, bring out my inner dominatrix a little while we are in there and make you do things or tease you in a way that may make you uncomfortable. It will help you get that Prime grade you covet,” advised Amelia with a serious look on her face. Her face transitioned into a fun smile, giggling, “I even wore my black leather skirt and three inch heals as part of my costume for my role.”
Amelia leaned forward planting a big kiss on my forehead, reassuring me that it would be ok, released me and exited the car; walking to my door she pulled it open.
“Get out of the car, slave,” she said in a joking manner. When I stood up, in a very serious tone she ordered, “Back hands, slave;” when I complied, she zip-tied my hands together behind my back.
Then she pulled a stick gag out of the bag and directed me to open my mouth, securing it in my jaws giving me the slave grin of legend. Next came a leash which she attached to my collar. Grabbing the folder with all of the paperwork, she then picked up a riding crop and locked the car. Amelia swatted me so hard on my ass with the riding crop that it felt like it left a mark. The blow also made my pussy tingle for some reason, confusing me.
She put the crop under my chin, pushing it up while telling me, “Stand up straight, hold your head high and stick your tits out. You are a magnificent filly; your dancing has left you with a muscular yet feminine physique that includes a perfect ab crack and sexy thigh gap. You look like you are 5’7” and 110 lbs. and you have the most exquisitely sculpted ass with those firm cheeks. I bet you could crack a walnut if I stuck one between your cheeks and you flexed. You have beautiful wavy red hair and vivid deep blue eyes with a smattering of freckles all over your body that is really cute. You would sell for top dollar here.”
Moving the riding crop from my chin running it down my neck she circled my breasts and rubbed my nipples, making them stand out while saying, “You have firm C cup breasts shaped like champagne glasses with nice big erect nipples, at least they are erect now.” She chuckled, while rubbing them with the riding crop.
Now my pussy was really tingling and starting to get wet. Amelia ran the riding crop down my body, in between my breasts down my ab crack over my firm abdomen to my mons and then over my nicely trimmed pubic hair continuing her narrative, “And a neat little landing strip demonstrating that you are a natural redhead.”
Amelia ran the riding crop even lower and proceeded to rub my clit, finishing on my wet pussy lips. My soon to be mother-in-law is rubbing my labia with a riding crop as I stood naked, cuffed, collared and gagged in front of her in a very public parking lot. I moaned as I felt my now needy vagina dripping.
“You are already dripping slave hot, let’s go get your Prime rating, and you are so ready for this. Be proud of yourself—you look every inch a horny pleasure slut,” she laughed, while examining the riding crop, which clearly held evidence of my arousal on it.
God, I was so turned on and I had not even gotten across the parking lot and inside the Big D Slave Market. What was my future mother-in-law doing to me? Stepping towards the main entrance, she pulled me along, chatting as she went.
“Today you will be the most beautiful woman in the Big D Slave Market and remember they only handle prime pussy on their main auction block. You have been practicing your slave yoga for months and I am confident that you will excel with your dancing background. Calum told me you would do great after describing the hot nude block routine you do when you play little slave girl for him,” she smirked seeing my blush.
I could not believe that my fiancé had described in great detail my slave girl auction block routine to his mother in which I performed slave yoga positions incorporating my own original ballet moves, and during which I begged him to buy me and force me to perform a wide variety of perverse sexual acts. We had the best sex when I played his little slave girl wearing his collar with all my inhibitions released. He was still in the doghouse for leaving on a business trip, relegating to his mother the job of taking me to my slave grading which I needed to consolidate my student loan payments. Now he may never get out of the doghouse for that revelation.
Growing up I fell in love with ballet as a young girl; the beauty of the disciplined moves that allowed me to become one with the music when I danced. I had joined the Joffrey Ballet School Trainee program in New York City after my sophomore year in high school. After three years at Joffrey, I had two years completed towards a Bachelor of Fine Arts while also completing my high school requirements. Then my father had a heart attack and passed away, forcing me to leave the expensive New York school.
With Joffrey no longer an option I transferred into the top ranked general dance program in my home state of Texas, located at the University of Texas, Austin, three years ago. It was there that I met Calum Bedford, then starting his second year of law school. I went from a school with less than two hundred students to UT with a student population of over fifty thousand. It was my first day on campus during student registration and I was hopelessly lost. Demonstrating that chivalry was not dead he recognized my distress and spent the morning helping me navigate the campus, leading to a date later that evening. Now, almost three years later, he had proposed and I said yes.
As we continued through the parking lot Amelia advised, “I prepaid for three days of kenneling for you just in case,” causing me to stop walking. She turned around and said, “It is simply a safety precaution in case you need to stay the night. I do not want them to try and sell you over an unpaid kenneling fee and then have to explain to Calum how I lost you.”
Pulling on the leash, “Say I get in an accident and do not get back before closing or they have a surge of inventory that takes priority over your slave grading, you cannot leave until your grading is complete.”
Walking through the parking lot Amelia counseled me, “Remember, you follow every one of my instructions in the reception area, regardless of how humiliating and embarrassing. You can blush, you can cry, but you do not hesitate, if you do I will use the riding crop on you to get you moving.” Turning towards me looking me in the eye, “Do you understand me? It will help your grade.”
I nodded in agreement. My pussy and nipples were really tingling now as I speculated what nasty surprise Amelia had planned for me. As we continued towards the entrance, Amelia noticed that I still had my engagement ring on.
“Give me your engagement ring; you cannot take any jewelry in there,” she demanded, stopping and holding out her hand.
I reluctantly took it off, turned around with my hands cuffed, and handed it to her and she put it on her ring finger next to her wedding band advising, “I will hold it here for you for safekeeping until I can return it to you.”
Amelia held her right hand on my cheek and tearing up she said, “I am thrilled that you are going to be my daughter-in-law. You make Calum so happy and I can tell that you really love him. The two of us will shed tears of anguish and joy together between now and your wedding. I want you to know that no matter what struggles you have, and there are always challenges getting through a wedding, I really truly love you.”
Then composing herself she turned and walked me into the front entrance of the Big D Slave Market. An attractive woman in her forties with a kind smile on her face held the door open for us. She was accompanied by a captivatingly beautiful teenager with mischievous clear blue eyes, just a little over five feet, with a tight little body sporting a pixie cut to her blonde hair. Both were stylishly dressed in skirts that came down to mid-thigh while Pixie Girl sported a simple black leather choker around her neck that was a quarter of an inch wide. It struck me as an odd accessory to wear to a slave market.
The four of us walked into the reception area with a great big “Welcome” sign hanging over it. There was a long counter with five clerks conducting business with a VIP express line on the far right. What instantly caught my attention was the row of yellow three-foot high bollards that prevented vehicles from getting too close to the counters.
I could not believe my eyes! There were six slave naked sluts on their knees backed up to the poles and grinding off on them. Some had their hands cuffed behind their backs while others had the use of their hands to balance. There was a small crowd of bystanders walking amongst the girls commenting on their performance. One grunting busty blonde slut creamed all over the bollard at the end closest to the door we had just walked through to the applause of a small group of bystanders.
“Oh! My! God! Mom! That’s Sandy Holman, she used to baby sit me when I was younger,” squealed the Pixie Girl, pointing at the attractive well-endowed blonde woman.
Poor Sandy Holman’s eyes snapped open, a horrified look on her face, she blushed red from her face to her rather ample chest when she heard her name yelled across the room by Pixie Girl. Sandy scrambled away from the post getting to her feet with a woman that appeared to be her mother holding her leash.
Sandy was a classic green eyed blonde, tall, bordering on six feet, statuesque beauty with magnificent, oversized, firm breasts sporting large erect nipples. The contrast in body types struck me as Pixie Girl’s eyes were around nipple level when standing in front of the naked Sandy.
“Calm down Becky. You are eighteen now. Please act your age,” sighed Pixie Girl’s exasperated mother while turning towards the woman holding Sandy’s leash.
“Hi Martha, I would have thought Sandy would have been graded four years ago. Is this a regrading?” asked Pixie Girl’s mother, as poor Sandy’s blush deepened.
“This is Sandy’s first grading. She graduated from MIT with honors and did not need a slave grade for student loans through the MIT financial aid office. Now, to consolidate those student loans, get a better interest rate and shorten the period of possible indenture she needs a good slave grade. So here we are. I really need to get Sandy checked in for her grading. We can catch up at the alumni mixer this weekend,” grinned Martha as she took her daughter to the check-in counter.
“Good luck, Sandy,” squeaked Pixie Girl, waving to the older woman being led away by her mother on a leash naked, collared, cuffed and gagged like a hot pleasure slut slave for sale.
Amelia led me to the post just vacated by the statuesque blonde, still glistening from its prior occupant. That used bollard looked like the filthiest one in the room with the most stains on it.
“Local superstition holds that if you want a Prime grade at the Big D you gotta paint one of the pussy posts, and the dirtier, filthier, and most recently used the more good luck you get. This one looks like the luckiest pussy post in the building,” she snickered.
“Get down on your knees and back your juicy cunt up to that post and start rubbing it until you cum all over it. I want to see you squirt on it right on the spot with all of the paint worn off,” directed Amelia, giving my ass a playful whack with the riding crop.
Blushing in embarrassment with my dripping cunt tingling, not believing I was actually doing this in a public place in front of an audience, I lowered myself to my knees and backed up to the warm wet concrete post. Putting my face on the dirty floor in order to get the right angle and leverage I started rubbing.
“Gross! That slut is rubbing her pussy on the dirty post that still has Sandy’s pussy juice all over it,” exclaimed Pixie Girl pointing at me.
“Whack,” the crop struck the ground right in front of my face.
“Focus, pick up the pace, the next one will be on your ass,” cajoled Amelia.
I started humping the post with a passion, quickly creaming on the bollard to my surprise. I had not realized just how aroused I had become since stripping in the car. The Big D seemed infectious, the atmosphere brought every woman’s inner slave heat out into the open.
“You’re not done yet, keep going,” Amelia commanded,
Amelia whacked my right buttock with the crop causing me to hurry up both the speed and pressure of my rubbing.
“Are you going to make me do that?” whined Pixie Girl, pointing at me while I ground against the slick bollard.
“Just picture yourself next week right where that slut is,” responded her mother, Natasha.
I could hear the chorus of groans and moans from the girls behind me painting their posts accompanied by an occasional crack of an encouraging whip and then one of them would cream her post, garnering applause from the crowd. I was closing in on my second orgasm as Amelia ran the crop over my body as she encouraged me to blow on the pussy post.
“You’re almost there, let yourself go, squirt on the post, you skanky pleasure slut slave,” Amelia giggled, triggering my second climax.
Now I was sweating, panting out of breath, my face in my own wet spot on the floor with my pussy glued to the slick pole. Kneeling, Amelia pulled my hair out of my face, grabbed my chin and urged, “One more; third time’s the charm slave slut, you ain’t squirted yet,” and whacked my ass with the riding crop.
“Mom, that slut is hogging the lucky pussy post, she already creamed twice on it. I want my turn,” I heard a girl whine as I started up again.
I cannot believe this is happening I thought as I once again started painting the pussy post with my juices. God, I was so aroused, girls groaning on their posts behind me, people walking by commenting on what a sweaty skank I was.
“How much longer is your skanky slut going to be? My daughter wants that lucky pussy post,” her mom asked Amelia.
“What a nympho, she already came twice and she’s still going.” Another male commentator chimed in, “Like a little pink Energizer pussy,” as he chuckled at his own joke.
The humiliation was turning me on; I could feel the tingle building up from my nipples to my anus to my pussy until I was on the verge of my next climax. ‘Whack,’ Amelia struck me hard with the crop right on my little winking rosebud, sending a shock wave through my body that triggered my most intense orgasm ever as she yelled, “Cum for me now.” I moaned loudly as I squirted profuse amounts of cunt cream all over the pussy post to the amusement of the crowd.
“I captured a video of that slut squirting on that pussy post on my phone. Mom will never believe this,” I heard one young man with a Boston accent tell his father.
“Son, there are certain things best not shared with your mother, and this is one of them,” the father with the same Yankee accent replied in a worried tone as they walked away.
“That will be you next week squirting on this very pussy post. I do not care how long it takes,” advised Natasha.
“What if I can’t squirt like her?” asked Pixie Girl, looking worried.
“I have a crop just like that one at home. Would you like to practice when we get home?” smirked Natasha as Pixie Girl blushed.
“See mom, that is the luckiest pussy post here. I want to paint the squirter pussy post for good luck before my grading,” exclaimed the Whiny Girl.
I was now lying face down in a puddle of my own fluids, my pussy sliding down against the pussy post, unable to move as I tried to collect myself. I looked up at the Whiny Girl who was a drop-dead gorgeous athletic brunette with emerald green eyes and winked at her and she winked right back with a playful smile.
“I know you are a squirter, honey. Just go with it. You regularly squirt when you practice slave yoga naked in your room at night. When you go to school this fall I have to replace the carpet due to all the nasty stains and odors from all your pussy juice,” advised Natasha, while rolling her eyes at her daughter.
“I used Febreze. It’s not just me. Annie also squirts when we practice slave yoga together in my room. We can’t help it; it just happens every time we practice together,” winced Pixie Girl. “At least we both got A’s on our slave yoga final exam this year.”
As I regained my composure, Amelia pulled me to my feet, “Honey, there is something about being slave naked that is liberating. You can do things that a clothed free person cannot. I would be arrested if I pulled down my panties, pulled up my skirt and rubbed one off on the pussy post. You are slave inventory right now, a piece of livestock, so you have a free pass to masturbate in public, to have sex with another a man or woman while here and nobody will care. You are just living down to the lowly status of a slave, the pleasure slut they see you as now. Do you understand?”
I nodded, unable to speak past the gag. “Let’s get you registered,” she took out my gag and pulled out a bottle of water, giving me a healthy drink before replacing the gag and leading me to the VIP Express line to check me in.
Amelia pulled me up to the counter to get me registered. We were greeted by a clerk wearing a burgundy polo shirt with The Big D logo and a nametag identifying her as Cindy.
“Welcome to the Big D Slave Market, how may I help you this morning?” asked a chipper Cindy with a big warm smile.
“I am Amelia Bedford here to register Allison Stevens for her slave grading. Here is all of the paperwork and a notarized power of attorney authorizing me to act on her behalf,” advised Amelia as she handed over a folder full of paperwork.
Cindy reviewed the paperwork and then looked me up on her computer saying, “Ok, We have a reservation for the Deluxe Reality slave grading package meaning she will be treated just as if she was a slave going to auction to include a Slave Identification Number (SIN) tattoo, cattle wash, cattle tag, physical, photo shoot, beauty clean up, slave grading, and three days optional kenneling in case the grading is not completed today. The medical pre-screening documents are complete. The Vet assistant will complete the final medical screening at the grading center. The Big D is in Pussy Premium Red meaning our inventory is low so we are slow right now and should be able to move her through rather quickly.”
“We have a new ground-breaking promotion this month for women that want the true Sandy Foot Girl experience of being put on the auction block and sold. It’s called the “Any Chance” auction. Would you like to learn more about this fantastic opportunity?” piped up Cindy as she started her sales pitch.
“I’m intrigued, tell me more,” asked Amelia with a playful grin.
“Your slave will go through the entire process of being auctioned. The only difference is that we list her as “Any Chance” on the inventory notifying the buyers that the owner maintains the right to reject the winning bid within twenty-four hours of the gavel coming down. This way you get to see how much money you would make on the sale, and will increase her value as collateral for any loan. This is also a safe way to give a girl her Sandy Foot Girl fantasy experience as the sale is real until revoked,” explained Cindy. “There is always any chance that, for any one of these sluts thinking they are going home at the end of the day, the bid will be accepted.”
“What is the cost?” asked Amelia.
“This month the price is $500 for this promotion to cover our costs but it is fully refundable if you go through with the sale,” said Cindy. “For another $50 we provide a Certificate of Value stating the price of the final bid along with the bidding history for that slave.
This sounded like a horrible idea. Going through the very public slave grading was bad enough. Actually being sold at auction to some stranger terrified me. Why I was so aroused listening to Cindy’s sales pitch really confused me. My pussy was leaking and I am sure that both Cindy and Amelia could smell my slave heat wafting from my highly aroused pussy.
“Tell me more about the Certificate of Value. What impact, if any, does it have on the period of indenture required to secure the loan? What about the interest rate on the loan?” inquired Amelia, as her demeanor instantly turned all businesslike.
Cindy explored my file on her computer while saying, “Let me look her loan up in the system quickly. Found it; she has student loans with Consolidated Loans Inc. with a five year body attachment as collateral, a no international transfer/sale clause and no slave grade which is why she is here today. I see that based on the auctorial tables a Prime grade will reduce the period of indenture from five to four years with a slight interest rate reduction. Does that sound correct?”
“Yes,” replied Amelia, while I nodded in the affirmative. “How would a Certificate of Value either further reduce the interest rate on the loan or the period of indenture?”
“The terms of your loan appear in compliance with state regulations. If the winning bid on a three year indenture is fifteen percent greater than the remaining principal owed on the loans her exposure drops from five to three years along with a more favorable interest rate,” advised Cindy, as Amelia turned giving me a thumbs up.
“I can smell her slave heat from the other side of the counter,” grinned Cindy, leaning over the counter to look at my pussy. “I can see moisture on her cunt; she definitely has the necessary slave heat. Although I only caught part of her performance polishing the pussy post; what I saw was impressive. I would expect a Prime slave grade assuming everything goes well during the grading. When she nails her block routine during the auction she should easily hit the fifteen percent threshold.
“When would she be auctioned?” asked Amelia.
“Our next auction is this afternoon. We are in Pussy Premium Red meaning our inventory is low so there will be fewer pieces of Prime livestock to bid on which should raise the prices a little. We have our high rollers coming in for the 2:00 pm auction and some of them get a perverse thrill out of purchasing a slave that thought she was going home. For that reason we find that the Any Chance sales prices are about two to five percent higher than the regular auctions,” chuckled Cindy. “So this is a really good opportunity for your slut.”
“How often do the sales go through?” inquired Amelia.
“More often than you would think. I just had one last Friday. Daddy brought in his twin daughters, not identical, for their slave grading for their college loans since they were graduating from high school this spring. The hot ditzy blonde-haired one begged for the Sandy Foot Girl experience. She was infatuated with the slave romance novels and Hallmark Channel movies. Daddy caves in. She was a high school cheerleader and on the school Ponygirl dressage team. She was a virgin, slave graded as a Prime and the winning bid was a fortune. After the auction, her Daddy came back all flustered asking for my advice,” said Cindy.
“What was his problem?” asked Amelia.
“He watched his ditzy daughter put on quite the show rolling around in the sand during her block routine and begging a master to fuck all her holes. Her slave heat took over when she worked two fingers up her ass while diddling her cunt until she exploded in an intense orgasm squirting in the sand while howling like a wolf with a look of complete rapture on her face. I saw the picture and would not be surprised if she was this month’s Sandy Foot Girl,” explained Cindy.
“So she was really enjoying herself on the auction block,” laughed Amelia.
“Mmph,” I tried to speak through the gag as Amelia grinned at me. This was not a good idea even though it made my pussy tingle. Why was being sold as a slave at auction making me horny? As I squeezed my thighs together, I wondered if I could masturbate to orgasm lying in the sand on the auction block. What was wrong with me, my pussy was a leaking sieve?
“That’s an understatement. Between the two of us I could tell she was a real submissive when he signed her up. I told him that his beautiful daughter had a calling for the collar. As her father, he had an obligation to make her dream come true. He had to sell her for her own good, as she would never be truly happy as a free woman. I pointed out that with the money from her sale he had more than enough to put his other children through college and take his wife to Hawaii, so he did,” continued Cindy.
“He confided in me after what he saw on the auction block he really couldn’t bring her home. Two of his neighbors were in the audience along with a co-worker that all recognized his daughter, witnessing her debauchery. He added that she was not very bright and college would have been a waste of good money,” laughed Cindy. “And I made a good commission on the sale.”
“What about her sister, the smart one?” asked Amelia.
“You mean the free one. She was upset at first although not really surprised. When she learned that due to the sale she had a free ride to college and medical school her attitude changed for the better,” laughed Cindy. “Then she mentioned that her sister would never steal another boyfriend from her and they walked out without even saying goodbye.”
Getting back to business Cindy advised, “The 2:00 pm auction this afternoon on Broadway, our main block for Prime slaves, is a fantastic opportunity due to our low inventory of Prime pussy for sale. Your soon to be Prime pleasure slut’s processing and grading will be prioritized to make that deadline,” advised Cindy.
“Getting a Certificate of Value will really help with your loan. I also think this would be a good experience for you, being sold like a slave at auction. It would open your eyes to what a slave goes through,” said Amelia, looking at me with a serious look on her face. Reluctantly, I nodded my head in agreement thinking in for a penny, in for a pound. She nodded back saying, “Charge the $550 to my account.”
“You want the no international travel, transfer or sale clause included?” asked Cindy
“Yes,” answered Amelia.
“We are going with the three year period of indenture, right?” advised Cindy.
“Three years it is. Taking two years off her indenture while also further reducing the interest rate sounds perfect,” smiled Amelia, looking at me with a grin on her face as I nodded in agreement.
Cindy went to work on the computer and the printer spewed out another form and she handed it to Amelia advising, “This is the Any Chance auction agreement. Please sign the waiver that you are aware that the sale becomes final if you fail to rescind it within twenty-four hours.”
“Please initial here. This indicates that you understand that the twenty-four hours starts when the auctioneer’s gavel comes down. The auctioneer will announce, ‘This is an Any Chance sale and the time starts now’.”
I watched as Amelia reviewed the form, still horrified that I would be publicly sold at auction even though I had agreed to it. Why were my thighs rubbing together as I tried to squeeze my pussy as Cindy returned to her computer?
“Here is a paper with the link to our app that enables you to accept or reject the bid using your smartphone. We recommend that you come in person and either accept or reject the bid due to one mishap that occurred a few weeks ago with a bid that was accepted by mistake,” advised Cindy.
“Mmph,” I squealed through the gag as Amelia ignored me. A mishap where a poor woman was enslaved by mistake! I was having second thoughts about this auction.
“What happened?” inquired Amelia, visibly curious.
“Eighteen year old Amber wanted the Deluxe Reality package with the auction option for a two year term after becoming infatuated with the slave romance stories depicted in those books and movies. She was rambling about the Hillary Rodham novel she had just finished reading about a slave finding love in a harem in the middle east. Her grandfather bought the Any Chance auction for her just to shut her up and he decided to use the app function on his smartphone to reject the bid. Unfortunately, he was not tech savvy and hit the sell button by mistake finalizing the sale,” explained Cindy.
“Oh my,” exclaimed Amelia.
How awful for that poor girl. Lucky for me Amelia is one of the most tech savvy women that I know. There is no way she would make that kind of mistake.
“All sales are final so there was nothing we could do to help him. Amber brought in a mint and that still did not mollify him at all,” continued Cindy. “When I got off work that day I found her in shipping, blissfully crouched in a poodle cage, branded, collared, cuffed, and gagged with a genuine smile hidden behind her slave grin actually looking forward to her new life, like it was some kind of grand adventure. Stupid slave girl.”
“That poor girl is going to give him an earful when she gets back,” commented Amelia.
“Oh, Amber’s not coming back. She’s living the dream in a slave harem in Dubai. Grandpa did not include a no international travel, transfer or sale clause in the contract. All defined term indentures become life enslavements in Dubai which was where we shipped her at the request of her owner. That is why we have the waiver form for you to sign when we provide you with the app,” said Cindy.
Amelia signed the waiver form, initialing each clause as it was explained to her by Cindy. When Amelia was done Cindy placed the form in my file.
Turning to me, Amelia smiled kindly and said, “No need to worry, on top of the promise I made to your mother, you are too precious to me to ever consider selling,” making me feel much better about my current situation.
“We pulled a Slave Identification Number US-ILS81-X9Z3 and lot number CZ-3927,” she summarized as the printer churned.
Cindy grabbed a blue tag shaped as ballet slippers and put a sticker on the blue tag saying, “The sticker on the cattle tag contains her lot number and barcode. It will remain on her until she is released back to you.” Handing the claim tag to Amelia Cindy continued, “Here is your claim tag with matching lot number and barcode, you will need it to claim her so don’t lose it.”
“That is if you don’t sell her,” Cindy chuckled.
Turning to me Cindy advised in a stern voice, "You are at The Big D Livestock and Slave Market in Dallas, Texas. You are here for a slave grading and auction. During the time you are here, you will be treated just as if you are here for processing and sale as a pleasure slut slave. I am required by law to tell you that the slave collar you will be fitted with can deliver a powerful and extremely painful electric shock if you attempt to leave this building without permission or are disobedient. Additionally, all Big D employees are authorized to use any means deemed necessary to compel you to comply with all orders given to you, and those means include electrical shock and whipping. If you follow my instructions, you will not be hurt. Do you understand?"
Cindy established the penalty of my disobedience by holding a slave prod in front of my wide eyes and pressing the trigger. Amelia chuckled, holding me in place as I involuntarily pulled away from the crazy slave prod-wielding clerk with wide eyes as I watched the electricity jump between the two sharp metal prongs accompanied by an electrical crackling.
"Do you comprende?" Cindy repeated harshly.
I vigorously nodded and tried to say yes through my gag hoping she understood. Turning to Amelia the clerk had Amelia initial the box that I had been properly advised and proceeded around the counter carrying the blue tag and a heavy black slave collar with a battery pack that she placed on the counter in front of me. She cut off my zip-ties.
“Slave Kneel,” Cindy ordered, followed by, “Collar.”
I quickly assumed the collar position with my left hand on my thigh and my right hand pulling my hair away from my neck. Cindy efficiently secured the slave collar around my exposed neck and attached a leash to the collar. Sharp prongs in the front and back stuck into my tender skin. She waved a remote control in front of my face.
“I push this button and the collar shocks you, lights out, comprende?” advised Cindy.
Again, I nodded vigorously.
“Prone,” she directed as I assumed the position on my stomach.
“Back-hands,” she ordered.
Petrified at the threat of a shock, I placed my hands behind my back and Cindy quickly secured my hands in standard Big D handcuffs. She then picked up the blue cattle tag shaped as ballet slippers off the counter. Putting it into a punch gun and kneeling on my back, she grabbed my left ear.
“Hold still, this is gonna hurt,” Cindy ordered.
Cindy punched the heated tag through a tiny hole in the cartilage in my ear. Not knowing what was happening the pain surprised me, generating a high-pitched squeal into my gag as I started crying.
Getting off me Cindy said, “Stop crying you horny little slave, I can smell your slave heat,” and then commanded, “Stand.”
Handcuffed, I struggled to my feet as Cindy walked back behind the counter handing Amelia the collar and leash I wore into the Big D.
“After we get her SIN tattooed we will start with the cattle wash, she stinks worse than a well-used pussy post. You have your claim check, all of the paperwork is in order, the grading and kenneling was prepaid, the Any Chance Auction is now charged to your account and she has been processed as inventory with the Big D. We have a couple other specials this week and our new Trial Branding. What can I help you with first?” asked the enthusiastic Cindy sensing another sale.
“Tell me about the new Trial Branding,” asked Amelia. She then turned to me, “Turn around and display.”
Obediently I turned facing away from her, bending down looking through my legs in the display position.
“The Trial Branding program allows owners to apply a temporary Big D brand to experiment with how it looks on different parts of the body. Common branding locations are the buttocks, between the cheeks, vagina, back shoulder and thigh. The blacksmith prepares the site for a few minutes with a special pre-branding cream and uses a lighter touch when applying the brand. The actual branding takes a bit longer and burns worse than the standard brand. It is not permanent and heals in a couple of months. The standard fee is $150 unless you want a custom brand,” advised Cindy as I started whimpering. “Your slut has an incredible ass. One of our brands would look awesome burned onto her butt.”
Amelia ran her fingers center on my left ass cheek as I started trembling. She asked Cindy, “Is this the location, on the buttocks?” Spreading my ass cheeks Amelia ran her finger on the sensitive skin on the inside of my left cheek right next to my rosebud, “And this is the location between the cheeks?” she asked.
“Correct, some owners want the brand prominently displayed on the center of the buttock while others prefer a more subtle approach between the cheeks. The skin between the cheeks is more sensitive and is thus more painful to apply. Can I reserve a time with the blacksmith for you this afternoon? You can consult with the blacksmith and decide which you prefer,” Cindy advised.
“Please schedule her for 4:00 pm and charge the $150 to my account,” instructed Amelia. Turning to me Amelia commanded, “Slave kneel.”
“There are a few more awesome promotions available this month. The first is the Sandy Foot Girl video chronicle of your slut’s experience here at the Big D. For only $150, we compile thirty to forty minutes of your slut’s highlights starting with you leading her in the front door on a leash and her squirting on the pussy post. We use the surveillance feed and strategically placed high resolution cameras throughout the facility,” explained Cindy.
What should I expect to see in this video?” chuckled a clearly intrigued Amelia.
“Your pleasure slut’s video would of course include her painting the pussy post including her squirting during her last orgasm. These videos capture her SIN tattooing, cleaning out her crotch critters in the cattle wash, photo shoot, graded slave yoga routine, slave grading, and display. It culminates in her full block routine when she becomes a true Sandy Foot Girl as she is sold on the Broadway auction block. Capturing for all posterity, your slut’s slave heat engulfing her as she rolls around in the sand diddling her sloppy wet cunt until she orgasms while begging a master to fuck her sopping snatch is priceless. We use a simultaneous split screen for the branding. One camera captures her facial expressions as the Big D brand is burned into her ass while another camera captures the view from behind,” explained Cindy.
“Since your slut has the Deluxe Reality package there may be some bonus scenes where our employees sample the merchandise so to speak. Most of the sluts with the Deluxe Reality package go home, if they go home at all, with at least some baby batter in their tummies if not other places. If you accept the bid selling her, we refund the charge and give you a complimentary video. You can keep the video private or post highlights on your Facebook page,” expounded Cindy as she finished her sales pitch.
“Nmph, nmph, nmph!” as I tried to shout no, no, no through my gag. I was not interested in consuming any baby batter today, let alone being filmed doing the deed. The humiliation of sharing my block routine in the sand on the auction block with Calum terrified me. Would he ever look at me in the same way after viewing this video? Why was my wet pussy tingling so badly?
“I will miss the action as it is a spa day for me and my girlfriend. It would be such great fun to sit down and watch it over a glass of wine with you Allison. I could give Calum a copy as an engagement present,” giggled Amelia as she ran her hand through my hair. “Maybe it would be better to watch it together and then decide if he, or anyone else, ever gets to see it.”
I will take it. Please charge my account. You mentioned some other promotions?” inquired Amelia.
“We have a mock cover of The Sandy Foot Girl magazine with your slut’s block picture on the cover. For $100 you get one 8” by 10” color print and an electronic copy emailed to you that you can make more prints or post online. These pictures are trending online this month,” exclaimed an excited Cindy. “Who knows, your slut looks hot enough to make the actual cover as this month’s Ms. Sandy Foot Girl.”
“Charge it to my account. I cannot wait to see how that comes out,” smirked a grinning Amelia, looking my way. “I really think Calum would like that photo as a personal keepsake and deep down you know you will be proud of how much he likes it.”
Amelia had me there. I knew that Calum would admire how attractive and slutty I looked in that kind of photo. Knowing my fiancé would be turned on by this new side of me just further inflamed my slave heat.
“We also have an early bird Christmas special consisting of Sandy Foot Girl Christmas ornaments that contain pictures of you slut being processed here at the Big D. The ornaments are two sided with a picture on each side. The pictures are stills of your slut painting the pussy post, SIN tattooing, cattle wash, photo shoot, slave yoga, slave grading, display, auction block and my favorite the branding,” explained Cindy.
“Why is the branding one your favorite?” asked Amelia.
“For the branding ornament you get her priceless facial expression as the badge is burned into her ass and on the flip side you see the branding iron searing the logo into her ass. You can buy single ornaments for $30 or a set of five for $100,” advised Cindy continuing her enthusiastic sales pitch.
“You can charge two sets to my account. Those will make awesome stocking stuffers for Christmas this year,” exclaimed Amelia as she looked down at me with a mischievous grin on her face. Noticing the horrified look on my face she smiled, “I’m joking about the stocking stuffers. You can surprise him by hanging them on your own Christmas tree where only the two of you will see them, that is until you have children, then they go into storage.”
“Congratulations Ma’am, you qualified for a free bonus promotion consisting of a Sandy Foot Girl apron with our logo on it. The apron reads, ‘Certified Prime at the Big D’ and below that it says, ‘I’m a Sandy Foot Girl’ with the Big D logo in the middle. These aprons are perfect at protecting your naked sluts while they cook in the kitchen,” enthused Cindy.
“Can I have two aprons, please? I’d love to greet my husband naked in the kitchen in one of those aprons while preparing a meal for him,” gushed Amelia.
“Of course, I will throw in a second apron for you,” smiled Cindy.
“Did you know I graded Prime right here at the Big D over thirty years ago. So I earned the right to wear a Prime Big D apron,” proudly exclaimed Amelia as she winked at me.
“Wow, that’s awesome. Let me look you up on our computer Mrs. Bedford.”
After my mother-in-law provided a SIN number the wrangler punched it into the computer.
“Well look at that! You were ah . . . processed through the Big D earning a Prime slave grade but were not branded with the Big D badge. Can I interest you in getting branded with your daughter-in-law here? There is nothing that says I am a sexy pleasure slut wife more than you naked in the kitchen wearing only one of our aprons with the Sandy Foot Girl logo branded on your ass,” chimed Cindy.
“Now that’s a really delicious proposition. Allison and I could get matching brands and aprons for our men,” Amelia said with a mischievous smile on her lips.
“You have really taken care of yourself too. I bet you do an hour of slave yoga every morning along with a regular exercise routine. You could even go back there today and get that same grade. I suspect that you would be having a really late dinner in bed if your husband found you adorned in one of our aprons sporting the Sandy Foot Girl brand on your ass,” giggled Cindy trying hard to make one more sale.
“The second brand is also discounted at $125 so you would save a little money doing it together,” explained Cindy.
“Let me think about it. Can I decide this afternoon when I come in to cancel the sale and meet with the blacksmith?” inquired Amelia with a twinkle in her eye.
“Sure thing. You can also look at some of the branding photos on our website to get a better feel for how it would look and the different placement options,” advised Cindy.
“I’ll talk about it with my girlfriend today at the spa today and let you know this afternoon,” replied Amelia grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
“Can I interest you in a tandem slave grading with your future daughter-in-law. Tandems seem to score higher slave grades these days?” gushed Cindy trying to make yet another sale.
Amelia turned to me and started running her fingers through my hair deep in thought considering the proposal. I had mixed feelings about getting slave graded with my mother-in-law. I mean, who does that? Besides that, if we were both slave naked, who would hold our claim tickets? Before I decided if that was a good idea or not, Amelia came to a decision.
“Thanks for the offer but I have other obligations for today. Are we done now?” asked a smiling Amelia.
“Yep, she’s all processed; see you at 4:00 pm in the blacksmith’s shop. Remember, you will have to rescind the sale prior to going to the blacksmith’s shop if you want to give her either a trial or permanent Big D brand. Thank you for coming to the Big D for her slave grading,” chimed Cindy with a big smile on her face as she calculated her sales commission in her head.
Turning to me, Amelia took my face in her hands bringing me to a standing position facing her while looking deep into my eyes with understanding, seeing deep into my soul. I am sure she smelled my arousal as I blushed while meeting her gaze.
“I see a submissive hidden within you that needs to break free. You need to look deep into your soul and ask yourself why you are so sexually aroused today. I believe the experience of being sold on the block will help. You are sexually turned on just being naked like a slave here. I can smell it emanating from you. Your submissive personality is why you enjoy sex the most when you are playing the little slave girl wearing a collar for my son. You are not playing anymore, this is real, and it is as real as it can get for you, embrace it and enjoy an experience that you will never forget. Always remember no matter what happens I love you,” counseled Amelia. “We will have much to talk about when I pick you up.”
Amelia kissed me on the cheek, handed the leash to the slave handler, named Bobby according to his nametag, who came to collect me as she swatted me on the ass once more with the riding crop.
“That’s one for good luck,” she giggled.
Amelia walked out the door leaving me to my fate. God, my cunt was dripping down my thighs; I had never been as aroused as I was now.
(To be continued)
Re: My Descent into Slavery (A rewrite and expansion of Ch 1 of Allison's Descent...
Loved the subtle changes which made this version of the rewrite more consistent with the wonderful, rich and endearing Allison in the first original story. Great stuff.
Hooked6
Hooked6